The explosion lifted a dome of flame.

Booker ran through the night, feeling the explosion rise behind him, the flare of light flashing across the trees and illuminating the branches, the wave of force knocking him forward into a brutal stumble that he caught and recovered, running on.

He only needed to reach the town gates before Zheng Bai’s thugs would have to hesitate. And they were far behind him, scattered by the explosion and only just beginning to recover their balance. He’d warned them on purpose, giving them every chance to survive, but being that close to the blast would likely have shattered their inner ears and beaten the unholy shit out of their bodies.

But I have to hope they don’t have any cultivators…

Even if they do, I can use my Furnace and Dialyze – but that will mean killing again.

If I’m backed into a corner…

Will I do it?

These people aren’t children like Hu Bao.

But the question was moot. Either the thugs have a cultivator, or they’d been caught by the blast and were in no shape to pursue. As he turned the corner of the road twisting around the forest – there was the outskirts of the crowd coming through the gates, farmers and merchants all waiting for admission into the late night markets, wine-soaked restaurants, and boisterous attitudes of the city.

Booker darted between them, weaving through the crowd. People were standing and staring aghast at the remains of the fire burning out into smoke across the darkened sky, tangling with the silhouette of the pale moon.

From behind him he heard a shout, and looked back to see a man on a horse trying to fight his way through the crowd. The man’s face was one of the three from the road, plus a nasty burn that seared across his lower jaw, taking the corner of his mouth. With a wooden club in hand, he was whipping people out of the way to urge his horse through the crowd, fighting to progress.

Booker took that as his cue to run where the crowd was thickest, and the horse would struggle to follow. As he weaved under wagons and jumped over carts, the bandit let out a strangled shout and dropped down from horseback, pushing after Booker as the crowd parted in fear.

But it was too late.

Too late by far.

Guards were already coming streaming down from the gates, fighting their own way through the tight-packed front of the line. They wore the blue-and-gold uniforms of the city guard, with broad-brimmed blue hats that dangled cords of gold-and-red beads down besides their ears. They carried long halberds, using the blunt shafts to strike people out of the way as they advanced.

In moments they had closed into formation in a circle around the thug. With a shout, they lowered their halberds and locked him within a ring of pointed blades.

Others were moving to put the faster, more agile Booker into the same situation.

But Booker simply reached into his pockets, getting his fingers around the second darkness pill. Here goes nothing… And he cracked the pill apart with the nail of his thumb. Shouts erupted as the world was drowned in darkness

By the time that darkness cleared, there was no masked doctor to find. Only, a little ways away and blending into the crowd, a lowly cripple of the Sect.

Nobody looked at him twice.

Booker simply walked back into the city as the guards waved him past, mask and cloak secure inside his bag. Behind him, the guards were shouting and the thug’s face – when he glanced back – was red with silent fury.

This only needs to distract Zheng Bai…

Get her off my back, and keep her busy hunting the masked man.

Just long enough for me to finish my business…

As far as moves go, this was big and bold enough they wouldn’t connect it to a cripple.

No, I should be hearing less from Zheng Bai for the next week or two…

— — —

The trip back to the Sect was uneventful, and Booker spent the remaining hours of the night peacefully resting, closing his eyes and lying back and letting that count as sleep. The excitement of the midnight raid had placed an extra stress on him, and the relentless schedule he was keeping through his sleep replacement pill was beginning to add up.

I can do this for two more days, sure, until the exam and the auction are over…

But any longer than that and I risk letting toxicity build up, among other effects.

Sleep replacement pills could cause mania, recklessness, and overconfidence if you used them too heavily. This wasn’t actually an effect of the pill – it was the mind breaking down without the sanctuary of sleep, without a time to rest and dream.

Booker didn’t feel tired exactly…

He felt stretched thin, like there was too much time and too little of him to go around.

