Chapter 43
Tumultuous Times
Imperial Palace around the same time....
The opulent chamber exuded an air of quiet luxury, the scents of sandalwood and smoldering incense intermingling. Rich crimson rugs cushioned the floors, while ancient calligraphic scrolls adorned the walls. At the room's heart sat a low lacquered table bearing the tools of scholarly pursuits - jade inkwells, tasseled brushes, and crisp sheaves of paper.
A man of elegant bearing, streaks of silver threading his neat beard and topknot, leaned over the latest piece taking shape under his brush. A contemplative furrow creased his brow as he murmured aloud, "The Saga of...no, A Hymn to the Valorous...?" His grey eyes narrowed briefly. "What maketh a fitting eulogy for a hero's-"
The slightest whisper of displaced air brought his brush stilling, his senses picking up a faint presence materializing in the stillness. Without turning, the man issued a mild prompting.
"Speak, Shadow. What is it you bring?"
Like smoke given form, a cloaked figure emerged from the shadows, immediately kneeling in a deferential bow. "I salute you, Heavenly Advisor Xiang Wei." The rasping tones remained flat and inflectionless. "Our investigation at the Demonic Sect's recently destroyed base has concluded."
One calloused hand waved in a perfunctory gesture as Xiang Wei's sharp gaze remained fixed on the parchment, his mind clearly occupied even as he parsed this intelligence.
"Proceed," he intoned, the brush's delicate scratching resuming.
The shadow continued, "We have found that elder Huo Zheng's escape was not due to their carelessness. One of the survivors told us they had managed to summon a creature...a man, from another realm."
At those words, Xiang Wei's hand stilled upon the parchment. Slowly, he turned to fully face the cloaked figure, his full attention now commanded. "A man?" His voice had an edge. "So the Demonic cult truly managed to do it..."
"No, Venerable One." The shadow swiftly cut in. "According to the survivor, this outsider man managed to escape with the Elder's aid. He was said to have had his dantian forcefully opened. We believe that is cause enough to presume he perished shortly after."
Xiang Wei's fingers caressed his silver-streaked beard thoughtfully. "I see...And what of the old talismanist, Ling Tianshi? Did he survive the incident?"
"He was found deceased, naked in a chest." The rasping tones remained emotionless. "Some of his personal effects and research scrolls for the empire appear to have been pilfered."
A muscle ticked in Xiang Wei's jaw. "Ling Tianshi has been slain? And who do you suspect committed this theft and murder?"
"We have reason to believe it was this 'summoned one', Venerable. With his clothes and possessions taken, and little evidence of other hostile forces present."
Xiang Wei's gaze sharpened. "And I presume you did not recover this outsider's corpse?"
A fractional hesitation. "...We are still searching, Venerable. It seems improbable he could have traveled far or survived more than two days with his dantian forcibly opened."
"That may be an erroneous assumption." Xiang Wei steepled his fingers, massaging his temples as he mulled over the implications. "If this man is truly from another realm, we cannot blindly apply our familiar laws of physiology. It is very possible his alien constitution allowed him to survive the dantian trauma."
His steel-grey eyes bored into the shadow's hooded facade. "Provide me the locations of populated areas nearest the destroyed base where he may have sought refuge."
"The villages of Cloud-Grasping Peak, Misty Vale, and Willow Brook," the shadow dutifully listed. "As well as the town of Zhilan."
Xiang Wei gave a curt nod, mind already spinning out the ramifications of this bold new variable. One thing was certain - the hunt for this otherworldly interloper had just become his top priority.
After a protracted silence, Xiang Wei's baritone cut through the stillness. "Shadow."
The cloaked figure immediately stiffened. "Yes, Venerable One."
"The mission I am entrusting you is of the utmost secrecy. Not even the Emperor himself must know the details." Xiang Wei's steely gaze bored into the other man. "Do you understand?"
Without a beat of hesitation, the Shadow's palm met his chest in a bow. "I live and die by your orders, Leader of the Shadows."
A curt nod accepting the vow, and Xiang Wei continued, "First, has word of this otherworlder's summoning leaked beyond our circle?"
"We intercepted a spy from the Silver Moths." he said. "Given their methods, we believe they gleaned enough to act. The spy took his own life upon capture."
Xiang Wei's jaw clenched minutely before he issued his next directives. "Then time is of the essence. Take your most skilled shadow operatives and thoroughly scour the region of this incident. Begin your search with the populated areas, but leave no stone unturned. If you detect any abnormalities potentially linked to this...creature, do not engage. Observe and report your findings directly to me."
His piercing gaze intensified. "We know not what capabilities this being may possess, so extreme caution is paramount. Employ capture over combat whenever possible while we ascertain the true nature of the threat. Move with utmost discretion and haste - I want this situation fully accounted for before word spreads further."
