Chapter 12: Uncle Kho
Sen was stunned. He hadn't known exactly what to expect, but this enraged cultivator was not it. Once again, Sen found himself wondering why. Why had Feng brought him all this way just to die? While Feng might stand a chance against that kind of power, Sen would never survive the fight. One look at that lighting told him that. He couldn't even find the will to run. Where could he possibly go that this cultivator couldn't hunt him down? Even if he could get back to town, there was no safety there. Not when people were flying and conjuring lightning. Just as Sen was ready to give up all hope, Feng spoke.
"You invited me, you old fool. Now, come down from there and stop trying to scare the boy."
The flying man glared down for a few more seconds before he heaved an enormous sigh and let himself drop to the ground. The lightning around the spearhead winked out and the man scowled at Feng.
"Honestly, Feng Ming. You couldn't play along even for a minute?"
"Maybe another time, Kho Jaw-Long. The boy has had a trying few days."
At Feng's words, Sen realized that the other cultivator wasn't actually going to attack them. Unfortunately, it took longer for his pounding heart to get the message. He felt a bit lightheaded and took several deep breaths. The familiar action seemed to settle his heart. Sen studied the other cultivator. The man's head was clean of hair, but Sen wasn't sure whether that was from baldness or if the man shaved it clean. A long, white beard wafted in the gentle breeze. As soon as the man's eyes fell on him, though, Sen's heart started racing again. It felt like the man opened him up and laid bare every secret, every sin, everything inside of him. That gaze weighed a thousand pounds, and nothing could hide from it. It was all Sen could do to keep breathing. The cultivator frowned.
"Yes, so I see. Earthly transformation. Hmmm. He doesn't say much, does he? Are you mute, boy?"
"N-, no, honored cultivator Kho," mumbled Sen through lips that felt numb.
"Honored cultivator," said Kho with scorn in his voice. "Call me, Uncle Kho."
Sen very much did not want to call the terrifying old man uncle, but he very much wanted to live through the next few minutes. He decided that doing as he was told was the wisest course.
"Yes, Uncle Kho."
Kho turned his attention back to Feng. "At least this one listens. I'm always happy to see you, Ming, but why are you here?"
"Don't you remember inviting me?"
"That was forty years ago."
"What are forty years to old monsters like us?" Feng asked. "It's barely a season."
Kho considered those words for a moment before he nodded. "That's fair, I suppose. You might as well come in."
Sen didn't remember anything about walking into the manor. All he could do was take deep breaths and try to keep from falling over. All of the terror and pain over the last few days had apparently convinced his heart that death would happen at any moment. It refused to slow down. It just kept racing and racing. The next time Sen understood what was happening, he was sitting at a table and Uncle Kho was pushing a cup into his hand. Sen took a big gulp and almost choked on the alcohol.
Feng made a disapproving noise. "What did you give him?"
"Nothing special. Just a bit of plum wine to settle his nerves. I can hear his heart pounding."
"Very well," said Feng. "Is Caihong here?"
Kho made an unhappy noise. "No. My wife is out in the world. No doubt toppling dynasties or running a seamstress shop. Possibly both. Who knows? Maybe she started another sect. Still, it has been a while since she left. I expect she'll turn up in the next five or ten years. What of you, Feng? Have you found a wife?"
"We face the heavens alone, Jaw-Long. You know that."
"Of course, I know that. But I'm not talking about facing the heavens, am I? I'm talking about facing life. It's a sweeter thing with someone to help you pass the long years."
"Perhaps," said Feng, although he didn't sound convinced.
Sen didn't say anything, content to let the old men talk and ignore him. The plum wine did seem to help, so he drank a bit more of it. It burned a little bit on the way down but left him with a warm feeling in his belly. Slowly, as he felt his heart slow down, Sen began listening a little more intently to the conversation.
"I thought you'd sworn off disciples," said Uncle Kho.
"I did."
"Yet, here one sits."
"It appears so. Fate put him in my path. You might have found him first if you ever came down from the clouds. I found him at the base of this very mountain."
"Really? Down at the orchard farm?"
Feng laughed. "You've been up here too long, my old friend. There's an entire town down there. I'd have thought you might notice something like that."
"I don't give the mortals much attention. Besides, why bother with the boy? Disciples take a lot of time."
Sen wanted to feel offended, but he'd wondered something similar. Why had Feng taken an interest in him? Feng shrugged, seemed to reconsider, and then looked at Sen.
"Sen, go outside the door. Then, I want you to hide the way you did that day in the square."
Sen jerked at being directly addressed but jumped to his feet. He swayed a little, struggling to find his balance. Feng directed a look at the cup that Sen had been using but didn't seem to find anything offensive. Once Sen found his balance, he walked out of the room and closed the door. His mind kept drifting, so he took a moment to gather himself. Once he had his concentration in place, he hid. It wasn't something he could do all the time. When it worked, though, people ignored him. It felt like he was pulling everything about himself inside his skin, then wrapping it all up in shadow. He stood like that for a few seconds before the door swung open and Uncle Kho stuck his head out.
The man regarded Sen with much more interest. "I see now. No, I don't suppose you could leave him where you found him."
Sen considered asking what they were talking about but decided against it. He could always ask later. At a gesture from the bearded cultivator, Sen went back into the room and sat down again. Kho stared at him for a long time without saying anything. It wasn't like that terrible stare that made Sen feel so exposed, but it was uncomfortable. Finally, Kho cleared his throat.
"Tell me, boy. What do you know about cultivation?"
Sen looked over at Feng, but the man just made a vague, go-ahead gesture. "Just stories, Uncle Kho."
"Hmmm. Well, that won't do," said Kho, making a scroll appear in his hand. "You should read this."
Sen felt his face go a little red. "I can't."
"Can't," demanded Kho. "Why not?"
"I can't read."
Kho looked startled, then confused, and then appalled. Feng jumped in then, for which Sen was enormously grateful. It gave him a moment to get his burning embarrassment under control. Feng explained that Sen was living on the streets when the cultivator found him and apparently had been for years. Kho went quiet again, his expression thoughtful.
"Feng, do you know what you've found?" Kho asked.
"I think so. What do you think?"
"He's an empty scroll. No family to speak of. No irreparable bad habits. He could be," Kho paused. "Feng, he could be anything. Anything at all."
Feng nodded. "It's why I haven't explained anything to him, yet. At least, not the specifics."
The bearded cultivator arched an eyebrow. "An experiment?"
"That's my thinking."
"Hmmm. Hmmm. We'll have to discuss it. Although, I will personally see to his reading problem. That just won't do at all. There are simply too many things that depend on it, even for the mortals."
Sen got an uneasy feeling at the conversation happening about him, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly why. He felt sleepy and a little disoriented.
"Honestly," grumbled Kho. "What is this kingdom coming to, not teaching children to read? I've half a mind to go have a very stern conversation with Hung Jun De about that nonsense."
Feng gave his friend a surprised look. "He's dead."
"What? Really? Did someone finally assassinate him?"
"No. He died of old age. Almost a hundred years ago. His son was assassinated, though. One of his concubines, I think. His grandson sits the throne now."
"Grandson…"
Sen realized that he might have dozed off for a few minutes because the conversation had moved on to a new topic when he tuned back in.
"So, tell me. Where have you been these last few decades, Ming?"
"I had a problem to deal with up north."
"The Coiled Dragon sect?"
"Indeed."
"And how did that turn out?"
"They are fondly remembered."
"All of them?"
"I spared the outer sect. Killing them would have been excessive. The inner sect, the core members, and almost all of the elders are gone. I let Wu Mei-Xia live."
"Little Mei-Xia? That girl who was in love with you for all those years?"
Feng grunted an annoyed affirmation.
"I remember her following you around across half the continent, trying to impress you with her grand deeds," said Kho, laughing softly. "Well, it makes sense that you let her live. You were always fond of the girl, if not in the way that she wanted. How did she ever end up in that sect?"
Sen tried to pay attention. He'd learned more about his master in the last half hour than he'd learned in days of travel. Yet, his eyes and body betrayed him. The warmth in his belly had spread. His eyes drooped closer and closer to closed. As that warmth finally lulled him to sleep, Sen was sure he heard a little good-natured laughter.
