Sky Pride

Chapter 32- The Weight of the Word “Brother”

Tian scrubbed the flagstone pathways with some senior brothers. Years ago, maybe two centuries ago or more, the then most Senior Brother and Sister had a huge argument which devolved into calling each other sloppy and messy and the kind of person that lived in a pig pen. Therefore, the annual exchanges between the Temple and the Convent had become cleaning competitions as well as martial arts conferences. Or so the story went.

Tian thought that was the only possible explanation for his brothers picking up thousand pound statues and scrubbing the underside of the base after washing the whole rest of the statue. Or brothers using flying dagger arts to perfectly prune the flowering trees and shrubs.

One brother who had mastered a turtle breathing art slowly bounced around the bottom of the ponds, carefully raking and making sure that there were no accumulations of unsightly dead leaves or twigs. He even shined the ornamental fish.

All pathways were brushed, mopped, and gently polished. Any faded walls were replastered and freshly painted. Wood was oiled and rubbed to a rich luster. Even the latrines were carefully covered with layers of cedar chips and buried, with fresh pits dug for the occasion. Sweet, spicy incense was burned, smells that lingered on wood and in the clothes of the Brothers, adding a touch of the holy to everything.

The exchanges only happened once a year. While the Brothers might, and often did, see the Sisters when both were out on missions, the big gatherings were special.

“It’s a way to keep our bonds alive. Even if we fight, we care about each other, you know? The whole ‘men in one complex, women in another’ thing is something that only happens in the Outer Court. Inner Court? There are separate quarters for men and women, but everyone is mixing together. If they are lovers or dao companions, they might even share a courtyard or something.” A Senior Brother explained.

“Dao companions?”

“Mmm. Think of it like being married, but instead of worrying about continuing a blood lineage, you are focused on journeying to immortality together. Two people who love each other so totally and completely, their path to eternity is inseparable. Without the other, immortality would only be a curse.”

“I don’t really understand.” Tian thought he kind of got it, but only in the way he could imagine the snow he read about in books.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not common, or necessarily a good thing. Though those love birds would tell you otherwise. Those bastards just love feeding us single dogs.” The Senior Brother gave a flagstone a particularly vicious scrub with his brush.

Tian nodded and scrubbed. A little later, he asked “Senior Brother? What is the Southern Border?”

“Nobody explained it to you yet? Hah. That’s Senior Brother Fu for you. He just wants you studying and building your character for now. And martial arts and other useful skills, because the world is not a nice place.”

Tian didn’t have to look down at his hands to be reminded of that.

“The Southern Border is the border between the land controlled by Ancient Crane Mountain and the Redstone Wastes. The Wasteland is a sort of desert. There are patches of scrubby grass that grow there, but you can’t farm. Not enough water. There are places where lava bubbled up from underground and spread for hundreds of miles. The sand in those places is all black. The wind blows hard through the wastes, sometimes freezing cold, sometimes blazing hot and always carrying dust.”

The Senior Brother’s eyes seemed to go far away.

“And not just any dust. It’s stone dust that gets in your eyes and ears and slowly destroys them. Even gets in your lungs and shreds them too. Even the qi is somewhat toxic. You need special equipment to stay there very long.”

“And the people? I know that there are suppression missions issued for the border, and hunting missions and stuff like that.”

“Heretical cultivators.”

“Are there really so many of them?” Tian had only seen Bloody Cleaver Wang, and his impression of heretical cultivators was that they were insane. Not organized, or powerful enough to threaten the Monastery. Clearly he was wrong.

“Yes. Plenty of mortals, from emperors to peasants, aren’t content to just accept the fate they were born with. They do something about it. Make a pact with demons, or bind spirits to their souls, or use the tormented ghosts of their victims to fuel their growth. Blood baptism is a very popular method, even though it almost never works.”

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“And they all live in the Wasteland?”

“More like they are forced out of all the good places to live by orthodox cultivator sects, which means that a lot of them wind up in the Redstone Waste. There is basically nothing in the wastelands. They have to get creative if they want to continue cultivating. But they are mostly ignorant thugs and villains who stumbled on an evil legacy. They aren’t very creative.”

The Brother looked faintly sick.

“Demon summoning, both internal and external. Necromancy. Body modifications of the crudest type. All of which requires sacrifice. And they wouldn’t be heretical cultivators if self sacrifice was part of their nature.”

“They raid our territory.”

“More or less constantly. We go and suppress them, but there are always more coming in from somewhere or other. The lands our Ancient Crane Monastery controls might seem huge to you, but the Wasteland is ten times the size. There is no way we could take it over and effectively control it, never mind what other sects would say.”

Tian scrubbed quietly and thought over what the Senior brother had said. The books he read were mostly focused on mortal struggles or the behavior of orthodox cultivators. He really didn’t know anything about demons.

“I know heretics are strong because they spend more time in life and death fights, but I guess I still don’t see why everyone is so grim?”

“Demon summoners, necromancers, ghost binders, gu breeders, poison masters, plague gods- are these cultivation paths giving you any clues?”

