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Chapter 28 - The Long and Lonely Road

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Zhujiao stood before Lao Yi, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his tunic and avoiding eye contact. There was no real easy way to explain his plan for dealing with the Red Talons – such as it was – without sounding like, well, a coward.

Across from him, Lao Yi was leaning casually against the counter, his arms folded and an eyebrow raised in mild curiosity. The old man was clearly willing to wait him out. He cleared his throat uncomfortably but steeled himself to push through.

“I, uh, I was sort of planning to stay out of their way?” he said questioningly.

Lao Yi waited for a beat before frowning. “You sometimes have an… interesting way of going about things, Apprentice, but I must admit that I fail to see how doing nothing would solve the problem.”

Zhujiao winced. “Well, you said that paying them off wouldn’t work because it wasn’t really the money that they were after, right? What they really wanted was you working for them?” Lao Yi nodded, curious. “So they don’t actually care about me at all. Which meant that if I could convince them that going through me wouldn’t work, they would probably just start going after you again. Which would make this your problem, not mine.”

Lao Yi’s expression didn’t change, but Zhujiao could feel the temperature in the room drop a degree. The old man’s silence was far worse than any reprimand. Zhujiao shifted uncomfortably, waiting for the inevitable criticism.

“Interesting,” Lao Yi said finally, his voice as calm as ever. “And what makes you think that they wouldn’t simply kill you to serve as an example of why I shouldn’t resist? Are you hoping they’ll just decide you’re not worth the trouble?”

Zhujiao winced. In fairness, he’d only had a few days to think about it, and it wasn’t like he had any experience when it came to avoiding exploitation from gangs. Not to mention that he had been rather preoccupied with other matters. “There were some flaws in my plan, sure, but anything else I could come up with was only going to make things worse.”

“Worse?” Lao Yi repeated, his tone now tinged with a rare hint of frustration. “Zhujiao, doing nothing isn’t making things better. It’s not even maintaining the status quo. It’s giving up control, and in your case, that’s the same thing as rolling over and waiting for death.”

“I just thought—” Zhujiao started, but Lao Yi cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“Thinking is good, but you’re thinking like a victim. This isn’t just about the Red Talons. It’s about how you approach life.” His master spun and began pacing the length of the room. It was the most rattled Zhujiao had ever seen the man.

“You’re over-correcting,” Lao Yi continued, the frustration in his voice giving way to something almost like resignation. “Swinging from reckless abandon to cowardly inaction won’t save you, Zhujiao. If anything, it’ll get you killed faster. As your master, I can’t allow that. I have no choice but to push you into action, even if it means doing something you might not like.”

Zhujiao wet his lips nervously, getting an increasingly bad feeling. “What do you mean, Master?”

Lao Yi didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out a small, dark vial. He tossed it to Zhujiao, who caught it reflexively, staring down at the tiny pill inside.

“Take it,” Lao Yi instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Zhujiao hesitated for a brief moment, eyeing his master’s expression. The chances of the pill being bad for him were low, but not zero. Unfortunately, it seemed like this wasn’t a situation where Lao Yi would appreciate questions.

He popped the pill out of the vial and swallowed, feeling it slide down his throat with an odd coolness that spread through his body almost instantly. His dantian began to warm, and then, suddenly, it was as if a floodgate had opened. Qi surged into him, almost overwhelming in its intensity, filling his core nearly to the brim.

He gasped, his eyes wide as he struggled to maintain control. His heart was pounding, and he was getting terrifying flashbacks to trying to manage the flood of power from the Beast Core.

Fortunately for him, it seemed that his master wasn’t looking to kill him. Purifying the Qi from the pill was surprisingly easy; the energy was refined and potent, but even still, the sheer volume was staggering. It felt like trying to hold an ocean within a teacup.

He dropped into his cycling technique, focusing harder than he ever had before. The Qi raced through his channels almost faster than he could manage, and it took all his concentration to keep it moving through the path his master had taught him. It almost felt like the energy was alive, and wanted nothing more than to settle into his dantian.

Lao Yi watched him silently, his expression unreadable. After a few minutes, when it was clear that Zhujiao was no longer at risk of losing control, he finally spoke. “That pill contains enough Qi to fill your dantian. Use it well, because you won’t get another opportunity like this for a long time.”

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Zhujiao swallowed, still trying to process the sensation of so much Qi within him. “Why... why did you give me this, Master?” he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

Something deep within him had settled at the rush of power, an unfelt tension slowly relaxing. He knew instinctively that this sensation was the lingering effects of his reckless experiments. It was like he had been carrying a heavy pack and finally set it down, though even now, he knew that it would be a temporary reprieve.

Lao Yi’s gaze hardened. “You’re going to use it to advance. I’ll explain what comes next, and you’ll need every bit of Qi from that pill to get started.”

He stepped closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming as he laid out the path ahead. “First, you need to fill your dantian completely. Once it’s full, you’ll begin compressing the Qi into a droplet of liquid. This process will repeat nine times, and only when your entire dantian is filled with liquid Qi will you be ready for the next stage.”

