《Between Beast And Buddha: A Drunken Monkey's Journey to Immortality》


 Chapter 1

    It was a warm day on Mount Yuelu.


    To the monkey, it was simply a warm day. There was but one mountain. It''s brothers were mere hills.


    The monkey had no name. Monkeys did not have names after all. But, all seeing things remembered the shape of what they witnessed. Even without words, monkeys knew their brothers and rivals.


    If a great master who knew the secret of monkey speech were to ask his fellows, they would say this monkey was orange-crest. Not that he was called orange-crest. It was not a name. It was a sound, a sound for a certain monkey. A monkey with an orange-crest. Orange-crest is simply the monkey he was, for the hair upon his brow gleamed like the setting sun.


    Orange-crest had a secret. Not a little secret, like how pie-bald knew of a hollow tree on the green hill, where he stored many kinds of nuts, treasures for the icy season. This monkey had a deep secret, one that was hard to know. He''d never tried to show his brothers the secret. But some had followed him like shadows, seeking the red-golden bounty the secret offered. They had watched him, as he made offerings and prepared the mash. But when they tried to mimic him, their brews had soured.


    It was a good secret. Even he didn''t know it all of it.


    Since it was the right sort of warm day, orange-crest decided to make wine. The trees were heavy with many sorts of stone fruit. His brothers had eaten their fill, and they lay about in the sun. The birds circled low now. The more daring of them dipped low, feigning dives. The fat monkeys grumbled, palming stones, but none of them roused themselves to protect their trees.


    There was bounty enough for all, in these lazy days. But appearances had to be kept. The birds could eat when the monkeys napped.


    And only after orange-crest had finished his harvest.


    Big-butt and red-eyes watched as orange-crest scampered about, gathering stone fruit. They''d thought him a fool, in years past. Now they grasped the shape of his secret. They''d even attempted it themselves, but their mashes had soured, or been eaten by birds.


    Now they contented themselves to watch. Sometimes they bartered with orange-crest. Sometimes red-eye shadowed him, finding his trees and drinking them before he could. Other times, big-butt would simply follow orange-crest around, hooting threateningly until the smaller monkey let him drink himself into a stupor.


    If the great master who spoke monkey had asked, they would not say this was fair, for the fruits of the orchard belonged to all monkeys. Monkeys did not know the word fair, and they were wiser than men. A monkey knew that the only way a fruit could belong to two monkeys is if they each ate half of it.


    Orange-crest gathered as many stone fruits as he could carry. It was not many. Only enough for one small tree. He could not make a big tree with the fruits of the orchard. His brothers would see him making his many trips, and steal the fruits of his labor.


    But orange-crest was not satisfied with another small tree.


    He needed something new. He''d made many wines with the stone fruit. Sometimes the fruits were red as meat, flush with a juice almost like wine. He liked those best, but more often the fruits were pale, harder. Monkeys were not patient orchardists.


    New things had given him his secret. All the monkeys knew the green skin-fruits were bad for poops. They made them runny and white and made belly''s hurt. But orange-crest knew something else about them.


    As a young monkey orange-crest had been small. One summer, the great fire in the sky had blazed especially hot, scorching the land. The trees of the orchard had only borne hard, shriveled little fruits, as much stone as fruit. All the monkeys had begun setting food aside for the cold season even earlier than normal. Some of them had spent their days digging for grubs. Others had climbed high on Mount Yuelu, looking for birds nests high on the cliffs, and the eggs deep within. All to save more of the normally abundant fruit for the cold times.


    Orange-crest had gathered green skin-fruits along with grubs. They were not good, but he was small and weak, his larger brothers would not let him have any of the orchard fruit. Better bad fruit, than none at all. Runny white poops were better than an empty belly.


    And then winter had come, and it had been warm. A second sky-fire had joined the first in the heavens, and Mount Yuelu saw no snows that year. It was no season of plenty, but no monkey starved. Orange-crest had forgotten about his tree full of green skin-fruit.


    When he''d found the tree again later, the hollow within within was filled with mush. Green and white mush. Wiggly mush. Fat leaf-green worms with white-markings had wiggled all within the mush.


    White was a dangerous colors. Sometimes very bad, sometimes very good.


    Orange-crest had tried eating them anyway. There was no such thing as bad worms. Only good worms and better worms.


    And these, he had discovered, were the very best worms.


    His secret worms.


    The worms that, when added to a pile of fruit, prevented it from souring. Instead, they made delicious delicious wine. Better than bloody stone-fruit. Better than fat eggs. And as an added bonus, they made more worms in the process! The worms were almost as good as the wine! He slurped up the sweet and pungent chunky soup and it made him feel warm and fuzzy and happy and like his head could fly with the birds.


    On a steady diet of wine and worms, he''d grown big and strong. Almost as strong as big-butt and hard-hand. Well, not quite. He was far smaller, being young, and not a giant freak like big-butt. But being big was cheating. He was the strongest monkey of his size!


    Orange-crest wiped his mouth. The thought of wine made it run wet. Silly mouth. Today wasn''t a drinking day, it was a making day. Orange-crest deposited his stone fruit in a testing-tree. It had previously made one good batch, and one bad one. He would discover if it was a good tree or not. Any tree that made two bad batches in a row was a bad brewing tree, and would only produce worms for him, not wine.


    Some trees killed even the worms, but this wasn''t one of those. He could tell the poison-trees by their scent now.


    He had fruit and he had a tree. He always had worms in one tree or another. But he still needed a new thing. Orange-crest scratched his eponymous poof of hair.


    He''d tried other bugs. Beetles and dragonflies. Mixed results. They all kept dying and some of them tasted weird.


    He''d tried other fruits too. Of the Seven Fruits of Mount Yuelu, stone fruit was the best. For eating and brewing alike. This was a known truth amount monkeys.


    Worms were normally ground things. Maybe other ground things? Normal rocks were bad for wine, but maybe a good rock?


    With an enthusiastic hoot, orange-crest set off down Mount Yuelu.


    He turned over every rock he saw. Tiny wiggling white worms, he ate those. Never waste a snack. Thin-finger-roots did not want to come out of the ground. Only worth eating in bad years. He found many rocks, none of them were good rocks.


    Orange-crest was wise in the way of rocks, and knew of several legendary rocks. The white-ocean-gem. The bound-gleaming-sunfire that the Monkey King had twisted and woven to make his crown. Even the cold-fire-within-stone that the hairless ones and great-ancestor-beasts coveted with hot blood and cold eyes.


    Truly, he was a wise monkey. Unfortunately, he didn''t find any of those. They were legendary after all.


    Orange-crest searched all day, eating worms and grubs as he went. A few good beetles, for spice. One spider because it looked at him funny. Never trust a spider. Spare one''s life and you''d find it creeping around in your fur later.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    When the sky-fire was low in the sky, he finally found a new thing.


    The root was wiggling. Orange-crest tilted his said to the side. Roots did not locomote independently. Every-monkey knew that. It was a... worm-root? Worms were good. Roots were okay. Some were good, but this one wasn''t fat like those. He grabbed it. It felt funny wiggling in his hand, as he clenched it tightly enough to squish a normal worm.


    He licked it, sniffed it. It tasted like fire. Plant-fire. Not cold-fire or fire-fire.


    Monkeys did not shrug. Shrugging was a thing for socialized beasts, and they were social beasts. Important difference. But orange-crest''s mind did the same thing a man''s does when his shoulders shrug. Information was evaluated, and discarded as inconsequential. This seemed to him as good a new thing as any other, so he snuck back to his tree, and added it to the mash.


    He watched for a while, to make sure the worm-root could not wiggle out, then capped the end of the hollow. Bark artfully angled to allow in just enough rain and air. Leaves arranged to conceal the depth of the hollow.


    Orange-crest went to bed satisfied, and slept the sleep of a stone-monkey-sage. Wise and virtuous, industrious and fed.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    A year passed, before orange-crest remembered this tree. It had been a quiet year. The birds had warred with the bees, after the latter had found a new king. The Monkey King had brokered peace, by driving the Bee King from the mountain. Quick-fingers had borne a child, who was very annoying. Red-eyes had red-eyes again, and snapped at anyone who poked at him. He and big-butt had fought cruelly, when he snapped at the little one.


    Strife between brothers was a shame, so orange-crest decided to drink that day.


    Orange-crest usually drank alone, and today was no exception. His brothers were his brothers, but they were also lazy gluttons. Only in good years and bad years did he share.


    He didn''t really remember this tree. He knew it was a testing tree, because he remembered all the good trees. The wine smelled sweet and strong as he uncovered it, a frothy chunky pool of red nectar. He mentally upgraded this tree to a good tree.


    He stuck a hand in, testing the wine. He knew he did something new with this one, but he couldn''t remember what.


    Orange-crest felt something. His eyes widened, as he withdrew a hand clenching the fattest worm he''d ever seen. It was twice as long as his hand! As fat as the little one''s head had been when quick-fingers announced him! It wouldn''t even fit in his mouth! The one strange thing is that it was blue. Orange-crest couldn''t remember what he''d put in this tree, but he was pretty sure he usually used the green worms. He didn''t think he''d ever seen a fat blue one like this.


    Orange-crest beheld this King among wine-worms, and his monkey brain made a decision.


    He chomped down on it''s head.


    Worm-juice, no, worm-wine, splattered all over his fur. It tasted like wine and plant-fire and meaty worm. He ate it in three great bites. Orange-crest moaned in satisfaction, leaning back against the tree. His body felt warm and tingly and he hadn''t even started slurping wine yet!


    Flush with vigor and wild energy, orange-crest forwent a leaf ladle and stuck his whole head in the tree. He licked and slurped and gulped, gorging himself on wine and worms until his stomach was full enough to bursting.


    Had a great master of wine brewing come upon orange-crest in prior years, he would have snorted, and proclaimed the monkey a rank amateur at brewing. Sure, it was impressive for a monkey to brew wine at all, but even calling it wine would have been a great stretch. Even after fermenting for a year, it was often quite sweet.


    Monkeys, he would have said, were clearly lightweights, if they thought that they could get drunk on something barely stronger than a wheat beer. This batch though, he would have said, this batch had potential. Even if it was a grievous waste of a near hundred-year old ginseng.


    Orange-crest knew none of this. What he did know, is that his head felt good-funny. The world swam in meaning and danced in moonlight. He''d thought himself a connoisseur of the many mental states wine could introduce, a veritable libationist among monkeys. He now understood that there were heavens above heaven, levels of bibulousity he could scarcely have comprehended before this auspicious eve.


    Orange-crest knew none of these words either, but his newly liberated mind was making the mental twists and turns that would approximate them, freed from the confines of monkey-speech and human language alike.


    Suffice it to say, any with eyes to see would have looked upon this monkey, and declared with all the authority of an edict of the heavenly court, that he was a very drunk monkey.


    Orange-crest stumbled down the mountain, enjoying the way he could tilt the world by tilting his head. Profound nonsense streamed through his monkey-brain, fueled by the fire in his belly. Guided by this wisdom, he took many turns with the bold certainty of a man or monkey who had no idea where he was trying to go.


    Then, just as he was about to lie down to watch the stars, he stumbled upon something new.


    The new thing was white. Blindingly white. White as fresh fallen snow, with a black crest. It was shaped like a monkey, but it''s fur was beyond strange. Flowing and shifting, seemingly detached from it''s skin, yet clinging all the same. Orange-crest tried to track it''s arcane geometry.


    He blinked. A spark flickered in orange-crest''s drunken mind. This was a hairless one! Normally they had short gray and brown spotted fur, but this one had strange long white hair-stuff. But they were hairless ones, so it wasn''t hair at all. Maybe hairless one was a bad name, this one had hair on it''s head after all, strange and long and bound as it was.


    "How dare they, the obstinate fools! A single failure, and they deny me any further disciples! Who are they to declare that I am unfit to teach! I''ll kill them all!" The hairless one hooted.


    Orange-crest watched him from a tree. That was a lot of hooting.


    "One idiot disciple fails to leave the tempering bath at the appropriate hour and suddenly my entire bodily cultivation practice is proscribed because he can''t lift his arms above his head anymore? How is that supposed to be my fault! How can a man hope to challenge the heavens if he cannot follow simple written directions!"


    Oh dear. Had the hairless one lost his mate? That was a lot of hooting. Well adjusted monkeys usually did not hoot that much when they were alone.


    "A little is good so a lot must be better? Are you retarded? Did your mother try to drown you as an infant and fail halfway through? Maybe you should have drunk the tempering solution and let it temper your innards then! Did your grandfather copulate with a pig? I''ll poison that eggless merchant prince! I''m a daoist and he thinks gold can dictate my future? I''ll poison his whole worthless family!"


    It sounded like angry hooting, but orange-crest was a kind and generous monkey in a good mood. Maybe he would share his wine with the angry hairless one.


    "Ooo! Ooh! Ek kek! Ooh! Oooooook ek!" Orange-crest hooted back.


    "Can''t lift his arms above his head! I''ll give him something to cry about! I''ll-" The hairless one cut itself off, looking for orange-crest.


    "Oo! Oo!" He hooted, hopping on his branch.


    "You dare mock me monkey! Don''t think I won''t kill you too!"


    The branch wiggled like a worm, and orange-crest wobbled atop it. Why was the world so wobbly?


    Orange-crest fell, hitting the soft loam with a dull plop.


    "Oo." Orange-crest intoned weakly. He was alright. The earth loved him, even if the heavens were being mean and wiggly.


    "Are you... drunk?" The hairless one frowned. "What am I doing, talking to a monkey. A drunken monkey. I am being mocked by a drunken monkey."


    Orange-crest cooed. Yes, hairless one, let go of your anger.


    "Perhaps I deserve the jeering of a drunken monkey. Where did I go wrong?" He mused in a softer tone. "I dedicated my life to the dao of medicine, but now I spent all my hours teaching spoiled brats how to temper their skin? Perhaps it is I who strayed from the path, holding luxury above virtue. But I need the support of the sect to acquire ingredients, and disciples to test my new formulae upon. Is it truly arrogance to be unsatisfied with merely retreading paths walked by our ancestors, to wish to offer the world something new and marvelous?"


    Orange-crest stood. Even the earth was betraying him now, dodging and weaving beneath his feet like the little one when he wanted something you held. But he was a monkey whose heart could encompass all things, and he loved it still. He wanted to pet the earth, reassure it that it was loved, but the hairless one needed his wisdom more urgently!


    He growled. How dare his legs deny his will? They were his legs! He owned them like he did his secrets! He commanded them, marshalled the fire in his gut to spread forth and burn out their unsteadiness.


    "No. It cannot be! A monkey, sure. Drunken, I can accept. Monkey-wine is a rare but known phenomena. A daoist, among monkeys? A bridge too far!"


    More hooting. Couldn''t the hairless one see he was busy wrestling with the recalcitrant wine?


    He made it! It made him feel warm and good! How dare it disobey him and make him feel wobbly! Bad wine! But also good wine? Maybe it was like green skin-fruit wine? Bad to drink, but good for making wine worms? Bad-good?


    But it tasted so good it had to be good! Orange-crest''s drunken monkey brain strove mightily with the dao, and in fighting it became aligned with it.


    His legs obeyed, and he toddled over towards the hairless one. He would show it to another wine tree and they could become brothers!


    "The beast cycles qi! A cultivating monkey! The heavens do not mock me, they show me the way! The dao does not abide in the minds of men alone, disciples are everywhere for those with eyes to see!"


    The hairless one really liked the sound of his own voice. Melodious as they were compared to his brothers, this was far too much hooting.


    "How hard can it be, to teach a monkey that already discovered cultivation? Men take years to learn what he already has, surely a daoist of my surpassing knowledge can teach him words and manners? The mortals of the emperor''s court dress them in robes and teach them simple tricks. What limits are there on what a true master could accomplish?"


    The hairless one smiled at him like a strong monkey might at a female in heat, eyes hot, all teeth and non-food-hunger. Orange-crest shivered. He didn''t like that.


    "Rejoice, little one. This is the start of a partnership that will shake the very heavens. Together, we will show them all. These fools who mock me will discover that they are less even than common monkeys, unfit for their human incarnations!"


    "Ook?"


    The daoist made a profound gesture, and orange-crest''s limbs refused to move. Uh oh. This was a new thing, and it did not seem like a good one. He hoped it was one of those bad-good things, not a bad-bad thing.


    Orange-crest marshalled the fire in his blood, but he could hardly breathe, let alone move or cry out. Panic filled him. He remembered the Monkey King''s warnings. The hairless ones were mighty and capricious, driven by strange hungers.


    "Come along, little monkey. A whole new world awaits."

 Chapter 2

    Orange-crest was discovering far too many new things this night.


    Nobody had ever told him that hairless ones could soar through the sky like birds! The hairless one had grabbed his frozen form with a single hand, like quick-fingers carried the little one, before leaping into the sky.


    At first, icy fear had gripped him. Monkeys might swing through trees, but they were not meant to fly! But being afraid was hard work, and so was wrangling the fire that still burned within him. He struggled against the force that held him, marshalling fire and muscle alike.


    "Good! Struggle against my spell, use that qi for something! It''d be better for the great work ahead if you could direct it to sharpen your mind, but any steps you take now will ease the road later."


    Did this hairless one ever stop hooting? Couldn''t he take a moment to point, or gesture, to explain what he meant by the incessant noise? Strange hungers and odd whims indeed, the Monkey King had been right.


    "Perhaps those pills for dullards might help him develop a mind worth the name? They did nothing in traditional animal tests, but those beasts lacked whatever fortuitous encounter this fellow had. Certainly in men we only see results in those rare few who achieve some level of innate qi despite being born lacking."


    Annoying! Orange-crest did not like this strange hairless one, binding and grabbing and ignoring him! He would teach him a lesson! So what if he couldn''t move, he had fire within him! Upon Mount Yuelu, only the Monkey King commanded fire. With it''s terrible power, he destroyed the unholy hives of the Bee King, and chastised hungry tigers. However strange and mighty this hairless one was, he was no match for the overwhelming power of flame!


    Orange-crest stoked the fire within him. He imagined the weakness in his limbs as dry summer grasses, ripe for the reaping blaze. Aid your child, oh Monkey King, he prayed. Grant me your flames!


    His chest grew hot and wild, and he felt something around him shudder, then break. Hah! Now the hairless one would know his wrath!


    "Eeek!" Orange-crest spun around the hairless one''s arm, surrendering fur to escape his grasp. He charge-climbed for the kidnapper''s head. Let him see how he liked having what little hair he had pulled out!


    Hmm, perhaps hairless one was a good-bad name. They did have hair after all.


    "Hah! You did it! Good! But I can''t have you wasting too much of your qi now, or dirtying my robe with your filthy paws. Time to go to sleep."


    The mostly-hairless one was quick as a serpent! He slapped orange-crest upon the back, and the fire within him went out. His limbs felt heavy as mountains, and in moments he fell into a deep slumber.


    "If only you were as much a prodigy at language as you are at cultivation." The man known among his fellow men as Daoist Scouring Medicine bemoaned. "I am not looking forward to this."


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    When orange-crest awoke, his head hurt, but his mind was clear. He sat up, and winced. It was as if every time he moved hard-hand cuffed him across the head. What had the mostly-hairless one done to him!


    The mostly-hairless one!


    Fear gripped his heart with fruit-greedy fingers. He rose, and found himself trapped. The branches of some strange tree were woven all about him. What madness was this? Did the hairless ones command trees to grow in evil shapes?


    Orange-crest grabbed the bars of his prison, feeling them flex but not break as he shook them.


    "Eek! Eeeeek!" He screeched, clenching his brow as his own calls sent pain shooting through his head. Devious hairless one, cursing him with head-pain!


    There was only one reason why they would put him in such an evil contraption. They were going to eat him! This must be a winter-tree, to save his supple flesh for the cold months!


    He cried and screeched, prayed for the Monkey King to save him, for his brothers to band together and break his bonds, but no aid came. What a fool he had been, disregarding the sage guidance of his king. Woe! Woe was he whose magnanimous love had led him to seek to comfort the mostly-hairless one in it''s grief. A love that had been betrayed with treachery!


    The mighty big-butt would never have been taken in by it''s underhanded magics. His roar would have sent the mostly-hairless one packing!


    For many hours, orange-crest wallowed in his fears and recriminations, slowly recovering from the hangover he blamed upon the daoist who had kidnapped him.


    And then the daoist returned, and with him orange-crests''s fury.


    He hooted and hollered, making every profane and rude sound a monkey had ever uttered under the sun. His mother was a slug! His face looked like a great-spiked-fruit smelled! He climbed like a fish and swam like a spider! His fur was so mangy it didn''t exist!


    If he could not be free, he could at least be loud and rude!


    "Shut up! I allow the elders and that damnable merchant to whine at me, I will not tolerate it from you!" The daoist roared back.


    With the unerring accuracy of a martial master, Scouring Medicine chucked a pomegranate at the angry monkey''s head. It landed true with a satisfying splat, silencing the stunned monkey.


    "Good. You might be a dumb animal now, but one day, you will acknowledge this day as the greatest fortuitous encounter of your life. Well, assuming neither the pill, the bath, the other disciples, or your own incompetence kills you."


    Orange-crest sniffed at the little fruit-in-fruits that covered his fur and cage. They smelt good, even through his bruised nose. He had never seen this fruit before. It was not one of the Seven Fruits of Mount Yuelu. He ate one, finding it bright and tangy.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    He never forgot a grudge, but fruit was fruit. And he was hungry.


    "Then again," the daoist mused. "Dying in the service of my practice is a higher honor than you could ever have hoped to achieve on that mountain. Why, the merits you would earn by unknowingly advancing medicine might be enough to earn you a human reincarnation, even if you should die in the process. Truly, my magnanimity is second to none."


    Scouring Medicine watched as his monkey tracked down every little aril, even extending a hand beyond the bars of the cage to grab a few off the floor.


    "Come on you stupid beast, eat the damn pill." He muttered.


    Orange-crest''s eyes narrowed. He didn''t like the way the the mostly-hairless one was cooing at him. Now certain he''d found every scattered tiny-fruit, the monkey turned to the largest piece of the thrown fruit. As he picked away the tart little gems, he saw it had a fruit-stone. He sniffed at it. Odd. It was a very soft-fruit stone, not squishable, but not unyielding beneath his fingers either. It smelled almost like the healing-herbs of the Monkey King.


    He considered eating it. But he was a proud son of Mount Yuelu, and he knew that fruit-stones were for throwing.


    The daoist stepped closer, trying to see what his monkey was doing with the pill he''d hidden in the fruit.


    "Ook!" Orange-crest cried heroically, throwing the pill at the daoist''s head.


    Viper-fast, his damnable captor caught the projectile. Truly, quick-fingers had a most formidable contender for her name. What would she be if another monkey had quicker fingers? Many-mother? Stream-fur?


    "Damn you. The beast must think it''s a pit. I don''t know if that makes it dull or keen. It certainly makes it irritating. Can''t you do anything right? Just eat the damn pill." The Scouring Medicine complained.


    Inspiration struck him, and he stepped even closer to the monkey''s cage, just at the edge of arm''s reach. The scroll he''d read had told him not to smile at the beast, they marked bared teeth as aggression. Instead, he popped his lips in a exaggerated caricature of hunger.


    "You better eat this, I can''t believe I''m demeaning myself like this for your sake, acting like an animal. When they write about my glorious attainments, the chroniclers will leave this part out."


    He raised the pill to his mouth slowly. It would be such a waste, a Mind-Opening Pill wasn''t that expensive for a daoist of his stature, but they were obscure enough he had to make them himself.


    Orange-crest watched as the mostly-hairless made to finish his fruit. Greed overpowered his fear and anger. If the mostly-hairless wanted the food, orange-crest wanted the food more! He darted forward, channeling his best impression of quick-fingers. The mostly-hairless might be fast as a viper, but he was fast as a monkey! Quicker than thought, he stuffed the fruit-stone in his mouth and swallowed.


    "Finally. This alone will make dealing with your nonsense worthwhile. There has been so little research worth the name in the initial steps involved in the ascension of spirit beasts and yaogui. I suppose I shall simply have to do the work of the beast tamers for them."


    Fire built behind orange-crest''s eyes. He wasn''t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Inner-fire had broken the hairless-one''s foul magic, but fire killed things. Then again, plant-fire burned like fire, but did not kill. Did the hairless one trick him into eating plant-fire?


    His eyes narrowed. Orange-crest tricked other monkeys. Other monkeys did not trick orange-crest. Well, except the king. The Monkey King tricked everyone. It was his right as king after all, to be more monkey than any other monkey. Orange-crest might as well complain at the trees for being taller than him.


    But this hairless-one had no such right!


    "Persimmon."


    The hoot distracted orange-crest from his musings on the nature of royalty. This hairless-one was so annoying!


    But his hands! He held another piece of fruit. Orange-crest knew this one, it was the orange-squish-fruit. A rare delicacy, ranked third among the Seven Fruits. Some would argue second, but orange-crest kept to the orthodox ranking proclaimed by the Monkey King.


    Red-eye had once argued that orange-crest should in fact have been named orange-squish-fruit-face, but every-monkey had agreed that he was too handsome for such a name.


    And mostly-hairless one held a fresh one in his hand, even though it was yet too early in the season for them. Perhaps there were merits to these hairless monkeys if their orchards were this fruitful. He would tolerate many things being thrown in his face, if they had orange-squish fruit year round. The only reason it was ranked third is because it''s season was so short atop Mount Yuelu.


    "Persimmon." Scouring Medicine repeated. Come on you stupid monkey, this was the simplest form of teaching known to man. Repeat the name.


    The monkey tried a dive, but Scouring Medicine was more than ready. He was no true martial expert, but he would cut off his top-knot in shame if a damn monkey got the drop on him. He pulled the fruit just out of the reach of it''s greedy fingers.


    "Persimmon." He repeated.


    "Imma."


    "Persimmon."


    "Immon."


    "Persimmon." He repeated again.


    "Persmamon."


    Close enough. He''d forgotten that their jaws weren''t the same as men''s. The intent was clear at least. He handed the monkey the fruit, watched as the greedy beast smeared the soft orange flesh all over it''s face. Ugh. He''d have to bathe the creature at some point, lest it stink up his quarters. Daoist Enduring Oath couldn''t finish that tracking treasure soon enough.


    Orange-crest felt the strange ache in his head returning, the fire slowly transforming into a dull pressure. At least the hairless one was pointing at things now. And handing him food instead of throwing it! The strange animal did understand manners! They were not as uncivilized as he''d first feared. Surely they would bow before the might and nobility of his king when he came to rescue his wayward subject.


    Scouring Medicine repeated the exercise with a variety of objects. Lychees and grapes, rocks and sticks. The monkey obeyed when the object was something it could eat, or shiny or otherwise interesting. But it quickly grew recalcitrant when it could not touch or eat the object he pointed to. Ornery beast.


    Then again, he didn''t need the beast to be learning language. Any mental exercise would do. The Mind-Opening Pill was hardly a pill at all. In truth, it bore more similarity to a body tempering bath. It did not make a man more intelligent through it''s own effect, but instead simply induced an artificial movement of the patient''s own qi. The herbs and minerals composing it all naturally congregated within the seat of reason, and drew qi to themselves. This effect allowed the subject to effectively perform the very first steps of bodily refinement without any method at all.


    This crude method would not allow a man to surpass average intelligence, no matter how much qi he possessed. But in the rare occasion a fool had a fortuitous encounter, it could be used to ameliorate his ailment, allowing him a chance at pursuing proper cultivation.


    Considering this, Scouring Medicine let his monkey out of it''s cage. Even with no tracking talisman, it wouldn''t be able to escape under his supervision.


    He watched the beast gambol about his rooms, touching everything that could be touched. He followed behind it, naming objects as the monkey rifled through them. Only a few times did he find himself needing to give the beast a smack, when it tugged at locked cabinets, or began pawing at his finer robes.


    Eventually, it tired. He smiled despite himself. That was a sign the pill was working. As the two of them sat together, he drew a clay jug out from a cabinet.


    "Wine." Scouring Medicine said.


    "Mine." The monkey answered, greedy fingers extended.


    "Close enough." He poured the beast a cup, and together they drank. The damned thing was a messy drinker. He wasn''t sure if the fact that it licked up all the wine it''s impatient hands spilled was more or less hygienic than if it''d simply left the mess alone. He made note to retain a personal servant on the morrow. Between cleaning and minding his monkey, it would be more than worth the expense.


    Orange-crest''s mind was fuzzy. There were so many new things, strange objects he''d never seen or dreamt of. And the heaviness in his head did not help. But he knew this part. The strange hairless one had shared food with him, and now shared wine with him of a potency orange-crest had achieved but once in his brewing career.


    "Brother." The monkey intoned solemnly. His first hairless brother! Sure, their relationship had a rocky start, but what brothers did not fight from time to time?


    "I have no idea what you said, but I suppose I''ll drink to that." Scouring Medicine replied.

 Chapter 3

    Orange-crest awoke a changed monkey. He was not sure how exactly. But there was something different about him, beyond the many wonderous and terrible things he''d seen and eaten these last two days. He strove to understand what exactly it was within him that had changed, for he was a monkey, and curiosity was his nature. But he did not fear it. Monkeys stood astride the boundary between men and beasts, but to fear the process of becoming was the domain of men alone.


    Instead, orange-crest approached his changing mind with the same boundless enthusiasm that was the only way he knew how to live. He poked and prodded at it to see what it did, gnawed on it to see how it tasted. The first great discovery he made was that the texture of time had changed. For so long, he''d thought in terms of before and after. Yesterday and tomorrow. This season and next. The misty future and the past when he was small. Now a new thought lingered in his mind, the idea of tomorrow-tomorrow. Even the formerly unimaginable tomorrow-tomorrow-tomorrow.


    For so long, the past had been like a forest. A pathless place to wander. There were parts of it more remote than others, but there was no concept of an order to it. Now, his mind sharpened, and he saw a single path stretching ever backwards. As he contemplated how he missed his other brothers, he found himself wondering how many yesterdays separated him from big-butt and the others.


    The most-yesterday had been the night he''d been taken from Mount Yuelu. It''d been night then. When he''d awoke, the sun had been low, but not yet set. That meant he''d slept a whole day away. He and his brother had drunk wine all evening. Orange-crest had gorged himself on fruit as well, but his brother had not eaten no matter how many times orange-crest tried to proffer fruit. It was very rude, but one could not expect the hairless to know all manners.


    The taking had been yesterday''s yesterday. The idea hurt his head a little, but it felt like a good hurt. He''d spent this morning learning the many hoots of the hairless. He now knew more hairless noises than any monkey save the king! And then in the early afternoon, his hairless brother introduced him to numbers.


    "Two." Scouring Medicine said.


    "Persammon." Orange-crest corrected.


    "Ugh. I should have begun with rocks. He''s not going to last long enough to count these without eating them."


    Orange-crest ignored his brother''s incessant murmuring. He''d learned that whenever his brother used many different hoots and coos at once, he did not expect an answer. And yet, he coveted the secrets of those many different sounds. Scouring Medicine would have been surprised to learn that his muttered complaints were in their own way even more motivating than the food and alcohol he used to incentivize the monkey. Orange-crest was a proud monkey, but he was clever enough to see that his new brother was not the average hairless one.


    He''d seen them from afar before, wallowing in dirt or roaming together in their hard-skins. He''d heard the many stories of his king about how they struggled to live atop the mountains and so they banded together in the valleys. How they quarreled ceaselessly, living so close together.


    But his new brother was not like this. He commanded strange powers, and leapt through the sky like the Monkey King. He owned not merely one cave, but many. Not true caves, other strange hairless artifice, but caves all the same. Orange-crest did not own a single cave. His brother''s territory seemed to span a whole side of the mountain!


    His new brother could not be a king. A king could speak to all things, and orange-crest was not fit to be a king''s brother. But he must be a great one, a paragon among his kind, like the mighty big-butt. That must be why he had all the fruit! He protected the hard-skins and mud-grubbers, like big-butt protected his brothers and sisters.


    "Three." His brother added another fruit to the pile.


    Orange-crest ignored the growing wetness in his mouth and pondered his mighty brother''s words. There were more persimmons now, but the sound was different. He''d learned many sounds for things, even other sounds for the same things. Fruit. Food. All these sounds could mean orange-squish-fruit.


    "Two." A persimmon was taken away.


    Orange-crest''s eyes were opened. Entire new vistas opened up before him. How had he never understood this before? More and less could be more more and less more, but they could also less more more!


    He reached out, grabbing a fruit directly from his brother''s hand. His brother allowed the fruit to be pried from his grasp, but his fingers rose up in clear warning. It was not for eating.


    Orange-crest added it to the pile. "Tree!" He proudly proclaimed.


    "Yes! That''s right!"


    Yes was a good-hoot! He knew that one!


    "Oo! Oo! Esss! Three! Ess!" Orange-crest cheered.


    "Perhaps I underestimated you." Daoist Scouring Medicine mused. "I''d thought the qi within you was the result of a mere fortuitous encounter, but I am impressed by your attitude. You take correction without grudge, and apply yourself with a dedication that shames many men."


    Orange-crest didn''t know any of those sounds. But he knew his brother was pleased. He stepped foward and reached out for him. His strange brother didn''t eat fruit, but every monkey appreciated pats. His black crest had a strange object embedded within it, but it looked similar enough to the king''s circlet that he did not reach for it. Instead, he patted his strange loose coat. Orange-crest could see now that it wasn''t even a part of his skin. It was like the Monkey King''s tiger skin that he wore atop his broad shoulders. He pulled and patted and smoothed until his brother was properly groomed, as a monkey should be.


    "Are you... straightening my robe? Who taught you that? Foolish monkey, I''m supposed to be rewarding you for getting answers right, not the other way around."


    "Ook. Ooh. Two." Orange-crest took one of the persimmons away and bit into it. Yummy. He missed his brothers, but limitless access to out of season fruits made for a very potent medicine for loneliness.


    "You are mocking me. I am losing a battle of wits with a monkey who barely knows as many words as he has fingers." Despite his words, a ghost of a smile played across Scouring Medicine''s lips.


    "Ook."


    His hairless brother showed orange-crest many numbers that day. Many slipped through his grasp, but a seed had been planted. And his newly opened mind was fertile soil indeed.


    "Ten."


    "Fourteen." Scouring Medicine corrected idly, picking a pair of roots from the pile.


    Orange-crest was oft wrong. Big piles were hard. But his brother always knew the right hoot, and corrected him. It was like being a little one again! He watched as his brother picked at his food, using a shiny thin-rock to scrape the edge of the roots. They smelled a little like plant-fire, a little like the worm-root he''d put in his last batch of wine.


    Orange-crest reached out to grab one.


    "No. Ten-years are expensive. Here, you can have one of these." Scouring Medicine pulled a younger, cheaper, ginseng from a lower cabinet. Orange-crest made careful note of the shelf. It wasn''t one of the ones his brother needed to make a gesture in order to open.


    Orange-crest stared intently, as Daoist Scouring Medicine did... something. It wasn''t brewing. Brewing didn''t involve a great rock with a heart of flame. There was a great secret here, greater even than his brewing.


    All monkeys were greedy. Some were greedy for food. Others for mates. Some hungered for everything. Others were simply greedy for sleep, and lived for seasons of ease when they could laze about all summer.


    Orange-crest was greedy for secrets above all other things. And this, he suspected, was a secret worthy of a king.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    On the third day, orange-crest was introduced to another hairless one. This was a problem. It meant that his brother needed a name. His brother needed a good name though. Orange-crest would need to think about it.


    Orange-crest stared deeply at the two daoists. Thinking was hard. He was always so tired lately. His belly was full, and his head even fuller, always with the buzz of that constant pressure. It was like being sick, but the world was clearer even though it was foggy. He wanted to go forth and explore, but his brother was a boundless font of energy. He was always showing him things, or doing things worth watching. Orange-crest was waiting for him to fall asleep, so he could sneak out and explore. But he needed to sleep far more than his brother! What unfairness! Hairless ones were supposed to be weak and slothful.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "He is remarkably well behaved. You''re certain this was a wild monkey two days ago?" Daoist Enduring Oath asked.


    The new hairless one was large. Orange-crest was not a big monkey. He had only seen a few winters. Five, or six perhaps? Counting was easy now, but several winters blended together in the mists of his memories. He was grown, but even grown he was small. Standing tall like a tree his head barely made it up to his hairless brother''s chest.


    This new hairless one was bigger than his brother by a similar margin. Great muscles shifted beneath his weather-worn hide. Softly he moved, a gentle demeanor for a hairless one who could exchange blows with a raging big-butt and not be found wanting. And he was the most hairless of all the hairless. He didn''t even have a crest! His head was so shiny, Orange-crest reached out to touch it. All shiny things needed touching.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine absent-mindedly grabbed his monkey by the scruff of it''s neck, pulling it back to his side.


    "As opposed to what, an escaped pet? I think I would have noticed if I''d picked up one of the emperor''s trained monkeys. I found him upon Mount Yuelu. Perhaps the spirit beast that rules there has exerted more of a civilizing influence than we thought. And he''s well behaved because there''s little edible in your workshop. Still, put something shiny out and I''m sure I''ll be returning it to you later."


    Scouring Medicine paused.


    "Possibly after a soak in vinegar. He does seem a little confused about the bounds of edibility."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine felt like a madman. A week ago he had shared tea with the Sect Master and a pair of high lords. Men whose opinions even the emperor must consider with due care. Now, he shared tea with an ascetic and a monkey. Still, it was gratifying that he had not fallen so low he could not find company within the sect at all.


    "Stop that." He muttered, catching the monkey''s hand as it crept towards his tea. "You already have a teacup."


    Scouring Medicine was sure the bastard knew exactly what he was doing. He just wanted attention.


    "That beast is rumored to be a monkey as well, yes? And a fairly powerful one. Do you think it would come for him?" Daoist Enduring Oath asked.


    "Invade the sect? Don''t make me laugh. If it was half that mighty, it would have claimed the valleys around the mountain for it''s territory ages ago. It''s no River King or Stone Feathered Stag."


    Orange-crest was getting bored. Names were hard. Tea was not very good. He''d eaten too many bitter leaves during lean years. Hot leaf juice was novel, but not attractive.


    He grabbed the little pot of honey on the table and made a run for it.


    "Eeeeeek!" If he couldn''t be stealthy, he would be loud. Everymonkey knew loud things went faster.


    "There he goes." Daoist Scouring Medicine sighed.


    "Relax, I can afford more honey. Money means little to me, and the beast appreciates it."


    "You''d best check your workshop. If there''s trouble to be found, he will find it."


    Daoist Enduring Oath laughed. "I locked everything up the moment you told me what exactly the ''project'' you were bringing over was. If it''s out, it''s either too heavy for him to lift, or something I would not mind replacing. So what if he sneaks a chisel? I have hundreds."


    "The consequences on your head be it."


    In another room, Orange-crest stared at the steel-stick he clutched. It was thicker than the thin shiny-rock his brother had used to peel the roots that smelled like the worm-root. It''s heft was pleasant in his hand. It felt sturdy, sturdier even than a larger rock would. It was a little sticky. He hadn''t licked all the honey off his fingers yet. He looked around him. The most-hairless-one had a smaller cave than his brother''s. But it was still filled with so very many little nooks and crannies. Nooks and crannies the tip of a steel-stick would fit right into. Hefting his chisel, he began to sniff them.


    In the tea room, the daoists continued their civilized conversation, blithely unaware of the misfortune slowly descending upon them.


    "I still cannot believe you are doing this." Daoist Enduring Oath said slowly. "I thought I was supposed to be the stubborn one here. When you first arrived with the monkey, I assumed it was a passing madness. That the reality of training a wild animal would soon dissuade you. You, with your fastidiously organized workshop and elegant tastes, are the very last cultivator I would have expected to pick up a pet monkey."


    Scouring Medicine sighed.


    "In truth, I half expected myself to abandon the project quickly. I was not myself that night, I left the sect largely to keep myself from saying or doing something I could not take back."


    "Still, it''s a monkey."


    "It is indeed a monkey. Shockingly well behaved for a wild animal, but a monkey all the same. It keeps trying to taste every pill ingredient I handle. I''ve had to outright cease working with anything poisonous to mortals while it is present, lest it try that cabinet before I lock it again."


    "You''ve heard, what they''re saying about you below?" Enduring Oath wore a pitying expression. Scouring Medicine hated that it was not unearned.


    "No, but I can imagine it. I''m sure it''ll be even worse, once they find out about the monkey. Still, I find myself caring little. What good to me is reputation when I am forbidden from teaching or treating anyone? My name and career within the sect are already ruined, unless I find a way to cure the Zhang boy."


    "You''ve no luck on that front then?" Enduring Oath asked.


    "Stop, before you send me into a another rage. The idiot remained in that bath for three days, when one would have been pushing his fortune. He stopped feeling pain not because he was ''tough as the roots of mountains'', but because the caustics had already destroyed portions of his nerves. It''s not just his skin, his muscles are as much steel as flesh now. Neither exercise nor cultivation will improve his mobility, without a reformation level breakthrough. I need to use the fullness of my qi just to get needles into him."


    "I see."


    "To fix that sort of damage? It''s far beyond my medicine, unless I invent a specialized treatment whole cloth, or find the core of a mighty yaogui with a similar constitution. And he does not have the talent to attain core formation, let alone while so crippled, no matter what resources we grant him."


    "So you''re giving up?"


    "Giving up? Have you heard a word I said? Are you giving up on ascending to immortality? It''s not impossible. One day, it will be within my grasp. But I''m not a child, I can see the truth of my fortunes. You should distance yourself from me while you can. I fear I will be little better company than my monkey for a long while, and my reputation will only fall further."


    Daoist Enduring Oath tipped back the dregs of his small mug in a single gulp. He poured another.


    "Should I change my name to Daoist Seasoned Operator then? Or perhaps Daoist Profit Seeker? I owe you a great debt. I cannot resolve your ill fortune, but I can at least offer a friendly ear." Daoist Enduring Oath smiled. "And, I suppose, help you avoid losing your pet monkey."


    "It is done, then?"


    "Aye. It just needs a final fitting. He''s a mite smaller than I expected, but that''s not a bad thing. The magic will allow it to grow with him."


    "Shall we adjourn to the workshop? See what the damage is?" Scouring Medicine cast back his own mug of tea. A waste, but he knew the little devil was up to something. Truly, he was a little shamed by Enduring Oath''s hospitality. An ascetic martial artist and craftsman served better tea than his alchemist guest. A pity they were so rushed.


    "It''s been but two marks on the sundial. I think your grim fortune of late is coloring your perception." Enduring Oath joked.


    The sound of cracking wood echoed from the workshop.


    Daoist Enduring Oath winced, and slammed back his second mug in it''s entirety, heedless of heat or waste. They rose as one.


    The two men found orange-crest lounging in a small heap of steel-grey sand. Tiny blue flecks shimmered like stars amid the expanse of the metallic grey. His brilliant fur was coated in the stuff. The shattered remains of a panel of lacquered wood rested by his side.


    As the daoists watched in mildly horrified curiosity, he continued licking himself clean.


    "Ek?" He hooted in confusion. Why were the hairless ones watching him? Was he more interesting than their conversation? Truly, the hairless had the most interesting little crevices in their caves. Maybe they had come to explore as well.


    "Poisonous?" Scouring Medicine broke the silence first.


    "Not really. It''s joinery compound. Ground pig iron, forging salts, spirit stone dust."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine shrugged.


    "He''ll be fine then. He is a beast after all, eating spirit stones is their prerogative."


    "Locks of mere steel?" Scouring Medicine continued with a smile. "I did warn you. This is precisely why I take the time to inscribe the Ironwood Binding Formation on all of mine."


    Daoist Enduring Oath grabbed the monkey by his scruff.


    "Eeek!" Orange-crest screeched indignantly as the big man brushed him down with his meaty palms. Grooming him so roughly! He barely knew the hairless one. That was the height of rudeness! Only a parent, king, boss, or mate should be so familiar with him!


    Orange-crest''s eyes widened as he considered the potential implications of these facts.


    "Ooo! Eeek! Ek ooook! Ooooooo!"


    Despite the monkey''s protests, the daoists easily manhandled him. Enduring Oath beat the beast like a rug, extracting the valuable powder from his fur. He thought himself gentle in the work, but the beast screamed like an animal possessed.


    "Apologies, little monkey. But you brought this upon yourself."


    When he finished, and turned his attention to sweeping up the mess, orange-crest hid behind his brother. Clutching at his hairless brother''s thigh, he cringed away from the big bald one. Amorous or domineering, he wanted no more to do with the man.


    "Disciplining my disciple. How bold you have become, Daoist Enduring Oath."


    "Your disciple! He''s a monkey, you cannot be serious!" For the first time in their conversation, Daoist Enduring Oath truly feared for his friend. A little eccentricity was one thing, but it was becoming clear his good friend''s disillusionment with the sect ran far deeper than he had expected.


    "I believe we have covered this matter in depth. He is indeed a monkey."


    "He just ate my joinery salts. His droppings will shimmer for days."


    "Is that really any worse than what Disciple Zhang did? At least my monkey has the excuse of not understanding the elegant tongue."


    "You cannot be serious. A pet is one thing. That would be an insult to the honor of the whole sect."


    "I haven''t yet fallen so low that I have lost the privilege of adding a mortal to the rolls of the outer sect. If the Sectmaster insists on pandering to men with the intelligence of monkeys, I see no reason why we should not teach monkeys as well."


    "He won''t like that. Nor will the elders."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine smiled.


    "I find that I no longer care. They preach virtue and the severance of mortal ties, then kowtow before venal merchants. If the sect will neither allow me to teach or practice medicine, or release me from my oath, I will give them reason to reconsider."


    "Brother, I will not tell you this plan is madness. You seem well aware of this. But, have you considered that you are playing with the life of a living being? This monkey had a place within the order of the Dao before you plucked it away."


    "Is the world of cultivators any crueler than mortal nature? Will the Sectmaster show him more mercy than a tiger would? Did I sow ill-karma with my treatment of Disciple Zhang, or did he earn his own misfortune? We''re all playing with living beings here. I have simply become less certain that men understand these stakes better than monkeys."

 Chapter 4

    "Honored Daoist, you cannot be serious."


    Disciple Chang De was experiencing a most trying morning. He''d heard rumors, that Daoist Scouring Medicine had fallen from grace. Crippled a disciple, and been stripped of the privilege to teach. He''d assumed there would be a grain of truth to them. Perhaps more than a grain, it would be beyond bold to so slander a true Daoist. But he hadn''t expected... Monkeys.


    "Ooo! Fruit!"


    Daoist Scouring Medicine gestured sharply, and an invisible force grabbed orange-crest and hauled him back to his side before the monkey could wander away. He was getting a great deal of practice with the Phantom Palm these days.


    "His name is on the roll, is it not?" The daoist said. "Any initiate or disciple in good standing is entitled to attend the introductory martial classes, are they not?"


    "Li Hou? These characters... The Li who is a monkey? You cannot be serious."


    "He calls himself persimmon head. I felt that name was more dignified, and equally descriptive." A vein pulsed in Daoist Chang De''s head. As much as the daoist intimidated him, the wry humor in the older man''s voice was slowly driving him to fury.


    "Calls himself?" The disciple spat through gritted teeth.


    "He has attained a limited proficiency with language in the last few days. Truly, he learns far more quickly than the average disciple. I think he''s trying to call himself orange hair, or orange head, but his vocabulary isn''t quite there yet."


    Disciple Chang De struggled greatly to think of a response to the stream of madness that issued from Daoist Scouring Medicine''s mouth. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.


    "The elders will hear of this." He eventually responded.


    "That seems likely." Daoist Scouring Medicine said mildly. "Truly, the sect is more skilled than even the officials of the court at the efficient spread of gossip. If we were to claim ourselves the second greatest gossips under heaven, not even old women in alleys, or tea house patrons, would dare to declare themselves first."


    Chang De was struck dumb by the sheer blasphemy. Did he have no care for the face of the sect? Every word out of his mouth piled insult upon insult.


    "Don''t blame me if he runs off." Chang De finally said, grasping at straws for any excuse to refuse to take temporary custody of the beast.


    The daoist pointed to the band of carved jade around the beast''s arm, wrought with silver characters.


    "I can track him to the ends of the earth, if I must. Daoist Enduring Oath is a most gifted refiner."


    "He''s half their size. The other students may injure him."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine shrugged.


    "He''s probably already well into the first stage of qi condensation, pushing up against edge of the second. I doubt most of the initiates can say the same. Ensure he is not killed, crippled, or beaten by a group, and I shall not hold his injuries against you."


    "How am I to teach a monkey?"


    "It''s not that hard? I taught him the fundamentals of language in a week, I don''t see why you can''t show him martial forms. He understands the words ''Stop'', ''Give'', ''Here'', ''There'', ''Still'', and the names of most fruits. Give him a plum if he does well, a verbal reprimand or slap if he doesn''t."


    Disciple Chang De sighed. He''d run out of objections. He stared wistfully at the plum tree across the glade. He didn''t know how, but he already knew this was going to end badly.


    ---


    "Strike!"


    Orange-crest didn''t know why they were swinging sticks in the middle of the forest. But his brother had promised him many fruits if he stayed until the sky-fire took it''s rest. And orange-crest was no oath-breaker, he had known the honor of serving royalty!


    At least, he was pretty sure that was what his brother had promised. The gulf between their tongues was steadily narrowing, but it was far from closed. Orange-crest was proud, how quickly he was learning. His hairless brother was far slower to pick up the true tongue. Even after a few days he knew but three hoots and not a single trill.


    His brother had said nothing about obedience, but his brother grew irritable when orange-crest asked too many questions. When in Mount Yuelu, a monkey did as the king did. Here in this glade, when the tall one barked, the pack swung.


    And what a pack of hairless ones! He stood at the edge of a crowd that strained his ability to count. He''d reached the biggest number he knew, seventeen, before starting anew and making it halfway there again.


    And so orange-crest joined them, his beautiful stick whistling through the air faster than any other! It was so perfectly smooth, and the slightest bit slippery, but in a good way, just like the walls of his brother''s house-cave.


    Orange-crest had already decided that the stick was now his. He would be keeping it, no matter what the tall one wanted. One could not simply hand out sticks so fine without extracting a promise and expect to receive them back afterwards!


    "Yang! Back straight!" The tall one barked.


    Orange-crest swung. The smaller hairless ones around him made many mocking-hoots.


    "Stupid monkey."


    "Does it think it''s supposed to swing at any word Instructor Chang says?"


    "Ooo?" Orange-crest queried wordlessly.


    "Li Hou! Keep your mouth shut, unless you wish to taste my slipper! The same for the rest of you!" Chang De could not believe the words out of his mouth. Addressing a monkey by a man''s name. By it''s mere presence, the beast was steadily poisoning the discipline he''d worked so hard to instill in the youths. He silently cursed Daoist Scouring Medicine. Whatever madness the man was suffering, could he not have left Chang De out of it?


    Those were most definitely angry hoots. Orange-crest kept quiet, until the tall one''s eyes left him.


    "Third sequence, ready position!"


    Orange-crest followed the motions of the crowd as best he could. They made strange shapes with their bodies, swinging their beautiful sticks at the air as if to beat the winds into submission. Curious, he sought to mimick them. But their stances were stiff. They reached at the instructors example but failed to grasp it, and in so doing made their strikes slow and awkward.


    Orange-crest''s greedy eyes tracked every movement, the smooth way the tall one transitioned between guarded-lying-body and punishing strikes that would send even a tiger reeling. His body was not the same as the tall one who led the pack. His shoulders were lower, hunched. His arms longer, legs shorter. But then, he didn''t have the same body as big-butt either. He''d learned to fight like his lumbering monster of a boss, he could do the same with this hairless one.


    Orange-crest''s resolve burned hot in his chest. For hours he strove to master the staff, spinning and thrusting as he shattered the skulls of imaginary tigers.


    Then he got bored.


    The sky-fire had long since begun it''s climb down from the zenith of the heavens. It was hot. His fur was damp. His mouth felt dry. The plum trees called to him. Whispered of juicy squishy crunches.


    "What do you think you''re doing, Li Hou?"


    "Ook?"


    Orange-crest stopped moving towards the plum trees. He could wait. His brother would be back soon.


    Chang De sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow. He wasn''t going to beat a daoist''s direct disciple. Even with the man''s permission. Even if it was a damn monkey. Scouring Medicine''s falling reputation only made him more dangerous. An injured beast was most liable to lash out heedlessly. Normally, he wouldn''t compare a Daoist to an animal, even in the privacy of his own head. But the man''s disciple was a monkey, it fit.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    "Here." He barked, pointing. He should have paid more attention to the list of words the beast knew.


    "Ooo." The monkey nodded at him, sitting down cross-legged. The beast began to pant like a dog.


    The initiates, predictably, began moaning at him. He frowned. Perhaps the mad daoist was not completely wrong. His human students were irritating as well.


    "Why does the monkey get to rest?"


    "That''s not fair!"


    "What sort of sect is this, that monkey has a daoist for a master while we toil unacknowledged?"


    "You don''t want that daoist for a master. I heard he crippled all his human disciples with dangerous practices, then sold the Zhang family medicines that didn''t work."


    "No way!"


    "Silence!" Chang De roared, stoking his qi to fury. A sourceless wind ripped across the glade, leaves raining as if autumn had arrived in an instant. Initiates staggered, some knocked to their knees by the weight of his will. He might not be a true daoist yet, but the fifth stage of qi condensation was not an achievement bereft of merit. He was only twenty six after all. He might not achieve foundation establishment by thirty, like the great talents. But he felt confident he would manage it before forty.


    The monkey perked up, it''s eyes covetous. Chang De sneered at it. It might have had some good fortune in the past, but it would soon discover that fortune might carry one ten li in an instant, but only talent and effort could cross ten thousand li.


    "Pair off. Exchange pointers." He commanded. It was near time anyway, and easier than getting the class back on track.


    "I want the monkey!"


    "No, he''s mine."


    "I''ll fight you for him!"


    "Then someone else will get the monkey!"


    "The last to partner will exchange pointers with me." Chang De''s voice cut across the chatter.


    The two disciples fighting over orange-crest immediately bowed to each other, taking up their staves. Better a certainty of fighting a fellow initiate than a coin flip between a monkey and Iron Blooded Chang.


    "Get up, monkey. I would see your worth." This voice was calmer. Young, but without the brash confidence of the others youths. Orange-crest looked up.


    "Oo?"


    The hairless one standing before him wore the same white false-skin as the other small ones. But unlike the others, this one wore a wide strip of false-skin that surrounded his waist like a river held the earth. The thin strip of false-skin shined like his brother''s circlet, a deep sumptuous blue like the autumn sky in the hour of twilight.


    Orange-crest didn''t see the point of fake-skins, but he liked that belt. He liked it a great deal. One day, he would wear a river across his waist.


    "You heard me beast. Rise, and take up your arms. I, Yang Wei, shall judge your merit."


    "Wow Initiate Yang. I didn''t know you aspired to join the theater."


    "Still your tongue brother! His background is formidable. The Yang family of the Three Rivers holds an imperial commission."


    "All of you, shut it, or I will begin deducting pills from your allotment!" Chang De shouted. "Li Hou. Fight him!"


    Chang De''s eyes slid across the field. His breaths were slow and heavy, sublimating the wrath within his heart into focus. With the late addition of the monkey, his class should be uneven. If he was to suffer this indignity, he would at least have the pleasure of working out some of his frustration on whatever laggard failed to follow his instructions.


    "Initiate Ren." He purred. His voice was like the first grinding crack of river-ice, an inescapable promise of calamity. "You seem to be without a partner. Allow this senior to further your education."


    Initiate Ren gulped. Silently, he prayed to all the gods. His prayers went unanswered.


    Orange-crest stared up at Yang Wei, heedless of the misfortune unfolding behind him. His ears perked up, as wood clacked against wood. He watched as the small ones moved as one, instantly shifting from dancing-mimicry to lesser-strife. Even the tall one had chosen a partner. That one cast aside his good-stick, moving to box the small one''s head with all the heavy fury of a big-butt wronged, and all the mercy of red-eyes on a bad day.


    Orange-crest felt bad for that small one. It was their own fault though. They should have run.


    Orange-crest cast his eyes about the glade. Why did they all fight? It was not even wrestling, but lesser-strife in truth. On Mount Yuelu, a tree such as the one with plums might be a cause for lesser-strife in a lean year. But the tree had been here the whole day, and the hairless ones might be blind, but they were not that blind. No heated female cast beguiling scent through the space. As far as orange-crest could tell, there were no females at all among them, a proper hunting pack. There was no king to show their might either, only the tall one.


    Orange-crest had no idea what was going on, but he could recognize patterns. Every hairless one had an adversary. He turned to Yang Wei once more. This one must be his.


    "Ooooo. Ek ek ekek ek." He shook the weakness out of his limbs, stoking his heart-fire. This hairless one stood two full heads above him, but orange-crest had grown up with big-butt and red-eye. He was small, for a monkey or a man. But never had he been found wanting in strife.


    He might lose frequently, but never without drawing blood. He hefted his beautiful new stick. It was time to show the foolish-challenger the color of his blood.


    "Yes, beast. You might be slow, but at least you are not a coward."


    Yang Wei smiled. The others wanted the monkey because they thought it easy prey. But he had eyes that saw and ears that listened. It''s martial arts were crude and simplistic, but they had an elegance that the other disciples, blindly copying their instructor, lacked. Unfortunately for the beast, it stood before Yang Wei. Be they destined for mortal armies or daoist sects, the sons of the Yang family all pursued the martial path from the time they could walk. When he was next granted leave to visit his parents and his honored uncle, it would make for an excellent story to have defeated a daoist''s personal disciple.