Chapter 13: Learning (1)
For the first few days at Uncle Kho's, the old men admonished Sen to find something to do. He felt a slight sting of rejection at first. Yet, later, he realized that old men were catching up on a truly staggering amount of personal history. More to the point, most of it involved people that Sen did not know, usually in places that he'd never heard of, oftentimes doing things that he couldn't make sense of. As for the parts he did understand, it just highlighted how ancient the two cultivators really were. They often talked of things that had happened a thousand years in the past. Sen suspected that many of their stories or memories of friends from their early days were far, far older than that. He did not ask. The idea of someone, anyone, living that long frightened Sen more than a little.
Yet, for all of their closed-door discussions, Sen wasn't left entirely on his own. At one point, Uncle Kho tracked him down in the courtyard. Sen was sitting on the ground, propped up against the ghost panther, and sharing some fruit he'd found in the kitchen with the big cat. Uncle Kho had stopped short at the sight and just watched them for most of a minute.
"How did that get into the courtyard?" He asked, pointing at the cat.
Sen shrugged. "I think it mostly goes where it wants to, Uncle Kho."
The ghost panther looked at the old cultivator, yawned, and went to sleep.
"Just make sure it doesn't make a mess in the courtyard."
"Yes, Uncle."
Sen never found out what Uncle Kho actually wanted from him. The old man had stalked away, looking skyward, and muttering something under his breath about women and cats. The next day, the old man found Sen in the kitchen, looking around helplessly for something to eat. While Sen was accomplished at scavenging, most of what was in the kitchen were ingredients.
"Make whatever you like," said Kho with an offhand gesture. "There's plenty. We won't run out."
Sen stared around the kitchen, baffled by the tools, the stove, by everything around him. He turned uncertain eyes on the older man. Uncle Kho frowned at the boy before the light of comprehension appeared in his eyes.
"No one ever taught you anything about cooking, eh?"
"No, uncle."
"Hmmm," said the old man. "Well, you have to learn eventually, I suppose."
The old man walked Sen through making rice. The whole process seemed utterly magical to Sen. Nothing but water, heat, and a bit of time could turn those hard grains into soft rice? He had stood there in the kitchen, transfixed, while nothing visible happened. When the rice was declared done by Kho's more experienced eye, he had Sen dish up bowls for both of them. While the rice wasn't special or more delicious than other rice, it was rice that Sen had made himself. It wasn't stolen or scavenged. He had done it, well, he'd done it with a lot of help from Uncle Kho. Still, his own effort had made food. Kho seemed bemused by how amazed and proud Sen was with his accomplishment.
"Mind you," said the old man, "I'm no expert, but I can probably show you how to make a few simple things."
"I would be very grateful," said Sen, bowing in earnest to the old man.
"Bah. You'll have to wait for my wife to get back if you want to really learn about making food. That woman can conjure dumplings from a strong wind and almond cookies from moonlight. I can keep you from starving. She can feed you."
Then, the old man laughed. Sen wasn't sure why, though, so he just ate his rice.
***
It was on the fourth day that things changed. Sen was woken very early in the morning by Feng. The cultivator had ushered him into the kitchen and fed him some kind of porridge with fruit in it. Sen was amazed by the dish, but Feng just waved off his compliments. Once Sen had his fill, Feng poured them both some tea. Sen wasn't sure that he actually liked the strong drink that Feng favored. It seemed a little bitter to him, but he'd learned a long time ago not to complain about free food. Sen drank his tea, waiting for Feng to say something. For his part, the cultivator seemed to savor the tea, closing his eyes, and breathing in the smell of it. He finally turned his attention back to Sen.
"Jaw-Long was very serious about teaching you to read. He seems to be taking it personally that you can't. So, you will have lessons with him each morning. Be attentive."
Sen nodded. "Yes, Master."
"In the afternoons, you will train with me."
Feng read the curiosity on Sen's face and answered the unasked question. "Every man must know how to defend himself. You will receive training in that."
A part of Sen was excited at the idea. What little he knew about fighting, he'd learned by trying to fight off the noble brats. He'd lost every fight. They were trained and happy to use it on him. Another part of him was leery. He'd heard stories about how that kind of training was done. Students injured or killed by careless or cruel masters. He kept those thoughts to himself. It wouldn't matter if he approved of the methods or not. When someone as powerful as Feng declared that you would learn something, you would learn it in whatever way they decided.
The first reading lesson turned out to be painful in ways that Sen hadn't expected. Sen knew about reading and had even managed to learn a few important words through pure exposure and repetition, yet he'd never felt like he was missing anything. While he'd kept his distance from many of the other kids without homes, he was on friendly terms with a few. None of those kids had been able to read, either. It was easy to feel like it wasn't important, so he never put any effort into it. Yet, as Uncle Kho wrote out the basic characters and named them, Sen felt stupid. He vaguely recognized a few of them, but it had never occurred to him that they had specific names.
For all his zeal, the old cultivator was far kinder about the whole thing than Sen expected. The man didn't expect instant understanding. He just walked Sen through the characters, occasionally circling back and asking Sen to name one. When it became clear that Sen's concentration was wavering, the old man switched tacks and had Sen practice writing out a few of them with ink and brush. To Sen's eyes, the results were truly disastrous. Uncle Kho's writing was elegant, bordering on beautiful. The splotches that Sen produced didn't look like anything. The old man gently took Sen's hand and guided him through the motions. Sen had his doubts about that, but it did help. He still wasn't making anything recognizable, but he had a better idea about how much pressure he should use and what kind of motions would get him the right results. Uncle Kho ended the lesson by piling paper and ink into Sen's hands and ordering him to practice that evening.
Chapter 14: Learning (2)
Lunch was a quiet affair. Uncle Kho was busy studying a scroll that had captured his full attention. He'd only stop reading to idly put some food in his mouth every once in a while. Feng was utterly concentrated on the meal. He seemed to make a point of thoroughly chewing every bite before swallowing. Sen only noticed these things in the back of his mind. The forefront of his thoughts was consumed with strange characters that seemed to twist or melt together as he tried to remember them. The longer it went on, the more certain he became that he'd never learn to read. If he didn't, would the cultivators send him away? Would they kill him?
At that last thought, Sen shook his head. Neither of the old men had done anything to make him think they would kill him. It was just the stories. Perhaps other cultivators would kill him for failure, but Master Feng and Uncle Kho seemed wholly uninterested in killing for things they considered minor slights. In fact, that awful pill aside, both of them had shown him a great deal of kindness. It was then that Sen committed to learning what they would teach him. If he could learn to read, to write, to cook, he had a name now. He would always be street trash in Orchard's reach, but he didn't plan to go back there to stay. He could find work elsewhere. He could visit the sea. While that idea didn't make the things that Uncle Kho had tried to teach him that day any less confusing, it did make the tasks ahead feel a little less impossible.
His heart a little more at peace, Sen followed Master Feng outside in the afternoon. Feng took on the same relaxed posture he always adopted when his mind was elsewhere. He looked Sen up and down and frowned a little.
"How old are you, Sen?"
"I don't know, master."
"No one to keep track and tell you, I suppose. Well, your best guess then."
Sen thought hard. He had clear memories that went back perhaps ten years. That was how many winters he had survived with help from Grandmother Lu. Before that, though, it was just a haze. Had there been parents in that misty before time? A home? He didn't think he'd ever learn the answers to those questions. Certainly, no one could remember his parents by the time he'd been old enough to think to ask. As for his age, he only had his size and the sizes of other boys to go by.
Sen shrugged one shoulder. "Fourteen or fifteen, maybe."
Feng nodded as though that was what he thought as well. "This training normally starts at a much earlier age."
Sen didn't know what to make of that comment.
"Master?"
"I mean that you're starting late. I'll expect you to work three times as hard to make up the lost time."
"I will," said Sen, bowing deeply.
"That's the first thing we need to fix. That's how you bow to someone who's of a higher station than you. It's not how you bow to other warriors or martial instructors. For them, it's like this."
