Kind Young Master [Progression Fantasy - Cultivation]

The full moon could not be viewed from beneath the earth, but its cool light fell from the circle above, driving a shaft of silver into the dark. Fushuai finished carving the last character into his array and took his place at its center, not where the moonlight struck, but where it would soon be. The hole was more than a well; it had opened onto a cavern complex studded with tunnels. Some of the openings were no more than a handwidth, others would have been suited for double doors.

"You trust me to guard you?" Zhang Sha asked. "I could leave you here to die and run off with your sisters, you know."

"You have given me your word." He had already cleansed his companion of corrupted qi. If he betrayed him now, there would be no madness to blame but Fushuai's own. He could almost hear Goshung calling him a naive fool. A simple child. Perhaps he was, but he had seen all there was to be found in the spirit of the gaunt cultivator standing over him. He had committed terrible acts, some quite recent. Still, he was a man who believed in his own honor.

Besides, he had had a sister once as well, and her loss was the deepest mark upon his soul.

"You will not harm them."

"How do you know?"

Fushuai settled onto his knees and regarded the other cultivator seriously. "Is that a conversation you want to have, here and now?"

Zhang Sha moved away, taking up a position on a stone ledge that led to the surface. His silence as he laid out his bow and knife beside him was answer enough.

The earth breathed Yin from the deep places. It came in sulfurous gusts, roaring out of an abyss far lower in the cavern. Fushuai drew in as much as he could hold and cycled to refill his meridians. Though the energy was tinged with various elements, there was hardly a need to purify it. His root drank greedily of all that came from below.

Threads of Still Night extended from his hands, attaching themselves to key points in the array. Arcs and lines began to glow the deepest purple as it activated, becoming like a vortex around him, amplifying his ability to draw aura from his surroundings. His staff stood on its end beside him, anchored in the stone.

He crunched the Foundation Establishment pill between his teeth and swallowed the dust. It reminded him of silverleaf, cold and numbing and sickly sweet. It was eager to transform him, spreading down his throat and into his stomach with a hunger all its own. With an effort of will, he forced it to slow, guided it to flow into his meridians to join the rhythm of his cycling.

The pill, the array, his expanded meridians, and this place close to the primordial essence of Yin. Was that all he needed to attain foundation formation?

Already, he could feel the changes in his body. Crossing from physical rebirth into qi refinement had caused him to collapse into a fevered unconsciousness. He was stronger now, but so were the forces fighting to remake him. Any error could lead to injury or deviation. Any loss of control could result in his internal alchemy escaping into a wild reaction.

The numbness did not last, and neither did the cool. What was left of mortality in his flesh rebelled against the final step. He'd heard his father once say that a man did not become a cultivator in truth until the third stage. Fushuai had not understood him at the time. After all, why should the first steps on a long journey be counted as less than those taken midway through?

Now he saw.

His body was dying all around him, and it hurt to die. He shuddered, then vomited into the pit beyond his ledge. His skin began to flake, then peel, and he tore off his clothes. They had become unbearable.

Zhang Sha said something, somewhere far away, and the words meant nothing to him. He thought he heard a beast roaring in the dark, but it may have only been the roaring in his own ears. An ocean had swallowed him, and he was sinking fast. Pressure built, pressing in even as the energy within sought to burst free of his body.

A form of flame and shadow loomed above in the sea, watching with eyes like dying stars. Its shape was ever-shifting, limbs budding and dropping away, only to dissolve into ink that swirled in the dark waters. It was not human any more than it was animal, belonging to a category his straining mind was unable to comprehend.

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Why do you trespass?

His first instinct was to apologize, but he spat it out along with the sourness on his tongue. Apologies were for polite company and prey animals.

"I seek advancement."

Here? Its voice rolled like thunder. You are a child seeking to lift the sword of a master.

"My goal is foundation. Nothing more. This place seemed suited to my root and my Path, and so I came."

Foundation is not your goal. Tell me the truth, or I will end your journey before you draw another breath.

His cycling faltered, and he struggled to find the rhythm again. Whether demon or god, the entity's spiritual pressure had become so great that the air was now too thick to draw into his lungs. And yet, it did not press him down. It was allowing him to meet its gaze. He opened his mouth to answer, and then held back the words.

