At dawn, old man Bao met with River's End City Lord as planned. They gave him a breakdown of what had happened and he instantly panicked. The monk that had passed belonged to a cult, he told them. A cult that would demand answers.
The stern looking man paced around the city square. He had closed off the entire section from the public, alluding the decree to ' bad omen '. For the forty-second time, he grunted and walked round the empty Buddha platform. The blood beneath had been soaked up as much as possible. It helped that the snow still fell in light clusters.
"They will expect an explanation and a half-baked tale of blood and peasant chalk is not going to do, Bao. You best say the truth. "
Old Bao stood at ease, stroking the beads on his beard. "You speak rashly, boy."
The city Lord was a proud man in his middle ages. He did not take the condescending tone of the older fellow lightly. His nose contorted and he paced the length of the podium twice. Zero watched the man, wondering why he was tolerating a mere innkeeper.
Of course Zero respected old Bao. But he was still an innkeeper. As far as the boy knew, the post of a city Lord was a position that not many would ever reach in their entire lives.
His village was too small to be called a city but even then, he remembered how much reverence was held for the chief.
"Everyone knows of your hatred for the upholders of the Buddhist dharma, old man. You can drop this silly pretence so we can come to a conclusion on how to solve this mess!"
Bao laughed but his face did not seem to move. The people that came with him from the inn watched on in silence. Stone grunted softly. Old Bao sighed, a smile still on his wrinkled face.
"Kid, you've lost your manners. Once a filial gentleman, now a barking dog. Ha!"
"Enough! You and your club of vagabonds have killed an innocent monk. A monk descended directly from the revered Dalai Lama!" Yang Fei, the city Lord, was visibly vibrating. His slanted eyes were wide open in some form of expression bordering on shock and irritation.
Zero could see the disposition of the older man change with each careless utterance from the city Lord. For some reason, the innkeeper seemed to have more bearing than the River's End leader.
"You do know who the Dalai Lama is, do you not? Of course you damned well do! The very bald headed monk leader who almost sliced you in half in a single move!" The young man had not noticed the subtle change in Bao's face. He kept on talking, all the while pacing the length of the podium, again and again.
His fine, turtle embroidered hanfu, swished at the gathering snow. He pinched his nose continually as his ranted and pointed fingers at the entirety of Bao's group.
"You fell to the feet of the great monk leader at the battle of Divyah. Is this your revenge? Pathetic! And you blame it on some...some myth?! You tell me it was the work of a ' presence '?!"
The young Yang Fei walked up to old Bao who stood firm as a well rooted tree.
"I shall have no part in covering up your misdeeds. You have angered the House of Sukho. You deal with it..."
A pause.
"After all, they are your blood. You damned trait—"
Slam!
In a single palm strike, Yang Fei was on the ground. He was alive but his shoulder had dislodged from his body completely. White bone contrasted against the dark fabric of his noble Hanfu. Blood and strips of flesh coated the bone. His mouth hung open and his face contorted in silent pain.
None of the guards he had come with came over to help. They had been sent to guard the entrances to the city square district. The Lord had no help.
"Lady Su," called old Bao. A woman from the inn came forth. She walked straight up to the now crying Lord and knelt. Next, she placed a hand over the ghastly wound and began murmuring. A bluish-golden light began to spread out softly and the bone went back into position with a loud pop.
She stopped then and bowed, sweating profusely. "The wound will have to be bandaged, old master. I can go no further." This was said to old Bao who nodded and told her to return.
All the while, Zero stood there, dumfounded. Had he been in the presence of Qi practitioners all along?! So that was the reason for their intense aura and sharp mannerisms.
And this old Bao...
He was quite ferocious for an old man! He looked over to see Stone staring at him in a warning manner. Alright then. So it was meant to be secret knowledge. Qi practitioners were not just seen in ordinary cities for no reason.
He could now make sense of the jabs the wounded Yang Fei had delt to the old man. Bao had offended a cult he had once fought with: a cult which he had belonged to and was labelled traitor for whatever reason.
If the mention of this cult and their Dalai Lama leader was enough to send old Bao into a bone breaking frenzy, he could only imagine the power they had in person.
He looked at the fierce looking old man, finding it gravely hard to believe that someone had almost split him in two with a single blow. His eyes went back to the moaning Yang Fei.
'Old Bao was once in such a position. Even with such strength!'
Zero felt quite like a noodle now. He was in the midst of myths and legends. In fact, right from the moment he got on that wagon, hoping for a less painful life, he was thrown into a game. A world he couldn't begin understand. Everything up until now was like a dream. Rather, a horrible nightmare.
Even now, he found himself recalling the words of the Soul Ceaser in the alley, wondering who this "mother" was.
"Yang Fei, boy. You shall learn to keep your mouth shut of certain things when amongst the commoners. As you know, reminants of the Nascent wars still linger in the air. We must do best to avoid another. "
Yang Fei did not answer. He could not; his eyes rolled back and forth in severe disorientation. Old Bao sighed.
"The fellow made me lose myself a bit there. Lady Su, Mister Chen, do help the Lord back to his residence. When at the gates, tell the guards he had faced a grand...uhh...beast at the square and got wounded fighting for his city."
Stone laughed sharply.
"The commoners would love to hear a bloody hero story, would they not? Blasted dingdongs!"
Old Bao sighed again.
As if sensing the pair of poking eyes, he turned to Zero.
Zero was fixated on Old Bao. On all of them. He blinked, then looked away. Surely he had not stumbled upon such forces of nature by luck?
He had heard stories of mighty Qi practitioners who battled monsters and devilbeasts. His mother told him such great tales of them and it felt otherworldly. He did not have much education, only going far enough that he could read and write. All the fickle knowledge he had of the words, "Qi" and "Mana" came from his mother's stories.
Now, somehow. In a way he could not have expected, he had entered the world of cultivation.
And it all began with the liquid shadow, the scroll and the eye.
Everything eventually traced back to the Yanluo and his quest to find that Core.
Old Bao removed his eyes from the boy who looked lost in his thoughts. He seemed like he hadn't known they were Qi practitioners. Which was absurdly strange. He couldn't have found the inn with the bare sight of a normal mortal. But then again, he couldn't have escaped the onslaught of such terrifying hell beasts if he was a normal kid. And with the appearance of a ghoul too...
All this however, was by the way.
The main issue at the moment, was the House of Sukho. A faction of mad Buddhists wearing smiles and serene dispositions to hide their crazed beliefs. A house of facades. A dangerous legion.
The calamity that was already brewing in the air from the imbalance of the realms needed just a tiny reason to escalate.
A catalyst for explosion.
Could the gruesome art of an unseen demon give reason for not just the world of cultivators but also immortals, to descend into chaos?
The old man recalled the inscription of chalk on blood. The character that had so intrigued the young Zero for quite a while that he stood in silent observance till dawn when it was soaked up in rags.
Xiá.
A threat. A promise. A bold face of mockery.
Someone was playing a game.