Using a paint made from local berries, crushed beetles, and birds’ eggs, Booker brushed red characters onto the cave walls. Thankfully, the language of the land was mostly unchanged for thousands of years – the verbage had changed somewhat, but the characters were uncompromisingly the same from one generation to the next. To age the writing, he added heat from Froggie and a mixture of poison nettle juices with a little acid. By the end, the images were cracked and faded, just as if countless years had passed.

The poems of the Spirit Gardener seemed at home here, extending from the entrance of the cave where the green forests could be seen and light would enter at each dawn, down into the depths where the sun was nothing but a memory.

He also left a part of the Diatribes.

The Diatribes had several stages. The first was the Left-Right Mirror, which was the only part that Booker wrote on the cave walls. It was a simple technique, using accumulated spirit to gradually shift the meridians of the left arm to mirror the right, or vise versa.

After that, one would enter into the Soul-Heart Mirror stage and begin to create an eidolon of themselves: a kind of mental construct that existed as a perfect copy of the creator, and had its own will that could act separately. This was the difficult part. An eidolon with even slight flaws would condemn the creator to madness on the next step, when they split their mental palace in two, placing one half and half of their spirit under the eidolon’s control.

Booker had no intention of meddling with such a powerful technique. Instead, since he already had Rain… He would simply have to find a way to lift Rain’s mood out of the endless depression his spirit lingered in.

That was already the right thing to do. Now, it was also profitable. The benefit of the Soul-Heart Mirror was that one half of the self could constantly perform soul cultivation and continuously strengthen both sides. While you would lose some of your spirit initially, in the long run you would be far stronger.

But the final stage…

The Sun-Moon Mirror simply created a second you. That was all. It required a level of energy cultivation that nobody Booker had ever met, except perhaps the disciple from the Higher Sect, possessed – but if you could reach that height, you would be able to create a perfect clone.

“‘Quite ordinary’.” Booker could only shake his head. If this was ordinary… he was lucky he hadn’t chosen an extraordinary scroll. The Sun-Moon Mirror would take years to achieve at best, if he ever could.

Stepping out the cave, he settled down by a mirror-smooth pool of water, taking up the lotus pose. Letting his focus turn inwards, he began to slowly shape and guide his meridians. The process was extremely slow, but not difficult at all. In a way Booker found it soothing…

But before he could make much progress, he was being shaken out of his trance by Xan. “Rain! Have you seen what’s inside the cave?”

Booker grinned. “See, here I was hoping to surprise you.”

— — —

They spent the next day camping in the cave meditating on the scripts. Booker was the furthest along, having secretly gotten a good headstart on the rest of them, but Fen was learning quickly. Xan was the furthest behind, and barely seemed to get any benefit. Soon, he was agitating to head back out and complete more of the Sect’s commissions.

“I don’t know about you, but I need to get paid.” He complained. “My brothers and sisters are counting on me.”

“Xan, I disagree completely. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. We’re looking at a technique that’s been forgotten for centuries.” Fen said in reply, snapping his fan open. “But this does bring up a good question: do we sell this to the Sect? If we did… we could easily rake in thousands of liang in repayment.”

“I leave that to you.” Booker said. “If you do, you take all the risk. Since you’d be bringing it forth they might try to shake you down for more…” Knowing the Sect elders, they’d definitely prefer to fabricate a reason not to pay. Possibly shaking more out is just a side benefit.

Xan nodded. “I don’t think so. It seems to me…” He scratched his chin. “Well, isn’t this luck too good? My mother always says, too much fortune is a disaster.”

He’s right. There’s no sense in sharing your fortune with people who will never share their own. I have no qualms about giving Xan and Fen anything I can, but that’s because they’ve proven to be true brothers. Bringing in other people… only brings trouble.

“Perhaps so. I’d certainly never dare disagree with your mother.” Fen said, hiding a smile. “But let me offer another path: sell to the Lao-Hain. Our secret weapon in this matter being brother Rain. You see, they need him to assume his grandfather’s duties. Therefor…”

“Ah, they can’t just kill us!” Xan pounded his fist into his palm. “Perfect. Fen, you’re a genius!”

