Beware Of Chicken

Deep, deep below there was another world. It was a place apart. Solid and ancient, yet ephemeral and young, Here the sky was dark as pitch, and had been for months. It was lit with shining stars, and traced with golden cracks running through the endless void.

The earth was coated in alabaster white snows broken by the jutting obsidian rocks that reached for the sky.

It was silent here; a silence so profound that to break it would be sacrilege.

In this quiet world there was a hill where white, black, and gold met. A little house stood on the hill. A small, homey building, sturdy and well maintained surrounded by masses of snow. Light spilled out of a window as round as the green door next to it. A thin trail of smoke rose into the air from its red brick chimney above a tiled roof. There was a pile of wood stacked against the side of the building, though the pile had obviously shrunk through use.

The house would have looked lonely, but it had a companion. A crooked and clumsily made snowman stood tall and strong beside it. His hat was perched at a rakish angle and his grin was jaunty and bright.

It had stood vigil for the long night, beside the house, keeping it company during the long night.

“This is it,” Loud Boy said quietly. He stood in a grotto in the South west of the Azure Hills where the water, undeterred by the freezing temperature, still flowed. The air was still cold, but waterfalls sprayed and sparkled, and the barest hints of vegetation flourished. The scent of the sea whispered past him.

It was a beautiful oasis and yet somehow, forlorn. The place… where he had first become a cultivator. Where the little orphan had first taken a step on the path to greatness.

He remembered the rage and the ambition that had fueled him, back then. The fury. One boy, one orphan, against the unfair world that had ripped everything from him.

Now, he wasn’t quite so alone.

His companion stared around, wide-eyed wonder in his expression. “I’m not one to talk, but how the hells did you find this place?” Rags asked.

“Got a little lucky,” Loud Boy replied. “I tripped and bashed my head into the entrance. Turns out my head was stronger.”

Rags snorted in amusement, turning back towards the stone wall that they had entered through. The pair lapsed into silence. Arrayed around Loud Boy were all the reagents he needed. The spiritual pills received from Cai Xiulan. The repayment from the Shrouded Mountain Sect.

His dantian was mostly sealed. All it needed… was the last push.

One last push, and then he would be a cultivator again.

“We’ll throw a big party, after you succeed!” Rags declared. “So quit stallin’ and get to fixin’, yeah?”

Loud Boy… Zang Wei, smiled at his friend and sworn brother. Rag’s confidence in him… well, it did make him feel good.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, we won’t stick around for long,” Zang Wei replied, rolling his eyes. He let out a breath as he walked to the middle of the grotto in the center of the formation.

Then, he sat down and began to meditate.

He followed the steps in the scroll he had been gifted. The reagents lifted into the air, spiraling around him. His stomach heated up, his Qi nearly boiling—no, more like a blacksmith’s forge heating up, melting metal, and fuzing it together.

It swirled and swirled. Raging like a storm—until he was suddenly inside of one.

A tempest he remembered, when he had first met his benefactor. When he had first learned of cultivation.

From the clouds descended a dragon’s head. It was huge. Gargantuan. Every description that Zang Wei had did not do the enormous creature justice, so large was he; his scales were bright blue, and his body shone with the light of constellations. His eyes yellow, sparking with the unfathomable fury of a storm.

To Zang Wei, it was confirmation. He had succeeded in repairing his dantian.

He was a cultivator once more.

Once, twice, thrice the dragon coiled around the sky, before his eyes speared Zang Wei.

The boy kowtowed before the enormous creature.

“Great Dragon. I have, as you said, gone out into the world and seen it with my own two eyes. I have endured many hardships… and now, I return.”

The tempest quieted.

“The last time we spoke, I asked you a question, boy. Do you have an answer for me?”

The great dragon’s voice boomed like thunder, splitting the sky.

“What is the nature of this world?”

When this question had first been asked, so long ago, Zang Wei had no answer for the great dragon.

As he traveled, and as he had learned in those early days. He’d once thought that the nature of this world was suffering. His dantian had been ruined. His cultivation had been destroyed. It had been completely and utterly unfair, and proof of the world’s misery.

But as he remembered the smiles of Cai Xiulan, of Rags… of Tigu… he couldn’t say that. Instead, he had come up with another answer.

Perhaps it was a bit wishy washy of him. But it was the best he could devise.