    Yang Wei twirled his staff and then swung it clear, raising his left palm to his chest. He held the pose for a moment, a proper martial salute. Then he charged.


    Orange-crest met him with a half-hearted thrust. His staff''s ceaselessly tracked the hairless one''s head, forcing a parry, lest the youth brain himself. When his opponent spun with the strike, bringing the lower half of his stave around for a powerful blow, orange-crest dropped to the ground.


    From all fours, the orange-crest sprung into the air like a frog. His staff shot out viper-quick, popping Yang Wei in the face. The blue-belted hairless one reeled, clutching at it''s nose.


    "Ooooooo." He hooted mockingly. Slow, stiff. Little hairless ones didn''t learn the rules of nature at their end of their brothers fists and it showed. A soft-hided little whelp dared to step up to the great orange-crest could expect no better.


    "Silence, beast!" Yang Wei hissed.


    Yang Wei struck with a powerful overhead swing the monkey sidestepped. He skipped forward, hooking his staff with a foot and raising it for a thrust. The damnable beast had already danced to the side, fouling the angle. It swung at his ankle as he recovered, forcing him to hop awkwardly, surrendering the momentum.


    "Ooooook!" It wailed, mocking him instead of taking the offensive.


    Fine, it wished to play like that? Yang Wei abandoned his attempt to fight as Disciple Chang had taught them. He slid a length of the haft of his weapon through his hands, extending his reach. A quarterstaff was no spear, but his family''s arts would still shatter bone without a spearhead.


    Yang Wei let loose a trio of vicious thrusts. The monkey dodged each by the skin of it''s teeth, giving ground freely. He pushed forward, driving the beast before him. The damn thing might be agile, but he was taller by far. His tight spear-work left no room for it''s wild counters, forcing it on the defensive.


    "So fast!"


    "Glad I didn''t get the monkey."


    "Screw the monkey, I don''t want to fight Brother Yang!"


    "Hey, watch it!" Some nobody shouted as Yang Wei drove the monkey into the middle of their bout.


    Their staves clashed like thunder, drowning out the chatter of the bystanders. Yang Wei could see the monkey''s teeth now, snarling.


    Yang Wei smiled, baring his far cleaner teeth to match. A good bout was a good bout, wherever it came from. All it needed now was a victorious conclusion. He snorted. Perhaps that was a little too generous, it was still a monkey.


    "Not so confident now, are you?"


    Yang Wei slowed, giving the beast a beat. His feet shifted. He might not be able to use any of his family''s legendary techniques yet, but his uncle has shown him one did not need qi to end a fight with one blow.


    "Kreeeeeee!" Orange-crest roared. He''d been restrained! Polite! The hairless one had given him clear shots and he''d been gentle, offering him the lightest of correction. Now the blue-belted one fought like a demon, his stick lashing out with force enough to break bone. Even an enraged red-eyes did not lash out so viciously among his pack! He wanted to play rough? Orange-crest would show him how a monkey played rough.


    Their battle raged like the heavens in storm, until the blue-belted one missed a step. Orange-crest moved to punish him, but his foe''s hands danced like lightning. Somehow they shifted, clearing a path where none had existed.


    The tip of Yang Wei''s staff descended, connecting with orange-crest''s wrist with a brutal crack.


    "Know your place, beast." Yang Wei said, turning away from the monkey cradling it''s broken wrist. "This is the difference between men and animals. True skill."


    Orange-crest hissed. His healthy hand blindly pawed at the dirt, searching. He rose slowly, chasing after the blue-belted one.


    "Not had enough?" Yang Wei turned with languid grace.


    Yang Wei''s staff caught his foes, easily blocking his strike. The monkey screeched as the shock travelled up it''s injured arm. Yang Wei''s eyes widened, as it''s healthy arm rose as well. He bent back, desperately trying to dodge.


    And then his world vanished into a haze of white hot pain, as the fist sized rock smashed into his forehead. Hot blood dripped down his face, falling off his chin like rain to stain his sect robes.


    "Honorless dog!" Yang Wei cried, tackling the smaller monkey.


    The pair descended into a violent pile of flailing limbs and clawing nails, until Disciple Chang arrived to separate them. Yang Wei was chastised at length. Chang De, when his temper finally cooled hours later, admitted to himself that he wasn''t entirely sure exactly what he blamed the initiate for exactly. But in the moment, it was far too easy to blame him for disrupting the class, escalating the match, lacking decorum, and losing to a monkey.


    The raging orange-crest on the other hand, Chang De sat upon. That, even in his later reflections, he felt was fully justified. The monkey roared and flailed, then recoiled from the pain of flailing with a broken wrist, then flailed some more. It took the better part of an hour for it to exhaust itself.


    It was in this condition, that Daoist Scouring Medicine returned to collect his monkey.


    "Well, at least you didn''t kill anybody." The daoist said mildly. "And I had the opportunity to finish a batch of Three Poison Medicaments without you eating powdered lead or Black Yew bark. Come on persimmon face, let''s get that blood out of your fur."


    When orange-crest''s rationality finally returned to him, he was greatly disappointed to discover he had left his smooth stick behind in the confusion.

 Chapter 5

    Orange-crest found he did not mind being injured when there was lots of fruit to be had. Pain was bad, but pain and hunger united were worse by far. His brother had fussed over him like a mother would, applying a sticky, oily, goop to his broken wrist. It was a little bothersome, that his brother would not allow him to lick the limb clean.


    He''d been annoyed at first. Then the pain had vanished. Then he''d snuck a few licks of the goop when his brother was distracted by his fire-heart boulder. The goop tasted like bird-shit and pine-blood, but it made his head float in the same way as good wine.


    Now, pleasantly buzzed, orange-crest judged it good goop. Nay, most excellent goop. Goop fit for a king.


    He wondered what sort of goop the Monkey King put on his injuries. Orange-crest snort-laughed. Funny joke. The Monkey King being injured.


    The injured monkey wiggled his head back and forth, enjoying the way the world was kind enough to sway with him.


    "If you wish me to change my behavior, kindly show me where exactly my actions violate the rules of the sect."


    His brother was at the entrance of his cave. He had cast aside the wooden shutter, and was conversing with another hairless one at the threshold.


    Tucked away in the corner, orange-crest struggled to listen. Learning new hoots was always good. Unfortunately he could only really hear his brother''s side of the conversation, and wrapped up beneath a spare false-skin, he was far too cozy to move.


    "An acknowledged daoist from a lineage in good standing is granted the right to accept students from unaffiliated mortal populations without any oversight or restriction, so long as he provides for their upkeep and they do not commit crimes deserving of censor or expulsion."


    The one at the door raised his voice, but the patter of rain drowned out his words. So rude of his brother not to let him in.


    "Bashing another disciple in the face with a rock is not a crime worthy of expulsion. I would be proud to defend his behavior before an assembly of daoists. I am quite certain the students of Daoist Sword Like Rain and Daoist Uncompromising Virtue have done far worse with less provocation."


    So many hoots. His brother was very eloquent.


    "Then the sect should have found the monkey in their search for mortals with talent."


    There was a long pause this time, as the hairless one on the other side of the door spoke at length.


    "Yes, I agree, the seeking of those with the potential to cultivate is generally acknowledged by all and sundry as the sole privilege of the sect. It does indeed greatly cut down on disputes between allied cultivators over talented students. Fortunately for me, there is a great gulf between that which is true in fact, and that which is true in law. If the sect wishes to petition the emperor to formally grant them exclusive jurisdiction over all things with potential to cultivate in their territory, I would be happy to speak before the court in it''s support. I''m sure there''s absolutely no way that the great clans of the empire could find fault with such a proposal."


    Orange-crest was getting sleepy. It was so nice, hearing rain without feeling it.


    "The law is the law. I would hate to petition for remedy when this matter could be resolved amicably, but I will not be trampled upon."


    Orange-crest grabbed another persimmon. Delicious. He frowned. How odd, this one had a seed in it as well.


    "The law is clear, Daoist Guarding Thunder. The sect may strip me of the right to teach it''s disciples, but the monkey was my student before he was yours."


    Orange-crest ate the odd not-pit. His brother wouldn''t feed him bad food.


    "You will find my understanding of the law as written to be scrupulously accurate. No provision in it specifies that it only applies to men. Unlike Disciple Zhang I am not in the habit of skimming through written materials."


    A gentle fire surged through orange-crest. He was very tired now. Sleep pounced upon him like a cozy tiger. A good tiger. His last thought before it claimed him, is what a silly idea that was. Every-monkey knew there was no such thing as a good tiger.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    When orange-crest awoke, the rain had stopped. His wrist ached, but his body felt better. Strong, clear. Like the smell of the earth after a storm, made whole anew by strife.


    It was the sixth day, since his brother had taken him from Mount Yuelu. He had even more numbers now. It was hard, but his brother had shown him the deep pattern. How one could have ten, but also two tens. How two tens could be twenty, just like a persimmon could be fruit. Two sounds for one concept, each it''s own direction to approach what was.


    It lacked the elegance of the true tongue, where all things had but one name. But orange-crest would learn before he judged. His brother learned language more slowly than he, so he would pick up the slack.


    Orange-crest had seen much in this strange place, but so much of what he saw invited yet more questions. It left him feeling oddly rootless, like a tree growing upon ground that was water. He frowned. That thought needed more time to ripen on the bough.


    Enlightenment struck him, and orange-crest understood his desires. What he wanted most right now, was to make wine. It would make him feel close to home. And it would make wine.


    His brother had so much fruit! He could spare a little for the future.


    The monkey rose, and sought out his brother. He found him where he always was, standing before the great stone with a heart of flame.


    His brother should probably get out of his cave more.


    "Fruit!" Orange-crest proclaimed.


    "Yes, that is a fruit." Daoist Scouring Medicine answered, not turning from his pill furnace.


    Orange-crest frowned. He was not holding a fruit.


    "Ten-tens fruit me?" The monkey asked.


    "Why ten-tens fruit?" The Daoist answered, attention focused on his furnace.


    Orange-crest''s forehead crinkled. He did not like this word, why. It was like no, except his brother expected a response.


    The monkey ambled off, and Scouring Medicine returned his full attention to the furnace. His schedule these days was novel. Stripped of the right to sell his pills to the sect, there was little need for him to produce many of his staples, like Qi and Blood Pills, or the many elemental variations upon the Foundation Establishing Pill.


    He would have cherished the newly freed time for research, if not for the fact that his coin purse had decreased commensurately with his workload.


    The Sectmaster intended he dedicate his time to curing Disciple Zhang. That was not going to happen. Leaving the difficulty of the work aside, the injustice of the whole situation filled him with such churning fury that he wasn''t sure he would cure the young man if it was within his power. Perhaps in a decade, when the man had learned some wisdom and humility.


    But that left little for him to do. There was only so much one could innovate with common ingredients. And even if he did produce a better restorative for mortals, what would it avail him? Nobody would purchase it on its merits, not with his name attached. And the black markets cared rather little for small gradations in quality, criminals were not the most discerning consumers of pills.


    All these sour thoughts swirled round in Daoist Scouring Medicine''s head. It was why he''d dedicated so much of his time of late to the endless task of civilizing the monkey. His furnace sat where it always had, but without the ability to gain spirit stones or renown through refining pills, much of the joy had been stripped from the process. This latest batch of Yang Stallion Pills was similarly joyless. True, they would fetch him a modest sum on the black markets, but he could concoct mortal marital aids in his sleep.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Then his monkey returned, bearing an empty clay jar.


    "Ten-ten fruits yes-why wine." The monkey proclaimed.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine blinked twice. Did the monkey just use yes as a negating modifier? He supposed that did not not make sense.


    "I think that''s the first full sentence you''ve ever said."


    "Ten-ten fruits." The monkey insisted, waving it''s arms. There was real work to be done, orange-crest had no patience for puzzling out new hoots.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine pursed his lips. It was so hard to tell sometimes, what was a potential learning opportunity, and what was just the beast being greedy. Still, mundane fruit was cheap. It literally grew on trees, and unlike so much of what he harvested, it neither took decades to mature, nor shriveled up and died if a mortal with too much yang qi approached within a dozen meters of it.


    And whether it knew what it was doing or not, the growth of it''s language skills was beyond impressive. He''d heard rumors, from higher countries. Rumors of children born to prodigious cultivators who acquired language in weeks instead of years. This was not the same situation as an infant with a connate core, let alone the Heaven-Descending Immortals of legend. But it left him wondering. He''d intended the monkey to be a test subject for a fourth variation of the Impurity Scouring Bath. Teaching it language and cultivation mere means to an end to raise it to the level it could even be considered a candidate.


    He had decided a mere animal could be that much. But who was he to decide that it could not be more, if heaven willed it?


    The Yang Stallion Pills still had hours over the flame, but they weren''t the sort of recipe that had any risk of a furnace explosion. Their name greatly overstated the volume of yang qi they actually contained. Scouring Medicine withdrew his stabilizing qi from the flame. The pills would keep, or fail, as fate decreed.


    "Thirty fruits yes wine." He finally answered, surprised how easily the bastardized version of language the beast spoke came to him now. The monkey could count, but it wasn''t very good at estimating quantity yet.


    That, or more likely, it was just using the biggest number it knew. It would probably want ten-ten-tens tomorrow at this rate. He unlocked the larder, allowing the beast entry for the first time.


    His lips quirked into a smile at the utter awe on the beast''s face. Despite the gulfs in their heritage, some expressions were unmistakable. He supposed his larder would be heaven-defying indeed for a monkey used to picking scarce fruit from the vine. A hundred ripe fruits of every description, bags overflowing with grain and mundane spices from the tropical south. Great piles of sausages, and even some choice cuts of ancient, yet fresh, meat.


    This room had been his first storage house, before his workshop''s twin walls of cabinets were complete. The formations within ensured even the most perishable of goods would keep for several seasons.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine ate far less than he used to, but he would not practice true Grain Liberation until he either finished his formulae and fully refined his body, or formed his core. Until then, why not enjoy the luxuries his success brought him? He was not Enduring Oath, he''d never seen any benefits to asceticism. Denying himself small pleasures did not make him harder working or wiser.


    "Thirty fruits." He reminded the monkey, shaking it out of it''s stupor.


    The monkey''s hand reached out for the beautifully marbled beef tenderloin before it. To Scouring Medicine''s surprise, the beast shook itself, then drew back it''s arm.


    "No. Fruit." It muttered. "Ekek?" It chirped questioningly to itself.


    As the daoist watched, the monkey began to gather fruit. It handled every piece reverently, sniffing and prodding to determine it''s freshness.


    At first, he thought the monkey was putting on a show, as it began rejecting perfectly ripe fruits. Then as the pile behind it slowly grew, Scouring Medicine realized it was looking for the most overripe fruits in his larder. To his further surprise, it didn''t just take the largest or nearest fruits, but instead seemed to weigh the resulting flavors. Once it began selecting a number of persimmons, it delicately replaced all the plums it was handling. Instead, it picked out lychee and yangmei to accompany the larger persimmons.


    In the end, it grabbed far more than thirty fruits, but Scouring Medicine said nothing. The lychee and yangmei were individually quite small.


    "You were drunk!" Scouring Medicine said, sealing the larder. "I thought you were, but then, I was hitting the gourd pretty hard that night as well. It wasn''t until I sobered up I realized how ridiculous that sounded. Monkey-wine rarely gets stronger than a peasant''s small beer."


    "Oo ooo." His monkey replied.


    For the first time, Daoist Scouring Medicine actually wondered what the beast was saying. There were spells that allowed a cultivator to speak with animals. They were far from his area of expertise, but perhaps it would be worthwhile to buy a talisman? He winced at the thought of what that would do to his already bleeding coin-purse. Most beasts had little of worth to say, but he found himself more curious about the little monkey''s inner world than he was about most men he met.


    As they adjourned to the workshop, he procured a massive stone bowl for the monkey. One of the ones he didn''t use for grinding poisons, of course. They were all well washed after use, but there was no such thing as an excess of caution in alchemy.


    Without the luxury of the Phantom Palm, the monkey made quite the mess of things. It crushed persimmons between it''s fingers, seeming to relish the act of squeezing the flesh into a pulp. It didn''t bother to peel the lychee before doing the same.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine was suddenly a little less interested in trying the end product. The monkey seemed to know what it was doing, but he was pretty sure there were more than a few strands of orange fur mixed into the similarly colored mass of pulped persimmons. Euch. He would have to drink at least a little wouldn''t he? To avoid offending the beast.


    Next time, he would make it wash, thoroughly.


    Orange-crest pondered the mash before him. It was one of the best smelling he''d ever made. Sweet and sour, with the floral notes contributed by the tree-pearl-fruit. But he had no green worms, nor any of his other favored additives. Green worms were important. They greatly increased the odds of a successful wine-tree.


    His brother had plant-fire roots, but they did not smell half as good as the one he''d tried last time...


    Daoist Scouring Medicine watched in surprise as the monkey abandoned his project. Had he lost interest so quickly? That was disappointing.


    To his surprise, the beast ambled out into his gardens. It ignored the many valuable spirit herbs on display, and instead began turning over rocks and poking at trees.


    For the better part of an hour, the monkey inspected worms and beetles with a singular focus. Every time it pulled one from the earth, it discarded it as unsatisfactory. Well, it ate a few of the beetles, but it was clearly looking for something specific.


    Inspiration struck Daoist Scouring Medicine, and he fetched a volume from his herbal library. He didn''t have a full bestiary, but he did have several volumes on insects.


    The beast''s eyes widened, and it reached out to touch the page with almost as much reverence as it had shown when introduced to his pantry. Then it stopped, recognizing it''s hands as filthy.


    For the second time that day, the daoist found himself smiling. Steadily, he turned the pages, watching the beast''s varied reactions. Wonder and avarice, familiarity and disgust. Even without words, it expressed a clear familiarity with the subject matter. He doubted it''d ever seen many of the qi endowed insects featured in his tome, but perhaps it had seen lesser variants? Mortal worms and beetles of similar form?


    Then it stopped him. Firmly grabbed his wrist, instead of the page. Scouring Medicine''s brow furrowed, at the dingy brown-orange stain the monkey''s hand left on his pristine robe.


    "This." It said firmly, utterly certain. "Good wine."


    "Fourfold-Marked Green Rotworm." He read. "They live and reproduce within dead or dying trees in temperate but moist climates. Life cycle uncertain. Choosey about habitats and difficult to intentionally cultivate, only known usage as a poor source of death qi. Ironically, the death qi dissipates once it dies. Unsuitable even for most qi condensation level medicines, mortal pills only."


    "Death qi..." Scouring Medicine mused. "Incredibly low quantities, however. Is he using them to prevent the mash from spoiling? No... That doesn''t quite make sense. Even in low quantities, death qi is a known bane to brewing. Enough to prevent spoilage prevents fermentation. Perhaps the worm''s qi has a more complex expression, when removed from it''s native environment?"


    "The writings of the ancestors speak of a life within rot... Speak of life both supporting and opposing the process of fermentation, locked in a battle that is tipped by circumstances. Perhaps these worms possess the potential to become natural Gu when immersed in the correct environment? Consuming and in turn amplifying the process of fermentation? Gu of alcohol, instead of venom?"


    Daoist Scouring Medicine looked down at the monkey.


    "Gu are a proscribed art. Not merely a cultivating monkey, but a demonic one. Truly you are full of surprises."


    Then again, technically his arts were proscribed as well now. He would watch the monkey carefully. He doubted he would find it refining a golden silkworm in his backyard, but it couldn''t be allowed to do anything that would reflect poorly upon him. Still, Mount Yuelu was only a day away. Perhaps it was worth considering... broadening his horizons. He would be leaving the sect anyway, one way or another.


    "This?" The monkey asked, tapping at the painted worm, refusing to be distracted.


    "No this." Daoist Scouring Medicine''s stores were well stocked, but he did not keep temperamental live worms of at best niche utility. "I''ll find you something else."


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    "Wine good?" Orange-crest asked doubtfully, staring at the pile of yellow flakes his brother held out.


    "Good? It''s amazing you''ve been managing to make wine at all without adding actual yeast."


    Orange-crest stared at the daoist, unimpressed.


    "Yes, wine good." His brother finally said. There, was that so hard? Why did his brother need so many words all the time.


    Orange-crest supposed these would have to do. At least they would count as a new thing, for the purposes of his learning. They tasted rather too much like stale sweat for the monkey''s liking, but his brother seemed to have some basic understanding of the noble secret of brewing.


    He slowly began dragging the heavy stone bowl outside.


    "Stop scuffing my floors!" His brother shouted, forcibly taking over the process. His brother was truly very strong for his stature. That bowl must weigh half a big-butt.


    Orange-crest ignored him, making for the excellent wine tree he''d found earlier in his search for green-worms.


    "Why are we doing this outside anyway?"


    Orange-crest scooped out some of the yellow flake infused mash. He wasn''t sure how this would be without green-worms, but it smelled good now. He slurped down a little as he made his way to the tree to deposit it.


    "No, absolutely not you fool." His brother shouted. "That''s like drawing a snake and adding feet! I allowed you to mix the mash by hand, but we are not fermenting my persimmons in a tree! Let alone my already struggling Dusk Pine! We have perfectly good clay jugs, just let me find my funnel!"


    Orange-crest sighed, and ate more of the mash. So sweet. This was going to be a whole thing with him wasn''t it? Why did they have to do everything his brother''s way? He wasn''t very good at compromising, this hairless brother of his.

 Chapter 6

    Orange-crest was chewing on the past, but he struggled to swallow it. Every time he tried, it stuck in his throat, strangely tough and resilient, unwilling to pass onwards. He knew not how else to describe it. Monkeys did not dwell in times other than the now. They lived, and time passed as it would. When they revisited the past in the confines of their mind, it was always a brief visit. A spark of inspiration, a reminder that a strange thing had been seen before, and resulted in weal or woe. A rare remembrance of those who had passed on, fallen to danger, or lost their grip on the increasing slippery branches of the tree of time.


    This was different. As he sat in the paltry shade of a gnarled pine, enjoying the way the gentle breeze bathed him in light and shadow alike, he turned over the day before yesterday from every angle. The day his master had left him with the pack in the glade.


    He could have died.


    It was a strange thought. He''d known many sharper dangers. Been cornered by a tiger. Embraced by dark waters, so cold they his life had continued to fade even after he''d climbed free. Eaten bad fruits in a lean year, struggled to rise with limbs as heavy as mountains.


    Twice, with the water and tiger, only the timely aid of his king had saved him.


    But, he had not died. He''d learned. Avoided the cracking of ice and the grim stillness of a tiger''s ambush ever after.


    Yet this time, though he had learned much, this past day refused to pass by him as it should. The tall-one who led the pack had pinned him with effortless ease. But, had he been wrothful instead of order-making, orange-crest could not have opposed him. His brother''s rage afterwards might have been terrible, but orange-crest had been helpless.


    Orange-crest realized he did not understand hairless ones. He''d known this before, but it felt different now. Like he understood the shape of the absent knowledge, not merely it''s presence. There was a Way here, just like there was a Way on Mount Yuelu. But the Way was different here. The rules were strange. Pack-mates turned on each other at the tall one''s bark. Quarrels sprung up like lightning from a clear sky.


    He''d been lucky, that the blue-belted one had been weak. No, that was wrong. He was strong now. Stronger than he''d been. He could rage with strength beyond his small frame. Red-eyes might be stronger than him still, but orange-crest was faster than his volatile older brother now, not just more agile.


    The blue-belted one had been stronger than the other young ones. Stronger than orange-crest. All had hinged on the tall one. And the way the tall one bowed his head before his brother.


    Perhaps he''d been wrong? His brother was no king, but perhaps he stood higher beneath the heavens than orange-crest had first assumed? Not merely a boss, but a boss of bosses. He''d never seen a boss of bosses, but if a yesterday could have a yesterday, could not a boss have a boss?


    Orange-crest spit out the peach pit he had been rolling between his teeth. There. He was not mouth-chewing, so he should stop mind-chewing as well.


    He rose, staring out at his hairless brother''s domain. The day stretched before him, ripe with possibility. This endless thought was unsuitable for a monkey. For once his brother was not sticking to him closer than his own shadow. It was time to go exploring.


    He felt the unwelcome past beginning to return, stalking like a tiger to snare his mind. So he ran, felt the undergrowth crack and squish beneath his toes. He leapt, catching a branch. The trees were good here, verdant and thick, tall but not towering. He flew through the air, branches leaping to his hands of their own will. His limbs propelled him down the mountain with greater ease than ever before.


    He reveled in the joy of motion, let his leaps cast him ever higher, each jump more daring than the last. Every tree was new, every glade filled with new secrets.


    He turned over a rock, finding a new sort of worm beneath it. At first, he thought it was a normal worm, but the further he dug, the more surprised he was to discover that there was seemingly no end to this worm! It was so long! Almost like a snake, but far thinner. Thinner even this his littlest finger, as normal worms were. Orange-crest released the half-unearthed long-worm. To his surprise, it didn''t fall backward at all. Instead it stood proud, like a tree in the wind, gently wiggling. As he watched, it steadily grew shorter, sneaking back into the earth with profoundly un-wormlike haste.


    Even the worms of this place were strange!


    Wrapping his fingers round it, orange-crest pulled the long-worm from the ground and made a snack of it. It was pleasantly earthy, but remarkably tough for a worm. If you chewed it long enough, the salty-meaty taste gave way to an aftertaste that tasted like wet leaves smelled. What a delicacy! He would need to find another, for his brother to enjoy. Even the king would appreciate these!


    Orange-crest continued to explore, enjoying the warmth slowly spreading from his belly. His heart-fire, the strange good-heat that had dwelled within him since the night he met his hairless brother, flared in response.


    One fire fed another, and the great fire burned away exhaustion in his limbs. Another thing he did not understand, but a good one. He would have to find more treasures and delicacies, like the worm-root, or the odd salty-fiery dust of the shiny-headed one.


    As orange-crest roamed across the grounds of the sect, he found a strange feeling growing within him. It was not the sharp-bad-hurt of grief, nor the creeping-prickling-weight of fear. His belly was fuel, the land before him was verdant and wonderful. Yet though the sunlight warmed his fur, it did not embrace him as it should. Something he could not name was missing.


    He found his mind returning to his brothers and sisters. Every time he passed a soft patch of deep-grass, he imagined the titanic form of big-butt curled up like a great red-grey boulder. A rustle in the trees drew his eye, reminding him of the stealthy quick-fingers. But it was only a small bird, a distant smudge of sunset with a crest as bright as his own.


    His ears pricked up of their own accord, tingling with heart-fire. The wind delivered to his ears what seemed like all the world. Droning and buzzing, sharp cries and mysterious hums. But not a monkey to be heard.


    "Oooo." Orange-crest intoned solemnly. He was far beyond far from home, but perhaps his king would hear him. There were none with ears better than the king.


    "I swear, it''s right around here."


    "Brother Wang, if this is another wild hare chase..."


    "I swear it is not, Brother Hao. I''ve been here a dozen times, it''s how I''ve been able to advance my cultivation so quickly. You know I used to be the weakest in our class! I just took a wrong turn, the light is different today."


    "Hmmph."


    "Hmmph." Orange-crest repeated. That was a fun sound. He wondered what it meant.


    Following his ears, the monkey followed the sound-trail of the two disciples. Perhaps if he watched them from a distance, he could deduce the Way on this strange mountain.


    "It''s right through this crack! See, it''s just like an immortal cave from the stories. An unclaimed spirit spring!"


    "Incredible! You can feel the qi from out here! It''s even better than a spirit stone! But where does it come from?"


    "Further within, there are little holes in the stone. I think it comes from deep within the abyss of the earth. It''s warmer than the Fathomless Well though, and nobody comes to kick you out even after days!"


    "So tight!"


    "Don''t worry, it only widens from there."


    "It''s... Cold."


    "Only compared to the heat of day. It''s nothing we can''t handle."


    The voices became quieter, as if they were out-running orange-crest. He redoubled his speed, trying not to be left behind.


    "You remember the deal?"


    "Yeah, yeah, I''ll watch over you during your breakthrough. There''s nothing back in there?"If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    "We should check, since it''s been a few days. But it''s always been just more cave. You only need to watch the entrance."


    Orange-crest came upon a great cave. The hairless voices emanated from within, but so too did a sense of cold foreboding. He didn''t like this cave.


    "See, empty."


    "Very well. Take your pill. I can''t wait to try cultivating here! I''ve been stuck at the peak of the first stage for so long!"


    "Don''t let your guard down. I''ll be vulnerable while I''m breaking through, and if I waste my Meridian Opening Pill because of you I''ll never let you forget it."


    "Yeah, yeah. Relax Brother Wang, I''ll protect you."


    "You better."


    Orange-crest was disappointed when the voices stopped. He waited by the ominous cave for them to start conversing once more.


    He still struggled to piece together the speech of the hairless, but even though most of it escaped him, he liked it.


    Orange-crest realized it wasn''t quite his siblings he was missing. It was the way things were on Mount Yuelu. The incessant chatter, the way even when he was alone, he was not really alone. His brothers and sisters never more than a howl away.


    He didn''t want to go home. Not yet. Not when there was still so much to see and taste and learn. But he wanted more siblings. A monkey was not meant to share his life with a single brother.


    The tall and the blue belted ones did not like him. Perhaps these ones would be more like his brother and the big-shiny one.


    He waited for a long time, but there were no more sounds from the cave. The monkey shivered at the crack''s grim wintery breath, but never once had his fear been stronger than his curiosity.


    He snuck-crept in. His fur stood on end as he navigated the generous confines of the entry tunnel.


    He took deep breaths of unseasonably cold air. To his surprise, his heart-flame surged in response, giving the chill no purchase in his bones.


    Orange-crest found the hairless ones facing each other. One was lanky, but well formed. The was smaller, rounded and soft despite his clear youth. How strange the many varieties of the hairless.


    They did not see him, for their eyes were closed. How strange. The cold air moved around them in odd ways, as of a great unseen beast lurked behind their shoulders.


    He was less certain about approaching these potential-brothers now.


    Then he saw the bags. Nice sturdy material, plump like a good bag should be.


    Orange-crest carefully crept around the hairless ones, stealth honed by long practice liberating food from big-butt''s sleepy gluttony.


    He''d wanted a bag, ever since his brother had taught him the word. He had so many! Bags of hard food-rocks. Bags of black dust that made orange-crest sneeze. Best of all, great sacks of ''sausage'', that most savory of meaty delicacy.


    But his brother was even greedier than big-butt, and had been unmoved by orange-crest''s eloquent entreaties. That was okay. Not everyone could be kind and fair like orange-crest.


    Orange-crest gently peeled open the mouth of the bags, and began looking through them. They had rocks! Rocks of the shiniest blue, like the noonday sky confined in a prison of stone.


    And these rocks burned with heart-fire.


    It is important to understand, that the monkeys of Mount Yuelu had a complex and nuanced understanding of material property. They understood that there were many kinds of ownership. A king could own a mountain. A monkey could own a fruit. But no mere monkey, not even a boss, could own a fruit tree. A monkey could not take a tree with them after all, and if one left something behind, how could they dare claim to own it?


    It was different for kings of course. The king owned the mountain, but he owned it in dominion, not in exclusion. His ownership made the mountain better for all monkeys.


    A monkey could not get too upset if a treasure he abandoned happened to get up and walk away. As the king liked to say, if a thing was not important enough to watch, how could it be important enough to get upset about when it inevitably disappeared?


    It was through this logic that orange-crest forgave his brothers their many trespasses against his wine-trees. And big-butt turned a blind eye towards all the greedy fingers that snuck scraps from his prey.


    This all goes to say, that when orange-crest decided he liked these rocks very much, he felt no shame in taking a couple. The two hairless ones had so many of them! And they clearly did not care for them very much.


    He put one of the rocks in his mouth. It was pleasantly warm on his tongue, but sadly it did not taste of anything. He had hoped they would be like the white-treasure rocks, which tasted good when one licked them.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine watched as his monkey continued to rummage through the two disciple''s bags. He''d wondered what had been going on when the beast decided to wait patiently in one spot for the better part of half an hour. He was glad he''d chosen to run the winds over to see the matter with his own eyes.


    He''d forgotten about this small cavern, an offshoot of the dragon vein that ran beneath the sect. It''d had a name, among the outer disciples. But it''d been something vulgar, he refused to remember it. Daoist Enduring Oath had cultivated here, a long time ago. Before he discovered the Lonely Chasm, a stronger source of abyssal qi more compatible with the man''s yang heavy constitution.


    The daoist pondered the situation before him. He wouldn''t stand in the way of his monkey making friends. It didn''t seem like a likely outcome to him. But then, running across an alcoholic, cultivating, possibly Gu refining, wild monkey hadn''t seemed very likely either. But, if the beast wished to steal anyway, he didn''t see any reason why it could not serve his ends at the same time.


    With a gesture, he activated the Phantom Palm, and pushed over a single precariously placed stone.


    One of the disciples bolted to his feet.


    "What was that!"


    "Take care of it." The other hissed through gritted teeth, eyes locked shut.


    "I don''t see anything outside. Maybe it''s just outside the entrance?" Disciple Hao heard a noise, the breathy rasp of cloth against cloth. He spun, turning.


    And found himself face to face with a small orange monkey.


    "What."


    "What''s going on-" Disciple Wang cracked his eyes open. "Son of a bitch!" He swore, as pain shot through him. He immediately shut his eyes again, shepherding his raging qi back towards his dantian.


    "It''s a monkey. How did you get in here? We searched the cave." Disciple Hao knew exactly how the monkey had gotten in there. But if Brother Wang really was about to break through to the fourth stage, well, Brother Wang did not need to know that.


    "Oawaaa." The monkey opened it''s mouth, revealing a flash of brilliant blue. Disciple Hao''s eyes continued downwards, taking in the second spirit stone clenched in one hand, and the open bag in the other.


    "How dare you! Do you have any idea what that is, you little thief!" Disciple Hao roared, the sound echoing oddly in the tight space. He lunged for the monkey, hands extended as much to strike as to grab, but the creature scampered between his legs.


    "Kiiii!" It screeched, startled.


    "It''s got our spirit stones!"


    Disciple Hao rushed for the cave''s exit. The monkey was still clutching the bag, he couldn''t let it get away! That was three months worth of spirit stones!


    "I said handle it!" Disciple Wang grunted. Internally, he was screaming. Why had he trusted Brother Hao? At this rate he would have been better off risking it alone! The breakthrough to the fourth stage was much harder than the one to the third, no matter what he did the blockage in his Descending Vessel refused to shatter.


    As Disciple Hao dove for the monkey, it jumped to the side. His arms extended, closing around it. Then his leg caught on something far softer than stone, and he fell in a heap.


    "Gah!" Disciple Wang coughed up blood. Stuck on his back with Disciple Hao atop him, unable to control his limbs through the raging qi, the blood coated his face, filled his mouth. The red fluid began to froth as he struggled to breath.


    "He-Help. Me." Disciple Wang choked out.


    Disciple Hao grabbed him roughly and shoved him against the cave''s wall, propping him up. His skin tingled from the brief contact, he could feel the sheer volume of power his friend was struggling with. His stomach dropped at the thought this was all his fault.


    No, he corrected himself. This was the monkey''s fault. His part in the matter was a secret easily buried.


    He looked up, but the beast had taken advantage of the moment''s distraction. It dashed through the tight crack with ease, jumping through a gap he needed to carefully negotiate.


    He gave chase anyway, but his heart was already sinking. He could see the bag jerking to and froe in the monkey''s hand, tie undone. Two stones spilled to the floor, but it was a small mercy.


    By the time he made his way out of the cave, the monkey had already slipped into the underbrush.


    "It''s over." He moaned. "This is too much."


    Three months of resources. It almost didn''t matter which bag the monkey got. He''d have to give his share to his friend all the same. If Disciple Wang still broke through, he would have no choice. Even if he didn''t succeed, he would still owe the man a debt for showing him this spirit spring and failing to protect him during his breakthrough.


    In two months, he would reach a year with the sect. His allotment would drop precipitously, unless he earned some merits in the intervening time.


    He slipped the two stones the monkey spilled into an inner pocket. Damn it all. Even with the spirit spring, he wasn''t going to make the fourth stage with two lesser spirit stones to his name.


    His chances of placing in his cohort''s Initiate Tournament had just vanished like mist before the morning sun.


    Whether it took a month or a decade, he swore he would find that beast. Find it, and skin it.


    "I''ll kill you, you damn monkey!" He roared.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Orange-crest stared at the bag. He hadn''t really meant to take it. Just a few of the stones. They had so many of them, after all.


    But he did really want a bag. And he wasn''t about to head back to the cave, the quick one was still wailing at the heavens.


    He''d been planning on giving the stones back. Even if it was by dirty-luck, they''d caught him with hands full of stone. By monkey law, he was bound to return it. But then the quick one had leapt for him with murder in his eyes!


    A well adjusted monkey didn''t react to a theft like that. They''d have to live with each other afterwards! If every-monkey leapt to murder over every little disagreement about personal property, why there would be no monkies left.


    Orange-crest paused. Perhaps that''s why some of the hairless ones lived without packs, like his brother. Because some hairless ones were not merely grab-happy, but grab-violent.


    The monkey shook his head, feeling the wind ruffle his fur. Too much thinking.


    His chest was getting unpleasantly hot now. He''d swallowed the rock in his mouth in the chase, and though he knew it went down his throat, it somehow felt like it got stuck in his chest.


    He found a nice little hollow, and bedded down for a nap.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Watching from a distant cliff, Daoist Scouring Medicine smiled. The boy attempting a breakthrough would live. And the rumors this would produce, oh he couldn''t wait to see the look on the Sectmaster''s face when he put all these disparate elements together.


    Everything he''d done was in perfect accord with the law. The monkey was blameless for acting like any domineering disciple might. But how much face would it cost the sect, when rumors spread of their monkey disciple that tormented his seniors?

 Chapter 7

    Daoist Scouring Medicine stared down at the squirming monkey lying on the table in front of him.


    "Here still! Sausage after!" He barked first. "I need accurate measurements if I''m to develop a suitable bodily cultivation bath for you."


    He was getting good at managing the little rascal. Begin with commands and rewards he expected to be comprehended, then follow with an explanation he did not. He''d found speaking as he would to a disciple, rather than a child, often led to surprising leaps in comprehension. A single week, he''d spent with the animal. He wondered what it would sound like after a month, a season? At this rate, it might well have the vocabulary of the average imperial official before the year was out!


    "Bath?" Orange-crest asked with apprehension. The monkey was still staring with concern at the needles in Scouring Medicine''s hand.


    Ugh. Poor wording. The beast didn''t like baths very much. He tolerated them, but was surly until he dried completely. Still, he''d have to submerge the creature in a very caustic body refining solution eventually. Best to lay the ground work now.


    "Special bath. Make more strong."


    Once more, the Daoist silently swore that if anyone ever witnessed him speaking this awkward monkey-pinyin, he would slay them. With the animal distracted by their conversation, he swiftly used the Phantom Palm to stick the prone monkey with a series of needles. The creature might be ornery, but he''d treated children before, he knew all the tricks to get his needles in and out before they even noticed. It was far easier than reassuring them. Not very rational beings, children.


    "Strong good? Bath bad-good?"


    "Bath good-good. Cultivation bath bad-best." Scouring Medicine corrected. He didn''t know whether to feel proud or ashamed to understand exactly what the beast meant by bad-good. "Will future learn."


    "No future learn." The monkey promised, before pausing thoughtfully. "Ehckek have bath. Ehckek most-best. Orange-hair not ehckek."


    Scouring Medicine''s eyebrow rose. Had the beast just claimed baths were for humans?


    "Ekeckh?" Scouring Medicine did his best to repeat the sound, pointing to himself.


    "No ehckek." The monkey moved to point at him, throwing off his measurements yet again. He needed an accurate understanding of it''s innate elemental affinities if he was to prescribe an ideal first stage treatment for it. But getting good feedback through his needles required the damn beast to stay still. "No ehckek." The monkey repeated, pointing at itself instead. "Ehckek." He finished, pointing upwards at the heavens.


    Astounding. He didn''t understand it, but the beast had clearly just expressed a novel complex thought. He revised his estimate of the magnitude of fortuitous encounter it had experienced upwards yet again. Between whatever had happened on Mount Yuelu, the carefully selected regimen of pills he''d been feeding the animal, and the far less carefully selected array of natural treasures it was stuffing down it''s gullet, the monkey was developing at an incredibly rapid rate. It''s cultivation was far too low for it to ascend to the status of spirit beast. That process took centuries of steady growth and dozens of fortuitous encounters, core formation at bare minimum. But what if it didn''t need to?


    Scouring Medicine made the beast''s gesture for confusion, which was confusing similar to it''s gesture for ''lots'' or ''more'', wide open arms with a tilted head.


    "Eckekh?" The Daoist echoed, trying his best to mimic the little chirping noise at the end.


    "Ehckek." The monkey repeated firmly. It turned about the room, looking for something to use as a visual aid. "Ehckek most good. Ehckek most strong. Ehckek most most." The monkey''s brow furrowed. "No words bad no."


    "Ah, I see." Scouring Medicine said thoughtfully. "Echkek is a cultivator. A spirit beast, likely. One he thinks is clearly stronger than me. Not that I''d count him the most accurate judge of relative strength. The reclusive lord of Mount Yuelu perhaps."


    He paused as his mind worked backwards.


    "The lord of Mount Yuelu takes baths. But you don''t."


    "Eheh." The monkey shrugged, clearly not convinced he''d been understood.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine put the matter aside. At this rate, he''d just be able to ask the beast again in a few days. He had his measurements as well. It''s roots were an elemental muddle, as he''d expected. Pure spirit roots were rarer than a Qilin, and just as much a mixture of danger and blessing. In truth, he was glad to see the monkey didn''t have any sort of extreme constitution. While it would have been an interesting outcome, he would have been forced to put his plans to temper it''s body on indefinite hold.


    The monkey''s roots were primarily of earth, with near even balances of water and wood. Weaker in fire, but nearly entirely deficient in metal. It''s constitution was yang heavy, of course. It was a male monkey after all, that fact would dominate it''s constitution until it had years of cultivation under it''s belt. But it was far more balanced than he''d expected. Likely a side effect of the primarily yin nature of the Mind-Opening Pill. He had fed the beast three of them in a week, after all. Daoist Scouring Medicine wasn''t sure, if he would keep the monkey moving in that direction. Many of the sect''s treasures were yin aligned, but there were plenty of good yang dominant earth methods, like Daoist Enduring Oath''s.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine pondered the data as the monkey patted himself down, seemingly looking for small needle holes. It was an inhuman constitution, but a very moderate one. He could work with that. It would be a very different recipe than the last ill-fated bath he''d attempted. Disciple Zhang had been dominant in metal and fire, and almost as yang-dominant as the monkey, despite being a man.


    An earth-dominant bodily cultivation seemed like an obvious choice for the monkey. Perhaps a secondary wood aspect focused upon the tendons and bones, to give it a great capacity for flexibility and recovery. It would be a solid foundation for it''s future development. It''s second set of baths would need to bring it closer to his own, far more balanced constitution. He could hardly use it as a test run for his own Fleshly Reformation if it developed too divergently.


    His brush flew across the paper like a reaping wind. The monkey watched him write, unaware that those densely packed black dashes and curves were ordaining it''s fate as surely as a Heavenly Edict. Petrified Seeds would be perfect, but he wasn''t made of spirit stones these days. It would take years to petrify the outputs of his own garden. Perhaps he could rely heavily on Ironwood for the first bath? It''s metal aspects were unfortunate, but Daoist Enduring Oath would give him a very good price. He could always suppress or subsume those, with the right treatment of the material. A two hop generation sequence would be finicky, subsuming metal into water, then water into wood, but it would be very efficient usage of his ingredients.


    No, no, that wouldn''t work. Ironwood as a base, fully subsuming it''s metal qualities into even more wood? There was no way he could end up with an earth primary, no matter what else he added to the bath. The resulting body would be wood element dominant. Not incompatible with the monkey''s constitution, but imperfect. Unless he taught it a true wood element cultivation method, it wouldn''t reach it''s full potential with that bath.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine''s lips curled upwards, exposing his teeth. This, this was what he had been missing. A martial artist might attain excellence practicing the same strike ten thousand times, but an alchemist needed variety. And one could not truly judge the worth of a pill or bath, except by seeing it''s results.


    He''d made a grave error, allowing Disciple Zhang to continue his treatments at his family''s home. No, the error had been allowing himself to be convinced to treat the arrogant boy at all. This time, he would control every condition.


    "Eeh?" Orange-hair chirped, unnerved by his expression. Oh, yes. Monkeys didn''t like bared teeth. He''d read that somewhere.


    "Don''t worry, little one. It''s not you I''m angry at."


    The impudent beast gave him yet another doubtful expression. It then leaned over the table, sniffing at the ink on the page. It stepped closer, shoving it''s snout into his face even as it''s feet came dangerously close to his wet ink.


    "Too close." Augmenting his grip with a Phantom Palm, he relocated the monkey back to arm''s length. On a whim, his hand drifted down to rub the top of it''s head. He gently scratched the fiery poof of hair that rose from it''s head where a man''s top-knot would be.


    "Eeheh." The monkey chirped, pressing back into his hand.


    "Fear not, little beast. Together, you and I shall shake these small heavens."


    Was he getting ahead of himself? This project had been driven as much by a desire to irritate his colleagues and his many spare hours as it had any real planning. To even attempt Fleshly Reformation would require the beast to attain intelligence and resolve alike in excess of most men. It would likely take years, this situation between him and the sect would almost certainly be resolved in one way or another before then. The things he''d learn adapting a first stage bath for a monkey would be valuable. But probably not valuable enough to justify the amount he would spend on the process.


    His brush stilled. This was not a rational course of action. He wasn''t mad, he''d known that. But it was only now truly sinking in, just how much he might invest in the creature, never to be repaid. However intelligent it became, the monkey would remain an animal. It would be unlikely to ever repay his kindness. It might well become forever poisoned against him, when it discovered just how much enduring a body refinement bath would hurt.


    He turned to stare at the little orange monkey. Why was he doing this? He wasn''t the sort of man who desperately craved a companion. He had no desire to bond the animal as a beast tamer would, to bind their fates as one.Stolen story; please report.


    He was not lying to himself, he would learn much from the process of developing its body and mind. But... Would that information make any difference for his own advancement? He''d stood at the great circle of foundation establishment in both body and spirit for years now. The beast would need to match him in body to provide the data he truly needed. Perfected flesh, a flawless crucible in which to refine the greatest pill of his life. It was unlikely to ever climb that high, even with his assistance.


    "Emptiness take it all." He muttered. "When did I become so concerned with profit and loss? Am I turning into one of the very mercantile souls I decry?"


    He wanted to do this. For learning. For proof of his skill. Because the mountain was there to be summited.


    Because, damn it, the little beast was growing on him.


    "Bad?" The monkey inquired. His brother had gone very still indeed.


    "Fear not, gluttonous one. I was merely deep in thought." He paused again, letting his resolve crystallize into words. "I simply realized that I''d allowed the very vices I rail against to infect me. I''d forgotten that I did not become an alchemist to hoard gold by helping lazy old men rouse their little dragons."


    "Ek?"


    "A peerless sword can shake the heavens. But a peerless pill can upend them. Shatter in a moment all the alliances of men and limitations of fate." He repeated the answer he''d given Daoist Guarding Thunder, all those years ago.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine smiled widely at the questioning monkey, stretching his lips to their limits to keep his teeth covered.


    The monkey stared at him with a clearly concerned expression.


    "I don''t know about you, but I think the Azure Mountain Sect could use a little upending."


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Orange-crest''s brother abruptly rose, casting aside the strange tools of the art of ''writing''. He refused to let orange-crest attempt the art, claiming that ''he didn''t want the beast tracking ink all over his furniture'', whatever that meant. Why did his brother always use so many words? It made it so much harder than it needed to be to piece together the mind-taste of each one alone.


    "Come, it''s time for a change of pace." Daoist Scouring Medicine announced. "Lazing about all day won''t temper your muscles and bones enough to survive my refinement."


    Orange-crest knew that one! Come meant to follow! The rest... Lazing was a bad, refinement a good, or sometimes a bad-good. Stop doing a bad and follow and maybe do a bad-good? A hard task by context perhaps?


    His brother did like his tests. If orange-crest got so much more food when he did well at counting, or remembering words.


    Words. Such a strange idea, a single sound to encompass all foundational hoots.


    Shaking his head clear of the thoughts that buzzed about incessantly like the flies of midsummer, orange-crest rose, scampering after his domineering brother. At least the hairless one was no longer making rage-faces.


    No, not hairless one. Man, they called themselves.


    His brother performed the gesture that unlocked the pantry, his great food-cave. Again, orange-crest strove to memorize the movement. Listened with his strange new senses for the way the world shook in response to it.


    He saw a few more errors in his imitation. The gesture was sharper than what he''d tried last night. The small fingers needed to curl more in that last flourish.


    Later, when his brother retired to the room with the great stone with a heart of flame, he would test his understanding anew. He could all but taste it now, the glorious night when he would finally have unrestricted access to the larder. He would eat so many fruits, discover what the strange powder that reeked of plant-fire tasted like when spread upon meat. Then he would sleep surrounded by more food than even the Monkey King stored for winter!


    He suspected his brother would not be pleased. But he could live with that, and so could his brother.


    Orange-crest followed his brother into the pantry, sticking to him like a shadow. The moment his brother bent over to collect something, his nimble fingers dove like a hawk and liberated a small sausage. The monkey immediately stuffed the entire thing in his mouth.


    His knees grew weak. His heart pounded like thunder. A moan of ecstatic-pain grew in his chest, and he swallowed to prevent it from breaking free.


    Uh oh. His mouth was small, and the meat was not small.


    "Gah. Ehh." The monkey strove mightily with his delicious adversary.


    "I saw that." His brother said.


    "Nua saa." The monkey denied, his overstuffed mouth betraying him.


    "There''s a little string sticking out from the corner of your mouth."


    Orange-crest followed his brother''s finger. Mouth meant face hole. Oh. The weird little inedible sand-colored worm-thing that hung from the sausage like a parasite.


    His fingers pushed it through the corner of his cheek without parting his lips. There, fixed.


    "I did promise you a sausage earlier. You''re not getting two just because you scarfed down the first one trying to be sneaky."


    "Yes two!" The monkey cried indignantly, blockage cleared.


    Orange-crest paused. Wait.


    "Ah, you admit it. Not that it was one of your better capers. Nothing compared to what you pulled on those disciples yesterday. You know, if you bring their spirit stones back here, I''ll trade you some good stuff for them."


    Orange-crest didn''t like the way his brother was smiling. That was a trickster''s smile if he''d ever seen one. He would know, as the second greatest trickster of Mount Yuelu. He''d given his brothers many such a cruel grin.


    His brother dragged orange-crest out of the sacred land of the pantry, monkey in one hand, jug in the other. Setting the disappointed monkey down, he popped the cork out of the jug.


    Orange-crest froze, second-sausage forgotten. The smell was more less sweet than he was used to, but the sharp tang was unmistakable.


    "Rice wine." His brother said.


    There were kinds of wine? There were kinds of wine! Wait. He''d already known that. He hadn''t learned a new thing, only a new word for an old thing. But he''d never heard of rice. What sort of fruit was it?


    His brother hefted the great clay jug, heavier than orange-crest''s entire body, with one hand. He took a long gulp from it.


    "We''re going to play a game, my simian friend." He said, wiping his mouth with a sleeve.


    Orange-crest held his hands out plaintively. That was such a large jug. He was not sure he could even lift it!


    "Want wine? Catch me."


    Orange-crest''s eyes widened. Catch? How was he supposed to catch that jug! It was larger than he was! The monkey flinched back, throwing his arms up to shield himself.


    No heavy clay jug came flying at him.


    When the monkey looked up, his brother was slipping out the door, jug in hand.


    Did... the word catch have multiple meanings depending on context? No, that would be insane. What sort of fools would make a language where the listener couldn''t ever be sure what the speaker meant?


    "Not a great start, little beast." His brother raised the jug to his lips again, his body bending like a storm-tree to balance the momentum of the heavy container. "If you take too long, I''ll drink it all."


    Orange-crest could see where this was going. Quick-fingers would have done they exact same thing, if she''d owned a big bowl to pilfer from his wine-trees with.


    He charged after his brother. If his strange brother wanted to play the brewer and the thief at once, well, orange-crest would happily play the chaser! He knew his brother was fast, compared to the other hairless ones he''d encountered. A sky-walker. Better at it than quick-fingers, but nothing compared to the king.


    But he was no monkey. And it was time orange-crest showed him the gulf between monkey and man.


    "Well, maybe not all of it. This is a large jug." His brother leapt, kicking off a tree to gain even more height. "Then again, it''s not like I have anywhere to be tomorrow. I suppose I could even indulge in some sleep. It''s been a while, but I don''t have pills to make."


    Orange-crest''s eyes took in the scene, reading the secrets of the tree-ways. He ignored his brother''s route and instead moved in parallel, ascending rapidly by swinging through a series of easy handholds.


    His brother leapt, branch-running out into the mountainside. Orange-crest followed, spinning like a dervish as he flew through the trees. He rose higher and higher, taking advantage of the thin, flexible branches at the apex of the canopy to speed his way. With every leap he kept building his momentum, letting the bending of the branch catch him, leaping as it flexed back to further accelerate.


    His brother''s every leap carried him incredible distances, always towards another tree. But from above, orange-crest could see where he was going next. He always leapt to big, thick, branches. Avoided clusters of dense limbs where he would stain his sand-white false-skin by rubbing against bark and needle.


    Their arcs aligned, and orange-crest went ballistic. His heart-fire surged as he leapt, soaring through the air towards his brother''s destination.


    His brother landed first. Orange-crest watched as he turned, and saw the monkey flying towards him, arm''s outstretched. His brother''s position was awkward, he needed a moment to reset before taking his next leap.


    He didn''t have it.


    "Kreee!" Orange-crest screeched, already tasting his victory wine.


    Then his brother tipped backward, hooking one foot around the branch as he did.


    Orange-crest surged through the space he''d been, overshooting the branch without a body to interrupt his flight.


    "Kreeeeee!"


    The ground was not soft.


    Dazed, the monkey stared up at his brother. The man hung upside-down by a single hooked foot, arms dangling below the level of his head. He still held the jug.


    His feet weren''t even good for grabbing! That was not fair!


    "Hmm." His brother muttered. "Hard to drink like this."


    Orange-crest quietly crept to his feet as his brother struggled to drink upside down. Hefting the jug with both hands, the man lifted it above his head, toward his chest. He inverted it slowly.


    "There we go."


    Orange-crest crept closer. Just a few more steps.


    Wine spattered on the ground, as Daoist Scouring Medicine began to cough.


    "Euch. In the mouth, out the nose. Not doing that again." He twisted his torso, looking around. "Nobody saw that."


    His eyes met the monkey''s.


    "Ek." Orange-crest chirped.


    "You don''t count."


    Orange-crest lunged, but his brother simply pulled himself up by his foot.


    "Good try. It''s been a while since I bullied a junior. Count yourself lucky we''re not exchanging pointers."


    Orange-crest leapt to chase his brother once more, genuine irritation boiling in his chest.


    The trees were a monkey''s territory! Men should stick to their strange caves. This might be a game, but orange-crest was playing for the honor of all monkey-kind.


    This time, he didn''t plan, he just chased. Faster, faster. Up and down became meaningless as he tumbled head over tail, feet and hands interchangeable as they grabbed at the best handhold.


    His damnable brother was faster. Always just one step ahead of him. His limbs ached, but it wasn''t about the wine now. It was about winning.


    His hairless brother was bigger and faster than him. He had more food and a cave of wonders. He knew deeper secrets and was part of a bigger pack.


    Orange-crest liked his new brother, but he was tired of always being second best. This was a monkey''s thing, so he would be better at it.


    It was that simple.


    Man and monkey soared through the canopy. Daoist Scouring Medicine was untouchable, as impossible to catch as orange-crest''s shadow. Until the monkey saw his moment.


    "Stop!" Orange-crest roared in the true-tongue. His heart-fire blazed out into the world. For a single long moment, his word became a burning commandment. True, because he insisted it was so!


    Daoist Scouring Medicine froze in mid leap, even the earth''s call temporarily honoring orange-crest''s will.


    Then the man flexed, and the spell shattered.


    The furry missile took him in the chest.


    He still might have recovered. Daoist Scouring Medicine was no warrior, but he''d sought perfection of the body as earnestly as he had the spirit. His sense of balance was peerless, his limbs strong enough to shatter stone.


    "KREEE!" Orange-crest screamed, directly into his face. The daoist winced at the combination of the smell and volume.


    His foot missed the branch.


    The two primates hit the ground with a heavy thump. Daoist Scouring Medicine kept the presence of mind to keep the clay jug well clear of the impact.


    "I might be drunker than I thought I was, for that to hold me even for a moment." He said slowly. "Still, do you ever cease to amaze? I showed you that spell once."


    Orange-crest reached for the jug.


    Fire flared through his chest. Not heart-fire. It felt like real fire, like he''d inhaled the king''s Tiger-Banishing Breath.


    His brother chuckled ominously.


    "Ah. Surely you didn''t think there would be no consequences for doing something like that? You probably just opened a meridian in the most violent way imaginable. It''s going to hurt."


