Daoist Scouring Medicine stared down at the squirming monkey lying on the table in front of him.

"Here still! Sausage after!" He barked first. "I need accurate measurements if I'm to develop a suitable bodily cultivation bath for you."

He was getting good at managing the little rascal. Begin with commands and rewards he expected to be comprehended, then follow with an explanation he did not. He'd found speaking as he would to a disciple, rather than a child, often led to surprising leaps in comprehension. A single week, he'd spent with the animal. He wondered what it would sound like after a month, a season? At this rate, it might well have the vocabulary of the average imperial official before the year was out!

"Bath?" Orange-crest asked with apprehension. The monkey was still staring with concern at the needles in Scouring Medicine's hand.

Ugh. Poor wording. The beast didn't like baths very much. He tolerated them, but was surly until he dried completely. Still, he'd have to submerge the creature in a very caustic body refining solution eventually. Best to lay the ground work now.

"Special bath. Make more strong."

Once more, the Daoist silently swore that if anyone ever witnessed him speaking this awkward monkey-pinyin, he would slay them. With the animal distracted by their conversation, he swiftly used the Phantom Palm to stick the prone monkey with a series of needles. The creature might be ornery, but he'd treated children before, he knew all the tricks to get his needles in and out before they even noticed. It was far easier than reassuring them. Not very rational beings, children.

"Strong good? Bath bad-good?"

"Bath good-good. Cultivation bath bad-best." Scouring Medicine corrected. He didn't know whether to feel proud or ashamed to understand exactly what the beast meant by bad-good. "Will future learn."

"No future learn." The monkey promised, before pausing thoughtfully. "Ehckek have bath. Ehckek most-best. Orange-hair not ehckek."

Scouring Medicine's eyebrow rose. Had the beast just claimed baths were for humans?

"Ekeckh?" Scouring Medicine did his best to repeat the sound, pointing to himself.

"No ehckek." The monkey moved to point at him, throwing off his measurements yet again. He needed an accurate understanding of it's innate elemental affinities if he was to prescribe an ideal first stage treatment for it. But getting good feedback through his needles required the damn beast to stay still. "No ehckek." The monkey repeated, pointing at itself instead. "Ehckek." He finished, pointing upwards at the heavens.

Astounding. He didn't understand it, but the beast had clearly just expressed a novel complex thought. He revised his estimate of the magnitude of fortuitous encounter it had experienced upwards yet again. Between whatever had happened on Mount Yuelu, the carefully selected regimen of pills he'd been feeding the animal, and the far less carefully selected array of natural treasures it was stuffing down it's gullet, the monkey was developing at an incredibly rapid rate. It's cultivation was far too low for it to ascend to the status of spirit beast. That process took centuries of steady growth and dozens of fortuitous encounters, core formation at bare minimum. But what if it didn't need to?

Scouring Medicine made the beast's gesture for confusion, which was confusing similar to it's gesture for 'lots' or 'more', wide open arms with a tilted head.

"Eckekh?" The Daoist echoed, trying his best to mimic the little chirping noise at the end.

"Ehckek." The monkey repeated firmly. It turned about the room, looking for something to use as a visual aid. "Ehckek most good. Ehckek most strong. Ehckek most most." The monkey's brow furrowed. "No words bad no."

"Ah, I see." Scouring Medicine said thoughtfully. "Echkek is a cultivator. A spirit beast, likely. One he thinks is clearly stronger than me. Not that I'd count him the most accurate judge of relative strength. The reclusive lord of Mount Yuelu perhaps."

He paused as his mind worked backwards.

"The lord of Mount Yuelu takes baths. But you don't."

"Eheh." The monkey shrugged, clearly not convinced he'd been understood.

Daoist Scouring Medicine put the matter aside. At this rate, he'd just be able to ask the beast again in a few days. He had his measurements as well. It's roots were an elemental muddle, as he'd expected. Pure spirit roots were rarer than a Qilin, and just as much a mixture of danger and blessing. In truth, he was glad to see the monkey didn't have any sort of extreme constitution. While it would have been an interesting outcome, he would have been forced to put his plans to temper it's body on indefinite hold.

