When the boy awoke, it was to daylight… and a fair degree of shock. He was absolutely positive that he had died. In point of fact, he could even remember his soul beginning to come unmoored from it shell. Unless that had been a dream. But then… then…

He could not remember anything after that.

Slowly, he sat up and looked down at himself. There were freshly healed scars all over his body. They were newly scabbed and itched, and they ached dully. But he was not bleeding any more. Actually, looking around, he did not see a hint of blood anywhere in the cave.

What happened? How did I survive?

But then the boy remembered something very important.

The book!

Quickly, he scurried over to where it had been nestled amongst the crystals, and his heart sank. He had no idea whether the mysterious book had anything to do with his recovery, but the thing must have been worth a fortune! Or at least… maybe. But that was in the past. Now it was just a pile of ashes. But… at least the crystals were still intact. They were charred a bit from the flames, but they still glowed with some sort of inner light.

Maybe I can sell these?

He had no idea who he could sell them to, though. The only people he knew were in the village, and none of them had much money. Certainly not enough to afford mysterious glowing crystals!

Besides… the point was moot. Miraculous though it was that he had survived the night, it was unlikely that he could manage to descend once more unscathed. Never mind making it all the way to civilization.

Curiously, he grabbed hold of one of the crystals and began to jerk on it. It was set into the wall pretty solidly. Maybe, I can get a rock or something? There were plenty of loose chunks of obsidian scattered around. It might be possible to break one off… and probably cut his hand open again in the process on the sharp edges of the black glass-like substance.

Sighing, he surveyed the cave, trying to think, and his eyes fell on the body of his mother. She was still where he had left her, unmoving. And his time unconscious had not improved her progressing aroma of death.

He frowned at the thought. It was unbecoming… though it was true. The smell was pervasive and foully sweet. He would need to leave soon to avoid sickness. It was time to say goodbye.

Slowly and unwillingly, he knelt beside her. He did not have incense to burn for her. In fact, he was pretty sure that no one in the village had. But his mother had said that it was the proper thing to do to honor one’s ancestors. It helped to carry the prayers of the living to the dead. She had sacrificed a great deal for him, and she deserved that much.

Silently, he offered her a prayer anyway, though he had no idea whether it would reach her. He hoped that she found a better life the next time she was born. One free of the hardships she had endured.

I’ll be alright, mother. Your son is alive. And one day, I’ll make you proud.

It was not much of a prayer. It contained no great passages from the Sutras. He knew of no gods to invoke to guide her journey into the afterlife. But it is the fervent wish of all young boys to eventually make their mothers proud—even dead mothers. And the Little Horse was a young boy.

“Well…” he said into the empty air of the cave, trying very hard not to break down crying again. “Now what.”

Surprisingly, the empty air of the cave answered.

“Now, you must make a choice.”

The boy whirled in surprise at the woman’s voice, and his eyes widened at the sight of her. Not just because she was beautiful, either. In fact, she was very definitely the single most beautiful woman he had ever seen. By a very, very wide margin.

Her skin was as smooth and flawless as the obsidian of the cave around him though it was near white in contrast. Her hair was long and brilliantly dark—as dark as the cave wall that she lounged against—and it curled gently as it cascaded down her back from where she had it tied with an intricately ornate hairpiece. Meanwhile, her robe seemed made of the finest and ephemeral of silks. Baroque and mysterious patterns adorned every inch of it in silvers and golds that was tasteful despite how ludicrously expensive it looked. And it was tied rather loosely and daringly to expose the broad expanse of her chest.

The boy was not yet of an age to properly appreciate the charms of a woman, but even he could tell how lovely she was. But that was not what made his eyes want to pop out of his head.

No, that was because he could see straight through her.

“Ghost!” he yelled in terror, and he turned to flee. But then he tripped right over his poor mother’s body in a shameful sprawl.

The woman sighed exaggeratedly before clicking her tongue a few times in annoyance. “I am no ghost, foolish boy. I am a Qi Spirit!”

