Much like the first attempt at a second meeting, someone was running late. But unlike before, the delay was caused by someone other than him.
Lu wasn’t exactly happy about that fact. “Do you think it would be reasonable for one of us to go check on her?” An inner realm disciple running late is one thing, and a core realm disciple another. I can imagine a dozen things that might delay Lady Winter Blossom, and none of them are good… Have we been invaded again? Has some new disaster started creeping up from behind? Has the Orthodoxy decided we’ve defied Heaven for the last time?
“I’m sure there’s no need to fret,” Jiendao answered with unimpressed tones. “Let’s just start without her, and we can catch her up when she decides to show.”
A few noises of assent drew Lu’s eyes over the room – which was much emptier than the first meeting had been, partly because of the lower number of participants, but mostly because they were assembled in his dining room. With a long table and high ceilings, it was cavernous compared to his old living room back in the outer sect.
Bo and Cobo were present, while Stingy had opted out; apparently she found herself at a loss as the discussions grew more technical. Replacing her was Sir Entrails, who was actually able to sit on two human-sized chairs lined up, unlike Bo. Also unlike Bo, he seemed quite willing and able to explain exactly how he directed ki to flow through the myriad channels running through his body. A result of his four interlocking consumptions, no doubt.
Bull had also decided not to come, probably for the same reasons as Stingy, and Lan had sect obligations to fulfill. And Bo was able to get a sitter, which is nice. Friend’s son or not, I don’t feel comfortable having a sharpie under the same roof as two mortal humans. That left the room with only six people.
Lu attempted to shake off his anxiety, to little effect. I’ve been feeling like this constantly these past few days – I hope I haven’t developed some sort of stress disorder. “I suppose that’s… reasonable. I’ll start off with the results of the previous lesson’s efforts, then.” A moment to centre himself, and when next he spoke his words were less uncertain.
“I’m happy to report that the experiment with elementally-aspected qi was successful. Bo and Sir Entrails,” nods to both men, “Saw results at internalising water qi, while Sir Rod did the same with reflective qi, and Sir Yon with… some aspect of the self-empowerment art Flesh Hardening Mantra.”
That result was admittedly more nebulous than the other three. “All four of them have crystal growths made from compacted qi, which for the purposes of this discussion I’ll be assuming are functionally equivalent to dantians.”
“Have they shown any functionality?” asked Orou On.
“Ah, not quite yet. They were completely wiped after the lesson, and the most recent one- well, we’ll get there when we get there.” He cleared his throat. I’m an inner disciple now. Comportment! At all times, comportment! “There were several departures from normal dantian construction, but they’re definitely proper spiritual organs.” When Lu had heard his students’ descriptions of their new qi constructs, he had been afraid that all they had done was condense spirit stones inside their bodies – but the days between lessons had put his mind at ease. I really wish Winter Blossom was here to relay this bit. I only know this second-hand… “According to medical examinations by both the sect’s physicians and the clan’s spiritual advisors, the qi is tempering them properly. Unfortunately the gains don’t seem to compound with their consumptions, but all four of them are at the first realm.”
Bo slapped his stomach. “Yup! Shamans say we’re all freaks of nature.” He said it with a smile. “Witches are already hounding us for blood samples. I don’t feel much stronger, but I guess I was already pretty strong, so it’ll be easy to miss.”
“Quite. Moving on; as the students were quite fatigued by condensing their dantians,” more than I would have expected, given their strong constitutions, “I decided to take it easy yesterday. I had them and my human students mingle, and tell each of their experiences with the other’s spiritual empowerment system. Then was some light spell training, but we still haven’t managed a proper qi-fueled art.” Yet. They’ve made some progress memorising forms, and they can do pseudo-spells with ki, so I’m confident. “So that’s where we are. Any questions?”
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Just over half an hour passed as they spoke back and forth. Sir Entrails, who had been somewhat stiff at the outset, became increasingly comfortable as he became more familiar with the room. Lu was pleased with the discussion; while there wasn’t an identifiable moment of epiphany like the first time, he felt like there were good ideas being thrown around despite losing some of their more scholarly members.
“But why the spine, specifically?” Jiendao asked. “The dantian condenses in the chest because that’s the nearest open space next to the lungs. I’m not exactly an expert on Salt anatomy, but I’m pretty sure their lungs are in the same place as ours.”
“But they aren’t using their lungs to draw qi, are they?” Lu chewed on his lip as he pointed to a section of the diagrams they had taken from the archives. “They’re almost certainly drawing it in with the same mechanism they use to draw ki. The spiritual digestive system, which is more strongly linked to the pores than the respiratory organs. Bo, back me up.”