The Shadow gave a solitary dip of his cowled head in understanding.
"One final directive," Xiang Wei's voice dropped an octave. "Should you indeed make contact...bring the outsider to me alive if feasible. I would have words with this defiler of our realm."
A pause, then the hooded figure vanished like a puff of smoke dispersed, leaving Xiang Wei alone with his thoughts once more. His thumb idly traced the grooves of the incomplete poem, a pensive frown tugging his lips.
"It would seem...tumultuous times lay ahead for our lands."
Then a sharp rapping at the chamber door cut through his reverie. With an inward steadying breath, he called, "Enter."
The door slid open to reveal a young handmaiden who immediately dropped into a deep curtsy. At his permitting nod, her words rushed forth in an excited torrent.
"Venerable One! The most wondrous news - the Imperial Prince has awoken from his coma!"
*****
Far away from Zhilan, in a distant glade....
Twin streaks of frantic motion tore through the tall grass, two figures fleeing with every ounce of their preternatural speed. Their ragged breaths sawing the night air betrayed their sheer desperation.
"Did...did we lose him?" One rasped between gasping pants.
"Just keep running!" The other threw over a wild-eyed look. "Don't turn around, brother! We have to put as much distance as we can!"
Their breakneck pace didn't falter as they barreled onwards, periodically exchanging terrified glances over their shoulders into the pitch black.
"We can't...outrun him...forever..." The first managed between aching lungfuls.
"We have to try! He'll kill us if-"
The words died on his lips with an abrupt, sickening grunt. One second his brother pounded the earth beside him, the next - nothing but silence.
A cold dread gripped the remaining man's heart as his frantic momentum carried him a few more strides alone before he too ground to a shuddering halt. Every instinct screamed at him to keep running, putting one foot in front of the other. But a morbid, gnawing curiosity dragged his gaze over his shoulder despite his mind's desperate mantra.
Don't look. Don't look. Don't look.
He looked.
The scream ripped from his throat near shredded his vocal cords. There, clenched in the ivory fangs of a colossal white-furred tiger, was what remained of his beloved brother. Viscera and ropes of blood hung from its slobbering maw as those horrible jaws seemed to work, consuming the remains with nauseating relish.
The tiger's amber gaze flicked to the frozen, broken form, locking with his eyes as it simply...dropped the mangled remnants to begin grooming its bloodstained pelt with an almost fastidious indifference.
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An inarticulate wail of grief and rage tore from the depths of his very soul. Trembling hands snatched his sword from its sheath as he launched himself towards the only target that remained - a distant silhouette standing with arms calmly folded beneath the cold moonlight.
The figure didn't so much as twitch, seemingly awaiting his hell-bent charge with an eerie serenity.
And then...the world inverted itself with a dizzying lurch of vertigo. Was he falling? Flying? One moment, only the silver corona of the moon filled his vision. The next, the earth's interrupted horizon spun in sickening revolutions.
Coherent thoughts fled as his senses drowned in that dizzying onslaught. He never felt the bite of the blade that severed his neck in one deft stroke. The last thing his fading consciousness registered was the jarring thump of his own decapitated head striking the ground at the figure's feet.
Through a reddened haze, those implacable arms unfolded, plucking his severed head up by the scalp to dangle limply before the stranger's emotionless regard.
"Don't eat the head, Fang," the silhouetted figure chided in a low rumble as the massive white tiger obediently dropped the severed remnants at his feet. "We need them intact to claim the bounty."
The great beast released a rumbling whine of displeasure, as if frustrated by being denied its gruesome prize.
The man's visible eye crinkled at the corners with faint amusement as he gave the tiger's broad skull an affectionate pat. "I know, I know. Human flesh grows dull when it's all you eat."
Crouching, he deftly severed the head from its mangled corpse with a few deft slices of his index. Looping the scalp-hair through his fingers, he bound the grisly trophies together before straightening.
"You did well tonight, old friend, Ill give you your fill of salmon later," he murmured, offering Fang a final pat of approval. The tiger leaned into the touch with a contented rumble, seemingly mollified by the promise of fresher fare to come.
Then, a deliberate clearing of a throat punctuated the night's stillness. The man's single eye flicked up, lips pressing into a tight line as two shadowed figures materialized amidst the swaying grass.
The first, a cadaverously thin man with a shaved pate, gave a toothy grin that failed to reach his rheumy eyes. His portly companion beside him sported a wild tangle of crimson hair and a... distinctly porcine set of features.
"A good hunt tonight, I trust?" The bald man's nasal tones grated like rusted metal on stone. "I hear the Geng twins fetched quite the lucrative price on their heads."