“I have my moments…” Fen agreed.

“I prefer that solution anyway. This cave is pretty close to Lao-Hain lands. Giving it to the Sect would be handing them a pretext to attack.” Booker said. “But let’s not rush. I want to spend more time studying this… and I need privacy to do some more alchemy anyway.”

Taking out two small bags, he threw Xan and Fen their share of the pills he’d created. Since he was being cagey with his true capacity he’d only given them three each. Two cricket rejuvenation pills and one emergency healing pill, named a rebirth sprout pill.

Xan grinned broadly as he pulled one and and sniffed it. “Hey, this is good stuff!”

“Of course. Our brother Rain is a certified alchemy genius in addition to his talent for fighting. That’s why the Sect will brush over his disappearance when he returns as a cultivator.” Fen said confidently.

I wish I had that confidence… I think some of the Instructors won’t forget what I did that easily. Or really… they won’t forget what they did. They know I saw them cast their votes to have me killed. In their minds, I’ll always be looking for revenge.

And you know what?

They’re right. I won’t forget that.

I’ve been polite, I’ve been nice – I haven’t forgotten who put me in this position.

If I ever have the chance, there will be hell to pay.

“Alright.” Xan said. “I’m going to go out and finish some more of these commissions. Fen, you come with. When we’re finished, we’ll collect our brother and head back to the Lao-Hain.”

— — —

Four days passed then, and snow began to fall.

Booker was so deep in practice that he barely noticed it begin to happen. When he opened his eyes at the edge of the pool, the surface was covered in frost, and snow covered his shoulders and hair. For the last four days, he had done little but practice his energy cultivation stances and wander through the imaginary worlds of the Spirit Gardener’s poetry, existing in frozen moments of total beauty created by her words.

His spirit had grown accordingly. Unlike the rush of first reaching energy cultivation, when progress was a single surging moment, soul cultivation was slow and steady. It felt almost like existing in a dream: time stopped to flow in a linear way, and was reduced to a few moments of total concentration between long periods where everything blurred into a haze.

By comparison, energy cultivation was thrilling and punishing, drawing out every scrap of power within his body until every individual cell resonated with an all-consuming burn of exercise, a pain that felt like bliss… Booker had taken to lifting boulders in Horse Atop the World stance, hoisting huge clumps of stone overhead and letting his cultivation burn within his chest until all was exhausted.

And every night he practiced drawing talismans with his left hand. At first there was no difference, but by the second day his motions were notably more sharp, more focused. On the third day his hand moved easily to his will. On the fourth, his meridians on both sides of his body were identical: there was no longer a difference between right and left.

One by one, paper slips with complete talisman-marks piled up.

Naturally, Booker’s talisman-craft had become far easier. Not only did he no longer have to contend with a disobedient left hand, but the focus he needed to achieve while drawing the talismans became easier and easier the longer he spent meditating on the Spirit Gardener’s inner worlds.

At this point, he was capable of creating qi-detecting talismans at twenty-five percent mastery. His best measured at thirty or thirty-five, but he was consistently reaching the second breakpoint.

Qi Detection Talisman

31% Mastery // Dull-Quality

The most simple talisman, and a mechanism on which many other talismans rely to activate.

First Rune: Detection

Effect (1% Mastery): Detects the presence of foreign qi.

Effect (25% Mastery): Can be tuned to trigger other runes when it detects a certain qi.

Effect (75% Mastery): Flies towards the source of qi.

By the fourth day, Booker had inscribed the characters of the qi-detecting talisman so many times it was etched permanently into his brain. And he would probably never run out…

“Time to try something else.”

Taking out the jade amulet, he examined the characters that floated within. There truly was an endless sea. At a thought, he could call forth talisman designs that would create wolf spirits, surround him with a veil of shadows, or capture the force of an incoming attack and reflect it.

But of all the talismans, only three were the key ingredients of the sealing talisman that Valley Rain had used…

Tree of Peace Rune

Intermediate Difficulty // Earth-Quality

Conjures a construct in the shape of a tree, capable of drawing energy from the earth into other runes.