    His brother shook the jug. Orange-crest''s shoulders fell, at the mournfully quiet sloshing that emanated from it. It was almost empty! His chest hurt and there was almost nothing to quench it with!


    His brother shrugged, proffering the nigh empty jug to the prone monkey.


    "Catch me faster next time."

 Chapter 8

    "It is a pleasure to host you and your monkey again so soon, Daoist Scouring Medicine. I have taken the liberty of locking my workshop door this time."


    "That is understandable. I appreciate your tolerance of his curiosity. You are perhaps the one person in this sect I would not wish his mischief upon."


    Daoist Enduring Oath suppressed a frown, as the two cultivators sat down opposite each other. The sect was not perfect, and his sworn brother''s poor treatment of late sat ill with him. But the depths of Scouring Medicine''s disillusionment disappointed him. The two of them had been through so much together, wearing the Azure Mountain''s emblem. Would he really throw away half a century of history over his petty dispute with the new Sectmaster?


    "This?" The monkey asked, pointing to the third chair. "Table?"


    Daoist Enduring Oath''s eyes widened. When he''d first met the monkey, Daoist Scouring Medicine had insisted it was able to understand language. Even speak a few words. But the beast had been too excitable to demonstrate, and he''d been impressed enough at its willingness to sit quietly as the two men talked.


    "Chair." Scouring Medicine corrected.


    "No table?"


    "No. Chairs are for sitting in, tables are for supporting objects."


    The monkey slapped its furry ass, then waved its hand.


    "Table." It repeated without conviction. "Chair bad word."


    "I believe he''s trying to say chairs are tables for butts and it is silly that we have different words for two very similar structures. He is still somewhat displeased I do not allow him to sit upon my worktables. And about the fact that human language contains multiple words for a given object." Daoist Scouring Medicine explained with a bemused expression.


    "Incredible." Daoist Enduring Oath could not believe his ears. "You are not putting words into it''s mouth? It''s hard to believe this is the same monkey that ate my joining salts not even a week ago."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine smiled smugly.


    "Is it really that surprising? Surely you too have not lost faith in my medicine? I''ve long claimed the beast taming sects are but dabblers, acknowledged as experts because nobody more competent cares to properly study the rearing of simpler creatures."


    "You truly have no shame my friend. You are no doubt as shocked as I, you''ve simply had more time to hide it."


    "Perhaps. But it''s rude to call out a man who has seen such ill-fortune on his little pleasures. I assure you, while he must have had a tremendous fortuitous encounter on that mountain, it is not solely responsible for his mental development. I''ve been steadily refining a variant of the Mind-Opening Pill specifically for his circumstances. By carefully supplementing his diet with both pills and spiritual herbs I''ve kept him in what Daoist Clear-Eye''s work refers to as the optimal environment for improvement for the entire week."


    "Orange-hair!" The monkey suddenly proclaimed, pointing to himself. Hardly the best of manners, but Daoist Enduring Oath supposed they had been dominating the conversation.


    "He''s Li Hou on the sect rolls. But that''s what he''s calling himself, now that he grasps the difference between the fruit persimmon and the color orange." Daoist Scouring Medicine added. "He was persimmon head for a few days. It will be amusing to explain the connotations of that later, when he can understand them."


    The two daoists watched as the small monkey scampered around the table. With no concern for the dignity of their positions, it climbed into Daoist Enduring Oath''s lap. Standing at its full height atop his knee, it''s eyes were still lower than the seated daoists. Placing it''s hands upon the collars of his robes, it stared seriously at him.


    It was a cute little creature, now that he finally got a good look at it when it was not squirming around. Small, almost juvenile looking. A narrow face with a protruding snout, framed by dense fur. It''s coat was a dull rust at its extremities, lighter towards it''s center. It''s head was crowned by a free-standing mass of hair resembling a flame, brilliant orange, but uneven in length.


    "Big-shiny." The monkey proclaimed with all the certainty of an Imperial Edict-Bearer.


    Daoist Enduring Oath coughed. He definitely did not laugh.


    "Daoist Enduring Oath." The bald man corrected. Big was understandable, he''d long since accepted that his frame leant him a physique closer to an ogre''s than what was considered ideal for a prince or daoist. Shiny, though? He did sometimes oil himself... It helped keep his skin from cracking, an unfortunate side effect of his cultivation methods.


    "No daoist." The monkey said. "Enduring Oath." It repeated itself, slowly sounding out the words. "Enduring Oath." It nodded, satisfied.


    Enduring Oath''s eyebrow rose.


    "Claiming that a man who has formed a core, however flawed, is no true daoist? That would be bold for a prince, let alone a monkey."


    "Ah, that one might be my fault." Daoist Scouring Medicine interjected. "I told him daoist meant the same thing as another sound he was using. I think he is under the impression there can only be one daoist in an area. Only the most advanced meriting the title."


    "I see." Daoist Enduring Oath wasn''t certain he believed that. But he hadn''t really believed the monkey was well on its way to being verbal three days ago either.


    The monkey turned to Daoist Scouring Medicine.


    "You word yes?" The monkey scampered around the table to face his master. "What word you?"


    "A word for a person is a name."


    "You name yes?"


    "You never introduced yourself?" Daoist Enduring Oath asked. He supposed he was probably confusing the poor monkey even more, making it wait for an answer.


    "I did, but that was last week. Three words was a great deal for him to remember then. We''ve been alone oft enough he had little need for a name, there were no other men for him to address."


    "Daoist Scouring Medicine." The aforenamed man said, pressing his hand to his chest.


    "Scouring Medicine." The monkey repeated. "You pill man?"


    "I do not think it would be unfair to call me pill man."


    The monkey scratched its head.


    "Why Scouring Medicine?" Orange-crest asked. Daoist Enduring Oath sighed. It was impressive, to understand that a daoist''s name was not arbitrarily chosen. But the two men had shared this conversation far too many times. His martial brother had... Opinions.


    "I hold that medicine should be uncompromising. Pursuing above all the twin goals of efficacy and refinement." Daoist Scouring Medicine explained with conviction. "There are many schools of thought in alchemy and pill refining. One of the largest, is those who are practically minded, and think that the efficacy of a pill for its purpose is the only thing that matters. This school would say a healing pill ought be gentle, even if this means a dozen are needed, but see no flaw in a Dragon''s Desperation Pellet leaving the meridians of its imbiber shattered. The virtue of a medicine is its purpose, so it is quite acceptable for a pill of last resort to weaken or kill the one who consumes it, so long as it first grants him the strength to slaughter his enemies."This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Daoist''s Scouring Medicine''s brow furrowed violently, at the thought of such malpractice.


    "I do not accept this dichotomy. I believe every medicine should be both effective and beneficent. That true medicine, the highest expression of our art, should scour away that which is weak and unwholesome, and grow and reinforce that which is vital and strong. Medicine that if taken as directed does not merely close wounds or grant bursts of power, but refines the body and strengthens the spirit. Pills that take the imbiber one step, however small, closer to perfection, rather than further away from it."


    "You... Best medicine?" The monkey summarized.


    "I make medicine that is harsh and pure." The Daoist corrected.


    "Harsh and pure best or not best?"


    "Brother Scouring Medicine, I think your speech might have been a little too profound for persimmon-head to grasp."


    "No!" The monkey interjected vehemently. "Orange-hair!"


    "I do not coddle him." Daoist Scouring Medicine continued, ignoring the monkey. "In learning as in medicine, through struggle will he grow strong."


    "Seeing his progress in such a short time, it is difficult to fault your rationale. I still think your philosophy is incomplete though. The pill acts within the body, what is good fortune for a strong man might be disaster for a weaker one."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine snorted coldly.


    "And I maintain that is a matter to be overcome! At worst, it is a matter for proper prescription, not pill design. A truly perfect pill should scour away the weakness of its patient, not cripple itself to accommodate it. If the body is too weak to handle its energies, just refine the body! Ancient legends speak of pills so perfect the mere act of imbibing them was sufficient to raise a mortal to immortality! Why should we accept anything less?"


    "I do not think we will settle this debate today." Daoist Enduring Oath said.


    "Ek." The monkey added.


    "I do believe he agrees with me."


    "No, he just wants to be involved in the conversation." Scouring Medicine said. "To return to business for a moment, I wanted to commission another project from you."


    "Can your coin-pouch afford another commission?"


    "It is a small matter, I can pay you in pills. I have no doubt there are a few things in my repertoire you can make use of in your training."


    "Are you certain you do not wish to simply accept the work as a gift? I owe you much already."


    "And I insist that there is no debt between us, and I refuse to create one by taking your charity. That pill was a failure of my art. Experimental and unrefined, any fortune that followed from it was fate."


    "Very well, we''ve rehashed enough old arguments for one afternoon." Daoist Enduring Oath said. "What can I do for you?"


    "I want a number of jars, refined to be capable of storing qi and resisting both corrosion and pressure. Durable to at least mid foundation establishment standard."


    "An interesting request. Are you planning to revisit your research on incendiaries?"


    "No. Please refrain from mentioning those indiscretions around the monkey. I burned that work for good reason, with Sect Master Xiang''s full support."


    "Oooh?" Orange-crest knew they were talking about him. The conversations between Enduring Oath and Scouring Medicine were beyond difficult to follow. His brother and his brother''s-other-brother made no effort to accommodate him. But he could smell a good secret. And one had just whistled by, scent sharp as a summer-hungry tiger. He noted down those words. Incendiary. Xiang. Research.


    "Li Hou has expressed an interest in brewing." Daoist Scouring Medicine continued. "No, more than an interest. He has expressed an interest in pill refining and writing, he already understands brewing. A crude, animal, understanding. But all the same, a greater understanding than many mortals possess. With minimal assistance from me, he filled half my existing jugs with fruit wine mash. Between the projects I expect us to undertake together in that arena, and some of the new compounds I plan to refine for his bath, I thought it prudent to expand my collection of vessels."


    "Interesting. Do bring him and his wine over, when it''s ready. I suspect you are hiding something from me, but I shall not pry. You will have your containers. Ceramic with a non-reactive internal coating aligned with metal and water, if that is acceptable. I will take some of those False Samadhi Fire Pellets in return. As many as you think is fair."


    Scouring Medicine''s gut twinged. This was a little closer to lying to his oldest living friend than he liked to come. And made all the worse by the fact he''d seen through it instantly. But Enduring Oath was a straightforward man. He would never betray Scouring Medicine''s confidences, but what he didn''t know couldn''t eat at his conscience. Gu Refining was a proscribed art in the empire with good reason. But he''d always had a fascination with a great many proscribed arts. It would not be the first time he worked with something that had the potential to devastate a countryside if misused.


    The sentience and will of a Gu made it a uniquely dangerous poison, but he''d discovered no shortage of things over the years that would devastate the mortal population of a region if they made their way into the wrong source of water.


    He would simply not allow a venomous calamity to escape containment. Not that his first attempts would involve venom at all. An alcohol Gu had limited utility, at least to a daoist that did not walk the way of the drunkard. But the principle of the thing, a Gu distilling a virtue other than poison. His library contained recipes that called for literal Qilin horn, an ingredient he''d never once seen in person. Using Gu as a substitute for these heaven defying ingredients could open entire new horizons for his practice.


    "Metal and water is fine." The alchemist answered, ignoring the accusation. "Metal and earth would be even better, if it''s not more trouble. Why do you need the pellets though? I''ve seen your fire arts, they''re more than sufficient for your forge."


    Daoist Enduring Oath did not answer.


    "No. After all this time? Why didn''t you tell me earlier?" Daoist Scouring Medicine demanded.


    "It''s not catastrophic. My lifespan and strength are unaffected. My recovery times simply are not what they used to be." The larger man said, his normal jovial humor gone.


    "Bad?" The sudden tension in the room was apparent even to the monkey.


    "If you let me run some tests-"


    "No." Daoist Enduring Oath''s eyes were like mountains in winter, stark and certain. "You have enough work before you. This is not a problem for medicine. It does not stem from the impurities in my core. I never expected to outlast my first vow, it is only natural my cultivation suffers for it. This is a trial I must surmount alone my friend."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine was quiet for a time. He considered several responses, but held his tongue each time. Orange-crest waited patiently, still as a stone monkey. He might be an animal, but unlike men, he could read the room.


    "I always did think your way was foolish and self destructive." The alchemist finally said.


    "Men have accused you of many failings, but an excess of tact at the expense of honesty has never been one." His brother acknowledged.


    "Very well. You have tolerated my own poor choices. I will leave you to your own. Let us speak of happier things."


    "Hah. As you say. I heard your monkey broke the Yang boy''s nose."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine smiled.


    "Indeed. I''m not certain I would say Li Hou won that fight, but he showed the vigor an outer disciple should. Arriving to see Disciple Chang sitting on him was a rare treat."


    "I''ve heard good things about the boy. His family has been good for the east, and by all accounts he takes after his honored uncle."


    "Takes after?"


    "Rumor has it both his uncle and Sect Master Ren have expressed interest in claiming him as a personal disciple. Wherever the winds of fate take him, his future is likely to be bright."


    "Interesting..." At moments like these, Daoist Scouring Medicine found himself wishing he had a dignified white beard to stroke. Unfortunately, appearances mattered. For one who had not yet attained core formation to look elderly tended to lead other daoists to make unfortunate judgements about them. At best, it would be considered an eccentric mimicry of a status he had not earned. At worst, a sign that his lifespan was running out at such a low realm.


    "Interesting?" The monkey asked, sensing that the conversation had turned.


    "Interesting is curious-good. Change-good or maybe-good."


    "Ooo." The monkey pondered. "Daoist Scouring Medicine is interesting."


    Daoist Enduring Oath watched the byplay with a small smile.


    "I do believe he has you there."


    "I was thinking," Scouring Medicine said, ignoring him. "That this Yang Wei might be a useful stepping stone for my disciple."


    "Hah! Not setting your sights low are you? With his backing and talent, that boy will rival us in a century. Assuming he survives that long."


    "You know I am not a man prone to tall tales. I expect my monkey will reach the equivalent of the second stage inside of a month."


    "And you think he can keep that pace, once the residue of his fortuitous encounter is spent?"


    "Under my tutelage? Without question. This started as a tantrum, but I feel more alive than I have in a long time. More certain of my Dao. I will raise up the monkey. I will sever my ties with the sect. I will advance, in both body and spirit. And once I do, I will fix the damage my failure did to your core."


    "Hah! There''s the Li Xun I remember, hungry as a river dragon, twice as proud, and half as wise. We should be drinking something harder, if we''re to make bold declarations like these!" Daoist Enduring Oath said with a laugh. "Still, I cannot allow you to make such claims on my behalf. I''ve been ahead of you for thirty years. If you plan to break through, then so too shall I. Who else will keep you out of trouble?"


    "Me!" The monkey suddenly exclaimed. "I keep out of trouble!"


    He recognized that phrase. It was the one brother Daoist Scouring Medicine kept repeating every time he left Orange-crest unattended.


    Both daoists burst into laughter.


    "I do believe," Daoist Enduring Oath said with a wry smile. "That that monkey has outdone both of us with his boast. Not even an immortal could keep you out of trouble."

 Chapter 9

    Daoist Scouring Medicine smiled at the fool blocking his path. It probably was not good for his spiritual development to be acting like this. The immortals of legend did not indulge petty grudges, or exalt in tormenting others.


    But it was such fun.


    "No. Absolutely not. I am no disciple you can bully into compliance."


    "I was not aware that I needed your permission to teach my disciple, Daoist Snowclad Heart." Daoist Scouring Medicine said mildly.


    "This is my class. Of course you need my permission."


    Heavens above. Did none of his colleagues even read the bylaws of the sect?


    "The Fathomless Well is a sect resource." Daoist Scouring Medicine explained. "All outer disciples are allowed access to it for three hours a week. You may teach as you wish, but you do not have the right to bar any member of the sect from cultivating independently. It''s been a busy week, I haven''t had the opportunity to bring Li Hou by. It would be a pity to let his allotted time for cultivation go to waste."


    "All forms of your allotment were stripped with your punishment."


    "That does not impact my disciple. He had nothing to do with Disciple Zhang''s tragic misfortune. I of course, will not be cultivating here."


    "You could have chosen any other time."


    "Yes, I suppose I could have." Daoist Scouring Medicine agreed easily. "I did not."


    Daoist Snowclad Heart was making this far too easy.


    "You are barred from teaching."


    "I am barred from teaching the general disciples of the sect. I suppose you''d best make sure they don''t learn anything from me while I am teaching my own student. Perhaps move your own class to a later time."


    "That is not the spirit of your punishment."


    "I would like nothing more than to debate the letter and spirit of the rules before the sect master and an imperial inspector. Would you like to raise an official complaint about my behavior?"


    Daoist Scouring Medicine would lose that argument, of course. Probably get slapped with additional punishment. But the rumors would cost the sect face, and Snowclad Heart would fall in standing as a result. He rather doubted the Snowclad Heart knew any of that though. It would be far too kind to call the man more of a warrior than a scholar. If the daoist could be said to be anything, it would be a devout chaser of jade beauties.


    "Or, perhaps you would rather settle this informally?" Daoist Scouring Medicine asked. "I have been spending a great deal of my time in front of a pill furnace of late. I would not be opposed to exchanging pointers with you, with this time slot the prize."


    Daoist Snowclad Heart grit his teeth and scowled. His hand drifted towards the sword held by his obnoxiously bright white sash.


    Oh, but this wouldn''t do. Daoist Scouring Medicine hadn''t been serious about the second offer. True, they held the same title, but Snowclad Heart was so young he hadn''t even known Sect Master Xiang''s era. It was one thing for a junior to be bold, another entirely to think that just because they shared the same title and realm, he was qualified to trade pointers with a man half a century his senior.


    There was no point wasting combat pills on such a petty matter.


    Scouring Medicine stepped forward, deep into his junior''s personal space. The man hesitated a moment too long. Scouring Medicine''s hand shot out, grabbing the man''s shoulder opposite his sword.


    "Well?" Scouring Medicine asked, squeezing tightly. His powerful fingers dug deep into the muscle of the man''s shoulder, threatening to crack his scapula outright. The sword might be a quicker path to power, but there were potent advantages to cultivating both one''s body and spirit. "Shall I demonstrate to you some of the myriad applications of alchemy to martial combat?"


    The man bowed his head.


    "No, senior. That won''t be necessary." To his credit, his voice at least did not crack.


    "Ooooooo." Li Hou trilled mockingly.


    "Manners." Daoist Scouring Medicine admonished.


    "Yes yes." The monkey chirped.


    Stepping past the man, Daoist Scouring Medicine launched into his lecture. He gave the man a gentle shove as he released him, all but daring him to strike him from behind. He could see the outer disciples lingering around the edges of their confrontation, drawn to the drama like flies to rotting meat. The coward would never do it, but it would be perfect if he did.


    A grievance like that would be a useful thing. Some strife between daoists was expected, but the rules that governed them were stricter than those that bound disciples. Striking from behind, with potentially lethal intention. That would be the sort of thing that he could leverage into a release from his oath to the Azure Mountain Sect.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine was not an elder, so it was still possible for him to leave the sect. But there were precious few legal avenues open to him. He did not have the resources to buy his way out. If his punishment remained in force, his lifespan would expire before he ever did. The fee went up with every year of service, every year of receiving resources from the sect. He could accept a commission in the Imperial Army without paying, but leaving the sect directly without paying thousands of spirit stones required the permission of either Sect Master Ren, or the emperor himself.


    There were a few other exits allowed to one in his position. The Imperial Guard. The Ministry of Daoist Affairs. The enforcement divisions of several other high ministries. Unfortunately, those were not jobs that one attained without friends in high places. His skill was beyond question, but daoists appointed to such roles were chosen first and foremost for loyalty, not skill.


    The sect''s ability to directly command him was limited, in peace. Centuries of law and precedent had tightly codified what a sect could demand of it''s daoists. But in war, his life would become a far more liquid form of currency. Sect Master Ren and Elder Xun could deploy him as they wished, and he would have little recourse. He needed to become troublesome enough in peace that holding him for the possibility of war was not worthwhile.


    Desertion would be... Unfortunate. A wandering cultivator could expect a degree of tolerance. But to the empire, a deserter was no better than a demon, and would be hunted like one.


    "This is the Fathomless Well, Li Hou." He said slowly. This would be a proper lesson. There was value in the way he treated the monkey as a man. Introducing it to the proper forms of language and a myriad of ideas, if in shallow comprehension. But today he wanted to be understood fully.


    There was much he could do, with his own hands and a mortal monkey, to sow grievances among his peers. To maneuver the Sect Master into a position where he was forced to choose between retaining the useful daoist, or the loyal one.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    But if his monkey truly learned to cultivate. Well, there would be no limit to the havoc they could wreak together.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Li Hou was him! His man-name.


    "Fathomless Well." Orange-crest repeated slowly. He shivered. There was a cold here that was unlike other cold. It was old, and deep. Not coming and going with the sun or seasons, but eternal as the roots of mountains. The monkey stared at the deep pit in the ground. It called to him, in a way he struggled to set to form, even in the true-speech.


    "Yes. What feel you?" Brother Scouring Medicine asked.


    Orange-crest took a moment to think. His brother did not like to speak like orange-crest did. He clearly found it beneath him to ''butcher his noble tongue'', whatever that meant. When he deigned to do so anyway, it meant either he was in a very good mood, or this thing was serious.


    Orange-crest took a deep breath. Loam and decaying leaves filled his nostrils. A stinging cold. A danger-scent of grinding and cracking, like the precursor of a rock slide or tree fall. It felt like the strange cave he''d found the other hairless ones in, only even colder and more dangerous.


    No, his brother was not merely in a good mood. This was a serious thing, more serious than writing or wine. As serious as ''Incendiaries'' and the dark words his brother had shared with Daoist Enduring Oath.


    "Cold. Ginseng not ginseng. Earth." The monkey trailed off. He hated this, when he lacked words. Now that he has a few, he had become grab-greedy for them all. His brother always supplied them, but ideas were far harder than objects. Orange-crest suspected some of the words he''d been given were not exactly the ones he''d asked for.


    The monkey dug his fingers into the soil.


    "Like down earth."


    "Down earth is deep." His brother supplied.


    "Deep." The monkey echoed, tasting the sound.


    "Fathomless Well also means down earth with water. But it means more than that. This place is special."


    Orange-crest did not understand.


    "No learn."


    "Yes. But no learn bad. Let us try a different angle. You say ginseng not ginseng."


    "Yes." Orange-crest could smell it. It wasn''t a tang or a plant-fire. But there was a similarity, between the gnarled little roots that his brother would sometimes give him for a snack and this cold dark deep place.


    "Qi. Qi is what you are feeling."


    "Qi?" The monkey tasted the word. He shivered. It was a small word. But the look he shared with his brother, the expectation in his eyes. That was not a small look. It was a look that spoke of secrets beyond the numbers he''d been taught. Mysteries and wonders as deep as the well before him.


    "My ginseng have qi. This mountain has qi. I have qi. Daoists have qi. You have qi."


    "The monkey doesn''t even know what qi is."


    The new voice came from the pack. The one led by Daoist Snowclad Heart, who his brother had just dominated.


    His brother looked up.


    "It''s a common resource Daoist Scouring Medicine." Daoist Snowclad Heart said smugly.


    Emboldened, the same man spoke up again.


    "I can''t believe-"


    Orange-crest''s brother gestured sharply, and an invisible forced gripped the back of the disciple''s head. Instantly, the man was bent forward, his face firmly pressed into the thick black soil surrounding the well.


    "Your teacher is speaking. You should not be." Daoist Scouring Medicine said, a wry smile on his face.


    "What do you think you''re doing!"


    "Mmrgpmh." The dirt-eating disciple added, struggling to breath.


    "Maintaining order, since you seem to be struggling to do so."


    Daoist Snowclad Heart looked like he''d bitten into an unripe loquat. The two men matched glares for a moment, until Daoist Scouring Medicine released his student.


    "The Phantom Palm, is made possible through qi." He said, turning back to Orange-crest.


    Orange-crest understood. Qi meant heart-fire. That strange and wonderful new thing that allowed him to push past his limits and perform great feats of magic like his brother and the Monkey King.


    "Yes learn." He chirped brightly. He stoked his flames, letting them flow down to his legs. He leapt into the air, high as he could.


    "Yes learn indeed." His brother said warmly, as the monkey descended to earth after it''s obviously qi fueled leap. "Come, let us enter the Fathomless Well itself. You''ve grown much this last week, but you are now my student, and I expect you do more than merely grow."


    Orange-crest followed his brother into the cold, dark pit. From a distance it''d merely looked like a great hole fit to swallow up a dozen tigers. But as they approached, the monkey saw that a wide ring of stone surrounded the pit. A far smaller entrance, comfortable for a small monkey, but tight for a grown man, sat just to it''s side.


    As they entered through the smaller opening, they monkey shivered again, far more violently. The strange-deep-cold was harsher here. The smell of danger so close he could almost taste it. Tunnels this small were dangerous. Good for hiding things, but not good for monkeys.


    But his brother showed no fear, so orange-crest wouldn''t either. His brother was strange and domineering and orange-crest didn''t understand him. But this place was important to him and important to qi.


    These twin beacons held at bay the mortal fear growing in him. A thirst for secrets that could never be satisfied, and a hunger to become closer to the strange brother that had introduced him to a world he could never have imagined.


    They circled the pit a hundred hundred times, descending deeper into the earth with every revolution. Small windows opened out onto the great pit at the center, but with every step, the light steadily died.


    As they walked into the dark together, monkey tightly clutching his brother''s robe, they spoke.


    "Why no grow?" The monkey asked.


    "Growth is a process of instinct. One''s nature makes it possible, indeed nigh effortless, but imposes firm limitations upon what one will become." Daoist Scouring Medicine said, returning to his customary register. Some things should not be so crudely simplified. Better a fuzzy image of profound truth, than a clear understanding of a simplified lie. "Plants grow. From the moment of it''s creation, every seed knows what it shall become. Every animal gives birth to its own kind. A monkey can no more sire a tiger than a lotus seed bloom into a man. Each of us, as we grow, attains the form and power nature allots to us. We grow larger and stronger. Smarter and wiser. But there are limits imposed upon us by heaven. No man will grow as strong as a tiger. No mortal monkey will see it''s hundredth year."


    "Growth bad?" Orange-crest wasn''t sure he understood. Being a monkey was the most-best, and he was sure tigers felt the same way. Why would a being want to be something other than what it was?


    "No." His brother said with certainty. "Growth is good. Cultivation is better. Cultivation is how we surpass these limits. How we become more of what we are, more of what we wish to be. A man lives longer than a monkey. But a cultivator lives longer than a man. A cultivator is stronger than a tiger, and flies like a bird. We commands the elements of the earth and the magics of the heavens."


    "Cultivators are most good?"


    "Yes. Cultivators are the best of their kind, whether man or animal. But one cannot be born a cultivator." Daoist Scouring Medicine winced, that was a grave oversimplification. But he didn''t need to explain rare concepts like connate cores or descending immortals to Li Hou right now. "Only through effort and study, or heaven-defying good fortune, can one become a cultivator."


    Orange-crest was sold. In truth, he''d been sold since being told he could become stronger than a tiger. He was a monkey, but what monkey would not want to be strong enough to wrestle a tiger? He would never be a king, but if he could be one tenth the cultivator the king must be, well, he would be a very proud monkey. A credit to his king and brother.


    "I learn." The monkey said, speaking volumes with the two words.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine smiled. He doubted Li Hou could see it in the dark. He remembered how utterly black the well had been, when he''d first walked this tunnel as a mortal almost a century ago. He''d shown as little fear as Li Hou did now, though the dark had all but unmanned him. He''d been so distracted he didn''t notice when the procession stopped, walking right into the broad back of the man who would later take the name Daoist Enduring Oath.


    Fresh from the streets of Shendu, scarcely three weeks out from the parting with his now long dead parents. It felt like another lifetime. His blood had been hot and his sight short. The parting with his parents, after they sold him to the sect for a pittance, had been amicable. But not honest. He had not been angry, He''d all but leapt at the opportunity to become a cultivator. But he''d been so young, and they had never been educated. They''d struggled to put into words all they''d felt for him.


    It was one of the great treasures of his heart, that he had managed to find them almost twenty five years later. Back in those heady days when he, Enduring Oath, and Guarding Thunder had been the inseparable rising stars of the Azure Mountain. He hadn''t had long to get to know them once more. Less than a decade with his mother, just over one with his father. He''d only spent two weeks each year with them. A great deal of time, and yet none at all.


    Yet, some of the nights spent at the small country house he''d purchased for them, sipping tea and watching the stars. Those quiet mortal nights had shaped him more than he ever admitted aloud, even to Daoist Enduring Oath, a man his brother in all but blood.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine shook his head in the darkness. He was getting sentimental in his advanced age. There was work to be done.


    "Yes." He agreed. "You shall learn. And I shall teach."

 Chapter 10

    Orange-crest wasn''t sure he liked cultivation.


    It was so dark, this deep beneath the earth. He felt like he was floating in a sea of night, his brother''s voice and the cold stone beneath his feet the only things that were real.


    "Li Hou, I need you to focus." His brother said sharply. "You can have as much wine as you can drink tonight, but only if you succeed here."


    "I focused." The monkey snapped. It was not his fault his brother could only speak in unknown words and nonsensical riddles!


    His brother sighed.


    "We have two more hours. Perhaps hoping for yet another miraculous advancement was too greedy. Let''s begin anew."


    "Yes. Again."


    "You feel the cold."


    "Abyssal Yin." The monkey said. Orange-crest''s memory was not the issue here.


    "Yes. And what do you do with the Abyssal Yin?"


    "Let cold in. Let cold out."


    "Exactly."


    Orange-crest shivered. It was hard to let the Abyssal Yin in. Even if his brother said the cold was good, he knew it wasn''t that simple. False and strange as it was, he could feel that this was a killing cold. And letting it out was even harder, once the chill settled in his bones, it refused to leave, unless he flared his heart-fire.


    And his brother would flick him on the ear, every time he did that.


    Somehow the bastard man always knew exactly where his ear was. Orange-crest wouldn''t know where his ear was in this perfect darkness if it wasn''t attached to his head!


    Still, he tried. A deep breath, swallowing the blackness. The cold crept in. Orange-crest tried to ignore it, let it ''temper his dantian''. He had no idea what that meant.


    "Better." His brother said. "Don''t speak. Just breath. Let the cold in. Don''t resist it. Let it pass through you. The cold is not what you seek. But it is not to be resisted either. It simply is."


    His brother kept talking, constant variations on the same refrain. Orange-crest didn''t understand the point of it, of saying the same thing a dozen slightly different ways. But, it was nice, to hear his brother''s voice. A reminder that he wasn''t alone in the cold dark.


    Then the words changed.


    "Open your eyes. See the darkness of the pit. Feel the way the world presses in on you."


    Orange-crest obeyed. It was easy, how could he not be aware of the pit? Of the hard stone that sapped the life out of him, leaving his bottom sore and his feet stiff. He longed to be elsewhere, anywhere but here in this dark cold hell. He did not know what an hour was. But one was gone, leaving only two. He knew numbers, drew faith from them. His resolution to understand felt so distant, so far away. How would this help him wrestle a tiger? The flame within him felt more feeble than it had since awakening, struggling against the hateful cold he''d allowed to creep in.


    "No. Focus." His brother admonished. "Let the cold out. Feel the deepness of the earth. The weight of the mountain."


    Deepness. Mountains. Feel. He knew these words. But the combination was strange. How could he feel the deepness? He could not touch it with his hands. It was all around him, inescapable.


    A sudden sense of weight gripped him. Breathing became hard. His chest was so heavy, the world he knew so far away.


    Orange-crest felt gentle hands cup his face. He almost jumped from the sudden touch, the sudden warmth.


    "Be still, little one. You are doing so well."


    Orange-crest felt a fire in his chest that was not heart-flame, not qi. It did not warm him, like his brother''s hands did. But he cherished it anyway. He tried his best to obey. It was so hard to resist the warmth, the overwhelming urge to cuddle into his brother''s false-skin. To rage and weep until his brother took him away from this awful place.


    "Good?" He echoed. The cold rushed in, almost washing away his awareness.


    He felt something in his brother''s warm hands. Liquid poured into his mouth. Cool, but not cold. It tasted of ginseng and hot-leaf-juice. His heart-flame flared in answer, stoked by the strange concoction.


    "One hour. Endure."


    Endure. He knew an endure. Daoist Enduring Oath. The brother of his brother. The mountain of a man big enough to wrestle even big-butt. Endure must mean strength.


    He would show his brother strength. The rising fire in his chest tried to burn away the cold. But orange-crest didn''t let it. He breathed in, welcomed the cold. He breathed out, and bid it leave as friend. The fire in his chest flickered, pressed on all sides by the killing cold.


    "Yes. Keep going. The cold passes through you. The deepness of the mountain tempers you. The strength of the earth remains, settling in your bones."


    Orange-crest let his mind become as it was before. Without concern for time. He simply endured.


    Slowly, then all at once, he became aware of a pressure. A weight on his chest, in his chest. Like the fire suddenly was too large for his small frame. Distantly, he felt the warmth of his brother''s hands upon his shoulders, fireflies before a burning forest.


    "This is it. The boundary of the second stage. Flare your qi. Break through."


    Orange-crest didn''t understand his brother''s words. Qi? Second? But the pressure was intolerable now. He was too hot and too cold all at once. It simply seemed obvious what to do, how to struggle. He pushed out the cold. Threw back the weight. Reflexively, he rose to his feet.


    There was so much he did not know. But this, throwing back the cold, raging against the dark. This he knew. Fire surged through his blood, his bones braced themselves against the pressure.


    "Skreee!" He screeched, giving voice to the intolerable heat within him. Qi raged through him, burning away something he had never noticed was there. Something weak and rotten. In it''s wake, a powerful heaviness settled. A sense of solidity, like he had taken something of the mountain into himself.


    He felt like he could crush bone between his fingers. Like his blood was lightning. The surging strength within him felt so right that it circled right around to feeling wrong. Like it was a crime to feel like this.


    His brother''s hands cupped his face once more. Orange-crest reflexively struggled against them, pressing back against anything that would hold him down. But his brother''s gentle hands could not be denied. No matter how he struggled, he could budge them. The hands pressed a pill into his mouth, then covered his mouth and nose. Orange-crest swallowed, there was no other choice. The unyielding hands released him.


    He fell backwards, the sudden burst of strength exhausted. His head began to feel heavy. If something of the mountain had settled in his bones, it felt like the entire mountain was pressing down upon his head.


    He struggled to remain conscious. To endure, like his brother had asked him to.


    "Shh." His brother''s voice was gentle. Like a summer breeze. "You did it. You can rest now."


    Rest. Rest was good. Orange-crest let his eyes close once more. How strange. The Fathomless Well was so dark that it was brighter behind his eyelids.


    "The sect will have a problem with you. But after today, I will not allow any to deny that you are a cultivator in truth."


    Orange-crest smiled. He was a cultivator? That was the monkey''s last thought, before a deep sleep claimed him.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Daoist Scouring Medicine cradled the small monkey in his arms like a parent would a sick child. Funny, a week ago he would have found this demeaning. Beneath his station. He''d barely tolerated carrying the beast by the scruff of it''s neck, immobilized.


    Admittedly, Li Hou was far cleaner than when he''d first grabbed him. He''d spent an entire day brushing up on treatments for lice and nits. He hadn''t had any real need to deal with that particular mortal nuisance since he was an initiate learning medicine out of scrolls.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine would never admit how close he''d suspected he came to allowing the monkey''s infestation to take root in his furniture.


    He''d taken a leap of faith, feeding it that qi condensing elixir. It was a good one, despite it''s low realm. High quality ingredients, minimal impurities. Earth forward, wood and fire secondary. Better than anything Daoist Scouring Medicine could produce, as much as it frustrated him to admit. A product of a late stage core formation alchemist he''d purchased to study. It was simply purer than anything he could refine, rudimentary ingredients purified by flames nigh three realms more profound.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    The risk had been worth it. He''d overcome the gulf in comprehension with perfectly arranged external conditions.


    This was what he''d needed, the final step to raise the monkey from an animal, to something more. The Mind-Opening Pill required a great deal of qi circulating through the body to work to best effect. Since most of the candidates for it were not intelligent enough to cultivate properly, that meant the ideal time to take one was immediately after a breakthrough. He''d caught the monkey relatively early the first time, but the difference between taking one hours after breaking through, and being fed one seconds after stabilizing an advancement was like the difference between heaven and earth.


    He''d given the monkey a human name. His old surname, even, not that it was unique. There were more Li families on earth than there were clouds in the heavens, and his was far from famous among them.


    When it awoke, it would have a mind to match it.


    He looked down at the beast in his arms. Eyes scrunched tightly shut, small snout relaxed. A thin thread of drool trailed down it''s cheek. It was so very small, bundled up. So much of it''s height was in it''s thin limbs. Even with his senses, he couldn''t feel the changes taking place in the animal''s mind. Not without his needles. But he didn''t need to feel them to understand them, he''d performed all the relevant analysis in advance.


    But when it awoke, the monkey would be forever changed. This variant of the Mind-Opening Pill had been optimized to consume the abundant earth and yin qi the monkey had absorbed. He had no doubt it would complete the process, push the monkey''s mind as far as it could be pushed by this crude method.


    Far enough for it to truly be a worthy candidate for a disciple. At least as capable of learning and memory as the average man.


    He wondered how it''s speech would sound like a year from now. He had no doubt Orange-hair, silly a name as that was, would become a most eloquent fellow. Even now he had a certain knack for making his opinions known. Would it work hard to speak flawlessly, exterminate it''s accent to ape the voices of men? Or would it cling to it''s differences, play them up to be underestimated? What sort of verbal flair would it replace its mocking hooting and chirping with?


    The daoist who had set aside the name Li Xun forty five years ago winced. That was assuming the monkey lived that long, of course. He would give the little animal the best odds he could, but the plans he''d made for it''s development were not gentle. Tournament season was only eight months away.


    He had a number of paths to produce a scandal great enough to force the sect to dismiss him. But... Most of the best options hinged upon the monkey.


    The outcome would be far worse, if he were forced to act directly.


    Forcing a grudge public enough to demand a duel would only work against a senior daoist or elder. Someone who thought they could defeat him easily. Putting himself in a position where he could credibly threaten to cripple such a cultivator in a duel... It would be a path paved with knives. Surviving the fight itself would be difficult. Injuring them beyond Elder Weeping Lotus''s ability to heal without resorting to clearly demonic poisons would be harder still.


    No, outright desertion might well be less risky. The great problem with that sort of gambit was that it had a way of devolving into a situation in which one was actually forced to make good on their threats.


    The bounds of what was and was not acceptable in a duel were a nebulous thing. A daoist might be mild or polite, but none who stood high beneath heaven were meek, or incapable of violence. Death was simply an inevitable possibility, when tempers ran high enough that grievances could only be settled with violence. Doubly so, when the gulf in realm between adversaries was wide enough. The elder might kill through insufficient restraint, but a junior using forbidden arts could be no less dangerous.


    It would cost Ren Yuhan a great deal of face to execute one of his own daoists. But it wasn''t unthinkable if he really poisoned an elder to the point of crippling. It would be a flimsy shield indeed, to claim he did so out of desperation. None would believe it, when he so blatantly sought such conflict.


    The monkey remained his favored plan. If Li Hou made it to the final matches, he would hold the sect master''s oh so precious reputation in his hands. There were so many things the monkey could do to it''s opponents, or before the assembled dignitaries, that would make the Azure Mountain a laughingstock. He could imagine the sect master''s smug face now, forced to choose between dismissing Scouring Medicine and his student, or having the monkey smear its shit across a noble scion''s face in front of the Third Prince.


    And the monkey would do it. He didn''t know how exactly he''d make that request, but he had no doubt he could convince it. The animal had little conception of social status, but he was quite sure that once Li Hou acquired it, he would disdain the idea immensely.


    Li Hou had little enough respect for Daoist Scouring Medicine after all, extending his master a bemused tolerance, despite the impossible gulf between them.


    But for that threat to be credible, the monkey would need to become a monster. Peerless in its generation. Capable of withstanding even the foundation establishment treasures that the most talented and highest born would carry. Not merely win its bouts, but control the flow of battle enough to toy with its foes.


    He had his work cut out for him. But one way or another, he would walk away from the sect before the new year dawned. Wandering cultivator, deserter, or demon. Alone, or with a monkey by his side. Whatever it took. He would not be held back by cowards and fools.


    The sound of distant footsteps reached Daoist Scouring Medicine''s ears. A dozen pairs, perhaps. Snowclad Heart''s class.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine set aside his many fears and hopes for the future. Snowclad Heart was Elder Lu''s creature. Not a bad man to offend, so long as he didn''t make enough trouble for his master to intervene directly before Scouring Medicine was ready for him.


    He''d levelled the ground in their last conversation. Now it was time to lay the stones of the foundation.


    The sound of slippers on stone rose and fell regularly as they descended the twisting tunnel that tightly circled the Fathomless Well. They were but one or two revolutions above him now. Daoist Scouring Medicine reached down, wiping away the drool on the monkey''s cheek.


    He doubted Daoist Snowclad Heart could see it, in this darkness. He hardly could, despite how refined his eyes were. But it was the principle of the thing.


    The gentle bend in the tunnel meant that when Daoist Snowclad Heart finally appeared, the two of them were hardly a bu apart, all but face to face.


    "Are we there-"


    "What?"


    "Stop." A third disciple hissed.


    Ah, mortals. So blind in the darkness. He could see them piled up behind their teacher, surprised by the sudden stop.


    "Daoist Snowclad Heart, a pleasure as always." He greeted.


    "Daoist Scouring Medicine. Leaving before your allotted time has fully elapsed?"


    Scouring Medicine smiled, exaggerating the expression beyond the well bounds of decorum. A manic enthusiasm that would all but demand commentary. He watched carefully for a reaction. He wasn''t sure how advanced his junior''s bodily cultivation was. Nothing, not a hint of reaction from the man. Embarrassing, but not unexpected. So many neglected their senses in favor of raw power.


    "You know how it is, three hours is such a long time to cultivate for a fresh initiate."


    He watched the sneer slowly spread across on his counterpart''s face.


    "I see your monkey couldn''t handle the pressure of the Fathomless Well. Understandable. I cannot imagine his attention span or courage are up to our usual standards. In truth, it is commendable that you were able to make an animal sit still at all. I suppose one must do what they must, when denied men to teach."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine chuckled. He let the laughter lapse for a moment, watching carefully. The moment Snowclad Heart''s lips part to speak, he began laughing gently once more. He continued just long enough to be sure he left the daoist irritated and the disciples uncomfortable.


    As Snowclad Heart moved to speak a second time, he raised his voice a fraction to cut him off.


    "Tell me, brother Snowclad Heart. What is the shortest time you''ve ever had between two small realm advancements?"


    The man frowned. He knew the question was a trap, but it was also an opportunity to boast.


    "A month, between the second and third realm of qi condensation."


    "Not bad. Better than I expected, in truth. You must have had some outstanding fortune that month." Daoist Scouring Medicine mused. "I see why Elder Lu looked so kindly upon you as a disciple. But I suppose it''s only natural that a man so enthusiastic about the red dust he all but snorts it would cultivate more slowly than my monkey."


    "What exactly, is that supposed to mean?" The fool asked, his voice the dry rasp of bared steel against ice. Oh, he must be backfooted indeed to leak his nature like that. And hardly eloquent either, to so allow his foe the initiative.


    "Oh, only that before you I''d never met a daoist who felt the need to pay for the fairer sex''s companionship." Daoist Scouring Medicine said in a jocular tone grievously unsuited to his words. "Tell me, is it that face? Or are your proclivities so perverse that you can''t find any fairies willing to indulge you?"


    Through the velvet darkness, Scouring Medicine watched the man''s face descend into a rictus of fury. Oh, his sight truly must be poor, if he thought it was safe to shed his composure to such a degree. He watched the man clutch at his sword like a child its doll. ''Strike me'' he mouthed silently. Trust in the darkness to protect you. Heavens above but it felt good, to unlimber his tongue and tell the whole sect what he thought of them.


    Truth be told, he didn''t even judge the man that harshly for his indulgences with courtesans. Daoist Scouring Medicine had been celibate for a long time, but he was no ascetic. He appreciated the charms of women, but he had greater things to chase than skirts. Fairies were troublesome, mortal women fleeting, and patronizing prostitutes wasteful and indulgent.


    But such a crude habit was a rather easy target to strike. Easier by far than convincing of the man of his small part in what the sect had become.


    The disciples had the good sense to remain quiet as corpses. Standing so still they scarce dared to breath. Wise. If they wanted to keep breathing, they''d never acknowledge this conversation within earshot of their teacher.


    It would of course spread like wildfire outside of his earshot.


    "Such a free tongue you have, fellow daoist." Daoist Snowclad Heart all but spat, doing his pathetic best to match Scouring Medicine''s lighthearted venom. "If we are to speak so frankly with each other, I suppose I must repay your candor with the same. I worry for you. The ancestors say a cultivator must stand alone, but surely they did not mean to eschew all bonds of fellowship? Who in the sect yet opens their doors to you? You are friendless here, and even abandoned your student after doing them injury. What future might you have as a daoist of the Azure Mountain Sect when the only one who will even speak to you is a monkey?"


    Ah, that might  have hurt twenty years ago. It stung far less now. He did not want a future in the sect.


    "Perhaps you should reflect on why the entire sect finds you intolerable before criticizing your juniors on the basis of envious rumor." The pompous man continued. "It is crass to speak of one''s fortunes in romance, but-"


    "One week." Daoist Scouring Medicine cut him off.


    "What?"


    He stepped forward, forcing the man and his students to press against the wall, lest they be forced out of the way by his far superior physical strength.


    "One week. Two small realm breakthroughs." He repeated as he passed by. "What future do any of you have, in the Azure Mountain Sect, if you cultivate more slowly than a monkey?"


    He tuned out the indignant squawking that echoed after him through the tunnel. A pity Daoist Enduring Oath wasn''t a betting man. Perhaps Li Hou would warm to the vice in time. He would love to set odds on whether Daoist Snowclad Heart would demand satisfaction in one week, or three. It would depend, on what exactly Elder Lu gave him.


    No outcome of this would see him released from the sect. Daoist Snowclad Heart was not important, in the grand scheme of things.


    He would start on the Quaternary Heart-Fire Pills while the monkey slept. That formulation was far from stable, but it would keep for a few weeks.

 Chapter 11

    Orange-crest awoke to light and warmth. A nest had been made for him. His body was nestled into a robe the color of driven snow. His brother''s. Small motes of dust danced through a sunbeam, rising to heaven and falling to earth in accordance with the disturbances in the air made by his breath.


    The monkey blinked. How did he know that?


    The pattern had always been there. His eyes had always seen it. But the connection his mind now made so effortlessly had eluded him.


    A paw reached out. He watched as it''s passage sent the motes scattering. The paw stilled, and the monkey watched as the small motes of dust fell upon it. He could not catch them with speed, but stillness. The shining specs vanished instantly, like the first flakes of snow.


    But he knew they were not gone. Snowflakes did not vanish, they changed. The dust had not become drops of water.


    What was dust, he wondered? Why was it so brilliantly clear against the empty air, but vanished into his fur?


    "You''re awake."


    You. A form of general address. The one being spoken to. It was clear now, where it had been muddled before. He''d seen his brother use the word a hundred times. Orange-crest. Daoist Enduring Oath. The tall one who led the glade-pack. Daoist Snowclad Heart.


    The men used it because the names they gave each other were excessively long. He''d never made that connection. Now it was obvious. Many sounds meant more sounds. Sometimes long sounds composed of two or more sounds combined. That led to sounds that acted as shortenings, like using you in place of a name. Which meant the language contained yet more sounds. It seemed a very manlike way of doing things. Complex and convoluted, like a tangle of vines mutually strangling each other.


    He had few memories of the word awake. He''d heard it before, but only in the broader context of his brother''s speech. Yet, it was clear to him now. His brother was saying he was now something he was not before. He''d been carried out of that hellish Fathomless Well. That meant he''d fallen asleep, to be moved without memory. Awake was awareness. Eyes open and clear. The absence of sleep.


    "Yes." Orange-crest answered confidently.


    "Your accent is better."


    "Yes." The monkey agreed. Accent was a speech-thing. The degree to which an utterance conformed to the ideal form of the word-sound; or something very similar. His brother had complained about it before.


    So many thoughts whizzed through his head. He''d thought it''d been full before, but now seemingly his entire life demanded reexamination. His memories had not changed. But he could see now just how much fruit he had missed upon the tree. Secrets ripened upon the bough, now his alone to seize.


    His brother waited quietly, seemingly content to let Orange-crest take the lead once.


    "I am cultivated." The monkey mused.


    "You cultivated. Am cultivated would mean another directed your growth. If my garden could speak, its plants would say I cultivated them."


    Orange-crest stared at his brother for a time. His brother met his eyes easily. Daoist Scouring Medicine had such sharp eyes. He wondered if his own were like that now, flensing the world to the bone to see how it''s meat worked.


    "Yes. I am cultivated." The monkey repeated firmly.


    It was so very easy now, to extract knowledge from patterns. Four pills, his brother had fed him. Each one had left his head heavy, and he''d awoken with eyes far clearer.


    "Yes and no. But mostly no." His brother said. "Your mind is keener now, to notice that. It is impressive."


    "Why mostly no?"


    Orange-crest was not upset. It was irritating sometimes, having such a busy mind. Harder to find peace in his own head. But this was something he would have always wanted, if he''d been able to imagine it clearly enough to desire it.


    Yet, he watched his brother carefully. For flinch or fear. Any sign of motion in the man''s own comparable depths. He did not feel betrayed. He wasn''t looking for reasons to distrust the man who had done so much to raise him up. That was not his nature, to peel back the flesh of blessings to look for rot at their core. Orange-crest simply realized he did not understand his strange new brother at all. His brother had made him like this. His own mind must be at least as complex as Orange-crest''s own now was, full of twists and turns.


    "Cultivation is not a purely self directed process. Especially not at the beginning." Daoist Scouring Medicine answered, his face a mask of placid calm. "Almost none of us choose our first sect or cultivation method. Few of us have much say in who our first teachers are, or what treasures we rely on. However, the fact that I set your feet upon the road does not mean it was any less you who walked it. A different starting point will lead you upon a different path. But it is said that if one has karma with immortality, all roads lead to the same destination, the ultimate culmination of one''s nature. My hand guided yours. The Fathomless Well provided the strength. But you were both the sculptor and the material. You cultivated."


    It was frustrating, that even his new mind struggled to comprehend half of what his brother just said. He understood the thrust of it, disagreement and justification, but he wanted to understand it all.


    "I am good." The monkey said instead. "Am strong. The past is sharp."


    "The past is sharp indeed." His brother mused. "More than you know."


    "Many that more than I know." Orange-crest said with a self-deprecating snort. "Know many that I no know."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine smiled.


    "Not merely smarter, but wiser I see."


    "Smart? Wise? Is good? Bad?"


    "I see you are full of questions today. Smart is knowing things. What they are. How they work. Wisdom is knowing what to do. Understanding what you want, how to live in accord with the world. The ancients say ''Knowing others is intelligence; knowing yourself is true wisdom''. I personally hold that smart and wise are both good, but intelligence without wisdom can be dangerous. And wisdom with intelligence futile, capable of neither action nor communication."


    "Hmm." The monkey sat and thought for a time. He still didn''t like it, thinking deeply. It was good-bad in a way he struggled to pin down into words, whether in the speech of men or beasts. It let him see more clearly, understand and anticipate. And his new mind drew him towards the act powerfully. He could no more resist it than water could flow up a hill.


    He looked up at his brother, eyes sharper than they''d ever been.


    "Will you make more smart?"


    His brother laughed gently.


    "No, this is likely as far as my simpler methods will take you. To hone your mind from here will require you to do as men do. Learn, understand, and perhaps devise your own methods of cultivation."


    "Good." Orange-crest said, struggling to smile as his brother did. His face was not so mobile as his brother''s. His lips liked to descend more than they did to rise. To pull them up without baring his teeth as if in rage or fear was difficult.


    "Head..." He trailed off, thinking. "Head is wine jar. Has bad-much head-wine."


    "Full. Full is jar with wine. Empty is jar with no wine. Too much is bad much."


    Look at that, his smart brother was learning how to communicate effectively. One day now he might even manage fragments of the true speech.


    "Head is full." Orange-crest agreed. "Kekekek ek." He chirped. Too many man-words in a row. Even they sometimes used the true speech, even if the only sounds they seemed to know were those of rage and laughter.


    "Men complain of this ailment from time to time as well. I have found that the cure is often to add more things to it."


    "Cure? Cure for too much is too too much?"


    "A cure... A cure is what I gave you, after you broke your wrist." His brother tapped his forearm as he spoke the word.


    Orange-crest popped his lips. He was filled with so much he felt he would burst. Thoughts in his head, satisfaction in his chest. It was a joyous thing, to be able to communicate so clearly with his brother. The questions awaiting their turn on his tongue were more than the stars in the night sky, more than the biggest number his brother had taught him, a hundred hundreds.


    His stomach rumbled. Oh. In the joy of the changes, he''d forgotten the most important part of him was not full at all.


    "Let us break your fast. The second stage of qi condensation is rather too early for even the most ascetic to practice grain liberation." Daoist Scouring Medicine said glibly. "Then, I shall show you that most human of habits, distracting one''s self from one''s thoughts and worries. You expressed interest in my pill furnace many times. Now, you are ready. I shall introduce you to the myriad wonders of alchemy, an art most dear to my own heart and practice."


    "Yes." Orange-crest didn''t follow most of that. But he definitely wanted food. He rose from the warm nest his brother had made for him, marveling at the strength in his limbs.


    Maybe this cultivation thing wasn''t all bad.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    An hour later, a bemused daoist and a very full monkey sat before an unlit pill furnace. Orange-crest ran his hand over the outside. The texture to it really was quite remarkable. It was a great mass of dark grey stone shot with streaks of late-spring green. It''s imposing bulk stood a full two and a half orange-crest''s high. At it''s base, it was wide enough to fit a half a dozen monkeys, narrowing to an opening just large enough to let a single monkey in at the top.


    It had been carved beautifully by the hands of men, their strange word-symbols and other markings adorning it. The only one orange-crest understood was the mouth, a great gaping hole like the maw of a tiger in the front of the furnace, where a monkey''s belly would be. His brother would add ingredients through it, then stopper up the mouth again with a metal panel that rose and fell as he gestured.


    It''s fire was out now. Even before his eyes had been sharpened, the monkey knew enough of flame he would never approach within two paces while it operated.


    "This is the formulae for the Quaternary Heart-Fire Pill." Brother Scouring Medicine said, brandishing a sheet of paper. "It is a peak foundation establishment level medicine that I developed myself."


    Orange-crest inspected it, keeping his hands back, so his brother wouldn''t withdraw the sheet of paper on reflex. It was all writing. No pictures. Not a very useful piece of paper.


    "Formulae?" He asked. He was learning words faster than ever today. Yet it seemed no matter how many he learned, men had more.


    "When you make wine, do you remember what you put in a given batch?"


    "No. Am monkey. Only men remember things." The monkey groused. Did he ask his brother if he wiped his ass when he shit? Ensure he knew which leaves were safe and which would leave him rolling around in itching-pain like red-eyes on a bad day?


    "Very funny." His brother said dryly. At least the man could take a joke, if not really make one. "A formulae is like such a memory, but more complex and exacting. Written so the memory cannot fade."


    "Foundation establishment level?" Orange-crest asked. A long sequence of sounds, but his brother''s cadence made them seem like a single thing.


    "Foundation establishment. The second major cultivation realm, as it is usually accounted." His brother corrected. "The realm of spiritual cultivation I have attained. The ways of cultivation are many and defy easy categorization, but it is generally used as shorthand for a particular level of power and refinement. One must be at least that strong to make the pill, and fairly close to that strength to consume it."


    Orange-crest sighed. The earth might tremble and monkeys grow wise, but no matter how the world changed his brother would always be long-winded. This, he knew.


    "Foundation establishment cultivation two." The monkey summarized.


    "Yes. I developed the pill from a nascent soul level recipe I was lucky enough to encounter in my travels. Nascent soul is generally considered the fourth or fifth great realm of cultivation, depending on the broader school of development one''s cultivation method ascribes to."


    "Four is bigger than two." The monkey noted.


    "Yes, oh Great Sage, four is greater than two. Your mastery of numerology is unmatched beneath Heaven."


    Orange-crest frowned. His brother was mocking him, he was sure of it. But how could he respond when he didn''t know what a great sage was?


    "You made it... Lower? Lesser?" He wasn''t sure of the word. Or the why. Big numbers of bad things were bad. But cultivation seemed pretty good, so would not a bigger number of realms be better?


    "I made it at all. The Azure Heart has not had an alchemist who attained the nascent soul realm in hundreds of years. There are only four or five such alchemists in all the empire. And frankly, most of them probably couldn''t make that pill either, not without research and practice. There''s just no need for it, so few would have attempted the recipe already. Such an overwhelming protection against cold is of limited value compared to nascent soul level restoratives or breakthrough aids. Indeed, the original pill might well kill anyone beneath core formation who consumed it, there''s only so much internal heat the uncultivated body can bear."


    "The pill makes you hot?" He was just starting to understand pills, but burning the person to consumed it to death seemed... Bad?