But the sun rose regardless, and the morning bell rung the same time it always did, reverberating through the orange-pink dawnlight of the sky. Booker groaned and sat up, scratching at the line of his hair and glancing wearily around his room.

As he did, he was greeted by the gentle crunch and crackle of breaking eggshells, as the jar in which he’d created his new spirit beast began to break apart, something beneath pushing up against the sides until they shattered from within. The beast spilled out in a tide of dark, amber-colored fluid, briefly lying like a ball of soaked fur on the ground before slowly lifting itself up onto its feet and shaking itself off like a dog.

It was a mole. Small, totally eyeless, and covered in pudgy handles of dark black fur of the finest and sleekest variety. It’s legs were small and stumpy, closer to flippers, with paddle-shaped hands extending into a splay of little bladed claws for digging – almost swimming – through the earth. On the ground, forced to stand rather than swim, it looked faintly ridiculous, which wasn’t helped by the fact it had a totally alien nose.

The beast’s nose was a pig-like snout that extended out into small, delicate spikes of soft flesh, all of a delicate pink color. Booker knew this kind of beast from encyclopedias back on earth – a star nosed mole, which used those spikes of flesh to feel for vibrations in the earth and hunt down its prey, compensating for total lack of sight.

He reached down and helped the little fellow onto his palm, taking a bit of cloth and dabbing off the amber fluid. By the time he finished the little guy had fallen asleep, laying sideways on the flat of Booker’s hand and snoring gently. Snips flew up to see him, peering quizzically down from balancing on the tip of Booker’s thumb and examining his brother.

Booker could read Snips’ thoughts. This little creature was small, awkward, and odd.

But Booker couldn’t say he agreed. As he gently scratched the snoring mole on the nose, its little paws gripped at his fingertip. Grinning, Booker lowered the little guy into his satchel, where Froggie was already waiting and guarding his collections of medicines and pills. Snips buzzed down inside, and altogether, they left for the cafeteria.

As the cripples lined up to eat, Booker collected his bowl of congee and ate with the others, listening to the low buble of gossip and keeping his ears perked up for any mention of his midnight escapade. But most of what he heard was about the Grasshopper’s Examination and, even more exciting, the Entrance Exam.

Right…

I’m not the only one going through the wringer right now. There are dozens of youths gathering to try and fight their way into the Sect – and only the smallest, most talented portion of them will be allowed in, while the rich and connected plant their children among them.

In a given month, only a dozen or so youths would be accepted. Sometimes, there were months where not a single new novice was accepted.

At the time Rain had arrived in this city – it was clear he’d never be among them. Still, his mother had somehow managed to leverage the fact his grandfather was the City Lord of a now-destroyed city to secure an invitation.

As Booker stirred up his congee and took a clump in his chopsticks, there was a rustling from his bag, and the little mole poked its strangely-shaped nose up. It sniffed the air and let out a lazy yawn, showing two small teeth above and below.

“You want some little buddy?” Booker’s other pets didn’t much care for congee, but he was happy to share, lowering the food down to his bag so the mole could sniff it. “I still haven’t given you a name.”

Without hesitation, the mole’s head fully wiggled out of the pack’s lids and its awkward paws seized the clump of steaming-hot congee, chewing it up in seconds. But as soon as it was gone, the little beast began squeaking again. It tried to climb up Booker’s robe, clumsily leaping off his shoulder onto the table and scrambling straight for the bowl.

“Nuh uh.” Booker caught it with his chopsticks, dragging the little mole back as its paws struggled at the air. “I can see you’re going to be trouble, little guy.”

Putting the mole down a little ways from the bowl, he let it go–

And immediately the same scene played out. It went straight for his porridge, and he was forced to drag it back, squeaking and struggling.

It took three times before the mole got the point and flopped forward, exhausted. Booker gave it a clump of congee. “Here. I’m not trying to starve you, but you have to control yourself.”

