The Valley of the Small Mushroom was a very strange place.
It was a green, fertile valley, fed by mountain streams with steaming hotpools resting beside ice-cold water.
Yet, there were no villagers, no farmers growing crops, no herdsman, or even traders there.
No.
Because The Valley of the Small Mushroom was a place where guys with wispy beards and long robes gathered. Everywhere Sparrow turned there were cultivators.
Some were sitting, meditating, others were flying up into the sky and kerb-stomping other cultivators.
Some powerful cultivators had even organised themselves into teams and were going to war with other teams of magic-wielders.
Sparrow watched in disbelief as a bunch of cultivators down the valley tied green headscarfs around their heads.
‘Today… my brothers and sisters… we claim VICTORY!!!’ one of the cultivators screamed.
‘VICTORY!’ The crowd of cultivators cheered.
‘Blood and glory!’ The leading cultivator screamed.
‘BLOOD AND GLORY.’ The crowd echoed. One barrel-chested man smashed his fist into the earth, and the ground split in two.
‘We will fight with our fists and our magic and our…’ the leading man paused and squinted his eyes, ‘Hey! Lu Min! What the hell are you wearing?’
At the front of the cultivators stood a man clearly ready to fight, he was bouncing on the balls of his feet and every few seconds would jab the air with his fists.
On his head was a blue scarf.
‘It’s the only one I could find Brother Shinzen.’ Lu Min said with a majestic bow.
‘The only one you could find? But blue’s the enemy’s colour!’ Shinzen said.
There was a murmuring from the gathered crowd of cultivators.
‘Well, I can’t go in with no scarf,’ said Lu Min, ‘I’d look ridiculous.’
Shinzen took a few steps closer to Lu Min, ‘Hold on, hold on, that’s not even a scarf.’ He yanked at the scarf and it came off Lu Min’s head.
‘This is a dress!’ Shinzen said.
There was a shocked gasp from the cultivators around Lu Min. The cultivator stripped of his scarf just shrugged, ‘I was going to wear it after the battle.’
‘WHAT?!?’ Shinzen shouted, ‘You idiot!’
Behind Lu Min stood a tall, barrel chested man, he had the beard of a lion, the thighs of a grizzly bear and the face of a warthog. He stepped past Lu Min, bumping him with his shoulder, ‘And what’s wrong with wearing a dress after battle sir? He’s not the only one.’
There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd.
Shinzen pinched the bridge of his nose, ‘I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.’ He murmured to himself.
‘Look,’ he snatched the dress from Lu Min’s hand, ‘Look at this material! It’s silky, it’s smooth, you get one slash from a flying dagger and you can say goodbye to your dresses forever. Okay?!’
There was a shocked rumble from the crowd, a few of the battle hardened cultivators started to take their dresses from their heads.
‘I don’t even see why we have to fight,’ Lu Min said, ‘I always get all sweaty and there’s blood everywhere. Listen… what if instead of fighting, we do something more productive?’
‘Like WHAT?!’ Shinzen said, ‘There’s nothing more adrenaline pumping, and heart thumping than battle.’
‘There’s sewing,’ the barrel chested man suggested, ‘At least you’ll get a dress out of it.’
The cultivators cheered, and pumped their fists and tried to lift the barrel chested man above their heads, unfortunately he was too heavy. The cultivators started to rip their dresses and scarfs from their heads.
Shinzen saw he was losing the crowd, ‘Come on! We do this every week! The blue team is going to be pissed if you guys bail.’
But the crowd didn’t even hear him as Lu Min brought out his new sewing kit and passed it around the circle, ‘See!’ Lu Min said to the cultivators, ‘Twenty different types of needles, ergonomic thumbtacks and…’
‘...fifty different types of thread,’ shouted the barrel-chested man, ‘The gods have been good to you.’
And so the circle of cultivators grew tighter and Shinzen was left standing outside, holding his silver sword awkwardly.
He turned his back on them and pretended he wasn’t listening to their talk about stitch types, and which colour buttons go with which colour fabrics.
