Again and again, strike after strike. She began to pick it up after some time; Xiao Fan wasn't paying attention to the time. It could've been hours or minutes, or even days, and she wouldn't have paid any notice. Time after time she could feel her muscles constrict, tighten, then relax as her arm fell away to prepare anew. She couldn't feel the impacts once she began to strike - not really, at least. She could sense them, in that same muffled way she seemed to sense every other physical sensation. Over time, the 'distress' in her arm started to become numb to her. Not that it ever left, per se, but that she became used to it.
Left arm now. Strike, recoil. Strike, recoil. She landed her blows on this side with more rapidity than she did with her right arm, the stance the same but inverted, the motions all but clear in her mind. It started to become all she could think of, all she could consider. Just winding her arm back, releasing it as a coiled spring is released, and feeling that dull thump ripple up to her shoulder.
Xiao Fan had begun, in some small way, to learn how to hold back. She didn't use her full force at first - barely any force at all, in fact. The first strike she landed with her left arm was practically a gentle shove, with how little power she applied. But, like an archer making practice shots, she neared her full strength with every subsequent blow, feeling out how hard she could push herself without injury. And then, this time with great purpose, she put everything she had into the blow.
There was a resounding crack as she pushed the heel of her palm into the dummy's wooden face, a fracture line coursing across its featureless mass. The top nearly came free, what with how brittle it had become after all this time, but it still remained seated firmly where it had been placed those years ago. The lacquer, in this case, was a saving grace.
Once again, she heard applause behind her, for the second time tonight. The not-so-dead woman whirled about, beaming, her eyes locking with her mentor's as soon as she could find them. Zhichao Tingfeng had a lantern in one hand, of plain white paper with an inner candle. The other hand, or the entire arm to be honest, was wrapped about a great mass of scrolls and manuals. He approached, bringing light with him into the dim and dusky room, going up to appraise the dummy.
With a single breath, he pushed the top of the dummy's head free. It clattered to the floor with cacophonous effect, the room momentarily loud in a place that was gripped with silence. Turning to Xiao Fan, he nodded, his expression that of barely-restrained approval. "Good, meimei, very good. You're getting the hang of it. These dummies are old, of course... Very brittle... But even then? The force you've managed to muster? You could crack rock with it. I'm sure of it."
Xiao Fan's face felt like it couldn't smile any wider, that dull pain of spread lips only further dulled by her deathly state. Zhichao Tingfeng turned his face down, looking to the items in his arm. He nodded at them, urging her to look at what he had brought. Xiao Fan did as she was directed, eyes breaking away from her mentor's and down to where his gaze lay. "Ziao Zongying, here. You've begun to figure out how to throw a punch, a palm, a kick... The absolute essentials to fighting with one's fists. You have a long road to follow yet."
He opened his arm them - scrolls and manuals clattered to the floor, paper and leather binding slapping the hard surface. "Now, we begin on a technique. Of course, a technique is nothing more than a specific way to punch, or kick, or move, or breathe... But they will help you grow stronger. There's a reason every sect had its secret techniques, at one point... But now, here. Look at these when you have free time. However, there is one I wish to show you first, more than any other."
Xiao Fan nodded, watching as her shushu took a few steps away, lining himself up with a different dummy. He took a few deep breaths, centering himself, his eyes shutting, his lips going still. He breathed in through his nose, exhaling through his mouth; it looked like meditation to the undead farmgirl, but just as she was about to inquire, he wound back with his left hand.
His arm moved too fast to properly see. She could perceive that it had moved, of course, and she knew that some part of her mind was aware of a memory of motion, but she couldn't exactly recall the details of it. What she did know, undoubtedly, was the result of his strike. The dummy in front of him shuddered as the second knuckle of his middle finger struck its wooden throat, the thin support beam between thicker torso and head. And then, unceremoniously, it fell away - the head rolling on the ground as if placed there in that very same second.
Zhichao Tingfeng turned to smile at her, brushing his hand off on his robes. Xiao Fan, by comparison to her tutor's calm, was riled up by the display. Her eyes had become wide and doeish; her mouth was agape, and she drew in a gasp as the full effect of her mentor's strike came to her. Her hands moved to clap, and while the motion itself was less than practiced, it was far from as awkward as it would've been the day before.
"Oh, shushu! Shushu! Please, please, how do I do that? That was amazing... You're so strong, wow..." The words in her mouth shocked her as she said them - when had she become such a giddy schoolgirl? But even then, the display was impressive to say the least. She cleared her throat, ceasing her clapping, allowing her arms to fall to rest at her sides. Zhichao Tingfeng chuckled, nodding amicably, his right hand going out to clap her on the shoulder.
"This, meimei, is my sect... Err, my personal technique. 'Lightning in a Clear Sky'. It will stop a man in his tracks, and anyone without proper training will be at threat of death. It can crush the windpipe if applied to the neck, or damage one's meridians if aimed there, and even rupture one's organs if used correctly. It can cause swift death in an instant, or prolonged, painful death, if one desires." He removed his hand from her shoulder, taking a step back.
