Cog Cultivator (Xianxia)

[IronLung]

XJ-V watched the young Feng's face take on a pallid shade of crimson the likes of which he'd never seen before.

Before Ori'un could say a thing, the boy was already on the verge of frenzy.

"When did they depart?" he asked the aged Elder – voice colder than the blizzard blaring outside.

The old man blinked his soulless, dead eyes. "L…last night," he moaned like a grim specter. "If you make…make haste, young warrior…you shall still be able to…catch them."

Ori'un stirred, about to take charge, when Feng-Lung stood and bowed to the old man, cupping his balled fist to his hand in a gesture of devotion from the Eternal Dragon.

"I swear to you," he said. "I shall find these beasts and slay them to the very last."

He turned tail and stormed out of the room, leaving Ori'un to thank the Elder quietly and take his leave, following the brash boy outside to the coldest winter to ever grace the wasteland.

"Feng-Lung!"

The boy was not for hearing the words of the Planeswalker. Instead, he trudged towards the graveyard, inspecting the broken iron fencing and looking out into the pale skies beset by the snowstorm raging across the world, scrabbling around to look for tracks.

When Ori'un caught up to him, he saw nothing but a boy flailing around in the snow.

"Feng…"

"I will find them and kill them," the youth said without looking back at the hulking man whose shadow draped itself across him. "I will find them and kill them before –"

"Feng!"

The boy stopped abruptly, enticed, no doubt, by the power of the Qi-enhanced voice that emanated from the Planeswalker's throat.

"This mission has become too dangerous. A pack of Aoyin nibbling on snacks in a graveyard is one thing, but the activity the Elder reports suggests a horde probably drawn from across the Taila Badlands, where their kind are legion…I know Warlord Seneka has conscripted soldiers from the villages on the border of her fiefdom. But I did not know Marsul had become involved. If this is true, then the caravan will be hounded by more Aoyin than you have ever seen, young Disciple."

"I do not care!" the boy yelled, throwing snow across the graves as he searched for an indication – any sign – of the exact trajectory the evil spirits took as they headed East. "I will not leave my home undefended."

"You will do your family no good if you freeze to death out here, either."

"I'll do them no good if I return to Ramor-Tai!"

Both Cultivators stared down the other while the villagers of Narsis looked on with growing trepidation. Most of them had ceased their praying at this point and simply bolted their doors and windows shut tight. If two Sect Cultivators of the Eternal Dragon were about to make their village into their battle ground, praying to the Dao would be less than useless.

"Feng," Ori'un said, kneeling to look the boy in his furious, yet sorrow-stricken eyes. "As the Administrator of this test, I must tell you again that I cannot intervene in your progress. I can neither provide aid, nor hinder you. If you decide to continue on this quest, then I shall not impede you. But you have the choice, right now, to return to Ramor-Tai and let another, more experienced Cultivator handle this problem. And you have my word," Ori'un added quickly. "The problem will be handled."

Feng dropped his gaze, falling to his knees in the snow he had blasted with Dragon Tooth strikes by way of excavation till his hands had gone numb.

"They will be dead by then," the youth said. "I'm sure of it. My brothers, my mother, the cats…everyone will be gone. I have studied the ways of the Aoyin, Planeswalker Ori'un. I know that if they ever feel they have the advantage of numbers, they shall steal away the living and sequester them in a cold, dank place, waiting for them to die before feasting on their corpse. In a blizzard like this, waiting for such a death to take place would not take long."

Ori'un was forced to admit that the boy was right. XJ-V could again feel his pride in the youth grow as he looked through the eyes of the Planeswalker's past self.

"Is this what you choose, Feng-Lung of the Dragon?" Ori'un asked. "The defense of your home over your life at Ramor-Tai, even if it was your mother who wished you to remain there?"

Feng balked at this, but the hesitation was only momentary. XJ-V could see that, for the youth, there was only one answer.

"The wisdom of Prophet Aun'El says that sometimes the hatchling must protect its mother," he replied. "Even against her will. I do what any son must, Planeswalker. For I am my mother's son before I am a Cultivator of Ramor-Tai."

Deep within the Planeswalker's breast, XJ-V felt a sad, heavy burden suddenly fall.

I knew then that he would fail, the present-day spirit of Ori'un told the Cog. He was too attached to his home. To his family. He had no objectivity about him. I mean, of course he didn't – he was a boy. Longhua had taken him too young, convinced that he could mould the boy from a young age to become as unfeeling as the old Dragon himself is. When it comes down to it, a boy of sixteen is never going to forsake his past – especially not one that Feng has always clung to with such strength.

In essence, XJ-V replied. You are saying he is too human.

Har! Ori'un of the present laughed. Coming from a Cog, that's just perfect.

XJ-V then watched as Ori'un's past self again patted the head of young Feng affectionately.

"Alright," he said. "Though I can't give you physical aid, or direct your path, I can – under the circumstances – give you a steer in the right direction."

"I can do this on my own," Feng-Lung replied. "I must."

"Boy, that's what we all think when the time of our destiny comes upon us," the Planeswalker said with a gruff cough. "It's the biggest load of hogwash we tell ourselves."

He bent low and gathered some snow in his hands – snow blackened by Feng-Lung's fires.

"Cool yourself," he said. "And enter the Dao. Feel the ice beneath your feet and search for signs of life that once passed through here. Seek out the tracks of the spirits not on this earth, but in the plane beyond."

Feng listened. He obeyed. He crouched and closed his eyes shut, even though it probably pained him to, and he listened. Watching him through the Planeswalker's eyes, XJ-V could not intuit exactly what he saw within his mind's eye as he walked the Dao, though he would have loved to know it, but what he could tell was that the boy had found what he sought after only ten minutes meditation – his eyes moving behind the closed skin of his lids as he traced a path through the snow in spirit-form.

When he opened his eyes again, he drew a deep breath and centered himself.

"I have seen their steps," he said. "It will be a four-hour journey to the East from here."

Ori'un smiled down at the Disciple, despite it all.

"Summon a Dragon Tooth beneath your feet and we'll make it two," he said.

…


They arrived in approximately two hours just as Ori'un had guessed, their feet trailing ribbons of flame like comet trails behind them. XJ-V almost laughed within the mind-prison of Ori'un to see it: two Cultivators flying through the snowcapped wastes like a pair of rocket-ships from the height of Qing's Dynasty.

It's a little-known trick you might like to try yourself from time to time, the Planeswalker of the present murmured. Though it is taxing, and can only be done for short periods when one's Qi is firmly gathered at the feet. If bandits came upon us, we would had been unprepared to defend ourselves. Probably a trick best saved for a rainy day, eh?

Both men lowered themselves down to touch the snow once more, seeing the rickety gateway of Marsul appear before them through a dense mist that obscured its buildings from sight. Slowly, both Cultivators trudged up passed the village outskirts, seeing empty farmland long abandoned in the cold and the distinctive wheel prints of a carriage at the entrance to the village proper.

Before they entered, Ori'un put a firm hand on young Feng's shoulder.

He could feel the youth was shaking. And it had nothing to do with the cold.

"I shall ask you one more time," he said. "Feng-Lung of the Dragon, do you commit yourself to slaying this Aoyin brood?"

And with only a moment's hesitation, the youth looked up at the Planeswalker who towered over him, and gave his answer.

"I do," he said. "May the Dao take me if I lie."

Or if you fail, Ori'un of the present whispered, and by the way he said this it felt more like he was trying to speak to Feng-Lung's young form out there in the snowcapped wastes – like he was extending an arm he had not the will to extend at the time.

XJ-V could feel the swirling energies of malevolent pockets of Qi even through the dream-vision. Everything in his systems, and in his soul, told him that entering the village would be a suicidal venture at his level.

So when Feng-Lung and Ori'un of the past took their first steps over Marsul's frozen threshold, the Cog tensed up as he felt the hands of death rise to meet them.

###

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[IronLung]

Both Feng-Lung and Ori'un slipped into the snow-drenched streets of Marsul village without incident, each man surveying his surroundings by expelling a small fraction of Qi energy and projecting it outwards like a net to catch malevolent spirits. XJ-V could feel exactly what they felt in the moment: the residue energies of evil that still floated in the air, gradually fading to nothing as they approached the first of Marsul's sandstone huts.

"We should go house by house," Feng-Lung suggested, knowing he still had to take the lead, and push through the fear the boy no doubt felt radiating up from his chest. "I can sense an aura of evil that still fills the air. But I cannot get a clear read on its location."

Ori'un nodded and followed the boy, his own sharp eyes scanning the rooftops for the eyes of the beasts that could be watching them from above.

The village streets were desolate, seemingly abandoned in the same fashion as the outlying farms. The chill breath of winter blew through the village totally unhindered, and XJ-V could feel the tension brewing between the Cultivators even from within the dream-vision of Ori'un's past mind.

Did you know where they were, Ori'un? He asked the present Planeswalker who was allowing him to see this vision.

A Core Regulator would normally be able to sniff out a pack of Aoyin from a distance of five hundred feet or more, he replied. But when the horde of these spirits grows to a certain mass, they are able to mask their Qi readings, normally by burrowing underground.

XJ-V thus watched bitterly as Feng opened the dank curtains of each building's doorway and beheld only wrecked furniture and increasing signs of struggle within each house. He dove towards each door like a man ready to let fly a storm of strikes to any on the other side – friend or foe – but XJ-V could feel that the Ori'un of the past who guided him knew the boy really wanted to see nothing more than an indication of human life still in the village. It would have placated his soul, somewhat, to simply deny what his heart was telling him.

Finally, they came to his old home – a dismal looking shack on the edge of town – and Feng-Lung breathed deep of the Qi before bursting through the door-curtain.

Once again – he was met with nothing. Sights of his childhood filled his mind – his infantile form chasing kittens as they dove in and out of the doorway, his mother reading to him by the now extinguished fireplace at the end of the room, his brother and he sparring out back in the quaint garden where his mother's tomato saplings were kept. Everyone had always told her how talented she was in coaxing plant life to grow even in the most dire of circumstances. She was a woman that wanted nothing more than to see the world grow again. So it was with her son, whom she had offered to Ramor-Tai so he could live a better life.

Now that same son looked upon the broken furniture and claw-marked walls of his home and wished he had stayed. He wished he had denied the Master that had been promised to him. What did eternal life matter if he had to see those that he loved die?

He let loose a bolt of flame that speared through a rusted chair by the wall and threw splinters across the floor.

"Gone!" he said. "The fiends. I…I shall find them, Ori'un. I shall find them!"

"Fury will not serve you in this task," the Planeswalker replied. "Focus on the residual energies left by your foes. Think: what is the common link between all these houses we have seen?"

Young Feng straightened and bent low to trace a shaking finger across two of the viscious claw-marks that had been made on the ground. They were fresh. Fresh enough to have been made only a few hours ago. As he focused, he directed the Qi flow within him down through his fingers and allowed it to pool within the thick grooves the marks had made, and slowly his mind resolved a picture of the events that had transpired to produce such marks.

XJ-V could not see what was happening in his mind in this moment, but he knew the boy was barely holding on to what he saw. He knew the boy was in pain.

"They were taken," he said. "They were corralled like cattle by the beasts, who spoke with the voices of friends come to relieve the villagers of their corpse-burning duties. They took them…below…"

Feng's face flew to the outside world again, though it was clear he was loathe to tear himself away from the sight of his once-home.

"This would explain the lack of blood," he told Ori'un. "They took them somewhere beneath the village, where they could mask their collective Qi. But their long-taloned claws are their undoing."

Ori'un smiled.

Good, he thought. The boy still has focus.

Young Feng led the way back outside and scanned the horizon again, navigating the blizzard-blanketed streets via memory alone. Memory, and his enhanced senses that told him of the life that lay below their feet.

And when he opened his eyes, that's when he saw it so clearly that it almost shook even XJ-V within the dream-vision.

A well.

A brick and mortar well at the center of the village large enough to fit several bodies. Deep enough, and dark enough, to be a perfect home for evil.

Feng-Lung approached the object and brought a tiny flickering flame into life upon his fingertips. He swept it over the thing, remembering how all the mothers of the village had forbidden their sons to play down here. As he tossed his small orange burr of light down to assess the depth of the hole, he saw that it was far deeper than he recalled.

"Because it has been extended," he said as he saw the flame finally bounce and die out as it reached the bottom. "The creatures have used their talons to dig into the earth beneath the bricks, and have made this place their den."

"Not altogether unusual for Aoyin," the Planeswalker agreed with an impressed whistle. "The darkest corners of this earth are the haunts of the Flesh-Eaters. Somewhere isolated, promising danger to mortals, and yet also somewhere useful to them – well, that's just a perfect hiding spot for those that dwell in the dark."

Feng-Lung nodded silently as he climbed up on the lip of the well.

"Feng."

"I must do this, Ori'un," he said. "This means more than just a test."

"Think carefully," the Planeswalker cautioned again, knowing, XJ-V could tell, that he was overstepping his bounds as impartial test administrator. "Use the Qi as your guide, boy. Your enemy has entrenched themselves. You can sense that their numbers are beyond a simple pack. You would be able to sense, too, any signs of human life that still drew breath down there. The chances of anyone down there being alive…"

"The Qi is not always right," Feng-Lung snapped back. "A Cultivator does not rely upon instinct alone. He must look upon this world with his own eyes if he is ever to contend with it."

Ori'un stood back, heaving another sigh of resignation in the snow.

"This is the mantra of the Planeswalkers, is it not, Ori'un?"

The weary mountain smiled. "Yes, Feng-Lung. It is."

And without saying another word, young Feng jumped down into the depths of the abyss.

You could see it on his face plain as day, couldn't you, XJ-V? Feng-Lung of the present asked him. Anger. Spite. The desire for vengeance, plain and simple. Desires that bring nothing but ruination to their bearer and all those around him.

So why did you not stop him? The Cog asked.

I have often asked myself the same thing, he replied, his past-self hesitating on the lip of the well. Back then, I still felt I could become a Master one day. I still had boyish desires of my own – to achieve Soul Actualization but do so for the benefit of the Wastes. So, I tried to copy the grating objectivity of the Masters who look upon us all not as humans, but as mere blips in the Dao that might become something more. In truth, though, I was greedy, XJ-V. I thought he might become one of us. I thought I might have found someone who looks upon the ruins of this world as I do – with a sense of wonder, not fear. That was the vision I saw in my Grey-Potential. I saw myself standing beside another young warrior of Ramor-Tai, and shepherding the Wastes along a better path with him.