The monkey's roots were primarily of earth, with near even balances of water and wood. Weaker in fire, but nearly entirely deficient in metal. It's constitution was yang heavy, of course. It was a male monkey after all, that fact would dominate it's constitution until it had years of cultivation under it's belt. But it was far more balanced than he'd expected. Likely a side effect of the primarily yin nature of the Mind-Opening Pill. He had fed the beast three of them in a week, after all. Daoist Scouring Medicine wasn't sure, if he would keep the monkey moving in that direction. Many of the sect's treasures were yin aligned, but there were plenty of good yang dominant earth methods, like Daoist Enduring Oath's.

Daoist Scouring Medicine pondered the data as the monkey patted himself down, seemingly looking for small needle holes. It was an inhuman constitution, but a very moderate one. He could work with that. It would be a very different recipe than the last ill-fated bath he'd attempted. Disciple Zhang had been dominant in metal and fire, and almost as yang-dominant as the monkey, despite being a man.

An earth-dominant bodily cultivation seemed like an obvious choice for the monkey. Perhaps a secondary wood aspect focused upon the tendons and bones, to give it a great capacity for flexibility and recovery. It would be a solid foundation for it's future development. It's second set of baths would need to bring it closer to his own, far more balanced constitution. He could hardly use it as a test run for his own Fleshly Reformation if it developed too divergently.

His brush flew across the paper like a reaping wind. The monkey watched him write, unaware that those densely packed black dashes and curves were ordaining it's fate as surely as a Heavenly Edict. Petrified Seeds would be perfect, but he wasn't made of spirit stones these days. It would take years to petrify the outputs of his own garden. Perhaps he could rely heavily on Ironwood for the first bath? It's metal aspects were unfortunate, but Daoist Enduring Oath would give him a very good price. He could always suppress or subsume those, with the right treatment of the material. A two hop generation sequence would be finicky, subsuming metal into water, then water into wood, but it would be very efficient usage of his ingredients.

No, no, that wouldn't work. Ironwood as a base, fully subsuming it's metal qualities into even more wood? There was no way he could end up with an earth primary, no matter what else he added to the bath. The resulting body would be wood element dominant. Not incompatible with the monkey's constitution, but imperfect. Unless he taught it a true wood element cultivation method, it wouldn't reach it's full potential with that bath.

Daoist Scouring Medicine's lips curled upwards, exposing his teeth. This, this was what he had been missing. A martial artist might attain excellence practicing the same strike ten thousand times, but an alchemist needed variety. And one could not truly judge the worth of a pill or bath, except by seeing it's results.

He'd made a grave error, allowing Disciple Zhang to continue his treatments at his family's home. No, the error had been allowing himself to be convinced to treat the arrogant boy at all. This time, he would control every condition.

"Eeh?" Orange-hair chirped, unnerved by his expression. Oh, yes. Monkeys didn't like bared teeth. He'd read that somewhere.

"Don't worry, little one. It's not you I'm angry at."

The impudent beast gave him yet another doubtful expression. It then leaned over the table, sniffing at the ink on the page. It stepped closer, shoving it's snout into his face even as it's feet came dangerously close to his wet ink.

"Too close." Augmenting his grip with a Phantom Palm, he relocated the monkey back to arm's length. On a whim, his hand drifted down to rub the top of it's head. He gently scratched the fiery poof of hair that rose from it's head where a man's top-knot would be.

"Eeheh." The monkey chirped, pressing back into his hand.

"Fear not, little beast. Together, you and I shall shake these small heavens."

Was he getting ahead of himself? This project had been driven as much by a desire to irritate his colleagues and his many spare hours as it had any real planning. To even attempt Fleshly Reformation would require the beast to attain intelligence and resolve alike in excess of most men. It would likely take years, this situation between him and the sect would almost certainly be resolved in one way or another before then. The things he'd learn adapting a first stage bath for a monkey would be valuable. But probably not valuable enough to justify the amount he would spend on the process.

