If Lu was counting the day’s right, then Year’s End was officially over. It was now the first day of spring. Not the most pleasant way to spend the holidays.
He looked down at the mess he had made of the centre of the dungeon. The original array was still visible, but some of the forms had been cut off, while others had been added – some carved, others drawn in blood. Then again, I suppose it could be worse.
He had no idea why the cloaked men – there were at least two of them, their body language was completely different – were allowing him to do this. It was bizarre; they hadn’t tortured him at all since that first day, or even spoken to him. Each day, the interrogator would enter and stare at him, something bird-like in the way his cloaked form held completely still between bursts of motion. The first time, Lu had pressed up against the wall and braced himself for a painful questioning – but it never came, the man simply looking at him silently for a quarter-hour, then leaving back through the teleporter. After that, Lu had done his best to ignore the man. Occasionally the other one, the one who had taken Bull, would come in and shove Lu away from the formation. Then he would crouch over it and fiddle around, and occasionally repair some form in it that Lu had removed.
It was obviously some sort of mind game, at least on the part of the first man, so he chose not to participate. He worked in silence under the concealed gaze, pretending the man wasn’t there. He made no attempts to hide his ki; they obviously already knew as much about the other world as he did, so there was no point.
…Or perhaps, not exactly as much. The way they’re observing me, they must be fishing for information. But why not just beat it out of me? Lu had many skills, but a high pain tolerance was not one of them. Whoever’s paying them wants me unharmed, then. His hand ghosted over the hole in his robes, where the bloody gouge had been. Or at least, unmaimed. So they think I can teach them something about ki, but not something valuable enough to risk angering their client.
Why the formation, then? As far as he could tell, there wasn’t anything involving ki used in its construction; the parts he didn’t understand were due to his own ignorance, not the forms being otherworldly. He wasn’t doing anything novel other than bathing parts of it in ki to unravel the connections.
Maybe they think I’ll show them something while I escape? His captors were in the core realms; he would need to use everything he had just to evade them. Defeating them, even just one, was completely unreasonable. And there’s no reason to believe that there’s just the two. For all I know this formation will teleport me into a crowd of identical black cloaks, all clapping sarcastically.
If that happened, he… Well, he had nothing. He was planning on breaking through to second realm right before making his attempt, but even with that they would still be at least five realms ahead. Effectively invincible. So he had to bet on the situation being something he could theoretically escape from, and plan accordingly.
----------------------------------------
Long observed the young disciple at work. Not through divinations, as his subordinate preferred, but in person; looking with his eyes, he felt he could better understand what the man was doing. He was looking at a section of the blood lock he had recreated, traced into the ground in his own blood, and chewing his lip in concentration. He reached down, wiped away one of the forms, and replaced it with a different one.
And all the while, the energy in his second set of veins was circulating. Long wasn’t completely sure, but he would be willing to bet that the man wasn’t aware of what he was doing. Making incredible, insane leaps of logic with the aid of his otherworldly cultivation.
Whatever the man had, it was different than what the benefactor had imparted to them. That much was obvious. It wasn’t two interconnected systems feeding into and nurturing each other; no, this Lu seemed to have two entirely separate sets of spiritual veins, that grew independently of each other.
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
Is it better than what I’m using? That was the question, one he couldn’t answer yet. Certainly, it seemed like the separated systems had some advantages; his sensory abilities were more acute than Long’s, and he seemed to be tempering himself twice over.
But there were also disadvantages; the two energies couldn’t feed into each other or intermingle, which meant he was doubling up on weaknesses as well. It was unrefined, able to grind against itself and work at cross-purposes. If one starts to outpace the other by a substantial margin, will the weaker system collapse? There wasn’t enough information to say, but Long’s gut said yes, that’s exactly what would happen.
The man added another form to the recreation drawn onto the stone, and Long replayed all the alterations he had made up till now. It’s not just natural talent. Yes, this Lu has some skill with spellcraft, but it’s obvious he doesn’t even know half of the forms he’s using. And yet, he’s putting them down as though he knows exactly what the result will be – it’s neither blind luck, nor education. It’s instinct, refined and sharpened. Remarkable. If he circulated his energy in the same way, could he recreate the tempering effect?
Yes, I think I’ll be keeping you for quite a while. The benefactor could make as many veiled threats as he wanted, but he knew as well as Long did that their business was one of bared swords. If he wanted such a valuable resource, then he would have to pay the appropriate amount.
----------------------------------------
Some kind of identification system, using blood as a medium. That was his best guess, anyway. He still didn’t know what many of the individual forms did, but that was secondary to understanding the formation as a whole, as a function. There were only so many things it could be, and only some of those possibilities were useful as part of a spacial effect, so… This was basically the only option, logically. It seems to be letting people in, not keeping them out. Not actually involved in activating the spacial formation; it must be a suppression of the existing anti-teleportation effect, then. So breaking it would be counterproductive. He would need to add himself to the list of exceptions, somehow.
Unfortunately, he was being watched. For all that he pretended the man wasn’t there, he dared not test his actual escape plan while he was present.
So now here he was, mostly just doodling random nonsense in his own blood, waiting for the cloaked figure to go away. He had plenty of it to work with; he had injured himself several times casting with the new forms. Come on. It’s been an hour, surely you have better things to be doing with your time? More crimes to commit?
Lu was working himself up into a rage, but when the man spoke the emotion flowed out of him like a drain had been opened. “Why did you put that form there?”
He went still. His eyes slid to the man, slowly. “Pardon?”
“That one.” He gestured. “It’s one of the restricted forms, that all you ‘orthodox’ sects scrub out from the texts. Or have you seen it before?”
Don’t answer. He’s fishing, Lu, fishing. But could he afford not to bite? He might get something useful back. “I’ve never seen it. I can tell it has something to do with the body, though.” His eyes slid back, returning to his scribblings. “I’m just messing around, trying to understand. Why do you ask?”
The man was still. Lu had known some disciples to stay perfectly still for long periods, but this man took it to an extreme; he was never frozen in a comfortable position, always hunched, always on his toes. It made him seem unnatural, like he was paused in time, caught mid-trip just before he would have toppled over. But his voice was smooth, natural. “Tell me what that form does.”
Pardon? “I don’t know exactly. I haven’t tested it.”
“Hmm.” When he moved it was with overwhelming speed; in the time it took to blink, the man had Lu by the collar. He hoisted him up until he was standing, then further, his toes barely brushing the ground as the cheap fabric of his festival clothes tore.
“Ah! I told you, I don’t know!”
“Guess. If you get it right, I’ll let you send a message to your friend.” His face was close, close enough that Lu should have felt his breath. He didn’t; the mask must be doing something to block it. “Get it wrong, and…” He pinched Lu’s collar shut, choking him for a moment before letting the cloth go slack again.
Fuck! Fuck. How am I meant to guess that? You’re just torturing me for your own amusement, aren’t you? Lu’s brain worked furiously. Blood. Part of a verification system. A doorknob, not a lock. The forms around it, where it is in space.
The man’s grip constricted him again, and in a panic Lu blurted the first thing that jumped into his head. “The next form! It modifies- it modifies the next form in the line, makes it target the caster.”
Tension. Fuck. There’s no way that was right, it’s a random form I’ve never used! The man’s grip tightened… Then slackened. “That,” his voice was clipped, “Was the least useful way of describing its function I could possibly imagine.”
…But, not incorrect? Lu’s back hit the ground the next moment, as the man dropped him. “Ack! S-senior?”
“Twenty words or less. I’ll give you a day to think about it.”
And then he was gone.