Kind Young Master [Progression Fantasy - Cultivation]

The attack flowed at the speed of thought, and even had it been slower, there was nothing physical for him to dodge. Fushuai cycled his qi and brought his focus to his body. The rhythm of his heart and breath, the patterns of energy, willing them to remain intact. Zhang Sha's killing intent struck him, driving to his heart. Though he trembled, he did not fall. Instead, he took a step forward, ready to defend himself from the follow-up strike that was sure to come.

It didn't. The rogue cultivator watched him for long seconds, and then released the killing intent, allowing his aura to return to its natural shape and pressure. His mouth twisted into something halfway between a grimace and a grin.

"That was almost everything I had. Your will is that of someone a stage above."

Fushuai's eyes narrowed. "You were testing me?"

Xiao Sheng's flag had done what it was meant to, preparing him to face the spiritual pressure of a more advanced artist. That didn't mean Zhang Sha was telling the truth. Every word and act might only be another mask meant to draw him into false security. If he acted on the assumption that his opponent couldn't stop him in his tracks with a work of intent alone, and he was wrong, the fight would be over before it began.

"Knowing what kind of master you have made me curious. But you are not my enemy, Gao Fushuai. You are my sworn brother, and I will not try to kill you over a simple disagreement."

"Is that all you think this is?"

"You are as young as you look." His expression turned wry. "What did you say your master's name was? Zhou Jun? I saw you with him once, after you invaded my home. I am having trouble understanding why someone who trains under an Asura would lecture me about the will of the heavens. As we are being open with each other now, why don't you tell me his real name?"

He'd been watching them? He must have meant Goshung. His true master hadn't gone anywhere near that lair.

"Mah Goshung, Master of Ten Thousand Arms and Wolf of Soul Furnace Valley."

Zhang Sha's eyebrows raised. "I've heard that name. He's an Asura? Truly? How can he—" His eyes darted to one side, and a bone dagger appeared in his hand out of thin air. Fushuai tensed, but the other cultivator wasn't paying attention to him anymore. The dagger twitched, then vanished again. A look of frustration crossed the hollow face.

"Pardon my paranoia. I live on a blade's edge."

"Your condition." Fushuai sensed an opening. "You claimed it came from poison in a duel. It didn't. Your path led to a deviation, and that is what plagues you."

"Don't presume to understand." His face darkened. "I have stepped outside of the prescribed methods in pursuit of a greatness they could never provide." His eyes closed, and a part of Fushuai wanted to seize the opportunity to strike. He pushed the instinct away. Not only could the weakness be another deception, but it would have been dishonorable to do so. Zhang Sha hadn't attempted to harm him yet, not truly. And the man was right, he didn't understand. But he wanted to. He refused to believe that it was simple callousness and pride that had caused him to diverge from the sacred arts in favor of the demonic.

"Show me your work," Fushuai said. "Explain your methods. If you can convince me that what you do is justified, I will turn aside."

"Oh? You would ignore the edicts of heaven so easily?"

"No edict had been given to me. The heavens can strike you down whenever they choose."

Zhang Sha chuckled. "Brother, for all your posturing, I think we are more alike than you want us to be. It would please me to show you my work. It is a rare thing to meet someone who at least might be able to comprehend the significance of what I am doing."

Fushuai planted his staff on the stone beside him. "Show me."

They walked together, as they had through the days of hunting, and ascended to the ruins in the crater. The fog was thinner there, seemingly unwilling to intrude on the memory of whatever this place had once been. It clung to the edges of the building and pooled in the streets, curling around their legs as they walked. The sun shone from between a gap in the surrounding peaks. It would be several hours before he could take advantage of the night.

Though he might be able to resist the other cultivator's spiritual pressure, that was a far cry from actually defeating him in combat. He would need every advantage he could gain. They did not follow the street that led to the cellar where the bodies had been stacked so heartlessly. Instead, Zhang Sha led him to a temple.

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The air here was tinged with old blood, leather, and bitter herbs. It was warmer than the rest of the ruins, the wet heat of a swamp. They crossed under a high arch into a grand room dominated by a huge headless statue. It was a mirror of the one he had grown so accustomed to in the shrine, though not as worn. He could make out the folds of its robes, the delicate curves of its hands. As this version had not been exposed to the elements, the beheading had to have been deliberate.

"The goddess," Fushuai said. "Do you know her name?"

The rogue cultivator gave him an odd look. "I didn't know it was a goddess. Has your Asura been telling you stories about this mountain?"

He shook his head. "There is a shrine lower in the mountain with a statue like this. But it doesn't matter. Like you, I was curious. Is this where you craft your abominations?"