His brush stilled. This was not a rational course of action. He wasn't mad, he'd known that. But it was only now truly sinking in, just how much he might invest in the creature, never to be repaid. However intelligent it became, the monkey would remain an animal. It would be unlikely to ever repay his kindness. It might well become forever poisoned against him, when it discovered just how much enduring a body refinement bath would hurt.

He turned to stare at the little orange monkey. Why was he doing this? He wasn't the sort of man who desperately craved a companion. He had no desire to bond the animal as a beast tamer would, to bind their fates as one.

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He was not lying to himself, he would learn much from the process of developing its body and mind. But... Would that information make any difference for his own advancement? He'd stood at the great circle of foundation establishment in both body and spirit for years now. The beast would need to match him in body to provide the data he truly needed. Perfected flesh, a flawless crucible in which to refine the greatest pill of his life. It was unlikely to ever climb that high, even with his assistance.

"Emptiness take it all." He muttered. "When did I become so concerned with profit and loss? Am I turning into one of the very mercantile souls I decry?"

He wanted to do this. For learning. For proof of his skill. Because the mountain was there to be summited.

Because, damn it, the little beast was growing on him.

"Bad?" The monkey inquired. His brother had gone very still indeed.

"Fear not, gluttonous one. I was merely deep in thought." He paused again, letting his resolve crystallize into words. "I simply realized that I'd allowed the very vices I rail against to infect me. I'd forgotten that I did not become an alchemist to hoard gold by helping lazy old men rouse their little dragons."

"Ek?"

"A peerless sword can shake the heavens. But a peerless pill can upend them. Shatter in a moment all the alliances of men and limitations of fate." He repeated the answer he'd given Daoist Guarding Thunder, all those years ago.

Daoist Scouring Medicine smiled widely at the questioning monkey, stretching his lips to their limits to keep his teeth covered.

The monkey stared at him with a clearly concerned expression.

"I don't know about you, but I think the Azure Mountain Sect could use a little upending."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Orange-crest's brother abruptly rose, casting aside the strange tools of the art of 'writing'. He refused to let orange-crest attempt the art, claiming that 'he didn't want the beast tracking ink all over his furniture', whatever that meant. Why did his brother always use so many words? It made it so much harder than it needed to be to piece together the mind-taste of each one alone.

"Come, it's time for a change of pace." Daoist Scouring Medicine announced. "Lazing about all day won't temper your muscles and bones enough to survive my refinement."

Orange-crest knew that one! Come meant to follow! The rest... Lazing was a bad, refinement a good, or sometimes a bad-good. Stop doing a bad and follow and maybe do a bad-good? A hard task by context perhaps?

His brother did like his tests. If orange-crest got so much more food when he did well at counting, or remembering words.

Words. Such a strange idea, a single sound to encompass all foundational hoots.

Shaking his head clear of the thoughts that buzzed about incessantly like the flies of midsummer, orange-crest rose, scampering after his domineering brother. At least the hairless one was no longer making rage-faces.

No, not hairless one. Man, they called themselves.

His brother performed the gesture that unlocked the pantry, his great food-cave. Again, orange-crest strove to memorize the movement. Listened with his strange new senses for the way the world shook in response to it.

He saw a few more errors in his imitation. The gesture was sharper than what he'd tried last night. The small fingers needed to curl more in that last flourish.

Later, when his brother retired to the room with the great stone with a heart of flame, he would test his understanding anew. He could all but taste it now, the glorious night when he would finally have unrestricted access to the larder. He would eat so many fruits, discover what the strange powder that reeked of plant-fire tasted like when spread upon meat. Then he would sleep surrounded by more food than even the Monkey King stored for winter!

He suspected his brother would not be pleased. But he could live with that, and so could his brother.

Orange-crest followed his brother into the pantry, sticking to him like a shadow. The moment his brother bent over to collect something, his nimble fingers dove like a hawk and liberated a small sausage. The monkey immediately stuffed the entire thing in his mouth.

