ã€ŠA Bit Goofy - A Xianxia Storyã€‹


 To Inherit The World, A Whimsical Whirlwind

    The world was born in brutality and upheaval, young ones.

    Never let it be said that chaos can never dominate, for in that era chaos reigned supreme.

    Demons roamed the lands as they pleased, hunting their prey.

    Us. Humanity.

    In those desperate days, before the rise of the Empire, before the first cultivator emerged to save us all, no one was safe from the demon''s grasp.

    The elderly and feeble, the innocent and vile, men and women and children alike fell victim to their savage desires - either slaughtered like animals or enslaved as pets.

    With their overwhelming power, even the land itself rebelled against us and the skies seemed to follow their every command.

    Those were truly dark times, when fear and suffering ruled. Only the bravest dared stand against the demon hordes, though they often paid with their lives. Still, their sacrifice was not in vain, for in time, the first emperor rose.

    The first emperor, a cultivator of unrivaled power, brought hope to the people. He united the scattered tribes and built the foundations of the Empire. With his heavenly strength, he confronted the demon lords who had terrorized humanity for so long.

    Epic battles shook the land as the emperor dueled with the demon kings. His sword and the Ten Steps Technique, cut through the darkness cast by his foes. Though the demons unleashed terrible magics and monstrous beasts, the emperor prevailed through his indomitable will and mastery of cultivation.

    With the first awakened cultivators at his side, the emperor led the counterattack. Ancient formations were unearthed, powerful treasures discovered, and legendary techniques created. One by one, the demon strongholds fell. Their numbers dwindled as humanity''s strength grew.

    It was on the Plains of Desolation that the tide finally turned. Though outnumbered three to one, the emperor''s forces clashed with the remaining demon kings and their minions. The battle raged for seven days and seven nights, distorting the heavens and splitting the earth.

    One by one, he vanquished the demons'' strongest warriors in magical combat. Their dark fortresses he toppled with powerful spells. He cleansed the land of their taint, sealing their portals and banishing them back to the void. The people rejoiced, for the shadow over the world had been lifted.

    In the end, humanity prevailed, but at great cost.

    The land itself still bears deep scars from the titanic battles with the demons.

    Yet humanity endured. Under the emperor''s rule, the scattered tribes united into a great nation. Sects and schools proliferated as more awakened to the power of cultivation. Knowledge lost during the dark days was recovered, allowing humanity''s strength to grow. The Ten Immortal Sects were established to pass on the emperor''s teachings and techniques.

    That golden age has long passed but our foundation, the mandate of heaven has remained. We stand firm against those dark times, our cultivation techniques and formations a testament to the emperor''s sacrifice. Generations of cultivators have followed in his footsteps, upholding his oath to never again let the demons return to plague the mortal realms.

    We are their legacy, young ones, inheritors of their unwavering spirit.

    - Zeng Gengxin, Wayseer.

    Archivist of The Silver Conviction Sect, speaking to the outer disciples.

    <hr>

    Reality coughed. Like a man moving something in the attic aside only to find a calvary charge of dust in his face, the very corporeal world spluttered and tried to fan its face clear. Startled by this unexpected disturbance, Reality recoiled and sent reverberations through the fabric of existence and sneezed. Not metaphorically.

    It literally sneezed and like a germ, something... someone was allowed to slip through.

    Eyes watering, the heavens regained its composure. It straightened its back, adjusting the threads of existence that had momentarily unraveled. With a gentle shake, the dust settled, and the world steadied itself once more. As it fiddled and tweaked and tightened things back into place, a flaming comet was missed.

    The blazing streak plunged to the world, leaving sparks and swears so foul it would strip 500-year lacquer off a temple wall in its wake.

    With a loud thud, the object crashed into the earth, kicking up a cloud of sand. It bounced and rolled wildly before finally coming to rest into the base of a sandy mound. As the smothered flames dissipated, a figure emerged from the steaming wreckage, clawing his way out from beneath the sandy debris.

    ¡°Well, that hadn¡¯t worked. Must''ve tasted bad or something.¡± Spoony the cat remarked, his words muffled by a mouthful of sand. "Pit-ooey! Ech!" Unfortunately, he noticed too late he was spitting into the wind and flinched as the chilly grains were flung back in his face. Brushing away the backwash as best he could, he took a moment to rub his sand-coated arms and grumbled to himself, the empty air serving as his unwilling audience.

    "Why did we have to activate it today? Because your boss is an absolute imbecile. That''s why." His retort was met with an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional low groan of the wind rustling his clothes and the hissing sound of shifting sand as he freed his feet.

    His boss was a moron and now there was sand everywhere and in everything. He kicked his left leg, then his right, watching as even more grit poured out from the fabric.

    "This is just perfect," Spoony muttered, rolling his eyes. He knew it was pointless to get worked up over something as trivial as sand, especially considering the circumstances he currently found himself in. But it was hard not to feel frustrated when every movement seemed to dislodge more grains from hidden pockets within his clothes.

    Suspicion flickered in his mind as what seemed like the last of it sprinkled away but the discomfort remained. That couldn''t be all of it. The itchiness urged him to investigate further. With a sigh, he reached down and pulled open his pants, revealing the sandy evidence within.

    Of course, he thought bitterly. Sand did what sand does and infiltrated every inch of his clothing in his all-expenses paid flight through the air. With a snap, he let his pants fall back into place and turned his attention to the spot where he had dug himself out.

    Carving tunnels into it with his bare hands, he searched for his stuff.

    After what felt like an eternity but was probably closer to ten minutes, he finally unearthed what he had been seeking. Triumphantly, he returned to the surface, clutching his glasses in one hand and his briefcase in the other.

    Just as he was about to revel in his small victory, itching started in a new place. He froze, feline ear twitching and he tried and failed to scratch at the irritation with a pinky. Unable to dig far enough, he reluctantly set his suitcase down, leaned to the side and smacked his head. With a pop of released pressure and tingling relief which only came from finally popping his ears on an airplane, a Sandcastle¡¯s worth of sand poured out his right ear. Literally. It landed on the ground in the perfect shape of a medieval castle and even included a drawbridge. Not a second after the last grain fell out, Spoony watched as a small blue scorpion unearthed itself from its hiding spot, crawled its way into the castle and shut the drawbridge with a bang. The toon considered knocking on the door and demanding some rent, but he knew he¡¯d just get stung for his trouble. A few hundred sand dollars weren''t going to fetch him much in the U.S. foreign exchange anyway. Moving on, he rubbed his chin, sticking his tongue out in concentration as he took in the landscape. ¡°I¡¯m certainly not in Anytoon and I¡¯ve heard Albuquerque is much greener this time a year.¡± He knew full well he hadn¡¯t made a left turn anywhere to end up here.

    And much brighter, too. It was the middle of the night and last he checked... He glanced at his wristwatch; it glanced back at him with a broken face and hands frozen in time.

    "Great, just great." Spoony sighed, his frustration growing. How was he supposed to navigate this unfamiliar place without a functioning watch?

    He glanced around, trying to get his bearings in the dark wilderness. The moon hung low in the sky, casting patches of eerie white beams over the landscape wherever the clouds broke through. He knew full well he hadn¡¯t made a left turn anywhere to end up here. Just suddenly blown off his feet in a flash and waking up covered in sand in the middle of nowhere with only his suitcase¡­

    Maybe the malfunctioning thingamajig sent into the Sahara?

    He heaved in a breath. If that was the case, he was in for a long walk back home. Certainly not back in time to pick up his brother from daycare. All because the dean felt like showing off for some visitor. ¡°We¡¯re activating it today.¡± Dean Dudd had said through a thick cloud of smoke. He puffed on the cigar chomped between his teeth as he smiled down at him from behind his huge desk, all fangs and green scales. "Got to impress the visitors..." It¡¯s unfortunate rule that people don¡¯t appreciate good work when they don¡¯t have to do it. It was a lesson Spoony the cat learned along ago. The hammerspace creating thingamajig or THCT for short, hadn¡¯t been ready and he¡¯d told them so. If there was one toon Spoony could say he really didn¡¯t like, it was the dean.

    However, God had a sense of humor.

    A quantifiably good one, actually.

    Yazzlewham¡¯s Principle was rooted in the profound belief that the universe has a rather mischievous sense of humor, and it occasionally plays pranks on the very laws of physics.

    It was proven by Flibbierflop in -70 AD, a year before his death in 790 thus showing evidence that seven did in eat nine. That being said, the biggest joke of the moment wasn¡¯t that Spoony was teleported many miles from home. He removed a brush from his pocket to clean his hair and paused at his hands. His non-gloved, five fingered, shockingly human hands. He squinted at them, palms and knuckles hooking his interest for the sixth time that night.

    ¡°No matter.¡± he said to the air dismissively, which he could tell would¡¯ve snorted at his bold face lie if it could.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.He was a toon of science and as he flexed his ten, ten, fingers to observe how the moonlight played off the smooth skin, he couldn¡¯t help but feel uneasy.

    Had the TCHT done this?

    He had based it off of Yazzlewham-Flibberflop Transmogrifying principle so maybe it had when things exploded. The biggest problem was he couldn¡¯t get his original shape back. Save a few, most toons like him could just change back.

    He tried, pulling out a changing divider and stepping behind it.

    To his surprise, he came out exactly the same.

    Not this time, apparently.

    Still, it was weird not feeling fur in the proper places. The only thing that he could say was still where it belonged was his ears and tail. Jeez, even his whiskers were gone. He was wondering what he was going to do when he finally heard something.

    Fighting.

    <hr>

    The bitterly cold desert night was alive with demonic roars and terrified screams. The chill seemed to settle into Zi Nuan''s very bones as she stepped forward, shining blade held before her.

    In one hand she gripped the hilt of her sword Bronze Echo¡¯s Embrace with the easy tightness which came from familiarity, while her other hand moved with practiced ease up along it¡¯s length to its curved tip. She tapped her finger three times on each large bronze ring linked and bound into the weapon¡¯s spine and Qi pulsed through the two-handed curved Qing Dao, the whole blade illuminating the sand dunes around her in gold.

    Filling in where the bonfires left shadows, a constant beacon which didn¡¯t waver as it¡¯s source moved.

    The blade was almost rectangular at the end, a heavy blend between a cleaver and saber she wielded with the deftness a seamstress would a needle. Its bronzed edge glowed a deeper yellow as she swung, metal humming, and a pair of demon¡¯s heads flew from their necks in a spray of foul-smelling blood. The two hadn¡¯t come at her alone. Damn these things, but the third was intelligent enough to recognize she was a threat and drag its malformed body to a stop.

    And only lost its jaw for its effort.

    It reeled back, in a ululating howl of agony which quickly turned into a gurgling growl. Animalistic in its rage, it lunged at Nuan, the savage purpose of ripping her insides out her body glowing in its crimson eyes. She wasn¡¯t deterred nor did she hesitate. Calmly she spun around the brute¡¯s grasp, her twirl sending her armored yellow and gray dress chiming as bronze rings clinked against one another and only single claw attached to a hand which could¡¯ve easily grasped and crushed her hand like she could a plum, skittered off her pauldron in a spray of sparks.

    Her sword hummed again as it split the monster in half.

    No sooner had its upper half hit the ground, she jabbed the blade down, splitting the skull like an axe to a log.

    As the oily ichor splashed across her fine boots, she wondered if the heavens were having a joke at her expense.

    She dove for another demon which slipped past the hastily thrown up defenses, snatching up a screaming, flailing man. It¡¯s wedged shaped head, too close to a horse yet so much like an ant, stretched open a twisted maw and was about to bite down when her boot rose to close it.

    Her heel smashed it up and back over the wall, it¡¯s neck making a sickening crunching noise as it tumbled through the sand.

    She caught the man before he fell, setting him down on his feet.

    His face was pale as milk and his knees folded as soon as she let him go but she recognized him: the caravan leader¡¯s son. When his father all begged for her help, this man had kowtowed right alongside him. She expected him to hide in the tents like so many others, having thought him soft like so many merchants.

    The bow in his white-knuckled grip and the empty quiver on his back spoke where he heaved. ¡®But I still keep getting surprised.¡¯

    Though she would gleefully admit, this was much more pleasant than the one this morning. Having the caravan leader scramble into the tent breaking her meditation, kowtowing before her as if she wasn¡¯t disguised as the farthest thing from a cultivator.

    She made the extra attempt by allowing her clothes to get dirty, wore gloves to cover her soft hands, and even wrapped her face in thick bandages to hide the beauty so common to female cultivators like herself the day she¡¯d escaped the sect, so long before she¡¯d joined the caravan. Under the pretense of safety since it was obvious a woman traveling alone and ill-equipped through the Ever-Reaching Steppe would either be mad or a cultivator no matter how they were dressed.

    He begged forgiveness for his intrusion, admitting he wouldn¡¯t have come if the situation wasn¡¯t dire. Oh, was it dire. Having to see the distant black dots in the early evening sky of creatures too large to be birds and coming their direction all but confirmed her worst fears.

    How what had forced her to flee wasn¡¯t isolated. But this was her life now and it seemed the heavens were just being cruel at this point.

    Her peasant garb seen through by a simple navigator was just one more indignity she had to swallow in the bitter feast of her escape.

    As she looked around the carnage she had wrought, Nuan couldn¡¯t help the feeling of unease that crept up on her. It wasn¡¯t just the fact that these demons were becoming more and more frequent in their attacks, it was the way they were becoming more intelligent, more calculated in their efforts. In the early days, they¡¯d fought little better than wild spirit creatures. Day or night they¡¯d swarm with numbers, but these ones had waited until the sun went down and had shown signs of tactical thinking. It was unsettling. Fleeing home only to cross paths with the very creatures which had... She frowned. ¡®Now was not the time.¡¯

    Centering her mind on her Dao and pushed down what she recognized for the first time was exhaustion and moved.

    The mortal guards manning the defenses were doing better than she expected but when her expectations had been wholesale slaughter, she didn¡¯t hold that as the highest praise.

    They were blessed enough to have hours to prepare, and she had more experience than most with the spawn of the underworld.

    Anywhere the mortals were fighting, she was there. Jabbing at sighted and hidden demons, sweeping the legs out from underneath the big ones. Her blade flashed, and flashed again, never failing in its purpose of sending demons back to the abyss. There were only a handful which managed to dodge her attacks and slip through the defenses, where they were met with unyielding armor. The problem was... there was so many and as fast as she was, she couldn¡¯t be everywhere.

    ¡®Not like I used to,¡¯ The thought rose like a tide under a full moon swamping her thoughts before she could stop it. As if waiting for the traitorous reminder, a clink like a single crack in fine glass pulsed from her abdomen that she felt from tongue to tailbone. Qi leaked from her and though it was a small amount, the pain was enough to make her stumble. The crack wasn¡¯t large nor was it fresh, but she had just worried it just a little bit larger through her exertions. Bronze Echo¡¯s Embrace vibrated in her palm followed by the humming of its edge cut off by an ominous creak.

    She looked down to see a crack tracing alongside the back.

    As soon as the split point touched the first of the bronze rings, it rattled and shattered.

    The sight filled Zi Nuan with an icy terror. Her path was breaking before her eyes, and she knew if things continued her core would shatter completely. As much as the cultivator wanted to stop, she couldn¡¯t flee now. Just like she told the mortals, she would simply die tired.

    With a growl, she forced down the pain and wove through the defenses, noticing most of those mustered were starting to panic and fewer and fewer were fighting.

    ¡°Stand your ground!¡± She cried, cutting down another of the fiends as it slipped past the barricade, ¡°Run and you will simply die tired!¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s right, you damned fools!¡± She heard the caravan leader roar.

    She glanced over, surprised to see him carrying a military saber in one hand, dressed in old armor and blood spurting from a smaller dog sized demon at his feet.

    His grizzled face was worn by weather as much as time, yet the solidity of his manner brought to mind the soldiers she¡¯d once commanded as a general. Hells, it wasn¡¯t beyond the possibility he might¡¯ve been. Mortals could grow old, have families, and pass away in the time it took Cultivators to blink.

    Especially when one reached the Golden Blood stage in the Second realm.

    He was limping, blood dripping down his leg but he was fighting. The sight gave heart to the others. She sliced at a pair of demons, separating their bodies into two for good measure.

    Shielding herself with the metal barricade she¡¯d made, she called out to the son, ¡°Take the arrows and oil, gather more firewood and pitch. Keep your barricades up and get any empty hands make more of them. You-" she looked to the caravan leader as she drove another demon off it¡¯s legs and stomped its head to mush, ¡°we need more fire! You can¡¯t fight with swords and spears alone. If we run out of that, use chairs or baskets, anything! The goods won¡¯t matter if everyone is eaten alive.!¡±

    ¡°Yes, Princess!¡±

    ¡°Yes, Bronze Cleaver!¡±

    She winced at her title, unsurprised. She wasn¡¯t sure who said what because her attention was taken elsewhere.

    Foul corrupt Qi fogged her senses, between the demon bodies and the ones still alive, getting focus on the wrongness was hard to place.

    Her eyes widened at shifting of the sand under her feet, a sensation which screamed out as unnatural to all her senses even among the foulness. She jumped, not left or right but straight up into the air.

    It was too late.

    Something exploded out of the sand, clamped around her ankle and pulled her back down.

    Her body¡¯s momentum lurched violently as she was hoisted into the air and whipped around. Whatever had her was so strong, the sand felt like cobbled road when she hit its unforgiving surface before she was lifted again and thrown down again, and again.

    With each impact, there was a loud popping sound that reverberated through her entire body, intensifying inside her hip socket until her vision blurred from the pain. She didn''t even realize she''d been let go to crumple in the sand until she felt hot stinking breath on her face.

    Eyes watering, she looked up, trying to pinpoint what had grabbed her. A giant black coiled thing looked down at her with three eyes, each an inch in size.

    It¡¯s the center head was a pale, fleshy nub while the lower ones were made of bone. It¡¯s long body was covered in gleaming, black carapace. Sharp spines made of bone and chitin stuck out like quills.

    Her right hand, reaching towards the hilt of her sword, which was in her reach yet at the same time getting further and further away. As she looked on through double vision, brushing her brown hair from her face, hand twitching violently. Fine motor control was the first thing to go.

    Her stomach clenched at the thought.

    The thought of her Cultivation being sundered, her Dao breaking, her soul disc being shattered and eaten by these creatures. She grabbed her sword, tried not to wail at the second ring missing from its place, and leaned in to get on her feet, stomping down the pain and refusing to look at her mangled leg, lest she lost her nerve. Bracing the best she could...

    And Nuan froze. She wasn¡¯t the only one.

    The demon lowering its head to bite her hesitated. A cultivator was suddenly between them, because only a cultivator could move so fast. A robe of rich red fabric adorned his form, covering his back, a canvas of feline motifs and intricate patterns.

    Paw prints intertwined with delicate lines in the fabric, hinting at whiskers. The elegant sway of his red-tinted hair like a flame dancing in the wind. The glowing campfires painted his hair with hues of amber and gold. His eyes, a mesmerizing shade of amber, held the intensity of a thousand suns, revealing a hidden reservoir of determination.

    Cat-like, they darted, capturing every detail, every nuance of his surroundings.

    Then this cultivator... or maybe this ascended spirit beast, a savior she wouldn¡¯t have prayed for any other time, did the most absurd thing. He stuck out a finger and wagged it before the massive demon¡¯s face like he was chiding a child.

    She couldn¡¯t understand a word coming out of his mouth but for some insane reason, she got the feeling he was saying ¡°Naughty, naughty.¡± He reached into a pocket and- Where had that mallet come from? And why was it when she blinked, she was seeing both the cultivator and a cat wearing mittens and glasses?

 Being Silly is Serious Business

    It was a beautiful morning in Anytoon, USA. The birds were singing, the sun was smiling down, and Spoony the cat waved to it as he stepped out his front door, getting a wink in return as it cast a cheery glow over the landscape. Trees swayed rhythmically, as if dancing to an invisible tune, their leaves sporting vibrant hues of green, red, and even polka dots.

    Pablo Steelknuckle Horatio Felidae Witherspoon the second, known as Spoony to his friends, took a deep sniff of the early morning air and took a single wide step to the side. The anvil which tipped off his roof from the tripwire he had pretended not to notice, smashed his porch into a gravelly cloud. ¡°Not good enough, Paulie.¡± He said over his shoulder to the open door as he brushed some of the gray dust off his lab coat and red fur.

    He twitched a particularly large pebble out his ear, feeling just a little bit of pride.

    His little brother, Paulus Felidaeus Slamstringus Maximus Witherspoon, though Spoony called him Paulie, was getting good at his chicanery, all according to plan. Though Spoony had moved out long ago, graduated top of his class from Noodle-Noggin University with his doctorate in Whimsy Widgets, a bachelors in chicanery, and a Masters in tomfoolery just around things out, his little Paul had started struggling in his basics since he¡¯d left.

    It wasn¡¯t a secret the little kitten didn¡¯t want Spoony moving away. Especially as far as Anytown was from Snickerburg. To say he¡¯d been stunned his little brother could barely make, much less throw a banana cream pie was an understatement. It was their parents who suggested Paulie spend the summer at his house.

    Spoony chuckled to himself, knowing that his brother had always looked up to him and wanted to follow in his footsteps. And now that it was Spoony teaching him the art of pranking and mischief-making, he could toss a pie precise enough to knock a man into a shaving chair at 600 yards. By the time school started again, he¡¯d probably get straight A¡¯s in his classes. He noticed he wasn¡¯t the only one chuckling and looked up to see his little brother seated on the anvil, his red furred face all smug kitten fangs and waving cheeky curved tail. Before Spoony could speak, Paulie pointed to the ground and mouthed, ¡®Look down.¡¯

    The cat did and nodded in appreciation. ¡®A feint thrust to moulinet,¡¯ Spoony considered as he examined the pit trap he hovered over.

    It was deep, clearly had been quickly dug. Yet its square shape would be perfect for a trap door if the need arose. Which he would bet his little brother had found the need. Spoony grinned and pushed his glasses up his nose. Paulie was definitely becoming a master in his own right. He wondered what other delightful surprises his little brother had in store for him when he came back from work. Spoony clapped his paws together and said, ¡°Well done, Paulie. You¡¯ve certainly outdone yourself this time.¡±

    Paulie¡¯s grin widened as he hopped down from the anvil. ¡°Thanks, big bro."

    Then, with a whistle and a puff of dust, Spoony dropped.

    His head had barely passed the lip of the pit before his brother put the first board down, hammering nails away. Spoony picked up his suitcase where he had fallen with him and opened it. He pulled a door out, unlocked it, stepped through to the front porch, and was just in time to see his little brother pounding the last nail down with a hearty THWACK.

    Patting down his hands, Paulie turned away, strutting with a happy smile on his face, completely oblivious.

    Spoony slipped a hand in his pocket, rummaging until his fingers found what he was looking for. Pulling out the Louisville Slugger, he waited until the kitten bumped right into him.

    He froze, face buried in Spoony¡¯s vest as his hands began to feel around to make sure he was real. Waiting until the perfect moment when his brother knew but not so long to give his little bro a chance to slip Bunnetti reversal, Spoony gave him a quick, soft BONK to the noggin which sent the boy stumbling away with stars around his head.

    Spoony chuckled to himself as he watched his little brother stumble and fall face first into the flower patch under the window in a puff of glittering pollen. ¡°You really thought you could outsmart me?¡± he asked with a smirk. ¡°I taught you everything you know, Paulie.¡±

    Sneezing, Paulie rubbed his head and pouted, ¡°I just- Achoo! wanted to surprise- Gahpbh...! surprise you, big bro.¡±

    Laughing, Spoony picked up his little brother and swung him around, feeling proud of how far he had come. ¡°You¡¯re getting there, Paulie,¡± he said, ruffling the kitten¡¯s hair. ¡°But you still have a lot to learn. Now, let¡¯s go get to Rosie¡¯s and get some breakfast, I¡¯m starving.¡±

    Paulie whooped as Spoony tossed him through the window of his red sports car, hopped behind the wheel, and backed out of the driveway, the engine roaring to life. They drove out of the neighborhood down main street, passing various houses which went from typical to wobbly structures, leaning this way and that, yet remaining perfectly habitable. One house looked like a giant shoe, complete with laces that occasionally tied themselves in knots. Another resembled a giant cupcake, and the frosting on top would occasionally change flavors and colors, depending on the inhabitants¡¯ moods.

    ¡°So, what are you gonna teach me next?¡± Paulie asked from the passenger seat, all but glowing with excitement. Flicking on the turn signal to make a right, the cat pondered for a moment, rubbing a gloved hand on his chin in exadirated thought.

    ¡°Well...¡± He began and stretched the word until he was rolling the Ls on his tongue, only stopping when his little brother punched his shoulder.

    ¡°C¡¯mon,¡± he urged. ¡°Just tell me.¡±

    Chuckling, Spoony made a show of rubbing his shoulder. ¡°Well, what did that transfer student talk about? Uhm...¡± He actually had to think about the name for a second, prodding the pronunciation with his tongue. ¡°You said he had white hair? A key ray? Aim-Ka-Bow?¡±

    His brother¡¯s flat look was all it took to tell him he¡¯d got the name wrong. ¡°It¡¯s Akira.¡±

    ¡°Ah, right.¡± He would fully admit he didn¡¯t have a head for names but those toons from the east had really strange ones. ¡®Like their humor.¡¯ He thought. It was Akira who¡¯d been the influencing little Paulie¡¯s drop in grades. Not on purpose but those toons did things so differently over there that it was no doubt cool to his brother. ¡°What did he call it? Flash stepping?¡±

    ¡°Yeah! He could just dodge anvils like it was nothing andthentherewasthebeamblastnamedafterakingand-¡° Paulie nodded so vigorously his eyes began spinning. Spoony gave him a little tap on the head to straighten them out and cut down the flow of information, ¡°he could slice through things without needing to wind up. Just-POW!¡± Paulie mimed chopping with his hand, fingers out straight. ¡°Clean through a brick wall!¡±

    A postman delivering letters by soaring through the air on a propeller beanie flew by, while a gardener used a spray bottle to grow flowers. They were just passing by when the flowers bloomed, exploding into a burst of fireworks. Spoony was observant enough to recognize the ACME Corp logo on the side. Probably used too much.

    As they approached the city proper, they passed a bustling farmer¡¯s market where the vendors were as quirky as the surroundings. A vendor selling balloons handed a child and his mother a bunch, which promptly transformed into various animal shapes and began to float around, emitting cheerful tunes. A fruit stand displayed fruits that would tell jokes when squeezed, causing bursts of laughter from both the customers and the fruits themselves. ¡°Wow. Impressive.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t sound impressed.¡±

    ¡°I am.¡± He wasn¡¯t, honestly. Maybe he was just too old to get it or had to be there to see it, but the showmanship just wasn¡¯t there. The windups and payoffs were all part of it. Where was the drama? The Punchline?

    ¡°But since you brought up the teleporting, how about I show you how to make your own Instant Door or maybe a... ¡°He paused for effect. ¡°Goldberg?¡±

    The gasp could¡¯ve out sucked a vacuum cleaner. ¡°Really?! Dad hasn¡¯t even taught how to make one!¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure he won¡¯t mind then. We can surprise him when summer¡¯s over.¡± Spoony promised with a wink as they pulled up to Rosie¡¯s, a slice of chrome-plated Americana, serving the usual diner staples which could be found about anywhere but only Rosie¡¯s had the best pancakes, Paulie¡¯s favorite.

    They were greeted by a menu that had a mind of its own. The dishes would jump off the page and perform a little dance before settling back into place in their pictures, making the task of ordering an entertaining experience in itself. And the food, oh the food, was a symphony of flavors and textures that defied culinary expectations.

    A blur of activity from the kitchen and pancakes somersaulted onto plates, omelets pirouetted in the air, and sausages danced a merry jig in the sizzling pan. While his little brother munched away, Spoony¡¯s thoughts hovered around the subject of those Eastern toons. Akira, wasn¡¯t the first he¡¯d ever heard of. In fact, he worked with a professor at NNU, Professor Hinata, on project ARC.

    They called themselves ¡®Any May¡¯ or ¡®Auntie May¡¯ or something around those lines.

    ''Not that they would call themselves something normal,'' Spoony thought as he chewed. He moved the unfair thought aside. It just got under his fur how they seemed to need to do everything differently. So, over the top and exaggerated yet with no punchline. The ultimate straight men and as unflappable as they got.

    On top of that their humor was quite... not to his taste.

    After a huge stack of flapjacks swimming in butter and syrup and dropping his now more hyperactive than usual brother off at Daycare making sure to give him a bottle of hot juice just in case he got injuried, Spoony made his way to Noodle-Noggin University.

    NNU was a stereotypical college campus. Stately designed and grand, Spoony pulled through the gates and parked his car in his usual spot.

    He was getting out when a campus police officer he didn¡¯t recognize hurried up to him, waving his hands to get his attention.

    ¡°Professor Pablo? Professor!¡± The brown furred goat greeted breathlessly as he trotted to a stop. ¡°Sorry. I just saw you come in. Need to let you know the parking lot is closed. At least this one.¡± Spoony scanned the parking lot notice for the first time that was empty save for his own car. Rather unusual. ¡°I didn¡¯t see a sign, uh...¡±

    The goat who actually appeared more and more familiar at a second glance, recognized the opening Spoony gave and took it. He stood a little straighter, curved horns as polished as his badge and stuck out a hand. ¡°Finger. Filling in for Uncle Billy.¡±

    The cat smiled, the penny finally dropping. ¡°Uncle Billy. As in Billy the Kid? He finally took that vacation he¡¯d been moaning about?¡±

    The kid named Finger released his hand and nodded. He pulled an old tin can out a pocket and took a bite.

    ¡°Yep. Got me the job.¡± He explained as he chewed. ¡°Said I was the only one he could trust to do it right.¡±

    Spoony kept the surprise off his face at those words. Billy was a mean old goat and didn¡¯t have a kind thing to say about anyone. Crotchety and literally chewed thumbtacks like sunflower seeds, people said he was hired by the founder himself the day the school opened. And that he negotiated in his contract that he couldn¡¯t be fired for any other reason besides not doing his job. He would speak his mind and didn¡¯t care if you liked what he had to say or not. Spoony liked him for that, if for getting under the new Dean¡¯s skin if nothing else.

    ¡°Well, next time you see him tell him I said hi.¡± ¡°I will.¡± Spoony turned to his car and moved to the front. Grabbing the front bumper with both hands, he folded the car up and over. After doing the same to the rear, he removed an iron from his suitcase and began to iron the coupe flat. He made sure the steam setting was on, he didn¡¯t want the seats to have wrinkles when he picked Paulie up later. He continued ironing and folding and folding and ironing until the car was a notebook paper sized rectangle on the asphalt.

    Satisfied, he tucked it into his suitcase with the iron and was about to walk away when he noticed, Finger still standing there. ¡°Was there something else?¡±

    ¡°Uhm...¡± The goat... kid really, nervously twiddled his thumbs. ¡°Can I get your autograph?¡± He quickly hurried to go on as if Spoony was about to walk away. ¡°It¡¯s fine if you don¡¯t. I just never thought I was gonna ever meet you and-¡°

    Spoony cut him off with a hearty laugh, ears twitching happily. He had to admit being recognized was the last thing he expected. ¡°Of course. Pencil, Ink, or Stamped?¡±

    Finger¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°Stamped? You still do that?¡±

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Yep.¡± He didn¡¯t do it very often nowadays. His short stint with stardom when he was but a kitten was many years behind him.

    ¡°Stamped, please.¡± The goat answered, giddy with excitement.

    Spoony rolled up his sleeves. ¡°Then you know the drill.¡± Finger didn¡¯t even hesitate. He leaned forward, head turned slightly to the left so his right cheek was to the cat, eyes closed.

    Spoony reached into his pocket and pulled out a bat. Unlike the Louisville slugger he¡¯d used earlier that morning, this one was much older and well cared for. Carved into it''s blunt face was a symbol of a Spoon with a dash next to it, following the dash was a capital letter ¡®E¡¯.

    Spoony wound up and brought the bat across Finger¡¯s cheek with all his might. The campus officer went flying, arcing across the parking lot, smashing through the window of the security booth, and landing in a heap on top of the desk which splintered into pieces. After a moment, a hand rose from the pile, making a thumbs up.

    ¡°Th...anks... You¡¯re the best.¡± He wheezed around the tweeting can''s circling his head.

    ¡°Anytime.¡± Spoony declared as he turned, heading to his lab.

    His expectation for an easy day was shattered however when the moment he stepped into the building, the intercom pop-hissed to life. "Mr. Witherspoon, the dean would like to speak with you in his office." The old creaking voice of Miss Holt, the Dean''s secretary, buzzed above the congregation of students. A cough punctuated a short pause. "Again, Mr. Pablo Steelknuckle Horatio Felidae Witherspoon to the dean''s office, please."

    The toon didn''t even skip a step, continuing on to his original destination. After all, as far as he was concerned that was his father''s name.

    "WOAH!" He yowled as he jerked to a stop so suddenly, his shoes kept walking for another five steps before he was forced to whistle to get their attention.

    The fist snagging the back of his lab coat, bunched up for a better grip and before he knew it, he was hoisted into the air and brought nose to speaker to the frowning intercom, one of it''s free newly sprouted hands wagging a disapproving finger. "You know I''m talking to you, sir."

    "No, you weren''t." Spoony responded with a straight face. "That could''ve been anyone. Even my dad."

    "And how many Pablo Steelknuckle Horatio Felidae Witherspoons do you think actually..." The wood frame at the top groaned as it raised an accusing eyebrow. Spoony remained relaxed, twiddling his thumbs and whistling an idle tune.

    "Pablo Steelknuckle Horatio Felidae Witherspoon," It leaned in, getting right next to his ear. "THE 2ND!!! Get over here NOW!!"

    "Oh, now you know my name, do you?" Spoony asked, a smirk playing on his lips as he finally turned around, only to find the intercom staring daggers at him. "Very well then, I shall visit his majesty post-haste." He made a show of bowing, his eyes never leaving the intercom. "As you wish, your highness."

    With a snort, the intercom dropped him back into his loafers and, feeling a bit insulted, Spoony took some time inspecting them, poshing away imaginary scuffs. Once they were literally sparkling, he inspected his reflection and picked a bit of bacon out his teeth. "AHEM...!" The intercom tapped him on the shoulder, pointing to the clock on the wall.

    With that, Spoony turned on his heels and headed towards Dean Dudd''s office as slowly as possible, his tail swishing back and forth with each step.

    Holt was there, waiting for him with a frown etched on her face do deep she looked like less a mule and more a nag. She clearly would rather be anywhere else than in this office with him. His grin got a little wider with that.

    Spoony put his feet up on the table in the waiting room, leaning back on the couch as he kicked his feet up and balanced them on the desk, beginning to whistle a jaunty tune. This was the fourth time this week the Dean had called him down here. The first three were about the same thing, too. The THCT.

    That project was his baby, and he was not about to rush it for some pompous, short-sighted suit who had no idea what he was talking about. He¡¯d worked long and hard to make sure the thing worked, and it was almost ready. It just needed a few more weeks.

    ¡°Mr. Witherspoon,¡± she said, her voice as dry as the desert. ¡°The Dean will see you now.¡±

    The dean''s office was as tacky as ever. In fact, it seemed there was even more gaudy junk than last time. It was almost as if the dean had tried to make his large and (once) spacious office as tacky and ostentatious as possible, as if to show off his wealth and power. In the center of it all was the dean. Dramatic as always, his back was to the door as he gazed out the large window that looked out over the campus.

    Spoony rolled his eyes as he took a seat in front of the desk, knowing full well that he wouldn''t be able to stand being in here for long. ¡°I didn¡¯t give you permission to sit.¡±

    The cat shrugged brushing off a puff of cigar ash which sprinkled his lab coat when he sat down. ¡°Then it¡¯s a good thing I didn¡¯t ask.¡±

    Dean Dudd half turned, the morning light rimming around him. With the green scaled snake being ever the drama queen, his pinstriped suit and a tie, and cigar in his mouth he looked like something out of a cheap mob movie. His long, forked tongue flitted out, flickering in the air as he eyed the cat. "You know, Mr. Witherspoon, most people would show a slight amount of respect."