The Ori'un of the past swallowed his trepidation and jumped atop the well, ready to dive.

It blinded me, Cog, his present-self said. It stopped me from seeing what was so plainly obvious. It stopped me from realizing that I was sacrificing the happiness of a youth to claim my own. What happened next was my fault, XJ-V. Make no mistake of that.

###

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[IronLung]

Ori'un dove down the well and felt the encroaching darkness of its thin innards consume him, like he was already traveling down the parched throat of the very Aoyin he hunted.

The sensation of his feet hitting the ground was accompanied by not the splash of water but the crunching of bone, and he looked beneath him to see the pale remnants of a skeleton under him.

"Feng…" he whispered, his eyes adjusting to the darkness.

A firm hand gripped his arm and the boy came into view, both Cultivators attuning their Qi to their eyes and letting them trace the outline of the others' form.

"Good," the Planeswalker said. "I won't have you running off to your death."

Feng released a small trickle of candlelight from his fingertips to provide some basic illumination for both men, and show them the cavernous space they'd tumbled down into. Ragged stalactites loomed above, and below their feet stretched an expanse of ice that seemed to stretch on towards an infinite black horizon.

The cave system had been hewed by a horde – there was no doubt, now.

Especially as young Feng considered the pile of bones he and the Planeswalker were standing on, and the thick trails of crimson baked into the ice floes beyond their landing zone.

"Signs of a struggle," the boy said warily, beginning to follow the trail with slow, deliberate steps. "I do not need Qi tracking to follow the paths of these beasts."

"No," Ori'un agreed. "You do not."

A wave of tension cut through the air, as both men crept forward towards the unknowable void of the cave, each one checking the walls and glittering bloodstains that spoke of the resistance the townsfolk had put up as they were dragged down here by their captors.

Then, finally, the young Disciple stopped in his tracks at the lip of an opening – an oval cut into the side of the cave wall that opened up into a small chamber of ice.

Ori'un stopped short behind him. He saw what the boy was looking at within.

A thin, skeletal figure, its spiked spine heaving with raspy, guttural breaths, was feasting on something in that room. Two lithe arms scythed down to rake at the innards of the creature's meal with a ferocious kind of patience – like that exhibited by a butcher who had just found a prime slice of meat after months of starvation.

The crunching of sinew and bone filled the room. The beast was savoring its meal, bent low on its two spindle-like legs that were embedded deep into the ice like a pair of carving knives. In its pleasure, it had noticed neither of the men that approached.

Ori'un took one look at Feng-Lung as the boy, for the first time in his life, came to realize that the monsters that stalked his dreams were not simply apparitions summoned into life by the fairy tales his mother spun. They were real. And one of them was right here, chewing on the bloody intestines of a villager from above.

The boy saw the decapitated head of the victim roll out of the creature's claw. He saw two pairs of crimson-soaked eyes stare up at him, lifeless.

And that was the signal that finally compelled him to act.

He dove at the Aoyin as the being spun round, hearing the quick footsteps of a human intruder. Its long, spiked mouth opened in a snarl that would have become a bellow if Feng-Lung's fist did not punch a hole of flame right through its chest.

The beast swayed, about to let out a guttural death rattle from its intestine-ridden mouth. But the boy was quicker. Using a stalactite above the chamber as a springboard he dove headfirst into the creature's gnashing teeth and split them apart with a single Flaming Dervish roundhouse. As his ankle impacted the beast's neck, Ori'un heard the distinct snapping of its brittle bones. The head of the creature went flying off and landed square at the Planeswalker's idle feet.

The beast's neck gushed with the black ooze that served as its blood, and when the Planeswalker looked up, he saw young Feng covered in the creature's life fluids, stamping on its corpse with hatred.

"Feng," he said.

The boy ignored his Administrator's call, and kept beating the beast's flailing corpse under his heel until every bone in the Aoyin's body had snapped or burned away. He did not look at the human's corpse that had rolled away to the side. He avoided the gaze of the head entirely.

"Feng!"

The boy snapped back to look Ori'un in the eye, wiping the Flesh-Eater's ichor from his face.

"Dirty…" he said, still avoiding eye contact with the lifeless head rolling under him. "Filthy…"

He walked out of the room without turning back.

"I can feel more of them further in," he said. "Do not worry, Ori'un. I know how to suppress my Qi enough to deceive these creatures. I will kill them before they even see me coming. I will kill them all."

He stormed off down into the darkness of the tunnel while Ori'un spared at look at the dead villager. Probably, it was someone Feng knew. Or, it could be that his body was so mangled that the boy simply didn't even recognize him. And he was so focused on securing a sight of those still living that he didn't want to try.

Those still living… Ori'un thought.

XJ-V felt the doubt gnawing at the Planeswalker's bones as he followed the Disciple back into the dark.

…

Feng slew a dozen more Aoyin as he did the first.

Each one was found in its own little chamber chewing away on a villager that had succumbed to frostbite. As they moved from one grisly chamber to the next, both men silently built up a picture of what had happened here without the need to voice their theories. Each Aoyin had chosen a prisoner of its own – one to sequester in its own little hovel in the earth and carve up after its life had expired. They had bound them to the jagged rocks of their cave-homes and waited, probably licking their rows of pincer-teeth in anticipation of the feast the corpse-flesh would bring. Ori'un, however, was more concerned about the fact that these villagers did not represent the main dish – those Aoyin Feng was killing were Eaters who were patient enough to wait. The vicious ones – the real pack-hunters and leaders of the horde – they would have taken the supply caravan of maggot-infested corpses for their meal. The more desiccated and debased a body was, the more it seemed to satiate the appetite of the Aoyin.

The only question was: where were they hiding? The Planeswalker knew that if he expanded his Qi vision, he could ascertain the answer without breaking a sweat. But, of course, this meant that he would have to willfully keep such information from young Feng. Ori'un was many things, but he was not one who was willing to lie to a child. Ignorance was better than deception.

I wonder… Ori'un of the present suddenly interrupted. I wonder if I still believe that, even now.

XJ-V felt the imminent tragedy coming from just the tone of his morose reflections, reflections that came as his past-self looked upon Feng-Lung's bloodied tunic and saw the boy's form become more and more haggard with each new foe slain. The Planeswalker could see the burden grow on his shoulder every time he beheaded one of the corpse-devourers, even as his face flushed red with fury in the moment of his kill.

Still, it would not be impossible for the boy to pass the test, still. Though he burned with a fire that could easily consume him, he was proving himself more than capable of dealing death to the enemies of mankind.

Until, that is, they came to the heart of the cave.

With a trail of Aoyin corpses in his wake, young Feng crouched low to creep up to a wide opening that had appeared before them – an opening that afforded both men a view of a wide cavern that exuded the pungent smell of mass death.

They both knew it as they looked over the lip of the opening into the cavernous expanse of ice and jagged rock below – they had found the feasting ground.

The leanest Aoyin of the pack nested here, tucking into the veritable mound of flesh they had collected and piled in the center of their dominion. Ori'un counted at least thirty – no – forty of the beasts feasting together, each one crawling around the flesh pile to detach a limb or organ of their liking, some filling each one of their long-taloned fingernails with a collection of eyeballs and body cavities oozing with puss and grime before they sucked on them like babes on teats.

It was the bulk of the horde. And from the looks of it, this was all of them.

"Feng," Ori'un whispered. "It is not too late to turn back. You have already proven yourself more than capable of achieving Rank 4. This job can be left to a team of experienced Cultivators if you so choose."

The boy considered the offer, this time. His teeth ground together and chewed into his lips, like an innocent reflection of the horror of the blood feast that was entering its final phases before his eyes. The creatures were unawhere he was there. Both he and his mentor could slip away, entirely undetected. He could still choose the path of glory.

Then the boy's eyes lighted on a particular corpse that rolled away from the horde. It was the chewed body of a small creature, its intestines spilling out from its tiny open gut, both its animal eyes opened in a cry for help that was never heard.

It was the pearl-white corpse of a kitten.

And the next thing Ori'un knew, the boy threw himself into the fray, bellowing a battle cry that brought the eyes of every beast upon him.

"Feng!" the Planeswalker shouted.

But the boy was already charging towards the horde. One by one, they ceased their chewing and rose to meet him.

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[IronLung]

Feng-Lung's body moved like it was an extension of the Disciple's hatred itself – his limbs swaying as he launched four Dragon Tooth strikes in quick succession at the horde of interrupted Aoyin.

XJ-V watched spellbound as he looked upon the carnage the boy was already causing – the Flesh-Eaters being ripped open by his flames, forcing them to leap and latch on to the walls of their slaughter-cavern.

Then, from all angles, they charged.

Feng assumed a Siulubu stance and met the first one that launched itself at him from above with a crane kick that sent the creature flying back, head lolling off its sinuous neck, while two of its compatriots dove by on either side.

These two the young Cultivator repelled with a pair of Dragontail Swipes – his hands blurring as they caught the slashing claws of the creatures and broke every knife-finger that came flying to scratch out his eyes. The creatures stumbled back, giving him enough space to leap for another Flaming Dervish that seared the flesh from their bones.

Then the rest of the brood came.

Ori'un watched from the lip of the cavern entrance. He watched Flesh-Eaters fall before the child that would have killed a lesser Disciple. He watched the boy weather their blows even when they glanced his shoulder, sending him spinning back to simply deliver a deadly counterattack that broke the bones of his attackers. He spun this way and that, becoming a living wheel of flame that started to melt the ice beneath his feet, and Ori'un began to see the cracks that were forming in the glittering arena.

It was strategy. Even in his desperation, young Feng had a plan.

And XJ-V felt the Planeswalker smile again. It was akin to a father watching his child succeed in some base game of catch and throw – Feng-Lung striking out with the bared teeth of a true dragon, while his enemies snarled and sent their deadly spittle flying in the triumphant boy's face.

The horde became more wary the longer the battle droned on. They began to hold back, their-pincer feet carefully stalking around the boy who kept his palms open, ready to strike. His feet were just as poised as theirs. With eyes attuned to the Qi, and totally focused on each and every target waiting before him, Feng-Lung looked the very picture of a consummate Cultivator of legend.

But, looking through the sharp eyes of the past-Ori'un, XJ-V could see the signs of fatigue setting in on the youth – the sharp scratches that had been clawed across his clothes and cheeks, leaving scars that bled into his lips and let him taste of his own blood. His feet, though poised, were beginning to shake in the cold, and in the face of the blinking pairs of eyes staring at him in the dank dark of their lair. Looking down on the boy, XJ-V doubted if his own talents would be enough to face what Feng had faced here. He was struck by the fact that his normally jovial Brother had never once mentioned such a legendary encounter.

Shame is the Cultivator's closest held secret, Ori'un of the present explained to the Cog. And believe me, XJ-V, we all harbor regrets.

Even the Masters? The Cog asked.

More than you know.

As usual, it seemed Ori'un spoke from experience, but XJ-V did not have time to question him further. Instead, he had to focus his attention back to the icy arena where Feng-Lung was making his daring assault.

Something was happening.

The creatures had got the measure of the boy. Their nostrils flared. Their slitted pupils narrowed. They saw the weaknesses they had carved into their prey, and they also tasted, as only evil spirits like Aoyin could, the potential of the Qi that was burning inside the boy. XJ-V had read that normally when they were outmatched, Aoyin would simply flee to fight another day. There would always be more dead to consume. But this family had grown bold. They had grown ambitious. The prospect of a fresh young Cultivator's meat from the great holy mountain that loomed large above them and their kind? Well, that was simply too tantalizing. He was a main course they simply couldn't pass up.

As one, the creatures at the head of the horde opened their grisly mouths, showing blood-smeared fangs and dark voids where their throats traveled down to their perpetually starving stomachs.

And the sounds of a timid kitten's mewls emanated from their mouths.

The sound was so clear, so crisp, that anyone not watching would have been easily duped if they had not known the deception that was taking place. The vanguards of the horde screeched as they replayed the sounds of the dead kitten's pained squeals, each one of their grisly screams rebounding off the other, till the entire cavern was filled with the echo of what must have been abstract agony for the little creature they had killed.

And, for Feng-Lung, that was an insult he simply could not bear.

He charged headfirst at them, launching himself through the air in another Dervish that sliced the throats of the vanguard carrying out their devious mimicry. But this time the next rank of Flesh-Eaters had been ready. Like a single unified organism they leaped over the bodies of their fallen comrades and swiped at Feng, drawing two deep gashes across his knees and sending him flying to the ground.

His knees, XJ-V realized. They had struck for his strongest assets. They had specifically struck at his legs to disable his powerful kicks.

Learn from this, XJ-V, Ori'un told him as they both watched Feng struggle back up, only to be mauled by a waiting Aoyin who slashed at his back and ripped his Gi from his torso. Even the basest spirits of the Wasteland display a sinister intelligence when they gather together as one. In this way, they are the opposite of human beings.

Feng-Lung weathered at least six more blows to his face, his elbow joints, and his feet – each one becoming more savage as the boy's Qi began to fail him. XJ-V could feel it from here – the energy was fading from the boy. His life force was going…in fact, it was almost gone.

Then, when the Aoyin had thrown him clean across the room to the corpse-pile, ready to add him to its apex like a grisly cake-decoration, the Cog saw the spark of life ignite in the youth's eyes.

He stood high atop the corpses, trying to keep his eyes off them – his people, his villagers. He stood high as the only one left, staring down the demons that had annihilated his home. And, without fear, he then looked down at the cracks that by this point had entirely carved their way through the ice-arena.

"Come…" he told the beasts. "Come…finish me!"

They responded with salivating mouths, each one detaching its pincers to leap and subdue the boy.

And that's when he sent a single Dragon Tooth strike at the ground beneath them.

The bolt of fire impacted the center of the room, and instantly the ice crumbled away. The Aoyin let out a collective screech as they each fell within the death-cold waters, each one flailing its lithe limbs as it sunk beneath the floes, and slowly the lives of the Flesh-Eater horde of Marsul ended in a series of blue bubbles floating up to the surface of the water and then rippling out in silence.

