This Venerable Demon is Grossly Unqualified

Su Li's stomach felt like it was filled with bees. She'd eaten a bee once, when she was two, according to her parents. Allegedly, it had stung her lip, and her face had swelled up so much her father had carried her down the mountain to see Doctor Cho. She shivered. Her father was gone. She wondered if Doctor Cho was too now, swept away by the armies of the Shan like the rest of the world she'd grown up in. She’d sought news, when she first arrived, but Yanping was barely a hamlet, earning its place on maps off the reputations of a handful of its inhabitants, than any true importance. To the wider world, it was just one more line in a long list of names changing hands from Qin to Shan. She could not leave to see what remained of her home in person, at least not until she mastered the Liar’s Breath. She would not cast away three years of progress towards her vengeance over sentiment, not when her time with the sect was finally beginning to bear fruit.

She'd arrived at the clearing her master favored a full two hours before the appointed time. Her time was of little consequence, forcing Elder Hu to wait on her even for a few moments, unthinkable. She still felt like she did not understand the man at all. At first, he hadn’t even been cold to her. To be rude required one to acknowledge another existed in the first place, and was not merely an obstruction to be navigated around. She’d taken his attitude as her due, and persisted longer than any other in her class of initiates had, but she knew others had spent years petitioning Elder Hu in the past. It’d been so sudden, when he acknowledged her as a person, and he’d been so kind, compared to the other Elders. No impossible tests or depraved demands, he’d simply shown her wonders of swordsmanship she’d only ever heard of in legends, power even her honored father could not have dreamed of commanding. And then he would explain it in simple language, as if he were demonstrating basic sewing, rather than working miracles. Even if she couldn’t comprehend it. Still, days later, she turned over his words in her mind. What did it mean, to square a circle?

It scared her terribly, that she didn’t know why he’d suddenly changed his mind. What then could she hope to do, to prevent him from changing it again?

She stared at the sky, where the dim outline of a crescent moon could barely be seen through the rust-orange glare of the setting sun, a quirk of the outer regions of the sect. It was too early yet for her to cultivate properly, and she’d long since memorized her manual, leaving her alone with only her thoughts to distract her. When she'd first joined the Pathless Night three years ago, she'd been mildly surprised to discover that the sun showed its face at all within Sectmaster Meng's domain at all. It was not beyond him to blot it out. Every initiate entered the sect through the fullness of his domain, the truth of their spirits laid bare before the hungry stars that served as his eyes.

She was no longer the naive girl of sixteen that had crossed a kingdom to join a demonic sect though. She’d learned more of the truth of the world in three years locked within the sect than she had in a decade outside of it. She’d spent years in the sect’s fields, learning how they bred and cultivated crops that grew in the light of the sun, even as they absorbed the many varieties of yin qi that pervaded the air here during the waking hours. Elder Lin’s lectures had taught her that mortals and plants alike relied upon the dance of the celestial bodies to regulate the rhythms that governed their sleep and growth. And she’d explored the far corners of the outer reaches of the sect, found the strange open-air tunnels that led deeper into the Night. She knew now that it simply wasn’t efficient, to bathe outer disciples in the full measure of the Night, even if it limited many of the sect’s manuals to only twelve hours a day of proper cultivation. The logistics required to keep them fed and healthy were prohibitive, compared to the potential increase in their cultivation.

She heard him, before he arrived. Elder Hu rarely made an effort to move as silently as she knew he was capable of.

She met him on her knees, her father’s sword across her lap.

“Please, rise.” He greeted her. “It is good to see you punctual, I have little patience for those who do not respect the time of others. Since you’re here a little early, we can begin now.”

“This one thanks Elder Hu.” She responded, rising. Her heart beat like a drum in her chest. A proper lesson, from a true cultivator.

“Have you been here for a while?” He suddenly asked.

“This one arrived before the sun began its descent, to be certain they did not waste Master’s time.”

“Your diligence does you credit, but is unnecessary. If I set a time for a lesson, you are equally on time whether you arrive a minute before or an hour. Twilight begins when the sun fully dips beneath the horizon.”

“Yes Master.” Su Li replied, unsure what to make of that.

“Set your blade aside. We shall not require it tonight.”

Gently, she propped her father’s sword against one of the stumps she’d made yesterday. Was he only going to demonstrate techniques for her, then set her to master them alone? She’d hoped for something better. She could not learn from a single example, like the truly talented young masters and mistresses of the sect. As she turned to face her master, he started speaking.