    Spoony sighed, sitting back in his chair and propping his feet up on the dean''s desk. The hint of a smirk played on his lips as he twirled a pen he plucked out a mug around in his fingers. "And most deans have better taste in furniture."

    "What took you so long?" He demanded gruffly, a vein throbbing in his forehead as he glared at Spoony, taking a handkerchief and dabbing a spot of blood where he must¡¯ve bit his tongue.

    "I was taking my time, enjoying the scenery and all that," Spoony replied with a shrug as he took a seat across from the dean.

    Dean Dudd blinked, his tongue flicking out again as he seemed to swell up a bit. "Your flippant attitude is not appreciated," he said simply.

    "Indeed?" Spoony''s smirk grew wider. "Well, at least we have something in common then."

    The snake let out a low growl. "You seem to forget who you''re talking to, Witherspoon."

    "And you seem to forget I don''t care," Spoony shot back with a lazy wave of his hand. Admittedly, he once had cared about the opinion of the dean but that ship quickly sailed after Dudd had begun downsizing on the campus. So many people lost their jobs and where had the money from those checks gone? It was an easy guess since Spoony was holding a pen that recognized being 500 smackers. ¡°What do you want, Dudd?¡±

    The dean¡¯s snake eyes narrowed into slits, and an ominous smoke started wafting from his nostrils as he leaned forward. He seemed to make up his mind about something and then he did the one thing Spoony didn¡¯t like.

    He smiled.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been reading your reports on the THCT project.¡±

    ¡°And?¡± Spoony asked.

    ¡°And I¡¯m not impressed,¡± the Dean said. ¡°This project is behind schedule, and I need you to finish it. Now.¡±

    ¡°It would¡¯ve gone faster if you hadn¡¯t gutted the school, you know?¡± He mentioned, laying on the sarcasm so thick it could¡¯ve been spread on toast. "Fewer resources, fewer people. You can''t seriously expect miracles to happen when you''ve practically strangled the project from the get-go."

    Dean Dudd''s smile faltered momentarily before returning with a vengeance. "Excuses," he drawled, pointing a forked-tongued, accusatory finger at the unruffled cat. "Your lack of progress is not because of my budget cuts but your inefficiency and obstinacy."

    Spoony chuckled, twirling the expensive pen in his fingers. "Dudd, you wouldn''t know progress if it bit you in the tail."

    The dean''s eyes flickered dangerously, smoke billowing out from his nostrils as he leaned forward again, bearing down on Spoony. "I suggest you watch your mouth, Witherspoon. I am still your superior."

    "And a good thing too; I''d hate to be responsible for this mess," Spoony said gesturing vaguely to the ostentatious surroundings. "But let me tell you something," Spoony continued, leaning in theatrically, "You can huff and puff all you want, but this project isn''t some cheap magic trick that I can just pull out of a hat."

    Dean Dudd leaned back in his chair, letting out a throaty chuckle. "I''m not interested in excuses, Witherspoon. I want results."

    "And I want an espresso machine in the lab," Spoony shot back, crossing his arms over his chest. "But we can''t all get what we want."

    That swung him back into anger. Igniting with like a furnace, the dean slammed his hand on the desk, shaking the many trinkets and baubles littering its surface. "This isn''t a joke! The Board won''t tolerate another delay!"

    Spoony''s eyes traced the agitated rattling of a baseball sized crystal orb on the desk. He was quite fond of it. Maybe he would take it as a souvenir next time around.

    "Then maybe they should have thought about that before appointing a snake to run this school.¡± He hissed back, slipping the pen into his pocket. "Now, if we''re done with veiled threats and petty insults, I have a project to get back to."

    The dean''s nostrils flared as he roared, causing Spoony¡¯s fur to ruffle in the hot gust of air. ¡°You¡¯re walking- ACH!¡± The chokeing sound came cut off a building rant as Spoony casually tossing a pie into the snake¡¯s open maw.

    "Oh, my apologies," Spoony said, his voice dripping with insincere apology. "I thought you were hungry."

    The Dean was too busy dislodging the pie from his throat to respond. He wheezed and sputtered, nostrils flaring smoke like a puffing furnace, beating his chest with a rattle that sounded like maracas having a seizure.

    Spoony stood and bowed slightly at the waist, sweeping his tail behind him in a languid motion as he started to Cha-cha his way out.

    Spoony was almost at the door, when he glanced back. "Oh, and Dean Dudd," he said with an overtly syrupy sweetness, "Do try not to choke on your ambitions. It leaves such a bad taste in your mouth. Ole!"

    The dean coughed and spluttered, globs of pie splattering over his immaculate suit as he cleared the obstruction out. His face was tinged red with fury and embarrassment. "Witherspoon! You will pay for-"

    Spoony didn''t hear the rest of the threat, slamming the door behind him with a simple ''click.'' As he sauntered down the hall, a satisfied grin tugged at his whiskers. Despite the odds against him, he always managed to find joy in putting old Dudd in his place.

    <hr>

    ¡°Well, that was rude.¡± Spoony remarked as the worm... thing got finished roaring in his face. Its breath was so rank, he could feel it int the back of his skull. He¡¯d tried to tell it off for what it was doing but clearly it didn¡¯t want to listen. He wiped the slobber off and flicked it away.

    As he initially set foot cresting the sandy dune, his mind raced with a series of perplexing thoughts. At first glance, he couldn¡¯t help but believe that he¡¯d unwittingly stumbled upon the elaborate set of a film production in full swing, complete with a meticulously rehearsed routine.

    It was a knee-jerk reaction, a byproduct of his feline escapades which had led him into a myriad of roles within the world of acting. His mind instinctively conjured the idea of a toon routine, as if this would neatly explain the apparent mayhem that unfolded before him.

    The scene that sprawled out before his bewildered eyes was anything but ordinary. Bizarre shadowy entities or creatures, seemingly ripped from the pages of a fantastical tale and then sloppily glued back together, encircled a heavily fortified encampment. Peculiar carts equipped with sleds rather than conventional wheels were circled around several large bonfires which had to be playing holy handbaskets with the camera¡¯s lighting.

    Amidst this strange landscape, a band of individuals, unmistakably human, clashed with these monsters.

    Spoony couldn¡¯t help but wonder where the cameras were hidden, convinced that this surreal spectacle must be a product of the cinematic arts. He observed, with growing intrigue, a luminous woman who stood out like a beacon. Her movements were fluid and graceful. Each swing of her sword had to be choreographed to look as impressive as possible.

    Then this monster burst out the sand and snatched her in its maw, swinging her around and down into the sand with so much force, he felt from the soles of his feet to his teeth. Then it dropped her, her glow gone as she fell like a limp and bleeding doll.

    With a nauseating gut punch, it hit Spoony. This wasn¡¯t just violence. It was violence without a punchline. This, this was just violence, and he didn¡¯t like it. There was no point to the pain but to hurt. No joke to laugh at.

    The realization was enough to make the fur on his tail rise and a growl build in the back of his throat.

    Before he had time to think, he raced down into the camp pouring every bit of speed into his sprint and stopping on a dime prevent her from being hurt anymore.

    The tragedy + time = comedy coefficient proved that pain eventually could be laughed at, but he got the feeling the worm and his bullies, for that¡¯s what toons that did this were, weren¡¯t much for jokes. Checking to make sure the woman behind him was okay, at least as close as one could get after being shaken around like a dog with a squeaky toy, he turned and narrowed his eyes at the monster, and began rolling up his sleeves. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll have to beat some manners into you.¡±

    With a small hop to build momentum, he wound up his mallet and brought it down in a powerful arc, connecting with the bully¡¯s head with a loud POW. The mallet¡¯s handle cracked, but not before the full brunt of the attack slammed down. The force of the impact sent sand spraying through the air and when he lifted his mallet, he saw what he expected - the worm¡¯s head mashed in a perfectly compressed circle in the grainy sand. Well, admittedly there was a little bit of strangeness¡­ He¡¯d never glowed when he¡¯d done it before.

    <hr>

    Zi Nuan watched in openmouthed astonishment.

    As his aura surged, he spun the mallet in a dazzling arc, gathering momentum like a tempestuous wind. With precision clearly honed by years of training, preparing to unleash a devastating strike upon the demon.

    The mallet¡¯s hilt quivered, the creak of wood signaling the strain and reminding Nuan it was but a laborer''s tool, yet it held its integrity until the moment of impact. The full force of his mighty blow descended upon the target. In an eruption of energy, sand burst into the air like a myriad of celestial sparks, a testament to the sheer power contained within this strike.

    With a graceful lift of the mallet, his eyes met the anticipated result - the demon¡¯s head, once arrogant and defiant, lay obliterated in the sand, its essence reduced to a perfectly compressed circle upon crushed grains, a symbol of his martial supremacy. Dead. Killed so easily.

    <hr>

    Ignoring the glow for now, Spoony quickly stepped back. Any other toon would¡¯ve been about to get back on their feet/paws/ and extremities by now, raring for some payback.

    He spared a glance for the woman he protected and really looked her up and down.

    Okay, maybe he was in the far east with those ''annie-ime'' people. She looked the part. The worm thing was... leaking now. He couldn¡¯t tell what was oozing from it, not in the dim light from a nearby fire. But after another second or two, it was clear it wasn¡¯t getting back up.

    Odd, there weren¡¯t stars or tweeting birds around the head.

    It was only then he realized things were suddenly quiet.

    Too quiet.

    Ears twitching, he frowned as he saw the other monsters had stopped their attack and were now staring at him, as if they were waiting for him to make the next move.

    He examined his mallet, the blunt cylindrical head hanging from the handle as if on a hinge.

    No time to fix it. These guys were getting angrier by the second.

    He threw his suitcase to the side and stuck his hands in his pockets. As he dug around and found what he was looking for, he pulled out a pair of boxing gloves from his boxing days. They were above regulation size, 21 oz, and bright red. It was clear he hadn''t used them since he retired, and it showed; the material was only slightly faded from the once grueling daily training sessions. Its plush cushioning noticeably flat along the knuckles and the slightly yellowed white laces crisscrossed over the back of the hands, no longer pristine but still tightly tied.

    The gloves made a dull thud as he tapped them together and creaked when he clenched his fists, the lack of air and cushioning making for a sharp thudding sound.

    ¡°Put ¡®em up!¡± He angrily spat as he began bouncing from foot to foot, fire burning in his chest and a tingling from his belly. ¡°I¡¯ll take on all a ya¡¯! No marquis of queensberry here!¡±

    Spoony never considered himself a violent toon but now that he was closer, he noticed the people around him. Specifically, the ones not getting up. A lot didn''t look good at all. These guys were less than bullies and that made him more than a little happy his gloves weren''t as padded.

    A sharp intake of breath drew in a rush of energy, his body instinctively tapping into the new depths of his being. He had no clue what it was, but it was like stepping on a live wire, all coursing through him like a warm current and making his hair stand on end. He checked the sky just in case he''d been struck by lighting and when there wasn''t even a thunder cloud hovering above his head, he shrugged.

    That was weird.

    <hr>

    Zi Nuan wondered if she was going delirious with pain. The Qi she was feeling, she¡¯d never sensed the like. There was a Dao she could feel, but the Qi coursing through this man was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. It possessed a strange sense of orderlessness, devoid of any elemental foundation she could discern. It defied the principles of cultivation, pushing when it should have drawn in and drawing in when it should have pushed. It was as if the very laws of nature had suddenly ceased to apply.

    The overwhelming force of this Qi surged through the air, akin to an untamed river or a roaring avalanche. Yet, instead of crushing or sweeping her away, it overwhelmed the noxious demonic Qi that had plagued the area. Within moments, it buried the foul energy beneath its strange power, making the air surprisingly easier to breathe. By the ancestors, she could even taste it on her tongue.

    He then tossed away his baggage and with not a single pulse of Qi beyond what was already swirling around him, his hands dived into his pockets. Zi Nuan initially expected him to draw forth a pair of daggers or some symbolic representation of his Dao to make sense of the enigma she felt. However, he emerged from his pockets wearing puffed-up mittens that seemed impossible to fit within the confines from which they appeared.

    Then he took a stance not even the most undisciplined outer disciple would call martial. In her sect... her previous sect, anyone who dared stand in such a manner during a spar would have been met with laughter swiftly followed by death for their blatant disrespect.

    The man shouted something in a language Zi Nuan had never heard before, his voice full of raw power and determination. His words seemed to stoke the fury of the demons even further, losing them from what might''ve been shocked and spurring them on to charge at him with renewed aggression.

    Without warning, he lunged at the nearest demon, a grotesque creature with the body of a spider and the head of a goat. In a blinding flash, he delivered a series of lightning-fast jabs that left the monster¡¯s head bouncing on its shoulders like a training dummy. Each punch sent shockwaves through the air, cracking the ground beneath their feet. Cracking the SAND under his feet.

    As the disoriented monster staggered backward, he followed up with a devastating uppercut that launched it into the air. But it wasn''t just launched; it was obliterated into countless pieces, showering the ground with grotesque remnants of flesh and entrails. The other demons paused, their expressions contorted with disbelief as they glanced back and forth between the man and the gruesome spectacle before them.

    With a mischievous grin and eyes twinkling with mirth, he nonchalantly cracked his knuckles. Then, in another bewildering move, he reached back into his pockets and produced a...rope?

    Not two ropes but a single bit of rope?

    Emerging in both hands in a single coiled length from two different-?

    Yelping, she nearly lashed out when a pair of hands began firmly lifting her up but stopped herself when the caravan leader son''s voice spoke. ¡°Princess, are you-

    That was as far as she heard. Her distraction had been so total, she forgot the ruin her leg was and tried to stand. Agony exploded through her hip and with a sharp cry, she collapsed back onto the ground, everything going black as the agony consumed her.

 Strange Place, Weird People

    Spoony now found himself amidst a violent mosh pit of toons who looked less scary and more like they were auditioning for a bad rock music video. His pulse didn''t quicken; instead, a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. He crouched low, feet apart, and then the classic Slinky Shuffle came to life. Like the namesake toy, his body moved in fluid waves, springing forward and back with playful elasticity. Demons lunged and snapped, but Spoony danced through their ranks as if borne on a whimsical breeze as he put his old Hootenanny Heavyweight Champbelt to good use. He hadn¡¯t moved like this since freshman year, but he quickly found his rhythm like it was yesterday.

    The the ol'' one-two was second nature to him, a practiced choreography of dodges, feints, and strikes that came back as naturally as riding a bicycle and as was as intuitively complex as riding a unicycle while juggling flaming bowling pins - which he had done before. His body moved with the music he¡¯d hummed in his head, an old jazzy tune from the days when he''d been a star on the show floor.

    The rope unfurled like a striking cobra, whipping about and lashing out at the creatures with unerring accuracy. With each sway and bob, a limb was snared to another beside it. Each flick of his wrists sent the cord snapping into flesh and bone, leaving welts and bruises in its wake. It darted in and out of their defenses, never lashing at the same spot twice.

    Then finally he stopped, rounding on the group. The one nearest to him thought it saw a chance and howled in victory. Its howl was jerked into a choking wheeze as it was clotheslined by the rope that turned into an instant noose. The entire horde was tied to one another in some way, unable to move without pulling or being pulled by their monstrous kin. This moment of realization was all Spoony needed.

    With a swift jerk of his hands, the rope tightened and the demons wailed as they were lifted off their feet. They struggled and squirmed, but the more they fought, the tighter the bindings became. The creatures'' eyes bulged in fear and confusion as they were yanked into a writhing, grunting ball of monster flesh.

    Then Spoony began to spin his arm. Slowly at first but quickly gaining momentum, he spun the balled-up mass of demons like a cartwheel. Air hissed and the ground trembled as the monstrous ball gained speed. The roped demons shrieked in terror, their voices rising in an unholy chorus that echoed through the air. The airborne monster-ball revolved faster until it looked like an abominable Ferris wheel from hell.

    Faster and faster they spun, blurring into a whirlwind of claws, teeth, and abhorrent flesh. The force sent shock waves rippling through the ground, shaking loose stones and dust. It was a spectacle of chaos and raw power that had everyone present hold their breaths.

    And then with a final powerful heave, Spoony let go.

    The ball of monsters flew through the air with a deafening screech which quickly grew distant, catapulting across the desert like a shooting star. It crashed into a distant mountain range with a thunderous explosion that made the ground shudder.

    He shaded his eyes as he watched the distant impact and whistled. That was impressive even for him. He searched, keeping his gaze focused, in case they made a beeline back here. It hadn''t been the furthest throw he''d even done, much less ever seen but clearly did the trick when they didn''t just zip back over.

    ¡°Uhm¡­¡± Spoony turned to find an older man, dressed in armor and holding a sword. The one who¡¯d looked like he was in charge when he¡¯d seen the camp from a distance. His eyes were fixed on the fading dust cloud of the monster-shaped meteor he¡¯d just launched.

    The man posed a question in a language that initially eluded Spoony''s comprehension. Yet, there was an eerie familiarity to the cadence and intonation. As the man reiterated his question, the epiphany struck Spoony like a mallet to the head. Chinese! He swiftly reached into the seemingly infinite depths of his pockets and retrieved his trusty Webbing Stir Travel Dictionary for Interesting Places and Tedious People. He skimmed through the pages with feverish speed, his eyes darting from line to line as if they were on springs and he flipped through the pages. Snapping the book closed when he was done, he asked. "What was that?"

    ¡°Are they... are they gone?¡± The old man asked again, his voice shaky and uncertain. Spoony gave a toothy grin and patted his shoulder.

    ¡°Yup! Sent ''em packing.¡± He replied cheerfully. "So, where exactly¡ª"

    The words caught in his throat as he saw the man was bleeding. Bleeding!

    Those monster toons really were scum. To hurt people, make them bleed¡­

    Taking in the scene around him, Spoony assessed the travelers. Some grimaced as they tended their wounds; others closed their eyes and murmured quiet words of gratitude. Questions could be asked later¡ªfor right now, assistance was needed. There was no time for questions now.

    With swift precision borne of an instinct to mend and heal, Spoony went over to his suitcase produced a mallet from it. He then marched over to the older man he¡¯d just spoken with, who¡¯s eyes went wide in panic.

    ¡°Wuh¡­ wait! Lord Cultivator! A thousand pardons for my disrespec-¡±

    Spoony brought the mallet down on the man¡¯s head, the solid BONK quickly overwhelmed by the horrified gasps of the people around. Spoony frowned, wondering if these ¡®anim-may¡¯ people did medicine in private or something. Basic first aid shouldn¡¯t be this scandalous.

    The old man wobbled, stunned for half-a second then righted himself, blinking and clearly confused.

    ¡°Get away from him!!!¡±

    The shout made Spoony jump and he was even more dumbfounded as a younger man who looked awfully like the older man, rushed between them, brandishing his sword threateningly. "You won''t touch him again!" he roared.

    "Hey, calm down, I was only tryin'' to help," Spoony said, raising his hands up in a placating gesture. The young man glowered at him, but he didn''t lower his arms.

    "What the- What did you do to my father?!" the young man demanded, his face flushed red and his eyes blazing with fury.

    Spoony held up the mallet, a tad defensively. "What? I couldn''t just leave him like that.¡±

    ¡°Like what¡­¡± He was cut off by the older man stepping forward. Slowly, tentatively, the old man began moving his limbs, though parts of his outfit were still stained with blood, he didn¡¯t move like a man who¡¯d been injured, much less had taken a blow to the head. The elder''s eyes widened in surprise. He twisted his waist, turned his neck, and even hopped a few times for good measure. There was no trace of the crippling pain he had been in earlier.

    His son looked on with pure disbelief. The young man dropped his sword and stared at the mallet. He looked back at his father who was now doing squats, seemingly oblivious to his earlier wounds. ¡°F-father, are you alright?¡± he asked, clearly unbelieving.

    A buzz went through the crowd and Spoony could hear the murmur of confused voices.

    The uneasy question pierced the father''s bewildered state. His awe-struck expression crumbled, replaced by a look of horror. He seemed to fully register his son for the first time as reality crashed down on him.

    Springing into action, he rushed towards Spoony, shoving his son behind him. Panic flooded his gaze as he frantically attempted to grasp at Spoony''s sleeve then abruptly sank to his knees.

    "Please, great cultivator, spare this one''s son! Xu Zhong did not mean any disrespect. We are but humble travelers, unworthy of your wrath."

    Spoony blinked in surprise; the desperation from this man who was nearly burying his head in the sand left him dumbfounded. He glanced between the leader and his son who also knelt, head bowed in utter submission. The young man trembled--from fear or relief, it was hard for Spoony to discern. Why were they exhibiting such terror? Spoony hadn''t done anything substantial to incite such fear.

    He chalked it up to the adrenaline still pumping from the fight. They were probably on edge, their nerves frayed from the encounter with the demons. He offered them a reassuring smile, hoping to ease their fears. "Hey, it''s alright. No harm done. I get that you''re all a bit shaken up."

    Spoony looked down at the father and son, his tail flicking slightly as he took in the scene before him. He was more than a little confused. "I didn''t mean to scare you guys," he said softly, holding up the mallet again.

    The father looked up at Spoony, his eyes wide with shock. "You... you healed me?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

    The man tentatively raised his head and once he saw Spoony was serious, he let out a sigh of relief, his body sagging with the release of tension. "This Xu Dingxiang thanks you, great cultivator. Your mercy is greatly appreciated."

    Both stood up slowly, the young man¡¯s eyes still wide with fear. "This Xu Zhong is eternally grateful and is deeply sorry for my actions," he said meekly, putting a hand over his fist.

    Now that they were standing, the resemblance was even clearer. The jawline especially.

    Spoony nodded. "No problem. Now, let''s get you all patched up, hmm?" He turned to the rest of the caravan, his gaze sweeping over the group. They were all watching him, their expressions a mix of awe, fear, and gratitude.

    He turned to the side and opened his suitcase once again, pulling out a stack of bandages, ointment packets, gauze, and more. With a nod of his head, he beckoned the group forward. "Don''t be shy, folks. I don''t bite." His words were met with tentative steps as the first few in the group shuffled towards him.

    Despite feeling slightly overwhelmed by the unusual circumstances¡ªbeing the sudden center of attention¡ªhe understood what was needed from him now. Suppressing the foreign sentiments bubbling inside him, focusing on the task at hand. After all, he was a scientist and, for tonight at least, a healer.

    <hr>

    "Lars, Lars," began Spoony, screwing down the final bolt with a large wrench and securing the panel in place. With a final twist which made the bolt squeak, the cat was certain it wouldn''t rattle when the TCHT was activated.

    Luckily, it''s looseness during the charging stage had sent a rattle throughout the lab loud enough to wake the dead. Less of pea in a tin can and more a bowling ball in a dryer level of noise and knocking. He turned and gave Mr.Pansonfars a level glare that showed his irritation as well as his twitching tail and flattened ears. "Why was this in the transbobulator?" Between two fingers, He raised the half-eaten lemon cream pie up for the entire lab to see. It survived remarkably well it''s only sign of any ''damage'' being the clear pecks from a beak in the cream and crust. It had been hastily stuffed there it seemed, and by the freshness of it, shortly before he arrived. Though was entirely possible the lazy lout left his left this luscious lemon ladden meringue pie lingering here, longing to lay low since lab regulations limit luscious lab snacks.

    Lars Gobbleneck Pansonfars nervously brushed away the grain cracker crust off his lab coat lapel, the large bits crumbling to the floor. The turkey tried to look away but there was nowhere he could turn away and not meet the eyes of someone in the lab. He tried though and the motions made his fat belly jiggle. "I... uh... Well, it was a... uhm... snack?"

    The attempted deflection fell flat and follow up Lars''s sweaty shrug as if it was no big deal set Spoony''s teeth on edge. Swallowing the reactive hiss, he took a deep breath and walked away from the massive machine, back behind the protective steel, Acme glass barrier, and dumped the pie into the nearest trash can. As calm as he kept his face, he was spitting mad, his features reddening in steam whistling out his ears as he turned on his heel.

    "Do you know what happens to a Skoodlebop Quantum Drive when any item larger than a marble clogs it with the force of a transbobulator stream behind it?" He asked calmly, leaning forward and Lars leaning backward until they were both parallel with the floor. His fangs? On full display His smile? Sharklike. "Do you, Pansonfars?"Lars''s eyes kept going from his face and flicking down to his teeth. Good, he should be nervous. After a second or so silence where no one else in the lab moved and Lar''s audibly swallowed as sweat practically rained off his feathers to create puddles on the floor, Spoony answered his own question.

    The TCHT, shorthand for the TransContinental Hammerspace Thingamajig, hummed behind him, its vibrations resonating through the cold, hard tile floor. Spoony''s green eyes glinted ominously, reflecting in them the power of the giant machine and his seething anger. Clogging it with solid matter would create distortions, akin to trying to laugh with a mouthful of marbles. The result? Laughter would choke into uncontrollable sobbing or, worse, existential ennui, threatening the very fabric of the giggle-space continuum.

    "It would blow up, Pansonfars. In fact, it would blow up so spectacularly that there''d be no trace of this lab, or us, for anyone to find. All that would remain would be a gaping crater in place of what used to be an essential part of NNU''s cutting-edge research facility."

    Pansonfars'' eyes grew wider with each word, the color draining from his face as quickly as sweat droplets dripped off him. His thick spectacles slipped on his beak, and for a moment, Spoony thought they would just slide off and crash onto the ground. But they didn''t.

    ¡°Next time, use the trash can for its intended purpose. Or better yet, eat the pie.¡±

    "And remember," Spoony continued, leaning even closer until his nose grazed the tip of Pansonfars''s beak. "The canteen isn¡¯t a lab, and your lunch doesn¡¯t belong here. Especially since we aren¡¯t working with the same sciences as before."

    He straightened up then, dusting off his lab coat as he regarded the other scientists in the room. Their collective breath seemed to unhold all at once, their bodies relaxing from the sudden tension that Spoony¡¯s outburst had caused.

    Jenna, the chronal analyst with fur as red as a supernova, finally dared to speak up. ¡°Um, Professor Spoony? What should we do with the quantum drive now?¡±

    Spoony turned to survey the machine, gears whirring and lights flashing as it tried to process the remains of the pie. He turned back to the TCHT, deciding it was safe enough to reactivate it now that the offending pie had been removed. His fingers danced over the controls with practiced ease, adjusting parameters here and there. Within seconds, the machine hummed back to life, filling the room with its comforting metallic chorus though when he checked the gauges, some were a bit too high for the idling speed expected.

    He sighed, rubbing his temples in exasperation. "We should be good until the demonstration," he murmured. He repeated himself a little louder once he realized he¡¯d been talking to himself.

    Spoony adjusted the final knob on the TCHT, ensuring all parameters were within safe limits. The machine''s hum stabilized, and the lights blinked rhythmically, indicating it was back on track. He stepped away, letting out a deep breath, ears flicking. His earlier frustration had dissipated, replaced by a focused determination to see the experiment through.

    Jenna moved closer, her squirely eyes flickering between Spoony and the humming machine. "Is it ready for the demonstration, sir?"

    "Almost," Spoony replied, his voice steady now. "We just need to recalibrate the flux capacitors and ensure the dimensional stabilizers are synchronized."

    Lars wiped his brow with a trembling hand, clearly relieved that the crisis had been averted. "I¡¯ll get on that," he mumbled, waddling over to a nearby control panel.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Spoony watched him for a moment before turning his attention back to Jenna. "Double-check his work. We can¡¯t afford any slip-ups."

    Jenna nodded, her red hair bouncing as she moved to assist Lars. The rest of the team resumed their tasks with renewed vigor, the earlier tension serving as a stark reminder of the stakes involved.

    The sharp rapping of knuckles against the observation window made Spoony jump and whirl around. Standing outside the lab, a smug grin plastered on his reptilian face, was Dean Dudd. Flanking him were three figures Spoony had never seen before. One, a towering woman with hair as green as a spring lawn and eyes like polished emeralds, emanated an air of cool authority. Beside her stood a wiry man, his features sharp and angular, clad in what looked like a finely tailored business suit. The third figure was a young woman, barely an adult, with eyes that shone with an unsettling intensity.

    Finding the intercom button on the console, he clicked it on. "Dean Dudd," Spoony acknowledged, trying to mask his surprise. "You¡¯re..." He checked his watch and barely managed not to cringe. "...early. And who are your guests?"

    He was even more surprised when instead of answering, the dean sauntered into the workshop with the others right behind him, his scales gleaming under the lab''s fluorescent lights. "Professor Witherspoon," he drawled, his voice a low hiss. ¡°Ahem,¡± he cleared his throat like a bellows full of fog, everyone¡¯s drawing attention towards himself. ¡°Our esteemed guests from Tok-U University are here. They are here to witness the TCHT¡¯s capabilities firsthand.¡±

    Spoony''s ears twitched in apprehension. He wasn''t expecting visitors now, let alone representatives from another university, especially one from that Annie-Maybel place. The cat took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. "Great," he said, pasting a smile on his face that felt as real as plastic fruit. ¡°But the calibration¡ª¡±

    ¡°Can wait,¡± Dean Dudd interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. ¡°Our guests are on a tight schedule.¡± He fixed Spoony with a serpentine stare. ¡°Surely you can manage a simple demonstration?¡±

    Spoony¡¯s gut screamed at him to refuse, but the dean¡¯s unwavering gaze held him captive. He had him, they both knew it. The back and forth back in the office was good and all but in the open, in front of important guests? The board would have his hide for a throw rug and the dean would turn the screws any which way he could to make it worse.

    With another resigned sigh, he turned back to the TCHT, his stomach churning with a growing sense of dread. Spoony took one last look at the humming machine, his eyes skimming over each indicator light and gauge, making sure everything was in its place.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Spoony conceded, his voice tight. ¡°Lars, Jenna, initiate pre-demonstration sequence.¡± He could only hope for the best. At his instruction, everyone took their places. Other assistants took their places, putting on goggles and pulling out clipboards.

    The air crackled with nervous energy as Lars and Jenna went through the truncated pre-demonstration checklist. Each whir of the machine, each flash of light, seemed amplified in the tense silence. The Ani-Ray University representatives watched with unnervingly stoic expressions, their gazes never leaving the TCHT.

    "Initiating test sequence in 5...4...3...2..." the squirrel¡¯s voice wavered slightly as her finger hovered over the final button. ¡°One.¡±

    Spoony steadied himself, willing his pounding heart to calm. This was it, the moment he had worked toward for years. The machine beeped, signaling full power.

    The visitors looked on with keen interest, murmuring amongst themselves as the demonstration progressed. The emerald-eyed woman''s gaze darted about the lab, missing nothing. The angular man stroked his chin thoughtfully while the intense young woman seemed ready to vibrate out of her skin with excitement.

    "Initiating demonstration sequence," called out Lars. He pulled a large lever.

    As the machine powered up to test parameters, a high-pitched whine cut through the room, energy arcing between the tesla coils. The lights in the lab dimmed momentarily from the power drain. Spoony''s fur stood on end from the static charge in the air as he worked through the calculations to balance the temporal turbulence. His hand worked the dials of his console, as minor perturbations in the hammerspace matrix rose like whack-a-moles on the gauges.

    Lars was controlling the power supply, Jenna was observing the data flow, it was Spoony¡¯s job to make sure the machine didn¡¯t cause a RWHP, or RIP. All of them had abort buttons wired and ready, just in case. The principle was calculated as a worst-case scenario, describing a feedback loop of escalating absurdity where the normally benign pockets of hammerspace¡ªthose delightful voids where oversized objects reside¡ªbegan to spiral out of control, creating a maelstrom of spatial silliness that could overwhelm even the most robust Subatomic Soup.

    Best case scenario, Time could start hiccuping, with past, present, and future colliding in a cacophony of confusion. Worst case¡­ didn¡¯t bare thinking about. ¡®Yazzlewham, Flibberflop, eat your heart out.¡¯

    "Steady," Spoony muttered under his breath. The lights flickered again and a strange vibration passed through the room, making his whiskers tingle. The dancing needles began to settle on the gauges and the room brightened as the power drain slowed. With a final twist of a dial, the whining began to subside. The tesla coils quieted to a steady hum and the lights returned to normal. Spoony let out a tense breath, he hadn¡¯t realized he was holding. Crisis averted, for now. His everything was tense, from tongue to tail and he dabbed away sweat. Even his chest felt hot.

    Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Dean Dudd''s smug grin had vanished, replaced by a look of unease¡­ or maybe disappointment. Well, boo for him. The TCHT worked and with no major problems.

    HIs ears twtiched. No sooner had that thought left, did the stabilizing idle suddenly lift.

    Spoony''s eyes widened in horror, his heart skipping a beat. This sound, this was not part of the script. He quickly scanned the dials and indicators on the TCHT-- not good. The quantum levels were fluctuating dangerously, revving up way above acceptable levels.

    "Oh, crumbs!" Spoony exclaimed as he dashed towards the control panel, slamming his fist down on the big red button to cut the power to the machine completely. He hit it once then twice. ¡°Lars!¡± But the turkey was already hammering away at his own button feverishly with an equal amount of success.

    Warning lights on the TCHT¡¯s control panel blazed a furious red. If his fur stood any higher, he¡¯d probably lift himself off the floor. ¡°Jenna?!¡±

    ¡°Gigglebosons instability detected!¡± Jenna cried out, her eyes wide with panic as the data scrolled over her computer screen. ¡°It¡¯s going critical!¡±

    The TCHT shuddered violently, the air around it shimmering and distorting. As if in some nightmarish slow motion, chaos ensued. The lab filled with alarms, their shrill beeping punctuating the heavy whir of the machine. The ground under them seemed to shake as the TCHT convulsed violently, its metallic body groaning in protest.

    With an ear-splitting crack, a rift tore open in the fabric of space-time right above the TCHT. Howling winds rushed through the portal, sending papers and equipment flying. Spoony shielded his face with one arm, squinting against the maelstrom. He could just make out strange shapes and colors flickering in the rift''s abyssal depths.

    Spoony didn''t hesitate. ¡°Everyone out!¡± he roared, shoving Lars and the University representatives towards the lab¡¯s emergency exit. Jenna and the junior assistants were already beating feet to the street. One of them must¡¯ve pulled the fire alarm because it was blaring and flashing as they all spilled out into the hallway, the cacophony blending with the TCHT¡¯s electric shriek.

    Spoony burst through the doors, gasping for air as he scanned the chaos in front of him. The quad was a chaotic mess of disheveled, confused students and frantic teachers holding onto coffee mugs as though they were lifelines, and the reps from the other university whose crisp suits now looked distinctly less polished.

    Spoony''s ears pricked up. He scanned the crowd, counting heads. Lars was there, hyperventilating into a paper bag that one of the students had handed him. Jenna was there too, her hair standing up in every direction as if she''d stuck her fingers into an electrical socket.

    But Dean Dudd wasn''t there.

    Everyone was accounted for ¨C except Dean Dudd.

    Spoony¡¯s heart pounded in his chest like a rabbit being chased by hounds. His eyes darted through the crowd, hoping he had missed the dean in his initial sweep. But there was no mistaking it: Dean Dudd was nowhere to be found. He couldn¡¯t be¡­?

    ¡°Jenna!¡± Spoony called, his voice hoarse from shouting. ¡°Call for emergency services, NOW! The Dean is still inside!¡±

    He didn¡¯t wait for her response; instead, he turned and sprinted back towards the building. The heat radiating off the structure hit him like a solid wall. He coughed, waving a hand in front of his face as he stepped into the building. The normally pristine halls were now littered with debris ¨C shattered glass, twisted metal, and what looked suspiciously like a singed feather boa. His subconscious informed him even as he ran. The feedback loop escalation was already starting, drawing in increasingly larger amounts of hammerspace in on itself. The spatial boundaries between hammerspace pockets were blurring, causing objects to pop in and out of existence with comedic unpredictability.