    What were men doing with their lives that they felt the need to dedicate them to making foods that burned them alive. Orange-crest had known of plant-fire, the taste like a lingering burn. But didn''t think one could die from too much of it. The monkey shuddered at the thought of how such a pill must taste.


    "You remember the Fathomless Well? Its abyssal yin and intense cold? There are places far colder, and men who command such cold."


    Orange-crest shivered. He''d seen fire as a weapon. The Monkey King had wielded it against the tigers that had encroached on the mountain. The destruction had been terrible, whole swathes of the mountain left blacker than blackest stone for entire seasons. Yet few had died, tiger or monkey. No more than five or ten. Wise and craven alike had fled the steady advance of the flame. The cold of winter killed more monkeys every year, and it was not half so terrible as that dark cultivator pit.


    One could not run from winter, after all.


    Orange-crest did not want to imagine such cold turned to violence.


    "We make hot pill?" He asked.


    "I will make a Quaternary Heart-Fire Pill." Daoist Scouring Medicine corrected. "You will chop things."


    Orange-crest snorted. Chopping. He''d been able to do that before. Waste of time, but his brother wouldn''t let him mash.


    "Why no good part?"


    "Because if you do it wrong, the furnace will explode and bring down my house."


    "Explode bad?"


    "Explode most bad indeed."


    "Fine." Orange-crest grudgingly agreed. "I chop. Give chopper."


    "Knife."


    "Men make too many words. It chops, yes? It chopper."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine pulled out a knife and cutting board for the monkey, too canny to engage with its many opinions about grammar. That was a pit deeper than the Fathomless Well. He settled back to watch. A single stray hair in a recipe like this wouldn''t be disastrous, not with proper utilization of refinement techniques. But a seed from the wrong side of a Twin Flame Fruit could be.


    He demonstrated the simplest step of the recipe, thinly slicing the dried licorice roots that would provide earth and wood qi fodder for one of the early refinement stages.


    "Such bad man. You make tired monkey chop chop. No help."


    The monkey struggled a little, to manage a proper hold on the knife. It''s fingers were long for its size and impressively dexterous, easily wrapping around the man-sized handle. But it''s thumb was stubby, and it struggled to use the smaller digit to control the angle of the blade as a man might.


    "No, like this. You will cut yourself eventually if you do it like that." The daoist said, grabbing the knife away. He demonstrated how to hold the root down so one could cut away from one''s hand, instead of pulling towards the body as the monkey had been doing. In deference for the monkey''s limits, he used only his fingers to secure the root to the stone top of his table.


    "Yes yes, orange-hair know daoist man yes-good knife, monkey no-good knife."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine sighed, suppressing a smile.


    "If only you knew, little one, just how lucky you are. Some of us had to scrape together our knowledge from memorizing library scrolls and blind practice. I was a man grown before I owned a proper herbal compendium. Almost fifty before I received any alchemical teaching worth the name."


    "Some of us monkey." The creature shot back, clearly understanding the spirit of his criticism, if not the specifics.


    "That''s fair." Daoist Scouring Medicine allowed.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    So many corrections! No seeds! All the seeds for this one! No orange-crest, you can''t eat the other half of the Twinned Flame Fruit, I don''t need you passing flame instead of wind!


    Brother Scouring Medicine was so picky. Everything must be as he ordained it, or the sky would explode.


    But now he was done, and his brother was done telling him everything he did was wrong.


    "You sure no wrong?" Orange-crest asked, peering intently into the flames. "I did many wrongs. Maybe you do wrong?"


    "That''s not how this works."


    "Why?"


    "I created the formulae."


    "But why right?"


    "Because I tried enough of the wrong ways to find one that produces a stable pill. Now be silent, this part requires concentration."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine threw a few more cylinders of charcoal into the flames.


    "Bellows." He called out. "Three pumps."


    Orange-crest hopped into the air, hanging off the handle of the massive leather bellow. He let his weight drag it back down, feet fluttering all the while.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine felt the flame beneath the cauldron, imbued with his Impurity Scouring Flame technique, surge to new heights. Qi-flames were as much true flames as spiritual technique, exhibiting characteristics of both. He watched as the cauldron began to grow steadily hotter. Slowly, it''s forest green verdigris began to glow. He watched the glow rose from the bottom of the furnace like a sunrise.


    When the glow reached the lower lip of the tiger mouth, he leapt into motion. He cast the last two ingredients into the tiger''s maw. A carefully prepared mixture of the more stable of the two lobes of a Twin Flame fruit, and the crushed petals of a Rime-Wind Rose.


    His qi rose up around him, a haze of power nearly thick enough to take visual form. It drew into the shape of wings. He watched as the furnace began to shake, the moderating influence of the Rime-Wind Rose steadily burning away.


    When the cauldron began to echo with the sound of continual impacts, he released his control over the flame. Immediately the fire surged upwards, drawn into the open mouth of the tiger by the incomplete pill''s bottomless thirst. The wings of his qi closed, clamping down firmly on the furnace. He activated the formation to completely seal the device, plates of Refined Copper sliding out to seal the tiger''s maw and the chimney.


    He felt his qi struggle as the impacts against it redoubled. His Tiger''s Maw Refining Cauldron was a very durable furnace for it''s quality, but this pill pushed even it''s limits.


    There was nothing to be monitored, no temperature to adjust. The conditions had been set, the die cast. All that was left to do was hold on, outlast the furious reaction threatening to rip his furnace asunder. The pill struggled desperately, a wild instinct almost more like a living thing than a mere chemical reaction. It radiated power, pressing out in all directions one moment. The next it waited patiently, a tiny medicinal predator, seeking any weakness in his preparations. With an almighty impact, the pill threw itself against the plate sealing the tiger''s maw, desperate for freedom.


    "Eek!" A distant part of the daoist''s mind noted the monkey''s exclamation. "You sure formulae right?"


    He denied it, again and again. Like a blaze in high summer, the pill burned hot and fast. Then it died out just as suddenly, it''s vitality exhausted. A most curious smell extended from the furnace, wood smoke and anise, tinged with traces of the savory scent of freshly roasted flesh.


    There was no flesh of any sort in the formulae. Merely fruits and roots, bark and petals. One species of dried beetle. Yet, somehow Daoist Scouring Medicine knew that the strange scent was that of roasting man-flesh.


    "Ooh. Smell good."


    He didn''t correct the monkey. Instead, he slapped the furnace. It was hardly warm, the pill having absorbed every trace of heat it could swallow. The plate descended and a small pill the size of a dumpling emerged. It had the texture of rotted wood, sturdy enough to be held, but threatening to crumble at the slightest pressure. It was a strange pink-brown color, warm as fevered flesh to the touch.


    "Small." The monkey remarked, standing on tip-toes to stare at his hand. "You eat? Want see fire."


    "Patience. One day soon, you will see the results of our labor."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine smiled. The Quaternary Heart-Fire was not a gentle pill. It''d nearly killed him the first time he''d taken it, forty years ago. But his body had grown far stronger since then. He wondered what exactly Daoist Snowclad Heart would come prepared with. Elder Lu would bestow upon him a weapon or technique, most likely. Perhaps one one of his own core formation level swords, or some other compatible treasure.


    The pill alone would render him immune to the creeping cold the man favored. He would only need to concern himself with his foe''s blade. Perhaps he could harness the flames of the pill for offense as well? He''d nearly died trying it the first time. He would not have any chance to practice with them before their battle. He did not have another Twin Flame Fruit, or weeks to spare in recovery.


    It was curious, how much he looked forward to trying. His purse was deflating as rapidly as what remained of his reputation. He still had no real prospect of a breakthrough on the horizon. His remaining lifespan was likely less than half a century. Yet, Daoist Scouring Medicine felt younger than he had in a long time. The farther away his advancement seemed to slip, the closer it somehow felt.


    It was ironic, in a way. Looking back upon his journey of cultivation, he''d only ever advanced his spirit when his purse was empty. Perhaps the ascetics were not completely wrong.


    "Wine now?" Orange-crest interrupted his musings.


    "It''s hardly past noon."


    "You said wine later if I endured. I endured, yes? You say as much wine as I want. I say I want wine."


    "You know what? Fine. We''ll clean the furnace together first. No alchemist worth their salts ever leaves a furnace uncleaned, that''s how you get explosions. Then, once we''re done, we''ll do this properly. We''ll grab Daoist Enduring Oath and find a place with a good view to celebrate your advancement properly."

 Chapter 12

    Daoist Scouring Medicine allowed Li Hou the honor of knocking at Daoist Enduring Oath''s door. The monkey rather enjoyed being allowed to bang pieces of metal against each other. Not that such a thing was necessary. The man''s protections would have alerted him the moment they approached.


    It was amusing, thirty years ago Daoist Scouring Medicine would never have come to see his friend this frequently. It would have been surpassing rude, to so frequently interrupt his cultivation. They''d spent years working closely together, on campaigns or expeditions. But then they''d return to the sect, spending years in closed cultivation without exchanging words. A common routine, among daoists.


    Yet, these days neither of them cultivated much. The afternoon he''d just spent cycling qi to recover from his exertions had been the most he''d cultivated in months. One man all unable to progress, the other in doubt of his ability to survive his tribulation. What a sorry pair they made. But, despite their greatly increased free time these last few decades, he''d rarely seen his brother half as often as he had this last week. They''d thrown themselves into their crafts, focusing on steadily accumulating spirit stones selling lesser pills and treasures in bulk. Casting their hopes upon an auction, as if a heaven-defying treasure might allow them to do what their skills could not.


    Daoist Enduring Oath opened his door.


    "Big shiny!" Li Hou shouted in greeting.


    "I have a name." The bemused daoist answered the monkey.


    "I know! I gave it you!"


    Daoist Enduring Oath snorted warmly.


    "I suppose I could have a third name. I already have two, after all."


    The monkey''s brow furrowed.


    "I have two names. You have more names than me."


    "He is far older than you, Li Hou." Daoist Scouring Medicine cut in. "One tends to accumulate names as they age."


    "Astounding." Daoist Enduring Oath said, staring down at Li Hou''s bright eyes. "He''s a completely different monkey."


    "No. Same monkey." Orange-crest disagreed. "Different..." He trailed off, then tapped his head twice. Not hair, the other thing. They would know what he meant.


    "He broke through to the second stage of qi condensation. I may have made some unwise promises as I encouraged his efforts. We''re heading up to the Seventh Peak to celebrate, and perhaps introduce him to hangovers."


    "Hangover?"


    "You''ll find out." Daoist Scouring Medicine answered with a wicked grin.


    Orange-crest shivered. There was no malice in those eyes, yet still they promised suffering. Perhaps his brother''s problem was not a lack of humor, but a wicked sense of it?


    Daoist Scouring Medicine grabbed the small linen bag at his side, and shook it in front of his brother. Sloshing and clacking emanating from it. Orange-crest had struggled to believe his eyes, as his brother had somehow stuffed three jars of wine larger than a monkey into a sack not half the size of one.


    "I suppose I have little better to do." Enduring Oath said, locking his door with a gesture. "I finished those vessels by the way, you can pick them up when we get back."


    "I''ll get you the pills next week. I''ve been introducing Li Hou to alchemy, it''ll be good practice for him to help me with them."


    "No more chop chop." Orange-crest insisted. "Enough chop-chop."


    "Very well. No, as you put it, chop-chop. Also no sausage. Your diet is dominated by fruit and preserved meat anyway, a few days of congee would hardly do a growing monkey ill."


    "Cruelty!" The monkey cried, throwing it''s arms up dramatically. "Big-shiny, save good hungry monkey."


    Daoist Enduring Oath stared down at the monkey clutching at his thigh. He considered himself a worldly man. He''d met no shortage of spirit beasts of many stripes. Tigers that threatened entire cities, canny ravens with eyes beyond counting. Even once a river dragon as eloquent as any man, wise and mighty enough to stand in judgement of mortal kings.


    Yet he''d never seen a beast with a combination of such surpassing intelligence and lowly cultivation. Let alone one that had acquired it''s grasp of language in a week. He wracked his memories, trying to find the least advanced spirit beast with the ability to fluently speak human language. It was probably that Golden Crow, but even it had been at the peak of foundation establishment.


    "You really understood all that?" He asked. The beast met his eyes, a pleading expression on its face. It struggled valiantly to meet his gaze, but quickly crumbled. A sheepish look stole over it before it''s head turned away to stare at his feet.


    "Daoist Scouring Medicine bad-full of words. Use many when need few." It grumbled. "Medicine-man say no sausage. Bad two words. Yes-sausage."


    Daoist Enduring Oath met his brother''s eyes.


    "That''s almost more impressive than if it had fully understood you. Inferring context to such a degree suggests a remarkably developed theory of mind, something even more advanced spirit beasts struggle with. It''s why so many of them are easily ensnared in human plots."


    "Where did you even learn that word?" Daoist Scouring Medicine asked, raising an eyebrow. "I''m quite certain I haven''t taught you the word cruelty yet."


    "I have many secrets." The monkey replied smugly. Secrets. Such a good word. He''d learned it after pestering his brother about the thing where he moved his hands and caused things he was not touching to move. He was disappointed that his brother would not yet teach him the so called ''Phantom Palm'', but knowing the word secret made up for it.


    "It must have learned it from a disciple. I''ve given him enough leash that he''s interacted with a few of them, and likely spent time spying on more."


    "I have many secrets." Orange-crest repeated. Perhaps there was some merit to this language thing. Some sequences of words were simply delicious, falling off the tongue like a summer rain. The true tongue got the truth across far quicker, but the speech of man provided so many elegant ways to say something by saying nothing.


    -----------


    In hindsight, Daoist Enduring Oath thought, introducing the monkey to ''Ups'' had been a grave mistake.


    It''d begun so innocently. He''d knocked back a few dozen saucers of plum wine, and his brother had fallen into yet another rant about how the sect had fallen so low daoists were little more moral than nobles or merchants these days. Enduring Oath had opinions on the subject, but no interest in encouraging or contradicting his brother. Either would be troublesome. Tongue loosened by fury, Scouring Medicine painted a number of images with his words. Daoist Enduring Oath had ignored the many crass ones, but one of the less puerile phrases had lodged in his mind.


    He''d wondered just how far he could throw the monkey. That had been fine. It was an interesting question. But he''d made the critical mistake of musing upon it aloud.


    And he''d gravely underestimated just how enthusiastic little Li Hou would be about having a core formation cultivator repeatedly throw him dozens of chi into the air.


    The little monkey wasn''t even drunk yet, thought not for lack of trying. Scouring Medicine had promised as much wine as it wanted, but to the beast''s irritation he claimed he''d said nothing about the rate he would allow it to drink. That didn''t stop it from attempting a variety of stratagems to sneak more wine, but against two powerful daoists, all it''s schemes were doomed before they''d begun.


    "Up! Up! More ups!" The mostly sober orange-crest chittered, clutching tightly to Daoist Enduring Oath''s powerful forearm. Its feet were joined, resting in his palm. The monkey''s hands held two of his fingers like reins, stabilizing it''s balance as it leaned so far back it''s furry ass nigh touched his forearm. It was an awkward position. Daoist Enduring Oath was forced to make the throw underhanded, because the alternative would be to launch the creature already inverted.


    But that was fine. He had power to spare, once he finally got into motion.


    "Don''t break my monkey." Daoist Scouring Medicine said. The man was leaning back against a tree, staring at the pair with wry amusement.


    "Break my monkey!" Li Hou disagreed. "Break! Break! Break!"


    "Whether you break yourself is a matter of fate and talent." Daoist Enduring Oath grumbled. "I take no responsibility for your landing."


    Daoist Enduring Oath held back a wince as he drew upon his cultivation. He forced his stagnant qi into motion, crushing the recalcitrant earth within him until it flowed like molten stone. And burned his meridians as much as such a thing should. Every time it was just a little harder, the price he paid, for his hubris. A dark part of his mind wondered if he would even make it to half the span of years a core formation cultivator should be able to expect.


    Daoist Enduring Oath moved like a mountain come to live, ponderous and inexorable. His underhanded throw began slowly, almost gingerly. But with the suddenness of an landslide, he accelerated. A fragment of his qi settled around his projectile, lending it unnatural weight and durability.


    "Weeeeeeeeee!" The monkey squealed, steadily vanishing into the distance. He''d thrown Li Hou fully thrice as far as any previous attempt. He should have something of a breather.


    The man squinted. The monkey was still flying. Perhaps more than thrice as far. Still, it should be fine. His qi would protect him, and they had a tracking band on the little fellow.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    Daoist Enduring Oath sat down next to his brother. Scouring Medicine had watched him closely through his exertion, but blessedly did not say anything about his obvious infirmity.


    "How is his talent?" Enduring Oath asked instead.


    "I haven''t had him tested properly, but its nothing heaven-defying. I confirmed mixed elemental roots myself, and nothing about his actual cultivation seems to be abnormal. No indications of a rare physique or preexisting meridian development, or any form of inherited or connate core. It is in fortune and comprehension that heaven has blessed him."


    "Comprehension? Even before his fortuitous encounters?"


    "My methods have been several steps more refined than any beast tamer would subject a mortal monkey to, but I am quite certain he was never an ordinary example of his kind. Contrary to your earlier implications, I do in fact understand how normal monkeys are supposed to act. And he''s nothing like them. Mischievous and impulsive, certainly. But his sheer drive to learn is utterly abnormal in his kind, rare even for men. Even after only the first pill, he had more focus than many of our initiates."


    Daoist Enduring Oath took another long drink. It was good wine, but there were reasons he drank far less these days. He wondered how long it would take his slowly ossifying meridians to take the joy of a good cup of tea from him as well.


    "You still plan then, to refine his body?"


    "Yes."


    "What if he doesn''t want you to?"


    "He will. Beyond that, he must."


    "How so?"


    "This isn''t even a matter of my plans for him. You know I disdain those who hide behind unfalsifiable claims about karma. But I have set things into motion that cannot be averted. Even if I returned him to his mountain tonight, it is likely some daoist would hunt him down. A curiosity to be dissected, or a petty vengeance against me. I could declare him a failure and cast him out of the sect. Rely upon the vastness of the world to shelter him. But as he is now, he will struggle to live among either his kind or ours. He has neither the strength to protect himself, or the knowledge to hide what he is."


    "Men are not kind to what they do not understand."


    "No, Daoist Enduring Oath, they are not. But that is no reason to kowtow before their small minds. If Li Hou wishes to cast me aside when all this is done, so be it. But until then, I will forge him into what he must be to survive the path I have set him upon."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine threw back his saucer and scowled.


    "Now stop bringing up heavy subjects. This isn''t that sort of drinking party. Unless you''d like to discuss how your back cracked like a mortal grandfather when you threw my monkey?"


    As one, four eyes snapped up, staring down at the cliff beneath them. Where thunder crackled at the feet of white robes.


    "You didn''t." Daoist Scouring Medicine said with a tinge of actual anger.


    "I didn''t. He must have felt my qi when I threw Li Hou. You know he was always the best sensor among the three of us."


    "Was." Daoist Scouring Medicine emphasized smugly.


    Daoist Enduring Oath filed that boast away for later consideration. Daoist Scouring Medicine was not a humble man, but his bouts of bluster always had at least a kernel of truth to them, if not more.


    "We can hear him out." He said instead. "For old time''s sake, we owe him that much at least."


    "He visited me a few days ago. After the incident at the Chang boy''s class. As if such a small thing merited his attention. Tried to cite the rulebook at me. Me, the man who spent half his twenties keeping the fool out of the Punishment Hall."


    The scowl returned to Daoist Scouring Medicine''s face.


    "You know what?" He continued. "Fine. We''ll hear the bottom-feeding carp out. But he has to drink out of Li Hou''s saucer."


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Orange-crest had no idea where he was. It was a fairly novel experience. After all, to get to a place, a monkey had to go there. Which meant one knew how they got there. Sure, sometimes you got a little turned around running from a tiger, or a great storm washed out your landmarks, or a wandering daoist kidnapped you and took you to a strange new mountain. But in general, a monkey rarely got lost.


    But then, in general, a monkey rarely got to fly like a bird. While mildly drunk. And then slam into, and through, a dozen branches on the way down.


    Orange-crest sniffed at his wrist. There was still a trace of it on him, the strange power that Daoist Enduring Oath had used to propel him beyond the limits of monkey-projectile. As it faded rapidly, he tried to memorize the feel of it. Heavy, like the deepness of earth his brother had helped him take within himself.


    He''d yet to manage to command the fire within him as the daoists did, beyond his one success catching Brother Scouring Medicine. But if they could do it, why not him?


    As the power faded, the monkey cast his eyes about the forest. No, there was no escaping the truth. He was lost. How embarrassing. His monkey-brothers would mock him mercilessly if they could see him now. And worst of all, the daoists had all the wine. He needed to find them before they drank it all!


    There was nothing to do but pick a direction and hope he ran into them soon. Orange-crest took half a step, then paused, foot hovering just off the ground. That was an old orange-crest thought. Could he not do better now?


    The monkey pondered, then decided. First, he climbed the tree that had so kindly broken his fall. Drunken hands were a little unsteady, but climbing trees was home-scent for him. From his spot in the first tree, he cast his eyes out for the next highest one in sight, and made his way over to it. He still couldn''t see very far through the dense canopy.


    If he kept finding taller trees though, eventually he would find the tallest. Climbing by numbers!


    Three trees and a fair amount of retracing his jumps later, orange-crest found himself staring out at a sea of dark green. There was a coast in the distance, the steep drop where this section of the mountain fell away. The daoists were somewhere along it, but he''d underestimated how very wide it was.


    Perhaps he would just have to pick the edge of it, and walk the whole thing?


    Suddenly, a great bolt of lightning fell from clear sky, accompanied by the great pounding of thunder. Or rather, the bolt leapt up towards the sky? Spots flickered before the monkey''s unprepared eyes, making it difficult to make out what exactly had happened.


    He marked the location. Set his heading by the unmoving stars. That would be where the daoists were. His brother was much like the king in that way. Where there was strangeness and trouble, so too would there be him. It was much farther than he''d expected. Perhaps Daoist Enduring Oath stronger than he''d thought. Big-butt would have struggled to pitch a stone that far, much less a monkey.


    Orange-crest started walking. As he did, the monkey pondered. Maybe, sometimes clever plans were overrated. Perhaps all one really needed to do was keep their eyes and ears open for strange thunder.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    It was a long walk. It''d been a great deal more fun to fly that distance than walk it. The way the wind had whistled through orange-crest''s fur, stolen the wetness from his mouth and forced his eyes to squeeze into thin cracks. It was more exhilarating than any storm or gale,


    Walking by comparison was rather less fun.


    One day, orange-crest swore, he would fly wherever he wanted. He''d done it once. That meant it was possible. And if it was possible, he would do it.


    That made three vows, now. A belt, a stick, and flying. What a figure he would cut with all three. Why, he would look like a tiny king! He could see the pair of them now, the king leaping between mountains in his tiger skin, orange-crest flying beside him with a pretty blue belt. All the females in their maiden-seasons would coo and chirp at him, and ask to play with his stick!


    It was a silly dream. But those were one of the best kinds. One of the most important kinds to chase. Second only to a good practical food-dream, like having a pantry like his Daoist Scouring Medicine''s.


    "What is wrong with you!" The unfamiliar voice carried a great distance, raised in wrath. "Are you trying to get yourself killed, Brother Scouring Medicine?"


    Finally! Scouring Medicine always criticized others. Well, always criticized orange-crest. It was probably good for him to get tongue-lashed in turn.


    More importantly, that meant the wine was near! The monkey redoubled his pace, shifting from a lope to a proper gallop. Hopefully the new daoist would distract his brother enough orange-crest could claim what had been promised.


    "You called him a frequenter of prostitutes in front of disciples! That''s not even true! And true or not, you all but spit in Sect Master Ren''s by face doing it in public. Your petty jealousy and crude speech shamed all the sect!"


    His brother''s answer was too quiet for orange-crest to hear at this distance.


    "And? What does that matter?" The unfamiliar voice thundered. "Ren Yuhan has no enmity with you, but he''ll crush you underfoot if you persist in this folly. You are in this position because you could not bend an inch, you will not improve it by compounding your inflexibility with slander."


    "Daoist Guarding Thunder, I appreciate your concern for my well-being." Orange-crest was close now, just a few feet away. He could hear his brother''s calm voice. "But it is the Sect Master''s right to punish me for any rules I have willfully violated, just as it is my right to speak my mind before my fellows."


    "Brother Scouring Medicine, this world does not run on rights and obligations. The emperor is distant and the patriarch deaf, laws are but the wills they lay down to help us live in harmony with each other. The Sect Master bends before the court, as we all bend before him. Because if we cannot bend, we will break each other."


    "If the Dao does not bend, neither should the Daoist." His brother''s tone was like the first winds of a harsh winter, a stark promise. "Out of respect for our long friendship, I will say this. Leave the matter alone. You will find only loss if you to involve yourself in it, however it ends."


    Orange-crest rocketed into the clearing like a monkey thrown through the sky by a daoist. Six pairs of eyes turned to track him as he scrambled to bleed off momentum before crashing into anything.


    "Welcome back, orange-hair." Daoist Enduring Oath rumbled.


    "Ek." Orange-crest chirped. There, tension shattered. Violence averted. Who said you had to speak a language to make a statement?


    "So, this is the beast?" Daoist Guarding Thunder asked, staring at the small monkey before him.


    Orange-crest sized up the interloper. His robe had the sheen of the healthiest of hair, a brilliant cloud-white. The man smelled slightly of lightning-blasted-air. His expression was stern, though not hostile. His form might not radiate barely contained violence, but the power within the thin man''s frame was evident even to the monkey''s eyes.


    He glanced up at his brother for a sign of how to proceed, but Scouring Medicine''s face was a placid mask.


    "Yes. Is beast." Orange-crest agreed amiably.


    "It speaks?"


    "It speaks!" Orange-crest echoed in mock surprise. All things spoke, men were just bad at listening. "Learn fast, learn good."


    "Do not mock me."


    Orange-crest did not mock him. Instead, the monkey ignored him, dragging over one of the unopened clay vessels.


    "You stole my cup." He told the new daoist. "Big wine my cup now."


    Daoist Guarding Thunder shot his saucer a look of disgust, then turned it upon Daoist Scouring Medicine.


    "I''ll allow it." Daoist Scouring Medicine said with a small smile.


    "I see its manners are little better than yours, Daoist Scouring Medicine. I hope that deficiency will not lead it to similar troubles."


    "Enough, brother." Daoist Enduring Oath said. "Your warning was delivered. This was to be a night of celebration for Li Hou''s breakthrough. Let us speak of happier matters."


    "Happy matters." Orange-crest agreed, tipping the jug backwards towards himself. He was disappointed to see that this jug was filled with rice wine, instead of a transparently superior fruit-based vintage. However, as he took a deep drag, the pleasant burning that slowly spread through his chest more than made up for this lack. He wondered why men insisted on eating and drinking so much of this rice-stuff. Perhaps it grew everywhere and required no effort at all to harvest?


    "Very well, Brother Enduring Oath. Let it not be said I lack the same manners I chastise Scouring Medicine for. I can see I am unwanted here. I will refrain from imposing upon you further. Stand tall in the wind if you must, but know I will take no pleasure in watching you fall."


    Daoist Guarding Thunder turned and extended a hand to the heavens, clear skies washed with the first hints of dusk''s colors. A bolt of lightning leapt to his hand, shrouding his form in brilliant white light. Secondary tongues of lightning leapt from him, then froze in mid-motion, before flickering into life again. With a blinding flash, the man vanished.


    "I want that." The stunned monkey muttered, rubbing his eyes. The spots wouldn''t go away, so he took another long drink. His head was starting to swim now. That must be good exercise, for a head. Maybe that was why his head was always tired in the morning after he drunk wine, his body got tired after a good swim. Wine was a lake for the brain?


    "Understandable." Daoist Scouring Medicine said. "It is one of his more useful talents. I believe its a sect manual, but it requires an affinity for lightning that you will probably need years to develop. Not to mention a great number of contribution points."


    "Contribution points?" The drunk monkey asked.


    Orange-crest sat back as his brother launched into an explanation of a system of barter and exchange more wrong-headed and convoluted than the monkey could have ever imagined. He took another deep drink. He needed it, to contemplate insane and wiggly thoughts like these.


    Maybe if he drunk more, it would make sense.

 Chapter 13

    "Euug." Orange-crest burp-groaned pitifully, too tired to even finish the noise.


    "Rise and shine Li Hou!" Brother Scouring Medicine said with hateful chipperness.


    "No."


    "Yes."


    "No." Orange-crest threw the robe over his head, burrowing deeper into it. His head felt like Daoist Enduring Oath had crept through a window and sat on it all night. Perhaps passed ass-wind too. His mouth was drier than than a summer wind. Every accursed glimmer of light that passed through the light blue robes he was bundled up in send a bolt of lightning-bright pain burrowing behind his eyes.


    "I warned you."


    "No. No warn."


    "This, my simian friend, is a hangover. It''s why the wise don''t try to drink a jug of wine the size of their body in half an hour."


    "Bad." The monkey croaked. "Fix me."


    "No, no I don''t believe I will. Not with medicine anyway."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine grabbed hold of the softly-moaning monkey dumpling and carried it off.


    "We''ll get some food and water in you in a moment. But first, I find there''s nothing quite like a quick dip when you''re hungover. Really gets the blood circulating."


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    "No wine." Orange-crest swore. "No more ever again."


    "You might be surprised to hear that while literally everyone says that after the first time they overindulge as much as you did, precious few of them keep that promise."


    The bleary eyed and rather damp monkey stared up at Daoist Scouring Medicine. He thought about disagreeing. No, it was not worth it. He could already see the trap, his brother had a long memory. He stuffed his traitorous mouth with a persimmon instead. Fruit had never made him feel like this, flesh or wine. It must be the rice''s fault. Clearly it was simply a bad plant. Perfidious and abjectly inferior.


    "You missed much of an excellent night for your gluttony. Daoist Enduring Oath and I spoke for hours after you passed out, until the dawn greeted us. He shared some tales of his adventures in the west that I hadn''t heard. How he met with the Lord of the Huai River, and saved one of the dragon''s young sons from demonic cultivators. I''d always wondered where he acquired that Bank-Breaking Step movement technique."


    "You are..." The monkey paused. No number of bads appended to each other was sufficient to express how mean his brother was being right now. "You are cruel man."


    "I''m still not convinced you know what that word means, but you''re not wrong. I suppose now is probably a good time to mention we have thirty False Samadhi Fire Pills to make this week."


    "Eh?"


    "Chop chop."


    "No chop chop." Orange-crest protested weakly. "Poor broken monkey no good for chop."


    "Yes chop chop. But, I suppose we can let you sleep a little more first."


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Three days. Daoist Scouring Medicine made him chop roots for three days.


    If orange-crest never chopped another root in his life, it would be too soon. It wasn''t even just roots either, though those were the worst. Every single one needed to be peeled, but take off too much, and Daoist Scouring Medicine would yell at you. Beetles needed grinding, seeds de-podding, and fruits de-seeding. His brother never used the entire ingredient in his formulae, only ever one or two very specific parts of it. Orange-crest didn''t understand why is brother insisted on dedicating his life to such drudgery. He understood the man''s explanations. The pills were valuable to Daoist Enduring Oath. He''d received something he couldn''t make himself in trade. Alchemy was interesting. An art of transformation and change, refining odd plants and crunchy bugs into little pill-pellets that contained miracles.


    It wasn''t that orange-crest objected to the doing of alchemy. It was that he knew as soon as his brother finished these pills, he would root through the dusty crevices of his mind and find different pills to make. No fun, no balance, only more pills. A pill-demon of the highest order.


    His brother spent so much time inside his cave. It was almost as if he did not realize he could exit its doors without a reason. Simply roam the mountain. Or, with his speed, roam the next mountain over. That was fine. It was his brother''s life. But he was trying to get orange-crest to do it too. Stay cooped up and only leave for ''reasons''. And that was not fine.


    Still, for today, the monkey allowed it. Because his brother had given him a shiny new reason he could trade for an excursion. There was a pit of apprehension in his stomach, at the thought of rejoining what his brother called the ''Beginner Quarterstaff Lessons''. His mind had grown by leaps and bounds, but he struggled to understand the behavior of the crowd of men. The lessons clearly had an order to them, they all leapt to the command of the boss, the man called Chang. Daoist Scouring Medicine had explained to him the concept of ''sparring''. It was a thing he knew well, save that it happened at the boss''s command. Even in his foulest moods big-butt would never have dreamed to dictate that strife occur at his whim. Monkeys fought when they fought, it was the purview of a boss to command that they cease, not that they begin.


    Looking back on his memories though, he could see there were other, deeper, currents beneath the speech of the young men. Many had spoken about him, wanted him as the victim of their violence. Lesson-Boss Chang clamped down upon excess, but incited lesser violence. Like he was a boss for war, instead of peace. On one hand, there was much orange-crest would need to learn to safely navigate the warlike crowd.


    But on the other hand, hitting things with sticks was fun. And if he played his tricks right, he might walk away with a stick of his own. And maybe even that beautiful blue belt.


    This time, his brother left him to walk the path to the clearing alone. He retraced his steps easily, even before his mind had been cultivated, space and distance had been a thing as clear to him as words were now. He knew countless paths upon Mount Yuelu, secret places and rarely travelled routes.


    "You again." Lesson-Boss Chang''s voice was an oddity. Unexpectedly high and clear, for a man as large as he.


    "Me again." Orange-crest agreed. "Daoist Scouring Medicine sent me for the Beginner''s Quarterstaff Lesson."


    The monkey watched as the man''s eyes widened. Men showed joy in odd ways, baring their teeth as if enraged, but their signs of fear and shock were quite familiar. Orange-crest bared his teeth as a happy man would. Good. He''d spent a long time going over that phrase in his mind, getting the curves of the language exactly right. Men liked their little words for filling in gaps to be just so. Very picky creatures, they were.


    "You can speak now."


    "I can better speak now."


    "Eh." Disciple Chang grunted. "Good for you. Grab a staff, find a spot, don''t make trouble."


    "I no make trouble. Daoist Scouring Medicine makes trouble."


    To orange-crest''s mild surprise, that statement drew a proper laugh from the dour man. Good. He looked like he needed a good laugh. Very angry-stiff.


    "Are you Daoist Chang?" The monkey asked, emboldened.


    "No. I am Disciple Chang De. You may call me teacher, or Disciple Chang."


    "Hmm. You look like daoist."


    Disciple Chang''s brow furrowed in puzzlement. Orange-crest decided to stop there. Quit while he was ahead. As he left to find a spot in the clearing, orange-crest internally congratulated himself. He was the best speaker. Even Angry Chang liked him. Maybe last time was an anomaly, like rain in late summer. Perhaps he would leave here with a dozen new brothers!


    Probably not blue-belt though. He wanted that belt, and theft was usually not a good foundation to build bonds upon. Unless you were quick-fingers, the most conniving of wenches. She could steal a monkey''s food today and earn their gratitude sharing her filched prize tomorrow.


    "The monkey''s back."


    "Really? I thought Brother Yang''s beating would have driven him off."


    "He probably doesn''t even comprehend that he lost. Disciple Chang should have punished him for that stunt with the rock."


    "That was Brother Yang''s mistake, expecting honor from a beast. His kindness was taken advantage of."


    "Yeah, well I''m not as good a person as Disciple Yang. I''ll beat it bloody this time, show the stupid thing it has no place on the Azure Mountain."


    Orange-crest scowled. He hadn''t even done anything yet!


    "Hah! You think you can beat it if it stood up to Brother Yang? It might be a monkey, but compared to Yang Wei you''re a pig."


    "Shut up. I''m a tiger compared to you. I''ll eat you alive once I''m finished knocking that monkey''s teeth to the ground."Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    The monkey turned to the trio of gossiping disciples.


    "You like tiger." He said to the fat young man who had threatened to knock his teeth out.


    "It can talk now?"


    "Smart enough to speak, too dumb to comprehend." The fat one laughed. "It''s just repeating what I said."


    "You like tiger." Orange-crest clarified. "Stupid. No friends. Smell bad."


    "You dare-"


    "Silence!" Disciple Chang roared. "We begin. Crane stance, second kata."


    Orange-crest did his best to follow along as the students began to move as one through a strange dance-like sequence. Every time he missed a step, some of the disciples would hoot mockingly at him, just quiet enough to avoid drawing Boss Chang over. Daoist Scouring Medicine had insisted they were supposed to be learning to fight, but orange-crest struggled to see how standing on one foot this often could possibly be tactically optimal. He did like the wide sweeping strikes aimed at feet though, he would have to incorporate those.


    "Two hundred push-ups!"


    Euch. Up-down, up-down. Push-ups were stupid. Slow and boring, but very easy. Well, easy for the monkey. The rude fat one seemed to be struggling greatly.


    "Push more good!" Orange-crest told him. "Fat man can do it!"


    "Shut your mouth, you fur-faced disgrace."


    "Rhino stance, first kata!" Disciple Chang shouted. "If you haven''t finished yet, add a hundred more!"


    Stab the innocent wind, a hundred times then a hundred again. Orange-crest liked this one much better. Solid footing, nicely mobile. Great for bopping tall men in the face.


    The afternoon continued much in this manner. Disciple Chang would run them through an series of moves. They would repeat them a hundred times. Then they would be assigned a boring and pointless exertion, like running around the edge of the glade for fifty laps, or pretending to sit down but standing up again instead three hundred times.


    And all the while, a running conversation continued among the disciples near orange-crest. To the monkey''s regret, he most definitely was not making friends. But he was learning a bunch of fun new words.


    "Eeek ek." The monkey jeered. "Tchuh, ooo aaah hooo."


    "Hah! It''s given up. On words!" The fat man choked out in between steps. Sweat poured down his face like a very sad waterfall.


    The fool! He fell right into Orange-crest''s trap!


    "Orange-hair learns man tongue in one week. You no speak monkey? Much simple, easy learn. Fat man must be stupid."


    "Monkey trash!"


    "Man trash!"


    A vein pulsed in Disciple Chang''s forehead.


    "If you have enough energy to speak, you''re not training hard enough! Leg raises! You''re not done until I say you''re done!"


    Much of the assembled disciples shot venomous looks at the feuding pair. The other two disciples made the prudent decision to back out of the conversation, less they draw the class''s ire.


    "Pig. Headed. Bastard." The fat disciple grunted out in between leg raises.


    "Yes-yes, give me more bad words to call you." Orange-crest said. Leg raises weren''t hard. All of these exercises were quite easy when one was small, with short limbs. Except running. Running had been difficult, but he''d made it through.


    "Enough! Pair off, exchange pointers. Disciple Wu, since you love the monkey so much, show it what you''ve been learning while it''s been off clutching its master''s thigh. If your exchange is insufficiently vigorous, you''ll be running all evening. If you lose, you''ll be running all evening."


    "Yes Disciple Chang!" Wu Yingjie slapped his chest, then gave a great shout. The prospect of trading pointers giving the large disciple his second wind.


    "Finally! I am Wu Yingjie, third son of the Northern Wu Clan! I shall show you how a real man fights!"


    "I am Li Hou?" Orange-crest introduced himself uncertainly. "Is man name. But I not real man. I hit you with stick now."


    The first time he''d exchanged pointers, the suddenness of the violence had taken orange-crest by surprise. This time, he was ready.


    Disciple Wu opened with a headlong charge, staff raised high to swing. The monkey dipped between his legs, twirling his staff to pop his ankle on the way out. The large man spun on his feet, bringing his staff overhead to smash the monkey.


    He never made it that far.


    "Urph." Wu Yingjie grunted. Two small coughs forced their way out of his throat. His face paled, as he struggled to breathe. Then he fell over, unconscious.


    Orange-crest retracted his staff. Rhino stance, second kata, third move. Lonely Horn Pierces the Heavens. Orange-crest had no idea what that meant, but it was a good move. A nice stable thrust with all his weight behind it. When used against someone nearly twice your height, it placed the blow perfectly at the crotch of your target.


    "Honorless dog!" Someone shouted.


    "What a disgrace."


    Men didn''t like being hit there either. Good to know. The monkey watched as the disciple''s friends carried him off the field, chattering with obvious worry.


    In the distance, Disciple Chang resolved that he would take missions instead of teaching a class next year. Human young masters were bad enough, he didn''t need simian ones too.


    "My trade pointer man broke. Who next?"


    Orange-crest found the rest of the sparring session pleasantly restful. After a short break while the first round of matches finished, he had a half a dozen matches with very cautious outer disciples. Some of them were strong, leaving his hands ringing when he parried their blows, but all of them were slower than him. And very concerned about leaving their man-grapes exposed. It resulted in some very cautious fights in which he danced around the slowly advancing men gently rapping their shins and knuckles while they kept their feet close, ready to swivel their hips and protect their grapes at a moment''s notice. Not a stance conducive to rapid charges or effective dodges. Even a monkey knew that. Now that a pecking order was properly established, orange-crest was sure the little-men would show him the proper respect a monkey of his surpassing stick-mastery was due.


    "What a monster."


    "I heard its in the third stage already. Apparently its master is feeding it all the pills he can''t sell in a fit of pique."


    "What a waste."


    "You''re talking nonsense! Its been here a week, there''s no way it could be in the third stage. Even great talents usually take a month to complete their third breakthrough."


    "What sort of sect is this, that men struggle while beasts are treated like princes?"


    "Don''t worry Disciple He, they treat some men like princes too. You were just born without talent or a silver spoon, how can you complain they treat you like what you are?"


    "Such cruelty! Your words are an arrow to my heart!" Disciple He joked. "But fear not, for my heart is broader than the horizon, stronger than a dragon, tougher than a xuanwu! It could bear ten thousand such arrows! I shall surpass your cutting tongue, then surpass the cruel monkey!"


    "Oh, I''d like to do a lot more to that monkey than just surpass it." Another disciple muttered with a dark look in his eyes. "Why, if I find it wandering about without its master, I might just teach it some valuable lessons about the order of the world."


    "Boys." One of the few women in the class muttered under her breath. "Not so different from the monkey."


    Orange-crest ignored the peanut gallery and turned to leave. Fun class. Strange men. Maybe he could do something similar with his brothers when he came home? It would be much more fun without the undercurrents of pride and grudge. Well, red-eyes might take some managing. But he wouldn''t even need to call upon big-butt or the king to restrain him now, orange-crest could probably do it all on his own!


    A shadow fell over the monkey. He turned around to see Disciple Chang''s formidable musculature looming over him, blocking out the sun.


    "Li Hou, what do you think you''re doing?"


    "Going cave. Daoist Scouring Medicine need more chop chop. Always more pill make. Pill now pill later."


    Disciple Chang''s eyes brow furrowed at that statement, but he refused to allow the monkey to distract him.


    "Put the staff back It''s sect property."


    Orange-crest stared at his instructor. There was no mercy in his eyes. There was little patience.


    He obeyed.


    As the monkey replaced the staff on the rack, he gave the beautiful off-white wood one last loving pat. One day, he mouthed. One day he would return to claim you.


    Out of the corner of his eye, orange-crest saw the blue-belted disciple watching him. The monkey''s eyes widened as he saw the man was making no move to put up his own stick, an even more impressive piece that shined darkly. Dark brown wood with two pieces of shining metal capping the ends, all polished to a liquid sheen. Why did he have all the best things? The monkey wracked his memory, searching for the small-man''s name. Yang something?


    "Why Disciple Yang keep stick?" The monkey asked.


    "Disciple Yang brought his own staff."


    "You want sticks. You big and strong. Why no take his? Is better than mine."


    Disciple Chang snorted. Such bluntness. The damnable beast might be a born troublemaker, but at least it learned and followed directions. He could see the covetous gleam in it''s eyes as it stared at the noble brat. He should probably dissuade it from whatever it was plotting. But then, Steel-Skinned Chang had never claimed to be a good teacher. One day, he would be a hero renowned throughout the empire and beyond. Teaching these idiots was just a stepping stone, a way to gather contribution points as he built his foundation. Would it be so wrong, to get a little entertainment out of them?


    "Men are not beasts." He finally answered, deciding to split the difference. "Our civilization is built upon honor and righteousness. I do not rule as a tyrant lest my seniors do the same to me."


    "Hmm."


    The monkey pretended to stroke its non-existent beard. Disciple Chang suppressed a laugh. Well, he''d done his duty. If it needed further direction, it could bother its owner.


    Orange-crest stared intently at Disciple Yang from across the yard. The young man met his gaze confidently and smiled in response. The young man had two things he wanted. But he was strong, with many brothers. More importantly, he was protected by the way of this place. Perhaps he could take from him with impunity in the wooded corners of the mountain, but not here, not before the many. Big Chang would sit on him again, or worse.


    Ideas began to percolate in the monkey''s mind, gathering inevitably as water was drawn to low places. Slowly, a plan formed, clear as a puddle in a hollow tree.


    Yang Wei watched the monkey as the monkey approached him, unarmed. He still wasn''t sure how he felt about his unfortunate bout with the creature. It''d been time enough the fury in him had faded. His mother''s medicine had sealed the cut on his face without even a trace of a scar. It was skilled, it''d given him a better fight than any of the other initiates. It handled a staff awkwardly, struggled with the length of it. But the way it adapted its footwork to handle the man sized weapon, had even given him a few ideas.


    Still, it was an honorless thing, striking an opponent that had shown it mercy and turned its back.


    "How dare it meet your eyes Brother Yang. Perhaps its simply too stupid to learn from the last beating you gave it."


    Yang Wei closed his eyes and sighed. Could these toads never shut up? Sycophantic initiates, even a few full disciples, they gathered about him like gadflies to a lantern. Drawn by a hope they might hitch their fortunes to his star. True, they were useful for running simple chores, delivering messages and bringing him food, but the racket they made was enough to drive a man to madness. It would be one thing, if the disciple who spoke was stronger than the monkey. But their unearned bravado, hiding behind his strength, was infuriating. His mother and brother had been quite insistent that he needed to tolerate them. It would not do to achieve a reputation as unapproachable or cold until he gathered enough men to his side that he could afford to be more particular about their quality.


    "What do you want?" He asked the monkey. Perhaps it was here to apologize? Certainly, it had grown an impressive amount in the intervening few days.


    "You like shiny rocks?"


    "Shiny rocks?"


    "Blue like water. Smell like fire. Shiny rocks."


    Yang Wei''s eyes widened.


    "Spirit stones. You strike me from behind, then stand before me and ask if I like spirit stones?"


    "Yes. You like spirit stones?"


    "I suppose, what man does not ''like spirit stones'', as you put it. Are you seeking to offer a gift in apology?"


    "Apology?" Orange-crest asked with exaggerated curiosity. Yang Wei was a tricksy one, continually trying to change the subject. The monkey wasn''t about to let him. This was his conversation, he''d made it. "What that, good eating?"


    "No, an apology is when one-"


    "Don''t care. Have spirit stones. You have good stick. Good belt. Want them. I have spirit stones. We do fight-trade?"


    Yang Wei held up a hand as Initiate Fu began to sputter with fury on his behalf. The annoying boy fell silent.


    "Fight-trade?" He asked. Was the monkey offering him a wager?


    "We fight. I win. I get your stuff."


    "And if I win, I get your spirit stones."


    "You no win." The beast clarified. "But yes."


    A wager with a monkey. Truly his brother had been speaking the truth, when he said that entering a sect would show him there were more things to see than he could have ever dreamed, betwixt heaven and earth.


    "One month." Yang Wei answered. "In one month, we will duel."


    That would give him plenty of time to break through to the second stage of qi condensation himself, and master the first stage of the techniques his uncle had left to him. The monkey might be a natural talent backed by considerable resources, but he would beat it the same way he beat out all his cousins for Uncle Shui''s mentorship. By working harder than any, until his legs trembled and his palms bled.


    Orange-crest smiled, then tilted his head.


    "What a month?"

 Chapter 14

    They gathered in the shadow of the Punishment Hall. One initiate, and three disciples. It seemed appropriate, given what they were discussing. The three-story complex had a long row of eaves along the south face. With the building''s stone foundation on one side, a dense wall of bamboo along the other, and an overhanging roof overhead, there was little way for the small group to be overheard. With one disciple facing each east and west, even a full daoist would have struggled to eavesdrop upon them without a specialized technique.


    A fifth man approached the furtive foursome. He flared his qi gently as he approached. Sixth stage of qi condensation, past the midpoint of the realm. A power that felt swift as air, sharp as the kiss of the lash. Stronger than any of the other disciples gathered by far. Perhaps even beyond their combined might, in such narrow confines where they would struggle to flank him.


    "This one is Outer Disciple Hao Luoyang." One of the disciples keeping watch greeted politely. "Might I know which senior I am speaking to?"


    "No." The man answered glibly.


    Disciple Hao''s expression grew cold.


    "What did it do to you?" He tried again.


    "Nothing." Their senior replied with a smirk.


    "Then why are you here?"


    "I heard it wagered spirit stones with one Yang Wei. They belong to one of you, I assume?"


    "I see. You''ll help us recover them. For a percentage."


    "A percentage? No, all of them. And whatever else it carries."


    The four young men exchanged glances. The initiate appeared to be considering the idea, but the three full disciples were united in certainty.


    "No." Disciple Hao firmly. Now that he knew their seniors purpose, he felt far more confident. This close to the punishment hall, none would dare make trouble.


    "Not a chance. We will reclaim our stones personally. If you''re not interested in vengeance, you can leave us to ours."


    "Doesn''t appear to have worked so well for you the first time. Are you certain you don''t want help from a kind senior?"


    "A man must settle his own grudges." Disciple Wu Yingjie said in a bold voice.


    "A man? Can you still claim such a title? I heard it all but shattered your jewels."


    "You dare-"


    "Peace, Brother Wu." Disciple Wang said, cutting the initiate off. Despite his failed breakthrough, he was still the most powerful of the four disciples. "We will manage on our own senior."


    The man snorted coldly.


    "Don''t come crying to me later. The price will be higher."


    He turned and left the way he came, whistling a jaunty tune.


    "I suppose that''s all we can expect then." Disciple Wang said. "Welcome, brothers. To the first meeting of the Monkey Coat Society."


    "Isn''t that name a little... Much?" Disciple Hao said. Sure, he hated the damn thing. He knew failed breakthroughs could have serious consequences, but Disciple Wang had only fallen half a realm. He seemed to have taken the whole matter far more personally. He was almost worried his fellow disciple actually aimed to skin the beast.


    "No. I think it''s exactly enough." Wu Yingjie said. "If it hadn''t been for the Medical Pavilion, I might never have sired children. And they took the cost of their care out of my allotment! Three spirit stones. Can you imagine?"


    Disciples Wang and Hao turned to stare at the heavyset man. This Wu Yingjie certainly had a valid grievance, but he was beginning to grate on their nerves. He had large mouth for an initiate, let alone one with no backing whose future was already in jeopardy. He quailed under their gazes, remembering they''d collectively lost more than twice that wealth to the monkey.


    "I rather meant it was a little ostentatious for four disciples loitering outside a building. And perhaps a little impolitic, if things get out of hand."


    "I''ll work with demons if it means that stupid thing get what''s coming to it." Wu Yingjie spat.


    "Don''t even joke about that. If Elder Asura''s Chains takes exception, you can kiss your spot in the sect goodbye. You''ll be lucky to keep your head."


    Wu Yingjie looked around.


    "There''s nobody here except us."


    "Initiates." Disciple Hao said with a shake of his head. "Always assume the elders can hear you. Especially standing in the shadow of their domain."


    "But, we''re talking about killing it?" Wu Yingjie said. "That''s what this whole thing is for."


    "No, you idiot, we''re talking about getting revenge for what it''s done to us. Beat it bloody. Force it to lead us to the stones it stole. Maybe shave it bald, cut off that orange hair its so proud of. We''re not here to kill it, but if the beast goes too far and we''re forced to match it? Well, can one really expect better from a wild animal?"


    "Ah, Senior Brother Hao is clever." Wu Yingjie crowed.


    "If you kill it when it can''t fight back, don''t expect me to cover for your foolishness. And don''t even think about calling me brother until either we avenge ourselves, or you make disciple. I wouldn''t even be speaking to you if you weren''t dedicated to the cause."


    "Yes senior!"


    "Better."


    "Disciple Hao. I appreciate all you''ve done helping me organize this. I''ve had to spend all my time stabilizing my cultivation after the backlash of my failed breakthrough." Disciple Wang said. "But who exactly is this? I thought we were trying to get Disciple Yang as our fourth?"


    The fourth man grunted, looking to Disciple Hao to speak.


    "He refused. Most emphatically." Disciple Hao said. "''Only cowards band together to seek vengeance'' he said. What a self-righteous cunt. And Disciple Ying is better besides, his skills complement ours perfectly." Disciple Hao crowed.


    "Hah! As if a young master like him has ever needed to seek vengeance personally in his life. I''m sure he just directed his family''s retainers to discipline anyone who insulted him."


    "Probably." Disciple Hao agreed. "But enough about the silk-pants. We''re here for the monkey. Disciple Ying was a hunter before he joined the sect. He cultivates the Black Arrow''s Path, and owes me a favor. He''s here to ensure it can''t escape us."


    "A technique?"


    "Anything he tags with an arrow, even a graze, he can track. Over stone and water if he must."If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Perfect." Disciple Wang said with a vicious grin. "I look forward to a fruitful hunt, Brother Ying."


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    "That is beyond unacceptable!" Elder Xun''s fist slammed down on the table. Despite his restraint, the building shook as of thunder had struck. "Are we a teahouse, to spread our legs for noble coin? How dare they seek to force two great sects to compete for their offspring!"


    Elder Lu leaned back in his chair placidly. This was a familiar routine for the two of them.


    "There is a saying, among the noble clans. The emperor can raise a family to nobility with a word, but not even he can create new land. Any grant of it can only come at the expense of someone else."


    "So what? True, the heavens do not make more land. They don''t make more dragon veins either."


    "The veins may not deplete or proliferate, but they do shift. The Azure Heart will not shine forever, not with us mining spirit stones from it. Be it in two hundred years or ten thousand, it''s light will eventually dim. Twenty thousand square li is a sizeable amount of territory."


    "Worthless grasslands, filled with more peasants to complain about spirit beasts and wandering ghosts." Elder Xun retorted.


    "By that logic, most of the empire is composed of worthless grasslands. But without them, the sect''s mountains would have no disciples to teach, or food to feed them. The peasants have their place, as do we."


    "Exactly." Elder Xun said with a smile. "All things have their place beneath the heavens, and this Cao Jiang oversteps his."


    "I do not disagree." Elder Lu conceded. "But his shamelessness doesn''t make the offer any less advantageous. That land is worthless now, but we do not need to think on the same timescales as the mortal fireflies. The parcel is situated to benefit from any shifts in the Roaring Vein. It''s far from the border, and therefore cheap to defend. It is large enough to be by any measure worth more than a few small concessions for a single disciple."


    "Enough." Sectmaster Ren Yuhan said in a quiet voice.


    The two elders fell silent. Elder Lu began to stroke his wispy white beard, as he waited for a decision. Elder Xun scowled, turning to the scarcely touched food that had been set out for the sect''s highest authorities.


    The Director of External Affairs had no doubt that whatever the new sect master decided, he would be dissatisfied with it. The man''s practical nature was well known. Still, he would abide by it. He had made his own bid for the seat and been soundly defeated. It would be decades before he grew enough to consider another attempt.


    "We will split the difference." The sect master continued. "He will be offered the allotment of an inner disciple, despite his mediocre talent. It will be rescinded if he does not achieve the rank in truth within a decade. But there will not be a whisper of the title before then, not from us or them. If that is not good enough for the Cao Family, let them send the boy to the Reaping Wind Sect."


    "Thank you, sect master. I am certain we will all see the wisdom of this decision a century from now." Elder Lu said.


    "You will make time to tutor the boy. I expect no complaints from his father. If he pays for an inner disciple, he will receive one. However hard the boy must be pushed."


    Elder Lu frowned.


    "My schedule is not so empty. The work of Internal Affairs never ceases."


    "Find the time. Or delegate, just see that it is done properly. If you want the benefits, you will deal with the responsibility." The sect master commanded in a dry voice. "I am not unsympathetic to Elder Xun''s complaints. If we are to bend our rules for profit, there cannot be room for scandal of any sort. Impropriety is inescapable in civilized society. The appearance of it, far more damning."


    Elder Xun snorted.


    "At this rate, the clans will be arranging marriages for us in a few decades."


    "I wouldn''t mind that." Elder Lu said with a laugh. "Some pretty young third daughter? It''s not something I would rule out, if it brought benefits to the sect."


    "Ah, spoken like a man who hasn''t been with a woman for a hundred years. It''s always one thing after another. They''ll expect you to visit every new year and birthday. Your wife will guilt you about her lacking lifespan, expecting you to assist her cultivation. And that''s to say nothing of the awkwardness of having a father in law half your age constantly asking for help at court."


    "Ever the short term view, Elder Xun. In a hundred years, her parents would likely be dead. The younger generation would find themselves deferring to their dear aunt and uncle, instead of the other way around. A few interruptions in my cultivation would be a small price to suborn one of the great clans."


    "Are you two quite finished?" The sect master asked. "The rising influence of the clans is the emperor''s problem. Ours is not the throne they cannot help but covet."


    "We are, Sect Master Ren. Internal Affairs has nothing more to report." Elder Lu leaned forward, steepling his hands. "Brother Xun?"


    "The front is quiet. Two outer disciples advanced in battle. One was crippled. The Ravens haven''t fielded a core formation cultivator in almost a year now. Their emissary continues to bluster about keeping the border where it is, but Daoist Thousand Eyes has reported that their internal struggles have reached a tipping point. We could probably take the entire vale in a week if we fielded a few elders of our own."