The man's fingers tightened fractionally around the hafts of the severed heads as his mouth curved in a mirthless smile. "You know how I detest small talk, Chang Ren. What do you want?"
The bald man - Chang Ren - matched the bounty hunter's dour look with an insouciant shrug. "Merely being a good little messenger bird, delivering words from on high."
With a ponderous sweep of his arm, he gestured off through the night-cloaked valley surrounding them.
"The Grandmaster has a...humble request for your services, Bai Feng."
"Not interested." Bai Feng's dismissive tone matched the casual manner in which he wiped a speck of blood from his clothing, clearly preparing to depart.
"One thousand gold taels," Chang Ren stated flatly. "Plus...her freedom."
That gave Bai Feng pause, the single visible eye narrowing as the massive white tiger at his side issued a low, rumbling growl of warning.
The porcine man shrank back a step, his piggish features contorting in barely-concealed fear at the oppressive spike of the bounty hunter's aura.
A tense silence stretched between them before Bai Feng spoke again, his voice dangerously soft.
"Who is the target?"
Maintaining a rictus grin, Chang Ren flicked a scroll casing through the air. Bai Feng snatched it in one fluid motion, cracking the seal as the bald man continued in an oily tone.
"Word has reached even our cloistered halls of the recent...unpleasantness at the Demonic Cult's compound. The death of Shaolin's Huo Zheng." He paused meaningfully, allowing the implication to hang heavy between them.
Bai Feng's lack of response didn't deter the bald man's patter. "In any case, the Grandmaster requests your skills to...retrieve a certain thief."
"What did he steal?" The words came as a low rumble.
"I-Important research!" The porcine man blurted, clearly unnerved being the focus of that frigid grey stare. "The personal notes and tomes of the late talismantist, Ling Tianshi."
Chang Ren smoothly took over. "It's possible this thief has already met an untimely demise, given the information our friends in the Silver Moth have procured. But the Grandmaster would have you ascertain his whereabouts regardless - be it his freshly-slain corpse..." A serpentine smile. "Or those precious stolen texts."
Bai Feng's eye narrowed further. "And what does this thief looks like?"
"Ah..." The bald man's smile stretched unnaturally wide, revealing a mouth full of articulate fangs. "Therein lies the trick, White tiger. We do not know."
A derisive scoff answered him. "So you wish me to hunt a man with no face?"
"Merely find those research materials he pilfered," Chang Ren replied with a light shrug of his thin shoulders. "The Grandmaster has every faith you shall...locate a way. That region remains your starting point."
Whipping about without another word, Bai Feng swung himself up onto Fang's broad back in one sinuous motion. Then, as quickly as they'd arrived, man and beast melted away into the night on a furious burst of displaced air.
Only once the oppressive weight of Bai Feng's aura lifted did the portly man release the harsh breath he'd been holding.
The bald man's smile dissapeared as he turned away, hands tucking into the voluminous sleeves of his robe.
"You made us look weak, Cho Song."
Cho Song, still looking at the place Bai Feng was seconds ago, said, "My apologies...but you heard the rumors of that man's power. To face such pressure directly..." He let the words hang for a meaningful beat.
"The White Tiger has earned his infamy within our sect's ranks. As the last descendant of the immortal Martial Sovereign, Bai Hu, such prowess is to be expected - even for one serving the Unorthodox Path." Chang Ren said.
A harsh bark of laughter punctuated the still night air. "In any case, that arrogant pup may have his uses for once. If any man can locate the trail of this otherworlder, it is he."
Squinting against the darkness engulfing the valley, Chang Ren's smile took on a hungrier aspect.
"He'd best not fail the Grandmaster's directive. For all our sakes..."
*****
Base of the Heavenly demon's seventh son...
The cavernous hall lay shrouded in flickering shadows, the only illumination stemming from a scattering of tallow candles lining the walls. At its center, a solitary figure lounged in a high-backed chair, idly sipping from a tea cup.
"You're telling me this...Jon Li caused my brother's death?"
The low, cultured tones cut through the oppressive gloom like a razor's edge. Down on the hard-packed earth before him, a ring of men knelt in supplicant unison - their forms little more than indistinct silhouettes haloed by the guttering candlelight.
"Yes, seventh young mast- Lord! I meant Lord Chun Ma!" The words spilled out in a rush, the speaker clearly steeling himself against the young master's displeasure at his clumsy address.
Yet Chun Ma merely offered a disarming smile, gesturing for the man to continue with an elegant flourish of one pale hand.
"He...He was the one who freed Shaolin's elder Huo Zheng. In exchange, the vagabond was allowed to escape that night's slaughter."