    Even as he pushed his way up the stairs, he got smacked in the face with a cream pie, nearly slipped on a banana peel when he reached the top, and barely dodged an anvil flying sideways from a locker in quantum consternation. Spoony pressed on through the chaotic halls, dodging random objects materializing and dematerializing around him. He wanted to turn back, his ears were pinned back in terror, practically nailing to his skull the closer he got. Any moment now, the TCHT would go critical and take him and the entire building with it.

    What was he doing?!? He didn¡¯t even know if the Dean hadn¡¯t just scurried off to his office to hide somewhere, already preparing his excuses for the board to make himself as innocent as possible in this mess. Oh no, he would simper like the snake he was, I would never have told them to turn it on if I¡¯d known. They never told me.

    Spoony knew he was risking his life for a toon who¡¯d throw him over the mountain and under the bus. But he knew why. Dudd might¡¯ve been the biggest snake in the grass the cat had even known but he didn¡¯t want the guy dead. Spoony sprinted down the hallway, dodging the increasing chaos erupting around him. A massive hammer swung out of a classroom, forcing him to duck as it embedded itself into the wall where his head had just been. He gulped but kept running, urgency as much as fear driving him forward now.

    As he reached the door of the lab, he took a moment to steel himself before he swung it open. The whine of the TCHT was beyond hearing now but he could feel the vibration through the soles of his feet. If the dean wasn¡¯t in there, he¡¯d make for the nearest window and aim for the softest bit of ground he could.

    The room was in chaos, eerily lit by the flickering lights and the pulsing glow of the TCHT. The air was thick with electric ozone tickling his whiskers. Amidst flashing warning lights and whipping papers caught in an artificial gust, He could see Dean Dudd standing next to it, frozen in place like a deer caught in headlights, staring at the machine as if mesmerized by its power.

    "C''mon Dudd!" He shouted over the whine of the TCHT, as he pushed his way back up the stairs. "Unless you want to find out what it feels like to be inside a malfunctioning transdimensional machine, I suggest you get your scaly butt out here!"

    But Dudd didn¡¯t move or even seem to hear him. It was almost as if he was entranced by the TCHT¡¯s spiraling energy vortex, a rare smile on his face. The way the shadow¡¯s cast across his green scaly face seem oddly sinister. Spoony was so tense now his nerves felt like they were burning, the heat on his chest alone was like a bonfire. It would be his luck he¡¯d suffer a heart attack in the middle of all¡­ this.

    The cat stepped in, grabbing for him. His came down on the handle of his briefcase and his foot-

    -slapped against the surface of a vast, endless plain that appeared to span into eternity.

    Spoony blinked, momentarily disoriented by the abrupt shift in his surroundings. Gone was the chaotic lab, replaced by a white horizon in ever direction that seemed to stretch out forever under a sky of swirling pastels.

    "Dudd?!" He called out, but the vast emptiness swallowed up his voice. Suddenly, he noticed a shape in the distance: Dean Dudd, still frozen like a statue made of stone, kneeling and looking remarkably out of place amid the soft colors of this strange world.

    Then with an audible crack he felt all the way to his soul, he was standing on a lush meadow, painted with a kaleidoscope of wildflowers that swayed lazily in a breeze that shouldn''t exist. And just ahead, suddenly closer, in the sea of vibrant colors, stood Dean Dudd at the base of the largest tree Spoony had ever seen. Still frozen, still staring into the distance with that haunting smile on his face.

    Spoony shook his head, refocusing on the task at hand. He moved towards the dean as fast as he could considering the sponginess of... well whatever this... ground was.

    He tripped as the ground suddenly gave. He fell. He didn''t stop falling.

    Spoony tumbled through an endless void, unable to tell which way was up or down. Strange shapes and colors flew past him in a dizzying blur - planets, stars, galaxies - all whipping by at impossible speed.

    Then the pen in his chest pocket popped like a tiny firecracker.

    <hr>

    Spoony scratched his head as he gazed into the distance. The sun had indeed risen higher now, bathing everything in hues of orange and pale pink.

    He was more than a little bewildered by the adulation. The monstrous toons he had wrangled with his cartoon lasso had certainly caused a stir, but the aftermath was something else entirely. They acted as if he had performed some kind of miracle. And now, ''Master Cultivator''? He hadn''t even planted a garden in his life, much less master botany.

    Having literally lassoed those strange monster toons, shot putting them over the horizon, these people were treating what he¡¯d done like it was a great and inspiring thing. As if he had been some kind of savior descending from the heavens.

    It was already confusing enough but all the constant bowing and ''great master'' ¨Cing was more than a little off putting. Clearly had nothing to do with the the battle last night. This was how they acted. Was this more that art ¨C maze¡­ Annie ¨C mold¡­

    He sighed.

    ¡­ that eastern toon stuff?

    They continued their respectful gestures, dipping their heads repeatedly as if in search of grains on the ground. Spoony stood amid the sea of bobbing heads, feeling like an oddity in a world that made less sense by the minute.

    This reverence surely couldn''t stem from last night''s scuffle. No, it was deeper than that¡ªrooted in something cultural, perhaps a piece of this puzzle he hadn''t yet solved.

    His recent act of what he considered simple first aid had apparently elevated his status to that of a local deity. But the lavish praise seemed misplaced; he was just doing what came naturally to him¡ªlending a hand with his unconventional skills.

    A woman wept with joy as he affixed her daughter''s leg back in place, both daughter, mother, and everyone watching staring at him with an uncomfortable amount of awe in their eyes as the girl squeezed her toes with a pleasing amount of dexterity. Her tears and embrace were heartfelt, but Spoony knew it was merely the most basic of basic first aid he could dredge up from his time in the scouts.

    He offered reassurances that the leg would need time¡ªa week at most¡ªto heal properly before he slipped away. He didn¡¯t have the heart to tell them in the hospitals back home it would¡¯ve taken two days, at most. The Limbitron 5000 Reattachment Device just recently had passed medical trials too.

    An older man with broken ribs looked ready to kiss him when Spoony applied the Rib-Tickler Relocator to gently nudge each rib back into its proper place using precision jig-jabs and mirthful massage techniques. He¡¯d winced in pain at first, which the toon could only apologize for since he was out of practice, but then the man was giggling himself hoarse until the procedure was done, then patted down his chest with wide eyes as he realized he was still chuckling with no pain.

    Though his skills proved helpful, he knew he was no savior. Yet the awe in their eyes grew after each small act of kindness. A young boy gazed up at him reverently after Spoony popped his dislocated shoulder back into place with a snicker shoulder smack. One of the guys who¡¯d been fighting brought him over to a friend that had come out of it badly. Sitting up against the caravan with the help of another friend, a grisly looking bandage around was roughly wrapped around his face. The toon had winced when he removed it. Tour equal slashes from vicious claws cut across his face with one along his eyes. Finding a pair of stones about the right size, Spoony had him bend over and gently bonked the back of his head. His eyes popped free easily¡­ and hung there. They should¡¯ve rolled out instead of doing that.

    Shocked and horrified gasps came from those watching even as he popped eyes back in with the stones atop them before smacking the side of the man¡¯s head. The man stumbled, barely catching himself. He blinked once, twice, then looked around stunned. The man''s eyes were once more functional, but now had a blend between a normal eye and tan stone-like appearance. It was a small price to pay to see again.

    The people again had gasped in wonder, as if he''d just resurrected the dead.

    The young men including the previously blinded one, prostrated themselves before Spoony, muttering praises and thanks to the great master cultivator who had restored their friend''s sight. There was a whole lot of swearing to be his brother, or something of the like, not that he could keep up with it.

    Spoony just stared, dumbfounded and once he was sure, no one else was in need, he hurried off to be alone for a minute. ''Lord knows Paulie and mom and dad would be confused when the family reunion came around.''

    His heart sank a little when he thought of his brother. Polly was old enough to take care of himself, able to cook his own breakfast and stuff but leaving them in the house alone?

    Spoony almost cracked up at the thought. "Hell no."

    The house would be a smoking crater by the time he came back. The cat knew the little kitten would find a way into his nip stash somehow. Didn''t matter he kept the stuff under his bed, in a Troom brand safe with the triple action combination lock with a Lula drop cracker, he''d get in somehow.

    Someone was going to have to pick them up from daycare. Jenna probably would, maybe even Lars as much as the turkey gave him grief he trusted the guy. If all else failed, the daycare had emergency contacts for their parents back in Snickerburg.

    His brother would be fine. Especially once Spoony could call back.

    He had wandered to the east side of the camp where he looked over the barren desert he''d half-imagined, half-pictured in the moonlight. It was actually a significant expanse, peppered with lush spots resilient greenery. Beyond them lay a plateau, a bastion of stone rising stoically from the sandy waves. All painted in glowing rays of morning sunshine He glanced down at his five fingered hands, all delicate looking and human. He tried to change back to himself¡­ nothing happened.

    Spoony sighed in frustration. Why wasn''t he changing back? It was enough to make the cat¡¯s tail stand on end. At the very least, he could¡¯ve called home if he had a-

    He could''ve smacked himself, attention falling on the briefcase in his lap. He opened it and almost purred in delight at the sight of his cellphone at the top. It turned into a groan when he saw the empty spot where the signal should be. "Knew I should''ve sprung for the roaming plan."

    Tossing the cell back in with a sigh, he tried to think of how to call back home. If he could find a payphone somewhere he''d be golden. If not, his lessons from the Tottle Scouts told him to find a seashell, preferably conch, and attempt the old-fashioned way of communication by sea sound¡ªthough he doubted the effectiveness in the middle of a desert. The signal would be terrible without the waves to carry his words and there probably wasn¡¯t even a Shell Gas Station for miles, much less a conch.

    "Excuse me, um, Great Master Cultivator?"

    Rolling his eyes in frustration, what was up with these people and calling him a ''Master'' Gardner, Spoony was about to snap at the voice until he turned around to find a timid-looking little girl staring up at him with wide-eyed wonder and not a small amount of fear. She was carrying a tray laden with a steaming mug and what looked like some dried meat, the sight of which made his stomach clench. ¡°We thought you might n-need it after all that h-healing." The reminder of how hungry he was made him frown and she clearly mistook it and dipped into a bow. "Forgive me, honored one. I shall remove it i-immediately.¡°

    "No." He held up a hand. "N-no, that''s quite alright." He cleared his throat self-consciously as he accepted the proffered tray. "Thank you," he mumbled, trying to sound less¡­ intimidating, he guessed. "Thanks, er... uh, I appreciate it." The oddly familiar child visibly relaxed and bowed deeply before scurrying away, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He eyed the unappetizing meal and sighed.

    The jerky-like substance was chewy and oddly spicy, but it didn''t taste half bad. He washed it down with the hot brew in the mug; a strong, earthy brew that woke him right up. Not as much a shot in the arm espresso would be but it was enough and it buzzed his mind up to a calmer state. The situation called for some old-school problem-solving, and perhaps a bit of local assistance.

    Lost in thought, Spoony nearly missed Xu Zhong approaching to stop beside and a little behind him. ¡°Master Cultivator.¡± he panted, clearly having been looking for him for some time. "the¡­ uhm¡­ other¡­ lady cultivator helping us¡­ earlier? We carried her to her tent, and she''s hurt bad. She¡¯s still not woken up."

    Spoony blinked at him a moment and finally realized she was the only one he hadn¡¯t seen after the fight.

    "Take me to her," he ordered, any trace of surprise melting away into business-like urgency. He saw the relief that washed over Xu Zhong''s face while guiding him towards the makeshift tent.

    There, in the dim light that filtered through the canvas, lay the woman he¡¯d saved, pale as the white linen she was wrapped in. Her once vibrant face now held an unsettling stillness; her strong and steady breaths from before were now replaced by shallow, rasping exhalations. Even her sword which lay beside her seemed dull, the gleaming brass tarnished where cracks gouged deep along the fine etchings.

    Spoony kneeled next to her, his heart racing as he reached out to gently touch her cheek. The chill of her skin sent shivers down his spine. As he took in the sight of her, he noticed that one leg was unnaturally elongated beneath the thin blanket, causing his stomach to twist with worry.

    He blinked, then swiftly pulled the blanket back to reveal the horribly twisted limb. Xu Zhong sucked in a breath between his teeth, clearly unsettled and Spoony couldn¡¯t disagree. It was an ugly sight - her leg had been damaged to a frightening degree and was swelling in a way that suggested several fractures. His mouth went dry as he comprehended the damage.

    "Is there anything you can do, Master Cultivator?" he asked, not disguising the concern in his voice.

    Spoony didn¡¯t answer right away, his mind was racing. This type of injury was a bit beyond him. The only good thing, good doing an absurd level of work was the leg wasn¡¯t severed¡­ So maybe.

    He shuffled around in his suitcase and pulled out the jug of Triple X-HJ. He poured a measure into his now empty mug, just enough to cover the bottom, and gestured the young man to get closer. ¡°Open her mouth and once I¡¯m finished pouring, stand back.¡±

    Xu Zhong nodded, his hands trembling as he gently opened the woman''s mouth. Spoony cautiously tipped the shot glass and a drop of the luminescent amber-brown liquid fell onto her tongue and down her throat. The moment it hit her tongue; her placid, pale face tightened. As instructed, Xu Zhong immediately backed away. His eyes widened in anticipation as Spoony let out a deep breath, his eyes never leaving the unconscious woman.

    Another moment later and her face tightened even more, a blush of red like a drop of blood against an ice cube colored her face. Then she began to sweat, her features twisting into a grimace as sweat poured down her face. Soon, she was candy apple red, steam whistling from her ears and nose. With a snapping sound, her leg twisted back to its proper place. In the same second, she lurched up sitting ram rod straight, eyes wide and cheeks bulging as if she were holding back the urge to puke.

    Spoony noticed Xu Zhong was still standing in the line of fire too caught up in watching and yanked him out the way. His surprised yelped was swallowed by a roaring tongue of flame erupting from her mouth, a fiery jet of energy that shot straight into the air and out the open tent flap. When the flame subsided, the woman fell back onto her cot, panting heavily, her face returning to a normal color.

    That was a close call. Too close. He cast a sidelong glance at Xu Zhong who stood white-faced and trembling like an autumn leaf on the verge of falling. Spoony couldn''t blame him; it was not every day one got their first ever shot of Hot Juice.

    A moment of silence settled over them in the smoky tent, interrupted only by the coughing of the woman who had just spewed like a dragon. "There we go," said Spoony just for something to say patting Xu Zhong on the back. "She''ll be alright now."

    Xu Zhong stammered, "What...what was that? Was it...alchemy?¡±

    ¡°I wish. If I could change stuff into gold, I wouldn¡¯t be here now.¡± Spoony said, his voice filled with a mix of pride and relief. "Took me years to perfect Hot Juice. Little bit of chemistry, yes, but a whole lot of ol'' fashioned brewing too. My dad''s ol'' XXX hootch recipe."

    Xu Zhong didn''t look like he followed before peeking at the woman who now lay silent and still, her raspy breathing had calmed and she seemed peaceful. "Will she be okay?"

    ¡°Yeah, one hell of a hangover after.¡±

    The man pivoted to him and bowed. The cat knew what was coming and his stomach sank. ¡°Mas-¡±

    "Just call me Spoony." He cut him off with a grin that didn''t quite reach his eyes. "Spoony is fine."

    Running steps grew close then tent flap was shoved aside, revealing a pale face Xu Dingxiang, his eyes cutting around the interior as if expecting a monster.

    "What happened?" He gasped, his eyes darting from Spoony to the woman on the cot, then finally to Xu Zhong, seeking answers. His gaze lingered on the charred tent flap, noting the slight smoky haze still visible in the air.

    "The ''ol Hot Juice." Spoony said laconically, swiping a sleeve across his sweating forehead. "She''s fine now. Oh, that reminds me, I have some questions. Can we talk outside?"

 Xu Zhong: A (Not So) Lonesome Road

    Xu Zhong left the tent, feeling like the whole world was ever so slightly tilted, as the caravanners shuffled around setting up their sleeping arrangements or cleaning up the remains from the battle. It was an odd thing to see the morning when one was certain death had arrived at one¡¯s door. But death had not knocked. Instead, it smashed the door to pieces, loitered by the threshold, peering curiously at the living as it leveled the blade for a killing stroke, and was then abruptly, suddenly interrupted by a bizarre twist of fate.

    A shiver ran up his spine in spite of his deliverance. After gazing into a demon¡¯s jaws and feeling the hot stink of its fetid breath swamp against his skin, about to be bitten into like an apple, Zhong found it hard to shake off the chilling touch of mortality. His hand instinctively went to the jade pendant around his neck, fingers tracing its smooth surface as a talisman against the darkness that had nearly swallowed him whole. The night¡¯s events replayed in his mind like a scroll unfurling - the clash of swords, the cries of men, and that monstrous figure whose presence seemed a nightmare made flesh. A shiver ran up Xu Zhong''s spine, despite the warmth of the morning sun on his back.

    Yet no one faltered.

    The desire to run in the face of those things pouring from the shadows like a disturbed hive of bugs had been overwhelming yet one of the oldest men with the caravan, Long Ru, a simple cook who was providing his services in exchange for transport to Ever-Reach with no reason to take up arms for the Firebird Caravan, had leapt forward to fight, brandishing nothing more than a well-used cleaver and a heavy frying pan.

    Even Xie Kang, one of the guards Zhong had grown up with, had his leg twisted at a gruesome angle only minutes before, now walked with a pronounced limp with the splint, but walked, nonetheless. Last night when one of the demons, a great ox-like thing with the head of a snake and the eyes of a fish trampled him, he thought the man dead. After the cultivator arrived, he never thought Kang would walk again but there he was, helping his little brother, Yunru, up into the trade sledge like his leg hadn¡¯t been crumpled like reeds under a bolder.

    The day was eerily quiet, even for the steppe, a stark contrast to the chaos mere hours earlier. Women patched torn canvas with steady hands while men inspected horses and mules for injuries inflicted during the assault. Those with no work rested where they could. The animals were jittery, skittish at every shadow that moved, their flanks slick with sweat despite the coolness of the dawn air.

    The demonic presence lingered in the air even though the creatures were long defeated. ¡®Thrown,¡¯ he corrected himself, ¡®tossed like toys many li away with the ease of a child throwing an unwanted doll out a window.¡¯

    That wasn¡¯t to say the price of survival hadn¡¯t been steep. Two of the trade sledges had been badly damaged. They had to use one to shore up their rough defenses and it was smashed to kindling by the worm like demon. The second caught fire, too close to the bonfires they had set in their panic, taking valuable goods with them. The scent of charred wood and scorched earth hung heavy, a reminder of their narrowly avoided demise and the cost, though he could not complain that he was alive to complain.

    Everyone was. People spoke softly amongst themselves, their voices a mix of awe and disbelief. The children returned to their games, albeit closer to the skirts of their mothers than before, their laughter tinged with a hesitance that had not been there the day prior.

    His father clapped a hand on Xu Zhong¡¯s shoulder, pulling him back to the moment. Under the thick beard grown bushy and bristlier with heavy days of travel, he could tell his father was beaming under it.

    ¡°Amazing, isn¡¯t it?¡± Xu Dingxiang¡¯s eyes followed the cultivator as the strange man shut the tent flap behind him, not wanting to disturb the other cultivator. ¡°Never seen anything like it. The way you mended those wounds¡­ astounding! We are grateful that you chose to use your gifts to help our humble caravan. We are in your debt, Master¡­¡± He trailed off, realizing he¡¯d never gotten the man¡¯s name and neither had Zhong.

    ¡°S¨¨ Pi¨¡n,¡± the man supplied easily, brushing down his splendid crimson robe. There was an odd hesitation when the cultivator said his name, not from the cultivator but¡­ Zhong wasn¡¯t quite sure what it was. For a split second, he was certain he¡¯d heard something else. ¡°My full name is -" What came out of the cultivator''s fanged mouth barely seemed to qualify as language, but each word, sound, and utterance came out his throat as easily as if he were speaking his native tongue. ¡±-but S¨¨ Pi¨¡n is fine, and it was the best I could do.¡± He rubbed the back of his head like he was embarrassed. ¡°I¡¯m not a physician after all.¡±

    Again, Zhong wondered, how he was still alive. When he¡¯d seen the cultivator strike his father with a hammer, he was certain his dad was dead. It would have been too cruel of the heavens to deliver them from demons of the pit only to shove them in the arms of a demon of a different sort. Cultivators by their nature were hard to understand at the best of times, quick to anger at the worst of times, and lethally decisive all of the time. With them, legends of unimaginable nobility and incomprehensible cruelty were often entwined like the roots of an ancient banyan tree, impossible to separate. His own experience came from traveling all his life with his father in the Firebird Caravan, the few he¡¯d seen in the Stellar Wing Empire had more in common with walking statues and just as expressive. The smaller sects in the Ever-Reaching Steppe behaved like the common bandits in the old stories, the kind of cultivators who would be slaughtered by the righteous blades of the former.

    He hadn¡¯t simply courted death by aiming steel at the man, he embraced it like a lover. To defend his family, he was more than ready to try and ultimately fail to cut him down. Yet instead of swatting him aside like a bug, murdering everyone for the insult, and continuing on his way unchallenged, this S¨¨ Pi¨¡n, with his bizarre methods and cryptic utterances, was clearly an exception.

    The cultivator had merely fixed him with a questioning gaze that seemed to strip his soul bare. It was as if he had understood, instinctively, that fear and desperation had driven Zhong''s actions, not malice. He¡¯d not only spares his father but began to work miracles the likes of which not even the stories told over the campfire when he was a child.

    It was when he made his rounds to catalogue what the caravan lost and getting to witness S¨¨ Pi¨¡n¡¯s hands closing wounds, attaching limbs, mending flesh and bone as if time itself reversed that the full magnitude of the power he challenged impressed itself upon Xu Zhong¡¯s mind¡ª it was a stark reminder that life and death were mere playthings to people such as S¨¨ Pi¨¡n. Each act of healing, each tender gesture from his hands was like a brushstroke in a divine painting, turning the grotesque and hopeless into scenes of mundane morning activities as if by denying the demons, death, and the heavens their due. He offered smiles like gifts, a fierce tiger baring its fangs in joy.

    To think that the man who tossed demonic creatures like ragdolls, made healing alchemical brews that made one breathe fire, and spoke of reattaching limbs and blessing his best friend¡¯s brother, Xie Jing, with new eyes out of stone ¡®the best he could do¡¯ was both humbling and terrifying. It meant in some way; he could¡¯ve done better. Even his tone carried what he said with the casualness of a farmer discussing the weather

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    Zhong wondered how a man could possess such duality¡ªhow one who wielded such immense power would choose mercy over wrath, generosity when it gained him nothing, especially in an age where the latter seemed far more common.

    Almost right away, his thoughts fell on the other cultivator and sour guilt surged up his throat. ¡®Such thoughts are unfair.¡¯ he reminded himself. The ¡®Bronze Cleaver¡¯ - and what a name to hear from his father¡¯s mouth in the middle of battle - had yanked him from demonic jaws ready to rip and tear. Cultivators might¡¯ve had the same goal to break the heavens, but like his father once told him, ¡®There are many roads to a single place.¡¯ At least, these two happened to be on distant roads.

    Zhong¡¯s father, ever the professional, recovered quickly. ¡°Master S¨¨ Pi¨¡n,¡± Xu Dingxiang corrected himself with a slight bow of his head. ¡°Please, if you¡¯ll follow me to this Xu Dingxiang''s tent.¡±

    Zhong watched his father disappear into his tent, motioning for the cultivator to follow. A faint smile touched Xu Dingxiang''s lips, a rare sight these days given the perilous nature of their trade route. "Please, have a seat." He gestured to a cushion within the spacious tent, designed for comfort during long journeys across the Steppes.

    S¨¨ Pi¨¡n, instead of seating himself like a normal person, idly bounced on the balls of his feet, looking around the tent curiously. It was then that Xu Zhong noticed that, even now, as still as he stood, the man seemed to vibrate with an unseen energy. Like a tightly wound spring, or a cat ready to pounce.

    ¡°Ah, thank you, thank you.¡± S¨¨ Pi¨¡n suddenly stopped bouncing, plopping himself onto the cushion and setting his¡­ bag next to him. It was as if he had not a care in the world, a stark contrast to the vigilant demeanor one would expect from a cultivator. He crossed his legs, looking entirely too comfortable for a man dressed in the height of cultivator fashion, but then again, nothing about the man was normal. ¡°Very comfy. So, where were we?"

    His father, ever the consummate host, poured a cup of fragrant tea and offered it to S¨¨ Pi¨¡n. "A small token of our gratitude, Master S¨¨ Pi¨¡n. It''s a blend of herbs and spices from the far reaches of the Stellar Wing Empire." He held his breath as his father offered the cup to the enigmatic cultivator, S¨¨ Pi¨¡n, hoping that this small gesture of gratitude would be pleasing.

    S¨¨ Pi¨¡n''s yellow eyes lit up as he took the cup, his long, slender fingers wrapping around the delicate handle with surprising grace. He raised the cup to his lips and took a sip, his eyes fluttering closed in delight his cat ears going erect. "Delightful! I''ve never tasted anything quite like it."

    Xu Dingxiang beamed with pride. "I''m glad you enjoy it. Now, if I may, I''d like to discuss the matter of compensation for your invaluable assistance to my caravan."

    The cultivator waved a dismissive hand. "No need, really. I was just passing by and saw a group in need. Thought I should help."

    Xu Zhong''s jaw almost dropped. The cultivator spoke of their harrowing encounter with such nonchalance, as if it were an everyday occurrence.

    S¨¨ Pi¨¡n continued, "Besides, I''m on a bit of a journey myself in fact, I¡¯d also like to ask,¡± He continued, rummaging through his robes, ¡°do you by any chance have a phone? Or maybe a map? I need to figure out how to get back to the U.S. of A.¡±

    Xu Dingxiang''s brow furrowed in confusion at the mention of ''the U.S. of A.'' Zhong had heard and seen of many lands in his travels and dealings alongside his father, but this was not one he could recall and it seemed his father didn¡¯t either. "A map we have, though I am not sure how helpful it will be for such a destination," he admitted, retrieving a rolled parchment from a wooden chest. He spread it out on the table, showing various known regions and trade routes, none of which bore the name S¨¨ Pi¨¡n was asking for.

    S¨¨ Pi¨¡n leaned over the map, his eyes scanning over it briefly before he chuckled lightly. "Ah, no, this won''t do. But thank you anyway. It seems I''m a bit further from home than I thought." The casual statement made Xu Zhong wonder where the cultivator had come from. He was clearly not part of the woman cultivator¡¯s sect and certainly not of the White Oasis. His jaw tightened ever so slightly; those robbers would¡¯ve tried to charge them an imperial ransom per demon limb before throwing a punch.

    ¡°Perhaps there are other ways we can assist you in finding your way?¡± Xu Dingxiang offered cautiously, evidently trying to bridge the gap. His father¡¯s voice was polite, but Zhong could easily catch the undertone of a plea hidden beneath the courteous offer. He quickly picked up what his father was trying for, to get the cultivator to stay with them for as long as possible. With demons roaming this far in Ever-Reaching Steppe and the other cultivator injured, the Firebird Caravan was faced with three choices without him, turn back to the Stellar Wing Empire¡¯s frontier, make for the White Oasis compound and pray to the Spirits they wouldn¡¯t strip the sledges to the paint for the privilege of their protection, or try for Ever Reach City as fast as they could and hope no more demons followed in their wake. ¡°We¡¯re only about six days from Ever-Reach Gate City.¡±

    ¡°Almost a week, huh? Think I could find a payphone there?¡± S¨¨ Pi¨¡n appeared to consider the offer, his head tilting slightly as if weighing unseen factors. Zhong and his father shared a look, wanting to ask what a ¡®Payphone¡¯ was but not wanting to interrupt the cultivator¡¯s thinking, lest he get annoyed. "I suppose," he said slowly, each word rumbling in his throat and dripping with amusement, "there could be a way you might assist me. But not in the way you might think. Tell me more about this Ever Reach City and your route."

    Xu Dingxiang nodded gratefully. Any assistance in safeguarding their journey would be invaluable. "We would be happy to provide whatever you may need," he finished earnestly. "The road to Ever Reach City is fraught with peril, and while our caravans are well-guarded, the demons seem unusually relentless this season." As his father explained the dangers of the Ever-Reaching Steppe, the cultivator listened intently, nodding occasionally and stroking his chin. Every so often, His gaze drifted towards the flaps of the tent as if he could see beyond their current predicament, into the myriad possibilities and dangers he was listening to that lay ahead.

    The cultivator made to check his wrist, froze, then sighed in disappointment. At first, Zhong thought it was because of father may have pushed even the great patience of this strange cultivator too far, but then S¨¨ Pi¨¡n chuckled softly and shook his head. He gestured at the leather band around his wrist, gesturing to a creation of metal with cracked glass. It was so small, Zhong couldn¡¯t begin to figure out what use such a thing could possibly serve.

    "Forgot my watch isn¡¯t working ¡ª no matter, it''s not as if I have a schedule to keep. And you all know this place better than me.¡± Then jumping to the next topic like what he said made sense, the cultivator raised two fingers, ¡°First, is there a town around here and second, do you have any coffee?¡±

    Zhong shared another look with his father, seeing the confliction on the older man¡¯s face as his hand idly tugged on his beard. The younger man began weighing their options. The Firebird Caravan was known for its honesty and integrity, but the idea of mentioning their strained relationship with the White Oasis Faction did not sit well with him. Sighing, he relented. "Yes, there is. Oasis Point is halfway between here and the city, but I must warn you that it''s under the protection of the White Oasis Faction." He left out the part about the hefty toll they were sure to charge, not wanting to sour the mood or deter S¨¨ Pi¨¡n from accompanying them.

    Zhong knew as well as any, cultivators considered matters of money beneath their contempt. It was what made them either the best or the worst customers.

    S¨¨ Pi¨¡n nodded thoughtfully, as if weighing the information. "Well, I appreciate the heads-up. And I can get you there a little faster after some breakfast." His eyes drifted to the entrance of the tent. "Now, about that coffee..."

    After a moment where Zhong wasn¡¯t sure he heard right, he bowed apologetically. ¡°Please forgive this Xu Zhong¡¯s ignorance but¡­ what is this ¡®coffee¡¯ you speak of?¡±

    Upon hearing his confusion, the cultivator went noticeably still. His tail froze in mid-sway, his ears stood taller and while friendly smile on the cultivator¡¯s face didn¡¯t break, but it grew stiff. Zhong would almost call the look desperate.

    Xu Dingxiang coughed into his hand, hoping to recover the situation. ¡°I know esteemed cultivators such as yourself may have different names for items of interest. Perhaps you could describe it to us?¡±

    Master S¨¨ Pi¨¡n''s expression relaxed, and he chuckled softly. ¡°You know¡­ coffee? A cup of joe? Espresso? Caffeine in its most delightful form?¡± He paused, seeing their expressions of genuine confusion. ¡°Americano? Latte? Mocha?¡± As he rattled off a few more variants, hoping one would strike a chord, and clearly not, a wild glint entered his eyes. ¡°Cappuccino? It¡¯s a dark, often bitter beverage, brewed from beans? The drink of the gods?¡±

    Zhong blinked. ¡®Drink of the gods? Then we certainly don¡¯t have it.¡¯

    After a moment''s silence, where the very air seemed to hold its breath in anticipation of Zhong''s next words, he finally spoke, his voice cautious but curious. "I believe we do not possess this... this coffee you speak of, esteemed cultivator. However¡ª¡±

    Interrupting him mid-sentence, S¨¨ Pi¨¡n dove into his bag like a man possessed. After a palpable moment of tension, he pulled out a small packet, his relieved sigh diffusing into the quiet. He tilted his head, those odd yellow eyes widening slightly, those cat-like ears of his twitching. ¡°It seems my foresight hasn''t failed me yet; I did remember to pack my instant¡­ Know where I can get a kettle around here or a pot or a cauldron? I got some Boiler Compound to make.¡±

 Burning To Learn

    Pan Luoyang was very good at hiding which was a good thing because he needed to be.

    ¡°And he didn¡¯t¡­ touch you?¡±

    The boy may have been only just into his 13th summer but his mother, Xinyi¡¯s question to his slightly older sister, Yijun held a weight he knew was serious even if he suspected it was one of those, ¡®I¡¯ll-explain-when-you¡¯re-older¡¯ subjects he wouldn¡¯t be told. It was why he was hiding just around the trade sledge, tucked behind one of the sand skimmers he was warned never to be under lest he get crushed under it when it moved.

    They weren¡¯t moving now, and the caravan wouldn¡¯t for a while, so he was safe, especially with the monsters gone. He had never gotten a chance to see them beyond the dots in the sky, only what one of them did to his little sister¡¯s leg afterward.

    Yijun hesitated, her tried eyes darting back to meet their mother''s anxious gaze. Her face was pale as she nodded slowly, her eyes downcast. "Yes, he didn''t touch me," she murmured, wrapping her arms around herself as if cold despite the heat of the midday sun beating down on the Ever-Reaching Steppe. "He was... peculiar, Mother. But no, he didn''t harm me. He seemed more interested in the sunrise than anything else. Just took the tray of food and let me leave.¡±

    Pan Luoyang, clinging to the shadows under the sledge, absorbed every word.

    Xinyi exhaled a sigh of relief, her shoulders sagging slightly as the tension drained from her. "Good, that''s good," she murmured, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her hair wilder than Luoyang had ever seen it. Then she snatched Yijun into a hug, shoulders shaking, back heaving with heavy sobs barely bit back by sorrowful words. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m so, so sorry. I was certain he¡­ When he fixed Yaling¡¯s leg- I mean, the look on his face¡­ I didn¡¯t want¡­ If he decided he wanted payment¡­ I couldn¡¯t¡­ I would have if¡­ If it was your sister, he might have¡­¡±

    With too much to say and yet not enough to say it, her trembling voice just collapsed into weeping as she tucked her head into Yijun¡¯s shoulder, the twisted scars of the burns peeking up as the high collared cloak began slipping down her neck. Yijun held her mother tighter, whispering words of reassurance that they were safe now, the threat had passed, and no harm had come to her from the peculiar stranger.

    Pan Luoyang, listening intently from his hideout under a sandy tarp just a breath away from being discovered if either of them looked at him closely enough, felt a surge of confusion and fear mingle with relief. He didn''t understand everything his mother and sister were discussing, but he grasped enough to know that the stranger¡ªthe same one who fixed his little sister¡¯s leg¡ªhad been a potential danger in more ways than one.

    Despite his mother''s fears, Luoyang couldn''t help but be fascinated by him. He remembered the look of awe on Yaling¡¯s face when she could move her toes. His little sister was laying down in the sledge above his head, her leg bandaged but resting on a pillow.

    His mom straightened up eventually, wiping away her tears and adjusting her cloak to cover her neck. "Get something to eat for yourself and Yaling¡± she began, her voice unsteady, ¡°and find your brother, we don¡¯t need him getting up to mischief.¡±

    Yijun nodded, patting her mother''s back gently before pulling away to follow her instructions, taking a moment to wipe her own damp cheeks before she stepped away, her form slightly shaky as she headed towards the central cooking fires where the caravan was congregating for a communal meal. "I''ll find him, don''t worry," she said, a soft reassurance that seemed to ease some of Xinyi¡¯s anxieties as she watched her daughter walk away.

    Pan Luoyang waited until the coast was clear before emerging from his hiding spot. His heart raced as his mother climbed into the sledge to check on Yaling, almost looking right at him with her red, puffy eyes.

    He quickly dusted off his trousers, tossed the tarp into a different covered sledge, and roughly combed the sand out his hair as he scampered towards the food supplies, where he knew he would likely find Yijun.

    As he approached, he saw his sister getting two helpings of hot spiced porridge from the cook, the nasty stuff smacking into the second bowl with a sloppy splat.

