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CC: Chapter 32
🕑 Added 2024-04-23 13:54:47 +0000 UTCXJ-V stared dumbfounded at his companion.
“A tournament…” he parroted. “A contest to decide who the Planeswalker’s apprentice shall be.”
Feng-Lung nodded, and the Cog thought he witnessed a spark twinkle in his friend’s blue eyes.
“Is it truly worth entering?’ XJ-V asked. “Perhaps Master Longhua speaks true. Perhaps it is best to remain in Ramor-Tai.”
His companion was not to be dissuaded. It was as though XJ-V was looking at the reborn Feng-Lung before him, full of all his boyish excitement and infectious enthusiasm.
“I…am not fond of Ori’un,” he admitted. “But if war is coming then we must be ready. Even if we are not chosen as the Planeswalker’s charge, the tournament will be the opportunity to prove ourselves to the Master. With luck, he may even accelerate our training. He may decide we are worthy enough to learn the advanced techniques beyond those of the Earth Grade. And then,” he added with battle-fervor. “If the High Eagle does come, we shall be ready to send his precious Divine Order packing!”
XJ-V pondered his friend’s words. He thought of Ori’un’s dark face hidden beneath his cloak. He thought of the stain embedded in his arm.
XJ-V had felt the pain he spoke of before…
If there was a chance, even a fleeting one, that he could prevent the same pain being inflicted on others, then he would stand beside his friend – as he would with all the Brothers of Ramor-Tai.
He would not see his new home burn as Hensha did.
So it was that during the night, while the rest of the Disciples of both Eternal Dragon and Waiting Tiger celebrated with the Planeswalker, XJ-V and Feng-Lung spent their time in solemn meditation. They talked between their Dao-Walks of their plans for the tournament – XJ-V offering Feng-Lung the chance to train with Fai-Deng, and Feng-Lung explaining to his Cog Brother what weaknesses he could exploit in the other Disciples.
XJ-V smiled as he listened to his Brother. He could tell, above all else, that the youth was excited about the prospect of the battle to come.
“The greatest opponent will be Mah-Jung,” Feng-Lung said covertly, as though the Disciple was listening at his doorway and was not presently outside in the commune getting drunk until all salient thoughts were erased from his mind.
“He has entered the final ring of Corporeal Cultivation,” XJ-V countered. “Is it really true that he will delay his meditations so that he can enter the tournament?”
Feng-Lung nodded. “Mah-Jung more than most of us wishes to leave these walls. He would love nothing more than to be seen as a hero of the ruined world outside, de-feathering the High Eagle and bringing his head before us. Mark me, XJ-V, he will be a fearsome opponenet for you to overcome.”
“Me?” XJ-V asked. “Surely you mean ‘we’, Feng-Lung? After all, it could be you that ends up facing him.”
XJ-V watched Feng’s face stiffen for a moment before he responded.
“Ah, yes,” he said. “Yes, of course. Let us resume our meditations. You are almost to Coporeal Temperer Rank 3. You must at least pass to Rank 4 to learn the more advanced of the Earth Grade techniques. I think one more draw from the Dao should do it. Are you ready?”
Though confused by Feng’s focus on his own quick development, XJ-V merely put such concerns down to Feng being an altruistic young man. He had been ever since he had met him. The boy’s preoccupation with the Cog’s skills and his interest in his nature was nothing new.
“Okay,” he said. “Concentrate. Breathe deep, and feel the light of the Dao grace your steel skin.”
XJ-V closed his eyes and listened to Feng-Lung’s voice, making sure Arha was beside him just before he began his delve back into the world of limitless, and dangerous, power.
“Honestly,” the little fox-spirit groaned. “Haven’t I done enough tonight? Arha should be out there swimming in Baijiu, not here with a stuffy Cog and his friend.”
“If you help us,” XJ-V said with a sly grin. “There will be limitless scratchies for your belly tomorrow morning.”
The Huli needed no further persuasion. Almost instantly after he said the words, the Cog felt his soul pulled towards the limitless realm of mountains capped with starlight, and a sky streaked with all the colors of the spectrum.
The beauty, however, was short lived. XJ-V fell from the clouds into the blasted lands of the Wastes, seeing city after city engulfed in flames that had once swept through the entire world and were now on the verge of returning to decimate all that remained. He could feel Feng-Lung flying beside him, similarly looking upon the golden-razor wings of the Eagle that stretched out from the Western hemisphere leaving a trail of orphans and widows on its wake. Its pilliaries pointed towards Ramor-Tai – a bastion shining atop the mountain on the Southernmost edge of Qingua’s once proud Dynasty – and saw its light begin to dim.
Then, they plummeted down to bathe in the flames themselves – feeling their flesh – organic and metallic - crisp and crumble away to ash that coated the ruins of the world. Yet their eyes remained to see two figures standing tall amongst the flames that licked at the carcass of the land – two cloaked figures who pulled down their hoods as they looked upon the descending armies of the Eagle without fear, without mercy.
And XJ-V saw, as clear as the reality of Feng-Lung’s chamber that was beginning to come back into view, that one figure wore the face of Ori’un.
And the other – the other looked back at him with his own eyes. It was the shadow-self that he had passed through to walk the Dao. It was the beast that dwelled beneath his heart that would come to walk the earth, in time, once again.
When he woke, he did so seeing two things before his eyes.
One: his Anima Cores numbered 132. He had made it to the Third Rank of Corproreal Temperer.
The other sight he beheld was that of Feng-Lung’s knowing eyes, as the Cog came to realize the truth in his face.