    "Leave it." The sect master ordered. "The emperor has communicated that actually taking the Thousand Poison Vale is not a priority at this time. Let it continue to serve to sharpen the younger generation. Extend my congratulations to Daoist Thousand Eyes when he next reports in. Tell him to prolong the succession struggle as long as is tenable. He will be allowed to take any single item from the first three floors of the Treasure Pavilion when he returns. If nothing is suitable, we will commission something from Daoist Enduring Oath."


    "I hear and obey." Elder Xun said, inclining his head. A pity. He''d hoped to to finally pass responsibility for that wretched place over to Internal Affairs. The White Raven Sect was responsible for far fewer of their losses than the horrifically dangerous wildlife.


    The sect master turned his attention to the rest of the table. Elders and daoists alike stiffened as his eyes passed over them. Sect Master Ren Yuhan did not have the most imposing stature. He was not tall, nor even especially handsome. His hairless chin and genial expression left his face looking far younger than his two hundred and fifty years. His spiritual cultivation was not advanced enough for his mere gaze to suppress the assembled pillars of the sect, merely at the second stage of core formation.


    But the way the veins beneath his jade-white skin shined with the same azure light that was the namesake of their sect; flashing in time with the slow beats of a heart as much crystal as it was flesh. That had a way of reminding his juniors why exactly his word was law on the Azure Mountain.


    That, and the saber propped up against the wall behind his chair. The saber that had carved a new ravine along the northern side of the mountain during his duel against Elder Xun seven years ago.


    "Is there anything else?" He asked mildly. This had already been a relatively short session, but he saw no reason to allow Elders Xun and Lu to pad it out further with their banter.


    "There is one other issue." Elder Weeping Lotus said.


    "Oh? What plagues the Medical Pavilion?"


    "It is our problem only in the indirect way that all of your messes inevitably become the Medical Pavilion''s problem." The stern woman answered. "Outer Disciple Wang Shui reported to the pavilion last week, suffering from a qi deviation following a failed breakthrough to the fourth stage. Two days ago, Initiate Wu Yingjie was carried in with a most grievous injury to his masculine treasure. These incidents had something in common. A certain monkey."


    Ren Yuhan leaned forward in his chair.


    "A careless outer disciple and an initiate? In what world does such a pair require my attention? It sounds like its doing us a favor, weeding out the weak. Just have a senior outer disciple kill the animal, if its truly necessary."


    Elder Weeping Lotus frowned.


    "That''s the problem. Its master is hiding behind the law, claiming its a disciple."


    "Elder Lu?" The Sect Master prompted. As amusing as the idea was, he did have cultivation to get back to. He''d only been Sect Master for a decade, and already he was looking forward covetously to the day he would be able to set the mantle aside and devote all his efforts to cultivation again. Truly, the patriarch had shown great wisdom in establishing sect master as a separate office, rather than keeping final authority for himself as many sects did.


    "You remember the Zhang incident? It''s Daoist Scouring Medicine throwing a tantrum. He''s picked up a monkey from somewhere and claimed its a disciple. By the letter of the law, he''s not wrong. There''s a carve out in imperial code explicitly granting spirit beasts the right to be claimed as disciples, a holdover from the heyday of the old Bai Clan. I have plans in motion to punish the master for his behavior, but my hands are tied dealing with the monkey. At least until it inevitably oversteps its bounds and actually breaks the rules. It is a wild animal after all, disciples account it as possessing the intelligence of a trained dog."


    "Punishment Hall has no grounds to intervene?"


    "That is correct." Elder Asura''s Chains said, not even opening his eyes. "Ignorant of the rules, it still keeps to them."


    "Very well. Handle it quickly and cleanly, Elder Lu." Sect Master Ren said. "I am disappointed this matter rose to the point of reaching my ears. This of all years, we have no room for distractions or scandal."


    "It''s true then?" Elder Xun asked, turning away from his food.


    "Yes, it''s true. My contacts in court say if anything, the rumors understate the matter. The Seventh Prince has the pattern of a dragon and the bearing of a phoenix. The greatest cultivation talent the imperial family has produced in generations. Filial and wise for his age as well, one of the emperor''s personal favorites despite his mother''s lacking status. A clear candidate for succession. A grand tour has already been scheduled. And his affinity is a perfect match for us, among all the great sects."


    "It would be a great honor, to teach a future emperor." Elder Weeping Lotus said.


    "That title is in the hands of fate. But even as an archduke, I have no doubt he will remember his teachers. I will handle the court and his mother''s clan. All of you simply need to ensure that his time at the Azure Mountain makes it clear what the correct choice of sect is."

 Chapter 15

    Orange-crest was having a free day. It was an odd concept, one that had taken Brother Scouring Medicine several tries to explain to the monkey. It''d been a struggle for him to imagine having a day that was not free. What unfortunate creatures men were, dominated so utterly by their betters and peers. Even the lowliest creature upon Mount Yuelu lived free.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine seemed to think he dictated orange-crest''s schedule. Orange-crest didn''t feel the need to disabuse him of this notion quite yet. His brother was a hard taskmaster, but orange-crest never lacked for new things to learn while under his tutelage. The moment he got comfortable or bored, his brother would throw new words or tasks at him. A dozen ways of chopping and mashing. wonderous implements worked from stone and bough. Strange liquids used to draw out essences or preserve.


    It was a great bounty of information, some of which even seemed useful. Orange-crest had a great many ideas for new sorts of wine, but his brother refused to let him use the contents of alchemy drawers freely. He claimed their contents were ''expensive'', which was some strange concept men made up to justify not using the nice things they had. From Scouring Medicine''s descriptions, the monkey was pretty sure the wiggly worm-root thing he''d found had been ''expensive'', but if he''d never eaten it, what good would it have been?


    What had followed was yet another lecture on man''s mad conception of value and exchange.


    Truth be told, the orange-crest did not entirely believe his brother, when he claimed some men spent all of their waking hours chasing after the necessities of existence. Food was simply not that hard to acquire. How bad at foraging could men be, to never once have an hour free from hunting for food or sleeping? Only in the very coldest seasons would one be forced to subsist upon bark, evergreen needles, and sleep. Otherwise, there were always worms beneath the rocks, fruits upon the trees. All one needed to stay warm was their brothers and sisters close at hand, and a place sheltered from the biting wind. Food, warmth, sleep. What more could one need?


    The monkey shook such dark thoughts from his head. The day was too beautiful to waste it pondering, he could think perfectly well while peeling and chopping things. There would be no shortage of that to do when he returned.


    What, exactly, did he want? He had enough wine fermenting that he felt no need to yet set more batches into motion. He''d need to drink those first, to know if these clay jugs and yellow flakes his brother called ''yeast'' were worth anything compared to good wood and green worms. It was a pity that wine making was such a slow art.


    His brother provided all the food he could wish for, but even his pantry did not span all the mountains and waters beneath the heavens. The thought lodged in his head. Waters. Orange-crest wanted fish! His brother had many succulent victuals, but no fat carps or toothsome river-worms.


    Plan made. Orange-crest set off, nose to the sky for the tell-tale smell of running water. Near Daoist Scouring Medicine''s home, he found a small spring. He followed it''s outflow, watched as it joined with more small fingers of water into a stream worth the name. That stream terminated in a great pool twenty monkeys wide, a bowl of water so clear it shamed all his brother''s treasured glassware.


    Orange-crest watched the mouth-watering carp flit about in the water, taunting him. So close, but always so quick. The monkeys of Mount Yuelu did not fish often. It was hard work, fish were twice as slippery as any worm and a hundred times quicker. But during the early winters, after the fruits were gone, but before the ice came thick and sealed away the ponds, they were a good food.


    "Pwuh." The monkey said suddenly.


    He didn''t want fish. Well, he did want fish. But what he really wanted was to fish with red-eyes and quick-fingers. He never fished alone. They were far better fish-catchers, he found them many small-foods that fish liked, to draw them close.


    But orange-crest did not think men would fish with him. Maybe his brother, but likely no. Too picky. Too pill-demon. Perhaps big-shiny would go fish with him? Daoist Enduring Oath seemed more normal than his brother. Better fit to the world. His brother could never stop bending the world to the shape he wanted and appreciate it as it was.


    The monkey got up, and grabbed a piece of bamboo. Too much thinking. It neither caught fish or found answers. Orange-crest rubbed the end of his stick against a rock, trying to fashion a makeshift spear. Brother Scouring Medicine had shown him many interesting things these last few days, from the weapons of man, to techniques for the sharpening of knives. Unfortunately, grinding the end of the bamboo against a rock didn''t make it sharp like he''d hoped. Oh well, it was still a good stick.


    He circled the edge of the pool, looking for the perfect place. A big flat rock, near water-grasses, where the sun cast his shadow not forward, but backwards. Not-totally-blunt stick in hand, he waited. ''Rhino Eats Fish'' he dubbed the stance, a fearsome new monkey art.


    Stab. Miss.


    Stab. Touch the carp, but it slips away.


    Orange-crest relaxes, waits. They''re wary now, but carps are not creatures of long memories. His stick is not sharp, nor does it have fingers. He must pin the fish against a rock, not just graze it. He needs a particular carp, orange and fat. Big enough his stick will find purchase against its bulk, squish it against a rock until it cannot zip away.


    As the orange-crest waits, he composes a poem. Another strange concept, poems. It seems men use their good words like they do their good ingredients, but rarely. ''Not cultured'', his brother said. Orange-crest would show him cultured, whatever that was. The true-tongue and the words of man mingle freely as he mouths them quietly, tasting their fitness for their places.


    A combination of words only orange-crest, or perhaps a King, might understand. But a rhythm any with ears could tell was pleasing.


    Monkey fishes alone.


    Wet feet. Empty hand.


    Soft grass, not-flat.


    Belly full. Brothers far.


    There. Very sad. As if listening, his quarry had drawn close. The monkey waited, patient as stone. The carp dipped forward, into shadow. The fishing rhino-monkey struck, goring it with his stave. Crushing as much as stabbing, trapping the fish between two different deaths. It thrashed, then stilled.


    The monkey fished the carp from water. Blech, he''d gotten the bad bits all over the good parts. Oh well, it was all fish. Juicy-wet, savory-fleshed, the most fruit-like of meats. He bit into it with relish, tearing at the pale flesh. It tasted like home. There was nothing wrong with persimmons and sausages and rice. But carp and worms and plums just tasted like home, and he missed them.


    Orange-crest stilled. It was quiet. Too quiet. The grim stillness of ambush. He grabbed his poor-weak bamboo spear, slowly turning. The turning was a lie. He listened with his ears, not his eyes, waiting to move.


    He completed a rotation, seeing nothing. The monkey relaxed.


    "You sing of loneliness, yet you do not intend to share?"


    The voice came from behind him, a series of yips and chuffs in the elegant patterns of the true tongue. Orange-crest turned, then looked down. A small white fox, like a puff of snow given life. A creature of brilliant achromatic contrast. Teeth as white as it''s coat, gums and paws like pitch. It''s eyes were the sole hint of color it bore, opalescent orbs that shimmered like a lake beneath the sunset. Deep blues one moment, the golden fur of a newborn monkey the next, then the deep crimson of a heart''s lifeblood in the third.


    "You hunger?" The monkey asked politely. Within his chest, his heart trembled with excitement. Men were all well and good, and a fox was no monkey, but she was a Speaker! That was almost as good as one of his brothers.


    "No. But your catch smells good."


    Orange-crest threw what remained of the fish to her, before taking up his perch once more. His heart beat faster. Too fast for good fishing. He tried for another carp, but they were wary now, and his mind was not in the labor. He''d seen no monkeys upon the Azure Mountain. No birds that spoke the true tongue even. He had many questions, but he waited for the fox to delicately pick at his fish.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    "This formless-gleam thanks you, other-kind potential-friend."


    "Orange-crest is monkey." It was wonderful to speak the true tongue again. There was an elegance to it the speech of man lacked. A directness and honesty to it.


    "Formless-gleam odd name. Your coat gleams, but you have form."


    "Ah, do monkeys name themselves for what they are then?"


    "No. All monkeys make name. But yes. What else could we be named but what we are?"


    "Foxes are clever creatures. Sometimes too clever for our own benefit. Our mother had many daughters. She gave us names for what she hoped we could become. What we should covet."


    "Were the good names all taken?" Orange-crest asked, thoroughly confused. He''d never met a fox that spoke before, let alone whose command of the true tongue was greater than his own. He wondered what the King would make of her.


    "I suppose you could say that." Formless-gleam said, batting at the dead carp with a single dainty paw. She turned it over, looking for more good meat.


    "I eat guts if you no eat."


    Formless-gleam delicately shoved the half-eaten fish back toward the monkey.


    "Yum." He said, gnawing at the carp guts. "Worst part. Still good."


    "I was most surprised, to meet another Speaker upon the Azure Mountain. How do you keep safe from the sect? Do they not hunt you?"


    Orange-crest frowned.


    "Is easy. Just have man name. Be disciple."


    "Brother..." Orange-crest frowned. Translation was hard. He shifted to the tongue of men for his brother''s name. "Daoist Scouring Medicine is teach-protect-feed. Not boss or King."


    "How lucky you are, to have a tongue that can ape their words."


    "Yes." Orange-crest agreed. "Is easy. Men give much food when know right words."


    "How lucky you are." She repeated.


    Orange-crest considered the matter.


    "Maybe. Brother disdains rest. Makes monkey do much... Chop chop. No fun. Food good though."


    "Awp-awp?" Formless-gleam barked, struggling to make the man sounds.


    "Chop-chop. Is when you take not-food plants and make smaller with sharp-gleam-rock. Brother makes miracle-medicine-pellets from many plants."


    "I see. An alchemist."


    Orange-crest carefully hid his surprise. To know such an idea in the true tongue marked her as no common fox. That was a sound only the King might have known upon Mount Yuelu. No common fox indeed.


    "Why mountain so quiet?" He asked instead.


    "Why do you ask me what you already know? Lying ill-befits a Speaker."


    "No know. Only worry. Men."


    "Yes, men. They do not share. Not peace nor place, neither power nor dominion."


    "Not all hairless ones bad. Just many-most."


    "Not all tigers bad." Formless-gleam countered.


    "Very fair. But met good man. Two even! Never met good tiger."


    "Funny." The fox chuffed. Then she snarled, venom filling her eyes and words. "I can say the opposite. Men are just better at hiding their darkness than tigers. Everything in this world has a place they say. Do you know what they think ours is? They make false-skins out of us. Not out of winter-fear, but because we are soft. They covet our dead flesh because it is inconvenient to them that we hunger or shit, exist beyond serving as their adornments. So they cut out the part that lives, and wear our corpses."


    Orange-crest shrugged. He was under no illusions men were dangerous. Violent. It was the whys and how of their violence that intrigued and terrified him.


    "In deepest winter, monkey eat fox if catch. Rare meat. Sneaky-slippery, must catch in pack. Long-wait ambush. Drag down and smash. But will eat."


    The monkey looked to the fox, then up at the sky. She met his gaze without fear, an easy confidence in her eyes. Curious to see where he was going with this, but confident he would not, or could not, harm her. Orange-crest was a small monkey, but he was easily thrice the foxes size. Perhaps four times it. No common fox indeed.


    "Not winter now." He continued. "Full belly. Watch clouds?"


    "Watch clouds." Formless-gleam agreed. "Clouds good. Like memory of siblings."


    Orange-crest wondered if his brothers could see the same clouds from here.


    -------------------------------------------------------------------------


    "I''m looking for a place." Formless-gleam said suddenly. The two of them had watched the clouds for a long time, but now the sky was empty and dull. "A deep-cold cave, where the earth is close, and the sky is far. One the men visit at times, but do not inhabit."


    "You cultivate?" Orange-crest asked. He proudly watched the surprise flash across formless-gleam''s face. Cultivate had been such a hard word to find in the true tongue, especially without another speaker to mind-spar-refine with.


    "You know what cultivation is?"


    "Am wise monkey. Know many things." Orange-crest boasted.


    "You know what the cave is, but do you know it''s location?"


    "I know a good cave. Deep-cold. Men sometimes, but less men-presence than the great-deep-worm-burrow cave." It was frustrating, that men did not speak the true tongue. There were so many man words he wished to use but could not translate. Fathomless Well. Abyssal Yin. Still, the fox clearly understood his meaning.


    "I would owe you two debts, if you showed it to me."


    "No debts. Debts man things. Get enough man-trade-nonsense from brother."


    "When on man''s mountain, do as man." The fox retorted.


    "No." Orange-crest insisted. "Always do as monkey. Objectively superior mode of existence."


    "I see why men find monkeys so appealing. You are the most like them, of all beasts."


    "Am monkey. No care if like men. Not man."


    Formless-gleam followed the monkey as he navigated back towards the cave he''d found the two disciples in a few days ago. Orange-crest was fairly certain it was what she was looking for. He hoped the fox would become a friend. She was very knowledgeable, yet she did not treat him like a subject as Daoist Scouring Medicine did. It would be nice to have a friend or sister that was non-monkey, who did not boss him around. But he was not blind. The fox hated men, and wanted him to hate them too. And she was more than a mere Speaker, perhaps even a sort of fox-daoist. Clearly not a King, but far more than just a fox.


    But, if men truly kept the mountain barren of Speakers and monkeys alike, he had few choices of companion here. If they must share territory, better to have peace than strife.


    And he cared little for the secret of the cave. His brother clearly knew many caves, he would take him to another if wanted the orange-crest to do another cultivation. He''d gathered that men coveted and fought over access to the cold caves, but that seemed misguided to orange-crest. It''d only taken a few hours to do his last cultivation. Spending all your time to protect a cave you only rarely needed was silly. There was an asymmetry to it that made it foolish. A man might spend all his hours guarding one cave, but a monkey needed only a short period of access to any cave on the mountain. It was clearly better to be the attacker than the guarder.


    "Here. Is cave." He said, after they walked for the better part of an hour.


    The cave was much the same as he''d left it. Tucked away in a dense copse of trees where the cliff bent back into itself, it was difficult indeed to see from the path. Only when one approached, wending their way through the densely packed spruce and fir, could one feel the wisps of musty frost emanating from the thin crack in the cliffside.


    Formless-gleam shivered.


    "Promising. Perhaps you are indeed a wise-monkey."


    "No. Was lying. But do know many things. Remind show wine sometime."


    "Wine?"


    "Is good. Best secret."


    "Very well. Still, I cannot accept such favors from you without repaying them. Allow me a moment to inspect the cave to see if it is suitable for my cultivation. If it is, I will bestow a boon upon you in turn."


    Orange-crest watched as the little fox leapt through the crack in the cliff, floating through the air like a puff of snow driven by the wind. He remained outside. The cold caves were simply not comfortable.


    He found a sunny spot to rest, returning to watching the clouds. It was such a rare luxury, to be able to watch the clouds blow by this close to the cold season. It left orange-crest in a pensive mood. He wondered what the future would hold. It was the first time in his life it''d ever seemed like a relevant question, that his life might be different in some way the next year. On Mount Yuelu, there was but better or worse. Years of plenty and leanness, more peace or more strife. But now, the future seemed bigger than the horizon. This mountain or that one? That one choice alone would mean two completely different lives. And Brother Scouring Medicine had implied there were far more than two mountains. And that there were other choices, choices more numerous than the mountains.


    The thought of so many places and lives made Orange-crest sleepy. Formless-gleam was taking a while. He had almost dozed off, when he heard it. The silence. The monkey rolled without thinking. The screamed as a lance of white-hot pain carved a furrow into his back. The blinding heat faded in the next moment, replaced by the slowly spreading warmth of blood seeping into fur.


    "Got him."


    "Run." A voice whispered in his ear.


    Orange-crest hadn''t needed to be told once, he was already in motion. He bared his teeth, snarling scare off the pain.


    "You made your worst mistake here." A voice said, distantly familiar. "And it seems today you''ve made your last one too."


    Despite his better senses, orange-crest looked backward as he ran. Two men stalked towards him, emerging from the dense woods. With every step he took, the monkey drew farther away, yet they seemed unhurried in their chase. One of them held a stick bent in a strange, ineffective looking, shape, curved like the shifting-moon. His eyes tracked orange-crest with detached precision, taking in his every movement like a monkey watching distant birds.


    It was the other man though, the distantly familiar one, that made orange-crest''s blood run cold. His face feigned mirth, even as murder bloomed in his eyes.


    "Want to be a man so badly little monkey?" He said with hollow glee. "Then let me show you what it means to take responsibility for your actions. You''ll have run out of bones to break, by the time I''m through with you."


    Orange-crest ran, galloping on all fours directly towards the densest of the underbrush. Even as his blood dripped down his back and the cold fingers of fear reached for his heart, part of him rejoiced. The doubts that clung to him, making him second guess every interaction he had with the hairless ones, they all evaporated like mist before the morning sun.


    The quarry might be a terrible role to play, but it was one he knew.

 Chapter 16

    Orange-crest burst out from the underbrush, only to see a massive form bearing down again.


    "Got you, you damn pest!" Wu Yingjie shouted, arms coming together.


    He did not get orange-crest. The monkey dove through the lumbering man''s legs again, turning on a hair to dive off the path again. The fat boy really should learn to keep his hips and knees more mobile.


    "Down." The voice was impossibly close, the tones of the true tongue breathless.


    Orange-crest obeyed on instinct, another impossibly fast projectile narrowly missing his head as he sprawled flat mid-dash. He tumbled, then scrambled, reaching the cover of vegetation before another could be sent for him.


    "Society, on me!" The disciple with murderous eyes roared, his voice loud and clear. "It''s veering north!"


    "If only we had some dogs, then this would be a proper hunt!" Another shouted in answer.


    Orange-crest kept running. His chest was getting tight, his breaths reduced to shallow panting. He was faster than these men, at least within the denser forest. But they circled around him, steadily jogging along the mountain trails. He could hear their shouted coordination, but the moment he turned, they knew. He''d dropped his makeshift bamboo stave in his rush, unable to keep hold of it in the tight undergrowth.


    "Damnable archers." Formless-gleam hissed in his ear. "The lowest form of scum, they who dedicate their lives to ending ours. I thought you said they tolerated your presence!"


    "They do!" Orange-crest insisted breathlessly. "Need escape. Find brother. Will drive off."


    "Can you? Escape?"


    Orange-crest didn''t answer. Speech was breath wasted. He didn''t know how the small fox was doing this, keeping up with him and out of sight at once, and still somehow speaking. But he''d long since accepted there were more secrets in the world than he could grasp.


    "It''s doubling back! Cut it off Hao!"


    A man with eyes like steel and a blade dangling from a cord bared his way. Orange-crest turned, sprinting. The man gently loped along in his wake, letting out a single mocking laugh as he set his weapon twirling.


    Orange-crest slipped back into the underbrush. He''d been running at full tilt for so long, yet he hadn''t made any distance.


    "Disciple Ying, stay here and place yourself between the bastard and it''s master''s home. Don''t let it pass you by!"


    Orange-crest made yet another turn.


    "Not that way!"


    He barely managed to throw himself out of the way, before the bolt of wood struck his head. The monkey flinched as it lodged itself in a nearby tree, vibrating ominously.


    "I can only fire so many Black Arrows in a day, Disciple Wu." The dead-eyed man said. "Flush it out."


    "Understood! I''m coming little monkey! Coming to make a coat out of you! Hao, hold the perimeter. Wu, don''t get in my way!"


    Orange-crest pushed deeper into the underbrush. If he couldn''t escape, perhaps he could hide? They knew where he went, but not exactly. His brother would come for him eventually, if he could just hold out long enough. He could hide, then run, then hide again.


    It was a bad plan, but it was a plan. He found a tree with a good canopy, and clumsily charged up it.


    "It rose in elevation, then stopped. Check trees! Its about half a li from my voice, south by southeast!"


    "Which way is that?"


    "Look at the sun, you idiot! Useless initiate!"


    That last shout came from dangerously close to orange-crest''s tree. He cast his eyes about, looking for tree-paths. He was so tired already. Monkeys were not built for long chases.


    "Do you trust me?" Formless-gleam''s disembodied voice asked.


    Orange-crest thought about it. Trust was a heavy thing. The fox had spoken many sweet words to him, but it was only he who had given freely.


    "No." He answered honestly.


    "Rude monkey!" The fox cried without venom. "Well, listen well all the same. This pack of men is stronger than either of us. But there''s someone here stronger than him. A bear. No Speaker like us, but hot of blood and sharp of tooth. He looks to feast before bedding down for the winter. Follow the stream and veer left at the place it splits in three. Run the path and I will shield you from her eyes, let the men fight with her instead!"


    Well, it was better than his plan.


    "Stream?" He asked.


    He was answered not with words, but by light. At the edge of his sight, a thin rivulet of water flashed like liquid moonlight.


    "Ah. Formless-gleam. Monkey sees now."


    "That''s not... Forget it. Run!"


    Silly fox, always telling orange-crest to do what he was already doing.


    "Oh no you don''t! Flea-faced bastard!" Disciple Wang roared. "Hao, follow my voice!"


    As seconds passed, the rhythmic sound of heavy footsteps drew closer and closer.


    Then the footfalls stopped. Orange-crest threw himself to the left, memories of a tiger''s leap playing behind his eyes.


    Scarcely half a dozen monkey-lengths away, Disciple Wang crashed into a tree with the force of a raging bull. He landed feet first, the gnarled old pine first bending, then snapping.


    "I''ll crush you into dust! You hear me, you creepy little mute?"


    Orange-crest didn''t know what to say. He understood they might have grudges against him, but he knew no words that could calm their hate-filled hearts.


    So he went in the opposite direction. After all, it wasn''t as if man could get so angry they killed you twice.


    "Stupid trash bastard man! Ugly coward afraid of little monkey!"


    The resulting roar suggested he was doing something right.


    "I''ll kill you! Ruin my advancement? I''ll shatter your dantian!"


    There. The place the thin stream split into three. Orange-crest turned.


    "Twelve hundred paces perhaps. Hold on!" Formless-gleam whispered.


    Twelve hundred! That was way too far! Didn''t the damn fox know he''d ready been running for half of a man''s hour?


    Orange-crest didn''t want to be ungrateful, but it felt rather unfair he was the only one being chased. He added a fourth item to his list of coveted things, the fox''s strange art of hiding. He wanted that!


    "Keep going! I will shield you."


    Something cold and sharp whistled to the side of the charging monkey.


    Another titanic crash shook the earth.


    Orange-crest kept running. His world narrowed to the rhythm of hands and feet against the stony soil. He found himself entering a valley, sheer cliffs rose up at his sides, boxing him in. Doom, or salvation. If that damn fox got him killed, he would kill her back.


    "You could have avoided all of this, if you weren''t too stupid to know your place." Disciple Wang said with glee, his headlong dash slowing to a jog. There was nowhere to run, now. "It''s not too late to surrender, accept your beating. Prove me wrong, take your punishment like a man. I promise I''ll let you walk away from the sect with your life."


    "Keep going!" Formless-gleam whispered in his ear. "Pass at full speed, then you can rest. You''re almost there."


    Orange-crest almost missed it.


    The cave was low to the ground. It''s top barely reached above a grown monkey''s head. Yet its mouth was wide and deep, half concealed by a hillock in front of it. A deep rumble emanated from it as orange-crest zoomed by.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Orange-crest staggered to a stop, barely resisting the urge to collapse to the ground. His limbs shook from exertion even after they''d ceased moving. His breaths tasted like blood. How did men do it? Running for long distances was terrible!


    A growl like the grinding of mountains set his fur on end. Orange-crest rolled over, despite his exhaustion.


    "No! It''s mine, you stupid beast!"


    "Disciple Wang! Get back!" The distant archer shouted.


    To his shock, orange-crest saw another monkey at the bear''s feet. No, not another monkey. His brother''s green jade band was on its arm too. It''s flaming crown of fur unmistakably his. Another orange-crest.


    The bear formless-gleam had led him too was a colossus. It drew itself up to its full height, towering over the small glen outside it''s cave like a mountain of burnt amber. How had such a thing even fit through that opening? A marking adorned it''s chest, a brighter spot reminiscent of a rising sun. A distant, detached, part of orange-crest noted that its eyes were rather small, for an animal so gigantic. It dwarfed even a male tiger with its sheer bulk, its paws each large enough to encircle a young monkey''s chest.


    The beast leaned forward, and one of those massive hands came down upon the monkey lying at its feet. The false orange-crest shuddered as the hand passed through it, then faded away. The colors that made it up dispersed to mist, each travelling their own way through the empty air.


    "An illusion art! How?" Disciple Wang cried. "Ying! Where is he!"


    No words answered him. Instead, another arrow arced out from the entrance of the valley. Orange-crest rolled, dodging the missile. As he took cover behind a tree, he felt something around him shatter the same way the false-orange-crest had. Another spell of deception? Perhaps he''d been too harsh in his judgement of the fox''s lack of contribution.


    "This is all I can do." Formless-gleam''s voice was strained. "Don''t die. We''ll meet again, in a safer place."


    "Get him!"


    "Wang! We have bigger problems!"


    The bear roared. Orange-crest had seen bears before. Terrifying predators, but ones that rarely roused themselves to wrath. They preferred fish and fruit to monkey-flesh. When they did war, it was more often against tigers or bees than his own kind. Still, orange-crest had heard them roar before. In battles over mates or territory. This sound was not that.


    This sound pressed down on orange-crest like a blanket of hatred. It was so loud it was felt more than heard. It shook his weary bones and squeezed at his eyes like deep water.


    "Spirit Beast!"


    "We can''t fight that!" Wu Yingjie cried, stumbling onto the scene. His fleshy face was red from exertion, covered in sweat. "Run!"


    "No! Just drive it off! We have the monkey cornered! Hao! Ying! With me!"


    The small mountain glen descended into a madness of blood and rage. As Disciple Wu wisely cowered, the two disciples from the cold cave charged at the bear. The mighty beast hesitated, indecisive in the face of so many intruders in its home. The two charging disciples were closest. Almost carelessly, it swung for them in a clumsy slap. Disciple Hao dove to the side, rope-dart spinning as he rose. Disciple Wang braced, arms raised to take the blow.


    "Such power!" He grunted.


    "Brother Wang!"


    Dust and pebbles flew as Disciple Wang skittered backward, nearly driven airborne by the weight of the blow. Bloody poured down his right arm where claws bigger than a tiger''s teeth had torn deeply into the meat of his arm.


    "Get back!" Disciple Hao shouted at him. "It must be close to foundation establishment. We can''t take that, not even together."


    Orange-crest took advantage of the distraction to move to better cover. He needed to loop back around, pass out of the narrow valley without getting caught up in the fight or shot dead by that archer.


    "Wu! Ying! Grab the monkey!" Disciple Wang commanded even as he slowly backed away, cradling his ruined arm. The bear''s head swiveled to track him, eyes still bleary with sleep pondering if it was worth swatting the annoying man-fly.


    It was, the bear decided. The man would not shut up.


    Disciple Hao''s rope dart found it''s snout as it stepped forward. The bear yelped with pain as blood began to pour from its nose.


    "Ignore the monkey! You can''t take vengeance if you''re dead!" He shouted. "Ying, give it everything you''ve got left!"


    Arrows rained down, a steady rain that would have brought death to any lesser creature. Orange-crest watched in awe as the three disciples strove with a beast that even big-butt would have had no hope against. If it had come for his pack, they would have had no choice but to cry for the King''s aid. The great bear was terrible, but it would have been nothing before the Monkey King. The King would have chastised it with a laugh, thrown it against the walls of the valley with a single hand.


    These disciples had not the King''s might, but they instead brought to bear their strange weapons with courage and unity. Disciple Wang suppressed a scream, as he blocked yet another killing blow. His bloodstained flesh twisted, taking on the texture of stone. His fellows moved to punish it, the wide arcs of the rope dart and steady stream of arrows staining dark fur with a hundred small wounds. For a moment, orange-crest wondered if the men could prevail over even such a monster.


    "Initiate Wu! Stop being a useless tub of lard and grab the monkey!" Disciple Wang shouted, stumbling backward in a desperate attempt to gain distance between blows.


    Then the bear roared a second time, and the valley descended into hell. The bear''s cry shattered the air, a blood-mad song of wrath and ruin. Sourceless flames emanated from its maw, leaked from every small wound. Flames flickering in its beady black eyes, it charged towards Disciple Wang.


    Orange-crest took the opportunity to bolt. In the burning madness, none of the men saw the small flash of orange creeping around the edge of the valley.


    "What in the ten thousand hells is that?" Disciple Hao screeched.


    "A Sun-Swallower?" Disciple Ying mused calmly. Times like these were wonderful reminders of why exactly he favored the bow. Repaying his debt to Disciple Hao would have gone from troublesome to life-threatening if he''d been an spearmaster or swordsman.


    "Who cares! Run!"


    "Not without the monkey!" Disciple Wang said, staring down the flaming bear as it barreled toward him. "Find him-"


    His words cut off, as he threw himself to the side. The flaming bear rushed past where he''d been standing, trampling a patch of trees into mulch. With every motion, small embers rained from its underside, steaming in the damp grass. Already small flames were taking root in the bear''s path, overcoming the cool and dampness of the early autumn.


    Disciple Hao''s blade danced like a winter storm, mercilessly slicing into the bear. Frost gathered anew with every pass, vanishing into steam as it struck. But the edge of the cord the blade rested upon was already beginning to blacken from the heat.


    "We need to get out of here now!"


    Orange-crest could not have agreed more. He abandoned stealth, galloping headlong for the mouth of the glen.


    "I see it!" Wu Yingjie shouted. He stepped in front of the monkey. This time, his knees were braced correctly, ready to turn inwards and block the space between his legs at a moment''s need. His long arms and great bulk spread far to either side, making him a most formidable obstacle.


    Orange-crest went up instead. Paws found purchase on the fat initiate''s robe, as orange-crest scrambled up his body. Wu Yingjie''s lumbering arms closed on nothing save air, as the monkey passed over his shoulder. Orange-crest gave him a gentle thwip on the nose with his tail as he passed by. A classic monkey way of saying ''No hard feelings, but I am objectively better than you.''


    "Gack!" The man spat, trying to clear his mouth of fur.


    "Useless!" Disciple Wang cried, watching as the monkey gained distance.


    Freedom! Sweet freedom! Orange-crest hooted and hollered his joy in the true tongue as he rushed headlong toward safety. They''d never catch him now, not without exposing their backs to the irate bear.


    An agonized scream caught the monkey''s attention.


    "Disciple Wang!"


    The man''s arm was a red ruin. The bear''s terrible claws had rent deep gouges in it. The man stumbled backwards. His death stalked forward. Despite the countless small rents in its coat, the bear''s eyes shined with not the rage of the injured, but a predator''s calm certainty.


    It knew this one was the strongest of the interlopers. It might not speak, but it was smart enough to see the battle was over. All that remained was the conclusion. One would fall, then the rest in turn would flee or die with him.


    Disciple Hao''s rope was dartless, its end eaten away by the heat, until the blade fell useless to the earth. His legs were frozen, trapped in a mire born of fear. Grab his fellow, or run?


    Orange-crest mustered his heart-fire, feeling it rage within his chest. His mind warred with itself. Should he help them? Cast his commandment of stillness upon the bear?


    If it were a monkey in danger, he would not hesitate. All grudges vanished before the claws of a bear or tiger. But orange-crest had seen the murder in Disciple Wang''s eyes. He could see their hate, but despite his attempts to listen between their many words, he understood so little of what they said, their cries and accusations. Disciple Wang would not show him any mercy. Whatever Daoist Scouring Medicine said, they were not pack. But there was so much he did not know.


    Was this a grudge set bone deep, only curable by death? What had he done to merit such enmity?


    He hated this. Not the men, nor the danger. He''d chased one of his own will, long known the other. He hated the uncertainty, the clamor and war within his mind. Monkeys did not hesitate. Did not doubt.


    So orange-crest acted.


    "Stop." He commanded, a paw outstretched to grasp all the world. For a moment, his existence became agony. It was like holding back a mountain. A mountain of fire and gnashing teeth.


    The spell lasted but a moment. The bear paused mid-step, even the flames upon it''s back frozen in stasis by a will that would brook no disobedience. A will that flickered like a candle in a hurricane.


    Disciple Hao''s eyes widened, as he took in orange-crest''s actions. He ran, grabbing the injured Disciple Wang and dragging him as best he could. His fellow disciple''s arm was a twisted ruin of burnt flesh and exposed bone.


    An eerie silence fell over the glen turned battlefield, the only sounds the gentle crackle of mundane flames and the shuffling steps of two disciples.


    A needle of shadow rushed across the clearing.


    The spell broke, and this time it was not a man that cried out in agony.


    "Run!" Orange-crest shouted, taking his own advice even as he spoke it. An arrow of black wood protruded from the bear''s eye. Its great bulk raged wildly, crushing stone and tree alike in a fruitless search for an escape from its pain.


    Four men and one monkey fled madly, all enmity forgotten.


    "Yep. Bow was the correct choice." Disciple Ying muttered under his breath.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Daoist Scouring Medicine watched as the monkey ambled through his door. The little fellow was filthy. No, not just filthy. That was blood, staining the fur of his back. He crushed the flash of anger that rose in his chest, swallowing his reflexive complaint about the beast tracking mud into his home.


    "Did you have a good day out?" He asked instead.


    The monkey stared at the wall, thinking deeply. Or perhaps out of it.


    "Yes." He finally answered. Odd. Usually the little beast had opinions about everything and sundry. It was unlike him to be so quiet.


    "What did you do?" The Daoist asked, feeling queerly parental. He hoped it would grow out of this phase quickly. He would be so disappointed if it''s development plateaued at such a level.


    "Fish. Make friend. Almost get eaten. Save disciples from big fire sleepy-great-beast. Felt like mountain monkey again. Maybe chop chop not all bad."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine quirked an eyebrow.


    "I''m going to get another visit from Internal Affairs aren''t I?"


    "No know. Men like visits much for beasts that no share caves."


    "I see. When I get that visit, will they tell the same tale as you?"


    "No know. Men silly. Mind like clouds, temper like fire."


    "You''ll have to tell me all about it."


    "No." The monkey said.


    "No?" Daoist Scouring Medicine asked mildly. Was his little monkey developing an attitude? That wouldn''t do.


    "No. Need know more. Many question. About men. About sect. You answer."


    The daoist smiled. He''d pull the truth out of the beast eventually. This was good. He could see the resolve growing in its eyes, behind the hurt. That was something he could refine into what he needed Li Hou to become.


    "Very well. Come then, we''ll get you clean, dress those wounds. And I''ll answer your questions."

 Chapter 17

    "Are you not tired of this, Daoist Guarding Thunder?" Daoist Scouring Medicine asked. "Taking time away from your cultivation to bother me about the outer sect''s squabbles?"


    Orange-crest was eavesdropping on his brother. It was surprisingly easy. Daoist Scouring Medicine had insisted he keep out of sight of their visitor, and above all not to say anything without his brother''s permission. But neither daoist had spoken of the monkey sitting quietly one room over, listening in. His brother had to have heard orange-crest approaching. But was Daoist Guarding Thunder, a man who could leap into the sky as a bolt of lightning, really so blind?


    Orange-crest didn''t think so. That meant his silence was yet more human strangeness. A lie unspoken, uncontested.


    "How strange. I came here to ask you the same thing. It is my duty as a member of internal affairs, to investigate such incidents. But are you not tired of your student being implicated in them?"


    "Li Hou did nothing wrong. You''ve already admitted this Disciple Hao''s story corroborates his own. I don''t need an investigation to know those who chased him into danger deserved what they got."


    "A moderately promising disciple was all but crippled. Without advancement, or more expensive healing pills, his right arm will not recover full function. The blows he took from the Sun-Seeker Bear burned several meridians badly enough he has found cycling difficult."


    "How unfortunate for him. Perhaps he will be more cautious, and less vengeful, in the future."


    "Is that all you have to say?"


    "Yes, it is. I''m not going to offer to heal him. I''m sure the Medical Pavilion has plenty of capable alchemists and doctors. I will not intrude on their business. If they don''t think his future is worth the treatment, who am I to gainsay them?"


    "Its not too late to stop this. You don''t even need to get rid of the monkey, if you''re that attached to it. Just rein it in, make an earnest apology, heal the boy with your own funds. Elder Lu is furious with you, but the Sect Master hardly cares. I know you hate his policies, but he''s not an unreasonable man. If you bend the knee, he will lift your punishment in full in time."


    Apology. That was the thing Yang Wei had asked for. Orange-crest still wasn''t sure what those were, but it seemed like the sort of thing bullies asked for. A subservient mien.


    Orange-crest smiled. A month was such a a long time. One portion in three of a season, according to his brother. It was so long to wait, for his rematch and prizes. His skills with the staff improved by the day, Yang Wei would not trick him with cunning movements this time!


    "I care about this sect. Value it for more than what it did for me. For what it offers me still." Daoist Guarding Thunder continued. "We have known each other for a long time. I thought you felt the same. I do not approve of the changes Ren Yuhan has made to our recruitment processes, or the way he foists disciples upon others. But the sect is more than any one of us. I might disagree with him, but I believe he cares about the Azure Mountain as more than a mere stepping stone to his own glory."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine laughed darkly.


    "There is no point in arguing with a man who feigns blindness with his eyes open."


    "Fine." Daoist Guarding Thunder said. "Punishment Hall has declined to pursue this matter. But expect to hear from Internal Affairs shortly."


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    "That pig faced old bastard! Decrepit coward! These figures are nonsense!" Daoist Scouring Medicine roared, clutching a thin strip of parchment. "He wants to starve me out does he? Prevent me from making a single spirit stone? Fool. A hundred years of practicing alchemy have left me with more than enough of a war chest to see this through."


    Scouring Medicine''s eyes narrowed, as he noticed the monkey carefully memorizing his insults.


    "What are you looking at?"


    Orange-crest returned his eyes to the book before him. Two-Something Yew. A picture of a tree lurking in shade, marked with a funny pair of characters. One like a room split in twain, the other like two monkeys standing atop each other.


    He shifted over to the massive dictionary of characters his brother had given him. He found the first strokes, then chased down the pages until he found a match. Oh. Yin, he already knew that one. Ink-words were harder than sound-words, whenever he stopped thinking about them, they leaked through his mind like water through fingers.


    Hmm. He found the characters. But he didn''t understand the second one. The dictionary wasn''t the most useful of books. It defined so many characters, but it used other characters to do so! If he spent all his time chasing down what each of them meant, he''d never learn the answer to the question that had started his journey.


    "Oo." He hooted to his furious brother, now pacing a hole in the floor. "Show truth."


    Still clutching the piece of paper, his brother strode over. The daoist followed the monkey''s finger, then looked to the herbal compendium next to the dictionary.


    "Shadowed. Two-Shadowed Yew. An ingredient in some poisons, but it can also be used to amplify the effect of many pills, at the cost of lending them an illusory aspect. Healing that will fade at the first new wound received, or poisons that leave no trace if survived."


    "Thank."


    "Thank you." His brother corrected.


    "Is welcome." Orange-crest replied.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine snorted. He crumpled the paper in his hands.


    "Internal Affairs leaned on the inner disciples I was using to move my pills. Used the pretext of clamping down on illicit trade to target me in particular. They can''t punish you, so they''re punishing me."


    "Why?"


    "Because Elder Lu is a conniving snake who cares for nothing except his own wealth and power."


    "Why?"


    "Because all the better men of his generation died, leaving someone unsuitable to run Internal Affairs."


    "Why?"


    Daoist Scouring Medicine reached out and flicked orange-crest in the forehead, almost knocking from his seat.


    "Why!" The monkey screeched.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine''s eyes narrowed.


    "You know why." He said, clearly suppressing a smile.


    When his brother stalked off again, his anger was much diminished. Orange-crest smiled at a job well done. It was good to see that he wasn''t the only one having problems with the rest of the sect.


    A question had dominated his mind, since the day the four disciples had attack him. Were men like monkeys? The two kinds shared much. Their forms were were similar than most, close kindred like wolves and foxes, or hawks and falcons. But being a monkey was more than just morphology. There were truths to them, ways of being that nigh every monkey shared. Rules that bound the extent of their conflicts, shared values that meant they could trust each other in the face of greater predators. Even a monkey from a distant mountain knew when it was time to fight over mates or food, and when it was time to circle their backs and bare their fangs at the rest of the world.


    He''d assumed that men were like them. They had a language of their own, one seemingly every bit as detailed as the true tongue. They lived in close proximity. They exchanged duties and goods, working together to ensure their survival.


    And yet, he doubted Disciple Wang would piss on him if his fur were set ablaze. This Ren Yuhan directed the others to torment his brother without presenting demand or crime.


    Disciple Wang had not bothered orange-crest since that day, apparently having taken serious injury. His brother had explained that he must not kill him. Not unless the man sought him out again, and brought violence with him. But his explanation had been a convoluted thing that left orange-crest more confused about the rules of human society than he''d been at the beginning of the conversation.


    To kill a cripple was worse than killing a healthy one. He could defend himself, but not too much. Escalate, but not leap to murder first. His brother would protect him, but not if he went too far.


    Orange-crest did not like the thorny path his brother described. Not one bit. Yet, he misliked the idea of letting such a vicious human get away with a second attack upon him even less.


    No, orange-crest decided. If Disciple Wang came for him again, orange-crest would kill him. Once was mercy. Twice would be foolishness. He''d saved the man''s life once. As far as he was concerned, that earned him the right to end it, if the man came for him again. A monkey could learn. He would see if a man could do the same.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    The days passed quickly. A chill settled in the wind, but orange-crest''s coat grew sleeker and denser to better bear it. On some quiet days, he found himself staring at himself in the reflection of the lake. He was becoming a very handsome monkey. Still small, both short and wiry. But he''d put on a few fingers worth of height. It was hard to see his muscles beneath his thick fur, but he knew they were bigger, denser. Even the shortest of men still stood well above him, but he thought he was bigger than quick-fingers now. Bigger than most of the female monkeys of Mount Yuelu, if not any of the full grown males of his family.


    He wasn''t sure about this cultivation his brother went on about, but the diet of men was a heavenly thing. With meat and fruit he was carving his form anew, leaving the legacy of the lean years of his youth in the past.


    He was disappointed that formless-gleam had not shown her face since the day the disciples had hunted him. All the same, he believed he would see the fox again. She was a coward, but that was fine. Some of his best friends were cowards.


    Yang Wei had disappeared from staff practice, but Big Chang had assured the monkey he would return in time for their duel. Orange-crest wondered what he was up to. Few of the other disciples could stand up to the monkey, but he was a magnanimous master of battle. So long as they did not anger him, or mock him, he allowed them to keep their lower eggs. Many of them stared coldly at him, or whispered dark words under their breath. But they kept their actions within the bounds of brotherly strife, so orange-crest did the same. Practice was fun, but it was beginning to become boring, and lonely.


    It was downright embarrassing how bad at fighting some of these young men were. At once uncoordinated and blind. What had their parents been teaching them?


    His brother kept orange-crest''s days filled to the brim.


    Once a week, he was taken to the Fathomless Well at his brother''s side. He spent hours taking the cold and weight into his body, and hours more recovering from the experience. He struggled to understand how exactly this was helping him, his brother''s explanations grew only more and more strange and arcane the further orange-crest pressed him. But he was clearly growing stronger, so orange-crest bore the suffering without complaint. He''d suffered worse cold for less gain.


    Other days, he spent at a desk, preparing ingredients or studying. The monkey wasn''t allowed to practice writing yet, but his brother was insistent that it was important he learn how to read. Orange-crest could see the value of the strange art, even a beauty in the way thoughts were bound in thin lines of ink. Transformed into a state where they could be remembered ever after, even traded away or stolen.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    The monkey took to reading like a bird long denied the sky. It was boring and hard, but he persevered. For one who longed for secrets and hidden knowings, the art held a promise unlike any other. So what if all his brother had were the secrets of plants and bugs? Those were many of the best secrets!


    By day, the monkey spent his time poring over scrolls and preparing ingredients. Daoist Scouring Medicine had stopped making great volumes of pills, but his furnace still somehow had an appetite even more insatiable than orange-crest''s. The monkey would feed it a hundred peeled stems and crushed leaves, and it would shit out a tiny handful of powder his brother would delicately brush into a paper envelope.


    By the chilly half-light of the early evening, the monkey would roam the mountain. He stuck close to home, and eschewed the company of disciples. Instead of seeking out novelty, he would hunt for the many strange plants he''d seen in his brother''s herbals. Test the secret signs they listed to distinguish between mundane plant and mystical treasure.


    And when he found such a prize, well, he was not a monkey to work without compensation. His wine was not yet ready, but his brother''s cellar seemed to have no bottom.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Orange-crest was drunk.


    He enjoyed being drunk. After his earlier failure of moderation, he was coming to understand how ride the waves of the drink. Keep his head swimming, but not drowning. The wine of men was a different breed than his, harsher waters with greater storms and deeper abysses.


    "Why are men... Like men?" He asked, staring up at the stars.


    Brother Scouring Medicine snorted in amusement. He did that a lot around orange-crest, but never around any others. He only snorted in disdain, among others.


    "A good question."


    "Do you have good answer?"


    "Impertinent monkey." His brother said without heat. "Why are monkeys like monkeys then?"


    "No change topic. Monkey is like monkey because monkey is best."


    "A bold claim. I''d love to hear a dragon''s take upon it. But I''ll answer your question."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine stroked his chin, as if he had a beard. Orange-crest wondered why he didn''t. Some men hewed to the more elegant stylings of monkeys, but not his brother. He must not be able to grow one. His thin man-hair too sparse perhaps. Orange-crest silently pitied his brother as he waited for a reply.


    "Men are shaped as much by our society as our natures." Daoist Scouring Medicine finally said. "A monkey might have parents, perhaps a leader. This mysterious mountain lord you speak of. But men have aunts and uncles, teachers and lords, dukes and emperors. Each of us has a place beneath the heavens, duties we owe and are owed. Whether peasant or daoist, we are guided and shaped by the teachings of our ancestors, and the duties of our stations."


    Orange-crest tilted his head to the side, feeling the wine flow within it like a vessel upended. Then he tilted it to the other side. It was fun. Then he took another drink. Good sweet fruit wine, none of that rice nonsense that had left him feeling wrung out.


    "Men seem... Peeled. Squished. Pulped. Bound. Angry-little." Orange-crest tried out many words, looking for a good fit. None were quite right, for describing how men were not monkeys. "Men don''t seem happy." The monkey finished. That was a man-sensical sentence, but it did not convey his true thought. The abhorrence inherent to how the lifestyle of men left them rubbed raw and force-grown into unsuitable shapes.


    "Monkeys don''t seem to build empires."


    "What good is empire?"


    Daoist Scouring Medicine sighed.


    "Its easy, for one like you to say that. Your mountain is fruitful and isolated. A powerful spirit beast protects you. An empire you never interact with largely leaves you at peace. But should the lord of your mountain fall, will that peace last? Do you think you could stand on your own, if an army of men came for your mountain?"


    Orange-crest had no answer to this. He could not imagine the king falling, so how could he imagine what might come after?


    "An empire serves the will of the greatest among us, but it shields the least of men as well. What abuse they suffer from corrupt lords is a small price to pay from safety from anarchy."


    "No know."


    "I suppose you will have to take my word for it."


    "You give monkey many words. He takes them all. Orange-hair. Li Hou. Anarchy bad."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine took a deep draft from his own, far larger, jug. It was funny, between the monkey and his own lack of income, he might actually have to watch his drinking habits for the first time in decades. Getting a cultivator of his level tipsy took enough alcohol to lay out half a dozen lesser men.


    "Do you think you will win?" He asked the monkey.


    Orange-crest burped loudly. What a silly question. If one thought they would win, they fought. If one did not, they ran.


    And he was not planning to run this time.


    "Yes." The monkey answered with certainty.


    "Yang Wei''s family is powerful. Now that he has entered a sect, there are no restrictions on them helping him advance his cultivation. Rumors don''t suggest him to be the sort to rush to the detriment of his foundation, but he will certainly have advanced to match you. To say nothing of what he might be being taught. He will be a different beast from the young man you brawled with a month ago."


    "Why think I would not win?"


    "It''s a pity my arts have so many prerequisites." Daoist Scouring Medicine continued, ignoring him. "Poisons are out of the question. Giving the untrained medicines beyond their understanding is how I ended up in this mess. I suppose I can at least arm you with a few healing and strengthening pills. Something even a less intelligent monkey could dose correctly. Perhaps I should have tutored you in unarmed combat as well as had you taught the staff. But those arts would be far less effective, until your body is refined."


    "But staff better than hands. Longer, harder. More smash."


    "The sword is called the king of weapons. But a warrior with a stave can best one with a sword, even when their skill is evenly matched. And an immortal with empty hands can overturn mountains and empty seas."


    "Orange-hair likes his mountains not overturned."


    "I suppose we all do. But it''s a pleasant thought, how lightly men would step around one capable of overturning theirs."


    "Mmm." Orange-crest hummed non-commitally. There was nothing wrong with might. It was a high virtue. But so many men treated like an idol to be worshipped, the sum of all that was. Foolish. The Monkey King was the mightiest because he was the best, not the best because he was the mightiest.


    "Tomorrow will be a day of rest. We''ll go over the pills I can spare you. And no drinking. I want you at your best. I''ll give you far worse Yang Wei if you show up to your duel hungover."


    Orange-crest leaned back to stare up at his brother. He smiled like a man at his brother''s serious expression.


    "Monkey is always best."


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Yang Wei struggled to his feet. His back smarted from his hundredth fall that evening. But it was just a little pain. It''s purely mortal nature a reminder of just how much his uncle was holding himself back. A feat of control as worthy of the Storm That Marches as the destruction he wreaked upon the battlefield.


    "Again." He insisted.


    Yang Shui laughed. The legendary hero cut a curious figure, dressed for teaching his nephew. He''d forgone the armor of a soldier and the robes of a noble or daoist alike, wearing instead a loose tunic of white silk, unbelted. Despite all Yang Wei''s efforts, it was still utterly pristine.


    To stain his uncle''s garb with Yang Wei''s own blood would be beyond his skill. To draw his uncle''s, unthinkable.


    "You sure, Little Wei?" Yang Shui asked. "You walk the path of immortality now, you need not rush headlong toward tomorrow. I would not mind taking a break. You stand at the cusp of proper manhood, I could introduce you to some fellows whose favor would serve you well in the years to come."


    In any other month, Yang Wei would have agreed to join his uncle and his subordinates for a drink or meal in a heartbeat. The men of his personal command largely did not hold title or rank. Most of them were enlisted soldiers of no background. A few were noble sons far from the line of inheritance, or wandering cultivators of various stripes. But all of them possessed might and history beyond their station. Even the least of them were peak qi condensation cultivators who had seen and survived the battles that had earned his uncle glory and acclaim.


    Despite the distance between Uncle Shui and the rest of the clan, he was one of the pillars of their authority. Their ascendancy.


    "I don''t think any of my teachers would agree with you uncle." Yang Wei said instead. "They display a most admirable dedication to the pursuit of the Dao."


    "Ah, proper daoists. It''s been so long since I''ve dealt with them in earnest. Always in such a hurry in advance, yet they have all the patience in the world for putting off mortal affairs."


    "I''m sorry?" Yang Wei asked confused. His uncle was a surprisingly philosophical man, for one who disdained both the sects and the empire''s scholars.


    "You''ll see, if you live long enough. You don''t have the temperament to make that mistake."


    Yang Wei looked pensive. His uncle chuckled, then took mercy upon his ignorance.


    "Those daoists who serve the sects of disdain those of us who tie our fates to temporal powers. Soldiers and merchants, lords and even emperors. They say it distracts us from our cultivation. They are not wrong, but it is not that simple either. Many sect cultivators, especially the youngest and eldest, use the future as an excuse. There will be time for all things, once they advance one last time. All things are worthless before immortality, the most extreme claim."


    The wind picked up, as Yang Shui''s eyes sharpened.


    "Fools and cowards, all of them. No man who thinks like that will ever become an immortal."


    "I don''t understand, uncle. But I will think on your words."


    "Good. This is why I like you, Little Wei. So many of your cousins are lickspittles, afraid to contradict me in the least."


    Like lightning from a clear sky, his uncle struck. Yang Wei leapt back, he''d already been waiting for the blow. His uncle seamlessly transitioned into a sweep, letting the spear slip through his fingers until he was holding it at its base. Yang Wei leapt, left with no other option in the face of his uncle''s superior reach.


    Before his feet had returned to the ground, his uncle had closed the distance, moving less like a man with mortal feet than a particularly violent breeze. Yang Shui''s outstretched arm gently struck his nephew''s chest. The boy went flying, sent head over heels by the sudden gale.


    "The jump was a mistake." Yang Wei groaned from the position in the dirt.


    "And what should you have done?"


    "Brace and block with the butt or time my steps and accept the risk of the blow catching an ankle."


    "Good. Better you try a proper counter and fail for a deficiency of strength or speed than succeed at some fool move by blind luck."


    "Again." This time it was Yang Shui who called the bout.


    A thrust was narrowly deflected, Yang Wei forced to bring his entire core to bear to merely shift his uncle''s spear from its course. He channeled qi into his legs, then down further still, binding himself to the dusty soil with more than just his body''s weight. His uncle''s spear struck repeatedly, sending shocks up his arms.


    The outcome was inevitable, but this wasn''t about the outcome. When Yang Wei was finally knocked to the dirt, he was smiling. Seven blocks. Two more than his previous best.