The information was being delivered rapid-fire, and Zhujiao’s head spun as he tried to keep up with the torrent of information. His master didn’t slow. “You will use that Qi to clear out your meridians, drilling away at the impurities they contain. The process will drain your core completely – and yes, this means you’ll have to start over, but you will find gathering the needed energy faster the second time around. You’ll do this nine times.”

Lao Yi hesitated for a brief moment. “The process is… somewhat messy,” he added, somewhat ruefully, “you might want to make sure you’re wearing old clothes. Anyway, once you’ve finished clearing out your meridians, you’ll move on to refining your physical body. Nine stages, just like before. This is painful, though I imagine it won’t be as bad as when I mapped your meridians. You will have to figure out the exact process yourself, though be warned that if you do it wrong you can easily kill yourself.”

Zhujiao had fallen into an almost numb silence, doing his best to keep up with the flow of information. It was fascinating, of course, a closer look into the path of cultivation than he had ever managed before, but the question had to be asked…

“Master, why are you telling me all of this now? Not that I’m not grateful for the instruction, but… what does this have to do with the Red Talons?”

“Because I’m leaving the city,” Lao Yi said, his tone matter-of-fact.

Zhujiao felt as if the ground had been pulled out from under him. The tone of his master’s voice, combined with the sudden influx of instruction, clearly showed that Zhujiao was not being included in his master’s travel plans. “You’re leaving? Just like that?” he asked, not caring about the desperate note in his voice.

This was all happening so fast.

Lao Yi sighed, a hint of regret in his voice. “I am,” he said heavily. “I must. You have great potential, Zhujiao, but you carry a heavy burden and you must learn to bear it or it will crush you. If I stay and help you, I will become a crutch for your advancement. You will never learn how to temper your desires or recklessness, and doing so is essential.”

“I… I knew someone who was in a similar situation to your own,” the old man was carefully picking his words now. “This person relied too heavily on others, and when he faced the trials of advancement his will was not strong enough. The damage he wrought in his rage…”

Lao Yi’s face hardened. “I will not allow you to make the same mistakes. You must learn, and the best teachers are pain and loss. You must face your trials alone, my boy. I… am sorry.”

Zhujiao’s eyes were wide in disbelief. Was this his fate? Every time he thought he was making progress, another pillar would be knocked out from under him? First his mother, and now his master – for the first time, he found that he hated cultivation. All it had ever brought him was pain, and for all that it promised power, he had yet to see much tangible benefit.

“W-When are you leaving then, Master?” Zhujiao’s tone was subdued, defeated. “I… if I could just have a little more time…”

Lao Yi’s expression softened, just for a moment, before hardening again. “I will be leaving immediately. And I’m afraid you don’t have the luxury of time, Apprentice. That pill... it wasn’t exactly mine to give. It belonged to the Red Talons.”

Zhujiao’s heart skipped a beat, dread creeping into his stomach. And he’d thought the day couldn’t get any worse. “What do you mean? You... stole it?”

Lao Yi nodded, his gaze never leaving Zhujiao’s. “I stole it, and now they’ll come looking for it. And for you.”

Zhujiao’s blood ran cold. “For me? Why?”

“Because that pill has – had – a very unique signature. One that they will be able to detect and track. Having consumed it, that signature will now be coming from you, at least for the next few days.”

Lao Yi’s tone was uncompromising and totally devoid of sympathy. Zhujiao felt a flicker of anger ignite in his chest. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. But he pushed the feeling down, trying to focus on the bigger issue at hand.

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked, his voice tight.

“You’re going to have to figure that out on your own,” Lao Yi replied, his tone brisk. “I’ve given you the tools you need to survive—more than most masters would offer at this stage. The rest is up to you.”

Zhujiao opened his mouth to protest, but Lao Yi held up a hand, silencing him. “This is how it has to be,” the old man said firmly, a flicker of his intent filling the room and neatly squashing any further arguments Zhujiao might have made. “For what little it may be worth, I do hope you succeed, my boy. If you manage to make it to the peak of the Third Realm, seek me out.”

Zhujiao clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. Part of him wanted to yell and rage at his master— no. At Lao Yi. The old man might have helped him, and for that, Zhujiao would always owe him, but for the man to abandon him like this? After stealing something from a gang that already had it out for him and pinning the theft on him?

Lao Yi was no master of his.

Of course, he wasn’t quite stupid enough to say all of this to the old man. As temporarily satisfying as it may be, it would burn some bridges that may be useful later. For a long moment, he stood there, forcing himself to think through the whirlwind of anger and fear.

Finally, he nodded, the motion stiff and reluctant. “I understand,” he said, though the words tasted bitter on his tongue.

Lao Yi gave him a long, searching look before turning to leave, his steps slow and deliberate. But just before he reached the door, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

“One last piece of advice, Zhujiao,” he said, his tone almost gentle. “Be cautious of the Sects. Not all of them are bad, but they will all be able to sense the path you have walked. And few of them will be willing to extend the same trust that I have. They will see you as a threat and a danger, and cultivators only ever deal with those in one way.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving Zhujiao standing alone in the empty clinic, the weight of his master’s expectations—and the dangers ahead—settling heavily on his shoulders.

For a moment, he just stood there, trying to process everything that had just happened. Then, slowly, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. There was no time to dwell on the unfairness of it all. He had to act. The Red Talons would be coming for him, and he needed to be ready.