Morning arrived in the fragrant mist of damp earth in Stone Creek Village.
Early morning, Lin Xuan woke up, his whole body feeling as if it were implanted with a faint strength. His meridians were smooth, and the Qi circulated gently like a stream, generating peace but silently supporting muscle and bone. Even the cool morning air tasted stronger on his tongue.
Since it was grassy and wanted wear. On the other side of the leaning wooden fence, across fields, hoe on his shoulder, already farmers were headed. As he got up to get some cold water, chickens went flying out of the way, and the bucket spun around until he had cold water poured over his head.
It was an electric shock, but rather than breaking back, he felt every single drop as if a strand of life pulling into his skin. They called it cultivation, he thought. The world feels… alive, even at Qi Gathering.
His mind flicked to the previous night. The jade slip had been concealed under the loose floorboard beneath his bed. Luo Feng and his friends evaded to the shadows, but the expression on their faces left him with no illusion that the problems had just gone away.
Trouble didn't take long.
The Challenge
The square had turned into a bustling weekly market by midmorning. Some farmers exchanged sacks of millet and beans for dried fish or pots made of clay. Women squabbled over rolls of cloth. Children darted underfoot.
The crowd was moving, allowing Lin Xuan to pass by. He held a small sack of dry herbs in his hand. Murmurs rose.
"There he is." "That's the cripple?" "No… they say he isn't now."
The voices pooled into a circle of eyes watching. In the middle, Luo Feng stood with his chest raised high, grasping a wooden head of a practice spear.
"Lin Xuan!" Luo Feng bellowed, loud enough to quiet the village merchants close by. "We have some outstanding issues to review."
Lin Xuan paused, scanning the crowd around him. There were curious villagers, a few sneering young men he'd never seen before, and in the rear, Old Man Wu was propped on his staff, with his eyes almost completely shut.
"Do you want to make a mess of yourself in front of all of these people, or have you finally found some courage?" he inquired.
The villagers gasped at this. Luo Feng blushed behind the ears. "You took me by surprise last night, but I'm giving you a chance to show this isn't a cripple who got super fortunate!" he said while twirling the spear clumsily in his hand.
Lin Xuan's eyes moved toward the weapon. Would you like to obtain? Yes. A surge of non-physical movement exploded in his thoughts through memories and movements that did not belong to him. He learned the man's grasp and movements and the position of the eight ways. More importantly, he learned of each of Luo Feng's flaws.
The Battle
The encircling individuals grew larger. Someone pushed a spear into Lin Xuan's unprotected clasp, a simple shaft of ashwood with a broken, battered point.
"The first man to touch three straight aspects wins," Luo Feng remarked, grinning from ear to ear.
Round one: Luo Feng dashed forward and sent the spear directly toward Lin Xuan's chest. Again, too straightforward. As Lin Xuan moved his weight to the side, thought became a type of muscle ability, and he let the spear spin past him as he lightly tossed the point into Luo Feng's ribs.
"One," he said.
The crowd murmured. Luo Feng's grin faltered. Charging once more, this time he aimed lower, toward Lin Xuan's legs. He let go of the tip and swiped it upward, pulling Luo Feng's shaft with a hook that made the boy stumble forward. A feather touch on the back.
"Two."
By now, the villagers were leaning in, whispering. Old Man Wu's eyebrows had risen.
Luo Feng roared, all his strength rushing forth with countless thrusts! It was sloppy, desperate. Lin Xuan's spear kept on dancing with a blur, deflecting, alternating movements fashioning something precise and concise. He turned, disarmed Luo Feng completely — the boy's weapon clattering to the dirt — and set the tip of his spear against Luo Feng's throat.
"Three."
The Ripples
They were still, frozen, for a moment. And suddenly there were murmurs that grew into excitement.
He danced with the skill of a practiced combatant. "Weren't those Old Man Han's Spear Forms? How did he—?" "He's been hiding his skill!"
Naturally, seeing this immediately caused Luo Feng's face to flare red as he picked up his spear and backed away. "This isn't over," he spat. "Enjoy your moment, cripple."
He parted the crowd with his two cronies behind him. Seeing them leave, Lin Xuan noticed that Luo Feng had been missing a gaze. He will rush towards a more powerful person, Lin Xuan thought. That's fine.
After a little while, he left the square, but still, the whispers pursued him. He had only just walked out, and within the village, news that Luo Feng was beaten with three moves by a "lame" person had spread to half of them.
The Watchers
Lin Xuan had felt something that night when he practiced the breathing technique by the creek — a cold chill ran down his spine and goosebumps appeared on his skin.
There, on the other side of the water, in the shadow of persimmons. Days behind them. He was tall and encased in a cloak of travel-stained wool, with the face obscured. The moment that Lin Xuan locked eyes with them, they did not act… their imposing manner was different. Stronger.
And, without a word, the figure disappeared into the trees.
Lin Xuan's hand clenched his knee. The battle had captured the attention of more than just rumors in this little town. If they came beyond Stone Creek to find him, it was either an opportunity or danger.
In any case, the cripple had risen.