    "Good. I do not favor such a stolid style, but it suits your affinity well. A powerful defensive stance pairs well with sudden bursts of movement and violence. Earthen qi does not usually lend itself to such techniques, but that''s a problem for after you''ve advanced further. At your realm a qi-empowered defensive paired with a mundane but well executed offense is already a devastating combination. Again, but with counters."


    Yang Wei obeyed, letting the world fall away as he immersed himself in the study of violence. Any moment with the senior members of the clan was trial and treasure both, but he appreciated these times with his uncle best of all.


    An hour later, his limbs finally failed him. A flick of his uncle''s wrist drove his spear from his hand. When Yang Wei stepped to retrieve it, his legs collapsed beneath him, sturdy as pork jelly.


    Yang Shui pointed a finger, and the errant spear leapt into motion, bouncing into his hand. He squatted down next to his panting nephew.


    "I was surprised, to hear from you so soon after you entered the sect. Was a month enough for you to grow tired of their... unhurried... teaching style?"


    Yang Wei smiled, still lying on his back. The argument between his uncle and father about whether to send him to a sect or not had been long and bitter. In the end Uncle Shui had conceded in good grace, despite his superior status, when Yang Wei had made his own desires known. As much as he loved his uncle, Yang Wei was far from convinced that tagging along on the man''s campaigns would be a superior way to develop himself.


    "It wasn''t that. Their martial instruction is impressive, though of course nothing on yours. I''ve chosen to study the quarterstaff under them, in order to enrich my understanding of the Dao of the spear."


    "Oh? Then why head home for these weeks? Did you miss your favorite uncle that much? I shouldn''t be leaving for campaign again for a few years yet. So many of my men will benefit from time to strengthen their foundations, and the eastern front will be quiet for years, after Lu Bao''s death."


    Yang Wei forced his aching hands into the dirt, propping himself up into a sitting position. He turned to face his uncle properly.


    "I have a duel coming up, and I want to be as sharp as possible."


    "With another initiate?"


    "Yes."


    "Good. I was worried the field this year would be barren. I saw few names of note among your peers. It''s nice you won''t have to look to seniors for challenges this early."


    "He was a late addition to the year''s roster, after the list was published."


    "Anyone I would know?"


    "No. He''s of common birth. You would like him, I think. He''s a creature of few words, most of them profane. He''s short and young, even for a sect initiate. I am not exaggerating when I say he''s little more than a child. And yet, he is the personal disciple of one of the daoists, and near peerless among the year''s initiates. He''s incredibly arrogant, the amount he''s achieved so early in life has clearly gone to his head. He challenged me to a duel with some small stakes, and I accepted. He seemed like a suitable stepping stone to begin establishing a reputation in earnest."


    "Interesting. A pity I have other obligations. I would have loved to decline Zhang Da''s invitation, if I''d known of this beforehand. But I''ll be there for the tournament at year end at least. Enough of the court will be present for the prince''s tour to make it an occasion. I''ve refrained from siding with any courtly faction, but there are rumors the emperor will enter seclusion within a century. The old goat is getting close to a breakthrough. I should at least meet the contenders for seat-warmer."


    "Uncle!" Yang Wei hissed, mortified. He shot a look around, checking for eavesdroppers on reflex.  "You can''t call the emperor an... You can''t call the emperor that!"


    The Storm That Walks laughed. A gentle, rolling, crackle accompanied the sound. A memory of thunder without source or origin.


    "The emperor likes me, I can call him whatever I want. In private. Stop trying to imitate an owl, and turn your head all the way round. The winds answer to me. They carry my words where I will them, and not a chi farther. Tell me more about this rival of yours."


    "He''s no true rival. Just... A curiosity."


    "You''re hiding something from me."


    "Yes. But I never get to surprise you, and you''ll appreciate this one."


    "Very well. Now get up, and get washed. Your father is never going to shut up if I bring you to dinner straight from the field."

 Chapter 18

    A month had passed quickly. The monkey was as ready as it would be.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine stared down at the small fellow by his side as they ambled down the path to the training grounds. He''d considered attempting to cloth it. Its thick fur concealed its modesty well enough, but there would be a certain effect to seeing the monkey clad in the robes of the sect. In the end he''d opted against it. Today mattered, but it was the Initiate''s Tournament at years end upon which both their futures would turn. Whether Li Hou won or lost today, there would be a pleasing contrast in dressing him up as a princeling for the tournament. Robes of silk and a circlet of alloyed gold perhaps. Maybe even a top-knot, the little monkey almost had enough hair.


    Today, it looked the part of a wild beast ripped from its home. Naked, save for jade band on it''s arm and the small sack of linen burlap at its side filled with pills.


    A smile crept up upon the edge of his mouth. The little animal looked so serious. Eyes glued to the horizon, walking on two legs easily with the aid of the sect issued stave he''d acquired for it.


    The monkey would never admit it, but he was fairly certain that without his continual reminders, it would have forgotten it''s duel was today. Its enthusiasm had been great that first week, but the subject had slowly slipped further from its mind as time passed. It definitely would have forgotten to bring it''s wager with it, having buried its ill-gotten spirit stones somewhere on the mountain.


    But Daoist Scouring Medicine was proud of the little fellow for orchestrating something like this without prompting, ensuring the logistics duel went off without a hitch was a small matter.


    He wanted to say something, but he was not sure what. Li Hou didn''t need encouragement, his confidence already bordered upon the irrational. It''d been unwilling to hear a single word of warning from him, certain of its victory.


    "They will all see you, after this." He said instead.


    The monkey turned its head to meet his eyes, then chuffed.


    "Am here. Was here. Man-eyes no work good." Orange-crest let out a frustrated snarl. He had so many words now, but he still lacked the words to actually convey his meaning. How was he to tell his brother that so many men looked with their will-hungers instead of their eyes and thought with their gut-hearts instead of their minds?


    "If you lose, I''ll find another staff for you. Not a sect one, but one of your own. It is a master''s duty to see their disciple properly equipped, after all."


    Li Hou chittered in that way of his, mimicking the laughter of man. Daoist Scouring Medicine stared at the monkey, trying to see what was going on in it''s inscrutable mind.


    "No need. Will take Yang Wei''s."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine let the conversation peter out as they approached the training grounds. A great crowd had assembled, dozens of lesser disciples lured from their cultivation by rumors of a novelty to gawk out. Daoist Scouring Medicine closed his eyes, letting his inhumanly refined ears occupy the forefront of his mind. A dozen threads of conversation came to him, the prudence of hushed tones insufficient before his bodily refinement.


    "There he is!"


    "It really does walk like a man."


    "It''s so cute!" One young girl all but hissed, excitement and discretion warring in her voice.


    "Cute? It''s a walking stain on the sect''s honor." One of her fellows shot back.


    "Daoists have pets. Elder Xun has that terrifying wolf of his."


    "It''s a Iron-Blooded Wolf. But a pet isn''t a disciple!"


    "Really? Some days I feel like disciples are basically pets. They own us, feed us, live far longer than us? How are we not pets?"


    "You can''t say that!"


    Daoist Scouring Medicine exchanged that thread of whispers for another. He could think of few more useless things to listen to than an initiate trying to act like a philosopher.


    "Second stage?"


    "Indeed. Close to the peak, its hardly concealing itself."


    Two more senior outer disciples, these past the midpoint of qi condensation. Closing in on their thirtieth year, they might never be powerhouses. But men like them would still one day be honored daoists in their own right, if they lived long enough.


    "Small body." The first speaker continued. "It''ll be at a great deficit in strength, even with more advanced cultivation. I''ll give you three to one, if you''re still interested."


    "I''ll take that. You''re not wrong, I favor the Yang boy too, but those are excellent odds."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine frowned. A pity, he could not place his own bet. It would be improper, doubly so considering the odds-maker was both so far below his status, and a member of his own sect. He hardly needed additional petty scandals besmirching his name. The sect really needed an official office to handle betting. Unfortunately, his voice of support was currently more a curse than a boon.


    Another thread of whispered gossip reached his ears.


    "Where do you think it got the stones? Saving its allotment? Its master?"


    "I heard it stole them from some more senior initiates. Grabbed their bags then led them into a dangerous spirit beast''s lair when they chased it."


    "How dishonorable! I wonder if they were confederates in their scheme? Can spirit beasts talk to each other?"


    "What does it matter? Man or monkey, it makes no difference. I''ve told you before brother, you can''t trust anyone here. Anyone except me. With immortality on the line, you can only rely on family."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine tuned out the chittering disciples. In truth, the crowd''s mood towards Li Hou was more tolerant than he expected.


    Beyond the crowd of unconcerned onlookers, there were a few more important figures. Daoist Enduring Oath sat atop a distant hill, watching from beyond the sight of the lesser cultivators. Daoist Scouring Medicine gave him a nod, receiving one in return. More importantly, Daoist Snowclad Heart was present, surrounded by a knot of disciples that laughed politely at every artless pejorative he voiced at Li Hou''s expense.


    An iron war-fan emanating a cold aura now adorned his belt, resting opposite his saber. Perfect. The fop had taken the bait, unsubtle as it had been.


    Yang Wei stood at the center of the field, attended by a crowd of simpering toadies. He''d forgotten how artless the flatterers were at that tender age. Disciple Chang stood near them, wearing an expression that suggested he wasn''t sure how exactly he''d ended up administering this affair and was not pleased about that.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine took mercy upon the man, and limited himself to the expected pleasantries and necessary matters of logistics. Greetings and stones were exchanged, terms confirmed. Disciple Chang held the wagers of both sides in escrow, and would referee the bout itself. Not that Daoist Scouring Medicine would hesitate to stop it, if he felt Li Hou in any true danger.


    All the while, Li Hou and Yang Wei stared each other down.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Orange-crest spun his staff, accustoming himself to its weight and length. It was another borrowed thing, slightly longer and heavier than his last one to account for his increased size. Still slightly smaller than most, but still large for his simian frame.


    His master had said it was intended for young women, which was apparently humorous for some reason that escaped the monkey.


    He watched Yang Wei, resplendent in a blue sash identical to the one he had wagered. The human had such a formidable background that he had more than one of the same beautiful belt. Impressive indeed.


    "A month of training appears to have done you much good, Li Hou." Yang Wei said politely. He gave his own weapon a few half-hearted practice swings. The ''blade'' of his spear was more a cap than anything else, a slightly protruding lump of smooth iron that did not even attempt to ape the shape of a proper spearhead.


    The monkey had not given any terms limiting his choice of weapon. Several of the fools who sought to curry his favor had suggested he bear live steel. They pointed out that a training stave was all but identical to one meant for war. Daoists would not hesitate to exchange pointers with proper weapons, and they were aspiring to that title. Yang Wei had little patience for such sophistry. What sort of coward thought first of treachery when challenged by a monkey half their size?


    Orange-crest didn''t trust Yang Wei. He was better than most humans. Despite the strife that had passed between them, he spoke to the monkey politely, and took his words seriously. There was an understanding between them, born of the mutual respect they had for martial learning. The gentle contempt they held for the initiates who put more effort into looking like hard workers than getting better. But something about him reminded orange-crest of red-eyes. Currents of bloodshed buried deep, a potential for violence like a summer squall.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    Red-eyes was a brother, and orange-crest knew what set him off. Yang Wei left him wary.


    Orange-crest drew himself up to his full height, standing face to chest with his foe.


    "Let us have an honest bout." The monkey said with flawless pronunciation. "I look forward to trading pointers with senior, but no amount of training with your honored uncle will allow you to match this disciple''s staff."


    Yang Wei blinked, taken aback. After a moment''s shock, he frowned.


    "Your master coached you to say that."


    Orange-crest smiled, all teeth. An expression that would be a prelude to war among monkeys.


    "Yes-yes. We fight. I hit you until you give up. I take your stuff. Good plan, yes?"


    "No. It''s a terrible plan." Yang Wei retorted dryly.


    A wave of pressure emanated outward from Daoist Scouring Medicine, silencing the crowd of onlookers. It was time, then. Yang Wei shivered. The monkey''s master had a queer sort of spiritual pressure. One that felt more like a gut unmanned by fear than the suppressive weight most cultivators emanated, or the breathless height of his uncle''s presence.


    "Ready yourselves." Disciple Chang commanded. You will fight at my word, and continue until I call a stop, or one of you surrenders. If you continue past that point, you will spend a week in the Punishment Hall. Am I understood?"


    "Yes, Senior."


    "Yes, Big Chang." Orange-crest agreed.


    "Begin!" Chang De commanded, stepping back to allow the dueling initiates space.


    Yang Wei did not move.


    Orange-crest slowly circled around him, watching as the young man''s blunt spear tracked his chest. He wanted to cede the monkey the initiative? That was fine with him.


    "What are they waiting for-"


    Orange-crest dove forward. One of Yang Wei''s feet slid back as he positioned his spear to take the monkey in the throat. The orange-crest''s free hand shot out, grabbing for the top of the shaft. It wasn''t even sharp! Why should he fear it?


    Yang Wei retracted the weapon immediately, but orange-crest held tight, letting the spear pull him forward. So what if Yang Wei was big and strong? Orange-crest had spent his entire life fighting those bigger and stronger than him. The monkey spun, releasing his foe''s spear as it retracted. Before Yang Wei could muster a proper strike orange-crest spun his staff like a club, slamming it into the side of Yang Wei''s knee.


    It was like hitting a mountain! His staff bounced off the man''s knees harmlessly with a sharp crack that sounded nothing like the telltale thwack of hard wood into flesh.


    "I might not be a suitable inheritor for my honored uncle''s techniques, but my training was hardly fruitless."


    Orange-crest danced backward, throwing himself into a roll to dodge Yang Wei''s thrust.


    "Not fair!" He yelped, rolling to the side. The dull spearhead smashed down where he''d been with a thunderous crack.


    "Really?" Yang Wei asked as he struck. For the first time, their weapons met properly as the monkey blocked his swing. He bore down, then swiped across, clipping the monkey''s unguarded fingers as they disengaged.


    Orange-crest yelped with pain.


    "I thought you were better than these cowards. Is there any complaint more pathetic than that it is unfair your foe is better than you?"


    Orange-crest flared his heart-flame, letting strength fill his limbs, and charged. Yang Wei swung for his head, but the monkey ducked the blow. He thrust for the man''s stomach, and Yang Wei took the blow without dodging.


    A strike that should have folded a man over barely drew a grunt from him. Orange-crest wracked his mind. How was Yang Wei doing that?


    Yang Wei''s counter clipped his shoulder, the metal tip leaving a nasty bruise.


    Slowly, he stalked forward, chasing the monkey at a walk. He abandoned even the pretense of defense, advancing behind wide sweeps of his spear that left him open to a counter. Orange-crest refused to take the bait, dancing at the edge of his range. This wasn''t working.


    "Come now, surely you haven''t wasted the month? You were so confident a moment ago."


    Qi. It was clearly qi. Yang Wei was doing something with the qi inside of him to make himself as durable as stone.


    "I see your secret." The monkey lied.


    "Oh? And what does that avail you?"


    Orange-crest felt anger bubbling within him. There was a secret then. He turned and ran, rapidly making distance.


    "What a coward. It''s giving up already?"


    Orange-crest ignored the jeering disciples, stuffing a pill into his mouth. Blessed relief travelled from his chest to his bloody fingers. Yang Wei continued to advance at an unhurried walk, letting the monkey recover unhindered. His mind raced. Why did he never press the advantage? Was he that confident? Or could he not?


    "Really? Resorting to pills?" Yang Wei laughed. "I suppose your master is an alchemist, but I''d hoped for more from you."


    Orange-crest charged the laughing young man, a plan flashing into place with the suddenness of lightning. He borrowed his form from the Rhino stance, charging with his staff set to crush Yang Wei''s treasure as he had Wu Yingjie''s. Yang Wei calmy braced to receive him, content to trade blows. No, if he was willing to take a hit there, trading blows clearly wasn''t the answer.


    Orange-crest spread a look of fear across his face, a flash of lying-doubt. At the last moment, he scrambled, throwing himself back.


    "Weak." Yang Wei pounced.


    "STOP!" Orange-crest screamed, his qi pouring out freely like an upturned vessel of wine.


    Yang Wei froze mid step, flickers of fire-orange light dancing about his form.


    The fire in orange-crest''s chest flickered, and he grabbed the other two pills in his bag, stuffing them down. More qi poured into him, scorching his insides like a drought-wind. He could feel Yang Wei struggling against his command, but he had power enough to hold him for the moment.


    Orange-crest grabbed the empty bag, and climbed his foe like a tree. Gently, he placed it on Yang Wei''s head, cinching the tie as tight as he could around his neck. This strange art he''d stolen from his brother broke the moment it''s victim was struck with a blow of any force, but so long as he was gentle, he could do what he wished.


    "That cannot work." One of the watching disciples insisted.


    "No. No way."


    "Brother Yang! Break its spell!"


    Daoist Scouring Medicine winced. It was a good idea, but why was Li Hou wasting so much time, so much qi? Immobilize was a spell for brief interruptions and suppressing those in a lower realm. To hold a peer for nigh a dozen heartbeats? The monkey must be burning through his reserves.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine''s fist clenched. *Win*, he silently exhorted Li Hou. Prove them wrong. Prove him wrong. He knew the odds, but the monkey didn''t. It had done so much already that bordered upon the impossible, taking refuge in fearless audacity. What was one more dragon gate for it to leap?


    Quickly, the monkey patted Yang Wei down, looking for anything else he could restrain him with. He unknotted his beautiful blue belt, pulling it free from the daoist''s frozen figure. He couldn''t grab his spear, stuck tight in frozen hands. But the belt was not so secure. Orange-crest looped it about Yang Wei''s ankles. Tiger-shit, how did he do a knot again? His brother had shown him how to re-tie the garlics and sausages.


    Orange-crest''s qi shuddered. He could feel Yang Wei, somehow. Feel what he was. Ambition that burned like fire, pride and will and disdain all jumbled up into one. His qi pressed against orange-crest''s spell, a steady pressure that forced the monkey to pour more and more power into it to hold him still.


    Time was up. Orange-crest raised his staff, lining the blow up.


    "Yang! Break it!"


    "Monkey! Smash that silk-pants!"


    Orange-crest spun, clutching the end of his staff with both hands. His qi was nearly exhausted, he wouldn''t get a second shot. He spun once, hopped, spun a second time.


    He leaped, slamming his staff into the bag covering Yang Wei''s head with every scrap of power he could muster.


    The recoil jarred his arms, leaving his fingers numb. It was like slamming his staff into a stone statue. But even stone would have chipped, after a blow like that.


    Yang Wei went flying, sent tumbling head-over heels by the force of the blow. His spear slipped from his hand,


    Fear stole words from the mouths of the crowd, as they suddenly wondered if a noble scion had just been murdered in front of them.


    Orange-crest had no such fear. He charged forward, staff raised to beat the prone Yang Wei into the dirt. No mercy. Mercy was for those who were too weak to pose a threat. And Yang Wei was not weak.


    Even as orange-crest charged, he could see Yang Wei beginning to stir, bringing his legs together beneath him, rising up on all fours like a monkey.


    Orange-crest fell upon him like a whole pack of monkeys, his staff rising and falling like a sea in storm.


    "You furry little bastard." Yang Wei hissed. Blood poured from his nose, staining the cloth bag around his head. His qi surged into the earth, and power poured into his limbs in answer. A staff slammed down into his back, bouncing off muscles made iron-hard by the sea of earth qi flowing slowly through his meridians. Slowly, he rose. His muscles felt like mountains, the same power that shielded him from the monkey''s blows resisting his every effort to move.


    It was as his uncle said, all the greatest powers were double edged blades. But he had the skill to wield this one.


    Orange-crest rained a dozen blows down on the prone disciple. If his hits weren''t doing damage, he''d just hit him more! But to his consternation, they did nothing. Yang Wei''s flesh had grown even harder. Despite the punishment being rained down, he steadily rose to his feet. His hands moved slowly, ineffectively warding off strikes to his head and core. Orange-crest wove his staff around them easily. But that hardly mattered, when even strikes to the back of his knees or face did nothing.


    "Come on, surely that wasn''t all you had?" Even Yang Wei speech was slow. If not for his flawless enunciation, he would have sounded drunk.


    Yang Wei took a slow step forward, the belt slipping off his ankle back. His fingers found purchase in the bag around his head, ripping it free.


    "One good trick does not a warrior make."


    Orange-crest''s mind blindly groped for something, anything, to throw back at him. But neither cutting words nor clever plans rose to mind. How was he supposed to beat someone who was as hard as stone? Drown him?


    His instincts screamed at him to run, to take advantage of Yang Wei''s immobility to change the situation. But would that be a loss? He hissed. What was the point of his sharpened mind if all it could do is tell him why his ideas were bad, not give him good ones?


    Teeth bared, he charged into the fray once more. A hundred hundred strikes could eat away at even stone.


    "No. How in the ten thousand hells did he get up after that? He''s in our initiate class! He''s been cultivating for a month! What is that defense!" Someone said.


    "Did you think that it was a joke, when people said clan scions are better than the rest of us? This is that gulf. Never forget it."


    Yang Wei towered over the furious monkey like a walking mountain. He couldn''t lay a hand on the storm of furry violence that danced around him, too slow to even catch it''s staff.


    "If you like clever tricks so much, let me show you mine."


    "No!" The monkey retorted inanely, it''s eloquence seemingly exhausted. "Beat you!"


    The staff bounced off him, and Yang Wei exhaled. A shudder ran through him, as the stolid earthen qi within him rapidly accelerated. The mountain became a landslide, as minutes of durability were transmuted into moments of power.


    He stepped forward, a single flex of his ankle almost launching him into the air. It had taken hours of practice with his uncle, to achieve the control to move in this state. His arm rose up, there was nothing convenient to kick the monkey into, so the earth would have to do. His closed fist slammed down onto the monkey''s shoulder, and did not stop. He felt bones break, and followed through, driving the animal into the earth. It would not be mercy, to leave it healthy enough to get back up.


    Disciple Chang shouted something unnecessary. The crowd roared.


    The strength left Yang Wei, leaving his channels near bereft of qi. Despite his exhaustion, his limbs felt light without the Immovable Mountain Technique weighing him down.


    "That wasn''t a bad fight." Yang Wei said. "You truly tried, which is more than most men can ever say. But you will never be my equal."


    "Eehhh." Orange-crest wheezed. His shoulder screamed with pain. He tried to rise, but the world went white. He tried to turn his head, to see what had been done to him, but even that small movement was too much. The pain was beyond pain, everything felt fuzzy and distant. His chest burned like a pill furnace, but his arm was colder than the Fathomless Well. The roar of the crowd filled his ears, somehow too loud to ignore but too quiet to make out any words. The white kept creeping in, filling his vision like an unseasonable snowstorm. He let the not-snow steal him away, a welcome respite from the mind-killing pain.


    The monkey''s master was by it''s side in a moment. Yang Wei stepped back, letting him fuss over his disciple.


    A crowd of young men and women swarmed him, acclamations of glory on their lips, and Yang Wei let himself be dragged away from the prone beast. For a moment, a queer surge of loneliness struck him. He cast his eyes about and wondered if any of these friendly faces would so eagerly face his spear.

 Chapter 19

    "Daoist Scouring Medicine."


    The smile on Snowclad Heart''s face was insufferable. Daoist Scouring Medicine''s fingers itched to wipe it away. It was mere minutes away now. All the man had to do, was say the words.


    Li Hou would be fine. This exact outcome was why he''d only given him a single healing pill and two qi restoratives. Even his mortal constitution could still take enough medicinal energy to stabilize him. He pulped a pill with his own fingers, before stuffing it into the unconscious animal''s mouth. He worked its jaw with his hands, watching for choking. It was terrible practice to feed the unconscious solids, but the pulped pill only barely merited the word. Li Hou would be awake soon enough, though he wouldn''t be lifting anything over his head for a week at least.


    The damage young Yang Wei had inflicted was substantial. A broken collarbone, surrounded by a rapidly blooming bruise, visible even beneath the blood-matted fur. An indication of internal lacerations, inflicted by the path the jagged edges of Li Hou''s collarbone had taken through his flesh. He would prefer to set the injury properly, lest he need to rebreak the bone later. Daoist Scouring Medicine doubted his junior would wait that long. Still, the pill he''d fed Li Hou was no simple thing. Yet another small treasure he had no way of replacing without an income. Another few months of this and he might find himself needing to aid his medicines with the rudimentary techniques of a mortal doctor. Setting bones and balancing humors. How pathetic.


    "A pity. The irritating gadfly continued. "For a moment there, your pet almost looked like it might put a scratch on Disciple Yang Wei. It''s a remarkable achievement you know, training an ape to speak. I''m sure the emperor would appreciate having a novelty like him to amuse his court. An eloquent minister to lead his pack of trained monkeys."


    What could he say, that would seal the matter? It was tradition among daoists, that the stronger ought not suppress their juniors. For all that they were both foundation establishment cultivators, he was half a realm and half a century the man''s senior. Yet, no two men beneath the heavens were truly equals. If that rule was absolute, daoists would not have such a reputation for reducing teahouses to splinters. Still, considering what he intended to do, Daoist Snowclad Heart needed to be the one to speak the words.


    He rose to face the other man, then leaned in close, feigning an intimacy that fooled no one.


    "Tell me, is there a single stone in your foundation that Elder Lu did not lay for you? You speak so much of pets that one might think the word a demon festering in your heart."


    Unconcealed fury flashed across his junior''s face, but there was an edge of amused satisfaction to it. He''d been set on having the matter out as well. Good.


    "I come to you with good faith and open hands, and you insult me to my face? I have tolerated your slanderous tongue long enough."


    The man said more, but Daoist Scouring Medicine was past paying attention. He flared his qi in a particular pattern he hadn''t needed to use for years. Daoist Enduring Oath was on his feet in a moment, rushing toward the field.


    "You are a coward who does not respect the seniors who shelter you. You treat the juniors who seek your teaching as tools to be discarded at your convenience. You shame the Azure Mountain every time you open your mouth. If you are a man and daoist at all, you will take up arms and answer for your words." Daoist Snowclad Heart finished loudly, proclaiming his challenge for all to hear.


    Daoist Enduring Oath arrived with a rush of hot wind, the massive man surprisingly light on his feet. Doubly surprising, if one knew how much he truly weighed.


    "Don''t let his shoulder creep closer to the neck, keep it held at full extension until the pill sets his break. You can sit him up once he wakes, but he''s not to move his arms with his own power until I treat him properly."


    "Are you-" Daoist Snowclad Heart sputtered.


    "I accept your challenge." Daoist Scouring Medicine cut him off. "Here and now. There are no further words that need to pass between us."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine watched as his martial brother carried his disciple away, cradling the small monkey like a child. A distant part of him noted that the pair of them seemed to be doing that a lot lately. It was a convenient way to transport his small form.


    Anger roiled in his chest, setting his dantian ablaze. Its contents flickered and danced, the protean nature of his cultivation method allowing the flash of strong emotion to pull his qi toward the nature of fire. He exhaled, enjoying the unnatural warmth of his breath. The way it fogged slightly in the brisk autumn air. He was not worried about Li Hou. The monkey would be fine. He would fix the monkey''s body, and its mind would grow stronger for the experience. No, this fury was for the sect. Even now, after his disciple''s first proper loss, they could not leave him alone. He''d provoked this latest escalation. But choosing this moment? That was entirely the fault of the man before him. Yet another expression of the rot that had crept into his home.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine had turned over this fight in his head a thousand times. He''d considered showing a measure of mercy. Letting this duel be a mere show of strength.


    No. Daoist Snowclad Heart would not walk away from this duel. He would be carried. Li Xun reached into the bag at his side, his arm vanishing up to the elbow before he grasped what he needed. A small paper sachet, ensorcelled against flame. Heavy, for its size. Within sat a dull grey powder, flecked with rust and verdigris.


    He moved it to an inner pocket. It would be difficult accessing his spatial pouch after he took the pill.


    "We should get back, shouldn''t we?" One disciple asked the crowd at large.


    There was no referee this time. Only an elder would be powerful enough to safely break up a fight between two daoists, and it went without saying there were none both men would trust to do so. An ancestor could have risen from the depths of the mountain. But if the ancestors were watching, things would never have come to this.


    The disciples had retreated back into the wide circle they''d occupied before. They were standing far too close, but they would realize that quickly enough.


    "Begin at your leisure." He told Daoist Snowclad Heart. He spread his arms, showing his junior they were empty. He''d borne weapons to battle before. Left whole fields devoid of life, blasted and poisoned. Little of that dark work had ever attached itself to his name. He''d not reveled in doing what was necessary, and allowed the acclaim for so many of those victories to accrue to his more honorable brothers and seniors.


    To his credit, Daoist Snowclad Heart did not hesitate. His sword leapt into the air as his fan snapped open. Disciples shivered as the season shifted in a moment, winter arriving in earnest.


    His foe''s power was not an ugly thing. All qi had to it a nature. A song or scent, wisps of a story or destiny. His foe''s was stark and clean, distant and longing.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine cycled his own qi, giving himself more fully to the flame. He''d always believed a true alchemist needed to command every element, and his Quicksilver Vessel Method reflected that. The unorthodox way he''d developed his middle dantian allowed him to use it as an internal cauldron, refining the elements as he required them. Unfortunately, that unparalleled flexibility had greatly complicated every step of his advancement.


    He opened with a smokescreen. He withdrew a second powder from his satchel, ash of the Two-Shadowed Yew. A subtle spell of wood and fire gave it a weight that transcended weight. Light enough to spread as air, yet heavy enough to resist the wind.


    Disciples bleated in dismay, as their view was interrupted.


    "Such petty tricks?"


    Daoist Snowclad Heart swung the fan at his side, and desolation followed.


    It was not a swift wind. It moved no faster than a mortal could run. The disciples who had chosen to stand behind Daoist Snowclad Heart could track it''s progression with their eyes, watch as frost crept up stalks of grass and dewy leaves drooped beneath spreading ice.


    Where it met ash, the ash was driven back. Swept away cleanly, like dust washed from the street.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine had not been blessed with the instincts of a warrior. He had not Guarding Thunder''s keen eye for weakness, or Enduring Oath''s unbreakable resolve. What he had, was flexibility. But all the flexibility in the world was useless if he sought to poison steel or quench a bonfire with new growth.


    Having a ten thousand options was the foundation for a formidable offense. But it offered little in the way of protection, unless one already knew what their foe would do.


    From this truth, his fighting style had been born.


    If a daoist bore a fan or flywhisk, it did not take a genius to predict what they would do when their opponent cast out smoke before them.


    Even if the core formation treasure in their hands was a weapon far more suitable to marshalling the chill of winter, than commanding storm-winds.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine flared fire within his dantian, crouched low to let the worst of the wind pass above him. Steam rose from his exposed skin, like mist in the morning sun. Water gathered around his feet, freezing anew in moments as the cutting wind forced him a step back. Daoist Snowclad Heart''s swing wrought a hundred chi of deep winter. All around him trees were encased in tombs of ice, so beautiful one could forget they were already dead. His qi by contrast had only returned a single pace of space to early autumn, rendered into a swampy morass.


    But how much more power, had his junior spent?


    Swordlight flashed out, but Daoist Scouring Medicine was already rolling. The brilliant shadow of his foe''s blade left deep gouges in the ice around him, even as the fire within him cooled to earth, then began to birth metal.


    The next strike, he caught on an upturned palm. It shattered upon skin as unyielding as steel. If his dantian was a cauldron, a vessel for refinement and creation, his Five-Element Body was an instrument. A tool to transform that elemental qi into martial might.


    The last remnants of the wind washed over the watching disciples, a great wave of frozen darkness.


    "So cold!" One gasped, falling to his knees.


    "Get back!" Another shouted, pulling a prone fellow along by his underarms.


    Half a dozen daoists flared their own qi, shielding the disciples near them from the guttering remnants of the wave.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    The two combatants stalked forward, circling each other as they closed. The petty concerns of the crowd were beneath this moment.


    "Surely even an alchemist has some form of attack available to them?" Daoist Snowclad Heart asked. "Or do you hope that I will tire myself, like some overeager child? Is your road to victory so narrow?"


    "Is that what you call that? An attack?"


    Daoist Snowclad Heart swept Elder Lu''s fan once more. This time, the wind returned to him. It struck Daoist Scouring Medicine from behind, sending him staggering forward. The cold bit into him, and he felt the metal of his defense become brittle.


    "Ten thousand strikes fells the oldest of trees." Daoist Snowclad Heart intoned. "A winter unending buries the mightiest of beasts."


    The cold deepened.


    His flying sword gently descended, the steel kissing his empty hand with a lover''s tenderness.


    "Take this seriously, senior. Or drown, in frost and steel."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine said nothing.


    The two men met with a ringing of steel like a cavalry charge, half a dozen blows exchanged in the space of moments. A rising palm met a descending blade, drawing a thin line of cinnabar blood. Swordlight was the hollow shadow of the blade''s passing. The true thing was more terrible by far, and Daoist Snowclad Heart''s sword could easily cut a skin of mere steel.


    But Scouring Medicine was faster. His leg struck like a viper, a steel slipper taking his foe in the stomach. Daoist Snowclad Heart flew back. A thin rivulet of blood escaped his mouth, staining the hem of his stark white robe with crimson shame.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine winced, already swallowing a weak healing pill. A single direct block had cut his hand to the bone.


    "Enough of this farce." Daoist Snowclad Heart shouted.


    *"Fallow, Lies the Earth"*


    Icy winds surged, and Daoist Snowclad Heart leapt skyward. Daoist Scouring Medicine''s eyes widened as he descended like a bird of prey. True flight was not the domain of mere foundation establishment cultivators.


    Metal? Or fire? No. He didn''t have time for three elemental transitions. Metal would have to endure.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Orange-crest awoke to a burning sensation.


    His shoulder was so hot, like a cauldron in use! He remembered the last moments of the battle. Oh. It was broken. Smashed the rotten wood, by Yang Wei''s dirty-clever trick.


    He''d lost, hadn''t he? He wasn''t sad. He''d lost a lot, on the mountain. He''d just thought it would be different, now that he was a cultivator monkey. That now, he would get to win.


    Then he smelled burning fur.


    "Aghk!" Orange-crest hiss-gurgled. He flailed, then deeply regretted the motion. White-hot pain, far hotter than mere fire, rampaged through his shattered shoulder.


    "Li Hou, stay still." Daoist Enduring Oath''s voice was tense, focused. The monkey had never heard the big man so concerned. "I''ll release your shoulder, but you can''t move."


    The massive hand unclamped from his shoulder, and one source of burning disappeared.


    "I apologize. Your master and his opponent are not restraining themselves."


    Orange-crest shivered as a wave of freezing air passed over him, only to dissipate in a moment. Daoist Enduring Oath''s skin looked even more like stone than usual, as he radiated heat like a bonfire. Half a dozen disciples pressed in close, struggling to avoid stepping on the prone monkey as they jostled for position.


    "What?" Orange-crest asked dumbly. Even for men, this was weird.


    "Sit up." A new voice commanded. It took orange-crest a moment to place it.


    "Watch." Yang Wei commanded. "You''re promising enough you might actually learn something from it."


    Orange-crest was too tired to argue. He let the human who had broken his shoulder gently prop him up against a frozen tree stump. Had the seasons changed while he slept? Nothing made sense right now.


    Then he saw the battle, and the world made even less sense.


    His brother was fighting the stupid-mean one from the Fathomless Well. And his foe was dancing upon the winter wind like the Monkey King, harrying Daoist Scouring Medicine with a sword that froze the very air around it. His brother was slowing, taking blow after blow. His robes were stained with countless thin lines of frozen blood.


    Orange-crest struggled to rise.


    "No." Yang Wei held him down. "It''s a duel. Even if you could interfere, you can''t. Your master chose this."


    "No." Orange-crest insisted. "No is coward. I help."


    "Have faith in your master, Li Hou." Daoist Enduring Oath rumbled. "He has survived far worse than a duel among peers."


    "Turn of fortune... some small measure..."


    Brother Scouring Medicine''s voice was almost inaudible through the howling winds. Orange-crest strained his ears to hear his brother''s words. Fury rose within him as he heard disciples in the crowd mocking Brother Scouring Medicine, chittering venomously about his weakness.


    "I shall do... honor of... taking this seriously."


    Orange-crest''s eyes widened enough they felt fit to pop out of his head, as the battlefield exploded into flame.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    He was slowing. Death by ten thousand cuts indeed.


    That was the trick of it. Of the fan Elder Lu had leant him. The cold lingered, growing deeper with every sweep of the fan, every stroke of the blade. Even his refined body was slowing now. Despite the fire burning in his dantian, his extremities were colder than ice. If his blood still froze as water did, he would be immobile now, waiting to die.


    It was time. Daoist Snowclad Heart''s qi surged, as he gathered power for a finishing blow.


    "By a great turn of fortune, you appear to have come into possession of some small measure of true skill. I shall do you the honor of taking this seriously." Daoist Scouring Medicine spoke into the whirlwind.


    "Bold words for someone who-"


    Daoist Scouring Medicine shoved the Quarternary Heartfire Pill into his mouth before the fool could finish. An amateur mistake, from a daoist who had never known war. Never give an alchemist time to consume a pill.


    Winter withered and died, as the world around him burned.


    It was still too much. Too much power for him to control, too much heat to be directed. Exactly what he needed. The sweltering heat emanating from his skin melted the ice upon in robes in an instant, then began to blacken the fabric the next. His wounds closed, cauterized by the inferno within him.


    He opened his mouth to speak a final taunt, but a torrent of fire poured out instead.


    A flare of his qi shattered the storm around him, revealing his foe''s location. He could not fly as Daoist Snowclad Heart did. Not for lack of power, but for a lack of control.


    Instead, he lined up the angles. Crouched, relishing the impossible power running through him.


    The first pass took him from the sky. Fingers interlinked, twin fists rocketed downward. An inferno followed them, driving Daoist Snowclad Heart to the earth. Li Xun twisted in the air, venting fiery qi through his feet. He landed like a meteor, waves of flame echoing out with every step. Flames radiated from his shoulders, shrouding the daoist like a phoenix''s wings.


    He retrieved the pocket of powder from his lower robes. A single touch reduced fabric and paper alike to ash, coating his hand in molten metal.


    Most poisons are destroyed by flame. But not those of metal, uncommon as they are.


    There are many sorts of impurities in the unrefined body. Some of them were beyond his skill to synthesize, complex organic detritus that the body produced as it grows. Others however, can be found in nature. Isolated and purified, rendered into a metallic powder. Normally, a cultivated spirit would simply purify its vessel once more.


    But Snowclad Heart''s spirit was about to have more pressing concerns.


    The man swung his fan about, futilely attempting to marshal the shattered blizzard. Li Xun drew his fist back with a smile. A flame fit to burn a sect to the ground gathered in his fight, setting the molten metal to gentle bubbling.


    He stepped forward, burning away the space between them in a single step. A sword bit into his shoulder, but the burst of flame that poured out rejected the blade. In this moment, he was more than flesh. A thin mortal shell around a sea of flame.


    His fist shattered the fan raised in futile defense. It might have been a core formation treasure, but in the end it was still a fan. Ill-suited for blocking a fist. For a single moment, Daoist Snowclad Heart stood, impaled upon his arm. Then he vented the flame within in him one final time, a torrent of burning qi carrying it''s leaden venom deep into his foe''s dantian.


    Both men fell to their knees. Only one stirred from that position.


    It was done. There could be no turning back now. He would walk free, or die at the hands of Elder Lu. Slowly, Daoist Scouring Medicine crawled away from his defeated opponent. He lurched to his feet, staggering toward the crowd. Flames still poured from him, even as the power they fed him dwindled. He couldn''t have Daoist Snowclad Heart burn away.


    A dead daoist can''t cry pitiably for vengeance, after all. Or demand impossible medical care in recognition of his long service.


    ****


    One foot in front of the other. Softly, with grace. Don''t stumble. Don''t let the knees bend.


    Feel the pain, let it pass through you. Tense the core, not the neck, in time with the waves of agony. Searing flames raced through his meridians, cooking his flesh from within. Daoist Scouring Medicine exhaled, wincing as the the steam pouring through his nostrils carried with it horrifying traces of the scent of roasting pork.


    "An impressive performance, senior. I see your studies have yielded fruit."


    Congratulation received a silent nod.


    "Strength built upon a mountain of pills is as enduring as footsteps in sand."


    "This, is what you pursued instead of core formation? I cannot say I am impressed. Tell me, how much wealth did you spend for a moment''s glory? Twenty spirit stones? Fifty?"


    Derision earned a tiny smile, a silent promise of repayment.


    Mantra after mantra passed through Daoist Scouring Medicine''s mind as he forced his broken body to go through the motions of victory. He met the eyes of a younger daoist approaching with a question, and exhaled a thin stream of flame, like the tongue of a serpent, in answer.


    "Ah, my apologies." The man said, stepping out of his way. "Another time, fellow daoist."


    More steps. The crowd thinned.


    "Okay?"


    Daoist Scouring Medicine looked down at Li Hou. The monkey looked as bad as he felt. Even his dense fur could not fully conceal the bruises slowly spreading across his body. The daoist nodded, then kept walking. The monkey limped beside him, a little further back than he usually followed, in deference to the flames that still leaked from his every pore.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine slowed, moderating his pace to avoid leaving the injured monkey behind. It was agony, walking so slowly. But then, if he rushed home, would sitting even be an improvement? There was nothing to do but hold on, cycle his qi until the fire within him abated.


    They walked together in silence. He wondered, what the monkey was thinking. How it felt after that loss. Yang Wei''s performance had been impressive, for one so young. That body reinforcement technique was clearly entirely based in spiritual cultivation, but it wasn''t one of the sect''s standard arts. It''s potential for reversal was remarkable for its realm. Likely his legendary uncle''s influence.


    The heat flared within his chest. Daoist Scouring Medicine fell to his knees.


    Orange-crest reached out for him reflexively, before stopping himself.


    "Okay?" He asked again.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine nodded, eyes tightly shut. He waited, for the fit to pass.


    "I''m okay." He finally answered. "Are you?"


    "That was bad."


    "I suppose it could have gone better." He agreed.


    "Why did you fight him?"


    "It''s... complicated. His master has a grudge against me."


    "They said bad things about you. The other disciples."


    "That does not surprise me."


    "I want to go. They don''t like me. But I am monkey. Is okay, that men do not like me. Often, I do not like men. But you are of them. Brother and pack. Yet they scorn you."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine sighed. He''d worried it might come to this. But perhaps he could talk Li Hou around, or bribe him into working with him. But what loyalty could he really expect from a wild animal? He would not be wrong to run, when he saw what kind of power cultivators could bring to bear.


    "Yes, they do." He answered.


    "Is because of me?" To Li Xun''s surprise, he couldn''t read the monkey''s face. There was no guilt or fear in it, but his eyes shined with resolve.


    "No. That sin is mine alone."


    "If sect-pack no likes, then leave with me."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine smiled.


    "Would that I could. But a daoist''s oaths to his sect are not so easily forsaken."


    "What?"


    "I can''t leave. Not without permission."


    "Stupid." Li Hou hissed. He winced, having aggravated his injury. "Permission for coward and stupid. I ask. Emperor of Mount Yuelu protect. No man or tiger will hurt my brother."


    Li Xun''s eyes watered, as a stray stream of fiery qi tore it''s way through his tear ducts. His disciple was a fool, but he was a loyal fool at least.


    "I will not bring your mountain''s lord into conflict with our sect master. You saw how strong I am? I have no more chance against Ren Yuhan than you do against me."


    "Emperor not lose. Monkey Emperor never lose." Li Hou insisted, refusing to name his king a mere lord. It was not his brother''s fault, that he did not understand how vast the heavens, how mighty the greatest of monkeys.


    Arguing with Li Hou was a pointless endeavor. At least on matters the monkey took on faith, like his mysterious lord''s infallibility. Even if the spirit beast stood at the peak of core formation, Ren Yuhan was in nascent soul, to say nothing of the sect''s ancestors in closed cultivation. No spirit beast could hope to win such a fight.


    "I have a plan." Li Xun said instead. "There are ways, that I could be released. But the best of them hinge upon you. A year, within the sect."


    "How?"


    "It''s complicated. There''s a tournament at year''s end-"


    "No." The monkey interrupted him. It stepped close, meeting his eyes. They watered again, with the stench of singed fur.


    "Is simple." Orange-crest said firmly. He took his brother''s hand. It was so large still, big enough to span much of his upper back. He gripped two of the fingers with his own hand, pulling his brother along. His hands burned, but he refused to let go.


    "No. Is simple." He repeated. "For Brother Scouring Medicine, anything. Plan stupid. Will make work anyway."


    "The sect will not let me leave easily. It will be a hard fight."


    Orange-crest smiled like a man. His thick lips and long fangs leant the expression an air of both wild violence, and ridiculous artifice.


    "Then we break it." The monkey said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

 Chapter 20

    "Li Hou, that is a great deal of ginger."


    Daoist Enduring Oath watched as the monkey hesitated, before digging the scoop back into the drawer once more.


    "Little ginger good. Big ginger more good." Orange-crest explained. It seemed a very simple concept. Ginger tasted good. Why would one not put as much as possible in their tea?


    "There is such a thing as too much of a good thing."


    The monkey craned its neck to look up at him, its eyes unusually serious.


    "Ginger like wine?" Orange-crest asked. He didn''t want to compound his brother''s internal flames with a pounding headache.


    "Not exactly. Mundane ginger has some level of influence over the humors of mortals. It''s considered a warming medicine, actually. But for a cultivator of Daoist Scouring Medicine''s attainment, its effect would be all but nonexistent."


    "Then why no more ginger?"


    "Just... Trust your senior on this. Less ginger. Li Xun will appreciate it."


    Daoist Enduring Oath watched as the monkey set a kettle to boil. He found himself intervening again, when Li Hou tried to increase the amount of dried tea to concerning proportions. Then a second time when the monkey grabbed at the iron kettle without a hook or cloth.


    "But you touch!" Orange-crest complained. "Why I no touch?"


    Daoist Enduring Oath sighed, then rolled up his sleeve. He stuck his arm fully into his brother''s hearth, enjoying the heat of the coals. His skin felt so little these days. He needed a blazing furnace, to remember what the gentle warmth of sunlight on his face used to feel like.


    The monkey''s eyes narrowed.


    "Fine."


    Gingerly, it reached out for the teapot. It tapped the side, withdrawing it''s fingers instantly.


    "Not even hot." Orange-crest insisted. It was a little hot.


    Was this what having children was like? It seemed exhausting. Perhaps he should consider taking a disciple of his own. It would be nice to leave something behind, when his time ran out. Perhaps a less energetic pupil, though.


    The monkey held the cups as he poured. The moment he finished, it scampered off, liquid sloshing dangerously.


    "I make tea!" Li Hou proclaimed loudly from the other room, no doubt presenting it to his master.


    Daoist Enduring Oath snorted quietly, banking the fire before he rose to join them. He carefully schooled his face as he entered his martial brother''s presence. Li Xun could be a touchy fellow at the best of times, and he had no wish to compound his injury with insult. There was no kind way to say it, the alchemist''s skin resembled nothing so much as it did char siu. Red as an adzuki bean and ominously shiny, swollen just enough to have an unnaturally taut texture, Daoist Scouring Medicine looked as much guai as man. Even now, two days on, small puffs of steam occasionally vented from his ears.


    Through careful manipulation of internal qi, and perhaps a measure of luck, his Li Xun had at least managed to avoid losing his hair to the side effects of his volatile medicament.


    "It is... Remarkably ginger forward." The man noted with a pursed expression. Or, what might have been a pursed expression beneath all that facial swelling.


    "I tried. Your disciple is most determined."


    "Very funny. Please, do not restrain yourself on my account. There are three bowls, after all. And I do not think this a blend that will improve with longer steeping."


    "Is better taste ginger than taste leaf." Orange-crest interjected.


    "We''ll have to agree to disagree on that count."


    The two daoists spoke of small things for a time. Their crafts and the weather. Trends in trade, and the disciples who might seek promotion this year. Li Hou excused himself shortly after finishing his tea. Daoist Scouring Medicine hardly required a nurse. He could easily have prepared his own tea, even in this condition. But it was not an unpleasant way to spend an afternoon. Daoist Enduring Oath wondered how many more such afternoons he would share with his brother. It was a thought ill-befitting an aspiring immortal.


    His brother noticed his darkening expression, and his brow furrowed in turn.


    "Li Hou has been gone a while." The man with the skin of a new year''s duck noted. And more ominously, he''s quiet."


    "I sensed him enter the pantry. I assumed he''s raiding your larder."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine rose rapidly, wincing.


    "I keep more than just food in there."


    "Oh."


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    It had taken a while, but orange-crest had finally figured out the pantry! The spell binding it was basically just the commandment to stop, but slightly different. So opening the door was as simple as breaking the spell.


    Yang Wei had shown him the secret. Slow, steady, pushing. The qi magic was a brittle thing, one that fell apart rapidly with any resistance. It took a great deal of qi to make, but a little qi applied over a long time could break it. And he didn''t think his brother had put his full might into shutting the pantry.


    He''d seen his brother''s full might now. He was no match for the Monkey King, but he was far closer in stature than orange-crest had expected. He understood now, why his brother had disdained Mount Yuelu''s isolation. How mighty must this emperor of man be, if his powerful brother was so far beneath him as to be worth less attention than the Monkey King had shown orange-crest?


    He took another drink. On Mount Yuelu, he''d often left his wines for most of a season. This one had seen one part in three of that span, but it was already done! The sweetness was all but vanished, leaving only the harsh fire of wine. Perhaps there was indeed merit to those yellow flakes his brother had provided.


    His brother would complain, but his brother complained about a lot of things. It was only fair that orange-crest have access to the fruit wine he had made! He would have explained this to his brother at the time of making it, if he hadn''t been tired and frustrated by the time he''d finished the mash. It had been hard work, bridging the language gap between him and his brother. Even now, there was so much he could not say.


    If orange-crest had to think, he didn''t want to do it sober. And the preceding days had given him a great deal to think about.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    A year among men, to free his brother from the chains of the sect. It was a very long time. He''d not been hasty, in swearing it. He''d do it again in a moment. Brotherhood was not a thing to be weighed and measured. Help was asked, so help would be given. Even if he could not yet see the form of it, what he could do before the terrible weight of the sect. There were no words he could say, men he could fight, or things he could take. Nothing he could see within his mind''s eyes, that would shift the bearing of that great behemoth of an organization.


    Yet, his brother was certain. And his brother did not strike him as a man to be certain when he should not.


    But, if his brother had a plan, orange-crest did not. He''d tried fitting in. Acting as the humans did. Or, as closely as he could manage.


    It hadn''t ended in catastrophe. He''d learned and grown. His belly was full, even after his defeat. He''d not come here with intention. Curiosity and the madness of men had torn him from Mount Yuelu.


    By all rights, he should be as satisfied as one could be, after a loss. Despite his defeat, cultivator magic had cured the worst of his wounds, and his brother''s house remained safe and warm.


    But he wasn''t satisfied.


    For the first time in orange-crest''s life, a full belly and a safe cave was not enough. There had always been a hunger in him for precious and hidden knowings. But it had been a false-hunger. One he could not perish from for paucity.


    It seemed almost a real hunger now. A need sharp enough to cut. Orange-crest needed to know more. Be more. He was tired of being blown about by the whims of fate and men. Even by those of his brother.


    "There you are."


    Orange-crest was definitely not startled by his fruit-skinned-brother''s sudden appearance. Any who said that he yelped loudly, and by futile reflex attempted to conceal the great jug with his body, were lying liars. He''d done nothing wrong and definitely did not act like a criminal when caught.


    Definitely.


    "It''s not good to drink alone." Daoist Scouring Medicine continued.


    "Yes it is. If not drink alone, monkeys steal all the drink."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine sat down beside the monkey, ignoring the fervent protests of his muscles.


    "That''s the price we pay for company. Far sadder to drink alone than be sober together."


    The daoist looked over at the jug.


    "Not that we seem in imminent danger of sobriety."


    "Am seeing if wine good or bad." Orange-crest muttered defensively.


    "A rather thorough quality check."


    The monkey did not reply. Daoist Scouring Medicine frowned. It was tricky, seeing into the little beast''s heart. It shrugged off being kidnapped like it was nothing, but it''d grown fiercely sullen when subjected to mere days of monotonous work.


    He didn''t think the monkey was some princeling who had never taken a loss in a fight with it''s peers. It spoke frequently of being small, and losing squabbles with its larger packmates.


    "What has you in such a mood." He asked directly. That was one of the nice things about teaching a monkey. He didn''t need to ever be one step ahead, play the part of the all-knowing senior. The monkey wouldn''t treat him with the respect his position was due even if he did.


    "You took pill. You wind-ran like free-fire. Struck with hands that could break cauldron."


    "I did."


    "I want that. How get?"


    "You want to run on the wind and burn like a cauldron? Be strong enough to shatter metal?" He summarized.


    "Yes." Orange-crest said seriously.


    "What do you think I''ve been teaching you?"


    "How chop chop?"


    Daoist Scouring Medicine laughed. The motion pulled unpleasantly at the skin of his chest. Heavens above, he was going to need to make a balm for his skin, wasn''t he? It was healing too tightly. Burns were the worst. Now he was remembering exactly why he''d never made that pill a second time.


    "Chop chop, reading, making pills. That is the foundation of my power. All that I am, all I am capable of, is built atop my understanding of the truths of heaven and earth. You achieved the second stage of qi condensation in a week! Do you have any idea how rapid a rise that is? Yang Wei likely spent six hours a day cultivating in a spirit spring to match you! With the aid of my pills, you did that in a single session! You''re spending not even a tenth of that time in the Fathomless Well! It''s hardly surprisingly you haven''t had another breakthrough since."


    "But I''m weak monkey. Yang Wei beat like rude infant."


    "You''re an initiate! You were a mortal a month ago!" Daoist Scouring Medicine wanted to tear his hair out. This monkey! He''d thought it might be demoralized about losing, but it was dissatisfied with its progress! It would be one thing, if it understood just how heaven-defying its progress had been. It''d taken a month to learn the rudiments of reading and alchemy and it was disappointed by this! There was nothing more appropriate than a cultivator hungering for ever more. But those impossible talents at least understood what they surpassed.


    Li Hou could scarcely speak a human tongue, and he wanted to match the strength it''d taken his master most of a century to achieve!


    "Look, I have a plan for your development. A way to help you surpass even Yang Wei and the other noble scions. You have no chance of matching their spiritual cultivations. They''ll have access to cultivation methods and resources that far surpass what I can provide you. But few of the sects focus on bodily cultivation. Its dangerous and resource intensive, and sufficiently advanced spiritual cultivation grants many of the same benefits as a byproduct. But they underestimate it, especially at low realms. I have a plan for a bath that will allow you to leap the dragon gate, no matter how fast the clan talents grow, none of them have a hope of reaching the peak of qi condensation in a single year. But if I can...."


    Orange-crest took another deep drink as his brother burst into a frenzied explanation of his plans. Much of it went in one of the monkey''s ears and then out the other. It sounded good, in principle. Making him stronger. A rematch with Yang Wei. Him winning, and this brother going free.


    But his brother was missing the point. Orange-crest didn''t want his brother to make him into a stronger monkey. His, should be the paw on the cauldron.


    "No." Orange-crest said firmly.


    "What!" Daoist Scouring Medicine thundered. "Do you have any idea what others would do for-"


    "Not no." Orange-crest clarified quickly, before his brother could work himself into a tizzy. He was too injured to be getting this excited. It was hard to take him seriously with his skin pinker than a rose in bloom. "Yes-no. Sounds like good. But not what ask. You know baths. You are bath-man. I want to make me stronger. Not just you."


    "I see." His brother said quietly. The rose-man turned to stare up at the late afternoon sky. Orange-crest leaned back and did the same.


    "Cultivation is a long and difficult road." Daoist Scouring Medicine said eventually. "Every step you take upon it will be harder than the last."


    "Cultivation is hard." Orange-crest agreed. "Also boring. This monkey not good at sitting still and being cold and heavy."


    "If it were easy and fun, everyone would do it. You have a rare talent, and a good master. But running fast will not make the road shorter. My strength is built atop a foundation of knowledge. But scholarship is a road as long and difficult as cultivation in its own manner. My advice, if you want to achieve something on your own, is to focus on techniques. Inventing your own cultivation method is difficult. Martial skill is good, but you don''t strike me as the sort so singularly minded as to become a sword cultivator. But the rate at which you''ve picked up the immobilizing spell suggests an affinity for the spiritual arts that might be worth honing. Just... Don''t be surprised if success is distant and infrequent. There''s a reason cultivators put such stock in the arts passed down by our masters and sects. Even I have precious few novel techniques to my name."


    "Your words have sharp-smarts. Might be right, but this monkey does not like. You say is hard. Is slow. I believe. But why?"


    "Why is cultivation difficult? Why is life full of struggle? Philosophers have struggled futilely with such questions for ages. I dare not claim to understand the fullness of the Dao. Your guess is as good as mine Li Hou."


    There was another silence. Li Xun felt like he was failing his student somehow, though he did not know how. He wondered if his teacher had ever felt the same.


    "Perhaps I''ve focused your education too intensely on my own interests." He said eventually. "Learning is the foundation of my Dao, but perhaps it is not yours. If your talents lead you elsewhere, I will help you as best I can."


    Orange-crest groaned.


    "No more big talk. Came out here to drink and think. Now I think only drink. Too much think."