Effect (10% Mastery): Delays the talisman’s effects to add additional power.

Effect (25% Mastery): Causes talisman to summon a tree construct that draws power from the earth, sustaining a longer activation.

Effect (75% Mastery): The talisman summons a permanent spirit tree construct, sustaining a theoretically infinite activation.

This was the key to the talisman’s longevity. Everything else would eventually crumble unless this foundation was strong.

Fathomless Inkwater Rune

Moderate Difficulty // Dull-Quality

Creates a restraining illusion that the target experiences as a realm of ink. Enemies who fail to escape before their body is destroyed will exist as a remnant will within the talisman.

Effect (10% Mastery): The target is trapped in an illusion that prevents them from seeing their true surroundings for a brief amount of time.

Effect (25% Mastery): The target cannot move their body at all within the illusion, and the illusion lasts a moderate amount of time.

Effect (75% Mastery): The illusion is so life-like that the target will forget ever having existed in another realm.

The fathomless inkwater rune was the actual binding element. It would hold the demon in place.

Sea Realm Opening Rune

Intermediate Difficulty // Earth-Quality

Creates a fractured rift to an Under-Realm.

Effect (10% Mastery): Creates a temporary rift to an Under-Realm.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Effect (25% Mastery): Can be used to draw all nearby enemies into the Under-Realm.

Effect (75% Mastery): Can be used to access a specific Under-Realm.

The last rune was slightly unclear, but it was by far the highest quality, and even more advanced Dull talismans were currently beyond Booker.

In the end, he chose two to work on. One was the fathomless inkwater rune. While it was more difficult than the tree of peace, he simply didn’t have enough talisman runes memorized to make use of a rune that only modified other, more directly useful runes.The second was more situational. The beast-calling rune would draw cultivating beasts from miles around. It was extremely dangerous, but Booker hoped it could help him find the shrine’s sacred deer.

It would certainly help me get out of hot water with Snow Blossom.

At that he could only sigh, wetting his brush in a cup of snow melted over Froggie’s back.

Snow Blossom… I mean, she is beautiful. And competent. I think I could probably do worse.

But I don’t know her at all. Moreover… I don’t want to be married. I want to live my life one way, without too much in the way of obligations chaining me down.

I don’t really know what to do. I should probably start by telling her… but I should also get the deer first, so I have something to show I’m not the deadbeat she thinks.

He dipped his brush in ink and began.

Beast Call Rune

Basic Difficulty // Dull-Quality

A rune that uses primal energies to call to beasts across great distances.

Effect (10% Mastery): Calls to beasts across a radius of miles.

Effect (25% Mastery): Can be tuned to a specific species or specific beast.

Effect (75% Mastery): Cultivating beasts will be unaware of their attraction, but instinctively gravitate towards the talisman.

In the end…

The first attempt was always doomed to be a failure. But Booker was surprised by how far he got.

As he focused on creating a mental image of a silver deer, his brush moved in swirling sweeps that resembled the flick of a wolf’s tail, slashing lines like the descent of a peregrine falcon…

Booker had discovered that holding one image in mind wasn’t strictly necessary, as long as each successive image carried the same ‘soul’ as the others. As long as they were complimentary, the flow of energy moved better if you allowed your mind to drift through several images, taking a little from each in turn.

While originally Booker had believed that the spiritual energy he channeled through his brush was the core power of the talisman, and the images he held in mind while drawing were merely a focusing technique – he no longer thought so after experiencing the Spirit Gardener’s many worlds. When he examined his talismans now Booker could feel faint echoes of the images he’d experienced while creating them. If each brushstroke contained a different essence, then the overall power of the echo was clearer and more compelling.

So far these little insights had yet to add up to anything significant… but he did manage a whole four percent quality with his first attempt, before a stumble in his concentration made the energy-stream sputter and break.

Damn. The increase in energy between what it takes to make a detection talisman, and this… it’s no joke. The power is twice as unruly.