“The sword is often described as the king of short weapons, or even the king of all weapons.” He began. “It can be wielded alone, or paired with a variety of off-hands. It has spawned ten thousand martial arts. It can act as a channel for the power of almost any element. It affords its wielder a variety of different fighting styles, and is effective both on an open field and in the press of battle. For these reasons, among others, it is often the first weapon an aspiring martial artist learns.”

He pulled his own sword, still sheathed, from his belt, and held it before him. Then he walked past her, and set it on the opposite side of the same stump.

“But for all but the mightiest of swordsmen, their skills are all but useless if there is no sword in their hands. The sword might be the most well known of weapons, but it is not the oldest of them. Before man worked iron, before the first stone spearhead was lashed to a long pole, before man even picked up a sharp rock, the first weapon was the body.”

This was not going the direction Su Li had expected it to. Elder Hu took a stance, half turning and sweeping his left foot out behind him, as his fists rose up before him.

“The sword might be the king of all weapons, but unarmed fighting is the grandfather of all combat. The principles of a swordfight are but a logical extension of those of a fistfight. The weapon changes the specifics, but the fundamentals of range and angle, power and speed, threat and deception, endurance and tempo, are applicable to any fight."

"I do not expect you to master unarmed combat. That is a journey of several lifetimes. But before I teach you the sword, you will attain at the very least enough skill that you do not fear to defend yourself unarmed. Because the fundamentals you learn there will guide you in all other martial endeavors. Because striking and grappling has its place in sword fights, even among cultivators. Because every opponent you face, will have the potential to utilize the unarmed techniques you will learn against you, no matter what weapon they bear into battle."

"Now, let us take the measure of your skill. Attack me."

Su Li did not know what to do. None of the potential scenarios she’d imagined for this evening included being told to punch Elder Hu. She knew no refined unarmed martial arts, only the base sort of mortal brawling she’d gotten up to as a child.

“I’m sorry Master, I don’t know what to do.”

“Begin by setting your feet shoulder-width apart, with your lead foot’s toes facing your target. Next, set your trailing foot just behind your rear shoulder, with its toes facing an eighth of a rotation outwards from your target. Bring your hands up before you, and form fists. Do not place your thumb within the fist, that is a good way to break it.”

“Master, I misspoke. I know how to throw a punch.”

“Funny. Everyone says they know how to throw a punch. And yet, most of them still do it wrong. If you know how, do it. Hit me.”

Su Li took up the stance her master had demonstrated. It felt awkward, having her feet so far apart, it was balanced when she was stationary, but every step felt clumsy. She took a quick step forward, then launched a straight punch right at him. He didn’t move. Her fist arced forward, and then just before it reached him, she ran out of arm. She’d expected him to move forward, or back, or something. She leaned forward the slightest bit, and her fist actually touched his robe. Should she attack again? Retreat? She looked up.

Her master was looking down at her, staring at her fist harmlessly pressed against his outer robe. Slowly, one eyebrow rose like a headsman’s axe.

“It works better when you actually hit the target. Again, from two paces away.”

Su Li flushed red. Why the hell did she freeze! She was embarrassing herself in front of Elder Hu. She looked like an idiot! She’d never had a proper lesson with anyone other than her father before, she couldn’t afford to look like a silly child in front of the only Elder willing to teach her, no matter how strange he was.

This time, Su Li didn’t hesitate. The moment Elder Hu took up his stance, she dove forward, this time using the footwork her father had taught her for use with the sword. Two steps took her close, so close there was no chance of repeating her earlier mistake, and she threw a powerful punch at Elder Hu’s chin, her right fist rising over her shoulder like a phoenix.

Then her vision went black. Elder Hu’s palm covered her face. Her nose pressed awkwardly against it. Her arm was still extended, but it again had stopped an inch shy of the target.

“You stepped too close, and threw an overhand punch from an outside angle without any setup, or guarding your own head. All I need to do to ensure it never lands is throw out any attack of my own from an inside angle. Even without my longer reach, it would arrive first, because my arm being on the inside of yours means it must travel a shorter distance. You can’t finish a punch if your torso can’t move forward.”

He stepped back, releasing her face.

“Again.“

Su Li took his words to heart, and threw a kick this time. It breezed past the Elder’s head as he took the smallest of steps backward.