The warrior scratched his head. “Sure? That makes sense. I don’t like, know how it works on a meat level, organs and all that. I just pulled until it happened.”
“That picture isn’t very good,” Entrails broke in. “Or I should say, it’s too specific. I’m seeing some mutations copied down from whatever man they dissected to make this; me and the rest won’t be exactly the same.” He snuffled, a habit that Lu was trying very hard not to call pig-like in his head. “But the broad strokes are all there. I’d guess the crystal grows where it does because that’s a dead spot in the spirit; energy doesn’t like to flow through there, since there’s better circulation on either side.”
Cobo nodded. “So the Earth qi goes into the veins and circulates around, until eventually it hits a part that’s slow enough for it to turn solid. Any way to test that?”
“We could create an intentional dead zone and see if that changes where the dantian forms,” Orou On suggested. “Though that seems like a lot of trouble just to test the hypothesis; I think it would be best to leave the exact details for actual physicians to muddle through, rather than attempt anything ourselves.”
“Ah…” Lu turned his head to the side as blood rose to his face. Yes, doing amateur surgery would be pretty foolish, wouldn’t it? “That’s sensible. Though I do wish senior sister was here to contribute-”
In a quirk of timing, Lu was interrupted by a polite knock on the door. It opened, revealing Nancho’s softly smiling face. “Master, your guest has arrived. Shall I show her in?”
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Ah, speak of Hell’s Monkey… “Yes, thank you.”
Within ten seconds Winter Blossom was stepping through the doorway, her hands clasped demurely in front of her. “Pardon me, juniors. I hope I didn’t delay anything.”
Cobo snorted, but Lu silenced him with a look. “Not at all, sister, not at all. Might I ask what kept you?”
She took a seat before answering, raising a hand to pass her fingers across her brow as though nursing a headache. “A former colleague has stolen a number of artifacts and disappeared. Special operations are swarming all over the research wing, demanding to check everyone’s bags at the doors and making a bother of themselves.” She sighed. “Apologies, it’s unseemly of me to complain. How did the experiments with qi locked in spells go? I’ve gotten the gist through gossip, but that’s not nearly enough to understand.”
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Dog Eats Dog had been born during the rein of Junk Dog the Pillar. That had been over eighty years ago, but he still recalled the edges of the man’s face; hard angled bone and pitted skin like a faded picture, the top of his head sprouting hair like green grass.
The Pillar had taken his name from Old Jonn, and returned it to him five years later when he was devoured by Stinger-Tail. But in those five years, the agriculturist Clanboss had done well enough to be remembered.
New tunnels, more Junk, flora from punctured caverns growing in the halls. Those were what Ded remembered when he thought back to his youth. People had been excited to see what each day had to offer, as more and more caverns were opened up.
Then something – they had never uncovered what – had exploded, bringing down half the new tunnels and leaving the other half broken and dangerous, electrical lines and rendered pus spewing their charges wildly into the air as hastily-built systems failed in the worst ways possible. Ded did not die, but many of his brothers did, their corpses eaten by monsters or industrial sewage, their flesh and bone never to return to Junk Dog.
Ded had taken those losses to heart, and learned the lesson within; progress was something that had to be taken slowly, carefully, inching forward under as thick a shield as it was possible to build. Then Kara had died, and he had doubled down, down, spiralling until he hit the bottommost philosophy: progress was impossible. They had reached the end, and all that was left to do was wait it out.
Does this life beneath notice fill your heart? Your belly?
Ded was alone, for maybe the first time in maybe a long time. His body was not torn up, or his limbs removed. He hadn’t even been drugged, as far as he could tell. He didn’t feel as though he had been interrogated.
But still, time slipped away from him. The walls were sheer planes that stretched up forever, the ground a vast field that scoured into him where his skin made contact. The lamp was a Sun, a hateful eye looking down with venomous intent.
Ded felt too small, and also too large. The walls were far away, unreachable, even as they pressed in uncomfortably.
I am going insane, he thought, the sound inside his head the only clear, bright object in the thick soup of the tiny cell. Their telepathy broke something inside me, and I’m never going to be able to put it back together.
Junk Dog the Pillar had been a tall man, a strong man. But he had broken. After him Old Jonn became Junk Dog the Old once more, and things were rebuilt – but scars remained.
That was the way it always was, wasn’t it? The earth and stone remembered the failure, even as people forgot. Sections of unstable ground which weren’t worth the effort to clear out, caverns left closed for a later that never came.