    Yijun spotted him and waved him over, her face breaking into a smile that didn¡¯t quite reach her eyes. ¡°There you are! I was just going to look for you,¡± she said, handing him a piece of travel bread that came with it.

    Pan Luoyang took the bread gratefully, his eyes flicking towards the spot where his mother had just been. He didn''t want to ask about the strange man, but he couldn''t stop the curiosity. Yijun noticed his quiet demeanor as he ate.

    After a moment''s pause, with his mouth full of travel bread, Pan Luoyang chewed then swallowed. ¡°Sis¡­ Can I help? I know everyone¡¯s worried so¡­¡±

    Yijun paused, considering her little brother. Ever since their father¡­ passed, she knew he was eager to step up to fill the void left behind. But Luoyang was still so young, barely thirteen and was trying to take on too much far too fast. She suspected he blamed himself for them being forced to flee their home in West Fields back in the Empire, even though it was as beyond his control as the rain. Their father was a man of honest business which made him many enemies over the years. His death

    had left them vulnerable as the vultures began to circle while they tried to decide what was the next step to solve their situation.

    Then the news of the return of the demons in the North made their decision for them.

    Yijun sighed, looking at her little brother with a mix of fondness and sadness. "Luoyang, I know you mean well, but there are some things you''re still too young to be involved with." She ruffled his hair affectionately. "Just focus on being a kid while you still can. Help look after Yaling and stay out of trouble. That''s the best thing you can do right now."

    Annoyed with the affection and flailing to push her arm away, Luoyang let out a groan, though his eyes were still troubled. "I just want to keep you all safe. Like dad did."

    "I know," Yijun said softly, sadly. "But we''re safe for now. The caravan is heading towards the mountains where we''ll join our extended family in the Cloud Dragon clan. They''re strong and can protect us."

    Yijun balanced the two bowls of porridge carefully as she started rise to head back to the sledge, Luoyang staying behind. He knew he should just listen to his sister, but his curiosity burned as bright as any fire in the dark. "Was he scary, the stranger? He fixed Yaling''s leg, didn''t he?" He persisted, his voice dropping to a whisper as he glanced around to make sure the one he was talking about wasn¡¯t listening.

    Yijun paused, considering. "He wasn''t scary exactly. Just...different. His eyes were so intense, like he could see right through you." She shivered slightly at the memory. ¡°But yes, he did.¡± Signaling the conversation was over with her tone as much as her feet, Yijun walked away, leaving Luoyang to think. He watched her back disappear into their sledge as he took another bite of his bread, chewing thoughtfully as the camp hummed with conversation around him. The words she¡¯d said spinning around in his head like leaves caught in a harsh wind, he knew better than to push any further; Yijun had that look she got when there was no more discussing a matter.

    But that didn¡¯t stop Luoyang¡¯s thoughts from racing. His curiosity about the stranger wasn¡¯t solely borne out of fear or fascination. There was something deeper, a kind of instinctual draw towards the man who had so mysteriously entered their lives and left an imprint that seemed to go beyond just healing Yaling¡¯s leg. It was as if he had unlocked a door to something Luoyang couldn¡¯t yet see to the other side of, but desperately wanted to. He wanted to learn about the strange cultivator, if for no other reason to fight him if he came for his family.

    Deciding not to return to the sledge just yet, Pan Luoyang wandered off towards the edge of the caravan, where the camels and horses were being tended to. The air was cooler here, away from the warmth of the cookfire and so many bodies.

    The smell of spiced porridge mixed with the scent of burning wood filled the air, creating a comforting yet pungent aroma that reminded Luoyang of their past in West Fields, though it was ruined somewhat by the stench of char from the wrecked sledges.

    The fear that had clutched his heart last night now mingled with a budding sense of wonder. He had hidden with the others who couldn¡¯t fight, under the sledges in the center of their defenses as the other cultivator, the woman in the golden armor, instructed. A shiver ran through him and suddenly he was very, very cold. Just thinking about the unearthly noises those monster¡¯s made was enough for his guts go watery again. Not even the burning shame of getting out the hiding spot to discover he¡¯d wet himself could fully erase the terror of that night. Luoyang shuddered, wrapping his arms tighter around himself as if to squeeze out the memory. He couldn¡¯t do anything against those bastards back home then and last night was another reminder he couldn¡¯t do a damn thing for his family. He didn¡¯t want to imagine the disappointment on his dad¡¯s face if he could see him now, trembling and afraid, unable to protect his own.

    His sister''s words echoed in his ears¡ªabout being a child, about staying out of trouble. But how could he, when danger seemed to follow them like a shadow? He watched as a young stable hand struggled to calm a spooked horse, its eyes rolling wildly. Instinctively, Luoyang approached, placing a gentle hand on the beast¡¯s mane.

    "Easy there," he murmured, using the calming tone his father had once taught him. The horse quieted under his touch, its breathing slowing as it settled down. The stable hand gave him a grateful nod.

    "Thanks," she said, her voice shaky. "They''ve been on edge all night."

    Luoyang nodded, understanding all too well as he went wandering.

    Maybe that''s why the thought of the strange man who had healed Yaling was so increasingly consuming; he represented a flicker of hope, a means to an end that Luoyang couldn¡¯t quite articulate but felt compelled to pursue.

    Luoyang''s thoughts were interrupted by crunching sound and a mumbling voice. The boy turned sharply to find he¡¯d wandered to the spot where the wrecked caravan sledges were left and standing before one, sifting through it with his brilliant red robes, was the cultivator. His red hair and cat-like ears seemed to flow together upon his head seamlessly, and his golden eyes flickered behind thin spectacles like the ones his father used to wear for reading.

    He placed the charred, thick piece of wood on the ground and carefully balanced a beautifully crafted pot on top. As he began to mix ingredients inside the pot, steam rose from the bubbling liquid. It was clear that this makeshift setup was his kitchen in this remote part of the campsite.

    He approached the man cautiously, suddenly nervous now that he was facing the person who''d been occupying his thoughts so intensely. Luoyang swallowed hard.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    The cultivator who saved everyone, who healed others like it was nothing, who¡¯s eyes glowed from his face like bits of light, did something Luoyang never saw coming.

    He jumped like a startled deer.

    <hr>

    ¡®I am going to die.''

    For the second time in her life, this thought lay across the swirling storm in her mind and enfolded everything into a muffled distant thing. It sucked down into every part of her soul, leaving her to hover.

    In this void of senses between unconsciousness and awareness, she watched her dantian slowly break apart. At some level, she recognized the horrifying sight for what it was. Marred with ragged cracks like a poorly repaired bit pf pottery, her foundation was barely sound enough to handle the Qi flowing through her body before the battle. All attempts at healing the damage, to try fixing it before she lost everything, had barely progressed since the day it happened. But there had been progress.

    Now... it was clear she''d pushed herself too far.

    Her Qi flared in her meridians then grow weak like a fire struggling against the wind catching on bits of unburned wood. Each pulse should''ve caused great agony. She witnessed an outer sect disciple lose control during a breakthrough and while many paths were forgiving, The Golden Step was not. Her death was as brutal as it was haunting. Even as her body broke apart, the scream lasted longer than anyone who''s lungs boiled away into steam should have.

    Fear finally wormed its way to the surface and instinctively Zi Nuan reached out, trying to suppress her Qi as it ran wild through her body... only to let her control slip away like sand through her fingers as it passed into her foundation and added another glowing crack carved into it. There was no where she could put her Qi to suppress it, after all. Not without accelerating the inevitable.

    The detachment made it an oddly peaceful experience.

    ''Maybe,'' she pondered the spinning dantian, the cracks prying wider and wider by the glow which was darker than night and venting Qi like steam from a teapot. ''Its because this is the second time you''ve... I have neared death.''

    A twinge of significant emotion broke through the placid surface of calm as she was reminded why those cracks were there.

    That bastard Fan Liang.

    She could say for the first time in her life that she hated her little brother. He was arrogant, supercilious, cocky, and had their father''s favor ever since surpassing her and ascending to the first stage of the Spirit realm.

    She had thought she hated him then. Now, she knew it was but jealousy.

    No, she could''ve forgiven all of his flaws and accepted her own in exchange. What she hadn''t known, what she could''ve never prepared for, what him being all that and a traitorous fool to boot.

    She was placed in command for the expedition to Blood Drinking Chasm, him in second. His protests had walked a line most wouldn''t dare but Zi Nuan had more military experience than he ever did in her service to the sect.

    Fan Liang accepted his position but shockingly, made no attempt to assert his authority with his greater cultivation. Looking back, she would''ve preferred if he did, otherwise she''d have not lowered her guard. She had been focused on preparing for the dangers of the expedition, on the potential foes they might face, on the defenses they needed to ensure.

    When the great chasm split open before their eyes, as seals older than any cultivator alive burned away and demons swarmed from the wound in reality, she rallied the troops around her.

    While they hadn''t been prepared for the worst, they had been prepared and if the mortals and outer sect disciples lost heart and scattered...

    When Feng appeared at her side, she''d be relieved when Feng appeared at her side, reasonably assuming he was coming to her for orders in the face of a greater threat. Not even the pettiest of sects would try to settle scores when demons were charging from the wastes right at them.

    She scoffed and it was a bitter thing. ''Anyone reasonable.''

    It was instinct and the sheer breath of her training that saved her life.

    She was familiar with the motions used to break a cultivation. When punishment for capital crimes against The Golden Step sect or the Empire itself, the shattering of one''s cultivation was either the first or last step.

    Zi Nuan could picture the blow in her mind''s eye as if it were yesterday. The Young Master''s fists flowed through the horrifyingly familiar pattern, his Qi brushing aside hers like it was a mere curtain before a gale. Unlike before she had no time to block, no time to dodge, between the shock and the dumb confusion she hadn''t even struck back. Even the stirrups of the saddle seemed to tighten around her boots to keep her in place.

    Her arms yanked the reins of her horse, but her strength suddenly was gone and the beast''s neck was like iron.

    Finally, like a prayer half-answered, the animal reared as she twisted and a blow headed for the center of the belly, lanced through her side. Every nerve screamed as she was thrown from her horse, fell to the ground, clutching her side, gasping for air.

    her body on fire¡­

    Fire?

    A pulse ran through her, yanking her from the memory and into the present. Her dantian wasn¡¯t spinning anymore, in fact her Qi had stilled, suppressed by a bright orange liquid heat. It flowed before Zi Nuan''s eyes, casting a warm glow down her centerline meridians and spreading out through her limbs and joints. The liquid was hot, almost burning, and felt alien, alive. It moved with an almost purposeful fluid motion, like a river of lava, pulsing and swirling in mesmerizing patterns. Its flowing beauty was a sharp contrast what she sensed from it. It was harsh and bitter, almost like she could taste the heat itself and it also carried a hint of sweetness on her tongue, like a pleasant burn before a satisfying meal. It felt as if the sun had burst from within her, spilling its molten core through every inch of her body, igniting her from the inside out yet cooling down the pain her mind had been shoving down all this time.

    Was she suffering from Qi deviation?

    No, this was something else¡­ The orange - fire? Qi¡­? No, it was that nonsense Qi. The unpredictable element, flickering between chaos and harmony, yet somehow still managing to hold together within her instead of breaking her like it should. It was a force to be reckoned with, wild and free, with a hint of madness in its brilliance.

    The other Cultivator! He must¡¯ve been healing her!

    Her dantain, once broken and cracking, now pulsed with a life-giving force. The glow within the cracks which so steady worried at her foundation seemed to recoil within the core, trying to get away. The sight was enough to drive her to action, she had no idea if what she was about to do would help or in all honesty, if her interference would simply undo the cultivators work. As it was, she was faced with two choices. Do nothing or do something. Given it seemed like for the months leading to the point she was damned if she did, damned if she didn¡¯t, Zi Nuan allowed herself a bitter smile. Many in the sect had once called her arrogant and too involved in mortal affairs to consider the celestial path, but Zi Nuan had always been a pragmatist.

    And just laying down to let someone else do the work to save her life irked greatly, not when she was just liberated from the whims of the uncaring heavens. She reached her intent into the energy and a heartbeat later, was swept into it, guiding the tide which might have crushed her aside had it been focused on suppressing her.

    Instead, the liquid crackled and hissed as it went after the wedges in her soul disc like a prowling creature, a low rumbling sound like distant thunder mixed with the sharp sizzle of fire meeting water as the darkness burned away. And underlying it all was the sound of her own heartbeat, racing in her ears.

    Her once shattering dantian was now whole, the orange liquid heat enveloping her, merging seamlessly with the Qi within her body. Then the fire swelled, it pushed up and out, causing her whole body to tighten. The heat was momentarily unbearable, it rushed out of her, then the coolness of her own Qi filled in where it left. Her body tingled, her thoughts buzzed, and her Qi flowed through her body easily, a sense of wholeness filling her for the first time in months.

    Zi Nuan opened her eyes to the canvas of the tent, mid-morning light leaking in through the open flap allowing her to make out the sound of voices talking throughout the camp. She took a deep, shuddering breath, tongue tingling, and surprised to find her airways clear and her lungs filled with air.

    She sat up.

    Too late, she remembered her ruined leg and flinched preparing for the searing agony which made her pass out before.

    Instead, she ached but she didn''t hurt. Surprised, she took stock of her body and felt her injury was not only gone but healed completely.

    To her relief, not only was her sword laid by her side but it was clear, whatever art Cultivator used to heal her hadn''t required him to remove her armor.

    ''Or he was just careful enough for you not to notice,'' she ignored her inner bitter voice. If he had taken... freedoms, what could she do about it now?

    ''It wasn''t like I could''ve done anything at the time.'' She didn''t consider herself a great beauty, but in these rough lands with their rougher folk, she knew better to moan about not having shoes, not when she easily could''ve had her feet cut off.

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    Even in the empire, situations like her''s would easily be taken advantage of. A bitter pill to swallow indeed.

    Still, she checked yourself or bruises and when she found none that bitter pill went down a little easier.

    She rose and brushing down her armor and grasped her sword to examine. It was ruined now. Zi Nuan supposed it getting fixed alongside her cultivation was beyond even the heaven''s great amount of generosity. The damage caused by the techniques she was forced to use remained, looking even uglier in the daylight that in the dark.

    She could hear Senior brother Cheng Xue''s exasperated castigation from here, going on about how even though she knew better, she was seeking more. Her ex-senior brother.

    Her hand tightened on the grip, the final ring on the spine chiming with the pulse of the Qi in her body. It''s sound was as remorseful and tired as she felt.

    Crippled, left for dead, struggling to get back home then running for her life...

    Now, she was indebted to a cultivator strong enough to defeat all the demons left when she passed out.

    Her first steps at a new life beyond the Stellar Wing Empire was off to a very rough start and she hadn''t even reached the free kingdoms.

    The tent flapped open and she looked up to see the caravan master peering in, surprised but clearly relieved to see her awake. He bowed and it gave Zi Nuan time to flatten whatever expression she may have had on her face.

    "This Xu Dingxiang greets Bronze Cleaver Zi Nuan. I thank you for your help in driving off the demon''s last night. My Firebird Caravan will offer whatever service or good you deem fit for your assistance."

    The cultivator wondered briefly if she were being made fun of but quickly shut the thought down. She was well aware of how he had barely held together on a knife edge between death by demonic consumption and death by her own Qi shattering her like fine glass. To a mortal''s eyes, she supposed her struggles would''ve not seemed as such.

    This man''s greeting reminded her though. "You are familiar with me?" She asked then clarified when the man lifted his head confused. "You came to me when the horde was approaching and, now that I''m thinking about it, you called me by my title in the midst of battle."

    "Yes, Mistress cultivator. I served under you as a captain during the Black Oath suppression." He bowed again this time with a very distinctive, stiff military bearing not easily imitated. "I recognized you almost at once upon setting off from Hawk''s Tallon but since it was obvious you clearly did not want to be recognized, I kept the knowledge to myself."

    She thought about the Black Oath suppression. What was that, 30, maybe even 40 years ago? Though the mortal could have been lying to ingratiate himself with her, some mortal''s names and face she would never forget but a mere Captain? While the beard, weathered tanned skin was distinctive enough she imagined a younger, cleaner face and knew it would''ve blended together with the many who fought and died during that bloodied campaign.

    The only real reason she could come up with as to why he would lie to her was due to the large bounty on her head. He must''ve noticed the look on her face because he stiffened. "Forgive this one''s impertinence but I did not believe the crimes you are accused of." She raised an eyebrow but did not speak prompting the man to continue and explain himself. "There are many stories of how you and you alone, of all the other commanders, valued our lives. We were not just soldiers or mortals to you but loyal men of the Stellar Wing Empire. There were rumors of you adjusting tactics of generals who plan to simply use us as meat to weigh down the blades of our enemy. You insured supply lines remained safe and the wounded weren''t left to die, rotting on the battlefield. I remember distinctly veterans from other companies having more..."

    The older man paused fishing for an appropriate word, the hard steady voice wavering so slightly Zi Nuan wondered if she would''ve noticed had she not been a cultivator. "... difficult times. I got to go home to my wife and family because of you, my lady. Forgive me but how could anyone believe such... tales about you even if they came from the mouth of the Emperor himself?"

    She took in every word, a muddled mix of emotion stirring in her breast. That last sentence from Xu Dingxiang''s mouth edged into the very dangerous territory of criticizing both the sects and the Imperial government who sanctions them. But the gratefulness carried in every syllable softened it considerably. She didn''t have the heart to tell him, she only did what and plainly made sense.

    One of the biggest issues she had with her fellow cultivators of almost every sect which hung around them like the stench from a swine herd, was the detachment to the point of absolute idiocy.

    The Black Oath suppression had shined the light upon the chasm between the common sense of the peasant and the cultivator. Even in her sect which claim to be the most righteous, some had forgotten simple basics such as soldiers needing pay or consistent rations. The colder sects simply enforced obedience through their intent, a heavy-handed method which she knew would eventually come back to cause trouble.

    Thankfully, her seniors were open to her suggestions and as the war had gone on the results it spoken for themselves.

    She decided not to let the mortal know all he was thanking her for was pragmatic logic. Instead, she recognized the opportunity to get information on the biggest issue in her mind and changed the subject. "What of this other cultivator?"

    She couldn''t miss how the man''s expression became something more contemplative. Which was good, she guessed, since if he was some sort of tyrant she didn''t think he would be smiling.

    The tale that followed was almost too unbelievable even for her own ears. The cultivator, a great expert named S¨¨ Pi¨¡n, defeated the demons easily and then set upon the task of healing those injured in ways rumored only to be amongst the writing of the greatest sages of the age. He apparently spoke with a strange accent that wasn''t of the city or the countryside.

    His clear power wasn''t the most unbelievable part though, the caravan leader speaking of a guard getting his eyes replaced with a pair of stones was baffling, it was that this cultivator didn''t demand payment anywhere near enough to match what he had done. He was showing the mortals a great deal of face.

    Was he some sort of ascended spirit beast? Or maybe some sort of hidden master?

    She sighed, knowing she was going to have to find out herself. Though the veteran spoke enthusiastically about the expert, he clearly was being careful with what he said about him. One thing was certain though, she didn''t want to insult someone so strong by not offering proper face and thanks for healing her. "This Zi Nuan appreciates your discretion." She began, sheathing her blade. "I must speak with this cultivator. Where can I find him?"

    "He was looking for something to cook with, I believe. He insisted on searching the ruined sledges instead of allowing us to provide one for him. He should be on the other end of the camp."

    She frowned, another mystery to solve. What cultivator cooked his own food?

    <hr>

    Spoony glanced over the blackened ruins of what Zhong said was one of the equipment sledges that had carried a huge chunk of cookware, trying and failing not to feel a little disappointed. As per usual, these people wanted to make an event of things, falling over themselves to apologize and promising to search the camp for something suitable. He waved the father and son off especially when they actually started asking if they should take Su Rong''s, the acting caravan cook, huge pot from him for Spoony to use. He was pretty sure he could find a metal something to use without taking from people who needed it. Even as he made his way to the southern part of the encampment, he passed through the central clearing where he saw everyone lining up in front of an old man, who couldn''t be anyone but Su Rong, who had set up a large cauldron over a roaring fire. He wondered if Zhong or his father knew it was being used and if they would still made the offer if they had.

    He got his answer almost right away. The flat area was full of people, seated on rocks or on rough rugs over the sand, they ate and chattered and laughed. Spoony almost wanted to join them, whatever was cooking beckoned him by the nose like siren song promising to be much more appetizing than the jerky from before. He could almost imagine he was in NNU''s cafeteria. The illusion broke as, like a stone, his presence caused a ripple of reverent silence.

    Spoony hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should intrude on their meal. He was hungry, but the quiet respect the others showed gave him pause.

    The old man had not noticed Spoony at first, too focused on stirring the huge pot. But as the silence stretched on, he glanced over and caught sight of the stranger. His eyebrows almost met the thinning pate of his hairline, a hint of fear in the deep wrinkles that surrounded his eyes.

    Spoony took a deep breath and tried but failed to ignore the sudden attention he was receiving. He continued towards the southern part of camp, feeling a strange mixture of relief and disappointment that he wouldn''t be sharing a meal with everyone after all.

    In a way he''d already known the answer. With how everyone was treating him so far, the old man probably would''ve dumped the food out himself if asked. That''s why he asked the leaders to get on with what they needed. There was already enough on their plate and the last thing he wanted was to throw even more on the pile of preparations they clearly were putting off for him.

    "Cultivator this, cultivator that," He mumbled as he sifted through the wreckage by himself. "The gardeners around here must be amazing." The once sturdy thing creaked as he levered aside a beam from some warped and twisted panels and boxes and barely recognizable pieces of equipment.

    He studied the sledge wreckage. Even in pieces, the toon could tell it was a solidly constructed thing. With the suspension and shape of a carriage, it reminded him wooden box set upon complex toboggans. The skis it would run on were closer in shape to the end of spoons, swept up and curled in just enough to keep from scooping sand into them as they went along. They were attached to the suspension by rough pivoting arms though when he levered a smashed corner up for a better look, he could see the sleds could be swapped out for banded iron wheels at any time.

    Actually, if he were being honest with himself it was that roughness which made him uneasy.

    While all the sledges in the caravan were designed in the same way and painted in brilliant reds and oranges to match the name, beautifully constructed with Eastern aesthetics that made them look like small temples on the move, there was a distinct look of age to them.

    He couldn''t put his paw on why which was doubly unnerving. It was like seeing the solution to a math problem and needing to find out what the problem was.

    It was like... He rubbed his chin. It was like 42.

    Was the problem 10+10+10+10+2? Or was it 10¡Á4+2? Was it the meaning of life? Was someone just taken 4 and 2 and smacking them together like action figures?

    ''A answer with no problem?'' He rolled it around in his brainpan for a bit hoping to knock a lightbulb up. He felt something flared to life above his head right as the idea came when he saw one of the nails sticking out of a panel.

    He looked up and affirmed what he saw. Instead of a light bulb, a tongue of flame hovered in its place.

    No electricity. There have been no hide or hair of a light bulb, radio, or a can of soda.

    He flicked the nail with his thumb and it popped out with a PING, flipping a coin into his open palm.

    The nail was a wide, thick piece of pig iron that ended more on a blunt triangular edge than a point.

    Carefully, he brushed a finger across it, feeling the dips and bumps from what had to be a blacksmith hammer.

    No commercial production.

    He thought back to that unnerving map drawn on some kind of vellum or thick paper.

    He considered himself an educated cat so being unable to recognize any of the landmasses or the names being used in the area, was just shy of alarming. Even if it was just local map in some faraway country, he leader and his son''s confusion when he brought up the USA had been impossible for Spoony to miss.

    It wasn''t that these things were old. No, he just hadn''t seen anything like this outside of the Ripley''s Oddities of Ages Past museum. He suspected now that if he were to go to one of the other sledges and feel across the lacquer, the wood would be nowhere near as well treated from rain and moisture as the deck in the backyard of his house. Though, if this caravan was only going through what the people called the Ever-Reaching Steppe, maybe they didn''t need to worry about water.

    He wasn''t quite sure what that meant, but he certainly didn''t like it. He needed to get his hands on a conch or a coconut.

    A lot of it was ash and as one panel fell over to split apart on a rock, the taste of smoke puffed up with the ash and tickled his nose. Before he had time to stifle it, he sneezed. He sneezed more forcefully than he''d ever sneezed before, sending an even larger thick cloud of ash and dust pluming into the air and momentarily blinding him. He could barely see through the haze, straining his eyes to make out the remaining wreckage amidst the swirling gray.

    Tears stinging his eyes, Spoony stepped back, trying to fan the air clean when his heel caught on something hard and he

    stumbled, barely catching himself from falling. He crouched down, inspecting where his foot had been and brushing some charred remnants aside. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the glint of polished metal.

    With excitement building in him, he carefully unearthed the item and examined it his hands trembling slightly at the thought of at a cup of joe. When he saw the thing he whooped, hopping in the air with a click of his heels. It was without a doubt the most decorated, engraved kettle he''d ever seen but something in him recognized it was just what he needed.

    It definitely was worth something too. As large as a crock pot but shaped like a fancy potbellied stove, its dark iron handles were curved up along it''s sides, complementing the engraving of stylized flames sweeping up along its sides. Its top was even fancier, stylized like one of those eastern pagodas his mom showed him from her time in the service- a small tower with multiple levels and curved square tiled roofs. Each curve and line seemed to tell a story, and it was clear that whoever had crafted this piece had poured their heart and soul into it. It wasn''t even scorched; it was that well made. At the bottom was grill shaped vents like miniature prison bars, a cage for the heating element¡­ that he didn''t see.

    The toon raised the pot to the light to get a better look. There was no plug, not that he could''ve used it if there was, and the vents looked like they were cast into the sides. As Spoony brushed his hand over them, he could feel the rough texture of the iron and the slight indentation of the grill pattern but no latch of button to open it up.

    "How do you turn this thing on?" He asked aloud to no one in particular, wanting nothing more than to figure out how to light the damn thing. As if on cue, his palms began to tingle where his skin touched the handle. The sensation spread down his arms and spread into his belly to end in a ticklish buzz under the navel that reminded him of the time he ate a whole box worth of pop rocks on a dare. This fizzy feeling, however, didn''t end with him barfing up a rainbow, instead something flowed out the way the sensation came and with a sharp but quiet huff, blue flames flared to life through the grill. ''Didn''t see a propane tank, but alright.''

    It was the strangest bit of cookware Spoony had ever seen but he didn''t waste any time. Taking a panel from the wreck and laying down like a table, he quickly opened the pot and, taking his water bottle out his briefcase, began making coffee the way mom taught him.

    Now he was thinking about it, as he ripped the first of the instant coffees open with a practiced motion in one hand as he poured water in with the other, his love of all things dark, brown, and beany was probably Purrlina Taffy Tanglepaws Witherspoon fault. Being a hard smokin'' rough and tumble alley cat straight out the Marine Corps, only his mother would give a kitten his age Boiler Compound. Then again, his dad would slip him shots of fire hootch in his orange juice so it kinda even itself out.

    Stirring the first packet in with a finger until it dissolved in the warming water, Spoony added another and another and another until the bitter scent of the cheap powder began to fade and the bitterness gave way to an aroma so rich, one could mistake it for chocolate. He breathed it in and stirred it once more. As he stirred, the Compound made a low, scraping noise against the metal bottom and sides of the pot, almost like the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard and when he removed his finger, a long thick string hung from the digit like tar before a quick shake sent it back in the pot with a heavy plop.

    Mmm, perfect. He could almost taste it through the vapors, alone.

    The concoction was bordering black and starting to steam, he was just putting the lid on it for it to boil and further distil into a concentrate that would last for days, when a young voice, asked a question less than a foot away from his ear. "What are you doing?"

    "YIPE!" Spoony yowled, hopping a good three feet in the air before landing on his feet, his hair and tail standing on end, heart doing a little river dance in his chest. A boy with brown hair met his gaze, curious and wide-eyed. Spoony''s eyes darted around, searching for anyone else nearby who could''ve snuck up on him. The kid had some light feet, that for sure. He found himself hesitating to answer, not because he had anything to hide but because he was unsure how to respond to the sudden intrusion and such a boldfaced open question. The kid was young enough to be his brother and had an open inquisitiveness glimmering in his eyes to match, clad in rough but well-made shirt and trousers, he had the tanned skin of someone who was used being outdoors.

    The feline made up his mind. "What does it look like I''m doing?" he answered with a slight smile, calming his pounding heart. He looked down at the kettle, the steam billowing from its top, the boiling coffee mixture inside. "I''m making coffee, kiddo," he explained, "Need a bit of a jolt to get through the day, you know?",

    From the way the puzzled frown crossed the kid''s face; No, he didn''t. "Is it something that''ll make someone strong?"

    "I guess." Spoony supposed with a shrug. "Certainly saw my mom lift a house after a cup of it." As if those were the magic words, the boy''s eyes widened even more, the spark of curiosity igniting into full on interest.

    Before the boy could ask another question, Spoony decided to introduce himself. "I''m Spoony. What''s your name?"

    The boy seemed to catch himself right as he mouth opened as if unsure whether to reveal his name. After a moment, he said "This one is Pan Luoyang, Master Cultivator." He bowed, his wild curly hair falling over his eyes as he put on the exaggerated overly polite voice kids did when trying to copy adults.

    Spoony chuckled at the boy''s formal introduction and Luoyang''s face flushed in embarrassment. Not wanting the boy to think he was being made fun of, he patted the kid on the back to break the ice. "Nice to meet you, Pan Luoyang. You can just call me Spoony. I''m not a gardener. You work for the caravan?"

    Luoyang shuffled his feet, looking down. "No...not really. I''m with my mom and sisters. We''re headed to the city." He glanced back up at Spoony. "You fixed Yaling''s leg." Then as if realizing he wasn''t quite clear enough added. "My little sister."

    Spoony studied the boy thoughtfully. Behind the intelligence and thoughtfulness in his eyes that seemed at odds with his youthful features, the face seemed vaguely familiar. Suddenly, it clicked - he remembered where he had seen that face before! It was the girl whose leg had been severed. "Oh, how is she feeling? Staying off that leg, right?" he asked with concern.

    Luoyang nodded eagerly. "Yaling is doing much better thanks to you! She can''t wait to walk and run again. She can even move her toes!"

    Spoony rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling self-conscious under the praise. "Great." Good to know she could do that.

    "What about you? Do you live out here?"

    Spoony chuckled, glancing around at the hard land. "Nah, I''m a city cat normally. I''m on a trip right now for¡­" He considered how to say it. "work." He decided.

    He paused, studying the boy. The excitement wasn''t there anymore. In its place was an air of tension about him that Spoony couldn''t quite put a finger on. "You all right there, kid? You look like you''ve got something on your mind."

    The boy bit his lip. "I''m ok. Just..." He hesitated. Then it all came out in a rush of words like a dam breaking. "Take me as your student. This Pan Luoyang wishes to learn how to fight!"

    Spoony blinked, taken aback by the sudden declaration. His ears twitched as he processed the boy''s earnest expression. For a moment, all he could do was stare at Pan Luoyang, trying to gauge whether the request was a child''s whimsy or something more.

    After a pause, Spoony scratched his ear, then crouched down to be eye-level with the boy. "Fight, huh? That''s a big request for such a little guy. What makes you want to learn that?" To his surprise, the question just rose out of him, echoing the same words his old coached asked him so many years ago. He hadn''t known it at the time, but the old codger had been testing him, making sure he wanted to learn for the right reasons.

    Pan Luoyang''s eyes grew intense, his small fists clenching at his sides. "Not just fight," he corrected, voice dropping to a whisper as if sharing a secret. "To protect. I want to protect my family, like you did for Yaling."

    The sincerity in the boy''s voice struck a nostalgic chord in Spoony. Memories of his own youth flooded back, making him grin as he straightened up. "Why not?" he mused aloud before being interrupted by Luoyang''s excited exclamation of "Yes!"

    "I will be the best student you ever had! I-"

    The boy cut himself off as Spoony raised a finger, taking in the mess around them. "Just a sec."

    It took about 5 seconds for him to find enough scraps of sack, wood, and rope that would hold the weight, but about ten more for him to throw together a passible punching bag. He jammed the post holding it in place into the ground, tested it to make sure it stayed up, and turned to see the boy''s jaw was so low he could catch flies. "How?"

    "I was in the scouts." He turned back to his bubbling pot, checking the lid, ensuring nothing would boil over while he attended to what was now feeling like a more pressing matter than his late morning jolt of caffeine. Once satisfied that all was in order, Spoony turned his full attention back to the eager boy before him.

    "Alright, Pan Luoyang," Spoony began, his tail flicking with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "If we''re going to do this, there are rules. First rule: you listen and learn, not just about fighting, but about why and when to fight. It''s easy to learn how to throw a punch but much harder to know when you should or shouldn''t use it."

    Luoyang nodded so vigorously that his curls bounced wildly. "Yes, Master Spoony! I will listen, I promise!"

    "And second," Spoony continued, holding up another finger, "Don''t call me Master."

    "Yes Ma-uhh¡­ Yes, Lord Spoony."

    "Okay," he let the slipup go, knowing if he let himself be annoyed every time someone called him that he''d be steaming before the day was out. "So, first if you want to learn how to punch, the sandbags the perfect way to do it. You see..."

    He stepped up to the makeshift punching bag. It wasn''t much to look at¡ªjust a mess of rags and old clothes tied together. But for a quick demonstration, it would do. Taking a deep breath, he assumed a relaxed stance, one foot slightly in front of the other, knees bent, hands slightly closed and up. "The most important thing is to protect yourself."

    "Like this?" Luoyang mimicked Spoony''s stance, albeit a bit clumsily.

    "Yeah, kinda," Spoony said with a chuckle. "You''ll get there. Now, watch."

    And with that, he launched into a flurry of punches. Jabs, crosses, hooks¡ªeach movement was precise, controlled, and ridiculously fast. The air around his fists seemed to crackle with unseen energy as he hammered away at the punching bag like a speed bag.

    Luoyang''s jaw dropped. He had never seen anyone move so quickly!

    Spoony finished his demonstration with a spinning back fist that sent the makeshift bag swaying wildly. He turned back to Luoyang, a mischievous glint in his eye. "See? Easy peasy."

    Luoyang stared at him, speechless. "But¡­ but how?" he finally stammered.

    Spoony grinned. "Practice, my young apprentice." He winked. "And maybe a little toony knowhow."

    Luoyang frowned. Toony knowhow? What in the world was that? He decided to file that question away for later. Right now, he wanted to learn how to move like Spoony.

    "Alright," Spoony said, clapping his hands together. "Show me what you got. Give that bag your best shot."

    Luoyang took a deep breath and stepped up to the bag. He mimicked the stance Spoony had shown him, then threw a punch with all his might.

    thwap.

    The bag barely moved

    "Hmm," Spoony mused, scratching his chin. "Needs more oomph. More¡­ pizzazz!"

    He stepped back, beckoning Luoyang closer. "Here," he said, dropping into a fighting stance again. "Watch this."

    And then, to Luoyang''s utter bug-eyed shock, Spoony began to fight¡­ himself.

    His movements were a blur as he danced around an invisible opponent. His fists connected with unseen jaws, his feet swept across the ground as if dodging attacks. One moment he was in front, the next he was behind, a whirlwind of motion and energy which sent sprays of sand up and his red sleeves flapping.

    Then, with a resounding CRACK, Spoony punched himself squarely in the face¡­ from another direction.

    Luoyang gasped. "How did you...?" He stammered and rubbed his eyes, certain what he was seeing had to be a hallucination brought on by the heat. He knew cultivators could move like lightning and even become like mist, but this¡­ This was something else entirely.

    Spoony rubbed his jaw, chuckling. "Okay, maybe that was a bit much for the first lesson." He shook his head, as if to clear it from the impact. "But that''s the point, Luoyang. Fighting''s not just about throwing punches. It''s about thinking, moving, and reacting¡ªsometimes even to yourself." He winked. "Now step up to the bag and pay attention. This time I''ll go slow."

