27. Until We Meet Again

When he awoke from sleep, it was already dawn on the second day.

Cheng Yan stretched lazily as he got out of bed, his eyes bleary and unable to stop yawning. He thought last night had been nothing but a dream, and could not recall how he had been brought back. All he felt was a refreshing clarity throughout his body, and a faint warmth meandering in his lower abdomen, dispersing through his limbs with the surge of his blood. The sensation startled him awake.

He quickly checked himself.

“True Qi?!”

This warmth was distinct from his blood’s vitality, so weak as to be nearly imperceptible. Yet Cheng Yan could clearly direct it at will. Excitement surged through him; he leapt up, barely able to contain himself, and ran straight to the cats’ nest.

The three-legged old cat was still snoring away, while Huibao lay beneath its belly, covered by its tail. Cheng Yan grabbed Huibao, tossed it in the air, and, though he dared not speak aloud, grinned in silence, his mouth stretched wide with joy.

The black cat, Lu Xun, opened his eyes and let out a long yawn. Last night, after Cheng Yan and Lü He had drunk themselves into a stupor, it was Lu Xun who had carried them both back to the dormitory.

“Uncle Cat, I have true Qi!” Cheng Yan whispered excitedly at the side of the nest, unable to suppress the elation on his face.

Possessing true Qi was true capability; from now on, whether joining the army or entering the magistrate’s office, he could at least secure a minor official’s post. He had studied the Sword Canon for ten years; his robust blood and solid skills would only help him quickly strengthen his true Qi—truly a case of years of preparation yielding sudden success.

Lü He, awakened by Cheng Yan’s commotion, stared in astonishment at the joy upon his friend’s face. “Could it be that you…”

“By rights, I shouldn’t have made a breakthrough so soon. I’ve heard Uncle Zhao practiced the Essentials of Martial Training for twenty years and is a solid master of the Three Gates. How could my ten years of Sword Canon best him?”

“Perhaps your talent is extraordinary.”

“You’ve never met my Uncle Zhao; he’s the true prodigy. He could defeat those with true Qi while having none himself. If I spar with him, I lose within three or five moves.”

“Then that means…” Suddenly a thought struck Lü He, and he exclaimed, “I think I can control some kind of energy too!”

Cheng Yan replied firmly, “Magic power?”

“It’s those two green fruits!”

The realization dawned on them both.

A single fruit granting someone magical power was simply incredible.

Lu Xun’s eyelids drooped; he hadn’t slept well lately.

“You mean that black jade seal again…” Lü He wanted to press further, but Cheng Yan’s face grew solemn: “Best not to speak of it.”

Matters between great personages were best left unprobed; those who benefit should know when to keep silent.

Lü He nodded, tacitly dropping the subject.

He got up, stepped to the cats’ nest, and bowed deeply. “Thank you for saving us, Uncle Cat!”

Cheng Yan also bowed, his face betraying no surprise. Anyone who survived to adulthood was no fool. Uncle Cat had studied with them for so long; Lü He had long known the old cat was no ordinary creature.

The black cat waved his paw.

He had promised Old Cheng to look after little Cheng.

“What’s all this racket?” Zhou Changcai, bleary-eyed and sporting dark circles, crawled out of his bedroll. Beside him, Wu Agui continued to snore, blanket pulled over his head.

Cheng Yan and Lü He exchanged glances but said nothing of the true cause. Had they known it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, they would surely have brought the two along. Now the banquet had vanished, and telling Zhou Changcai and Wu Agui about their newfound powers would only bring regret or perhaps unnecessary trouble. Sometimes, this small gap was enough to send a man astray.

Cheng Yan changed the subject, “When did you two get back?”

Zhou Changcai recalled, “About the fifth watch.”

“Ugh!” Wu Agui grunted irritably into his bedding.

Neither spoke further. Zhou Changcai lay back down to catch a bit more sleep.

Unable to contain himself, Cheng Yan went out to the courtyard to practice his martial arts, while Lü He, clasping the academy-issued texts, searched for anything related to magical power.

Having it wasn’t enough—they needed to know how to use it, wield it skillfully, and continue to strengthen it. Only then would they be worthy of such fortune.

…

Mornings were spent learning characters, afternoons on music, etiquette, riding and archery, painting and calligraphy, and divination. Lu Xun had picked up quite a few of the ancient world’s customs—at least now he no longer offered the awkward fist-salute. Rituals were intricate; bowing with hands clasped was common, but the cross-hands salute was more universal. Many bowing ceremonies had been simplified, being too cumbersome.

