Lu settled back into sect life with quiet gusto, allowing days to pass one at a time with as little stress as possible. After all, these huge reality-spanning problems like invasions and fights between divinities are too large for me to stick my head in. In fact, calling them problems doesn’t feel correct at all; these are simply things that are happening now.
So Lu put it out of his mind, and focused on things he could control. Which for now, meant his interpersonal relationships.
Elder Seventh Wheel – Lu learned his name from a helpful physician – was half-correct when he predicted the Salt warriors would become ill. Stingy seemed to have come down with something like a wasting disease, her muscles limp and constantly fatigued, and spent long periods of time asleep in a nook she had carved out from the medical wing. Cobo, in contrast, seemed entirely fine.
“[And then you move the sword like this,]” swish, “[putting them off-balance. See the way I can stick you right in the chest, and you can’t block it from the new angle?]”
The soft scraping of iron-on-iron accompanied the demonstration, Lu’s blunted training sword tapping Cobo’s chest as he made a face.
“[Nah, there’s no way you could do that if I didn’t let you. Look how far out your arms’re going – no leverage.]”
Lu raised one brow. “[Alright, you want a more practical demonstration?]” He stepped back, pulling his sword up in a ready stance. “[Come at me, then.]”
Training with Cobo was not like training with his instructors. It was more like the spars he had with Bull; it was more, in a word, casual. While Lu was definitely attempting to impart real knowledge, he was also not moving with the near-desperate drive he had when there had been a goal in front of his eyes. It was more fun.
Although it would be more more fun if my student could read the room.
A savage downwards chop forced Lu to backpedal, knowing from experience that blocking would leave his arm sore for minutes afterward. Cobo was not exactly good with a sword – a fact Lu found slightly surprising given his travelling companion – but he was head and shoulders above an untrained peasant, and had enough strength and speed to keep his master on his toes.
I think if I fought the him of today with the skills I had before Bull was kidnapped, I’d need to play dirty to win. But Ging and the others had drilled basic weapon handling into his bones, exactly as he had paid them to do, and Cobo’s slight physical edge wasn’t enough to make up the gap.
Or his techniques, either, he thought as a spattering of rainbow lights arced past his head. “[Good, good! But don’t overcommit!]”
Gravity inverted for a moment with a flex of his stomach, and when they landed the tip of Lu’s blade was hovering over Cobo’s throat.
As always when he lost, Cobo’s face was sour. “[…Okay, so the move works. But I still think backing off and spraying the enemy down with lead ‘n energy is the safer bet.]”
Lu felt a single tear forming in his eye. “[I’ve taught you well, disciple.]” He kept up the touched expression, even as his disciple scoffed. “[But for real, that was a good spar.]” I’m surprised he can keep up with my third realm physique.
The warrior stood. “[Didn’t win, though.]”
“[Of course not. You haven’t surpassed your master yet!]” Or rather, I received expert tutoring while you were wandering the desert. It’s actually very impressive how much stronger you’ve gotten.
“[Well… yeah, whatever. We going again?]”
Despite reconciling slightly, there were still frosty moments between them. Sometimes it felt like the man would actually take his head off if the opportunity presented itself. But I’m not going to give up at the first sign of difficulty. Lu of the Steadfast Heart is a virtuous man, who repays his debts!
“[Alright, once more.]” Two swords of ice materialised over each of his shoulders, and in response Cobo drew the bulky pistol from its holster. “[Let’s see that reversal art again.]”
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More time passed, and though Lu was doing his best to savour a light workload, responsibilities began creeping in. Elder Winding Wind put him to the task of ferrying Swamp clansmen between the area that had been constructed for them and the sect, simultaneously playing messenger for Patriarch Still Water.
And then there were the orders for steam carriages he had been neglecting even before disappearing for a quarter-year, helping Bull recover his damaged cultivation, coercing Stingy into taking her medicine…
Somehow his carefree post-crisis days had filled up with duties. How did this happen? When did I become a workaholic?
Was constant toil simply addictive? Did I manifest another Heart Demon without noticing?
In the end, he could only sigh. The warrior clutching his shoulder – Beenose? Something ridiculous like that – sent a look his way and fiddled with his translation necklace, but Lu ignored it. The blue-black overlay covered his internal vision, showcasing a single twinkling light apart from a great constellation bunched up together; him, and the Steadfast Heart. There wasn’t a single other star tickling his brain from off the edges of the map.
