Kind Young Master [Progression Fantasy - Cultivation]

They didn't camp until the next morning, when they had left the site of the frenzied battle far behind them. Along the way, Zhang Sha collected herbs to mash into a poultice for Fushuai's hands. The mixture stung at first, though that was not saying much, as even the air stung, but a cooling sensation swiftly followed.

"It will speed the healing," he said. "Make sure to move your fingers; you don't want the skin to grow back stiff."

"I didn't recognize any of those ingredients." Mei Li watched him with narrowed eyes. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"I was learning medicine when you were still in swaddling clothes."

"Hmph." She tugged at a lock of her raven-black hair. "That doesn't mean you know what you're doing."

"He has helped me before," Fushuai said. "And I trust his skill."

The forest had deepened. Where before there had been ordered rows of ancients with trunks as wide as wagons, they now found themselves in a dense stretch of competing youths and underbrush. The canopy was so thick that sunlight cut through only at intervals, slashes of white and gold unwelcome in a world of emerald shade. Bai Tu heaved a sigh as he curled on a thick pad of moss, more exhausted than any of them.

Both of his sisters were keeping their distance from the gaunt physician. The words of the "Hollow Anatomist" had chilled Fushuai as well, though he understood their origin better than they did. He was unwilling to label Zhang Sha as good or bad, not after experiencing the darkness that dwelled inside him firsthand. He was a man who had inflicted great suffering, and who was now sworn to do balance the scales in whatever manner he could.

Did it matter if someone was good or bad, or what their motives were, if good came of their actions?

Lin did the best she could to clear a patch of the forest floor to sit in, scattering leaves and twigs and ripping away thorn vines that would have otherwise caught on her robes. "Where did you learn?" She asked.

"The Hollow Reed Sect." He chose a downed tree as his own resting spot, stretching his back along its rough-barked length. "Though it has been years since I saw the inside of their compound. Why? Would you like me to teach you?"

"No," she said quickly. "I know a little medicine. But I would not have you as my tutor."

"You shouldn't turn down a gift because you don't like the wrapping."

"Hmph." Her snort was higher-pitched than her sister's had been, and otherwise a perfect mirror. Fushuai smiled at the sound.

"I will watch first."

"Second, then," Zhang Sha said. "I don't need as much sleep as the rest of you."

Mei Li still hadn't found a plot that suited her. "I may not sleep at all. Who sleeps in the open with the whole world chasing them? And I don't want you watching over me anyway."

"We all need rest," Fushuai said. "This ordeal is not something we can escape in a few days. You'll have to learn to rest when you can, and to pace yourself. The wick that burns brightest burns quickest." He shook his head. The words could have come from his master. If he wasn't careful, he would start speaking in parables.

That quiet, patient elder had killed the emperor. If he had been with them, at least they could have asked why. Xiao Sheng might have answered with an irrelevant story, or said nothing at all. But even that would have meant something. Now, he might spend the rest of his life, however short or long it was, made a fugitive by crimes he didn't understand.

They rested for the remainder of the day. It was a longer pause than Fushuai intended, but they all needed it. If he was honest, he needed it more than any of them.

The full moon was less than a decan away. He was injured, distracted, and didn't feel at all ready to attempt breaking through to foundation stage. Another month's delay wouldn't have meant much before, residing as an honored guest of the Ash Eater sect. On this road, advancement would be the difference between life and death. Their skirmish with the Ash Eaters could have easily ended his journey, or that of his sisters, before it really began.

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The forest dwindled, giving way to a rolling plain dotted with the broad tops of camphor trees. Fushai had spent so much of his life in one city that it was still striking to see how wide the land truly was. The Spine of the World was not the only uninhabited region. More of the realm belonged to nature than humanity.

Their pace had slackened now that they seemed to be out of immediate danger. He was veiling his spirit, but it was Zhang Sha's work that made their trail secure. Wherever they walked, he laid down traces of dream qi to obscure their passing.

"What are you doing?" Lin accused him, having stopped to watch. "Do you want them to find us?"

"Hah. I would rather not die for your brother."

"Then why are you leaving a trail?"

Zhang Sha's hands, midway through a course of spell signs, paused. "Dream qi is fleeting. I am using it to wash out the traces of our presence. Soon, it will take on the aspects of the surrounding aura. It will be as if it never was."

