Chapter 04
Leap Of Faith, Or Not
Jon paced the length of the sparse room, the weight of his predicament pressing heavily on his shoulders. The window, a narrow slit high up on the stone wall, taunted him with its promise of freedom and its threat of peril. "That's a good sixty meters at least," he muttered, eyeing the drop. "That's like jumping off a 20-story building. Only lunatics and base jumpers would consider that a fun time."
He paused, taking stock of his newly enhanced physique. While the idea of testing his limits had a certain appeal, the reality of a 60-meter free fall was far from enticing. His mind raced, analyzing the risks. Even with his body's apparent transformation, the laws of physics remained unforgiving. Enhanced strength or not, gravity doesn't play favorites, Jon reasoned, his gaze flickering between the window and the door.
Moreover, the uncertainty of what awaited him below added another layer of risk. The courtyard could be teeming with the sect's disciples or, worse, its fearsome masters. Great, I escape the frying pan just to dive into the fire, he mused.
But it was the final point, one he admitted only to himself in the silent recesses of his mind, that held him back the most: Jon was scared of heights. Not just the mild discomfort that some might feel but a deep-seated fear that turned his legs to jelly and filled his chest with lead. He could face down a boardroom of hostile executives or stare into the barrel of a gun with a smirk, but the thought of dangling from a cliff edge or, in this case, leaping from a high window was his undoing.
He approached the window again, peering down at the shadowy ground below. The height made his head swim, and a cold sweat broke out across his brow. "Nope," he muttered, backing away. "There's got to be another way."
His mind began to churn through possibilities. Escape plans danced through his thoughts like scenes from a heist movie. Disguises, distractions, even the old 'hide in the laundry cart' trope played out in his imagination. Each idea was quickly evaluated and dismissed for its impracticality or sheer lunacy.
Jon stopped his pacing, a new thought dawning. "Wait a minute. I'm in a world where people can fly, shoot fireballs, and who knows what else. And I'm trying to escape like I'm in a prison movie?" He shook his head, a wry smile forming. "Jon, you're thinking too small."
He sat down, cross-legged, recalling the descriptions of cultivation he'd read in the novels of his youth. "If those old kung fu masters can levitate or hop around like gravity’s just a suggestion, why can't I?" He considered the notion, his fear of heights battling with the practicality of using this world's rules to his advantage.
Closing his eyes, Jon attempted to sense the famous mystical energy found in the xianxia stories, the 'Qi' within him, the life force that those in this world manipulated to perform feats of martial prowess and mystical ability. Probably the new energy he is still feeling within him. He tried to remember the meditative techniques described in the stories, focusing on his breathing and seeking the center of power within him, the dantian.
At first, he felt nothing but the rapid beat of his heart and the dull ache of his muscles from his earlier physical exertions. But slowly, a warmth began to build in his lower abdomen, a gentle, swirling sensation that grew more distinct with each breath. "Is this... Qi?" he wondered, a mix of skepticism and excitement building within him.
Time slipped by as Jon focused inward, the fear and urgency of his situation fading to the background. The warmth expanded, flowing through his meridians like a slow stream becoming a river. The sensation was soothing, yet beneath it lay a potent force, an energy that whispered promises of power and freedom.
Jon felt the energy coursing through him. Yet, there he remained, solidly grounded, his butt as firmly planted on the stone floor as ever. "Great, I'm all charged up with no place to go," he muttered, his frustration mounting. "So much for being the protagonist in a xianxia saga. What kind of cheap plot armor is this?"
He stood up, the lingering buzz of Qi within him a stark contrast to his helplessness. "I'm like a battery-powered superhero without the instruction manual," Jon quipped, trying to lighten the mood in the absence of actual levitation or, frankly, any superpowers.
The gravity of his situation quickly reclaimed his focus. Time was a luxury he didn't have. Someone could barge in at any moment, and Jon's newfound Qi sensitivity told him that silence was as much a shield as any weapon. He strained his ears, listening to the faint murmur of voices beyond the walls, a reminder of the ever-present danger lurking outside.
The window was still a no-go. Even with the Qi thrumming within him, leaping out was tantamount to suicide, especially for someone who'd rather face a boardroom brawl than the dizzying heights of a third-floor balcony.
Then there was the door. The more conventional exit, yet potentially teeming with risks. It could open up to a hallway patrolled by the sect's disciples or, worse, lead him straight into the arms of an enemy adept in the martial arts Jon had only read about in fiction.
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Jon paced, his mind a battlefield of indecision. The window represented a literal leap of faith, one he was ill-prepared to take. The door was the path of potential confrontations, a gamble on his ability to outwit or outrun his captors.
"In every xianxia story, there's always a way out," Jon mused, his frustration brewing. "A secret passage, a hidden tunnel, a disguise... Hell, even a convenient case of amnesia to get escorted out would do." He cursed at the absurdity of his thoughts, yet the seed of an idea began to take root.
With cautious steps, Jon approached the wall adjacent to the door, his fingers tracing its cold, rough surface, feeling for anomalies or hidden mechanisms. "If I were a sneaky xianxia sect with a penchant for dramatics, where would I put my secret escape route?" he pondered aloud.