Feng pressed his closed fists together and bent forward slightly. Sen mimicked the motion. Feng snorted.
"Did I do it wrong?" Asked Sen.
"No, but you should bow more deeply to your teachers and those with more training or experience."
"I'll remember."
"Good. Now, show me how you punch."
Sen hesitated for a second, looking around for something to punch at. "What should I punch, Master?"
"Me, Sen. You should try to punch me. I promise you won't hurt me."
Sen hesitated again but decided that Master Feng probably knew better than he did about all of this. Sen drew back his fist and swung at Master Feng. Feng batted the blow aside with no effort. He frowned again, which made Sen a little nervous.
"Now," said Feng, "kick me."
Seng lashed out with a foot, only to have it redirected by one of Feng's feet. Sen waited for some comment. Instead, Feng did a slow walk around him, weighing, considering, and finally deciding.
"Well, at least I know what I'm working with here. You don't know how to throw a punch or how to kick, but nobody did a lousy job of teaching you a half-right form either."
"Is that good?" Sen asked.
"It's not good that you don't know how to punch or kick. It is good that you didn't train the wrong things. That means you won't have to unlearn anything. It's a much easier process if you learn it right the first time. So, first things first, you need a proper stance."
Sen spent an excruciating afternoon contorting his body into what Master Feng called a proper stance. He had to spread his legs out wide, then bend his knees, all while keeping his back straight. It felt wrong, unnatural, and very uncomfortable. Master Feng made him get into the stance over and over again. Each time, he'd correct whatever minor errors he found in Sen's posture. Once Sen finally managed to take the stance correctly, Master Feng had him simply hold it. As difficult as he found the process, Sen found himself very annoyed with the ghost panther. It lounged in the courtyard, soaking up the afternoon sun and watching him work. When it got to the point that Sen was drenched in sweat and ready to collapse, Feng said they were done with that for the day. Feng let Sen drink a little water before he pointed to the gate.
"Run around the walls thirty times, then get cleaned up. It should be time for food by then."
Sen could barely stand, but the stern look that Master Feng gave him brooked no arguments. He stumbled out the gate and began running. The ghost panther seemed to find this interesting and padded along beside him as Sen made his overworked legs carry him around the walls of the enormous manor. After fifteen times around the walls, Sen started to slow down. The big cat looked back at him with eyes that seemed very judgmental.
"Hey," he wheezed. "You laid around all afternoon while I worked. You don't get to judge."
The cat just picked up its pace a little, as if to mock Sen.
"I hate you," he called after the feline.
After doing the full thirty loops, Sen stumbled into the manor, found some clean clothes to put on, and stumbled back out to the small bathhouse. It seemed that a touch of pity lived inside Master Feng because Sen found a tub of hot water waiting for him. The boy sniffed at the water. Master Feng had added something to it, something with the telltale scent of medicine. That made Sen's heart race a little. He put a hand in the water and braced himself, but nothing terrible happened. Heaving a sigh of relief, Sen lowered himself into the bath and soaked for a while. His tired mind drifted for a while, but angry noises from his stomach brought him back to reality. He slowly scrubbed himself off and dressed. It took a lot to convince himself, but Sen dragged the tub out of the gate and emptied it.
When he made it back into the house, he was overjoyed to see that there was food and lots of it. Master Feng and Uncle Kho chatted throughout the meal, but Sen didn't hear a word of it. He ate and ate until his stomach stopped screaming at him to give it more. Then, he sat in a half-doze, only rousing himself to drink more tea whenever Feng or Kho refilled his cup. All he could think about was sleep. He was so tired. At least he could go straight to bed after they cleaned up. Yet, as he started off toward his room, Uncle Kho called after him.
"Don't forget to practice."
Sen wanted to cry. His body ached for sleep. His mind was exhausted from the morning's lesson. He reminded himself, several times, that this was how he got a better life for himself. He went into his room, pulled out the paper and ink, and started to practice.
That became Sen's routine. He spent mornings learning the basics of reading. He spent afternoons with Master Feng. He spent his evenings trying to not to fall asleep on his writing practice. It didn't always work. He spent more than one day with ink stains on his cheeks. Of course, the days weren't identical. After a time, he did begin to learn the characters and how they combined. Uncle Kho would give Sen the day off from reading, occasionally, and teach him how to cook something. Sen learned to make rice porridge. He learned to steam vegetables. He even learned how to make noodles. By mid-winter, he still couldn't make a full meal on his own, but he could be helpful. Uncle Kho had kept his promise that he'd teach Sen enough that he wouldn't starve if left to his own devices. He might not eat well if he cooked for himself, but he would eat.
Master Feng didn't keep him in that stance forever. He showed Sen how to throw a basic punch, followed by countless practice punches. Then, there was a kick, followed by countless practice kicks. Then, there were blocks. Eventually, Master Feng put them into a set pattern, and that became a new torment. Just when Sen thought he had a handle on that, the process started over with new punches, kicks, blocks, and merciless stretching exercises that taxed Sen's entire body. Always, though, always there was the running. Sen ran in the summer heat, then in the autumn chill, and then he ran through the snow. The ghost panther always accompanied him while he ran, ever just ahead, ever out of reach, and ever spurring Sen on to greater speed and iron endurance.
Chapter 15: New Year
Sen made his way into the kitchen and was surprised to find it empty. Either Master Feng or Uncle Kho was usually up before him. Still, on those occasions when Sen found himself the first to rise, he knew it was up to him to start breakfast. He stoked a fire in the stove, which added a pleasant warmth to the air. While the cold didn't bother Sen as much as it once had, steady food and shelter having prompted gains in height and muscle that fortified him better against the elements, he still preferred a warm place when he could get one. Memories of nights shivering in alleys remained all too close to the surface for him to turn down the chance at easy heat. He placed a pot on the stove and started adding ingredients. He mixed together the leftover rice from last night's dinner, along with some broth that had been set aside for this purpose. The balance between the rice and the liquids looked a little off, so he added a bit of water. After that, it was mostly a waiting game, so he made tea to pass the time.
While he'd had his doubts about tea when he'd first arrived at Uncle Kho's ridiculously enormous home, he'd come around over the last half year. It wasn't necessarily that he liked the tea, although Sen certainly didn't mind the mild kick he got in the morning from Master Feng's black tea. Sen liked the ritual of it. Making good tea demanded a certain precision in the process. It had taken him months of careful attention to hone that process. Yet, after so many repetitions, it had become ingrained, a second nature, so automatic that it was a kind of effortless meditation that let Sen center himself. Sen poured himself a cup, lifted it, and inhaled. The tea was perfect. He sipped at it, basking in the morning quiet before his lessons. When he judged that the porridge should be ready, he checked on it and nodded in satisfaction. The consistency looked just about right.
"It's good to see you practicing your cooking, nephew," said Uncle Kho from behind Sen.
"I was the first one up," answered Sen. "What else would I do?"
"Ha! Many disciples would take the path of laziness and return to their beds, content to make this simple chore another's task."
Sen gave Kho a shocked look. "I have more gratitude in me than that, honored uncle."
"Yes, so you do," said Kho, smiling at the boy.
Sen retrieved another cup and poured tea for the old cultivator.
Kho sipped at it and gave a slight nod. "I know that Feng prefers this black tea, but I really must bring you around on green tea."
"I can make green tea for you, uncle," offered Sen.
"No, no," said Kho. "No reason to waste work already well done. I would take a bowl of that porridge, though."
"Of course," said Sen.
He ladled up a bowl for each of them, and the pair fell into a comfortable silence as they ate and drank their tea. After they finished breakfast and cleaned up the dishes, Sen looked expectantly at Kho.
"Yes?" Kho asked.
"Shall we proceed with today's lesson?"
"Oh, no. No more lessons. Not that kind of lesson, at any rate. Your reading is adequate enough that practice will teach you more effectively than additional lessons. In fact, come with me."