As the little creature chewed on its feast, there was a delighted cry. “Is that a new spirit beast?!” Sister Mei dropped into the seat beside him, looking at the tiny cute mole with fascination. “It’s so tiny! And it has such a weird nose!”

Sheesh, Sister Mei. You’re going to give the poor guy confidence issues.

Indeed, the mole let out a defeated squeak, like its soul was leaving its body. It only recovered when Sister Mei ladled out another lump of congee for it to gobble up.

“You’ve made another masterpiece, Brother Rain! He’s really cute!” Sister Mei exclaimed.

“I just hope he’s not always this hungry.” Booker said, giving the little fellow a side-eye. Somehow the mole had nearly devoured its own bodyweight in the last few seconds. And it didn’t seem like he was slowing down.

“Does Sister Mei want the honor of naming him?” Booker asked, reaching down to scratch the creature’s chin and the stalk of his long nose.

“Zhi-Zhi!” She declared.

“Does that meet with your approval, little fellow?” The tiny creature was clutching Booker’s fingertip and refusing to let him stop scratching a spot below its chin, its whole head hanging drunkenly as it chirped and purred. Booker turned to Sister Mei. “He certainly seems content with it.”

Snips, Froggie, and Zhi-Zhi. It fits.

“Thank you Sister Mei. The world is a brighter place for your wisdom.” Booker agreed.

“Hhhhaaa, you’re the only one of us who’s seeing the bright side lately. I hate examination days.” Sister Mei crossed her arms and sighed, leaning back in her chair.

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“Oh?”

“I always think – if I’d chosen a different route in life – I’d be happily married by now.” She admitted. “But now I have this– this–” Her hand waved over the blue lines of the cripple’s brand.

“Sister Mei…” The cripple’s life is truly wrong for you. It’s comfortable in some ways, but you’ll always work, and you’ll always be looked down on. For someone who dreams of being looked up to, respected, adored… It’s almost a death sentence for the soul. “It pains me to see you so down.”

“Ha. Think nothing of it.” She shook her head. “But I worry for these kids taking the test. They have their whole lives ahead of them – but how many of them will regret joining the Sect?”

Booker grimaced.

Rain…

Would he have been happier if his life took a different turn? If he was never accepted, and never branded a failure?

Dipping his chopsticks into his congee, he shook his head. “They’re chasing a dream. Even if that dream breaks apart someday, and there’s nothing left underfoot but air, the fall isn’t as bad as a dreamless life. I know what you mean Sister Mei… but I can’t bring myself to tell them to turn away.”

It’s patronizing, is what it is. They know the risks…

The truth is, Rain had a dream his whole life, and he fought as hard as he knew how to make that dream come true.

And I feel it too…

Maybe more than any other part of him, Rain’s memory of that dream has survived in me. I’ve seen the intensity and the longing he felt towards cultivation. He would never have been happy with anything less. Even now, his dream is infectious – I remember how much it illuminated my life, and I can’t help but want to feel that same wild longing…

That same feeling of striving for the impossible.

You can say he didn’t lead a happy life. But he fought for it…

What would Rain think about Hu Bao? About midnight masquerades and meddling with Zheng Bai, mouthing off to cultivators, about magical books and alchemy and being on my way to my own cultivation?

Booker didn’t need to ask, of course. He already knew.

It would have been his dream come true. So don’t you dare complain…

The thought made him happy, somehow. The reminder that the dream he was chasing, he had truly shared with another person, and could carry on in their stead. It made him feel almost immortal as he cleaned out his bowl of porridge, washed up with the other cripples, and said his goodbyes to Sister Mei.

The hallways of the Sect were bustling at this hour, full of disciples and novices going between the training halls, dining chambers, and their own apartments. In the courtyards between, where pleasant trees had by now lost their leaves to the winter’s growing chill, and flowers were beginning to shrivel, cripples were planting slabs of rare sunlight-infused granite to keep the ground warm and let the plants survive hibernating through the winter months.