The big crowd laughed and cheered as one of the little guys performed a triple-stitch.
Shinzen looked sadly at the group, then got to his feet. With a sigh he took off his scarf, and peered down at it. He stood on the outside of the group, with his bottom lip hanging low.
‘Umm, I’ve been practising my cross-stitch.’
The group turned, they stared at his dress and all raised critical eyebrows.
‘That’s - that’s a nice seam boss.’ Lu Min said tentatively.
‘Yeah,’ the barrel-chested man, ‘good work on the tassels.’
And then the group opened up and a smile started to appear on Shinzen’s face.
‘Thanks men,’ he said.
Sparrow wandered away from the strange gang of fighter-sewers. He climbed the valley. All around it cultivators went through patterns or meditated. Sparrow could feel the sheer power rippling from each one. He decided there was a lot to learn in this valley.
He took a deep breath and then walked up to a small man perched on the rock. Sparrow bowed low, then said; ‘Hello Master. I was wondering...'
The little man didn't move, Sparrow swore he hadn't moved, and yet somehow the man's finger was now covering his mouth, calling for silence.
Sparrow paused, barely breathing, but the longer he watched the man the more nothing seemed to be happening. The man remained fixed in his position, like he was a marble statue.
Eventually, Sparrow cleared his throat, 'Excuse me, sir?'
Sparrow didn't even get to finish his sentence. In an instant, the man had delivered 1000 blows to Sparrow's body and returned back to the position he had been standing in. Sparrow felt himself flop backwards.
Sparrow gulped, then fell backwards, his muscles completely paralyzed.
'I know what you're here for.' The short master said, 'I know you wish to learn, well, young Sparrow, I have some wisdom for you - Never think yourself too powerful. For example, let me demonstrate…'
The small man pointed at a large strong man sitting on a rock watching them. The small man winked at Sparrow, 'Remember, never let your ego get the better of you.'
The small man stuck out his chest and walked over to the large man, 'Excuse me?' The small man said, but he didn't even get time to finish his sentence.
The large man jumped 10,000 feet in the air, clasped a ray of sun in his fist and dragged it down at the speed of light straight into the body of the small man who had been asking him a question. The small man was pulverised into a million different pieces that flopped backwards in the sand beside Sparrow.
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Sparrow's mouth dropped open, the tall strong man nodded to Sparrow, 'I see both of you are yet to learn to never underestimate your opponents. Here, let me demonstrate...'
The tall, strong man wandered over to an elderly, stick-like master who lay in a pile of blankets coughing up blood.
'Master,' the strong man said, 'I have come to...'
But the young strong man didn't even get to finish his sentence. The old master grabbed a patch of the blood he'd been coughing up, forged the iron inside of it into a sword and then used it to slice open the young muscular man's body.
As more blood poured out of the young muscular man, the old master forged each of these spurts into blades that spun around the young strong man in a cloud of pain. This all happened, in a quarter of the time it takes to blink.
The young strong man didn't even have time to react. He simply fell backwards in a network of cuts and shards of blood.
The old master gave a bloody cough, 'It seems the three of you have yet to learn your lesson. Never underestimate your opponent.' The old master looked at the sky, 'Watch this!'
Sparrow flinched, 'Please Master, you do not need to demonstrate.'
But Sparrow didn't even get to finish his sentence, the old master hadn't spoken a word, he'd merely thought about one of the many gods above him and before he had finished thinking that thought a giant fist made out of pure energy dropped from the sky and flattened the old crippled master into a pancake the size of the small country.
Sparrow used stoneskin to break through the pancake that covered him, 'Okay. Okay,' Sparrow said. 'Please, I've learned my lesson. I don't need any more demonstrations.'
But up above him, there was a rumble as one by one, the gods demonstrated that you should never underestimate your opponent.
****
Sparrow huddled in a small cave on the mountainside, after all the craziness with the headscarfs and the not underestimating your opponents. He’d decided that cultivators were crazy and powerful and dangerous to be around.
