“Those who realize their follies are not true fools.” Zhuang Zi 369-286 BC

“We’ve got a problem,” said Wen Er. She and Jin Long had almost finished the day without any trouble, yet unfortunately lady luck had other plans. Bowcha and his gang was the last group of people she wanted to meet. “Just our rotten luck,” Wen Er thought.

Normally Bowcha and his loonies weren’t a problem. Because of Wen Er’s cultivation, she always had the option of running away. However, with her qi core crippled and a liability at her side, she couldn’t see a solution that didn’t involve fighting.

The seven boys, between the ages thirteen and fifteen, fanned out, blocking the pair’s escape. Bowcha, the largest of them at five feet eleven with mud-colored hair and freckles, stood in the back.

“You know Wambi the weirdo, I was pretty sad when I heard you got sick. I really wanted to test out my new staff before the hunter selections ceremony,” Bowcha snickered, eliciting the same reaction from the rest of the gang. “But since you’re still recovering, why don’t I try it out on that boy over there. I want to see if a baknah bleeds the same color we do.” Bowcha pointed his staff at Jin Long.

“Leave him alone Bowcha. He’s a guest. Besides, you’ll have to go through me first, and I don’t seem to recall you ever having beaten me. What makes you think it’ll be any different today?” Wen Er challenged. Directing their attention away from Jin Long was her best option. The boys wouldn’t hurt her too badly, but there was no telling what they would do with Jin Long.

“That’s cause you’ve never fought fair and square. Old man Hatukni’s taught you some trickery,” Bowcha argued, looking at the other boys for affirmation. He simply refused to believe that a girl with Wen Er’s stature could legitimately beat him.

But all of that was about to change. Bowcha had been training with his grandfather’s staff for the past year and had learned his family’s secret staff techniques. His father cut him no slack; he sparred everyday and received his fair share of bruises. Today he’d enjoy the fruits of his labor and settle the score with Wambi. Beating up the bandit spy beside her was just bonus.

“Umm, what’s going on Wen Er?” Jin Long asked, even though he already got the gist of the situation. The village boys surrounding them looked like they wanted to pick a fight.

“These guys are the village’s resident bullies, and it appears we’re their targets. Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” replied Wen Er, not daring to take her eyes off Bowcha. Even without her cultivation, she was still proficient in martial arts. The endless hours Teacher Fang made her train ingrained the moves into muscle memory. She was confident she could at least create an opportunity for Jin Long to escape.

“We can’t avoid a fight by the looks of it. When there’s an opening, you run home and alert Teacher Fang,” Wen Er instructed, not noticing the lack of concern on Jin Long’s face.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve had an altercation with them, huh?” observed Jin Long.

“No, it isn’t.”

“And how do you plan to handle the boy with the staff?”

“Just trust me and do what I say,” Wen Er grunted in response.

“Time’s up Wambi.” Bowcha signaled his gang to engage.

Using the element of surprise to her advantage, Wen Er sprinted towards the smallest boy in the party. Her idea was to take out the weakest link first. While he was small in comparison to the other boys, he still had more than half a foot on her. In order to overcome a larger opponent, she needed to use her momentum and his mass as leverage.

The smallest boy in Bowcha’s gang, called Mantuk, saw the girl running at him and rushed forward to receive her charge. Wen Er smirked, her training kicked into gear. In no more than a breathe, Wen Er pivoted herself, redirecting Mantuk’s overextended body and used her shoulder as a fulcrum to throw the boy onto his back. The force of the impact stunned Mantuk.

“One down, six more to go,” Wen Er noted. Most of the boys were no match for her. Only Bowcha, one of the hunter selections candidates, could hold his own against Wen Er, back when she had her qi core.

Seeing how one of their own was felled so easily, Bowcha’s goons approached Wen Er more cautiously. Although they knew she was strong, they had expected her to be weaker after her recent illness.

“Stop. I’ll take care of her myself. You guys make sure the baknah doesn’t run away,” Bowcha barked.

“Crap. There goes my plan.” Wen Er didn’t expect Bowcha to break with tradition. Usually he let his grunts wear her out before making his move.

