Chen Wuya jumped back, lashing out instinctively with the bamboo pole. It whizzed through empty air.

Crouched by the river, a line bobbing in the water, the young man smiled up at him. “We meet again.”

Chen Wuya frowned, narrowing his eyes. Is he following me? This young man… is he Kai Bailong? He wears white and he’s annoying…

He shook his head at himself. If that’s enough to make someone Kai Bailong, then half the orthodox martial artists in the world are Kai Bailong.

The young man nodded at him. “I neglected to introduce myself earlier. Fen Long.” Extending a finger, he sketched it in the dust. The fen for ordinary or mortal, and the long for dragon.

“A dragon amongst men?” Wuya guessed, narrowing his eyes. It’s the same ‘long’ as Kai Bailong…

Yeah, him and every other pretentious marital artist who wants to call themselves a dragon!

Fen Long waved his hand, slightly embarrassed. “Merely a mortal who hopes to ascend to greatness.”

Wuya furrowed his brows. “Is that so?”

A smile was his only reply. He nodded at Wuya expectantly.

“Chen Wuya. Thank you for your guidance earlier, senior.” Bowing, Chen Wuya turned.

“Come, sit a while. To encounter one another again, don’t you feel it’s fate?” Fen Long patted the ground beside him.

Pretending not to hear him, Wuya walked away. No way in hell. If you’re Kai Bailong, no. If you’re not—doubly no! I do best alone.

He walked along until he found a shady spot under a willow. Sitting there, he dug up some grubs, fashioned a hook out of a bit of bamboo, and tossed his line into the river. Slow and broad, the clear water ran by. A few fish swirled under the surface, silvery flashes in the sun. None paid his line any attention.

“Come on, help me out. I’m a growing boy. I need lots of food to grow up big and strong!” he told the fish. They ignored him.

Hours slipped by. He dozed off, snapped awake, and dozed off again, head resting against his knees. Nothing bit at his line.

Half asleep, Wuya wavered between wakefulness and sleep. In his daze, the world warped before him. He fell into the river and swam. Webbed feet stroked the water, lithe body twisting. Darting left and right, he chased the fish. His powerful tail propelled him faster, faster. The fish fled, a silvery blur. With one last push, he lunged and caught it. His jaws clamped down, and he clasped it in his claws. Blood clouded the water. He chewed, gulping it down in big bites, savage teeth tearing the corpse.

With a jolt, he woke. Who—where—?

He patted his body. Robes. Hands. Human. I’m human. A shiver ran up his back. Rubbing his arms, he leaned forward, staring into the river. I didn’t remember myself in that life. Not once. I lived and died a river otter. Qiu Xuanwu did not exist.

It’s a miracle I was able to keep my memories through all those lives.

No… not a miracle. I protected them with the last of my divine energy, but that’s all but spent. If I die this time, I might not get another try.

Chen Wuya sighed and sat back, staring up at the willow. “Then I won’t die.”

“Hmm? Fishing going that poorly?” Fen Long asked, standing over him.

Startled, Chen Wuya jumped to his feet. His head bumped into Fen Long’s with a clunk. Scrambling feet inadvertently kicked the bamboo pole, and it tumbled down the bank into the river. Chen Wuya lunged, but too late. The river swept it away.

“You—” Chen Wuya spat, gritting his teeth, hand clasped to his head.

Rubbing his forehead with the back of one hand, Fen Long held up a bucket full of fish in the other. “I came to share. Not interested?”

Chen Wuya opened his mouth, then glanced at the river and his vanishing pole. He sighed again, exhausted. “It’s your fault. That’s the only reason.”

Fen Long beamed. “Let’s gather some wood for the fire.”

--

Crouched by the fire, Chen Wuya bit the last scraps of flesh from the fish bones and tossed the bones in the river. A half-dozen skewered fishes roasted next to the fire. He glanced sidelong at Fen Long, who sat neatly, plucking up bits of fish and devouring them with little bites, never opening his mouth too wide.