Loud Boy smiled up at the tempest.

“The nature of the world… is that it is,” Zang Wei declared. “It is suffering and sorrow. It is joy and companionship. It exists. And it is what we make of it.”

The storm dragon stared down at Loud Boy.

“Your dantian shattered; your cultivation ruined… And you come back more optimistic than you left?” The dragon asked him.

“Yes.”

There was a rumble like a peal of thunder—and the great storm began to laugh.

“I don’t mind that answer, boy,” was a rumble in his ear—

And then Loud Boy opened his eyes. Qi swirled around his body, a dragon tail coiling around his arm, and ethereal horns on his brow.

Behind him Rags let out a whoop of joy.

The house on the hill only had one room. While there was a table and a set of chairs, most of the little house was taken up by a plush bed. The interior was warm with only the glowing coals in the fireplace providing a dim illumination.

In the plush bed a single figure lay sleeping. A little girl. Her body was covered in golden cracks. Despite her thinness, her cheeks were plump and flushed with colour. She looked fairly healthy instead of the gaunt and skeletal appearance she had once worn.

She was cocooned within her blankets, with only her head and her messy hair peeking out. Her eyes were closed tight, yet they darted around underneath their lids, clearly in the throes of a dream.

Or a nightmare. One of many, that had troubled her dreams.

She shook slightly, twisting under the covers. Her lips drew back into a pained grimace. Tears welled in closed eyes, leaking out and dripping down her cheeks.

A choked sob came from her throat. Even as the wounds of her body healed, deep in her slumber, the wounds of her mind still ravaged her.

She dreamed of sundering and breaking. But most of all… she dreamed of demons.

It was tiresome. It was all so tiresome, Elder Zang of the Shrouded Mountain Sect thought, as he stood and let the inquisitors perform their rituals.

Really? As if he, an Elder of the Shrouded Mountain Sect, would fall prey to a demon’s tricks. His son may have been a waste of resources, but he was beyond such things.

Still, it was required by the ancient protocols. Tradition that required him to suffer this indignity. Checking in with his juniors, instead of being able to come and go as he please.

It made his blood boil.

“All procedures are complete. Elder Zang, please continue at your leisure.” The inquisitor said, bowing his head.

Of course, everything had come up negative, but he could still feel the slight intent in their gazes. She said nothing as he moved past them, through the gilded halls of the sect and to his personal pavilion, taking up several Li near the top of the mountain.

Because it was his blood that had fallen prey to the demon… or whatever had taken him.

Zang still had his own doubts. Doubts about the validity of the claim that this “Master” truly had ties to the Cloudy Sword Sect

He sighed. The good mood he had sustained after visiting one of the courtesans had all but evaporated. The woman was skilled in her arts, and in conversation. Her fingers were soothing. A welcome balm to his soul.

“My Lord, why would they ever doubt you? It must be foul play; others must have conspired against you,” the woman asked, appalled as she served him more wine.

Zang frowned at the woman’s words.

She was right. Zang did suspect foul play… but there was something about this that didn’t sit right with him.; it made him restless.

He opened a drawer in his quarters, and pulled out a scroll, unfurling it.

He had a feeling in his gut that somebody had conspired against him… and continued to do so.

Somebody he would be looking into with great interest.

His eyes fell upon the map of the Azure Hills.

The little girl trembled in her bed, shaking under the weight of demonic intent. Crushed under their grasping hands.

But she was not alone, in her little house. Or at least, never alone for very long. The door opened to a massive, imposing figure. A hulking creature bigger than the house the little girl lived in, so large it would not fit through the door.

Yet somehow, the creature did fit. Between one step and the next, the behemoth was a behemoth no longer. The beast was rather small now, about to a man’s knee, if it were not carrying a load of firewood stacked upon its back.

The little boar pulled shut the door behind him and deposited the wood next to the fireplace. A soft whimper drew his attention to the shattered girl in the bed. The boar took notice of his charge and grunted. After his trotters were dutifully wiped of snow and water, he leapt to the little one’s bed, shrinking down to an even smaller size. His little nose pressed against the child consolingly as she moaned, her teeth clenched tight, the sobs wracking her body.

The little boar shuddered with her in sympathy. He pressed himself against her and, as Chun Ke had always done… took some of the darkness away.

