Feng-Lung's body moved like it was an extension of the Disciple's hatred itself – his limbs swaying as he launched four Dragon Tooth strikes in quick succession at the horde of interrupted Aoyin.
XJ-V watched spellbound as he looked upon the carnage the boy was already causing – the Flesh-Eaters being ripped open by his flames, forcing them to leap and latch on to the walls of their slaughter-cavern.
Then, from all angles, they charged.
Feng assumed a Siulubu stance and met the first one that launched itself at him from above with a crane kick that sent the creature flying back, head lolling off its sinuous neck, while two of its compatriots dove by on either side.
These two the young Cultivator repelled with a pair of Dragontail Swipes – his hands blurring as they caught the slashing claws of the creatures and broke every knife-finger that came flying to scratch out his eyes. The creatures stumbled back, giving him enough space to leap for another Flaming Dervish that seared the flesh from their bones.
Then the rest of the brood came.
Ori'un watched from the lip of the cavern entrance. He watched Flesh-Eaters fall before the child that would have killed a lesser Disciple. He watched the boy weather their blows even when they glanced his shoulder, sending him spinning back to simply deliver a deadly counterattack that broke the bones of his attackers. He spun this way and that, becoming a living wheel of flame that started to melt the ice beneath his feet, and Ori'un began to see the cracks that were forming in the glittering arena.
It was strategy. Even in his desperation, young Feng had a plan.
And XJ-V felt the Planeswalker smile again. It was akin to a father watching his child succeed in some base game of catch and throw – Feng-Lung striking out with the bared teeth of a true dragon, while his enemies snarled and sent their deadly spittle flying in the triumphant boy's face.
The horde became more wary the longer the battle droned on. They began to hold back, their-pincer feet carefully stalking around the boy who kept his palms open, ready to strike. His feet were just as poised as theirs. With eyes attuned to the Qi, and totally focused on each and every target waiting before him, Feng-Lung looked the very picture of a consummate Cultivator of legend.
But, looking through the sharp eyes of the past-Ori'un, XJ-V could see the signs of fatigue setting in on the youth – the sharp scratches that had been clawed across his clothes and cheeks, leaving scars that bled into his lips and let him taste of his own blood. His feet, though poised, were beginning to shake in the cold, and in the face of the blinking pairs of eyes staring at him in the dank dark of their lair. Looking down on the boy, XJ-V doubted if his own talents would be enough to face what Feng had faced here. He was struck by the fact that his normally jovial Brother had never once mentioned such a legendary encounter.
Shame is the Cultivator's closest held secret, Ori'un of the present explained to the Cog. And believe me, XJ-V, we all harbor regrets.
Even the Masters? The Cog asked.
More than you know.
As usual, it seemed Ori'un spoke from experience, but XJ-V did not have time to question him further. Instead, he had to focus his attention back to the icy arena where Feng-Lung was making his daring assault.
Something was happening.
The creatures had got the measure of the boy. Their nostrils flared. Their slitted pupils narrowed. They saw the weaknesses they had carved into their prey, and they also tasted, as only evil spirits like Aoyin could, the potential of the Qi that was burning inside the boy. XJ-V had read that normally when they were outmatched, Aoyin would simply flee to fight another day. There would always be more dead to consume. But this family had grown bold. They had grown ambitious. The prospect of a fresh young Cultivator's meat from the great holy mountain that loomed large above them and their kind? Well, that was simply too tantalizing. He was a main course they simply couldn't pass up.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
As one, the creatures at the head of the horde opened their grisly mouths, showing blood-smeared fangs and dark voids where their throats traveled down to their perpetually starving stomachs.
And the sounds of a timid kitten's mewls emanated from their mouths.
The sound was so clear, so crisp, that anyone not watching would have been easily duped if they had not known the deception that was taking place. The vanguards of the horde screeched as they replayed the sounds of the dead kitten's pained squeals, each one of their grisly screams rebounding off the other, till the entire cavern was filled with the echo of what must have been abstract agony for the little creature they had killed.
And, for Feng-Lung, that was an insult he simply could not bear.
He charged headfirst at them, launching himself through the air in another Dervish that sliced the throats of the vanguard carrying out their devious mimicry. But this time the next rank of Flesh-Eaters had been ready. Like a single unified organism they leaped over the bodies of their fallen comrades and swiped at Feng, drawing two deep gashes across his knees and sending him flying to the ground.
His knees, XJ-V realized. They had struck for his strongest assets. They had specifically struck at his legs to disable his powerful kicks.
Learn from this, XJ-V, Ori'un told him as they both watched Feng struggle back up, only to be mauled by a waiting Aoyin who slashed at his back and ripped his Gi from his torso. Even the basest spirits of the Wasteland display a sinister intelligence when they gather together as one. In this way, they are the opposite of human beings.
Feng-Lung weathered at least six more blows to his face, his elbow joints, and his feet – each one becoming more savage as the boy's Qi began to fail him. XJ-V could feel it from here – the energy was fading from the boy. His life force was going…in fact, it was almost gone.
Then, when the Aoyin had thrown him clean across the room to the corpse-pile, ready to add him to its apex like a grisly cake-decoration, the Cog saw the spark of life ignite in the youth's eyes.
He stood high atop the corpses, trying to keep his eyes off them – his people, his villagers. He stood high as the only one left, staring down the demons that had annihilated his home. And, without fear, he then looked down at the cracks that by this point had entirely carved their way through the ice-arena.
"Come…" he told the beasts. "Come…finish me!"
They responded with salivating mouths, each one detaching its pincers to leap and subdue the boy.
And that's when he sent a single Dragon Tooth strike at the ground beneath them.
The bolt of fire impacted the center of the room, and instantly the ice crumbled away. The Aoyin let out a collective screech as they each fell within the death-cold waters, each one flailing its lithe limbs as it sunk beneath the floes, and slowly the lives of the Flesh-Eater horde of Marsul ended in a series of blue bubbles floating up to the surface of the water and then rippling out in silence.
Feng-Lung swayed, finally succumbing to his fatigue. He allowed his body to collapse then, falling down the corpse pile and almost sliding into the ice water prison of the hellspawn itself. If Ori'un had not cracked his wrists, waved his hands over the ice pool and formed another sheen of perfect ice on top of it, Feng might indeed have allowed himself to perish, then and there.
"Ori…un…" he wheezed.
The Planewalker gripped the boy's inert body, lowering him gently to the cold floor with the care of a father.
"Did…did…I...?"
"Slay your enemies?" The Planeswalker finished. "Dispatch a horde of Aoyin that would have caused even my younger self some trouble? Oh, yes, young Feng. You did that. Strength and ingenuity – you have demonstrated them both in spades."
He expected the boy to smile, but instead he saw nothing but heartache in the young Disciple's face.
"The…the village…"
"There was nothing that could be done, Feng," Ori'un said sadly, but firmly. "Your spirit is admirable, boy, but your eyes must face reality. It is the last lesson you must learn. Now, come, let us return to –"
"FENG-LUNG!"
The shrillness of the scream that interrupted Ori'un was felt even by XJ-V within the dream-vision. To him, the fear that it sent through his systems was the result of merely hearing such an unnatural wail and feeling instinctively that had been born of human lungs. For it was a woman's scream. A woman's desperate scream for help.
Her son's help.
"Mom…" Feng-Lung whispered, looking up at Ori'un's disbelieving eyes.
"MOM!"
The boy threw the Planeswalker off him and followed the voice, totally possessed by strength that had all but left his body. Still he sprinted, following the voice down a side passage that sent him further into the depths of the abyss.
And Ori'un, having no other option, ran after him.
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