Kind Young Master [Progression Fantasy - Cultivation]

The whine of a wounded animal pricked his ears. It should have been nothing to Fushuai, certainly not worth leaving the trail, but the noise grated on him. Beasts could be killed for any number of reasons. That was not the same as tolerating cruelty or allowing undue suffering to continue. He pressed through a curtain of leaves and stopped when he saw a fox, gray-brown with its summer coat, and yet he knew it was the same creature he had encountered several times before. Its spirit was familiar to him.

"What have you done?" He crouched, not moving any closer. The fox lay limp, one of its ankles caught in a ring of treated wood lined with teeth. The ring was anchored to the forest floor by something unsettlingly close to a spinal cord, pinned with more bone. Marks on the anchor made it clear that the fox had attempted to gnaw its way free without success. Extending his spiritual sense, he found that the trap was enhanced by a low-grade formation. The rest of the hollow appeared to be natural.

Had Zhang Sha, knowing his sensibilities, created this scene for him to stumble upon? Rather than approach the fox, he circled the area, cursing the daylight that filtered through the canopy, weakening his connection to his internal energy. The animal had gone quiet as soon as he appeared, and now it was watching him with those wide blue eyes. The question was apparent.

Would he help, or not?

He sighed, knowing he could not leave the creature as it was. After releasing it from his own hands once and feeding it after, he felt their relationship was sufficiently established that abandoning it now would constitute betrayal.

"Alright, little one, I am coming."

Out of an abundance of caution, he tested the ground with his staff before each step. Seeing as no hidden clamps or wires were triggered, he dropped down to better examine the trap. The formation that held it together and protected it from the fox's teeth was uncomplicated. It carried hints of earth qi, and something else. Dream. If he ever had a chance to get a clear look at the rogue's spiritual root, he would be interested to see what he found there.

The Yang in the air made it difficult for him to create new Threads of Still Night, but when he did, he was able to use them to interrupt the flow of the formation, and the strange, spine-like tether came apart with a tug. The band around the fox's ankle popped open as well, and it bounded up.

"Be more careful next time." He said to its retreating tail.

Instead of disappearing, however, the animal circled around a swollen trunk and peeked at him with its face half concealed by moss and bark.

"You can go," he told it, fixed by its sapphire stare. Sweeping it with his perceptions once more, he found that it had reached the pure body stage. It would be a long time before it developed a dao seed or a core, if it ever did, but it had clearly evolved since the first time he met its eyes. He'd fed it the flesh of spirit beasts; was that all it had taken to set it on a path to becoming more than a mere animal?

It whined at him.

"I brought no meat for you."

It yipped.

He stood, held his arm and his staff out to either side, and shrugged. "If you are trying to tell me something, save it for when you learn to speak. I wish you a speedy path to ascension, Bai Tu. But I expect this will be the last time we meet."

Bai Tu was the name of his sister's rabbit. It didn't fit the fox well now that he had lost the pristine white coat of winter; it had simply been the first thing to come to mind. The trap had been set by his quarry. He must have used this and others like it to capture some of the beasts he used for components. Fushuai collected the wooden band and stowed it in the same pack he used for herbs before going on.

The fox followed him.

Zhang Sha's lair was still hidden by illusion. He disrupted that formation as he had the trap and found nothing more waiting for him inside. The tunnel was bare apart from a few support columns against the rough-hewn walls, and the chamber that had once been a laboratory was empty. Even the surgery table was gone. The only traces of the former occupant's work were bloodstains and a few stray scales and puffs of fur. There was a tiny hole drilled into the wall where the chimera diagram had hung.

He hadn't expected him to be here. But this place was on the path to the ruins higher in the mountains, and he hadn't wanted to leave it behind him without being sure. After a quick sweep with his spiritual perceptions for any hidden alcoves or further illusion, he stepped back out into the sunlight beneath the cliff.

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Bai Tu, watching from the treeline, yipped a warning. He spun his staff just as something dropped from a scar in the rock above. A long, sinuous body, more bone and leather than flesh. He knocked it to one side.

It was a serpent, or the remains of one. Its head snapped out as soon as it landed, and he slipped an inch out of the reach of its fangs. Another swipe of the staff shattered its open jaws, then he trapped its neck and crushed its skull with his heel. The sensation of its bones grinding beneath his foot made him shudder, but having been bitten by a beheaded snake once was sufficient to embed the lesson.