    He repeated the first punch, this time at a snail''s pace, his movements exaggerated to the point of absurdity. Even moving that slowly, there was a certain fluidity to Spoony''s motions that spoke of years of practice.

    Luoyang tried to copy him, but his body looked stiff and awkward. Another punch, another time the bag didn''t move.

    "Loosen up," Spoony corrected. "Imagine you''re dancing. Yeah, like that. Now, when you throw a punch, put your whole body into it. Don''t just use your arm, use your hips, your legs, your core. Everything!"

    Luoyang threw another punch, this time putting a little more of himself into it. It was still a pitiful display, but he could clearly feel a difference. The bag still didn''t move.

    "Better," Spoony said with an encouraging nod. "But you''re still holding back. Imagine you''re trying to knock someone''s block off with that punch. Really let loose!"

    Luoyang took a deep breath and squared up to the punching bag once more. He closed his eyes, picturing the imposing face of the loan shark Baochun, who drove his family from their home. He imagined all the thugs working under the man that preyed on them when they were weak.

    He opened his eyes, a newfound determination burning in them. He reared back and let loose with everything he had.

    The punch landed with a solid thud.

    And Luoyang stumbled forward, his hand throbbing. He looked up at the punching bag. It hadn''t moved an inch.

    Spoony let out a hearty laugh and clapped Luoyang on the shoulder. "That''s the spirit! You''ve got fire, kid, that''s for sure. We just need to refine it, turn that raw energy into precision and power."

    Luoyang rubbed his sore hand, but his face lit up with a smile. Disappointment had threatened to drown him, despair at not being able to do what the cultivator obviously considered basic threatened to roll over him like a thunderhead. But Spoony''s laughter and approving words were like rays of sunlight piercing through that storm cloud.

    "Again," Spoony said, nodding toward the bag. "But this time, watch your balance. Imagine you''re a wall of mist; your legs are solid enough to plant deep into the ground but loose enough that you can flow out the way."

    Luoyang planted his feet as instructed, feeling the earth beneath him, trying to merge the solidity of his stance with the fluidity of movement Spoony emphasized. He threw another punch, this time more mindful of his entire body.

    The bag shuddered slightly on impact, a small but noticeable improvement. Luoyang''s eyes widened with excitement.

    "See? You''re getting it!" Spoony exclaimed. "Each punch is a dialogue between you and your target. You''re learning its language."

    Encouraged, Luoyang tried again, focusing deeply on the connection between his feet and the ground, the rotation of his hips, the extension of his arm, and the snap of his wrist just at the point of impact. This time, the bag swayed more markedly.

    "Yes!" Spoony shouted, clapping. "That''s what I''m talking about! It''s all about harmony, my friend. Harmony between intent and action."

    He was about to show explain further when a delicate, polite cough stopped him. Spoony turned and his smile grew even wider as he saw the woman in the ringed armor with the sword standing off to the side. He was more than happy to see her up and about finally. A good ol'' shot of Hot Juice never failed.

    To her left and a little behind, Spoony also recognized the girl from before, the one who gave him the drink and the dried meat. The latter''s face was straining to remain clam, her green eyes flicking from him to Pan Luoyang, who suddenly looked like he was stuck in a fireworks factory with a lit torch. Oh? The cat spent enough time with his little brother to recognize that face. Someone was caught

    Spoony''s grin broadened as he waved them over. "Come join us! Luoyang here is learning how to pack a punch¡ªor at least, he''s getting there."

    The woman in the armor stepped forward with measured grace, her sword hanging by her side, an air of quiet authority around her though she appeared a bit taken aback by the invitation. "This one greets the great expert," she said, her voice smooth but carrying a nervous edge that commanded attention. "This one is Zi Nuan. Apologies for interrupting your lesson with your disciple but it''s a rather urgent matter." She bowed slightly and brought a hand over her fist in a salute of some sort, her gaze shifting between Spoony and Luoyang with a hint of curiosity.

    Spoony waved off her apology with a chuckle even as the girl behind her made a choking noise. "I''m just a coach. No where near the expert my coach Brewster Buffalo was." He winked at Luoyang, who was rubbing his knuckles, still somewhat dazed by the sudden presence of company. "But he''s just starting to get the hang of it!" Spoony replied cheerfully, then he caught up with what she said and turned fully to her. "Urgent matter, you say? Well, I''m all ears. What can I do for you, Zi Nuan?"

    Zi Nuan shifted slightly from foot to foot, the sunlight catching the edges of her armor sending sparkles glittering around the area with the movement. "Yes, Great expert. On repayment for this Zi Nuan''s recovery."

    Spoony leaned in slightly, his eyes twinkling with mischief and curiosity. "Repayment, you say? That''s a serious word. But tell me, what exactly is it you feel you need to repay? A bit of Hot Juice wasn''t exactly a king''s ransom."

    Zi Nuan seemed to stiffen slightly at his light tone, her face solemn. "It is not the value of the medicine but the intent behind the gesture that holds weight," she replied, her voice steady yet earnest. "This one would not stand indebted to another, especially not for life saved."

    "Well, well," he purred, sounding much like a tiger pretending at being a cat, "Why don''t we make this a little group session? Zi Nuan, care to show us some moves? It might just inspire our young friend here."

    She looked up at him. "Uh¡­I- What?"

 A Very Odd Man...

    Zi Nuan''s feet traced the path of their last stand, her senses reaching out beyond the physical. The morning after the night''s turmoil wasn¡¯t quite tranquil, but the air itself seemed to hum with a rejuvenated Qi, vibrant and untainted. She inhaled deeply, letting the purity wash over her, a stark contrast to the stale and depleted Qi that had sluggishly responded to her desperate attempts at healing her dantian.

    Though, she could feel the wariness in the eyes of those around her as they took note of her presence¡ªa warrior among them. Their gazes flickered with the residue of fear from the demonic incursion but were quickly overtaken by something else entirely. A collective sigh of relief had swept through the camp, almost palpable, as if the absence of the demons'' corrupting essence had lifted a weight from everyone''s shoulders. The effect was felt even by the mortals. While there was clear nervous energy in the air from the attack and made slightly more tense from her presence as they realized she was awake, everyone had a lightness to them. Smiles, light steps, and energy she might''ve called euphoric permeated everyone. She noticed many people who were injured but as the man had said, nowhere near as badly as they had been before.

    She continued to thread her way through the camp, passing by small groups who were busy repairing damages or exchanging stories of the previous night¡¯s encounter. The sense of community and relief was palpable, but her mind was elsewhere, focused on finding this mysterious cultivator, S¨¨ Pi¨¡n. The Qi she felt as she reached out guided her like a compass, pulsing gently in the direction of a small clearing where the ruins of sledges lay scattered. As she approached, the sound of chopping wood met her ears, rhythmic and measured. Stepping into the clearing, she saw him.

    She probed out with her senses, feeling his Qi which flared like fire, was suddenly nothing but a gaping chasm, then the chasm was filled by something living, lush, and flowing like nature made liquid to fill a cup. It was only on the surface, barely perceivable to her and the cultivator suspected she only sensed him because his healing techniques were so fresh in her memory. Anyone else would most likely not sense anything until he decided to.

    She probed no deeper as to not be impolite.

    She was quick to realize that someone had followed her, but then soon realized they happened to be headed in the same general direction.

    "Luoyang! Pan Luoyang, where are you?" pierced the quietude of the clearing, a young girl''s cry weaving through the murmurs and clatter of the camp. Zi Nuan turned to see the source of the commotion; a waif of a girl, no more than fourteen summers old, darted between the tents. Her gaze was wide with urgency, searching.

    Zi Nuan noted how the livestock¡ªhorses and camels alike¡ªshifted their heads towards the sound, distracted enough to look but not stop chewing their feed. The girl pushed through, her small frame slipping past the canvas barriers of temporary homes, until her eyes landed on Zi Nuan. She halted as if struck by an invisible barrier, her forward momentum dying instantly.

    The girl''s lips parted slightly, breath catching as her attention snapped to S¨¨ Pi¨¡n, standing tall amongst the debris of battle. With him, a boy not much older than herself, looked on with equal parts awe and trepidation. The color drained from the girl''s cheeks, a ghostly pallor overtaking her sun-kissed skin. In this moment, she seemed lost, torn between the protocols of respect and the sheer impulse to scream out her concerns.

    "Well, well," he purred, sounding much like a tiger pretending at being a cat, "Why don''t we make this a little group session? Zi Nuan, care to show us some moves? It might just inspire our young friend here."

    She looked up at him. "Uh¡­I- What?"

    But now, with a single absurd question, she was now the one unsure how to react, her jaw dropping as she took in the great expert¡¯s answer. For a moment, there was silence as his words settled into the fabric of the morning as she tried to process him or any cultivator asking such a thing from another.

    A storm of confusion and indignation churned within Zi Nuan. His question, innocent as it seemed, was akin to throwing a stone into a still pond. Ripples of doubt and uncertainty spread out, disrupting her thoughts.

    This S¨¨ Pi¨¡n was not merely asking her to demonstrate some idle fancy. He was asking her to expose the essence of her being, the culmination of years spent honing body and mind under the stern guidance of the Golden Step sect. To reveal her kung fu was to lay bare the very secrets of her sect, to violate a sacred trust that had been drilled into her since she first picked up a blade.

    Each sect was fiercely protective of their unique cultivation techniques, and the Three Rings were no exception. Sharing these techniques with outsiders could lead to ruin for the sect and disgrace for the one who dared break this sacred rule. She was already considered a traitor and exposing the techniques she knew would only solidify that image, making her a pariah even among those who might believe her innocent of the chasm incident. If word ever got back, the elders would rally with a vengeance, mobilizing the full might of the sect against her. When¡ªthere was no room for if in this¡ªwhen it happened, there would be no hole deep enough to burrow into, no mountain high enough to ascend for solace, nor any chasm dark enough to swallow her whole, and no sanctuary secure enough to shield her from their wrath. The resources at their disposal were limitless, and their determination to see her punished was as certain as the sun''s rise.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    The thought of their relentless pursuit sent a shiver down Zi Nuan''s spine. She could almost hear the thunderous echo of Elder Tan''s footsteps, each one a harbinger of doom closing in on her.

    The weight of her sect''s teachings pressed down on her, the echoes of her masters warning her against the dangers of pride and the allure of shortcuts. To reveal her kung fu to this¡­ whimsical stranger felt like betraying not only her sect but also herself.

    Yet here was S¨¨ Pi¨¡n, casually suggesting she throw caution to the wind and reveal her secrets in front of him and these mortal strangers.

    Zi Nuan''s gaze hardened as she regarded the expert. Did he truly not understand what he was asking? Was he so removed from their world that he didn''t grasp the significance of his request? His seemingly carefree attitude was starting to grate on her nerves.

    "Great expert," she began, struggling to keep the bite out of her voice, "Your request is... unexpected."

    S¨¨ Pi¨¡n blinked at her, looking for all the world like a child who didn''t understand why his innocent question had elicited such a response.

    "Why?" he asked, tilting his head in genuine confusion.

    How could someone so powerful be so ignorant? Was this a test? Or perhaps he simply didn''t care about their customs and traditions. She examined the man carefully, noticing his fluffy red tail and the way his ears twitched. It reminded her of the way he''d first looked when stopping the demon from consuming her. Both a man and a cat blurred together into a single being.

    Maybe that was it? It wasn''t unheard of for animals to ascend into spirit beasts and for those spirits to then take human form. It was entirely possible this great expert was wholly ignorant of what he demanded as a price for her life.

    His obliviousness only served to fan the flames of Zi Nuan''s irritation. She decided to give him a chance to understand. No, that wasn''t right. She wasn''t ''giving'' this great expert anything as such a statement would imply, they were anywhere near equals.

    No, she was the opportunity to retract his statement, not just for her sake but to save himself embarrassment without incurring his wrath.

    If he demanded she dishonored herself¡­ Her heart stuttered in her chest a little. Just thinking about having to decide between further dishonor or facing down this great expert¡­ ''Please, don''t make me choose.'' She prayed to the heavens.

    For the brief moment between one breath and the next, the silence yawned like an ever-growing canyon. Never in her life had the weight of the weapon on her hip tug pull on her belt more than now.

    With her head bowed, Zi Nuan''s gaze fell upon her fallen weapon, the Bronze Echo, sheathed and silent. Of the three interlocking bronze rings that once sang with the vibrations of her Qi, only one was left and it lay silent with the cracks which scarred the blade. The Qing Dao had been a testament to her prowess, its edge never failing to find its mark in the hands of the Bronze Cleaver. But now, even if could draw the blade against this man, even if she fought through his suppression to try and strike, its once-gleaming structure would leak her Qi like open wounds.

    The sight of her damaged sword stirred a whirlwind of emotions within her. The Bronze Echo was not merely a blade; it was a symbol of her honor, the last bit of her identity as a warrior of the Golden Step Sect. It was her companion through countless battles and a stark reminder of her current status as a fugitive.

    Zi Nuan measured her words, each one weighted with the gravity of centuries-old tradition.

    "This humble Zi Nuan," she said slowly, her voice carrying the weight of careful deliberation, as if each word was a precious gem that had to be set just right. Reservations forced her to pick her words as meticulously as an alchemist chose pill ingredients, each one selected for its precise impact. "Is in no position to share what she knows without the proper permission." She paused, her gaze drifting to the young girl who had followed her, the one who had called out for a Pan Luoyang. "Even if I was, there are protocols that would prevent me from doing so with your present company."

    She watched him closely, searching for any sign of comprehension.

    "Ah, NDAs. I get it." S¨¨ Pi¨¡n''s whiskers twitched as, to Zi Nuan''s relief, he gave a nod of understanding, his tail flicking with curiosity. She had no idea what an NDA was but as it seemed to mollify him, she would go along with it.

    Zi Nuan exhaled softly, relief washing over her. The tension that had coiled within her chest loosened, though the unease did not entirely dissipate. She couldn''t afford to let her guard down completely¡ªnot with this enigmatic expert around.

    "Thank you for understanding," she replied, bowing slightly. Her eyes caught the flicker of curiosity in the young girl¡¯s gaze and the boys.

    Before she could respond, the man smacked his forehead. ¡°Oh jeez. I completely forgot. I promised the guy in charge I¡¯d help you all get to Oasis Point today. Sorry, I''ll figure something out.¡± he said, a sheepish grin transforming his features to something more abashed. A flicker of unease passed through Zi Nuan. Oasis Point? That was a notorious haven for mercenaries and rogue cultivators, a place teeming with danger and shrouded in whispers of illicit dealings. Why would this eccentric cultivator need to go there, and why would he be tasked with escorting them?

    He turned to the boy he was teaching, plucking the odd bag shaped training dummy out the ground like it was nothing. ¡°We¡¯ll pick this up tomorrow, okay?¡±

    The boy just nodded as at a loss for words as everyone at the sudden change in behavior.

    With fluid grace, the man''s foot raised above the makeshift table at his side. Zi Nuan watched, eyes widening in disbelief as, with an effortlessly timed stomp, he sent a lit Pill Furnace spiraling into the air. It was a move befitting of the most skilled street performer, not wasted a master cultivator.

    The heavy artifact rotated lazily before descending back toward him. Quick as a striking viper, S¨¨ Pi¨¡n snaked under, allowing the Pill Furnace to land with a thud atop his head, where it sat as though it was no heavier than a feather. He steadied it with one hand, a sly grin momentarily lighting up his features as he snatched up a rectangular bag.

    ¡®Where would one even find a 3-day pill furnace out here?¡¯ Zi Nuan''s thoughts raced, trying to piece together the origin of such an item in this remote place.

    But her musings were cut short; S¨¨ Pi¨¡n had already started off. With each measured step, sand erupted around him, cloaking his departure in a swirl of gold and dust and the fabric of his deep red and gold robes flowing like a regal wave in his wake. By the time Zi Nuan blinked, he had vanished.

    Then just as suddenly, he was back. ¡°Oh, by the way, you¡¯re pretty.¡± Then he was gone again.

    Zi Nuan stood still, her cheeks tinged with a blush that she hadn''t expected. The audacity of S¨¨ Pi¨¡n''s remark left her momentarily flustered.

    "Hey!" The girl''s sharp voice pierced the hush left by S¨¨ Pi¨¡n''s exit, snapping her to the present. She darted forward, pinching the boy by the ear between thumb and forefinger, an authoritative grip that belied her youth and would¡¯ve made anyone held forced to walk with her or loose the ear. The boy yelped, squirming under her hold, but she was unyielding, dragging him away as if he weighed nothing.

    "Let go, Sis! That hurts!" he protested, reaching up to try and pry her fingers loose, but the girl, his sister, paid him no mind. Her determined steps spoke of a practiced routine, as though this was an oft-repeated dance between them.

    Zi Nuan stood where she had been left, the scene unfolding before her like some bizarre play. Her mind, so often focused and sharp, struggled to make sense of the rapid turn of events¡ªthe abrupt end to the lesson, the peculiar handling of the Pill Furnace, and now the sudden departure of everyone but herself.

    "What just happened?" she murmured to the empty space, the question hanging in the air unanswered.

    <hr>

 ...With a Very Fast Ride

    Zi-Zi was pretty and pretty confusing. Partially with the bowing and stuff everyone else did but signing an NDA that kept you from teaching someone how to fight? Spoony never heard of such a thing. The NNU wrestling team, known for their fierce repeated championships, wouldn''t even consider trying that. Silly as it was, he respected her decision, the last thing he wanted was her getting slapped with a lawsuit or something. At least he could teach Pan-Yang. That boy was enthusiastic.

    Heading back to what he considered the ¡®front¡¯ of the camp, he glanced at his wrist, the watch there still stubbornly displaying the same time to remind him it was broken. The cracked glass reflected a twisted image of his iridescent eyes as he rolled them in exasperation at forgetting for the umpteenth time it was broken. Maybe he could get it fixed in this Oasis place. Or buy a new one.

    Spoony made his way to where he remembered the leader''s tent and found it almost as busy as the rest of the camp. A bunch of people were standing a few steps away on its other side in a semicircle around Xu Dingxiang and Xu Zhong who were holding the map between them, their animated discussion punctuated by gestures toward the horizon, the older of the two brushing his thick beard in thought. The guards of the Firebird caravan were vigilant though and one of them in the nicest armor noticed Spoony at the same time their leader did, and almost fell over himself to bow. The others were confused at first, until they saw him and hurried to do the same.

    Xu Dingxiang''s attention shifted from the map unfurled in his hands to Spoony. ¡°Ah, S¨¨ Pi¨¡n,¡± he greeted with a bow that was both respectful and relieved.

    Before he could reply, Spoon found himself cut off by the guard.

    "Xie Jing greets his honored brother." The first to spot him spoke, his tone respectful yet reserved. Spoony tilted his head, puzzled for a second. While faces had blended together with the other guys in armor, this one seemed vaguely familiar¡ªhad they met before? The man raised his head showing the four pencil-thin scars on his face as it caught the light, his stone-like eyes widening slightly as they flicked up to something above the toon''s head.

    Then Spoony remembered. He set down the punching bag and plucked the portable stove off his head and smiled.

    "Oh, that''s right! Those new peepers holding up¡­ uh, Xie Jing, your name was? I''m sorry, I''m afraid it slipped my mind." The toon apologized, clapping his hand over the other man''s and pumping it in a firm handshake. ¡°I knew a guy named Jingles back in high school, any relation?¡± He waved the question off with his free hand as the other continued the handshake, the fact Jing wasn¡¯t a puffed-up bull frog with a wide frowny mouth and attitude to match answering it as soon as it left his mouth. ¡°Ah, sorry. Of course not. You two look nothing alike. Not that I really liked the guy, he tried to bully my best friend, and I rang his bell so hard his ears were ringing for a month after. God, even the principal gave me grief about the noise."

    Xie Jing seemed totally caught off guard by the casualness but quickly recovered. He stood straighter, his chest out and proud. "They serve me well, brother," he replied, standing a bit straighter, though still looking slightly bewildered by Spoony''s informality. "I owe my sight- No, my life to you."

    Spoony gave a casual wave of his hand, dismissing the formality as much to not show how much the praise in the man''s voice unsettled him. "Aw, don''t mention it. Just tryin'' to help." He chuckled before quickly turning to Xu Dingxiang. "Just wanted to let you know I''m ready to help once the camp is packed up,¡± he informed. ¡°Whenever you¡¯re ready.¡±

    The older man didn''t even hesitate, Xu Dingxiang turned to his subordinates, his voice carrying authority and urgency with not an ounce open for hesitation. "You heard him! We move within the hour. Spread the word."

    Xu Zhong stepped forward, eager to execute his father''s commands. His youthful face reflected both determination and the weight of expectations as he beckoned to the guards. The authority in his voice left no room for hesitation.

    The guards nodded in unison and dispersed quickly, their movements efficient and purposeful as they relayed the message throughout the camp.

    Spoony watched them leave for a moment, marveling at how quickly they jumped to it. "Uhm¡­" He turned back to the leader, his sharp eyes his eyes revealing a hint of wariness that seemed out of place given the familiarity of their interactions.

    ¡°There¡¯s no need to rush. We¡¯ll make good time. Just make sure your carts are tied together.¡± Spoony commented, having not expected them to hop to it so fast. Sure, they were burning daylight but it wasn¡¯t that big of an emergency. Didn¡¯t hurt to ensure everyone was ready rather than fast. Last time he saw someone in this much hurry was Dean Dudd trying to catch him before he went on vacation. The fat croc hadn¡¯t even noticed the banana peel Spoony dropped on the stairs. Hearing his boss turned bowling ball go flying down the stairs knocking students and staff aside like impromptu pins was one of the few memories that still coaxed an involuntary smirk from him whenever it flashed across his mind.

    His smirk flattened. He hoped Dudd was okay. The snake was a Grade-A jerk but¡­

    He flexed his fingers to work out the worry in his head, feeling the odd blend of cartoonish elasticity and human agility that defined his new form.

    "We¡¯ve already been here long enough, S¨¨ Pi¨¡n," Xu Dingxiang said. "Normally we would¡¯ve stopped the entire day for funeral rites but¡­" He faded in the middle as it occurred to him what he was saying.

    The weight of his words seemed to sink into both of them, and for a moment the camp¡¯s usual clamor dwindled into a hushed reverence that neither of them had anticipated. Then Spoony puffed out his chest slightly and slapped the man on the back. "Don''t sweat it. Everyone''s okay.¡±

    A pang of something between worry and fear hit him square in the chest. His thoughts drifted back to Anytoon and his little brother, Paulus, probably bouncing around with that cheeky grin of his. That tuft of red fur atop his head bobbing with every step, always full of energy and curiosity.

    "Paulie must be worried sick," Spoony mused aloud, though so quietly no one would hear it. The kid was a tough cookie but if the building exploded, he wouldn''t blame anyone for thinking he was dead, and that news would devastate his little brother. And mom and dad wouldn''t take it well either.

    He needed to get his hand on a sea shell or conch sooner rather than later.

    Spoony sighed deeply, running a hand through his gravity-defying hair. "I gotta find a way back," he muttered under his breath. Not just for himself but for Paulie too. He couldn¡¯t bear the thought of leaving his little brother in the lurch, especially after all they¡¯d been through together.

    Xu Dingxiang studied him for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching in a semblance of a smile. The stern man nodded slowly. "Your optimism is needed around here, Master S¨¨ Pi¨¡n. Let''s hope it carries us through." He then turned back to his map, tracing a route with his finger. ¡°This is the shortest route to Oasis Point from our position here¡­¡±

    Spoony peered over the map, his finger following Xu Dingxiang¡¯s tracing. ¡°Looks straightforward enough,¡± he commented. The map was detailed and he could easily follow the path which curved around dunes and meandered through narrow pass after narrow pass before opening to a flat stretch with the words Oasis¡¯s Heel which led directly to their destination. ¡°Just gotta keep the dunes to our right and the mountain range ahead, right?¡±

    Xu Dingxiang¡­ Man, even thinking his name was a bit of a mouthful.

    Xu Di-Xi nodded in agreement, pointing at a particularly straight path between two passes. ¡°Indeed, I was discussing with my men a scouting plan.¡± Spoony¡¯s confusion must¡¯ve shown on his face because, the older man went on to explain. ¡°There have been issues of poisoned wells along the most well-traveled routes this year. Stinking water or glistening oily films on the surface not even the horses would dare drink. Last year they were safe but it¡¯s very likely this will be Firebird Caravan¡¯s last trip across the Ever-Reaching Steppe for some time.¡±

    Spoony¡¯s eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline. ¡°Well, that¡¯s not good. Any idea why?¡±

    ¡°Before last night, I would¡¯ve said bandits or even White Oasis tightening their grip on these lands. Now¡­¡± The man combed his fingers through his beard, something the toon was starting to realize was a nervous tic. ¡°Now, I believe we¡¯ve wandered into a trap. Not for us but it has closed all the same. Too far to turn back under the wing of the Empire and too close to Baochun to consider quitting. I don¡¯t like it.¡±

    Spoony could see why. ¡®Doesn¡¯t sound fun at all.¡¯

    ¡°I¡­¡± The man paused, remembering something. ¡°Uhm, Master Cultivator, how do you intend to help?¡± There wasn¡¯t any sort of accusation in his tone, more a pensive curiosity as if he came up with an answer to his own question but didn¡¯t quite want to believe it. ¡°I mean no disrespect,¡± He hurried to say, ¡°but do you intend to cast some great art?¡±

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    ¡°Nope.¡± With an almost ceremonial flourish, he placed his black briefcase on the ground between them. ¡°Never was a good painter, Paulie got the eye for that stuff. My drawing is so bad a chicken once called my chicken scratching illegible.¡± He flicked the clasps open. ¡°I¡¯ll be towing you.¡± He informed him, getting ready since everyone else was. There was quite a bit of a drive ahead, after all and he could hear the camp beginning to pack up. The sounds of tents being dismantled and supplies being secured, mixing with voices and the snorts from the animals.

    Xu Di-Xi looked puzzled, his eyes squinting the squint of a man trying to figure out a puzzle from a guy he was half-certain was trying to fleece him. ¡°Towing¡­us? I-¡± He glanced over his shoulder at the sledges as if to double check how many there were. ¡°With your own hands?¡±

    ¡°By hand? No, no.¡± Spoony chortled, a pure guffaw that sent his shoulders shaking as he pulled out the red notebook paper-sized rectangle he¡¯d stored away back at the school. ¡°Of course not. I¡¯d have to warm up and have my coffee first.¡±

    Xu Di-Xi chuckled as well. ¡°Then you- Wait, what?¡±

    With a loud, confident voice that echoed through the camp, he announced, ¡°I¡¯ll be using my baby here.¡± With a quick flick like he was dusting off a curtain, his cherry red Lux-O sports car unfolded to full form, growing to its full, sleek glory in a heartbeat of groaning USA steel and chrome and bouncing slightly as it came to rest on it¡¯s wheels. He gave the roof a firm smack of satisfaction and stepped back for a better look.

    She was as sweet to look upon as the dark cherry red paint he bought her in.

    Spoony didn¡¯t even notice the strangled noise of surprise next to him as he popped open the trunk and stowed away the punching bag he''d crafted for Pan-yang''s training. He then grabbed the backseat door handle and swung it open with a smooth, seductive click, the interior inviting with plush leather and a hint of mint from the tree dangling off the rearview mirror. He put the pot in the backseat cup holder, still humming as it worked on his coffee¡ªa process that seemed to take an eternity. ¡°Strange.¡± He half expected whatever timer was making it work would¡¯ve gone off by now. He tapped its sides, glancing over the bubbling liquid seemingly unable to spill no matter which way he tipped it. Convenient as that was, the distinct lack of a dark nutty aroma carrying him on delicate fingers to its source told him it still wasn¡¯t ready.

    The wait would be worth it. ¡°It¡¯ll be done soon.¡± Spoony muttered, eyeing the pot with suspicion before turning back to Xu Di-Xi.

    Shutting the door, he took her all in. Gleaming with wax polish, her chrome shined with a coquettish glint in the desert sun which would draw the envious eye of a blind mole. Turning to the slack jawed man, the toon jangled his keys. ¡°This. This is my road warrior. She is the killer of casual cruisers. She¡¯s no pavement princess but the Queen of the all-terrain. This is my Lady Doozy. A Brougham Lux-O Custom Sport fresh out of Mo-Town.¡± He stroked the bulging fenders, admiring her lines and the way she¡¯d embodied speed from her swooping curves to aggressive strength in the smiling grill, his reflection in the paint showing he was smiling too. He knocked twice on the hood. ¡°Can¡¯t beat good ol¡¯ fashioned USA Steel.¡±

    Xu Di-XI¡¯s jaw would¡¯ve fallen off it could get any lower which worried Spoony a little. If the man kept doing that, he was liable to someone threw a pie down his gob. That or he¡¯d catch some flies, and he wasn¡¯t a frog so he doubted those would taste good. It was a bit of an overreaction if he said so.

    ¡°I¡­ I have never¡­ Well, never seen the like.¡± He circled the car twice, still visibly trying to comprehend the unfolding scene before him, his gaze darting from Spoony to the shimmering car and back again. So totally awed by it, he didn¡¯t realize he was reaching out to touch it as if to check it was real. He caught himself and flinched back, looking to Spoony for permission. ¡°Did you¡­ make it yourself?¡±

    Spoony grinned ever wider and nodded his assent. Seems like he found a fellow car enthusiast. ¡°Nope. Modified it a little but otherwise it¡¯s all stock,¡± he began, leaning against the car''s fender. "Under that hood is a V16 engine¡ªchrome accents and all¡ªthat can hit 30,000 RPM easy. We''re talking more than 10,000 horsepower and over 50,000 lbs-ft of torque. Enough torque to yank a two-mile train and power to keep it at express speeds." Spoony continued with a wink. "I didn''t have enough to splurge on any of those fancy upgrades they offered back home." He kicked the tires, pristine, robust, and more than capable of handling any terrain. ¡°Got the good wheels though.¡±

    Spoony glanced at his wrist, habitually checking the time on his broken watch. The cracked glass reflected a twisted image of his iridescent eyes before he remembered it was useless. ¡°All wheel drive, independent suspension, and those shocks?¡± Spoony tapped the car¡¯s undercarriage with his foot. ¡°They''ll absorb anything the Ever-Reaching Steppe can throw at us.¡± He flashed a fanged toothy grin at Xu Di-Xi. ¡°And she''s as reliable as the sun. Might not look it with these sleek lines, but she¡¯s built durable. Doozy Durable.¡±

    "You plan to help us traverse the Steppe... using just this?" His voice was a mixture of awe and incredulity.

    Spoony sat into the driver¡¯s seat, patting the dashboard affectionately. "Xu Dingxiang, my friend, sometimes you gotta roll with a little flair." Spoony noticed several curious on lookers, having stopped their work to stare as much as Xu Di-Xi and he turned the engine over - she growled like a happy predator. ¡°Now let¡¯s get her hitched up.¡±

    <hr>

    It took everything in Zi Nuan not to simply gape like a slack jawed fool as she inspected herself in the privacy of her tent. The cultivator, this S¨¨ Pi¨¡n, who she was beginning to think was a hidden master, hadn¡¯t just healed her core and her injuries from the battle, he had also managed to revitalize her entire being. Her once vivid scars, thin lines which spoke of her early failures when training were gone without even a whisper of their existence on her skin.

    Her fingers traced over the smooth expanse of her stomach where a jagged line from a fight with a Spirit Beast should have been. She could hardly believe it.

    "Impossible..." she breathed into the silence of her tent, the hot air being her only witness and the breeze the only reply. One of the single laws of cultivation was during a breakthrough, there was only a single chance to repair the scars on one¡¯s body before rising to the next stage. A Qi Novice that was the first realm and a Spirit Adept realm was the time of greatest risk. Injuries and scars were part and parcel of the trial and tribulations the heavens demanded but would become permanent if they weren¡¯t skilled enough. A cultivator with many scars were either a great threat or a great fool and woe to the opponent who guessed wrong.

    This law lay shattered as easily as her expectations of the red cloaked great master. Simply, fixing the unchanging flesh of a cultivator just wasn¡¯t possible and yet¡­ She took a deep breath, the suddenly nonsensical world outside barred by the fabric walls of her tent.

    There was no way S¨¨ Pi¨¡n could have done all of this without her noticing, right?

    Quickly her redressed herself and dug a hand mirror from her things. A great luxury to the mortals she was only now remembering she had. Gazing into her touched her face, feeling the soft skin that felt like hers but at the same time not. Her hands moved to her hair, it was longer and fuller now cascading down her back in jet black curtain, tied down in a ponytail. She felt her eyes, they were bigger and rounder than before, her lips slightly fuller.

    Zi Nuan turned the mirror this way and that, trying to observe herself from every angle she could manage. She looked¡­ right. Definitely different but very much the same.

    There really was no other way to put it.

    She was vaguely aware of the dark cultivation methods, hushed whispers and rumors that circulated among their community. How demonic cultivators could manipulate the blood in someone''s body until it burst them apart, how they could control others like puppets on a string, and even warp their bodies into grotesque abominations. But as she stood there, instinctively she knew this wasn''t it. This wasn''t the work of those twisted souls who delved deep into forbidden, making pacts with demons for quick and easy power. No, she would have sensed foul Qi invading her, much like what was burned out of her dantian.

    That wasn''t the kind of power wielded by those who embraced darkness.

    She dismissed the thought, trying not to worry. If this great master had planned to do her harm, there would¡¯ve been no point in putting on such and odd face. Not with his strength and-

    Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a distant roar from outside. It was unlike anything she''d ever heard before¡ªa beast¡¯s grumbling call followed by an odd rhythmic thrumming not unlike a deep growl in the throat¡ªand it sent her heart racing with fresh fear.

    She snapped her fingers and with a golden flash and chiming gong, Bronze Echo¡¯s Embrace leapt from its sheath and clapped to her palm. The world slowed as she flew from the tent in one step, her eyes quickly scanning the sky for enemies. Nothing. She pushed off the ground with the second step, rising high above the camp, hand tightening to whirl a defensive pattern with her blade could feel the hum of Qi within it, a symphony of energy that resonated with her own.

    Underneath the tension, a happy jolt of exhilarated relief passed through her as Qi flowed through her like water through riverbeds, surging with the power of the Golden Blood Realm. That traitor left her with a truly insidious wound. The memory of her chains¡ªthe injury to her cultivation had shackled her abilities, stunting her, her very essence locked behind the instinct of self-preservation. The chains that had bound her for so long clinked in the recesses of her mind, hateful links of-

    "Focus," she muttered under her breath, centering her thoughts, her sharp gaze tracing camp for any signs of an attack. She listened carefully, straining her ears in the direction of the strange beastly sound. The cultivator needn¡¯t have bothered. A small crowd gathering near the front of the camp guided her eyes to the source, the mortals getting closer to a¡­ They were observing a¡­ What in the ancestors was it?

    She certainly didn¡¯t know.

    It was the red-cloaked S¨¨ Pi¨¡n at the helm of a monstrous beast of gleaming red metal and glistening glass, roaring and rumbling like an angered dragon,

    S¨¨ Pi¨¡n caught sight of Zi Nuan gliding mid-air and waved cheerily at her. "Be ready, we¡¯re leaving soon!" he called out. His voice carried over the noise easily, evidently amplified by his spiritual energy.

    The beast growled again as the man manipulated something within, causing the back of it to lift off the ground, wheels spinning and then slam back down causing a small dust cloud.

    Resolving to investigate, Zi Nuan took the third and final step pushing off the air towards it. It took her barely a moment to reach them, landing on the balls of her feet, agile as a cat and quiet as a leaf right beside the caravan leader was in the middle of raising his hands to give instructions. He jumped but was quickly able to recover, bowing in respect.

    "Bronze Cleaver." he greeted, his eyes darting to the shiny, dangerous object clutched in Zi Nuan''s hand, then back to her face with an expression of utter amazement. "It is good to see you are up."

