Cog Cultivator - a Post-Apocalyptic Xianxia novel.
Cog Cultivator (Xianxia)
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Synopsis
Synopsis
"It is said he walked through fire and rain"
Ramor-Tai monastery is the haven of the Wasteland - the place where heroic Cultivators can hone their skills through meditation and martial tournaments. For decades this place has stood as a bastion of humanity against the storms of war that threaten to engulf what remains of the world, though the Disciples of each Sect have agreed to a strict pact of non-interference with worldly affairs.
So when a man made of steel comes to knock at their doors one morning, he is met with shock and suspicion.
Jade-skinned beauties? Godlike powers? The ability to command the heavens themselves? These common dreams were not the desires of the machine-man. All he cared about was learning, understanding, and harnessing his Qi. All he wanted was an answer to the question: "Do I have a soul?"
His name was XJ-V. This is the tale of his legend.
Chapter 1
---Man of Stone---
It is said he arrived through fire and rain.
Like all legends, this is only half true. Indeed, the Ramor-Tai monastery had been wracked by terrible storms all day, but fire was not raining from the skies.
The fire came from his eyes.
The Disciples watched him as he approached up the mountain pass, having braved the ten thousand steps. He was clad in a torn leather cloak that hid his face from their young eyes. One man ran up to grab his arm and turn him away at the gates, before realizing too late what he was.
"A…Cog!"
The young Disciple was answered by the neon blue lights of the robot's eyes looking right at him, and he stumbled away in fear, allowing the stranger to pass.
When the shambling automaton came into the monastery courtyard the murmurings of the Disciples echoed like the songs of frogs in the ponds, each one of them wondering why a grey-skinned Cog had come among them, and why the thing's eyes blazed with such intensity.
"We would be better to kill it now!" one of them cried.
"No," another responded. "You know how they speak of the men of stone – they are battle-ready machines powered by demons. Let the Masters deal with him."
Feng Lung, a promising new student of Master Longua, saw the Cog approach his Master's quarters as he was finishing up his evening meditation.
"Cog…" he murmured. "Y-you cannot go any further!"
The young Feng lifted his arms and spread his feet, assuming the Prancing Crane technique his Master had taught to him. It was an ancient technique known to Cultivators throughout the Eastern Rim, and most – save the insane - would never dare to look upon one who assumed the stance.
But the Cog simply looked up, nodded at young Feng, and opened his metallic mouth to ask a simple question.
"Is your Master home?"
Feng was taken aback. He had never heard a Cog speak before. Indeed, he and the rest of Ramor-Tai had only heard rumors of the men of stone who lived on borrowed time, their hearts beating with infernal magic that was an affront to the Qi of the Universal Dao.
But its voice was not necessarily unpleasant. It had a metallic tint to it – like the robot was speaking through different shaped teeth.
For a moment, Feng allowed his curiosity to get the better of him. His Master had taken great pains to try and iron it out of his soul, but it was a character trait he simply couldn't leave behind. Even as a young boy he had been fascinated with catching the tails of cats in his home village at the foot of Ramor-Tai mountain. He had become so good at it that, when the Cultivators from Ramor-Tai had come passing through for their weekly supplies, his mother had practically forced him on the men as a new student. He had been overjoyed to be accepted into the Sect of the Eternal Dragon under the tuteledge of Master Longua. His Sect was most famous for its calm, controlled, and virtuous warriors.
These memories brought a smile to his face. He lowered his stance, shook his long orange sleeves free from rainwater, and addressed the Cog like an equal, even as he knew the other Disciples were looking at him like he was talking to a ghost.
"Master Longua is in meditation right now," he said.
The Cog nodded again and started to walk right past Feng.
"Hey!" he shouted. "You cannot disturb-"
The look the Cog gave him as he tried to reprimand it chilled Feng to the bone, and so he bit his tongue, cursed his silly childish curiosity, and allowed the robot to pass through the carved jade doors to his Master's study.
I wonder what the Cog wants with the Master? He thought as rain pelted off his bald, tattooed forehead. He did not have the look of an assassin, or a trader. So, what then?
When the Cog pulled back the heavy stone door of Master Longua's meditation chamber, he was struck by the darkness of its interior. A series of candles lined the floor, dimly throwing soft shadows across the ground, and the most prominent feature was that of a long-bodied dragon at the far end of the room – it's lithe form curled into a spiral that ended at its head. Beneath the dragon's watchful gaze, sat a man withered by time and combat. He was a man with a long, wispy beard that lay gracefully over his slowly moving chest, and complemented the snow-drop white of his flowing, wide-cuffed robes. His face was wrinkled like a prune, and yet the fierce intensity that shone in his eyes when he opened them was more than a match for the robot's blazing gaze.
Both the old master and Cog met each others' stares, and the latter slowly came forward and knelt before the man.
Rather amused, Master Longhua snorted at the creature.
"What is your name, man of stone?"
The robot answered, "XJ-V"
A name of form and function, the Master thought. A name bestowed by man.
"Why have you come before me?" he asked. "What is so important to a being such as you that the meditation of a Cultivator can be interrupted?"
Much to the Master's surprise, the Cog bowed his head low and placed his palms on the floor before him.
"Master Longua," he said. "I have come to learn."
The Master stroked his long beard with a thin, but firm, hand.
"There are many things one can learn," he said. "How the wind blows through the water bank and ruffles the reeds, why the ox does not complain as it moves the farmer's load, how the dung of cows can give rise to new life. These things can be learned by observing the world. You possess eyes, do you not? Go out and seek what knowledge you desire."
The Cog's servos stuttered as his head shook abruptly. "These eyes can't find what I'm looking for."
Master Longua grew impatient. "So, you are like the brash young men who come to us from the tiny Clansteads at the foot of our mountain? Or those who walk through the Wastes with hopes that our Sects shall show them what their heart's desire: jade-skinned beauties, power to pierce the heavens, respect of all who who are left in the world?"
When the Cog did not respond, Master Longua scoffed.
"Bah!" he said. "You are a thing made of this earth with earthly desires, then," he said. "Go back to the Wastes where you belong."
But the Cog did not move, even after Master Longua's thinly veiled threat.
Hm, the old Master thought. He does not show fear. But that may be because he simply cannot feel the emotion.
"Are you satisfied?" he asked the Cog.
The robot did not shake his head, but he did answer.
"What I seek is not a thing of this world," he said in his metallic voice. "It is the answer to a question."
The Master of the Eternal Dragon pondered this.
"A man of stone comes before me seeking an answer he does not know. He will be disappointed to learn that answers from the mouth of a Master of the Internalized Ego are not easily bought."
"My creator," XJ-V said, unperturbed. "He told me you were the only one who could know the answer to this question, Master."
Longua watched the metal man's features grow serious. Strained – like he was in some kind of emotional turmoil. He had been trained, then to mimic the emotions of humans, perhaps as a defense mechanism. The Master would not be so easily tricked.
Still, if only to satisfy his creeping curiosity, he would know what it was the Cog sought. Perhaps his chipper young student, Feng Lung, was beginning to rub off on him.
"Well then, man of stone who comes seeking answers, tell me: what is your question?"
XJ-V lifted his arm gently and brought it to his rickety grey chest, where internal servos and pistons churned together to give him life.
"Does this chest contain a soul?"
Master Longua saw the earnestness in his face as he spoke the words. He felt the keenness of his voice and saw, even through the blinking lights that served as his eyes, the desire that lay at the heart of this man of stone's entire being. The Cog's will had such strength that Longua noted how the candles began to flare up behind him, bathing him in an infernal, otherworldly light.
An evil light.
The Master closed his eyes for a moment and sucked in a small puff of air. When he opened his eyes again, he fixed the Cog with the stare of a tiger.
"You dare come before me unannounced and demand an answer to question you do not even understand," he said. "How could you, a beast of metal and lights, know what it is you ask?"
The Cog's eyes narrowed. "I must know the answer, Master."
"Do not call me this!" Longua bellowed, his voice reverberating off the walls of his chamber and causing the roaring flame of the candelights to rise to the ceiling. "You are but a replica of a man. What do you know of the soul?"
"I – I come to learn." the robot replied. "My creator told me you would teach me if I showed the proper respect. Am I not doing this?"
Longua spat. "Respect?" he scoffed. "Another word that means nothing to you. You are like a child blundering around without understanding anything you do. Your 'creator' was mistaken. You shall learn nothing here."
The Cog made to stand, his fists clenched. "Master, I cannot go back out there. I have turned my back on this world. It is the world of the spirit that I must enter now."
Longua's fiery eyes met the internal fire of the Cog's passion and found themselves unimpressed. He was a machine. A tool of war – nothing more.
"No," Longua said, raising a single palm to silence any more protests. "You are not worthy. You have no patience. No control. And no idea of what it is to suffer in this world as we mortals do. Until you understand such things, the world of the spirit will always be closed to you."
And with a single fluid motion, Longua flicked his hand in the Cog's direction and sent him spiraling out of the room in a gust of air. The Cog landed on his back outside the chamber and watched as the carved doors locked themselves behind him.
The rain beat against his grey forehead. For a moment he just sat there, watching the doors to his destiny close themselves shut.
"I did tell you so," Feng Lung said from behind him. "The Master of the Eternal Dragon Sect does not admit just anyone to our ranks, even if they are a Cog. I think you should head back do-"
Once again, the Cog's piercing eyes met Feng Lung's and the young Disciple shifted uncomfortably away from the machine-man. He decided he would simply go back to his rice paddy and get on with his life. Let the Cog stew away in anger. Let him beat against the bars of the Master's chamber if he wanted. It would be wasted effort to destroy the beast. Like all children, he would eventually just get bored and go away.
But XJ-V had other ideas. He stood, his tattered cloak hanging limply from his thin, skeletal shoulders, and clenched his fists.
He had come all this way and endured too much to be turned away here and now. The desire to learn the secrets of this place were too strong within him. The fact they held the key to the locked door within his heart was too tantalizing to just walk away from.
If Master Longua wouldn't accept him willingly as a student, then he would have to be forced to.
It is said he arrived through fire and rain.
Like all legends, this is only half true. Indeed, the Ramor-Tai monastery had been wracked by terrible storms all day, but fire was not raining from the skies.
The fire came from his eyes.
The Disciples watched him as he approached up the mountain pass, having braved the ten thousand steps. He was clad in a torn leather cloak that hid his face from their young eyes. One man ran up to grab his arm and turn him away at the gates, before realizing too late what he was.
"A…Cog!"
The young Disciple was answered by the neon blue lights of the robot's eyes looking right at him, and he stumbled away in fear, allowing the stranger to pass.
When the shambling automaton came into the monastery courtyard the murmurings of the Disciples echoed like the songs of frogs in the ponds, each one of them wondering why a grey-skinned Cog had come among them, and why the thing's eyes blazed with such intensity.
"We would be better to kill it now!" one of them cried.
"No," another responded. "You know how they speak of the men of stone – they are battle-ready machines powered by demons. Let the Masters deal with him."
Feng Lung, a promising new student of Master Longua, saw the Cog approach his Master's quarters as he was finishing up his evening meditation.
"Cog…" he murmured. "Y-you cannot go any further!"
The young Feng lifted his arms and spread his feet, assuming the Prancing Crane technique his Master had taught to him. It was an ancient technique known to Cultivators throughout the Eastern Rim, and most – save the insane - would never dare to look upon one who assumed the stance.
But the Cog simply looked up, nodded at young Feng, and opened his metallic mouth to ask a simple question.
"Is your Master home?"
Feng was taken aback. He had never heard a Cog speak before. Indeed, he and the rest of Ramor-Tai had only heard rumors of the men of stone who lived on borrowed time, their hearts beating with infernal magic that was an affront to the Qi of the Universal Dao.
But its voice was not necessarily unpleasant. It had a metallic tint to it – like the robot was speaking through different shaped teeth.
For a moment, Feng allowed his curiosity to get the better of him. His Master had taken great pains to try and iron it out of his soul, but it was a character trait he simply couldn't leave behind. Even as a young boy he had been fascinated with catching the tails of cats in his home village at the foot of Ramor-Tai mountain. He had become so good at it that, when the Cultivators from Ramor-Tai had come passing through for their weekly supplies, his mother had practically forced him on the men as a new student. He had been overjoyed to be accepted into the Sect of the Eternal Dragon under the tuteledge of Master Longua. His Sect was most famous for its calm, controlled, and virtuous warriors.
These memories brought a smile to his face. He lowered his stance, shook his long orange sleeves free from rainwater, and addressed the Cog like an equal, even as he knew the other Disciples were looking at him like he was talking to a ghost.
"Master Longua is in meditation right now," he said.
The Cog nodded again and started to walk right past Feng.
"Hey!" he shouted. "You cannot disturb-"
The look the Cog gave him as he tried to reprimand it chilled Feng to the bone, and so he bit his tongue, cursed his silly childish curiosity, and allowed the robot to pass through the carved jade doors to his Master's study.
I wonder what the Cog wants with the Master? He thought as rain pelted off his bald, tattooed forehead. He did not have the look of an assassin, or a trader. So, what then?
When the Cog pulled back the heavy stone door of Master Longua's meditation chamber, he was struck by the darkness of its interior. A series of candles lined the floor, dimly throwing soft shadows across the ground, and the most prominent feature was that of a long-bodied dragon at the far end of the room – it's lithe form curled into a spiral that ended at its head. Beneath the dragon's watchful gaze, sat a man withered by time and combat. He was a man with a long, wispy beard that lay gracefully over his slowly moving chest, and complemented the snow-drop white of his flowing, wide-cuffed robes. His face was wrinkled like a prune, and yet the fierce intensity that shone in his eyes when he opened them was more than a match for the robot's blazing gaze.
Both the old master and Cog met each others' stares, and the latter slowly came forward and knelt before the man.
Rather amused, Master Longhua snorted at the creature.
"What is your name, man of stone?"
The robot answered, "XJ-V"
A name of form and function, the Master thought. A name bestowed by man.
"Why have you come before me?" he asked. "What is so important to a being such as you that the meditation of a Cultivator can be interrupted?"
Much to the Master's surprise, the Cog bowed his head low and placed his palms on the floor before him.
"Master Longua," he said. "I have come to learn."
The Master stroked his long beard with a thin, but firm, hand.
"There are many things one can learn," he said. "How the wind blows through the water bank and ruffles the reeds, why the ox does not complain as it moves the farmer's load, how the dung of cows can give rise to new life. These things can be learned by observing the world. You possess eyes, do you not? Go out and seek what knowledge you desire."
The Cog's servos stuttered as his head shook abruptly. "These eyes can't find what I'm looking for."
Master Longua grew impatient. "So, you are like the brash young men who come to us from the tiny Clansteads at the foot of our mountain? Or those who walk through the Wastes with hopes that our Sects shall show them what their heart's desire: jade-skinned beauties, power to pierce the heavens, respect of all who who are left in the world?"
When the Cog did not respond, Master Longua scoffed.
"Bah!" he said. "You are a thing made of this earth with earthly desires, then," he said. "Go back to the Wastes where you belong."
But the Cog did not move, even after Master Longua's thinly veiled threat.
Hm, the old Master thought. He does not show fear. But that may be because he simply cannot feel the emotion.
"Are you satisfied?" he asked the Cog.
The robot did not shake his head, but he did answer.
"What I seek is not a thing of this world," he said in his metallic voice. "It is the answer to a question."
The Master of the Eternal Dragon pondered this.
"A man of stone comes before me seeking an answer he does not know. He will be disappointed to learn that answers from the mouth of a Master of the Internalized Ego are not easily bought."
"My creator," XJ-V said, unperturbed. "He told me you were the only one who could know the answer to this question, Master."
Longua watched the metal man's features grow serious. Strained – like he was in some kind of emotional turmoil. He had been trained, then to mimic the emotions of humans, perhaps as a defense mechanism. The Master would not be so easily tricked.
Still, if only to satisfy his creeping curiosity, he would know what it was the Cog sought. Perhaps his chipper young student, Feng Lung, was beginning to rub off on him.
"Well then, man of stone who comes seeking answers, tell me: what is your question?"
XJ-V lifted his arm gently and brought it to his rickety grey chest, where internal servos and pistons churned together to give him life.
"Does this chest contain a soul?"
Master Longua saw the earnestness in his face as he spoke the words. He felt the keenness of his voice and saw, even through the blinking lights that served as his eyes, the desire that lay at the heart of this man of stone's entire being. The Cog's will had such strength that Longua noted how the candles began to flare up behind him, bathing him in an infernal, otherworldly light.
An evil light.
The Master closed his eyes for a moment and sucked in a small puff of air. When he opened his eyes again, he fixed the Cog with the stare of a tiger.
"You dare come before me unannounced and demand an answer to question you do not even understand," he said. "How could you, a beast of metal and lights, know what it is you ask?"
The Cog's eyes narrowed. "I must know the answer, Master."
"Do not call me this!" Longua bellowed, his voice reverberating off the walls of his chamber and causing the roaring flame of the candelights to rise to the ceiling. "You are but a replica of a man. What do you know of the soul?"
"I – I come to learn." the robot replied. "My creator told me you would teach me if I showed the proper respect. Am I not doing this?"
Longua spat. "Respect?" he scoffed. "Another word that means nothing to you. You are like a child blundering around without understanding anything you do. Your 'creator' was mistaken. You shall learn nothing here."
The Cog made to stand, his fists clenched. "Master, I cannot go back out there. I have turned my back on this world. It is the world of the spirit that I must enter now."
Longua's fiery eyes met the internal fire of the Cog's passion and found themselves unimpressed. He was a machine. A tool of war – nothing more.
"No," Longua said, raising a single palm to silence any more protests. "You are not worthy. You have no patience. No control. And no idea of what it is to suffer in this world as we mortals do. Until you understand such things, the world of the spirit will always be closed to you."
And with a single fluid motion, Longua flicked his hand in the Cog's direction and sent him spiraling out of the room in a gust of air. The Cog landed on his back outside the chamber and watched as the carved doors locked themselves behind him.
The rain beat against his grey forehead. For a moment he just sat there, watching the doors to his destiny close themselves shut.
"I did tell you so," Feng Lung said from behind him. "The Master of the Eternal Dragon Sect does not admit just anyone to our ranks, even if they are a Cog. I think you should head back do-"
Once again, the Cog's piercing eyes met Feng Lung's and the young Disciple shifted uncomfortably away from the machine-man. He decided he would simply go back to his rice paddy and get on with his life. Let the Cog stew away in anger. Let him beat against the bars of the Master's chamber if he wanted. It would be wasted effort to destroy the beast. Like all children, he would eventually just get bored and go away.
But XJ-V had other ideas. He stood, his tattered cloak hanging limply from his thin, skeletal shoulders, and clenched his fists.
He had come all this way and endured too much to be turned away here and now. The desire to learn the secrets of this place were too strong within him. The fact they held the key to the locked door within his heart was too tantalizing to just walk away from.
If Master Longua wouldn't accept him willingly as a student, then he would have to be forced to.
Chapter 2 - Patient Statue
The next day, students Fai Deng and Kai Thai of the Waiting Tiger Sect noticed something strange as they walked the grand courtyard before Master Longua's chambers.
"That statue over there," Fai Deng inquired. "Is it new?"
His companion wondered over the inspect the thing – for it was indeed and intricate, if rather crude, replica of a monk in the common meditation pose of the Eternal Dragon: leg's crossed, hands together allowing the thumbs to touch, the tips of the toes to press themselves gently together to allow Qi to flow through the body's channels organically. In truth, the statue seemed the very picture of peace.
But when he made to touch the thing, it's eyes flew open to bathe him in an otherworldly sapphire light.
Kai Thai stumbled back as he realized his mistake.
"That's not statue, Fai," he told his friend. "It's a Cog."
"Ah!" Fai replied. "So, this is where the blundering bag of bolts has been hiding. Why are you sitting here in the rain, man of stone? Doesn't your kind rust and die when the heavens weep?"
The Cog said nothing. It simply closed its eyes and returned to its silent meditation, its limbs repositioning themselves so that they resembled an exact replica of Master Longua's style.
"You should have the decency to speak when spoken to, machi-"
Kai Thai pulled at his friend's sleeve to calm his growing anger.
"Let's leave him be," he said. "Remember the teachings of Master Chun: the lion's claw does not strike at the wounded doe. In doing so, he expends energy that would better be served in feeding his family. Let us attend to our stomachs my brother, and let the machine man be a statue!"
"I doubt this man of stone even knows the concept of hunger," Deng replied, but he followed his friend towards the communal canteen for some food while the rains continued to pelt down upon the dry earth of the monastery, and the silent form of XJ-V who sat there, motionless.
Ironically, the Cog agreed with the sentiments of the young man who had quoted his Master. He too was a patient creature. In his memory banks he recalled some meagre droppings of his creator's words of advice – one of them being that the old Masters of Cultivation Sects often wished to see their Disciples show initiative to prove themselves worthy of being taught. XJ-V recognized this when Longua threw him out in the rain. He had not wanted a pupil who seemed so brash and arrogant as to presume he could simply be taught by demanding an answer to a persistent, frustrating question. Instead, XJ-V would make the Master take him on by exercising one of the Eternal Dragon Sect's greatest virtues: patience and endurance.
You have no patience. No control. And no idea of what it is to suffer in this world as we mortals do. Until you understand such things, the world of the spirit will always be closed to you.
That is what the old Master had said. XJ-V's memory was crystal clear on that. At first he had grit his mechanized teeth in consternation when Longua had so cruelly discarded him. How could the Master upon this high mountain know the suffering of those people who languished out there in the wasteland, in the ruins of the old Dynasties, where marauders, bandits, evil spirits and rival armies made constant war upon each other and the innocents who were caught in between? Had he ever been out there himself? Had he ever been to Shala-Tor where the rain is the color of blood? Or to Xi'Maan where the marketplaces were gilded with gold for only the rich and wealthy? Had he heard of the Divine Order that had made it its mission to banish all technology from the world?
XJ-V shuddered at that last thought, and spared a moment to look at the wiring visible on his skeletal hand.
No, he thought. This was not the right attitude. The ways of the Master's Sect had to be obeyed. If he showed that he could obey them without question, the Master would surely take him on as a Disciple.
And so he sat before the chamber of Longua in the rain, feeling his metallic skin crisp and rust with each passing minute as the heavens cried harder. If the Master wanted to see patience and suffering, he would see it every time he opened his doors to this dying world.
…
On the fifth day since the Cog had begun his vigil, Feng Lung was busy gardening in the monastery rice paddies when he was suddenly seized by a spirit of mischief.
He looked from his toils to the meditating machine still sitting before Master Longua's chamber.
I must understand what it is he thinks he is doing, the young Disciple said to himself.
He wandered over to the robot and looked down at the creature's rusting form, seeing the patches of copper that had begun to gnaw away at his grey skin.
When the robot opened his eyes, he regarded Feng Lung silently.
"Cog," the Disciple said. "What is it you are doing here?"
The Cog answered calmly, again closing his eyes and reassuming his meditating posture.
"I am meditating," he said.
Feng Lung stifled a laugh. Meditating? How could this machine's mind take in the mysteries of the universe? How could he balance his core, or strengthen his Ego. How could Qi flow through one who did not have a spirit?"
Not wishing to appear rude, Feng Lung simply coughed and asked, "Cog, my name is Feng Lung."
The machine did not stir.
"I – it is customary to respond to a name being given with a name in return," Feng Lung stuttered, trying to sound as much like his Master as possible.
The Cog responded without opening his eyes. "This unit is designated XJ-V."
Designated… Feng-Lung mused. It even talks like a machine.
"You should say 'My name is XJ-V'."
One neon eyeball shot open.
"This is how humans speak," Feng Lung explained.
The robot's eye flickered. "I am not human."
"And yet you come here where there are only humans and expect to be treated like one," Feng Lung said with a little mischievous laugh. "Is it any wonder the Disciples are afraid of you?"
The Cog, for the first time in five days, began to look around and notice his surroundings, seeing the colorful Sakura blossoms that lined the courtyard and the apprehensive forms of the Disciples of each Sect who moved from place to place through the monastery, most of them casting bewildered or bemused looks his way.
"The lion does not heed the opinions of the fleas," XJ-V replied cooly.
Feng-Lung was taken aback. The words were taken from the teachings of Ming'Bao. His was a dangerous philosophy to follow - one of pushing against the world, not living with it, and one the heretical leaders of the so-called Divine Order of the Wastes had popularized in recent years. How the Cog knew these words, much less their meaning, was anyone's guess. But one thing was certain: he clearly did not know that they were words born of arrogance. Words that would buy him no respect, here.
Feng-Lung decided to change the subject.
"What do you know of Cultivation, XJ-V?"
The Cog straightened his back and fixed both his eyes on Feng Lung, now.
"In this realm," he began. "There are six known stages of Cultivation.
Corporeal Tempering
Mental Mastery
Core Regulation
Anima Banishment
Ego Integration
Soul Actualization
Each stage is subdivided into nine sub-stages or 'ranks' which focus on building the flow of Qi within the body, channeling this source of Divine energy and harnessing it in battle or in contemplation of the Universal Dao. It is believed that the most potent of all Cultivators can even break through the Sixth Stage of Soul Actualization and achieve immortality, or ascend to the realm of the spirits themselves, thereby adding their own essence and knowledge cultivated in life to the Universal Dao."
Feng-Lung listened to the Cog rattle-off these words with unblinking eyes. When he finished, the young Disciple rocked back on his sandals, and whistled.
"You speak like you have already trained in the arts for decades," he said. "Why come here at all?"
The Cog's shoulder shifted. "I do not know the ways these things are learned."
In the face of Feng Lung's blinking eyes, XJ-V elaborated, "My creator installed much knowledge into my memory banks, but not the ways to unlock these secrets. It is like being shown many doors but being given no keys to open them."
Feng-Lung nodded. "You know the words of the art and the names of its stages, but you do not understand them."
XJ-V winced at the statement. But he could not correct the young Disciple.
"I see now why Master Longua rejected you," he said. "In a sense, you are like a blind man. You must be guided down the right path."
The young Disciple sat across from XJ-V, who at first interpreted the movement of the man as an attack. Slowly he relaxed as the Disciple sighed.
"But perhaps the path of the Cultivator is not for you?"
XJ-V bristled. Why was this young man sitting with him? He was distracting him from his mission, and now the other Disciples were beginning to point and laugh at them both.
"This is the path I must take," he replied. "I must know the answer to my question."
"Which is what?"
"Does this chest contain a soul?"
Feng-Lung rocked back again, sucking in air through his mouth and stroking his chiseled, thin jaw.
"…I have often asked myself the same question."
The way the Disciple muttered this to the sky instead of to XJ-V made the latter stutter abruptly.
"But you are a human," he said confusedly.
Feng Lung smiled and crossed his legs, slowly assuming the meditation pose of the Eternal Dragon.
"Well," he said, ignoring the question implicit in the Cog's statement. "If you are going to be as stubborn as a rock, you should at least learn to meditate like one. Look here," he reached for the Cog's hands and rearranged them so the metal fingers locked perfectly together. Then he quickly moved XJ-V's claw-like feet so that his long nails intertwined so it was difficult to see where one leg began and another ended. He sat back after this, shone a smile of satisfaction at the Cog, then stood up and dusted his robe off.
"Now you look like a true Disciple of the Eternal Dragon, XJ-V," he said. "Even if the Master will never accept you, you can at least look good when you fail."
The young man chuckled as he walked away, waving goodbye to the machine-man who stared after him. The rain continued to pelt down on his head, and as XJ-V watched Feng dry himself off from the entrance to one of the monastery communes, he felt surprised to find a smile forming on his lips.
"I will prove you wrong, Feng-Lung," he said, bowing his head and closing his eyes again. "Just wait and see."
"That statue over there," Fai Deng inquired. "Is it new?"
His companion wondered over the inspect the thing – for it was indeed and intricate, if rather crude, replica of a monk in the common meditation pose of the Eternal Dragon: leg's crossed, hands together allowing the thumbs to touch, the tips of the toes to press themselves gently together to allow Qi to flow through the body's channels organically. In truth, the statue seemed the very picture of peace.
But when he made to touch the thing, it's eyes flew open to bathe him in an otherworldly sapphire light.
Kai Thai stumbled back as he realized his mistake.
"That's not statue, Fai," he told his friend. "It's a Cog."
"Ah!" Fai replied. "So, this is where the blundering bag of bolts has been hiding. Why are you sitting here in the rain, man of stone? Doesn't your kind rust and die when the heavens weep?"
The Cog said nothing. It simply closed its eyes and returned to its silent meditation, its limbs repositioning themselves so that they resembled an exact replica of Master Longua's style.
"You should have the decency to speak when spoken to, machi-"
Kai Thai pulled at his friend's sleeve to calm his growing anger.
"Let's leave him be," he said. "Remember the teachings of Master Chun: the lion's claw does not strike at the wounded doe. In doing so, he expends energy that would better be served in feeding his family. Let us attend to our stomachs my brother, and let the machine man be a statue!"
