(Day 220)

  Entering seclusion in the cave was without a doubt a punishment. Pengfei would have preferred to be in his dormitory, in the sect’s main compound, eating hot meals and practicing with his friends. The isolation and boredom weighed heavily on the mind within just a few hours of entering the cell.

  But he had been buoyed by the prospect of learning new martial arts. Only to be stymied.

  The first third of the manual for ‘Mountain King Step’ was nearly identical to the qinggong he had already studied. The same footwork, the same meridians, the same circulation method. He could, and did, practice the techniques but it was nothing new to him.

  On the other hand, the latter pages were completely different to anything Pengfei had seen before. They dealt with agility and surefootedness, especially in the ascent and descent of mountainous terrain. Clearly inspired, or entirely cribbed, from the ‘Gecko Climbing Arts' that the elder had mentioned.

  While he desired to assimilate the material, the method described in the book for developing the necessary sensitivity was out of the question.

  Pengfei was getting dizzy just looking out over the edge of his cell. Up, down, and to the sides. The cliff was a terrifying prospect. A fall of half a li or more. But climbing out there was a requirement to progress.

  --No fucking way.--

  He recalled the words from the book.

  ‘Climb until you can feel the grasping yang in your fingers and toes, the nimbleness of yin, and let the interplay between the energies give rise to true balance.’

  Everything else in the manual was closed off to him until he could accomplish this hazily described awareness.

  A bird screeched below him as it coasted on the air along the cliff face. The sound was barely perceptible by the time it reached him.

  --Nope. Not going to try that on my own.--

  He stepped back from the cliff and retreated further inside.

  The cell was like the other’s Pengfei had seen. Mostly consisted of a smooth practice floor, cut from the rock, with a ceiling high enough to swing even the longest sword. A weapons rack held several wooden options. Large ceramic jars filled with stagnant water or unpalatable rations.

  He stood in front of a basin he had already filled with water from one of the urns. He splashed his face as the morning light made its way into the cell. He left his chest bare, though the air was chilly.

  He dried his hands on his pants and made his way to a small nook in the rock. Fashioned into a bookshelf for the small library he had been provided. Pengfei’s fingers first ran over the short swords placed next to the texts.

  Another sore spot. The weapons were a tantalizing glimpse into the world of blades. A glimpse compatible with the way of the fist that he had decided to pursue. The sabers should be easily more easily adaptable to his style than the jian. In theory.

  --But no teacher. Just fumbling around in the dark. I’m lucky the blades aren’t sharpened or I would have lost a finger already.--

  He brushed past the short swords and picked out a few of the manuals from the makeshift bookshelf. Not the ‘Kunlun Wishful Hand’. The grappling style that Chen Ji had been teaching to the boys of the Discipline Hall was nearly impossible to practice without a partner. Nothing could truly replicate the complicated machinery of a human wrist, elbow, or shoulder. He tried occasionally to find the pressure points on his own body, but doubted the practice would carry over to an opponent.

  That left only two arts to him. The ‘Heaven Shaking Fist’ and the ‘Arhat Fist’.

  --The old reliable ones.--

  He took those texts, set them on top of a folded pile of clothes next to the squared stone floor that formed the cell’s training area.

  The style of Kunlun was first. Forms were no longer necessary. Not every day. Pengfei practiced them once or twice a week to keep them fresh. Most of the time he focused on specific techniques or drills. Or engaged in bouts with imaginary opponents.

  This is what he did now. Blocking punches and kicks that weren’t really there, striking out at nothing.

  Neng was the adversary he challenged most often. He could almost see the boy’s face at the end of his punch. There was anger but not real rage. Confusion. There had been a betrayal, that much was undeniable. But judging by the fact that none of the elders had interrogated Pengfei about a murder, Neng hadn’t told anyone about Guoyu.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Still, beyond the hurt and confusion there was hunger. Drive.

  --I’m not going to lose like that again.--

  Pengfei imagined grabbing his phantom adversary by the wrist. It slipped his grasp, just as Neng had done during their real fight. Instead of freezing in disbelief, waiting for his arm to be broken again, Pengfei circled and pushed into the ghost’s shoulder creating enough distance for a high kick.

  “Knock out…” he huffed aloud, panting with the exertion of a protracted battle, then asked himself sarcastically, “Why didn’t I do that last time?”

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  (Day 240)

  --Fist, leg, palm, finger, grappling, qinggong, neigong, waigong, and a way to deal with weapons… what have I gotten myself into?--

  Pengfei was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He recited the components that Chen Rulan had outlined for him, the skills he would need to acquire to be a successful martial artist in the Jinaghu.

  --And I’ve learned a bit of the fist. Barely picked up the short swords. Everything else is totally lacking, or needs to be replaced.--

  The sweat on his body had turned cold and dried. The sabers he had been practicing with were now balanced casually on his stomach. Still no insight there. But he could practice basic cuts and thrusts with them. That much, at least, he was able to adapt from his brief time practicing Kunlun’s sword style.

  --So much to learn but only so much time in a day. Only so much energy one man exert. Even someone as magnificent as myself.--

  His head lolled, fell to one side, until he was staring out the cave opening into the sky. Another sun set, only evidenced by the orange rays creeping along the stone wall. The days and weeks passed in an agonizingly slow crawl. Tally marks scratched into a wall kept track of his time in the cell.

