Brother Fu wasn’t subtle in the aftermath of the hawk attack. He handed Tian a head-sized stack of books on how to conduct oneself as a gentleman (which also happened to double as a library of ethics), then invited Wong around to discuss the dao. Their conversation resulted in a dust plume visible over the walls of Brother Fu’s courtyard.
Once the dust settled and Brother Wong’s limp healed, Tian was off to study medicine under Wong once more. Studying ethics and medicine were to be his routine. He could cultivate as he studied. During his free time, and even during his not-so-free time, Tian practiced martial arts.
Slipping away to take missions on his own? Sorry. Simply not possible just now. Perhaps later. Possibly much, much later.
Grandpa Jun took the news with all the grace of a boy watching dad eat his candy, but eventually settled down. It seemed there were still lots of benefits to be had in the Temple. Tian didn’t know how Grandpa calculated these things, but every so often a senior brother would make a casual observation and Tian would hear Grandpa’s not-so-nice laugh.
Despite the workload, his time spent practicing martial arts actually increased. One of his senior brothers explained the trick of constant martial training. Martial arts can be broken into four parts- conditioning the body, training the technique, forging the will, unifying the breath.
It was quite separate from cultivation, though cultivation was the bedrock upon which the temple of martial arts was built. One could become a supreme immortal and never practice martial arts a day in their life.
It was just really damned unlikely.
Cultivators got out in the world. They went on adventures. They beheaded demons and slaughtered devils. Those jade white hands were moisturised and protected from the sun by endless coats of red blood.
One could become a zither immortal or a painting immortal or a farming immortal. Theoretically. There were those in the Monastery who had managed it.
The senior brother looked inquisitively at Tian. “Does that sound like something you would be interested in?”
Tian thought it over. Medicine Immortal sounded pretty great, but based on his current experience with harvesting even Earthly grade herbs…
“Please, Senior Brother, say more about learning martial arts.”
The first part was straightforward, but not simple. Put the body under increasing stress without injury and allow enough time to rest and recover. “Pardon, Senior Brother?”
“Pick up heavy things, then put them down again, then pick them up again. Stretch. Jump. Run as fast as you can. Then rest. Eat plenty, sleep a lot. Don’t be one of those guys who thinks meditation can replace sleep. Maybe at the Heavenly Person level, but not now.” A thick finger wagged at him.
“When your body reaches a certain level, you can start incorporating your training into your ordinary life. Reading while doing a one-finger handstand, for example, or only traveling by jumping from tree to tree at the speed of a racing horse. Nothing high stress, but enough to keep your body learning.”
“I see. Thank you.”
Technique was harder. His main weapon was a rope dart, and his only fighting manual was Snake Head Vine Body. He was therefore to carry the rope dart everywhere and use it for everything. Tian nodded obediently. He was already doing that. The senior brother also recommended intense and repeated sparring with as many different weapons as possible.
“Remember, you can practice by yourself until every move flows like water, but it’s all nonsense until it’s been tested in a spar. Got it?”
“Yes, Senior Brother.” Tian smiled. He liked sparring.
“Sparring will help you forge your will. You have a head start over most kids, hell, most adults, when it comes to your will. Don’t be arrogant- hone it. Every time you are bored with something, or frustrated, or exhausted, tell yourself it’s a chance to hone your will. Every extra ounce of effort is a victory over your weakness. Teach your body that pain is simply information, and once you understand the message, you can ignore it if it repeats.”
“Yes, I know how to do that, Senior Brother.”
“I wish I didn’t believe you. Last thing is unifying your breath. Basically, incorporate how you breathe into every action. Make every breath intentional and make sure it supports your actions. It’s a bit advanced, but since you are cultivating as we speak, I think you can figure it out reasonably quickly. Try to spar while keeping your cultivation up.”
“Yes, Senior Brother. Is there anything else?”
“Everything else is refinement. Practice this for a decade or two, and you might just learn how to fight!” The senior brother started to laugh, then stopped suddenly and gave Tian a hard look.
