“Wake up!”

Irene snorted and stammered as she woke suddenly, disorientated in the dark of the hut. Had she fallen asleep?

“Wake up!” Yangjie said again. “Irene!”

“What is it?” Irene said, still waking up.

“I sense an assassin approaching,” Yangjie said. “Their presence is muted, but not so muted as to evade my senses.”

That woke her up.

“An assassin?” Irene said, almost hissing as she kicked the blanket off. “What!? Why?!”

“Clearly my enemies have divined that I yet live,” Yangjie said, his tone dark. “You must prepare yourself.”

Irene fell out of bed, feet tangled in the blanket, and almost landed on Yangjie.

Croak, Charles asked, confused as he was woken by the clamour.

“Assassins,” Irene said as she got to her feet, brushing dirt from her shirt. She began to pull on her hanfu, struggling in the dark, and her lightsaber fell out of it, bouncing off the bed with a thunk. “Why do you have assassins after you Yangjie??”

“I control the flow of information in and out of Hóuchéng City,” Yangjie said. It was hard to see his face in the dark, but he managed to look down his nose at her from the floor somehow. “It is not a position to be dismissed lightly.”

“Ugh,” Irene said. Her pulse was starting to race at the thought of another one of those bird people, a tengu, prowling through the village. She wasn’t ready for a lightsaber duel. “Ok, I can do this. I’ll just squash them like the last one.”

“If you can,” Yangjie said. “My enemies will not send a foe that has failed before. You must be cautious.”

Irene took in a deep breath, clutching her lightsaber tightly. Fantastic. Just great. The sudden landing of Charles on her shoulder almost made her shriek in panic, but she held it in. “How close are they, Yangjie?”

“Within shouting distance,” Yangjie said, making Irene’s heart skip a beat. “Whatever concealment technique they are using is mighty; I can sense only the barest trickle of Qi.”

“I should just wait here and ambush them as they enter, right?” Irene said, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

“If you wish to survive, you must not let them pick the location of battle,” Yangjie said.

“Alright,” Irene said. “Ok.” She readied Yangjie’s sling, and picked him up. “You’re going to watch my back.”

“Should any seek to strike you from behind, I will spit curses with such fire they would warm the Outer Ring,” Yangjie promised as he was secured to her back.

Croak, Charles said, ready to face the danger with her.

Her slippers were mostly dry after her earlier attempts at walking on water, and she slipped them on, heading out into the night. The door creaked as she opened it and she winced, but whatever master assassin was coming for Yangjie didn’t appear. There was only the gentle night breeze sighing through the boughs of the trees, and the chirping of crickets. If she hadn’t known better, she would have said that not a soul stirred in the village.

“Which way?” Irene whispered.

“Towards the lake,” Yangjie answered, just as quietly.

Through the village lanes she crept, Charles’ head on a swivel as he watched her left. Her grip on the lightsaber in her right hand grew sweaty, and she suddenly wished she had practised igniting it more on the hike yesterday. What if she put too much into it, and cut through half the village with a Sephiroth length lightsaber? She did her best to throttle her rising panic as she approached the village square and oh god, she wasn’t ready for-

Someone was moving on the other side of the square, creeping through the shadows. They seemed to blend in with the very darkness, barely an outline even in the sheltered streets of the village, but their slow and careful movement was still enough to catch her eye.

Irene went still. She stood in the shadowed lee of a hut, one hand on its wall, and she was glad for it, as the ground seemed to lurch beneath her feet. There was a master assassin only a stone’s throw away. Her breathing began to quicken.

Croak, Charles said softly, encouraging her, and she steadied herself, swallowing.

The assassin continued to creep forward, leaving the streets behind to enter the square proper. They stayed in the shadows cast by the canopy overhead, never stepping into what little light shone through. It was a man, and as they steadily grew closer Irene began to make out details. They looked to be wearing the same rough clothing that those in the village had, and she hoped they hadn’t killed anyone to obtain the disguise.

Irene breathed shallowly, trying not to move. She let out a short breath, then another and another, and it was time. The assassin had passed the tree in the square centre. She conjured her invisible arm, and stepped forward with a mighty battle cry as she lashed out, aiming to smear him across the town square.

She missed.

She missed, but only because the assassin let out a scream even higher pitched than her own and fell over backwards, avoiding her blow by fluke as he landed in the dirt. Whatever magic had allowed him to blend in with the shadows was gone as he scrambled backwards in the dirt. His face was illuminated for a scant second, fright writ clear, but Irene wasn’t fooled. No master assassin would be missing teeth or have such ratty features - he wanted to trick her into dismissing him as a threat.