Sen followed Kho to a room that he'd been aware of but hadn't given much consideration. The entire room was lined with shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling. Each shelf was lined with scrolls and books. At first, the room was made useless by Sen's inability to read. Later, Sen's days were so filled with other kinds of work that he hadn't really considered what the room might contain. Plus, despite Kho's words, Sen's confidence in his reading skills was not high. He knew that he could likely read any simple text that crossed his path, such as signs, menus, and maps. The densely packed words that he had seen on the scrolls that Master Feng and Uncle Kho studied with such care were something else entirely. Those intimidated Sen.
So, he waited as Kho stood in the center of the room, tapping a finger on his lips, and slowly turning. After almost a full minute of consideration, the cultivator decided. He walked over to a shelf and plucked a scroll from it. Kho hesitated for a moment with his free hand hovering near a different shelf. Ultimately, the old man shook his head and made his way back to the door. He offered the scroll to Sen, who cautiously lifted it out of the cultivator's hand.
"What is it?" Sen asked.
"I don't have anything that's truly appropriate for your skills, but this scroll isn't too bad. It's just a bit of basic history. Do your best with it for the next few days. If you find words you don't know or can't figure out, make note of them. Then, we'll discuss those things. Do pay attention to what the words say, though. I may ask you a few questions about them."
"I will, honored uncle."
"Good. Now, take the morning off. It is the new year after all. Even lowly disciples get a holiday every now and then. You should go throw food at that cat of yours before she decides to come inside and raid the kitchen."
Sen bowed so Kho wouldn't see his smirk. The old man could feign irritation all he wanted, but Sen had seen the cultivator out in the courtyard, scratching behind the cat's ears and feeding her treats. Still, the suggestion had some merit.
***
After depositing the scroll in his room, Sen grabbed a few things from the kitchen and headed outside. Sen focused his attention and scanned the courtyard. Even with months of experience, it was painfully easy to overlook the ghost panther even at close range. He did finally spot her sitting on top of the wall, her head tracking a bird that was flying nearby. Sen made a noise, and the cat turned her head to look at him. Then, with an impossible, lazy grace, she jumped down from the wall and padded across the snowy courtyard to him. There wasn't so much as a paw print left in her wake.
"Show off," he said.
The cat got an all-too-familiar look of amusement in her big eyes. Sen shook his head. The cat struck him as a bit too human at times. Of course, all of that changed when he started throwing pieces of food into the far corners of the courtyard. The minute a piece of food left his hand, the disquieting human-ness vanished and all that remained was a barely visible predator pouncing on the food before it ever landed. The game went on for about half an hour before Sen ran out of food. The cat came back over to him and looked at his empty hands. He could have sworn that the cat sighed. Then, she gently bumped her head against his stomach, sauntered over the wall, and leapt over it.
"I honestly can't decide if that spirit animal is your pet or the other way around," said Master Feng, stepping up beside Sen.
Sen pondered for a moment and sighed. "She probably thinks I'm her pet. Of course, she's also really lazy. So, why waste all that energy hunting when we'll all give her food?"
"We?" Asked Feng.
"I know you and Uncle Kho feed her things when you think I'm not around."
Feng said nothing and kept his face neutral. Sen lifted an eyebrow at the man. Feng rolled his eyes and shrugged.
"Okay, maybe once in a while," he admitted. "I'll stop if you want."
A look of pure horror crossed Sen's face. "Heavens no! She'd be unbearable if you did that. Can you imagine her moping around here, giving everyone sad eyes?"
Feng laughed, seemed to think better of it, and shuddered a little. "Or, I might wake up with her standing over me."
"I don't think she'd try to hurt you."
Feng shook his head. "I don't either. I do think she'd follow me around all day and interrupt whatever I was doing to punish me."
"Yes, that seems like something she would do."
Feng and Sen traded glances and laughed.
"We're going to do something a little different today," said Feng.
"Oh?"
"I want you to show me what you've learned."
Sen nodded. "As you say, master."
***
As Sen stretched in the cold winter air, nervousness threatened to overwhelm him. Master Feng always provided corrections or input while he trained. The knowledge that he could expect nothing of the sort made Sen feel like he'd come to some kind of test. What if he failed? What if he forgot something? He didn't think that Master Feng would send him away, not in the middle of winter, but he might stop teaching him if Sen proved a disappointment. Those thoughts churned in Sen's mind for several minutes, disrupting every attempt to center his body and mind. Then, with a fist of self-control that he hadn't even realized he was building, Sen crushed those thoughts. He had either learned what Master Feng wished him to learn, or he hadn't. All that remained now was to demonstrate what he had learned.
Sen dropped into that first stance that Master Feng had taught him. He remembered how uncomfortable that stance had been, how it strained everything in his legs and back. Now, it was as natural as walking or breathing. Sen took one last calming breath and proceeded through the first sequence of movements that Master Feng had taught him. The first strike was a tiny bit off as one last flutter of nerves rose up in him, but then his body took over. His arms and legs moved of their own volition, primed for the moment by thousands of repetitions. There was no need for Sen's mind to intervene, so he allowed himself to be silent inside. That strange ball of warmth behind his navel hummed in time with Sen's movements, gentle pulses of warmth flowing out to hands, down to feet, into his limbs. Between those pulses, Sen felt energy from the environment around him gently seeping into his body.
"What is the first thing a warrior requires?" Feng asked.
The reply was as automatic as Sen's movement. "Strength."
"Why does a warrior require strength?"
"A warrior must always be ready to defend. Without strength, your defense will crumble. A warrior must also stand ready to attack. Without strength, your attack will fail."
"What is the second thing that a warrior requires?"
Sen's body flowed like water. Punch, block, kick. "A warrior requires speed."
"Why does a warrior require speed?"
"Without speed, your defense will come too late. Without speed, your attack will never find its mark."
"What is the third thing that a warrior requires?"
"A warrior requires control."
"Why does a warrior require control?" Feng asked, stepping in front of Sen's final strike.
Sen's fist came to a stop a hair's breadth from Master Feng's nose. "Without control, your strike may find an unintended target. A warrior strikes only what they intend to strike."
Chapter 16: Gifts
There was a long moment of silence before Feng answered.
"Indeed. Well done, Sen."
Sen let his arm drop. The weight of uncertainty lifted from his shoulders. Master Feng was sparing with praise, so it struck home ever more deeply when he offered it. A moment of elation washed through Sen. He had done it. He had not disappointed Master Feng. After basking briefly in that feeling and savoring the praise he had so rarely heard in his life, clarity returned. Sen hastily offered Master Feng a deep bow. In a moment of unexpected reflection, Sen realized that he had learned a great deal more from Master Feng than just fighting. A year ago, he wouldn't have known he should bow at that moment, let alone why he should bow. Feng had slowly dripped that information to him with mild reprovals and gentle corrections.
"I am grateful, master."
"Nonsense," said Feng, but with a small smile. "You worked for every inch of ground that you gained. But now, we should discuss the future."
A moment of trepidation passed through Sen's entire body. "The future, master?"
"Yes. We've laid the foundation for you, but you don't need me to guide you with that any longer. Fortunately, Jaw-Long has told me that he's releasing you from your morning lessons. So, you will take some of that time each day and practice what you just showed me. Deepen your understanding of what you already know. Wring every ounce of understanding you can glean from it. Perfection is always a distant peak, but the closer you draw, well, you wouldn't be the first to find a moment of enlightenment in the pursuit."
Sen found his master's words somewhat baffling. It seemed the old cultivator didn't mean to send him away. Yet, it wasn't clear what the man did intend to do in the meantime.
"You won't train me any longer?" Sen asked.
Feng laughed. "Whatever gave you that notion? You will continue training with me in the afternoons. There are many other things you need to know. I'm just confident now that you don't need a minder for these basic exercises. The things awaiting you are much more difficult, more complicated, but they all depend on a firm foundation. Now that you have it, I can build on that foundation. It's your task to keep that foundation strong, to reinforce it."
"I see. I will not fail in my efforts. What will I be learning, master?"
"Yes, about that. Come with me, Sen."
Sen followed his master inside. He'd been outside for long enough that moving into the warm house caused sweat to bead all over his body. He wiped at his face to clean away the worst of it, only to realize he had nowhere convenient to wipe his hand. Sen sighed and wiped his hand on the plain robes he wore most days. He reasoned that they would need to be washed anyway, so there wasn't a point in trying to avoid getting them a little dirtier. He trailed after his master, venturing deeper into the house than Sen usually wandered. Master Feng stopped before a particularly ornate door and announced himself.