"I doubt this man of stone even knows the concept of hunger," Deng replied, but he followed his friend towards the communal canteen for some food while the rains continued to pelt down upon the dry earth of the monastery, and the silent form of XJ-V who sat there, motionless.
Ironically, the Cog agreed with the sentiments of the young man who had quoted his Master. He too was a patient creature. In his memory banks he recalled some meagre droppings of his creator's words of advice – one of them being that the old Masters of Cultivation Sects often wished to see their Disciples show initiative to prove themselves worthy of being taught. XJ-V recognized this when Longua threw him out in the rain. He had not wanted a pupil who seemed so brash and arrogant as to presume he could simply be taught by demanding an answer to a persistent, frustrating question. Instead, XJ-V would make the Master take him on by exercising one of the Eternal Dragon Sect's greatest virtues: patience and endurance.
You have no patience. No control. And no idea of what it is to suffer in this world as we mortals do. Until you understand such things, the world of the spirit will always be closed to you.
That is what the old Master had said. XJ-V's memory was crystal clear on that. At first he had grit his mechanized teeth in consternation when Longua had so cruelly discarded him. How could the Master upon this high mountain know the suffering of those people who languished out there in the wasteland, in the ruins of the old Dynasties, where marauders, bandits, evil spirits and rival armies made constant war upon each other and the innocents who were caught in between? Had he ever been out there himself? Had he ever been to Shala-Tor where the rain is the color of blood? Or to Xi'Maan where the marketplaces were gilded with gold for only the rich and wealthy? Had he heard of the Divine Order that had made it its mission to banish all technology from the world?
XJ-V shuddered at that last thought, and spared a moment to look at the wiring visible on his skeletal hand.
No, he thought. This was not the right attitude. The ways of the Master's Sect had to be obeyed. If he showed that he could obey them without question, the Master would surely take him on as a Disciple.
And so he sat before the chamber of Longua in the rain, feeling his metallic skin crisp and rust with each passing minute as the heavens cried harder. If the Master wanted to see patience and suffering, he would see it every time he opened his doors to this dying world.
…
On the fifth day since the Cog had begun his vigil, Feng Lung was busy gardening in the monastery rice paddies when he was suddenly seized by a spirit of mischief.
He looked from his toils to the meditating machine still sitting before Master Longua's chamber.
I must understand what it is he thinks he is doing, the young Disciple said to himself.
He wandered over to the robot and looked down at the creature's rusting form, seeing the patches of copper that had begun to gnaw away at his grey skin.
When the robot opened his eyes, he regarded Feng Lung silently.
"Cog," the Disciple said. "What is it you are doing here?"
The Cog answered calmly, again closing his eyes and reassuming his meditating posture.
"I am meditating," he said.
Feng Lung stifled a laugh. Meditating? How could this machine's mind take in the mysteries of the universe? How could he balance his core, or strengthen his Ego. How could Qi flow through one who did not have a spirit?"
Not wishing to appear rude, Feng Lung simply coughed and asked, "Cog, my name is Feng Lung."
The machine did not stir.
"I – it is customary to respond to a name being given with a name in return," Feng Lung stuttered, trying to sound as much like his Master as possible.
The Cog responded without opening his eyes. "This unit is designated XJ-V."
Designated… Feng-Lung mused. It even talks like a machine.
"You should say 'My name is XJ-V'."
One neon eyeball shot open.
"This is how humans speak," Feng Lung explained.
The robot's eye flickered. "I am not human."
"And yet you come here where there are only humans and expect to be treated like one," Feng Lung said with a little mischievous laugh. "Is it any wonder the Disciples are afraid of you?"
The Cog, for the first time in five days, began to look around and notice his surroundings, seeing the colorful Sakura blossoms that lined the courtyard and the apprehensive forms of the Disciples of each Sect who moved from place to place through the monastery, most of them casting bewildered or bemused looks his way.
"The lion does not heed the opinions of the fleas," XJ-V replied cooly.
Feng-Lung was taken aback. The words were taken from the teachings of Ming'Bao. His was a dangerous philosophy to follow - one of pushing against the world, not living with it, and one the heretical leaders of the so-called Divine Order of the Wastes had popularized in recent years. How the Cog knew these words, much less their meaning, was anyone's guess. But one thing was certain: he clearly did not know that they were words born of arrogance. Words that would buy him no respect, here.
Feng-Lung decided to change the subject.
"What do you know of Cultivation, XJ-V?"
The Cog straightened his back and fixed both his eyes on Feng Lung, now.
"In this realm," he began. "There are six known stages of Cultivation.
Corporeal Tempering
Mental Mastery
Core Regulation
Anima Banishment
Ego Integration
Soul Actualization
Each stage is subdivided into nine sub-stages or 'ranks' which focus on building the flow of Qi within the body, channeling this source of Divine energy and harnessing it in battle or in contemplation of the Universal Dao. It is believed that the most potent of all Cultivators can even break through the Sixth Stage of Soul Actualization and achieve immortality, or ascend to the realm of the spirits themselves, thereby adding their own essence and knowledge cultivated in life to the Universal Dao."
Feng-Lung listened to the Cog rattle-off these words with unblinking eyes. When he finished, the young Disciple rocked back on his sandals, and whistled.
"You speak like you have already trained in the arts for decades," he said. "Why come here at all?"
The Cog's shoulder shifted. "I do not know the ways these things are learned."
In the face of Feng Lung's blinking eyes, XJ-V elaborated, "My creator installed much knowledge into my memory banks, but not the ways to unlock these secrets. It is like being shown many doors but being given no keys to open them."
Feng-Lung nodded. "You know the words of the art and the names of its stages, but you do not understand them."
XJ-V winced at the statement. But he could not correct the young Disciple.
"I see now why Master Longua rejected you," he said. "In a sense, you are like a blind man. You must be guided down the right path."
The young Disciple sat across from XJ-V, who at first interpreted the movement of the man as an attack. Slowly he relaxed as the Disciple sighed.
"But perhaps the path of the Cultivator is not for you?"
XJ-V bristled. Why was this young man sitting with him? He was distracting him from his mission, and now the other Disciples were beginning to point and laugh at them both.
"This is the path I must take," he replied. "I must know the answer to my question."
"Which is what?"
"Does this chest contain a soul?"
Feng-Lung rocked back again, sucking in air through his mouth and stroking his chiseled, thin jaw.
"…I have often asked myself the same question."
The way the Disciple muttered this to the sky instead of to XJ-V made the latter stutter abruptly.
"But you are a human," he said confusedly.
Feng Lung smiled and crossed his legs, slowly assuming the meditation pose of the Eternal Dragon.
"Well," he said, ignoring the question implicit in the Cog's statement. "If you are going to be as stubborn as a rock, you should at least learn to meditate like one. Look here," he reached for the Cog's hands and rearranged them so the metal fingers locked perfectly together. Then he quickly moved XJ-V's claw-like feet so that his long nails intertwined so it was difficult to see where one leg began and another ended. He sat back after this, shone a smile of satisfaction at the Cog, then stood up and dusted his robe off.
"Now you look like a true Disciple of the Eternal Dragon, XJ-V," he said. "Even if the Master will never accept you, you can at least look good when you fail."
The young man chuckled as he walked away, waving goodbye to the machine-man who stared after him. The rain continued to pelt down on his head, and as XJ-V watched Feng dry himself off from the entrance to one of the monastery communes, he felt surprised to find a smile forming on his lips.
"I will prove you wrong, Feng-Lung," he said, bowing his head and closing his eyes again. "Just wait and see."
Chapter 3 - Dragonboat
Weeks went by without a single ray of sun.
The ground of Ramor-Tai was thoroughly fertilized. It would be a good harvest year for the farms on the side of the mountain – those held together by Disciples versed in Earth Realm martial techniques.
Even with the constant rains, the monastery was a beehive of activity in these days, as the Sect members prepared for the coming Dragonboat festival. It was one of the only times villagers from the Clansteads below were permitted to enter the monastery grounds – a weekend of celebration and welcoming for all those the Sects had helped protect. The villagers would bring food, precious stones, and good cheer for their eternal guardians, and so a general mood of good cheer prevailed even under the dark clouds of the Wastes.
But there was one individual who did not observe the preparations.
His name was XJ-V.
Caked in rust and grime, the Cog sat cross-legged before Longua's chamber without so much as a stir, still in the exact same pose Feng-Lung had left him in. A few times the young Disciple had returned to speak with the metal man, to offer him congratulations on holding out this long, to chat about the weather and the mundane goings-on of monastery life that the Cog was still not permitted to enjoy. These conversations, however, were one-sided in nature.
Until the young Disciple asked the Cog if he would finally give up his futile vigil.
XJ-V smiled through lips caked with rust.
"You will see," he said. "Master Longua will see that I am capable of learning. He will find me worthy."
Feng-Lung would scratch his head but calmly saunter away back to his daily farming or Cultivation practices within the dry walls of his chambers. And yet, whenever he began his evening meditations, he would often find his mind distracted by thoughts of the metal man still waiting out there, waiting for an invitation that would never come.
On various occasions Master Longua had exited his chamber to instruct his Disicples and aid in their training. All these times he did not even pay the Cog any heed. He simple walked right by him as though he was a statue, and upon his return to his chambers he would slam the door shut behind him.
But Feng-Lung noticed, as only a student of the Master of the Eternal Dragon would, the slight knitting of Longua's great white brows when he returned after his daily exercises or guided meditations. He noticed, as he toiled away in his patch of the rice fields, that there was a distinct change in his Master's demeanor these days. The old man would sag his shoulders just before closing his doors shut, and when he re-emerged the next morning, he would display a slight tick of consternation only momentarily before acting aloof and beyond this thing that lay before him, slowly dying out in the rain.
Whatever the Cog thought about all this, Feng-Lung could only guess at – for how can a man know the mind of a machine? Still, even if his Master was barely affected by this metal man's antics, Feng-Lung could not say the same of himself. He lay in his bed most nights now, thinking about XJ-V outside, stuck in perpetual meditation without the ability to connect with the Universal Dao. A man of stone who's closed eyes showed him nothing but darkness.
For the first time since his induction into the Eternal Sun Sect, Feng-Lung's young mind was fixated on something of the world, not questions of the spirit.
Just what on earth did this metal man think he was doing?
…
The day of the Dragonboat festival finally arrived.
The courtyard, normally a place of quiet reflection, had become a hub of celebration. Red lanterns beamed from all corners of the communes, and the villagers who were permitted entry each wore threadbare robes of crimson inked with either the sigil of the Tiger or the Dragon, to show respect for each of Ramor-Tai's Sects. They offered gifts of flowers or food to the Disciples, and bent their backs when the Masters sallied forth from their chambers to meet them.
Among them was Master Longua, who was performing his classic routine of Fire-Spinning with his most promising Disciples. Among them was Feng-Lung, too preoccupied with ensuring he did not mis-step during the dance to focus on the pleasures of the festival itself.
He followed the movements of his Master in the courtyard, spinning wildly, letting the wreaths that lined the cuffs of his robe flow like the great wyrm of their Sect. The villagers sat on the monastery's steps with reverence, chewing on crusty bread loaves, drinking freshly poured citrus juice or baijuu, and watched the dazzling performance of golden men spinning before them.
And then, at the pinnacle of the act, they unleashed their flames. Each of them was a master of the Dragon's Tooth – an Earth-Grade martial technique that their Master had honed in them since they first learned to sense the Qi that flows in all things, and to project their own energy as fire.
Feng-Lung and the other Disciples surged forward, drew deep the air of the monastery, and delivered a series of jabs into the air that sent dazzling wisps of golden fire billowing into the skies, combining at their apex to form the face of a snarling dragon.
Then the Master came forth to add his own Dragon's Tooth technique to their creation, summoning a gout of flame that shot through the dragon's mouth and licked at the feet of the villagers. It was a flame powerful enough to sear itself into the brains of the spectators for years to come. This festival served two purposes, Feng-Lung recalled: to celebrate the Old Ways of the Qingua Dynasty before it was sullied by the winds of war, and to show the people of the villages below that Ramor-Tai was still more than capable of defending itself.
After the performance, Feng-Lung accepted a begrudged congratulations from his Master (most praise from Longua was begrudged) and decided to share a drink with his brethren in the Waiting Tiger Sect.
"Fai-Deng!" he called to one such warrior drinking baijuu by the courtyard edges. "Why do you look so glum? Join the festival, brother!"
Fai-Deng looked up at the chipper student of the Eternal-Dragon and sniggered, barely acknowledging his friendly greeting.
"You Dragons might love your fancy lights, Feng, but we of the Waiting Tiger are a little more practical than that."
"Oh, don't listen to him!" another member of the Waiting Tiger, Kai-Thai, broke in from above them both, jumping and gliding through the air with the grace of a mother heron. He landed next to his depressed-looking brother and threw his arm around his neck, pushing his heavy-set red face right next to the sullen head of Fai-Deng. "This one is simply in the throes of passion. Brother Feng – I tell you - he is in love!"
Feng-Lung looked over Fai-Deng's disgruntled features. His grimace and twitching eyes told him he could barely stomach having his brother near him, and the fact that he had come to the festival wearing the tight-fitting, broad-shouldered fighting gown of his Sect did not speak to Feng-Lung of love. It spoke of a lust for violence.
The warrior pushed his brother away, his red face stretching into a snarl.
"Knock off your idle fancies!" he yelled. "The heart of a Tiger has no room for love!"
Kai-Thai was not to be put off. It seemed to young Feng that he was, by this point, quite drunk himself.
"I tell you brother, you cannot see the light that flares in your eyes - the fires that would put even the great dragon Longua to shame! Feng-Lung, if you so swear yourself to secrecy, I shall reveal the name of my brother's affection. The being whom he so lusts after. The being who tempts him from the path of the Cultivator! I shall tell you, as a sign of friendship and good faith between our Sects who share this most sacred of homes."
Feng-Lung laughed inadvertently, which only served to anger Fai more.
"You have met a lucky girl from the village, Tiger-Brother?" he jibed, playfully elbowing Fai as he sat beside him.
Feng-Lung, however, was never the best at diffusing an awkward, or tense, situation.
"Don't touch me, either of you!" Fai roared, dashing his cup against the steps and drawing frightened looks from the villagers around their perch.
"No cause for alarm, good people!" Kai chuckled, waving his short-sleeved arms at them. "The heart of a Tiger beats with passion tonight! It is a night of joy and love for all!"
Amidst the cheers and cries of 'Kampai!' from the placated villagers, Fai began to stride off away from the celebration.
Kai bumped into Feng and hung from his shoulder, calling to his departing brother's tense back.
"Are you going to see your lover, angry tiger?" he called. "You should at least powder your snout first! Come, I have a bow that will fit your tail perfectly!"
"QUIET!"
Feng looked down to see Fai's bandaged hands had balled into fists, and he stepped back, looking with horror at Kai who did nothing but continue his incessant chuckling.
"Or what?" Kai shouted back. "You will tickle me with those kitten claws?"
"Brother Kai…" Feng said. "Do you think it wise to provoke a tiger whose fangs are bared?"
Feng knew the strength that dwelled within the young Fai-Deng. As a 2nd rank Body Temperer, Fai had access to most of his Sect's Earth Grade martial techniques, including the aptly named, and justifiably feared, Lightning Claw strike.
Feng watched in mute horror as small arcs of light danced up the tensing Tiger's curled fingers.
"Oh, we have nothing to fear from this kitten!" Kai jeered. "Especially not one who is in love with a rock!"
Feng watched Fai-Deng's eyes glimmer with hate, his chest puffing out with the desire to strike something dead.
"Do you know, brother Feng, that the man of stone has been all this kitten has talked about these last few weeks? He watches him as he eats his noodles, he speaks of how he wishes to dash his metal head against the wet stone of old Longua's chamber doors, and I wager he even dreams of the metal man most nights. Oh, it is love, I say. I say again, Feng-Lung, it is love!"
"I bear that thing no love, insolent wretch!" Fai roared. "I would see him destroyed for the mockery he makes of our order! How can you stand to let him be – this – this demon born from the evil dreams of mankind?"
For a moment, Feng-Lung reared back. It was as though Fai was asking him this question specifically, and the young Disicple found that his tongue stuck in his mouth.
"Oh, does it not sound like love, Feng-Lung?" Kai continued. "Maybe our brother should confess on this night? It is Dragonboat festival, after all."
Fai-Deng's eyes glimmered with evil mischief, then, and his mouth opened in a snarl that befit the animal spirit of his Sect.
"Oh, I shall confess to him, alright," he growled. "I shall confess to him that his time is finally out. I shall be the deliverer of his end!"
And he sprinted towards the end of the courtyard where the Cog still sat, leaving Feng-Lung and Kai-Thai to run after him.
"Brother!" Feng shouted at the stumbling drunkard beside him. "What have you done?"
"I?" Kai-Thai replied with surprise. "Why, I've sent a kitten to kiss a stone, haha!"
Feng-Lung rolled his eyes and left the imbecile behind. Perhaps he could catch the sprinting tiger before he did something he would regret. If he had thought to stop for a second, he would have pondered why, exactly, he was so intent in not seeing the robot harmed. For if anyone's brain had been dominated by thoughts of the Cog these past few weeks, it had been his.
XJ-V, he thought. You should have run when I told you to!
The ground of Ramor-Tai was thoroughly fertilized. It would be a good harvest year for the farms on the side of the mountain – those held together by Disciples versed in Earth Realm martial techniques.
Even with the constant rains, the monastery was a beehive of activity in these days, as the Sect members prepared for the coming Dragonboat festival. It was one of the only times villagers from the Clansteads below were permitted to enter the monastery grounds – a weekend of celebration and welcoming for all those the Sects had helped protect. The villagers would bring food, precious stones, and good cheer for their eternal guardians, and so a general mood of good cheer prevailed even under the dark clouds of the Wastes.
But there was one individual who did not observe the preparations.
His name was XJ-V.
Caked in rust and grime, the Cog sat cross-legged before Longua's chamber without so much as a stir, still in the exact same pose Feng-Lung had left him in. A few times the young Disciple had returned to speak with the metal man, to offer him congratulations on holding out this long, to chat about the weather and the mundane goings-on of monastery life that the Cog was still not permitted to enjoy. These conversations, however, were one-sided in nature.
Until the young Disciple asked the Cog if he would finally give up his futile vigil.
XJ-V smiled through lips caked with rust.
"You will see," he said. "Master Longua will see that I am capable of learning. He will find me worthy."
Feng-Lung would scratch his head but calmly saunter away back to his daily farming or Cultivation practices within the dry walls of his chambers. And yet, whenever he began his evening meditations, he would often find his mind distracted by thoughts of the metal man still waiting out there, waiting for an invitation that would never come.
On various occasions Master Longua had exited his chamber to instruct his Disicples and aid in their training. All these times he did not even pay the Cog any heed. He simple walked right by him as though he was a statue, and upon his return to his chambers he would slam the door shut behind him.
But Feng-Lung noticed, as only a student of the Master of the Eternal Dragon would, the slight knitting of Longua's great white brows when he returned after his daily exercises or guided meditations. He noticed, as he toiled away in his patch of the rice fields, that there was a distinct change in his Master's demeanor these days. The old man would sag his shoulders just before closing his doors shut, and when he re-emerged the next morning, he would display a slight tick of consternation only momentarily before acting aloof and beyond this thing that lay before him, slowly dying out in the rain.
Whatever the Cog thought about all this, Feng-Lung could only guess at – for how can a man know the mind of a machine? Still, even if his Master was barely affected by this metal man's antics, Feng-Lung could not say the same of himself. He lay in his bed most nights now, thinking about XJ-V outside, stuck in perpetual meditation without the ability to connect with the Universal Dao. A man of stone who's closed eyes showed him nothing but darkness.
For the first time since his induction into the Eternal Sun Sect, Feng-Lung's young mind was fixated on something of the world, not questions of the spirit.
Just what on earth did this metal man think he was doing?
…
The day of the Dragonboat festival finally arrived.
The courtyard, normally a place of quiet reflection, had become a hub of celebration. Red lanterns beamed from all corners of the communes, and the villagers who were permitted entry each wore threadbare robes of crimson inked with either the sigil of the Tiger or the Dragon, to show respect for each of Ramor-Tai's Sects. They offered gifts of flowers or food to the Disciples, and bent their backs when the Masters sallied forth from their chambers to meet them.
Among them was Master Longua, who was performing his classic routine of Fire-Spinning with his most promising Disciples. Among them was Feng-Lung, too preoccupied with ensuring he did not mis-step during the dance to focus on the pleasures of the festival itself.
He followed the movements of his Master in the courtyard, spinning wildly, letting the wreaths that lined the cuffs of his robe flow like the great wyrm of their Sect. The villagers sat on the monastery's steps with reverence, chewing on crusty bread loaves, drinking freshly poured citrus juice or baijuu, and watched the dazzling performance of golden men spinning before them.
And then, at the pinnacle of the act, they unleashed their flames. Each of them was a master of the Dragon's Tooth – an Earth-Grade martial technique that their Master had honed in them since they first learned to sense the Qi that flows in all things, and to project their own energy as fire.
Feng-Lung and the other Disciples surged forward, drew deep the air of the monastery, and delivered a series of jabs into the air that sent dazzling wisps of golden fire billowing into the skies, combining at their apex to form the face of a snarling dragon.
Then the Master came forth to add his own Dragon's Tooth technique to their creation, summoning a gout of flame that shot through the dragon's mouth and licked at the feet of the villagers. It was a flame powerful enough to sear itself into the brains of the spectators for years to come. This festival served two purposes, Feng-Lung recalled: to celebrate the Old Ways of the Qingua Dynasty before it was sullied by the winds of war, and to show the people of the villages below that Ramor-Tai was still more than capable of defending itself.
After the performance, Feng-Lung accepted a begrudged congratulations from his Master (most praise from Longua was begrudged) and decided to share a drink with his brethren in the Waiting Tiger Sect.
"Fai-Deng!" he called to one such warrior drinking baijuu by the courtyard edges. "Why do you look so glum? Join the festival, brother!"
Fai-Deng looked up at the chipper student of the Eternal-Dragon and sniggered, barely acknowledging his friendly greeting.
"You Dragons might love your fancy lights, Feng, but we of the Waiting Tiger are a little more practical than that."
"Oh, don't listen to him!" another member of the Waiting Tiger, Kai-Thai, broke in from above them both, jumping and gliding through the air with the grace of a mother heron. He landed next to his depressed-looking brother and threw his arm around his neck, pushing his heavy-set red face right next to the sullen head of Fai-Deng. "This one is simply in the throes of passion. Brother Feng – I tell you - he is in love!"
Feng-Lung looked over Fai-Deng's disgruntled features. His grimace and twitching eyes told him he could barely stomach having his brother near him, and the fact that he had come to the festival wearing the tight-fitting, broad-shouldered fighting gown of his Sect did not speak to Feng-Lung of love. It spoke of a lust for violence.
The warrior pushed his brother away, his red face stretching into a snarl.
"Knock off your idle fancies!" he yelled. "The heart of a Tiger has no room for love!"
Kai-Thai was not to be put off. It seemed to young Feng that he was, by this point, quite drunk himself.
"I tell you brother, you cannot see the light that flares in your eyes - the fires that would put even the great dragon Longua to shame! Feng-Lung, if you so swear yourself to secrecy, I shall reveal the name of my brother's affection. The being whom he so lusts after. The being who tempts him from the path of the Cultivator! I shall tell you, as a sign of friendship and good faith between our Sects who share this most sacred of homes."
Feng-Lung laughed inadvertently, which only served to anger Fai more.
"You have met a lucky girl from the village, Tiger-Brother?" he jibed, playfully elbowing Fai as he sat beside him.
Feng-Lung, however, was never the best at diffusing an awkward, or tense, situation.
"Don't touch me, either of you!" Fai roared, dashing his cup against the steps and drawing frightened looks from the villagers around their perch.
"No cause for alarm, good people!" Kai chuckled, waving his short-sleeved arms at them. "The heart of a Tiger beats with passion tonight! It is a night of joy and love for all!"
Amidst the cheers and cries of 'Kampai!' from the placated villagers, Fai began to stride off away from the celebration.
Kai bumped into Feng and hung from his shoulder, calling to his departing brother's tense back.
"Are you going to see your lover, angry tiger?" he called. "You should at least powder your snout first! Come, I have a bow that will fit your tail perfectly!"
"QUIET!"
Feng looked down to see Fai's bandaged hands had balled into fists, and he stepped back, looking with horror at Kai who did nothing but continue his incessant chuckling.
"Or what?" Kai shouted back. "You will tickle me with those kitten claws?"
"Brother Kai…" Feng said. "Do you think it wise to provoke a tiger whose fangs are bared?"
Feng knew the strength that dwelled within the young Fai-Deng. As a 2nd rank Body Temperer, Fai had access to most of his Sect's Earth Grade martial techniques, including the aptly named, and justifiably feared, Lightning Claw strike.
Feng watched in mute horror as small arcs of light danced up the tensing Tiger's curled fingers.
"Oh, we have nothing to fear from this kitten!" Kai jeered. "Especially not one who is in love with a rock!"
Feng watched Fai-Deng's eyes glimmer with hate, his chest puffing out with the desire to strike something dead.
"Do you know, brother Feng, that the man of stone has been all this kitten has talked about these last few weeks? He watches him as he eats his noodles, he speaks of how he wishes to dash his metal head against the wet stone of old Longua's chamber doors, and I wager he even dreams of the metal man most nights. Oh, it is love, I say. I say again, Feng-Lung, it is love!"
"I bear that thing no love, insolent wretch!" Fai roared. "I would see him destroyed for the mockery he makes of our order! How can you stand to let him be – this – this demon born from the evil dreams of mankind?"
For a moment, Feng-Lung reared back. It was as though Fai was asking him this question specifically, and the young Disicple found that his tongue stuck in his mouth.
"Oh, does it not sound like love, Feng-Lung?" Kai continued. "Maybe our brother should confess on this night? It is Dragonboat festival, after all."
Fai-Deng's eyes glimmered with evil mischief, then, and his mouth opened in a snarl that befit the animal spirit of his Sect.
"Oh, I shall confess to him, alright," he growled. "I shall confess to him that his time is finally out. I shall be the deliverer of his end!"
And he sprinted towards the end of the courtyard where the Cog still sat, leaving Feng-Lung and Kai-Thai to run after him.
"Brother!" Feng shouted at the stumbling drunkard beside him. "What have you done?"
"I?" Kai-Thai replied with surprise. "Why, I've sent a kitten to kiss a stone, haha!"
Feng-Lung rolled his eyes and left the imbecile behind. Perhaps he could catch the sprinting tiger before he did something he would regret. If he had thought to stop for a second, he would have pondered why, exactly, he was so intent in not seeing the robot harmed. For if anyone's brain had been dominated by thoughts of the Cog these past few weeks, it had been his.
XJ-V, he thought. You should have run when I told you to!
Chapter 4 - The Tiger and the Stone
When XJ-V heard the sounds of commotion nearby, he did what he had been doing for the past month: nothing at all.
Then an impact on the back of his head brought him out of his meditation. He looked at the ground to see a pebble shatter beside him. A pebble which must have been thrown with some force.
"Cog!" someone shouted behind him.
XJ-V was going to tentatively assume they meant him.
But he didn't turn to face his interloper. His memory banks told him that many Disciples were often tested and taunted by spirits of the Wastes – distractions meant to lure them out of their silent Cultivation and take them down an evil path. He smiled to himself at the thought. If dark spirits had come upon him trying to meddle in his training, then that meant he had a soul worth meddling with, surely!
"You will answer me this time, machine!" the voice roared. "Or you will die!"
XJ-V's auditory sensors picked up more voices approaching from the end of the courtyard. But in the flurry of fireworks and excitement from the festival that was ongoing, their words were lost.
What wasn't lost was the sensation of fury billowing up in the boy that came within XJ-V's field of view. Even with his eyes closed, the Cog could feel the youth's anger.
Anger at what? The weather? The celebration? XJ-V had assumed all humans enjoyed this so-called Dragonbo-
"Open the evil lights you call eyes, wretched thing!" the boy demanded. "I command you!"
XJ-V heaved a heavy sigh before he did as he was big, fixing his eyes now on one of the boys who had come upon him two weeks ago and decided to leave him be. This one had a puffed-out chest like a rooster baying for combat, and the rain had matted his embroidered gi that bore the symbol of a tiger poised to strike.
XJ-V looked him up and down.
"You are not Master Longua," he said.
For whatever reason, this only seemed to antagonize the boy further.
"Of course not! I am Fai-Deng of the Waiting Tiger, Second Rank Body Temporer Cultivator and Master of the Tiger Sect's Earth Grade Martial Techniques! You will address me with the proper respect!"
XJ-V blinked up at him.
"Bow, machine!" the youth's voice boomed. "Bow!"
"You are not Master Longua," the Cog repeated. "He is to be my Master. It is to him I must bow, and no one else."
The boy practically shook with rage, now, and XJ-V simply returned to his mediations.