Brilliant golden light erupted from her lightsaber, pressing back the shadows, and she raised it overhead. There was the sound of something being scorched, and a branch fell from the canopy overhead, landing heavily on the assassin. Irene eased off on the magic - the Qi - that she fed into it, and the blade shrank to a more reasonable length, but the assassin had pushed off the branch and jumped to his feet, something in his hand reflecting the light of her saber. He drew back his arm and threw it right at her.

Croak, Charles said, incensed, and he spat poison. It hit the object midair, dissolving it into paste as it flew.

Irene shielded herself with her arm, and the remnants of the thing hit her bare hand harmlessly, sliding off to fall to the ground where it bubbled and hissed. She ignored it, running forward with her lightsaber raised overhead. It came down with a mighty blow, aiming to split the cowering assassin from crown to groin.

It was not to be. Something blocked it, saving the flinching assassin from certain death at the last moment. Irene squinted past the light of her saber, trying to see what it was - but no, that couldn’t be right. A wooden cane had caught her shining blade, and the one who held it was a familiar old woman.

“Yan?” Irene asked, almost gaping.

“Hmph,” Yan said, pushing the blade away with a flick of her cane. She wore a hastily donned robe, and fluffy slippers.

The assassin turned to run, but Yan bonked him on the head with her cane, and he collapsed bonelessly, rear end pointing up into the air.

“I, what?” Irene said. Her lightsaber flickered out as her attention waned.

“What happened?” Yangjie demanded. “Did you vanquish the assassin?”

“I will make tea,” Yan said, setting her cane down like it was a simple mobility aid and not something that had blocked a lightsaber. She leaned on it as she inspected them. “You bring this miscreant, and we’ll talk.”

Charles’ eyebrows were bristling in suspicion, but he held his poison.

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“How did you-”

“I will make tea,” Yan repeated herself, and then began to hobble off, giving Irene no choice but to do as she said.

Irene looked at the unconscious body. It wasn’t a large man, looking to be a few meals short of a regular diet, but they were larger than her, and this isekai had yet to come with super strength. However…she called it her invisible arm to herself, but really it was a big chunk of solid force - maybe air, she’d have to experiment and test - that could turn people into splatters. Maybe she could use it as a glorified stretcher?

Yan was already disappearing down a lane, so she set to it. Worst case, she would have to drag them through the village. She called forth the limb, twisting and reaching with her Qi in a way that couldn’t quite be put to words, and she could feel it form. It was the first time she had done so when her life was not in mortal peril, and she took the chance to examine it more closely. It wasn’t quite accurate to call it an arm. It was larger for one, and lacked any sort of dexterous digits, more a cylinder of force that she could direct around at will, mostly to crush her enemies. Maybe in the future she could tweak it to fit her purpose but for now it would suit.

But if it could deliver force, surely it could hold weight…she bent down and slipped the man’s arm over her shoulders, nose screwing up at the stink that was unleashed. Her short time in this strange new world had spoiled her if such a thing could get a reaction out of her after some of the things she had smelt on the hospital ward. With a heave, she straightened her legs, bringing the limp body with her. She was no body builder, and it was almost too much, but she was fit enough, and she got him high enough to be dropped onto her invisible limb - she needed a better name for that - before she let him loose. He fell, draped over the construct belly down, and she set off after Yan just as the woman vanished around a corner. With a thought, her construct followed. She felt rather like an American cowboy, bounty folded over the back of her horse as she went on her way.

When she caught up, it was just in time to see Yan enter her home, close to the middle of the village as it was. She followed her in, and took in the room she found herself in. It was much nicer than the hut Irene had been afforded. It had multiple rooms for one, going by the two doors she saw, and the floor was stone rather than dirt. The living room slash receiving room was full of the possessions and knick knacks that spoke of a full life well lived, and the old woman was puttering about with a small fireplace on one side that cast light over the room.

“Where do you want…?” Irene asked.

“Just plop him down by the door,” Yan said, as she levered a metal teapot into place above the fire, hanging by a wire.

Irene dismissed her construct, and the man fell with a thunk, probably not doing his future headache any favours. Yan gestured to one of the two chairs that sat on either side of a small table across from the fire. Irene made for the one that appeared less used, retrieving Yangjie from his sling and placing him on the table, and Charles hopped from her shoulder to her knee as she sat. Yan joined her, placing down a pair of empty teacups. The moment stretched out.