    "Very well. Pass that jug. Let''s see if your brewing skills are as great as you claimed."


    Orange-crest hefted the great jug, marveling at how light it was to him now. It still took all his strength to lift it rather than roll it. But just a month ago it would have been beyond him entirely to shift such a colossal vessel. Just a month ago he didn''t know what a month was.


    His brother hefted it with a single hand, taking a long draw.


    "Eugh. That''s too sweet. I don''t think its done fermenting."


    "I like the sweet. Daoist Scouring Medicine no has good taste."


    "You rascal! Not a single person would believe such a foolish claim!"


    "Is still true!" Orange-crest insisted. This conversation with his brother had left him more confused than when he''d begun trying to think organize the many thoughts that warred in his head. But as he and his brother exchanged friendly-mockery and fought over the wine, he felt like he was coming closer to an answer. Perhaps the not-knowing was just part of the road to the knowing. His brother had plans. And orange-crest, well, he was starting to have ideas.

 Chapter 21

    The Meeting Hall felt cavernous, far more so than it normally did. The sect master had not deigned to command a light be set, leaving the two men he had summoned to wait in darkness.


    For a mortal, the blackness would have been oppressive. Not absolute, but near to it. For a core formation cultivator, it was merely quite dark. Elder Lu could have banished the shadows with a gesture, brought forth the gentle glow of unalloyed gold.


    He did not. The snub was as clear an indicator of Ren Yuhan''s mood as he''d ever seen.


    Elder Lu knew the great columns surrounding him were wrought of cloudy jade, flecked with brilliant veins of azure, like frozen lightning. A treasure of the sect, and an ever pleasant reminder of the riches of the earth that were a cornerstone of his cultivation.


    In the velvet darkness, they were hard-edged shadows indistinguishable from any lesser stone.


    The sect master''s arrival was heralded not by sound, but by light. The dark fled before his silent steps, his unearthly flesh illuminated from within by a gentle azure glow.


    Ren Yuhan took his seat quietly, turning his eyes upon the two standing daoists. The light that poured from him did not reach their feet. Yet, neither man doubted he could see them perfectly, for his eyes shined like the treasures of the mountain.


    "Elder Lu. I was told you had the matter under control." Ren Yuhan said mildly. "Imagine my surprise, when I emerged from my cultivation. Such tales I heard. A talking monkey dueled a noble scion before half the outer sect. It lost, of course. But a remarkable achievement indeed, for a beast that was... How did you put it? As intelligent as a well trained dog?"


    "I have failed you, sect master." Elder Lu bowed his head.


    Daoist Guarding Thunder stood still as stone, waiting for the sect master''s attention to fall upon him. He''d done nothing wrong. Yet, he was far from blameless.


    "No. You have failed the sect." Ren Yuhan corrected. "The monkey is one thing. I received a report from Elder Weeping Lotus this morning. Daoist Snowclad Heart is functionally crippled. His cultivation has stabilized at near the midpoint of qi condensation. Elder Weeping Lotus is not optimistic about his prospects of recovery."


    "I have no excuses. I underestimated the depths to which that traitor would stoop."


    "Daoist Scouring Medicine sent his condolences, of course. By letter. He says he would deliver his regrets in person, but his own injuries render him unsuitable for polite society at this time." The Sect Master relayed with dark amusement. "He says he would offer his own aid, in attempting to devise a cure for Daoist Snowclad Heart''s injuries. Unfortunately, recent events have left him bereft of the ingredients he expects to need. Apparently, between raising up a disciple and attempting to cure Disciple Zhang''s partial petrification, his stores have near run dry. Being a dutiful member of the sect, he of course has not asked for his punishment to be rescinded."


    A vein twitched in Elder Lu''s forehead.


    "I did not think, it was possible for a man to be that shameless. I will handle the matter. Personally."


    The sect master raised an eyebrow.


    "Oh? You will fix Daoist Snowclad Heart''s blocked meridians? Cure our disciple''s wagging tongues?"


    Elder Lu winced.


    "No. But Daoist Scouring Medicine at least, I can see held to account. And prevented from making any further trouble."


    "I thought as much. By all means, mend the fence after the sheep have been lost." Ren Yuhan turned to Daoist Guarding Thunder. "Tell me, what do you have to offer me?"


    Daoist Guarding Thunder flinched, as the weight of the sect master''s attention settled upon him. The air around him felt thin, like the heights of a mountain peak. He inclined his head, matching Elder Lu''s bow. He''d never truly noticed how irregular the grains of the floor were. He wondered how old these timbers were. Did the patriarch lay them? The sect histories proclaimed this the first building laid down upon the mountain, after the patriarch forged his accord with the mountain lord. The squabbles of their generation felt so small, in the shadow of such history.


    "I underestimated the depth of my fellow daoist''s disillusionment and failed to give the sect adequate warning of his treacherous plans. I can only offer my understanding of his character and techniques, in the hopes that my elders can use them to avert further tragedy."


    The pressure upon him abated slightly.


    "Good. You at least understand the nature of your failure. Tell me, what will your old friend do next?"


    Daoist Guarding Thunder shivered. He''d hated this choice when he made it. It felt wrong. Unworthy of the man he wished to be. But every other choice had seemed even worse. He''d called Li Xun a brother, once. But he''d dedicated his life to the Azure Mountain, and it was not the sect that had decided this matter had to end in blood.


    "I believe that he will seek to draw Elder Lu to overstep, and demand legal remedy when he does."


    Elder Lu frowned.


    "You think he seeks a conflict with me? I would crush him before a stick of incense could burn down a finger''s width."


    "Explain your reasoning, Daoist Guarding Thunder." Ren Yuhan commanded.


    "Daoist Scouring Medicine cannot be attempting to buy time. He reached the peak of foundation establishment the earliest of the three of us, but the nature of his cultivation method has made advancing to core formation almost impossible. He has been stuck in that realm for fifty years, and he is no sword cultivator to use strife as a whetstone. No daoist in his realm is going to seek a conflict with him after that blatant crippling, not without inducement. By process of elimination, he must be seeking to take advantage of the sect''s response."


    "So you think his plan must rely upon challenging a senior."


    "As you said Elder Lu, he would have no chance against you. That suggests to me that his plan relies upon tarring the name of the sect with accusations of tyranny. Perhaps by inducing you to overstep, either by taking action against him directly, or by killing the monkey he has entered into the roles as a junior."


    "Interesting." Elder Lu said, stroking his wispy beard. "I had considered that myself that the monkey might be bait. But it is easy, and safe, to urge caution when you are not the one who needs accomplish a task."


    "It is not caution I advise. If he seeks an impropriety, do not give him one. He cannot continue crippling his fellow daoists. Once is an accident. But who could be faulted for leaping to lethal force for fear of it becoming a pattern?"


    Ren Yuhan''s handsome brow furrowed.


    "And would you volunteer for such a duty?"


    "Of course, sect master."


    "Very well. Thank you for your council, daoist. Leave us."


    Daoist Guarding Thunder''s quiet footsteps echoed like his namesake in the velvety silence of the darkened hall. Elder Lu waited patiently, for the sect master to come to a conclusion.


    "I mislike this." Ren Yuhan finally said. "He clearly wants a release from his oaths."


    "Then he should have bought them out, rather than start a fight he cannot hope to win."


    "Perhaps. But I am not opposed to granting him what he wants, so long as the cost of it is sufficiently ruinous."


    Elder Lu''s eyes twinkled.


    "I understand. Twelve percent interest perhaps? Even if he begins producing income immediately, a few small misfortunes could easily allow such a sum to snowball beyond the possibility of repayment."


    "Perhaps. So long as it includes a sufficiently public apology. The matter remains yours, Elder Lu. Do not disappoint me, this time. I do not care if you crush him with your own might, or a mountain of debt; so long as the next time I hear his name, it is as a cautionary tale."


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Orange-crest raised his arm above his head. Up, and down. His shoulder popped gently. The monkey reflexively flinched. No flash of pain followed. He breathed out, a gentle coo of relief.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Two weeks. It was a long time for one''s arm to not work right. To be unable to swing from trees or lift great jugs. He still remembered Yang Wei''s blow. The speed and power of it, the way his clenched fist had simply moved through the monkey, as if his flesh were water. His brother''s medical magic had fixed the worst of it before he''d even awoken. But Brother Scouring Medicine was running out. There were few more magic pills. No more of the good ones, the ones that fixed great injuries like that in moments.


    Even the weaker curatives he was rationing carefully, leaving orange-crest to recover largely on his own. A month ago, orange-crest would have found that unfair. Foolish to hoard magic healing, when one was injured. But his brother''s injuries were even slower to heal. If his brother would do without, so would orange-crest.


    The monkey had been bored out of his mind these last two weeks. No staff classes. He couldn''t do most of the forms with only one arm. No exploring the mountain. His brother had forbidden that one, until he was healthy enough to flee or defend himself. Less alchemy, his brother produced more steam than the cauldron these days.


    Orange-crest had complied, with minimal complaints. He understood very well just how dangerous it would be to get caught by four disciples with a grudge alone, and down an arm. But he still hated it. All his time was spent reading and eating and thinking and sleeping. He''d learned much, healed much. But being stuck within the house all the time left his skin crawling, irritated as the time he''d caught red-eye''s fleas. Nothing was meant to live like this, rotting between bed and scroll. His body and mind might be fed, but the part of him that was him felt like it was slowly dying.


    "I''m going out." He told his brother. The man''s face was still red and puffy as a baboon''s ass.


    "You are-"


    Orange-crest raised both arms above his head, cutting his brother off. He gave them great big whirls, showing off his mobility. On a whim, he leapt, spinning forward. He landed in a poorly balanced handstand, a trick he''d seen disciples performing before staff class.


    Oh. He couldn''t see his brother now, he was facing the wrong way. How did one turn like this? I lifted a hand, and immediately began wobbling dangerously.


    "You can stop showing off. Go, but be careful."


    Orange-crest rolled out of the handstand.


    "No worry. Will be safe."


    "Maybe." His brother said. "Maybe not. But I can''t keep you here forever."


    "Yes!"


    Orange-crest swept out the door like a reaping wind. Trailing in his wake was a whole string of sausages, meal enough for two.


    The air outside was brisk, a hair''s breadth shy of proper cold. He relished the way the wind combed through his fur, leaving his hair standing on end. He could all but feel the comfortable bed-rot being blown off him. Normally, the dawn of winter was a time for fear. For worries of starvation and theft. And here he was, venturing out to give food to another! How far he had come, through these strange days.


    "This how monkey should be." He grinned toothily, enjoying the ability to talk to himself without his brother listening in. "Houses like wine. Easy to have too much of a good thing."


    Gathering up his sausages into a loop, he loped off into the mountainside. He had a fox to catch, after all.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Orange-crest stared into wolf''s eyes.


    "Sausage not for you, dumb-dumb."


    The wolf growled, it''s great head dipping lower.


    Orange-crest jumped forward, giving a great shout.


    The wolf flinched back in surprise, clearly not expecting such bravery from a beast not a third of it''s size.


    "Go fuck your mother you mangy flee-bastard!" The monkey continued. "I eat your ass! Come get a lesson from your granddaddy!"


    Orange-crest reached up for his armband, withdrawing the dagger his master had given him from the sheath wedged between the jade band and his fur.


    "You said you didn''t want another staff." His brother had said. "So I got you a chop-chop of your own instead."


    Orange-crest hadn''t had words good enough, to answer such a gesture. So he''d plied his brother with bowls of porridge until he was set to burst instead. It was not merely the gift. It was that he remembered, and trusted the monkey''s words. Even big-butt sometimes treated orange-crest like a font of empty boasts, to be taken seriously but not literally. Brother Scouring Medicine had watched him fail, but still believed.


    The wolf recovered it''s courage. It was a mangy thing, it''s fur rendered patchy by age and poor hunting. In another time, he might have had pity for it. But he had only three seasons to become stronger than any of the young men and women of the sect. This winter was not a season for charity.


    "Bleed, misbegotten thing." The monkey hissed menacingly "You are already half-dead. You will not stand in my way."


    The wolf leapt, blocking out the sky.


    Orange-crest froze it in place with a gesture. He stepped around to it''s side, watching as the thin strands of his qi slid over ribs rendered visible by hunger. They danced like sunlight on water, at once fragile and impossibly firm. Hefting the dagger, his arm pumped once, twice. The spell broke on the third stab, the wolf landing in a heap, blood already through into it''s fur.


    With a pitiful whine, it turned tail and fled. The monkey let it go. How far he had come. Not two seasons ago, he would have had no choice but to vanish up a tree in the face of such a beast. Now, it would take two for him to even need to take them seriously.


    He was almost at the cave. Formless-gleam had coveted this place greatly. He knew if he waited long enough, he would find her here.


    "I should have known following that stream of poorly constructed profanity would lead me to a monkey at the end of the path." An elegant voice yipped in the true-tongue.


    Orange-crest smiled.


    "It was not poorly constructed. I learned from men."


    "I might not be able to speak their tongue, but I can still understand it. But if you disagree, please, by all means tell your next human opponent you''re going to eat his ass. I want to witness that."


    Orange-crest stared intently at the fox. Formless-gleam scratched her neck with a hind-leg. Too confident. She knew something he didn''t. He was missing some nuance with that phrase.


    "I brought good-old-meat-tubes." He said instead.


    "I see that. How very like a man you are, to change the subject rather than admit you might be wrong."


    "You want meat tube or no? I can eat eight meat tubes. Just watch."


    Formless-gleam chuffed.


    "Yes, I want a meat-tube. The houses of cold smoke are always locked, those are some of the hardest delicacies for me to steal."


    Orange-crest plucked a sausage from the sausage-vine and handed it to the fox. They ate together in silence, knowing better than to spoil good food with distraction. Or risk another hungry wolf.


    "You were looking for me." The fox said after they finished. She lay on her side, even more pleasantly stuffed than orange-crest. Four sausages was a lot for such a small creature. Despite her state of satiation, there was an air of watchfulness about her, a sense that with even her eyes half-closed, she was tracking all the things that flew and crawled around them.


    "You were hiding from me." Orange-crest answered.


    "You''re not alone as often as you think you are. Your master, or the bald one, sometimes tails you. I will speak to you. I have no interest in speaking to them. Men are only good for being predators, or prey."


    "Hmm." That was nice of the daoists. Rude, but nice.


    "I''m glad you didn''t die." The fox added.


    "I''m glad you didn''t die." Orange-crest retorted.


    "They never even saw me. I''ve lived years on this mountain, and even the elders don''t know about me. I''m careful enough to never be within a thousand chi of them."


    "You are very stealthy." Orange-crest agreed. "Even more cowardly than sneakiest monkey."


    "I didn''t see you complaining when my arts beguiled their archer, and led their pugilist into the arms of that Sun-Swallowing Bear."


    "No." Orange-crest corrected. "Cowardly is good sometimes. Just like bravery good sometimes. Being brave when cowardly is right is just being dumb."


    "I suppose you would know a great deal about that."


    Orange-crest rolled over, leaning to loom over the fox. He feigned measuring her with his hands.


    "You are very small. How do they fit so much meanness in so small a fox?"


    Formless-gleam gave a sad yip.


    "My mother is very good at that. She makes sure all her girls will never lack for venom, before she leaves us to the world''s tender mercies."


    Orange-crest didn''t know what to say. A monkey would want comfort. A daoist aggrandizement. But he didn''t think the fox wanted any of those.


    "Did you find what you sought in the cold cave?" He asked instead.


    "No. Not yet. It''s not a bad spot for my cultivation, but I can''t access the treasure within it." Formless-gleam rolled over, rising to meet his eyes. "The deeper sections require one to be small, like us. But..."


    The fox snarled.


    "Come. I''ll show you."


    Orange-crest followed as Formless-gleam led him down through the underbrush. The monkey kept his ears peeled, but the fox seemed without a care in the world as she navigated a path through the vegetation. Orange-crest watched as her dainty paws pressed through leaf litter without making a sound. Or leaving a track.


    "Are you where you look like you are?" He asked.


    "Noticed that, finally?" The fox''s form wavered and flickered, as if underwater. "I''m around. Stop dawdling."


    "I want that." Orange-crest muttered under his breath. She must have been present to eat, but he''d never noticed the moment the fox slipped back under the illusion.


    "I heard that." The breathy chirp came from far too close to his ear. Orange-crest jumped, flailing his arms, catching nothing but air.


    "You laugh now." The monkey muttered. "One day I sneak up on you."


    Formless-gleam led him back toward the entrance of the cave. Her illusion strode past where he''d first met Disciples Hao and Wang, heading for a specific corner of the main chamber. There, just below the little holes that leaked icy qi, was a larger gap in the stone.


    Orange-crest stared with dread as the false-fox vanished into it.


    "No." The monkey said. "You first. Real you. Must poke to be sure."


    "Do you trust me so little?" The fox appeared already halfway through the hole, waiting patiently for the monkey to prod her back leg.


    "No. I don''t trust caves. Small spaces are bad."


    "I''m sensing a story."


    "Not drunk enough for that story." Orange-crest shivered at the memory. Being the smallest adult had been the absolute worst. Any time they needed someone to climb into a small space, it was always reliable orange-crest. Gather these mushrooms, orange-crest. Scare out these rodents, orange-crest. He couldn''t wait to go home and lord his increased length and girth over quick-fingers.


    As they descended into the dark space far too small for a human, a flat illumination poured out from the fox. Yet another useful technique. After far too many steps into the earth, the tunnel opened into a chamber just large enough for the two animals to shift around without stepping on each other.


    Orange-crest saw the problem immediately. The tunnel roses straight up, vanishing into the inky darkness. It was an moderate climb. For a monkey. But foxes didn''t have thumbs. And claws couldn''t find purchase on stone that sheer.


    He turned to the fox.


    "Don''t."


    "Was going to say I help. Don''t help?"


    "Why? Why are you being so helpful."


    "You have something I want. I''ll get you to the top. But in exchange, you need to teach me your tricks."


    "They''re not just tricks you can master in an afternoon."


    "Daoists say same thing about spells."


    "Don''t you have a master?"


    "Have human brother." Orange-crest corrected. "But he is human. Maybe too human. Always think about distant future. Teach me long time things like reading. Need to learn now. Get stronger. Save him from his stupid human problem."


    The fox tilted her head, perplexed.


    "You are strange."


    "Thank you. I try."


    "Really strange. I don''t think you understand how strange."


    "I try hard."


    The fox sighed.


    "Fine. Get me up there, and I''ll teach you a few rudimentary illusions arts. Ten Thousand Hells, what would my mother say. Teaching her arts to a monkey, and a male one at that."


    "What''s wrong with males?"


    "You''ll understand when you''re older."


    Orange-crest bit back a retort he already knew would be ineffective, turning to leave instead.


    "Come on. Have plan. Have thumbs. Just need supplies."

 Chapter 22

    Daoist Scouring Medicine awoke to the sound of his monkey rummaging through his chest. Bleary eyes cracked open, sending little pebbles of rheum cascading down his cheeks.


    Disgusting.


    He hated this. Infirmity. Weakness. Naps. It was the core of what he''d dedicated his practice to stamping out, grinding away. He would be stronger, when his burns healed. Tempered by sacred flame. But he could admit he''d overreached. The effect of the Quaternary Heart-Fire pill had been more extreme than the first time he''d consumed one. His greater spiritual cultivation had allowed him a modicum more control of the fire, but it had also provided more fuel for it.


    It would be months, before he fully recovered. Months where he could do little to guide Li Hou''s development. The monkey was amenable enough to instruction when he was present, but he''d trailed it enough to know it did as it pleased the moment Li Xun left its sight.


    For all his urging, he''d witnessed Li Hou spend perhaps an hour in self directed spiritual cultivation in the month he''d lived on the mountain. Even with a full belly, the monkey would rather turn over rocks and pick at worms than cultivate.


    Something clattered to the floor. Li Xun winced. He hoped it wasn''t anything important. He rose slowly, staggering gingerly out of the chair he''d fallen asleep in.


    Most of his greatest treasures, such few as were left to him, remained in the brown bag of crudely-woven linen that rested ever at his side. But these days, most of his treasures were far from great, and were instead strewn about his house.


    It was a perennial temptation, to keep everything he owned in his storage treasure. It was a good bag. A gift, from the old sect master. Not as elegant or convenient as a ring, but with remarkable capacity for its realm. Unfortunately, every so often one found themselves standing before the sort of opportunity only a man with an empty bag could grasp. Some spiritual plants were so temperamental that even his tremendous qi control was insufficient to the task of liberating them from their soil. Sometimes the only option was to simply carve a chunk out of the hillside, and haul the whole thing back to his garden.


    "Li Hou." His lips clung to each other, peeling unpleasantly as he forced them apart. "What are you looking for?"


    "Rope!" The monkey proclaimed, brandishing a coil of the item in question above his head. "Have plan!"


    Daoist Scouring Medicine''s brow furrowed.


    "Should I be concerned that your cultivation plan involves rope?"


    Orange-crest thought deeply about the question.


    "No."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine continued to stare at the monkey. It was obviously keeping something from him. He struggled to imagine why it would, save perhaps as a habit held over from its wild days. What could it have found, that he would even care about? He''d given so freely of his own resources, Li Hou couldn''t possibly fear he would claim some treasure it''d found. He had to trust the monkey. Daoist Enduring Oath had a life of his own, he could not forever keep tabs on his brother''s disciple. And for Daoist Scouring Medicine to wander about the sect in his weakened state was all but asking for one of Elder Lu''s men to arrange a tragic accident for him, and then his disciple once he was out of the picture.


    He didn''t ask what Li Hou was going to do with that rope.


    "Did you eat all those sausages yourself?"


    The monkey smiled at him, all teeth and secrets.


    "No."


    Despite his injuries, Li Xun found himself smiling back at the little beast. Li Hou had always been smart, for an animal. But he could see it in the monkey''s eyes, in the curve of its lips. It was hungry now, in the way all the best cultivators were.


    He had no idea what the monkey was doing, but he felt confident it wasn''t digging for worms.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Orange-crest found formless-gleam''s illusory form where he''d left it, a few hundred strides from the house. He wondered if she''d crept closer while he got the rope. He would definitely use his powers to steal things, if he could leave behind a false-body and creep around invisible.


    "Behold! Rope!"


    "I know what rope is." The fox said, unimpressed.


    Orange-crest grabbed the end of the rope and wiggled it before the fox, showing off the glorious dexterity of his fingers.


    "Very impressive." The fox lied poorly. "Come on, being this close to the sect makes my fur stand on end."


    "See, this why monkey is best. Have good fingers like men; but not stupid like men."


    Formless-gleam chuffed, like a put-upon mother.


    "If only you were not as loud and self-loving as men."


    They walked in silence for a time, orange-crest taking the opportunity to try to learn to see where the fox was with his ears. He failed, she was far too sneaky. So he returned to conversation, a more proven tactic for gleaning her secrets.


    "How do you know the deep-cave has a treasure in it?" The monkey asked.


    "Do you know nothing?"


    "I know rope. And wine. And fish. And worms."


    Formless-gleam sniffed loudly.


    "Places like that, where qi gathers in great volume, are never without a reason. Often that reason is as distant as heaven. A small tributary of a great Dragon Vein, running beneath the earth. But I know this mountain. That place is not bright, like the Heart. And its cold is a different sort, from the cold of the Roots. It is something else, and that means opportunity."


    "So, you don''t know." Orange-crest summarized. "You think."


    "I think more than you apparently."


    "I find cave. I find rope."


    "You would never have known there was anything of value within the cave, if not for me. Just thought it another spiritual site of middling quality."


    Orange-crest just wiggled the rope again, to the fox''s dismay. Thumbs really were a powerful argument. His time among men was making it clear to him just how much he''d underutilized his hands on Mount Yuelu.


    "Did your master never teach you to respect your seniors?"


    Interesting. Formless-gleam thought herself his senior? She probably was then. Senior to him, junior to his brother, that was still a wide range indeed. Truth be told, orange-crest didn''t understand why men were so fascinated by their hierarchies.


    "Not really." The monkey answered honestly. His brother cared less about respect then he did obedience. "He thinks he''s my master. I let him. Is brother."


    Formless-gleam blinked in surprise.


    "He''s no Monkey King." Orange-crest continued blithely. "The King would never cook himself."


    The fox had no idea what to say to that.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    They were almost back to the cave. Orange-crest really hoped they didn''t need anything else from the house. He''d spent most of his first morning of freedom just walking back and forth.


    "Why are you a cultivator?"


    The question came to orange-crest suddenly, like the onset of hunger after a long sleep.


    Formless-gleam tilted her head in curiosity.


    "What else is worth being? Only a cultivator controls their own fate."


    Orange-crest thought about that as they walked. His brother had said much the same thing. But it wasn''t true. Those who didn''t cultivate existed at the mercy of cultivators. But... Cultivators also existed at the mercy of other cultivators. His brother''s terrible flames didn''t save him from the incessant hen-peck bullying of his peers.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    From everything he''d heard of emperors, they were hardly better off, despite standing atop the heap. Orange-crest had overheard a great deal about ''politics'' from daoists Enduring Oath and Scoring Medicine. This information did not collectively provide him with an impression that the emperor was firmly in control of his nation and people. Not like the Monkey King was.


    Better to be a monkey on a mountain than a man in a sect. True freedom might be an illusion, but some illusions were more real than others.


    That was a lot of thoughts. Too many to verbalize.


    "Don''t know." He said instead. "Being a cultivator seems good. But not better than being a monkey. Cultivators are not free. One cultivator at the top of the mountain is free. Maybe."


    "Quiet." The fox commanded. "We''re here."


    The two animals fell silent. Ears pricked up, listening for the sounds of company.


    "No men."


    "No disciples." The fox agreed.


    They descended into the cave. A serious mood came upon orange-crest. They had not specified, how the potential-treasure would be divided. The monkey weighed how much he trusted the fox. Her promises of teaching, their respective strengths, the distant but overwhelming threat of his brother. The lure of treasure, against the trust they''d extended each other.


    They were the only Speakers upon the mountain. If they could not trust each other against the hungry hordes of men, they could only stand alone.


    Formless-gleam waited as orange-crest crept into the deep tunnel. He left the coil of rope with her, dragging a single end into the shaft.


    The shaft was at once too large and too small. It pressed down upon him, darker than blackest night without the fox''s magic to light his way. Terrible memories of the times he''d been trapped in the earth sprung to mind. An invisible weight of his chest, ghosts of pass pulling his legs from the earth. He shivered, and climbed.


    The shaft was too wide for him to comfortably press his back to one wall and his limbs to the other. He could reach both edges, but they were just far enough he could not muster the strength to support himself when he did. With the easiest way closed to him, orange-crest had to slowly paw at the stone, strain his senses memory to their utmost seeking out lying-handholds and false-paths. His breath came in quick bursts, stale air and the taste of rope, deafeningly loud in the darkness.


    This is what it meant, he told himself. A cultivator couldn''t fear the uncaring earth. To become more than either, he would go where neither man nor monkey dared.


    There were strange holes in the stone. Rounded, and sized for a finger, but shallow. They were spaced regularly, never more than two at a time, making for odd but welcome handholds.


    Orange-crest knew time now, but he had no idea how long he climbed. He counted at first, but abandoned the count at forty. It was easier, if his mind was filled with nothing but the climb. He was too high now. There was nothing to catch him, save merciless stone.


    He was dead if he fell. Monkey-paste.


    Orange-crest saw a light in the distance. Blue as the sky, so faint it could well have been the lie of a desperate mind.


    A forepaw landed on flat rock. Orange-crest let out a breath he didn''t realize he was holding, almost dropping the rope in the process.


    He clambered up to safety, then collapsed bonelessly into a puddle.


    Caves were the worst.


    When his usual composure, and the strength of his arms, returned, orange-crest gave the rope a great yank. A few moments later, a gentle jerk answered him.


    In the faint light that fell upon, he could almost make out his own paws. He could see nothing to brace against, so he simply stepped back from the edge, and began to pull.


    After three long minutes of pulling, orange-crest reeled in a fox. Formless-gleam held the rope tightly in her teeth, her eyes wild with terror. Her limbs scrabbled against the stone, struggling futilely for any scrap of stability.


    "We are never, ever, doing that again." The fox whisper-hissed, as orange-crest pulled her onto solid ground.


    "Never-ever." Orange-crest agreed.


    "My teeth feel like they''re going to fall out."


    "You are heavy." Orange-crest lied.


    "Shush."


    They recovered together in companionable silence, all their words spent. Orange-crest smiled. All the fox''s cultivator powers, useless before a vertical tunnel.


    "Come on. Let''s see if it was worth it." The fox said quietly, shattering the perfect silence.


    Orange-crest stared deeper into the tunnel. It was brighter, ever so slightly. A light only noticeable because of the contrast with the perfect darkness they''d ascended out of. The blue of the sky, or perhaps the blue of spirit stones.


    "Seniors first."


    Formless-gleam snorted, but let him walk behind her. Probably. Even in a small space, it was impossible to tell where the fox was. He''d watched carefully, after he hauled her up. But he wasn''t sure of the moment when she''d slipped off to the side and left yet another illusion behind, only that she had. Light gently emanated from her, illuminating the path before them and making the fox a clear target. Orange-crest was certain she wouldn''t do that, if it was her real body leading the way.


    The tunnel ascended at a gentle slope, taking them further upward into the interior of the mountain. The qi was denser, deeper in, but it wasn''t as cold as it was near the entrance. Other things emanated from the deeper cave, diluting the cold. The strange sharp tang of metal, and the sharp intensity of raw spirit stones. Orange-crest''s senses sharpened, the scent on the air promising treasure and danger.


    After a few dozen paces, the tunnel emptied into a great chamber. Most of it was visible only in its absence, in the way formless-gleam''s illumination technique failed to reach the far walls. But what the monkey did see had his eyes widening with avarice. Set into the far walls were thin lines of brilliant blue, like sky imprisoned in stone. Veins of spirit stone. The qi here was so dense he could almost taste it, even denser than in the Fathomless Well, incomparable to the cold cave below. Cultivation was boring and unpleasant, but even orange-crest found the way the chamber whispered to him tantalizing. His legs trembled beneath him, almost compelled to sit and contemplate the majesty of this place.


    A wet snout nudged orange-crest''s hand. The monkey flinched. The fox rarely touched him. He looked down, seeing a second fox at his side. His eyes followed hers, upwards into the velvet darkness. A single pillar of stone hung from the ceiling, shot with even more veins of spirit stone.


    But the gentle blue glow was interrupted. Something covered it, crossing the veins of blue at regular intervals. Something large, wrapped about the pillar.


    His eyes adjusted, and terror clawed at the monkey''s heart. Its body was striped, alternating segments of blackest night and crimson sin. Ten thousand legs extended from the sinuous body, numerous as the hairs on a monkey''s head. Orange-crest had eaten thousands of them, in his day. Overturned rocks to find them, squished them so they wouldn''t wriggle and bite in his mouth.


    A centipede.


    For a lifetime, he had eaten bugs. Now fate laughed at him, as he stared at a bug large enough to eat a monkey in two bites.


    He met formless-gleam''s eyes. The fox''s head tossed wildly, pointing at one thing, then the next. Orange-crest couldn''t follow whatever plan she was trying to silently communicate.


    They had to retreat. That thing could swallow them up in an instant! He shook his own head as vigorously as silence would allow. A monkey did not live to be old by hunting tigers!


    Orange-crest took a step back, then another. He watched as the second, real, formless-gleam vanished from his side, fading into the darkness.


    His stomach sunk, as he heard the first click. A thousand more followed in rapid succession. Like a legion of door-latches coming undone, the centipede''s legs released the great stalactite, one after another. Its colossal body peeled back, extending into the open air.


    The monkey was already running when it began to fall.


    He didn''t make it far.


    The earth, no, the whole world, shook, as the titanic insect slammed into the ground. Orange-crest tried to ride the shifting earth, but stumbled and fell to all fours. Frozen by fear, he watched as the centipede rolled over with a hundred rhythmic taps of chitin against stone. It reared up like a great serpent, towering over the monkey. Jaws as sharp as swords and thrice as thick clacked against each other.


    "We''re not thieves!" Orange-crest lied. "Did not know mighty centipede lived in this cave!"


    The moment the monkey spoke, the centipede shifted, zeroing in on the sound. Its antennae twitched, as beady eyes the size of a monkey''s fists turned to stare roughly in orange-crest''s direction.


    "Stupid monkey, its like the bear! No smarter than its tiny cousins. You can''t negotiate with it!"


    The centipede''s great bulk surged, and it slammed down upon the source of the noise. The chamber shook once more, as formless-gleam''s illusion shattered into motes of light.


    Orange-crest pulled the knife from its sheath on his arm. His mind flew. Could he escape? Maybe. The centipede was huge, surely it couldn''t fit through that tunnel? If he could get two-monkey lengths down without falling, he might be safe.


    But the formless-gleam couldn''t climb down. Not without him to lower the rope. Could he hold her? No. The fox weighed fully half what he did, and the holds were too poor, he could barely support himself.


    The massive centipede shifted, stomping its legs trying to find a body. Orange-crest kept still as a statue, trying to avoid drawing its attention.


    A new light, blue-green and flickering, began to shine from behind the centipede. The overgrown insect turned it once, rolling and curling to turn about in the confined space of the cave.


    Orange-crest stared, as he saw formless-gleam prepared for strife. Two foxes stared down the centipede. Two tails extended out from each fox, longer and bushier than the ones sported by the formless-gleam he knew. Orbs of sickly-pale fire danced at their tips, poised to strike.


    "It''s just an overgrown bug! Gorged on the power of this place, but too stupid to become anything other than too fat to leave!" The voice was unmistakably formless-gleam''s, but it came from everywhere and nowhere all at once. "It''s only in the fourth stage of qi condensation, no match at all for the two of us! Help me kill it, and I''ll share the spoils with you!"


    Orange-crest stared at his knife. It looked puny, in the wan light of the foxfire. Could they really take down a beast that large? Was it worth the risk?


    The monkey snarled. Worth the risk? What was he thinking. His empty hand rose to his chest. He grabbed at the fear in his chest, and crushed it in his fingers. Those were man-thoughts, man-cowardice. He didn''t want them. He was tired of being underestimated. Being weak. Disciples and daoists. Foxes and bears and centipedes.


    None of them feared the little monkey. It was time that changed. Besides, if it went to shit, he could always run later.


    Orange-crest took in the situation, and moved.


    Fancy second tail and balls of strange-fire aside, formless-gleam clearly wasn''t a brawler. He''d eat his own tail if she could stand up to a single direct hit from the giant bug. But that was fine. He was a tough monkey. He could take the punishment she couldn''t.


    "Did I say mighty centipede?" Orange-crest shouted, his voice echoing in the enclosed space. "I meant stupid overgrown worm. Fat hairy slug!"


    Its eyes were bad, and its ears little better. It only saw bright things and heard loud things. Orange-crest leapt, vaulting over the tail that predictably swung toward him.


    Foxfire flew the moment its attention shifted. The orbs slammed home with an eerie silence, even as the great insect shuddered in pain, the only noise was the rhythmic clacking of its legs.


    Orange-crest dashed closer to the point where its upraised body met the ground. He could see from the way it bent it was no snake, infinitely flexible. Its tail could strike outward, but it couldn''t curl tight enough to crush him, not without rolling to its side.


    "I''m a monkey, you misbegotten cretin!" Orange-crest roared. "And I! Eat! Centipedes!"

 Chapter 23

    The fox-fire made it harder to see. Orange-crest thought the light would help. It did, while it burned. But the moment the orbs slammed home, they would fade. Fail to catch the centipede''s thick skin alight. And then the darkness would return, twice as deep for its momentary absence. Orange-crest''s only consolation was that the centipede was even more blind than the monkey. Whether or not the fire burned, it only seemed to hear him when he cried out.


    A hundred legs scrambled, producing a patter like the most thunderous of rain. Orange-crest ran, fleeing the space where the noise began, where the centipede was moving. The rain of legs stopped. Orange-crest paused, counting. One, two. A quiet rustle.


    The monkey leaped, burning qi to rise higher. Beneath him, the centipede''s tail passed. It slammed into the far wall hard enough orange-crest felt the cave should be collapsing around them.


    "Fire!" The monkey shouted, charging headlong in the direction he''d felt the wind move beneath his feet. The head was death. The sharp clacking of feet was death. The swing of the tail was death. But he held death in his hand as well, an iron claw. And the tail needed time and space to pick up lethal speed.


    Fox-fire bloomed behind orange-crest, momentarily illuminating his target. The monkey scrambled, two half-steps to bleed speed, then leapt, falling upon the centipede''s tail like a tiger. Stab! Stab! Stab! The first strike glanced off the thick hide, the knife nearly taking a finger from orange-crest''s other hand as it slid along the thick chitin. His free hand slid further, and he felt a raised ridge. A seam in the insect''s armor.


    The tail shifted beneath him, lifting orange-crest off the ground. He clung to the tail like it was a tree in a storm, shifting with its motion. The tail stopped for a moment, at the apex of its arc.


    Orange-crest stabbed, driving his knife right into the gap between armored plates. He yanked hard on the knife, trying to widen the wound.


    In the next moment, orange-crest nearly fell to the cave floor below. Everything was wet. Blood sprayed like a geyser, coating his fur. It was so cold, like being plunged in icy water! How could the centipede live with blood like ice?


    A hundred legs screeched as they pulled across the floor, an unearthly voiceless scream. The centipede slammed its tail down, and orange-crest bounced.


    For a long moment, he flew through the air, blood-sodden and chilled to the bone. The breath had been driven from him by the blow, but the pain was a moment longer in arriving. He spun through the air, feeling weightless, dreamlike, in the velvet darkness.


    Then he hit the stone, hard. His bones did not break. He knew what that felt like now.


    He saw the centipede shift to face him. A distant part of his mind noted he must have landed loudly. He wouldn''t know. His ears were filled with the weight of the sky, a dull soundless pressure. He tried to rise, but his limbs had forgotten how.


    Jaws that could shatter trees blocked out the sun. No, there was no sun. Blocked out the fox-fire. Orange-crest wondered if they were venomous. What could a centipede that big possibly need to poison?


    "Stupid monkey."


    That was rude. He was staring down his death here.


    A blur of white slammed into the centipede''s head. Its jaws clacked futilely as furious claws gouged at its eyes, and teeth gnawed on its antennae. A hundred legs screamed. Centipede-blood sprayed wildly. In the light of the fox-fire that limned formless-gleam, it glowed a pale blue, like water beneath a clear sky. An antennae fell to the floor, as thick around as a grown monkey''s arm.


    The centipede reared up,


    Orange-crest watched as its head rose toward the great pillar of stone that hung from the ceiling, fox in tow.


    His wits returned.


    "No."


    His outstretched hand shook and his qi flared, sublimating into nothingness in an instant. Power poured out of orange-crest, leaving his spirit as exhausted as his body.


    But the centipede stopped. Colorless light flickered about its body, holding it in place. Even the steady spurting of watery blood stopped for a moment.


    Orange-crest staggered to his feet, as he watched formless-gleam gnaw off a second antennae.


    "Move you stupid fox!" He shouted.


    Their eyes met. The fox''s mouth was still full of centipede flesh. The spell wouldn''t hold.


    Formless-gleam jumped clear, falling gracelessly to the floor. That fox really was not good with heights.


    The spell shattered. The centipede slammed its head back into the stalactite, sending another tremor through the cave. Orange-crest half expected the great column of stone to fall, spearing the oversized insect. They were not so lucky.


    The monster''s second antennae snapped free, the violent motion too much for the thin strip of flesh remaining. More blood gushed out, but the overgrown worm appeared to have enough to spare to fill a pond.


    Suddenly, the centipede rolled onto its side. Head and tail alike flailed wildly, deadly twin bludgeons that filled the cavern.


    "Jump!" Orange-crest shouted at the prone fox.


    She obeyed, but too slowly, taking a direct hit from the tail. Orange-crest winced as the fox slammed into a wall.


    "Fat worm! I''m over here!" The monkey shouted, trying to draw its attention.


    There was no reaction, the centipede kept flailing wildly. It was getting close to the far wall, to smashing formless-gleam.


    Orange-crest''s eyes widened. It was deafened. He took off at a run, heedless of the noise.


    Without light or sound to guide it, it could only react to pain. His eyes roamed the insect''s body for targets. He''d bitten the heads off centipedes before, with a yearling monkey''s cruel curiosity. They''d wriggled still, and this one''s head was far from gone. How could they kill it? It used its head and tail as weapons. Those legs were often flying through the air, instead of propelling its bulk. The middle legs. Those alone made it fully mobile.


    Orange-crest stabbed one, right where it joined the body, where the shell was thinnest. His dagger bit deep, and then he was running. The centipede rolled over, twisting to crush him. The injured leg bent slowly, then became caught between the stone and the beast''s great bulk. It rolled over anyway, and the leg snapped away, leaving a seeping waterfall of thin blood.


    "No time for sleeping!" He shouted to the fox, watching her slowly peel herself off the cave wall. "Get the middle legs! It moves on those!"


    The bleeding had slowed, from its earlier wounds. That didn''t matter. The damage was done, the centipede had slowed too.


    Formless-gleam joined orange-crest, and they hunted the great centipede like a pack of wolves. A storm of fierce bites and precise stabs, one ever advancing as the other retreated. Two legs snapped, then a dozen. Deafened and blinded, the giant insect''s might was worthless.


    It died slowly, then all at once. Soon it became too heavy for the limbs of its damaged midsection, and could only swing either its head or tail, not both at once. Then it could only crawl, hoping futilely to crush one of its hunters underfoot. Then it stilled, readying itself for the prey''s last gambit. A sudden rush, to take its killer with it.


    "It''s dead now. We wait."


    "We wait." Orange-crest agreed, watching the centipede slowly bleed out. This didn''t feel real. It was a foe even big-butt would have struggled with. The sort of thing the mightiest of orange-crest''s pack might have steered clear of, opting to leave to the Monkey King.


    And they''d slain it. With qi and muscle and steel and cunning. Him and the fox.


    He wanted to leap, shout his victory to the heavens. But there were no heavens. Only stupid cave-ceilings.


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    "It''s gone." Formless-gleam said.


    "How know? It doesn''t breath."


    "It''s qi fell silent."


    Orange-crest stared at the shadow-clad corpse. Formless-gleam manifested a small orb of fox-fire, illuminating the cavern once more. This all felt unreal. A life for a different monkey. Stranger by far than leaving behind everything he''d ever known.


    No. This was his. This life. This victory.


    Orange-crest did what came naturally. He grabbed a leg and chomped down.


    It wasn''t very good. The skin was hard and dry. Inedible. There was meat, deep within the shell. But it didn''t want to come out, it was tough and stringy and tasted strangely of dirt. He had to really gnaw to get at it. Maybe it would be better cooked.


    "Why would you eat that?"


    Orange-crest looked at the fox. She was visibly favoring one haunch. Not broken, but hurt.


    The monkey shrugged sheepishly.


    "Seemed like good idea at time. Little ones taste okay."


    "Euch. Insects are not real meat."


    "We won." Orange-crest said with a smile, proffering the leg he''d bit into. The fox dodged the offered food easily. Probably a good call. It was not tasty. But orange-crest had not survived lean winters by turning up his nose at strange meats.


    "Of course we won." She said. "Its was spiritual insect. However large it grew, how could it hope to stand against two enlightened beasts like us?"


    "By squishing."


    "Shush. You''re ruining the moment." A moment later, the fox continued. "If you''re gonna make a meal of it, try to find its core. It should be in the head, or upper torso."


    "Core?"


    "Cores are a being''s cultivation given form. Spirit beasts like this one that cultivate instinctively form them almost immediately, and they slowly grow over time. We can eat them, to grow stronger. But it will make us more like the beast we ate. Men covet them as well, for their pills and other foul arts. They don''t have cores of their own though. Not until they grow terrifyingly mighty. To feed upon their cultivation, one must use other means."


    Orange-crest paused. There was a great deal of information there, to pick out from betwixt all the new words.


    "If I eat, I get centipede legs?" He summarized sarcastically.


    "No. The core contains the beast''s cultivation, not its ancestry. The centipede''s would probably make you grow a little. Certainly that''s all this foolish bug seemed to do with its power."


    "You don''t want?"


    "No." Formless-gleam stretched to her full extent, flicking both tails. "This place was what I wanted. I shall enter closed door cultivation, and when I emerge, the mountain will tremble. No longer, will I need to flee before the sect''s disciples."


    "Closed-door?" Orange-crest did not like the sound of that.


    "I will stay here." The fox explained. "Focus exclusively upon my cultivation, until I manifest my third tail, and can follow the method my mother left in earnest."


    "Seems lonely."


    "Oh? Will you be lonely without me, little monkey? Fear not, I''m no human to require absolute silence, lest I deviate my cultivation. You can come visit me, when the mood strikes you. Bring some more of your master''s sausages, perhaps."


    Orange-crest sighed. What was it with cultivators and locking themselves in caves? The world was too big and wonderful to sit still for ages. But the fox seemed resolved.


    "You know a lot about men." He said instead. For one who hated them, the fox knew more about their ways of cultivation than he did.


    "I suppose I do."


    "How?"


    "I''m not as young as you, my simian friend. Some things my mother told me. Others I learned first-hand."


    "But you hide from them."


    "I was not always so good at hiding. Enough speech. I have waited long, to find a place I could focus on forming a third tail. Pray do not make me wait longer."


    Orange-crest grimaced.


    "Fine." The monkey said sullenly. "I''ll come back later."


    "Don''t be like that. Take your share of the treasures. The centipede''s core. Some of the spirit stones in the walls should be loose enough to pry free. Men will covet such things greatly, if you don''t wish to consume them yourself."


    Orange-crest sighed. How like the fox, to saddle him with chores and proclaim it a reward. True, it was a reward. He wanted those treasures. He needed them for his plans.


    But it was still rude.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    He found the core between the centipede''s middle section. Orange-crest was far from an expert in centipede anatomy, but from the smell he was pretty sure it had been nestled amidst the stupid beast''s guts. He was thoroughly soaked in gore now, and more than a little stinky. His brother would insist on a bath. For once, orange-crest would agree.


    The core was a rock the size of a monkey''s fist, or a giant centipede''s eye. Dark in color, glossy smooth but set with facets. It was oddly warm to the touch, emanating a strange qi that even orange-crest could sense.


    The monkey set it next to the rest of the pile. He wished he''d brought a bag, these would be tricky to take down the tunnel safely. He''d found three spirit stones. By the rules of counting, that wasn''t a good number. He''d had seven before. But these were massive. Each one was the size of the core, and glowed as if a frozen fire were trapped within them. Compared to the tiny blue pebbles he''d taken from the other disciples, they were incomparable. He''d also found one rock, pocked with small craters. He had no idea what it was, but it felt powerful, so he added it to the pile. His brother would know if it was good.


    He could already picture men killing each other over his treasures. If they weren''t too large to fit in the monkey''s mouth, he''d have been tempted to try to eat one then and there. Men couldn''t kill over what was in his belly.


    But he wasn''t sure, about this whole instinctive cultivation thing. Orange-crest stared at the centipede. He struggled to imagine a more pathetic existence. It must have been small, when it wandered in here. The tunnel would have been a climb worthy of legend. Then it''d remained, cultivating, as formless-gleam planned. Until one day it couldn''t leave even if it tried. Too big to fit through the tunnel, too weak to make a new one.


    Orange-crest shivered. He wouldn''t let that be him. No matter where the strange winds of cultivation blew him, he would never let himself be bound like that. Trapped in a cage of his own making.


    "I go now." He told formless-gleam.


    The qi within the room shivered. Its steady flow toward the fox stopped, as her eyes opened. She must be powerful indeed, to draw in qi so forcefully. Orange-crest had tried to cultivate here, during a break from the gore. He''d barely been able to draw in wisps of qi, amidst the fox''s power.


    "I see." Formless-gleam said. "Be well."


    "I''ll come back." Orange-crest assured her. "Let you down if you need out."


    "I don''t need out. Or food, though it would be pleasant. I''ve searched for a place like this for almost two years. How could I let this opportunity slip through my claws?"


    "There are other sites."


    The fox snorted.


    "There are others, for you. They would kill and skin me, turn my core into a pill, if I wandered into them. Be careful. You''re no fox, but how do you know your master won''t do the same to you?"


    "Same way I know you wouldn''t let the centipede kill me. Is not in his nature."


    "I haven''t forgotten, you know." The fox said, changing the subject. "That I promised to teach you. Seek me out in a few weeks, when I''ve recovered and grown strong. I''ll show you how to conceal yourself from eye and ear."


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Orange-crest arrived home late in the evening. The walk was not terribly long, but he''d been forced to make the climb twice, to avoid dropping a stone. He resolved to keep the bag his brother had given him at his side from now on. Maybe he could trade one of the stones for a good sash to hold it, until he claimed Yang Wei''s.


    The walk back had been faster, but more fraught. The monkey had found himself flinching at every sound, creeping carefully to avoid detection. The last thing he wanted was to be caught by a pack of disciples, forced to drop his new treasures in the pursuit.


    Gently, he pushed the door to Daoist Scouring Medicine''s house open. His brother slept a great deal now. There was no need to wake him.


    "You smell like a slaughterhouse."


    Orange-crest jumped. His brother had moved a chair out to the entry hall, and camped out in it.


    "And why are you blue? Or, green?"


    The monkey stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Safety, at last.


    "Not one step further!" His brother commanded. "I''ll bring the tub to you."


    Orange-crest waited patiently. He longed to sit down, but knew his brother would yell at him, for getting the centipede blood everywhere. What was the point of such cleanliness, if it made it harder to be comfortable?


    Daoist Scouring Medicine returned a moment later, with a tub already filled with water. He''d set it out earlier in the day.


    "It''s not hot, but it''ll serve. Fire manipulation has lost its appeal to me, for the moment. What in the ten thousand hells have you been up to?"


    Orange-crest lifted his arms, allowing the five stones he''d been holding so close to drop to the floor.


    Orange-crest watched his oh-so-mighty brother''s eyes widen.


    "Are those... Spirit stones? They''re colossal! Easily mid-grade. These are worth a small fortune! Where on earth did you find them. And a beast core? It''s weak, but massive! How large was the creature this came from?"


    Orange-crest stepped into the water. It was cold. But compared to trudging through the late autumn air soaked in centipede blood, or the cultivation cave, mere cold felt downright balmy in comparison. He eased in, watching the blood slowly flake away from his fur. Huh, his brother was right. It was shockingly blue, merging into an ugly green when painted upon his brilliant orange fur. Centipedes were strange.


    "And what''s this one? A spiritual treasure of earth? No, it''s too reflective for stone. But these cracks suggest it''s not so malleable as metal. This aura... It''s no simple thing. Could I use it as a cornerstone?"


    Orange-crest smiled up at his brother.


    His brother stared at the monkey with new eyes. Orange-crest reveled in the feeling. He felt like his brother was seeing him properly, for the first time since that day he''d shown off his brewing knowledge.


    "What have you been up to all day?" His brother finally asked breathlessly. "Your luck defies heaven."


    "Your man-ways are good." Orange-crest said. "But my monkey-ways are good too. Today is secret day. Can''t say many things."


    Formless-gleam had earned that much. The fox had never asked outright that he conceal her existence from his brother. But he knew she feared and hated him and all his kind. She would never show her face before him again, if she thought he''d exposed her to the humans. One day, he hoped to introduce the two of them to each other. But he would slap anyone who tried to introduce him to a tiger, and the fox considered men fully as bad. To force the matter would only sow hatred.


    "I see." His brothers voice was not happy. But it was not angry either. "I suppose I''ll have to trust you."


    Orange-crest leaned back, settling into the cool bathwater. This had been a good day. But now it was time for rest. He would figure out cultivation tomorrow. How hard could it be?


    "You have a plan." He reminded his brother. "I still say is silly. But I make it work. You say I must be stronger than all the other disciples, win tournament, shame sect."


    Orange-crest stretched languidly. The cold bath really felt quite nice, once you got used to it.


    "You opened this monkey''s eyes." Orange-crest said with a yawn. "But he''ll show you how clear he can see. How far he can go."


    Orange-crest fell asleep.

 Chapter 24

    Daoist Scouring Medicine looked at the monkey sitting cross legged before his chair. A little hairy, certainly. The nudity would be problematic to many teachers. But otherwise the very model of a daoist''s student, ready to receive instruction. Back straight, eyes clear, ears perked intently.


    How far Li Hou had come in a short time.


    "I believe it is time for us to discuss the subject of cultivation in greater detail. To date, I have limited myself to attempting to impart to you the most basic of the sect''s cultivation methods, the Azure Sea Scripture. I believe your vocabulary has reached a point where a broader discussion of the subject will be fruitful."


    "Human cultivation." The monkey corrected.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine''s rather sparse eyebrow rose.


    "As opposed to?"


    "Beast cultivation."


    "Ah. You are aware then, of the existence of instinctive cultivation?"


    "You tell before. Men cultivate. Animals grow. Instinctive? Is word for?"


    "Yes, that is what we call it, when animals grow beyond the limits our their nature through the influence of qi. Instinctive cultivation. It is the road you were in the process of taking your first step along, when I found you. I''m impressed you remember the concept, I mentioned it but once in passing."


    "You make poor Li Hou read many scrolls."


    "Ah." Daoist Scouring Medicine nodded, satisfied. "Daoist Boundless Sky''s comparative primer on cultivation traditions."


    "Mm." Li Hou hummed agreeably as if he hadn''t aggressively skimmed that whole scroll. He had no idea why a man would write a dozen pages about ''demonic'' and ''instinctive'' cultivation just to say not to do them. Formless-gleam''s comments and the centipede''s example had dissuaded him far more effectively from blindly charging down that path than ten thousand characters of dense prose.


    "I''m glad you got through that one. It''s more than a bit of a slog, but it''s a valuable opportunity. Its fully theoretical and historical perspective, and lack of actionable descriptions of methods, were the only reasons it wasn''t outright banned as heretical."


    "Am hardest working monkey." Orange-crest lied. His stomach quivered as if he''d done something bad, even though he hadn''t. He resolved to go back and actually read that scroll as soon as he had time.


    "You understand then, why instinctual cultivation is bad."


    Li Hou clapped his hands together.


    "Yes-yes." He sputtered enthusiastically. "One day you normal little sized monkey and you creep into cave. You take nap and you wake up a big-butt and can''t get out because you are too fat and you are sad and lonely until you die."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine blinked. His mind worked overtime trying to parse that oddly specific example. Big-butt was the name of one of his brothers on the other mountain wasn''t it? He was missing a story here, but he didn''t want to derail the conversation while he had Li Hou''s full attention. It was damnably tricky to acquire for discussions like these about highly abstract matters.


    "Yes. I suppose that can happen." He allowed. "More broadly, instinctive cultivation is surrender to one''s nature. For men, it oft reduces us to beasts. For beasts, it keeps them trapped at such a level."


    "That''s rude to say to a beast."


    "Do you not oft claim monkeys are superior to men and beasts alike?" Daoist Scouring Medicine returned.


    "I just say truth."


    "As do I, Li Hou. And make no mistake, it is true that instinctive cultivators limit themselves. Many spirit beasts at the peak of core formation cannot hope to speak and think as you do. For all their decades of cultivation, despite commanding power that can reshape landscapes, they cannot speak. Without language, peace and fellowship ever evade them. They haunt the farthest corners of the wilds not merely because such places are spiritually potent, but because only there can they know peace. Their spiritual nature estranges them from their own kind, and their instinctive methods prevent from taking a place among cultivators. Alone, they live. And alone, they usually die."


    Orange-crest was not convinced. Surely such beasts were Speakers at least. Perhaps men just struggled to understand them. A dark thought struck him. Perhaps men could come to understand them, but they coveted their cores enough they did not care to.


    But he understood where his brother was coming from. He treasured his new keenness of mind, and did not disdain all the methods of men. However he moved forward, it would incorporate his brother''s teachings. The monkey found himself again wondering just how powerful his King truly was. He wondered if that legendary monkey had once sat where he did, learning mighty secrets at a human''s knee.


    The monkey said nothing. His brother was in a mood to teach, not learn. His ears would not be open to correction.


    "Let us return to the subject of cultivation methods." Daoist Scouring Medicine continued. "Every human cultivator practices one. Most of us begin with a method pioneered by another, oft one promulgated by a sect. All of us refine them, as we advance. Tailor them to ourselves and our growth. Some of us change methods entirely, practicing many techniques over the course of our journeys. These methods cultivate and refine the three treasures in a myriad of different ways, but all of them seek to attain true immortality and ascend to the Heavens."


    "That''s a lot of words to say not a lot." Orange-crest noted, unimpressed.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine sighed.


    "Cultivation methods encompass the whole world, and every way of being and growth. There is little one can firmly say that some strange method will not give lie to it. I''ve tried to teach you some of the fundamentals of the Azure Spirit Method, the most basic method of the sect. But it appears its compatibility with you is limited. A consequence of your simian nature, perhaps. Still, you need a method, something to shape the qi you will be taking into yourself. For doing so also shapes the fragments of the great dao you will come to comprehend and embody."


    Orange-crest sat patiently as Daoist Scouring Medicine launched into an explanation of the fundamentals of cultivation methods. How one''s inner qi could call to the qi of the world. How this qi could be shaped and changed, infused with elemental power or profound ideas. How it could be cycled through the meridians and drawn to a dantian. How his own method took advantage of the five phase cycle to infuse the body with the same mutability as the elements. How orange-crest might begin to develop his own practice by focusing on his affinity for earth or wood.


