Sky Pride

Chapter 35- An Ant’s Defiance

A horse’s head, a cow’s ears, a deer’s horns, the body of a snake, the belly of a crab, scales of a carp, claws of an eagle, growing from the paws of a tiger- these are eight of the nine correspondences of a dragon. All complete nonsense. If Tian was capable of forming a coherent thought, he would have mightily scolded the ancient authors who came up with such nonsense. A dragon could only look like a dragon, because wherever else you looked, once you looked into a dragon’s eye, all comparison ceased. Arrogant, powerful, contemptuous, round, bulging, rolling eyes. You couldn’t say they looked like anything. They were the absolute other things were measured by.

A tiny, yammering part of Tian’s mind insisted that this was a distorted memory at best, an idea of what a dragon looked like, not the thing itself. Looking upwards at the shen construct, he had to believe that Old Freak Song had seen a true dragon, and lived. That the memory of the experience had seared itself into the deepest parts of his brain, beyond the flesh, beyond the transient, a memory so fundamental even Granny Meng’s soup couldn’t erase it. There had been an Old Freak Song before he saw the dragon, and an Old Freak Song after, but they were scarcely the same person.

That tiny, yammering part of Tian’s mind really admired Old Freak Song for surviving the dragon. Tian wasn’t sure he could even survive the memory. It had a mass to it… no, even slow with fear, he knew that wasn’t right. Nor was weight or solidity or any other tangible comparison. It was a bit similar to the Great Wolf Spirit or the Great Horse Spirit, in the way that the Green River and a streak of piss are both streams of mostly water.

It was ancient, even on the scale of immortal lives. It was mighty. It had wisdom that transcended language, and the power to reshape continents. The life and death of billions of mortals hung on its whim. And it knew it.

But Liren was next to him. Unconscious. Trusting him to keep her safe. Burning Heaven was pressed against a far wall, yellow eyes wide, throat bobbing fast. He was the one who had to act. Even if the thought of defying those eyes, of rising up against that immensity, seemed immoral and impossible. Through the fear, through the fog clouding his mind, one light guided him- Liren trusted him to keep her safe.

He forced his legs to unfold. Trembling, unsteady, he planted his feet on the ground. His bent spine was forced to straighten. Shaking hands came together, a clenched right fist pressed into a flat left palm. A bow, deep, respectful, but he didn’t hold it. He stood, and met the dragon’s eyes.

“I shall not retreat.” His golden pupil blazed, the particles of shen whipped into a storm around him as the qi gathered. He circulated the Basic Palm Art with full force, blazing through what little qi he had left. His hands stretched upwards, palms facing out. The little jabbering voice insisted Liren would say something domineering. There should be something grand, something to fire his blood. Under those burning eyes, he couldn’t bear to speak any nonsense. All he could do was gather his guts and yell “Come!”

“AAANG!” The dragon’s voice was like a gong, then the rolling echoes lingered like thunder in a valley. The sound of its passing was the wind in the trees and a stream rushing down hill, heavy with spring rain. Tian didn’t rise to meet it, any more than he would fight a storm in the sky. He planted his feet, rooted himself in the earth, and struck upwards.

Tian’s golden pupils blazed, his sight turning black around the edges. Soon all he could see was the dragon, twisting and falling towards him. There weren’t any rough spots to strike, no reverse scale, no gap in the majesty of the divinity. The palm strikes glowed gold and white, brilliant, brave. Burning Heaven let out a scream of her own, blinding multicolored light flooding the long passage up through the mountain. Brilliant colors, each landing with hammer force, each carrying a different elemental effect and a mighty arrogance. Even combined, they were not enough.

The dragon didn’t slow its descent. Tian watched it swim down through the air, time congealing around him. It would strike the array with the force of a meteor. They would all die if that happened. He couldn’t fight it in the air, but the thing was large enough that it filled nearly the entire hole through the mountain. There was a chance-

He leapt upwards, aiming for a spot on the side of the wall. Soft hands pierced rock as feet kicked out a tiny ledge. The giant head, big enough to crush Tian with a blink, was on him by the time he managed to turn around. He lifted his hands up, channeled the Basic Palm Art, and braced himself against the wall. A mantis cannot stop a chariot. A mortal cannot stop a dragon. But for an instant, a singular moment, a cultivator felt the weight land on him, and held.

The rock shattered under his feet. The mountain broke before he did. Tian was unconscious before he hit the ground below.

The shen dragon chuckled, and opened its mouth, ready to snap up the helpless cultivators below it. It reached down with a long claw, opting to start with the ant that had dared oppose it. The claw descended over the boy’s chest, then paused.

Giant eyes narrowed. The claw shifted over to Liren, and the dragon’s eyes narrowed further. The heavy head, three wagons wide, turned and looked hard into the pit. The shen dragon’s shoulders slumped, and in a voice that would have shocked any living ears that heard it, said-

“After who knows how many tens of thousands of years, four ducks turn up with leeks on their backs, roast themselves, and still manage to fly away. Story of my life, story of my life. Well, perhaps this rotten wood can yet be carved. If they can’t be eaten roasted, then they shall be braised.”

There was another pause, and the enormous eye gave the three humans and the bird a hard look. “Even the bird smells familiar. What sort of madness is going on out there?”

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Tian’s eyes opened to darkness. He rubbed his hand over his face, and still saw nothing. Panic rose, he pressed his fingers to his eyes and saw starbursts but no light pierced them. He fumbled in his ring for a lamp, trying not to dwell on the fact that the strange nature of the realm had given everything a soft, dim light.