  --Any day now. They’ll take me out of here any day now. They need me, for the herd. Can’t just forget about me.--

  He stood, walked to the ledge and looked out. His eyes sought out signs of life and quickly found them, despite their natural camouflage. The pack of Ibex was there again, a hundred paces away and maybe another twenty paces farther down the cliff side. The mountain goats picked their way along the crags. Their hooves found purchase on the smallest protrusions and the most unlikely angles.

  Pengfei had encountered the animals months ago, during his first punishment at the cliffs. And it hadn’t taken long for him to spot them again this time, now that he knew what to look for. He spotted them most days, though their dark coats blended in perfectly with the mountain.

  “Can one of you guys give me a ride out of here?!”

  The beasts kept grazing at whatever sprigs of vegetation they could find on the rock, paying him no mind.

  “Yeah… I probably wouldn’t trust you anyway.”

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  (Day 245)

  “Whooooooooooo!” he screamed into the wind, arms spread wide, as Horse galloped across the valley. Pengfei had grown accustomed to the mare’s stunning power. He kept his seat in the saddle now on pure balance. His feet barely touched the stirrups.

  His friends were ahead. They waited with amused faces, riding on their own mounts. Horse skidded to a halt just in front of them.

  “You alright there?” Tianwei asked.

  “Looking a little wild.” Tianxun said.

  “Just clearing my head boys.” Pengfei responded with a smile.

  “You sure you haven’t gone crazy in that cell of yours?”

  “Please. It’s nothing.” He said with bravado.

  Pengfei pulled Horse’s reins and she circled the twins, hopped up on to a rock, balanced comically with her four hooves bunched together.

  “So, you won’t have any problem going back into seclusion when your shift in the valley ends?”

  That question gave him pause, but he forced a voice of nonchalance. “No problem at all.”

  He kicked Horse’s flanks and she jumped from her perch. He sent her walking back toward the bunkhouse. With the twins behind him, he lost track of which was which. They spoke in their strange alternating rhythm.

  “One of the colts has an abscess.”

  “You going to take a look or you want us to handle it?”

  “What did you two have in mind?” Pengfei asked, testing the brothers.

  “Lance it.”

  “Flush it with cold water, then boiling tea.”

  He nodded approvingly. “You two have been doing your reading. Let’s go. I’ll supervise.”

  Pengfei led the way to the paddock. Most of the horses were grazing further downstream after a day of riding instruction but one was limping pathetically around the small, fenced, enclosure. Some of the other disciples were leaning against the rails, inspecting the injured colt and conversing amongst themselves.

  Tianwei broke off for a moment, then quickly returned with a leather satchel of tools. His brother busied himself building a fire near the paddock and Pengfei fetched a couple pots of water.

  Soon, the twins had roped the horse and forced it down onto its side. No easy task. The beast bayed in pain as Tianxun scraped at the flesh underneath the hoof with a hot blade. It writhed against restraints and flung its head back and forth, but soon the little surgery was completed.

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  (Day 271)

  He blocked Jin Baizu’s overhead slash by lifting both his arms, catching the stroke with his short swords. The dull blades bit into the wooden practice jian, but none of the other disciples had complained yet about the damage to their training weapons.

  Pengfei gave a swipe at his opponent but hit nothing.

  The next attack looked the same, and Pengfei brought up the same defense. But this time Baizu adjusted the path slightly, and the jian thumped against Pengfei’s wrist instead of bouncing off the crossed sabers.

  --Fuck.--

  He nodded in acknowledgement of his little defeat and reset to start a new engagement with his partner. But before they could make another pass at each other, Elder Zhi called out to him.

  “Pengfei! Come here!”

  Pengfei saluted Baizu, stuffed his sabers into his belt, and jogged through the group of duelists until he was clear of the swinging swords and lunging bodies.

  The boys had spread out quite a bit. While in the sect, they were restricted by the confines of the training yard but here in the valley they could disperse over a wide swath of grassy terrain. It took Pengfei a couple minutes to loop back toward where Elder Zhi was standing.

  --Oh fuck… I thought I had another day at least.--

  Chen Ji was standing there with the other old Taoist. The head of the Discipline Hall was clasping his arms behind his back, looking expectantly to Pengfei.

  “Time to head back up, boy.” He said kindly.

  “Sir, isn’t it… it’s awfully late.”

  “You may be slow, but even you can get back up the path before nightfall.”

  Pengfei stiffened and looked up the mountain. He couldn’t see the cliff. It was on the northeastern face. But he traced the route up to the sect with his eyes as far as he could see.

  “Can’t I just stay one more night?” he asked plaintively.

  Chen Ji smiled awkwardly and shook his head. “Go gather your things.”

  Pengfei couldn’t even say goodbye to the twins or any of his other acquaintances among the disciples. He looked over at the pairs of boys as they continued their practice, walked slowly back to the bunkhouse.

  His things were gathered up soon. There wasn’t much to pack. He threw his bag over his shoulder and reluctantly returned to the waiting elder.

  Chen Ji wordlessly turned around and led the way back uphill.