"Abominations?" Zhang Sha walked around the statue. "A word for children afraid of their own dreams."

His work table was lined with tools, and his shelves had been re-erected behind the great statue. A cauldron bubbled to one side of the table, untouched by any fire. Bones and books, bottles and jars, everything that had been hidden in his other lair was here on display. There was no new project, at least not a visible one. He might not have had time to collect the parts he needed since the loss of his last chimera.

"Abomination," he said again. "That is what they called me when I discovered my path as a disciple of the Hollow Reed Sect. I was poisoned; that was no fantasy. And that curse proved to be a gift. I saw what others could not. Heard what others could not. Became what others could not."

Fushuai walked to the cauldron and peered within. The contents were murky, rich with hunger qi. The shapes in the water were unidentifiable, and he was glad for it. The white of bone surfaced in the froth and then sank again.

"What is the purpose of all this? What can you hope to gain that another Path would not offer?"

"Can't you see it?" Zhang Sha's eyes were all whites, and his hands moved erratically. "Freedom! A new road never walked by god or man. How else can one ascend? How else can one call themselves a cultivator? Repeating the old lines, performing the old forms, that is nothing. I wanted to make something, to be something. And this..." he joined Fushuai at the cauldron. "This is my destiny."

"How?"

"You have ruined a few of my experiments, you know?" He stepped away. "After the second beast, I would have killed you if I hadn't seen your master. Knowing what kind of support you had, I preferred making you a friend to making you an enemy. But it's more than that now. Each time you kill one of my beasts, it forces me to find a new solution. What's more, your insight with the mantis...I am not one to deny genius its due. I would rather learn from it."

"A solution to what?" None of what he was saying explained what his true aim was, or why an orthodox method of pursuing immortality would not have served him just as well.

"There is a bottleneck for men like me, men who truly defy the heavens. I cannot form a core without dying to a tribulation. Unorthodox cultivators are either purged before they reach any real advancement, or they find their true calling after they are already above the bottleneck. The chimeras are a means to an end, a way of developing a suitable core outside of my own body, then transplanting it, thereby bypassing the tribulation."

He was mad, truly mad. The stench emanating from the cauldron suddenly became clear; it was like the pus of an infected wound.

"And the mortals you killed? What did they have to do with it?"

His hand moved as if it were shooing a troublesome fly. "One human body is much like another, whether mortal or immortal. A few had usable roots. The rest were anatomical studies. Only so much can be learned from scrolls and beasts. I won't have more than one chance to implant my core when it is ready."

It was a level of callousness that made Gao Ligang seem kind. Zhang Sha was looking at him like he expected a challenge or a threat, but Fushuai found that he had neither to give. The other man's word did not enrage him. Instead, he felt only sorrow.

"Even if you succeed, it won't end your suffering."

The older cultivator staggered back, mouth open, sunken eyes wide.

"What? What did you say? Do you hear them too?"

"Your pain. It will not end when you reach core formation. If anything, it will only increase." A deviation, whether it was brought on by a spiritual attack or an error on the part of the sacred artist, would only worsen as they grew stronger. He had never read of any exception to the rule. The only cure was the intervention of a healer at a higher stage, or more commonly, death.

Zhang Sha's aura spasmed, sharp enough that it caused Fushuai to flinch. His face went slack.

"You think you understand? You haven't seen what I have seen. Allow me to correct you, Junior." His hands contorted into spell signs, and Fushuai darted forward, spinning his gu-en. The wide stone blocks of the temple floor jumped up between them, and he vaulted over the obstacle, refusing to give up his momentum.

On the other side of the barrier, his opponent had transformed.

Now seven feet tall, the gaunt physician had grown slabs of muscle while simultaneously sprouting a half-dozen limbs. Human hands, bestial paws, the claw of a giant crab; only his face was recognizable, contorted in agony. Fushuai didn't slow. His weapon crashed down, passing through the body of the abomination and cracking the block beneath it. The vision, the nightmare, whatever it had been, vanished into whisps.

Pain flared as an arrow appeared in his shoulder, the force of its impact spinning him. The poison coating its tip entered his bloodstream immediately.

"The Path of Dreaming Hunger," Zhang Sha said, now standing ten paces away, pulling the string back on his bow for another shot. "I thought you should hear its name before you died."

Fushuai ripped the arrow out of his shoulder and tossed it to the ground. Earth and dream qi. It was an unusual combination, but not insurmountable.

"This one thanks you for whatever instruction he might receive, Senior," Fushuai said politely. As Moon Step cycled once again to its full capacity, he twisted out of the way of the next arrow, slipped forward, and slammed the length of his staff against Zhang Sha's knee.