“Ah… yes.” It started clicking.

“Mmm. The Temple won’t be this full when we return. It won’t be this full again for decades. Maybe it will be empty for a time. It’s happened before.” The old man sighed.

“I know you have been training hard, little Tian, but if an Elder is watching tomorrow, you best go all out. Don’t kill that Hong girl, but short of death, show absolutely every scrap of improvement. If he is happy with what he sees, he might give you a reward. And that reward might just save your life.”

“Yes, Senior Brother. I will do exactly that.”

That evening, Tian practiced his martial arts on the practice field after dinner. His Thunderous Palm moved smoothly through the air, sliding silently before striking swiftly, landing softly, destroying the interior totally without disturbing the exterior. High, low, advance and retreat. Always moving, but never disturbed. It was a martial art that unified contradictions. There really was enough there to study for a lifetime.

“With this palm, I’m going to kill a heretic.” He slapped out.

“I will stand between Brother Wong and the hawk this time.” He swept his hands down and around, blocking the enemy’s spears and striking back.

“I will protect Senior Brother Kang, who always puts a fatty bit of meat in my bowl. And Brother Su, who always takes time to explain things, even if he’s in a rush.” His movements sped up. He started incorporating the Elbow, Knees and Toes game with his palm strikes, moving around the practice dummies faster and faster.

“I will kill the demons who threaten Brother Bo, who grumbles and complains and teases but guards the armory and library every day and tells me all kinds of stories.”

Tian didn’t really know what a demon looked like. He imagined some terrible combination of a human, a tiger and a hawk. He pushed himself as hard as he could. The Eternal Spring Art churned, letting him burn qi endlessly. He strained to strike faster, harder, more silently. To make the penetrating force dig deeper, vibrate more strongly, become more lethal.

“I will protect Brother Fu.” He imagined the demon coming for Brother Fu, and for a moment, Tian went insane. When the red mist cleared, every wooden post on the field was shattered into dust. Tian knelt on the ground and hugged himself hard as the night got darker. Then he got a broom and started sweeping. He made a mess after everyone worked hard to clean up. He would put it right before he slept.

The next morning, Tian put on his new clothes and a fresh pair of shoes. He was half tempted to roll in the dirt before pulling on his clothes, but all the Brothers went off to the baths together first thing in the morning, and he was a Brother too. So he cleaned himself with soap and rinsed well with pure water and dressed in creaseless robes.

His Brothers joked that he smelled good to make up for his face. It sounded mean, but when a senior brother with scars covering his face, arms and chest promised him that one day, he could grow up to be “nearly as pretty as me,” he understood why they were saying it.

These were his Brothers. They were preparing him to fight the rock throwers outside the Temple.

When everyone was dressed, he helped a senior with the careful twists and folds of the formal hair bun, carefully sliding in the wooden dragon pin at the end. He had learned how over the last year. When he sat and let Brother Wong do his hair, he felt like crying. Today, he will do his very best.

Brother Fu lined them up to receive the Sisters, who marched into the Temple with every bit the pomp and ceremony that the Brothers had visited the Convent with. They too were immaculately scrubbed, in dustless robes and carefully groomed hair. The patterns and pictures were razor sharp, the bright white scalp almost blinding against the inky black hair.

They did look beautiful, Tian realized. And very fierce. And they were his sisters. He understood that now, in a way that he hadn’t last year. Hong Liren might be brain damaged, but she was a sister too. They would fight, but soon it would be the two of them against the heretics and the demons. He found her in the line. She gave him a look that promised death. He wasn’t very good at reading people, but he thought there was something else in the look. Something haunted.

He wondered what she saw when she looked at him.

“Sister Bai, welcome back.”

“Brother Fu, it’s good to be back.” The two old monsters exchanged bows, with an ease that Tian hadn’t noticed before. Senior Brother Fu never seemed to have a kind word for Senior Sister Bai, but the truth was in their bows.

Sister Bai shook her head. “I’m not even going to suggest that we let our juniors spar before the kids have their fight.”

“Yes. And we should wait for my Master too.”

“No need. I am here.” Elder Rui Yanzi, a True Disciple of the Inner Court descended on a flying sword. His beautiful robes shimmered in the sun, adding elegance to his steady, distinguished face. Tian recognized him from the statue in the reception hall. The Elder hadn’t aged a day since it was carved centuries ago.

The Brothers and Sisters bowed as one, loudly declaring “We greet the honorable Elder.”

“Rise. I’m inspecting the entire Outer Court before the deployment. I expect each and every one of you will show me your best. Disciple Fu, you and I will be going over the ledgers afterward. Junior Bai, I trust you brought your ledgers as well?”

“Yes, Elder.”

“Good. You will join us then. After the spars. I see we have a couple of junior juniors this year. Good. Very good! Both Level Five too. You have been training them well.”

“Thank you Elder, for your kind words!” Brother Fu and Sister Bai bowed in unison.

“If they perform well in the spars, I will reward them. Enough with the formalities. Begin!”