Feng-Lung swayed, finally succumbing to his fatigue. He allowed his body to collapse then, falling down the corpse pile and almost sliding into the ice water prison of the hellspawn itself. If Ori'un had not cracked his wrists, waved his hands over the ice pool and formed another sheen of perfect ice on top of it, Feng might indeed have allowed himself to perish, then and there.

"Ori…un…" he wheezed.

The Planewalker gripped the boy's inert body, lowering him gently to the cold floor with the care of a father.

"Did…did…I...?"

"Slay your enemies?" The Planeswalker finished. "Dispatch a horde of Aoyin that would have caused even my younger self some trouble? Oh, yes, young Feng. You did that. Strength and ingenuity – you have demonstrated them both in spades."

He expected the boy to smile, but instead he saw nothing but heartache in the young Disciple's face.

"The…the village…"

"There was nothing that could be done, Feng," Ori'un said sadly, but firmly. "Your spirit is admirable, boy, but your eyes must face reality. It is the last lesson you must learn. Now, come, let us return to –"

"FENG-LUNG!"

The shrillness of the scream that interrupted Ori'un was felt even by XJ-V within the dream-vision. To him, the fear that it sent through his systems was the result of merely hearing such an unnatural wail and feeling instinctively that had been born of human lungs. For it was a woman's scream. A woman's desperate scream for help.

Her son's help.

"Mom…" Feng-Lung whispered, looking up at Ori'un's disbelieving eyes.

"MOM!"

The boy threw the Planeswalker off him and followed the voice, totally possessed by strength that had all but left his body. Still he sprinted, following the voice down a side passage that sent him further into the depths of the abyss.

And Ori'un, having no other option, ran after him.

###

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[IronLung]

Feng barreled down the increasingly dim cavern beneath Marsul as the light twirling between his fingers started to die.

His focus was entirely on following the voice that reverberated off of every wall and stalactite.

"Feng-Lung!" the voice of his mother called. "Feng!"

"I'm – I'm coming!" he cried out in response, tripping in the ice and recovering almost instantly even as every bone and muscle in his body ached and heaved with constant exertion. "I'm coming!"

Behind him, Ori'un shouted a similar mantra – begging Feng to return. His job was done.

But the boy did not listen – something that was, unfortunately, becoming somewhat of a theme.

The echoing voice of the banshee squealing rose to a fever pitch, and one could be forgiven for believing that the walls themselves sung with the spirit of Feng-Lung's mother as they thundered down the cave. No creatures blocked their path now – now, there was nothing but conviction guiding Feng inexorably towards the last destination of his test.

And this destination opened itself up beneath him as he stumbled into another cavern cut into the dark.

"Feng!"

The shout was Ori'un's this time – he yelped as he saw young Feng fall into a gaping hole carved into the earth at the end of the tunnel, hearing the boy crash and bones break when he made impact with the ground below. The Planeswalker did not stop to catch his breath or inspect the surrounding area – instead, he leaped down the gaping maw and finally caught up to the crawling form of Feng-Lung below, where the darkness of the tainted well seemed all-consuming.

Indeed, Ori'un looked around and saw that the ground was covered in wisps of shadow that licked at the legs of both he and young Feng, who had risen and was looking at something at the very end of the room. Something sequestered before an altar made of blood, broken bones, and the sinew of the corpses that had been brought to this place.

Something big.

As Feng's lights sputtered and began to die, Ori'un decided to launch a globe of his own flame into the top of the chamber to give them a proper view of their surroundings.

And when the globe of light glanced upon the grisly altar, that's when they both saw it.

From behind, it wore the hunchbacked, death-pale body of an Aoyin like any other – the only difference being its bloated stomach swelling with others of its kind – new demons it would spawn into this world in the wake of its feast. The beast rose to its full height, long strands of matted hair framing its face as its slitted mouth broke into a snarling smile full of row upon row of jagged knife-fangs.

A Broodmother, Ori'un told XJ-V as the latter recoiled even as he knew the beast could not hurt him. It was something I should have foreseen. The size of the pack hinted that this was no splinter group, but a legion with a leader at its head. By the looks of her swelling, polyp-filled stomach oozing with puss and mucus from open sores, it looked like she was about ready to burst and fill this cave with enough of her kind to replenish what she had lost. That was why the horde had come here. It was no mere feast. It was a birthing ceremony.

Ori'un moved back, urging Feng to do the same. But the boy was transfixed.

Not because fear took his heart. Instead, XJ-V saw, it was love that paralyzed the young Disciple.

"Feng," the creature looming over him said. "Oh…dearest Feng…you've come home…"

XJ-V looked with the eyes of Ori'un to see the face of the creature that beamed above its all-consuming maw of fangs – the eyes were gentle, a soft shade of baby-blue, and the small wrinkles that lined the face spoke of a kindness that only a true mother could know. The little twitching nose almost provoked good-natured laughter, and so full was the red-lipped smile that the face shone at Feng that the boy was overcome. Perhaps through exhaustion, perhaps through longing, perhaps through simply the spark of happiness in his heart that told him this was his mother standing over him right now, the boy dropped to his knees and wept.

"Mom…" he said. "Mom, I…I knew you'd be here."

"Feng!" Ori'un tried whispering at the back of the room, knowing that he was as close as he could be to overstepping his bounds as Administrator. Knowing that he was another word or action away from the boy failing and returning to Ramor-Tai with a handicap that might cost him another five or six years.

The Broodmother gave a jovial, sweet natured laugh through the kindly face of Feng-Lung's mother that it wore as a mask, and stretched out one long talon to stroke the boy's scarred cheek.

"My…Feng," it said. "Of…course…you…did…come…now…come…and…play…with…the…kittens."

The creature edged the boy closer to its body, and he obeyed. There was no hesitation.

And XJ-V could feel the beating heart of Ori'un ringing in his ears.

Do you know why Aoyin are commonly chosen as a Disciple's test of prowess? Ori'un's present -self asked. It is because a Corporeal Temperer must learn to see reality for what it is. They must learn to look past their desires and face the harsh world on its own terms. Only in doing so can they progress to Rank 4 and beyond. They say it is the first great trial a Cultivator must face. The true test of one's mental resilience.

XJ-V understood what he was saying. Looking at the desperation in Feng's sad eyes to believe what his heart wanted…it told him all he needed to know.

The boy was going to fail the test. Or, he was going to die.

Which would you rather choose? Ori'un asked. Shame or death? I know what Longhua wanted. I know what my fellow Brothers would have chosen. I know that to survive in this world, the spirit must be hardened. The heart cannot overcome the mind. I knew, in that moment, what my duty was. My Grey Potential had shown me walking the wastes with a different Brother beside me.

XJ-V watched as the pale arms of the predator wrapped themselves around Feng-Lung's slashed body.

The boy squeezed it right back, nestling his head into the softness of his 'mother's' stomach.

"Mom," he said dreamily. "I'm sorry I took…so long."

"You…are…here…now…Feng," she replied, lifting a claw to stroke his bald head. "That's…all…that…matters…"

Ori'un and XJ-V watched the jaws of the beast elongate and grow, snapping as it expanded like a cobra ready to consume its constricted prey.

"I'm tired, mom," Feng whispered in the dark.

"Yes…Feng," the mother replied. "You…deserve…a…rest."

The boy's tired lids began to close. He nodded goodnight to Ori'un's shaking form in the corner of the cave.

"Sleep…soundly…my…son."

All at once the claws dug in. The creature arced its back. The readied jaw of death came flying down, throwing spittle and bile into the face of the boy in its arms. XJ-V saw it happen with such terrifying speed that he dared not even blink.

For, if he had, he would have missed the moment when that same head exploded in a hail of blood and rotted bone, and rained down teeth and brain-matter on the face of the shuddering Feng-Lung.

The creature gave a series of bone-popping twitches before its headless body fell to the side. It's life, and the lives it carried within it, were finally extinguished.

In the silence that followed, XJ-V saw flashes pierce his eyes as the vision came to its abrupt end. He saw Ori'un lower his smoking fist, approach the shaking body of Feng-Lung, and try to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

But the boy bashed it away. He slumped to the ground, overcome finally by grief, and cradled the smashed head of the Broodmother in his bloody hands.

"Murderer…" he whispered. Then, with a chilling scream that tore through the reality of the cave, he said it again:

"MURDERER!"

He spun, readying a Dervish aimed right at Ori'un's torso, before the Planeswalker kneed him in the gut and winded him.

The boy fell to the ground in a pile of blood and tears, coughing up his broken teeth before finally succumbing to unconsciousness.

"Enough," Ori'un said as the dream-vision began to die. "…enough."

And when XJ-V blinked again, he was back on the roof of the Ramor-Tai library, rain pelting off his shoulders, staring into the older eyes of that same Planeswalker who looked at him with unreserved melancholy.

"She was already dead," XJ-V said. "It was clear."

"To you, maybe," Ori'un replied. "But not so with us humans, XJ-V. We see things we want to see. We strive. We desire. We hope. It's what defines us. And, sometimes, it's what ruins us."

"And Feng-Lung still bears a grudge against you for this," the Cog replied.

"For that," the Planeswalker agreed. "And for my general intervention in his test. He failed, and he has been stuck in his Rank 3 Temperer status since, but I was reprimanded by Longhua more than he was when I made my report. It was because of me that he failed. He failed because my duty was to observe and report - nothing more. That's when I realized what Longhua believed, and that's when I realized I couldn't stay here. Not anymore. Because if my duty as a Cultivator compelled me to watch a child die, I'd rather pave a path of my own."

He looked at XJ-V again and smiled – that warm, yet oddly sad smile that formed just another one of the man's many contradictions.

"Given the choice between immortality and humanity, I know what I'd rather choose. I'm a simple man at heart, and if my travels have taught me anything, it's that this world would be a better place if there were more simple folk in it. Not heroes. Not young Masters brimming with arrogance, looking to challenge the heavens. Just people. People doing the only thing they have to do: live."

Ori'un leaned close to the Cog so that his voice was almost a whisper, and he left the roof of the great library that night with a final question to the machine – just another one of many the newest Cultivator of Ramor-Tai needed to answer:

"I made the choice to deny that which I saw in the Dao," he said. "Fate is not static. Destiny is not written on tablets of stone. We – and this world – we are our choices. Now, my machine Brother, what will you choose?"

###

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[IronLung]

Note: It's my birthday tomorrow so I'll be taking the day off, fellow Cultivators. No new chapters tomorrow. We'll be right back with XJ-V on Friday for a chapter that you won't want to miss...


The visions that swam in the Dao before XJ-V's eyes were now more confusing than they ever had been.

Yet, there was a clarity that existed alongside them – a clarity that came from Ori'un's statement that what we saw within the watery gyrations of the future were not reflections of what must be, but what could be.

Grey potentials…

XJ-V saw them all in a fleeting moment of lucidity. The white clouds of the Dao opened and hurled him down into the depths of the earth, where the molten crust of the battered planet melted away his limbs and purified his body, allowing his mind to break free and look with only eyes upon the figures that shifted around in the core of the earth:

One: Feng-Lung battling demons that wore the faces of his friends.

Two: Ori'un trapped between the ghosts of his duty and his will as a human who would never achieve Soul Actualization.

Three: Master Longhua watching as the world outside Ramor-Tai was engulfed by an inferno.

Three: The burning buildings and crumbling bamboo forest of Hensha, with the Divine Order's Xu'jan spilling into its fields, killing, pillaging, ravaging the town until there was nothing left but foundations, and then salting the earth so nothing would grow.

And all of these visions – his Brother, the Planeswalker, his Master and his home – they all converged on a single sight that blinded his eyes in the center of the Dao.

Him.

He was wearing a tattered cloak that bore the symbols of every Sect – the Dragon, the Tiger, the Reed, the Snake, and the moon. They clung to his body as he moved through the Wastes, his hands fighting off foes from all angles, turning them to ash with every blow he made against them. He made a relentless assault against the evil light that shone upon him, the eyes of an Eagle watching as he spun to repel his attackers.

"No matter where you go, machine, we are all connected."

That was what the High Eagle had told him on that night – the night he lost everything.

What did it mean? XJ-V needed an answer. He saw that the answer to this question - like his Grey Potential fighting against the light - lay at the heart of everything. It was the source of Longhua's decision to train a machine, it was the core of Feng-Lung's despair, it was the Planeswalker's faith in him and it was his own fear that still gripped his heart. Now, however, he had to make a choice – and that choice was to push through.

Move, he said. Closer…show me…show me what truth lies in those words…

He felt Arha paw at his corporeal form. He heard his Master's strong voice call him back. But this time he resisted. Not because the Dao wished to consume him, but because his desire was simply too strong.

He reached out, passed the fading faces of his friends, and grabbed at the heart of his Dao-self. His true self.

And the answer at once became all too clear to him.

He woke up and collapsed before Longhua's knees, his systems blinking back to reality and informing him that he was currently kissing the hard stone ground of the Dragonpyre Hearth. His meditation session with Master Longhua had just come to an abrupt end.

"Good," his Master whispered. "You have learned to walk the Dao admirably."

"The old man told Arha to shut up!" Arha hissed, issuing a ghostly spit in Longhua's direction which, of course, simply faded through the old man's disinterested face. "The nerve!"

"I knew he would find his way back alone," Longhua simply stated in response, looking at XJ-V with a smile. "He is, after all, my pupil."

Before the Cog could even gasp for air, his systems blazed with spiritual life as he felt a steady stream of Qi flow into him, awakening the latent energies still swirling within the soul at his heart:

Anima Cores: 140

"You are ready for the next Rank," Longhua said. "And you well know what this means, do you not?"

XJ-V knew, at this point, not to try and pull the wool over Longhua's eyes.

"I do, Master. But I wonder how it is that you know I know."

"Hmpf," he scoffed. "Knowing the mind of my students is my business. You think I do not hear the whispers of Mah-Jung and Feng-Lung as they tell you things you are not ready to hear? You think I do not know that, only yesterday, you joined with the Planeswalker in a dual Dao-Walk which, incidentally, could have caused death to a student of your Rank?"

The Cog merely blinked in response.