The little one’s wracking sobs calmed. The leaking tears slowed as the boar laid with her, his solid presence calming her. Soothing the old pain and banishing the bad memories.

As she eased into a more restful sleep the boar carefully got up. He wiped away her tears then smoothed down her hair, and made sure to properly tuck the little one back in.

Once he was satisfied, he turned his attention to the rest of the house.

In Pale Moon Lake City, a young woman stretched her arms above her head, done with her task. Her voice escaped with a little squeak, as her shoulders popped and muscles relaxed, after hours of sitting hunched over a desk.

Biyu the crystal carver smiled down at her desk. It was littered with piles of old scrolls that she had used for references. A series of blueprints and plans that when stacked together would form a pile several inches thick shared the space with the clutter of references and writing tools.

They were her blueprints, original, not copied. Blueprints that would, hopefully, be used to carve the first storage ring produced in the Azure Hills in, well… forever. They didn’t actually have a record of when exactly the last one had been produced.

Biyu’s gaze drifted from her desk to the workshop walls. Glowing crystals provided light, illuminating the hundreds of specialized chisels and knives, crafted by master artisans; a special set of chisels had even been imported from Howling Fang Mountain just for this project, costing the kind of fortune that Biyu had no reference for.

It was just so fantastic. So amazing! It was all Biyu could do to leave them on the shelf, instead of taking them down and just admiring them… again. The last time she had done that her Master had walked in and burst out laughing over the fact that she was rubbing her cheek along the wood.

Biyu had merely been trying to… acclimate herself to the tools! Everybody knew that your tools needed close contact and proper maintenance! She had seen her father and the other sailors he worked with hugging the masts of their ships or whispering sweet nothings to their fishing nets. It was natural!

She shook her head and sighed.

A storage crystal. A real storage crystal. She closed her eyes for a moment and the memory of a smile crossed her thoughts. A hand that held hers, supple and strong. Biyu grinned. Whenever she thought about the crystal, she couldn’t help remembering Yun Ren. Biyu could hear his excited voice talking about his art. She loved his passion, a mirror of her own with crystals. She wanted to share in his joy again; to see all of his recorded images, to listen to his stories. To be the one who made the crystal that helped him accomplish his dreams.

She glanced at the veritable stack of flat crystals, incremental improvements to the image recording lens, as the Masters were now calling them.

It was their best seller. Both for the price… and that they took barely any Qi at all to operate. One could use reeds with a higher concentration of energy to be the catalyst… or even a normal person with a bit of energy.

The nobles were going absolutely crazy for them. All for “broken” defunct crystals.

Biyu sighed, and rubbed at her eyes. Maybe she should ask her Master for some time off. Yun Ren did say she could visit whenever she wanted, and she wanted to show him the improvements—

One of the crystals on the wall slowly started to increase in luminescence. It was one that let her know that a guard was requesting her attention. There were no sudden sounds or doors slamming open here, for fear that someone could miss a cut on the immensely valuable crystals in this workshop.

Only the subtle glow, which would disrupt nothing and startle nobody.

She stood and walked over to tap the crystal twice, knowing that the request would be transmitted to the crystal’s twin outside.

She had to only wait a moment before the door opened, revealing Chua, her guard for today.

“Ma’am, you have a visitor,” he said quietly.

Biyu tilted her head, confused at who would be visiting her… until she saw the figure that walked in behind Chua.

Yun Ren’s smile warmed her heart. She dashed from her position and he laughed as her arms wrapped around his neck.

“Yun! How is everything?! Oh, I made you a new crystal—!” she started babbling immediately, which was a bit embarrassing, but Yun Ren seemed to enjoy it as he hugged her back.

They both pulled back so they could look at each other, Yun Ren’s normal little smirk was replaced with a genuine smile.

“I’m doin’ good Biyu. And I hear you’re doin’ well too right? Had a chat with your Master, for a little, since you were busy.”

“Oh, yes, it's amazing. I get to work with so many new tools, it's great!”

Yun’s laugh was punctuated by a second deeper chuckle that caused Biyu to jump.

“An enthusiastic little gem, aren’t you?” a smooth voice asked, as something materialized on Yun’s shoulder. Biyu froze at the sight. The white fur. The red markings. The yellow eyes.

“Ohheavensitssocute~!”