“Use your spiritual sense, boy, your spiritual sense. Your eyes are not going to be useful for anything but decoration for a little while.”

Tian didn’t recognize the voice. It was richly timbered, but the accent was thick to the point of near incomprehensibility, and he seemed to only pronounce half the syllables properly. Tian was sure some of the words weren’t quite right too, but he got the gist.

“I’m not sure what you mean by spiritual sense, Senior. I can extend my qi out and try to feel with that?”

“Spiritual sense! Shen, boy. I can see you are still in your novitiate, but with that level of body refinement, someone has invested in your spiritual senses. Don’t worry about embarrassing yourself with your slight skill, just use it.”

There was an awkward pause. Tian coughed.

“Impossible.”

“I am afraid I have to disappoint the senior. I can see the flow of elements well enough, and have rather acute qi sensitivity, but shen is still a mystery to me.”

“You can see the elements flow? Interesting. What’s this, then?” A wheel of five colors burst from the darkness. The wheel turned and transformed, so densely packed with meaning he almost couldn’t bear to look at it.

“Sir is unrivaled. I see the elements turn.” Tian paused, then paused again. There was something in the construction of the wheel.

“Does it look familiar?” The voice asked, equal parts teasing and curious.

“There is something familiar about it, yes Senior.” Tian cupped his fist and bowed in the direction of his voice.

“Well, no matter. Have a seat. I have several questions for you. Starting with what a child of the Stellar Demon Cult is doing in this place.”

“Cultivating the next stage of his breakthrough, Senior.”

“That much is obvious. What is he doing here? I can understand the logic, but the Cult has better cultivation grounds and his status in the cult would entitle him to their use.”

“I regret to inform Senior that this Little Daoist never asked, and was never told.” He bowed apologetically.

There was a grumbling hum. “I assume his Cult knows he is here?”

“I am certain his general location is no mystery to them, and the specific location is known to a trusted retainer waiting outside.” Tian answered without hesitation. He might not know exactly what the senior was after, but if he recognized the Cult, he would hopefully be put off from doing anything that might invite their retaliation.

“Oh that’s not their style. Usually they charge in head first, daring anyone to stand in their way. Have they changed during these last few millenia?”

“I really couldn’t say, Senior.” Talking into the pitch blackness was uncomfortable. Tian had a sudden stab of sympathy for Liren. This must be what she dreaded, floating helplessly in a featureless void. “Senior, my companions-”

“Are as they were. Unconscious. As they shall remain until I decide otherwise.” The voice settled heavily into the darkness, even if the voice had been casual. It was content to let the silence build for a few moments, before continuing.

“He is a minor prince of a significant power. You appear to be a rather bullied servant disciple from some minor sect somewhere, recently elevated by someone but not yet given proper equipment. Though that cultivation art of yours is likely too good for a junior of your rank, and that palm art of yours is genuinely quite good, for your level of cultivation and limited insight into the dao. Quite curious. No, don’t bother telling me your master’s name or your sect, I’m sure I’ve never heard of them.” Tian cupped his fist and bowed again, smiling awkwardly.

“This little one appreciates the Senior’s kind words. He will treasure them.”

Tian had the feeling of something, or someone, nodding. “As you should. I had a look through your storage rings. How bad is it out there?”

“Senior?”

“No cultivator I have ever met would feel compelled to collect fifteen pounds of fine gravel, twenty pounds of coarse gravel, thirty seven pounds of aged manure, a dozen ordinary berry bushes, six fruit trees, three mortal-make wagon wheels of varying dimensions, four boat poles, a fishing boat, two fishing rods, seven fish hooks, thirty feet of fishing rope, two dozen iron nails, four hundred pounds of charcoal, assorted kindling, condiments, confections, histories, biographies, books of ethics, medical books so fraudulent and erroneous even I can see the mistakes, and so on and so on. Frankly, not even the servants in a decent sect would carry that much trash. More alarming is the notionally cultivator-made things you carry. Most of your more magical trinkets are apprentice made, and seemingly discarded by an apprentice practicing their crafts at that. The medicines are either unprocessed or so poorly made as to verge on actual sabotage. The various arts in your collection are…”

Tian had the feeling the senior was groping for words and ended on “Unable to rise to the level of being pathetic, the best of them being suitable for lower order servant disciples stationed in the outermost courtyards of outposts away from a sect’s headquarters. They don’t match your cultivation, your body refinement, or your palm art. Cease your evasion and prevarications! The world has clearly undergone an apocalypse, with all the good things hoarded by a few competents. I can even make a guess as to who your patron is, directly or indirectly. So speak! Tell me of the state of the world outside this hidden realm.”

Tian was overwhelmed, and quickly tried to sort through his thoughts. He kept coming back to the elemental wheel, and the void at the center of it. “It is a wasteland, Senior, this little daoist was born and grew up in a garbage dump. Senior, if this one may ask, what is your connection to the Five Directions Palace?”

There was laughter in the darkness. “How is little Fengua? Must be doing well, if she’s lived these tens of thousands of years and is willing to teach a junkyard rat. To say nothing of giving him gifts.”

“Sir knows the Saintess?” Tian felt a rapidly sinking feeling in his gut. He had been quite optimistic, after waking up alive and with all his bits attached, even if he couldn’t see anything.

There was a long laugh, warm and affectionate. “Does she still cling to that title? Silly girl. Yes, of course I know her. She calls me Master. But you can call me Palace Lord Song.”