Kind Young Master [Progression Fantasy - Cultivation]

Fushuai knew there had to be more to the sutra than the words themselves. The characters, as written, contained a secret to the shape of the formation. But was it in their order, number, and repetition, or the patterns of the ink strokes themselves?

In older manuscripts, techniques were generally divided into two categories, internal and external. But formation theory has since evolved into three from the two. Perfections, which affected the cultivator who performed them, Domains, which affected the surrounding environment, and Bindings, which targeted something else, whether an object or an opponent.

Moon Step Perfection was obviously of the first type. It enhanced the movement and perception of the sacred artist who used it, as well as granting them resistance to freezing temperatures and deadly poisons.

Xiao Sheng happily answered questions about how best to inscribe a formation on one's spirit without risking permanent damage. He would not answer any questions about inscribing this particular technique, however. He was willing to give his pupil the tools to learn it, but he wouldn't do the work for him.

The cycle of days and nights went on, training, meditating, and analyzing the sutra, for nearly two full decans.

Finally, he made progress.

The inscription process was not so different than cycling, though it was more delicate. He guided the qi to reinforce the web of his dantian, while forming it into strands imbued with shape and intent.

An imperfect formation would have no effect. The chance of accidentally creating a new technique while straining to imitate an established one was, according to Xiao Sheng, laughably small.

As he worked, now under a full moon in the clearing before the shrine, the recitations flowed through his mind as if they had been born there.

A stroke, a slash, a dot, a line. Qi did not want to retain a shape, but the Void Hammer's Swing had taught him something about beating spiritual energy into obedience.

When it was done, he felt it, a hum that began in his navel and expanded to the rest of his body in an instant. The feeling faded, but the formation remained, a pattern etched into the web of qi that might one day form his core.

To activate the technique, all he had to do was direct free-floating energy to follow the pattern, adding the internal array into his existing cycling method.

Fushuai raised one hand, and saw that it had become indistinct, blurred like a charcoal drawing dipped in water. When he stood, he felt as light as if he were using ching-kung, the method he used to run across treetops. When he moved, his steps were not merely silent; they seemed to muffle sound, so it was the grass and stones that made no noise as he ghosted across them.

He blinked, the night had become as clear as high noon to him, though all in shades of gray, and he could hear a vole creeping through the forest fifty paces away. The insects were almost painfully loud, a host of musicians at odds around him.

There were poisonous herbs he could chew if he wanted to test the remaining effects of the technique, but he was satisfied that it worked as he had imagined.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, experiencing the world with new eyes, but he soon felt the heat drain from his face, and he was becoming lightheaded.

"Pigheaded pup. You're not watching your energy."

Where had Goshung come from? Improved perceptions or not, there was no sensing the Asura if he wanted to sneak up on you. Now he smelled charcoal, moss, flowers, musk, a thousand other scents, all at once…

Goshung's hand squeezed his shoulder until it nearly popped.

"Your qi, pretty boy."

Fushuai turned his focus within and saw that he had nearly exhausted his entire reserve. The formation was hungry, drinking down whatever energy flowed into his dantian, and giving nothing back.

Stopping the technique was more difficult than causing it to begin. The formation wanted to feed itself.

He dropped to one knee, panting, and squeezed the channel shut, cutting its link to the internal formation.

The world quieted, and his body came back into focus. Goshung released his shoulder. "Still conscious. That's something."

Fushuai sat back on his heels, drawing slow, measured breaths. The residue of the Moon Step still lingered along his skin. "I didn't expect it to consume so much."

"You barely have enough energy to sustain your body as it is; a spell like that will drain you dry in minutes," Goshung said. "It's given you a taste of how much farther you have to go. By the time you're a foundation brat, you should be able to hold it all day."

Fushuai tried to imagine how much qi that would require. An ocean of it. And if he wasn't relying on what he stored in his dantian, he would have to maintain the technique with what he could draw from ambient aura instead. His meridians were nowhere near large enough, nor his energy sufficiently dense. It was no wonder that qi compression was such an important and challenging step.

He felt the heat of the Asura as he bent over him. "Now that you've got your first real skill," Goshung said, "it's high time you went off hunting on your own."

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It was something he wanted, a way to prove himself to both master and mentor. Though drained as he was, it was hard to muster much enthusiasm for the idea. "Tonight?"

The sound of swiftly clopping sandals.

"He's not ready." Xiao Sheng appeared in front of him, while the Asura remained behind. His answer was a growl.

"Among the Go Er Tsoon, he would have been sent out on his own at half this age. You're pampering him. Didn't we say that he would go after the purification step? That was weeks ago."

Fushuai, caught between them, began to stand so he could move aside. Instead, he found himself flattened in the grass as a wave of spiritual pressure rolled out of Xiao Sheng. The old cultivator did not straighten, his eyes did not shine, and the winds did not sing his name. This was pure aura, pure will, pure intent. Despite how far Fushuai had come since that day in the mountain hollow, he felt just as small, just as close to death, as he had then.

"I am his master," said the Living Blade, "and I will decide the nature of his training and how it shall proceed." His voice was level, quiet, and yet it seemed as if his words carried such force that they were being inscribed into the fabric of the world itself.

Goshung didn't flinch under the onslaught, but his eyes narrowed, and the fires within them banked.

"You are his master," the Asura agreed. "And you decided weeks ago that he should go."

"He needed a true technique; simple body arts would not have been enough if he faced anything worth killing."