Wincing, Booker quickly burned the talisman with a flick of his hand and a subtle Furnace. Stronger talismans didn’t just crumble to dust harmlessly. They could misfire. In fact, the prevalence of misfiring talismans was a major source of suspicion against talisman masters.

Unfortunately the next two attempts did no better.

Frustrated and growing hungry after several days of not eating, Booker left the cave and whistled aloud, calling a deer over to eat a fragment of ironbody nut from his open palm. Soon he was skinning and preparing the carcass for the spit as a fire crackled nearby.

As he hoisted the meat onto the fire, he took the knife and began to whittle a small, stout branch, about as wide as his thumb used to be. He’d already gotten the use of his left hand to full, but there was no reason not to pursue fixing his right as well. The solution didn’t need to be too complex. He just needed to add a qi detecting rune, tune it to his own qi, and add a small motion rune to make the hinge flex. Other than that it would be a simple jointed bit of wood.

That was when something prickled on the back of his neck.

He turned just in time to see a blurred white-black shape leaping from above. Without hesitating he snatched up a branch, using it as a guard. Enormous jaws bit into the wood and snapped it like a twig, and huge paws slammed into his chest, driving him towards the ground.

Before even a heartbeat had passed however, Booker had kicked a rear leg out from under the attacker, reversing the grapple and rolling onto the top even as its claws raked across his front.

It was a tiger. Well fuck. He had just been pounced on by a tiger – and to Booker’s shock, not only was he still alive, he was matching it pound for pound.

It bit at his arm, and he kicked it aside, sending it skidding along the ground. It rolled up, snarling…

Booker held out both hands and began to whistle, calming his heartbeat and his martial intent and replacing it with a cool, calming sense of non-hostility. The tiger growled again, but slowly eased back. Suddenly she turned and snatched the deer carcass, dragging it up the rocky mountainside and turning back to look at him, once, before sinking into the undergrowth.

Damn… That failed beast call talisman must have brought her right to me.

His robes were shredded and his chest was bleeding. He popped a healing pill into his mouth and sighed, going to get a bird to eat instead. But as he whistled it down from the branches and broke its neck, beginning to pluck out the feathers…

He once again felt the strange sensation of being watched.

This time the tiger didn’t pounce, and Booker could get a better look at her. Her furs were matted, her eyes scummed with rheumy foam, and her ribs showed against her side. But moreover…

She came back awfully fast. That deer was raw and… She doesn’t have much blood on her jaws.

I think she has cubs she’s feeding.

“Ah, you want this too, huh.” He said, in a soothing voice. Since he knew a little cat body language, he made sure to only look at her sidelong, neither presenting his back to pounce or challenging her with a direct stare. “Easy come, easy go…” He threw it onto the ground in front of her.

As the tiger slid out of the foliage to settle atop the small carcass and begin snapping it up, Booker smiled to himself. I’ve always wanted to see a wild tiger. I wonder if I could pet her?

“I’m going to get another deer.” He said aloud, “This one, we’re splitting.”

— — —

Booker returned carrying a deer carcass slung over his shoulders.

As he made his way towards the fire, the tiger was still there, licking her fur clean. Booker was elated. I know there are beast-taming pills that can make a wild animal friendly without domesticating it. I wonder…

But a peculiar cold in his pocket made him blink.

He dropped the corpse to the dust, reaching in to feel his qi-detecting talisman covered in a thick layer of frost, almost burning him through his robes with its cold. As he drew it out, still processing–

The tiger lunged, cold-hearted murder in its eyes.

Booker caught its paws before they could push him down, but its teeth lunged for his throat. He threw himself backwards, off of the cliff, striking rock after rock as they both fell over and over down the slopes in a prolonged and vicious tumble.

Somewhere on the way down, they broke apart.

Booker dragged himself to a stop with his fingers.

Below, the tiger skidded and scraped and caught the slope, stopping itself.

“Alright, you fucking creep!” Booker cried out, furious. He could see it behind the tiger’s eyes now. A darkness that had grown and consumed the yellow irises, turning all to solid black. The demon was here. “I am done with your shit!”