Feng-Lung and Kai-Thai had by this point caught up to the commotion, and through panting breath Feng cried out to his brother of the Tiger.
"Fai! Think what it is you do!"
"QUIET!" the enraged beast spat, pointing a steady claw at XJ-V's nonchalant face. "I will have satisfaction from this one. He mocks me – us – with his silence! Does he not see that Longua will never take him as a pupil?"
XJ-V shifted slightly. "Master Longua," he corrected.
The three looked at the rusted, dulled metal of the machine-man's limbs as though he had just unleashed a spell of havoc, and then Fai-Deng's face took on a shade of rogue that Feng-Lung had never seen before. He began to move to halt Fai-Deng before this business got any worse.
"I say, Feng-Lung," Kai whispered beside him. "Is this what they call 'foreplay'?"
Fai rolled up the sleeves of his Gi and jumped on the spot, balancing on the soles of his naked feet.
"I challenge you, Cog," he said. "Argi'Mona – my tiger claws against your metal hands. Do you accept my challenge?"
Feng-Lung staggered back. His worst fear had just been realized: Fai had called for a duel of honor between him and the Cog. Argi'Mona was a practice as old as the old empire itself. A sacred tradition passed down from generations before the Wasteland was born. It was a compact between warriors – a sign of mutual respect that precipitated hostilities. A fight which would be sanctioned by the spirits of the land.
Feng-Lung felt the Qi gather between the two warriors. Fai's swirled round his fists and his heart, telling Feng all he needed to know about his motivations and desires in this moment.
But the Cog? Well, there was nothing that could be seen at all. Not even a speck of the Divine energy shone in him. Feng didn't know what he was thinking in the moment.
Then the robot rose his head to meet Fai's eyes, and made his response:
"No."
Kai burst into raucous laughter.
"W…what did you say to me?" Fai barked.
"My heartrate detector suggests that you heard my reply."
"Hah!" Kai shouted. "It looks like a rejection to me, Brother! A sad thing to see on Dragonboat, but, alas! The heart of the metal-man does not yearn for you!"
Feng-Lung saw the fury bubbling beneath Fai's eyes. By now, there was a sizeable group of villagers and Disciples that had gathered around the courtyard. Feng even spotted one of the grand Masters of the Tiger clan, wise Yoma-dur, looking on the proceedings with curious eyes.
Feng-Lung gulped. It was obvious Fai wasn't going to let this go.
"Come, come brother!" Kai shouted as he took a step towards the youth. "Let's away to the Tiger commune for some baiju. They say the answer to a broken heart lies at the bottom of a bot-"
Kai's sentence was interrupted by the gale of force that broke through the air, coming down on XJ-V's rusted torso.
"Haaa-YUH!"
With a stab of lightning coursing through the veins of his bulging arm muscles, Fai sent the robot flying across the courtyard, pieces of his metal chest shattering and leaving a trail of glass and rust in his wake.
"You will fight me, Cog!" Fai then roared, crouching into the Tiger stance. "Or you will die!"
As a crowd now gathered to watch the spectacle unfold, Feng-Lung stood in horror as he looked at XJ-V's body – thin whisps of smoke had begun to steam from his wounded chest, and his limbs twitched with simulated pain.
Then the moment passed, and with a roar of thunder from the weeping heavens above, XJ-V calmly placed his skeletal palms on the ground and rose.
He staggered, fell forwards, and then straightened up, the crowd murmuring stuttered oooohs and aaahs! With the Cog's every labored movement.
His eyes sought out their opponent, and when they found him, Feng-Lung could swear the Fai's firm feet trembled for a fleeting instant.
"Come on then, you husk of bolts!" he spat, all saliva and rage and madness. "Strike at me!"
The Cog swayed, as though he was buffeted by the winds that were whipping up around all of them. The dark clouds of the wasteland gathered, snuffing out all promise of light from the fires of the festival. Now, the only lights were XJ-V's blazing, neon eyes. They were the eyes, Feng-Lung thought, of a spirit locked within a cage.
"I will not fight you," the Cog said. "The rock does not bend for the raging storm. It remains firm."
The crowd sent up a cheer of 'Kampai!' at the robot's statement, taken from the prophet Ai-Lee of the Eternal Dragon Sect himself. How the Cog knew of the wise prophet's words, Feng-Lung could not discern.
But more surprising were the churning of the Cog's chest servos that had started twitching with life. From the hole punched through his chest, the crowd saw an otherworldly light blaze and flame, like an eternal fire burning within an infernal engine, and the Cog's metal flesh began to knit itself back together as though it had not just been punctured by the Lightning Claw strike.
"Ho-ho!" Kai muttered beside Feng. "Look you, Feng-Lung – he shows our brother that his lashing out has done nothing at all!"
Fai looked on with tensed up fists, his legs beginning to shake with anticipation.
"Guess I must simply break all of you then!" he roared.
In an instant he stormed towards the Cog, practically flying, trailing an arc of lightning behind him as he channeled the Thundrous Charge – another Earth Grade Technique that put him right in the face of the Cog in a split second. His feet landed before their target, formed a crater in the earth, and his fist reeled back to deliver a Lightning Claw right at the Cog's face.
Then, with a distinct fizzle of dying energy, the light vanished in the courtyard.
Feng-Lung and Kai-Thai looked with disbelieving eyes at their Brother's hand caught within the Cog's skeletal fingers. The power that once flowed through his mighty veins was instantly nullified, and the crowd reeled back to see the Tiger thrash around like an injured fish while the Cog merely looked at him, unblinking.
"Wh-what have you do-!"
A rush of air, a flash of steel, and Fai-Deng's chest was punctured by the Cog's left jab. He doubled over and would have fallen had it not been for the Cog's metal kneecap which met his descending chin.
"OW!" Kai-Thai shouted like a gleeful child. "A sound blow!"
"This is not a tournament match!" Feng-Lung chastised him.
Fai-Deng was sent reeling back, touching his bloodied jaw in disbelief as he looked back at the straight-backed Cog.
"You – you dare draw the blood of a Disciple of the Tiger Sect?" he asked the metal man's nonchalant features. "You dare draw my blood?"
Both his hands balled into lightning-coated fists which flew towards the Cog's cheeks. The robot simply shot out his arms and grabbed both fists, extinguishing their fire like a candle being snuffed out, and administered a swift headbutt to their owner's already busted face.
CRACK.
"Another good strike!" Kai-Thai cheered, his fist pumping in the dead air of the courtyard. "What a bloody kiss our brother has been given!"
"Brother," Feng-Lung protested. "I do not believe you are taking this serious-"
"ENOUGH!" Fai bellowed, turning now to the crowd and screaming at those who cheered to see him battered and bruised. "I WILL KILL HIM!"
He came at the Cog again and again, his fists two glowing pools of sparks dancing through the night sky only to be rebuffed again, and again, and again.
By the point of his fourth assault against the Cog, the latter needed only to swipe his fist away and twist his arm.
"AH!"
"Yield," XJ-V told his prey.
Feng-Lung watched as Fai spun the Cog round and managed to get his foot behind his ankle, throwing them both to the ground and slamming his fist into XJ-V's jaw.
"I. WILL. KILL. HIM!"
He raised his fist in the air and brought it down on the robot with the fury of a thousand stampeding oxen, only to find his fist had been enveloped by the Cog's hand again. His technique – completely nullified.
"How…" he whispered to the twitching, jawless machine. "HOW!?"
In response, a stab of light pierced through the courtyard, sending both combatants spinning out of control. XJ-V landed in the crowd's right flank, while Fai ended up at the feet of both Feng-Lung and his brother on the left.
Where both combatants had once stood, a shadowy figure garbed in flowing white robes floated down to touch the ground.
"This contest is over," Master Yoma-Dur of the Tiger said.
The crowd bowed their heads as the Master made his will manifest, raising a single finger to repair the broken brickwork of the monastery courtyard. The ground knit itself back together like a wound being stitched up by an expert surgeon.
"N-no!" Fai-Deng shouted. "Master, I will have my satisfaction! I will have that metal monster's head! I will -!"
A swift kick from Master Yoma's sandaled feet winded the boy, and he collapsed into his Master's arms like a child tired from too much play.
"Mewling kitten," the great Master sighed. "You have been chasing your tail tonight."
His eyes then flit towards the innocent-looking form of Kai-Thai, who hid his baiju behind his back.
"You had a hand in this, I am sure."
"Good Master, please," Kai protested. "This tiger is nothing but his brother's keeper."
"And his brother's tormentor," Yoma chided. "But enough of this. Come. We shall retire to our Sect commune and speak no more of this nonsense. Let the Brothers of the Eternal Dragon have their courtyard back."
And with a respectful bow to Feng-Lung, the Master led his students and the crowd away. The young Feng was left speechless, trying to understand the madness that had just gone on. No doubt the villagers around him were feeling even more puzzled than he.
But there was no sight more puzzling than what next occurred before Feng-Lung's eyes. He watched as XJ-V moved, refusing any help from the crowd, and limped back to the exact same position before Longua's chamber doors where he had sat before. His form seemed heavy. Haggard. As though the combat was finally catching up to him, but more surprising was the face of Master Longua himself as he moved past the metal man to enter his chambers.
Feng-Lung had not even known the Master was in the courtyard on this night, never mind that he must have watched the fight take place.
But far from seeming impressed, the old Master of the Eternal Dragon simply opened the door to his chambers, took one look back at the supplicant Cog he was forced to see every morning, and sighed.
"An engine made for destruction," he said. "Nothing more."
With that he closed shut his doors, leaving the Cog shrouded in darkness and rain again.
Then an impact on the back of his head brought him out of his meditation. He looked at the ground to see a pebble shatter beside him. A pebble which must have been thrown with some force.
"Cog!" someone shouted behind him.
XJ-V was going to tentatively assume they meant him.
But he didn't turn to face his interloper. His memory banks told him that many Disciples were often tested and taunted by spirits of the Wastes – distractions meant to lure them out of their silent Cultivation and take them down an evil path. He smiled to himself at the thought. If dark spirits had come upon him trying to meddle in his training, then that meant he had a soul worth meddling with, surely!
"You will answer me this time, machine!" the voice roared. "Or you will die!"
XJ-V's auditory sensors picked up more voices approaching from the end of the courtyard. But in the flurry of fireworks and excitement from the festival that was ongoing, their words were lost.
What wasn't lost was the sensation of fury billowing up in the boy that came within XJ-V's field of view. Even with his eyes closed, the Cog could feel the youth's anger.
Anger at what? The weather? The celebration? XJ-V had assumed all humans enjoyed this so-called Dragonbo-
"Open the evil lights you call eyes, wretched thing!" the boy demanded. "I command you!"
XJ-V heaved a heavy sigh before he did as he was big, fixing his eyes now on one of the boys who had come upon him two weeks ago and decided to leave him be. This one had a puffed-out chest like a rooster baying for combat, and the rain had matted his embroidered gi that bore the symbol of a tiger poised to strike.
XJ-V looked him up and down.
"You are not Master Longua," he said.
For whatever reason, this only seemed to antagonize the boy further.
"Of course not! I am Fai-Deng of the Waiting Tiger, Second Rank Body Temporer Cultivator and Master of the Tiger Sect's Earth Grade Martial Techniques! You will address me with the proper respect!"
XJ-V blinked up at him.
"Bow, machine!" the youth's voice boomed. "Bow!"
"You are not Master Longua," the Cog repeated. "He is to be my Master. It is to him I must bow, and no one else."
The boy practically shook with rage, now, and XJ-V simply returned to his mediations.
Feng-Lung and Kai-Thai had by this point caught up to the commotion, and through panting breath Feng cried out to his brother of the Tiger.
"Fai! Think what it is you do!"
"QUIET!" the enraged beast spat, pointing a steady claw at XJ-V's nonchalant face. "I will have satisfaction from this one. He mocks me – us – with his silence! Does he not see that Longua will never take him as a pupil?"
XJ-V shifted slightly. "Master Longua," he corrected.
The three looked at the rusted, dulled metal of the machine-man's limbs as though he had just unleashed a spell of havoc, and then Fai-Deng's face took on a shade of rogue that Feng-Lung had never seen before. He began to move to halt Fai-Deng before this business got any worse.
"I say, Feng-Lung," Kai whispered beside him. "Is this what they call 'foreplay'?"
Fai rolled up the sleeves of his Gi and jumped on the spot, balancing on the soles of his naked feet.
"I challenge you, Cog," he said. "Argi'Mona – my tiger claws against your metal hands. Do you accept my challenge?"
Feng-Lung staggered back. His worst fear had just been realized: Fai had called for a duel of honor between him and the Cog. Argi'Mona was a practice as old as the old empire itself. A sacred tradition passed down from generations before the Wasteland was born. It was a compact between warriors – a sign of mutual respect that precipitated hostilities. A fight which would be sanctioned by the spirits of the land.
Feng-Lung felt the Qi gather between the two warriors. Fai's swirled round his fists and his heart, telling Feng all he needed to know about his motivations and desires in this moment.
But the Cog? Well, there was nothing that could be seen at all. Not even a speck of the Divine energy shone in him. Feng didn't know what he was thinking in the moment.
Then the robot rose his head to meet Fai's eyes, and made his response:
"No."
Kai burst into raucous laughter.
"W…what did you say to me?" Fai barked.
"My heartrate detector suggests that you heard my reply."
"Hah!" Kai shouted. "It looks like a rejection to me, Brother! A sad thing to see on Dragonboat, but, alas! The heart of the metal-man does not yearn for you!"
Feng-Lung saw the fury bubbling beneath Fai's eyes. By now, there was a sizeable group of villagers and Disciples that had gathered around the courtyard. Feng even spotted one of the grand Masters of the Tiger clan, wise Yoma-dur, looking on the proceedings with curious eyes.
Feng-Lung gulped. It was obvious Fai wasn't going to let this go.
"Come, come brother!" Kai shouted as he took a step towards the youth. "Let's away to the Tiger commune for some baiju. They say the answer to a broken heart lies at the bottom of a bot-"
Kai's sentence was interrupted by the gale of force that broke through the air, coming down on XJ-V's rusted torso.
"Haaa-YUH!"
With a stab of lightning coursing through the veins of his bulging arm muscles, Fai sent the robot flying across the courtyard, pieces of his metal chest shattering and leaving a trail of glass and rust in his wake.
"You will fight me, Cog!" Fai then roared, crouching into the Tiger stance. "Or you will die!"
As a crowd now gathered to watch the spectacle unfold, Feng-Lung stood in horror as he looked at XJ-V's body – thin whisps of smoke had begun to steam from his wounded chest, and his limbs twitched with simulated pain.
Then the moment passed, and with a roar of thunder from the weeping heavens above, XJ-V calmly placed his skeletal palms on the ground and rose.
He staggered, fell forwards, and then straightened up, the crowd murmuring stuttered oooohs and aaahs! With the Cog's every labored movement.
His eyes sought out their opponent, and when they found him, Feng-Lung could swear the Fai's firm feet trembled for a fleeting instant.
"Come on then, you husk of bolts!" he spat, all saliva and rage and madness. "Strike at me!"
The Cog swayed, as though he was buffeted by the winds that were whipping up around all of them. The dark clouds of the wasteland gathered, snuffing out all promise of light from the fires of the festival. Now, the only lights were XJ-V's blazing, neon eyes. They were the eyes, Feng-Lung thought, of a spirit locked within a cage.
"I will not fight you," the Cog said. "The rock does not bend for the raging storm. It remains firm."
The crowd sent up a cheer of 'Kampai!' at the robot's statement, taken from the prophet Ai-Lee of the Eternal Dragon Sect himself. How the Cog knew of the wise prophet's words, Feng-Lung could not discern.
But more surprising were the churning of the Cog's chest servos that had started twitching with life. From the hole punched through his chest, the crowd saw an otherworldly light blaze and flame, like an eternal fire burning within an infernal engine, and the Cog's metal flesh began to knit itself back together as though it had not just been punctured by the Lightning Claw strike.
"Ho-ho!" Kai muttered beside Feng. "Look you, Feng-Lung – he shows our brother that his lashing out has done nothing at all!"
Fai looked on with tensed up fists, his legs beginning to shake with anticipation.
"Guess I must simply break all of you then!" he roared.
In an instant he stormed towards the Cog, practically flying, trailing an arc of lightning behind him as he channeled the Thundrous Charge – another Earth Grade Technique that put him right in the face of the Cog in a split second. His feet landed before their target, formed a crater in the earth, and his fist reeled back to deliver a Lightning Claw right at the Cog's face.
Then, with a distinct fizzle of dying energy, the light vanished in the courtyard.
Feng-Lung and Kai-Thai looked with disbelieving eyes at their Brother's hand caught within the Cog's skeletal fingers. The power that once flowed through his mighty veins was instantly nullified, and the crowd reeled back to see the Tiger thrash around like an injured fish while the Cog merely looked at him, unblinking.
"Wh-what have you do-!"
A rush of air, a flash of steel, and Fai-Deng's chest was punctured by the Cog's left jab. He doubled over and would have fallen had it not been for the Cog's metal kneecap which met his descending chin.
"OW!" Kai-Thai shouted like a gleeful child. "A sound blow!"
"This is not a tournament match!" Feng-Lung chastised him.
Fai-Deng was sent reeling back, touching his bloodied jaw in disbelief as he looked back at the straight-backed Cog.
"You – you dare draw the blood of a Disciple of the Tiger Sect?" he asked the metal man's nonchalant features. "You dare draw my blood?"
Both his hands balled into lightning-coated fists which flew towards the Cog's cheeks. The robot simply shot out his arms and grabbed both fists, extinguishing their fire like a candle being snuffed out, and administered a swift headbutt to their owner's already busted face.
CRACK.
"Another good strike!" Kai-Thai cheered, his fist pumping in the dead air of the courtyard. "What a bloody kiss our brother has been given!"
"Brother," Feng-Lung protested. "I do not believe you are taking this serious-"
"ENOUGH!" Fai bellowed, turning now to the crowd and screaming at those who cheered to see him battered and bruised. "I WILL KILL HIM!"
He came at the Cog again and again, his fists two glowing pools of sparks dancing through the night sky only to be rebuffed again, and again, and again.
By the point of his fourth assault against the Cog, the latter needed only to swipe his fist away and twist his arm.
"AH!"
"Yield," XJ-V told his prey.
Feng-Lung watched as Fai spun the Cog round and managed to get his foot behind his ankle, throwing them both to the ground and slamming his fist into XJ-V's jaw.
"I. WILL. KILL. HIM!"
He raised his fist in the air and brought it down on the robot with the fury of a thousand stampeding oxen, only to find his fist had been enveloped by the Cog's hand again. His technique – completely nullified.
"How…" he whispered to the twitching, jawless machine. "HOW!?"
In response, a stab of light pierced through the courtyard, sending both combatants spinning out of control. XJ-V landed in the crowd's right flank, while Fai ended up at the feet of both Feng-Lung and his brother on the left.
Where both combatants had once stood, a shadowy figure garbed in flowing white robes floated down to touch the ground.
"This contest is over," Master Yoma-Dur of the Tiger said.
The crowd bowed their heads as the Master made his will manifest, raising a single finger to repair the broken brickwork of the monastery courtyard. The ground knit itself back together like a wound being stitched up by an expert surgeon.
"N-no!" Fai-Deng shouted. "Master, I will have my satisfaction! I will have that metal monster's head! I will -!"
A swift kick from Master Yoma's sandaled feet winded the boy, and he collapsed into his Master's arms like a child tired from too much play.
"Mewling kitten," the great Master sighed. "You have been chasing your tail tonight."
His eyes then flit towards the innocent-looking form of Kai-Thai, who hid his baiju behind his back.
"You had a hand in this, I am sure."
"Good Master, please," Kai protested. "This tiger is nothing but his brother's keeper."
"And his brother's tormentor," Yoma chided. "But enough of this. Come. We shall retire to our Sect commune and speak no more of this nonsense. Let the Brothers of the Eternal Dragon have their courtyard back."
And with a respectful bow to Feng-Lung, the Master led his students and the crowd away. The young Feng was left speechless, trying to understand the madness that had just gone on. No doubt the villagers around him were feeling even more puzzled than he.
But there was no sight more puzzling than what next occurred before Feng-Lung's eyes. He watched as XJ-V moved, refusing any help from the crowd, and limped back to the exact same position before Longua's chamber doors where he had sat before. His form seemed heavy. Haggard. As though the combat was finally catching up to him, but more surprising was the face of Master Longua himself as he moved past the metal man to enter his chambers.
Feng-Lung had not even known the Master was in the courtyard on this night, never mind that he must have watched the fight take place.
But far from seeming impressed, the old Master of the Eternal Dragon simply opened the door to his chambers, took one look back at the supplicant Cog he was forced to see every morning, and sighed.
"An engine made for destruction," he said. "Nothing more."
With that he closed shut his doors, leaving the Cog shrouded in darkness and rain again.
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Chapter 5 - Fear the Flame
Feng-Lung breathed deep the flaring fires of the Dragonpyre Hearth.
"Very good," his Master told him. "Again."
The Disciple closed his eyes and tensed up his stomach muscles, feeling the air travel through them and with it his Qi. He could feel it building in his gut, in the core of his being, and he swept his feet wide and opened his arms to direct the flow of energy down to his fists.
"Good," Master Longua whispered. "Now, hold it."
Feng-Lung's brow tensed, sweat pooling just above his shaven eyebrows, gently running down the dragon tattoo that adorned his forehead.
Hold…he counseled himself. Hold the Qi within you. Feel the essence of the Dao enter your body and elevate your senses. Feel your muscles quicken as it pours through them, and let your veins be filled with fire.
Fire.
"Good," Master Longua said again. "Now, follow the flow of Qi. Let it run where it must."
Feng-Lung obeyed the words of his Master, divorcing his mind from his body and letting his mind commune with the Qi. It was said that those Cultivators who had mastered the Body Tempering Stage could sense the Qi in all living things, from the lowliest twin-tailed Marshmouse to the greatest Stix bison with its three heads and stomachs. It was said that they could even tell where spirits would manifest in the land. But such feats were nothing but idle fancies to young Feng-Lung, who had only barely entered the Second Rank of Body Tempering last spring.
Feng-Lung felt the essence of the Dao flow freely within him, and he knit his brows in concentration as he closed off his Chakras and let the power pool at the base of his open hands.
"Focus," Longua said again within the Hearth, where all except the flickering candles were quiet as a crypt.
Master Longua often spoke of how their Sect valued not only the fire born of dragons but the spiritual attributes associated with that same element. Ambition, determination, passion, desire – these things were the Di'ama of the Eternal Dragon Sect – the characteristics Disciples were most expected to express. Some of their most famed Cultivators – those who had existed in the Qing Dynasty before the Sunder-Year, had displayed all these characteristics in their purest form. Some of the Internalized Ego Grade could even divorce their souls from their bodies entirely, living as pure, sentient flame. Technique and temperament went hand in hand with the teachings of each Sect.
Feng-Lung, however, had been slow to learn. It had been his desire alone that had spurned him on these past six years, and desire alone which compelled him to continue his training even against the odds. His Anima Cores were fewer than most of the other Disciples – being measured at a mere 83 compared to the average of 90 and above – but still, this had not deterred him. As a child he had only ever woken to the dark skies of the Wastes above him, and it was nothing but pure bliss to be able to set them alight with a flame borne from the energy of the Dao. It felt like he was breathing life back into a world many had already given up for dead.
And so, closing off the rest of his Chakras, he breathed again, felt the flow of Qi within him slowly build up and surge, turning first to hot steam, then to a billowing, raging bonfire beneath his heart.
"Now," Longua whispered from behind him. "Let it fly."
Feng opened his eyes the instant he heard his Master's words, and with one single, fluid movement of his arms, he threw a punch that released all the Qi energy from his body.
It took only an instant for the burning carmine flower of holy fire to erupt from his closed fist, sailing free through the air before slamming into the Master's waiting hand.
His fist closed round the firebolt while Feng-Lung looked at his firm, smoking hand.
"A fair strike," Longua said, opening his hand and showing his Disciple the small threads of crimson that were slowly sinking into the groves of his palm. "You show much better control than before. Your fire burns brighter every day."
Feng-Lung bowed low, keeping his orange robe tightly wrapped to his chest where his heart was throbbing. Every time he performed the Dragon's Talon, he felt how close to death he was – how, with one simple lapse of concentration, the trapped Qi could erupt beneath his ribcage and sear away every bone in his body. It was not unheard of for Longua's failed students to suffer self-immolation in the early days of their training.
Their bodies were not buried on the monastery grounds. There was no need, Longua said, to honor impotent ash.
"You will begin practicing the Second Tier Earth Grade techniques of the Dragon tomorrow morning," the Master said as he patted Feng on the shoulder. "Meditate this evening upon the descending sun, and let your head hit your pillow when the moon rises. When the light of new morning hits your forehead, you shall rise as a Fourth Level Corporeal Temperer."
Feng tensed up at his Master's praise, drawing a look of curiosity from Longua.
"You do not enjoy hearing your Master congratulate you on your progress?" he asked, running his fingers down his beard.
"N-no, I mean, yes Master," Feng replied hurriedly. "I am forever grateful for your guidance. It is just…" he stammered, and then felt the edge of Longua's palm strike his shoulder in a blow that nearly cut off his windpipe.
"Come, Feng," he chuckled. "I have told you never to conceal your thoughts from me. In time, you know I shall pull them from you. But I am not a dentist, my Disciple. Would you treat me like one?"
"No, Master! Of course no-"
"Then tell me what troubles the mind of my most promising new pupil."
Feng tried to hold his Master's gaze, wondering how he could look in those dark, piercing eyes, shrewd beyond the wiliest cat Feng had chased in his youth, and tell their bearer what he needed to say.
But his Master had him now. There was no escaping his all-seeing gaze.
"The Dragon's Tooth," he began, tentatively. "The Spiral Dervish, the Coiling Tail Strike, the Whirling Slash…I have learned these techniques and know them now as an extension of my own body – the vessel for the Qi of the Eternal Dao."
Master Longua nodded, urging his Disicple to continue.
"But…does it always feel so…volatile?" he asked. "With every move I make, every strike I perform, I feel the power of the flame that roars within me and I…I feel…"
"You feel afraid."
Feng-Lung bowed his head in shame. Now he had disrespected not only his Master, but himself, in the hallowed halls of their Sect, no less.
"Good."
Feng's eyes shot open. His brain could not process that his Master had said the word.
"Master?"
"Do your talons clog your ears, Feng-Lung?" Longua laughed. "I said 'good'."
"I do not understand, Master."
"Feng-Lung," Longua began, revealing his old, ashen hands from beneath his shimmering cloak. "Look at the hands of your Master. See where the dusty remains of a thousand flames have seeped into my palm. Look where the threads of living death have traveled through my fingers and blackened their tips. Do you think I have never felt fear?"
Feng bowed his head again even if his mind struggled with his Master's admission. That the old dragon could actually feel afraid of anything seemed an impossibility as detached from reality as the Cog that dwelled outside. What need the dragon fear of the world beneath its feet?
Then again, Feng-Lung had never ventured outside the bounds of Ramor-Tai or the five villages at the foot of the mountain. He had only heard tales of the Wasteland and of what stalked around the ruins of the Old Dynasty. Perhaps there was more truth to them than even his Master would allow him to know.
"My Disciple," Longua said. "Think of fire."
Longhua indicated a burning brazier to their right, and with some subtle movements of his fingertips he drew a thread of the pliant flame in a spiral around his hand.
"Fire is wild," he continued as his student looked on. "It can only be harnessed, never controlled. The Qi allows us to give it form, but our bodies are at its mercy. He with the strongest Animus can project the greatest flame, but he puts his own body at risk in the process of giving it life."
The crimson threads of flame danced between Longhua's aged fingers like harmless ribbons, even though Feng-Lung could tell that, with little more than a twitch of his hand, those same ribbons could burn him to a crisp.
"To hold power within your body," Longhua said. "To wield flame not as a weapon or a tool, but as an extension of yourself, that is where fear lies. As it should."
Longhua let the flame return to its brazier with a swift, fluid flick of his forefinger.
"It means you are not stupid, my Disciple."
Feng-Lung placed his hand on his chest, honoring his Master's praise, this time, with a deep bow. Yet something still troubled him beyond his own trepidation regarding his techniques.
"Master," he said tentatively. "Why do you not admit the Cog to the Sect?"
A long, unbroken silence followed, where Feng-Lung instantly chastised himself for asking the question. Feng knew that, when his Master said nothing, it was more an indication of righteous anger than when he rebuked his Disciples physically.
"He has a flame that burns within him," Feng-Lung explained. "I have seen it."
"Have you?" Longhua replied. "You have sensed the Qi in him? You have seen the Universal Dao travel through his steel limbs?"
Feng-Lung hesitated. "I – I have not, Ma-"
"Then why do you ask questions you know the answer to?"
Feng-Lung looked up at his Master then, facing his knitted brows and twisted features. There was anger there, yes, but there was something else too. He could feel it in the tiny fluctuations of the Master's Qi flow.