Xiao Fan nodded along, drinking in every word, imagining it now: Zhichao Tingfeng before a bandit, before that bastard Tang Shun, winding back his arm... And then, in an instant, though no strike was seen, Tang Shun laid on his back. Blood dribbled from his mouth as he struggled to breathe, eyes wide and bulging, his entourage too scared to intervene. That was perfect; this was exactly the sort of thing she needed to learn to take her revenge, right? Killing with one's hands...
Despite what Zhichao Tingfeng said, it seemed rather glamorous, in its own right.
She spoke up, then, still battling with her own wonder at his power. "Yes, please... Please teach me. This one will learn whatever shushu has to teach. I am in reverence of your ability, and I am a mere pupil before you." This made her teacher laugh, a hearty laugh, full of mirth and from the gut. His smile spread almost as widely as her own had earlier, and when he locked eyes with her again, there was a new fire burning therein.
"Alright. Do as I do. You can practice this until you get it right... Here, let's find some new practice partners. Ours seem to have... Lost their heads." The joke was sent, and missed, going straight in one of Xiao Fan's ears and out the other. Zhichao Tingfeng, at least, chuckled at his own jest.
The pair moved to new dummies, a row back. Zhichao Tingfeng snapped his fingers, ensuring his pupil was observant as he began to - slowly, just like when he had been showing her how to strike normally - go through the motions. He wound his arm back as if going to make a punch, but instead of balling his fingers and making a fist, he kept his palm earthward. His fingers curled inwards at their first knuckle, all except the middle and forefinger, which curled at the second.
Slowly, he pushed his arm forth. The bend at his elbow straightened, and his arm was completely rigid, still inches from the opponent's throat; now, however, he turned at his hips to push his shoulder, and arm with it, forwards. Contact was made, and he let his arm drop. Xiao Fan's turn, then - she did as she was shown, winding her arm back, curling her fingers, and striking with fore and middle. She rotated at her waist, pushing her fingers to make touchdown upon her practice opponent.
"Good. Good. Now... Do it for real. You don't need to exert your full ability, but begin to speed it up - see how it feels to attack in such a way, to go through those motions. Just like with your basics, you don't want to need to think about what you're doing. You want it to be such second nature that you just do it." Zhichao Tingfeng folded his arms as he watched, lantern's glow illuminating the both of them, and their respective dummies. Ziao Fan gave only a curt nod. She wound back again, took a deep breath... And as she lashed out, she released it. Distress wracked her arm anew as the motions were made, and a new warmth bloomed in her waistline, but not without results.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Her hand contacted the dummy's throat with resounding force, knuckles crying out as they touched hard wood, yet that wood gave way before they did. Splinters showered her as she let her arm drop, eyes watching her own handiwork even as her mind began to probe for what she had messed up in her own body. The dummy, for its credit, stood stock-still from the blow - from the neck down, at least. The residual force of the blow sent its head spiraling through the air, hitting the dummy behind it in the chest.
"Ahhhh! Yes, meimei, yes! Excellent! That was amazing! Yeesh, you're a quick learner... I wish I had met you sooner, frankly. You've got a knack for this sort of thing, haha! Now. We only have so many dummies... It's been a long time since I've made new ones. Try the body, next." Xiao Fan bit back her own self-admiration as she wound back once more this time with her left arm, the right's warmth too much to press further.
The first blow to the body cracked the wood, but not enough to fully snap it in half. Still, it was more than encouraging - she went to perform again, winding back and striking once more. This time, a solid chunk of wood was shorn free, breaking out of its resting place in the dummy's torso. It skittered across the floor, disturbing dust as it went; Xiao Fan wasn't even looking, though. She had turned to see what Zhichao Tingfeng's reaction was.
He was smiling. He always seemed to be smiling. "Excellent. Practice this a few more time against the dummies, yes? And then... As I said, we only have so many of these things. Go outside and find a sturdy-looking tree or stone, won't you? We'll heal you later. For now, it's beneficial to your training to get used to these motions when injured. I'm off to sleep. It's late, and I've been up since before the dawn..." He began to step away, leaving the paper lantern on the floor for her. He made it to the doorframe before turning back to look at his disciple.
"Besides. When I awake, I can see all the progress you've made. You are placing your first footsteps upon a long and winding path, and yet... You are moving swiftly. I cannot wait to see what you can achieve." And with that, he was gone. Xiao Fan almost called after him, to ask him where he could be found if something arose, but she thought better of it. Surely, in such a small place, he would hear if there was trouble. Right?
She sure hoped so. Now that she was alone, however, a new sort of problem reared its ugly head: the growing warmth throughout her frame. She knew it was from damaged muscles, or even worse, maybe it was from her bones. That was a terrifying thought. Muscles could be knitted together, she figured, with string and needle... But a bone would require more work, if it was possible at all. She made her way out into the hall, mind fogged by her focus on the injuries in her body.