The trouble was, every time he tried to leave the valley someone challenged him to a duel.
For example - he’d tried to climb over a small, rocky knob halfway up the valley that seemed cultivator free.
But when he got to the top, he found a worn old man with a pointy hat waiting for him.
‘Behold! You have come to challenge ME!’ The old cultivator boomed.
‘No, no,’ Sparrow said, ‘I’m just looking to get pas-’
But the old cultivator transformed into a bolt of lightning that blasted Sparrow half a mile down the mountain.
Sparrow would’ve been impressed if he hadn’t been so sore. He knew there was a lot to learn in this valley - so many potential masters, but the trouble was they all seemed so intent on killing each other that he couldn’t see how he’d learn anything from them.
Back in the cave, Sparrow sank his feet deep into the earth. He needed all the strength he could muster. He’d tried twenty different ways of escaping, and received twenty different head injuries.
He’d tried flying away - and been punched in the face by a cultivator meditating on a cloud, he’d tried posing as a tree, and was nearly kicked in half by a young cultivator trying to strengthen his feet, he’d even tried digging through the earth using stoneskin and stumbled into an underground cavern where five cultivators were smashing rocks on each other's heads.
When Sparrow fell through, they all rushed at him with their rocks, trying to get him to join in the fun.
Sparrow stared down the valley, scratching his chin.
He watched a young cultivator from further down the valley get twisted into a pretzel by a cultivator from higher up he’d been fighting.
Sparrow narrowed his eyes - the cultivators further down the valley seemed weaker than the cultivators further up the valley.
If he was going to take his chances, he’d have to do it with the weakest cultivator he could find.
After days of hiding, and drawing in nutrients through his feet he found them.
They were two guys - one large, and one tiny, dressed in brown robes.
They sat at the lowest point of the valley - a rat’s hole in the otherwise beautiful valley. Every day the two cultivators would challenge the cultivators that meditated and trained and fought above them, but every day the pair would get their asses handed to them by more experienced cultivators.
And so Sparrow decided they were his targets for getting out of the place - if he could get past them he’d be a free man once more.
Sparrow prepared for the coming fight meticulously.
He trimmed every strand of hair he could to ensure they had nothing to grip if it got to a fist-fight, he carefully wound his raggedy shirt around the ocean-blue gem he’d brought out from the mine, and finally he took a long sip of water from a small spring that bubbled from the middle of the cave he’d cowered in.
Then he tightened his belt a notch and ran as fast as he could down the side of the mountain.
Despite Sparrow being completely invisible, the slight wind he stirred up as he ran alerted the other cultivators to his presence.
He was slashed, smashed and bashed all the way down the valley. One old master threw a chariot-sized block of ice at him, another cultivator threw a giant scyth that Sparrow barely ducked under.
Bruised and limping, Sparrow made it to the two brown-coated cultivators. He loosened his belt and hunched over, panting, in front of them.
‘Huh! Come to receive a beating?’ said the extremely short cultivator, who strutted around like a turkey, ‘that invisibility won’t do you no good anyway.’
Sparrow wiped a patch of sweat from his head, ‘Look, please. I don’t want to fight, I just want to get out of this damn valley.’
‘Oh look!’ the squat cultivator sneered, ‘little baby wants to go home.’
The large cultivator chuckled, ‘He called you a baby!’
Both cultivators had matching black eyes and were missing most of their teeth. Their clothes were torn with holes and jagged cuts all through them.
Sparrow rolled his eyes, ‘Listen, I need to get out of here. Now.’
The two guys winked at each other. Then dropped into twin fighting stances.
Sparrow rolled his eyes again and started walking away from them.
The little guy was the first to strike. He twirled his arms, and created a whirlwind that lifted Sparrow from his feet and toppled him over and over. Grass and twigs blew up and scratched his cheeks and stabbed him in the chest.