"He can fight, Master," he said, pressing his case despite the odds stacked against him. "He subdued Fai-Deng of the Waiting Tiger without issue. This you saw with your own eyes."
"A screaming tiger is not a threat to his prey," Longhua scoffed, already beginning to turn away. "He kills himself and goes starving."
"I could not have done this thing," Feng-Lung responded with passion. "Master, I only wish to know why you will not give him a –"
"A chance?" Longhua roared, fanning the braziers in the hearth with his rage so that their flames flew to the ceiling and bathed the Master in the lambent red of the underworld. "Listen well, Feng-Lung – a Master does not take chances on evil when he can see it plainly before his eyes! What you see within the machine is not born of the spirit. It is a thing of this realm – this barren earth we call home – and that is all it shall ever be."
Feng-Lung watched his Master's face take on the appearance of a warrior spirit of the Wasteland – something that was ready to face one of the Old Gods themselves if he had to. He saw the spirit of the Cultivators of the old Dynasty – those who had ruled before the Sundering and who, Feng-Lung knew, all the current Masters were descended from.
"I do not understand, Master!" Feng-Lung asked. "If he wanted to destroy us, why does he not simply attack? Why does he come alone?"
Feng-Lung waited for the sting of his Master's fire to sear his face and scar him for his insolence. But, when the strike never came, he couldn't help but press on:
"He waits for you out there, Master. He waits with the patience of one who would obey your every command. He desires no power, no glory, and no material gain. All he has is a question that he must answer. Does prophet Ai-Lee not say that knowledge is the most noble of all pursuits?"
Feng was then shocked to see the anger in his Master's eyes suddenly abate, like a burning tree falling into stagnant water. Longhua sighed, deeply, exhaling a gust of smoke in the process, and looked upon his Disciple with weary, clouded eyes.
"You are too young to remember the Old Dynasty," he said. "Back when Gods danced among us, and this world belonged to men and men alone. There were many Cultivators then, and even more Cogs, and they served Emperor Qing in a Dynasty that lasted for a thousand summers. But when the Sundering came about, the machine-men did not stand beside us."
Feng saw his Master look away, immersed in memories the young Disciple could only imagine. Even then, he could not conceive of the horrors of that event – the Sundering. The day when the light of the world died away, when the Gods were cast down to battle upon the earth and left nothing but ruin in their wake.
"We barely survive to carry on the legacy of the first Cultivators," Longhua continued, staring up at the frescos of the coiling Eternal Dragon with sorrow. "It is the legacy of man. Not of machine. A man has the guiding spirit of the Dao within him. A man is molded by his circumstances. A man is chosen by what remains of the heavens. A creature composed of steel and lights has none of the aspects of man. He is clockwork and purpose – and that purpose is always to conquer. He cannot seek the Dao, for the Dao does not see him."
Feng-Lung was touched by his Master's words, looking on as the old man began to ascend the steps to the courtyard and retire to his chambers. It was not what he said that affected him so, but the way he uttered the words
"Enough," he said. "The sun is descending."
But young Feng-Lung's curiosity was matched only by his brashness.
"Master," he said. "Are you afraid of him?"
The young Disciple watched the aged Master of the Eternal Dragon stiffen for a moment before his shoulders sagged and fell, and when his Master did not even turn back to address him, Feng wished he had stopped his mouth before it ran away from him.
"That will be all, Feng-Lung."
"Very good," his Master told him. "Again."
The Disciple closed his eyes and tensed up his stomach muscles, feeling the air travel through them and with it his Qi. He could feel it building in his gut, in the core of his being, and he swept his feet wide and opened his arms to direct the flow of energy down to his fists.
"Good," Master Longua whispered. "Now, hold it."
Feng-Lung's brow tensed, sweat pooling just above his shaven eyebrows, gently running down the dragon tattoo that adorned his forehead.
Hold…he counseled himself. Hold the Qi within you. Feel the essence of the Dao enter your body and elevate your senses. Feel your muscles quicken as it pours through them, and let your veins be filled with fire.
Fire.
"Good," Master Longua said again. "Now, follow the flow of Qi. Let it run where it must."
Feng-Lung obeyed the words of his Master, divorcing his mind from his body and letting his mind commune with the Qi. It was said that those Cultivators who had mastered the Body Tempering Stage could sense the Qi in all living things, from the lowliest twin-tailed Marshmouse to the greatest Stix bison with its three heads and stomachs. It was said that they could even tell where spirits would manifest in the land. But such feats were nothing but idle fancies to young Feng-Lung, who had only barely entered the Second Rank of Body Tempering last spring.
Feng-Lung felt the essence of the Dao flow freely within him, and he knit his brows in concentration as he closed off his Chakras and let the power pool at the base of his open hands.
"Focus," Longua said again within the Hearth, where all except the flickering candles were quiet as a crypt.
Master Longua often spoke of how their Sect valued not only the fire born of dragons but the spiritual attributes associated with that same element. Ambition, determination, passion, desire – these things were the Di'ama of the Eternal Dragon Sect – the characteristics Disciples were most expected to express. Some of their most famed Cultivators – those who had existed in the Qing Dynasty before the Sunder-Year, had displayed all these characteristics in their purest form. Some of the Internalized Ego Grade could even divorce their souls from their bodies entirely, living as pure, sentient flame. Technique and temperament went hand in hand with the teachings of each Sect.
Feng-Lung, however, had been slow to learn. It had been his desire alone that had spurned him on these past six years, and desire alone which compelled him to continue his training even against the odds. His Anima Cores were fewer than most of the other Disciples – being measured at a mere 83 compared to the average of 90 and above – but still, this had not deterred him. As a child he had only ever woken to the dark skies of the Wastes above him, and it was nothing but pure bliss to be able to set them alight with a flame borne from the energy of the Dao. It felt like he was breathing life back into a world many had already given up for dead.
And so, closing off the rest of his Chakras, he breathed again, felt the flow of Qi within him slowly build up and surge, turning first to hot steam, then to a billowing, raging bonfire beneath his heart.
"Now," Longua whispered from behind him. "Let it fly."
Feng opened his eyes the instant he heard his Master's words, and with one single, fluid movement of his arms, he threw a punch that released all the Qi energy from his body.
It took only an instant for the burning carmine flower of holy fire to erupt from his closed fist, sailing free through the air before slamming into the Master's waiting hand.
His fist closed round the firebolt while Feng-Lung looked at his firm, smoking hand.
"A fair strike," Longua said, opening his hand and showing his Disciple the small threads of crimson that were slowly sinking into the groves of his palm. "You show much better control than before. Your fire burns brighter every day."
Feng-Lung bowed low, keeping his orange robe tightly wrapped to his chest where his heart was throbbing. Every time he performed the Dragon's Talon, he felt how close to death he was – how, with one simple lapse of concentration, the trapped Qi could erupt beneath his ribcage and sear away every bone in his body. It was not unheard of for Longua's failed students to suffer self-immolation in the early days of their training.
Their bodies were not buried on the monastery grounds. There was no need, Longua said, to honor impotent ash.
"You will begin practicing the Second Tier Earth Grade techniques of the Dragon tomorrow morning," the Master said as he patted Feng on the shoulder. "Meditate this evening upon the descending sun, and let your head hit your pillow when the moon rises. When the light of new morning hits your forehead, you shall rise as a Fourth Level Corporeal Temperer."
Feng tensed up at his Master's praise, drawing a look of curiosity from Longua.
"You do not enjoy hearing your Master congratulate you on your progress?" he asked, running his fingers down his beard.
"N-no, I mean, yes Master," Feng replied hurriedly. "I am forever grateful for your guidance. It is just…" he stammered, and then felt the edge of Longua's palm strike his shoulder in a blow that nearly cut off his windpipe.
"Come, Feng," he chuckled. "I have told you never to conceal your thoughts from me. In time, you know I shall pull them from you. But I am not a dentist, my Disciple. Would you treat me like one?"
"No, Master! Of course no-"
"Then tell me what troubles the mind of my most promising new pupil."
Feng tried to hold his Master's gaze, wondering how he could look in those dark, piercing eyes, shrewd beyond the wiliest cat Feng had chased in his youth, and tell their bearer what he needed to say.
But his Master had him now. There was no escaping his all-seeing gaze.
"The Dragon's Tooth," he began, tentatively. "The Spiral Dervish, the Coiling Tail Strike, the Whirling Slash…I have learned these techniques and know them now as an extension of my own body – the vessel for the Qi of the Eternal Dao."
Master Longua nodded, urging his Disicple to continue.
"But…does it always feel so…volatile?" he asked. "With every move I make, every strike I perform, I feel the power of the flame that roars within me and I…I feel…"
"You feel afraid."
Feng-Lung bowed his head in shame. Now he had disrespected not only his Master, but himself, in the hallowed halls of their Sect, no less.
"Good."
Feng's eyes shot open. His brain could not process that his Master had said the word.
"Master?"
"Do your talons clog your ears, Feng-Lung?" Longua laughed. "I said 'good'."
"I do not understand, Master."
"Feng-Lung," Longua began, revealing his old, ashen hands from beneath his shimmering cloak. "Look at the hands of your Master. See where the dusty remains of a thousand flames have seeped into my palm. Look where the threads of living death have traveled through my fingers and blackened their tips. Do you think I have never felt fear?"
Feng bowed his head again even if his mind struggled with his Master's admission. That the old dragon could actually feel afraid of anything seemed an impossibility as detached from reality as the Cog that dwelled outside. What need the dragon fear of the world beneath its feet?
Then again, Feng-Lung had never ventured outside the bounds of Ramor-Tai or the five villages at the foot of the mountain. He had only heard tales of the Wasteland and of what stalked around the ruins of the Old Dynasty. Perhaps there was more truth to them than even his Master would allow him to know.
"My Disciple," Longua said. "Think of fire."
Longhua indicated a burning brazier to their right, and with some subtle movements of his fingertips he drew a thread of the pliant flame in a spiral around his hand.
"Fire is wild," he continued as his student looked on. "It can only be harnessed, never controlled. The Qi allows us to give it form, but our bodies are at its mercy. He with the strongest Animus can project the greatest flame, but he puts his own body at risk in the process of giving it life."
The crimson threads of flame danced between Longhua's aged fingers like harmless ribbons, even though Feng-Lung could tell that, with little more than a twitch of his hand, those same ribbons could burn him to a crisp.
"To hold power within your body," Longhua said. "To wield flame not as a weapon or a tool, but as an extension of yourself, that is where fear lies. As it should."
Longhua let the flame return to its brazier with a swift, fluid flick of his forefinger.
"It means you are not stupid, my Disciple."
Feng-Lung placed his hand on his chest, honoring his Master's praise, this time, with a deep bow. Yet something still troubled him beyond his own trepidation regarding his techniques.
"Master," he said tentatively. "Why do you not admit the Cog to the Sect?"
A long, unbroken silence followed, where Feng-Lung instantly chastised himself for asking the question. Feng knew that, when his Master said nothing, it was more an indication of righteous anger than when he rebuked his Disciples physically.
"He has a flame that burns within him," Feng-Lung explained. "I have seen it."
"Have you?" Longhua replied. "You have sensed the Qi in him? You have seen the Universal Dao travel through his steel limbs?"
Feng-Lung hesitated. "I – I have not, Ma-"
"Then why do you ask questions you know the answer to?"
Feng-Lung looked up at his Master then, facing his knitted brows and twisted features. There was anger there, yes, but there was something else too. He could feel it in the tiny fluctuations of the Master's Qi flow.
"He can fight, Master," he said, pressing his case despite the odds stacked against him. "He subdued Fai-Deng of the Waiting Tiger without issue. This you saw with your own eyes."
"A screaming tiger is not a threat to his prey," Longhua scoffed, already beginning to turn away. "He kills himself and goes starving."
"I could not have done this thing," Feng-Lung responded with passion. "Master, I only wish to know why you will not give him a –"
"A chance?" Longhua roared, fanning the braziers in the hearth with his rage so that their flames flew to the ceiling and bathed the Master in the lambent red of the underworld. "Listen well, Feng-Lung – a Master does not take chances on evil when he can see it plainly before his eyes! What you see within the machine is not born of the spirit. It is a thing of this realm – this barren earth we call home – and that is all it shall ever be."
Feng-Lung watched his Master's face take on the appearance of a warrior spirit of the Wasteland – something that was ready to face one of the Old Gods themselves if he had to. He saw the spirit of the Cultivators of the old Dynasty – those who had ruled before the Sundering and who, Feng-Lung knew, all the current Masters were descended from.
"I do not understand, Master!" Feng-Lung asked. "If he wanted to destroy us, why does he not simply attack? Why does he come alone?"
Feng-Lung waited for the sting of his Master's fire to sear his face and scar him for his insolence. But, when the strike never came, he couldn't help but press on:
"He waits for you out there, Master. He waits with the patience of one who would obey your every command. He desires no power, no glory, and no material gain. All he has is a question that he must answer. Does prophet Ai-Lee not say that knowledge is the most noble of all pursuits?"
Feng was then shocked to see the anger in his Master's eyes suddenly abate, like a burning tree falling into stagnant water. Longhua sighed, deeply, exhaling a gust of smoke in the process, and looked upon his Disciple with weary, clouded eyes.
"You are too young to remember the Old Dynasty," he said. "Back when Gods danced among us, and this world belonged to men and men alone. There were many Cultivators then, and even more Cogs, and they served Emperor Qing in a Dynasty that lasted for a thousand summers. But when the Sundering came about, the machine-men did not stand beside us."
Feng saw his Master look away, immersed in memories the young Disciple could only imagine. Even then, he could not conceive of the horrors of that event – the Sundering. The day when the light of the world died away, when the Gods were cast down to battle upon the earth and left nothing but ruin in their wake.
"We barely survive to carry on the legacy of the first Cultivators," Longhua continued, staring up at the frescos of the coiling Eternal Dragon with sorrow. "It is the legacy of man. Not of machine. A man has the guiding spirit of the Dao within him. A man is molded by his circumstances. A man is chosen by what remains of the heavens. A creature composed of steel and lights has none of the aspects of man. He is clockwork and purpose – and that purpose is always to conquer. He cannot seek the Dao, for the Dao does not see him."
Feng-Lung was touched by his Master's words, looking on as the old man began to ascend the steps to the courtyard and retire to his chambers. It was not what he said that affected him so, but the way he uttered the words
"Enough," he said. "The sun is descending."
But young Feng-Lung's curiosity was matched only by his brashness.
"Master," he said. "Are you afraid of him?"
The young Disciple watched the aged Master of the Eternal Dragon stiffen for a moment before his shoulders sagged and fell, and when his Master did not even turn back to address him, Feng wished he had stopped his mouth before it ran away from him.
"That will be all, Feng-Lung."
Chapter 6: Doubt
Autumn arrived with bitter cold, signaling that the harvest was done.
It was a time of reflection for the Cultivators of Ramor-Tai. The Waiting Tiger's Sect's Mental Masters could often be seen out in the fields, Master Yoma-Dur directing the flow of their combined Qi and channeling it into the fields for the next harvest season. The hearts and minds of the Tiger Sect Disciples were attuned deeply to the skies, and they saw the torrential rain that had buffeted the Wastes recently as a sign that they were to be blessed by the Dao this year when the time for the Grand Tourney came about.
Inside the monastery walls, the Disciples of the Eternal Dragon spent their hours in meditation and long study, huddled around the lights of their hearths or swapping tales of their Dao-walks with their fellows. Deeper, in the very heart of the monastery's depths within the mountain itself, the few Cultivators who had attained ninth-rank Anima Banisher status dwelled in absolute silence and darkness. This time of year was particularly taxing for the small group, whom Feng-Lung had never even met in his six year stint at Ramor-Tai. It was said that the turning of the season brought vile Yaoguai that tried to tempt these Disciples from their mediations, and young Feng-Lung often found himself sparing a thought for them on these cold nights, as the world of the Wasteland teetered faced the onset of winter.
"They are braver than I could ever be," he said aloud to his silent companion in the courtyard. "To complete the final rank of the fourth Cultivator grade, it is said that a Disciple must spend ten years of their mortal life immersed in nothing but the dark, their bodies sustained by only the tiny threads of Qi energy they can tap into through the Universal Dao. Those that emerge do so with the promise of becoming a Master of the Sects, and are granted a vision of the future by the spirits that watch over the monastery."
He looked at XJ-V - so quiet, so resolute, still - and nudged the robot playfully.
"I think you could do it, my metal Brother," he said with a warm smile. "After all, Cogs need never eat a single meal."
"We have our own burdens Feng-Lung, I assure you."
The reply was a surprise for the young Disciple. Feng-Lung had taken to joining the Cog in his meditations, finding the machine's company strangely effective in enabling him to enter the Dao for longer periods than he was used to. He told himself that his keeping the robot company was merely a by-product of his desire to grow as a Cultivator. But in truth, he couldn't even convince himself of that fact.
And he certainly wasn't doing himself any favors with the Master, who had begun to emerge every morning and cast Feng-Lung the same dark looks he would normally reserve for XJ-V.
He looked at the Cog's rusted limbs – by this point the machine's grey skin was totally replaced by a sheave of inky brown.
"I am curious," he said, shuffling closer. "You came from the Wasteland, didn't you?"
XJ-V's eyes opened slowly, like the Cog was awakening from a groggy dream.
"I was made in a place called Hensha," he replied. "It lies to the West, not far from the foot of this monastery."
Feng-Lung's eyes sparkled with sudden hope. He'd never even heard of this settlement.
"What's it like?" he asked. "Are there people there like you?"
"Like me?"
"You know – Cogs."
XJ-V lowered his head. "I do not remember."
A series of disbelieving blinks met the Cog's admission.
"My memory banks have no records," he explained. "No images I can connect to this place. Only a list of major settlements and factions in the Wasteland, some rudimentary knowledge of Cultivation practices and basic lore, and the question I must answer."
"You don't remember your home?" Feng-Lung asked, leaning forwards.
"'Home,'" the Cog said, as though the word was foreign to his tongue. "My home is here, Feng-Lung."
"But you weren't born here."
"I was not 'born' at all."
"You know what I mean, you sneaky-machine!" he jibed. "Hensha is the place you were made. You know that, right? So, it must be your home."
The Cog considered this. "It is not where I could find the answer."
"Doesn't matter," Feng-Lung replied confidently, like a child knowing it had won an argument and beginning to celebrate prematurely. "Home has nothing to do with purpose or answers. It's about family."
"I have no family," XJ-V replied. "I am a unit of one."
"Ah! Do not quote the words of prophet Ai-Lee at me, XJ-V. Your mind is so focused on philosophy that you have ignored basic logic: Your name is XJ-V. That means you must have at least four other brothers."
XJ-V was struck by this idea, and when he turned his head slowly to face Feng-Lung, the latter was not scared to admit that he recoiled slightly at the searing power still blazing behind those neon eyes.
"Brothers?"
"Of course," Feng replied nonchalantly. "Your creator must have made a bunch of you. Maybe they're even waiting for you in Hensha right now."
XJ-V blinked once at the youth and then turned his gaze towards his rust-covered fingers, still intertwined in the Eternal Dragon meditative pose Feng had fixed them in when he first came here.
"This is a possibility I had not considered," he admitted. "There may be other models made in my image who are also seeking answers to their own questions. Perhaps they have even fulfilled their purpose already."
"I wonder if they were all given different questions," Feng-Lung mused. "Perhaps your Creator was a mad scientist on a quest for domination of the Wasteland, and sent one brother after the location of a great arsenal of Old Dynasty weapons, or sent one to find the names of the leaders of all the great Houses and Warlords of the Wastes so he could lay waste to them all. Perhaps he asked another to count the grains of sand in the desert -hah! Can you imagine, XJ-V? A Cog like you resigned to such an embarrassing task?"
While XJ-V couldn't refute that this was a possibility, the conversation had taken a turn strange enough for him not to continue it in this way.
"You have an active imagination, Feng-Lung."
"I get it from my mother, I think," the young Disciple said. "She was a painter – well, she probably still is. I do not know for certain."
XJ-V registered longing in the Disciple's voice.
"Where is 'home' for you, Feng-Lung?"
The youth sighed as he replied, looking at the walls of the monastery that hemmed them in on all sides.
"Marsul," he said. "It's a tiny hamlet at the base of the mountain. Our main export was wheat and barley for the traders that came from the other villages, and of course for Ramor-Tai. Only a hundred or so villagers in total. It was a small place, but it was peaceful. Fish in the riverbed were plentiful, and there were always cats to chase."
"Why do you say 'was', Feng-Lung?"
The youth seemed surprised, as though he hadn't even known he'd spoken of his home in past-tense at all. "Ah, well…it is behind me now. My mother – she always said I had a spirit of mischief trapped in my body – she wanted me to come here and have a better life. A life of purpose. She pleaded with Master Longhua to accept me as a Disciple when he and his tradesmen came to the village six years ago. I was the only child who had exhibited signs of being able to sense the Qi. Often, I would chase the cats that exuded the largest essence, thinking I might absorb it into me."
Feng-Lung chuckled at the memory.
"I never did catch one," he said. "Those creatures are slippery beasts."
XJ-V frowned at the face the Disciple made then. The memory seemed like a pleasant one – fond recollections of a youth's home – but the boy's face belied that. He studied the cracks in the walls of Ramor-Tai with a sudden longing, almost a kind of quiet desperation.
"You wish to leave this place," XJ-V said.
Feng-Lung recoiled. "N-no! I – I am forever grateful to the Master for his tutelage. Here, I get to be part of an order that once stood fast against the demons of this world. To be a Cultivator is the dream of any mortal. It elevates us. It puts us on a path to the stars."
XJ-V's eyes studied the youth, and the boy's inability to meet his gaze in that moment told him all he needed to know. But he did not push him. The patient hunter does not harry his game.
"It is just…" Feng-Lung continued after a time, making sure none would hear his admission. "We – the Sects – are supposed to be the defenders of humanity. And yet we sit here doing nothing but meditation. Walking in the Dao. Wandering in the realms of the spirits. We do these things while a world burns out there."
XJ-V registered swelling anger in the boy's furrowed brow.
"You must know about some of it," he said. "The bandits, the raiders, the people who will stop at nothing to make this world a worse place than it already is. Now, we have this so called 'Divine Order' perverting the teachings of the prophet Ming'Bao and crusading across the world, conquering villages, forcing them to submit to their barbaric ways, crushing all technology in their path. They are setting this world on fire all over again, and we sit here and stare into darkness."
There was a question implicit in the boy's words that XJ-V would not answer. Feng-Lung wanted to know if he knew of the Order. He chose, in that moment, to change the subject.
"You have told me a secret thing, Feng-Lung," he said. "I am thankful to you for this."
The youth's voice caught in his throat. "I…yes," he murmured. "A secret thing which I hope will be kept between us, XJ-V. The last thing I need is the Master knowing I have doubts."
"If the Master is as wise as I have heard," XJ-V replied. "Then he probably already knows this."
"Maybe," the young Disciple replied. "But then why does he not chastise me, or remove me from the monastery?"
"Perhaps," XJ-V replied with a slight smirk. "Because doubt is human."
Feng saw the smile on the Cog's face and was stunned into silence. For a moment both metal machine and man of flesh held each others' gazes and saw something of themselves in the other.
"I will tell you a secret thing of mine," XJ-V suddenly said. "I do not believe Master Longhua will ever accept me."
Feng-Lung's eyes wavered. But he did not look away.
"Then – why do you stay here?"
"It is as you say, Feng-Lung," XJ-V replied. "All out there wish only to make this world a worse place to live. I do not wish to die. But if I am to expire here, then such is the will of the Dao. But I will not return to the Wasteland. If there is a chance to be welcomed as one of your Sect, then I shall grasp at it, however fleeting it may be."
Feng-Lung hesitated. He knew that in this moment he should say something affirmative, to praise the Cog, to somehow show that he was on his side here. If he was being honest with himself, he had enjoyed the company of this metal Brother more than his fellow human Disciples in these past months.
But his mouth ran away from him again, and he had only one thought burst through it:
"What dangers are out there that one such as you need fear them?"
XJ-V closed his eyes and resumed his meditation, then, and the youth was left with an answer that both satisfied his curiosity and struck fear into his heart:
"More than you know, Feng-Lung. Be thankful that your Master and Brothers within these solid walls care for you. For the Wasteland does not."
(If you enjoy Cog Cultivator and would like to read more, consider supporting the story on Patreon)
It was a time of reflection for the Cultivators of Ramor-Tai. The Waiting Tiger's Sect's Mental Masters could often be seen out in the fields, Master Yoma-Dur directing the flow of their combined Qi and channeling it into the fields for the next harvest season. The hearts and minds of the Tiger Sect Disciples were attuned deeply to the skies, and they saw the torrential rain that had buffeted the Wastes recently as a sign that they were to be blessed by the Dao this year when the time for the Grand Tourney came about.
Inside the monastery walls, the Disciples of the Eternal Dragon spent their hours in meditation and long study, huddled around the lights of their hearths or swapping tales of their Dao-walks with their fellows. Deeper, in the very heart of the monastery's depths within the mountain itself, the few Cultivators who had attained ninth-rank Anima Banisher status dwelled in absolute silence and darkness. This time of year was particularly taxing for the small group, whom Feng-Lung had never even met in his six year stint at Ramor-Tai. It was said that the turning of the season brought vile Yaoguai that tried to tempt these Disciples from their mediations, and young Feng-Lung often found himself sparing a thought for them on these cold nights, as the world of the Wasteland teetered faced the onset of winter.
"They are braver than I could ever be," he said aloud to his silent companion in the courtyard. "To complete the final rank of the fourth Cultivator grade, it is said that a Disciple must spend ten years of their mortal life immersed in nothing but the dark, their bodies sustained by only the tiny threads of Qi energy they can tap into through the Universal Dao. Those that emerge do so with the promise of becoming a Master of the Sects, and are granted a vision of the future by the spirits that watch over the monastery."
He looked at XJ-V - so quiet, so resolute, still - and nudged the robot playfully.
"I think you could do it, my metal Brother," he said with a warm smile. "After all, Cogs need never eat a single meal."
"We have our own burdens Feng-Lung, I assure you."
The reply was a surprise for the young Disciple. Feng-Lung had taken to joining the Cog in his meditations, finding the machine's company strangely effective in enabling him to enter the Dao for longer periods than he was used to. He told himself that his keeping the robot company was merely a by-product of his desire to grow as a Cultivator. But in truth, he couldn't even convince himself of that fact.
And he certainly wasn't doing himself any favors with the Master, who had begun to emerge every morning and cast Feng-Lung the same dark looks he would normally reserve for XJ-V.
He looked at the Cog's rusted limbs – by this point the machine's grey skin was totally replaced by a sheave of inky brown.
"I am curious," he said, shuffling closer. "You came from the Wasteland, didn't you?"
XJ-V's eyes opened slowly, like the Cog was awakening from a groggy dream.
"I was made in a place called Hensha," he replied. "It lies to the West, not far from the foot of this monastery."
Feng-Lung's eyes sparkled with sudden hope. He'd never even heard of this settlement.
"What's it like?" he asked. "Are there people there like you?"
"Like me?"
"You know – Cogs."
XJ-V lowered his head. "I do not remember."
A series of disbelieving blinks met the Cog's admission.
"My memory banks have no records," he explained. "No images I can connect to this place. Only a list of major settlements and factions in the Wasteland, some rudimentary knowledge of Cultivation practices and basic lore, and the question I must answer."
"You don't remember your home?" Feng-Lung asked, leaning forwards.
"'Home,'" the Cog said, as though the word was foreign to his tongue. "My home is here, Feng-Lung."
"But you weren't born here."
"I was not 'born' at all."
"You know what I mean, you sneaky-machine!" he jibed. "Hensha is the place you were made. You know that, right? So, it must be your home."
The Cog considered this. "It is not where I could find the answer."
"Doesn't matter," Feng-Lung replied confidently, like a child knowing it had won an argument and beginning to celebrate prematurely. "Home has nothing to do with purpose or answers. It's about family."
"I have no family," XJ-V replied. "I am a unit of one."
"Ah! Do not quote the words of prophet Ai-Lee at me, XJ-V. Your mind is so focused on philosophy that you have ignored basic logic: Your name is XJ-V. That means you must have at least four other brothers."
XJ-V was struck by this idea, and when he turned his head slowly to face Feng-Lung, the latter was not scared to admit that he recoiled slightly at the searing power still blazing behind those neon eyes.
"Brothers?"
"Of course," Feng replied nonchalantly. "Your creator must have made a bunch of you. Maybe they're even waiting for you in Hensha right now."
XJ-V blinked once at the youth and then turned his gaze towards his rust-covered fingers, still intertwined in the Eternal Dragon meditative pose Feng had fixed them in when he first came here.
"This is a possibility I had not considered," he admitted. "There may be other models made in my image who are also seeking answers to their own questions. Perhaps they have even fulfilled their purpose already."