“Practice like your life depends on it. The Outer Court has been slaughtering heretics like we were reaping rice, but there are more of them every year. A good brother of mine passed word that the situation on the Southern Border is so bad, the blood hardly has time to dry on the sand. I wish you had ten years to practice this, but, Tian… you might not even have one. I pray you have at least one more peaceful year.”
Tian didn’t think it would take that long to get good. He had a secret weapon. Grandpa Jun.
God, I love having all these cute little kids around. They give you enough information to let me get away with providing ‘minor corrections’ rather than actually ‘teaching’ you anything new and expensive. Now that baldy here has filled you in, let me explain to you the wonders of resistance training, timed rest and a little something called cardio. Then we can really get cooking!
“And the other stuff?” Tian tried to keep his voice from leaving his mouth. It sounded very weird, like an odd whisper, but he reckoned if he did it quite far from anyone, no one would notice.
All true, if incomplete. Well, I don’t know about the heretic situation, but I believe it. File under “Saving the World/Killing the Mad God. He was one hundred percent correct on the sparring though. No sparring means you are working on a mediocre dance performance, not learning to fight. One other thing- you have paid off your Rope Dart, so it’s time to think about where to invest next. Some new arts would be one idea. Have a look at what’s available. Move around. Or you can just find something good if you stay alert.
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Grandpa was sparing with the heavy hints. Tian was a bit vague on how everything worked on Grandpa’s end, and Grandpa refused to explain. If he was saying it this plainly, then it was probably vital and urgent.
Tian ran off to the scripture pavilion. It was situated next to the armory, as one might need a new weapons art to go with their new weapon. It was a single large room with rows of bookshelves lit by high windows and shielded oil lamps. Tian quickly found two arts that seemed to fit the bill- a light body art called Drifting Cloud Steps and a sensory art called Seven Orifice Refinement. Which sounded pretty nasty, but the description was great.
Total cost… he nearly fainted. One hundred and ten merit points. The missions usually available to him provided merit points in the single digits. Often in the low single digits. And mysteriously, no new missions had been released for the now full time herb boy.
He shook his head and raced off to study medicine. That paid a merit point a day. Which was criminally low on the one hand, and on the other, he was being paid to study something that would usually require him to spend a fortune to learn. He kept his mouth shut and appreciated the care of his seniors.
And quietly tried to find faster ways to earn merits, of course. But he truly was thankful. He hadn’t noticed that he was keeping out of the shadows, and letting his brothers stand close to him.
He kept busy. It wasn’t too many months later when he received a letter. “TO THE ONE SURNAMED TIAN” was written on the envelope. The handwriting was very good, Tian thought. Almost as good as his. All of his senior brothers seemed to vanish when the delivery arrived. Tian carefully opened it in his cell anyway.
Brother Tian,
They made me write ‘brother,’ this is my fifth time writing this letter. They made me write that too. But I’m writing the rest of this. You are an idiot. You are the biggest dumbest idiot in the whole world. I don’t have a sick brain, YOU have a sick brain. WHO SENDS FROG BRAINS BY MAIL!!!! YOU DUMMY!!!!
Auntie Bai says the best way to communicate is by violence. They are making me write this bit again. She says that the best way to communicate is by saying what you mean, but in a way that doesn’t create hard feelings and that’s why courtesy is important because one day I may blind some toad and it turns out he was the grandson or nephew of someone actually important and then I might get in trouble. So, since you don’t have a background, and since you like fighting, I’m going to plainly say what I mean by beating the shoes off of you.
Do you understand shoes? Do you know you should wear them and not eat them? Do you understand being beaten so bad, your shoes go flying off? I haven’t managed to do it yet, but I am going to. I sent a mouth guard with this letter. Use it. Because your face is so ugly already, if you lose your teeth and get even uglier, you would make everyone around you blind. They will call you Uggo Tian. Tian the Ugly Smelly Stupid Person That Blinds People Because He Is So Ugly And Stupid. I won’t take the blame for making the world an uglier place.
Beating you soon,
Hong Liren
PS. Wash your feet before the fight. If your shoes go flying off and I see smelly, dirty feet, I might throw up.
Tian looked at the mouth guard. It was a sort of U shape, made of soft, squishy material. He gave it a sniff. Based on his limited medical knowledge… he wasn’t going to stick it in his mouth. That just seemed really dumb.