    The monkey tried to follow it all. It seemed like important and useful information. But his brother lost him when he explained the diagram of meridians he''d shown orange-crest would probably be mostly inaccurate for a monkey. Orange-crest already had a plan.


    What would make his brother stop trying to make him cultivate like a man?


    "I need to make my own method."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine paused in his lecture.


    "Yes, I suppose that is the crux of it." He admitted. "I have a suitable bodily cultivation method for you. But, the sect has few writings on non-human spiritual cultivation. I will continue searching, but the Azure Spirit has been refined through countless generations to serve as a starting path for any with talent. If you are not compatible with it, it is possible none of our methods would be suitable for you without adaptation."


    Orange-crest furrowed his brow, making a face like he was wrestling with a recalcitrant poo. He stoked his heart-fire, letting it leak out of him. He picked up one of the spirit stones, and stared deeply into it. That was what cultivation looked like, was it not?


    "I have plan. Method-plan." Orange-crest explained. "Going to do a cultivation."


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine stared at the monkey. It didn''t appear to be taking this very seriously. It could be having an odd looking moment of enlightenment. But he knew the little gremlin pretty well, and suspected it just wanted him to leave it alone.


    His eyes flickered to the fist sized stone the monkey had brought back from its adventure. The beast core wasn''t suitable for his work. Its power was not elemental in nature. But the spiritual treasure might be. Without closer analysis, he couldn''t tell if it was earth aspected ore, or a stone imbued with metallic qi. It wasn''t the petrified seed he''d originally wanted, but it was a potent earthen treasure. A suitable anchor component for the bath he hoped to use to catapult Li Hou through the dragon gate.


    "Does your plan include this spiritual treasure?" He asked, hefting the stone.


    Li Hou looked up at him immediately, the shroud of qi around him hardly shifting. Hah! He''d known the monkey was faking it!


    "Am brother." Orange-crest answered simply. "My things are your things."


    Li Xun wasn''t sure he would ever get used to that. To the way it disdained his advice in one moment, then extended to him absolute trust in the next. He hadn''t even explained that his plans were for the monkey''s benefit! Unsuitable as its attitude was for the world of cultivation, a part of him hoped it would never change.


    "I scratch your butt. You scratch mine? Help this monkey get pill-plants?"


    Li Xun pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course that was an idiom in monkey-tongue. It didn''t even make sense. He could see Li Hou''s arms. They were long enough to scratch his own ass.


    "Please never use that phrase in public. But yes, my stores are open to you, within reason. If I don''t have something, I''ll show you how to purchase it from the sect."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine was not entirely sure about the expression on his disciple''s face. But it was enthusiasm for cultivation. He''d take it.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Orange-crest was thinking deeply, and for once he wasn''t trying to stop. This was too important. It had to be turned over from every angle, every branch of thought examined for soft spots and hair-thin cracks, made certain it would support the weight of those that followed it.


    He didn''t like cultivation. It was slow. It was boring. His second breakthrough had been deeply unpleasant, and he''d been too drunk to remember what his master claimed was his first. He''d visited the Fathomless Well half a dozen times after that first breakthrough, as Daoist Scouring Medicine had attempted to teach him a ''proper cultivation method''. Orange-crest had learned... Something. He had some understanding of the forms his brother was trying to get him to memorize, the patterns of breath and tension. But the hours had felt wasted. He could feel the qi enter him, the deep cold of the well helped him recover his qi-flame far faster than he could on the surface. But without the pill his master had given him, the rushing of burning cold and terrible pressure he called a breakthrough, the monkey wasn''t sure anything changed within him when he cultivated. If he was doing it correctly, or if it was working at all. Perhaps his brother''s method was only good for men.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine assured him otherwise, but he was no Monkey King, infallible in certainty.


    Despite this, orange-crest still wanted to strike a tiger unconscious with a single blow. He wanted to soar through the sky and like he was weightless and strike as if he weighed as much as a mountain.


    That left him with a problem. How did he cultivate, without doing the things others did?


    He''d properly met three true cultivators now. Beings that had dedicated their lives to the pursuit of qi-might, advancing beyond the level of disciples. Four, he supposed, if he counted the Monkey King. Two animals, and two men. Of them, he could only truly say he liked the way the King lived, at least what he knew of it. The King was not secretive, but his life had been bigger than theirs. He''d come like a storm, and leave as suddenly. Roaming over mountains and through valleys, saving and pranking and reveling as he pleased. Perhaps the King did as the others did and locked himself in a cave during the many days he was nowhere to be found, but somehow orange-crest doubted it.


    There other three cultivators seemed... Bound. By immobilizing-magics of their own making.


    He''d visited formless-gleam twice since they''d slain the great centipede together. The fox appreciated the food he brought, but said it was unnecessary. She was strong enough, for cultivation alone to sustain her. At least in a place of such power. She spoke of her great plans for the future, how she would cultivate for many months, and grow a third tail. How her growing power would make her mightier than any of the sect''s disciples. Safe from all save the daoists and elders, who rarely left their manors, consumed in their own cultivation.


    The fox restrained her words for his benefit, but orange-crest could smell what lay beneath them. The animosity she bore towards humanity. He did not think she sought power merely to be safe from the disciples, but to turn the tables upon them. To be predator, instead of prey. And if it took her months or years to achieve this, she seemed resolved to endure isolation to do so.


    The humans daoists were little better. Perhaps this was a slow and dark season of their lives. A winter that encompassed years. But their tales of the wild exploits of their younger days were tinged with a tenor of bloody darkness that was equally concerning. War. Perhaps the most horrific of human ideas his brother had introduced him to; a conflict so total in its scope that it demanded perfection in loyalty and hatred alike.


    No, he did want to emulate the example of men. Not fully.


    The sect cultivators might not be literally trapped in a cave, but they spent an awful lot of time sitting still with their eyes closed in the caves they''d built.


    He''d found his answer the very first day he''d cultivated hadn''t he? He''d known where the trail of this thought would lead before he''d begun tracking it. But he''d gone through the motions anyway, because it was too important to miss a step.


    Orange-crest would synthesize the knowledge of man and spirit beast. Make wines that were like pills. Drink his way to the top.


    It was a great plan. Unfortunately orange-crest didn''t know exactly how to turn that plan into action.


    He would make wine with his treasure of course. But as with all wine-making secrets, the great power would be in the small details.


    He had wine. Fragrant and cloudy fruit wine made from a base of persimmons, with lychee and yangmei for flavor. He had fruit ready to be made into more wine, if he needed to begin from the beginning. He had spirit stones, big ones, and the core of an even bigger centipede.


    And he had a single recipe for spirit wine he already knew to be good.


    Plums, what he now suspected was a Hundred-Year Ginseng, and Fourfold Marked Green Rotworms.


    And he had access to his brother''s store house.


    Green-worms would have made this simple. But he didn''t have any. He could make substitutions. Plum, yeast flakes, and Ten-Year Ginseng. Plunk in a spirit stone or core and let it sit until the drink cultivated.


    It was a plan. But it didn''t feel right. Didn''t feel good enough.


    Centipede core wine would have centipedes in it, of course. Probably rice as a base, because centipedes tasted bad and so did rice wine. But it was missing something. The centipede had grown gigantic. Orange-crest didn''t want to make a wine that would make him grow bigger. He liked being small. If he understood his brother right, he needed something to turn the dao fragment of growth into a dao fragment of something else.


    Orange-crest sighed. He would need to turn to the scrolls.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Daoist Scouring Medicine heard the rustling of fur, as his disciple rose.


    The daoist continued to stare at the chunk of ore the monkey had brought back. Metal he now knew, deeply imbued with the power of earth. He could work with this. An obvious path through the Wuxing, the cycle of the five elements, presented itself. Sublimate the form of metal into water, while retaining the power of earth. A formation would imbue the dew that collected upon the ore with its earthen power would be the first step. A base liquid for the bath. One that he could strengthen through the generative paths of both fire and metal.


    He sensed Li Hou move to the library. His presence stilled. Reading? Of his own free will?


    His wild little disciple was truly serious, then.


    Li Xun''s quiet and comfortable life balanced on the edge of a knife. His liquid wealth dwindled by the week, with no way to replenish it. Elder Lu would find some more direct avenue to assail him soon enough. Even fabricated accusations might find purchase, with his reputation in tatters. And if the man dug deep enough into history, there would be no need for outright fabrications.


    He was casting a great many hopes upon the monkey''s narrow shoulders. The elders would stack the brackets of the tournament. Seek to see it eliminated before it reached the main stage, and stood before so many of the assembled greats of the empire. But, he could see the narrow path now.


    It must crush the group stages. Eliminate the prodigies placed to suppress it with a performance so domineering that it would be clear the rest would fare no better. Only then, would he have leverage to demand concessions from the Sect Master.


    He wondered, what life would be like, beyond the borders of the sect. The institution had dominated his life since his early teenage years. Perhaps he and the monkey would be wandering daoists, curing illness and righting wrongs. Meeting fated rivals in teahouses and dueling across the rooftops.


    Or, perhaps he would settle down anew. A peak foundation establishment cultivator could easily become minor nobility, if they were willing to bend their neck a few degrees.


    A foolish notion struck him. He could always take disciples in earnest. If Li Hou crushed every noble brat sent to the sect, his name would travel far and wide as a teacher of merit. The very same families would seek him out, even as a wandering cultivator. One cousin''s disgrace was another branch family''s opportunity.


    Him, a great teacher. What a terrible joke.


    His qi trembled, feather-gentle, as the monkey moved exchanging one scroll for another. The animal didn''t understand what it had chosen, by taking his side. If its talent proved anything less than heaven-defying, his sins would drag it down as well.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine pulled a sheet of Xuan paper from beneath his writing desk. He broke a small flake off the ore, and added it to his inkstone. When he was done grinding, the ink looked no different. But his brush was heavy as duty when he set it to paper. He was no formation master, but elemental transmutation was near the very core of his specialty.


    Orange-crest felt something. A weighty power, echoing through the house that felt so much of his brother''s presence. Probably not important. Daoist Scouring Medicine did things like that.


    His own brush rose and danced, as he added another name to his shopping list. His characters were wiggly and malformed, but he could read them. And wasn''t that what counted? Orange-crest could almost taste the way the flavors would blend in his mind''s mouth. And if they tasted good together, surely they would produce good qi as well.


    He was going to get drunker than any monkey had ever been. And stronger too. Hopefully.

 Chapter 25

    Orange-crest stared up at the ceiling. That was... new. His brother was a man of many secrets. But this time? He was pretty sure the human was yanking his tail.


    "You wrote all over the ceiling." The monkey observed aloud. "The ceiling is not a book."


    "No." Daoist Scouring Medicine corrected. "I drew out a novel formation across a dozen pieces of Xuan paper, glued them to thin panels of wood, nailed those panels to the ceiling in precise places, then added the last three strokes while standing atop a couch."


    Orange-crest hummed dubiously.


    "And then you put the rock on the ceiling."


    "Actually, I did that before adding the last three strokes. The formation holds it in place. Glue might have contaminated it with trace amounts of foreign qi."


    Orange-crest stared at the rock he''d retrieved from the centipede''s lair. It floated a dozen feet off the ground, just a few fingers below the rafters, surrounded by the panels full of oddly arranged characters.


    "Earth." The monkey read aloud. "The flowing river runs deep and free. Metal. Abides in stillness, changes without violence. Water. Droplets fall from earth to heaven, and thereby rise."


    A single drop of water fell, plinking loudly into the nearly empty metal dish placed directly beneath the floating rock. Another set of papers surrounded it.


    "Do not step on it." His brother warned, as orange-crest leaned in for a better look.


    "Ekek." He chirped in exasperation. "Does this monkey walk on desk full of papers? No."


    "You walk on desks. Excuse me for thinking a warning prudent." His brother protested, speaking as though he thought a sufficiently aggrieved tone would make a falsehood true. Men did that sometimes.


    His brother''s latest work was a curious thing. Writing magic, apparently made to serve the needs of pill magic. The tops of the trees had blinded orange-crest to the height of the sky. The monkey had thought writing merely a means of storing and retrieving knowings and secrets, but it too had a magic. Perhaps all things had a magic to them? A deeper and more secret way.


    "It''s not the most traditional of refinement steps. A chunk of ore like this is of more use to a swordsmith than a cultivator in its natural state." His brother said, seemingly speaking as much to himself as to orange-crest. "Even an instinctive cultivator would struggle to digest its power, without a specialized constitution. Normally, I would use alchemical solvents, then neutralize them later. Can''t forget that step, or using their products in a bath would melt your bones. And not in a good way. Solvents would be faster. But I''m starting to see more than I could before. Other paths that lead to the same destination. Slowly, my understanding of the dao of alchemy is evolving. All things, all transitions between states, can be turned to the ends of refining medicine. If it can be refined in a furnace, it can be refined in a formation. If a plant can make compound, why can''t a man? You''ll see, one day. They''ll all see..."


    Daoist Scouring Medicine trailed off, staring at his work.


    Orange-crest was tempted to mark this down as another human strangeness. His brother''s words were scattered, leaping about from subject to subject even more than they usually tended to. Much flew into one of the monkey''s ears and out the other. Yet, orange-crest liked to consider himself skilled at the reading of faces. His brother''s was a riot of conflicting things. Like beast-trails that led to a clear pool in a dry season, one clear track devolving into a mess of violent emotions and complex history.


    This mattered to his brother. Not just the doing, the bath he said would make orange-crest stronger. The knowing, the journey to get there. And the fact that it mattered to his brother, meant that it mattered to orange-crest.


    His brother was not well. Any monkey could see that. His body was slow to mend. More fear than a primate was meant to bear weighed upon him, fear that stretched across month after month. He had no pack. Only orange-crest and Daoist Enduring Oath.


    "Show me?" Orange-crest asked. "Want see what you see."


    He meant it. Orange-crest couldn''t make his brother see as he saw. See that the laws and grudges of men were small things. That his fears could blow away like a bad smell, if he simply left the sect behind to shelter behind the mighty back of the Monkey King.


    Only his brother could change his sight. But orange-crest could change his own, that they might glimpse the same horizon.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine blinked in surprise. Li Hou was a diligent student, for an animal. But he didn''t usually care about things before he saw their utility directly. It was out of character, for him to care about the synthesis of a reagent that was a mere input in another process yet to begin.


    But a wise man struck while the iron was hot. Perhaps coming to understand the potential of formations would help encourage the monkey to pay more heed to the shape of his own written characters.


    "If alchemy is the art of transforming substances into more useful ones, formations are the art of arranging the world. A formation can hide a place from prying eyes, or make it more suitable for cultivation. They can even protect cities from armies, or slaughter one''s enemies. This one is a small and specialized thing by comparison, with but two very particular functions. The first, is to contain and sequester the small amount of yin qi this chunk of ore releases. Without a more powerful concept to latch on to, the imbalance manifests in the form of cooling. Cold is one of the most natural expressions of yin energy, after all. A cold stone in a warm room naturally produces dew, the water you see falling from it. The second function is to shift the earthen qi within the metal to a form more compatible with water. In order to do this, it leverages the comparatively high concentration of qi within the metal itself to..."


    The monkey listened as the man lectured. He learned more. He thought more. And then, with his plans finalized, he went shopping.


    And by the time he left, his brother''s scowl was a little less sullenly spiteful, and a little more determinedly fierce.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Disciple Wang hadn''t known what to think, when his senior knocked on the door. He''d been lying on the comfortable hardwood bed the sect provided, staring up at the ceiling without holes in it.


    Best enjoy it while he could. He''d be returning to his parents in disgrace soon enough.


    The sect would not say as much. The daoist who returned him would no doubt say something vague and empty. Wang Tao had no fate with immortality.


    That daoist wouldn''t be wrong.


    It wasn''t the worst fate, he supposed. But staring up at the cobwebs, Wang Tao wondered if it was perhaps more unkind than never being chosen in the first place. He was stronger than a mortal, now. He could run for hours on end. Even after the damage, his cultivation had stabilized at the second level of qi condensation. But that, strength and perhaps modest longevity, were the extent of his cultivation''s worth now. He couldn''t use qi actively, his reserves replenished in months, not days. And the consequences of actively cycling or using a technique were... Severe.


    And his arm was a ruin. Weeks on, it was still covered in bandages. The strength was there, the limb still answered the call of his will. But his fingers were clumsy things, useless columns of flesh buried beneath thick scars. The disciple-doctors had to cut them apart, two weeks ago. The flame had fused the flesh together. Even after separation, they hardly felt or bended. And the rest of the arm was little better. His skin was tighter than a merchant-lord''s purse strings. If he bent his arm fully, fresh lines of painful scarlet would stain his bandages. He felt like one of his aunt''s aspic dumplings, poorly formed and ever one sudden movement from leaking liquid all over his clothes.


    Just once, he''d tried to cultivate. Defied the advice of of the sect''s doctors to test the truth of their words. It had hurt almost as much as when he''d first burned his arm, as fiery qi had rampaged through his body. His cultivation hadn''t regressed again, fallen to the first stage. But it was a close thing.


    What was a farmer without an arm? He could pull a plow, and guide an animal. Cultivation made him strong enough for that. Scatter seeds, for the greens, perhaps. He''d be slow to transplant seedlings. A sickle would be worthless, without a second hand, and he could hardly repair a fence or building with one arm.


    He was not useless. But he could not maintain a household on his own.


    Perhaps he could act as a beast of burden himself, balancing a shoulder pole another would load. Or take up a career as a runner and bring home coin. No bandits could hope to accost him without archers or cultivators among their number, not unless they caught him unaware. He would be surprised, if the county magistrate was not interested in adding a cultivator to his staff. Even one as lowly and crippled as Wang Tao.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Perhaps time would heal him. The inner disciple who had treated him had been clear, his meridians would never improve without intervention. But he''d been less certain about the prognosis of Wang Tao''s flesh. It might improve, with years and steady use, he''d said. It could have been an empty kindness. But the disciple had not seemed like a kind man, and Wang Tao trusted his words all the more for the cold disinterest in his voice as he''d declared Disciple Wang a cripple.


    It was among these dreary visions of the future, that the knock had found him.


    Wang Tao was on his feet in an instant. He was not important enough to keep anyone waiting. Even the lowliest of initiates were now people he might be unable to afford to offend. Unlike him, they had a future with cultivation.


    The senior at the door was an outer disciple, but to Disciple Wang he might as well have been an elder. Fifth stage? Sixth? Even his senses were less than what they''d been.


    "A message, for you."


    Wang Tao''s tongue itched, to ask who wished to speak with him.


    "Thank you, senior." He said instead, inclining his head.


    To his credit, the disciple did not frown or scoff. He did not see in Wang Tao a potential friend or competitor, or even an object to deride. He was as far beneath the man''s care as a mortal.


    Wang Tao read the note. It was not long. Two short columns of characters, and an elegant signature in place of a stamp.


    Wang Tao sat down in the small patch of well-swept dirt that constituted his home''s entryway. He stared up at deep blue of the late afternoon sky.


    The note made no promises. It offered no words of consolation. It was a little more than a name, a place, and a time.


    It did not feel like hope. Yet somehow it almost felt cruel. Cruel in the manner of one who offers false hope to the condemned. Wang Tao went anyway. Heaven might be boundless, but the confines of his world were narrow. What else was there to do?


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Inner Disciple Yan Delun leaned against the wall of his fortress. The sect called it an office, of course. But given the nature of his employment, Yan Delun thought his perspective more fitting. His job wasn''t really to dispense the materials stored within this room. It was part of his duties. But his superiors would hardly care if he failed at it.


    His true duty was to protect the contents of the small room. Guard the endless rows of apothecary cabinets that covered every inch of its walls.


    The room had a single entrance, a barred and warded door that opened into the inner chambers of the Administration Halls. A small gap in the endless expanse of cabinets. A window with a lacquered counter was set into the far wall, opening out onto the public courtyard, a deceptively vulnerable looking point. Objects could pass through it, but any foolish enough to think it a point of ingress would find themselves rapidly... Chastised.


    It was a waste of an inner disciple''s time and talents. But what mortal could be trusted with the keys to wealth any cultivator would kill for? And so here he was, an inner disciple, a man perhaps a decade away from becoming a daoist in his own right, acting as a glorified clerk.


    Even mortal officials were not subjected to the indignity of working with the public. And the outer sect certainly merited the pejorative. In theory, they were aspiring immortals. In practice, most of them would live and die without ever leaving the realm of qi condensation. Cultivators they might be, but they would soon find the limits of their talents, and accept they were meant to be nothing more than long lived mortals. Blessed with the luck to see the heavens, but not the strength to grasp them.


    A boy approached his counter. Yan Delun stared at him from across the small room. He did not move to approach the disciple.


    The boy flinched, then steeled himself.


    "Do you have a copy of the requisition form bearing his seal?" Yan Delun barked.


    "My master says-"


    "Your master can come down here himself. No daoist, no purchase order, and no payment, means no goods."


    "It''s just three sprigs of-"


    "I don''t care." Four of Yan Delun''s favorite characters.


    "He''s teaching a class and I-"


    "Disciple Yuwen, you will not speak another word if you value your tongue."


    Yan Delun waited a moment. The boy''s jaw clenched in frustration, but he said nothing.


    "If you come before my eyes again, let it be silently, with a copy of that form, bearing your master''s seal. Or with spirit stones. You do not have credit here. You may not draw upon your master''s without written authorization. If you do other than I have suggested, you will find yourself banned from the hall. Shall we see how much time your master has for a disciple incapable of even running errands for him?"


    Disciple Yuwen bowed at the waist, to half extension. A peasant, likely, to retreat to excess deference in the face of chastisement. But a bold one, to return emptyhanded after the first failure. Yan Delun smiled as the boy spun on his heels and retreated. It might have taken him two tries, but at least he was capable of learning. For a daoist of any stripe to have taken the boy as a personal disciple, his talent must have been excellent. For a man of modest birth to experience such a change in his fortunes had an unfortunate tendency to leave him with a rather lofty opinion of his own importance. A situation best remedied before Disciple Yuwen himself attained the rank of inner disciple.


    That was the second true duty of this job, after all. Teaching uneducated peasants and entitled nobles alike the true rules. Beating into them the unbreakable truth that the Azure Mountain Sect was beyond them and their ambitions. It had existed since before they were born, and would continue to teach long after they were dust. It had known a dozen Sect Masters, outlasted six emperors and two dynasties. Noble houses and earth-shaking talents rose and fell, but so long as the Patriarch slept deep beneath the mountain, the sect would endure any tumult. How then could the Administration Hall, one of its pillars, bend even a chi before some young talent?


    Petitioner suitably chastised, Yan Delun stepped back from the counter. He returned to the tedious process of checking the inventory. When a single root spoiling from moisture might mean a dozen spirit stones lost, or stolen, the hall expected paperwork both expansive and immaculate.


    *Early winter, year 147 of the Qianlong Emperor''s reign. Cabinet 302. Hundred-year ginseng. 2 specimens recorded. Both present and mobile. No signs of damage. Inner Disciple Yan Delun.*


    His work continued in a similar vein for hours. Most of the notes were the same. Only rarely did he note even the smallest of damages or degradation to the goods, and not once an item misplaced.


    "It''s smaller than I thought it''d be, from the rumors."


    The words were just barely audible from Yan Delun''s desk.


    "I heard it speaks like a man."


    "If it did, surely it would have the sense to greet its seniors."


    "Is this the place..."


    "No. Two desks down."


    That was Disciple Yang, at the mission desk. It was heading to him then.


    "It does speak!"


    "Remarkable. Perhaps not the best use of a daoist''s time, but still remarkable."


    "Better training monkeys than producing more pills. Have you not heard? Not content to cripple Disciple Zhang, he nearly killed himself reaching beyond his means in a duel. Burnt himself from within. You couldn''t pay me enough to take a pill from Daoist Scouring Medicine''s furnace. It''s good that the sect has forbidden him from selling his work."


    "I heard he won though. The other daoist suffered far worse. And watch your words, his disciple is right there. He''s still a daoist."


    "No. His pet monkey is right there. And he won''t be for long. What man can stand alone against the world? Not an alchemist, certainly."


    Yan Delun rose from his desk. The outer sect''s latest curiosity, the talking monkey. He wondered if it suffered from the perennial affliction of promising disciples.


    "Is this the place to buy worms?"


    Yan Delun looked out the window. It was empty, save for a pair of furry little hands clutching at the protruding edge of the counter.


    Oh, this was going to be fun. He leaned over to get a good look at the thing.


    It was smaller, than he''d expected. Hardly half a grown man''s height, with long thin limbs. Even the initiates, young as they were, dwarfed it in size. Impressive, that it could trade blows with them at the second stage of qi condensation. Or, perhaps the new blood were simply that pathetic. They were initiates, after all.


    "The place to buy worms? Perhaps you''ve confused the Azure Mountain Sect with the underside of a rock, little one." He said in a polite tone.


    "No, I checked rocks. They have wrong worms. Brother Scouring Medicine says the sect has more kinds. All the best worms."


    "I suppose that''s true. What sort of worms exactly were you looking for?"


    "Fourfold marked Rotworms." The monkey said confidently.


    Yan Delun didn''t know what those were. Rather than admit ignorance before a literal monkey, he pulled out the index. The hefty tome crashed down with a satisfying thump, covering nearly the entirety of the counter. The monkey withdrew its grubby little paws at the last possible moment to avoid getting them crushed.


    Fourfold marked... Ah, there it was. Qi condensation. Weak death qi. Cabinet 6345.


    No wonder he''d never seen them. Things ended up in the high cabinets because nobody wanted them.


    A quick phantom palm brought it over. He slid the index aside and set it on the counter.


    The monkey hopped up for a better look as he opened the cabinet, toeing the very edge of the line that would trigger the defensive formations.


    Yan Delun really hoped it would step too far forward and fling itself across the courtyard. It wasn''t a very dignified desire. Unsuitable for a daoist. But it was his desire.


    The monkey frowned. It stared seriously at the cabinet, then back at him.


    "Those." It said slowly, as if speaking to a small child. "Are dead."


    "Yes, they are." Yan Delun agreed. Of course the worms were dried. ''We don''t keep live worms in cabinets. Do you have any idea how little I would get done if I had to feed everything in this room? Or do you think the Azure Mountain is so rich we can afford stasis formations for our qi condensation ingredients?"


    "But they''re dead. Alive is better. If I want dead, I can squish worm. Can''t unsquish dead worm."


    Yan Delun sighed. This interaction was rapidly losing its novel charm.


    "Do you want the dead worms or not?"


    "Maybe. What else have?"


    "The Azure Mountain Administrative Hall stores and sells nearly eight thousand different plants, insects, animal body parts, and natural treasures commonly used in alchemy, smithing, and formation arrays. Including core formation level treasures. If you need it, we have it. However, how exactly do you plan on paying for those resources."


    Its embattled master had no credit here. That had been one of the first privileges he lost. Yan Delun knew it didn''t have contribution points. The monkey had become a staple of the rumor mill the last few months, he would have heard if it cleared a mission or visited one of the other desks.


    The monkey withdrew from its bag an uncut spirit stone fully half the size of its small head.


    Avarice flickered through Yan Delun. The sect was very careful about shrinkage. He would never take anything from the storehouse. But it was very hard to say, just how much a raw stone like that was worth. Almost impossible really, unless you measured and cut it. Who could criticize him for helping a disciple make change? He doubted the monkey knew exactly how much the stone was worth, he could easily make ten percent on this, at minimum. An inner disciple''s allotment only went so far, when one''s ambitions encompassed the heavens.


    The monkey''s smile was all teeth. That was fine. It could be smug, so long as it paid the sect. And Yan Delun.


    "Maybe I go buy my worms from... Where was it you say? Underside of a rock? Maybe they have better quality. More alive."


    "Careful." Yan Delun said, staring at the massive rock. "That''s dangerously close to slander."


    "I be careful. No slander."


    "I do believe we can make a deal. What else were you interested in?"


    "I have a list!" The monkey proclaimed, drawing a sheet of wastefully high quality paper from its pouch and brandishing it proudly.


    Yan Delun squinted at the characters. He was pretty sure those were characters, and not just random squiggles.


    "I''m not reading that. What''s the first item?"

 Chapter 26

    On Mount Yuelu, winter was a time for testing. Were your skills sharp enough to find fish or catch rodents? Did you know the best rocks, where worms still squirmed even in the frozen earth? Were your stores deep enough to keep your strength up on days you could do neither of those things? Were the bonds of the pack strong enough, for months of bitter cold and bellies never quite full?


    The rhythms and concerns of the days were much the same, everything simply became harder. Easy food disappeared, and on the darkest of days food itself became a secondary concern to simply staving off the inescapable grasp of the cold. When winter''s grasp was at its deepest, the Monkey King would come down from his peak and set fires for his subjects, blazing treasures they would keep fed even as their own stomachs cried out, until the snowstorms passed.


    The bleak season was very different on the Azure Mountain. As much as orange-crest did not appreciate being stuck indoors, he also did not appreciate the biting winds and driving snows. His master had a hearth, a stone cage for a fire to live within his wooden cave. A great treasure, one that had filled orange-crest with wonder when his brother had first shown him how it worked.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine largely ignored it.


    His explanations made sense. He had a pill furnace after all, the complex formation wrought of copper and stone that sat beneath it could burst into flame at a single gesture from the alchemist. It was all too easy to simply ignite the furnace, stick a taper beneath the fierce looking cauldron, and light the hearth anew. To the daoist''s mind, the hearth''s true purpose was for making tea for guests. Orange-crest knew his brother could produce fire from nothing with his own qi as well, but he''d not seen him do so since the day he had burned like a sun and struck down the daoist who carried winter on his sword.


    Yet despite these explanations, to his brother''s continual bemusement, orange-crest kept the fire going all day, and through much of the night. It simply felt right. A thing to do during these dark, interminable days, filled with reading and alchemy. Orange-crest like fire. It was the same color as so many good things, rich unctuous yolks and fragrant honey, and his own fiery fur.


    It made the season feel not quite so bleak. His other brothers feel not quite so far. He could almost see them, staring at more precarious fires of their own. With every carefully chopped stick he fed into the blaze, he imagined one of them doing the same on Mount Yuelu.


    And then he got back to cutting cocoons open, gently fishing out the goopy little worms within, and stuffing dried centipedes inside them.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine watched the monkey from his position by the pill furnace, where he was slowly infused earthen qi from half a dozen disparate plants into a lump of rock salt.


    "Have you used such a technique before?" He asked suddenly.


    Orange-crest carefully finished his current caterpillar surgery, before looking up.


    "No."


    "Did your mysterious king teach it to you?"


    "No."


    "Then, how do you know it will work?"


    The monkey shrugged.


    "Seems right." Orange-crest had needed to dig deep into his store of bug-lore before the answer had come to him. Cocoons where how bugs changed. He''d never seen a centipede make a cocoon, but then he''d never seen a centipede the size of three tigers stacked end to end either. So he would put little centipedes in cocoons, the qi would try to make them big, and the cocoon would turn big into different.


    Truth be told, it was a rather small leap in logic compared to discovering that letting fruit rot in the right tree produced the most wonderful of drinks.


    "No scrolls on mountain. I do things. Is how learn."


    "Seems like a good way to waste valuable materials." Daoist Scouring Medicine muttered. He didn''t have a use in mind for that beast core, and even he would be hard pressed to come up with one without at least knowing where the monkey had acquired it. But Li Hou had been uncharacteristically tight lipped about where he got it, or what it came from. It was quite strange, he knew that the monkey would have shamelessly informed him if it was merely the product of theft.


    "No waste. Only make." Orange-crest corrected.


    "Oh? And what if your recipe doesn''t work?"


    "Then I make bad tasting bug wine. Still will make drunk. And rice wine already tastes bad."


    "And if the result isn''t suitable for cultivating? If the qi is uncontrollable, or outright toxic?"


    "Then I make enemy drink it."


    "What if the core dissolves but the qi leaks out?"


    "Check every day. If core gets tiny but wine is bad, I take core out."


    "Clever disciple. You have answer for everything. But, what if-"


    "What if you trust?"


    Daoist Scouring Medicine sighed. This is what he''d wanted, wasn''t it? A disciple who would be an alchemist in their own right, doing more than merely following his recipes and aping his attainments. He just hadn''t considered that their methods might be less refined than his. More instinctive. The monkey was right, after all. The most likely scenario was that soaking a beast core in insect-saturated alcohol simply did nothing to the core.


    "Very well." He conceded. His stubborn disciple would be more amenable to more structured investigation after it failed anyway.


    For several hours, they continued working together in comfortable silence. After several close calls, he finished his refinement. Another component of the bath completed. It was the most ambitious qi condensation level treatment he''d ever devised, built on his experiences tempering his own body, as well as his work for The Idiot''s treatment.


    Normally, it would have taken mere weeks to be ready. A clear production schedule and being forced to limit himself to relying on only ingredients from his stores and garden greatly reduced the delays in any project.


    Unfortunately, Li Xun struggled to work at his typical pace.


    His qi was... Not the most stable it had ever been. The majority of the searing power of the Quaternary Heartfire pill had long since been expended. His physical injuries were nearly healed. His meridians were slower, but with every passing day the shooting pain that accompanied marshalling his qi steadily diminished. His current problem was that traces of the pill remained in his system. Whenever one flared into life, his control suffered.


    For an alchemist, any lapse in control was a potential disaster. Working in small batches, he''d managed to avoid getting close to a cauldron containment failure. Sadly, even with such precautions, he''d ruined ingredients he could hardly afford to lose.


    "Done!" Li Hou chirped. He stood over a clay jug, stuffed cocoons bobbing at its lip like the world''s most disgusting boiled dumplings. The monkey dropped the hefty beast core, watching it vanish with a plop. He placed a lid atop it. A moment later, the monkey changed his mind, and slid the lid halfway off.


    The alchemist was fairly certain the mixture would perform the same with air as without. The rice wine Li Hou used as a base had already finished its fermentation, anything else he added now would simply be a soak.


    Daoist Scouring Medicine shivered. He''d tried the mundane wine the monkey had made. Found it passable, if weak and cloyingly sweet. Not to his taste, but hardly unsuitable for the palate of man, and better than many mortals could manage. He wasn''t touching this one. Li Hou could have it all. Mayhap he''d borrow a cup for proper analysis, if his disciple''s efforts proved fruitful. The Fourfold Marked Rotworms had proven that there indeed was something to the monkey''s instinctive herblore.


    Li Hou looked up at him, as if expecting praise or derision.


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    "Ah, that reminds me." Daoist Scouring Medicine said instead. "Come, I have a gift for you."


    The curious monkey followed him to the pantry. His qi washed outward, saturating the concealed formation against the side wall. His qi split into a pair of threads, each infused with elemental power. Wending their way into the depths of the lock, the thread of water suppressed the nexus of flame at the center of the formation. With the way cleared, the thread of metal struck at the living fragment of Two-Shadowed Yew, breaking the illusion that covered the entrance to his cellar.


    Any elder, and most of the sect''s daoists, could no doubt break open the way into the most secret workshop he kept on site. But to do so without destroying the formation? He doubted even Elder Lu or Weeping Lotus could manage it, not without hours of study.


    LI Hou''s eyes widened, as the wooden door shimmered into view.


    "Come now, surely you did not think you''d found all my secrets? The pantry was hardly intended to be secure. I would be impressed indeed, if you managed to open this one."


    Not that he kept anything truly damning here. Only the suggestive. The majority of the jars he''d commissioned from Daoist Enduring Oath dwelled far from the mountain, buried beneath a village long since abandoned in the wake of a beast tide.


    "You expressed disappointment, that the Azure Mountain does not have a native population of Fourfold Marked Green Rotworms. I did not wish to take another trip back to your home, and potentially bring unwanted attention to your fellows, but Mount Yuelu is hardly the only place where these lowly spirit beasts breed."


    He''d had a devilish time finding the things. But once he had, it had been simplicity itself to establish a breeding population both here and in his more secret workshop.


    One of his samples had already evolved. After allowing it to gorge upon the flesh of a Cloud-Dancer Hare, his fattest specimen had advanced. The worm, its bulbous body now the deep blue of the open ocean, exerted a clear foundation establishment level aura. He''d already begun trialing different poisons with it, from aconite and scorpion venom to the flesh of various toads.


    The medical applications of a Gu that could take properties other than poison were substantial, but he didn''t need a panacea right now. He needed a weapon that even an elder would fear. A trump card with which he could credibly threaten mutual destruction, should Li Hou fail to shake the sect.


    Better to be a demon feared than a daoist disgraced.


    "You have green worms?" Li Hou asked breathlessly.


    Li Xun lifted a vessel from a sparsely populated shelf. The cellar was nigh empty these days, with his orthodox reagents so thoroughly depleted.


    He popped the lid off. The worms did surprisingly well with complete confinement, provided enough dead flesh to subsist on.


    Li Hou stared at the wiggling contents of the jar. The monkey''s eyes grew so wide he thought they might simply fall out of its head. Li Xun waited patiently for it to say something.


    Instead, its tail began to quiver. Then it started swinging wildly, slapping the ground. The monkey turned its back to him, spinning in a circle, then pacing furiously. Its steps became small hops, and it let out several almost involuntary looking claps. A moment later, Li Hou leapt into the air, sprinting across one of the cellar''s empty shelves, before launching himself at Li Xun''s face.


    "Ach! Pff!" Li Xun bore the indignity stoically, careful not to drop the expensive containment vessel.


    "Best worms! Best brother!" The monkey shouted into his scalp, before twisting to rocket down his arm.


    A moment later, it had wrested the jar from his grip, and it was rocketing out into the pantry.


    "Need to find best tree! Make best wine! Get even daoists drunk! Make monkey grow big and strong!"


    Li Xun''s hand rose to his eye, wiping away an irritating clump of orange fur.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------


    "I can see you, foolish monkey."


    "Damn." Orange-crest muttered. It was hard to hide in an empty cave. He rose from where he''d been curled, attempting an emulate a furry orange rock.


    Formless-gleam chuffed smugly. She did that a lot.


    Orange-crest stared at the second orange monkey in the cave. He was a handsome fellow. Small, but fit, with a stylish poof of flaming hair atop his head.


    He was also still as a corpse, frozen mid-step.


    The monkey reached out for his doppelganger, hand set to tousle his hair. The moment his hand made contact, the illusion''s head blew away like smoke. The rest of the body followed in an instant, leaving only one monkey. His heart-fire felt dangerously low, it took so much of his strength to make an illusion that faded the moment it was touched.


    "You say I''m doing it right, but why are my tricks so bad?" Orange-crest asked the fox.


    He''d grasped the technique easily. It wasn''t much more complicated than his brother''s binding spell. He flared his qi, and let it coat his fur like a second skin. He filled the qi up with whispered lies, and then slipped out of it like he slipped out of the ''robe'' Daoist Scouring Medicine had once tried to force him into.


    "You''re too honest."


    "What!" Orange-crest screeched. "You take that foul libel back! I am very good at lying."


    Formless-gleam sighed.


    "You have too much energy. But that idea is the problem. You think of it as a separate thing, lying. Your deception is static, a single untruth held up to the world. So your illusion is the same."


    Orange-crest sat back on his butt.


    "But... It is? Am I supposed to not know what''s true?"


    "You cannot pay so much attention to where you are. The world knows when you are lying to it, so deception must become as natural to you as truth."


    "So, I lie to myself."


    "No, that''s stupid. Just lie better." Formless-gleam flicked her tail, and it split in twain. She rose on her haunches then stepped forward. The air flickered like rippling water as two foxes strode in opposite directions. "Maybe I stepped to the left, maybe I stepped to the right. I''m not dwelling on where I am, but where I could be."


    "But you are somewhere."


    "Yes. My mother can walk in two directions at once and decide where she is later. That''s far beyond me, for now. But I''m not always thinking about the lie, like you are. It''s just a thing that is, like the direction I chose to walk."


    "This makes my head hurt."


    "I told you it would be hard."


    "Break time then. I brought wine."


    Orange-crest popped the lid off the jar. It was pleasantly cool, one of the few good things about winter. His poor feet still ached from the trek through the snow from his brother''s house to the foxes cave, made all the worse for the fact he could hardly traverse the trees with a jar of wine in tow. He took a deep draw, enjoying the way the drink chased away the lingering chill of the season.


    Formless-gleam''s tails stiffened as she sniffed his work. It was quite good, if he did say so himself. Even his picky brother conceded it was ''drinkable''. The persimmons and bayberries were a good combination.


    "I have seen that drink turn men into monsters. Drive them into rages that lead them to strike their cubs and and mates."


    Orange-crest shrugged.


    "Doesn''t seem to take much to do that. Men will kill over a couple spirit stones. I like it. Makes me feel warm and happy. Just decide not to turn into a monster."


    Formless-gleam chuckled. It was an odd sound, half chuff and half yip, strangely guttural coming from the normally dainty fox. She dipped her nose into the jar anyway, lapping at the alcoholic soup. Daoist Scouring Medicine had made him filter the remaining chunks out of most of the jars, but this was a proper unadulterated batch.


    Why waste good fruit?


    "Yekh. The scent lingers in my fur."


    "Heh. Your nose is more orange than mine. Drink more. You''ll forget about the smell."


    "Shush. You have no idea how much of a trial it has been to be born in a world ruled by those with thumbs."


    "Monkey hands are best hands." Orange-crest sang happily.


    "Shush."


    With the fox''s assistance orange-crest easily polished off the jar. He lay back against the cool stone. Formless-gleam cuddled up next to him. Her great bulky tails kept flicking against his nose.


    "Stop that. It''s itchy."


    "No. You deserve it. For singing."


    "I will sneeze in your face."


    "Try me, foolish monkey. Your senior will burn that little puff of hair you''re so proud of right off."


    "For someone who hates men so much, you sure do talk like one."


    The fox shifted, pulling away from his side.


    "Just this once, I will forgive you that insult. I am nothing like those rapacious monsters. The civilization they are so proud of rests atop a foundation of bones. Beneath the skies, they alone can do nothing but take."


    "Tigers." Orange-crest felt proud. Truly, it was a most eloquent argument.


    "Tigers are but hunters like any other. They kill when they hunger, or if you irritate them. When men come for your mountain, they will kill every monkey upon it. Not merely for food or even your fur, but because they do not share. They covet every treasure, whether it is the gift of heaven for the good of all, or the flesh your mother gave you."


    "Why do you so hate them?" Orange-crest asked. "What did they do to you?"


    "My history does not exist for your amusement. Let it suffice to say my enmity is well earned."


    Orange-crest rose to his feet, easily balancing atop the unsteady floor of the cave. He was very good at walking.


    "I''m gonna try lying to the world again." The fox didn''t want to talk about humans, so he subtly changed the subject.


    "Fine." Formless-gleam said. "I promised you a lesson, and you shall have it. An illusion is not a merely a lie. What is, is, and I am not strong enough to shift that. You cannot even dream of attempting it. An illusion is a story. There are as many foxes as there are tails. The monkey never stopped running. That rustling you hear is but the whisper of wind. Stop trying to lie to the world. Tell a single story, that encompasses both the truth, and the falsehood. They are but two halves of the same thing."


    Orange-crest was pretty drunk. He''d definitely downed more of the jar than formless-gleam. That statement didn''t make a lot of sense to him. He stoked his now recovered qi, letting it gently seep out to form a tight shell around him.


    He understood the lesson. But also it didn''t make sense.


    He stepped forward, and he remained in place.


    "I don''t get it." He said, and didn''t.


    "It''s not complicated. It''s just hard. You''re very young. Don''t be surprised that a child cannot yet grasp my mother''s lessons."


    Orange-crest kept walking. He marveled at the monkey he''d left behind, as real as the one that slowly crept behind the fox. Those tails looked very fluffy. He grabbed one, feeling it stiffen. He immediately gave the tail a good tug. Formless-gleam leapt into the air with a very satisfying yip.


    "Got your tail."


    "How dare you!"


    The startled fox paused, staring at the two monkeys. The illusion gave her a wave, before pausing midway through. Oh. He''d lost the right frame of mind.


    "Incredible." Formless-gleam said breathlessly. "You of all creatures would have a breakthrough when you''re drunk. Truly, foolish people have foolish fortune."


    Orange-crest burped. Not loudly. A quiet, dignified burp.


    "Then why aren''t you lucky?" He asked the fox.


    Two baleful candles of foxfire burst into being, casting their wan light across the cavern.


    "Eep."

 Chapter 27

    Disciple Wang Tao hadn''t been sure what he expected a daoist to be like. As a mortal, they''d been figures out of stories. Noble heroes and blood-soaked villains. Joining a sect had hardly changed that understanding. An initiate with formidable backing or heaven-defying talent might be taught by a daoist directly. Wang Tao had neither of those things. His most senior teacher had still been an outer disciple. The only inner disciple he knew by name was Inner Disciple Sun, who oversaw work assignments. And he only emerged from cultivation when there was some dispute over the fairness of the process, and knew Wang Tao as nothing more than a name on a chart.


    He''d expected the daoist to have eyes that would pierce through any deceit. A sense of power apparent even in its concealment. Perhaps a distant or otherworldly sort of dignity.


    Yet, having spent the last hour with Daoist Snowclad Heart, he wasn''t sure if the man met his unspoken expectations or defied them.


    Perhaps that was the surest sign of all that the man was a daoist in truth, despite his injury.


    "That''s brilliant!" Daoist Snowclad Heart exclaimed, slapping his thigh animatedly as if he were drinking wine, rather than tea. "And he got away with it?"


    Wang Tao shrugged sheepishly.


    "More or less, honored daoist. The magistrate was dismissed for corruption, so he couldn''t make trouble anymore. He had no idea the prefect would be visiting that day. But he never did get back many of the sheep the bandits had stolen."


    "And your neighbors all trusted their animals to your father for this deception?"


    "Everyone who raises sheep marks them, usually with paint. They are foolish animals with a talent for getting lost or lamed. The magistrate wasn''t a sheep farmer, so he didn''t understand the significance of my father''s flock containing so many different markings. He simply decided that if he couldn''t force my father to give up his land, he would at least make him pay the unfair taxes he had levied. But when the whole village spoke up before the prefect, the magistrate was backed into a corner. The prefect was honorable, and insisted on inspecting my father''s lands for himself. He saw immediately his fields could never support as many animals as he was to be taxed for. The great herd had only been there for a week, but his lands looked like a swarm of locusts had passed through."


    "I see." Daoist Snowclad Heart nodded thoughtfully. "Your father is a credit to the name Wang, protecting his family''s legacy and helping root out corruption in a single move."


    Disciple Wang suppressed a shiver, it was terrifying speaking at such length before Daoist Snowclad Heart, despite the man''s friendliness. He imagined it was probably much like how his father felt, standing before the honorable Prefect Pao.


    Daoist Snowclad Heart took up the teapot again, and refilled both their cups.


    He at least served himself first. But it made Wang Tao''s skin shiver to be served at all by someone so far above him. He did only have one working hand. Perhaps the daoist was accommodating his injury. Or, more realistically, did not trust Wang Tao not to break his teapot.


    He hoped that it was so. Because the alternative, that the daoist wanted something from him, was far more terrifying. What did Wang Tao have left to give that such a man would value, save for his life?


    "I am pleased to see you have recovered as well as can be expected, Disciple Wang. It was disappointing to hear that some of our disciples faced such grave danger upon the mountain. I have no doubt you will be pleased to here that one of our inner disciples has taken it upon himself to slay the Sun-Swallowing Bear that waylaid your party."


    Wang Tao froze. Was he supposed to wish the man same? He''d heard the rumors, but he could still feel the daoist''s qi, a sharp cold as real as the winter outside. Would his own well wishes be presumptuous? Worse, what if he really was crippled, and Wang Tao simply couldn''t feel the difference? Then he would be rubbing his senior''s nose in his misfortune!


    "Thank you, honored daoist." He said instead, bowing from the neck. "The Medical Pavilion moved mountains on this disciple''s behalf."


    Daoist Snowclad Heart''s good humor vanished in an instant.


    "Do you think I am blind and deaf, Disciple Wang?" The daoist asked in a wintry tone.


    Wang Tao''s tongue felt heavy as lead and sticky as pine glue. He''d learned many courtesies over the years, scripts for behavior in two different worlds. None of them covered this.


    "Answer me truthfully." Daoist Snowclad Heart demanded. "Are you satisfied, with what justice has been delivered? With the treatment you received and the death of the beast that injured you?"


    Wang Tao suppressed a wince, trying his best to meet the daoist''s steel grey eyes without flinching. When in doubt, obey the daoist, seemed as good a rule as any.


    "No. I am not satisfied." The words felt heavy, as they left his mouth. But his chest felt light. What worries did he have now? He had no strength to protect himself, not before the daoist who demanded his thoughts, or the sect he criticized.


    There was a freeing simplicity in it, in just telling the truth. The words spilled out of him like vengeful waters rushing through a shattered dam.


    "The others abandoned me the moment we made it back to safety. Disciple Ying considers his debt repaid. Disciple Hao spends all his time cultivating, avoiding me. He says I went too far, as if he wasn''t there standing right behind me the entire time! The fat initiate is worthless. Even with one arm, with my damaged cultivation, I could slay him. He couldn''t even catch an unarmed monkey while I held the spirit beast at bay!"


    Daoist Snowclad Heart watched impassively as the disciple continued to rant.


    "It isn''t fair! That Sun-Swallowing Bear was at the peak of qi condensation. I held my ground against its rage for four blows. How many other initiates could have done that? Yang Wei maybe, perhaps Xiao Shulan? Disciple Ying is in his second year with the sect, and he would have died in an instant! I did better than any other mortal born disciple could have hoped to. And the sect threw it back in my face. I won''t heal fully on my own, the Medical Pavilion says. And they won''t heal me. My potential isn''t worth the expense! What''s the point of it all? I didn''t come from some storied clan. I wasn''t born with domineering talent. I did everything right. I awoke my qi. I trained harder than any other initiate. When that monkey stole from me, I researched its backing and found allies to help me take back what it stole. And then when I ran into a beast beyond my realm I stood my ground, and protected the men I''d led to its lair. Because I was the only one who among the four of us who could, and it was the right thing to do!"


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    Wang Tao finally inhaled.


    "And then you lost everything. And the cowards you saved turn up their noses at you." Daoist Snowclad Heart finished mildly. "I am not unfamiliar, with how that feels. To see the brave punished, while cowards prosper."


    Out of the corner of Wang Tao''s eye, he saw glinting specks of liquid dotting his side of the table. He''d spoken so vigorously he''d sent spittle flying everywhere. His innards curdled as he silently prayed that everywhere had excluded the daoist across the table.


    Daoist Snowclad Heart calmy sipped at his tea as the contents of Wang Tao''s stomach threatened to put in an appearance.


    "Do you still thirst for vengeance?" The older man finally asked him.


    He thought about it, for far from the first time. He''d played over the events of those days a hundred times in his head, staring up at the rafters. Daoist Snowclad Heart had pulled the truth from him without ever sharing his own thoughts. Yet, Wang Tao had watched his fight with the monkey''s master. The terrible powers the two daoists had brought to bear, and its brutal conclusion. He did not think his senior would blame him, for carrying a grudge. He would be surprised indeed, if he did not bear one of his own.


    But was it even the monkey he was angry at? He would never have expected it to do anything other than it had. But Disciple Hao, he had thought a friend. Someone he could trust and rely on.


    "Is it still vengeance, if it occurs by another''s will and hand?" Disciple Wang Tao wondered aloud. "I don''t hate the monkey. It knew were were out for its blood. Leading us toward a greater predator was cunning, in a base sort of way. I just want it to suffer like I suffered. To understand its thoughtless actions have consequences, and that it is not above being on the wrong side of them. I think I''d be just as satisfied, if someone else were the one to teach it that lesson."


    He was in too deep now. He had no idea what his senior wanted, so there was nothing to do except be honest. If he died, then he died. It would at least spare his family the shame of a son returned from the sect. His useless right hand itched, and he resisted the urge to scratch at the place where his fingers wouldn''t quite separate.


    "Do you know why I fought Daoist Scouring Medicine?" Daoist Snowclad Heart asked. He gave Wang Tao no time to answer. "Elder Lu hates him. Words were exchanged between us that demanded satisfaction. But these are effects, not causes. It boils down to something very simple. I don''t like people who refuse to take responsibility for their actions. Disciple Zhang was an entitled brat. But he was not the architect of his tragedy. If you give a child a torch and turn away, you cannot complain when you are blamed for the house he burns down. It is pathetic to take such risks with the lives of others, then moan as if one is a victim of cruel fate. His attitude to misfortune so offended me, that when Elder Lu asked for help teaching him a lesson, I found it easy to oblige him. The spiritual treasure he gave me was simply adding flowers to a brocade. I would have probably done it for free."


    Daoist Snowclad Heart punctuated his complaint with a shrug that felt very... human.


    "I am many things, but I am not a hypocrite. I will not commit the same offense by bemoaning my own misfortune. I underestimated both my fellow daoist''s strength and his depravity, and my injuries are a consequence of that choice."


    The conversation lapsed into silence for a time. The daoist refilled both their teacups. Wang Tao''s skin itched, and it was not entirely because of his injury.


    "What do you want from me, senior?" The words burst out unbidden. "Did you just wish to see what I was like? Or hear about the monkey?"


    "What did they say it would cost, to heal you?" The daoist asked, ignoring his outburst.


    Wang Tao did not allow himself to hope.


    "A hundred spirit stones. That''s what they said it would cost, to fix my arm. One foundation establishment level healing pill for the flesh, and a second, more expensive, pill to heal the burns on my spirit roots."


    "And what do you intend to do next?"


    A hope that had never risen could not fall.


    "I don''t know yet. When my year as an initiate ends, I do not think I will be asked to remain as a full outer disciple. Perhaps I will return to my family''s farm and hope my small attainments in cultivation make up for the loss of an arm. Later I may seek employment under a magistrate as a runner. Perhaps if I served well I could later become a clerk, despite my low birth."


    "You have given up on the pursuit of immortality then?"


    "No, Daoist Snowclad Heart. I''m just trying to be realistic about my prospects. My cultivation is stable. But the Medical Pavilion was quite clear, I will not advance again without a miracle."


    Daoist Snowclad heart found his thumb drifting to the ring about fourth finger. Gently rubbing against it, without activating it. He was not wealthy, for a man in his realm. But such a sum was not beyond his means. He had perhaps three hundred spirit stones to his name. At least for the moment. After his injuries, his allotment would be reduced from five stones a month, to one.


    How unfortunate, that his cultivation would be far costlier to fix. The medical pavilion had failed to even truly diagnose the issue. More impurities than any mortal, his flesh so defiled that much of his qi was consumed merely keeping him alive. Nodules of metal too small for surgery, but far too large to clear naturally, dotted his meridian system. The highest doctors of the pavilion were of two minds. Half thought steady effort and sufficient cultivation resources would allow him to clear the blockage. The other half thought his only hope was a nascent soul level immortal doctor, or that Elder Weeping Lotus might find an inspired solution with more time to consider the matter.


    Either outcome would be ruinously expensive. For all the noise he made about honor, man could not live without money.


    Daoist Snowclad Heart had summoned the boy on a whim. He''d wondered how closely the conflicts of the younger generation had paralleled those of their seniors.


    "Rise." He commanded the initiate.


    The boy rose quickly, his dominant arm swinging limply at his side.


    The daoist circled around him, observing his form and demeanor. Fear was writ plain in the set of his shoulders, but Disciple Wang bore his senior''s attention without flinching. He hadn''t been looking for a disciple. But then, he''d hoped to form his core in the next few decades. That seemed rather unlikely now. Life was long, especially for a cultivator, but he rather doubted there would be an Elder Snowclad Heart this century.


    Some daoists were granted names by their masters. Others bore names little more than boasts, proclaiming their achievements to the world. He, like many others, had chosen a name not for a virtue he possessed, but one he sought. He was not a man who eschewed attachment by nature, but one moved all too easily to wrath or pity.


    Silently, he led the disciple outside.


    "What was your weapon of choice, before you were crippled?"


    "I never trained with weapons as a mortal, I had only my fists with which to protect myself. I chose to continue down that path when I entered the sect."


    Daoist Snowclad Heart suppressed a laugh. Of course the headstrong disciple was a brawler.


    My father always used to say that the only two things a man can count on are his fists and his wits." Disciple Wang explained. "All else can be taken from you, but if you trust in them you can never be disarmed."


    Daoist Snowclad Heart pointedly looked the young man up and down. He gestured toward his crippled arm.


    "I am not criticizing your clever father, but this is not the world of mortals. If this is the fruit of that idea, what was the worth of it?"


    Disciple Wang looked down, and said nothing.


    "All a cultivator can truly hold beyond theft is their will, and even that can be broken by another, if not stolen." Daoist Snowclad Heart continued. "The loss of an arm is crippling for a bare handed fighter or archer. It is almost as unfortunate for a spearman. "


    He pulled upon his storage ring, the one piece of Elder Lu''s payment he still possessed.


    Disciple Wang nearly fumbled the catch, unused to relying upon his left hand.


    "The sword accepts no such excuses. One hand is more than sufficient, if one is skilled enough."


    "Why?" The disciple asked, even as he lifted the blade into an awkward guard. The daoist tapped it with his own, correcting his abysmal form.


    Daoist Snowclad Heart found himself without an answer. Plenty of saccharine tripe rose to mind. The boy deserved a second chance. We cripples have to stick together. None of that was remotely true. Instead, he favored the disciple with an honest answer. He''d picked at him enough today that he''d earned that much.


    "Because I want to see what you''re made of."


    He let his sword finish the conversation.