"I wonder if they were all given different questions," Feng-Lung mused. "Perhaps your Creator was a mad scientist on a quest for domination of the Wasteland, and sent one brother after the location of a great arsenal of Old Dynasty weapons, or sent one to find the names of the leaders of all the great Houses and Warlords of the Wastes so he could lay waste to them all. Perhaps he asked another to count the grains of sand in the desert -hah! Can you imagine, XJ-V? A Cog like you resigned to such an embarrassing task?"
While XJ-V couldn't refute that this was a possibility, the conversation had taken a turn strange enough for him not to continue it in this way.
"You have an active imagination, Feng-Lung."
"I get it from my mother, I think," the young Disciple said. "She was a painter – well, she probably still is. I do not know for certain."
XJ-V registered longing in the Disciple's voice.
"Where is 'home' for you, Feng-Lung?"
The youth sighed as he replied, looking at the walls of the monastery that hemmed them in on all sides.
"Marsul," he said. "It's a tiny hamlet at the base of the mountain. Our main export was wheat and barley for the traders that came from the other villages, and of course for Ramor-Tai. Only a hundred or so villagers in total. It was a small place, but it was peaceful. Fish in the riverbed were plentiful, and there were always cats to chase."
"Why do you say 'was', Feng-Lung?"
The youth seemed surprised, as though he hadn't even known he'd spoken of his home in past-tense at all. "Ah, well…it is behind me now. My mother – she always said I had a spirit of mischief trapped in my body – she wanted me to come here and have a better life. A life of purpose. She pleaded with Master Longhua to accept me as a Disciple when he and his tradesmen came to the village six years ago. I was the only child who had exhibited signs of being able to sense the Qi. Often, I would chase the cats that exuded the largest essence, thinking I might absorb it into me."
Feng-Lung chuckled at the memory.
"I never did catch one," he said. "Those creatures are slippery beasts."
XJ-V frowned at the face the Disciple made then. The memory seemed like a pleasant one – fond recollections of a youth's home – but the boy's face belied that. He studied the cracks in the walls of Ramor-Tai with a sudden longing, almost a kind of quiet desperation.
"You wish to leave this place," XJ-V said.
Feng-Lung recoiled. "N-no! I – I am forever grateful to the Master for his tutelage. Here, I get to be part of an order that once stood fast against the demons of this world. To be a Cultivator is the dream of any mortal. It elevates us. It puts us on a path to the stars."
XJ-V's eyes studied the youth, and the boy's inability to meet his gaze in that moment told him all he needed to know. But he did not push him. The patient hunter does not harry his game.
"It is just…" Feng-Lung continued after a time, making sure none would hear his admission. "We – the Sects – are supposed to be the defenders of humanity. And yet we sit here doing nothing but meditation. Walking in the Dao. Wandering in the realms of the spirits. We do these things while a world burns out there."
XJ-V registered swelling anger in the boy's furrowed brow.
"You must know about some of it," he said. "The bandits, the raiders, the people who will stop at nothing to make this world a worse place than it already is. Now, we have this so called 'Divine Order' perverting the teachings of the prophet Ming'Bao and crusading across the world, conquering villages, forcing them to submit to their barbaric ways, crushing all technology in their path. They are setting this world on fire all over again, and we sit here and stare into darkness."
There was a question implicit in the boy's words that XJ-V would not answer. Feng-Lung wanted to know if he knew of the Order. He chose, in that moment, to change the subject.
"You have told me a secret thing, Feng-Lung," he said. "I am thankful to you for this."
The youth's voice caught in his throat. "I…yes," he murmured. "A secret thing which I hope will be kept between us, XJ-V. The last thing I need is the Master knowing I have doubts."
"If the Master is as wise as I have heard," XJ-V replied. "Then he probably already knows this."
"Maybe," the young Disciple replied. "But then why does he not chastise me, or remove me from the monastery?"
"Perhaps," XJ-V replied with a slight smirk. "Because doubt is human."
Feng saw the smile on the Cog's face and was stunned into silence. For a moment both metal machine and man of flesh held each others' gazes and saw something of themselves in the other.
"I will tell you a secret thing of mine," XJ-V suddenly said. "I do not believe Master Longhua will ever accept me."
Feng-Lung's eyes wavered. But he did not look away.
"Then – why do you stay here?"
"It is as you say, Feng-Lung," XJ-V replied. "All out there wish only to make this world a worse place to live. I do not wish to die. But if I am to expire here, then such is the will of the Dao. But I will not return to the Wasteland. If there is a chance to be welcomed as one of your Sect, then I shall grasp at it, however fleeting it may be."
Feng-Lung hesitated. He knew that in this moment he should say something affirmative, to praise the Cog, to somehow show that he was on his side here. If he was being honest with himself, he had enjoyed the company of this metal Brother more than his fellow human Disciples in these past months.
But his mouth ran away from him again, and he had only one thought burst through it:
"What dangers are out there that one such as you need fear them?"
XJ-V closed his eyes and resumed his meditation, then, and the youth was left with an answer that both satisfied his curiosity and struck fear into his heart:
"More than you know, Feng-Lung. Be thankful that your Master and Brothers within these solid walls care for you. For the Wasteland does not."
(If you enjoy Cog Cultivator and would like to read more, consider supporting the story on Patreon)
Chapter 7: Connection
He was running.
The charred twigs of the bamboo forest whipped against him, slashing across his face with strikes that would have scarred a human being.
Behind, he could hear the vicious barks of hunting dogs, and the sounds of their soldiers' boots pounding into the ashen earth beneath them.
The skies were streaked with poison – the result of the fumes they'd poured into the city. He looked frantically at his surroundings and saw only fire – the bamboo trees turned to burning braziers that lit up the dark.
His lame arm dragged limply behind him. Logic dictated that he should tear it off and leave it for them to destroy. But the whims of his Creator took precedence. He had to make it to Ramor-Tai. All of him had to make it.
A sudden flash of brilliant light, and he felt his lower body stutter and crumble beneath a torrent of bullets. Above, there was a spotlight trained on his skittering form. He was little more than an insect beneath their sight.
He felt the hand of one of their Xu'jan grab his shoulder. He turned, seeing the boy's drawn blade, and let the sword embed itself in his gut. As the soldier smiled a mad, joyous smile, he brought his fist across his face in one solid blow that detached the mortal's jaw from his face. Blood spewed from the open wound where the boy's neck once was, and his body crumbled to the ashen ground.
He looked down at the bloody face of the boy. He couldn't have had more than sixteen summers on his back.
He kept running.
He can hear the screams of the villagers now. Those who were being dragged from their burning homes and taken as slaves. They would be reeducated in the convents he had heard his Creator speak of before he had eyes to open and see them.
His mind told him to keep moving. To run. To survive. But something in his chest heaved with sorrow. The city burned. Hensha burned. His Creator…burned.
At the edge of the city's ruined perimeter walls another spotlight shone on his neon eyes, and he saw five more soldiers approach him bearing blades that shone with the killing light of the Order. The first one he caught and broke his arm with a single strike. Another he disarmed and smashed his head against a crumbling stone in the ground. The third came at him with a wide stance that he swept through like a snake, bringing both his legs round the youth's torso and cutting off his air supply before he finished the boy off with a jugular blow that closed shut his eyes forever.
More spotlights shone on him now. The ones who had burned the village had caught up and surrounded him.
So he shoved through the last two boys, feeling the sting of their blades as they nicked his calf servos, and threw himself down the side of Hensha's sloping hill into the dank ditch below where they had thrown the dead and the dying. Cog bodies mingled with human limbs all around him. He was adrift in a sea of death.
A flurry of arrows pierced his metal back and he started swimming, frantically pushing himself through all the pain and the sorrow that tugged at the raging flame beneath his breast.
And as he swam, he saw his shadow appear in the rippling waters filled with blood.
The High Eagle. Looking down at his worm from on high.
He could feel the burning eyes of that man looking down at him from the ridgeline above. He could feel those eyes digging into him with such intensity that he dared not look back. Seeing that man's face was the first time he had ever registered fear and he knew, without a doubt, the reason his Creator had built the emotion into him. He still remembered the flowing, pale- white robes of that man as he entered the village ahead of his troops. He remembered the insignia he wore upon his sleeve - the same insignia flying from the banners of his soldiers: the image of a golden eagle, razor-wings raised, perched atop a monument of metal skulls.
And the Eagle's voice, like the piercing tips of that predator-bird's talons, shot through his head as he made his escape.
"No matter where you go, machine, we are all connected."
…
XJ-V opened his eyes to the rain-soaked image of the Ramor-Tai courtyard.
His body was shutting down. He knew that now. The rust had by this point seeped into his vital systems and started to corrode his servos, eating away at his mind and causing glitches in his memory and auditory receptors. Even now he still thought he could hear the voice of the High Eagle in his brain, and he even chanced to look behind him, thinking he could still feel the searing heat of the Order's killing lights.
The raging engine within his chest compelled him to activate his repair protocols, which it had kept intact as a failsafe measure in case of desperate need. But XJ-V ignored the blazing red warnings that flashed before his eyes. He had spoken the truth to his young companion: if he was to expire here, then it was the fate the Dao had chosen for him.
Still a small fragment of his mind wished to have another day on this earth. To see the sun rise over the monastery walls as one of the Disicples – as a Brother – that was the thought that kept his back straight – that forced his hands and feet to remain locked in their meditative positions. He had demonstrated patience, had he not? He had known suffering – Master Longhua must know that. Yet, at the back of his mind, he knew there was something else the master had required of him. There must have been something he was missing…
Creator, he thought, knowing perhaps it was the last thought he would have. Why have I been forsaken?
Perhaps the holding of a soul was not something a being could ever know…
Something moved out of the corner of his eye that gave him cause to start, and he looked at the tiny trough of Chrysanthemum flowers that sat beside Master Longhua's chamber door. Two creatures dwelled between the flower stems: a butterfly with yellow-black wings and a spindle-legged spider, the former of which was currently writhing within the web of the latter. XJ-V watched as the spider slowly crept towards its prey, every tiny movement of its legs calculated and masterfully attuned to the threads of its web, honed through years of evolution. The butterfly, meanwhile, thrashed around in futility, suffering the same plight of its species' own evolutionary shortcomings.
Both creatures played their parts like beings pre-programmed – without emotion or real intelligence. There was nothing but innate drive within them both. For the spider – the need to consume. For the butterfly, the need to be free.
For the first time in almost a year, XJ-V started moving.
He crept slowly, like a ninja in the night, until his face was level with the spider's masterfully crafted web. The creature tested the strength of its creation with one pincer-like leg, and felt the frantic vibrations of its captive as it thrashed pointlessly against its prison.
Without a single thought behind the action, XJ-V stretched out his fingers.
The spider recoiled, seeing a third party intervene in its hunt, but XJ-V's reflexes were quicker. He plucked the butterfly gently by its wings, tore through the web, and came away with the tiny insect now calmly resting between his thumb and forefinger.
XJ-V looked down to see that the spider had merely began to rebuild its broken web again. He turned his attention to the butterfly's tiny form in his hand. So small. So fragile. With a single movement he could end its life if he so wished.
He let the thing go and watched it flutter to rest on the tip of his rusted fingernail before flying off into the dark skies of the Wastes, against the raging rainfall.
The Cog sighed abruptly, catching his chest sagging to see the thing go, and realizing that he had broken his stoic meditation. He threw his head to the storm-streaked skies and laughed – releasing a pitiable, guttural sound that barely traveled.
Only then did he see that he was being observed.
He turned, dimly sensing movement behind him, and looked back towards Master Longhua's chamber door.
The Master was staring right at him.
"Why did you do that?" he asked.
XJ-V's grime and rust-covered form to a moment to even register that the Master was really there before him, never mind what he was asking.
"The butterfly," the Master elaborated, looking upon the Cog with a strange mix of curiosity and apparent consternation at having to repeat himself. "Why did you set it free?"
XJ-V blinked his blazing eyes up at the Master.
"I do not know."
The Master kept his gaze steady, letting the rain mat his old, pristine beard while his hands remained at his sides.
"You have given me the answer to a question," he said in a voice that was barely a whisper carried on the still winds. "Though not, I think, the one you presume to have answered."
XJ-V's sensors must have been betraying him, for her could swear that the sides of the old man's mouth curled up in what looked like a smile.
"Perhaps, in turn, I can give you an answer to yours."
The Master simply walked away up the steps to his chamber after that, throwing open one of the ancient stone doors and leaving it ajar.
"Longhua…" XJ-V began.
"That's Master Longhua to you."
The Cog double blinked, feeling the rust that lay heavy upon his chest quiver in anticipation.
"Does this mean you shall train me?"
And without looking back, Master Longhua of the Eternal Dragon Sect gave an answer that had cost eight long months:
"Yes."
(If you enjoy Cog Cultivator and would like to read more, consider supporting the story on Patreon)
The charred twigs of the bamboo forest whipped against him, slashing across his face with strikes that would have scarred a human being.
Behind, he could hear the vicious barks of hunting dogs, and the sounds of their soldiers' boots pounding into the ashen earth beneath them.
The skies were streaked with poison – the result of the fumes they'd poured into the city. He looked frantically at his surroundings and saw only fire – the bamboo trees turned to burning braziers that lit up the dark.
His lame arm dragged limply behind him. Logic dictated that he should tear it off and leave it for them to destroy. But the whims of his Creator took precedence. He had to make it to Ramor-Tai. All of him had to make it.
A sudden flash of brilliant light, and he felt his lower body stutter and crumble beneath a torrent of bullets. Above, there was a spotlight trained on his skittering form. He was little more than an insect beneath their sight.
He felt the hand of one of their Xu'jan grab his shoulder. He turned, seeing the boy's drawn blade, and let the sword embed itself in his gut. As the soldier smiled a mad, joyous smile, he brought his fist across his face in one solid blow that detached the mortal's jaw from his face. Blood spewed from the open wound where the boy's neck once was, and his body crumbled to the ashen ground.
He looked down at the bloody face of the boy. He couldn't have had more than sixteen summers on his back.
He kept running.
He can hear the screams of the villagers now. Those who were being dragged from their burning homes and taken as slaves. They would be reeducated in the convents he had heard his Creator speak of before he had eyes to open and see them.
His mind told him to keep moving. To run. To survive. But something in his chest heaved with sorrow. The city burned. Hensha burned. His Creator…burned.
At the edge of the city's ruined perimeter walls another spotlight shone on his neon eyes, and he saw five more soldiers approach him bearing blades that shone with the killing light of the Order. The first one he caught and broke his arm with a single strike. Another he disarmed and smashed his head against a crumbling stone in the ground. The third came at him with a wide stance that he swept through like a snake, bringing both his legs round the youth's torso and cutting off his air supply before he finished the boy off with a jugular blow that closed shut his eyes forever.
More spotlights shone on him now. The ones who had burned the village had caught up and surrounded him.
So he shoved through the last two boys, feeling the sting of their blades as they nicked his calf servos, and threw himself down the side of Hensha's sloping hill into the dank ditch below where they had thrown the dead and the dying. Cog bodies mingled with human limbs all around him. He was adrift in a sea of death.
A flurry of arrows pierced his metal back and he started swimming, frantically pushing himself through all the pain and the sorrow that tugged at the raging flame beneath his breast.
And as he swam, he saw his shadow appear in the rippling waters filled with blood.
The High Eagle. Looking down at his worm from on high.
He could feel the burning eyes of that man looking down at him from the ridgeline above. He could feel those eyes digging into him with such intensity that he dared not look back. Seeing that man's face was the first time he had ever registered fear and he knew, without a doubt, the reason his Creator had built the emotion into him. He still remembered the flowing, pale- white robes of that man as he entered the village ahead of his troops. He remembered the insignia he wore upon his sleeve - the same insignia flying from the banners of his soldiers: the image of a golden eagle, razor-wings raised, perched atop a monument of metal skulls.
And the Eagle's voice, like the piercing tips of that predator-bird's talons, shot through his head as he made his escape.
"No matter where you go, machine, we are all connected."
…
XJ-V opened his eyes to the rain-soaked image of the Ramor-Tai courtyard.
His body was shutting down. He knew that now. The rust had by this point seeped into his vital systems and started to corrode his servos, eating away at his mind and causing glitches in his memory and auditory receptors. Even now he still thought he could hear the voice of the High Eagle in his brain, and he even chanced to look behind him, thinking he could still feel the searing heat of the Order's killing lights.
The raging engine within his chest compelled him to activate his repair protocols, which it had kept intact as a failsafe measure in case of desperate need. But XJ-V ignored the blazing red warnings that flashed before his eyes. He had spoken the truth to his young companion: if he was to expire here, then it was the fate the Dao had chosen for him.
Still a small fragment of his mind wished to have another day on this earth. To see the sun rise over the monastery walls as one of the Disicples – as a Brother – that was the thought that kept his back straight – that forced his hands and feet to remain locked in their meditative positions. He had demonstrated patience, had he not? He had known suffering – Master Longhua must know that. Yet, at the back of his mind, he knew there was something else the master had required of him. There must have been something he was missing…
Creator, he thought, knowing perhaps it was the last thought he would have. Why have I been forsaken?
Perhaps the holding of a soul was not something a being could ever know…
Something moved out of the corner of his eye that gave him cause to start, and he looked at the tiny trough of Chrysanthemum flowers that sat beside Master Longhua's chamber door. Two creatures dwelled between the flower stems: a butterfly with yellow-black wings and a spindle-legged spider, the former of which was currently writhing within the web of the latter. XJ-V watched as the spider slowly crept towards its prey, every tiny movement of its legs calculated and masterfully attuned to the threads of its web, honed through years of evolution. The butterfly, meanwhile, thrashed around in futility, suffering the same plight of its species' own evolutionary shortcomings.
Both creatures played their parts like beings pre-programmed – without emotion or real intelligence. There was nothing but innate drive within them both. For the spider – the need to consume. For the butterfly, the need to be free.
For the first time in almost a year, XJ-V started moving.
He crept slowly, like a ninja in the night, until his face was level with the spider's masterfully crafted web. The creature tested the strength of its creation with one pincer-like leg, and felt the frantic vibrations of its captive as it thrashed pointlessly against its prison.
Without a single thought behind the action, XJ-V stretched out his fingers.
The spider recoiled, seeing a third party intervene in its hunt, but XJ-V's reflexes were quicker. He plucked the butterfly gently by its wings, tore through the web, and came away with the tiny insect now calmly resting between his thumb and forefinger.
XJ-V looked down to see that the spider had merely began to rebuild its broken web again. He turned his attention to the butterfly's tiny form in his hand. So small. So fragile. With a single movement he could end its life if he so wished.
He let the thing go and watched it flutter to rest on the tip of his rusted fingernail before flying off into the dark skies of the Wastes, against the raging rainfall.
The Cog sighed abruptly, catching his chest sagging to see the thing go, and realizing that he had broken his stoic meditation. He threw his head to the storm-streaked skies and laughed – releasing a pitiable, guttural sound that barely traveled.
Only then did he see that he was being observed.
He turned, dimly sensing movement behind him, and looked back towards Master Longhua's chamber door.
The Master was staring right at him.
"Why did you do that?" he asked.
XJ-V's grime and rust-covered form to a moment to even register that the Master was really there before him, never mind what he was asking.
"The butterfly," the Master elaborated, looking upon the Cog with a strange mix of curiosity and apparent consternation at having to repeat himself. "Why did you set it free?"
XJ-V blinked his blazing eyes up at the Master.
"I do not know."
The Master kept his gaze steady, letting the rain mat his old, pristine beard while his hands remained at his sides.
"You have given me the answer to a question," he said in a voice that was barely a whisper carried on the still winds. "Though not, I think, the one you presume to have answered."
XJ-V's sensors must have been betraying him, for her could swear that the sides of the old man's mouth curled up in what looked like a smile.
"Perhaps, in turn, I can give you an answer to yours."
The Master simply walked away up the steps to his chamber after that, throwing open one of the ancient stone doors and leaving it ajar.
"Longhua…" XJ-V began.
"That's Master Longhua to you."
The Cog double blinked, feeling the rust that lay heavy upon his chest quiver in anticipation.
"Does this mean you shall train me?"
And without looking back, Master Longhua of the Eternal Dragon Sect gave an answer that had cost eight long months:
"Yes."
(If you enjoy Cog Cultivator and would like to read more, consider supporting the story on Patreon)
Chapter 8: Brotherhood
"I cannot tell you how exciting this is!" Mah-Jung said for the fifth time since XJ-V had met him. "This is an honor! History is being made."
XJ-V again nodded at the Disciple's statement. His fellow Disciple, that is. He still felt strange to be wearing the orange-tinted robes of a novice in the Eternal Dragon Cult, feeling the soft cuffs fall over his wrists and hide his skeletal hands. Mah-Jung had said it suited him. But how could XJ-V discern truth from this man who seemed to be forever in a state of unparalleled bliss?
"Feng-Lung will be most happy to see you here!" his earnest guide said as he led him into the Eternal Dragon commune, past its high arched stone walls and deep into his dimly lit interior halls filled with frescos of the eponymous coiling wyrm that was its namesake. "The other Disciples will probably be…reticent…to accept you at first. But I know they will come to see the light in your eyes just as Master Longhua has. He thinks well of you, you know."
"Does he?" XJ-V asked as Mah-Jung opened the rickety door to a vacant room within the sect's initiate quarters. "I register only hate in the Master's looks."
Mah-Jung blinked frantically before collapsing into ruckus laughter, so much so that some of the other novices meditating in the courtyard opened one of their eyes to see if the Cog had just told a joke. Then they saw that it was Mah-Jung who was laughing, and promptly returned to their Cultivation.
"That is the Master's way with everyone!" Mah-Jung replied after wiping a joyous tear from his eye. "A dragon is a beast born from fury, bred to live in flame. Can you blame the Master for being a slight grouch? He takes on the purest aspects of our Sect's Guardian Spirit."
XJ-V thought it best to simply nod and agree with whatever Mah-Jung told him. The sooner he did so, the sooner the Disciple might be on his way.
But Mah-Jung did not depart as the Cog hoped. Both men simply stared at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time before XJ-V finally asked, "Is there something the matter?"
This question brought more hysterical laughter from his guide. "Why, dear XJ-V, you have not yet entered your room!"
XJ-V blinked in response.
"My room?"
"Of course! We cannot have you meditating out in the rain forever, can we?" Mah-Jung replied with the jovial smile that XJ-V had come to expect from him since Master Longhua had asked him to be the Cog's guide to the commune.
XJ-V frowned at Mah-Jung's suggestion. He stepped through the arched doorway and looked blankly at the stone bed, its clean sheets, the small rectangular window that looked out to the courtyard and the plain chest of drawers that lay at the far wall of the tiny space.
In the middle of the room sat an ornately embroidered rug with an image of a spiral embedded on its surface in dark crimson.
"Is it not to your liking?" Mah-Jung asked from the doorway.
XJ-V looked up at the man abruptly. "Why do you remain outside?"
"Why, because this is your room now, XJ-V," Mah-Jung replied. "It would be improper for me to enter without being invited, now wouldn't it?"
XJ-V nodded slowly, trying his best to take in the idea – the almost heretical concept that he, a Cog, might actually own something.
"My room," he said aloud, chewing the statement on his metal teeth.
Mah-Jung nodded. "Treat it as you would treat your very limbs, my metal Brother. Now, I shall leave you to your thoughts. Dinner will be served at the setting of the sun. We will be having freshly baked Mantou today, and…"
XJ-V stared blankly as slow realization dawned over Mah-Jung's face.
"…yes, well, obviously that's…perhaps not something that would interest you."
The boy bowed low so that his braided ponytail kissed the stonework of the commune's floor.
"If there is anything I can help you with, Brother, please do ask. My quarters are just down the hallway, two rooms from yours."
"Thank you, Brother Mah-Jung."
The smiling Disciple's features elongated with a strange mix of wonder and innocence. Perhaps it was as Feng-Lung said – none of them had ever beheld a Cog before, or had any idea how they thought.
"Y-you are welcome." He said as he turned to leave. And when he went, he did not trail laughter after him.
XJ-V looked at the disappearing back of his jovial brother and found himself laughing suddenly. Alone in a room that belonged to him – an object – he suddenly became aware that the boy had just invited him to dinner.
He laughed again. And, with nothing better to do, sat cross-legged on his bed and activated his repair module.
…
When he emerged in time for the evening Kai-exercises, XJ-V felt more refreshed than ever.
His sensors had now acclimatized to the world of Ramor-Tai, so that he saw everything that much clearer. The Chrysanthemum's last petals were wilting outside, the Disciples were gathering in the wake of their dinner, and the skies above were streaked with the pale veins of moonlight that glided through the Wasteland skies on nights when it was said the spirits looked down on all sentient life.
He closed the door to his chamber and made his way down the commune hallway to the courtyard.
It was on his way that he bumped into a familiar face.
"XJ-V!"
He turned to see Feng-Lung running towards him, his mouth stuffed with half-chewed mantou. The youth almost tripped over his robe as he clapped his hand round the Cog's shoulder and beamed a smile into his neon eyes.
"Or should I call you 'Brother XJ-V,'" he grinned. "I never doubted you, you know. Not once."
XJ-V grimaced. "I seem to recall you telling me I should simply leave on multiple occasions."
Feng-Lung reeled back and swallowed the remains of his dinner. "Bah! That was just a test, like you thought," he chuckled. "Within you I knew best the heart of a warrior. Ever since the day you gave brother Fai-Deng exactly what he deser-"
The boy stopped abruptly as two familiar figures past them by, retiring to their separate commune as their lessons concluded for the evening.
The red-faced Brother Kai-Thai and ever dour Fai-Deng stared at them unblinkingly.
And then the former shot out an arm to embrace XJ-V with glee.
"Welcome to our ranks, Brother!" he practically shouted. "We shall celebrate with a casket of rice wine later, made by the finest Cultivators of the Tiger Sect! Perhaps then we shall entice you to forsake the Eternal Dragon for our ranks, eh Brother?"
Kai prodded Fai-Deng with the energy of a child mocking his little sibling, and the silent man merely stared daggers at XJ-V's nonchalant face. A great purple blotch marred his right eye where the Cog had slammed his knee into his face on the night of their battle, and it gave him an appearance far less handsome, and far more unsettling, than what he had maintained before.
"You remember me, machine?"
XJ-V ignored Feng-Lung's grasping hand as he moved to stand before the Tiger. "Yes," he replied. "You fought well, Brother."
A haze of crimson smeared itself across the disgraced features of the warrior.
"Do not try and humor me, automaton," he spat. "Why Master Longhua has chosen to admit you to the Dragons is a mystery that defies belief."
"We would not presume to question the word of a Master," Feng-Lung broke in. "Would we, Brother?"
"Is that a challenge, Feng-Lung?"
Fai-Deng surged forwards threateningly as XJ-V moved between him and his friend, while Kai-Thai grabbed his brother by the collar.
"Young love," he mused. "It is as destructive as it is beautiful."
"There is nothing beautiful about this thing," Fai-Deng growled, tendrils of electricity beginning to climb up his knuckles. Even though he had not thrown a punch, XJ-V could tell that there was far more strength in those hands now than when they had clashed before. The boy had spent his time wisely, training perhaps every day, growing ever stronger while the Cog had withered. And now? XJ-V truly wondered which of them would best the other if it came to blows.
"Know this, Cog," Fai-Deng snarled as he bumped shoulders with his opponent. "You may wear that robe and walk these hallowed grounds, but a true Cultivator will never call you Brother."
With that he grunted and shoved past both Dragon Sect members, leaving a baffled Kai-Thai muttering his apologies and running after him.
"Does Brother Fai-Deng usually mention me?" XJ-V asked Feng-Lung once the Tigers had departed.
"I'm afraid so," Feng-Lung sighed. "Ever since your duel, he has redoubled his training. Most days he sits alone, forsaking even the evening meals in the Tiger commune, so I hear. His defeat at your hands meant he lost face in front of all the monastery, and it takes a long time and much effort to remove such a stain from one's name. It is a sad thing to see a Brother become so obsessed. But, in time, I am sure the guidance of his Master and Kai-Thai will soothe the beast within him. After all, one cannot stay angry forever, can they?"
XJ-V looked at the hunched shoulders of the departing Tiger with a sense of burning sorrow in his gut. Time did not track for him. A concept like 'forever' meant nothing, but he had seen eyes like those before. He had been referred to disparagingly as 'machine' before.
And the person who had spat this label at him had been angry for a very long time.
###
(If you enjoy Cog Cultivator and would like to read more, consider supporting the story on Patreon)
Cog Cultivator is also now being posted on Royal Road. I would love it if you gave the story a follow if you frequent that site: Cog Cultivator (RR)
XJ-V again nodded at the Disciple's statement. His fellow Disciple, that is. He still felt strange to be wearing the orange-tinted robes of a novice in the Eternal Dragon Cult, feeling the soft cuffs fall over his wrists and hide his skeletal hands. Mah-Jung had said it suited him. But how could XJ-V discern truth from this man who seemed to be forever in a state of unparalleled bliss?