"Come, come," said Uncle Kho from inside the room.
Master Feng opened the door and walked in, followed after a moment by a nervous Sen. Uncle Kho sat on the floor in a mostly plain room. There were two covered objects sitting in front of him. Sen eyed the objects with curiosity for a moment before dismissing them. There was no point in guessing about them. He would shortly learn what they were, or they weren't his business. For his part, Uncle Kho seemed unusually excited. Sen offered Uncle Kho a bow, while Feng simply nodded.
"Done testing the boy, then?" Uncle Kho asked Feng.
"I am."
"The results?"
"He did adequately."
"Heavens, Ming, I hope you were more expressive with him." Uncle Kho turned to Sen. "Adequate is the word Feng Ming uses when other people use words like excellent or extraordinary."
"Jaw-Long," said Feng with a warning tone.
"Oh fine," said Kho, waving a hand at Feng. "As long as he met your standard of adequacy, it means that it's time for his gifts."
"That much is true."
"Gifts?" Sen asked with confusion.
"It is the new year, isn't it?" Kho asked the boy.
"Yes, I suppose it is. Why?"
Feng and Kho gave Sen baffled looks.
"You give gifts at the new year," said Kho.
"You do?" Sen asked, suddenly very concerned. "Forgive me, Master, uncle. I didn't know. I have no gifts for you."
Feng sighed. "I keep forgetting. He's probably never received any gifts. Sen?"
Sen thought for a moment. "Well, Grandmother Lu gave me shelter. Shared her food with me."
Kho frowned. "Shelter and food, you say. This is the woman you told me about, Feng?"
"It is."
"Remind me to do something nice for her, Sen."
"That is kind of you, uncle, but she is very old. I don't know if she'll even be alive when I return."
Feng actually smirked at that. "I think she'll surprise you. I'll remind you, Kho, if the boy forgets."
"Good, good," said Kho. "Now, for the gifts. I'll go first. No complaining, Ming. I'm older. Plus, it's my house."
Feng snorted but offered Kho a gracious bow. "Of course, honored Elder."
Kho reached down and scooped up the longer of the two covered objects. He held it out to Sen. Sen carefully took the object and flipped back the cloth to reveal a spear. There was no decoration on the spear, save for a little scrollwork on the blade. Yet, Sen was certain that this was a spear of excellent quality. The grain on the shaft ran straight and true. The metal of the spearhead shone in the light with nothing to suggest imperfections. Given how much stronger he'd grown in the last six months, Sen was surprised at how heavy the spear felt. He bowed to Kho over the spear.
"Thank you for the gift, honored uncle."
"You're welcome, Sen. One day, I'll even show you how to use it. For now, though, just hang on to it. Feng still has some things he needs to teach you first."
At a nod from Kho, Feng stepped forward and picked up the smaller bundle. He waited while Sen wrapped the spear up again and set it aside. Then, he handed the bundle over to his young disciple. The boy unwrapped it to reveal the hilt of a sword and a plain scabbard. Sen's eyes went wide. He had seen swords before, but only at a distance. He'd never dared to dream that he'd own one. Commoners often owned spears. Sen understood that the weapons were simply less costly to buy and repair. Swords were expensive. It took special knowledge to make them and to care for them. They were reserved for those with money and power, or those who worked for them. He didn't dare even draw it. Feng reached out and looked at Sen.
"May I?" Feng asked.
"Of course, master."
Feng lifted the sword and drew it. It was a straight blade, sharpened on both sides. Feng eyed the blade critically as if searching for any flaw before he extended his arm. The sword was as steady as stone in the old cultivator's hand.
"This is a jian," said Feng, his eyes fixed on some far-distant time or place. "It's fallen out of favor among armies in recent times. Many consider it too light to hold up against the heavier dao sabers. They are, of course, fools for that thought. In the Jianghu, though, this is a weapon that you must know, for you will find many who wield it."
Feng returned the blade to its scabbard and set it back in Sen's hands.
"Master, what is the Jianghu?" Sen asked, his eyes locked on the sword.
Feng's eyes came back into focus and fixed on Sen. "That is, well, that is a complicated matter. We'll discuss it eventually. Fortunately, it's not something you must concern yourself with at present."
Sen was so astounded by his gifts that he barely registered the non-answer to his question. He went to draw the jian but hesitated. In a moment of maturity that surprised even him, he released the hilt. He knew that he knew nothing about using a sword. Even drawing it risked the chance that he would injure himself or damage something precious. No, he decided, better to wait until I know how to use it. Instead, he offered Master Feng a bow.
"My gratitude for the gift, master."
Feng inclined his head. "Now, put those away and come back. There's one last gift for the day."
Sen found himself wondering what else they could possibly want to give him. He'd been given a sword and spear along with the promises of instruction. He couldn't have asked for better gifts. Yet, he had been given instructions, so he followed them. Although, he might have lingered over the weapons for longer than necessary before returning to Master Feng and Uncle Kho. When he reentered the room, the two old men were waiting. He presented himself to them and, unsure what else to do, he stood there. Feng simply reached out and offered Sen a pill. Sen eyed the pill like it might strike him dead where he stood. He'd had nightmares about the pill he'd taken in the wilds.
Feng seemed to intuit Sen's line of thought. "Yes, it's the same kind of pill. No, it won't be like last time. The life you lived before you took that first pill was very different from the life you've lived since. Also, consider this. Do you want those kinds of impurities inside of you?"
Sen jerked a little at that. He'd been so overwhelmed and consumed by the pain and utterly vile aftermath that he'd never really considered what it meant. All of that awfulness had been inside of him. What might it have done to him if that pill hadn't purged it? Still, the fear of it still had a grip on him. Sen didn't enjoy pain. He'd endure pain if it was necessary, but was it necessary? He thought hard about it for several minutes. Master Feng and Uncle Kho said nothing, their expressions calm and utterly neutral. Sen had the feeling they would accept it if he said no. Yet, they'd offered the pill knowing how much he feared it. They didn't do that casually. Whether or not he thought it was necessary, they were certain. Sen reached out and took the pill.
"You can use this room," said Uncle Kho. "It's what it's here for."
With that, the two old men left the room. Sen didn't take the pill immediately. He remembered the aftermath of last time well enough. He removed his robes and set them aside. No amount of soap and water would salvage the robes if he wore them. He saw no point in burning perfectly good clothing. He found a cup of water placed on a small shelf. After a deep, shuddering breath, Sen put the pill into his mouth and washed it down with the water.
Chapter 17: The Second Time Around
With that first cleansing pill, Sen hadn't known what to expect from it. This time, he wouldn't get caught unawares. He lay down on the floor. There was no blanket, but he realized he didn't need one. He was inside where it was warm, not outside in the cold night air. He took deep breaths to keep himself as calm as he could. The agony would start soon. He braced himself, determined that he wouldn't scream this time. Yet, the agony never came. He felt the moment when the pill hit his stomach. There was a kindling warmth that he knew would erupt into savage fire the second he let his guard down. Instead, the warmth in his stomach was just that. Warmth. It hovered there for a little while before he felt it spread into that strange ball by his navel. It intensified a little as if given additional fuel, but it was just heat, not the searing fires that scorched him from the inside out.
That heat traveled through those same lines up into his chest and out into his limbs. He felt it as those flames scoured away at something in those lines, something that shouldn't be there, but as fast as the resistance came, it crumbled. The heat passed out into his organs, muscles, tendons, and ligaments and became a familiar pressure. Only, this time, it didn't feel like the muscles would tear or his organs would burst. The heat delved down deeper, searching, seeping into his very bones. The heat roared up again, this time verging close to pain, but never quite reaching it. Sen breathed through it all. He was committed to this now, so he willed the pill to do its work, commanded the heat to wash him clean.