“Feeling confident are we?” she taunted the freckled boy.

“I don’t know how you pull off your tricks, but they’re not going to work against me,” said Bowcha. “There’s something different about you today. Your movements are slower...sluggish. Do you need me to go easy on you?” he jeered.

“Why don’t you come and find out for yourself.” Wen Er positioned her body sideways and utilized a martial stance.

Understanding a spectacle was about to begin, Bowcha’s gang turned to watch but assembled around Jin Long to make sure he wouldn’t slip away. However, running was the last thing on Jin Long’s mind. He observed Wen Er’s fight with interest. So far, he was impressed with her quick thinking and battle instincts. Now, he wanted to see how she would fare in a disadvantageous situation.

Bowcha carefully advanced towards the girl. Both warriors knew if he could gain a positional advantage with his staff, the fight would likely end in his favor. Without warning, Bowcha exploded into a flurry of swings. His transitions from strike to strike were polished, garnering even admiration from Wen Er, who struggled to evade each attack. “I can’t keep this up. I need to retaliate soon,” she realized.

To launch her offensive, Wen Er needed Bowcha to relax his aggression. Since the boy was by no means a master staff wielder, slipping up was only a matter of time. True to her analysis, Bowcha briefly paused to switch his grip after a dozen or so swings. Wen Er’s counterattack happened in an instant. She lunged into Bowcha’s comfort zone, surprising the boy as he hastily whipped his staff at her head. Wen Er ducked, feeling the staff miss by margins, and proceeded to palm Bowcha squarely in the chest.

The instance her attack landed, Wen Er knew she committed a serious error. She had accidentally employed a martial skill and forgotten about her crippled cultivation. Bowcha stumbled backwards, expressing confusion and bewilderment. Then, finally understanding the implications of what had happened, he laughed.

“Well, well, well. Lost your touch haven’t you. Seems like your tricks aren’t gonna save you forever,” sneered Bowcha, resuming his assault with greater fervor. Wen Er, still flustered by her mistake, failed to properly time one of Bowcha’s swings and was slugged in the chest. Bowcha’s follow-through went low and swept Wen Er off her feet. She fell hard, gasping for air. Bowcha, reveling in his imminent victory, raised the staff like a spear and prepared to thrust down.

Wen Er was scared. Bowcha’s expression accommodated no mercy. Wen Er wanted to move out of the way, but she was still dazed from the fall. She closed her eyes, preparing for the impending brutality.

“That’s quite enough!” Jin Long announced, seizing everyone’s attention. He could tell the freckled boy wanted to hurt Wen Er badly. Old man Fang cared a lot for the girl, and it would reflect poorly as a friend if she got hurt under Jin Long’s watch.

“I’m going to need you to stop,” said Jin Long. Bowcha and the others stared in confusion, unable to understand him.

Jin Long raised his hand and clenched it into a fist, casting a tyrannical pressure over the village boys that locked them in place. Bowcha and his goons whimpered in terror as Jin Long’s face began to disfigure. His eyes were replaced with unnaturally round sockets, and his mouth elongated into a demonic smile. The rest of Jin Long’s body assumed the form of a shadow wraith that exuded a sickening aura.

Jin Long’s new incorporeal shape came from the stuff of nightmares. To the village boys, it reminded them of the monsters of yore, the subjects of campfire tales that the older villagers used to tell. Although the boys were hardly young anymore, what they saw in front of them tapped into their primal instincts for self-preservation. There was no doubt in each of the boys’ minds that the wraith embodied the very essence of death.

Incapable of coping with the suffocating aura, the village boys fainted one-by-one until only Bowcha remained standing, though clearing suffering from his own version of purgatory. Jin Long walked towards the freckled boy, not caring to step around the unconscious village boys who were foaming at the mouths.

“Please...please spare me. No, stay...away...stay...away,” Bowcha pleaded as he watched the wraith approach. He had lost all reasoning and spirit, resigning himself to the walking manifestation of hell. “Please…,” Bowcha sobbed. A warmth, which felt oddly comforting, ran down his legs.

