Jon sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping as he trudged up the mountain path. "I am fed up with these xianxia shenanigans. For God's sake," he muttered, kicking a pebble out of his way.
Liang Zhi's words echoed in his mind, each repetition grating on his nerves. Destined one? Tasks to complete? The very notion made his skin crawl. The forest around him seemed to close in, the familiar sights now feeling alien and oppressive.
"Time to find a way home," Jon said to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. The thought of Earth, of normalcy, sent a pang through his chest.
Lost in his brooding, Jon almost missed the sudden shift in light. The dusk-tinged forest dimmed further as a shadow passed overhead. Instinct took over before his conscious mind could react.
Jon's body twisted, narrowly avoiding the projectile that whizzed past his ear. The rush of air was followed by a resounding crack as it embedded itself deep into a nearby tree trunk. Splinters exploded outward, the tree groaning as it teetered on the edge of falling.
"What the—" Jon gasped, his heart pounding. He spun around, eyes darting to identify the source of the attack.
"Oooh, you dodged that?" a voice called out, undeniably male and tinged with surprise.
Jon spun around, instantly dropping into a battle stance. Footsteps crunched on fallen leaves, growing louder. A young man, bald and roughly Jon's age, emerged from the shadows of the trees. His black robes fluttered in the breeze.
Great, Jon thought, suppressing another sigh. Another crazy cultivator. This is lovely.
As the stranger approached, Jon instinctively reached out with his qi sense, a skill Han had been drilling into him relentlessly. The ability to assess an opponent's strength by their qi output was, according to his master, the first step towards true mastery. Jon could feel a subtle warmth emanating from the stranger, like a distant candle flame. It wasn't particularly alarming; Han had explained that with practice, Jon would be able to sense not just strength, but also predict movements based on qi fluctuations. For now, though, this lukewarm presence told him that while the young man was no pushover, he wasn't overwhelmingly powerful either.
"Who are you?" Jon demanded, eyes narrowed.
The bald youth's face lit up. "Ah, a profound question indeed! For what is the self but a—"
"Oi, baldy," Jon cut in, irritation flaring. "I just asked your name. What the hell are you complicating that for?"
The young man's serene expression morphed into indignation. "How dare you! I was not finishe—"
Jon didn't wait. Frustration and pent-up energy propelled him forward. His fist whistled through the air, aimed squarely at the monk's face. To his surprise, it met only empty space.
A grin spread across Jon's face. He'd been itching for a fight, and this was perfect. The forest around them blurred as he pivoted, searching for his target.
The stranger reappeared to his left, robes swirling. "A sneak attack? Most dishonorable!"
Jon scoffed, launching a flurry of punches. "You attacked first, baldy!"
The stranger weaved between the strikes, his movements fluid and precise. "I merely tested your reflexes! And my name is Wei Long, not 'baldy'!"
Jon's kick swept low, forcing Wei Long to leap. "Should've led with that!"
They danced across the forest floor, leaves crunching beneath their feet. Jon's fists whistled past Wei Long's ears, while the man's palm strikes barely missed Jon's chest.
Adrenaline surged through his veins. Each near-miss only fueled his determination. He could feel his qi responding, enhancing his speed and strength.
Wei Long's eyes widened as Jon's attacks grew faster, more precise. "Impressive! But can you handle this?"
His hands blurred, and suddenly Jon found himself defending against a barrage of strikes. It was all he could do to block and dodge.
A glancing blow caught Jon's ribs, sending a jolt of pain through his side. He grunted, retaliating with a swift uppercut that clipped Wei Long's chin.
They sprang apart, both breathing heavily.
Jon wiped sweat from his brow, grinning despite himself. "Not bad, baldy. Got any more tricks up those fancy sleeves?"
Wei Long rubbed his chin, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "You haven't seen anything yet, barbarian."
Jon dodged another strike, his eyebrow twitching in annoyance. "Barbarian? Dude, you attacked me first, out of nowhere."
Wei Long grinned, his bald head gleaming in the last rays of sunlight. "I just wanted to test your reflexes!"
"Is that so? And how were they?"
"They were sluggish!" Wei Long laughed, clearly enjoying himself.
Jon's eye twitched. Without warning, he darted forward, landing a solid hit on Wei Long's throat. The monk stumbled back, eyes wide with surprise.