You can’t burn ash. You can’t shoot something dead if it’s already a hole in the ground. You can’t- you can’t-
His fingers were longer than they were, stretching out to grip handlebars he couldn’t see. But he could feel them, their shape, their texture, the give when he feathered the throttle. Beneath him were wheels, rubber and metal, fuel and a spark. Beneath him was the cold stone, just rough enough to be uncomfortable.
I am going insane, he thought. Where’s Sulphur? Where’s Cobo? Where’s Lu? He could smell them, far away. In a direction he couldn’t name. Where’s Dog Eats Dog?
Junk Dog the Pillar had died by reaching above his station. Kara the Blue-Boned had died reaching above his station. Was that the lesson? Dog Eats Dog had-
Does this life beneath notice fill your heart? Your belly?
What was the lesson? Where was he? Who was Dog Eats Dog, when you stripped off his skin and muscles and organs and bones? Was there anything underneath? Fire and stone and fused glass and burning fuel and speed, the spark, that moment of ignition.
I want to move. I don’t want to stay here, to die in this small room, to die lying on this cold floor. Somewhere his hands were gripping the handles, the engine roaring under him. The fuel burned, an explosion captured and turned into something else.
Junk Dog the Immense hadn’t died. Sulphur hadn’t died. Dog Eats Dog hadn’t died. There was no lesson, no underlying logic. There was no set of rules that guaranteed success, no path that always led towards survival.
“I am going insane,” he lied. The wheels were under him, he could feel them, more real than his own legs.
And then it was gone. The cell disappeared, the cold floor and the close-far walls and the hateful, hateful lamp. It was replaced with green, with chromed steel beneath him and immobile trees and a Sun in truth, looking down to scour his flesh from his bones.
He raised his hand, watching the skin blister for a moment as he felt the pain, raw and unfiltered. And then it hit him, the shock, the feeling of wind in his hair.
He gasped, rolling off the bike as the pain of the burns really started to set in. “Fuck! Fucking- is this real? Where am I?”
Something soft and lumpy was under him. He rolled again, and found that the soft thing was a corpse in black robes, its smashed-in head resting under the bike’s front wheel.
Ded laid there for a moment, incapable of understanding what was going on. Then he disrobed the corpse, set its clothes over his exposed frame, and mounted Lam’s- no, mounted his bike. There was a satchel at the side, filled with grenades and Junk. He even recognised some of it.
He drew a pistol from the satchel; it was loaded, only a single bullet off from full. He raised his head.
He could smell Lu, and Cobo, and even Sulphur. That can’t be real. I’ve gone insane, this is just my brain drawing pictures on the inside of my skull as I drool in the cell. But it felt real. His burns throbbed, new skin growing under old as his regeneration sluggishly began its work.
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“You lost him.” Hanbatou, the new head of special operations – the fifth new head that week, to be exact – asked with a threateningly bland tone.
Su Ann did not gulp, because that was beneath her. “I did. He somehow just disappeared; the formations weren’t breached, nor was the physical cell. And he isn’t just in there but invisible; that was the first thing I checked.”
To his credit, the man didn’t devolve into petty threats like some of his direct predecessors would have. He simply breathed hard, once, before laying down orders. “Gather a team of at least five and begin searching. Has the cell been opened?”
“No, sir.” Five? Where am I going to find four other operatives who aren’t busy putting out the thousands of fires sprouting up across the countryside? Special Operations, like most of the sect, had been beheaded during the invasion. Unlike other wings, though, they were used to operating in small, mostly-independent groups. But that sword had two edges; while they were still functioning, and indeed outperforming other wings to some degree, it was basically impossible for the secretive-to-a-fault organisation to determine which of its members were alive, dead, faking their deaths, being impersonated, or simply hiding in a village somewhere waiting for orders.
“Good. Keep it sealed for now; I’ll find someone to try and trace any energy signatures. You are dismissed.”
Su Ann nodded, then stepped away. Hell, I can’t catch a break, can I? First I get nearly melted, then my boss gets killed right when my training was about to get sorted out. Then I get stuck questioning some generic soldier, just because he’s someone Lu bumped into? And then he pulls a magical fucking disappearing act?
She allowed a grimace to show, which gradually dimmed to a mere frown as she walked the halls. At least there are a lot of slots opening up for leadership.
If I play this right, I could still turn it around. So, who do I know who’s high realm, doesn’t ask questions, and will do what I say?
No names appeared in her mind.
Okay, anyone who’s basically competent, not trying to outright ruin my career, and can be bribed?
That list was actually pretty long.