“I will show you mercy though you deserve none,” responded Jin Long, who flicked Bowcha’s forehead. The boy’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he dropped.

“It worked better than I thought,” Jin Long mused. To be honest, he had his doubts about the efficacy of the mental illusions, which were partially inspired by his own experiences in the lake world.

Against cultivators, Jin Long would normally never resort to this method. Mental attacks were double-edged swords, capable of inflicting as much harm to the caster as to the target. An Arbelian scholar once conjectured that the resonating qi cores between two cultivators invoked a sort of rebound mechanism.

“Hey, you okay?” asked Jin Long. He helped Wen Er up, the latter groaning in pain.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. What the heck happened?” She stared at Jin Long incredulously. There was no explanation for the odd series of events - the village boys looked like they had seen the god of death himself.

“What did you do to them? You’re a cultivator, aren’t you? Why didn’t you tell me?” Wen Er probed.

“You’ve never asked,” said Jin Long flatly. “Come, let me get you home.”

A hooded figure walked into an opening in the woods. The moonlight and the torchfire offered just enough light to illuminate the area. In the distance, moon wolves howled in unison, orchestrating a solemn chorus.

“I really hate this shitty forest. Where the fuck are they?” the figure cursed.

“Calm your horses village boy. I’m here.” A voice from behind caused the hooded figure to jump in fright.

The man who spoke stepped out of the cover of darkness, dressed in leather armor and carried a large cleaver on his back.

“Who are you?!”

“My name is irrelevant, boy. You only need to know that I’m with the Red Phoenix Mercenaries. I’ve been informed you have actionable information, yes?” asked the man.

“I’m no boy,” the hooded figure hissed. “I want to speak with Captain Zhang. This information is meant for him only. That was part of the deal.”

“You haven’t earned the right to speak with the captain. I’m authorized to carry out the operation on his behalf. Anything you want to say to him, you can say to me. If I find that you’ve wasted our time, I will personally string you by the limbs and feed you to the wolves,” the mercenary menaced.

The hooded figure gulped; his earlier bravado vanished. The mercenary in front of him was a giant - probably as tall as Jakabu - and could easily make good on his word. There was also a certain sharpness the man had that the village hunters didn’t.

“I...I...me...mean no offense,” the figure stuttered. “I...I just want to make sure I get paid for my hard work.”

“You’ll get paid once you give us what we need. Now spit it out!”

“Okay, okay. Look, I think I found a way for you to get past the village’s defenses. The hunter selections ceremony is in three days, and the villagers always celebrate afterwards…”

“And they’ll be piss drunk,” the mercenary butted in. “Ah, I see where this is going.”

“Right. I can take care of the guards from the inside and open the gate. Then you can go do your thing,” said the hooded figure.

“The plan is simple. I like it. But…,” the mercenary paused. He grabbed the hooded figure by the collar and pulled him face-to-face. “How do I not know this is a trap? Why would you betray your own kinsman?”

“I have no love for the village. My goal is to get out of this shithole!” the figure retorted, spit flying in all directions. Convinced by the answer, the mercenary let go.

“Good. But I can’t let you leave until you consume this.” The man held a red pill in his palm.

“What’s this?”

“Insurance. It’s a slow acting poison that will melt your insides if you don’t receive the antidote in time. Once you’ve done your part, we will give you the gold and the antidote. And trust me when I say this - the antidote is as rare as the pill itself. Don’t get any funny ideas,” the mercenary warned.

“Well...I...I guess I have no choice, huh?” The hooded figure took the pill hesitantly and swallowed it. “How do I know you’ll honor your side of the agreement?”

“You don’t, but it’s not like you have a choice now,” the mercenary grinned. “You better pray we succeed.”

Once the hooded figure had left, the mercenary nodded. Three men stepped out into the clearing.

“Vice Captain Zuo Xie,” they greeted.

“Sir, how do you know he can be trusted?” one of the men inquired.

“He can’t, but I’ve seen enough of vermin of his kind to know he values his own life above all else. Greed and fear will keep him check. Besides, our client is getting impatient. If we want to find the book soon, we’ll need to take some risks. Let’s head back and report to the captain,” Zuo Xie ordered.