The heat in his bones eventually faded, along with the pressure in his muscles and organs, yet that flame near his belly button remained. Sen wondered what was left. If the pill was still working, why wasn't it doing something? For the first time, Sen tried to look inside himself. That place near his navel that he had always thought of as something he imagined came to life in his mind. It was a swirling mass of energy that he had never known about, never even guessed at. He marveled at it. How could this live inside him and he never knew? Yet, it wasn't what he'd come for. He cast his inner sight around him, looking for something to do with all that leftover fire from the pill.
He saw those lines where he'd felt the heat before. Not really lines, he finally understood, but more like channels through his body. Except, it wasn't really his body. Not exactly. Those channels were inside him but separate from him too. He'd have to ask Master Feng about them later. Just as importantly, though, there were more of those channels. Only these channels were dark like they'd never seen light before. Well, Sen had light right to hand. He extended that will and control that he'd built through countless repetitions of strikes, kicks, blocks, rolls, and falls. He seized that fire and sent it burrowing and burning into those other channels. This time, there was pain. It was nothing like that first time, but he had to hold tight to his voice. He had to hold tighter to that fire. Those new channels resisted the fire and any attempt to pry them open, but he had nothing to do until that pill ran out of fuel to feed the fire.
Bit by bit, he burned away what he assumed must have been years of built-up impurities. The fire from the pill almost raged at those impurities, hurling itself against the buildup until the dams broke, and energy from that warm mass at his center flowed into them. By the time those new channels were full, the warm ball was all but extinguished. Those channels had bled it dry. But he also felt a kind of new strength bleeding into his muscles, a hardening of his bones. Eventually, the energy cycled back to that warm ball, but only a fraction of what had originally been there was restored. Despite it all, though, Sen felt sure, certain, that he had done something necessary. He also felt quite certain that it would be a long road before he could attempt something like that again. It wasn't just that warm ball that was drained. He felt drained, as though he had spent something of himself, of his own will, to make this happen. That's fine, he thought. I have time if I need it. He didn't imagine for one second that learning to use a sword or a spear would be a fast process. People spent years learning how to wield them. If his body needed time to rebuild whatever energy lived in that warm ball, he expected it would be done by the time Master Feng released him back into the world. With that thought, the last flickering embers of the pill's fire went out. A few moments later, Sen followed those flames into slumber.
***
The last time that Sen woke up after one of those pills, he'd been angry, emerging from what amounted to an assault. This time, he just woke up. He still felt washed out, drained in some fundamental way, but not hurt. He felt no need to hurl profanity at Master Feng. He also felt like some small, but very important seed of trust had been restored between them. Master Feng had said it wouldn't be like the first time, and he had been right. Sen was in no hurry to repeat the process, but he wouldn't fear the experience if and when it happened again. Unfortunately, one aspect had repeated from the last time. Sen shook his head. The smell really wasn't as bad as last time. That smell had been something out of a nightmare. The smell this time was simply putrid.
Sen reminded himself that it could be worse. All of that could still be inside of him. He forced himself to sit up and look around. The room was still as empty as it had been the day before. With a groan, he stood and went over to the door. He pulled it open and found Master Feng waiting there with three steaming buckets. Sen snorted in surprise but quickly dragged the buckets inside the room. Feng stepped up to the door but didn't come inside. He pointed to a spot in the center of the floor.
"There's a drain there. Clean yourself up as best as you can. Same for the floor. You won't get everything but try to get the worst of it. It's easier if you clean things up right away."
"Yes, Master Feng."
Master Feng nodded at Sen and threw him a bar of rough soap. Sen knew it wasn't as bad because he managed to get the worst of it washed off of himself in about half an hour. He thoroughly scrubbed the floor around where he had been laying. Then, he did his best to rinse everything. He didn't know what genius thought to put a drain inside a room inside a house, but Sen wanted to meet that person and thank them. Sen only hesitated to put yesterday's robes back on for a moment. He'd still need a proper bath, so putting on fresh clothes would be an exercise in futility. He'd just have to wash those as well. Instead, he went looking for food. He found Uncle Kho in the kitchen. The man had apparently spent his morning cooking. There were covered bowls on every surface. There was also tea.
Sen made short work of several cups of tea before Uncle Kho started handing him bowls. Sen ate and ate. He was surprised to discover that some of the boar meat from their journey up the mountain had been prepared. Master Feng hadn't been lying when he said that his miraculous ring kept things fresh. After plowing through most of what had been prepared, Sen had to admit to himself that he'd been hungrier than he realized. Not that Uncle Kho seemed to mind. If anything, the more Sen ate, the happier Kho became. Once the hunger ebbed enough that he was just picking at the food, rather than eating it, Uncle Kho sat down and poured himself a cup of tea.
"It was the right choice," he offered.
Sen nodded. "I know. Well, I know that now. I didn't really believe it until after I took the pill."
"No one can blame you for that. Feng told me how bad that first one was. It was an honest mistake on his part. Once you take the pill, though, there's no going back. You can only push through."
"Well, this one was easy compared to that first one. I don't think we'll need to burn anything this time."
"Good. I think my wife would be very put out with me if we burned this place down. Not that we couldn't rebuild, but it might be a challenge to replace some of the things here. Like that wok," said Kho, pointing at a pan that hung on the wall. "She's had that wok for almost three hundred years. Says it's the best one ever made. She bought it in some village that doesn't even exist anymore."
"Three hundred years," repeated Sen, astounded at how casually the old man said it.
"Oh, beware young Sen. You've truly fallen in with old monsters here," said Kho, a twinkle in his eyes. "Speaking of old things. Feng! Do you have it?"
"There's no need to yell at me, Jaw-Long. No one here is deaf," grumbled Feng as he stepped into the kitchen. "And, yes, I have it."
Feng held out his hand to Sen. Another pill, although very different in color than the last, sat on his hand. Sen felt a petulant sort of grumbling inside of him, but it wasn't the knee-jerk fear he'd had before. He took the pill and, at a nod from Feng, swallowed it.
"Good," offered Feng. "There's a bath ready for you."
Sen didn't bother protesting. He needed a bath. He bowed to Master Feng and Uncle Kho before grabbing a big piece of boar he'd saved and heading outside. The ghost panther trotted up to him immediately before crouching a little with her ears back.
"I know. I know," said Sen, tossing the meat to the cat. "I'm heading to take a bath."
Chapter 18: Practice (1)
While the second pill the old men provided did a lot to restore him, Sen still felt fatigued for several days after what he thought of as the filth purge. While the effects hadn't been nearly so awful on the second pass, he found himself wondering where all that filth had come from. Most of what he remembered about the first filth purge was just a hazy recollection of pain, so he couldn't properly compare them. Had the most recent purge gone through him the same way, or had it reached parts of him the first pill hadn't? Sen was almost sure that this pill had reached deeper inside him. He didn't remember that scouring fire touching his bones the first time. With an annoyed sound, Sen put those thoughts away. He either couldn't remember the first time well enough, or he just didn't want to remember it. He'd just have to wait for the next time and compare how things went. That idea brought him up short. Did I just make a plan based on the next time, Sen asked himself. He supposed that he had. While he didn't imagine that he'd ever relish those purges, he was just as happy to have all of that out of his body.
Master Feng had apparently sensed that Sen wasn't up for anything too strenuous. He told Sen to practice what he knew in the mornings, go for a run, and to rest otherwise. It became very clear that had been practical advice when Sen did his run around the walls the first day. The number of times around the manor had gone up steadily over the months. Sen was up to a hundred and, before the purge, thought he was probably ready to add some more. That first day, he'd been ready to quit after fifty loops and certain he might die as he closed in on the hundred. His mind knew that it was temporary. The pill had left him drained in some meaningful way. His body didn't care one bit that it was temporary. His performance was lackluster enough that even the big cat had taken pity on him. She simply kept pace with him, rather than effortlessly dashing ahead.