How was she going to fix herself? She wasn't alive anymore. It's not like she could just heal from it - a living body could recover, sure, but she lacked that vital breath which gave her true warmth and feeling. It was only as she found herself in the central hall, before the incense tree, that she came to hear a second set of footsteps every time she moved.
A chill ran up her spine - fear, that most primal of emotions, piercing the dulled patchwork of her heart's feelings. Someone was right behind her. She took one more step, a single footfall, and to her dismay... With a delay less than a second long, she heard another. It was, as she had hoped it wouldn't be, directly behind her. It couldn't have been Zhichao Tingfeng. She hadn't seen anyone else in this hall since they arrived, and she hadn't heard anyone, either. Was it an invader? An attacker? Or, worse still, a spirit?
She turned as fast as her body would allow, stumbling back a few feet from the strength of her motion. Behind her was... Nothing. Empty air. Completely empty, devoid of any sort of pursuer, or spirit, or demon. She was alone in this room, and now, having stumbled closer to it, she was right next to the incense tree. That same oppressive aura was radiating from it, or so she felt... Her heart was ill at ease, to say the least. A whimper escaped her as her eyes darted around the darkened room, searching for something. Searching for anything, anything that may have been making those footsteps. She couldn't find anything.
A deep breath in; a deep breath out. Here, it smelled so strongly of incense, jasmine and sandalwood by the scent, that her diminished senses couldn't deny it. That acrid smell of smoke and a fire-long-burnt came with it, and she knew it would have stung her nose if she could feel such things anymore. Her breaths were coming fast now, more from anxiety than exhaustion. She felt compelled to sit. Gather her thoughts. Compose herself.
The nearest option was one of those scattered kneel-pillows. She was right beside one... It wouldn't hurt to use it for a moment, right? So down she knelt, wobbling as she did. She thought for a moment to use the incense tree to steady herself as she knelt, but even putting her arm out towards it filled her with a dread so powerful that she recoiled from it as if it was a snake. There was no need to disturb the dead more than she already was by being here, and so, perhaps it was best to touch as little as she could.
Once she was knelt down, she began to calm herself. No further footsteps sounded out... No one else was breathing, no one else was moving, nothing but her and the scent of incense, smoke, and dust. Agarwood, too, drifted through her nostrils; it was little more than a backdrop for everything else, though. However, just as she swallowed and made herself really relax, de-tensing her muscles, an unfamiliar sound jolted her back into place.
"Hello, meimei. Hello, hello, hello... It's been a long time since we've seen a new disciple, you know." The voice was high, feminine, and unfamiliar. It seemed to whisper straight into her ear, causing Xiao Fan's hackles to raise as high as they could go, and then some. She was back in attack mode - scanning the room from side to side, looking to the incense tree for unseen attackers, even looking up to the ceiling. There was nothing. When her head dropped itself back down to the cushions, however...
On the cushion beside her own, a woman knelt. Barely a woman at all, in fact - the girl couldn't be more than seventeen, and her robes, while similar to those that Zhichao Tingfeng was wearing, were just as unfamiliar as the rest of her. Beautiful black locks were put up into twin buns on either side of the back of her head - her face was diminutive, to match the rest of her, with petite features that reminded Xiao Fan of a mouse. Her wide smile, however, was anything but petite. It was, perhaps, a bit too large. That wide smile split as she continued, eyeing up the now-aghast Ziao Fan.
"You're hurt, right? I can see it in you. Past your flesh - inside your body, in your muscles. We ghosts gotta stick together, help eachother... So, lemme help you! Here, put your arm out. Lemme see your acupoints..." The girl opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, reaching into her gullet with her left hand and drawing out a black wooden needle.
Xiao Fan nodded shakily, trying to process what she was seeing and hearing. Ghosts? She supposed she was a ghost. Not like this girl, not at all... But she was a ghost of sorts, just piloting her own body. That thought hurt her head. To distract her from this introspective spiral, she put out her right arm, offering it up to the girl in front of her. She couldn't help but wince as the girl took Xiao Fan's wrist with her free hand, going to slowly slip the needle into dead flesh.
Suddenly, Xiao Fan felt something within herself stir - something she had never felt, in the same way as she had never felt her muscles. In her chest, right beneath her sternum, there was a shift; movement, literally and metaphysically. The warmth slowly began to fade in her arm. Once it had fully wicked away in one spot, the girl drew the needle free and poked her elsewhere. The temperature drained, bit by bit, until there was none left. The girl smiled up at Xiao Fan again, sticking out her tongue with a playful flair.
"You're a mess, dajie! But here, I can show you how to do this yourself. Eventually. You've got bigger things to focus on. Something tells me xiong Zhichao Qin has something planned for tomorrow. So for now? Just let this senior sister fix you, eheheheh~" The mischief in her voice and words was practically dripping from her lips as she spoke. The girl wound back, then, as if making to stab Xiao fan - and stab her she did, right into the warmth at her waistline.
First she had to deal with being dead. Now she had to deal with other dead people. Great.