"Feng-Lung will be most happy to see you here!" his earnest guide said as he led him into the Eternal Dragon commune, past its high arched stone walls and deep into his dimly lit interior halls filled with frescos of the eponymous coiling wyrm that was its namesake. "The other Disciples will probably be…reticent…to accept you at first. But I know they will come to see the light in your eyes just as Master Longhua has. He thinks well of you, you know."
"Does he?" XJ-V asked as Mah-Jung opened the rickety door to a vacant room within the sect's initiate quarters. "I register only hate in the Master's looks."
Mah-Jung blinked frantically before collapsing into ruckus laughter, so much so that some of the other novices meditating in the courtyard opened one of their eyes to see if the Cog had just told a joke. Then they saw that it was Mah-Jung who was laughing, and promptly returned to their Cultivation.
"That is the Master's way with everyone!" Mah-Jung replied after wiping a joyous tear from his eye. "A dragon is a beast born from fury, bred to live in flame. Can you blame the Master for being a slight grouch? He takes on the purest aspects of our Sect's Guardian Spirit."
XJ-V thought it best to simply nod and agree with whatever Mah-Jung told him. The sooner he did so, the sooner the Disciple might be on his way.
But Mah-Jung did not depart as the Cog hoped. Both men simply stared at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time before XJ-V finally asked, "Is there something the matter?"
This question brought more hysterical laughter from his guide. "Why, dear XJ-V, you have not yet entered your room!"
XJ-V blinked in response.
"My room?"
"Of course! We cannot have you meditating out in the rain forever, can we?" Mah-Jung replied with the jovial smile that XJ-V had come to expect from him since Master Longhua had asked him to be the Cog's guide to the commune.
XJ-V frowned at Mah-Jung's suggestion. He stepped through the arched doorway and looked blankly at the stone bed, its clean sheets, the small rectangular window that looked out to the courtyard and the plain chest of drawers that lay at the far wall of the tiny space.
In the middle of the room sat an ornately embroidered rug with an image of a spiral embedded on its surface in dark crimson.
"Is it not to your liking?" Mah-Jung asked from the doorway.
XJ-V looked up at the man abruptly. "Why do you remain outside?"
"Why, because this is your room now, XJ-V," Mah-Jung replied. "It would be improper for me to enter without being invited, now wouldn't it?"
XJ-V nodded slowly, trying his best to take in the idea – the almost heretical concept that he, a Cog, might actually own something.
"My room," he said aloud, chewing the statement on his metal teeth.
Mah-Jung nodded. "Treat it as you would treat your very limbs, my metal Brother. Now, I shall leave you to your thoughts. Dinner will be served at the setting of the sun. We will be having freshly baked Mantou today, and…"
XJ-V stared blankly as slow realization dawned over Mah-Jung's face.
"…yes, well, obviously that's…perhaps not something that would interest you."
The boy bowed low so that his braided ponytail kissed the stonework of the commune's floor.
"If there is anything I can help you with, Brother, please do ask. My quarters are just down the hallway, two rooms from yours."
"Thank you, Brother Mah-Jung."
The smiling Disciple's features elongated with a strange mix of wonder and innocence. Perhaps it was as Feng-Lung said – none of them had ever beheld a Cog before, or had any idea how they thought.
"Y-you are welcome." He said as he turned to leave. And when he went, he did not trail laughter after him.
XJ-V looked at the disappearing back of his jovial brother and found himself laughing suddenly. Alone in a room that belonged to him – an object – he suddenly became aware that the boy had just invited him to dinner.
He laughed again. And, with nothing better to do, sat cross-legged on his bed and activated his repair module.
…
When he emerged in time for the evening Kai-exercises, XJ-V felt more refreshed than ever.
His sensors had now acclimatized to the world of Ramor-Tai, so that he saw everything that much clearer. The Chrysanthemum's last petals were wilting outside, the Disciples were gathering in the wake of their dinner, and the skies above were streaked with the pale veins of moonlight that glided through the Wasteland skies on nights when it was said the spirits looked down on all sentient life.
He closed the door to his chamber and made his way down the commune hallway to the courtyard.
It was on his way that he bumped into a familiar face.
"XJ-V!"
He turned to see Feng-Lung running towards him, his mouth stuffed with half-chewed mantou. The youth almost tripped over his robe as he clapped his hand round the Cog's shoulder and beamed a smile into his neon eyes.
"Or should I call you 'Brother XJ-V,'" he grinned. "I never doubted you, you know. Not once."
XJ-V grimaced. "I seem to recall you telling me I should simply leave on multiple occasions."
Feng-Lung reeled back and swallowed the remains of his dinner. "Bah! That was just a test, like you thought," he chuckled. "Within you I knew best the heart of a warrior. Ever since the day you gave brother Fai-Deng exactly what he deser-"
The boy stopped abruptly as two familiar figures past them by, retiring to their separate commune as their lessons concluded for the evening.
The red-faced Brother Kai-Thai and ever dour Fai-Deng stared at them unblinkingly.
And then the former shot out an arm to embrace XJ-V with glee.
"Welcome to our ranks, Brother!" he practically shouted. "We shall celebrate with a casket of rice wine later, made by the finest Cultivators of the Tiger Sect! Perhaps then we shall entice you to forsake the Eternal Dragon for our ranks, eh Brother?"
Kai prodded Fai-Deng with the energy of a child mocking his little sibling, and the silent man merely stared daggers at XJ-V's nonchalant face. A great purple blotch marred his right eye where the Cog had slammed his knee into his face on the night of their battle, and it gave him an appearance far less handsome, and far more unsettling, than what he had maintained before.
"You remember me, machine?"
XJ-V ignored Feng-Lung's grasping hand as he moved to stand before the Tiger. "Yes," he replied. "You fought well, Brother."
A haze of crimson smeared itself across the disgraced features of the warrior.
"Do not try and humor me, automaton," he spat. "Why Master Longhua has chosen to admit you to the Dragons is a mystery that defies belief."
"We would not presume to question the word of a Master," Feng-Lung broke in. "Would we, Brother?"
"Is that a challenge, Feng-Lung?"
Fai-Deng surged forwards threateningly as XJ-V moved between him and his friend, while Kai-Thai grabbed his brother by the collar.
"Young love," he mused. "It is as destructive as it is beautiful."
"There is nothing beautiful about this thing," Fai-Deng growled, tendrils of electricity beginning to climb up his knuckles. Even though he had not thrown a punch, XJ-V could tell that there was far more strength in those hands now than when they had clashed before. The boy had spent his time wisely, training perhaps every day, growing ever stronger while the Cog had withered. And now? XJ-V truly wondered which of them would best the other if it came to blows.
"Know this, Cog," Fai-Deng snarled as he bumped shoulders with his opponent. "You may wear that robe and walk these hallowed grounds, but a true Cultivator will never call you Brother."
With that he grunted and shoved past both Dragon Sect members, leaving a baffled Kai-Thai muttering his apologies and running after him.
"Does Brother Fai-Deng usually mention me?" XJ-V asked Feng-Lung once the Tigers had departed.
"I'm afraid so," Feng-Lung sighed. "Ever since your duel, he has redoubled his training. Most days he sits alone, forsaking even the evening meals in the Tiger commune, so I hear. His defeat at your hands meant he lost face in front of all the monastery, and it takes a long time and much effort to remove such a stain from one's name. It is a sad thing to see a Brother become so obsessed. But, in time, I am sure the guidance of his Master and Kai-Thai will soothe the beast within him. After all, one cannot stay angry forever, can they?"
XJ-V looked at the hunched shoulders of the departing Tiger with a sense of burning sorrow in his gut. Time did not track for him. A concept like 'forever' meant nothing, but he had seen eyes like those before. He had been referred to disparagingly as 'machine' before.
And the person who had spat this label at him had been angry for a very long time.
###
(If you enjoy Cog Cultivator and would like to read more, consider supporting the story on Patreon)
Cog Cultivator is also now being posted on Royal Road. I would love it if you gave the story a follow if you frequent that site: Cog Cultivator (RR)
- Location
- England
Ah, gate-keeping at its finest. Also, the 'no true Scotsman' fallacy.
True enough. Eventually, one will die. Possibly of a stress related aneurysm.
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Chapter 9: Kata
The evening Kai exercises were simpler to follow than XJ-V had initially thought. These were not tests of Qi gathering through breathing or walking within the domain of the Universal Dao. They were simply movements – a chance for each Disciple to practice their stances and allow their bodies to flow with the still winds that blew through the jade monastery rooftops. XJ-V learned of the Prancing Crane stance, keeping his legs perpendicular, angling his toes, and balancing on the souls of his feet, receiving a few affirmative glances from Feng-Lung when he got the form down correctly. At the head of the gathering, Master Longhua's sharp eyes betrayed nothing but keen focus and intellect as he observed every Disciple for any lapse in form or ability. One beginning the art of Corporeal Tempering required their body to be at once loose – ready to bend like a reed in the wind – and strong, hardening like a tree's deep roots when the mind commanded.
Master Longhua's first sessions with XJ-V were similar in nature. Every Disciple was allotted at least one private audience with the Master a week for the purposes of direct instruction based on their power level and ambitions. XJ-V had been overjoyed to begin, but had so far only enjoyed the Master's silent company in guided meditation. The Cog had assumed he would skip the basic breathing exercises and movements – focusing instead on the first martial techniques of the Eternal Dragon's Earth Grade skills. After his first two weekly sessions, however, he found that this was not so. If anything, his private sessions with the Master were much the same as what he had been doing outside his chambers for the past months – focusing on the correct position, becoming one with his surroundings, hearing the most minute of movements and detecting the presence of individuals by their steps alone. Soon he could detect the Ciatra Crickets by the beating of their tiny wings, and the appearance of a Marshbuck by the beating of its tail as it tunneled underground. His sensors were heightening through practice, it was true, but he felt this was nothing he could not have mastered on his own.
The first steps on the road to Cultivation were shaping the body through such exercises, supported by training bouts (called 'Katas'). The union of meditation with martial contest would ensure that the relation between the will of the individual and each movement of one's limbs were perfectly in sync. Even though many of the Disciples had long ago moved up the ranks, Master Longhua was known for his strict observance and maintenance of these basic forms. At his Master's insistence, XJ-V joined several practice Katas for this very purpose, with Disciples lining up to be his sparring partner. Most of them he could counter without much hassle - his sensors gave him an advantage in reading precise movements. In his first few days nearly every member of the Sect went toe-to-toe with XJ-V and, with varying degrees of difficulty, the Cog had managed to put them on the ground without a second thought. Of course, none of them were employing their sacred Sect techniques, even if some sorely wished to. That would not be in the spirit of fair competition with a novice, even if he did have his own advantages. Such bouts were purely friendly contests of martial prowess alone, not spiritual tourneys, and XJ-V learned much through purely observing the strengths and weaknesses of his opponents' respective stances. He gathered enough data to enable him to perfectly perform the four major stances of his Sect within a week – the Prancing Crane, Crouching Fox, Falling Drake and Coiling Wyrm.
But like all things, XJ-V's newfound confidence was quickly shot by two Disciples who proved more than a match for even his adaptable mind: Mah-Jung and Feng-Lung. Often, he would find himself knocked off balance by the swift, yet heavy strikes of both men, and each time he would blink up at them in surprise as the other Disciples sniggered in their own corners of the courtyard or the commune training room.
"Come, XJ-V!" Mah-Jung told his thrown body one early morning. "Rise and show me the strike that took down the furious Fai-Deng!"
The Cog smiled despite himself. He could see the beads of sweat running down his Brother's face, staining the folds of his training Gi. Feng-Lung watched from the oaken bench at the far end of the training room, his own face flushed with exertion after throwing XJ-V at least three times.
Not this time, XJ-V thought to himself. The boy is tired. I can read his apprehension.
XJ-V spread his legs and crouched, low keeping his back straight and chest out, assuming the Crouching Fox. He made every movement so obvious for Mah-Jung, performing the move with textbook precision – his feet were not an inch out of line.
His sparring partner smiled. "You mean to take me down in one fell swoop," he said, dancing on the heels of his legs. "Very well, Brother, I accept your challenge."
The Brothers of the training room gathered to watch the bout as midday sun streaked its golden threads over the commune rooftops. A few of them placed bets of baijiu and mantou on one of the two men, while others made dire promises of offering omelet rice to the victory – a promise all knew would not be kept.
But the two men in the sparring circle had eyes for only each other.
He will flank left, XJ-V told himself, his sharp eyes homing in on the almost imperceptible movements of Mah-Jung's naked toes wriggling ever so slightly to the left. He will aim a jab at my side to break my stance and then try and take me down with a roundhouse to my neck as I struggle to recover. I will allow him his first blow, let him get lost in his confidence, and then use the momentum from his strike to grab his fist and pull him down with me. If I can get my legs round his neck, I can force him to yield.
All at once Mah-Jung flashed a jester's smile and pounced, following the exact trajectory XJ-V had calculated.
Got him!
The Cog shot out his arms to grapple the boy and redirect the punch he was sending towards his neck.
…and then he felt its sting on his right leg, just under his kneecap.
XJ-V's eyes went wild. He felt his lower torso buckle and fall, and his eyes flashed to the carpeted ground to see that Mah-Jung had managed to get his foot to sweep the cog's skeletal ankle. All that remained was for the boy to grab his Gi and push the metal man down, and the strange double vision that had only moments ago dominated XJ-V's eyes coalesced into the smiling form of the Disicple on top of him, his leg firmly locked in the air beneath Mah-Jung's elbow joint.
"Do you yield, Brother?" he asked like a cackling ghost.
XJ-V, despite having just suffered his fifth loss that day, smiled.
"I believe it would be prudent to do so."
Mah-Jung unlocked their limbs and offered him his sweaty hand. Not wanting to appear unsportsmanlike, he took it.
"You fought well, Brother," Mah-Jung said. "But I think you underestimated your opponents on this day."
XJ-V's smile grew as Feng-Lung came over to greet the panting contestants. "That is a mistake I will not be making again."
"Ah, cheer up good Brother!" Feng-Lung jeered. "It looks to me like you have given Brother Mah-Jung his most intense workout in days. After a couple more bouts, I'm certain you would have him on his back by dint of his sheer fatigue alone!"
Mah-Jung chuckled, accepting a wet towel from his fellow Dragon. "I won't argue that point!"
The two decided to head off for lunch at that point, asking their Cog Brother if he wished to join them. XJ-V declined, saying he would rather use the time to complete his repairs in the wake of his morning defeats.
"The wise warlord contemplates his losses more than he celebrates his victories," Mah-Jung said approvingly. "But you must not dwell on it, Brother. We of the Seventh level Body Temperers have our secrets. Perhaps, in time, you shall unlock them."
XJ-V nodded at that, admittedly looking on the pale-skinned youth with new eyes. He had thought him a clown – a mere underling that was used to ferry the novices around. It had not occurred to him that he would be such a formidable opponent.
His moves were like a harlequin's, always dancing around his opponent, always appearing to be where he was not. XJ-V had tried anticipating – had tried calculating – and this had been enough to confound the other novices, some of whom were of higher rank than he. But not so with this one, or Brother Feng-Lung. It struck the metal man as funny that these two were of the most unassuming, most innocent natures – cut from a totally different cloth compared to students like Fai-Deng – and yet they posed the greatest challenge to him.
The way he moved…XJ-V thought as he watched his new Brothers go. To be in one place and then…not there…
Whatever secret hid behind those smiling faces, XJ-V decided he would devote himself to finding it.
###
(If you enjoy Cog Cultivator and would like to read more, consider supporting the story on Patreon)
Master Longhua's first sessions with XJ-V were similar in nature. Every Disciple was allotted at least one private audience with the Master a week for the purposes of direct instruction based on their power level and ambitions. XJ-V had been overjoyed to begin, but had so far only enjoyed the Master's silent company in guided meditation. The Cog had assumed he would skip the basic breathing exercises and movements – focusing instead on the first martial techniques of the Eternal Dragon's Earth Grade skills. After his first two weekly sessions, however, he found that this was not so. If anything, his private sessions with the Master were much the same as what he had been doing outside his chambers for the past months – focusing on the correct position, becoming one with his surroundings, hearing the most minute of movements and detecting the presence of individuals by their steps alone. Soon he could detect the Ciatra Crickets by the beating of their tiny wings, and the appearance of a Marshbuck by the beating of its tail as it tunneled underground. His sensors were heightening through practice, it was true, but he felt this was nothing he could not have mastered on his own.
The first steps on the road to Cultivation were shaping the body through such exercises, supported by training bouts (called 'Katas'). The union of meditation with martial contest would ensure that the relation between the will of the individual and each movement of one's limbs were perfectly in sync. Even though many of the Disciples had long ago moved up the ranks, Master Longhua was known for his strict observance and maintenance of these basic forms. At his Master's insistence, XJ-V joined several practice Katas for this very purpose, with Disciples lining up to be his sparring partner. Most of them he could counter without much hassle - his sensors gave him an advantage in reading precise movements. In his first few days nearly every member of the Sect went toe-to-toe with XJ-V and, with varying degrees of difficulty, the Cog had managed to put them on the ground without a second thought. Of course, none of them were employing their sacred Sect techniques, even if some sorely wished to. That would not be in the spirit of fair competition with a novice, even if he did have his own advantages. Such bouts were purely friendly contests of martial prowess alone, not spiritual tourneys, and XJ-V learned much through purely observing the strengths and weaknesses of his opponents' respective stances. He gathered enough data to enable him to perfectly perform the four major stances of his Sect within a week – the Prancing Crane, Crouching Fox, Falling Drake and Coiling Wyrm.
But like all things, XJ-V's newfound confidence was quickly shot by two Disciples who proved more than a match for even his adaptable mind: Mah-Jung and Feng-Lung. Often, he would find himself knocked off balance by the swift, yet heavy strikes of both men, and each time he would blink up at them in surprise as the other Disciples sniggered in their own corners of the courtyard or the commune training room.
"Come, XJ-V!" Mah-Jung told his thrown body one early morning. "Rise and show me the strike that took down the furious Fai-Deng!"
The Cog smiled despite himself. He could see the beads of sweat running down his Brother's face, staining the folds of his training Gi. Feng-Lung watched from the oaken bench at the far end of the training room, his own face flushed with exertion after throwing XJ-V at least three times.
Not this time, XJ-V thought to himself. The boy is tired. I can read his apprehension.
XJ-V spread his legs and crouched, low keeping his back straight and chest out, assuming the Crouching Fox. He made every movement so obvious for Mah-Jung, performing the move with textbook precision – his feet were not an inch out of line.
His sparring partner smiled. "You mean to take me down in one fell swoop," he said, dancing on the heels of his legs. "Very well, Brother, I accept your challenge."
The Brothers of the training room gathered to watch the bout as midday sun streaked its golden threads over the commune rooftops. A few of them placed bets of baijiu and mantou on one of the two men, while others made dire promises of offering omelet rice to the victory – a promise all knew would not be kept.
But the two men in the sparring circle had eyes for only each other.
He will flank left, XJ-V told himself, his sharp eyes homing in on the almost imperceptible movements of Mah-Jung's naked toes wriggling ever so slightly to the left. He will aim a jab at my side to break my stance and then try and take me down with a roundhouse to my neck as I struggle to recover. I will allow him his first blow, let him get lost in his confidence, and then use the momentum from his strike to grab his fist and pull him down with me. If I can get my legs round his neck, I can force him to yield.
All at once Mah-Jung flashed a jester's smile and pounced, following the exact trajectory XJ-V had calculated.
Got him!
The Cog shot out his arms to grapple the boy and redirect the punch he was sending towards his neck.
…and then he felt its sting on his right leg, just under his kneecap.
XJ-V's eyes went wild. He felt his lower torso buckle and fall, and his eyes flashed to the carpeted ground to see that Mah-Jung had managed to get his foot to sweep the cog's skeletal ankle. All that remained was for the boy to grab his Gi and push the metal man down, and the strange double vision that had only moments ago dominated XJ-V's eyes coalesced into the smiling form of the Disicple on top of him, his leg firmly locked in the air beneath Mah-Jung's elbow joint.
"Do you yield, Brother?" he asked like a cackling ghost.
XJ-V, despite having just suffered his fifth loss that day, smiled.
"I believe it would be prudent to do so."
Mah-Jung unlocked their limbs and offered him his sweaty hand. Not wanting to appear unsportsmanlike, he took it.
"You fought well, Brother," Mah-Jung said. "But I think you underestimated your opponents on this day."
XJ-V's smile grew as Feng-Lung came over to greet the panting contestants. "That is a mistake I will not be making again."
"Ah, cheer up good Brother!" Feng-Lung jeered. "It looks to me like you have given Brother Mah-Jung his most intense workout in days. After a couple more bouts, I'm certain you would have him on his back by dint of his sheer fatigue alone!"
Mah-Jung chuckled, accepting a wet towel from his fellow Dragon. "I won't argue that point!"
The two decided to head off for lunch at that point, asking their Cog Brother if he wished to join them. XJ-V declined, saying he would rather use the time to complete his repairs in the wake of his morning defeats.
"The wise warlord contemplates his losses more than he celebrates his victories," Mah-Jung said approvingly. "But you must not dwell on it, Brother. We of the Seventh level Body Temperers have our secrets. Perhaps, in time, you shall unlock them."
XJ-V nodded at that, admittedly looking on the pale-skinned youth with new eyes. He had thought him a clown – a mere underling that was used to ferry the novices around. It had not occurred to him that he would be such a formidable opponent.
His moves were like a harlequin's, always dancing around his opponent, always appearing to be where he was not. XJ-V had tried anticipating – had tried calculating – and this had been enough to confound the other novices, some of whom were of higher rank than he. But not so with this one, or Brother Feng-Lung. It struck the metal man as funny that these two were of the most unassuming, most innocent natures – cut from a totally different cloth compared to students like Fai-Deng – and yet they posed the greatest challenge to him.
The way he moved…XJ-V thought as he watched his new Brothers go. To be in one place and then…not there…
Whatever secret hid behind those smiling faces, XJ-V decided he would devote himself to finding it.
###
(If you enjoy Cog Cultivator and would like to read more, consider supporting the story on Patreon)
Chapter 10: Qi
"Tell me what shadows move behind your eyes, XJ-V."
He sat, legs crossed, in front of Master Longhua, practicing the breathing exercises that meant nothing for one who had no organic lungs at all.
"Master," he replied. "I see nothing."
One of Longhua's long-lashed eyes opened.
"A stone cannot simply grow eyes through will alone," he said.
XJ-V reeled back and opened his eyes, looking into the old, wrinkled face of the old one.
"It is through will alone that I sit here now," he said.
"Wrong," Longhua chided, appearing behind the Cog and administering a stout kick to his metal back.
"Master!"
"This is how a stone must be disciplined," Longhua said, stroking his long beard and staring with narrowed, mischievous eyes at his new student.
"What is my mistake?" XJ-V demanded, rubbing his back. In the small of his mind, his thoughts were now set aflame. Longhua had done just as Mah-Jung had. He had been before him in mediation and then, with a single blink, practically standing on his back.
"Your belief that a stone may throw itself," Longhua said calmly. "Your stubborn refusal to see what is right in front of you. Your insistence on only observing and, by so doing, only ever observing – never learning. Should your Master continue?"
XJ-V looked into the eyes of Longhua, seeing experience there beyond mortal years. Both in this world, and the place beyond it.
"There is something I have learned," he said. "There is something that is hidden from me. Something these eyes cannot see. I would know what it is."
The Master of the Eternal Dragon considered this with another twirl of his beard. His hand flew to the pocket of his robe and produced a small, carved hooka pipe.
"So," he said, sitting cross-legged once more and lighting his pipe with a click of his fingers.
"Perhaps you do have eyes after all. Not eyes that can see, but eyes that can wonder at what lies beyond them."
XJ-V watched his Master in silent contemplation. Through the myriad of calculations his mind made, and through processing all the subtle facial expressions the Master was exhibiting, he tried to understand what was happening in the old man's head. But it was useless. The inner machinations of his mind remained elusive, as did all, it seemed, that XJ-V wanted to know.
"Master," he said steadily, fighting the burning within his metal chassis. "I believe it was Prophet Ai-Lee who wrote the words 'All living things are endowed with the essence of the Dao. Place trust in that, and even the lamest turtle can be guided to water."
The Master drew deep on his pipe and blew out a small circle of smoke. "It remains to be seen if you are truly living or dead, Disciple."
Before XJ-V could interject, the Master waved his hand limply over the smoke puff he had released. Between them both he weaved the smoke into a line of shimmering ash and began to form shapes from each little thread. XJ-V watched in awe as the Master of fire created six distinct images before his eyes:
One: a coiling dragon.
Two: a tiger with its hackles raised to strike.
Three: a bent reed beside a water hole
Four: twin snakes curled in embrace
Five: a crescent moon, dark as the night it brought with it
XJ-V was so entranced by the hazy images that swam before him that he barely heard the Master's next demand:
"Tell me what you know of the Qi."
XJ-V answered without hesitation: "The Qi is the essence of the Universal Dao that permeates our world. It runs in the veins of all living things."
Longhua considered this answer. "A textbook response. You know the word, you know the meaning, but do you know how it feels to harness the Qi? Do you know what it is to feel it coursing through your body and the bodies of your Brothers? Do you understand how the Qi can be shaped?"
XJ-V thought before he spoke. The answers were things he could guess at, but he knew Longhua well enough to know that the Master didn't want guesses or approximations. Such things showed brashness. Instead, the Master wanted truth from him. Simple, pure, and unrefined.
"No," he replied.
The Master smiled. "An answer that belies more wisdom than you might think, my Cog Disciple."
Longhua swept his palms over the assembly of wisping emblems he had formed.
"Consider the Sects of the Cultivators," he said, running his fine fingers through each image as he remarked them. "Each patron spirit is an entity that learned to use its physical body to channel the Qi and breathe life into our world. Once, we men worshipped the Old Gods of the Qingua Dynasty. We believed that ultimate power took on forms like ours. In the wake of the Sundering, as we watched the Gods fall and take our earth with them, we realized our folly and communed only with the spirits of the land – the true patrons of all who walk upon this earth with a soul in their chest."
The eyes of Master and eager student locked for a moment across the smoke-filled room. Longhua could see the desire within XJ-V's burning eyes.
Desire to know, he thought before he continued. Merely to answer your question? Is your ambition really so mundane?
"The Eternal Dragon," he said, his fingers stroking the smoky torso of the first creature with pride. "An ancient being who first breathed deep of the Qi and gave the world fire and its sister aspects: ambition, passion, industry, power, and illumination. A force of creation and destruction in equal measure, for there cannot be life without death."
His hand swept over the hackled tiger next.
"The Waiting Tiger. A powerful creature who stalks the long grass of the desert oasis. A being who channeled the Qi into its claws, and learned to temper power with patience. The tiger's element is lightning – for its strikes are fast and beautiful. Its aspects are speed, ferocity, patience, and symmetry. A patron to all who would hunt and stalk, for only the patient hunter catches his prey."
XJ-V thought of Brothers Kai-Thai and Fai-Deng of the Tiger sect. How either of them embodied these ideals, the Cog did not know.
"And the others?" XJ-V asked. "I only have only seen the colors of two Sects within Ramor-Tai's walls."
Longhua nodded sagely. "Tigers and dragons have long been companions since even before the time of the Dynasty. The Eastern Rim of the Wasteland has always been our home. To seek the other Sects, one must brave the winds of the Wastes, and travel to the other corners of our world."
A question burned in XJ-V's mind, then. His chest leaped with the need to ask it, to plead for his Master to tell him who, if any, had ever done such a thing. Had there ever been a Master of all Sects? Surely such a man could rule the heavens anew…
But he bit his steel lips and allowed his Master to continue as he passed his hand over the image of the reed.
"The Bending Reed," he said. "The Sect of the South, who abide by the will of the plant closest to the raw source of the Qi in our world. The reed is pliant, easily manipulated by the winds of the earth. And yet, it grows. It remains firm, and stalwart, even in the face of unrelenting force. The reed represents the element of water, and embodies the virtues of stoicism, tranquility with one's environment, and connection with the earth. The reed does not bend the Qi, but bends with it, for working with the world in harmony is the only way to maintain peace."
Next, the Master came to the snake-pair.
"The Twintailed Snake, who moves unseen in the West, who strikes its foe from a distance and was the first animal to crawl upon this earth. It is both there and not there, striking when its enemy is most unprepared. Studying. Calculating. Finding weaknesses. The snake is the earth itself – cunning, devious, unfaltering, and yet alluring. For the world of man is an unforgiving place that must be contended with on its own terms.
And the Waning Moon," Longhua finished, running his hands over the darkest of the smoke-clouds. "The celestial body that rises and falls in the North. The entity that gave us darkness, and the end of all things. None can escape the dark shadow of the moon. It embodies futility, the urge to despair, inevitability, and destiny. For the only truth of mortal life is that all things must end."
The Master waved his hand over all the symbols of the Cultivators, carving through them so that they all coalesced into one unified whole.