“A high kick with no setup has a similar problem. There’s no reason your opponent needs to stand and take such an obvious blow. Again.”

She threw another kick, then as he stepped back, hopped forward to chain into a second, lower kick. Elder Hu caught her ankle in his hand, then extended his arm upwards, lifting her foot well over her head. Su Li dropped on her ass.

“Again.”

For an hour, Su Li threw every combination of strikes she could think of at Elder Hu. Kicks high and low, straight and curving. Sometimes, her blows landed against his guard, punches aimed at his head glancing ineffectually off a turned shoulder, kicks caught with open hands, or on one memorably painful occasion, bouncing off his iron-hard shin, leaving her limping.

She didn’t know what her master was looking for. He offered pointers, here and there, but after every exchange he just repeated ‘Again’.

Finally, as full dark descended, he called out.

“Enough."

Su Li struggled to keep her footing stable, as Elder Hu straightened his still pristine robes. Her legs burned from the exertion, her own robes so caked with dirt they would need another wash, from all the times he'd dumped her in the dirt with a flick of his arm after catching a kick. As surreptitiously as she could manage, she ran a hand through her hair, feeling for leaves.

"That wasn't bad. Your form was atrocious, but that's what you're here to learn. We'll start you with some simple form drills tomorrow, until you can throw a proper punch without dropping your guard."

"Yes. Master." Su Li panted, pride swelling within her as she realized Elder Hu had found in her whatever he’d been looking for.

It was very apparent that Su Li had never been properly trained to fight. At least not hand to hand. She hit harder than a girl her size had any right to, judging from the sound of the impacts. But, with my own qi reinforced body, it felt like sparring with a ten year old. I’d worried a little that I would need to lean on the inhuman speed my cultivation lent me, in order to properly play the part of an untouchable master, but I hadn’t really. Su Li just wasn’t that good, even by the standards of your average western MMA gym.

It was a curious paradox, that someone ostensibly dedicating their lives to martial arts would be so bad at them. I knew she was both young and untrained for a cultivator, and actively studied the sword, not boxing, but her footwork was remarkably bad. She tended to allow her feet to drift far too close together when closing in for a strike, and constantly overestimated the effective range of her attacks. I might know virtually nothing about proper swordsmanship, but I was now confident I could spend months teaching her boxing if I had to, potentially drag it out for years if I could convince her that grappling was a useful art to learn as well. And I didn’t think it would be a waste of time for her, not really.

While her relative inexperience made martial lessons easy to handle, I might not be a black belt, but I had spent years practicing wrestling and jiu-jitsu, cultivation would be another matter.

“Take a moment to recover, we’ll begin the cultivation portion of this lesson once you’re ready.”

“I’m ready.” Su Li coughed out. “Now master.”

I ignored her, she clearly wasn’t. As Su Li slowly got her breathing under control, I began pacing the length of the grove. It’d always been a habit of mine, to walk as I thought, and I didn’t think it compromised my image as an aloof master too much. The truth was, I didn’t have much to give her here. I could barely visualize a cycling pattern as described in a manual, I had no hope of offering her improvements over what had been written down by the original author. I couldn’t share general cultivation tips, I couldn’t control my own, let alone improve it. But I couldn’t afford to start our relationship on a weak lecture, I needed to convince her I knew what I was doing, and that meant throwing out everything and the kitchen sink, and simply trusting I’d manage to find enough material for a second lecture by the time I got to it.

Seeing that she was finally ready, I began.

“The Manual of the Passing Moon is a standard manual of our sect. However, the moon and night are not foundational elements of my own cultivation. I cannot offer you a direct improvement on its cycling patterns. I do not think, at this time, it would be prudent for you to even consider changing your cycling technique. Instead, as you cultivate, I will share my understanding of the moon and night, in the hope that you might glean something of use from them.”

“Master! This Su Li thanks you for your teachings!”

As Su Li settled atop one of the stumps that didn’t have swords resting against it, I began planning the rough flow of my lecture. I’d always found I delivered my best public speaking that way, minimal outline, no practice, flying by the seat of my pants. I’d spent a great deal of time yesterday reading about the moon from the perspective of cultivators, and the yinyang as well, since the moon was strongly associated with yin cultivation methods. Most of it still went over my head, and of what didn’t, I strongly suspected a lot of what was written down was bullshit. Epistemic standards were poor, many authors were irrationally attached to one or more of their pet ideas, and frankly, I still wasn’t sold on the idea of yin and yang as universal organizing principles. But the Manual of the Passing Moon was, and it appeared the moon roughly worked the same way here as it did on earth, so I’d tried to work both concepts together in my lecture.