Yangjie was watching Yan closely, but held his tongue.

“So…” Irene said.

“You have questions?” Yan said.

“Yes I have questions!” Irene said. “You blocked my lightsaber with your cane!”

Yan blinked at her. “You mean your su-”

“Don’t care, it’s a lightsaber,” Irene said. “But more importantly: what the hell?”

The old woman gave a sigh, grumbling under her breath. “...youth. Ask your questions.”

Irene thought she had asked them fairly eloquently already, but she let out a breath and focused. “How did your cane do that?”

“It is an artefact from another time in my life,” Yan said, looking about the room and all it held. There was nothing in it that screamed ‘powerful magical artefact’, but then Irene wouldn’t know what to look for, and the cane didn’t look like anything special either.

“Are you a master seeking solitude?” Yangjie asked, wary.

Yan snorted. “Hardly a master. I was an honoured pupil, destined for great things, until an…injury.”

“So you’re a retired cultivator?” Irene asked.

“Cultivators don’t retire,” Yan said. “You keep walking, or fall from the path.”

“How did you sense the assassin’s approach then?” Yangjie demanded. His tone was sharp and probing, but what remained of his hair was a mess, lessening the impact somewhat.

“Assassin?” Yan asked, suddenly chortling. “This one is no more an assassin than your protege is an old master.”

“I could feel his Qi sliding through the shadows,” Yangjie said, “seeking to evade my sight. Only a skilled assassin could come so close to succeeding.”

“A skilled assassin, or an idiot disciple lacking in Qi using a half learnt stealth technique,” Yan said.

Yangjie opened his mouth to argue, but then froze. A look of dismay crossed his face, and he closed his jaw with a click.

“So he’s not an assassin out to finish the job,” Irene said. A feeling of disappointment flooded through her, and she suddenly felt tired. All that excitement and worry for nothing?

The teapot chose that moment to begin to whistle, and Yan got to her feet with a creak of bones to take it off the heat before it could make too much noise in the quiet of the night. Practised motions took it from its hook and brought it to the table, where she poured two cups and then set it beside Yangjie, where steam from the spout wafted past his nose.

“That is better than I expected,” Yangjie said, grudgingly.

“I might have left my sect, but I didn’t give up all my comforts,” Yan said. “Go on girl, drink.”

Irene drank, sipping at the cup, and felt herself relax a touch. It was good tea. “Thank you,” she said.

“He might not have been an assassin out to finish the vaunted Serene Peacock, but he was still up to no good,” Yan said, picking up the earlier thread of conversation. “That knife he threw at you had a nasty little poison on it.”

“How could you tell?” Irene asked, frowning.

“Blue river poison frogs can’t melt steel that easily,” Yan said. “Even handsome specimens like yours. Had to react to something.”

Croak, Charles said, somewhat mollified after the earlier accusation of being a cave toad.

Something occurred to Irene. “You were watching the fight. Before you intervened.”

“Had to see,” Yan said. “Can’t just go taking every strange cultivator at their word.”

“What do you-” she cut herself off, frowning as she considered. “You thought I was up to something. You know who that is?” she asked, looking at the still unconscious man. Anger stirred in her chest. “Was that a test?! I could have killed him!”

“No test,” Yan said, shaking her head, before she paused. “Well, I lie. It was a test, but I did not send him.”

“Do you get a lot of half baked assassins sneaking through your village then?” Irene asked.

“Oh, not for years now,” Yan said, leaning back in her chair with an air of reminiscence.

“Who trained him?” Yangjie asked. “No sect worth their salt would send such an incompetent out into the world.”

Irene did not mention the fact that he had thought him to be a master assassin not half an hour ago.

“You remember those no good youngsters Fan mentioned?” Yan asked.

“The bandits. You said you’d deal with them yourself if not for their leader,” Irene said.

Yan harrumphed. “An arrogant young master squabbled with his senior and was cast out for it. Usually that’s a problem that solves itself, but this one has ambitions.”

Irene could feel a headache building. “So their leader is teaching them cultivation. And, what, he sent one in to scout the village?”

“Not the village,” Yan said, sipping at her tea.

“Me?” Irene asked, disbelieving. “Why? I’m just trying to get Yangjie home.”

“I can’t imagine why a young master with ambitions of a personal fiefdom might be worried about the arrival of another powerful young master,” Yan said, tone making it clear she thought it no mystery at all.

“So, what, you thought I was one of this bandit cultivator’s students?” Irene asked.

A snort answered her. “Not with the way your Qi ebbs and flows with the world around you,” Yan said.