"These entities were the first to harness the Qi," he explained. "They showed us how to commune with the Dao and, in so doing, achieve harmony and balance in our world. But one must not think of their Sects as 'factions' or 'clans'. The walls and distance of the Sects do not divide us. It is the teachings of the spirits and the prophets that allow us to see these beings as aspects of the world and of our own consciousness. Though each Sect may have its own martial techniques and Cultivation disciplines, we all seek the same goal: total connection with the Qi."
XJ-V listened with open eyes, watching the smoky forms of each sect dance around each other in a spiral that, when it disappeared, he found himself longing for again.
"You wonder what it is that allows us to move unseen," Longhua said, watching his new student's eyes intently. "You want to know how your Brothers can play tricks on your eyes, and how even you, with your all your adherence to logic and calculation, cannot follow them."
XJ-V had to admit that he was stunned into silence by the Master's reading of his desire. No more would he doubt the old sage sitting in front of him. The difference in perceptive power between them was such that it would have brought tears to the metal man's eyes.
"Yes," he said in all but a whisper.
Longhua nodded. "Then you must learn the answer to your question," he said. "You must learn to see the flow of Qi in the world, and within your own metal flesh."
XJ-V could barely keep seated as he leaned forward and asked "How?"
And his Master, with a subtle smile, told him:
"The only way a Disciple can," he said. "You are going to make tea."
###
(If you enjoy Cog Cultivator and would like to read more, consider supporting the story on Patreon)
He sat, legs crossed, in front of Master Longhua, practicing the breathing exercises that meant nothing for one who had no organic lungs at all.
"Master," he replied. "I see nothing."
One of Longhua's long-lashed eyes opened.
"A stone cannot simply grow eyes through will alone," he said.
XJ-V reeled back and opened his eyes, looking into the old, wrinkled face of the old one.
"It is through will alone that I sit here now," he said.
"Wrong," Longhua chided, appearing behind the Cog and administering a stout kick to his metal back.
"Master!"
"This is how a stone must be disciplined," Longhua said, stroking his long beard and staring with narrowed, mischievous eyes at his new student.
"What is my mistake?" XJ-V demanded, rubbing his back. In the small of his mind, his thoughts were now set aflame. Longhua had done just as Mah-Jung had. He had been before him in mediation and then, with a single blink, practically standing on his back.
"Your belief that a stone may throw itself," Longhua said calmly. "Your stubborn refusal to see what is right in front of you. Your insistence on only observing and, by so doing, only ever observing – never learning. Should your Master continue?"
XJ-V looked into the eyes of Longhua, seeing experience there beyond mortal years. Both in this world, and the place beyond it.
"There is something I have learned," he said. "There is something that is hidden from me. Something these eyes cannot see. I would know what it is."
The Master of the Eternal Dragon considered this with another twirl of his beard. His hand flew to the pocket of his robe and produced a small, carved hooka pipe.
"So," he said, sitting cross-legged once more and lighting his pipe with a click of his fingers.
"Perhaps you do have eyes after all. Not eyes that can see, but eyes that can wonder at what lies beyond them."
XJ-V watched his Master in silent contemplation. Through the myriad of calculations his mind made, and through processing all the subtle facial expressions the Master was exhibiting, he tried to understand what was happening in the old man's head. But it was useless. The inner machinations of his mind remained elusive, as did all, it seemed, that XJ-V wanted to know.
"Master," he said steadily, fighting the burning within his metal chassis. "I believe it was Prophet Ai-Lee who wrote the words 'All living things are endowed with the essence of the Dao. Place trust in that, and even the lamest turtle can be guided to water."
The Master drew deep on his pipe and blew out a small circle of smoke. "It remains to be seen if you are truly living or dead, Disciple."
Before XJ-V could interject, the Master waved his hand limply over the smoke puff he had released. Between them both he weaved the smoke into a line of shimmering ash and began to form shapes from each little thread. XJ-V watched in awe as the Master of fire created six distinct images before his eyes:
One: a coiling dragon.
Two: a tiger with its hackles raised to strike.
Three: a bent reed beside a water hole
Four: twin snakes curled in embrace
Five: a crescent moon, dark as the night it brought with it
XJ-V was so entranced by the hazy images that swam before him that he barely heard the Master's next demand:
"Tell me what you know of the Qi."
XJ-V answered without hesitation: "The Qi is the essence of the Universal Dao that permeates our world. It runs in the veins of all living things."
Longhua considered this answer. "A textbook response. You know the word, you know the meaning, but do you know how it feels to harness the Qi? Do you know what it is to feel it coursing through your body and the bodies of your Brothers? Do you understand how the Qi can be shaped?"
XJ-V thought before he spoke. The answers were things he could guess at, but he knew Longhua well enough to know that the Master didn't want guesses or approximations. Such things showed brashness. Instead, the Master wanted truth from him. Simple, pure, and unrefined.
"No," he replied.
The Master smiled. "An answer that belies more wisdom than you might think, my Cog Disciple."
Longhua swept his palms over the assembly of wisping emblems he had formed.
"Consider the Sects of the Cultivators," he said, running his fine fingers through each image as he remarked them. "Each patron spirit is an entity that learned to use its physical body to channel the Qi and breathe life into our world. Once, we men worshipped the Old Gods of the Qingua Dynasty. We believed that ultimate power took on forms like ours. In the wake of the Sundering, as we watched the Gods fall and take our earth with them, we realized our folly and communed only with the spirits of the land – the true patrons of all who walk upon this earth with a soul in their chest."
The eyes of Master and eager student locked for a moment across the smoke-filled room. Longhua could see the desire within XJ-V's burning eyes.
Desire to know, he thought before he continued. Merely to answer your question? Is your ambition really so mundane?
"The Eternal Dragon," he said, his fingers stroking the smoky torso of the first creature with pride. "An ancient being who first breathed deep of the Qi and gave the world fire and its sister aspects: ambition, passion, industry, power, and illumination. A force of creation and destruction in equal measure, for there cannot be life without death."
His hand swept over the hackled tiger next.
"The Waiting Tiger. A powerful creature who stalks the long grass of the desert oasis. A being who channeled the Qi into its claws, and learned to temper power with patience. The tiger's element is lightning – for its strikes are fast and beautiful. Its aspects are speed, ferocity, patience, and symmetry. A patron to all who would hunt and stalk, for only the patient hunter catches his prey."
XJ-V thought of Brothers Kai-Thai and Fai-Deng of the Tiger sect. How either of them embodied these ideals, the Cog did not know.
"And the others?" XJ-V asked. "I only have only seen the colors of two Sects within Ramor-Tai's walls."
Longhua nodded sagely. "Tigers and dragons have long been companions since even before the time of the Dynasty. The Eastern Rim of the Wasteland has always been our home. To seek the other Sects, one must brave the winds of the Wastes, and travel to the other corners of our world."
A question burned in XJ-V's mind, then. His chest leaped with the need to ask it, to plead for his Master to tell him who, if any, had ever done such a thing. Had there ever been a Master of all Sects? Surely such a man could rule the heavens anew…
But he bit his steel lips and allowed his Master to continue as he passed his hand over the image of the reed.
"The Bending Reed," he said. "The Sect of the South, who abide by the will of the plant closest to the raw source of the Qi in our world. The reed is pliant, easily manipulated by the winds of the earth. And yet, it grows. It remains firm, and stalwart, even in the face of unrelenting force. The reed represents the element of water, and embodies the virtues of stoicism, tranquility with one's environment, and connection with the earth. The reed does not bend the Qi, but bends with it, for working with the world in harmony is the only way to maintain peace."
Next, the Master came to the snake-pair.
"The Twintailed Snake, who moves unseen in the West, who strikes its foe from a distance and was the first animal to crawl upon this earth. It is both there and not there, striking when its enemy is most unprepared. Studying. Calculating. Finding weaknesses. The snake is the earth itself – cunning, devious, unfaltering, and yet alluring. For the world of man is an unforgiving place that must be contended with on its own terms.
And the Waning Moon," Longhua finished, running his hands over the darkest of the smoke-clouds. "The celestial body that rises and falls in the North. The entity that gave us darkness, and the end of all things. None can escape the dark shadow of the moon. It embodies futility, the urge to despair, inevitability, and destiny. For the only truth of mortal life is that all things must end."
The Master waved his hand over all the symbols of the Cultivators, carving through them so that they all coalesced into one unified whole.
"These entities were the first to harness the Qi," he explained. "They showed us how to commune with the Dao and, in so doing, achieve harmony and balance in our world. But one must not think of their Sects as 'factions' or 'clans'. The walls and distance of the Sects do not divide us. It is the teachings of the spirits and the prophets that allow us to see these beings as aspects of the world and of our own consciousness. Though each Sect may have its own martial techniques and Cultivation disciplines, we all seek the same goal: total connection with the Qi."
XJ-V listened with open eyes, watching the smoky forms of each sect dance around each other in a spiral that, when it disappeared, he found himself longing for again.
"You wonder what it is that allows us to move unseen," Longhua said, watching his new student's eyes intently. "You want to know how your Brothers can play tricks on your eyes, and how even you, with your all your adherence to logic and calculation, cannot follow them."
XJ-V had to admit that he was stunned into silence by the Master's reading of his desire. No more would he doubt the old sage sitting in front of him. The difference in perceptive power between them was such that it would have brought tears to the metal man's eyes.
"Yes," he said in all but a whisper.
Longhua nodded. "Then you must learn the answer to your question," he said. "You must learn to see the flow of Qi in the world, and within your own metal flesh."
XJ-V could barely keep seated as he leaned forward and asked "How?"
And his Master, with a subtle smile, told him:
"The only way a Disciple can," he said. "You are going to make tea."
###
(If you enjoy Cog Cultivator and would like to read more, consider supporting the story on Patreon)
Chapter 11: The Grove
XJ-V stared blankly at his Master Longhua's grinning face.
"Master?"
"Do your metal ears deceive you?" Longhua asked. "I said you shall be making me tea."
The Cog didn't move an appendage. His mind searched for any way in which the Master's strange request made sense. Everything he knew about the Qi ran through his synthetic brain and came up short. He simply couldn't see any connection between the force of power that ran through all living things and the warm beverage popular with men of the Sects.
So he fumbled, as was becoming regular for him.
"But…how does that..?"
"You have asked enough questions," Longhua interrupted him massively with a swish of his long-sleeved arm. "Now it is time for you to learn."
XJ-V nodded slowly, waiting for the next instruction from his Master. When none was forthcoming, both men simply sat in the chamber in silence for a time as the great mosaic of the coiling Eternal Dragon watched them.
"Master," XJ-V finally said.
"Yes?"
"To make tea, I require tea leaves and a pot to boil them in."
Longhua laughed like a chipper child. "Oh! How silly of me," he said. "I seem to have forgotten the ingredients. Perhaps you could fetch them for me?"
As XJ-V blinked his strobe-eyes at the Master, he suddenly felt movement to his left. He gave a start before realizing that it was the wall of the chamber that was moving – a section twisting and carving itself away like a craftsman whittling down a piece of wood. Where once the stone wall stood bearing the symbol of their Sect, now a realm of pitch darkness stretched out – seemingly endless. A realm of silence.
"You will find what you seek within," Longhua explained. "I await your brew."
XJ-V looked quizzically at the Master, whose emotions would always be hidden from the Cog. He stood, craned his neck, and looked towards the realm of inky nothing that he was being harried towards.
"What lies within?" he asked, knowing it was foolish to even ponder.
Longhua simply shrugged. "That is for you to know, if you truly do have eyes to see."
All at once XJ-V felt a significant sense of motion – like he was being pulled towards the colorless realm. His legs began moving of their own accord even as his whole body lurched, telling him to twist and turn away.
When he stood on the threshold between this world and what lay beyond, he took a deep breath of air that he knew would not serve him and stepped forward.
…
His sensors buzzed, his brain strained.
For a while all vision was nothing but a haze of colorless static.
Then: something. A sound. A song?
Yes…a melody assailed him as he walked in a blanket on dark, a formless void where light could not shine. The melody…of birdsong.
With the melody came a sense of direction. He knew it even as he bumbled about in the dark: he was moving towards something – something that flashed brilliantly, dazzlingly in the distance. Behind his eyes he saw colors burst into exuberant life – passionate reds, blooming violets, tranquil sapphires – so that it took all the strength within his frame not to drop to his knees and allow himself to be overwhelmed by the explosion of pure sensation. He felt his sensors overload with the raw power of registering all the stimuli.
Then, at the apex of his pain, he opened his eyes.
It took his mechanized brain some time to catch up with the sight that stretched before him, and it took an even longer stretch of time for him to actually commit himself to movement. Gone was Ramor-Tai. Gone was the mountain he had braved to find his Master. Gone was the world of the Wasteland, and, perhaps more distressing, gone was the doorway he had just emerged through.
Around him stretched an image of paradise. He was standing at the edge of a garden grove surrounded by willows and blooming shrubs. Flowers he could not identify gleamed within the bushes at the foot of the trees and a calm, serene wind blew air in his face that felt otherworldly. His nasal sensors breathed it in, and he suddenly realized what it was: pure air. Untainted by the normal CO2 emissions that clouded the skies of the Wasteland, and lacking the distinct taste of sulphur that one had to get used to when walking the ashen lands. It slowly dawned on XJ-V that he was breathing the air of the Old World for the first time – something most people of the Wastes could only dream of.
He saw no landmarks in front of him except a simple path lined in glistening white marble that led deeper into the forest. Having no alternative route, he decided to begin following the path, watching for any signs of movement within the willows and the brush.
The skies above were crystal clear, wisps of white clouds streaked across only small patches of the deep blue heaven like puffs from a tired dragon's snout. XJ-V was so distracted by all these new sights and sensations that he almost forgot the mission his Master had given him: he was here to collect ingredients for tea, was he not?
His feet stopped on the marble brickwork abruptly.
But where exactly is here?
So consumed had he suddenly become by this intruding thought that he did not hear the rustling of leaves behind his back.
And why does it feel so famil-
He stopped to spin and catch the projectile that had just been launched at him from within one of the willows above. He crushed the rock within his fingers and let nothing but sand fall from his hand.
"Show yourself," he commanded, scanning the tops of the lush, green trees all around him.
A flurry of childish giggles answered him.
"Tee-hee! Metal-man! Metal-man!"
The voice sounded like that of a child – or at least some kind of overgrown monkey – for as XJ-V tried to follow the speaker's voice he heard giggles and great whoops of excitement issue from all around him, as though the entity could project its voice and make the trees themselves talk.
"Is the metal-man confused?" it said with another mischievous giggle. "We have never had a metal man come here before, have we, sisters?"
"Nooooooooo," came at least three more voices from the low-hanging eaves. "He is new. He is interesting."
XJ-V lowered his guard. He had heard that certain places in the Wasteland were filled with devious creatures. Yaoguai- entities that sought to trick and to deceive travelers. For what purpose they did this, XJ-V could only wonder. How can the mind of a machine understand the will of a ghost?
"Metal-Man, Metal-man," one of the trickster voices called again. "Why come you to our fair lan'?"
XJ-V spoke only to the small, slight rustling of the leaves above. "Can you tell me where I am?" he asked.
More giggles assailed him from every direction.
"By the twitching of my toe!" the voices answered in unison. "Can it be he does not know? Comes he to mortal treasure trove, and he's never heard of Ai-Lee's grove?"
Ai-Lee…XJ-V recalled. The prophet of the Eternal Dragon…the wisest of the Sect's Cultivators. A legend of the old Dynasty.
Then that must mean this place is…
"Look you sister! Do not blink! Have you seen a talking stone think?"
Amidst their giggles, XJ-V merely turned and started walking away.
"I do not have time for this," he said. "I must complete the Master's mission."
An abrupt impact against the side of his head brought his attention right back to the hidden entities giggling away in the bush. He looked down to see an acorn lying on the ground.
"Our gift to you, man of sto'. Without our knowledge you can't grow!"
"Your words do not rhyme," XJ-V told the air.
"Neither do yours!"
The Cog huffed and touched his fingers to his tired temple. "Perhaps the Master wishes to drive me insane. Meditation was easier than talking with airy things like these."
"These, these!" the bushes shouted back. "That which you seek comes in threes!"
He lifted his head, seeing the branches of the willow start to ruffle playfully around him.
"You know what it is I seek?"
Something brushed against XJ-V's leg. He looked down and saw nothing but slowly descending leaves – as though something had taken form there and then flitted away, invisible to even his trained eyes.
"Seek not with eyes, man so blue. It's with your mind you'll get your brew!"
He tried to stop himself grimacing at their little limericks. But, he had to admit that they had the better of him. Sure, he could stamp his feet and beat the trees, demanding that they speak plainly. But if these spirits were connected to the Sect of the Eternal Dragon in some way as he suspected, then he would have to exercise restraint tinged with patience.
So he nodded his head and did what he was bid: he closed his eyes and focused on what he needed.
"Tea-leaves," he said aloud. "Tea-leaves for Master Longhua."
No giggles came from the brush now, and he felt his hand shake as power came upon it. He waited. He listened. He felt something graze his palm.
Could this be the QI? Was this the power Longhua had spoken of?
He opened his eyes when he felt his palm begin to waver.
And saw nothing but dry grass.
In consternation he grit his teeth and sat down, ready to pummel his fist into the ground and shake up the spirits that had deceived him.
And just as he moved to do so, a flurry of crisp, charcoal leaves fell from the top of his head.
"Tee-hee, tee-hee!" the spirits croaked. "See the man of stone's bright eyes! The metal can has found his prize!"
He plucked up the leaves with shaking fingers, looking up at the vacant clouds that had gathered in the skies above.
I wonder if you are watching me, Master, he asked them silently. Is this entertaining for you?
Sudden thoughts rushed through his mind of Feng-Lung, who must have undertaken this ridiculous trial too and who, XJ-V was sure, must have had the time of his life in this place. It was exactly the kind of place his wandering soul would get lost in.
"Crack the branches, pitter-potter – the metal man is needing water!"
XJ-V once again felt the distinct sensation of something nuzzling against his feet. Only this time, he was certain, it had the sensation of at least three fluffy tails caressing his metal skin.
"Follow-follow, man of stone! Chase our tails and get back home!"
"W-wait!" XJ-V called out as the wisps of wind left him and cut a swathe through the forest of willows to the East. He followed with as much speed as he could, thinking as he ran that asking questions was probably going to be useless here. If Master Longhua was anything to go by, the last thing the spirits cared about was giving mortal intruders in their realm answers.
###
(If you enjoy Cog Cultivator and would like to read more, consider supporting the story on Patreon)
"Master?"
"Do your metal ears deceive you?" Longhua asked. "I said you shall be making me tea."
The Cog didn't move an appendage. His mind searched for any way in which the Master's strange request made sense. Everything he knew about the Qi ran through his synthetic brain and came up short. He simply couldn't see any connection between the force of power that ran through all living things and the warm beverage popular with men of the Sects.
So he fumbled, as was becoming regular for him.
"But…how does that..?"
"You have asked enough questions," Longhua interrupted him massively with a swish of his long-sleeved arm. "Now it is time for you to learn."
XJ-V nodded slowly, waiting for the next instruction from his Master. When none was forthcoming, both men simply sat in the chamber in silence for a time as the great mosaic of the coiling Eternal Dragon watched them.
"Master," XJ-V finally said.
"Yes?"
"To make tea, I require tea leaves and a pot to boil them in."
Longhua laughed like a chipper child. "Oh! How silly of me," he said. "I seem to have forgotten the ingredients. Perhaps you could fetch them for me?"
As XJ-V blinked his strobe-eyes at the Master, he suddenly felt movement to his left. He gave a start before realizing that it was the wall of the chamber that was moving – a section twisting and carving itself away like a craftsman whittling down a piece of wood. Where once the stone wall stood bearing the symbol of their Sect, now a realm of pitch darkness stretched out – seemingly endless. A realm of silence.
"You will find what you seek within," Longhua explained. "I await your brew."
XJ-V looked quizzically at the Master, whose emotions would always be hidden from the Cog. He stood, craned his neck, and looked towards the realm of inky nothing that he was being harried towards.
"What lies within?" he asked, knowing it was foolish to even ponder.
Longhua simply shrugged. "That is for you to know, if you truly do have eyes to see."
All at once XJ-V felt a significant sense of motion – like he was being pulled towards the colorless realm. His legs began moving of their own accord even as his whole body lurched, telling him to twist and turn away.
When he stood on the threshold between this world and what lay beyond, he took a deep breath of air that he knew would not serve him and stepped forward.
…
His sensors buzzed, his brain strained.
For a while all vision was nothing but a haze of colorless static.
Then: something. A sound. A song?
Yes…a melody assailed him as he walked in a blanket on dark, a formless void where light could not shine. The melody…of birdsong.
With the melody came a sense of direction. He knew it even as he bumbled about in the dark: he was moving towards something – something that flashed brilliantly, dazzlingly in the distance. Behind his eyes he saw colors burst into exuberant life – passionate reds, blooming violets, tranquil sapphires – so that it took all the strength within his frame not to drop to his knees and allow himself to be overwhelmed by the explosion of pure sensation. He felt his sensors overload with the raw power of registering all the stimuli.
Then, at the apex of his pain, he opened his eyes.
It took his mechanized brain some time to catch up with the sight that stretched before him, and it took an even longer stretch of time for him to actually commit himself to movement. Gone was Ramor-Tai. Gone was the mountain he had braved to find his Master. Gone was the world of the Wasteland, and, perhaps more distressing, gone was the doorway he had just emerged through.
Around him stretched an image of paradise. He was standing at the edge of a garden grove surrounded by willows and blooming shrubs. Flowers he could not identify gleamed within the bushes at the foot of the trees and a calm, serene wind blew air in his face that felt otherworldly. His nasal sensors breathed it in, and he suddenly realized what it was: pure air. Untainted by the normal CO2 emissions that clouded the skies of the Wasteland, and lacking the distinct taste of sulphur that one had to get used to when walking the ashen lands. It slowly dawned on XJ-V that he was breathing the air of the Old World for the first time – something most people of the Wastes could only dream of.
He saw no landmarks in front of him except a simple path lined in glistening white marble that led deeper into the forest. Having no alternative route, he decided to begin following the path, watching for any signs of movement within the willows and the brush.
The skies above were crystal clear, wisps of white clouds streaked across only small patches of the deep blue heaven like puffs from a tired dragon's snout. XJ-V was so distracted by all these new sights and sensations that he almost forgot the mission his Master had given him: he was here to collect ingredients for tea, was he not?
His feet stopped on the marble brickwork abruptly.
But where exactly is here?
So consumed had he suddenly become by this intruding thought that he did not hear the rustling of leaves behind his back.
And why does it feel so famil-
He stopped to spin and catch the projectile that had just been launched at him from within one of the willows above. He crushed the rock within his fingers and let nothing but sand fall from his hand.
"Show yourself," he commanded, scanning the tops of the lush, green trees all around him.
A flurry of childish giggles answered him.
"Tee-hee! Metal-man! Metal-man!"
The voice sounded like that of a child – or at least some kind of overgrown monkey – for as XJ-V tried to follow the speaker's voice he heard giggles and great whoops of excitement issue from all around him, as though the entity could project its voice and make the trees themselves talk.
"Is the metal-man confused?" it said with another mischievous giggle. "We have never had a metal man come here before, have we, sisters?"
"Nooooooooo," came at least three more voices from the low-hanging eaves. "He is new. He is interesting."
XJ-V lowered his guard. He had heard that certain places in the Wasteland were filled with devious creatures. Yaoguai- entities that sought to trick and to deceive travelers. For what purpose they did this, XJ-V could only wonder. How can the mind of a machine understand the will of a ghost?
"Metal-Man, Metal-man," one of the trickster voices called again. "Why come you to our fair lan'?"
XJ-V spoke only to the small, slight rustling of the leaves above. "Can you tell me where I am?" he asked.
More giggles assailed him from every direction.
"By the twitching of my toe!" the voices answered in unison. "Can it be he does not know? Comes he to mortal treasure trove, and he's never heard of Ai-Lee's grove?"
Ai-Lee…XJ-V recalled. The prophet of the Eternal Dragon…the wisest of the Sect's Cultivators. A legend of the old Dynasty.
Then that must mean this place is…
"Look you sister! Do not blink! Have you seen a talking stone think?"
Amidst their giggles, XJ-V merely turned and started walking away.
"I do not have time for this," he said. "I must complete the Master's mission."
An abrupt impact against the side of his head brought his attention right back to the hidden entities giggling away in the bush. He looked down to see an acorn lying on the ground.
"Our gift to you, man of sto'. Without our knowledge you can't grow!"
"Your words do not rhyme," XJ-V told the air.
"Neither do yours!"
The Cog huffed and touched his fingers to his tired temple. "Perhaps the Master wishes to drive me insane. Meditation was easier than talking with airy things like these."
"These, these!" the bushes shouted back. "That which you seek comes in threes!"
He lifted his head, seeing the branches of the willow start to ruffle playfully around him.
"You know what it is I seek?"
Something brushed against XJ-V's leg. He looked down and saw nothing but slowly descending leaves – as though something had taken form there and then flitted away, invisible to even his trained eyes.
"Seek not with eyes, man so blue. It's with your mind you'll get your brew!"
He tried to stop himself grimacing at their little limericks. But, he had to admit that they had the better of him. Sure, he could stamp his feet and beat the trees, demanding that they speak plainly. But if these spirits were connected to the Sect of the Eternal Dragon in some way as he suspected, then he would have to exercise restraint tinged with patience.
So he nodded his head and did what he was bid: he closed his eyes and focused on what he needed.
"Tea-leaves," he said aloud. "Tea-leaves for Master Longhua."
No giggles came from the brush now, and he felt his hand shake as power came upon it. He waited. He listened. He felt something graze his palm.
Could this be the QI? Was this the power Longhua had spoken of?
He opened his eyes when he felt his palm begin to waver.
And saw nothing but dry grass.
In consternation he grit his teeth and sat down, ready to pummel his fist into the ground and shake up the spirits that had deceived him.
And just as he moved to do so, a flurry of crisp, charcoal leaves fell from the top of his head.
"Tee-hee, tee-hee!" the spirits croaked. "See the man of stone's bright eyes! The metal can has found his prize!"
He plucked up the leaves with shaking fingers, looking up at the vacant clouds that had gathered in the skies above.
I wonder if you are watching me, Master, he asked them silently. Is this entertaining for you?
Sudden thoughts rushed through his mind of Feng-Lung, who must have undertaken this ridiculous trial too and who, XJ-V was sure, must have had the time of his life in this place. It was exactly the kind of place his wandering soul would get lost in.
"Crack the branches, pitter-potter – the metal man is needing water!"
XJ-V once again felt the distinct sensation of something nuzzling against his feet. Only this time, he was certain, it had the sensation of at least three fluffy tails caressing his metal skin.
"Follow-follow, man of stone! Chase our tails and get back home!"
"W-wait!" XJ-V called out as the wisps of wind left him and cut a swathe through the forest of willows to the East. He followed with as much speed as he could, thinking as he ran that asking questions was probably going to be useless here. If Master Longhua was anything to go by, the last thing the spirits cared about was giving mortal intruders in their realm answers.
###
(If you enjoy Cog Cultivator and would like to read more, consider supporting the story on Patreon)
Chapter 12: Eagle Eyes
Wind rustled the tops of the willow eaves as XJ-V continued his pursuit of his spirit-guides. Or, at least, what he believed to be his spirit guardians.
That particular belief was dimming with every meter they took him, winding round the trees and edging further from the path of marble. He doubted them, and his own judgement in following them. But they had helped him once already. They had given him his first ingredient. Possibly it could have been simply a way to gain his trust before they drowned his metal body in the same water they were guiding him to.
They came to a bridge over a pond adorned with serene lily flowers. Two crimson lanterns of ornate Oriental design floated above the structure, suspended by something that XJ-V couldn't discern. He stopped on the solid foundations of the thing to watch three distinct splashes on the pond beneath it and muttered a huff of approval to himself as he descended to collect a pouch of water.
"Nae nae, metal-man you!" came the cries of the spirits. "Old Master wants good strong brew! Come deeper through this brilliant path, to where we spirits take a bath!"
XJ-V grunted. "Why must we go further? Is the water of this place not all touched by the spirits of – hey!"
He had already seen the ripples of their passing, and they scurried away deeper into the willows.
"WAIT!" the Cog called out as he started running again, beginning to tire of this whole charade.
He did not see the lilies of the pond lose their color as he left them. Nor did he see the crimson light of the floating lanterns flicker and die before they fell into the murky depths of the slowly darkening waters.
…
He didn't know how long he'd been running for.
An hour? Two? Thirty? Maybe days had gone by where he chased nothing but shadows through this place – this pocket of a world that had long ago died.
"Come, come!" his guides would shout whenever his desire to simply turn away rose within him. "If your will begins to spoil, just feed yourself a little oil!"
"That is not how my kind work!" he shouted back, remembering that trickster Yaoguai like these generally cared not a jot for mortal complaints.