Thanks to diligence, he could now recognize more than a thousand characters.

Days were filled with culture lessons; at night, he learned boxing in the ancient pine forest.

This was Lu Xun’s favorite subject by far.

Of course, he had to learn to read.

Truth be told, the gentleman’s six arts didn’t interest him much—only martial training truly stirred his enthusiasm. Ever since his monkey-style boxing had been enhanced by magic, his understanding of ape-form boxing had reached new heights.

And so, the days passed in fulfilling routine.

Cheng Yan regained his old cheer, no longer fixated on the journey southeast. On the contrary, he trained harder than ever, perhaps spurred by unknown motivations.

Lü He still looked every bit the scholar, spending even more time buried in the library, nearly obsessed with his reading.

The two fellow townsmen remained unchanged—sleeping through class by day, spending their nights roaming the hills behind the academy.

The only major event was the selection of students.

A, B, C, D; Rat, Ox, Tiger, Rabbit.

Five main academies, sixteen halls in all.

Lu Xun had no idea how many would be chosen, nor did he care.

…

That night.

Behind the ancient pines.

Toothless lowered his head to bite a dried crucian carp, tossing it up to swallow whole, while Huibao nibbled contentedly on a piece of dried tofu. The ape monster clutched a paper packet of roasted nuts, five of which were laid out on the stone table. Across from him, Sun Shen raised a wine gourd; the two gourds clinked together, and Sun Shen drank deeply.

Wiping the wine from his beard, Sun Shen spoke, “We leave in the morning.”

Lu Xun paused, then understood.

“This is the advanced refining method I compiled for you,” Sun Shen said, handing over a slim booklet.

Lu Xun opened it. The illustrations inside were vivid and lifelike.

“If you truly wish to teach someone, they’ll have to carefully study it for themselves,” Sun Shen added, drinking again. He slowly stood. “If you ever come to the southeast, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Only the finest!” Lu Xun replied.

“Farewell!”

He bowed respectfully—no longer the careless man of before.

“It seems you’ve learned,” Sun Shen laughed, returning the bow. “Take care.”

With that, he turned and walked into the darkness.

Lu Xun watched in silence, stroking Toothless and Huibao.

“Chirp, chirp.”

“Dit.”

Toothless stood quietly on Lu Xun’s shoulder; Huibao, no longer greedy, set down his freeze-dried snack. Both creatures seemed to sense their master’s melancholy.

“Let’s train,” Lu Xun murmured, and launched into a set of ape-form boxing.

Stances must be solid, foundational skills honed, and characters learned.

A few more days passed.

But paper cannot cover fire forever.

The fact that Cheng Yan had developed true Qi soon came to the attention of Zhou Changcai and Wu Agui.

It was a hard thing to hide.

Those with magical power had eyes bright as frosted stars; with careful observation, it was plain to see—only those who grew skilled at concealing it could hide the telltale signs.

At first, the two suspected nothing.

Cheng Yan had trained for years, and with his grandfather a retired army jailer, it was not shocking for him to develop true Qi; at most, it was a testament to good family tradition.

But when they noticed Lü He’s magical abilities as well, they pressed for details.

A poor family could never afford resources for martial training.

Unable to hide it, Cheng Yan told them the truth.

“What a blunder!” The two beat their chests in regret, blaming themselves for leaving too soon.

Had they lingered just a little longer, they too could have joined the banquet of Master Three-Mountains.

Cheng Yan consoled them, “If you have enough silver, and ask an experienced master to use magic to clear your meridians, you too can develop true Qi.”

“That’s true,” Zhou Changcai agreed, though he still felt it was a pity.

Wu Agui looked stricken; he’d heard that true Qi could greatly strengthen the body, and his own frame, worn by drink and pleasure, sorely needed it.

At night, the two left the dorm, arms around each other’s shoulders.

This time, however, they did not head straight for the brothels and gambling dens, but followed Cheng Yan’s tale to the empty hall behind the monastery.

Sure enough, there was a massive mural set into the wall. Strangely, a great tear had been rent in its center, its depths misty and unfathomable.

“Do we go in?” Zhou Changcai was not so brave; seeing the cold, profound darkness, he hesitated.

“Of course we go.”

“Otherwise, why come here?”

“If you won’t, I will myself.”

“Don’t regret it.”

Without waiting further, Wu Agui strode forward.