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Unknown

With a pained cry he fell. The world shifting beneath his hands and knees. Desperately he sought to grip onto it with every fibre of his being as he felt his soul being wrenched away. The warmth in his hand that had held the Chi orb, was the only part of him not numb.

Confused, he felt cold hard rock beneath his hand and a breeze that whistled right through him.

This shouldn’t be. Where was I? What’s going on?

Chilled to the core he struggled to breath from fright as it squeezed his heart. Desperately he struggled against the unnatural fear’s weight, casting about for some reprieve. What he found was the gaze of doom behind two orbs of fire.

Without thought, but instinct borne from the soul of a fighter, he cried out. Futilely trying to lift the darkness, that he might blanket himself with it. Anything to hide against those all seeing flames.

In his struggle the oppressive presence came awake, breathing against him. Threatening him all at once from every angle. Crushing him spiritually, as much as it pressed him bodily down onto the rock floor. He felt he would die from despair alone. Like a coward.

NO!

The thought of giving up like a coward enraged him, but did little to lift his burden. Where was his foe? He felt he battled against a divine Aura of doom. The more he felt the rock press against his face the more his mind came to grasping reality. A reality that he might fight against it better.

It was an Aura of doom. It was rock beneath him. He was surrounded in darkness.

Was he underground? Could this be the Depths.

He dared not lift his head again, lest the eyes destroy him. Although he dared not look with his naked eye, he could with his spiritual eye. And what he saw gave him his first glimmer of hope.

A chord! A thin, pure white golden chord of Chi and it was his.

It had to be his! It was attached to his hand. Bizarrely, on the other end of the chord he saw himself, but as in a vision. Lying helpless in the arms of an increasingly frantic armoured Cultivator.

With a sudden certainty he knew if this chord broke, he would surely perish. He dared not stop cultivating. It was all that held him anchored. He had barely been holding on as it was, focusing almost completely on the warmth it had provided his senses.

Renewed of clarity and with determination bordering on divine purpose, he focused on the warmth in his hand. Cultivating its riches. Determined to shatter this Aura of Despair, that would have him lie down never to rise again.

The vision cleared.

That man! He knew him. The smart white cloak, shortened just below the shoulders and back for practical purposes rather than fashionable. He had no idea how he knew that, or if it even mattered, but the man in the vision seemed undistinguishably fraught.

His bruised face gripped with panic as he waved and shouted in utter silence. Guards came running in, but they too were silent.

The Arch-Tenant! His Arch-Tenant, holding him, but who was he?

The Arch-Tenant called out to him unceasingly, but there was no sound other than the whisper of the wind. Then he shook him, still calling out to him. His most important Cultivation wavered. Although the Arch-Tenants actions looked out of concern, he could not help but feel a spike of irritation at being manhandled in such a fashion. The Arch Tenant slapped him.

OUTRAGEOUS!

The warmth he had so far been studiously Cultivating throughout his being, suddenly broke free. Torrenting through him like a river of fire. The wind picked up just as fast. Howling angrily and threatening to blow him away from the chord.

With gritted teeth, he rose from his hands into kneeling position. Grabbing a hold of the chord with both hands and a revitalising strength, he cultivated even harder.

At first, he failed to note when the last of the chill had left his bones. But soon he could hear faint echoes of sound on the wind, calling to him. Rising once more, he got to his feet and sought where they were coming from as the wind whipped at him.

The sounds were fragmented and distorted. Near and far with each pulse of the Chi orb he Cultivated on. Commands and questions were hurled about in loud hysterics around a tented room. The wind screamed at him, trying it’s hardest to carry the sounds far away from him.

“T… Tear…” He cared not. Focusing only on the path set before him by continuing his Cultivation.

Then with a pop, like the blade to the belly of a beast, the wind was gone. He heard it. A word, his word. His Name.

“Tsea-gong! Wake up!”

He was Tsea-gong the Second. Born of Fire and War, Defender and Wall of Mankind. The Burning Salamander.

He opened his eyes.

Shocked at what he saw, for it was still the vision he was watching. A black mist escaped from his throat and eyes, pooling into in a fragmenting cloud above his prone form. It held together no longer than it took him to eject it, disintegrating upon itself. Its wails as fragmented as the sounds he had heard earlier.

The wind was gone.

Tsea-gong was as still as the many gaping faces that still looked on after the mist form had wailed its last. It was only with a startled yelp of surprise, that the tent returned to its activity as the Arch-Tenant dropped him. Looking down upon his prostate form, he immediately realised what had rattled the Arch-Tenant so. His eyes, they looked as if milk poured through them.

Taking note of the maltreatment he suffered at the Tenants hands, yet again. He vowed to have a word with the man as soon as he figured out what was going on here. From where he gazed, he felt the last of the cold ebb away from him as his heart began to beat steadily once more.