With a mental push, he and his large passenger went from a raised stone platform surrounded by towering wooden dwellings, to a compound built some ways up the mountain. They were high enough that they were technically in the core sect, though this particular cluster of buildings wasn’t officially included as part of any wing.
No, this was a special area, nearly devoid of qi. In its place was a strange aura, not quite ki but similar; an artificial ki field, where the Salt natives could be a little more at home. Beenose – no, Beanwoe, that was his name – seemed to relax fractionally, even as two disciples with unclear realms stood straighter on either sides of the room.
Lu flared his sense to identify himself, before adding a verbal response. “Disciple Lu, escorting Raidboss Beanwoe.” He couldn’t help but feel a little silly saying the name, but he held himself upright.
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One of the disciples nodded. “Understood. Please proceed, you are expected.”
He stepped forward, suppressing a shudder as he passed the pair. I should hope so, since I was the one summoned! Even after interacting with them much more than the average disciple, Lu couldn’t help but find special operators a bit creepy. Entirely too similar to those Black Cloak outlaws.
His feet carried him to the meeting area by muscle memory alone, his pace hurried slightly in acquiescence to Sir Beanwoe’s longer legs, and as he approached the large double-doors they swung open on their own.
Inside were three Elders: Winding Wind, Goldenseed, and Seventh Wheel. There were also two special operations attendants concealed under servant’s robes, but that was hardly worth noting; they inhabited the place like flies did a garbage pile, and Lu couldn’t tell any of them apart.
“Disciple, thank you.” Winding Wind’s voice was flat, as it usually was. “And Raidboss. How are the new translation treasures?”
The huge man a step behind Lu’s back raised his arm to fiddle with his necklace again. “Works fine. Still itches, though.” The skin around where the cord touched was just slightly discoloured; a touch greener than the rest of his orange-tan body.
Goldenseed exhaled minutely. “Another failure?”
The Raidboss wiggled his hand in a so-so gesture. “Not as bad as the last one. Clears up in under an hour.”
“Still. We’ll keep working on it.”
Lu stood to the side as the three Elders conversed with the alien. It was mostly the same things as always; how their health was progressing, whether they had managed to successfully cultivate at all. Updates on trying to track down the elusive wisps of ki that had been appearing. But after a few minutes, Seventh Wheel did something that made Lu tune back in.
“One more thing.” A gesture, and Lu’s spiritual senses picked up a spell severing space. Oh dear, this must be important. This building we’re in is already locked down like a merchant’s wallet; even more seems like overkill.
The Elder continued, his voice more serious than either of his peers’. “Did Still Water give you a message for me?”
Am I meant to be here for this? Lu squirmed in place. No, surely they hadn’t forgotten him, they were too high realm for that; if they were speaking with him present, then it was fine.
“Yeah.” Beanwoe’s bearing had lost any discomfort from his itchy neck. “He says- lemme quote his exact words here… ‘They’re already here. Not all of them, not even a fraction, but they’re here. The rotters can't lie to my face, not the ones who stuck around.’”
Lu could feel Seventh Wheel’s sense expand with emotion, pressing against his soul uncomfortably.
“I see. Thank you for relaying his words.” Like a bubble popping, space reconnected. “I believe that is everything on our end. Do you have any concerns to bring forth?”
They continued to speak back and forth, but Lu’s attention was elsewhere. So… Oldest Bones and his brethren made it through. That is distressing. Until now the Heavens had been seemingly content to observe quietly, but the moment they detected the foreign intrusion they would be forced to respond. Whatever they decide to do, I’m certain it will make the missing chunk of mountain on the southern side of the sect look like a small candle…
Argh, don’t think about it! You’re an outer disciple, an outer disciple! The Heavens aren’t your business, not while you’re alive at least!
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Three figures, two male and one female, stood still as statues. They were in a room of limestone bricks, a barren room completely devoid of decoration except for a large stone offering bowl above a bonfire, and the inhabitants.
But said inhabitants had more than enough decoration to make up the difference. They were each wearing heavy robes like spun gold, complete with veils and hoods. Only their hands, festooned with rings, their ears, likewise, and their gold-coloured eyes were visible.