"And you do not think," old Longhua said with a course, slow stroke of his thin chin beard. "That I do not know that you and young Feng peeped upon my conversation with Ori'un, using this little trickster as your go-between. Do you?"

Arha, all confidence draining from her face, backed off.

"Busted…" she murmured. "If it means anything, Arha did say it was a bad idea."

XJ-V bowed his head, mainly because of shame, but also because of what he had just seen…just heard…within the Dao.

Then a forceful flaming finger flick found his forehead.

He fell back and tried to understand how such power was collected in nothing more than the gnarled finger of his Master.

"That is your punishment," he said. "Now, we shall set the matter aside."

"You are not angry with me, Master?" The Cog asked as he slowly rose and rubbed his smoking skull.

"What you did you did out of curiosity that becomes a young mind," Longhua replied. "What you did compelled you to seek out Feng and understand your Brother better. And it allowed you to understand your Master in turn."

The old man leaned down to take a sip of Jingseng tea from a bow beside him, screwing up his face in disgust at its taste.

"You do not see the rationale behind my reluctance to aid the Planeswalker," he then said. "You do not see this because you have not been allowed to. For a machine, defense is a matter of offense. Force answers force. But to break this vicious cycle, one must do more than simply claw at the evils one sees in the world."

"Master," XJ-V began tentatively, embedding one fist in the ground even as Arha urged him to move on. "The Planeswalker speaks the truth. The Order is coming."

"They shall be broken before they ever make it to our steps. This Jin'ra – this 'High Eagle' – is not foolhardy enough to grapple with the Sects of the Cultivators. None are."

"None except the Gods themselves," XJ-V said.

Both Master and Disciple looked at each other then, knowing that they had come to a critical juncture before either of them was ready for it.

"They are servants of Yuwa, Master," XJ-V said.

"Yuwa is dead."

"Buried," XJ-V corrected. "Which means he is somewhere in the bowels of this earth, though dormant. Perhaps he whispers to the Order. They have power that is drawn from him. I know, for I have felt its mark upon my steel skin."

Longhua rose slowly, silently, looking down on his Disciple with an expression the Cog could not pinpoint. It is as humans say - some things never change.

"You have done more than feel it, XJ-V."

The Cog stared up at his Master blankly, his building rage once again dispelled by the sheer strength of the Eternal Dragon leader's conviction.

"You think I agreed to train you because of your desire for knowledge alone?" he asked. "No, my Disciple. It is because you have power within you – power tempered by a mind that still understands the necessity of peace. And, after all this time, you know how your power must be used."

The Cog looked up at his Master with a very different set of eyes now. Once more, he was in the position of nothing but a student with a teacher who had, yet again, surpassed his expectations.

"When the time comes," Longhua finished. "You shall be given a test. An appropriate Administrator shall be found to fill the role of observer – but you already know that. Success will mean you pass to Rank 5 Corporeal Temperer. For the tournament that comes soon, that shall be enough."

"Enough..?" XJ-V had to ask.

"Enough for you to do what you must," Longhua replied with a soft sigh. "Now, rest. Think upon the things I have said to you."

XJ-V stood to go, finally following Arha as she nipped and struck at his every limb.

"Arha hates riddles!" the little fox sprite yelped. "Now, Arha thinks her Cog is behind on his head-scratching quota and –"

"Master," XJ-V said before he left. "Did you see what it was that I saw in the Dao?"

Longhua's face, as usual, was unreadable.

"Did…" the Cog hesitated. "Did you know the whole time?"

The Master of the Eternal Dragon licked his wrinkled lips and bent down to inspect his cup of now very lukewarm tea.

"What you saw in the Dao is meant for you alone," he replied. "Just as I am meant to sup nothing but grog from every pot of tea in Ramor-Tai."

###

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[IronLung]

The next few days went by with XJ-V looking more troubled than he usually did. His Kata spars were sluggish, and Fai-Deng repeatedly showed him no mercy in the Hall of Symmachus for every time he misstepped or sent an attack flying that went wide. Mah-Jung and some of the other Disciples of the Eternal Dragon had also noticed his world-weary attitude, but saw no reason to bother the metal man with their questions.

For rumors were abound in the walls of Ramor-Tai. Rumors that spoke of a secret meeting between the Cog and Ori'un, in which the Planeswalker had revealed unknown secrets to the machine-man.

"It's not fair!" Disciple Carres in the Dragon commune canteen was saying as they chewed on their Congee porridge during one particularly long winter morning. "He's still only a Rank 4 Temperer!"

"I've heard he's got a secret trick up his sleeve," another – Disciple Kor'tarosh - breathed, often lowering their voices to hushes whispers when they made such dubious claims. "He's got a secret weapon hidden in his chest. That is why old Longhua wished to train him!"

"But he didn't wish to train him, idiot! He made him wait for eight long months out there."

"As a test – as a test of faith!" interjected Disciple Tarmen'am. "What, you think a Master of the Sects would simply keep rejecting a promising recruit out of spite or prejudice? Come, Brother, you know the Masters – we are fortunate enough to stand in the presence of two of them within this monastery. You know they are beyond human comprehension!"

"They are more human than most," a bassy voice suddenly interjected. "Believe me."

The three Disciples swallowed their porridge and looked up with awe at the swaying form of Ori'un standing before them, face flushed with crimson but still focused, his Waning Moon tattoo glinting staring down at them.

"Planeswalker Ori'un!" Disciple Kor'tarosh managed to say. "Please, please forgive us. We only meant-"

"Peace, boys," the Planeswalker laughed. "The last thing I'm here to do is discipline you for doing what young men like you will always do."

"All the same, it does not become a Cultivator of the Dragon to gossip like a washerwoman!"

"I've met plenty of washer-men in the wastes who are just as irritating," Ori'un said with a wink.

He pulled up a pew beside the boys and poured himself a shot of something dark and viscous that he produced from his coat pocket.

"With only ten days to go before the Gauntlet of Aun'El," he said as he took a liberal sip from his cup. "I would think you boys would be more focused on honing your skills."

The three Disciples shared awkward glances with eachother.

"We…" Carres began. "That is…we do not believe we stand a chance against men such as Mah-Jung or Fai-Deng or…or XJ-V."

"Har!" Ori'un practically spat – as he usually did whenever he laughed. "I smell the whiff of Rank 6 upon each of you boys! Surely you do not fear the skills of a Cultivator below your skill level?"

"He has a secret skill, Planeswalker!" the excitable Tarmen'am burst. "Have you seen it? With it, he subdued Brother Fai-Deng's Qi as though the Tiger was nothing but a mere bag of flesh! He sapped the energy from his very spirit! You should have seen it, grand Ori'un. It was a sight to behold. Yes, it was indeed a-"

The Disciple suddenly stopped speaking, noting his companions stern faces and shaking heads that told him he'd said too much.

But the Planeswalker – he wore a very different expression upon his face. His eyes seemed to darken, and his bulky hand flew to his right arm, rubbing a spot there as though he felt a sudden tinge of pain.

"…I have not only seen it," he said in all but a whisper. "I have felt it."

The three Disciples grew alarmed. Perhaps they had said something that offended the heroic Planeswalker.

"Ori'un?"

"HAR!" the giant laughed again, throwing back the last of his black swill and licking his grizzled lips. "We all have our secret weapons, boys. Mine is my stomach – for, and I tell you this is the Dao-honest fact – it can handle the most powerful liquors in all the Wastes. And I must say," he added with a surrepticious wink. "The Baijiu of Ramor-Tai leaves my spirit…wanting."

The boys exchanged knowing glances with each other, slowly realizing the intent in the grand warrior's words, and swelling with pride that he had just made them his confidantes.

"So tell me," Ori'un said. "Where does a man have to go to get a good strong drink around these parts?"

...

XJ-V limped out of another training session with his Tiger-Brother with a few new scratches to his name. He'd have to get his repair protocol working overtime if he wanted to sleep softly tonight.

For once, Arha was not here to bother him. She'd decided to spend the day with her Sisters in Ai-Lee's Grove, no doubt regaling them with tales of her metal man and how his brave deeds owed everything to her sublime wisdom.

He smiled at the thought. That little bundle of fur and attitude brought him more delight than he would ever let her know.

When he got to his bunk in the Eternal Dragon Commune, he scanned the corridors outside his room for signs of encroaching life.

For he had been working on a project recently.

It was a project that was of utmost importance and a project that, unbeknownst to Feng-Lung and the other Disciples, was the source of his general appearance of malaise.

But all the suffering it caused him – all the toils and troublesome pains – it was all worth it. For it was a project that would do something no other Cultivator within Ramor-Tai's walls would ever be able to do: banish the demons from a Cultivator's mind.

Since his vision of Feng-Lung's past, seen through the eyes of Ori'un, he had deliberately avoided the boy. They had trained together – going through the motions of new techniques – but they had not sat and talked as they usually would during this time. Winter brought coldness for Feng-Lung that XJ-V now understood. But in that understanding, there was also a solution, and he had found it. He knew how to bring light back to his friend even as darkness seemed to surround him.

He worked diligently, too, because he knew that very soon a destiny awaited him that he could not ignore. But all the same, taking his mind off the shackles of his Grey Potential once in a while was necessary. Working on something like this was exactly what he needed right now.

And so he worked in secret, long into the night after his training sessions. Those Disciples on guard duty who walked near his doorway during the early hours of morning would often hear unnatural sounds emanating from his chamber – sounds of vicious razors whirring, saws cutting, and metal scraping. They were sounds that chilled even experienced Cultivators of the Eternal Dragon Commune to their bones.

But such men did nothing more than pass the Cog by without a second thought. By this point, they had learned that they could never truly understand him. Only Feng-Lung and Fai-Deng seemed to see something in the machine that they could relate to. For the others, there was a sense of respect mixed with fear – fear of the unknown. The oldest fear known to mankind.

…

Feng-Lung sat in Ai-Lee's Grove on a particularly cloudy winter's day, sequestering himself in the artificial warmth of the pond and the willows, swaying in the winds of the past.

The fleeting peace he felt, however, was about to be interrupted

The Huli that stalked XJ-V everywhere was lazily floating on her back in the ancient Qi pool of the Dragon Prophet when he came here to meditate. He had bowed to her respectfully, and she had merely pouted at him. Blushing, he had sat down to begin his meditations for the day, but couldn't help but feel the eyes of the Huli on him whenever he closed his own.

After about an hour of failed attempts to Walk the Dao, he'd finally had enough.

"What is it that troubles you, Huli?" he asked the lazing spirit.

The creature didn't even acknowledge him at first. She was like a schoolgirl toying with an object of her affection.

"Arha has no human cares, little boy. We spirits are the only truly free creatures in this ugly world."

Feng-Lung looked away, trying to resume his meditations.

"…I'm not that young," he murmured.

"Arha thinks you act like it! You don't even want to go and make up with your friend!"

Feng's eyes opened now.

"What?"

"You heard Arha!" the little Huli screeched, her abrupt splashing causing ripples to gyrate on the water's surface. "You are angry with him for no reason other than your own bad thoughts making you feel angry. You act like a little girl, wanting him to just understand you and how you feel. But he is not a reader of minds!"

"What in the name of the Dao are you talking about, spirit?" Feng-Lung shouted, rising and clenching his fists inadvertently.

"Arha thinks you are not the real Feng-Lung," the Huli said, sticking out her tongue mockingly. "The Feng Lung XJ-V knows would not be sulking around moping because a man he does not like is here."

"I! You!" Feng began teeth gritting in consternation. "You are speaking about things you do not understand. I will not hear this from you."

"Little boy Feng-Lung, little boy Feng," Arha jeered. "Running away from his problems just like a little boy will!"

"Enough!" Feng roared, finally relenting, and turning away from the grove. "I will not hear any more from you. If your wish only is to insult me, then I will find another place to meditate."

When he made to storm away through the willows, however, the little fox stopped before him, shaking off her soaking skin and drenching his feet in water in the process.

"You must stop running!" the creature yelled up at him. "You mortal boys may not know how to talk to each other. So Arha will! Arha knows how XJ-V hurts because his friend Feng-Lung hurts. He knows why you hurt, and he works so, so hard – too hard – to try to fix a cure for you. He is wearing himself out, and it is all your fa-"

The Huli stopped abruptly as she saw the look that overcame Feng-Lung's face and realized, far too late, that she had let slip too much.

"Er," she stammered. "Ignore Arha. Arha is just silly spirit. Arha just says whatever pops into her head, Arha – wait!"

Feng had begun running off down the path back to the exit portal with a tenacity he had not exhibited in some time. And he was about to give his friend the scolding of a lifetime.

If you've been neglecting your training because of me, XJ-V…I swear I'll give you a thrashing in this tournament just to remind you of what's really important! There's just too much at stake for you to be moping around because of me. When will you understand that I'm nothing? I'm a failure. And you…you are…

He barreled through the portal and sprinted for the commune.

###

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[IronLung]

Feng-Lung burst through the doors of Dragonpyre Hearth and immediately began his search for his Cog Brother.

XJ-V, he thought. If you have neglected your proper training because I am in a bad place…I will not forgive you!

His first stop was his friend's room, which he found strangely vacant. There were few indications of life besides the tiny pieces of scrap metal which littered the floor.

"By the Dao!" Feng shrieked. "Do Cogs molt their shells like snakes do their skin?"

Upon closer inspection, however, he began to notice strange inconsistencies in the quality and shape of the metal shards – it looked as if they had been…bent.

Yes – they had been tempered by one who was no skilled blacksmith or forgeman of the Badlands. The shoddy work of construction that had been going on here would have put Noble Qing's finest Artisans to shame if they still had eyes to see.

A sudden idea then struck Feng's mind:

The Cog is…building something?

He let the metal shavings drop as he heard the sounds of walking outside and, turning abruptly, he saw Brother Mah-Jung staring at him with the sly smile of a fox catching a chicken in its coup.

"Well," the skilled Cultivator said. "We all know you have a penchant for disrespecting privacy, good Feng. But to invade the dwelling of your closest Brother like this…"

Feng rose, shaking off his hot flush of embarrassment.

"I must find him," he said. "I have words only he must hear."

Mah-Jung raised a curious, and salacious eyebrow.

"Not words like you are thinking!"

"You do not know what I think, good Brother."