A contemplative hum answered, punctuated by the delicate clink of ceramic meeting wood as Chun Ma set his cup down on the chair's battered armrest.
"I see...And how skilled was this Jon Li supposed to be? I heard he managed to end your lineage, Sung Ming?."
The words landed like a slap across the face, the indicated silhouette flinching as if struck before that dim outline coalesced into a trembling, kneeling form.
"Y-Yes, Master..." Sung Ming's voice emerged strangled, his head bowed so low it very nearly touched the hard-packed earth. "I was...caught unawares by his cowardly attack. The wretch was not powerful, merely underhanded in his ways."
"So you know his face then?" That lilt dripped with calculated indifference as Chun Ma reclaimed his tea cup with an idle hand. "This Jon Li?"
Another aggravated twitch seized Sung Ming's body before he could still himself, forcing his anger into an even, tightly reigned tone.
"His face is...burned into my memory, Master. I could not forget that traitorous worm if I tried."
The slightest curve tugged at the corner of Chun Ma's mouth as he regarded the kneeling man through slitted lids. Amusement? Indulgence? It was impossible to say.
"Then you all understand the burden before you. As my sworn men, your lives and loyalties are mine to command as I decree."
A ragged murmur of, "Yes, Master!" issued from the shadowed assembly.
Chun Ma swept his gaze across their bowed forms as he continued, "Locate this Jon Li for me, but do not engage him yourselves. Wherever he currently resides or roams, I want it uncovered and all movements reported back to me."
One bolder individual found his voice amidst the fervent mumblings of, "Yes, Heavenly Leader!"
"B-But Master...it was said this Jon Li's dantian was forcefully opened upon arrival in our world. Then, would he not be-?"
Before the man could even complete his objection, Chun Ma had raised one hand - long fingers steepled below his chiseled chin. The faintest spark of crimson danced in the depths of his knowing gaze.
"We cannot confirm that without seeing his corpse. Let us see if this outworlder has any surprises left to impart, hmm?" His voice remained infuriatingly mild as he lightly waved the speaker into silence. "Once I've secured my rightful claim as Heavenly Leader of our exalted Sun and Moon Cult...then I shall make Jon Li my utmost priority."
With a lazy wave of one hand, the remaining enforcers rose as one - answering in a ragged chorus of, "Yes, Heavenly Leader!"
As the last of them retreated into the gloom, Chun Ma settled back into his throne-like chair with a contented sigh. One slender finger toyed with the elaborately carved armrest, tracing the intricate emblem of a dragon devouring itself engraved there.
"'Ultimate Dragon Nutcracker Punch'..." He laughed, gleaming fangs flashing in the guttering candlelight. " Hahaha... that was a good one."
*****
Zhilan village, at the same time....
Jon blinked, mouth already working in anticipation.
"I, well I jus-"
The rest of his words devolved into a startled yelp as something small yet potent smacked him squarely in the center of his forehead. Jon recoiled, hands flying up to clutch at the stinging welt already rising on his skin.
"What the fuck, Gramps?!" The outburst burst free before he could clamp his lips shut over the words, eyes flying wide in mortification.
Cupping his traitorous mouth a beat too late, Jon watched in numb horror as a solitary grain of rice tumbled down to the battered floor between his knees - the very missile Old Master Han had launched with pinpoint accuracy.
The weathered old cultivator regarded him with an inscrutable look from where he sat cross-legged on a tattered cushion, seemingly untouched by the violent assault he'd just committed.
A...grain of rice? He hurt me with a grain of rice? Jon echoed his own disbelieving thoughts, one hand scrubbing through his shaggy hair in a gesture of pure exasperation. I'm so screwed...
"Young man."
That single stern utterance from Han's lips cut through Jon's muttered tirade like a knife, the very air around them seeming to press closer in the ensuing silence. The old master held that penetrating stare for a long moment before continuing in that same unhurried cadence.
"Before you think to compound your error through falsehood and deception..." One gnarled finger rose, pointing directly at the flustered young man's face. "Know that I've little patience for liars and silver-tongues who believe they can outwit the counsel of their elders."
Jon swallowed audibly, giving a hesitant nod as half-formed excuses and explanations curdled in his suddenly dry mouth.
Han allowed the weight of that unequivocal pronouncement to hang for a beat longer before his smile returned - though tight-lipped, it managed to thaw some of the banked intensity in his rheumy eyes.
"Besides...what is this word you used? 'Fook?'" He savored the unfamiliar syllables clumsily, clearly unaware of their weight or meaning. "Some uncultured barbarians' invective, I'd wager?"
Catching on to the old master's feigned ignorance, the knot of dread in Jon's chest eased marginally even as his face flushed a dusky shade of crimson. His accidental English curse had been registered in full.