Not that months here mean the same thing…

Technically, the local calender was split into twenty-seven units instead of twelve, and the winter was longer than the other three seasons combined. The Mountain-Gate World was simply too far from its own sun to be truly a prosperous and summery world. Instead, the wildlife was forced to retreat into underground caverns to shelter beneath the earth each winter, or be frozen alive in the deadly chill.

Humans were one of the few species that remained on the surface year-round. This was accomplished by the City Lords – here in Mantis City, the City Lord’s preferred strategy was to bury sun-gathering formations into the stone foundations to keep the city heated from below. Out in the wilds, in more rural and threadbare towns, City Lords would simply fill stones with sunlight qi and distribute them to each household.

When he arrived at the laboratory Wei Qi was already there, and the furnace was burning, filling the cold chambers of the Sect’s corridors with a rosy heat Booker could feel even before he opened the door.

He nodded to Wei Qi, moving past him to examine the manuscripts of yesterday’s experiments.

Greenmoon had used his strange many-lensed device to provide definite readings, both of the process and the results, taking hours to pore over the ill-refined chunks of ash left behind when the procedure failed, analyzing their malformation.

This is actually quite clever work…

And the handwriting… did Greenmoon do this himself?

I guess the old goat really does have horns.

With these calculations, I really can’t put off finishing the technique much longer. A day or two if I’m lucky, enough to wrap up other business, but then I’ll have to show results or Greenmoon will step in himself.

The basis of the refinement process was purification of the elements. Impure, lower tier alchemical ingredients, if they carried elemental properties at all, had extremely minor ones. A koi’s heart might contain a trace of watery qi, but it was only the water of silent and peaceful ponds where the sun dappled the waters. Connecting that mild and impure qi back to its source, the raging heart of water, was a process that could be achieved by removing other elements that were muddying the qi, or feeding into the elemental energies it already possessed.

It looks like Greenmoon has already identified the basic elements present.

“‘The qi involved are the qis of evil-banishing salt, sacrificial fat, fires burned for ceremony, and crude stone tools. These culminate in the qi energies of ancient sacrificial rites to the earth gods.’” Booker read. “Greenmoon is no slouch, eh?”

Wei Qi nodded. “I can’t say I’m totally surprised by it anymore. He’s got a demon in his eyes when he wants something done.”

“Our beloved Instructor is definitely no hoity-toity character with his nose in the clouds.” No he’s sniffing around for profit on the earth like a bloodhound… “In any case, brother, you have one less worry on your back today. I talked to Tong Chen.”

Wei Qi’s eyes rose hopefully. “I… can’t thank you enough. This whole thing is embarrassing, and I can only rely on my seniors to guide me through it.”

Translation: I’ve never had to dive into the deep end of the Sect’s criminal life.

“It’s nothing to mention again. But I need to tell you, you’ll have to do a little digging yourself if you want to get out of this trap.” Booker warned.

“Of course, of course.”

“Basically, I told Tong Chen to lay a bet on me at the Pearl Gambling House. There’s a contest for spirit beasts going on tonight, and since I can’t leave the Sect, I need you to take my beasts to the ring.” He set his satchel bag on the counter and opened it up, expecting to find the trio of spirit beasts looking up at him.

Instead he found Snips, alone. The mantis gave a sheepish wave of its claws.

Peering down into the bag with his brow furrowed, Booker soon saw the daylight shining out of a hole in the corner where Zhi-Zhi must have dug his way out. Lifting his head and turning back, he saw Froggie and Zhi-Zhi had made it halfway to the shelves of ingredients. Froggie was sitting atop Zhi-Zhi, who was squirming and struggling and throwing a tantrum. Froggie did not look happy.

Nor for that matter was Booker. He put his hand to his head, sighing. This little guy, Zhi-Zhi, he’s spirited alright. But he’s completely food focused!