"True," Feng replied. "Your mind is probably harboring images far filthier than I can conceive."

Mah-Jung sighed – his whole demeanor a pantomime of melancholy. "I see you are still stuck in one of your 'winter woes'. Ah, well, I shall leave you to your thoughts then."

"I…wait!" Feng replied hastily. "I apologize, Brother Mah-Jung. I am just in a hurry. I would say what I have to say to my Brother of steel before I forget how to say it."

Mah-Jung nodded sagely, instantly back to his usual self. "Then your quest is just as important as I thought it was. Listen well then, Feng-Lung of the Dragon – what you seek lies on a plane of knowledge, a place where wondering spirits go to feast their eyes on a prize that combat cannot bring them. A prize that will serve the mind, not the body."

Feng double blinked, registering the mischievous chuckle in his friend's voice.

What…

He shook his head and considered the riddle, scoffing as he came to the answer within seconds.

"The answer to your question is deceptively simple," he said. "You are telling me that XJ-V has gone to visit the Library of Gira?"

Mah-Jung, far from giving any kind of affirmation, seemed to be slightly put out. He mumbled under his breath into the long velvet sleeve of his Corporeal Adept's cloak.

"…I thought it was quite a good riddle, myself. I slaved over the words. By the Dao, I did…even the Cog himself thought you wouldn't get it so easily…"

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing good Feng, nothing at all!" Mah-Jung said absent-mindedly, trying to conceal the good-natured smirk that was overcoming his face, and failing miserably.

"What are you hiding from me, Mah-Jung?"

The most potent Cultivator of all the novice Dragons simply shrugged in response, turning his back to Feng-Lung's narrowed eyes.

"Don't you have somewhere to be, little Brother?"

…

As Feng-Lung approached the great library tucked away in the farthest corner of Ramor-Tai, he heard the sounds of commotion echo from its ancient innards.

"Help!" the Gui'po guardian of the library shouted. "Thieves! Thieves and scoundrels!"

Feng spied the two Disciples the angered spirit was talking about – two boys sprinting from the library each carrying a tome bound by cobwebs and forgotten by time. They ran with their heads swaying about like idiot children, their eyes closed shut.

Feng sighed. It seemed he would be roleplaying a warrior of justice today.

He lifted his leg in a Spinning Wyrm strike that he had been practicing in preparation for the tournament. His hop was perfectly timed, his left foot impeccably balanced on the ground while the other spun him around, making Feng into a deadly spinning top. Then an arc of flame sprouted from his toes and traveled along the ground towards, seeking the ankles of the two runners.

And Feng knew it had found their sprinting heels without even having to look up at his foes. He heard the crash of their backs against the ground, and the sounds of pain in their coughs and sputters. They hadn't seen him coming.

Literally – now that he looked closer, Feng saw that the Disciple's eyes were entirely blinded – a result of the Gira's potent magical talents. He recalled a story about how thieves who stole from a place a Gui'po's made their home were often bestowed with ironic curses that befit the spirit's particular profession. Looking at both boys clawing at their glued-shut eyelids, he saw that this was wuite true of Ramor-Tai's own library caretaker.

He also saw the distinct symmetrical stripe tattoos that adorned the faces of both young men, marking them as Disciples of Yoma-Dur.

"Th-this was a bad idea!" one shouted as he rubbed his foot.

"This is the last favor I owe that treacherous Fai-Deng! I swear by the Tiger that I'll get him back for this."

Feng stood perplexed.

Favor?

"Aha!" the Gui'po shouted as she caught up to the two thieves. "I – ur – yes – ahem. 'Why, what a courageous young warrior you are, good Feng-Lung. What-ever would I do without your potent intervention against these two rapskallions!"

"F-Feng!" one boy shouted up at the woman. "Is he there? Did – did that mean that we – OW!"

At a brutal jabbing from his friend, the boy fell down and immediately started groveling with his friend.

Groveling that was, just like the Guipo's words, such an obvious performance that Feng-Lung didn't know whether to laugh or scream at them to tell him what, by the Dao, was going on in Ramor-Tai today.

"Oh – oh, please, good Feng-Lung of the Dragon. Take pity upon our souls. We were misguided and foolish. And your great wisdom and skill has shown us the error of our ways."

"Er – yes. The – the error of our…our ways…yes."

Feng-Lung sighed in exasperation.

"I suppose you've both learned your lesson, then. Though I doubt you need me to tell you that."

"Er-yes!" both boys cried in unison, their blank faces turning to the Gui'po.

"Fine, fine," she replied, sucking both books into her ghostly form and adjusting her only good eye. "On your way, boys."

The sight of the Tigers were restored, and they ran off with their tails between their legs, leaving Feng-Lung to watch the back of Gira float away to her library again.

"Wait! Miss…um…Miss Gira."

The ghost looked back at him with barely concealed consternation.

"Just 'Gira' young Feng. Gira will do, thank you very much."

"Gira then," Feng bowed. "Forgive me. I am still not used to the company of spirits."

"Nor of women, evidently," the Gira scoffed. "But – ah – forgive me. I'm going off script."

Feng-Lung cocked his head at her.

"Script?"

"Forget it, lad," she sighed. "You came here looking for knowledge, did you not?"

Feng nodded his head slowly, about to explain himself were it not for the droning voice of the ghost as it began obviously citing more rehearsed lines:

"'Then you have come to the right place, lone wanderer, seeker of secrets. I, Mistress Gira, sacred Keeper of the Tomes of Ramor-Tai, shall be your guide through the wispy mists of…' oh by the Dao. He really hasn't learned a thing of poetry, has he?"

That last sentence, Feng suspected, was probably ad-libbed.

"Just tell me what is going on around here," Feng asked, becoming more perplexed with each passing minute.

"Is this truly the question you came here to answer, young seeker?" Gira asked him in return. "Wasn't there something - or someone – that you are seeking?"

The words of the spirit brought this odd morning's strange realities crashing down on him.

"XJ-V…"

The Gui'po smirked, showing a single snaggle-tooth wiggle in her spectral mouth.

"He has been seeking much knowledge of his own recently," she replied. "He is truly something special, eh? Nothing like these other brash young upstarts who come to me oh so often now, looking for books and scrolls that might give them an edge in the silly little tournament to come. Hah! I have seen them come and go in my time. They forget that I have been here longer than all of you. I've seen more of my fair share of your 'tournaments'. They are nothing but the displays of jumping monkeys! Hyped-up braggarts flailing at each other till a punch lands, too scared to fight a real fight out there in the frontiers of Qing's old Empire. I tell you, boy, none of them could hold a candle to the old Emperor's old duel and tourneys. Not that I was there to see them, mind you, but even an old spirit like me hears whispers. I could tell you of –"

Ahem, Feng coughed. "I believe you were telling me about my Cog Brother?"

The spirit resumed her haughty stance – just like every other spirit Feng had ever met. Just how did XJ-V get on their good sides?

"Never interrupt a woman when she's speaking," Gira warned. "Especially not one with thousands of years on her back! But, meh, you are correct I suppose. Yes, the Cog was here. He was looking for books on metalworking last I saw him."

"Metalworking?"

"For something secret," the Gui'po guardian shrugged. "I don't make it my business to pry."

Then the Cog is…making something? Feng-Lung realized. But…what? And for what purpose?

"The last I saw him," Gira continued. "He was heading to train with that angry Tiger Brother. Flea-Dung, Floo-Dip, Phlegm-Duck…bah! He is not worth remembering. Though he has certainly become a more mellow sort recently, so I hear…"

Feng-Lung bowed and thanked the spirit for her information. It looked like his quest for his Brother would continue elsewhere – as much as he just wanted this silly game to be over.

Mah-Jung…Gira…don't tell me even Fai-Deng is in on this, too…

"Don't just stand there, my boy!" the Gui'po said as he turned to finally return to her refuge. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

Despite all the consternation and frustrations that had followed him this morning, Feng-Lung couldn't help but shake his head with an exasperated smile.

"You know, you are the second person to tell me that today," he said.

"Really?" the spirit replied, feigning surprise so absolutely that Feng had to remind himself not to laugh in the face of a spirit.

"Well," she said. "I'd get used to it."

###

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[IronLung]

"What, you think I'm his keeper or something?"

Feng-Lung's exasperation was going to simply continue today, it seemed. He had gone to the Hall of Symmachus and been met, as expected, with opposition on all sides.

First, he'd had to shrug off the odd looks the other Disciples of the Tiger had given him. Then, he'd had to out up with the attitude of Fai-Deng.

"Look, Brother," the Tiger was saying as he cleaned sweat and spittle from his face – the markers of recent Kata practice. "I have forgiven you for your rejection of my apology to you. But that does not mean I need to put up with all your antics."

Feng blinked.

"You have forgiven me for forgiving you?"

"Bah!" Fai roared. "Are all you Eternal Dragons the same?! Must you test the patience of me every single time I interact with one of you?"

Feng could sense the tension building in the Hall. But, then again, that was nothing special when it came to Fai.

"Look, Brother," he began. "I have had a long day. Please just let me know if you have s-"

"YOU!?" the Tiger roared, throwing his towel down like a gauntlet being tossed in challenge. "I have been made a slave. You hear me, Feng-Lung? A machine has made me nothing but a glorified repair man today! I swear by the Dao, if Master Yoma-Dur had not been here and found the Cog's request amusing…"

Hold on a minute here.

"Brother?" Feng interjected. It seemed the Tiger had become lost in thought, and as he collected himself, it then became clear to Feng-Lung that just like the old Gui'po in the library back there, he had just realized he had said too much.

"Feng, I will be honest with you," the Tiger said. "I am supposed to provoke you into a fight and let you win. It is apparently what the old heroes of the 'Woosha' books the Cog has been reading recently would do. We were to jump around this room like the practiced aeronauts of Qing's time and have a duel of 'epic' proportions. Tiger versus Dragon – Brother against Brother. Some symbolic guff such as that. But, truthfully Brother, I am tired today. The spirit of battle and spectacle is not within me. So I shall simply tell you what you are supposed to, as our Brother put it, 'beat out of me.'"

As Feng stared like an old blind fool into the Tiger's heaving face, Fai simply went on.

"He was last seen speaking to the Planeswalker in his chambers. I suggest you move quickly. But, between the two of us, Brother, I don't think speed really matters."

Feng nodded slowly, feeling like a child trapped in some rudimentary maze – a maze designed by an altogether clunky and anticlimactic maze-master. He bowed, took his leave, and walked confusedly back outside to the winter air, taking a deep breath as he now made his way towards Ori'un's quarters.

"I can guess why you're doing this," he said to himself. "Alright. Fine. You know that curiosity is my weakness. You know that finding out your little mystery is the only reason I would ever go and speak to the Planeswalker. Damn you, XJ-V, you are a devious machine like the old tales say after all."

Brother Kai-Thai waved him a jovial greeting as he passed him by and entered the Hall of Symmachus to see his Brother Tiger.

"Hello, fellow cub!" he shouted. "How fares you?"

And from even the bottom of the great Hall's steps, Feng heard the groan of Fai-Deng as he replied.

"Oh, not another one!"

…

Ori'un seemed to have business of his own.

The room Master Longhua had afforded the Planeswalker was possibly the shabbiest cubby-hole in all of the monastery. It's doorway was practically crumbling at its edges, leading into a plain chamber without even a window to the outside world. Locked away at the very edge of the Dragon Commune, Feng-Lung supposed Longhua wanted the Planeswalker to feel imprisoned. He'd never understand the old man's spite for anyone who disagreed with him.

Then again, Master Longhua was on the impossible path of Ego Internalizer. The mind of a Rank 3 Corporeal Temperer like Feng's could not conceive of what burdens such a Master had to endure.

Nor could it understand the mind of the man who was currently packing his rucksack as though heading off on a long trip.

A trip that, by the items he was carrying, was going to involve a lot of drinking…

"Ah, Feng-Lung," he said, packing another glass canister surreptitiously into a pocket of his bag with a little chuckle. "What a…surprise this is."

Feng groaned, his eyes having moved further back into his head today than they ever had before.

"I see you are preparing to leave," was all he said.

"Not for good as yet, you'll be disappointed to know," Ori'un replied. "I have an important mission to complete."

"A mission?"

"Oh, yes. One of pivotal importance. You see, I have discerned the location of the most affluent rice-wine distillery in the region. Apparently, a certain farmer in the town of Khadis has his very own brand. And it's the good stuff."

Feng-Lung scoffed. "You are going on a mission…to find booze."

Ori'un gave a sarcastic scoff of his own. "Please," he said. "I prefer to call them 'spirits'".

Feng ignored the impish wink this legendary man then gave him.

"Whatever you have to say to me," he said. "Get it over with and tell me where this sneaky Cog is hiding. I know it is he that has orchestrated all my pains this day. And I know that you know this, too."

"Young Feng, have you really had such a painful day, here? You've been the hero of your own little adventure, have you not? I'd have thought you'd quite enjoy it after what you've been through."

Both men watched each other in silence. A silence that was only broken when Ori'un decided to push through it.

"I told you back then, did I not?" he said quietly. "I told you that one day you would have to meet the world head-on again, or it would come for you. I don't care if you believe me or not, but my intention in coming here was not to cause you pain. There are things out there bigger than you and I, young Feng."

The boy grimaced, he looked away. But he couldn't disagree.

"I know it," he said.

"Feng, if you had the chance to re-take your test – to move to the next rank – you would take it, wouldn't you?"

Feng-Lung pursed his lips. This was a conversation he had done everything in his heart to avoid.

Curse you, XJ-V!

"…of course I would."

"Great!" Ori'un roared. "That's all I wanted to hear."

The Planeswalker slung his bag over his shoulder and walked right past Feng, leaving the boy standing there like a mute - deaf and dumb to the world.

"Oh!" he said before he left to go on his little excursion. "That's right. I'm supposed to inform you that what you seek is right back where you started. For," he gave a little chuckle. "'All true journeys end with a return.'"

Feng bristled, about to burst into flame like a dying phoenix.

"Ai-Lee's Grove…he's been there the whole time!?"

"He might have learned a few new Earth Grade tricks in the art of stealth," Ori'un winked. "But I am just a humble Planeswalker, DIsicple Feng. I don't know anything about that."