The boy looked back at her fearfully before scooting as far from her as he could. Once he met the wall of the cave and realized that there was no avenue for escape short of jumping to his death, a pitiful whimper escaped his throat. He said nothing in reply for several minutes, but the woman made no further moves nor comments. She simply sat, waiting patiently. The fact that she had not yet eaten him was a good sign, and it gave him the courage to finally speak.

“Q-qi Spirit?” he said, his voice quavering. “W-what… uh… what’s the difference?”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “There is a great deal of difference, and like all such things, explaining it would take a great deal of time. And I would rather not. Not until I know that it will be worth the effort.” There was a moment of silence after that. “Suffice it to say that… well, I won’t make any promises. But I am willing to be reasonable.”

“Reasonable?” he asked nervously, his voice squeaking uncontrollably in his fear. “Promises?”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I was going to say that I would not hurt you. However… that is a matter of some interpretation. As I said, you need to make a choice.”

“I-interpretation?” He swallowed.

This Qi Spirit did not speak plainly. She used a great many large and complex sounding words that the boy had never heard before. However, if you pay attention to a person’s tone, you can learn much. Her tone made him nervous.

“Just so,” she affirmed with a single significant nod.

“Umm…” he squeaked again. “W-what uh… Who are you, anyway?” He was not at all sure he wanted to know what these choices were, and sometimes adults would forget what they were talking about if you diverted them with a great many foolish questions.

The woman smiled prettily at him, though she was in no way fooled. However, for the moment, she allowed him to steer the conversation. She was no longer in any rush.

“It is considered polite to introduce oneself first,” she answered.

The boy swallowed again. “W-what?”

The smile vanished. “I said… Introduce. Yourself. First.” The boy knew that face. It was the one that his mother gave him when she would brook no more of his nonsense. How could this Qi Spirit know it?

Unwillingly, the boy’s head tilted down and to the right, though he was too afraid to break eye contact. He was ashamed to admit his name. He did not know why, but he knew that it was not something to be proud of. “T-the… the people in the village… c-called me… Xiao Ma,” he mumbled.

“Little Horse?” she replied. “Why? You have a gift for running?”

He blushed slightly before glancing at his mother’s body. He remained silent, sullen now that he had been forced to admit his shame. But that did not mean that he had to admit his ignorance.

“Hmm…” the woman mused. “Well… no matter. Clearly you don’t care for the name overmuch, but fortunately for you, I don’t much care for the status of your face. So we will set that aside. Perhaps, your mother had a name for you?”

The boy shook his head slowly, “She only ever called me, Erzi.”

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“Son?” she repeated. “Hmph… I can’t very well call you that. For now, I suppose I will call you Wu Ming. Perhaps one day, you might earn something better.”

It was an appropriate name, the boy decided. It simply meant ‘nameless’, and there could be no one who deserved it more.

“In the meantime,” she went on, “and since you have introduced yourself as best you can, now I shall do the same. You may call me Chen-xing Daiyu.”

Wu Ming blinked slowly. The Morning Star of… Status? That… doesn’t make much sense. Not all names did, though. However, as he looked around himself and the black glass-like rock that he was even now sitting in, he had another thought. If thought of in another way, Daiyu could also be used to mean black jade.

She smiled at him, her teeth as even and white as alabaster. “And now that introductions are over, we come to your choice.”

Wu Ming swallowed nervously and made to stand, “Um… I have very much enjoyed the kind conversation and company… uhm… my lady. B-but I really feel that I should go?”

“I really feel that you should sit,” she replied firmly.

The final word echoed in his mind, and he jolted as his butt seemed to glue itself to the floor of its own accord Oh… f-fuck… Wu Ming was young still, and nervous about swearing, even within the confines of his own mind. Still, he felt it was appropriate.

“M-my lady, I don’t—”

“Silence,” she interrupted.

It had not been an explicit command like before, but he felt like he might be pushing it already. He swallowed yet again, and the boy might have wondered why it was that fear caused a person’s mouth to water so. But he was too afraid.