What was his goal? Reaching the next stage was only a step. Advancement, as an end in itself, was empty. He wanted to become worthy of his master's legacy, but why? So the man who was at best half his father would be proud? No. He no longer cared what Gao Ligang thought. He wanted to protect his family. He wanted to survive. But those could hardly be held up as some lofty purpose when even animals strove to do the same. Those were instincts, not aims.

He had told Xiao Sheng that the meaning of cultivation was to end suffering, but now those words died stillborn on his tongue. Under this burning gaze, such a claim seemed like nothing more than pretense. A pleasant thought, to rid the world of cruelty. A daydream too vaporous to withstand scrutiny. As for devouring death, he was too fresh on that road to comprehend what it truly meant.

If he did not answer soon, the pressure, either within or without, would destroy him.

"I...don't know."

The weight lifted.

Good enough for a beginning. A limb extended: claw, hand, wing, tail, all and none in quick succession. I could mold you into something worthwhile.

"No!" He could not lift his hand to reach for his staff, let alone rise and fight. Still, he mustered what was left of his will in denial. "I have a master already, and a Path. My way is my own. Not yours, even if I cannot yet give it a name."

The limb stilled. Ah. I see the boy has already been claimed. Who are you, then, to challenge me?

For a moment, Fushuai thought the being was still speaking to him. Then he realized there was another presence behind him. Though he did not dare turn away from the demon, he knew the scent. Faint and floral, like dried flower petals left as an offering at a shrine. A current passed between the two great spirits, words in a language too refined for him to understand.

So be it. The form of bright darkness withdrew. Remember my name, boy. For when this one tires of you, or you gain wisdom enough to seek me for yourself. I am Yanjin.

The ocean drained away, and the cavern returned. The shaft of moonlight had shifted to capture him, and on every side beyond it were the fruits of a recent slaughter. Corpses of lesser demons and beasts were scattered about like discarded toys. Insects, crawling fish, pale apes without eyes. Some of the bodies sported arrows, while others had slit throats, or had simply been bloodied and pulped by fists.

Zhang Sha crouched nearby, leaning against a standing stone, covered in blood.

"You're back, are you? How was it?"

Fushuai sprang to his feet, feeling as light as if he were using Moon Step and qinggong together. But there were no more enemies to be fought, and his staff remained standing where he had planted it.

"I had a vision, I..." he trailed off as he continued to take in the carnage. It wasn't just the platform where he'd placed the array; every ledge and shelf was covered. His spiritual sense swept out, stronger and wider than it ever had before, responding to his intent with new willingness. Everything was dead. "What happened?"

"This?" Zhang Sha made a gesture with one hand, its casualness belied by at least three broken fingers. "They started coming out of their dens when you entered the rebirth phase. Lucky for both of us, most of them were as interested in killing and eating each other as you."

"You saved my life."

"Of course I did. I need you to kill me, remember?"

Fushuai's clothes were beyond recovery, but his companion produced a fresh set of robes, along with water and a cloth to clean himself with, from his storage ring.

"I've got soap for when we find a river," he said. "For now, we'll just have to stay downwind of you. No one's as filthy as the day they reach foundation stage."

The inner circle of the array was half obscured by whatever had sloughed off of and come out from his body during the ritual. The stench made the sulphurous wind seem pleasant. Fushuai did his best to scrape his new skin clean before donning the robes. A more thorough cleansing could wait until they were away from the hellmouth.

"I thought all impurities were expelled during the first bodily rebirth."

"Hah. You thought wrong. Now, do me a favor and help me pop these fingers back into place."

On the surface, they made their way to the entrance of Coughing Valley and found Bai Tu and his sisters waiting for them, camping against the front face of one of the mesas that formed the pass.

"You did it!" Lin leapt to her feet, rushed forward to hug him, and then hopped away before they could touch. "Water's mercy! You're disgusting."

Bai Tu gave a whine that suggested he agreed, and Mei Li was once again covering her face with a silk cloth.

"We'll look for a stream," Fushuai said. "First, I need to open my master's scroll."

"Unacceptable," Mei Li's voice was muffled by the silk. "You can look at it on the way to a bath."