"…I'm sure you don't."

He watched the Planeswalker go with the slowly dropping sanity that had been plaguing him all day long.

"Ori'un," he said, his voice a-quiver. "I…my intention was not to fight with you when you came here. That's why I…well…there are some people that one cannot look at, even when the benefit of years tells them that, in their youth, they were wrong."

He cringed at how awkward he sounded. But the Planeswalker, quite entertained it seemed, merely waved and wished him good luck on the final step of his quest.

"Feng-Lung…" he murmured to himself as he left the monastery. "Perhaps you really have grown, after all."

###

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[IronLung]

Ai-Lee's Grove seemed changed from the last time Feng-Lung had seen it. The willows shuffled their drooping branches to allow him passage back to the start of his quest, where the waters of the Qi lake shimmered, speckled with stars from the illusion of the old skies of Qing's Empire above.

As he emerged at the lake, XJ-V was waiting for him, seated upon a jagged rock jutting out from the sands.

He really looked like the image of an old Master from the tales of Qing's time before the Sundering. His meditative posture was perfectly calibrated. He once again sat as still as stone – just as he had done when he first came to Ramor-Tai. But this time, he seemed more tranquil. He seemed more attuned to his surroundings, watching every circular ripple that danced along Ai-Lee's lake with the eyes of one who knew the Dao, now. Knew it, and respected it.

Feng sighed and joined his Brother, sitting cross-legged beside him as the dim lights of the sea of stars above lighted down upon them both.

"A beautiful night, isn't it, Brother?"

Feng registered the chuckle in his Cog Brother's voice.

"It almost makes my hellish day worth it."

XJ-V knit his steel brows. "Hellish?"

"I won't go into it," the boy replied. "I presume you know enough already."

The Cog smiled then, and it was at that point that Feng saw he was hiding something beneath his robe.

The boy sighed again.

"I do not like surprises," he said.

"I know that is a lie, Feng."

The boy scoffed. "Your advanced sensors tell you that, do they?"

"No," the Cog replied. "My knowledge of my friend tells me that."

Feng laughed in the face of the Cog's earnest answer, matched by the seriousness of his face.

"It is funny," he said. "Before I met you I assumed all Cogs to be just as the tales told us – deceptive, manipulative, under the control of the Old Gods."

"Why then did you first speak to me?"

"Because" Feng-Lung said. "I was curious. It is my greatest weakness, as you well know."

"And your greatest strength, Brother. I think that, without your curious mind, I would have quit my attempts to enter this place."

Feng made to protest, but the pensive face of his Cog Brother stopped him. He was focused on the dancing lights provided by fireflies that had started gliding around on the surface of the lake. Not quite as alluring as the spectral Shuigui, but still quite the sight to behold.

"I suppose I never did give you proper thanks for keeping me company during those long, dark days," XJ-V told his Brother. "I have been so focused on moving through the Dao that I was becoming blinded to the concerns of the world and the people who live in it."

Feng watched his face take on a pained expression. It was odd – it was like it wasn't the Cog talking at all, right now. But something beyond him.

Or something within him.

"I do not think one such as me could ever achieve immortality," he said. "I have learned that I care too much about those that I learn beside. I would not like to leave Brothers like you behind, Feng-Lung."

Feng sat back. "And you think that's your weakness?" he asked. "You really are nothing like the other Disciples who come here, XJ-V. Most of them have already made up their mind that the world out there has no more use to them. It never cared about them. Most of their parents wanted them to come here to escape the life that waited for them out there. That was – well – that was what my mother wanted for me."

XJ-V turned to face his friend, expecting to see anger etched on his face. But instead, there was nothing but an expression of reflection. He, too, was gazing out onto the star-studded lake and following the trailing lights of the fireflies."

"I am assuming Ori'un told you everything," he said. "It would be like him. He never did respect any of the rules of this place."

XJ-V gave his friend space to continue.

"You know why I ran after my mother's voice, that night?' he asked suddenly – something the Cog never thought he would bring up on his own. "I never told anyone. Not Ori'un, not even Longhua. It wasn't because I really thought it was her. I knew the Flesh-Eaters' tricks. I wouldn't have accepted my test for Rank 4 if I didn't."

The Brothers had arrived at a pivotal moment. Both of them allowed some silence to pass as Feng heaved under the weight of the admission he was about to make.

"When I heard her voice…that's when I remembered what she sounded like for the first time in eight years," he said. "Truthfully, I'd forgotten her voice. I'd forgotten her face. I'd started to think my memories of her were nothing but the fancy fabrications of a child's mind – a child with too much imagination. I followed the mimicry of that creature just because I wanted to see her again. Just because I wanted to know that the image I had of her in my mind was the real thing. To me, in that moment in my life, that was worth dying for."

The ripples of the Qi-pool stopped abruptly. A stillness lay upon the Grove, and the light of the fireflies began to depart. The illusion of midnight had cast itself over the artificial realm and bathed the face of the novice Cultivators in its celestial light.

"So, I wouldn't worry about staying shackled to this earth, XJ-V," Feng finally said. "Because right to the end, I'll be right here with you. I can't let go of those memories that are precious to me. I can't look away as people I love are butchered. I guess that makes me kind of a failure, still, doesn't it?"

"Only if you let it," XJ-V said. "I know at least one person that does not believe you failed your test that day. In a way," the Cog added. "You proved that you were human."

"Is that really all so special?" Feng asked his friend, genuinely fishing for an answer.

"It is the only thing I wish to be."

Feng caught the distinct sadness in his friend's tone and turned to see his face. But the Cog was smiling, with an almost boyish charm.

"Do you know why I had you run this wild goose chase today?" XJ-V asked.

"Probably because you wanted to cheer me up," Feng bristled. "As silly a reason as that is. I wished to reprimand you when Arha let it slip you were doing something to catch my attention. I wanted to cuff you, and tell you that you should be focusing on your own training right now, not your morose friend. I did not suspect you would get half of Ramor-Tai involved in your little game."

"And?" XJ-V asked. "Have you not had some fun?"

"Let me see," Feng said chuckled. "I have chased away some book thieves, sparred with a Tiger, confronted my past with the Planeswalker and now have returned to the beginning of my journey. I have walked the path of a hero. Have I had fun?...I suppose."

"Then," XJ-V said. "It is time for you to be rewarded."

Feng laughed again as he watched his Brother unfurl the secret he held, producing a small object composed of shining steel that matched the tone of his own skin, welded together rather haphazardly into a shape that resembled…something…

As Feng-Lung looked closer – his heart gave a sudden lurch. There…yes. There was the two tiny ears, a curled tail, and even some wire-frame whiskers poking out from the thing's nose.

He was looking at a metal replica of a cat.

"It is a cat," XJ-V said.

Feng Lung merely blinked in response.

Of all the oddities he'd seen today, this was most definitely the strangest.

"I recall that you are quite fond of them," the Cog explained, mistaking Feng's look of utter bewilderment as a sign of anger. "I understand that Ramor-Tai does not allow non-human mammals within its walls unless they are spiritual in nature. I remember you telling me of how you longed to chase them back in your home town. I am afraid this cat cannot be chased, but perhaps it will give you a reminder of them. Like you say, Feng, memory is important."

Feng looked from the object to the Cog, seeing the earnestness in his metal face, and seeing the care and attention that had been poured into this gift. That's when the significance of where he had traveled this morning finally hit him.

"I am no expert in metalworking," the Cog explained. "I was forced to use my own supplies which took some time to shave and then repair. I had Gira show me some tomes on felines to get the bearing of their shape, and Brother Fai-Deng provided electrical assistance to graft the pieces together into something which, I hope, resembles the real thing."

Feng hid laughter behind the beaming smile that had begun to smear itself across his face. The cat – it was a nice touch, he admitted – but moreso was he humbled by what this man, composed of metal and lights and logic beyond the ken of any of them, had just demonstrated in the creation of this tiny thing for another.

Feng accepted the steel-cat with a gracious bow, clapping his friend's shoulder with the first genuine smile he'd worn in weeks.

"XJ-V," he said. "I believe you are more human than you think."

###

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[IronLung]

Within the Dao, time is as inconsequential as air.

XJ-V and Feng-Lung spent the remainder of their day in quiet contemplation, Feng reflexively petting his new robot-kitten as they dived in and out of the Dao, both wandering beside the other, trying to grasp at visions that swam before their eyes.

Yet, though their journeys were tranquil, the visions were elusive.

There were forms in the dark that crossed a barrier to tear at the light where they stood. There were shapes that seemed to extinguish the sun high above the wastes, and there was fire spreading on the horizon. Strangely, such sights did not conjure fear in either Disciple. For some reason they seemed strangely…serene.

Like the snuffing out of the last candle before one embarked on a long, deep sleep.

Neither Disciple knew how long they had spent in their dual-Cultivation, but both knew for certain that the hours must have turned to days outside by now. That was simply the effect Ai-Lee's Grove had on the Cultivator. It was why the old Prophet – first among the Eternal Dragons – had constructed the Grove as he had ascended to the Dao in the first place: as a reminder of what peace truly meant, and how it felt.

XJ-V and Feng only woke from such Dao-Walks when they saw a particularly arresting shared image – that of filth spewing forth from the cracks in the earth in a geyser that swallowed the sun. An oozing mass that slowly, with deliberation, assumed the form of a man. A man that began to walk towards both Disciples, leading the shimmering wraiths of darkness behind him.

The eyes of the black shape opened, and then Arha roused both men awake.

"Hey!" she shouted. "Arha is tired. Arha needs pats! Arha is sick of watching you too!"

Anima Cores: 144

Better…but not by much. There was too much power behind those eyes…

XJ-V shook his head, looking down at the little Huli nuzzling into his side.

"How quaint," he said. "After all this time spent with only your sisters, you finally have company in this Grove. And you aren't satisfied?"

"If Arha wanted statues," she pouted. "She could walk outside and stare at the stupid stone tigers and dragons. Actually, why are there no statues of Huli in your human lands? Arha thinks this is very unfair."

As the little fox roused her sleeping sisters in the willow behind them, XJ-V turned to see the concerned face of his Brother beside him.

"Did you feel that?" Feng asked. "That man…when he looked at me."

XJ-V nodded grimly. Those eyes bore a striking resemblance to eyes he had seen before.

The High Eagle's.

"When he looked at me," Feng continued. "It was as though an invisible hand were clenched round my throat, stopping all Qi from entering my body. It was like he pushed me from the Dao, and closed the door behind him."

"There is only one army capable of such evil," XJ-V said. "That of the Divine Order."

Feng balked, rubbing his neck, checking it for marks. "You have met their kind, haven't you, Brother?"

XJ-V nodded gravely. "Though the memory of the encounter still eludes me. I had hoped that by growing as a Cultivator I could eventually look back into my past with certainty. To see the entire beginnings of my life, and my Creator…" he trailed off, then shook his head of the thought. "But it does not matter. The future is what is important now."

Feng-Lung scoffed beside him. "Of course it matters. XJ-V, after understanding my past and how it has shaped me, you would really say that the circumstances of your creation mean nothing to you?"

XJ-V smiled back at his Brother. But it was a dry, distant gesture. The waters of the Grove were what his eyes focused on.

"Perhaps I do not truly wish to look back," he admitted. "Because it confirms what I think. And what, I believe, Master Longhua already knows."

"Which is what?" asked Feng.

XJ-V hunched his shoulders, staring out at the lake and remembering how it floated with the limbs of his dead brethren when first he set foot in this sacred place.

"Why the Order is burning the world to ashes," he finally said – in a voice that was less than a hushed whisper. "And what they are looking for."

Before Feng-Lung could say anything more, the hurried steps of a Disciple running through the forest behind roused them both.

"Ouch!" he yelped. "Come on, let me through! I swear this is why I never come here anymore!"

XJ-V and Feng-Lung turned to see Mah-Jung wiping his sleeve and hem of his robe free from Huli and other small animal spirits.

"Mah-Jung?" Feng asked, a chuckle permeating his tone. "What brings our beleaguered brother here?"

But Mah-Jung's face, when his eyes finally met those of the Disciples, was far from jovial.

"There has been an attack, Brothers," he said. "The flames of war engulf the borders of the ten villages of Mt Ramor. That which is closest to the border with Taila – the village of Tenak - is filled with smoke. The Masters are being petitioned, but it does not seem like there will be a mustering."

XJ-V rose slowly, carefully, as he heard the ripples in the Qi-tinged water behind him begin to spread again.

"It is the Order," he said. "They have crossed the Badlands."

Mah-Jung shook his exasperated head. "We do not know. It is possible it could be a simple bandit raid. The childish Warlords who control Taila are under much pressure, I hear. It is unlikely they can police their borders. But I thought it necessary to bring this to your attention. You two were the closest to him round here, it seems."

Feng gave a sudden start. "Closest to whom?"

"To the Planeswalker," Mah-Jung explained. "He had gone to Tenak on an expedition of some kind. It seems that now…he shall be forced to fight."

Feng gasped as the news hit him, but XJ-V did not react right away. He turned back to the waves of Qi that were, by this point, spreading like wildfire across the surface of Ai-Lee's pond.

And within their depths, he saw that man again – the figure born of the ooze of the earth, clad in shadow, bearing night…

"…and he shall fall," he whispered, drawing a look of bewildered concern from Feng. "He shall fall…if he fights alone."

Ori'un…

The Cog had already begun running even as the thought entered his mind. He had no plan of action. He had not even thought through his intentions. Yet, still, he ran.

"XJ-V!"

He ignored the calls of his Brothers as he sprinted through the trees and crashed through the exit portal, stumbling and falling on the cragged stonework of the Dragonpyre hearth.

And before him stood Master Longhua, resplendent in his crimson dragon robe adorned with the long-tailed guardian of their Sect, its spiral form glowing in the darkness of the Hall.

He was sipping tea beside the portal to the Grove, as though he was waiting for something to emerge.

"Disciple XJ-V," he said. "It is a good night for a walk, is it not?"

The Cog rose to one knee and bowed before his Master.

"Master Longhua," he said. "I must go."

He rose steadily, meeting Longhua's wrinkled face as the old man placed his cup down beside him and fixed him with his old, determined eyes.

"To do what?"