When he turned back Wei Qi was looking doubtful. “Aren’t they a little small? The beasts who fight at gambling houses, they’re spirit beasts grown to the size of cats and dogs.”

“Snips is the only one who’ll need to fight.” Booker reassured, but even then, Wei Qi’s face was a pained grimace.

“Elder brother!” He abruptly bowed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this! I can’t be sure your spirit beasts will obey me, and if I go and get them slaughtered, how will I face you again? This… I understand you can’t leave the Sect, but surely there’s someone else you can send.”

Booker just put a hand on his shoulder. “Snips, do three spirals around Wei Qi’s head.”

With a blur of pink wings and purple carapace, Snips spun three fast spirals around Wei Qi. The boy’s eyes followed. “Land on his head.” Before Wei Qi’s eyes could widen, Snips was standing atop his head. “Now…”

He stepped back.

“Wei Qi give him a command!”

“Uh, uh…” Fretting nervously, Wei Qi said… “Land on the third bottle down on the left bench!”

Snips shot gracefully off the top of his head, landing on the bottle and turning around, his bent scythe-claws twitching and his dark eyes watching.

“What a smart spirit beast!” He let out.

“You don’t need to worry. Not only will Snips obey your commands, but he’s a fighter with his own mind. Once he gets into the arena, he’ll handle himself.” Booker promised. “If Snips looks outmatched… then just withdraw and I’ll suffer the consequences.”

“I… I have my reservations, but I also have trust in elder brother.” Wei Qi reluctantly agreed.

“As for the others, Froggie is a soldier, but the new one is… eh, he’s giving me some trouble.” Booker admitted. “So I’ll take him out and give him some training, while you handle things here for now. I trust you with that. Maybe… Greenmoon mentions the qi of stone tools, so maybe try going through the whole thing using only stone tools?”

Wei Qi nodded, much more confident in his abilities here. “I can try. I was thinking, I could get some fat and butter from the temple bulls tomorrow. They’ll be slaughtering soon with winter coming up.”

Internally, Booker sighed. Wei Qi, why do you have to be so damned useful… when I’m desperately trying to slow this project down?

Walking over to Zhi-Zhi and Froggie, he picked them up, holding Zhi-Zhi by the scruff of his neck as his paddle-shaped paws dangled, like a disobedient kitten.

“Okay, little fellow… Maybe I need to set some rules.” The eyeless, eldritch-nosed gaze of Zhi-Zhi stared up at him. “I can’t have you escaping to steal food and ingredients. Right now, I’m worried you’ll eat my pills…” If Froggie and Snips hadn’t been there to stop you, that probably would have happened before I’d even realized.

“But I’m not a villain, or here to deprive you of anything. I think you’ll have a better time with me than without me – I have plenty of food, plenty of medicine, and best of all, plenty of pills. You can’t make pills, can you?”

Zhi-Zhi’s nose twitched at the mention of pills.

“Mhm. But I can. If you do good for me, I’ll make you plenty of tasty pills, and help you cultivate.” Just because I can’t progress down the road of cultivation, doesn’t mean all these cultivation materials have to go stale and waste their potency. I can feed Snips, Froggie, and Zhi-Zhi enough spiritual cultivation medicines to let them progress quickly – as only spirit beasts can.

Zhi-Zhi was definitely listening now.

“Come on.” Lifting Zhi-Zhi and Froggie onto his shoulders, he left the lab, heading for the open green spaces of the outer courtyards. There, disciples practiced their cultivation in sparring matches as groups of hangers-on and toadies drank wine and observed, calling out encouragement.

Booker found a quiet corner with many trees, and let Zhi-Zhi scramble down his shoulder. “Okay… Why don’t you show me what you can do?”

The mole looked up at him quizzically, wrinkling its nose.

Ah, please don’t be a fluke… Trying to keep his hopes high, Booker tried, “Is there anything special you can do?”

The mole remained silent.

“Okay, well, how do you get food?”

The mole looked up at Booker.