    "Leader Xu." She nodded back, folding her arms across her chest.

    Flicking her gaze towards the monstrous contraption before them, she observed it carefully. Its sleek, red exterior gleamed like blood under the sun, commanding as much attention and respect as a beast of legend. The bonnet was lifted, exposing a series of complex mechanisms that one could only guess their functions. The master cultivator seemed lost in this alien world, a grin splitting his face ear-to-ear as he poked and prodded at the various intricacies with the kind of confidence that Zi Nuan wasn¡¯t certain she could share.

    ¡°What is this...¡± she paused, searching for the appropriate word. "Thing?"

    Her answer was the caravan leader ordering everyone to line up the sledges behind the metallic creature. Each sledge was securely fastened to the one ahead of it, creating a long trail of travelers. One by one, Leader Xu and his men attached the sledges to the massive metallic contraption with sturdy ropes and hitches, and as the horses were put in the back of an empty sledge, she had her answer. Somehow this was going to pull them through the Ever-Reaching Steppe.

    Zi Nuan didn''t believe it would work as she gathered her things and packed them away. Her movements were efficient, honed by years of military discipline, but her mind was elsewhere. She kept glancing at the monstrous metal contraption, its presence an anomaly that defied her understanding of the world.

    She didn''t believe it would work as she took a seat in one of the sledges the guards rode in. The wooden structure creaked beneath her weight, a familiar sound that stood in stark contrast to the alien rumbling of the beast ahead. Her fingers absently traced the hilt of Bronze Echo''s Embrace, seeking comfort in its familiar contours.

    She didn''t believe it would work when she was leaning out the window to watch Leader Xu make some prearranged signal near the front that the caravan was ready. The air was thick with anticipation, a palpable tension that set her nerves on edge. She observed S¨¨ Pi¨¡n''s confident grin, his hands moving over strange levers and knobs with practiced ease.

    "By the SKY AND SEAAA!!!" yelped one of the guards, a young man with eyes the color of light stone.

    Zi Nuan didn''t even manage that as whatever words she could''ve said were shoved bodily back down her throat. The world lurched forward with a force she''d never experienced before. Her body slammed back against the seat, the sudden acceleration catching her completely off guard. The landscape began to blur past at an impossible speed, wind whipping through her hair with ferocious intensity.

    Okay, she believed it.

 Hawks Tallon, On The Border

    "Come in, please. The one always has time for the honored sects."

    The simpering greeting Shao Renshu received came from a rather large man, the magistrate clearly having indulged the fruits of the table greatly and frequently. With the high collar closed by a singularly blessed button straining against a thick neck, the fat was squashed up and over almost swallowing the collar. With his Putou more wedged upon his nearly bald head than worn and the singular signet ring strangling the finger it was upon, Renshu couldn''t begin to consider how it was the mortal even felt comfortable at all.

    Despite his girth, squeezed into his yellow robes of office bleached with age, the magistrate swept into an excusable bow of greeting which Renshu returned. "This Shao Renshu greets the Lord magistrate."

    The magistrate''s reply was swallowed up by his multiple chins as he rose from the bow, the movement causing him to wheeze slightly. His jowls jiggled and his whole body quivered, making the act of bowing more like a shaking mass of blubber. The stench of cheap alcohol emanated from him in waves and Renshu had to focus on not wrinkling his nose in disgust. This mortal was an insult to his office and position in Hawk''s Tallon, let alone to the the outer lands itself - which he is sworn to serve and protect.

    The man gestured for him to sit down before with almost unseemly haste hurrying to get comfortable at his own desk. His face was red and he dabbed the sweat off his brow, huffing like a man sitting after marching 10 li without sleep. He didn''t even notice Renshu hadn''t taken the offered seat.

    The cultivator''s brief examination ended on the man''s face, beaded by sweat and it dredged up old memories of sickened oxen. Not for the first time he wondered if there was a conspiracy in the Imperial colleges, not of treason but of design. It had been some time, several centuries if he was honest, since he had done his own examinations, but it seemed every examinee relegated to the furthest counties work together to match some planned unity in appearance. Almost without question the further one was from the Imperial capital the more obese the local magistrate would be. No matter how improbable, it was. It stood out all the more in his mind because unlike the elders and even some inner disciples, Renshu knew well mortals like this were slowly killing themselves with the very food none would survive without.

    ''Maybe that''s the point,'' thought Renshu. ''Suicide by habit than rope.''

    If that''s what it was, the oldest parts of him hated the waste. Long ago, every Imperial position granted to those who passed the examinations was a golden blessing granted by the ancestors. Second only to cultivation, it was a way to uplift yourself from the circumstances of your birth. These days it seemed rather than be a reward, anything shy of being in the center of the imperial court itself was seen a punishment or worse, a form of exile.

    The heart of the Imperial Court or some dusty town far from all you knew, untold numbers of young aspirants once would''ve killed for the very seat the magistrate was now on all but buckling under his own weight.

    He took a deep breath to remind himself why he was here, knowing he was simply trying to distract himself. He was The Three Rings Sect''s inquisitor, the cold certainty of responsibility washing away glowing embers of frustration.

    Only then did he realize the man was talking and when he refocused his attention, it clearly had been for a while.

    "...as for this year''s taxes, I have personally checked the fields and there will be no doubt-"

    He raised a hand to cut the man off, the gesture causing his gold embordered sleeve slipping down to the elbow. "I''m here to for the prisoner."

    The magistrate''s eyes darted to the guards behind him then back to Renshu''s face. Clearly, he didn''t like his mental flow to be interrupted and the way he almost had to visibly bite his tongue was almost comical. "Yes¡­yes of course." Fumbling with the papers on his desk, he found the one he was looking for and passed it for Renshu to read. With a wheeze, he stood up as straight as his bulk allowed him to, his chair creaking precariously beneath him, and waddled out the room. Renshu followed the jiggling mass down the dingy corridors of the Yamen, the jingle of his rank blending with the labored breathing.

    "Tell me about the man you captured," Renshu continued, ignoring the clattering behind him as the mortal guards hurried to follow their master. It didn''t take them long to flank the magistrate.

    "He was identified as a bandit, White Oasis Sect scum I''m sure of it. We found him in the company of known bandit groups," the magistrate responded, waving his hand in dismissive way as they entered the dingy cells. The man spoke surprisingly confidently all of a sudden, the tone gave him a semblance of what he might have once been long ago when he first began his civil service career- purposeful and with an unbending resolve. It was also a good thing he was entirely wrong. The cultivator didn''t like him, but he would take no pleasure in killing a man and loyal guards of the Imperial Service because they suspected who they actually held. Renshu was in no doubt their so-called bandit allowed himself to be captured though for what reason, he couldn''t surmise.

    "And why do you think he was with the bandits, Magistrate?"

    "Who knows? They refused to speak and besides it doesn''t matter. He was with them, so he is just as guilty." Roughly pushing away the guard who stood at attention, he unlocked the barred door and flung it open with a hand and stepped aside.

    Featherlight steps carried Renshu over to the right cell, the faint sense of Qi in the air a bonfire in the dark. The magistrate missed the look on his face it but the mortal guards did not, their steps faltering slightly as they hesitated. The cultivator took the lead but then glanced at the magistrate when he moved to follow. He did not need to speak but opened his mouth anyway.

    He stepped inside, unmindful of the stench of waste and rot which assaulted him no more than a light breeze. The prison cell was dark, smelly, and small - much like every other one Renshu had been in or seen in his many centuries of service. In the shadows at the back of the cell, chained to the wall was a man, covered in suppression seals. The young man was filthy, and his clothes were worn and poorly repaired. So poorly in fact, he''d have done better just to have let the fall to rags than¡­

    He shook his head to let the thought fade away, not even bothering to finish it. The sight of him was enough to stir up emotions within himself. Anger mostly, but Renshu wasn''t blind to the feeling betrayal and sorrow that things had come to this.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    From the look Shao Yong was giving him, he was feeling the same way.

    His hair fell across his face in a dark waterfall, his jaw set in defiance. Renshu gazed into eyes that had once shone with a fire to rival the sun had now lost all sparkle. Neither of them spoke, Renshu to make sure the presence of the Magistrate and guards retreated to the edges of his senses and Yong because¡­ well, he was always stubborn. That''s why they were here anyway.

    "You''re far from home, cousin. Or should I say, Inquisitor? Either way this Shao Yong congratulates his senior brother''s promotion." Said Yong, sitting up a little straighter against the wall before clasping his hands together and giving a mocking bow. "I didn''t think you had the stomach for this work."

    He didn''t but Renshu was not going to tell him that. "I thought the same about you, Shao Yong. Thievery, of all things?"

    Shao Yong let out a dry laugh, that cracked like twigs "Don''t lecture me about right and wrong. If you''re here for me, you''ve lost that right."

    Renshu sighed deeply, shaking his head. "I am not here to lecture or judge you, Yong. Only to understand why." That last word encompassed so much, and they both knew it.

    "You know damn well why." Yong''s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing. "Because you and the rest of the Three Rings sect sit high in your mountain compound, with that snake." He yanked against the chains binding his wrists, the metal scraping loudly. "Why? You want to know why? Because Zi Nuan was right."

    Renshu''s face hardened at the mention of Zi Nuan. The former young mistress of the Three Rings was directly involved with the greater threat chewing away at the edges of the empire. The bounty the elders placed on her head was staggering: open access to rare cultivation resources, a noble ransom in spirit stones, and access to one of the peerless techniques from the ancestor who started the sect.

    Yet capturing her was proving difficult. She had slipped through their fingers more than once and Yong was one of the reasons. He had tracked her to this small town, seated at the tip of the Ever-Reaching Steppe. It was obvious where she was going.

    "Do not speak that traitor''s name," Renshu returned sharper than he meant to. Yong''s betrayal cut deeply but not as much as the young mistress''s. He and Renshu had trained together as boys, climbing the peaks around the sect compound and dreaming of the day they would soar even higher on their swords. How had their paths diverged so greatly?

    "What? The honorable," he spit on the floor making clear just how deserved he thought the title was, "young master Fan Liang?"

    The inquisitor frowned. Though he was loath to admit it, he understood Yong''s anger. Zi Nuan had been like a sister to them both, before her betrayal. But his cousin was focused on the wrong target.

    "I know you cared for her," said Renshu finally, heaving a heavy sigh. "As did I. But she walked a dark path and dragged others down with her. The young mas-"

    He shook his head sadly as if he were the one on the other side of the bars, freshly caught amongst bandits. He clearly was past anger and was now in deep disappointment. "The word of that up jumped prig isn''t worth a cart of hot pig shit and you know it."

    "Why did you follow, Yong? You were always the sensible one, even as a child. What lies did Zi Nuan fill your head with?"

    Yong let his head fall against the wall, eyes burning with defiance. "I just thought about Liang''s little story about the expedition. You can pretend all you want but he was always a self-serving jackass. Suddenly, we all should swallow the empty platitudes and false piety he fed the elders and believe the general just betrayed us all?"

    Renshu knew about Zi Nuan''s cultivation troubles opened his mouth to respond with such, but his cousin didn''t stop, his voice building into a simmering quiet outrage the cultivator never heard from him. "By the spirits and ancestors all, have you even thought about that tale? First, he claims to be the only surviving disciple of that venture, that Zi betrayed every living soul in the Empire and broke the seals. That she threw away the world, the sect, the ancestors, and her Dao for power promised to her by demons. Never mind the only reward for service from those creatures is death or slavery. Never mind he said he killed the traitor with his own hands. Never mind, it is written in the damn scrolls that no one knew how to communicate with those things when they strode the lands. Never mind, that she stumbled back to our sect beaten to hell and back and the elders didn''t even allow her to speak. Never mind, that her coming back should''ve poked enough holes in his story you could use it to strain noodles. Never mind any of-"

    Renshu held up a hand to stop the tirade. "Peace, cousin. I understand your doubts, but the evidence against Zi Nuan is overwhelming. The elder council would not have exiled her without reason." He sighed, meeting Yong''s defiant gaze with his own calm one. Admittedly, he had his doubts but this was hardly the time to voice them.

    "As for Master Liang...I admit, he has his flaws. Vanity chief among them. But he has served the sect faithfully brining the sect and the empire news of the disaster. The elders believe his version of events. Questioning his honor publicly will only lead you down the same path as Zi Nuan." He crouched down so they were at eye level. "But this is not why I came. However misguided, I know you acted out of loyalty to someone you cared for." Renshu stepped closer, pitching his voice lower as he kneeled down to his counsin''s level. "Tell me where to find Zi Nuan. Help me end this without further bloodshed, and I give you my word no harm will come to you."

    "Even if I knew, do you think I''d tell you? So, you can drag her back and execute her yourself?"

    "Brother, did she force you into this? Just say the word, and when I bring you back to the Mountain, the Elders will understand." The offer surprised even him. Renshu realized he was asking¡­ no, begging his cousin to lie to the elders faces and implying he would as well, to save his life at the risk of his own.

    Blinking as if suddenly seeing him for the first time, Yong searched Renshu''s face, as if weighing his sincerity. Finally, some of the hardness left his eyes. "You were always blindly loyal, Renshu. Never questioning anything the Elders said. Never wondering if our sect had lost its way." He looked away. "I will not share her fate."

    Renshu thought for a moment this was his cousin''s surrender. It would take some time to cool tempers back at the sect but if he could come back the Zi Nuan as well¡­ The context of his cousin''s words almost came to him too late.

    Yong''s qi swelled. It happened so suddenly Renshu thought the suppression seals had stopped working. It was only as he jerked himself back, that he noticed the seals glow bright, then pop like firecrackers overwhelmed by the power of¡­

    The third stage? The Celestial Disciple Realm?!?

    The shock froze him, even as Yong shattered his chains like thin pottery. His cousin''s progress on the path, however, didn''t break down his own decades of engrained reflexes. As Yong charged through the cell like a bull, he lunged to meet him.

    Time slowed, seconds stretching into a single long moment. Young''s punch was wild and shockingly sloppy, so at odds with the focus in his eyes. Renshu pivoted from the uppercut and brought down an open palm to the man''s chest. It wouldn''t be enough to completely disable him but Renshu was already planning his-

    Then like a candle being purposefully blown out before his eyes, his cousin''s qi contracted. Yong''s sudden burst of power evaporated as quickly as it came, and Renshu''s strike landed heavily on his chest, too late to pull back.

    Slowly with his cultivator senses carving it in his brain with excruciatingly visceral detail, his hand which was a solid as any stone, struck Yong''s chest with the force of a sledgehammer. Renshu tried to pull back as he felt the sternum sink under his palm, tried to keep his fingers from cracking ribs like dry twigs underfoot and caving them in.

    Yong wheezed, all the air driven from his lungs by the crushing blow. He collapsed to his knees, blood bubbling on his lips as he struggled to draw breath. Renshu stood frozen, his hand still outstretched. What had he done? He had only meant to subdue Yong, not shatter his chest like pottery.

    "Cousin..." Yong wheezed, his voice barely a whisper. "You always...did as you were told. Never...thinking..." He coughed, more blood spattering the floor.

    "What...what did you do?" Renshu asked in bewilderment.

    Yong looked up at him with frightfully calm bloodshot eyes. "¡­s-severed muh¡­ own cultivation," he rasped. "Cut- eheeh¡­roots to keep¡­from taking me."

    Renshu sank to his knees beside his cousin. This was forbidden technique, tantamount to spiritual suicide. Even if the blow hadn''t been deadly, Yong would''ve never cultivated again.

    "Why?" was all Renshu could say. The inquisitor felt sick, his head spinning. How could he face the Elders now? Or his own father, Yong''s uncle, who had always treated Renshu as a second son.

    "Cousin..." He choked out, blood bubbling from his teeth with each rattling wheeze. "I''m sorry...won''t let them¡­ use me to gugh-et to her."

    Renshu''s hands trembled as he tried to channel healing Qi into Yong''s shattered chest, but it was no use. The lungs were barely held together in pulpy mass, shredded by shards of cartilage and bone. Yong grasped his arm weakly and Renshu allowed the hand to be pushed away. "My choice...no regrets."

    Renshu knelt in stunned silence as the light faded from Yong''s eyes. His cousin, closer than a brother, was gone. And by his own hand.

    The image of Yong''s ribs shattering beneath his palm replayed in Renshu''s mind.

    He bowed his head, tears blurring the still, glassy eyed face before him as worried shouts worked their way from down the hall and distantly into his ears.

    First, Zi Nuan. Now, Yong. His cousin was right, he really didn''t have the stomach for this.

 Chapter 8: The Old And The Young

    The Ever-Reaching Steppe was a deadly place, contained between the verdant hills of the Stellar Wing Empire and the Mountain ranges of Baochun, it was a vast untamed land which separated the independent kingdoms from being caught in the grasp of the Star Hawk¡¯s talons. It wasn¡¯t that the emperor who once swept a single hand and flattened the far northern savage¡¯s crude attempts at invasion with a single skin-shredding gale didn¡¯t desire the riches which lay beneath the Steppe¡¯s skin or not have the single stubborn nettle which was the eastern states finally within his grasp.

    The reason the Imperial Wings had yet to brush it¡¯s feathers upon just the gate of Ever-Reach City was because the land itself defied conquest. The Ever-Reaching Steppe had never been named for its creeping extending borders which were held in check by the unassailable mountains on one side and the arts of elder cultivators on the other. No, in those early days after the demons were swept away and cast out, the land was known as the Creeping Steppe. It wasn¡¯t until the first legion trekked across its soil to unite the continent did the Steppe earn its reputation. Cultivators tasked with carving a path through it, leaders and generals all, with their mortal military and their necessary supply trains, soon found themselves at war. Not against an enemy of flesh and blood but rather the land itself.

    Winds did not simply whisper but howled like the bellows from a thousand angry throats of ancient spirits, storms would rise without warning and turn benign plains into a churning sea of choking dust and deadly lightening. The few safe grasslands where the storms abated in intensity were found to be the hunting grounds of dangerous beasts and numerous spirit beasts. Predators prowled under cover of night and even in the day, the most innocuous dear targeted by bowmen to bolster supply could lash out with Qi attacks from their horns or kick with the strength to shatter armor and pulp the mortal wearing it in the bargain. Not even the Cultivators were prepared, for those who sought to harvest cultivation supplies from the exotic flora and fauna quickly discovered that each plant, each creature was imbued not just with vital energy but an intrinsic cunning and deadly defense mechanisms. Roots would unexpectedly entwine, grasping at ankles, while trees seemed to subtly shift, disorienting even the most skilled of pathfinders.

    But what truly earned the Steppe it¡¯s name was how entire battle groups would go missing. A camp would settle in for the night, only to arise to find a 6th of the camp including tents, men, material, and cultivators in charge of the section gone without so much as a boot left behind and the night watch not having heard or seen a thing. When the retreat was finally decided, barely a 3rd of the legion remained in their escape from the ever-reaching grasp of the Steppe.

    Legion after legion entered the Steppe¡¯s greedy fingers, banners high and spirits buoyed by conquest, only to emerge diminished, fractured by forces seen and unseen.

    Legends spoke of the final battle with the demons of old ended here. The Ten Immortal Sects and the emperor himself drawing on long forgotten, invincible arts which scarred the land and forever split the continent in two. Many believed it tainted by the corpses of demons in the times when their grip on the world was strong and firm, the blood and bodies left behind in battles befouling the soil and tainting the air. There were some cultivators, specifically amongst the sects which carved out tiny fiefdoms among the Steppe who believed the very Earth and Heavens cursed this land, turning it barren and treacherous as punishment to those first long ascended Ten Immortals who dared to defy the celestial order.

    And yet, as if to spit in the face of imperial ambition, life thrived against all known sense. Tribal nomads roamed, caravans wound their way along like serpents through tall grasses, even the rebellious sects were allowed to exist here.

    Only the empire found itself constantly turned away for reasons it could not fathom.

    Spoony nor his Doozy knew a lick of this. The Steppe was even less equipped to handle what was plowing through his terrain. Like a stunned merchant watching a bull trot the isles of a china shop, the various beings, animals, and spirits which made their home here got a first-row seat of what could only be described as chaos with a purpose thundering along to the Southeastern Groves.

    So, as the caravan went on at a comfortable 85 mph, gliding over bumps and debris and rocks that would''ve cracked wheels on lesser vehicles, the toon enjoyed the scenery. He had to suppress the touristic urge to take out his phone and snap some pictures. These ''Ana Mayline'' people in the east had quite a beautiful country, breathtakingly so. Spoony had never seen a deer with crystal antlers or thunderheads with yellow lightning bolts before and the few east nation travel guides Paulie slipped under his nose with the subtly of a mace to the face never mentioned butterflies that danced like living shadows under the sun.

    Paulie must have picked up the tourist trap brochures, Spoony mused as he noticed a group of silver foxes playfully dart among the butterflies. When they heard Spoony approaching, the foxes abruptly stopped their playful game and scattered in different directions as he passed by even though he was a long way off.

    The cat caught himself reaching for his phone before the memory of his father''s voice reached up and smacked him upside the head: "Luck isn''t a wheelbarrow, boy. It don''t work if you push it."

    A photo-op past highway speeds would land him face first into a boulder and since crashing his car was not part of today''s plan, he let the urge go. Spoony''s fingers itched with the desire to capture every odd rock formation and colorful burst of magic flora they zoomed past, but Doozy, ever the practical auto, required all his focus. ¡®Best not push it.¡¯

    Mentally marking the landmarks they passed on the map and leaning back comfortably in the rich leather with one hand on the wheel and the other on the stick, Spoony checked the gauges. Had he been in Anytoon, this would''ve been the moment his car would''ve thundered into an absurdly large cake being inexplicably carried by two people across the road and he might¡¯ve been lucky enough to get a slice in the bargain though it would never be chocolate, the best flavor of cake. Or the road would curve slightly, ramping up into a billboard freshly painted with an ad for "Bob''s Gigantic Pancakes ¨C So Big, They Cover Your Whole Plate!" causing a cartoonishly large pancake to fall right on Doozy, temporarily transforming the vehicle into a comical flat plate on wheels.

    But this was the Ever-Reaching Steppe; no cakes, no random balloon rides.

    Instead, as he looked down, the Steppe managed to gather up the nerve. Though it didn¡¯t know how to handle the Doozy, it had turned the ambition of cultivators greater than Spoony. Besides, with demons roaming its lands, it wasn¡¯t in the mood to let this oddity go unchallenged.

    The sentient vines, remnants of a primordial age, were coaxed into waking from its deep slumber. They had lain dormant for many cycles, the vast underground network consuming too much energy from the Steppe as the vines as far above mere flora as an ant was from an eagle.

    Intent was communicated and received. These ancient tendrils, thick as ropes and resilient as imbued steel began creeping upward, rising with a primal wrath.

    As the rumbling vehicle got closer, the reeds writhed and slither beneath the dust. The ground itself appeared to ever so slightly shudder, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and something else, a faint hint of decay.

    Ancient vines that could snare a grown elk mid-stride peeked ever so slightly through the hard ground. The tips of the vines squirming through the hardened soil, poised like deadly living nails, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. Hidden in the thinning soil, their flexing lower cords were thick as a man¡¯s thigh and bristling with sharp, sap dripping barbs, ready to ensnare.

    The green reeds coiled back to strike constrict. Spoony never noticed the pedal under his foot lowering an extra fraction of a centimeter, as he tapped the fuel indicator with a finger and smiled. The V16 growled a very violent warning as it closed in, a deep rumbling threat through the chassis to any who dared challenge its passage. The reeds, which moments before had been writhing with an ancient, life, now quivered with apprehension.

    The vines were ready to shoot up, barely 6 inches out the around and aiming to entangle and crush. But The surge of primal aggression and ancient anger fled under the tidal wave mechanical pressure. Qi swirled ever so slightly as Verdant, leafy thorns, smashed against pistons, fire, and fury and lost.

    The Doozy plowed forward, unrelenting and unstoppable, as the ancient vines fleeing beneath its sheer mechanical force so as to not be crushed by its wheels. Spoony was blissfully unaware of the orchestrated assault by the Steppe''s deep-rooted defenders. His focus remained fixed on navigating through the vibrant yet perilous landscape that unfolded before him like a tapestry of ancient tales and untamed wilderness.

    The Steppe observed and realized; it had no choice. The wild Qi swirling through its own was as unyielding as the metal beast that tore through its territory. For a brief moment, the Steppe''s deep consciousness felt a flicker of respect for this seemingly indomitable force that had emerged so unexpectedly as the Qi sank into the soil. But also realizing itself was¡­ itself? A mind, the Steppe realized for the first time; it had one. That it felt¡­ respect? To feel such a thing was to know. TO know was to feel. To feel was to-

    A profound shift stirred within its ancient soul. Thoughts collided, reality sneezed again, and looked up to the dust floating down from the metaphorical attic and groaned. This was becoming a pattern, wasn¡¯t it?

    Nudging the clutch with his toe and downshifting from fourth to 3 1/2, he delicately turned the wheel 19¡ã to the left and whipped his car and the sledges behind along the rim of a dune. It held for a moment, centrifugal force ever so lightly pressing him firmly into the driver seat, then with a revving, free spinning wheels and a tingly lightness, the car left the ground and easily floated settled back on its wheels at the top of the plateau.

    The caravan followed behind, and for the first time the Firebird Caravan took wing, each sledge a segment in this centipede rampaging across the land. One by one, they landed behind just as easy on a primitive suspension which should''ve by all rights smashed to pieces under the weight.

    The toon checked the mirrors and saw Xi-Di''s arm was waving from the sledges window. Spoony let off the gas, not quite able to stuff down the slight bit of disappointment bubbling up. They only just started and, even as he resisted the urge to check his broken watch which would only serve to tell him jack and all, he would swear the older man was calling for stop way too soon.

    When he glanced at the sun, he was actually little surprised. It was much higher than he expected it to be and, nobody was paying attention, his stomach was rumbling. He shrugged, putting the car in neutral and using the left-over momentum to guide the car to a wide clear area with grasses and shrubbery. A rest stop if there ever was one.

    The Doozy, shining like a beacon, rolled to a gentle stop amid the tall grasses of the Steppe. As the engine purred into silence and Spoony got out, the caravan that followed in its wake came alive with activity. The sledge doors swung open, and people including one cultivator and others spilled out onto solid ground with a collective sigh of relief so deep, it could''ve blown a fire out.

    Some, like the guards, quickly gathered themselves, scanning the area for any signs of danger, hands on weapons and their bodies alert.

    Others stumbled out with pale faces, bodies swaying and limbs shivering from a hours long adrenaline high as they tried to regain their lands legs.

    One poor young woman, looking very green in the gills, fell to her knees and was helped up by a member of her family and guided off to a private bush.

    Yet, single thing which tied all those who''d gotten car sick was the fact they were adults.

    The children in the caravan were practically giggling with delight, eyes wide with wonder as they looked around, and locked on to the Doozy.

    The group of children, their eyes wide with wonder, rushed to the Doozy, their small hands reaching out to touch the sleek surface of the vehicle. They marveled at the way the sunlight danced across the chrome accents.

    <hr>

    Xu Dingxiang tried and failed to not stare in awe at their surroundings. This was the Shrub Plane, just on the edge of Oasis¡¯s Heel, and looking at the sun, they''d made more than a day and a half trip in only a few hours. The vast expanse of shimmering sand was far behind them, and green flat land punctuated by the occasional scrubby bush, stretched out before them.

    It left the seasoned merchant struggling for words for what had to be the umpteenth time that day.

    "By the ancestors," Xu Zhong murmured from beside him. Xu Dingxiang turned to his son to see the boy''s hands were on his knees and he was bent over and breathing hard. "The stories... it''s never¡­huphm, never spoke of this." He wheezed, shivering like a leaf on a stiff breeze.

    "You''re telling me. One wonders how Cultivators ride swords through the sky if it¡¯s like this." Xu Dingxiang muttered, clapping his son on the back. "But who would have thought any of the last few days was possible?"

    "Indeed, who would?" Xu Zhong managed, straightening up and trying to regain his composure. The youth wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, brushing his brown locks from his eyes. "It''s all so... much, Father. And he told you he can get us further still before nightfall?¡±

    ¡°Is that doubt, I hear?¡±

    Xu Zhong scoffed as if the very idea wasn¡¯t worth the effort of considering. ¡°What is it cultivators say? I¡¯d be blind to the mountain or something, to start now. I¡¯m just¡­¡± He brushed his hair straight, forcing himself upright in single breath. ¡°I don¡¯t even know¡­ waiting for the price?¡±

    Xu Dingxiang tilted his head, considering the truth in his son''s words. "Yes, there always seems to be a price, isn''t there?" His gaze drifted back to the cultivator who was now chatting animatedly with some of the children, oblivious to the awe and trepidation of the adults. Not one of them wanted to approach him, as he apparently allowed the children to touch his miraculous machine, not even irked as one bold little boy climbed atop one of the sloped, tortoise shell-shaped curves.

    He didn''t feel up to talking to the cultivator, not that he was afraid, but because he was utterly exhausted from being pulled through the rough terrain and even occasionally lifted into the air - he was sure they had left the ground multiple times, but he was too afraid to look out the window and confirm it - at speeds faster than he¡¯d ever moved in his life.

    ¡°It¡¯s a chance we¡¯ve taken though.¡± He finally answered the implied question, folding his arms across his chest as he watched the children''s delighted chaos around the ¡®Doozy¡¯ as S¨¨ Pi¨¡n left, doing his own stretches it seemed. "If nothing else, we won''t have to worry about White Oasis squeezing us like they''re trying to get blood from a stone."

    Xu Zhong snorted, finally looking more like himself now. "White Oasis? Hah! They''ll be lucky if we even decide to sell them a single bolt of silk after this." He gestured towards the Doozy. "Not with the speed and efficiency of this... this..."

    "Miracle," Xu Dingxiang supplied, watching as S¨¨ Pi¨¡n stretched his arms high above his head, his robes shifting to reveal strange markings on his wrists. The cultivator then proceeded to touch his toes with a graceful ease all cultivators had, the uncanny smoothness as he rolled his shoulders and stretched reminding him just how beyond he was from the rest of them.

    "Right, miracle." Xu Zhong shook his head. "Even with the stock we lost, we''ll be swimming in jade coins by the time we reach Baochun."

    "Don''t count your coins before the deal is done, son," Xu Dingxiang warned, though he couldn''t entirely suppress his son''s enthusiasm. He was mentally crunching the numbers, and even his most pessimistic estimates indicated that the savings on provisions alone would cover half the trip''s expenses. A quick resupply of water at Oasis Point was all they really needed.

    "Still, it wouldn''t hurt to start thinking about which merchants we should contact first. We''ll need to leverage this... advantage... carefully. If the cultivator is willing to sell an item to us even a fraction as powerful¡­"

    "I''ve already made a list, Father." Xu Zhong said, a sly grin spreading across his face.

    "Of course, you have," Xu Dingxiang chuckled, shaking his head fondly.

    "Though," Xu Zhong''s voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. "There is still the matter of the price. And of that the other cultivator..."

    Xu Dingxiang''s smile faded. "Yes, the Bronze Cleaver." He said, his gaze drifting towards the tent where he''d last seen Lady Zi Nuan wandering off herself. Reencountering her had shaken him more than he cared to admit.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Seeing the Great General when they were about to set out from Hawk''s Tallon, disguised poorly by any mortal eye who knew what to look for, requesting a berth from him like any normal person had nearly given him a heart attack.

    Even if Xu Dingxiang hadn''t known her face at a glance, cultivators were pretty bad at hiding their identity. Lessons he learned during the Black Oath suppression which saved his life more than once.

    It had taken everything in him not to kowtow on the spot and make things very awkward.

    ¡®No,¡¯ he reminded himself. ¡®Things were already awkward.¡¯ His son had been itching to ask questions for awhile and only now was there seemingly room to breath

    ¡°Father," his son hesitated and Xu Dingxiang decided to simply rip the weed up now.

    ¡°I knew. The Bronze Cleaver is no small figure among the cultivators in the Empire.¡±

    His answer left them both in silence for a moment, each lost in their thoughts about the potential complications Lady Zi Nuan''s presence could introduce to their journey. The laughter and shouts of the children playing around the Doozy seemed distant now, overshadowed by the weight of what having Zi Nuan meant.

    ¡°Why then? If cultivators are hunting her and if she actually did what they say¡­¡±

    The old merchant shivered as a deep cold creeping fear implanted into his very bones when he was¡­ well, younger than his son was now squirmed to life. feeling as though his mouth was parched and water wouldn''t do any good ¡°Because I¡¯ve seen what happens to those who deal with demons.¡±

    The heavens tipped a steady sprinkle to a plummeting relentless downpour, each fat raindrop exploding against Xu Dingxiang¡¯s armor with a dull, ringing thud like the world''s smallest broken bell.

    He huddled further under the awning as best he could without looking like he''d left his post entirely, the flimsy wooden structure doing little to protect him from the elements as he patted himself dry as best he could. Officer Zou was a cold, unfeeling ass, probably because he was an imperial legion officer and Xu one of several thousand common militia levies from the lands and villages the Bronze Ring sect controlled.

    Boisterous laughter hammered through the thin guard post walls, Zou and his fellows apparently having a grand time while he stood out by the road in cloying stinking mud.

    The midday sky had taken on the color of a week-old bruise, thick storm clouds obscuring what little sunlight dared to peek through, but it did give Xu enough to draw with the end of his spear. He was going for Zou planting a fat kiss on the nastier end of a hog, but he just ended up with squiggles as the rain filled his strokes with brown.

    He cursed under his breath and stomped feeling into his toes, the metallic tang of rust mingling with the taste of rainwater that had found its way past his lips. His armor, already heavy and cumbersome, felt like it had gained an extra hundred pounds from the soaking.

    ¡®Stupid cultivator business.¡¯ He thought sourly, shifting his weight uncomfortably and trying in vain to find a position that didn''t leave him feeling like he was trying to heft a heavy pack up under a waterfall. ¡®Why do we even bother? Let the Emperor and his fancy sects deal with it themselves.¡¯

    The Black Oath Sect. Just the name sent his teeth grinding. Cultivators. What made these ones so damn special? That they cavorted with demons? Ha, if that was the case, the Emperor needed to check his own fallow fields then. Cultivators would kill a man over crossing his path the wrong way or take someone¡¯s daughter because she was pretty. Surely these Black Oath bastards were a different breed altogether, weren''t they? With their mystical powers and their aloof disregard for the common folk. They lived in their ivory towers, untouched by the mundane worries of everyday life?

    His knuckles when white on his spear. Of course, they had to be. Then, it wouldn¡¯t be left to simple men like him, armed with nothing but iron and hope, to clean up the mess.

    He was about to start stomping around and cursing loudly enough to shame a sailor when a hand clapped him on the shoulder, almost making him jump out of his armor.

    Still sulking, Dingxiang?¡± A cheerful voice cut through the drumming of rain.

    Zhong Liu, his grin as bright as ever, stood before him, two steaming cups clutched in his hands. He offered one to Xu Dingxiang, the aroma of ginger and something spicy hitting his nose like a welcome slap. ¡°Not anymore.¡±

    Xu Dingxiang took the cup gratefully, the warmth seeping into his chilled hands. He took a long sip, letting the spicy ginger chase away the cold inside him. The rain continued to lash down, but the hot drink and Zhong Liu¡¯s irrepressible cheer offered a small bastion against the dreariness.

    "How did you manage to get this?" Xu Dingxiang asked, taking another grateful gulp.

    Zhong Liu winked. "I have my ways. Let''s just say not all the cooks are as humorless as Officer Zou."

    "Did you hear anything useful, or were you too busy pilfering our rations?" Dingxiang joked grimly, shifting his stance to ease the pressure on his spine.