He scowled, eyeing Fen Long’s fine robes and silky, long hair. “How elegant. Did you run away from a noble household?”

“Mm? Me, run away?” He laughed lightly, waving a hand.

“Then, an orthodox sect?” Chen Wuya asked.

A bare flash of emotion passed over Fen Long’s face.

Chen Wuya tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Did they kick you out?”

Fen Long laughed, but there was a note of strain in it. He shook his head. “What about you, Little Brother? Out here all alone at your age, a real sword at your hip? Aren’t you the more mysterious one? And those techniques. I could tell—they were real techniques. Who taught you?”

Snorting, Chen Wuya grabbed another fish from the fire. “What techniques? I’m not beyond the fundamentals yet. I’m weak. My thighs are weak, my calves are weak, and my hips aren’t flexible. How could I know any techniques?”

“Ah, is that so?”

They lapsed into silence.

“Is it your habit to sneak up on lone men in the forest?” Chen Wuya asked, turning his head to spit a stray bone into the river.

Fen Long stared at him, then laughed. “No, no. I saw a fellow wandering swordsman and wanted to offer a helping hand in his time of need.”

“A hero, then, sacrificing yourself to save all the world’s mortals. Do you dream of Heaven, mortal dragon?”

“Who doesn’t?” Fen Long finished his fish and tossed the bones into the river, the same as Chen Wuya. “What about you, little crow? Do you not dream of flying through the sky?”

“I’ve had enough of that for several lifetimes,” Chen Wuya muttered under his breath.

“Huh?”

He smiled. “As you said. Who doesn’t?”

Fen Long stared up. After a long moment, he nodded. “It used to be you’d see deities flickering about through the sky all the time. I wonder what happened?”

“Used to be? When, thousands of years ago? Elder Brother, are you some ancient immortal?” Chen Wuya asked innocently.

Fen Long paused, then laughed. “Ah, I mean, in the stories. All the stories say deities used to flit around everywhere, meddling whenever humans stepped out of line. I wonder what happened?”

“Aren’t they only stories? Everyone knows the deities hide away in Heaven, too busy to bother with the mortal world.” Chen Wuya replied, blinking blankly.

Fen Long snorted. “I suppose so.”

Taking a last fish, Chen Wuya stood and bowed. “Thank you for the meal.”

“Stay a while. I haven’t had anyone to chat with for some time, now.”

“I couldn’t impose.” Bowing again, Chen Wuya retreated. He walked away evenly, refusing to look back. Lazily, he chewed the fish, enjoying the crispy roasted skin.

Is he Kai Bailong? He’s suspicious, but… there’s a lot of suspicious people in this world. They aren’t all Kai Bailong.

I’ve only let my aura out once. There’s no guarantee Kai Bailong was close enough to sense me, let alone to find me. Even if Fen Long is Kai Bailong, he doesn’t necessarily know I’m Qiu Xuanwu. As long as I keep my demonic aura suppressed, he has no proof.

It’s not like when I was an animal and had no control over my aura. Now, I’m a human, and a martial artist at that. I can control my qi and my aura. Even if Kai Bailong walked up to my face, he wouldn’t be able to recognize me at a glance.

He frowned, then stared upward. If he’s still wandering the mortal plane. Kai Bailong… he’s been a human a few times already, while I was still stuck as an animal. Who knows? Maybe he’s ascended once more. Maybe accumulating enough positive karma for me to reincarnate as a human counts as ‘purifying my soul.’

He walked on. After a few minutes, he finally glanced back. No one followed him.

Nodding to himself, Chen Wuya pulled up his new robes, revealing the old, patched ones beneath. He tore off a few strips of cloth, then gathered up the heaviest stones he could find and bound them to his wrists and ankles. He slung another rock around his back, and one around his waist.

Ugh… heavy!

Fully laden, he clomped along, everything heavy. Each step thudded into the ground. His arms swung stiffly. Determined, he clenched his fists and walked on. Stronger. I need to be stronger!