Still, even after taking a long nap in the afternoons, he found himself with a lot of extra time on his hands. If practicing with his body was out of the question, he would take up the other task he'd been told to practice. It was also agonizing, but only for his mind. He would take out the scroll that Uncle Kho had given him and slowly piece together the words into complete thoughts. Initially, it was everything he could do just to make himself keep going. It was a battle between him and those stationary marks on the scroll. After several evenings' worth of practice, though, he realized that the scroll was telling a story. As he became engrossed in the story, he worried less about reading and more about finding out what happened. Of course, Sen had never imagined that the kingdom had seen so much war. There were wars for the throne. There were wars for honor. There were wars to stave off invasion. There were wars of invasion. Even more surprising was how often these things were kicked off by some kind of murder or attempted murder.
Despite his many painful encounters with them, Sen managed to squeeze out a tiny bit of sympathy for the nobles. All too often, it seemed like some daughter of a noble was kidnapped or a son was killed in an ambush. That led to revenge attacks or demands for the king to take action. Other noble families would take sides, or the king would issue orders, and soon the entire country was burning. Sen wasn't sure how growing up with possibilities like those hanging over someone's head would affect them. It would be frightening if nothing else. Sen hadn't had brothers or sisters, so could only imagine what it would feel like to hear that one had been taken or killed. He imagined it would make him angry. He supposed that living that way could also make some cruel. Yet, it was a poor reason to be cruel if that was the case.
As fascinating as Sen found the scroll, he also found it left his mind churning. He had always thought of the kingdom as a safe place. True, it hadn't been particularly safe for him, but he'd always thought that was because he was poor and, when necessary, a thief. He'd avoided stealing whenever he could, but it was a better choice than starving to death. In his opinion, anyone who thought otherwise had never really been hungry. When hunger got bad enough, even the smell of food could make you almost crazy. Yet, Sen always assumed that life was safe for other people, people with homes and names. Every thief knew they were taking a risk. Reading that scroll made him think that nobody was ever safe. Even kings got killed. If anyone should be safe, it seemed like kings would be safe. They had guards and armies. If that couldn't keep you safe, what would? How could he ever see the world and stay safe if kings couldn't do it?
The idea troubled him so much that he went looking for Uncle Kho the next afternoon. He found the old man sitting and reading a different scroll. Sen was almost curious enough to ask what it was about but changed his mind. He had enough on his mind from the scroll he was already reading. For all Sen knew, that other scroll would tell him things that he'd find even more disturbing. Uncle Kho eventually looked up and waved Sen over.
"What can I do for you, Sen?"
"I've been reading that scroll you gave me."
"Really? That's good. Did you find words you couldn't understand?"
"I did," said Sen, "but that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."
"I see. Well then, do sit down and tell me what's on your mind."
Sen sat and tried to put his thoughts in order. They were in such a tangle that he didn't know where to begin. After failing to find the right place to start for the third time, he just started talking. He poured out his thoughts about what he read, what it seemed like the scroll was saying about life and his own fears about what that would mean for him when he went out into the world. Uncle Kho listened patiently, absently stroking his long white beard. When Sen finally ran out of things to say, Kho closed his eyes for a long moment.
"Let me put your mind at ease about at least one thing," offered Kho when he opened his eyes again. "The kingdom isn't constantly at war. I suppose it's not obvious in that scroll, but the kingdom is very, very old."
Sen brightened up at those words. "No. I mean, I know the kingdom is old, but not how old."
"It's even older than me, which means it's positively ancient," said Kho with a little smile. "Many of the wars you read about happened centuries apart. There are times when entire generations will come and go without war troubling the kingdom."
Sen felt some of his worries slip away. "I'm happy to hear that."
Then, Kho pulled the rug out from under him. "Unfortunately, you're not wrong. Even in times of peace, no one is ever really safe. For peasants and merchants, there are bandits and nobles who may kill them or have them killed. For nobles, there are other nobles and the king. The king is always under threat, either from ambitious nobles or from other kings. Everyone is at risk from someone."
Sen thought hard for a moment. "There has to be a way. How do you make yourself safe?"
Uncle Kho was quiet for a long time. He went to speak on several occasions, only to close his mouth. Every time he didn't speak, his eyebrows got a little closer together. He finally let out a breath.
"The only way is to make yourself so powerful that no one dares to challenge you."
"Is that what cultivators do?"
"It's what a few cultivators do. It's what many cultivators try and fail to do. But even becoming a cultivator is no real protection. Granted, most bandits and nobles won't dare challenge a cultivator. Even kings walk with care around advanced cultivators. But you only trade those dangers for danger from other cultivators."
"I don't understand," said Sen. "Why would cultivators be a danger to other cultivators? You and Master Feng get along."
"Feng and I have been friends for a long time. You don't usually attack your friends. As for the rest, well, it's not really my place to explain the Jianghu to you. Feng will explain it to you when he thinks it's appropriate. What I will say is this. Challenges can improve you. Steel sharpens steel. Some cultivators will seek out challenges wherever they can find them."
Sen let those words settle into his mind. It didn't all make sense to him, but he had an inkling of what Uncle Kho meant. "Thank you for explaining, honored uncle."
"Don't let me put you off going out and seeing the world for yourself. Just because there are dangers, it doesn't mean it's not worth doing. After all, where you find danger, you can also find opportunity."
Chapter 19: Practice (2)
Sen had the feeling that his days of general rest were just about over. He still grew tired more easily than he'd like, but it wasn't as bad as it had been. For those first two days, everything felt like an effort. After his conversation with Uncle Kho, he kept wondering about the outside world and if he would ever be ready to face it. Master Feng had certainly taught him plenty about how to protect himself and meant to teach him more. Still, all those skills wouldn't mean anything if he ran across cultivators who were more easily offended than Master Feng and Uncle Kho. Was the risk worth the reward? Uncle Kho had made it sound like it could be. He'd said that danger and opportunity went together. Of course, that probably mattered more if you were brave. Sen didn't feel terribly brave most days.
He consoled himself with the thought that he probably wouldn't need to really worry about any of those things for a long time. Master Feng clearly intended to train him to some level that the old man had in his head. Sen didn't think he was at risk of meeting that level any time in the next couple of years. Although, there was Uncle Kho to think about. Feng had basically invited himself and Sen to stay. Uncle Kho didn't seem to mind, but Sen vaguely remembered talk of Uncle Kho's wife. If or when she returned, she might not want Feng and Sen hanging around. If that happened, would Feng go off to sit in a cave somewhere? Would he expect Sen to sit around outside the cave? Maybe Feng would simply head out into the kingdom. Sen had heard about wandering cultivators.
Sen was so distracted by those thoughts that he slipped on the packed snow and went tumbling. When he came to a stop, Sen let his head drop back. That only lasted for a few seconds before the back of his head was soaked by melting snow. He forced himself to stand and leaned against the wall around the manor. Most days, the packed snow wasn't a problem. It wasn't like Sen wasn't aware of it, his feet having done most of the work of pounding the snow down into an icelike sheet. His balance was good enough that the slippery surface wasn't really a problem, most days. With the end of his daily laps in sight, though, the fatigue was setting in. When he got tired, his reflexes and balance suffered.
Sen looked around and found the ghost panther staring at him. He'd gotten to know the panther's expressions over the last half year, or so he thought. The beast's gaze was intense, yet there was something else there. If I didn't know better, I'd think that she looks baffled, thought Sen. The two just stood there for a long moment, looking at each other over the snowy ground. Then, the big cat came over and stood in front of him. He looked down at her curiously. She was staring right at his middle. He checked his clothing, thinking that he might have landed in something unpleasant. Aside from some damp cloth, there was nothing. The panther looked up at him, and then back at his middle. Sen understood that she was trying to make him notice something, but he couldn't figure out what.
The next look the cat gave him was one he recognized immediately as exasperation. She leaned forward, bumped her head against his middle, and gave him an expectant look. He blinked down at her before he reached out to rub her head. The cat let him, for a few seconds, before she bumped his middle again. Sen wondered if the cat thought he needed to eat.
"We're almost done. Then it'll be time to eat," he said.
The ghost panther made a huffing noise. Then, very slowly, the cat lifted a paw and extended a claw. She poked at his belly button. It was a gentle enough poke that it tickled a little. Sen had to work hard to keep from laughing. Curious, though, he reached down and pressed a couple of fingers against the same spot. That made him think of that warm ball that he felt there sometimes. His awareness of it came and went. He was most aware of it while practicing the things that Master Feng taught him. Well, then, and when he'd taken that pill. A lot of him thought he was just imagining it. Still, for the ghost panther to pick out that specific spot. It strained even Sen's underdeveloped sense of coincidence.