“Let us begin with the moon. It is said that of the celestial bodies, the moon is the most absolute expression of yin. Many cultivators repeat this statement as dogma, but if asked why, only reinforce their claim with platitudes. The truth is in fact simple. Yin is often described as the feminine principle, or the cold principle, but a better description of it is the receptive, mirroring, or absent principle. The moon itself is cold and desolate, and life is absent there, but its truest connection to the concept of yin is in its nature as a mirror. The moon does not emit light. Not even the least amount. And yet it shines in the sky. This light is in fact the reflection of the sun, colored a cold white by the nature of the moon’s surface.

“The phases of the moon too are aspects of the receptive principle. At any time, save for the rare eclipse, half of the moon is lit by the light of the sun. And yet, the half that is lit, is not always the half of the moon facing earth. The moon is full when these two properties are in alignment, and waning when the celestial dance causes the lit face to turn away from the earth. The new moon and waxing moons mark the beginning of this cycle, as the lit face again turns to face the earth.”

Su Li gave no indication she’d heard anything I said. I could feel something from the girl, like a cold heartbeat, perhaps an indication of her cultivation, but I didn’t know how to judge if it was going well or poorly. There were no visible signs, no silver aura forming around her. I felt a little foolish, lecturing to an audience that appeared for all intents deaf to my words. But I pushed on, it was the least I owed the girl who had placed her hopes with a fraud.

“The Manual of the Passing Moon suggests that one view the cycle of the moon as a similar phenomena to that of the sun. Present at times, absent by degrees at others. This is an oversimplification. The moon is governed not by one cycle, but by two intersecting. The sun’s movement determines its phase in the general lunar cycle, but the hour of its rising, and its position in the sky are determined by its own movement relative to the earth. The intricacies of these interactions give rise to many of the rarer lunar phenomena, like blood moons and eclipses.

“The dance of the celestial bodies is complex, and governed by principles that are best explained with arcane mathematics, so I will end this lecture with two questions for you to consider during your meditation. The first, is that given what I have told you about the moon, why are the specifics of its behavior so much less predictable than those of the sun? Every farmer can tell you how many hours of light they will receive in any given month of the year, but few can tell you when the next blood moon will occur, or what part of the sky the moon will shine next winter. The second, is how might the moon’s unpredictability be applicable to your cultivation?”

Su Li sat silently, her chest slowly rising and falling. The moon shone fully overhead now, a sliver of a crescent just a hair fatter than it had been yesterday. Something about that image felt congruent to me, in a way I couldn’t quite put into words. It wasn’t just the idea of improvement, of being better than one was yesterday. It might have been a trick of the mind, but I could almost feel the qi I knew Su Li was cultivating, a cold bright shadow upon the skin, a memory of light. Careful not to make a sound, I grabbed my sword off the stump, and left my student to her cultivation.

I wanted to say something more, to wish her luck, to apologize that I could not teach her more, but there was nothing I could say. Every well-wish was too hollow, every honest word too dangerous. Instead, I ran. Silent as shadow, faster than air, miles fell away beneath my feet. I needed true privacy for this, and enough distance to be certain I would not disturb my disciple. I’d pulsed my qi before, when I lost control of my temper, sensed the barest hints of other people's qi when they used it. If I could do it once, I could do it again.

Alone, save for the trees that towered over me, swaddled in the soft shadows of freshly fallen night, I stared out at the blackened heavens. I let the rage build beneath my skin, in a way I hadn’t had cause to for years. Su Li’s fate struck a chord within me, a fear I’d buried the moment I’d awoken. I’d left much behind, a home recently purchased, a woman I’d thought I would marry, a family much thinned by disease.

If I ever made it home, a thin hope already that, would anyone I’d left behind even be there to greet me? This preceding decade had taken almost the entire elder generation of my family, would the next take my own father?

If the heavens felt this righteous, I would make them bleed.

Qi roared through my veins, building to a furious crescendo before echoing outwards into the world.

Leaves fell around me, severed by my rampant will. Yes, this would serve. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t mine. But it would serve.