But Sparrow flew upwards pushing through the spinning wind. He shot fire from his hands straight at the short guy who blocked the lower part of the fireball. Unfortunately, the top half of the fire caught the guy in the face, and lit his hair on fire.
The taller cultivator picked up a large rock from the ground, he held it in his hands up above his head, then in an instant his body morphed into a giant slingshot.
‘What the hell?’ Was all Sparrow could say before a giant rock hit him in the stomach. Sparrow doubled over, and fell to the ground.
Struggling to breathe, Sparrow picked himself up.
He coughed and a wad of blood hit the earth. In front of him the short man was rolling around in the dust screaming as he bashed at his hair, his tall partner remained an unmoving slingshot. Sparrow conjured up another ball of fire and threw it at the slingshot.
The slingshot quickly morphed back into the tall man. Who ran around screaming.
‘Well,’ Sparrow shrugged, ‘I guess I’m leaving.’
He started to walk towards the edge of the valley, but a moment later, found his path blocked by the small man whose forehead was a smoking mess.
‘I’m leaving,’ Sparrow said.
The small man shook his head, ‘You have to defeat me first.’
Sparrow frowned, ‘You have no eyebrows left, I think I just did.’
The man raised his non-existent eyebrows, ‘Oh, that. That’s nothing. Wait until you see what I have in store for you.’
The man ran and jumped two metres high, extending his leg out in front of him. The leg was aimed straight at Sparrow’s head, but Sparrow just stepped backward, planted his feet firmly in the ground, then wrapped stoneskin around his body. He felt his fist tighten, then he smashed his fist into the small cultivator’s leg as hard as he could muster.
There was a sound like a hundred thousand bones snapping at once, and the small cultivator’s leg flew off, took the path of a boomerang, and hit the large, burning cultivator in the head, making him drop to the ground.
The little cultivator bounced on the ground, his single remaining leg flailed out.
‘I’m so, so sorry,’ Sparrow said, approaching the small cultivator, ‘I didn’t mean to hit you that hard, can I help you heal i-’
‘HARD?!’ The little cultivator laughed, ‘That was not hard. You’ll see the meaning of hard in just a moment, when I unleash my full power upon you.’
‘Your full power?’ said Sparrow, ‘but your leg’s just come off.’
The little cultivator shrugged, ‘I’ve been trying to lose some weight anyway.’
And then the little cultivator was flying upwards until he blocked the sun, then he came down in a whirlwind speeding up until his remaining foot was on fire.
This time Sparrow didn’t move. He just activated stoneskin and went deeper and deeper into it until he could feel his heart starting to solidify. A moment later and there was a gentle ding that reminded him of someone knocking on a door.
When he came out of stoneskin the little cultivator was sitting on the dirt in front of him with no legs left.
‘Well.’ Sparrow said. ‘I guess I’m leaving now.’
‘How dare you!?!’ spat the little cultivator, ‘We’re the most feared duo on this mountainside. How dare you run from me you filthy coward.’
‘Look, you’ve got no legs. Your friend is still on fire and concussed. What are you trying to prove?’
The little cultivator started hopping on the stumps where his legs had been. He hopped across the rocky ground and headbutted Sparrow in the stomach.
‘Stop it you lunatic!’ Sparrow yelled, but the cultivator just laughed, ‘oh look, he wants to go home to mummy. Weakling! Weakening!’
Next to the legless cultivator, the large cultivator, who was now a pile of smoking bones, raised his fist and joined in the chant, ‘Weakling! Weakling!’
Sparrow shook his head, ‘Don’t make me do this.’
The small cultivator bounced over to Sparrow, grabbed his leg and started biting it.
Sparrow let out a yell, pushed the guy off slightly, then kicked as hard as he could.
Maybe it was the stoneskin, or maybe it was the fact his feet were planted in the ground, but Sparrow’s kick carried the sort of power that could split bolder’s in half.
The small cultivator’s head was ripped from the rest of his body. The head went sailing up, further and further into the sky, until it was just a dot on the horizon.
Sparrow nodded, ‘Finally.’
And he started to walk away.