You don’t want to win, he thought, unable to voice that which did not, truly, have to be given voice at all. You…you want it to be me.
…
The next morning, Master Longhua wasted no time in announcing the news to every drunken soul that emerged scratching their heads and wishing the old Master would stay silent for once.
“Cultivators of Ramor-Tai!” he roared to the sun-streaked heavens, amplifying his voice with the strengthened lungs of the ancient dragons. “The Mandate of Aun’El has been invoked! A tournament has been called. Mortal combat – open to all those of Corpreal Tempering rank alone!”
A collective sigh went up from the more experienced members of both Sects. The Mental Masters scoffed and waxed philosophical about the unfair treatment of those more attuned to the earth and the passions of the spirit, while the few Core Regulators merely tutted and went about their days in the Healing Chambers that were their homes.
And the Anima Banishers? They heard nothing at all – for they were still sequestered in the dark depths of the mountain, with two more summers before any would ever emerge.
But the novices of the monastery paid attention alright. A murmur of unchecked anticipation ran through them, and almost instantly XJ-V noticed each Brother sizing up the other, inspecting their muscle mass with almost scientific precision.
“And what shall be our prize, good Master of the Dragons!” Kai-Thai of the Waiting Tiger called out from the bustling crowd in the courtyard.
Master Longhua simply flourished the long wrists of his robe in response, casting a spiteful eye towards the roof of the Eternal Dragon where Ori’un was smiling at him.
“I am sure you can figure it out, good Tiger,” the Master said as he took his leave, ignoring the almost mass hysteria he had caused amongst the Disciples.
XJ-V felt something firm knock against his ribs, and, turning to fend off what he perceived to be an attack, noticed Fai-Deng standing behind him.
“Your rank, XJ-V.”
The Cog blinked, seeing the determination burn in the Tiger’s face.
“I made it to rank three last nigh-“
“Good,” he said. “That is enough. We will spar in ten minutes. Do not be late!”
Fai-Deng marched off without even waiting for his sparring partner’s consent, leaving XJ-V blinking amidst the excited crowd.
“You are lucky, Brother,” the calm, smooth voice of Mah-Jung said beside him. “Not all of us have a sparring partner that pushes us to fight for our lives.”
The youth wore the purple, drake-embroidered-robes of the Ninth Rank Corporeal Temperers – of which there were perhaps only a handful in the entire monastery and who, XJ-V noticed, were the least concerned of all those assembled this morning.
Well, of course they are, XJ-V found himself thinking. It is one of them that shall take the title. For it is they that deserve it.
The Cog cupped his hands and bowed low to his friend, showing his superior the proper respect. He knew just how much Qi Mah-Jung could control. It was almost futile to think he could stand a chance against him.
“I will be honored to watch your performance in the bouts to come, Brother,” XJ-V said with a smile.
It was a smile, however, that Mah-Jung did not return.
“You speak as though you will not participate, my Cog Brother,” Mah-Jung replied, almost sounding hurt by the very notion. “You shall see my performance firsthand. I already know that we shall face each other in this trial.”
XJ-V expected to feel his Brother jokingly pat his back or smile his jovial grin. Instead, he saw him look towards the sunbathing image of Ori’un sitting atop the Dragon commune, still sipping on Citra wine left over from the night before.
“It is the only way out,” he said – and his voice was barely a whisper. “The invocation of Aun’El means that Planeswalker Ori’un wishes to take the strongest of the monastery’s Cultivators away, to join him in his duty to correct the world out there. This is good. It is proper. It is the only way to make what we do have any meaning at all. You agree, do you not, Brother Cog? You have seen what waits outside for us all.”
Slightly alarmed by his Brother’s candor, XJ-V simply smirked and sighed, trying his best to forget the memories that had haunted him before he first set foot in Ai-Lee’s Grove and watched them melt away.
“I have given up on that world,” he said. “I think my place is here, among Brothers. I think it is what my Creator wanted of me.”
Without missing a single beat, Mah-Jung came back with an answer that hit the Cog like a slap in the face.
“But is it what you want?”
The Cog, even though he could have probably thought of something, was surprised to find that he had nothing to say in response.
“The world out there keeps turning,” Mah-Jung went on. “People of the Wastes continue to make the wrong choices. They continue to stray down the path old Qing did, and they continue to obstruct the growth of this world. We can’t turn a blind eye to it forever. I suspect even Master Longhua knows this.”
XJ-V watched the youth’s face warp and change to one of frustration for only a few moments – wrinkles forming round his pouting mouth that XJ-V never even realized were there before.
“I hope you will not think this improper of me, Brother,” Mah-Jung finally said. “But if you chose to enter the tournament – I implore you to take it seriously. If you are to fight, fight to win. I would hate to gain victory over someone who did not wish to take the prize I long to hold.”
With that, the Master Temperer bowed and took his leave, heading for the training Hall of Dragonpyre hearth to hone his already impressive skills.
And XJ-V was left wondering how much of a scolding Fai-Deng was going to give him for being late to their Kata session, and equally how the always cheerful Mah-Jung had seemingly changed overnight with the promise of freedom now being dangled before him.
It was said by the Prophet Ming’Bao that if one wanted to see the true nature of a man, one must stroke the flames of his ambition and watch his response.
And XJ-V had seen now exactly what his Brother longed for.
He wanted to fly free of these walls – to correct the decadent world that his Master said was just not worth it.
In truth, XJ-V understood. The boy had good intentions. He simply doubted that such intentions, even good ones, could ever change things for the better.
After all, there were plenty of young men who thought they knew what was best for the world
And one of them was out there, right now, burning it to the ground.