“A very long time ago,” she began, “I was a very great and powerful Immortal. Far beyond anything you may have heard of in this… place.” She frowned before waving vaguely around herself. Silently, she observed him for a moment, “Have you even heard of Immortals, Wu Ming? Cultivators? I can see plainly that you have no base whatsoever.”

He was not entirely sure what any of those words had to do with one another, but he had heard of some of them. “Um… You mean like… the great heroes? Who fly around on swords?”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “’Heroes’ is… quite a stretch. And flying on a sword is a base trick. But yes. That sort of thing.” She seemed to take a breath, and her chest swelled appreciably, though it was more out of apparent habit than actual need. “In any case, I was on the cusp of Ascension… er… I guess to explain it briefly, I was… about to achieve something… very great. Much envied by my peers. And I was betrayed. One of the Elders… well, never mind all that. It’s old politics and nothing you would care about. In any case, my body was destroyed and my Spirit was cast down into whatever low realm hellhole this is.”

“Your… body was destroyed,” Wu Ming repeated slowly. He had not known that he lived in a low realm hellhole, but he agreed that it fit the description very accurately. “You mean you died?”

“No,” Chen-xing Daiyu replied quickly. “An Immortal of my level of cultivation can never truly die. Their body may be destroyed, of course, but once you get to a certain degree of control and stability with your soul, you may reform your body rather easily.” She paused. “Provided, of course, that there is enough ambient Qi in the air to do so. And in this realm, there is not. Hence… my problem. And yours.”

“O-okay…” he said slowly. He had no idea what she was talking about, but he got… most of the larger points. “H-how is it my problem?”

“Well,” she smiled brightly. “That would be because you died. And now your body belongs to me.”

“What?” he shouted. “I did not!”

“You did,” she countered calmly. “And I expended great effort to revive you. Be thankful.”

Wu Ming did not say anything for a moment. He did not want to be thankful to this woman who said that his body belonged to her. But his mother had told him that polite young boys are beaten less often. He did not like to be beaten.

“Thank you,” he mumbled sullenly. But then a little more clearly, he asked, “Does this mean I’m your slave?”

She looked away for a moment, considering his question. “Not exactly,” she allowed finally. “In essence, I am prepared to offer you two choices. I need a body. You have destroyed the Spirit Vessel I was bound to,” she indicated the pile of ashes sitting in the corner and he swallowed.

Oh… Heavens… I knew that was going to come back to me.

“As such, I can remain in this cave no longer. So I have bound myself to your Dantian.”

“My what?” he interrupted, beginning to get a little panicked.

“We will come to that later… possibly.”

He squeaked in fear.

“Your first choice is this: Surrender your body to me completely. Your soul moves on. And you will be reincarnated according to the will of the Heavens,” she said matter-of-factly. Like she was reciting a grocery list.

“How is that a choice?” he shouted. “Doesn’t that mean that I’d be dead?!”

“Naturally,” she replied. “For a time, at least. It is the way of all mortals.”

“But… but…” Wu Ming cast about for anything to counter such an unwelcome outcome. “But I’m a boy!” he shouted finally, seemingly triumphant. “You wouldn’t want a boy’s body! You’re a girl!”

“Immaterial,” she replied, unconcerned. “It will suffice. In any case, there is no need to get so upset about it. You were almost certainly going to die anyway. At least this way, I can offer to make it quick and quite painless.”

“That doesn’t matter!” he shouted, his voice cracking unhelpfully. “I still don’t want to die!”

“Hmm… no, I suppose you wouldn’t. Well, on to your second choice then,” she began. “You will become my Disciple. As such, I will teach you to become a Cultivator and an Immortal like myself. You will learn great magics and gain strength like you never believed possible. A hero if you wish. Or a villain. Or neither. None of that concerns me. What does is this: you will, in time, be responsible for creating a new body for me.”

“Wh— What?” he stammered. “I don’t understand. How is this a choice? How can you even compare—”

Abruptly, her face was right in front of his. He had not seen her move. He squeaked again.