He walked on. Hours turned into days, days turned into weeks. As he adapted to the weights, he added more, slowly growing his strength. As he walked, he paused to exercise and swing his sword, a hundred swings every day, a hundred repetitions of the first form, a hundred stretches.

The first form, Pass Amidst Leaves, was a pure movement technique. It possessed no offensive capabilities of its own. However, it would be a mistake to take it as a weak technique for lacking offensive capabilities. It was the foundation from which the Seven Forms of Autumn flowed. To call it the most essential part of the technique wasn’t going too far. Without a solid grasp of Pass Amidst Leaves, one could comprehend the remainder of the Seven Forms and still fail as a swordsman.

At its strongest, Pass Amidst Leaves allowed one to move over dry autumn leaves soundlessly, without disturbing a single one. Eyes cloudy, Chen Wuya let himself live in memory for a moment.

Autumn. Leaves laid thick over the path. His opponent backed away, footsteps crackling.

Hands clasped behind his back, he stepped subtly toward them. Like an immortal treading air, his feet moved silently, barely disturbing his robes. Not a single leaf crunched, nor moved in the wake of his passing. He reached out slowly, almost gently, and caught his opponent’s shoulder.

The man stared, startled from a reverie. His eyes flickered from where Qiu Xuanwu had stood seconds ago, and the man looking down on him now. “You—how?”

“Ask again when we meet on the far side of the Yellow Springs.” His sword moved. The man’s head flew away.

Thump!

Back in the present, Chen Wuya’s body slammed into the ground, sending dirt and pebbles flying. Grimacing, Chen Wuya pushed himself back up, weighed down by the stones. The past blurred, so distant as to be only fantasy. He shook his head and resumed the first step of Pass Amidst Leaves, feet posed.

His lips moved, soundlessly repeating the mnemonic. Leaves fall, scattering the ground. Become like leaves, soundless. Only when disturbed, burst out!

Focus. This is the path you took the first time. The path that leads to you standing alone atop all of Jianghu, all of the martial world!

And then… His eyes turned upward. A smirk passed over his lips.

Spring blossomed, its beauty unfurling slowly. The nights grew milder, the days warm, the wind less cold. The forest grew straggly around him, showing signs of decay. Pausing, he examined a leaf, then frowned and pressed on.

Heavy clouds threatened on the horizon, warning of late-early spring storms to come. A light rain began to drift down, heavier rains chasing after.

Chen Wuya took shelter under a tree, hugging his wet robes to himself. This portion of the road was worn and run-down. Grasses grew in the middle of the road. In places, trees had begun to sprout, encroaching the road. He peered ahead, raising a hand to shield his eyes.

If I remember right, there should be a town ahead, just beyond that hill there.

He glanced around him again, but the roads remained empty. No sign of anyone, let alone Fen Long. Chen Wuya chuckled under his breath. I really was being too suspicious. It was merely a coincidental encounter.

Lightning lashed out suddenly. Thunder rolled out a breath later. Chen Wuya sprinted down the road, shedding his weights as he ran. As if the sky had opened, rain poured down, pounding on his shoulders. Sopping wet robes clung to his limbs. His hair stuck to his neck. Squinting against the rain, he ran on, barely able to see the road.

Around the hill, the town appeared. It was smaller than he remembered. Several of the houses drooped, rooves caved in, abandoned and dark. One stood out amidst the storm, windows glowing. Chen Wuya ran for that house, one arm raised against the rain.

An old signboard identified the house as an inn. Chen Wuya tried the door and found it locked. Annoyed, he clicked his tongue and knocked. “Isn’t this an inn?”

No response. He raised his hand to knock again.

Lightning blasted down, striking one of the run-down houses behind him. Chen Wuya jumped. He pounded on the door, terrified. “Let me in! I’m going to die of lightning!”

The door creaked open. Chen Wuya stumbled inside. He caught himself a hair’s breath before he slammed into someone and immediately backed away. “Sorry, sorry.”

Flowing white robes. Long black hair, tied at the end. A well-used sword. He looked up slowly, already knowing who he’d see.

Fen Long smiled back at him. “It’s fate.”