His search yielded nothing but the confirmation of solid, uncompromising stone. "Figures," he sighed, "it’s never that easy unless you're the chosen one, and my luck's never been that good."
He retreated to the center of the room, eyes flickering between the door and the window, his mind teetering on the edge of despair. Then, a faint click sounded from the door, subtle but sharp in the silence of the room.
Jon froze, every muscle tensed, as the sound heralded the approach of someone—or something—on the other side. The murmurs grew louder, the indistinct chatter hinting at the imminent entrance of his adversaries.
"Window or door, Jon?" he whispered to himself, the Qi within him flaring as if in response to his rising panic. "Looks like it’s decision time."
*****
Outside Jon’s temporary prison, two disciples from the Sun Moon Divine Cult whispered in hushed tones...
"The ceremony preparations are almost ready, Senior Brother," the first disciple, a robust man with a scar running down his cheek, informed. "We managed to open the summoned's dantian forcefully and stabilized him for now. The great physician said he will survive at least two days, since he's quite well built. And the lord will come out of seclusion tomorrow, just in time. This is the heaven's will!"
The other, a taller figure with an air of authority, furrowed his brows in concern. "That was a risky action, Brother Zhen Xi," he replied, his voice tinged with reproof. "We could have immediately lost the only summoned that old man managed to bring."
"Yes, Senior Brother," Zhen Xi agreed, nodding solemnly. "But we had no choice. His window of potential was almost closed when he arrived. Brother Sung Wang had to do it."
"I understand, Junior Brother," the taller warrior sighed. "Well, shall we see what a human from another realm looks like?"
Zhen Xi, with a hint of excitement, responded, "I saw him already, Senior Brother. He is just like us." moving to open the door.
As they entered the room, their confident strides halted abruptly, their eyes widening in disbelief. The room was empty, save for the needles scattered on the ground, remnants of a broken table, and one and a half chairs. "H-he's gone...!" Zhen Xi gasped, his voice one of shock and fear.
"Impossible!" the senior brother exclaimed, stepping forward to inspect the scene. The disarray told a story they couldn’t immediately comprehend. The needles, the broken furniture, and the absence of the most important person in their current scheme painted a picture of an escape that should have been unattainable.
The two men scanned the room, their minds grappling with the impossibility of the situation. "There was nowhere to go out, and he would have been seen if he had gone out from the door," the senior brother muttered, his voice a mix of confusion and alarm. "The only way out was the window then."
As the realization dawned, he turned sharply to Zhen Xi. "Did you not say you forcefully opened his dantian?!" he demanded, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword.
"Yes! By the Sun God! I saw it myself!" Zhen Xi affirmed, his own hand touching his forehead in bewilderment.
The senior brother approached the window, his steps measured and tense. He peered out, expecting to see... what? Certainly not what greeted his eyes. He halted abruptly, his body rigid, as if he had turned to stone.
Zhen Xi, puzzled by his senior's reaction, hastened to his side. "Brother Liang Shen, what is the matt- Ah!" His words transformed into a sharp scream, echoing his senior brother’s shock. There, outside the window, in a display as bewildering as it was audacious, was Jon. Naked as the day he was born, he was scaling down the tower with an expression of concentrated fear, his fingers somehow piercing the wooden walls to secure his descent.
For a moment, both warriors stood in stunned silence, their minds trying to reconcile the sight with their understanding of reality. Then, as if breaking from a spell, Liang Shen yelled out, his voice a blend of anger and incredulity, "Hey you there! What are you doing?!"
Jon, his eyes snapping open in alarm, looked up, his face one of of terror and surprise.
In a display of confusion and frustration, Liang Shen bellowed, "Come back here!" His voice reverberated off the stone walls, but Jon only responded with a puzzled, "Huh?" as if the words were foreign to his ears.
Liang Shen whirled to Zhen Xi, his eyes blazing with irritation. "Did you not say he could speak our language?" he hissed, barely containing his fury.
"Yes, I saw him talk. It's not exactly like us, but he can understand!" Zhen Xi insisted, his brows furrowed in confusion at Jon's apparent ignorance.
Liang Shen, not convinced, shouted up again, "Are you feigning not understanding me?! I told you to come back here!"
But Jon, hanging precariously from the tower, only repeated his befuddled response, "Hah?"
Liang Shen's face turned crimson with rage, his hand gripping the sword's hilt so tightly that his knuckles whitened. He unsheathed his weapon, the metal gleaming ominously in the dim light.
"Calm down, Senior Brother," Zhen Xi interjected hastily, placing a restraining hand on Liang Shen's arm. "We cannot kill him. The sect leader will not be happy about this."
Exhaling sharply, Liang Shen sheathed his sword reluctantly and tried a different approach. "I know you can understand me," he said, more calmly this time, trying to mask his frustration. "Come back up. This is dangerous for you. We will take good care of you."
Jon, hanging from the side of the building, gave another vacant look and uttered, "Huh?" as if his mind were leagues away.
"You scoundrel!" Liang Shen exploded, his attempt at composure shattered. Zhen Xi quickly intervened, placing a calming hand on his senior's shoulder, trying to soothe the tempest of his anger.