His body rapidly processing the orb of pure Chi now that it’s restraints or curse was lifted from it, whatever that thing had been. He felt bruised and battered, but amazingly vitalised too and he was still harnessing more of it. With the chord tethered to wherever this was and his body back in the tent, he felt himself growing stronger with each heartbeat.

He need only wait it out as the chord drew him nearer to the tent, growing in power as he did. No longer was he threatened with the sense of impending doom. But he dared not rush it either as it was only this side of the chord that held the Chi prize, strengthening him to new heights.

No sooner had he realised this, then the world shifted again. Taking with it the Chi prize from his hand as it slipped his grasping fingers.

No! He needed that. Wanted it. Had to have it!

Pulling his gaze away from the spiritual vision, he searched for where the chord had been tugged. Once more he found himself in the dark, but now he stood firm and felt warmth flood throughout him.

There!

Slowly the orb drifted ahead of him, floating down the darkened passageway of cold rock, right between the flaming eyes. He could return now with but a fraction of its power or he could get it all. For a Cultivator who feared not leaping into the mouth of a Kaiju Beast, there was no choice at all.

Tsea-gong charged after his prize.

Kido burst into the Shoguns Tent fearing the worst. There were no guards outside and the mood in the Camp was foul. Surely none would dare turn on the Shogun now, no matter how bloody the victory had been.

Wide-eyed, he saw the Arch-Tenant holding the prostrate form of his Master. His heart almost gave way there and then but before he could cry out, a haunting wail filled the tent leaving him slack-jawed as his mind find to comprehend what he saw. The sound instantly made his skin crawl, with his breath misting as the wail took shape in the form of a dark shadow.

Kido knew as all Cultivators did, of meridians purging their blockages in a breakthrough. Whilst distasteful, it was an ultimately necessary step and bodily function upon the successful condensation of Core leveling. This was absolutely something else. Something Heretical he dare not approach.

It was over in seconds. Truthfully Kido had no idea what to make of it, his concern more immediate as the Arch-Tenant suddenly dropped his Master on his head with a yelp of surprise. He stormed over, clearing a path through the gathered guard.

Why was there so much blood here? Whose corpse was that?

“He’s awake!” The Arch-Tenant cried. “He’s breathing. Back off! Give him space!”

All at once those gathered surged forward that they might confirm the Salamander did indeed still live. Thankfully a second Preafect came to his rescue.

“Tenant! What in the Nine hells is going on here? What has happened!”

Not so much a rescue then.

“I said back off! Dammit,” the Arch-tenant barked, recovering quickly from his fright. “Kido is that you! Where have you been! This is your fault.”

“Mine!?” An incredulous Kido reacted poorly, his temper fraying quickly. “Tell me what I need to know, before things truly are my fault!”

“Peace brother.”

Both men turned their gaze upon the wounded Preafect who had been bitten by Takashi’s Eel Spirit Beast.

“Hansu! Thank the Giver. What has happened here?”

“Brother I will tell you all, but first we must swear these men to secrecy. They cannot leave and we must act fast. I believe what we have just witnessed was an Oni attack of some sort on our Master.”

“You can’t be serious. Oni aren’t real. Only the Kami.”

“Kido! Now is not the time.” The Arch-Tenant blurted out loud, losing his patience. “We need a monk. Go see the Abbot immediately and tell him the Shogun requires immediate visitation.”

“I’m going to need more than that to go on!” Kido fired right back at the Arch-Tenant. “Who is that?”

Kido pointed to an eviscerated corpse.

The Arch-Tenants head whipped in the direction Kido pointed, but instead of yelling. The man muttered something, as he bent low and pulled off a ring from the corpse’s finger. Kido had never seen a dark yellow metal before.

“This man,” the Arch-Tenant spoke up after pocketing the ring. “Is the man who watched you, with witnesses, take the head of an Emperor’s guard, INSIDE the city walls.”

Kido bit his tongue, knowing exactly what the Arch-Tenant implied. Barring Noble lands and their compounds, any crime committed within the City walls fell under the jurisdiction of the Watch. If it were outside the Cored lantern border, they would not have to lift a finger at all.

Although findings could be easily muddied, Guilds and lesser Nobles often scrutinised any perceived biased findings. Forever pressing their cause in favour of expanding their jurisdictions.

“His name is Hiro Takashi and he also happens to be the Steward of the realm.”

Shi-baal. Okay this was bad.

“Which Abbot should I get?” Asked Kido somewhat mollified.

“Any of the seven will do,” Hansu replied. “Come with the first who will see you. We will clean this mess up, but say nothing of what you have seen here.”

“Kido nodded grimly before turning to look upon his Master slowly breathing.”

“What’s wrong with his eyes?”

Both men shook their heads, reluctant to speak of the power that had tempted them so.

“I don’t know Kido, I think it has something to do with the power he consumed. You can sense it too, right? If our Master pulls through this, I believe he will attain heights higher than we have seen for a long time. Go now, we must do what we can to assist him along this path.”