“She thought you were in league with him,” Yangjie said, “perhaps seeking to infiltrate the village.”

“What?” Irene squawked.

“Drink your tea,” Yan ordered. Gnarled hands cupped her own close to her chest, savouring the warmth.

Irene drank. It was hard to stay upset when one held a cup of warm tea. “Why did you think I was working with this - what’s his name?”

“Xiang Yu,” Yan said. “He passed through here, before he started making his demands. Posed as a traveller.”

Her headache had arrived in truth now. “So you let me fight that guy to see if I was with them or not.”

Yan shrugged. “Still might be, but less likely. Minions are minions, but Xiang shouldn’t have so many that he can throw away one who has taken even the smallest steps along the path.”

“I’m not with him,” Irene said, feeling the need to say it outright. “I just want to get Yangjie to Hóuchéng City.”

Yan shrugged again, taking another sip of her tea.

Irene fought the urge to drag a hand down her face. “So, what. I’m probably not working with this bandit cultivator, but you’re not sure, so you’ll keep an eye on me until I leave?”

“Don’t forget your promise of healing,” Yan said.

“Of course not,” Irene said, not quite offended.

“After that…well, if you seek the city, you’ll have to brave the roads,” Yan said. “Seems to me my home won’t have a problem for much longer.”

“Gee, thanks,” Irene said. So the old lady giving her great tea was hoping she’d kill the local bandit leader for her. Great.

“Don’t you take that tone with me,” Yan grumbled. She refilled her tea, and offered the same to Irene. “I might not walk the path, but I can still see it, and the steps others leave upon it.”

Irene wrestled down her misgivings. This wasn’t some mugger that the police could be called to deal with, it was a cultivator who could probably match all her new powers and maybe even more. It wasn’t like the villagers had any other options. She glanced down at Charles. Good thing she had her frog.

As if sensing the direction her thoughts had taken, Charles puffed up in pride, looking up at her from under his bristly eyebrows with large eyes. She smiled at him, rubbing him on the back of the head in the way he liked. When she looked back to Yan, the old woman was watching her, as if she could read her thoughts by the look on her face.

“What if they don’t attack us when we leave?” Irene asked. “I’m not sure how I feel about hunting someone down for you.”

It was Yangjie who answered, scoffing. “A young master so hard headed as to be exiled will not suffer a rival to pass.”

“Just so,” Yan said, nodding to the head.

“Fine,” Irene said, letting out a sigh. “We’re going that way anyway. If this Xiang Yu is so interested in me, I’ll deal with him.” The adrenaline from the sudden wakeup and the fight had well and truly left her now, and the tea could only do so much.

Yan nodded, satisfied. “Good. Best you be getting back to bed then.”

Irene jaw cracked open in a yawn. “What about him?” she asked, looking at the still insensate bandit by the door.

“Don’t you worry about him,” Yan said. “I’ll take care of it.” She sipped at her tea, eyes falling into shadow as she peered at the bandit over the lip of the cup.

Suddenly wondering how many pigs the village had, Irene decided not to question what would happen to him. She finished her tea, and Charles hopped back to her shoulder as she stood to pick Yangjie up. She said her goodnights, and went on her way, only getting a little lost before she found her hut. Eyes already drooping, she shed her hanfu and settled her companions before crawling into bed, asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.

X

Irene dreamed strange dreams. She inhabited a body that lay in a sunlit meadow atop a mountain, spread out on a picnic blanket as butterflies fluttered through the fire-flowers and tall stalks of grass. Her head was in the lap of her beloved, and soft fingers scratched at her scalp as she drowsed, eyes half closed.

“I could make it a law you know,” she said lazily.

“Hmm?” her partner said.

“Scripture from the heavens,” she continued. “Heaven mandated scalp massages, twice daily.”

“You know that no such law is required,” they said, flicking her nose gently.

Ah. I know this. A fond memory.

“Even so,” she said.

“Empress ------, First and Primary, She Who Deserves Head Scratches,” came the solem reply.

“I’ll see to it once we finish our promise band.”

“We’re almost done. It’s hard to believe.”

“We knew we could do it,” she said, surety colouring her tone. “Working together, how could we not?” Her partner was a blur through her lashes, fingers finding that perfect spot behind her ear.

A better time, with aeons yet ahead of us.

“I never doubted you.”

What I would give…

A songbird’s trill warbled across the meadow, and Irene felt her awareness dim, even as the conversation continued.

It would not be her only dream that night, but it was the one she remembered.