Zhu Long stayed on the side of the mountain until the rogue cultivators were out of sight before he jumped back down on the stairs. It was a long drop, but even then, Zhu barely felt it. It was a wondrous thing. He didn't mind if he couldn't cultivate, at least not yet, because the strength alone had opened up countless possibilities. However, those were thoughts for another time. Here and now, he had something to do. These were people who were the enemy, or worked for the enemy, willingly selling themselves for their lives. As angry as he was at them, he was even angrier at the demonic cultivators.
How dare they, he thought, his rage rising until red filled his vision.
Who do they think they are to kill so openly? And for what? That thought brought his anger back into something controllable. If there was one thing Zhu enjoyed more than reading and training, it was puzzles. He had earned quite a name for himself among the best the Boundless Dao sect had to offer when it came to solving puzzles. Martial Uncle Lian had even let him try one of his puzzles to no avail. He sat with it for hours and couldn't figure out how the box opened.
His fists clenched until his knuckles whitened. He would never get the chance again, or the answer. He simmered in his anger. Chase them down and what? Kill them? He was ten years old—or he was before his transformation. He still didn't know if years had passed or his body just grew. He felt it was the latter, but the feeling of time passing was there if he thought about it. Like no time at all had passed, but his soul felt differently. Like he was in stasis while time pressed on around him.
All this to say, he had never been a violent person, unless it was the few times he got the chance to spar when the Senior brothers got tired of his pestering. He lost handily, but he remembered well. He had thought a lot about being a cultivator, and that meant killing people, didn't it? Well, he needed answers to the earlier question. Why had they started attacking the sects? What possible reason could they have to do such a thing? Was it greed? Power? Fear? All of the above? What could drive the demonic sect to act the way it does?
He pondered these questions as he started trailing the three cultivators back the way he came. They were working with the people who destroyed his home. They were the enemy as far as he was concerned. He had no reason to think otherwise. Sure, it was for their own survival that they did what they did. But at one point, you have to stop and say, I'd rather die than betray my brothers and sisters. Or at least that is how he felt. Humans make their own decisions, but some decisions have consequences.
He thought about how he would handle the three when he heard shouting from straight up ahead.
"What are you doing! Brother Chen, stop this at once!" the younger of the three shouted.
Zhu enhanced his hearing as he started jogging up the steps three at a time. He heard the rhythmic sound of squelching, like wood hitting mud.
"Stop! Stand down, brother! Why… why did you kill him?!" the younger screamed again, his voice trembling in fear.
"No! No, please! We are on the same side!" he shouted, panic and fear evident in his voice.
Zhu Long crested the bend as he saw the horrendous scene laid out before him. The older man, who had once walked with a hunch and a slight limp, stood over the bald man's bloody corpse. Staff in hand, covered in the man's blood.
The squelching sound came from the repeated strikes of the staff on the man's skull, so repeatedly that nothing of the skull remained. Just pink and red mush lay beneath each strike, spraying gore along the stairs and cliff face. He ignored the other man's attempt to drag him off his fallen comrade as he kept hitting him.
Like a man possessed, Zhu thought, pushing down the bile rising in his throat at the sight and sound of it all.
They ignored him as he walked up closer. The old man now stood tall, his hair no longer white but red with blood. Zhu could feel the qi emanating off the man in waves; it reeked of demonic energy.
As the man…the demon, went to strike the skull again, Zhu came up behind him and grabbed his arm mid-swing. He had only meant to stop the man from swinging, but what happened caught Zhu by surprise, so much so that he instantly released the now-shattered arm and jumped back. That decision saved Zhu's life. Because as soon as Zhu had shattered the man's arm, the old man turned so fast and struck out with his good hand that was now holding a curved blade—black, the same color and shape that killed Brother Wei back in the sect.
His reflexes paid off, because the man, the demon, turned to his full height, eyes red-rimmed and fanatical, as he lunged again at Zhu. Zhu met him by dodging to his left, almost throwing himself over the rail, but stopped himself from going over. The demon roared in aggravation as he attempted to strike at Zhu, but Zhu's transformed body dodged it all with surprising ease.
As his adrenaline started ramping up, time seemed to slow. Each swing of the blade grew slower and slower as he entered fight-or-flight mode. His body was alight with untapped energy. He could see every strand of hair on his attacker's arm as each swing went wide. Each miss caused the demon to roar in defiance.