Sen let his mind sink inside of him. It still half felt like he was imagining it, but he decided that there was no real harm. He found that warm ball inside of him and looked it over. That spot inside of him had felt all but empty after the purge, but now the spot looked full. Rather, it looked full if a dense mist of silvery light could fill something up. With the ball in sight, Sen wasn't really sure what came next. If he wasn't simply seeing more in the cat's actions than were really there, she meant for him to do something with this ball. Not sure what else he could do, Sen reached out with his mind and poked the mist. The ball roiled a little. Sen watched as those channels he'd seen before briefly lit up as threads of the mist passed out into them. A burst of energy shot through Sen's entire body. It startled him so much that he found himself staring down at the ghost panther. The cat looked up at him with a very smug look in her eyes. Even as he gazed down at the beast in shock and amazement, he could feel that burst of energy wearing off. The cat bumped his stomach with her head again.
Sen didn't think that standing around outside in the cold while he imagined the inside of his body was a smart move. While he'd gotten used to the cold, he was pretty sure that he'd still freeze to death if he just stood motionless in the winter weather. Rather than pushing his mind inside, he tried to feel around inside for that ball. It was a lot easier than expected. He gave it another little poke and was rewarded with another burst of energy. He let out a joyful laugh and started running again. Soon, though, he was sagging under the weight of exhaustion. He stopped running and glared down at his stomach. He could pay attention to that ball and to running. At least, he'd never tried to do anything like that before.
Setting out at a slower pace, he kept poking at that ball whenever he felt weariness starting to wash over him again. He soon realized that his approach was not an ideal solution. In fact, he was confident that his approach wasn't what the cat had intended based on the looks she kept giving him. For one thing, it was hard to split his attention that way. He constantly ran the risk of falling because he wasn't paying enough attention to his body. Even worse, the process was unpredictable. If he poked too hard at the ball, it sent so much energy into him that he felt like he might explode. If he didn't poke hard enough, the extra energy only lasted for a little while. Sen came to another stop. He decided that, while it might not be the best solution, it was the solution he had at hand. He could practice with it and figure out something better after he finished running.
Chapter 20: Practice (3)
When Sen went inside to have a meal, he found both Master Feng and Uncle Kho inside. He narrowed his eyes at the two. There was something about the way the two men carried themselves that made Sen feel like they had been waiting for him. Despite the feeling he couldn't shake, the three shared a quiet meal. The closest the conversation got to anything important was Uncle Kho asking if Sen had finished the scroll.
"No, uncle. I'm nearly done with it. Do you need it back?"
Kho waved a dismissive hand. "No. No. I just need to decide what I'll have you read next."
After the meal, Sen took some food out for the ghost panther. He absently tossed her pieces of food, but his mind was focused on that ball of energy inside him. It had helped him finish the run, but he knew he didn't understand it. Part of him wondered if he should ask Master Feng about it, but he wasn't even sure what he would ask about. All Sen really knew was that he had, or thought he had, some kind of energy inside him. If he was wrong, he'd look foolish in front of Master Feng. If he was right but couldn't describe it well enough, he could still look foolish. He decided that he'd play with it on his own for a while. It didn't seem like it would hurt him, so Sen didn't see any harm in putting off a conversation about it. As if to encourage him, the big cat looked intently at his stomach before vanishing back over the wall to go and do, Sen came up blank. He had no idea what the beast did when it wasn't at the manor. Struck by curiosity, Sen went looking for Master Feng. He found him in the library, looking at a small book.
"Master?"
Master Feng looked up with eyes bright. "Yes, Sen?"
"What do you think the ghost panther does when it's not here?"
Master Feng blinked several times. He had clearly expected a question from Sen, just not the one that Sen had posed. Feng shook his head a little and got a thoughtful look on his face.
"I honestly don't know, Sen. I assume that she has a den somewhere. Spirit beasts like her often protect a territory where there is something of value, or at least of value to them. She must hunt. She can't be thriving just on what she gets from us. Of course, this is all just guessing on my part. Why do you ask?"
"I was just wondering about it. I thought you might know."
"I see. Have you thought about giving her a name?" Master Feng asked.
"I," Sen frowned. "I guess I thought she probably already had one. I just don't know it because I don't speak ghost panther."
A huge smile split Feng's face, and he let out a good-natured laugh. "I never thought about it that way. If she's half as smart as she seems, you're probably right. You should try asking her. Maybe she'll figure out a way to tell you."
Sen thought about that for a moment and nodded. "I will. Thank you, master."
"Is there anything else you want to ask me about, Sen?"
Sen hesitated. Master Feng had opened the door for a question. As much as he wanted to ask, something in Sen's heart said to wait. There was plenty of time to ask questions if he couldn't figure it out on his own.
"No, master. Thank you for your wisdom and your advice."
Sen thought Master Feng seemed disappointed, but the cultivator didn't press the issue.
"You cannot learn if you don't ask questions," said Feng. "What kind of master would I be if I didn't answer them as well as I can."
Sen bowed and retreated to his room. For a time, he just sat and considered his experience during the run. Those bursts of energy were helpful, but not being able to know how much of a boost he'd get from any given poke at that ball inside of him made it of questionable value. If he was just tired, it was great. He couldn't rely on it in an emergency, though. As an experiment, Sen poked at the ball again. He felt that surge again, racing up and down his body. Then, it wore off. He poked it again. The same thing happened. He tried poking it from a different direction, only to get the same results. Sen sighed. If this thing was going to be anything more than an occasional convenience, he needed it to work more reliably. He tried coming at the problem from another angle. It was shaped like a ball. What do balls usually do?
Sitting up straighter, Sen reached inside himself and tried to spin the ball like it was rolling forward. For a second or two, it seemed to work. Energy flooded into those channels and made him feel stronger than he'd ever felt. When the energy tried to find its way back to that ball, though, it got stuck in those same channels. The pressure seemed to build and build inside of him. Sen's whole body tried to curl in on itself. He struggled to take a breath. Reaching out with his mind again, he stopped that rolling motion. Slowly, the pressure receded. Sen didn't need another try with that method to know it wasn't good for him.
While Sen waited for everything inside of him to feel like it should again, he reconsidered the ball shape. If rolling wasn't the right approach, was there some other way it could move? Sen thought back to all the times he'd seen kids playing with balls. They threw them, caught them, and he'd even seen kids hit them with sticks to send them flying. After a while, his mind wandered, and a memory of a different toy gave him a new idea. He'd once seen a little boy playing with a top. It would sit there in place, spinning and spinning. Sen had thought it seemed like a boring toy, but maybe that was the answer. Taking a deep breath just in case the same thing happened, Sen made that warm ball spin inside of him.
This time, the energy flowed freely, racing through those channels inside of him. A feeling of strength and power like he'd never known nearly overwhelmed him. The energy almost crackled inside of his muscles and bones. His vision got better. His mind became clearer. Sen peeked inside of himself to look at that ball. It seemed that, once he'd started the proper motion, it was content to keep spinning. Yet, even as he watched, the amount of silvery mist inside of the ball seemed to lessen and thin out. He didn't understand why, not at first, but he supposed it must be like some kind of pot. It could only hold so much. When he sent it into those channels, he used some of it up. Reluctantly, Sen stopped the ball's spinning and let the energy in those channels pool back into the ball.
Part of him was disappointed in the results for a little while. It was more useful now than it had been, but also didn't look like it would last that long. Once he thought it over for a while, he grew less disappointed. Everything had limits. After all these months, he was a strong runner. He suspected he could run for several miles. Eventually, though, he'd grow tired, and his muscles would refuse to carry him any farther. That limit didn't make running a bad thing. It certainly did not make the muscles in his legs a bad thing. If he wanted to run farther, he needed to run more. Build up to it. Maybe this new energy worked the same way. That left him with a new problem. How could he train this energy to become stronger?