"To fight," the Cog replied without hesitation. "I know why they have come."

"You know no such thing," his Master told him sternly, dismissing his claims with a swift flick of his ancient, braided beard. "Ori'un made his choice. He knew the risks in leaving the monastery at this time. Now, he must accept the consequences."

"Is that what you told Feng-Lung, too?" XJ-V asked as his two Brothers emerged from the portal behind him, both stunned into silence by the defiance they saw in the Cog's flaring eyes.

"Careful, Disciple," Master Longhua replied, ignoring the new arrivals. "You walk a fine line addressing me in such a way in this Hall."

"We are walking a fine line every day we sit here and do nothing while our own people die," XJ-V replied, turning away and making for the door. "I am done sitting. I have waited long enough. Now, I am choosing to take action."

"If you walk out those gates," Longhua told the Cog's departing form. "You will not return."

XJ-V stopped at the door. His hand wavered, and every piece of wiring in his matrix told him to look back at the faces of his Brothers and his Master. Every part of his soul yearned to return to the feet of Longhua and beg forgiveness under the watchful eyes of the Eternal Dragon.

But these were not the things he did. Instead, he threw open the door to the thundering cacophony of lightning and rain outside, dimly making out the coiling tower of smoke in the far distance.

He only said one more thing before he sprinted towards it:

"I am sorry, Master."

###

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[IronLung]

Buffeted by torrential rain and blinded by flashes of lightning, XJ-V ran.

He didn't stop even as Fai-Deng roared at him with a tone just as furious as the thundering heavens above.

"Cog!" he yelled in the storm. "Do not do anything stupid! Only I have the right to kill you!"

XJ-V acknowledged his shout only with a curt nod before barreling through the gates, ignoring the flabbergasted guards standing always to attention.

Outside the monastery, the pillar of smoke coming from Tanak could clearly be seen. Every village for miles around could probably see it. Every village that sat in the shade of Mt Ramor would know that the Cultivators of the mountain saw it, too. They saw it, and did nothing.

The Cog couldn't stand for it.

As he ran against the increasingly brutal lashes sent by the storm he was noticed by a few villagers who had barricaded themselves in their homes. Those of the hamlets of Marsul and Narsis prospected him with fearful eyes before realizing who he was – the stone-man of legend who had come to stand before the Sects of the mountain and succeeded in becoming one of the chosen.

The few young boys and girls who dared to offer him cheers of support were quickly silenced by their parents, and in any case XJ-V paid no attention to anyone who attempted to hail him or offer him what meagre support they could. As far as the Cog was concerned, he was alone.

When finally he came to the outskirts of Tanak he beheld the burning buildings of the hamlet from afar, dashing behind a rocky overpass that gave him a good vantage point from which to observe the goings on. Between the smoke, men clad in jagged armor trudged, holding the villagers by their hair or necks. By the double-headed eagle emblem they wore upon their pauldrons and chest plates, XJ-V knew they belonged to the Divine Order. His worst suspicions were confirmed when he traced the curvature of their armored torsos and saw the gleaming blades of the double-edged Jian that lay in the scabbards at their waists. These were no basic soldiers. These were Xu'Jan – the Paladins of Light. The Order's trained marauders, recruiters, and executioners.

They dragged the people from their burning homes to the town's center and threw them in a great, disjointed heap – their faces strewn with blood and skin scarred by soot. Few deigned to fight back. XJ-V saw the eviscerated remains of those that had littering the streets – their limbs torn and cauterized by the killing light that flowed in the veins of the devilish paladins.

But at the very foot of the pile of living dead, a particularly bulky prisoner sat.

Ori'un! XJ-V almost exclaimed.

He was sitting as he usually would on the rooftops or communes of Ramor-Tai, hunched, shoulders forward, neck trained on the horizon beyond reality. They had done a number on him – that much was clear from the new scars and bruises that lined his face – but he still looked the very picture of defiance.

He sat as calm as stone and yet drained of energy, and XJ-V realized then what must have happened: they've taken his Qi from him. Even a single slash from the light-imbued blades of the Xu'Jan could kill the power of a Cultivator. That, the Cog knew for certain.

As he watched the proceedings unfold, he saw the hovels and straw huts of Tanak crumble to dust and ashes, the town becoming nothing more than a smoking ruin before its crying residents. Children clung to their mothers' ragged clothes and fathers tried to comfort their grieving families. Some did not cry out. They just stared at the corpses that lined the streets, their eyes dead and dull, and said nothing at all.

And through the chaos, Ori'un sat amongst them.

What is he doing? The Cog thought. Does he not mean to escape?

A few of the paladins pointed out young boys amidst the crowd, and the children were swiftly, and forcefully, extracted from the arms of their parents. They were dragged off to the Order's carriages that waited at the end of the village, bound for their strongholds.

XJ-V knew the sight he was witnessing as it unfolded before his fiery eyes. This was the Order's method of 'recruitment'. They stole the children from the settlements they raided and indoctrinated them with the High Eagle's beastly rhetoric – rhetoric that perverted the teachings of one of Qing's own Prophets, Ming'Bao. Rhetoric that told these children that their parents were weak, and deserved to be conquered. In time, those boys would grow up to become just as brutal as the Order's enforcers, and then they would look into the mad eyes of screaming parents as they plucked their babies from their breasts.

The Cog was becoming more aggravated by the second. Why Ori'un did nothing as he witnessed this chaos unfold, he could not understand. He made to rise and descend at once, pondering which targets he could take down first. There were at least a dozen of the Xu'Jan guarding their 'prizes' from the village that he could see, and probably a dozen more searching the burning buildings for any survivors they could drag from the ashen remains of their homes. XJ-V rose, flexed his fingers, and made ready for combat.

But as he moved, he saw something that told him to check his haste.

Something – someone – was beginning to address the waiting crowd.

"I'll make this simple," the voice was saying – a dry voice tinged with the harsh, guttural tone native to the Badlands beyond the mountain. "Give us safe passage to the monastery, or watch these infidels die."

Ori'un's head rose to address the speaker – a man covered by a plume of smoke to the North.

"Imagine," he chuckled hoarsely. "Being lured and cut down by the promise of booze. A fitting end for a Planeswalker, don't you think?"

The circle of Xu'Jan closed in, their hands itching to unsheathe their blades and finish the job they started. But the voice cut through the tension in the air like a knife being drawn across a chalkboard.

"You're a funny man," it said. "I think I'll cut your tongue out, first."

The speaker moved like a wolf through the smoke and the dust of the burning village, embers from his Paladins fires stroking his grim, bone-bleached skull. He wore nothing but a set of leather straps across his emaciated torso, his waist covered with a think half-robe that obscured his feet, giving him the appearance of a man gliding across the ash of the village. His right hand rested on the long Jian blade glimmered at his hip, yet his arms looked much too frail to even hold the vicious weapon upright nevermind swing it at a foe.

To look upon him was to look upon the ghostly visage of a pale specter that looked close to death, and yet when XJ-V looked at his snarling face, he saw where the true power of this warrior lay. He saw lips tinged with soot and sunken eyes – more akin the pair of black voids held by an Aoyin than those belonging to a human. His pale face was inked with the grim, black markings of the two-headed eagle standing atop a Cog's skull which lay just above the ghostly demon's heart.

To look upon him was not to observe the passing of an envoy of light. It was to look upon the dispassionate face of death itself.

And without a single twitch, with no emotion at all, the pale horseman drew his sword and aimed it at the crowd of wailing villagers.

"Bring me the infants," he said. "Let's test the resolve of a man who walks the wastes."

Ori'un smiled right in death's face as XJ-V began to move.

"If you think you'll force me to help you, you're mistaken. I've seen worse than you can do, old boy."

The pale reaper turned as he was presented with a mother's screaming babe, torn from her hands while her throat was slit before it.

Through it all, Ori'un watched. The villagers wailed like banshees for him to intervene. They practically threw themselves at his inert body. They kicked and struck him with their thin, frail fists. But he did nothing.

Through the melee, the pale executioner never took his eyes off him.

"Look how they beg you, child of the Dao," he sneered. "Look how the weak cry out for a savior. Do you now see what the path tread by you and all your people shall lead to? It is inevitable."

"So is death," Ori'un said in all but a whisper. "I learned not to fear it a long time ago."

"Then watch them die, Planeswalker," the head of the Xu'Jan replied. "And know that you have no one to blame but yourself."

"UGH!"

A bolt of fire cascaded through the air and hit a young Xu'Jan in the back of his head, sending him flying face-first into the burning wreckage of a house. The reaper turned, leveled his blade, and strained his eyes to focus on the creature that stood at the edge of the village, skeletal fingers smoking, body twisted in a perfect Siliubu stance.

"That's the thing about the path we've chosen," Ori'un said quietly. "It takes the strangest turns."

As the pale demon fixed his dead eyes upon him, XJ-V stared right back.

###

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[IronLung]

"A Cog…"

The word turned to ash in the pale warrior's mouth as his Xu'Jan readied their blades, each of them chanting the words of power that their Lord of Light had bequeathed unto them.

"You see?" Ori'un said playfully. "Even the stones of this earth themselves reject your Lord, bone-head."

The commander of the Xu'Jan stood calmly, head held high to watch the machine as it crept forward to face him.

Not a single sound stirred in the village. XJ-V had eyes only for the pale-demon that watched him, his hand resting on the hilt of his thin blade. Even the blazing embers of the fires seemed to fade away as the Cog of the Dragon and the human of the Eagle met each others' stalwart gazes across the blighted stones that remained of Tenak village.

The villagers shriveled in their captivity, watching as the Xu'Jan all turned to ready themselves for battle.

And then, with a predatory licking of his lips, their commander gave them the word.

"Slay it."

The Xu'Jan charged with deadly intent, blades held high, swinging through the air in arcs of dazzling light that would have cut through the Dao itself. XJ-V stayed calm, focused, and present. He breathed, felt the Qi running through the Chakras of his soul, and let them come.

The first warrior thrust for his chest and he sidestepped the blow, spinning to deliver a Flaming Dervish that snapped the warrior's neck and sent him spinning off into the burning debris of a building. The next Paladin he caught with a quick, steady hand, employing the Tiger's Flurry Earth technique he had gleaned from Fai-Deng after weeks of being pummeled with his lightning-quick punches. He twisted the Paladin's wrist effortlessly and sent him cascading down the streets like a bowling ball right into his sprinting friends.

As the melee commenced, the villagers began murmuring amongst themselves, their timid whimpers beginning to turn into cautious optimism.

But one prisoner among them certainly wasn't keeping his mouth shut.

"HAR!" Ori'un cheered from the sidelines. "GO ON, BROTHER COG! Let them feel the bite of a metal dragon!"

XJ-V obliged, whirring to narrowly avoid another slash from a Xu'Jan soldier. He swept the boy's feet with another Dervish that kicked him into the air. With a flourish of dazzling flame, the Cog followed up with a roundhouse kick that cracked the boy's ribs as he fell to the ground, his sword skidding away from his twitching hands.

He readied himself for more. Now, he had gone farther than he ever thought he would. He had gone where his Dao-self had shown him he could go.

But, he realized as two more Paladins came swinging for his neck. It was a choice that I made.

His Dragon Tooth punches sent both soldiers skidding back, though they managed to slice through his firebolts with quick strikes from their light-imbued swords – light that XJ-V knew could sever his connection to the Dao right then and there. If they had done so to Ori'un, he'd have no chance.

So he ducked and rolled between them, administering a series of quick punches to their guts as he avoided their attacks. The boys spun, winded, and sent the edges of their blades down to slice clean through his head. In the next second, however, what they saw was nothing more than a blur of energy – the Cog's hands had come up to grab the hilts of their weapons and knock them out of each boy's hand before they could even blink. Once they did, they both coughed up a torrent of blood as they felt their chests implode with the impact of the metal man's fists again.

XJ-V stood over his fallen opponents, watching them writhe in pain and seeing the once energized tips of their blades stutter and die as lightning cracked overhead, bathing the fiery village in rain. Still more of the soldiers charged him – some jumping out from the smoke-strewn depths of the village huts and aiming for his vitals. But he was ready. He had been ready ever since that night in Hensha, and ever since he had re-lived the pain these indoctrinated warriors had inflicted on him in Ai-Lee's Grove. His vision then had shown him what he now saw to be true – these boys had been taught to fear him. Him – and all his kind. Killing them would do nothing but reinforce those fears. In the dream-vision he had struck without mercy. Here, amidst the hailstorms the heaven sent against him, he was focused on disarming those who came at him with his Dragontail Swipe.

Because only one had to die here, tonight.

One by one, his opponents fell before him, and he began inching towards their ringleader.

Through it all, the pale demon simply stood and watched.

He makes no move to save his men, XJ-V thought as another Xu'Jan warrior tasted the plated steel of his ankle. He simply watches like a vulture. Maybe he thinks they will tire me out? Perhaps he wants his pawns to wear me down.

If that was the case, he was gravely mistaken in his strategy.

XJ-V's hands moved in a blur of motion, knuckles coated with the blood and ichor of his felled foes, meting their cries of hatred and silencing them within mere seconds, until he finally came to the last line of five Xu'Jan who waited in defense of their Master.

XJ-V threw one of their comrades at them – his face a garbled mass of broken bones and bruised cheeks. They watched him fall before them, ignoring the cries of the villagers behind them.

"Now, that's a Cultivator!" Ori'un roared from the ground, seemingly enjoying the whole bloody show. "How do you like it, men of the Order? Where is your mighty eagle's wings, now?"

You are talking big for someone currently subdued, XJ-V couldn't help but think.

He held his ground before the last line of Paladins, each one's blade straight and still in their grip. Their faces were streaked with perspiration. Their hands - shakey with the emotion they thought they had suppressed long ago.

But these were not men of the Dao, XJ-V remembered as he lowered his Prancing Crane stance and met each of their eyes individually. These were just misguided boys.

So, amidst the wreckage of the windswept village littered with their groaning, wounded comrades, XJ-V shouted to the last of the Order's men.

"You are not dull stones, are you?" he asked them. "You are men who have never had a choice in your lives. You have watched villages burn just like this one. You have watched your villages burn in the name of something you did not understand. Now, I am giving you the choice. Remain and fall with your brothers, or leave and live. Live your lives free of the Order. Let your Master answer for you."