The eldest, a man who looked to be in his eighth decade of life at least, knelt before the steaming bowl. He reached up, a dagger of steel with a gold hilt clutched in his hand, and pulled back his hood to slowly cut a lock of wispy white hair from his head. He dropped it into the bowl, where it immediately began smoking, filling the room with a foul odour.
The younger man, still old but not elderly, followed suit. A lock of black tinged with grey joined the smoldering white.
Then the woman – or perhaps girl, for she was the youngest by far – took her turn. Her hair was coloured like straw, but it burned slowly the same as the men’s.
For over a minute they waited with silent reverence. And then… Sunlight. Though the roof stood solid above their heads, pure rays of light shone down onto them from on high.
They remained kneeling. An hour passed, then another. Their eyes became more and more golden beneath their closed lids – before, equally slowly as it had appeared, the light diminished and disappeared.
The priests and priestess shook themselves like wet dogs as they rose, entirely at odds with their demeanour up to that point. The eldest one almost collapsed, before being caught by his junior. Together, leaning on each other for strength, they exited the holy chamber.
“Th-“ Song had to stop, her tired body mangling her intended words. “That was intense. Is it always like that here, at the larger temples?” I’ve channeled more of Heaven’s will, but never for that long. My knees won’t stop shaking…
Hun, the younger priest, shook his head. “No. These are special circumstances.” He took out a thin pipe, added some calming herbs she could smell over the scent of burning hair still clinging to her robes, and lit it by rubbing the magic circle engraved on the bottom. He took one puff, then another before continuing. “…I admit, I can’t help but feel out of my depth. How are we meant to deal with this without support from the rest of the clergy?”
You feel out of your depth? You run the third largest temple on the continent! Mine might as well be a shoe-box in comparison! How do you think I feel?
They both looked to Fong, the most experienced of them by far. The old man inclined his head in prayer, forcing them to wait for his answer. When he eventually spoke it was with a kind, but tired voice. “The Heavens would not set us an impossible task. We will simply have to trust its guidance.”
Song couldn’t help but be slightly frustrated. First that quest with the dirt, now this. Why me? Why not anyone with more experience? But even as she thought it, she already knew why. The Heavenly Emperors had laid out their reasoning perfectly over the multi-hour communion.
The eyes of Hell roved ceaselessly, always hunting for a chink in their armour. If they smell opportunity, we’ll be fighting a war on two fronts. Despite her frustration, she couldn’t deny Heaven’s plan was a cunning one.
“We should-“ Again she had to pause, her tongue refusing to form words. The older men seemed much less affected; even the venerable Fong’s shakes had stopped for the most part. “We… should… buy a map. A good one.”
Hun nodded. “I’ll take one from the supplies in the basement. Just give me a moment.” He took another puff on his magic pipe, breathing the smoke out softly.
…Or maybe they’re just hiding it better. With some effort, she forced her knees to stop quaking. I can do this. I faced that terrible old man, I can face this. As the stink from the offering was replaced with a more palatable herbal scent, she felt her resolve harden.
There are three of us. And we have Heaven’s blessing – there isn’t anything we can’t do!
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In a castle built where a raging volcano once stood, in a throne room whose bricks were each heavier than a full-grown elephant, a bat-winged imp approached a throne of red silk and black gold. The imp, who combined the worst features of a mandrill, crow, and rodent all at once, carried a scroll larger than its entire body.
“Emperor. I carry news from your loyal servants, those scattered across the mortal realm.” It had a nasally voice, as one would expect from a creature whose nose was long enough one could wrap both hands around it and not cover it completely.
The figure on the throne, easily twice as tall as a human man, lazily waved the imp on with its wooden staff.
“From the Greengrass continent, sent by Patriarch Black World of the Darkglass Sect…”
As the imp continued, the atmosphere changed in the room. The ruler of Hell, who was known to sit in leisure even as his armies were slaughtered by the tens of thousands, sat up in his throne. The servant cowered, but dared not stop even as its master’s smile grew and his red fur stood on end.
When it was over, and the imp dismissed, the figure stood up from his throne. His spirit surged, and every devil and demon in the realm looked up from what they were doing.
Wu Kong, Hell’s Emperor, let out a bark of laughter. "Finally, something interesting!"