Not wasting a moment, Jon launched into a Dempsey Roll, his body weaving in a figure-eight motion. His fists pummeled Wei Long from angles the young man couldn't predict. Each hit landed with a satisfying 'thwack'.
"Who's sluggish now, baldy?" Jon taunted, unable to keep the smirk off his face.
Wei Long, desperately trying to block, looked like a flailing windmill in a hurricane. Just as Jon was about to deliver the knockout blow, he paused, fist cocked back.
"Good ni-"
"S-stop!" Wei Long wheezed, hand on his throat. His voice sounded like he'd swallowed a cheese grater.
Jon lowered his fist, confusion replacing his cocky grin. "What's wrong?"
Wei Long coughed, trying to catch his breath. "I... I didn't have time to truly prepare. Give me a few moments to gather my qi, and we can continue."
Jon's face went through a series of expressions - confusion, disbelief, and finally settling on a look that screamed 'Is this guy for real?' He stared at Wei Long, half expecting him to yell 'Gotcha!' and resume the fight.
When no such thing happened, Jon couldn't help but ask, genuine concern in his voice, "Are you an idiot?"
Wei Long's fist suddenly glowed with a fierce, golden light. He laughed, a sound of pure exhilaration, and launched himself at Jon.
Jon dodged, feeling the wind rush past his face. The tree behind him wasn't so lucky - it exploded into splinters.
Okay, that's not good, Jon thought, his heart racing.
Wei Long didn't let up. He came at Jon with a flurry of punches and kicks, each one leaving trails of light in the air. Jon weaved and ducked, his body moving on instinct.
As the fight intensified, Jon found himself falling into a rhythm. Han's training kicked in. He slipped past Wei Long's guard, landing quick jabs and hooks when he could.
"Not bad!" Wei Long grinned, shaking off a punch to the ribs like it was nothing.
Jon grunted in response, too focused to talk. He adapted to Wei Long's patterns, countering when he could and dodging when he couldn't.
Trees creaked and fell. The ground cracked beneath their feet.
Just as Jon thought he might be getting the upper hand, Wei Long's eyes lit up with a manic gleam. "Time to end this!" he shouted.
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Wei Long's fist began to glow so bright it was blinding.
As he lunged forward, fist aimed straight at Jon's face, time seemed to slow down. Jon tried to move, but he knew he wouldn't be fast enough. He braced for impact, thinking, This is gonna suck.
BOOM!
Suddenly, there was a loud crack and a cloud of dust. When it cleared, Jon blinked in disbelief.
Wei Long was face-down in the dirt, unconscious. An old man in ornate robes stood over him, shaking his head.
"Foolish disciple," the old man muttered. "Always getting carried away."
Jon's heart was still racing from the intense fight when a familiar voice cut through the air.
"Hey, perverted monk, your disciple cheated."
It was Han, of course.
The old monk turned, a serene smile playing on his lips as he faced Jon. "Ah, the folly of youth. In their haste to prove themselves, they often—"
"Save it," Han interrupted, his face creasing with annoyance. "My disciple won by one more hit."
The monk's smile twitched, a vein pulsing on his forehead but still kept his smile. "Hmm, I'm certain Wei Long had more powerful attacks in reserve."
"Doesn't matter," Han retorted, crossing his arms. "At the end of the day, it was Jon who was still standing."
"That wouldn't have been the case if I hadn't intervened," the monk countered, his voice taking on a steely edge.
Jon watched, bewildered, as the two elders bickered back and forth. Their voices remained level, but the air around them began to shimmer with barely contained energy. Trees swayed without wind, leaves rustling ominously.
"My disciple clearly demonstrated superior technique," Han insisted.
The monk scoffed. "Technique? Wei Long's qi manipulation was far more refined."
As their argument intensified, Jon felt a pressure building in the air. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he realized with a start that the two old men were losing themselves in their rivalry. Their auras, though tightly controlled, radiated an overwhelming power that made Jon's knees weak.
"Um, guys?" Jon tried to interject, but his voice was lost in the verbal sparring.
The pressure in the air continued to build.
Knowing he had to intervene before things got out of hand, Jon cleared his throat. "Uh, how about we call it a draw?"