She frowned, turning to her sister. "Is that true?"

"It is," Mei Li agreed, though she didn't look happy about it. "How someone like him can use it so deftly, I cannot explain."

They caught small game as they traveled, cooked over hastily doused fires, and otherwise went hungry. Foraging took time, and as clear as the sky seemed, none of them wanted to linger in any one stretch. Fushuai and Zhang Sha both managed to pick edible plants here and there, a minor supplement, but they had not left the sect compound with anything like sufficient supplies. When they came upon a village, they debated entering.

"I can manage the disguises," Zhang Sha said. "There won't be any cultivators here to see through them."

He passed his hand over his face, and suddenly, he looked as young as Lin.

"In the Emperor's name," Mei Li said. "That is the worst mask I have ever seen."

It wasn't that the illusion was obvious or unreal. There was something wrong with his new face that was hard to pin down at first glance. The eyes were too wide and too bruised, the skin too pale. He had made himself into a walking corpse.

"You think you can do better?"

She did.

When Mei Li was done with them, Lin was a fresh-faced boy, and Fushuai was a wrinkly old man. Zhang Sha looked mostly like himself. She wove his illusion the fastest and from a slight distance, as if wary of catching a disease. But the end result made him healthier and more handsome than he had been, and with shorter, lighter hair. For herself, she created a male guise that still managed to reflect the ethereal beauty she was so proud of. It was the sort of face that might cause passing maidens to swoon out of the vain hope that she would catch them.

Bai Tu became a cat, a turn of events that seemed both to bother and confuse him. When he chased his new tail as if it belonged to an enemy, Lin laughed and picked him up.

The village wasn't much to speak of. A few well-tended fields, wandering chickens, and a pig pen marked its boundary. The houses sprawled instead of clustered, without a central market or many buildings more than one story high. A dusty footpath led through the middle and ended at a shrine. They visited that first. As strangers, it was best to be seen paying respects.

It seemed half-empty, and what people were there were eyed them with distrust, or disappeared into their homes as they passed. Fushuai felt their fear almost as tangibly as if it were the spiritual pressure of a core cultivator. Wang Yinjing was dead, and any new face in times likes these had to be viewed with suspicion. The shrine reminded him of the one he had demolished in the mountains, though the steps were in better repair, and the roof wasn't missing any tiles. The statue depicted a square-faced man in robes of state. The emperor. It was cracked down the center.

Had every statue on the continent been broken when he died? Incense hung thick in the air, and Zhang Sha produced flowers for them to leave at the top of the steps.

"What are you doing here?" A man was striding toward them from one of the larger buildings. He held a spear that might have been made for his grandfather, marked by wear in spots that aligned with common grips. He was broad-shouldered and as tall as Fushuai, somewhere in the early steps of body refinement. So there was a cultivator here, if only barely.

"My name is Zhou Jun," Fushuai said, impressed that even his voice had changed to accommodate his wizened features. "We are pilgrims in need of supplies."

"Pilgrims to where?" He demanded.

"To the Golden City, if my feet will allow it. I am taking my family to pay our respects."

The man looked them up and down. "That's a difficult road. You might die before you make it, old man."

"If that is so, then it is so. I have lived long enough to see the world change, what else could I ask for?"

"Zhou Jun, you said?" He had relaxed at the answer. "My name is Sun Ganmopai. This is my home, and I am its protector." He glanced sharply at Zhang Sha and Mei Li. "So I won't have any trouble. I'm a cultivator. That's the only warning you're going to get."

Fushuai repressed a smile at the man's bluster, trying to look intimidated instead. "No, young master. You won't see any trouble from us. We were hoping to barter for food and a few odds and ends to help us on our way, that's all."

"Oh?" He looked skeptical. "What do you have to barter?"

"Services." Fushuai gestured to Zhang Sha, mouth tugging down at a sudden twinge from his burns. "My son is a skilled physician."

"Truly?" Ganmopai deflated. "Then there are people who need looking at. If you can help them, I'll give you anything we can spare."

Before he could agree, the self-appointed protector of the village had taken him by the shoulder and was leading them to the far end of the village. The man was so intent on their destination that he appeared not to notice that Fushuai's muscles did not quite match his withered frame.