death. If you battle against one, overwhelm it with numbers if you can or wear it out, drain it of energy.”
“Lastly, there are the Taiji . The masters of themselves. Warriors who balance the internal and external, the yin and the yang. The true Taiji harbours and stores his energy, using it when needed and replenishing when not. There is no need for outside power. No spirit or spell to draw on the power of the void. There is only the master. I can teach you the essence of Taiji so that you can master it over years of practice, but you must let go of the Fang-Shi . Destroy the spells you have, release that energy and come back into balance.”
“There is war coming, Shifu. I will need those spells and tricks.” Haung clambered back to his feet.
“Haung, you have potential. A great deal of it and the Emperor has tasked me with teaching you the way of the Taiji . Do you wish either of us to go against the Emperor’s orders?” Shifu looked up into Haung’s eyes. “Your wife and child reside in the Forbidden City at his expense. You were healed at his expense. He sees something in you, Haung. He has need of you, but Fang-Shi magic is not the way. Until you let go of that, you will always be defeated by other Taiji or excellent swordsman.”
“I beat Jing Ke,” Haung said defensively.
“Haung, I am sorry to say you did not. You beat a Jing Ke but not the Jing Ke.” Shifu shook his head sadly and turned away. “Come, let us take tea and I will convince you.”
Haung wiped the blood from his lips with the sleeve of his robe and followed his teacher past the other soldiers who were up and about this early hour. A few turned to stare at the pair of them. He ignored them.
Chapter 3
The scent of the forest was something he had learned to appreciate during his time on the mountain. He knew he would miss it if he left. A combination of earth and leaves, a mineral tang from the weathering of the exposed rocks, and the freshness of rain. Underlying this, a hint of moss and mould, alongside the musk of animals. In the spring and summer, the sweetness of blossom and fruit, turned sweeter still in the autumn by decomposition. Winter was muted, subtle and harder to detect, but there was a pleasure in savouring the delicate scent. Each season written in the aroma of the forest.
Zhou took another swig from the almost empty water skin and turning his back to the trunk, slid down to sit at the foot of the tree. The stone path was only a pace or two away but he did not want to set foot on it again. It led back up the mountain. to the stairs and failure.
Why can’t I do it? Twenty six steps and I can’t get past the fourth. There cannot be many who have failed as much as me. Even Xióngmāo is getting tired of it, of me.
Zhou slapped his open palm down onto the forest floor. Looking out across the path and the valley beyond he could see the peaks of other mountains. The tallest were snow covered all year round. A few, he knew, were the sites of temples to the various systems of belief the Empire encompassed. They all came here, to these mountains, the tallest in the Empire. The Ruists worshipping nature, seeking to understand the harmony between all things. The Buddhists trying to understand themselves and reach perfection. The Taoists worshipped the ancestors and sought to improve themselves, to live forever. In the last few hundred years, as Boqin told it, even the disciples of the one-god had begun to build their temples on the lower slopes. But higher than all the others was the Temple of the Wu . Built on the tallest mountain in the range, it took travellers many days to climb the ten thousand stairs to reach the temple.
And what do they find? If they are lucky, someone will be here to welcome them and give them enough food, water and rest to make the descent. More than likely though, they’d find no one here. Three weeks of being on my own before anyone showed up to help me.
The Wu had no hierarchy, no priests,
“Lastly, there are the Taiji . The masters of themselves. Warriors who balance the internal and external, the yin and the yang. The true Taiji harbours and stores his energy, using it when needed and replenishing when not. There is no need for outside power. No spirit or spell to draw on the power of the void. There is only the master. I can teach you the essence of Taiji so that you can master it over years of practice, but you must let go of the Fang-Shi . Destroy the spells you have, release that energy and come back into balance.”
“There is war coming, Shifu. I will need those spells and tricks.” Haung clambered back to his feet.
“Haung, you have potential. A great deal of it and the Emperor has tasked me with teaching you the way of the Taiji . Do you wish either of us to go against the Emperor’s orders?” Shifu looked up into Haung’s eyes. “Your wife and child reside in the Forbidden City at his expense. You were healed at his expense. He sees something in you, Haung. He has need of you, but Fang-Shi magic is not the way. Until you let go of that, you will always be defeated by other Taiji or excellent swordsman.”
“I beat Jing Ke,” Haung said defensively.
“Haung, I am sorry to say you did not. You beat a Jing Ke but not the Jing Ke.” Shifu shook his head sadly and turned away. “Come, let us take tea and I will convince you.”
Haung wiped the blood from his lips with the sleeve of his robe and followed his teacher past the other soldiers who were up and about this early hour. A few turned to stare at the pair of them. He ignored them.
Chapter 3
The scent of the forest was something he had learned to appreciate during his time on the mountain. He knew he would miss it if he left. A combination of earth and leaves, a mineral tang from the weathering of the exposed rocks, and the freshness of rain. Underlying this, a hint of moss and mould, alongside the musk of animals. In the spring and summer, the sweetness of blossom and fruit, turned sweeter still in the autumn by decomposition. Winter was muted, subtle and harder to detect, but there was a pleasure in savouring the delicate scent. Each season written in the aroma of the forest.
Zhou took another swig from the almost empty water skin and turning his back to the trunk, slid down to sit at the foot of the tree. The stone path was only a pace or two away but he did not want to set foot on it again. It led back up the mountain. to the stairs and failure.
Why can’t I do it? Twenty six steps and I can’t get past the fourth. There cannot be many who have failed as much as me. Even Xióngmāo is getting tired of it, of me.
Zhou slapped his open palm down onto the forest floor. Looking out across the path and the valley beyond he could see the peaks of other mountains. The tallest were snow covered all year round. A few, he knew, were the sites of temples to the various systems of belief the Empire encompassed. They all came here, to these mountains, the tallest in the Empire. The Ruists worshipping nature, seeking to understand the harmony between all things. The Buddhists trying to understand themselves and reach perfection. The Taoists worshipped the ancestors and sought to improve themselves, to live forever. In the last few hundred years, as Boqin told it, even the disciples of the one-god had begun to build their temples on the lower slopes. But higher than all the others was the Temple of the Wu . Built on the tallest mountain in the range, it took travellers many days to climb the ten thousand stairs to reach the temple.
And what do they find? If they are lucky, someone will be here to welcome them and give them enough food, water and rest to make the descent. More than likely though, they’d find no one here. Three weeks of being on my own before anyone showed up to help me.
The Wu had no hierarchy, no priests,
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