“Mmm.” Booker hummed. “Well how about this…” He took out a Mountain-Recovery Pill. “This… is a bribe. Show me your best trick and we’ll see if you’re worthy.”

Immediately, Zhi-Zhi was alert and in action. The tiny mole plunged facefirst into the dirt, and vanished without even a ripple, much less a hole left in his wake. It was like he was swimming through the earth, and he began to pop up from the ground in a circle around Booker, doing backstrokes as if the dirt was the water of a swimming pool.

“Okay…” Booker grinned. “That’s something. Now, I think you’ve got a pretty good sense of smell, don’t you? Can you find me anything good nearby?”

The mole popped down under the earth, and moments later as Booker sat on the grass scratching Froggie’s warty skull, returned from beneath clutching a dirt-streaked lump of black truffle.

“Woah!” Booker exclaimed. This was only a minor spiritual mushroom with a little benefit when eaten, but it had taken Zhi-Zhi barely a few minutes to find among the roots of the trees. “You’re fast when you’re in your element,” he praised, flicking the pill over to Zhi-Zhi.

As the little mole eagerly devoured the pill, he turned the mushroom over in his fingers. It wasn’t really worth much to him – Booker had never been very talented as a chef, although his knifework had certainly improved recently – but it had to be valuable to the Sect’s cooks.

Maybe this is a new way to scam a little income on the side, since I don’t have easy access to the medicine markets anymore…

“Can you find any more? I’ll make you a real treat later.”

The mole vanished again, and over the course of the next ten minute resurfaced again and again, providing a small mound of squirming worms, strange-shaped mushrooms, and odd stones. Finally he appeared with a second truffle, his pink tongue hanging out of his mouth with exhaustion from how quickly he’d moved under the earth. Booker peered at the collection, but besides the mushrooms having faint spirituality he couldn’t see the value in any of them. Scooping the lot into a pocket and leaving the worms to be slurped up by Zhi-Zhi, he cut the second truffle in half, tossing the pieces to his two beasts.

Zhi-Zhi wolfed his down in seconds, and his little nose swiveled like a radar, homing in on the half Froggie had.

Froggie lifted a yellow eye, and silently put his green hand onto Zhi-Zhi’s face and pushed the little mole back while he ate.

Yeaaaah… Zhi-Zhi is going to be a bit troublesome, but at least I know exactly what strings to pull when I need him to do something. He’s a motivated worker, even, when food’s on the line. And what a sensitive nose…

His talents are nothing to laugh at, even if they’re not that useful for straight combat. Snips is agility, deadliness, and speed. But once Zhi-Zhi vanishes underground, he’s the king of his domain.

Yeah…

Yeah I can work with this…

“Alright, who wants the next reward?” Instantly, both frog and mole were focused his way. “That’s right. I’ve got a special prize for whoever can do the best here, so listen up…”

— — —

After a day of training, running Zhi-Zhi and Froggy through different tasks they might need to perform while fighting at the arena, Booker returned to the laboratory. Wei Qi was beaming as he showed Booker a tray full of charcoal-ish lumps, the remains of the day’s refinement process. “Look! Some of them still have traces of mingled qi, and they’re holding much more structure than before. We must be close…”

Booker smiled, and noted Snips in a corner of the room, posing silently in front of a glass jar and examining his own reflection with the air a fighter sizing up his opposition.

“Listen, Wei Qi. Your worries before were reasonable. These spirit beasts really are quite small, because they were made with my blood. But… Believe in your elder brother. I’ll promise you now, nobody will be able to touch Snips.”

Wei Qi bit his lip, but ultimately nodded. “I would be a coward if I asked you to interfere with Tong Chen, but then balked at doing any of my own work. I understand– I don’t like it, but I understand, and I’ll do it.”

Booker nodded.

Wei Qi…

I wish I could tell you, but you won’t really be alone out there.

I’ll be with you the whole way. Just not wearing this face.