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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