Both elders turned to him, their gazes sharp enough to cut stone.
Han's eyes narrowed. "Silence, brat. I'm trying to make you wi—"
"A draw!" The monk seized the opportunity, cutting Han off mid-sentence. "Yes, yes, a draw seems fair. Wouldn't you agree, old friend?" His voice carried a hint of desperation, clearly eager to prevent Han from claiming victory.
Jon blinked, stunned by the sudden shift. The tension in the air dissipated as quickly as it had built, leaving behind an awkward silence.
Han glowered at the monk, then at Jon, before letting out a resigned sigh. "Fine. A draw it is."
*****
In the hours that followed, the mountain transformed from a battleground to an impromptu gathering. Wei Long stirred, groaning as he regained consciousness. His eyes widened upon seeing his master, Yun Tianshi, the Sect Leader of Shaolin, standing beside Han. The young monk scrambled to his feet, bowing deeply in apology for his reckless behavior.
Yun Tianshi introduced Wei Long to Jon as his newest disciple, a prodigy recruited from the hallowed halls of Shaolin. The name carried weight, even to Jon's untrained ears. Shaolin, Yun Tianshi explained with barely concealed pride, stood as one of the greatest sects in their world, arguably the strongest in recent times.
As the young disciples exchanged wary glances, Han and Yun Tianshi fell into the easy banter of old friends. Their shared history stretched back millennia, a concept that made Jon's head spin. Thousands of years, they said, as casually as one might mention knowing someone since grade school.
The two elders regaled their students with tales of their youth, each story more outlandish than the last. Jon listened, fascinated despite himself, as they spoke of battles against demons, quests for legendary artifacts, and cultivation breakthroughs that shook the very foundations of reality. It was the first time Han actually talked so much about his old life.
As dusk deepened into night, Yun Tianshi explained their presence. They were merely passing through, he said, on a journey to some far-off holy site. The chance to visit his old friend Han was too good to pass up.
While Jon and Wei Long trudged off to fetch water, Han reached into his spatial ring, pulling out an exquisite barrel. Its jade body gleamed in the moonlight, intricate metal bands wrapping around it like dragon scales. He set it down with a gentle thud, a proud smile playing on his weathered face.
"Behold, my old friend. The 'Drunken Immortal's Tears'. Brewed it myself a thousand years ago."
Yun Tianshi's eyes lit up, a hearty laugh escaping his lips. "If there's one thing I've missed in these past 200 years, it's your alcohol, you old coot."
"Of course you have," Han scoffed, pouring the luminescent liquid into jade cups. "It's the only thing that could tempt a corrupt, perverted monk like you who drinks alcohol and eats meat."
Yun Tianshi plucked a piece of roasted meat from a nearby plate, popping it into his mouth with a satisfied hum. "Bah, I'm old. Who's going to stop me? Amitabha!" He clasped his hands together in mock prayer.
Han raised an eyebrow. "Using the Buddha's name while indulging? You haven't changed a bit, you hypocrite."
"And you're still as sharp-tongued as ever," Yun Tianshi retorted, taking a sip of the wine. His eyes widened. "By the heavens, this is exquisite."
"Of course it is," Han preened. "Unlike some people, I've been perfecting my craft for millennia."
Yun Tianshi snorted. "Yes, yes, you're the pinnacle of cultivation. Tell me, does your disciple know you spend half your time brewing instead of cultivating?"
Han waved a dismissive hand. "Brewing is cultivation. It takes patience, precision, and a deep understanding of natural energies."
"Is that what you tell yourself to justify your drinking habit?"
"At least I have a justification. What's your excuse for breaking your vows, oh holy one?"
They glared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.
"It's good to see you, old friend," Yun Tianshi said softly, his tone warm.
Han nodded, a rare softness in his eyes. "Likewise. Though don't expect me to admit that when the disciples return."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Yun Tianshi chuckled, raising his cup. "To old friends and good wine."
"And to corrupt monks who appreciate them," Han added with a smirk, clinking his cup against Yun Tianshi's.
"Speaking of disciples," Yun Tianshi mused, swirling the luminescent wine in his cup, "I was shocked to see that you took one in."
Han sighed, his gaze distant. "I wasn't expecting to take one in myself. Yet, here we are."