    Zhong Liu gasped, mocking offence as he placed a hand over his heart. ¡°Surely, you''re not accusing this Zhong Liu of going through our mighty emperor¡¯s blessed provisions. Not when our great commanding officer boasted of his private tea stash to me while he was drunk on duty. Surely, that isn¡¯t wine they¡¯re all guzzling down in there. You jest, my dear Dingxiang! Pilfering? Never! I merely redistribute resources temporarily forgotten by their owners.¡±

    The two of them stood under the awning, watching the deluge turn the road into a river of mud. Despite himself, Xu felt a small chuckle escape his lips.

    "But since you must know, I did overhear something from Officer Zou''s tent.¡± Zhong lowered his voice, leaning closer as if the rain itself could overhear. ¡°A scout reporting back. It seems this Black Oath business isn''t as simple as we thought."

    Xu Dingxiang raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued despite the chill sinking deeper into his bones. "What do you mean?"

    ¡°I mean, this isn¡¯t just the usual reprimand from the imperial court like we were told.¡±

    His grip tightened around the cup, his earlier resentments momentarily forgotten. ¡°You¡¯re serious?¡±

    ¡°As missing, probably dead cultivators.¡±

    Xu Dingxiang¡¯s blood ran colder than the rain. ¡°Fuck me.¡± No wonder the officers were drinking, this meant war at least.

    Zhong Liu elbowed him lightly. ¡°Sorry, I go for the fair maidens and not the muddy hogs.¡±

    Xu Dingxiang snorted, the tension easing out of him even as the gravity of Zhong Liu¡¯s words weighed on his mind. They leaned back against the soggy wall of the guard post, both men lost in their own thoughts as they drank.

    He took another sip of his tea, feeling the warmth spread through his torso. ¡°So what are we dealing with here, Zhong? What did the scout say exactly?¡±

    ¡°The scout mentioned entire villages disappearing. Not just people missing ¡ª entire places wiped from existence like they were never there.¡± Zhong Liu glanced off to the middle distance. ¡°A storm is here, and not just this one beating down on us.¡±

    As if on cue, an unexpected jolt of unease ran down Xu Dingxiang¡¯s spine, a feeling he¡¯d learned to trust during years spent haggling in less than savory markets. "Something¡¯s wrong,¡± he muttered, peering into the gloom.

    Liu did the same, using his free hand to shield his eyes from the rain. His expression turned serious, the jovial lines of his face pulling taut with concern. A figure trudged into view, a shapeless mass shrouded by the heavy rain, its slogging progress through the mud becoming more purposeful as it approached their post.

    Xu Dingxiang watched the figure approach, its outline solidifying as it emerged into the light from their torches. A sense of dread filled him as he recognized the fine green-tan silks of a cultivator. He couldn¡¯t place the sect though he knew he¡¯d seen the uniform before.

    "Who goes there?" Xu Dingxiang called out, his voice barely audible over the pounding rain. The figure didn''t respond but continued to advance, their low hood turning towards him and their pace steady and unhurried.

    Zhong Liu stepped forward, leveling his spear to warn but not quite ready to attack. "Halt! Identify yourself!"

    Nothing. Not so much as a twitch to imply they were heard.

    Liu''s grip tightened, his knuckles white. "I said, halt¡ª"

    His words died in his throat as the figure finally looked up at him. Xu Dingxiang was more to the left, closer to spot where the awning provided just that bit more cover and so, didn''t get a good look.

    Liu''s face eyes widened in horror. "Xu, get back!" he screamed, shoving Xu Dingxiang aside with all his might.

    Xu stumbled, taken off guard, folding almost face first into the mud. He didn''t see what happened but the sound would forever haunt his nightmares.

    A wet, sickening crunch.

    A strangled, gargling shriek cut short.

    Then silence, save for the relentless drumming of rain.

    Xu Dingxiang scrambled back, scrambling for his spear, his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. He didn''t need to see to know that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

    "Zhong?" he choked out, his voice hoarse with fear.

    There was no answer.

    He fumbled for his flint and steel, his hands shaking so badly he could barely strike a spark. Finally, a flickering flame caught on the tinder , casting a wavering, orange glow into the gloom.

    The torch sputtered to life, and what Xu Dingxiang saw made his stomach churn.

    The stranger stood where Zhong Liu had been just a moment before, but he was no longer a man. His jaw hung slack, elongated and twisted into a grotesque grin that stretched impossibly wide, splitting his face nearly in two. His eyes bulged, bloodshot and crazed, staring off into the middle distance as if fixated on some unseen horror.

    His skin, once a healthy tan, was stretched thin over grotesquely swollen features, a sickly pale green that made him look like a week-old corpse fished from a stagnant pond. It pulsed and rippled, something moving beneath its surface, like a sack stuffed with writhing worms.

    The stranger shuddered, his body convulsing as if wracked by a seizure, and then, with a sickening crack, his bones began to twist and reform.

    Xu thrust his spear with all the desperation terror could throw it''s weight behind and-

    Xu Dingxiang winced at the memory and tapped his aching back. Standing around here wasn¡¯t going to help his old joints after sitting for so long. He gestured for Xu Zhong to follow him while they talked. ¡°No cultivator can hide it. It was the people who warned about the Black Oath before any steel was bared by a cultivator.¡±

    <hr>

    The atmosphere among the caravan shifted as they began to settle, the initial shock of their rapid journey giving way to a cautious curiosity about their new environment. Some of the more resilient travelers started unpacking provisions, spreading out blankets, or working out their limbs from being tense for so long. A few of the guards went to let the animals wander a bit, the horses and oxen surprisingly calm after sharing such cramped space for so long.

    However not everyone disembarking were in such high spirits, Pan Luoyang had to keep himself from following after the other kids as he and Yijun helped their mother from the sledge as they had done so many times before.

    With his shoulder under his mother¡¯s armpit and his side pressing into hers, he felt mother¡¯s twitch in pain but the whimpers which followed weren¡¯t as loud as he expected. He knew she tried to mask her pain for their sake, would let a small grimace slip flicker across her features before she would open her face and school her expression into one of calm.

    Traveling hadn¡¯t been easy on any of them, but his mother had it the hardest. Luoyang and Yijun swapped the job of putting the medical salves on her back for her burns, murmuring words of thanks through clenched teeth and tense muscles. The salves were a mix of herbs and oils, the smell sharp and medicinal, a constant undercurrent to their journey. Today, while the application would need to be gentle but thorough, as the jostling of the caravan ride¡­ well, there hadn¡¯t been much.

    In spite of everything, the journey was smoother than any before even as the land had flown by so fast it was as if they were birds taking wing. As they found a relatively flat piece of ground for her to sit on, Luoyang pulled out a small blanket from their sledge and placed it under her. He watched as Yijun ran back to fetch some water. It left them alone, a stiff silence between them as thick as a wall.

    It had been that way from the moment they left, after his sister dragged him to their sledge and told their mother what he¡¯d been up to. Not a word had been said after that, it was to the point even his sister¡¯s had gotten progressively nervous in the sledge, expecting an explosion of spiritual proportions the longer nothing was said. The silence got even thicker and soon Luoyang couldn¡¯t take it anymore. ¡°Mom, I-¡±

    The fan in her hand folded closed with a snap, shutting his mouth better than any word or gesture. Mother didn¡¯t even so much as look at him, her head bowed in the way father pointed out was her thinking face, eyes focused on the ground as if reading a story only she could see.

    The long pause was broken by Yijun¡¯s return with the waterskin. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure Yaling gets some fresh air.¡± She informed them before hurrying off.

    Luoyang waited, holding his breath, knowing this was one of those moments when his mother weighed her words with the care of a master jeweler assessing diamonds. ¡°Son, what is the one lesson I taught you when we started your training for a merchant¡¯s license?¡±

    Luoyang shifted uncomfortably on his feet, both certain where this was leading but not where it would end up. Still, nervous though her was, the words came out as easy as an exhale. ¡°Do not incur debts you cannot repay.¡±

    His mother nodded, the movement of her head slow and deliberate, expression unreadable. "Exactly. And yet, you have taken a risk that could jeopardize not only your future but also the safety of this family. Do you understand the implications of what you''ve done?"

    The boy swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the patch of grass between his shoes. The weight of her disappointment; it was a heavy cloak around his shoulders. He opened his mouth but couldn¡¯t find the words all of a sudden, like they were thick and syrupy.

    ¡°You have taken upon a debt of a different kind.¡± His mother''s voice was sharp, the usual softness as hard as any stone. ¡°Why?¡±

    Luoyang swallowed hard, his gaze faltering before he steeled himself to speak. "I thought I was protecting you, Yijun, and Yaling. I thought-¡±

    ¡°Thought what? That you could repay him by involving us in his disputes?¡± His mother¡¯s voice cracked with controlled anger. Luoyang winced, the sharpness in her tones like the stinging of a whip. ¡°It was one thing he allowed a gift he gave to everyone, deeming repayment of no concern to him.

    Luoyang tried again. ¡°I thought I should-"

    His mother bowled over his words like he hadn''t tried to say anything. ¡°Should nothing. I¡¯ve told you many times before that our safety is not your responsibility. It¡¯s mine as the head of this family. You are to focus on your studies and your future when we get to Baochun, not engage in reckless endeavors that could bring harm to us all."

    But harm had already come to them. Father was dead. Their lands taken. And Luoyang still remembered his mother¡¯s screams of agony and things deeper as he and Yijun desperately levered the burning of beam off her as sooty sweat dripped into his eyes and burned them. How the fire seemed to follow her even as they managed to drag her free. How the doctor said there wasn¡¯t much they could do.

    How she was never going to fully heal.

    He noticed how mother¡¯s fingers tugged her collar up over the slightest peek of raw pink skin along her neck and Luoyang felt a desperate ache in his throat as he tried to hold back tears. "I know your heart, Luoyang, and its what scares me the most.¡±

    Luoyang felt a shiver run through him at her words. It wasn¡¯t just disappointment that he saw now; there was fear too. Fear for him. "Mother, I..." he started, then hesitated, struggling to find the courage to continue. ¡°He helped Yaling.¡± It was a weak answer to both his mother and now, his doubts and he knew it. Because if he was honest, now he had all this time in their silent ride to think about it, mom was right. Master S¨¨ Pi¨¡n was almost eager to accept him, and Luoyang initially believed himself blessed, one of the lucky few honored to learn from a cultivator of such strength like he stepped into the pages of the legendary stories dad would read to him before bed. It might''ve been a foolish wish, but he thought maybe the man saw in him a righteous heart worthy of the path.

    The one-way people were trapped into owing more than they could ever pay was when the one offering didn¡¯t tell them upfront what the price would be. Surely, he wouldn¡¯t have accepted him as a student without demanding some payment.

    The only doubt which desperately held back true panic was what he saw when the other cultivator the sword had shown up and how Master S¨¨ Pi¨¡n wasn¡¯t even upset when she refused to show her techniques.

    It didn''t make his mother''s rebuke any less cutting. ¡°And you asked to learn a cultivator¡¯s secrets.¡±

    His mother sighed deeply, her features softening somewhat. ¡°I will negotiate with this great master. You¡¯ve already taken an oath to learn, and you will insult him if you were to retract it at my word. He will feel as if you¡¯ve wasted his time otherwise. We can only pray he wants nothing else from us.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Mother.¡± He nodded, feeling the gravity of her words sink deep within him. He didn''t fully understand but he knew negotiating with such a man would not be straightforward. He just prayed his master was as forgiving as he appeared.

    Pan Xinyi was praying for Luoyang in her own way as her son wandered off to help his sister attend to their youngest. She found herself praying more than she ever had in her entire life these days.

    She delicately twitched her fan, unadorned but finely crafted, using it to usher a refreshing breeze towards her flushed face.

    Not even in the months before her arranged marriage, when she was but the eldest daughter of the Cloud Dragon clan did, she pray as hard or as desperately as she did now. Oh, how she''d succeeded in keeping the court-like doctrine trained into her from the moment she could speak, playing into the demure daughter of the most powerful clan¡¯s in Baochun.

    In secret, she prayed that her future husband would be kind and gentle, unlike the horror stories of forced unions for political gain that plagued her thoughts. In those days, her worries seemed all-consuming in her small world. The mere thought of being trapped in a loveless marriage to a yeomen far from home for the sake of convenience or power sent shivers down her spine because that¡¯s what it was.

    Her parents were Daifu, her at the time future husband, Shi. In Ever-Reach City such a marriage would¡¯ve been at best a fine joke to titter the air during a fine dinner and at worst, the insult would start a feud. But her husband¡¯s clan, may they be bound in the dark realms to starve forever, were of the Stellar Wing and thus a ¡®higher¡¯ quality of yeomen than the one¡¯s of Baochun.

    ¡®Typical imperial arrogance,¡¯ she''d thought then, echoing what an uncle of her once scoffed. ¡®They would say the sun shone brighter in their lands, the water was cooler, and their pigs cleaner and fatter than those of any other domain.¡¯

    The gates of the Shi Estate had towered over her, gilded and ornate, bearing the emblem of a majestic, winged beast against a field of stars. It was an intimidating sight, the grandeur of the estate almost palpable in the air, as she was escorted through the sprawling grounds.

    In her silk finery, with her hair painstakingly arranged by hair pins in a sophisticated upstyle with the calculated small lock of hair hanging from the bun, she''d felt small and insignificant. She was road weary and was only just barely allowed enough time to make herself presentable with the help of her few handmaidens and, at least two of the guards. That¡¯s how desperate the moment leading up to their first meeting was, needing the help of two men who didn¡¯t know a slipper from a boot.

    The feeling was only exacerbated when she was led into a reception room, its ceiling adorned with intricate murals of celestial beings and mythical creatures.

    There, amidst the crowd of well-dressed guests and a flurry of servants, she''d first laid eyes on him.

    He stood tall and confident, his robes the color of the twilight sky. His hair, dark as night, was neatly tied back, revealing a face that was both gentle and stern. His eyes, a deep, rich brown, held a warmth that was surprisingly disarming.

    As he turned to greet her, she''d seen a spark of genuine interest in his gaze, a curiosity that belied his otherwise stoic demeanor. He''d bowed, a courteous gesture that was both formal and respectful, and extended his hand to her.

    "Madam Pan," he''d said, his voice a soothing baritone that resonated through the bustling room, "I am Shi Ye Ying, your future husband."

    She''d taken his hand, her own feeling small and fragile within his firm grasp. His touch was surprisingly warm, his grip steady and reassuring. As she''d looked up into his eyes, she''d seen something that she hadn''t expected.

    Kindness.

    She could see bare, unadulterated kindness in his eyes, a gentle warmth that was a stark contrast to the cool detachment she''d been prepared for and made the coldness she readied herself with seem so¡­ cruel. And as he''d smiled at her, a genuine, soft smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, she''d felt a spark of hope.

    Perhaps, just perhaps, this arranged marriage wouldn''t be as bleak as she''d feared.

    That first meeting had left an indelible impression on her. In the following weeks, as they''d spent more time together, she''d found that he was not just kind, but also patient and understanding. He listened to her, valued her opinions, and treated her with respect.

    Her fear of a loveless marriage slowly gave way to a tentative affection, a blossoming fondness that she hadn''t expected to feel. In Shi Cheng, she''d found not just a husband, but also a friend, a confidante, and a partner.

    After the long arduous journey, it was a cruel irony, that their happiness was so relatively short-lived. He was a two-fold lesson that she should not be so quick to judge.

    She also learned the only nightmare worse than him being everything she feared, was him being better than a young girl¡¯s fondest hopes and taken from her.

    Pushing down the swell of tears, she breathed in stiffly through her nose, the action pulling at the scars crisscrossing her skin and making the constant stinging sharper.

    Pan Xinyi''s heart had broken not once, but twice¡ªthe noon she lost her husband, and the night she was dragged from the rubble of their once happy estate, scarred and bereft in more ways than one.

    Now, her son¡¯s unwitting entanglement with a cultivator, someone who dealt in secrets and power far beyond ordinary understanding, seemed an echo of her past fears coming to rattle her anew. She knew all too well how quickly fortune could turn; how swiftly security could evaporate like mist in the morning sun.

    She was going to have to talk to the cultivator.

    <hr>

    Spoony hopped from foot to foot, trying to stretch out a kink in his... well, his everywhere.

    That and as he moved away from his car, he wanted to give the children space while he looked around for a good picnicking spot. Plenty of space to be sure, this part of the Steppe reminded him of the Prairie back home, mostly flat ground peppered with shrubbery probably hiding a ton of prairie dog holes to fall in.

    He half expected to hear a thump of a broom handle underfoot, soon chased by a squeaky voice telling him to cut out the racket.

    He tipped an ear down just in case he couldn''t hear it over the others. While nothing muffled and angry caught his attention, jittery tension in his body kind of... Sloshed to one side making his ear itchy and brain fuzzy, not in the ''pop rocks and Cubba Cola'' way either.

    He felt tired and wired, tight and loose, high strung and at ease and he could nail down why. He pulled out a hand mirror as he skipped, stretching his arm out to get his whole face in the reflection.

    No rashes on his face and he certainly didn''t look flushed more than usual.

    Once again, he tried to change back to normal. He closed his eyes and tried to push himself back into shape. His paws, his fur, and even his labcoat.

    For a brief happy second, he felt it was about to happen. The sloshing within rolled along a invisible edge, surface tension swelling from his belly button, up the chest, flowing against gravity reaching for the nape of his neck.

    Something felt ready to give, a finger nail''s tipping point which would finally tip over the glass and let his real self spill out.

    Then that fizzy feeling twanged like a rubber band, snapping everything back in place with so much force it rattled his spine like a rimshot off a cymbal. The vibration shot down his legs, rebounded off his heels hard enough to make the soles of his shoes explode, rebounded and, reversed its way up to his skull, rattling his brain like dice like a pea in a tin can. Clap his hands over his temples to get the roar in his ears to stop, he waited for the horizon to stop bouncing.

    Needless to say, it didn''t help the weird feeling.

    Once he was certain his head wasn''t going to fly off because he did not have the patience to chase after it, He gazed at his fingers and flexed them. There was distant ghostly feeling, like texture over his skin where he knew his gloves would be. He wasn''t sure if his eyes were still seeing quadruple but he would swear as he peered hard enough he could see the white ¨C

    "Master Cultivator?"

    Spoony turned to see¡­ Ah, the mother of that little girl!

    "Everything alright with your daughter?" Spoony asked, tilting his head. He hoped she wasn''t hurt again or that something had gone wrong.

    The woman hesitated behind her fan, then lowered her gaze. "Honored Master," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "This Pan Xinyi wishes a moment of your time. I have a... a question."

    "Shoot," Spoony said, plopping down on the ground and stretching his toes out from his ruined shoes. He patted the ground next to him, inviting her to sit. He figured whatever it was, it was probably important. These ani-mobile guys were very serious about things like honor and respect, and he didn''t want to accidentally offend anyone.

    "It is about my son, Luoyang," Xinyi said, accepting his offer and perching on the edge of the grass. "The things you are teaching him... they are valuable. What would be the cost of his... apprenticeship?"

 Chapter 9: No Coffee For You

    ''These people are just... weird.'' were the first thing the toon thought once the question sank in. Pan-Yang''s mom clearly was worried he was expecting to be paid for teaching, which he wasn''t but it seemed everyone was looking at him like he was the waiter with a large bill. The kind of bill that people suddenly became building inspectors for they''d stare so hard at the ceiling, floor, or anything but the table.

    <hr>

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 Chapter 10: A Strange Mind

    It was odd, Huang Zixin thought as he gazed out upon the early morning and the night watch changed shifts with the day, how humans managed to doggedly build and live where they clearly did not belong. After he''d acknowledged his soldiers with a quick routine inspection, he turned his attention to his stationary post on the battlement constructed above the gate. The rampart clung precariously to the wall, an overhang casting a heavy shadow as a small mercy to the guards stationed below. Yet, he never felt nervous standing upon it. Long before he was ever born, Qi had been used to construct the walls including the overhang which had murder holes in which boiling oil would be poured down upon invaders if the rain of arrows didn''t deter.

    Whoever raised these walls had kept the limits of mortal men in mind. He gave an offhand glance to the stone floor under his feet where not a seam or line of mortar showed and corrected himself. Grown was more appropriate and it could not have been easy to do so.

    Stubborn, they all were. Humans.

    Try as he might, he couldn''t stop thinking about it. Not the wall or the buildings but the sheer willful intent it took to make this into being. He knew the empire and even Baochun, Ever-Reach City, didn''t have nor require defenses like this within their borders. His mind worried at it like a dust rat at a piece of dropped travel bread.

    He had a lot of time to think about it as well because he was the garrison commander and thus was paid to do two things: Follow orders and think about how to follow them. Though he was paid to think about how to defend Oasis Point, there was only so much pondering and preparation one could manage.

    As the largest settlement in the Ever-Reaching Steppe, it was his job to make sure the cultivators of the White Oasis never needed to lower themselves with such base irritations, their words, as defending their home from anything less than a spirit beast.

    Movement to his left let him know a soldier arrived by his elbow as was protocol. Only Zixin''s superiors were allowed to approach him to his right, a tradition based in the basic fact one couldn''t draw a sword or swing a pike properly without giving someone more than ample warning. Though in his case, since his every superior was a cultivator the least of whom could move faster than the eye could follow, the tradition was more a formality than a practical concern. The hours passed. He rested with a cup of tea and soon was back at his post.

    Barely a half hour passed before, he was back to pondering humans again.

    "Commander Huang," the soldier said, bowing low showing her short-cropped hair as it dangled from under the iron helm. "A message from the White Oasis."

    Zixin took the proffered scroll from his daughter, acknowledging her with a nod. "Report."

    "All is quiet, Commander. No sign of any disturbances or threats."

    "Very well. Dismissed." As the soldier saluted and marched away to her other duties, Zixin allowed himself a small sigh of relief. Another uneventful night had passed outside, and the cultivators of the White Oasis could continue their pursuits unhindered.

    Half turned as he was, he made out the sapphire jewel that was the lake White Oasis was built around, its glass-like waters glimmering in the light of the noon sun. And across those waters was the pale white-blue shape of the White Oasis compound. He examined the scroll in his hand and the jade seal glared at him from the rolled paper. His heart stuttered, the emblem of a water drop in the center warning him it came directly from the sect leader. He suspected what was inside, but his thumb still trembled as he cracked the seal and unrolled the message.

    His eyes scanned the elegant calligraphy, and he let out a breath.

    "Any cultivators that demand entry must be verified and shown to the compound," he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. "Any wearing the Red Sand Sect''s colors are to be immediately detained if they are mortal." Executed, if they are not, was left unwritten. An absurd command if it wasn''t for-

    "Hhhhuuuuaaannnggg, please tell me the old man has relieved me of this monotonous task." The voice, a melodic blend of water flowing into a cup and a sneer only barely suppressed, interrupted the commander''s focus. It seemed to dance effortlessly from the figure sprawled on a cushioned mat in the corner, a person so easily overlooked yet now commanding attention without effort.

    Zixin''s eyes landed on luxuriating form of Qin Yuanjun, dressed in his silken blue robes and sipping some pungently sweet drink from a crystal glass in one hand while idly rolling what the man knew weren''t marbles in the palm of the other.

    Zixin carefully rolled the scroll back up, tucking it into his armor. He turned to face Yuanjun fully, inclining his head respectfully. "I''m afraid not, Master Qin. The sect leader has given explicit instructions regarding entry protocols, especially concerning any from the Red Sand Sect."

    Yuanjun let out an exaggerated sigh, setting down his glass with a clink. "Of course he did. The old man is paranoid as ever." He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, the spheres vanishing into his sleeve. "And let me guess, I''m still stuck babysitting you and the others?" It wasn''t a question and it wasn''t quiet either. The commander didn''t miss how every guard within earshot were now white-knuckling their pikes.

    Zixin kept his expression neutral, though it took effort. "Your presence here is vital, Young Master Qin. The sect leader entrusts the safety of Oasis Point to you."

    "Yes, yes, I''m well aware of my glorious purpose," Yuanjun waved a dismissive hand. "Guarding your sandy hovel from the scary desert bogeymen. What an honor indeed."

    The young master sauntered over to the rampart''s edge, peering out at the vast expanse of the Ever-Reaching Steppe with the air of beleaguered snake.

    Qin Yuanjun was less a fountain of joy and more a well-spring of irritation. Ever since he was assigned here, the young master of the White Oasis sect was irreverent, disrespectful, and all around went out of his way to grate on his nerves. Not just his, but his soldiers as well. Whenever he put on the pageantry of respect, his tone made it obvious that he couldn''t care less about addressing anyone by their rank, treating it with the same level of importance as he would a nearby wall.

    It amazed Zixin how such a man could be so¡­ pig ignorant with all the evidence before him.

    While he himself was ignorant of cultivator politics, even he understood the sect elder would never arbitrarily put the young master here. In fact, with the sheer number of cultivators from other sects in the Steppe being invited in, flying in the face of all previous tensions¡­ but excluding Red Sand¡­

    The commander never spent time in the bars his men did but the rumors had reached his ears none the less. The few mortal survivors who''d made it in before Zixin was ordered to close the gates as trade from the caravans dried up spoke of cultivators fighting alongside the demons. A rumor that his orders all but outright sat him down at told him the rumors were true and who it was.

    But that was not what was on his mind. No, the fact he was still worried was. Huang Zixin leaned on the rampart''s stone wall, stroking his beard, the cool surface a stark contrast to the rising heat of the day as he tried to process it. His masters managed to convince one of the sects to work with them, a great advantage certainly but¡­

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    He thought.

    He thought about human stubbornness again. While it was something which had been on his mind ever since his conversion, with the great plan finally in motion he found himself often reminded again and again why the dominion of his kind was turned aside so long ago.

    It was a question those above never deigned to ask. A problem he discovered the answer to through his 37 years of his ''life'' and it was writ large before him now.

    As he stood up on the crenellated eastern wall with his back ramrod straight, he gazed upon the dozens and dozens of encampments, tents, and covered dugouts which covered the space outside the small city. The people here were a hardy bunch, eking out a living in a place that seemed determined to snuff out their existence at every turn. No, not just that. The survivors trekked here of all places and were rebuilding what they could of their lives as demons were so clearly closing in.

    Only a few weeks ago, this part of Oasis''s Heel beyond the walls were empty, save for the low grasses, shrubs, and thin trees which scraped out a stubborn survival.

    Huang Zixin sniffed readjusting the ridiculousness of those last two words. Plants were just life, no different than animals, following steps and paths for the greater purpose of serving a function.

    No different than himself.  That purpose being espionage, sabotage, and eventually, once these walls fell, consumption back into the whole.

    But "Stubborn Survival" were words that seemed to be carved into the very soul of human beings. That made something flicker in his chest. It was quite possible something was wrong with him. He didn''t find that idea as disturbing as he suspected he should. As far as he knew, he was the only one of his kind around, a being created by those above to live amongst the prey, act like prey, and become prey once the task was done.

    A distant rumble of thunder seemed to want to add an extra layer of foreboding to Zixin''s troubled thoughts.

    There were most likely ''problems'' which could cause conflict within him his masters couldn''t predict, errors unnatural to his already unnatural self. He rolled the tightness building between his shoulders lose with a shrug. Maybe he should mention it when the time came surely those above would¡­ want¡­ to¡­

    Huang Zixin blinked, attention refocusing from the middle distance as he realized the thunder was still going. In fact, now he was paying attention the man wasn''t quite sure there''d even been a pause to break up the sound.

    His gray eyes narrowed as he scanned the horizon beyond the encampments as something glimmered in the distance, the deep low rumbling rising into a droning growl as it approached.

    Qin Yuanjun straightened beside him, suddenly alert in a way the commander had yet to see from him this entire time. "Do you hear that, Commander Huang?" Qin Yuanjun''s voice had lost its usual mocking edge, replaced by childish excitement. His eyes were fixed on the distant glimmer, hand unconsciously rolling the blue orbs in his fingers as he smiled.

    Couldn''t find this nearly half as exciting as he seemed to. Instead, Zixin nodded grimly, the droning growl growing louder by the second. "I do, Young Master Qin. And I don''t like it one bit." He turned to the nearest guard, barking out orders. "Sound the alarm! All soldiers to their posts, now!"

    The guard saluted hastily and rushed off, the clanging of warning bells soon echoing across Oasis Point. As the clarion call of the warning bells rang out, Zixin''s thoughts raced. An attack? Now of all times? Surely, his masters would''ve given some warning¡­

    Soldiers scrambled to their positions along the walls, weapons at the ready. The bells also had an effect on the encampment just outside the wall. Like a stone dropped into water, confusion brought activity to a halt as people wondered what exactly was going on. Then the ripple worked its way from the rear back to the front, first with people pointing at the glimmer then an eruption of voices rising in a cacophony of panic.

    Refugees grabbed what meager possessions they could carry and rushed towards the gates, desperate for the safety of the city walls. Mothers clutched crying children to their chests, men shouldered packs laden with supplies, the elderly hobbled as fast as they could, all driven by the primal fear of what was approaching.

    Zixin felt himself gritting his teeth as he watched the chaos below. The gates needed to remain sealed, the cultivator''s orders were clear and the less hands able to be put to White Oasis''s defense in any way served the great plan.

    But the sight of terrified innocents pleading for fluttered something deep within him, an instinct that felt fundamentally off despite his inhuman nature. Deciding not to think on it too long, choosing to squint to try and make details through the haze.

    The droning growl intensified, the glimmering shape on the horizon resolving into the tip of a massive cloud of dust kicked up by countless galloping hooves.

    "What under the heavens¡­?" The commander turned to the young master, surprised to hear him utter astonishment. Qin Yuanjun didn''t look eager anymore, simply confused his wolfish features pinched into a frown.

    As the dust cloud drew closer, Zixin could make out the shapes within¡­ "Wuh¡­ what is that?" He wasn''t sure it was a beast, spirit or no, and it wasn''t a demon, or the young master wouldn''t be as perplexed as he was.

    Whatever it was, it seemed to be tearing at them with incredible speed¡­ towing trade sledges behind it.

    The creature was closing in fast, its bounding leaps eating up the distance. Zixin could make out figures on¡­in the beast? A woman and a man¡­

    "Hold¡­" Zixin said, his hand raised.

    His jaw dropped as the metallic contraption, adorned with red and glittering accents, roared towards the wall. The refugees scrambled in terror, creating a path like a wave parting in the sea. The carriage-like machine screeched to a stop just inches from the panicked crowd, the sledges sliding to an easy stop behind it. The rumbling drone died and in the tense silence that followed its side opened, a door, and a figure stepped out, waving wildly and grinning from ear to ear.

    "Can we come in?" the figure shouted, his voice carrying over the chaos he caused. "This is the Firebird Caravan, here to trade."

    Zixin squinted, taking in the eccentric appearance of the man. His robes were a vibrant blend of red and gold, adorned with intricate patterns that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. His hair was a wild mane of red, standing every which way. But what caught Zixin''s attention were the man''s ears¡ªpointed and feline, twitching slightly as if picking up every sound in the vicinity.

    Zixin''s grip on his spear tightened, his brow furrowing in confusion. This was no ordinary cultivator. In fact, he wasn''t sure what this man was. He turned to Qin Yuanjun, who stood beside him, his usual smirk replaced by a look of genuine curiosity. An unfriendly curiosity.

    "Young Master Qin," Zixin began, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. "Do you know anything about this... individual?"

    Qin Yuanjun''s eyes narrowed as he studied the figure below. "I''ve never seen anything like him," he admitted, his voice barely above a murmur. "But he''s no demon. That much is certain."

    Zixin turned his attention back to the strange man, who was now conversing with the refugees. Their fear seemed to dissipate in his presence, replaced by a sense of bewilderment. Zixin couldn''t make out what they were saying, but he could see the man''s exaggerated gestures, his animated expressions. Then he caught noticed of what exactly the young master was looking at¡­ or rather who that troublesome gaze was aimed at.

    The woman the commander almost forgot he''d seen stumbled from the other side, her armor and weapon standing her out as a cultivator.

    Zixin''s gaze flicked back to the man, his mind racing. This was uncharted territory. He had orders, yes, but this... this was something else entirely. But if this was a supplied caravan then, he couldn''t really find the excuse to not let them in. He took a deep breath, his decision made.

    "Open the gates," he commanded, his voice firm. "Let them in. Clear the crowd first."

    Qin Yuanjun already hopped the wall and was drifting down.

    "Faster," he said to the soldier. "In case a fight breaks out."

    Qin Yuanjun landed gracefully in front of the strange carriage, his blue robes fluttering around him. The refugees parted hastily, creating a wide berth around the young cultivator. Yuanjun''s eyes were fixed on the woman who had emerged from the other side of the vehicle, his smile sharp and assessing.

    "Well, well, what have we here?" Yuanjun drawled, sauntering closer. The woman was clad in bronze armor that glittered almost as much as the¡­ his eyes glanced over to the thing she arrived in. With her long black hair tied back in a high, tight ponytail she carried herself with the poise and grace of a seasoned warrior, her eyes scanning him with a sharp intensity. "A fierce lady cultivator, hmm? And what sect do you hail from, my dear?"

    The woman met his gaze steadily, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "I am Zi Nuan," she stated, her voice calm but firm. "We come in peace, seeking trade and respite within Oasis Point."

    Yuanjun circled her, appraising her form. He was about to comment, politely, she hadn''t told him her sect when he blinked and had to restrain himself from startling as the red headed cultivator replaced Zi Nuan. "And I''m S¨¨ Pi¨¡n! Tell me, do you have any seashells I could buy?"

    For a moment, the young master of White Oasis wondered if he could get away with declaring this S¨¨ Pi¨¡n Red Sand Sect just to get him out the way. His eyes fell back on Zi Nuan and he threw that idea away. If he did, she''d need to be taken care of too and that would be such a shame.

    Yuanjun blinked again as what he was just asked hit him, momentarily taken aback by S¨¨ Pi¨¡n''s sudden appearance and bizarre question. He quickly regained his composure, his smile turning condescending. "Seashells? In the middle of the desert? You''re a strange one, aren''t you?"

    He glanced back at Zi Nuan, his interest in her still piqued. "As for you, my dear, I''m afraid I must insist on knowing your sect affiliation. We can''t just let any cultivator waltz into Oasis Point, now can we?"

    Zi Nuan''s grip on her sword tightened almost imperceptibly. "We are not affiliated with any sect," she said evenly. "We are independent traders, seeking only to conduct business and move on."

    "Independent cultivators? How... unusual." Yuanjun''s eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. "I don''t believe I''ve had the pleasure of encountering your sect before. The Firebird Caravan, was it?"

    "Oh, that''s not a sect. It''s a caravan." S¨¨ Pi¨¡n clarified cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to the tense atmosphere.

    "A trading caravan led by cultivators? How... quaint."

    "But we''re not the one''s in charge. And since the guy up there is opening the doors, I''m guessin'' you aren''t either. Ssssoooooo¡­ Toodles."

    The ''You dare'' was just forming on his lips by the time the cultivator grabbed Zi Nuan, got in the machine, and zoomed through the barely open doors.

 Chapter 11.1: New Arrivals

    <u>Chapter 11.1: New Arrivals</u>

    The White Oasis''s meditation hall was usually a calm place for when the Sect was gathered for its daily training, mor often than not it doubled as the meeting hall for the sect elders conducting business. Its thick walls, high ceiling and wide skylights made it the perfect sanctuary for contemplation and discussion and from the outside it rose three levels high from the center of the large, circular enclosed compound, adding to its imposing grandeur.

    Within, the ceiling was adorned with intricate carvings of water in its different states, expertly colored in blue paints by steady hands. A still pool flowing into ripples which then rose into curling waves before raining down upon the source before going still again. A perfect representation in the Qi pulled in from the Oasis the compound was built upon, where the life-giving tranquility and the spirit of the sect intertwined.

    It stood as the statement of the White Oasis sect''s power, for it was the only of its kind in the entire Ever-Reaching Steppe and had been so for over a thousand years.

    In Qin Weimin''s opinion, it was a shame there hadn''t been anything near tranquility within these walls for weeks. He didn''t know how but as the insult coming from the expected direction flew towards its intended target, he managed not to yank his deep blue highlights out by the root. Instead, he let the mental chant - ''Not again, not again, not again, not again DAMMIT!!'' - to bounce around his head, hiding his irritation by looking to a nearby window and combing his locks straight.

