Teng circulated his essence throughout the night. At first, it kept him calm and focused on anything other than the wolves below, who waited fervently. But, during his fourth time loosening the string of the fur wrap over his thigh, he realized the wound had slowed in its bleeding. It still oozed blood as he tugged at some of the sharp pine and lumpy moss to see how the healing progressed, but it was fine as long as he made no sudden movement.

After taking a brief nap, he awoke to pain and darkness. His wounds had almost stopped bleeding. The green of moss and pine and clotted crimson blood formed rather macabre images in the moon's dim light. Teng loosened the straps from his abdomen and thigh and breathed a sigh of relief as the pressure abated. His abdomen wound was better than the thigh, and he didn't dare to check the stumps that once belonged to his two fingers.

Scanning the ground below his pine through the gloom, he found no wolves. Opening himself to the wind, he smirked and traced the musky, rotten odor to two pines not too far away. Never trust your eyes alone. Two wolves lay hidden in the underbrush. He wondered why they were as insistent on pursuing him as they were but chalked it up to a lack of prey and predatory determination.

As he shifted his body, the pine needles sent burning pain across his thigh and abdomen, and he tried and failed to suppress a groan of pain. The wind told him how the ears of the wolves twitched then, and he knew they had heard him. Teng fell back against the rough bark of the pine, exhaling a long, weary breath.

To survive this, he would need more than just his fighting stick. Not that he knew where it was. He would need more than what he currently possessed to face these beasts. His mind, body, and essence were the only weapons on him now. His mind and body would be complex to improve as of now, which meant he needed to improve how he used essence.

Until now, he had immersed himself in the pattern of the feather, which had given birth to how his essence moved. Once ingrained, this process required little conscious effort. Bai had a saying that he had imparted to the boys when he taught them how to wield a fighting stick: "What's done with purpose strikes deeper." Could this not apply here?

He could move his essence unconsciously, and as seen with the healing, his essence improved more than just speed and power. What if he changed how his essence divided and merged according to his purpose? If constant division and merging produced the momentum needed to keep the essence moving, could he not time this or use this fact to yield a more potent result?

Teng immersed himself within. For a time, the constant division and merging of the blue essence streams flowed, as imparted by the feather. He then tried to force them to move according to his will, but they fell apart immediately the first time he did so. He tried again with the same results.

So, if I try to force the essence to move in a way the movement doesn't want to, it will fail. What can I do then? He ransacked his brain for the things he knew about the essence movement. Well, it's more fitting to call it a technique. The essence technique wanted to merge and divide; could he take a part of the essence and make it into a separate stream that followed the same pattern but on a smaller scale? Would the rest of the essence move according to the feather's design if he took a small part to move according to my own?

Teng looked inward, and though it took a while, he finally coaxed a part of the essence and directed it to his right arm, through it, and into his hand. He then punched the tree, swaying on the branches from the force of the blow. Even the crown ruffled slightly.

What's done with purpose strikes deeper, and Teng was not far off the mark. His mouth opened, then closed in awe. There was a slight indentation in the bark outlining his closed fist.

The sheer force of the blow was hard for him to grasp, and the impact didn't hurt him either. His fist felt normal, and he hadn't torn his skin. Sure, the adults of his village, with their bodies stuffed with essence for long years, could, most likely, produce a similar result, but still.

The problem was that, as he did this other movement, he could not move the essence in one continuous flow throughout his body. At least, not for now.

Teng tried various things, such as moving the essence to his fingertips, toes, head, and abdomen. One thing he noticed was how the division and merging affected the result. If the merging happened when his punch met resistance, the power was increased by at least the double. When this happened, however, he lost some of his essence. Where did it go? Teng didn't know.

So what did this mean? Teng scratched his head. He didn't know that either and clearly needed someone to ask about everything. Perhaps the experienced hunters who fought beasts of all kinds had also acquired these techniques? Or did the wise grandpas or grandmas, who had lived long lives and seen much of the valley, know of them?

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If I come back alive, I will find out if anyone knows about these things. It's too much for me to find out on my own. Anyway, what will I call it? Hmm. Teng's fist? Trunk breaker? Hmm… Blue flash? Yes, in honor of you, benefactor…

The commotion in the tree had not gone unnoticed. As daylight came through the green foliage from above, Teng saw the sleek, dark silhouettes of the two wolves sniffing around his thick pine.

Resolving himself, the boy sat back in his tree, removed the sticky pine from his wounds, and filled them with soft, cool moss. This was the third day of the five allotted; staying up here another day meant only one day to deal with the wolves and return to the village. Failure meant he would be cast out of the valley. Was this possible?

I have to deal with the two wolves today, then go to the village to get treatment for my injuries. Teng rechecked his wounds, nodded, and then slowly began making his way down the tree. The two wolves lay in the shade behind the same pines they lay during the night.