The fox’s eyes widened, and then the absolutely adorable creature began to preen.

It was the start of a very nice week.

Biyu learned how to skate. Yun Ren learned how to wind surf on the ice of the lake. She ended up carving part of a crystal with Yun’s sword, the weapon commenting that “Little Brother Sun Ne would find its report acceptable.”

Nezan loved Biyu’s collection of bows. The fox said they made him feel absolutely fabulous.

With careful and well practised movements, making barely a sound, the now larger boar grabbed the fire prod in his teeth and stoked the flames. He placed another log on the fire. He trundled around the house, clearing away what looked like patches of tar, the substance accumulating in the corners of the room.

He cleaned it from the house, gathering it in a reed sack, woven when the house was first made. Done with his cleaning he took the sack far, far away. To the top of a mountain in the distance.

There, he lifted the bag to the heavens.

The golden cracks in the sky responded. They pulsed, and from high above, Qi collected like drops of dew. A dizzying array of energies flowed down. Chun Ke sensed a silver droplet of moonlight. Grass, growing strong, and nourishing all around it. A fierce and mighty intent, the blades of a protector. A herbal scent, tangy and medicinal. Misty illusions and sturdy, rock-like endurance that others could depend on. A captured instant of a storm’s wrath, hidden within a lazy babbling creek. A void, wrapped in warmth and duty. The burning gold of the sun. The earth and glass of a spirit starting on a path of renewal.

Medicine, and a will to help, contrasted by the dim light of the stars.

And finally… gold. The cracks themselves pulsed, as golden liquid seeped out of them, racing to the location of the other drops.

The gold of a man who loved the little patch of land he could call his own.

The drops of Qi swirled together, growing heavy, upon the golden scar like rain upon a leaf…and waiting for one last piece.

The boar’s Qi, Life and growth, flowed up to join the Qi above. The prismatic orb shuddered and swirled, mixing every colour, every scent, and every taste from the gathered Qi into one single shining drop.

For a moment it was suspended in the air before it dropped.

It fell, landing on the reed-bag full of tar. When it met the tar within it acted more like honey than water; enveloping the impurities within, burning them away until there was nothing left.

The boar, satisfied, his task complete, closed his eyes.

“It's time!” Bi De’s Great Master declared. He stood at the head of the disciples, his arms crossed and his gaze resolute.

Each and every one of them was in the ceremonial garb of this most glorious of times. Their heads were covered by their red hats; their bodies, by the red and black checkered robes.

The snow was melting, ever so slightly; the air had the promise of spring… and that could mean only one thing.

The pots were prepared; the fire pits dug.

And the trees were tapped.

Sap flowed like water and was boiled away as they toiled and toiled, crafting the sweet elixir known as Maple Syrup.

The boar was not the only one who visited. In the depths of the dream world, there were others.

A man, two halves fuzed with golden cracks, hummed songs, told fantastical stories about little men that stole from dragons, and argued with the other half of himself. Both of them seemed to enjoy the arguments; there was no real animosity between them. After all… they were nearly the same man.

A woman with freckles that formed like constellations on her face visited too. She patched up blankets and told stories of her childhood, as gentle fingers ran through the little one’s hair. In her stomach, a spark grew, getting larger and larger every day.

Sometimes, the little girl’s power, unconsciously, reached out towards that light. To cradle it. To let her power flow into that little spark, to inhabit it… but always, some sense of her awareness, even well sleeping, stopped short of taking such a step.

A woman with long hair and a pretty voice was the quietest; she simply sat, silent. A constant warm presence. Adding nothing to her dream but the peace she carried within her.

A cat who was a girl occasionally visited. She carved into the wooden beams of the house and added more decorations to the ones she had already created.

A Rooster stared at the sky with a gimlet eye, waiting for the dawn.

Days passed, that were not days, but an endless night.

For all the sky was eternal, the little girl within the house changed.

The tremors and tears came less and less. Not every day was a nightmare; some of her dreams had her smiling. Sometimes, she felt at peace.

She stirred slightly as the sky, once pitch black, grew brighter and brighter.

As the snow grew soft and slushy, and began to melt.

And as Tianlan, deep in slumber, began to stir.

“Jin?” Meimei whispered, as we sat together in the morning.

“Yes, love?” I returned.

“This week,” she stated simply, her hand against her stomach.