It began to climb towards him, but he did in fact have the advantage here. He threw himself forward, grabbed it by the shoulders, and spun it up and over his back, crashing both of them to the ground. They rolled the rest of the way down the mountain’s side, and broke into the surface of the frozen pool. Ice-cold water soaked his body under the reflection of the moon.

The tiger was dazed now. He slammed his fist into its side as it tried to rise, and flipped it onto it’s back. “You’re a disease…” He hissed. As the tiger groaned, he pushed his hands against its soft underbelly. Dialyze.

Don’t cut…

Don’t cut…

He called the swirling crystalline water up under his palms. Not to slice through, as he’d done with the bear. But to draw out the pollutants within, as he’d done with the patients in the hospital. It worked on ghosts, he knew. He hoped it worked on curses.

Slowly, something beneath pulsed and writhed. Tendrils of black corruption raised and twisted underneath the lion’s skin, and then…

Black bile oozed out. It hissed as it touched the ground, and briefly squirmed, like half-formed maggots born of tar. Then it was gone.

Booker grinned in victory. His shoulders were ripped and torn, but he gave the first healing pill to the tiger, shoving it into her maw. As he took his own the tiger slowly rolled onto its back, hissing softly, as if in confusion. Booker whistled and showed a pure martial intent with no violence in it all.

Slowly, it approached him and butted its head against his palm.

Alright.

Booker could not have been happier as he scratched at the ridges of bone around its tufted ears, fingers sinking into soft white fur.

I wonder if I can see the kittens…

— — —

When Xan and Fen returned, what they saw was a small family of wildcats dining alongside Booker on a roasted elk, grease on their whiskers as they dined, purring.

As they saw the two approaching, the cats lifted up their backs, hissed, and fled off into the undergrowth.

“Rain, what in the world?” Xan asked, staring at where the cats had gone.

“Just having some guests over for dinner.” Booker said, wiping elk grease off his chin.

Xan sighed and turned to Fen, “Do you think these enlightened techniques will manage to make our brother less frustrating?”

“Heaven can try, but will heaven manage?” Fen asked.

Both Xan and Fen were heavily bruised. Booker had made some more healing medicine, and he silently passed over the vial, looking curiously at their collection of swollen eyes, scuff marks, and purpling bruises. “What happened to you two?”

“Uhhh…” Xan palmed his head. “We lost.”

“Lost to whom?”

“Ugh, Rain, don’t ask these things.” Fen sighed, hiding his face totally behind a fan.

‘Some dirty old man who lives in a tree.” Xan admitted.

“What?” Booker laughed. “Now who’s being frustrating?”

“Rain, you really shouldn’t push this. We don’t know more than that. We saw the most amazing smelling plum on a tree branch… and the moment we tried to pick it an old man leapt out and started beating us bloody with a stick. It was brutal. If he wanted us dead, we would be.”

So you’re saying you fucked with a second tree? After the first one? Booker carefully did not say that, but instead, “Fen, do you know anything.”

“He’s the old man of the tree.” Fen replied, still hiding. “I should have run the moment I saw him, but Xan refused.”

“He was tiny!” Xan exclaimed.

Fen snapped his fan shut, glaring, “You call yourself a son of the valley and you don’t know to run when you see the old man of the tree?!”

“Fen, I don’t know.” Booker pleaded. “Tell me what the fuck happened.”

“He’s… Well, he’s a valley myth and also, very real. Some think he’s the god of the valley. But most people think he’s a very old cultivator who hides in trees that are about to bear spirit fruit and guards them while it develops. Nobody knows how he knows before the fruit sprouts… But he does…”

“Huh.” Booker said, offering them each a cut of venison. The healing pills were rapidly restoring their bruises, filling the dark purple back in with human color. “And he beats the ass of anyone who tries to take it?”

“Fen, shut up.” Xan said, sharply. “I mean it, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Fen gave him a weird look, then turned back to Booker, “Exactly. You can’t fight him. You have to run. He’s beaten the best fighters in the valley, and they have tried for a long time.”

“But he doesn’t kill them…” Booker confirmed.

“Fen, how can you be so smart and so stupid...” Xan groaned with his head in his hands.

Booker was standing up.