    "You dare!" Elder Qiu''s words came so low, his melodic tones slithering from between his clenched teeth so frigid, so full of seething icy rage, a northern frost viper scales would have been a roaring fire and its fangs a thousandth as venomous. It was a voice that charmed many and commanded armies, a voice suited very well to the high courts of the Empire that spurned it. Now though, it was reduced to a snarl which would have killed a lesser man and froze the brave like balking horses.

    With his Qi feeling more and more like the roiling wave right now, Weimin bit off the groan he wanted let free. While the last thing he or the sect needed was him getting pulled into the argument about to start over any ''disrespect'', as discussions were again knocked off course, part of him wanted nothing more then to tell these... honored guests to stop going at each other. Hidden under his sleeves, his finger reflexively clamped around his thighs hard enough to bruise, the slight ache helping to keep the frustration in check.

    There had been a point before all this where sheer awe and terror at the reputations and power of those present would''ve made such a effort unnecessary. If anyone had told Weimin two weeks ago, he''d actually need to try and not lose his temper in the presence of some of the most renowned and feared martial artists in the land, he would have laughed himself silly. But that was before the arguing started, and kept going, and going

    He risked a glance over to his father, Elder Qin Muchen, and was unsurprised by his stoic acceptance of the discussions stalling once again because someone just had to say something to slight another. His father stroked his beard, and Weimin could swear it had gone slightly grayer at the tips at some point.

    "Are you insinuating that this calamity is the doing of my sect?" Sun Qiu soft brown hair dangled over eyes the color of wet stone, burning across the room as every word was forced out with pure incredulous hate. Until now, the elder of the Feral Whip Sect came off little more than an unserious lover boy fop¡ªan image reinforced by his youthful visage and his love for extravagant silks which hung off him in ways that were scandalously immodest. Having shirked the traditional garb of a cultivator coming to every meeting like this was¡ªperhaps indicative of how the Feral Whip Sect was mainly female.

    Yet no one could ignore his title, Raging Chain; Amidst these decadent silks were a multitude of chains of varying lengths and sizes he was never without, wrapped around his body like metallic serpents. On the end of each forged chain, from the thickest which hung from shoulder to waist like a sash to one so thin it could be mistaken as a necklace, was a vicious dart.

    Even as he leaned forward on the plush cushion, his lean wiry frame taught as a bowstring, Sun Qui''s jangling chains intensified the air of danger that belied his soft features.

    "I see the dog learns." Elder Zexian laughed in response of the other elder''s fury, unbothered gray eyes matching the glare like cold polished steel. "Ack, ack, ack, ackkkk." The slickly sound clawing from his throat lacked an ounce of mirth, sarcastic and mocking and dragging across the ears like nails on stone. His figure, draped in robes of purple and black, only emphasizes unnatural thinness. Where Sun Qiu''s robes hung off of him because he wanted them to, Lian Zexian''s hung off of his emaciated frame like heavy drapes on a bare wall. There was no hiding the sharp angles of his bony elbows and shoulders under the voluminous robes, or the twig-thin neck with the stiff high collar.

    He unsettled Weimin more than the other elders combined. There was something about Zexian that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

    The elder''s gray eyes crinkled sparkling with cruel amusement, his serrated smile peeking from beneath the bandages wound tightly around the lower half of his face and down his neck¡ªthe Hungry Pheonix baring his teeth.  I wouldn''t have suggested you and your sect pay reparations to ours otherwise." he said, his voice dripping with poisonous ''concern''. He paused, bringing a hand up to his chin¡ªa hand so milky pale it was almost translucent, veins visible under the stretched skin contrasting sharply with the pointedly sharp, thick, and black fingernails.

    "To all of ours, I mean. After all, the traitors of the Red Sand, may they rot in the deepest pit ever more, were your neighbors. If you weren''t keeping an eye on them... well, that would be a dereliction of duty on your part."

    "Stupidity, negligence or complicity," he sneered, jabbing a finger towards Sun Qiu as if punctuating each word. The delight in his voice was almost palpable as he continued, "Regardless of which it is, recompense must be determined before we proceed any further with these negotiations."

    "Y-you¡­" Sun Qiu hand''s began to rise, the fingers curling into a fist of repressed fury. They trembled slightly, not from fear or weakness but from barely contained wrath and the chains rattled in kind. It was as though the very air around him had turned brittle, ready to shatter at the slightest provocation. His Qi lashed against the bars of self-control, chains vibrating, itching for release.

    But then, he caught himself.

    His jaw was clenched, a trickle of blood trailing down from the corner of his tight lips, the muscles straining against skin. They twitched and flexed, mirroring the inner turmoil that raged within him. The desire to crush - to utterly annihilate - the insubordinate wretch before him was palpable in his gaze.

    Lian Zexian raised his own chin, daring the other man to try. Sun Qiu lowered his hand, not rising to the bait. Everyone knew what would happen if he broke guest rights in the White Oasis compound and with Elder Sun''s own territory swamped by Demons and Red Sand, he knew better than most the stakes were too high.

    "If you think I would endanger my own people to benefit the likes of you." he finally spoke, voice steady but edged like a dagger, words and Qi alike hissing like steam from a kettle.  "Your time in those empty caves your sect wallows in have dulled your senses, Elder Zexian."

    "I believe," The woman next to Elder Sun began with a painful slowness, rolling up her sleeve as she scooped up her cup of now cold tea and exposed the webbing tattoo rising from her palm up past the bicep, the loose fabric offering a hint it went further up her arm. The design marking her as not only a member but an elder of the Evening Thunder Sect was clearly not born of ink but scars, the wild untamed branching carved into once delicate skin. With how the light glowed in from the high and wide skylights the distinctive orange tattoo which followed the maze was cast into a slightly dazzling hue which was seemingly alive like an ember of the Ever-Reaching Steppe''s storms caught and contained within. The pause she made to take a sip allowed what would''ve been such a quiet sound, snap across The White Oasis meeting Pavilion like a static charge. "We should adjourn for the day. As it seems we cannot manage to reach a consensus and I, for one, must prepare reagents in order to repay our host''s generous hospitality."

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Every word came out with a molten slowness as if every word, every syllable, needed tasting to assure its quality. Her name was Y¨¨ Xiaodan, the Five Tempests, and of every cultivator here, Qin Weimin hated her the least.

    It was a rare for the cultivators of the steppe to get together and break anything but bone or spill anything but blood but her reminding the others she was, so far, the only one providing material benefit in his alliance had a way of skewing the balance of power. In short, telling the pair of them to shut up without actually voicing it. The meaning was caught on to well enough though.

    Sun Qiu inhaled sharply, his fists unclenching as he faced toward Y¨¨ Xiaodan, easing into a comfortable position that made his chains clatter. "I feel we could make more progress if certain parties present would keep to the subject at hand."

    "True," Y¨¨ Xiaodan replied, setting down her cup with a deliberate grace that drew every eye. "But consider this: We squabble amongst ourselves over every poke and prod while demons run riot beyond our walls. Assigning blame, rising to clear bait, and demanding a pound of flesh will only serve to wedge greater divides."

    Sun Qiu''s face tightened unhappily, either biting back a retort or wanting more direct objection in his favor. Either way, it clearly galled him to be ever so subtly reminded he was holding things up as much as the Hungry Pheonix.

    However, Lian Zexian shrugged off the implied disapproval with another grating laugh that crushed against Weimin''s nerves much like herbs being ground in a mortar. "Indeed! Let the wind carry our grievances until we can sow seeds of discord anew." He leaned back heavily, throwing his head back in a razoring laugh. "Akakakakack, ack, ack."

    If it wouldn''t be certain death, Weimin would''ve loved to put both feet through the bandage bastard''s face. But before he could fully indulge in fantasies of violence, his father finally spoke. "There will be time enough to hash out who bears any responsibility once we''ve purged the steppe of these monstrosities. Lest we forget the true traitors are the Red Sand. Regardless of who was watching who, the Red Sand have crossed every line, broken every limit of indecency, spit on the very principals even the empire would never dare break, and no doubt seek to gain whatever rewards their masters deem to throw the dogs."

    Without bringing any of his presence to bear, Elder Qin Muchen hooked everyone''s attention the way only he could. Qin Wemin could feel his patriarch''s placid outrage pour into each word, filling each sentence to the brim until it nearly overflowed with it. Yet the older man could have been observing a distant formation of clouds for all it showed on his face. Even as he stroked his beard, a misty detachment thinner than the width of a single water drop was all that held back a scouring rage. "The reports from outer disciple scouting patrols have been grim. Two more villages have been razed, no survivors found. With this, I believe I''ve come to understand their plan. Be it of demon origin or theirs, they intend to encircle us."

    "Impossible. The empire has tried such tactics before with the plenty of taxes and conquest and the greatest cultivators of their sects behind them and the steppe still took its toll." Lian Zexian bandages lowered into a frown, now completely serious for once. Wemin wasn''t sure if that was a good thing or not. He dragged a thin taloned fingernail to click across sharp teeth where they peeked through his wraps.

    "Do not be so naive, Zexian." Qin Muchen shook his head grimly. "The Red Sand are as knowledgeable as any of us about the steppe. Information the empire never had is now being used against us. It''s the uncharted villages and waystations which have been attacked. Places the demons would not have known about without Red Sand."

    Sun Qiu clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

    Y¨¨ Xiaodan''s eyes flashed with sudden understanding.

    Qin Wemin managed not to be sick. For as long as the Ever-Reaching steppe existed, it had a¡­ mind may have not been the proper word. It was more like it always had an intent, it''s own way of existing and making it clear so long as you lived and listened it would protect.

    To the cultivators of the steppe, its will was as clear as the sun in the sky - it endured, it persevered, it thrived against all odds.

    For The Red Sand to¡­ It was¡­ it was a violation of the deepest sort. Beyond even whoring themselves out to the demons, just another sin to the every growing mountain.

    Weimin could practically feel the weight of their combined uncertainty settling over them like a shroud. A grim air which dredged up a thousand thoughts to the surface of his mind until one he''d tried so hard to ignore when Red Sands betrayal became known finally crested the surface.

    He hoped she was still alive.

    It was a hope that brought with it so many different emotions he refused to examine. Another part of him hoped she wasn''t. He didn''t know which was worse. Any sect which went on such a path would have had to purge its ranks at every level, not even the deepest vows would''ve allowed someone to go along with such perversion. But if she was¡­

    He clamped down on his circling thoughts before they turned into a spiraling despair.

    His gaze drifted over to his father, whose expression remained carefully neutral, but the hardness around his eyes spoke volumes. "What''s more troubling, is the lack of bodies for the most part. The patrols found remains at some of these places but nowhere near the number of villagers that should be there."

    The implications of Qin Muchen''s words hung heavy in the air, a suffocating weight that pressed down on Weimin''s chest. The thought of what the Red Sand and their demon allies could be doing with the missing villagers, the horrors they might be subjecting them to, made his stomach churn with a nauseating dread.

    "Captives? Sacrifices?" Sun Qui questioned more to the air than looking for an answer. Bobbing his head side to side as if to shake the solution loose. "No. Material. Their Desiccated Blood Art."

    Y¨¨ Xiaodan''s eyes narrowed, her scarred fingers tightening around her teacup. "They''re building an army," she said, her voice low and grave. "An army of twisted abominations, forged from the flesh and bones of the innocent."

    "That or they are simply harvesting," Lian Zexian noted with no small amount of trepidation, still clicking his finger over his teeth.

    Wiemin could see it in his mind''s eye. He''d not given much thought to mortals beyond the rare interaction when his father brought him along to inspect the wall guards. For a cultivator like himself at the Golden Blood Stage, facing tens of thousands of the best mortal veterans would never have given him pause. But he faced the Desiccated Blood Art in his fair share of skirmishes when he was little, seen with his own eyes an upper ranked disciple impaled on the sword of a Red Sand Elder who causally flicked the blade, ripping out veins and heart whole from the body. How the withered into a gray dry thing which was once a man hit the ground, crackling like an unwanted wicker basket as it rolled and the red blade''s edge visibly pulsing and churning like mud as it ate.

    He''d watched as at a gesture, the body curled and stiff rose on the twigs that was its legs in a drumming of snapping cartilage and popping joints and lunged for him like a wraith from the underworld coming for his soul.

    "We''re most likely going to be facing many those crimson blades."

    Qin Wiemin was totally oblivious to the fact It was his own voice that had just echoed across the table. Until four pairs of eyes cut towards him, nailing him to his seat. His jaw clenched and unclenched, quickly trying to apologize for speaking out of turn. The words however stumbled into one another, trying to come out all at once to tangle in the back of his throat.

    Thankfully, it was Sun Qiu who saved him from stammering his apology, nodding grimly at Weimin''s words, "The boy''s right. Those blades¡­ in combination with the techniques we know about alone will be an issue."

    That wasn''t just what Wiemin was worried about though. Those blades were bad, but he suspected Red Sand could do more with that art than just grow their power and throw bodies at them until they folded under the weight.

    He was about to point out his suspicions when the alarms began to ring. Everyone turned to the western window, urgent peals sending a jolt buzzing through his veins. He leapt to his feet, charging up and over the compound wall before he really registered what he was doing.

    Oh, father was going to chew him out later for sure.

    Just like that, his frustrations, the cold dread, everything was blown away from his mind in red hot focus as the wind whipped through his hair. First, he''d need to find Yuanjun and coordinate their efforts at the gate proper.

    At the apex of his leap, his eyes scanned the immediate area he could see beyond the walls, making out the shacks and hovels which had been thrown together, growing in size with the disaster. It was vicious little terror scorpion of a problem. If they took those people in, they''d actively snip the claws off the enemy by depriving them of¡­ resources but like what would happen if you did focus on the pincers, the poisonous tail of starvation would wither away their own defenses since they were cut off from caravans.

    He landed atop the ceiling of Cho''s Teahouse and Inn near the square, launching into another jump and drawing his blade in case he needed to act as soon as he hit the wall, just in time to¡­ see¡­

    The gate closing¡­ and¡­?

    He had no idea what it was, but something was towing what looked like a caravan to the trading area¡­ with his brother pursuing

    The alarms stopped suddenly as if someone had blown out a candle, and the air turned thick with confusion from everyone who had gone on alert. He was trying to make up his mind if he should go to the commander or after his brother when his father all but cut through the air between them to land before the distinctly nervous form of the mortal Commander Huang.

    Decision made for him and adjusting his direction, Weimen drifted down to meet the path of his brother.

    Things just got¡­ Interesting.

 Chapter 11.2: One (Shell)-fish Sibling

    Following the hand motions Xu Dingxiang was giving from the frontmost caravan sledge, Spoony guided the car along a somewhat narrow road stuck between some fairly large stone buildings and the craggy cliff like wall that surrounded this Oasis Point place. Regretting not taking pictures of the foxes and other creatures they''d seen on their way through Oasis¡¯s Heel, Spoony promised himself to photograph the unique architecture around them for the scrapbook back home.

    It had looked bigger on the outside with all those tents and stuff around the gate and so he was taken a little aback when he found how tight it felt. The streets barely wider than most alleys in Anytoon, dusty brown and tan clay buildings with flat roofs practically shoving into one another for more elbow room and the tallest of which was four stories or so. Though what caught his eye the most was the pure white and blue buildings on the western end of the city which dwarfed everything else around it with its looming size.

    As much as Xi-Di and everyone else puffed the place up, he expected¡­ more? The feline wasn¡¯t quite sure honestly, straightening out the wheel and constantly checking the mirror to make sure he had the clearance. The old saying ¡®When in Rome¡¯ and all that but he wasn¡¯t in Rome and he was pretty sure the streets were wider there. Then he thought about what Paulie told him about these Anti-mare toons and how they made most of the space around them when they could.

    With that perspective, this place wasn''t any tighter than the time he was forced to track down a space the multilevel parking garage when the Sardine Symposium and Clown School convention decided to hold events on the same week. The convention center was only a few blocks away from Noodle Noggin University at the time and Dudd¡­

    Oh, the Dudd did his usual decision making.

    With the kind of timing that could only be described as maliciously oblivious and with all the foresight of a goldfish with amnesia¡ªthat the week of both conventions was the perfect opportunity to have all the school''s parking lots repaved. His reasoning, delivered in a memo printed on paper so cheap the letters were slipping off even with the provided climbing gear: "The workers offered a discount if we let them do it during what they called their ''slow season.'' Fiscal responsibility is our top priority, right after education. Or maybe before. I haven''t decided yet. No, wait. Don¡¯t put that on there. Erase. Delete. No, wait that¡¯s send, I-"

    The discount, as Spoony later discovered, amounted to a grand total of forty-three dollars and sixteen cents.

    So, with the whole school, students and staff, levering, wedging, sliding, slipping, and literally filing their cars into parking spaces so tight an Agoraphobic roach would find it uncomfortable.

    Pat¡¯s Packed Pattycake Garage became a bizarre ecosystem of automotive acrobatics where Tetris and tailpipes found common cause and pooched out pop-up sunroofs were used more than the doors.

    Cars were parked diagonally, sideways, and in one memorable instance, balanced precariously on two wheels against a wall¡ªa feat accomplished by Professor Ricochet from the Physics Department. The old bulldog refused to explain how she''d done it and jowls twitching vaguely upward whenever asked.

    Spoony¡¯s car at the time¡ªa sensible, but so clapped out it was its own applause, mid-sized sedan that he''d named "The Litterbox" for its beige color and not, as some cruelly suggested, for its smell¡ªwas particularly ill-suited for Pattycake¡¯s parking. Its floors slanted at angles that suggested they were designed by someone who had only heard about gravity secondhand which made his engine whine for mercy. The parking spaces were delineated by bright yellow lines buried down mere suggestions until boundaries were mere concepts. Some vehicles were so close together that their side mirrors cupped each other like lovers or even more intimate positions on top of one another.

    His hands twitched at the memory as the car¡¯s tires crunched over the gravelly road, stirring up little puffs of dust. That first day Spoony had needed to circle for what felt like eons, his coffee growing cold, his patience wearing thinner than the excuses Dudd would later offer.

    The situation only got worse as that week went on. The parking became tighter, the methods more desperate. Students began arriving in carpools of improbable numbers¡ªtwelve undergraduates emerging from a compact car using tips from the Clown convention goers taking pity on them. Some faculty members took to arriving at dawn to secure a spot, sleeping in their vehicles until their classes began. Professor Pye from the Department of Dramatic Arts had taken to parking his motorcycle in the small space behind the vending machines, accessing it through an elaborate system of ropes and pulleys.

    Almost every day for that week, he would literally dig his way into and out of his car. The cat remembered getting his tail pinched in the trunk more than once when he was forced to crawl out that way. Of course, this was back before he bought his Doozy and shelled out extra simoleons for the ''foldaway'' option.

    He settled on liking it. It was like they were driving through a cozy clay model.

    The memory evaporated as movement in his mirror caught his attention.

    Xi-Di suddenly flapping his arms like a deranged albatross, signaling a hard left. Puttering along like a slug on ice, Spoony cranked the wheel, slow and careful so as not to graze the Doozy¡¯s fenders. After the short bend did road eventually spread the tight alleys to a much wider cul-de-sac that reminded the toon of a campground. There were a few large stately looking trees casting shade over the well-trod dirt where the sun¡¯s still morning rays peeked over the wall. A solitary well stood loud and proud in its center and as he towed the sledges into a semi-circle next to it and cut the engine, he glanced over at the dashboard and gave the water gauge a few taps.

    To his surprise, the needle was actually not as low as he expected it to be and as it bobbed to a pleasing 3/4ths tank, he couldn¡¯t help a low whistle that grew more impressed when he saw the gas tank was still almost full as well. He hadn¡¯t exactly been feathering it for the mileage. His Doozy sank on its shocks, giving an almost theatrical hum as the crankshaft gave the pistons one last rotation for the road.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be dipped,¡± he muttered. ¡°Motown don¡¯t miss. ¡®might just-¡±

    Then he, embarrassingly, remembered his passenger he¡¯d manhandled back into his passenger seat.

    He glanced at Zi-Zi sitting as stiff as any statue with a light blush dusting her cheeks the way a drop of Flavor-Aid colored a glass of water. For some reason, she was nibbling at her lip as if in serious thought, her armored dress chiming quietly as they bumped along. For some OTHER reason, seeing her like that made Spoony¡¯s tail twitch. He politely cleared his throat, causing Zi-Zi to startle slightly in her seat.

    "Sorry about that, Miss Zi Nuan. Didn¡¯t really know how to get out that situation." he explained, rubbing the back of his head, hoping to break the awkward silence he let settled between them. In the back of his mind, he could recognize tension when he saw it and with that pretty boy at the gate, she¡¯d gotten really tense.

    Zi Nuan relaxed, if only by a fraction, straightening her hair which had fallen out of place during the drive. ¡°No need to apologize, Master S¨¨ Pi¨¡n,¡± she replied softly. "Though it was quite¡­" Her tone was formal, but there was a slip in it like she was trying too hard to sound normal. "¡­ unusual for you to dismiss someone so casually."

    "Well, the pretty boy didn''t look like he was gonna take a hint so¡­" He shrugged, unable to come up with a better answer. "You either ignore people like that or hit ''em."

    Her jaw fell open slightly as if he¡¯d said something revolutionary, which he didn¡¯t think he did. Then it dawned on him what he missed. ¡°Oh, unless it¡¯s your boss. Then you dabble in a bit of misdemeanor shaboingery. But!¡± He quickly raised a finger. ¡°You and I both know that can easily edge into federal tomfoolery charges, so being careful is key.¡±

    Zi Nuan blinked and then let out a small, musical laugh that seemed to catch her by surprise. Spoony found himself grinning. The tension that had been strung between them since the gate finally snapped like an overstretched rubber band.

    "You have such... creative ways of thinking, Master S¨¨ Pi¨¡n," she said, shaking her head with a soft smile playing on her lips.

    Spoony gave his skull a couple knocks. ¡°This ol¡¯ thing got me my Doctorate from NNU. Better hope it¡¯s creative.¡±

    His humor faded though as he noticed the townsfolk trickling in slowly from the other streets, like racoons getting their first whiff of garbage after the entire neighborhood had gone on vacation. Actually, that wasn¡¯t quite right. They were more like overcaffeninated sluggish meerkats- heads leaning from windows, popping out from around corners

    Now, that he was paying attention he finally realized why he¡¯d been so put off when they''d entered. His subconscious had been screaming ¡®PAY ATTENTION¡¯ into a bullhorn for the rest of him to notice and now that he had¡­ He wasn¡¯t sure he liked what he saw. Not one bit.

    The people of White Oasis were tense. He¡¯d seen it in the gathering attention they¡¯d attracted on the way in. There was curiosity sure but the wary eyes and slightly hunched in set of the people¡¯s shoulders spoke paragraphs without him needing to ask a single word. Spoony¡¯s ears swiveled toward the sparse murmuring,

    the grim tightness to the lips, the way they lingered but didn¡¯t approach¡ªit all spoke of tension. Fear.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    The kind of fear not even prescription strength japery would drag someone out of. Even the children clung to their parents as if not sure if they should stay or run back home.

    "Offer them snacks?" Spoony mumbled to himself, rummaging through his pockets. "Works on stray wildflowers, disgruntled students, and tenure committees." He produced a crumpled bag of shrimp crackers he only vaguely remembered getting from the vending machine in THE break room. ¡®THE break room¡¯ was not the same as a break room. It was called THE break room as in the room you only went to if you were flat broke. He did some mental calculations and cringed as he gave the bag a little shake and heard a sound that said, ¡®way past expired and about to resurrect¡¯.

    He hadn¡¯t been to that room for nearly 3 years and the crackers were the only item left in that abandoned, forlorn vending machine.

    He stuffed them away, the crackers distinctly not giving off ANY kind of smell even though they¡¯d ridden sidesaddle in his pockets for a good long while. Including God knew how many trips in the washing machine¡­ He wasn¡¯t going to bet his sinuses on a sniff.

    Before he could really follow that line of thought, he saw Xi-Di jog with a spring in his step belonging to a man half his age with a grin wide enough to qualify as its own area code spreading from cheek to cheek. Spoony popped open his door, hopping out the Doozy to meet him so fast his bare feet kicked up a tiny dust devil that promptly died of embarrassment and stage fright upon seeing the townsfolk''s expressions.

    "This Xu Dingxiang cannot thank you enough, Master Cultivator." The man began, bowing to him gratefully. ¡°We would¡¯ve never made such time save the heavens themselves picking up up and setting us here.¡±

    "Ah." Spoony scratched behind one ear, tail flicking and cheeks warming ever so slightly. What was with these people and their obsession with gardening?

    Unlike the first stop, where the children were quick to pop from the sledges and start running around while the adults eased and swayed their way around like drunk sailors given shore leave, everyone seemed ready to set up now they were at their destination. Quite the difference from the people watching on.

    ¡°Sure, sure. So, uh...¡± Spoony indicated the cul-de-sac-like area with a tilt of his head. ¡°This the spot?¡±

    "Yes, yes, it is. Once we check in with the guards, we will be able to do business and, if it pleases you, we can leave in two, maybe three days.¡±

    Zi-Zi''s armor tinkled as she sidled next to him, the sound reminiscent of a wind chime and Xi-Di¡¯s straightened as if about to stand at a military parade rest but clearly caught himself. ¡°Unless the master cultivators need to consult with one another.¡±

    It was a question but clearly came out like a leading statement. Spoony glanced at the woman who glanced back at him as if he was the one who was supposed to answer. He managed to swallow the brief surge of frustration. Like why was everyone assuming he was in charge? He was the tagalong, helping along, until he could get along a coastline and his paws on a seashell.

    Zi-Zi had been telling him about this place and her home on the way here before they¡¯d stopped at the gate. She was a good conversationalist and though he learned she needed to talk with her eyes closed, including every single time the wheels and ground became partners in theory, or whenever the suspension creaked, or he hit the gas at little harder.

    He had learned a lot from her. Once he managed to choke down the utterly, soul-stripping truth he wasn''t getting any coffee for at least 2 more days, he¡¯d listened and learned about the Steppe and her home, the Stellar Wing Empire. Ani-mememe people and their weird names.

    Noticing he¡¯d stretched the silence too long, the toon shrugged. ¡°However long you need.¡± Actually, it would give him time to teach Pan-Yang some more since his mother was paying him. In shoes, yes but a job was a job. He went over to his car and unlocked the trunk, pulling out the makeshift sandbag

    Xi-Di''s grin threatened to eclipse the sun itself. "Wonderful! Then perhaps we might¡ª"

    ¡°YOU!¡± The bellow of outrage cutting across the space almost had a physical weight to it. So much so for a moment, Spoony felt his shoulders- well not sag. It felt like some ghost, or another had decided to try and lean on him¡­or smash him aside but instead pressing against his entire body and into that fizzy, soda-pop sloshing¡­ space within him. It made the fur on his tail stand on end and even though he shook it off like dust from a duster, he could tell this wasn¡¯t a friendly feeling.

    He was proven right by how Xi-Di¡¯s face all but snapped into a pale, rictus cringe and Zi-Zi, while not going as pale, jerked her hand snapping to wrap around the handle of her sword.

    Spoony looked over the stiff shoulder of the leader of Firebird Caravan with the slow deliberate motion of a cat who¡¯s just heard a can opener three counties over.

    A man with a ponytail in blue-white robes that screamed "I compensate with fabric" stormed toward them, his face the exact shade of a boiled lobster left in the sun. Behind him bustled an almost exact copy of him who rather than angry, looked like he¡¯d been trying to talk right up until this moment, and right behind the second were six¡­ guards in armor. Like actual armor.

    However, what amusement he would¡¯ve felt died as the cat saw past even that to the reactions of not only the caravan the other people of the town. The children were all on the ground, curled into fetal positions and shivering as if waiting for the monster in the closet to come out and eat them. The adults wobbled on their feet, their knees suddenly jello and only just holding on. Even the animals had begun to emit low, uneasy sounds that suggested they¡¯d rather be anywhere than here.

    The lobster-faced man jabbed a finger at him and he recognized the guy who was not in charge at the gate, his voice trembling with outrage slathering every word. ¡°You speak to this Qin Yuanjun like a mere mortal?!? Dismiss me like you are my better?!?!?!¡±

    Spoony''s ear twitched at the decibel level. He leaned sideways to peer past guard guy¡¯s quivering finger at the cowering townsfolk. "Buddy, you ever consider voice lessons?" he said, digging the shrimp cracker bag from his pocket. "I''ve got snacks that scream quieter than you."

    Defusing the situation with humor didn¡¯t seem to work. Instead, the cultivator''s face transitioned from lobster-red to aubergine-purple, his teeth clenching so hard he¡­ did he bite his lip or something? His sleeve flapped he reached into his robes and yanked out a green token¡­? No, that looked like jade.

    Behind him, his companion was trying to get his attention by making frantic "abort mission" gestures the other guy wasn¡¯t caring to notice or was too angry to notice. The longer this went on, the more desperate the other guy seemed to get, his eyes flickering to Spoony with growing alarm. Didn¡¯t make sense when Zi-Zi was the one with the sword but, meh."

    "You will kneel before the White Oasis Pavilion''s¡ª"

    "Kneeling''s bad for the joints."

    "YOU DARE¡ª"

    A shrimp cracker bounced off his forehead with a plasticky clink. Guard guy''s face twitched as if trying to decide whether to explode or implode.

    Spoony froze mid-throw, the bag dangling from his other hand. "¡­offer you complimentary hors d''oeuvres? Absolutely."

    Guard guy made a strangled noise somewhere between an angry roar and the sound of a lawnmower starting up. The jade token in his grip crackled with power, the air around it shimmering like a heat mirage. Spoony was pretty sure he saw something blue dance along its edge. The pressure came at Spoony again like a truck hidden inside another truck with yet another truck inside that; he felt it hit him way down deep, where cartoon physics met chaos theory and had tea parties instead of playing nice. His red cloak whipped around him, his fur and hair going poofy as if he''d stuck a fork in a socket.

    This time when guard guy spoke, his voice was low, dangerous, and carried like the sound of a rising tide. ¡°I, Qin Yuanjun, challenge you to a duel. You could kowtow a hundred thousand times and not even begin to repay your insult. Speak you name before this daddy ends you.¡±

    Spoony didn¡¯t have to think about it for very long. The sooner this was over with, the sooner people would stop getting pressed on. ¡°Okay.¡±

    ¡°Your NAME, worm.¡±

    ¡°Well, my name is Pablo Steelknuckle Horatio Felidae Witherspoon the second and I don¡¯t mind kicking a braying donkey¡¯s butt from here to Timbuktu, new father or not-¡±

    "ENOUGH."

    The single word snapped out, cutting through the growing tension like a wave over a sandcastle. The pressure lifting made Spoony''s insides do a wobbly, jiggly dance. The townsfolk and the caravan exhaled as one, kids uncurling like forgotten slinkies while adults glanced around sheepishly as if unsure how to react beyond comforting their children. He heard Zi-Zi clink behind him as she removed her hand from her weapon.

    As if by magic, an older man with a greying goatee appeared next to guard guy in a quiet flutter of fabric. His robes were the same color and just as grand but he made them seem dignified rather than too much. In his hand was another token¡­ Spoony felt his eyes go back to the guy who¡¯d been shouting. Correction, the exact same token.

    All at once, the man gave the item a quick shake and the energy went right out of it.

    Qin Yuanjun blinked at his empty hand for a moment, then spun as if ready to attack the man too, but went pale upon realizing who stood there. ¡°Father! I-¡±

    ¡°You will return to your post. We will talk later.¡±

    Qin Yuanjun¡¯s eyes narrowed at Spoony, his face flickering between rage, humiliation, and something that looked unpleasantly like a resolve to get even. "As you say," he muttered, though it seemed to cost him dearly. His gaze swept over Zi-Zi and Xi-Di with ice-cold fury before jerking his head at the only just recovering guards, rubbing the center of his forhead. The guards unsteadily turned to follow him, their armor clanking like cutlery in a washing machine.

    The other guard guy ¡ªthe less shouty, more panicked one¡ªexhaled so deeply he looked like he might deflate entirely. He stepped forward, his identical sleeves rippling and who Spoony was now realizing had to be related to both. ¡°Father, I tried to-¡±

    He was cut off by a raised hand. ¡°The seed of wisdom grows slow in these lands. Your brother has yet to sprout even after all this time.¡±

    ¡°I am Qin Weimin.¡± The older man gave Spoony a look, one that was considering and thoughtful as if trying to peer through a particularly puzzling fog. When he spoke, the hard edge to his voice wasn¡¯t entirely gone but measured and respectful. ¡°I apologize for my son¡¯s behavior, and for the disrespect shown to your caravan.¡±

    ¡°Uh.¡± Spoony almost wanted to say it wasn¡¯t his caravan but one glance at Xi-Di, the old man clutching his chest and shoulders heaving as if trying to remember how to breathe, he figured actual caravan leader wasn¡¯t up for much leading right now. ¡°Yeah¡­ thanks, I guess. You can call me, Spoony.¡±

    The old man raised an eyebrow. "You are stronger than you seem.¡± He observed.

    ¡°Yeah. Well, my dad told me if you¡¯re gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough. My mom said you don¡¯t get tough without being smart. So, it all kinda evened out, I guess.¡±

    The man inclined his head. ¡°Had I not intervened, would you have accepted his challenge?¡±

    ¡°Dunno. You guys all for show?¡± Spoony was curious but not in the way that he cared to know or not.

    The old cultivator gave him a long, searching look before finally nodding to himself coming to some sort of decision. ¡°I must extend an invitation to you and your student, Elder Spoony.¡±

    Zi-Zi made a choking sound so hard her bangles chimed., just as surprised as he was. ¡°How did you know I was teaching someone?¡±

    Qin Weimin smiled with a hint of amusement, like he knew a little secret he was saving for later. "I believe a visit to the White Oasis Pavilion will prove both enlightening and advantageous for you both."

    The other shoe dropped down an elevator shaft and Spoony''s tail flicked once, sharply, like a metronome set to "indignant." "Wait? Her?" He jerked a thumb at Zi-Zi who blushed at the incredulous pitch of his voice. ¡°She¡¯s not my student.¡±

    The older man frowned ever so slightly. ¡°Then who¡­?¡±

    Spoony''s ears swiveled toward Pan-Yang who was currently slumped against a wagon wheel fanning himself with a cabbage leaf. The 13-year-old¡¯s eyes widened like a startled toad as Spoony''s tail extended in his direction, pointing at him like a cobra. "Him. Obviously. Pan Luoyang."

    Qin Weimin''s gaze drifted to the brown-haired boy who promptly dropped the cabbage leaf and stood at attention. Or tried to¡­ The cabbage leaf fluttered to the ground as the boy scrambled upright to make himself look impressive, accidentally kicking a chicken that squawked indignantly and pecked his ankle. "Ow! I mean¡ªhonored elder! This humble one merely¡ª"

    ¡°This Pan Luoyang, greets the Elder of White Oasis.¡± Pan Luoyang squeaked making a noise halfway between a whimper and a hiccup, bowing even as he tried and failed to hide his nervousness. Zi-Zi discreetly covered her mouth, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter that made her armor ring.

    "An... unconventional choice," Qin Weimin said slowly, then changed track. ¡°The Pavilion''s hospitality includes"¡ªhe paused, eyeing the half-crushed shrimp cracker bag¡ª"refreshments suited to your... unique palate."

    "Deal." Spoony lobbed a cracker at Zi-Zi''s surprised face. "C''mon, disciples of mine. Time to learn the sacred art of mooching free meals."

    The old man''s eyelid twitched¡ªa microscopic crack in his composure. Behind him, the less shouty son bit his sleeve to muffle a snort.

    Spoony moved to follow the pair and then remembered.

    ¡°Also, your son¡¯s got a shrimp allergy. Might wanna get that checked.¡±