The Cog didn't know what he was expecting. To see the boys falter? To watch them throw down their weapons and relinquish their blades, then and there? To break down in tears and cry out for forgiveness?

Whatever he wished to see, reality, as usual, had something else in store.

This time, it was the image of the Xu'Jan that remained raising their vicious swords as one, and twisting them as the barrage of rain above danced along their blades.

XJ-V's realization that the men were about to charge was accompanied by the mirthless chuckle that came from their pale leader's black throat.

"Compassion," he said. "It is a weakness displayed by many humans in a world wreathed in darkness. It seems even a man of steel and stone like you has learned nothing but how to emulate the weaknesses of your Masters. Still, even with the death of that old bastard Qing, you are nothing more than a slave. Yet you have the gall to speak to us of freedom?"

XJ-V narrowed his eyes at the ghostly apparition standing behind the wall of blades that was his men. The Cog, for the first time in a while, felt a hatred grab his heart that he could not even say truly belonged to him.

His eyes found Ori'un sitting beside the group, the captive villagers huddled together behind his great back. Now, he was silent. Now, he was watching.

And then he gave the Cog a soundless nod.

"These men made their choice a long time ago," the pale-faced leader of the wolfpack growled.

"They made the only choice worth making in this dull, dead world. They chose to follow the light of the true Lord of humankind. They chose to believe in the words of His greatest prophet – his High Eagle soaring above the burning lands of his enemies. And now, they shall choose to do what must be done."

The warriors of the Order hunched their shoulders, their final battle cry punctuated by a strike of lightning above that showed XJ-V all their youthful faces.

The Cog bowed his head for only a second before his hands worked of their own accord.

"So shall I," he said.

###
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[IronLung]

The Xu'Jan charged XJ-V as a unit, swords swinging, screams echoing through the thunderous cacophony of the skies above. Rain pelted off the Cog's calm limbs and hands as he stepped forward and brought his right leg up in a fiery kick that then led into another Flaming Dervish. He felt the boys' faces crumble at his swift strikes, each blow delivering a stunning effect on their nerves and causing them to collapse – their once confident faces kissed the wet mud of the village they had just destroyed.

XJ-V did not relent. He brought the boys down just as he said they would, every strike forcing him to look into the burning hatred that the warriors harbored for him, every parry of their blades a grim reminder that he was fighting little more than slaves to the Orders' lies.

When the last Xu'Jan felt the flaming strike of his palms, XJ-V assumed his Siulubu and stared down the commander again, noting that in the wake of his melee, the world seemed more silent than ever.

The eyes of everyone – including that of the Pale demon himself, were trained on the Cog's burning chest. They were spellbound by the glowing fire that raged within his heart, blazing in brilliant flames of energy as he stood there above the bodies of his nullified foes.

"You…" the Pale leader said – his voice an ashen whisper on the crashing winds sent by the heavens. "It is you, isn't it?"

And XJ-V only now realized his mistake. The leader had watched, and waited, not out of pure cowardice, but because he wished to confirm a suspicion that his mind could not process without evidence.

The burning, living flame radiating from the Cog's chestplate was all the evidence his eyes needed.

"I've heard rumors about you," he said, licking his dry, black lips. "You are the one who fled as Hensha burned. The one that bears the Gift…"

It was as he feared – this man was no mere marauder come to pillage and plunder like a bandit. He was here on a very specific mission…and his objective had just taken the bait.

XJ-V cursed himself for his ignorance and his desperate submission to his desires. But, even knowing he had just been led into a dark spider's web, he couldn't see himself doing anything different. It was as Ori'un said – the Dao showed us choices, but sometimes one merely picked divergent paths that forked and turned in the dark, only to eventually lead to the same outcome.

"Oh, shove it buddy," Ori'un spat at the stalking demon from the crowd of villagers. "Can't you see you're beaten? Give up this little villain monologue you're starting and turn tail now. You aren't gonna beat this one."

The pale specter took a series of steps forward, the trimming of his robe gliding across the burned ground as though he had no feet at all.

"How the Lord favors me," he murmured, almost to himself. "After the High Eagle himself failed to extract you, now Great Yuwa has delivered you to me as a sign of his divine providence."

XJ-V grit his metal teeth. He could feel the energy swirling in this man. Not Qi – the power running through his ashen veins was something entirely different.

"Your God is dead," XJ-V told the pale specter. "I do not count the deceased among my enemies."

"All of this world is your enemy, machine. Have you not realized this by now?"

"You lie," XJ-V said, readying two Dragon Tooth strikes as the bone-bleached vulture glided towards him. "The Cultivators still stand strong, despite your God's wish to eradicate them. And they are more accepting than He ever was."

A low, gravel-like sound stuttered from the leader's black mouth. It took the Cog a second to realize that the warrior of the Eagle was laughing at him.

"You think those slaves to the Dao are human?" he said. "I suppose that makes sense. One slave often follows another. The blind lead the blind into captivity and death. Your destruction is mutually assured, now."

"Is that why you attack these villagers instead of the monastery?" XJ-V countered. "You know you would stand no chance against the true guardians of humankind."

"Guardians?" the specter spat. "Those infidels live off the scraps the true Gods left in heaven. Did they not tell you that, machine-man? The Dao is nothing more than the ashes of the dead Gods you so cheerfully blaspheme before. Normally, I would correct your ignorance and leave you here to lament your mistakes. But I am not one to look a gift from my Lord in its eyes and leave it be."

The warrior drew the blade at his side with such speed that XJ-V couldn't even follow his arms as they tore the impossibly long Jian blade from its hip-scabbard. With a single, emaciated arm of nothing but thin muscle clinging to bone, the pale warrior leveled his weapon at the Cog.

"Know me," he said. "Know the name of your death-bringer. I am Sheloth. I am the Eagle's righteous talon clawing at this barren earth. I am the bringer of Yuwa's justice to the unclean, and the undeserving."

The Cog watched as the otherworldly light of the Order's paladins flared into brilliant, evil life across the edge of Sheloth's sword, and he felt the light within his own chest react and pulse in recognition.

"See how my Lord recognizes one of his own?" Sheloth grinned. "Soon, the thief who dared to steal from a God shall bow before the might of His light."

"Pfft!" Ori'un hissed behind both men. "Kick his ass, XJ-V!"

While the Cog looked into the rainswept face of the pale demon who stood before him, his frail body utterly incongruous with the ungodly size of his shining blade, he spared a moment to wonder why Ori'un was still doing nothing but sitting around and enjoying this show.

Planeswalker…The Cog thought with a sudden horrific surge of probability. Are you…watching me? Are you…testing me right now?

Sheloth's blade came down, its tip aimed directly at XJ-V's amber-clad heart.

A strike of lightning signaled the release of more rain. Both warriors – human and Cog - wore a blanket of hail upon their shoulders.

"Do not disappoint me," the demon whispered. "Let us see what a Cog Cultivator can do."

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[IronLung]

Sheloth's blade came slashing down with the next lightning bolt that struck at the earth - and his strike was no less quick or deadly than those celestial spears that pierced the ashen battlefield around them.

XJ-V moved swiftly to counter his blows, bringing up his hands in the circular motion of the Dragontail swipe and managing to block two vertical cuts that would have sheared his head clean from his shoulders. The final horizontal slash he managed to catch between his wavering fingers, and only then did he realize that he was on his knees before the ghostly warrior.

"Quick," Sheloth said in his ashen whisper. "But limited. You are a thing of steel. Form and function. There is no spirit to your fighting style."

XJ-V threw his blade off him and bent into a Flaming Dervish aimed directly at his feet to throw him off balance – a technique he had gleaned from Feng-Lung's distinctive style. He saw his arc of brilliant flame travel towards his enemy, focused his limbs into charging forward to make a final decisive blow and then found that, when the flames dissipated, his opponent was gone.

A surge of danger from above. The sounds of a wet blade falling through the air.

He rolled just in time to avoid the deadly plunging attack the Xu'jan commander sent towards him, watching the warrior embed his blade in the burning earth and immediately withdraw, eyes fixed like a hawk's on XJ-V's every movement.

He came at the Cog again – this time with a triad of quick strikes aimed at the machine-man's lower torso. Honing his time spent with Fai-Deng, remembering the fury of that young warrior's every strike, XJ-V countered with a mixture of Dragontail swipes with his left hand and Dragon Tooth punches with his right – creating and exploiting openings in his opponent's devastating attack pattern.

But every time he managed to push away the blade of the pale specter, it somehow twisted and met his counter. Impossible speed met pure machine resilience, and every clash of their steel weapons echoed through the dying village as fiery day turned to storm-wracked night.

"They truly have taught you their ways," Sheloth said in his dark, guttural whisper as his blade met the unyielding steel of XJ-V's hands. "For only a Cultivator clinging to the ashen path of Qing would fight like this."

XJ-V sensed what his opponent was doing. He was trying to break his resolve. He was trying to push him to commit himself to an attack that would lower his defenses – leaving him open for a strike that, the Cog would sure, would end this whole melee then and there. This Xu'Jan was no showman. Every attack he made was a strike meant to kill. To slay nothing more than what he considered a beast.

As XJ-V kept up his deflections he felt himself being pushed back. He felt the light within his chest surge and flare, commanding him to end this fight the way that he knew he could.

And the dark eyes of his opponent seemed to know it, too.

"You can hear it, can't you?" he said as he thrust for the Cog's neck, splitting apart the plating on his left side and coming away with a series of electrified wiring stuck to his sword like a section of metallic intestine. "You can hear the call of the thing inside you. The thing you stole from us."

XJ-V staggered back against the ashen wall of a ruined house, found his feeting again, and formed into a Gong Bu stance, lead foot forward, ready to lunge.

In the face of his resilience, the dark specter gave another hoarse chuckle.

"A man of few words," he said. "I could almost respect that if it was a choice made by you as opposed to the compulsions built within all your disgusting kind."

The swordsman wiped the sparking arterial coils he'd cut from XJ-V's neck off his blade like he was tending to a wound in his weapon. Pure disgust smeared itself across his face.

"Impure, corrupted machine," he spat into the smoking, rain beaten ground. "You know you cannot win against us."

XJ-V stood still as a rock. Patient as a stone.

"Against all of you, perhaps not," he said. "But against you? I have already seen my victory. If you deny your fate, man of Yuwa, prove me wrong."

The ghostly form of his opponent obliged.

He flew at the Cog and sent a flurry of lightning-fast vertical slashes aimed at his wrists and ankles. He'd seen the weakness of the Cog would be in his footing, and XJ-V corrected his stance even as every strike continued to push him back. He repulsed his foe and then was forced into a desperate duck as the blade of the ghost came sailing for his head again, instead slicing right through the blackened wall of the house behind him.

The whole skeletal structure came crumbling down around him, and the Cog then watched as his blade cut right through the debris with as much effort expended as when carving a cake.

The wounded Xu'Jan tried to rise to help their master, rain and mud smeared across their faces. But their Master, stalking through the forest of his bleeding men, bade them remain.

"You have done what you must, warriors of Yuwa," he told them. "You have brought us something not even the High Eagle was able to find. This day shall be remembered in the annals of our faith as the day this earth was finally saved."

"Saved!" Ori'un shouted. "You think the world wants your High Eagle? You think bringing your dead God back will save these people?"

"See how the ignorant flap their gums and yet say nothing," Sheloth told his men as he stalked toward XJ-V's waiting form.

"You people aren't so good at listening, huh?" The nullified Planeswalker continued. "The world told your God to keep his 'justice' and shove it where the sun never shines before. You think we'll change our minds now because your High Eagle says so?"

"Silence, infidel," Sheloth replied. "Or those heretical words shall be the last you utter."

In the seconds between their verbal sparring, XJ-V had taken time to recover. He'd taken time to try and formulate a plan for how to break the relentless offense of this man – no…this zealot – that opposed him. He'd never faced a Xu'Jan with this kind of strength before.

And yet he knew the way he could win. He knew what he had to do.

But he wouldn't do it. Not again. Never ag-

XJ-V.

His eyes flared in the swirling storm that pelted the dry earth.

The voice was Ori'un's, resonating within his head.

Run.

The Cog heard the voice just like he had before – in the dream-vision of Feng-Lung's past. It was as though the Planeswalker was standing right behind him.

Let them take me, he said. You think I will just lay down and die? I will make them pay for every insult they've thrown at us today. But I am not about to let them take you. You know you have to live. You know they can't ever find you, don't you?

The Cog sighed in the rain as his opponent leveled his blade at him again, readying himself for a final flourish before he took the Cog's head. As XJ-V had suspected, the Planeswalker had also put two-and-two together. He knew why this man wanted him. Perhaps not the specifics, but he knew the danger the Cog posed.

And that's exactly why all logic told him to run, right now. To live. To survive.

Just like he had done when he fled Hensha, obeying the orders of his Creator that were built into his mind. Compulsions…just like the man of the Eagle had said.

Except this time, he did have a choice. This time he could prevent suffering. He could stop this madness and have the chance of avenging Hensha's ghosts in the process. Or, he could die trying.

Once, perhaps he would have listened to the part of him that was only Cog, and the choice would have been obvious.

But he wasn't just a Cog, now.

"I apologize, Ori'un", he whispered, knowing the Planeswalker could hear. "But I am not going anywhere."

He reassumed his stance, bringing his arms up and catching the glint of his own reflection in the puddles that surrounded the ruined battleground beneath him.

His upturned palms glowed with power, power that flowed from the fire beneath his heart. Power that he had kept locked away, until he knew what it was needed for.

It was a tool to banish the darkness that even now smiled to see the light radiating from his mechanical form.

"At last," Sheloth chuckled darkly. "The thief shows his stolen goods. Credit where credit is due, Cog. Your destiny is not even your own. That light within you belongs to us. And you know it, don't you? We are all connected."

His sword shone with the light of the paladins – the rain catching on its edge and sizzling away before it could even touch the blade.

"You are carrying a delivery that was meant for us," Sheloth said.

"If you want it," XJ-V replied. "Come and get it."

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If you are enjoying Cog Cultivator, support the story on Patreon to read + 10 advanced chapters

Join the Discord server to keep up with Cog Cultivator and my other works.