“It is a choice,” she explained, “because you. Will. Suffer.” Each word was separate, distinct, and important. “And in many unique and interesting ways. More ways than you ever thought possible. More than you ever dreamed of. Every day that you draw breath, you will curse my name. You will hate me more than death… and love me more than life.”

He swallowed again. It was becoming a habit.

“U-um…” he wheezed. “W-why… why would I love you then?”

“The relationship between Master and Disciple is a complex one,” she replied enigmatically before turning to lean against the far wall. “And I see no reason to discuss the matter with you further. For now. Your greatest hurdle, however, will be in creating my body. It will be demanding in ways physical, mental, and spiritual. And it will take a very long time. Maybe as much as two or three mortal lifetimes. Maybe more. Maybe less. It depends on your Comprehension. After all… it is my body. If I am being forced to wait, then I will accept nothing from you but the very pinnacle of success. In any case, that is why I make this a choice. The road ahead of you will not be enviable. To many, the alternative—a quick and easy death—would be preferable.”

The boy nodded slowly, trying his best to understand. Wu Ming did not know a great deal about all of the high concepts that she had been talking about. But he knew death. “Okay, but… if I agree, you won’t kill me. Right?” he asked fearfully.

“I will not,” she agreed. “Provided that you obey me as your Master in all things from this day forward. If you break your word, though…”

She did not finish the threat, but Wu Ming knew it for what it was. He had been threatened many times. Still, no one had ever promised him power and magics. Even if she claimed that it he would suffer for it in some undefined way, that seemed like quite the upside. And not being dead seemed like a pretty good one, too.

“Alright,” he said finally. “I agree. I will be your Disciple.”

Chen-xing Daiyu did not smile or frown or make any face in particular. Her expression was hard like jade, so he could not tell whether she was happy or disappointed by his answer. Eventually, however, she said, “Very well. Kneel.”

Wu Ming nodded. He knew what to do. He had seen this before. His town had been raided a few times by roving bands of unsavories—thugs and bandits and the like. They were never prepared for just how destitute the town was, though, and had frequently become angry at the lack of looting. The people on the hill in the middle of the waste knew this position very well. It was what they did to beg for mercy—usually before offering his mother to them.

Quickly, the boy sat upon his own heels. It was a very uncomfortable position, and he had been forced to sit this way for many long hours as punishment. He took a deep breath before placing his palms to the slick and black floor of the cave and resting his forehead between them.

“Good,” the Spirit woman said. “This position is known as the kowtow. It is a sign of ultimate respect. And submission. After this day, you will never again submit in this way to another, upon your pride as a cultivator. Death is preferable.”

Wu Ming was not certain that he agreed, but he knew better than to argue.

Chen-xing Daiyu said nothing for a moment. “Traditionally, you would now make your vow to the Heavens, from Disciple to Master, before kowtowing thrice.”

The instruction was gentle, and Wu Ming was ashamed for his ignorance. Even so, he hesitated for a moment before looking up at his soon-to-be Master. “But… what should I say?”

“Only what you have agreed to,” she replied. “Unless there is anything more you would like to add?”

Silence descended once more. Wu Ming was not a great one for words. Children with a smart mouth tended to be beaten more than most, and he was not foolish enough to let his run away from him. He knew how to be polite to his elders, though, and if ever there was a time for that, it was now.

He inhaled. “By the Heavens, I promise to be a dutiful and loyal Disciple to you, Chen-xing Daiyu. From today on, I will call you Master. I promise to listen to your instruction and be mindful of your lessons… and obey you in all things. One day, I will… somehow create a body for you.” Wu Ming said the words, though he had no idea how he might fulfill them. But he would try. Then he had a thought and hurriedly added, “As long as you never try to kill me.”

Quickly after finishing, he tapped his head to the floor three times as she had instructed.

Chen-xing Daiyu smiled then. It was not a cold smile. Neither was it warm. But it was knowing.

“I accept,” was all she said.