His knees grew weak. His heart pounded like thunder. A moan of ecstatic-pain grew in his chest, and he swallowed to prevent it from breaking free.

Uh oh. His mouth was small, and the meat was not small.

"Gah. Ehh." The monkey strove mightily with his delicious adversary.

"I saw that." His brother said.

"Nua saa." The monkey denied, his overstuffed mouth betraying him.

"There's a little string sticking out from the corner of your mouth."

Orange-crest followed his brother's finger. Mouth meant face hole. Oh. The weird little inedible sand-colored worm-thing that hung from the sausage like a parasite.

His fingers pushed it through the corner of his cheek without parting his lips. There, fixed.

"I did promise you a sausage earlier. You're not getting two just because you scarfed down the first one trying to be sneaky."

"Yes two!" The monkey cried indignantly, blockage cleared.

Orange-crest paused. Wait.

"Ah, you admit it. Not that it was one of your better capers. Nothing compared to what you pulled on those disciples yesterday. You know, if you bring their spirit stones back here, I'll trade you some good stuff for them."

Orange-crest didn't like the way his brother was smiling. That was a trickster's smile if he'd ever seen one. He would know, as the second greatest trickster of Mount Yuelu. He'd given his brothers many such a cruel grin.

His brother dragged orange-crest out of the sacred land of the pantry, monkey in one hand, jug in the other. Setting the disappointed monkey down, he popped the cork out of the jug.

Orange-crest froze, second-sausage forgotten. The smell was more less sweet than he was used to, but the sharp tang was unmistakable.

"Rice wine." His brother said.

There were kinds of wine? There were kinds of wine! Wait. He'd already known that. He hadn't learned a new thing, only a new word for an old thing. But he'd never heard of rice. What sort of fruit was it?

His brother hefted the great clay jug, heavier than orange-crest's entire body, with one hand. He took a long gulp from it.

"We're going to play a game, my simian friend." He said, wiping his mouth with a sleeve.

Orange-crest held his hands out plaintively. That was such a large jug. He was not sure he could even lift it!

"Want wine? Catch me."

Orange-crest's eyes widened. Catch? How was he supposed to catch that jug! It was larger than he was! The monkey flinched back, throwing his arms up to shield himself.

No heavy clay jug came flying at him.

When the monkey looked up, his brother was slipping out the door, jug in hand.

Did... the word catch have multiple meanings depending on context? No, that would be insane. What sort of fools would make a language where the listener couldn't ever be sure what the speaker meant?

"Not a great start, little beast." His brother raised the jug to his lips again, his body bending like a storm-tree to balance the momentum of the heavy container. "If you take too long, I'll drink it all."

Orange-crest could see where this was going. Quick-fingers would have done they exact same thing, if she'd owned a big bowl to pilfer from his wine-trees with.

He charged after his brother. If his strange brother wanted to play the brewer and the thief at once, well, orange-crest would happily play the chaser! He knew his brother was fast, compared to the other hairless ones he'd encountered. A sky-walker. Better at it than quick-fingers, but nothing compared to the king.

But he was no monkey. And it was time orange-crest showed him the gulf between monkey and man.

"Well, maybe not all of it. This is a large jug." His brother leapt, kicking off a tree to gain even more height. "Then again, it's not like I have anywhere to be tomorrow. I suppose I could even indulge in some sleep. It's been a while, but I don't have pills to make."

Orange-crest's eyes took in the scene, reading the secrets of the tree-ways. He ignored his brother's route and instead moved in parallel, ascending rapidly by swinging through a series of easy handholds.

His brother leapt, branch-running out into the mountainside. Orange-crest followed, spinning like a dervish as he flew through the trees. He rose higher and higher, taking advantage of the thin, flexible branches at the apex of the canopy to speed his way. With every leap he kept building his momentum, letting the bending of the branch catch him, leaping as it flexed back to further accelerate.

His brother's every leap carried him incredible distances, always towards another tree. But from above, orange-crest could see where he was going next. He always leapt to big, thick, branches. Avoided clusters of dense limbs where he would stain his sand-white false-skin by rubbing against bark and needle.