"A thousand thanks," he told the fox, who had remained utterly still during the brief melee. It continued to watch him as he examined the serpent more closely. He hadn't sensed it at all. The creature had no core or seed, and upon closer inspection, he realized it wasn't a beast at all. A construct, made from bones and dried flesh, with an array etched along its belly that allowed it to gradually draw in ambient qi. The barest trickle, enough to strike when there was need and spend the rest of its existence in absolute stillness.

So Zhang Sha had left something for him after all.

He stripped the skin from its belly for later study and picked out a new path. When they had followed the brightmetal hawk together, the trail had been anything but direct. He could choose a swifter route now that he knew the destination. He picked up his pace and soon lost sight of the fox. As much as he appreciated its company, it would be safer going its own way.

It was another day before he reached the stone spur where they had first engaged the brightmetal hawk. The sun was once again reigning in the sky, and he had no intention of facing the rogue when his techniques would be at their weakest. He walked to the end of the jutting rock and sat cross-legged, grateful for the fog that perpetually blanketed this elevation. Determined to be ready when night fell again, he cycled until his qi cord was twelve threads thick and his root was thoroughly saturated.

Half his mind was intent on the problem his opponent represented. He knew the man used earth techniques and could take advantage of his knowledge of acupuncture to paralyze an opponent. Zhang Sha surely had other abilities he had concealed, but Fushuai believed he had been telling at least a half-truth when he said he wasn't much for fighting. The man preferred to attack at range, and could well have another beast serving as his guardian, if not an entire pack of them.

His best chance lay in surprise, and using his superior speed to close swiftly and strike without hesitation.

It was exactly what he didn't want to do. He wanted to confront Zhang Sha, to make him admit to his crimes and repent. But he knew that was impossible. The man who had become his sworn brother wasn't real; he was a mask donned for the convenience of a demonic cultivator. Even so, attacking Zhang Sha without cause would be a violation of their mutual pledge. An offense to the heavens. Fushuai was only in qi refinement, insignificant to the point where a direct rebuke from above was unlikely. And yet, even if there was no divine retribution for the violation, his honor was at stake.

In the jianghu, the world of cultivators, there was little that could be held to a higher standard than the word of a sacred artist. Clasping hands with the rogue had been a mistake, but honoring one's mistakes was, if anything, more important than the bargains that worked out in one's favor. After all, there was no challenge or meaning in fulfilling an obligation without effort. One's soul could not be proved without conflict. The dilemma twisted his gut.

What Zhang Sha had done went against everything he believed, and his demonic path was forbidden in the Golden Empire. Fushuai was not a true pacifist. He believed killing people was wrong, but also sometimes necessary to prevent a greater wrong. Breaking a sworn oath was also wrong. Where then did allowing someone like Zhang Sha to continue murdering innocent mortals fall on the scales? Surely, if the rogue continued down his path, he would eventually die for it. His work in these mountains would end, and he would one day find himself in the sights of a more advanced opponent, the empire, or the heavens themselves.

Was it truly Fushuai's burden to stop him, here and now?

His thoughts were a vortex, and he directed his attention to Void Stirring and Dilution to silence them. Yes, stopping Zhang Sha was his burden. All the more so because the man was his sworn brother. It was as if any evils the rogue committed were the crimes of his own blood.

When the sun fell, he would go to the ruins. It was the only choice he could make.

As soon as the resolution was firm, he felt a presence in the mist. A foundation stage aura, tinged with a twisted qi he could not name. He rose, staff spinning, and activated Moon Step. He could run along the side of the spur and come up again behind his opponent. His calves tensed as his energy surged, but a voice stopped him.

"It's good to see you again, brother." Zhang Sha stepped into view. Unarmed, unaccompanied by chimera or constructs. Gaunt, a bit older than Fushuai, dressed like a woodsman. Nothing had changed between them. He could veil his spirit, so he had revealed himself deliberately. That meant two things: this was not an attack, and he no longer felt the need to hide his identity. Was he wearing friendship like a mask, or did Fushuai simply not understand this man at all? His tone remained casual, though he didn't approach any closer.

"What brings you so high in the mountain?"

Fushuai said what he had come to say. "You are the one crafting chimeras. You follow a demonic path, and you killed mortals for your experiments. Brother or no brother, it is my duty as a cultivator under heaven to stop you."

"Stop me, or kill me?" Zhang Sha sounded curious. Either he didn't see Fushuai as a threat, or he didn't care if he lived or died.

His grip tightened on the gu-en. "I will do what I must."

"So be it."

Zhang Sha's aura redoubled, hardened, and drove at Fushuai in a blade of pure intent.