"I say he didn't, but it doesn't matter. He has the Moon Step now. So are you going to make yourself a liar or let him go?"

The pressure vanished as if it had never been. Fushuia rolled to one side, rose, and brushed himself off. His elders had been talking over him as if he weren't there. True, if his master ordered him to go or stay, he would have to abide by his will, but he still wanted to be heard.

"Will hunting help compress my qi? If it delays my advancement, I don't see how it is the best task for me now."

Goshung's glare was murderous. "There's more to the Way than steps and stages. Your master can do as he likes, but you are a long way from challenging me."

"It was not a challenge." Fushuai stifled the impulse to bow. "Please enlighten me, Asura Mah Goshung."

"Pfft. You'll need more help than I can give you if you want enlightenment."

Xiao Sheng sighed. "I'm afraid my lupine ally is right. A true hunt will be good for you. Continue practicing the Void Hammer's Swing, but do not let it consume your days. Now that you have the Moon Step Perfection within you, real-world experience will help you master it far faster than using it idly within the safety we provide."

With master and mentor in agreement, there was no room for any other opinion.

"What do I hunt?" He asked. "Should I collect more dao seeds?"

"If you must, though that will not be your aim. I have a surprise planned for you, but it will take true cores, not mere seeds. And you must collect them yourself."

Fushuai's remaining energy began cycling faster, though he had not bid it to do so. "You want me to kill spirit beasts, true ones?"

Those he had faced so far had seemed fair opponents. He had the advantage in training and opposable thumbs, and they'd had the advantage in natural weapons and armor. They had been dao seed beasts, though. An animal with a fully developed core could be as strong as a foundation formation cultivator.

"I am not accustomed to repeating myself." His master raised an eyebrow, as if daring him to disagree. Certainly, Xiao Sheng was not in the habit of saying the same thing more than once, but he was happy to belabor a point if he could do so by stating it in a different way.

Now was not the time to argue.

"I understand," Fushuai said. "What core aspect should I be looking for?"

"The elements, all of them."

Five cores? It was a monumental task. Fushuai already knew where he might find a spirit beast with a water core, but the rest? It could take him months to catch them all, assuming he could catch them. And there was still one more danger to consider.

"The unorthodox cultivator," he began, "what should I do if our paths cross?"

"Kill him." That was Goshung, clearly tired of being left out of the conversation.

Fushuai met his gaze. His breath quickened under that scrutiny, but his spine was straight. "I have no interest in killing another cultivator without cause."

Goshung snorted. "To advance is cause enough, or is your path so noble that it walks itself?"

Fushuai looked between the two men, then toward the dark slope beyond the clearing. "For men to kill beasts is the natural order," he said. "So long as it is done with respect. Especially in the case of chimeric abominations. Their existence is a crime against the heavens."

"Our little scholar," Goshung scoffed.

"There will be times," Xiao Sheng said quietly, "when you must kill your fellow sacred artist. Hesitation will cost you your own life."

Fushuai faced his master. "I will do what I must to survive. I will defend myself. But this man has not attacked or threatened me, and I have given him more than enough cause. It would not be right for me to kill him simply because he chooses to exist on the same mountain, or because he is practicing unorthodox methods. I am not an agent of the Golden Court, or a sect elder, to be meting out such judgements."

Goshung ground one hoof into the soil. "It's not some mystery. The little rogue is afraid to act because we are here. If he catches you alone, or you give him an excuse, he may lose some of that fear. And there will be plenty of chances for that while you hunt."

"Even so…" Fushuai struggled to find the words that matched his heart. "Even so, what I am asking is whether you are ordering me to kill him, or if that choice can be left to my discretion."

Xiao Sheng hummed to himself in much the same manner as when he was contemplating a dumpling.

"Have you ever heard of the glass-feathered Zuan?"

Fushuai shook his head.

"A rare thing that lives in the snow fields beyond the Ninefold Pass. Shy, they say. Lives its entire life beneath the ice, warming the frozen caverns with its breath, and only comes to the surface once when it chooses a mate.

"Now, long ago, a sect leader became obsessed with capturing one. He said its feathers could reflect a man's spirit and purify his meridians, and sent his disciples with fire and axes to melt the ice and smoke the Zuan out of hiding. They carved the caverns open, peeled back the cold like rind from fruit."

Xiao Sheng paused, his voice nearly a whisper. "And in the end, they found one. Young and just beginning its molt. It died before they could cage it."

Fushuai frowned. "Then they failed."

"Oh no," Xiao Sheng said mildly. "They succeeded. The feathers were harvested, refined into spirit mirrors. One disciple gained half a realm overnight. Another went mad. The sect flourished for a time."

"Then what's the lesson?"

Xiao Sheng shrugged. "Who said there was one? Some beasts are never seen unless you make them suffer. Some die the moment you touch them. And some, perhaps, were never meant to be caught."

He met Fushuai's gaze, for a moment looking as old as his countless years. "Decide for yourself how to approach the mountain. I'm sure it will be a valuable lesson, either way."

"Thank you." If the rogue cultivator was still there, a confrontation was almost inevitable. But when it came, how it ended would be his choice to make. Either that, or the other man would prove the stronger, and his conscience would be the least of his worries.

Smoke curled out of Goshung's nostrils. He wasn't pleased with this lenience, but as Xiao Sheng had made his will clear, he let it be.

His master's expression brightened. "There are still a few hours in the night left. Why not warm us up a few bowls of pork-rice congee before you go?"