The monk leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. "After observing Jon, it's hard to believe he started cultivation only a few months ago, as you said. He made Wei Long, Shaolin's pride, the Luminous Dragon, appear almost... normal during their fight."
Han nodded slowly, a frown creasing his weathered face. "Hmm, the boy has a special condition. One I have never seen before. He defies all of our beliefs in cultivation."
Yun Tianshi savored another sip of the exquisite liquor, letting the flavor dance on his tongue before speaking. "But where did he come from? Does he descend from a noble clan?"
A soft chuckle escaped Han's lips as he raised his cup to the moonlight, watching the liquid shimmer like liquid starlight. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
The two old friends sat in comfortable silence for a moment, Han took a deep breath, his eyes reflecting the stars above. Then, with a voice that seemed to have regained a sober state, he began to tell Yun Tianshi about Jon and his otherworldly nature...
*****
Yun Tianshi's brow furrowed, his eyes distant as he processed Han's tale. "So, you're saying he's like Samuel?"
Han simply nodded.
"These are wonderful news, truly," Tianshi mused, a spark of excitement in his voice. "I'm glad I got to see a person from the same world as our old companion. The heavens work in mysterious ways."
Han's expression darkened, worry lines deepening around his eyes. "I took Jon in partly because of that, yes. But also because of the power he possesses." He paused, swirling the wine in his cup. "I fear the boy might let himself be consumed by it, like Samuel did."
Tianshi leaned back, his gaze sharp despite the alcohol. "Trust the boy, old friend. After examining his qi, I see none of the signs Samuel had."
Han fell silent, his eyes fixed on the dancing flames of their campfire. The crackling wood seemed to echo the turbulent thoughts in his mind. "Times are changing, Tianshi. In a way I've never seen before." He sighed, his shoulders sagging under an invisible weight. "I'm not sure I have much time left to protect those who won't be able to protect themselves when the world plunges into chaos. With Jon at the center of it all..." He trailed off, leaving the thought unfinished.
The atmosphere shifted, the earlier levity evaporating like morning dew.
Tianshi's voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "Has it worsened? Your condition?"
Han nodded. "I'm not sure I'll live more than a hundred years more."
"I see..." Tianshi said. He took a deep breath, gathering himself. "Han, my old friend, you must let go of your worries and trust in Jon. As the lotus rises from the mud, untainted, so too can the pure heart navigate the turbid waters of chaos."
A chuckle escaped Han's lips, surprising even himself. "Sometimes, you almost make me believe you're really a monk."
"And you, my friend, almost make me believe you're not a grumpy old hermit."
As their mirth subsided, Tianshi raised his cup. "So, this settles it then. We're at even after 3000 fights."
Han scoffed. "I would have won if Jon hadn't meddled. It would have been funnier to do it ourselves."
"How greedy you are," Tianshi admonished, shaking his head. "Not only would our fight have leveled the houses nearby, but it was a better way to settle our lifelong rivalry with a last match through our students." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I, for one, am glad it ended in a tie. Otherwise, you would have pestered me for a rematch."
Han's expression turned solemn. "Our last match, huh? I didn't think that would ever happen."
"You think you're still young? All things end, my friend."
They continued to reminisce, trading stories and laughter until the sound of footsteps and splashing water announced the return of Jon and Wei Long.
*****
As the night deepened around Zhilan, a massive white tiger crouched at the village's edge, its luminous eyes fixed on the distant figures. Its muscles rippled beneath its striped coat, ready to pounce at a moment's notice.
"No, Fang," a deep voice commanded from the shadows.
A tall man stepped forward, his features obscured by the darkness. He approached the tiger, patting its head affectionately. "You need to stay here," he murmured. "We'll attract too much attention from the people otherwise."
The man's gaze drifted to a strange object in his palm. It was unlike anything seen in this world - a circular device with intricate markings and moving hands, encased in gleaming metal. He studied it with curiosity, clearly unfamiliar with its purpose or origin.
"So, this is where it leads," he mused, his voice barely above a whisper.
Reaching into his robes, the man pulled out a long pipe. He lit it with a flick of his fingers, drawing in a deep breath of fragrant smoke. As he exhaled, a smile played across his lips, his eyes glinting with anticipation.
"This will be entertaining."