Here it goes. Teng released the last branch and hit the ground harder than expected. Pain shot up his thigh and almost blinded him in its intensity. The wolves' ears twitched, and their eyes opened wide as they leaped up, growled, and charged him.

The boy tried to run to the fighting stick between him and the wolves as quickly as possible, but it felt as if he was crawling through deep mud. Teng took hold of the fighting stick just as the first wolf leaped, amber eyes around a pitch-black pupil constricting in delight and wildness. Instincts took over. Teng thrust out the fighting stick using blue flash, the essence stream increasing the speed of his weapon.

The sharp weapon went right through it and out of the other side with barely any resistance. Then, the second wolf was on him, tackling him to the ground. He felt the breath escape his lungs as he struggled for control. Teng protected his throat with his left arm, using a blue flash to bolster it, and screamed as the wolf bit into it.

He got on top of the wolf and furiously rained down blows upon its muzzle, but it wouldn't release him. It hurt so bad that Teng wanted to die, but he kept punching. Snarls turned to whimpers to silence. As his vision cleared from the white, hot agony, the gray head of the wolf was smashed open; bone, blood, and brains were everywhere. He opened the jaws of the beast, tugged his bleeding arm out, and rolled over his back, gasping.

The fight had been almost as quick as it started.

I need to get going. Limping over to the first wolf, he pulled on the fighting stick and succeeding getting it out with a satisfying squelch. The weapon had punched right through its chest, so he pressed his arm inside, using blue flesh, and tore out its heart alongside flesh and viscera.

Teng looked around, laid the still-beating heart beside the wolf's body, and began eating the raw, pungent flesh through the wound in the grey fur. Essence coursed through him like the pain and done just before, like lightning through a tree. He ate and ate until he was full and about to puke from the effort.

Shit. Teng heard howls in the distance, grabbed the squishy, dripping heart, and ran. His body vibrated from the essence, and he couldn't feel any pain. Immersing himself in the impressions of the wind, he felt the scent of musk and old meat grow; the wolves were gaining on him. Teng slowed, then stopped altogether. No matter how much essence he had in his body, he could not outrun his pursuers.

This is how it must be.

Positioning himself against the most enormous tree he could find in the vicinity, he deliberated for a moment before throwing caution to the wind. He looked at the heart. It was large and a deep red like chili peppers, the kinds Uncle Bato, the slacker, raved about. The spirits would not like this, but what could he do? He bit into the red meat and kept eating until his face was bloody and gullet full.

When the wolves arrived, gliding into view, Teng stood ready. Four wolves, among them the giant with black fur, spread out, growling, hackles rising, but he was not so easily scared now. Teng's resolve had firmed as hardened old leather. First, he would immerse himself in the wind, wound the three smaller beasts, then deal with the largest. They seemed to hesitate, then the bigger one growled, and one of the smaller wolves charged.

Teng thrust out his fighting stick but carefully pulled it back in time. The attack pierced through the wolf's eyeball, then into its brain. With the impression of the wind, he felt the eyeball pop like an overripe plum.

The other wolves growled and attacked all at once. Teng dodged the first one, took a swipe to his shoulder from the black one, and tore through the other one's throat.

Two more to go.

The two remaining wolves seemed to hesitate. The gray one whined until the black one growled intensely, whereupon both leaped at their prey. Teng killed the gray wolf and lost his spear. The black wolf retreated to where the spear lay and crushed the wood between its fangs. Its wild, amber eyes glimmered.

Is it enjoying this? Teng clenched his teeth, and stopped circulating his essence in the normal technique. He was bleeding from his new injuries, alongside the old ones which had opened during the fight.

The wolf made a half circle, growling, tensing, and watching. Teng was without his fighting spear but not without weapons. His body was full of essence, like that time he had eaten the blue bird, but without the drowsiness.

There was no warning, just a flash of black as the wolf was upon him. They tumbled, and it tried to go for his throat. Teng used a blue flash and smashed his head into the wolf's muzzle, going underneath it and wrapping his arms around its neck. It tore and raked him across the body, but he refused to let go. Laying under its heavy back, the boy strained for all his worth.

But it wasn't enough; he knew it. Just as his strength was about to fade, as his grip on the wolf was about to break, Teng got his feet underneath and kicked himself away from the beast. Crawling on all four, he threw himself to the broken spear. Just as Teng heard the wolf from behind, he turned and whipped the halved spear with its tip straight into the wolf's eye and into its brain. He felt its hot breath of putrid meat as it collapsed over him, gushing blood from its popped eye, twitching once, twice, then was still.

Teng panted and laughed, screamed until his voice was hoarse, and then cried until he had no more tears left.