“What a rude letter. She must not have used the medicine. I’ll have to find some other way to help her.”
He read the letter a second time.
“Maybe if you hit someone hard enough, it can fix the brain. But not too hard, of course.” Tian nodded strongly. “I am learning medicine. I’m sure I’ll get it right after a few tries.”
He paused and thought it through again.
“No more than five-ish tries. If, by the tenth kick to the head, her brain isn’t working again, I will definitely stop and try something else. That’s for safety.”
Just to be on the safe side, though, he intensified his sparring practice. The senior brothers were weirdly enthusiastic. Usually, he had to chase after them to spar, but now they couldn’t wait to volunteer. Especially the spear users.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The visit from the Lay Sisters was only a month away. Even Brother Wong got in on the training. He forced Tian to search for herbs hidden in a field of tall grass, and while Tian searched, Brother Wong stabbed at him with his spear. Tian got very used to dodging.
“A spear is the king of the battlefield, the halberd is the overlord. The masses darken the sky with waves of crossbows, but a single hunting bow can shoot down nine suns! A sword is the gentleman of weapons, while the saber is the butcher. An axe can split open the world, and a staff can heal it once more. But what is a rope dart?”
Brother Wong seemed to have eyes scattered everywhere in the field, including on his spear. No matter how desperately Tian moved, it seemed to track him like a snake. The tip might be wrapped with cotton, but it still hurt. And he still had to fill his basket with Blue Reedy Sweetgrass. Properly harvested, or it didn’t count.
“BROTHER WONG! BROTHER WONG! BROTHER TANG NEEDS YOU!” A senior brother rushed in, a cloud of dust blowing up around him.
“Follow as fast as you can Tian!”
Wong and the senior brother ran almost faster than Tian’s eyes could follow. He tightened the herb basket on his back and started running after them. He remembered brother Tang- the silent swordsman who accompanied him on his first mission and healed his broken leg. The brother seemed cool and aloof, but Tian had seen the care in his eyes. He just hadn’t recognized it at the time.
The medical hut was a mess. Dried plants were shoved onto shelves and desks, with the big table brushed clear. The handsome swordsman thrashed, naked, pinned to the table by two brothers. There was a leather wrapped stick jammed between his teeth, and a yellow paper charm pasted to his forehead. Brother Wong was swearing and trying to drive silver needles into acupoints.
“Hold him still, damn you. Tang! Tang, you sonofabitch bite that stick and HOLD. FUCKING. STILL!”
The swordsman was crying. Tian could see the tears falling. He couldn’t imagine where Brother Tang found the strength to hold still, but he managed it for just a moment. Wong drove the needle in, then blew powder into his patient’s face. Brother Tang took a strong whiff, convulsed once, and went still.
For a long moment, Tian thought he had died. Wong knew better.
“Blue Gaderoma. NOW!”
Tian ran and grabbed the rubbery fungus from the drawer and handed it to Brother Wong. Brother Wong crushed it while channeling some art through his hands. Blue watery fluid poured down onto the bare chest of Brother Tang. Tian hadn’t noticed before. His chest was a black and purple mass of sores and tumors. Bulbs of flesh swelled and split as he watched.
The blue water poured on it and it burned like acid. Smoke rose, stinking like a fire in an old latrine. With a choking horror, Tian saw the mass of sickness trying to spread, to move through the body and avoid the medicine. It shifted a bit, then stopped, trapped by Brother Wong’s acupuncture.
“White metal salve and aged goldenrod. Tighten up! Brother Tang needs you!”
“Yes, Brother Wong!” Tian was running as he answered.
“I fucking hate heretics.” Wong muttered. “I hate curses, and plague arts and all their bullshit.” His hands jabbed in long needles slowly, immensely carefully. He was sweating. “This is their path to immortality. This. Fuck the Heavens. Fuck Fate. It shouldn’t be like this.”
Brother Wong grabbed a cloth and wiped the tears off Tang’s face, and the vomit from around his mouth. “Fuck ‘em all. I’ll fight them to the end!”