Their arcs aligned, and orange-crest went ballistic. His heart-fire surged as he leapt, soaring through the air towards his brother's destination.

His brother landed first. Orange-crest watched as he turned, and saw the monkey flying towards him, arm's outstretched. His brother's position was awkward, he needed a moment to reset before taking his next leap.

He didn't have it.

"Kreee!" Orange-crest screeched, already tasting his victory wine.

Then his brother tipped backward, hooking one foot around the branch as he did.

Orange-crest surged through the space he'd been, overshooting the branch without a body to interrupt his flight.

"Kreeeeee!"

The ground was not soft.

Dazed, the monkey stared up at his brother. The man hung upside-down by a single hooked foot, arms dangling below the level of his head. He still held the jug.

His feet weren't even good for grabbing! That was not fair!

"Hmm." His brother muttered. "Hard to drink like this."

Orange-crest quietly crept to his feet as his brother struggled to drink upside down. Hefting the jug with both hands, the man lifted it above his head, toward his chest. He inverted it slowly.

"There we go."

Orange-crest crept closer. Just a few more steps.

Wine spattered on the ground, as Daoist Scouring Medicine began to cough.

"Euch. In the mouth, out the nose. Not doing that again." He twisted his torso, looking around. "Nobody saw that."

His eyes met the monkey's.

"Ek." Orange-crest chirped.

"You don't count."

Orange-crest lunged, but his brother simply pulled himself up by his foot.

"Good try. It's been a while since I bullied a junior. Count yourself lucky we're not exchanging pointers."

Orange-crest leapt to chase his brother once more, genuine irritation boiling in his chest.

The trees were a monkey's territory! Men should stick to their strange caves. This might be a game, but orange-crest was playing for the honor of all monkey-kind.

This time, he didn't plan, he just chased. Faster, faster. Up and down became meaningless as he tumbled head over tail, feet and hands interchangeable as they grabbed at the best handhold.

His damnable brother was faster. Always just one step ahead of him. His limbs ached, but it wasn't about the wine now. It was about winning.

His hairless brother was bigger and faster than him. He had more food and a cave of wonders. He knew deeper secrets and was part of a bigger pack.

Orange-crest liked his new brother, but he was tired of always being second best. This was a monkey's thing, so he would be better at it.

It was that simple.

Man and monkey soared through the canopy. Daoist Scouring Medicine was untouchable, as impossible to catch as orange-crest's shadow. Until the monkey saw his moment.

"Stop!" Orange-crest roared in the true-tongue. His heart-fire blazed out into the world. For a single long moment, his word became a burning commandment. True, because he insisted it was so!

Daoist Scouring Medicine froze in mid leap, even the earth's call temporarily honoring orange-crest's will.

Then the man flexed, and the spell shattered.

The furry missile took him in the chest.

He still might have recovered. Daoist Scouring Medicine was no warrior, but he'd sought perfection of the body as earnestly as he had the spirit. His sense of balance was peerless, his limbs strong enough to shatter stone.

"KREEE!" Orange-crest screamed, directly into his face. The daoist winced at the combination of the smell and volume.

His foot missed the branch.

The two primates hit the ground with a heavy thump. Daoist Scouring Medicine kept the presence of mind to keep the clay jug well clear of the impact.

"I might be drunker than I thought I was, for that to hold me even for a moment." He said slowly. "Still, do you ever cease to amaze? I showed you that spell once."

Orange-crest reached for the jug.

Fire flared through his chest. Not heart-fire. It felt like real fire, like he'd inhaled the king's Tiger-Banishing Breath.

His brother chuckled ominously.

"Ah. Surely you didn't think there would be no consequences for doing something like that? You probably just opened a meridian in the most violent way imaginable. It's going to hurt."

His brother shook the jug. Orange-crest's shoulders fell, at the mournfully quiet sloshing that emanated from it. It was almost empty! His chest hurt and there was almost nothing to quench it with!

His brother shrugged, proffering the nigh empty jug to the prone monkey.

"Catch me faster next time."