“Wait…” Fen had caught on.

“My turn, I guess.” Booker said with a grin.

“You’ve given him an idea.” Xan said, looking disgusted.

— — —

The tree still had its autumn leaves, and stood proudly atop a short crag of stone that overfilled with water from a spring, overflowed off its edge, and filled a short pond below where moss-streamers trailed from above into waters that swum with carp.

“Yeah… That’s the kind of tree I’d grow on if I was a magic fruit.” Booker said.

“You’re talking nonsense.” Fen said. “You won’t like how this ends.”

Booker shrugged. “I want to see how he fights. If he’s really the best in the valley, who could pass this up?”

“Me.” Fen hissed.

“Me!” Xan shouted.

Ahead of them, Booker could see no sign of a body amidst the branches. But he assumed that if a cultivator of this power wanted to hide, they could. If it was a god, even more so.

This probably is stupid. He reflected. But if it’s never killed anyone, I should be able to handle myself and heal soon after.

He stepped up and reached for the fruit.

A wooden pole intercepted his leg, tripping him. Booker intended to roll forward, but before he could, that same stick whipped around and hit him in the jaw from below, just as he started to extend into the roll. His head spun and his eyes were blind with sparks as his head snapped back and he was sent into an unbalanced, backwards bending stance.

Then the stick struck into his belly, folding him double.

He staggered back, glaring up just in time to get a stick across the face. The brief flash of his attacker he caught was a silhouette of gray furs and white beard.

I have to open some space!

He stumbled back, lifting his arms up in a guard. It barely helped. The old man simply stayed atop him, whipping his stick left and right. Booker was left watching his feet, jumping a whip-quick sweep that tried to trip him. As he did so, for the first time, he saw his opponent plainly.

A wiry old man, body covered by black-inked tattoos depicting taliman lines. His face was smeared with dirt. His hair was unruly and tangled with twigs.

He saw – but couldn’t act in time to escape – the old man sweep the stick behind him, stab it down, and use it to launch forward with his arms as he kicked out with both legs. His feet slammed into Booker’s chest and sent him flying back.

Booker rolled, but even as he came up he was having to block his head, protecting from blows that rained down viciously. Suddenly he broke into Patient Mantis, and grabbed hold of the staff with one hand as it struck at him.

He let out a shout of triumph.

It felt like a huge victory– but it was interrupted with a kick to the face before he could break the stupid stick.

He was sent rolling away again, fighting to rise from all fours. But he was taking damage fast. That stick was striking him with a force that would have outright killed a normal human by now. It rained down on his back, in a tempo so furious he had no hope of doing everything but collapsing down and protecting the back of his head.

“Rain!” Xan sounded furious with himself as he shouted, “Come on Fen!”

And they leapt in. The beating stopped for a moment as the stick whirled to smash into Xan instead, sending him stumbling, but that moment was what Booker needed.

He regained his feet and lunged at the old man’s back. The stick jabbed backwards, striking his cheek and gashing it open.

The other side of the stick snapped around, hitting his right leg twice in quick succession to knock it out from under him.

But he caught himself on his hand, and the stick was obliged to whip back to Fen, striking his arm at the wrist as he tried to punch out, then reversing to strike across his face, come to a full height behind the old man’s shoulder, and whirl around to smash into Xan, forcing even him back.

Booker shot back up, and kicked down at the old man’s leg.

The staff was at full extension and the old man couldn’t bring it around in time, but he simply jumped over the leg and kicked three times in quick succession rising along Booker’s body, essentially walking up him, and stabbed the point into the ground directly beneath Booker’s feet. His arms and legs tensed, and Booker once more ate a full force double kick – this time to the face.

As he went rolling back, Xan caught the staff in the middle and yanked it hard, swinging the old man about by his grip on it. Fen shouted and jumped in, performing a flawless flying elbow that knocked the old man away and sent him rolling, with the weapon now solely in Xan’s hand.

Xan snapped it with a furious scream, “What now!?”

The old man rolled to a stop and slid his feet into a curious position, taking an exaggerated pose.

Booker groaned as he climbed off the ground.