He danced around the demon with a grace he had never had before, like his body was made for this. Left, right, duck—all of it he did with ease, slowly leading the demonic man back up the stairs as his mind raced with possibilities. Subdue? No. Kill if I can—but he's not allowing an opening I can move into safely. He thought about this while subconsciously keeping an eye on the last rogue cultivator, who was staring at the fight with wide, fearful eyes. He guided the enraging demon back up the stairs and onto flat ground, the demon huffing and roaring as he attacked with no pattern or thought.
Zhu decided to attack. After the demon overreached, he slapped the demon's face with the back of his closed fist, shattering bones and teeth alike. The demon was unfazed, lashing out with his shattered arm in a desperate attempt to land a hit on Zhu. It was to no avail; Zhu could see all this in his strange state of mind where everything was moving as if in water. He brought his right hand up to catch the shattered arm, and as he did, he pushed his foot into the demon's chest and kicked with all his might. The sheer force behind his iron-like grip and the kick sent the demon sailing off the edge into the abyss below, leaving only the trail of blood and the hand that Zhu still held. Looking at the hand, he shivered. He turned when he heard a rustling from behind him and found the third cultivator scurrying away on his butt, whimpering as he did so.
Zhu walked over and offered his right hand to the man.
"Need a hand?" Zhu asked, offering his right hand toward the cowardly cultivator.
The smell of ammonia pierced the air as Zhu tilted his head at the cultivator, who had pissed himself. He noticed he still held the demon's torn hand in the offered hand and quickly dropped it on the ground, wiping his bloodied hand on his robes.
"Uhh, sorry about that," he said a little embarrassed. Still, the man scuttered away, dampness clearly lining his white robes.
"Get up," Zhu said, walking over to the shaking cultivator and picking him up by the back of his robes, like a tiger picking up its cub by the nape of its neck.
Once the man was on his feet, body trembling in fear, Zhu sighed.
"I am not going to kill you, even if you deserve it for bedding the enemy. I have some questions, and I would like some answers," Zhu said, his voice cold, even to his own ears. Forcing a smile, he added, "I'm truly not going to hurt you. By the Dao, you know it to be true." Putting his hands up in a non-threatening way did nothing but make the man flinch back.
Zhu continued.
"Why did the demons attack the Boundless Dao sect?"
Staring him down, the shorter man's lip quivered before he hurriedly spoke.
"Th… they are looking for an immortal, one of the heavenly immortal dragons. The first of the Immortals."
Zhu just stood there staring.
Dragon? The first immortal? he thought, holding the man's gaze.
"I swear! That's all I know! They said his final resting place is here, either in one of the mountain sects or in this area! I swear that's all I was told."
Zhu believed him, mostly because the story was too fanciful to be made up on the spot. As a mortal among cultivators, he had learned to spot lies.
"What are YOU doing here then, Senior Brother?" he asked, almost spitting the words.
"S… Senior Brother? I would never believe myself higher than someone like you, Senior Brother," the man said, trembling as he bowed. "I only did as I was told — to loot the sects that were destroyed for any and all evidence of the immortals who rule over the Imperial palace and its sects."
Zhu was glad the man couldn't see the shock on his face as he stared at the back of the bowing man's head.
Senior brother? I'm not even a cultivator, and he's twice my age at least. But he didn't voice that thought and let the man keep thinking what he wanted. As long as he got answers, he didn't care.
"What was that about an immortal dragon here around the mountains?"
The man stayed bowed while he answered.
"Only what I heard, Senior Brother. The demonic cult is looking for the resting place of Zulong. The First Dragon. The Father of Dao. The Creator of the Path. He has many titles and names, but it's all the same dragon."
Zhu Long couldn't think for a long moment as he turned over what he had just heard.
Zulong? Were my parents playing with fate when they named me? Is that why the heavens cursed me? Is it because of my name?
Zhu inwardly cursed his parents and immediately felt ashamed of that. They didn't deserve his anger. He brought his attention back to the man in front of him.
"Stand. You will not be going to loot the corpses of my brothers," Zhu said coldly. "Now… help me decide what to do with you. I could always throw you over the edge with the other idiot."
He allowed the threat to hang in the air, though he had no intention of following through. The first one had been necessary; it was a demon, not a human, so he didn't feel bad about it. But he would not kill a brother, no matter how cowardly.
The man did as he was told, still shaking in fear at the threat.
"What to do with me, Senior Brother?"