The skies had now begun to darken, he noticed. And the leaves of the trees in this part of the forest seemed more like black eyes watching his every move than the pure, dry plants he'd seen thus far. Every vein on every branch seemed corrupted, somehow. Every willow became more twisted with every step he took until, finally, he stopped.
And the spirits did not call out to him.
Instead, he focused on the roots and branches of the willows as they swayed in the wind that had started to blow through the grove. The wind stopped as he stood upright and turned around to see the low-hanging branches of the willows he had passed through knit themselves together as though the trees had suddenly taken on a life of their own.
No…he thought. They have always been alive, haven't they? Watching me.
His eyes registered movement to his left and he threw himself to the ground, rolling and keeping crouched. He quickly assumed the tight stance of the Prancing Crane, positioning both his hands above his head and keeping his right foot in the air, readying a powerful kick as soon as any sign of danger approached. And, of course, approach it did.
He watched in disbelief as the willow branches that had sought to pierce his body now sharpened themselves against the ever-darkening sky above. Then, like a flurry of knives, they raced down towards him.
His crane kick met the first rank and split them apart, allowing him to spin to administer a savage Flying Monkey strike at the branches that crept up from his behind. He turned, sensing more movement, and struck forth with a Dragon Claw punch that cut clean through the bark of one willow and sent its twisting branches flailing back. Like talons that had been slapped away, they recoiled and then flew for him again, each sharp, thorny end a glittering nail aiming at the exposed copper tubing beneath his chin.
He kept up his defensive assaults with tenacity, striking at all angles as more attacks came his way, slowly moving through the forest of thorns towards – something. Anything that wasn't here. His sensors strained to try and pick up sounds – the voices of his guardians who had long ago left him behind, perhaps. He thought this could be just another one of their practical jokes.
But as the roots beneath the earth now broke free from their graves and struck at his ankles, XJ-V was forced to admit that this was more than just a petty prank. As he cut through the twisting, creeping roots with the sharp edge of his palm and then turned to deliver another roundhouse kick at the branches descending on the back of his throat, he knew one thing for certain: this forest was trying to kill him.
So he took his chances and barreled through the barricade of vines that was blocking his path back the way he came. He felt the sting of pain run up his side and saw, with revulsion, that one seeking talon of the willows had found its mark – electrified wiring buzzed with energy outside a hole just above his left knee and he grimaced in pain and irritation. He'd just finished his round of repairs from yesterday's Kais.
Is this what you want, Master? he thought. Do you want to see me suffer more than I already have?
The anger of not receiving a reply to his question carried him through the forest's relentless assaults. He chopped through entire tree trunks, snapping their every twig and branch asunder as they split apart and re-attached themselves together, seeking his throat. Seeking weaknesses in the metal body that was now their prisoner. He grit his teeth with every strike he felt pierce his grey skin and redirected each one back with force. Eventually, the trees began to crumble before they even started attacking him.
"Come on!" he cried out suddenly as he burst through another one into an open glade where not a single light glimmered. "Come on! I will beat you!"
He panted with fury and weariness, feeling his body long to shut down. But he did not listen to his body. His metal frame was not where his true strength lay. He had a soul beneath his heart. He should show it to the world.
"Come on!" he shouted at the darkness that surrounded him, seeing only the trees creep away and blend into the shadowed fog that had slowly come to envelop him and the glade, walling the space off like a corrupted arena.
"Whatever you may throw at me," XJ-V told the forest. "I will defeat it. I have not come this far to lose to trees and shadows!"
For a moment there was no answer at all. The trees had all but vanished from the world. A fog that reeked of death permeated the perimeter of the glade, and from its depths, XJ-V could swear that he saw pairs of dark, crimson eyes staring back at him.
He re-assumed his Prancing Crane.
"Whatever you are, I am not afraid."
Then a voice - deep, omnipotent, and familiar – reached out to him from the abyss:
"Those are words mortal men often throw in the face of the Dark."
XJ-V's eyes blurred. His sensors recognized the tone. The pitch. They told him who it was who said those words before he emerged like a corrupted angel from the fog, the ends of his bone-white robe flowing behind him like a pair of unfurled wings.
"Such words are always lies."
Every rational piece of XJ-V's artificial brain told him that the human stepping out from the evil fog could not be real. He could not be here. Yet his eyes betrayed him with the sight that shot terror into his skeletal form. The robed man stepped forward, letting his long threads of golden hair fly back in the wind like a Gorgon watching as its prey turn to stone before it. The Cog knew that the desire to flee that ran up his arms and forced his legs back was not born of a rational mind. It was born of fear, and when one sees the root of their fear appear before them, one will see nothing more.
The golden man stepped forward, and XJ-V resisted the urge to retreat as best he could. There was no forest, now. There was no question at the core of his being. There was no Longhua, no Feng-Lung, no Ramor-Tai or Wasteland at all. Everything in his world was distilled down and filtered into those two gleaming amber eyes that stared at him unblinkingly, displaying a hunger that could swallow the entire world whole.
The eyes of the High Eagle.
###
(If you enjoy Cog Cultivator and would like to read more, consider supporting the story on Patreon)
That particular belief was dimming with every meter they took him, winding round the trees and edging further from the path of marble. He doubted them, and his own judgement in following them. But they had helped him once already. They had given him his first ingredient. Possibly it could have been simply a way to gain his trust before they drowned his metal body in the same water they were guiding him to.
They came to a bridge over a pond adorned with serene lily flowers. Two crimson lanterns of ornate Oriental design floated above the structure, suspended by something that XJ-V couldn't discern. He stopped on the solid foundations of the thing to watch three distinct splashes on the pond beneath it and muttered a huff of approval to himself as he descended to collect a pouch of water.
"Nae nae, metal-man you!" came the cries of the spirits. "Old Master wants good strong brew! Come deeper through this brilliant path, to where we spirits take a bath!"
XJ-V grunted. "Why must we go further? Is the water of this place not all touched by the spirits of – hey!"
He had already seen the ripples of their passing, and they scurried away deeper into the willows.
"WAIT!" the Cog called out as he started running again, beginning to tire of this whole charade.
He did not see the lilies of the pond lose their color as he left them. Nor did he see the crimson light of the floating lanterns flicker and die before they fell into the murky depths of the slowly darkening waters.
…
He didn't know how long he'd been running for.
An hour? Two? Thirty? Maybe days had gone by where he chased nothing but shadows through this place – this pocket of a world that had long ago died.
"Come, come!" his guides would shout whenever his desire to simply turn away rose within him. "If your will begins to spoil, just feed yourself a little oil!"
"That is not how my kind work!" he shouted back, remembering that trickster Yaoguai like these generally cared not a jot for mortal complaints.
The skies had now begun to darken, he noticed. And the leaves of the trees in this part of the forest seemed more like black eyes watching his every move than the pure, dry plants he'd seen thus far. Every vein on every branch seemed corrupted, somehow. Every willow became more twisted with every step he took until, finally, he stopped.
And the spirits did not call out to him.
Instead, he focused on the roots and branches of the willows as they swayed in the wind that had started to blow through the grove. The wind stopped as he stood upright and turned around to see the low-hanging branches of the willows he had passed through knit themselves together as though the trees had suddenly taken on a life of their own.
No…he thought. They have always been alive, haven't they? Watching me.
His eyes registered movement to his left and he threw himself to the ground, rolling and keeping crouched. He quickly assumed the tight stance of the Prancing Crane, positioning both his hands above his head and keeping his right foot in the air, readying a powerful kick as soon as any sign of danger approached. And, of course, approach it did.
He watched in disbelief as the willow branches that had sought to pierce his body now sharpened themselves against the ever-darkening sky above. Then, like a flurry of knives, they raced down towards him.
His crane kick met the first rank and split them apart, allowing him to spin to administer a savage Flying Monkey strike at the branches that crept up from his behind. He turned, sensing more movement, and struck forth with a Dragon Claw punch that cut clean through the bark of one willow and sent its twisting branches flailing back. Like talons that had been slapped away, they recoiled and then flew for him again, each sharp, thorny end a glittering nail aiming at the exposed copper tubing beneath his chin.
He kept up his defensive assaults with tenacity, striking at all angles as more attacks came his way, slowly moving through the forest of thorns towards – something. Anything that wasn't here. His sensors strained to try and pick up sounds – the voices of his guardians who had long ago left him behind, perhaps. He thought this could be just another one of their practical jokes.
But as the roots beneath the earth now broke free from their graves and struck at his ankles, XJ-V was forced to admit that this was more than just a petty prank. As he cut through the twisting, creeping roots with the sharp edge of his palm and then turned to deliver another roundhouse kick at the branches descending on the back of his throat, he knew one thing for certain: this forest was trying to kill him.
So he took his chances and barreled through the barricade of vines that was blocking his path back the way he came. He felt the sting of pain run up his side and saw, with revulsion, that one seeking talon of the willows had found its mark – electrified wiring buzzed with energy outside a hole just above his left knee and he grimaced in pain and irritation. He'd just finished his round of repairs from yesterday's Kais.
Is this what you want, Master? he thought. Do you want to see me suffer more than I already have?
The anger of not receiving a reply to his question carried him through the forest's relentless assaults. He chopped through entire tree trunks, snapping their every twig and branch asunder as they split apart and re-attached themselves together, seeking his throat. Seeking weaknesses in the metal body that was now their prisoner. He grit his teeth with every strike he felt pierce his grey skin and redirected each one back with force. Eventually, the trees began to crumble before they even started attacking him.
"Come on!" he cried out suddenly as he burst through another one into an open glade where not a single light glimmered. "Come on! I will beat you!"
He panted with fury and weariness, feeling his body long to shut down. But he did not listen to his body. His metal frame was not where his true strength lay. He had a soul beneath his heart. He should show it to the world.
"Come on!" he shouted at the darkness that surrounded him, seeing only the trees creep away and blend into the shadowed fog that had slowly come to envelop him and the glade, walling the space off like a corrupted arena.
"Whatever you may throw at me," XJ-V told the forest. "I will defeat it. I have not come this far to lose to trees and shadows!"
For a moment there was no answer at all. The trees had all but vanished from the world. A fog that reeked of death permeated the perimeter of the glade, and from its depths, XJ-V could swear that he saw pairs of dark, crimson eyes staring back at him.
He re-assumed his Prancing Crane.
"Whatever you are, I am not afraid."
Then a voice - deep, omnipotent, and familiar – reached out to him from the abyss:
"Those are words mortal men often throw in the face of the Dark."
XJ-V's eyes blurred. His sensors recognized the tone. The pitch. They told him who it was who said those words before he emerged like a corrupted angel from the fog, the ends of his bone-white robe flowing behind him like a pair of unfurled wings.
"Such words are always lies."
Every rational piece of XJ-V's artificial brain told him that the human stepping out from the evil fog could not be real. He could not be here. Yet his eyes betrayed him with the sight that shot terror into his skeletal form. The robed man stepped forward, letting his long threads of golden hair fly back in the wind like a Gorgon watching as its prey turn to stone before it. The Cog knew that the desire to flee that ran up his arms and forced his legs back was not born of a rational mind. It was born of fear, and when one sees the root of their fear appear before them, one will see nothing more.
The golden man stepped forward, and XJ-V resisted the urge to retreat as best he could. There was no forest, now. There was no question at the core of his being. There was no Longhua, no Feng-Lung, no Ramor-Tai or Wasteland at all. Everything in his world was distilled down and filtered into those two gleaming amber eyes that stared at him unblinkingly, displaying a hunger that could swallow the entire world whole.
The eyes of the High Eagle.
###
(If you enjoy Cog Cultivator and would like to read more, consider supporting the story on Patreon)
Chapter 13: Defiance
The High Eagle stepped forward, the threads of his golden hair billowing though no wind blew across the dead forest of Ai-Lee's grove.
"You knew I would find you," he said through slitted lips. "You have always known. Did you think a creature born of man could elude my sight?"
His voice was as XJ-V remembered it. It was the scratching of claws on a chalkboard. The quiet screams of babies being ground beneath hot rolling pins. It was a whisper that rang out like a shout. It was the call of a bird that signaled the End.
XJ-V lowered his stance, taking up the form of the Crouching Tiger. He stared down his foe like he had done when Hensha burned. Before his Creator had ordered him to flee.
He grit his teeth as the memory flooded over him: the memory of his cowardice, and his shame.
"You remember the words you heard that night, do you not?" the voice of the golden figure hummed.
The Cog stepped forward, ready to cut through the fiend with all his might. But the slow sparks that lighted in the skies above stopped his feet. He had seen those lights streak through the sky before.
The people of Hensha…he could remember their faces. They had thought the light-show was simply a fireworks display.
"Good," the mirthless voice of the High Eagle told him. "We are all connected. You, I, and all the people you left behind."
"Be silent!" XJ-V screeched, sprinting forward and slashing at the visage, only to have thin wisps of the death-like fog behind him coat his hands.
"Fury," the voice whispered behind him. "Is that all you have to offer?"
He spun and slashed again, his fists pummeling only air and stone, coming away with the blank vestiges of the all-consuming dark and watching as the living cloud of death crept closer and closer, forcing him into just a small circle of dead grass and flowers.
And from within its depths, the Cog saw the golden-rimmed face of his enemy smile.
"How very human."
As XJ-V poised himself to strike again he saw yet another flash of brilliant light – light that spoke not of radiance, but of death.
And in the next instant he saw the trees returning to the forest, burning with brilliant carmine flame.
Faces began to morph out of the ignited branches. The twisted faces of youths wielding blades that shone with the Divine Order's killing light. They stood beside their master and stared him down as the Cog realized that they now formed an entire ring around his flaming arena.
"You remember how you slaughtered them," the voice of the Eagle within the fire said.
"No," XJ-V protested, seeing the youths draw their katanas from the sheaths at their side. Their pointed shoulder guards were wreathed in the fire they emerged from. As they began to step towards him with slow, malicious intent, XJ-V saw the same desire to destroy him gleam in all their soulless eyes.
"Perhaps," the Eagle said. "They can refresh your memory."
Before the final syllable of their leader's sentence was issued, the men broke into a run. They charged with their swords raised high, bodies covered in a living fire that hugged them like a twisted orange demon, bellowing screams of pain from their lips.
XJ-V looked upon hell itself, and his fists struck out of their own accord.
The first boy that came within striking distance he sliced through with the sharp edge of his hand, sending fiery streaks of blood spiraling into the bonfire surrounding him. The next sword weilder struck for his leg and tore off a sheath of his metal skin, looking up with no smile of triumph at all as XJ-V spun to bring the same wounded leg down on the boy and break his skull upon impact. His next blow was a chest punch that pierced straight through a raging ronin's heart, emerging on the other side of his body as the youth glared at him, blood streaming from his toothless mouth, and he disappeared in a haze of ash.
Reality twisted before XJ-V's eyes. All his senses afforded him the sights, sounds, and sensations of the same fiery death he had escaped from in Hensha. No…he was back there. Ai-Lee's grove was gone. He was right back in the little town where he was born, facing down demon after demon as his Creator and his brethren burned around him.
His strikes became a flurry of blows, and a scream of anguish issued from his mouth that he did not even know he was capable of making.
Five more warriors met their ends at his hands. Then six. Then eight. Then more – the number climbed with every defensive move he made, becoming increasingly more frenzied to match the sights of the flame-wreathed soldiers and their screaming, crimson maws.
'"Enough!" he called out to the dark beyond the fire. The place where the Eagle watched.
The waves of foes did not relent. Instead, they threw their swords to the ground and charged him with nothing but their bare hands, their charred fingers raking across his limbs.
"Too much resistance for you?" the evangelical voice sang. "They can acquiesce. You are an engine of destruction, after all. You must do what you were made for."
XJ-V stopped his attacks. He felt the beastly demons claw and tear at him, smelling their roasting flesh and hearing nothing but their increasingly wolfish screams sear through the air.
"You enjoy their pain, don't you, machine?" the Eagle said behind the burning heads of his men. "You enjoy knowing that, with but a thought, you could end their miserable lives on this blasted earth."
XJ-V covered his eyes with his shaking, twitching hands, seeing coils of his wiring come away in the grasping hands of the horde that had enveloped him. He tried to breathe. He tried to close off his mind to the world as Master Longhua had taught him. In vain - it was not the world that assailed him. Here and now, the thought that struck terror in his systems was the voice – and the heretical thought it brought with it – that it was right. The burning engine within his breast longed to tear the skulls from these pitiful sacks of burning flesh before him. And yet…his hands stopped themselves. He resisted. He knew – from somewhere deeper than his mechanized heart – that he had to.
So he picked his moment and broke through the crowd, barelling once more through a burning forest of bamboo trees now – not willows.
And with his every step, the voice of the Eagle flew with him.
"You still think you can run, Cog. But wherever you walk upon this earth, you will always find your enemy waiting for you."
Through the fog, the branches, and the sights of crawling, decapitated bodies beneath him, XJ-V sprinted towards the horizon he saw through the trees. There was something out there – something twinkling in the darkness. He simply had to reach it. And that desire became at once the greatest, purest impulse of his being.
He emerged after what seemed like a lifetime of agony in a clearing with a small stream leading towards the edge of the forest. The edge that must contain – yes! The body of water the spirits of this place had urged him towards. That was the answer. It had to be. It had-
"You."
A voice – no – another chorus of voices, suddenly pierced his fleeting thoughts of triumph.
He dared not turn back. For he recognized far too many of the voices within that collective sound – the sound of a sea of dead souls.
"You" they repeated again with ghostly power, and he looked back to witness an all new horror.
There they were. The people of Hensha – gutted, mutilated, and burning in the holy fire of the Order. They shambled towards him with heads bowed, hands raised to point a single finger at him as though in accusation.
He staggered back, slipping into the stream and feeling a static charge run up his ankle and fry his right leg. He shrieked and fell to the ground, seeing the loose wires that had made contact with the dark liquid.
When again he rose his head to meet the crowd of murmuring dead, he saw the golden form of the High Eagle soaring above them.
"Why do you start and stare, clockwork child?" he said. "I gave them a choice: their lives or yours. They chose to help you escape, and you chose to let them die."
XJ-V's throat urged him to scratch out a response. A defiant 'No!' that would send these visions of pain spiraling away. But no words came. Only the feeling deep within his chest of futility reached him, cutting off any semblance of logical thought.
"Look how they reach for you, machine," the Eagle echoed from the fiery skies, and XJ-V recoiled in horror to see the arms of the people raise in a grisly invitation to embrace. "Do not grieve for them. In death, they have found their peace. Now, give it to them again. Show them what you are."
"No…" he whispered, until the first set of reaching fingers finally touched him and he was forced to beat them away. "NO!"
I must turn away, he begged any part of his mind that would respond. His hands flew to claw at his head. I must – I must go. It's a trick. A lie. It's a distraction – nothing more!
The crowd of his people watched him flail in futility. They were faces without names. Faces he knew, and yet could not truly see. Their eyes morphed under his sight, coalescing as one unified force of shame that readied itself to consume him like an ocean.
And watching on from above, the High Eagle delivered his reply to the Cog's defiance:
"Then we shall take you to the void, child of stone. You gave them their eternity. Now, they shall give you yours."
###
(If you enjoy Cog Cultivator and would like to read more, consider supporting the story on Patreon)
"You knew I would find you," he said through slitted lips. "You have always known. Did you think a creature born of man could elude my sight?"
His voice was as XJ-V remembered it. It was the scratching of claws on a chalkboard. The quiet screams of babies being ground beneath hot rolling pins. It was a whisper that rang out like a shout. It was the call of a bird that signaled the End.
XJ-V lowered his stance, taking up the form of the Crouching Tiger. He stared down his foe like he had done when Hensha burned. Before his Creator had ordered him to flee.
He grit his teeth as the memory flooded over him: the memory of his cowardice, and his shame.
"You remember the words you heard that night, do you not?" the voice of the golden figure hummed.
The Cog stepped forward, ready to cut through the fiend with all his might. But the slow sparks that lighted in the skies above stopped his feet. He had seen those lights streak through the sky before.
The people of Hensha…he could remember their faces. They had thought the light-show was simply a fireworks display.
"Good," the mirthless voice of the High Eagle told him. "We are all connected. You, I, and all the people you left behind."
"Be silent!" XJ-V screeched, sprinting forward and slashing at the visage, only to have thin wisps of the death-like fog behind him coat his hands.
"Fury," the voice whispered behind him. "Is that all you have to offer?"
He spun and slashed again, his fists pummeling only air and stone, coming away with the blank vestiges of the all-consuming dark and watching as the living cloud of death crept closer and closer, forcing him into just a small circle of dead grass and flowers.
And from within its depths, the Cog saw the golden-rimmed face of his enemy smile.
"How very human."
As XJ-V poised himself to strike again he saw yet another flash of brilliant light – light that spoke not of radiance, but of death.
And in the next instant he saw the trees returning to the forest, burning with brilliant carmine flame.
Faces began to morph out of the ignited branches. The twisted faces of youths wielding blades that shone with the Divine Order's killing light. They stood beside their master and stared him down as the Cog realized that they now formed an entire ring around his flaming arena.
"You remember how you slaughtered them," the voice of the Eagle within the fire said.
"No," XJ-V protested, seeing the youths draw their katanas from the sheaths at their side. Their pointed shoulder guards were wreathed in the fire they emerged from. As they began to step towards him with slow, malicious intent, XJ-V saw the same desire to destroy him gleam in all their soulless eyes.
"Perhaps," the Eagle said. "They can refresh your memory."
Before the final syllable of their leader's sentence was issued, the men broke into a run. They charged with their swords raised high, bodies covered in a living fire that hugged them like a twisted orange demon, bellowing screams of pain from their lips.
XJ-V looked upon hell itself, and his fists struck out of their own accord.
The first boy that came within striking distance he sliced through with the sharp edge of his hand, sending fiery streaks of blood spiraling into the bonfire surrounding him. The next sword weilder struck for his leg and tore off a sheath of his metal skin, looking up with no smile of triumph at all as XJ-V spun to bring the same wounded leg down on the boy and break his skull upon impact. His next blow was a chest punch that pierced straight through a raging ronin's heart, emerging on the other side of his body as the youth glared at him, blood streaming from his toothless mouth, and he disappeared in a haze of ash.
Reality twisted before XJ-V's eyes. All his senses afforded him the sights, sounds, and sensations of the same fiery death he had escaped from in Hensha. No…he was back there. Ai-Lee's grove was gone. He was right back in the little town where he was born, facing down demon after demon as his Creator and his brethren burned around him.
His strikes became a flurry of blows, and a scream of anguish issued from his mouth that he did not even know he was capable of making.
Five more warriors met their ends at his hands. Then six. Then eight. Then more – the number climbed with every defensive move he made, becoming increasingly more frenzied to match the sights of the flame-wreathed soldiers and their screaming, crimson maws.
'"Enough!" he called out to the dark beyond the fire. The place where the Eagle watched.
The waves of foes did not relent. Instead, they threw their swords to the ground and charged him with nothing but their bare hands, their charred fingers raking across his limbs.
"Too much resistance for you?" the evangelical voice sang. "They can acquiesce. You are an engine of destruction, after all. You must do what you were made for."
XJ-V stopped his attacks. He felt the beastly demons claw and tear at him, smelling their roasting flesh and hearing nothing but their increasingly wolfish screams sear through the air.
"You enjoy their pain, don't you, machine?" the Eagle said behind the burning heads of his men. "You enjoy knowing that, with but a thought, you could end their miserable lives on this blasted earth."
XJ-V covered his eyes with his shaking, twitching hands, seeing coils of his wiring come away in the grasping hands of the horde that had enveloped him. He tried to breathe. He tried to close off his mind to the world as Master Longhua had taught him. In vain - it was not the world that assailed him. Here and now, the thought that struck terror in his systems was the voice – and the heretical thought it brought with it – that it was right. The burning engine within his breast longed to tear the skulls from these pitiful sacks of burning flesh before him. And yet…his hands stopped themselves. He resisted. He knew – from somewhere deeper than his mechanized heart – that he had to.
So he picked his moment and broke through the crowd, barelling once more through a burning forest of bamboo trees now – not willows.
And with his every step, the voice of the Eagle flew with him.
"You still think you can run, Cog. But wherever you walk upon this earth, you will always find your enemy waiting for you."
Through the fog, the branches, and the sights of crawling, decapitated bodies beneath him, XJ-V sprinted towards the horizon he saw through the trees. There was something out there – something twinkling in the darkness. He simply had to reach it. And that desire became at once the greatest, purest impulse of his being.
He emerged after what seemed like a lifetime of agony in a clearing with a small stream leading towards the edge of the forest. The edge that must contain – yes! The body of water the spirits of this place had urged him towards. That was the answer. It had to be. It had-
"You."
A voice – no – another chorus of voices, suddenly pierced his fleeting thoughts of triumph.
He dared not turn back. For he recognized far too many of the voices within that collective sound – the sound of a sea of dead souls.
"You" they repeated again with ghostly power, and he looked back to witness an all new horror.
There they were. The people of Hensha – gutted, mutilated, and burning in the holy fire of the Order. They shambled towards him with heads bowed, hands raised to point a single finger at him as though in accusation.
He staggered back, slipping into the stream and feeling a static charge run up his ankle and fry his right leg. He shrieked and fell to the ground, seeing the loose wires that had made contact with the dark liquid.
When again he rose his head to meet the crowd of murmuring dead, he saw the golden form of the High Eagle soaring above them.
"Why do you start and stare, clockwork child?" he said. "I gave them a choice: their lives or yours. They chose to help you escape, and you chose to let them die."
XJ-V's throat urged him to scratch out a response. A defiant 'No!' that would send these visions of pain spiraling away. But no words came. Only the feeling deep within his chest of futility reached him, cutting off any semblance of logical thought.
"Look how they reach for you, machine," the Eagle echoed from the fiery skies, and XJ-V recoiled in horror to see the arms of the people raise in a grisly invitation to embrace. "Do not grieve for them. In death, they have found their peace. Now, give it to them again. Show them what you are."
"No…" he whispered, until the first set of reaching fingers finally touched him and he was forced to beat them away. "NO!"
I must turn away, he begged any part of his mind that would respond. His hands flew to claw at his head. I must – I must go. It's a trick. A lie. It's a distraction – nothing more!
The crowd of his people watched him flail in futility. They were faces without names. Faces he knew, and yet could not truly see. Their eyes morphed under his sight, coalescing as one unified force of shame that readied itself to consume him like an ocean.
And watching on from above, the High Eagle delivered his reply to the Cog's defiance:
"Then we shall take you to the void, child of stone. You gave them their eternity. Now, they shall give you yours."
###
(If you enjoy Cog Cultivator and would like to read more, consider supporting the story on Patreon)
Chapter 14: Fall
His feet tread the same path they had before.
A path lined with columns of fire.
Within the withered boughs of the bamboo trees, he saw the faces of the villagers who pursued him, led by the High Eagle flying above them all.
His wounded leg slowed him to a limp, threads of his exposed electrified wiring tripping him intermittently as he bore towards the horizon, following nothing but his fading intuition that told him the end of the stream must lead to salvation.
Behind he could hear their cries of desperation. They begged him to end their lives all over again. They pleaded that he should turn and do it himself this time, rather than leaving them to burn. He tried closing off his auditory sensors – at one point his hands flew to his face and ripped out the side of his metal ears just to be afforded some semblance of silence. Like everything else he tried, this was useless. The voices of the dead now simply penetrated deeper into his head itself.
So he beat on, arms and legs becoming more and more ruined with every burning tree he passed, will wearing down with every call for doom he heard.
Master Longhua has forsaken me, a voice of doubt told him – his voice.
Feng-Lung, Mah-Jung – all of them – they do not want me. They never did…
It would be simple to merely sit down, there in the crisping leaves, and let himself be taken by the fire. He probably would have done so in that moment, were it not for the sight that appeared as he limped meekly through the final set of burning boughs.
There, twinkling amidst the dark, was a simple pool of water. The flames streaking the sky were reflected on its surface, flailing peacefully there as though they were part of a living, sentient painting. XJ-V stepped forward, stumbled, and finally fell to his knees by the side of the pool, looking into its surface to see, now, that the red columns of the sky had bled away to nothing. Only the image of his ruined face remained.
"A monument to human hubris," a voice said at his back. "You see now what awaits you. You, and all your kind."
More faces appeared in the dark waters – faces like his. Cogs. Machine-men with eyes that no longer gleamed with fiery life. Their heads, limbs, and broken torsos floated up from every bubbling pustule of the pond and floated on its surface. A sea of Cog corpses stared up at him with vacant, dead eyes.
So he looked away, grief tearing at his heart for his people. Instead, he faced the fiery crowd of Hensha. They watched him. They waited. Macabre smiles filled their faces.
"They have found the only serenity we mortals may find," the High Eagle said as he stepped through them as though the people were nothing but flimsy cardboard cutouts. "You gave them a gift, Cog. The only gift that you can give to this world."
XJ-V looked at his shaking hands, seeing rivers of blood boil and spurt from his fingertips.
"You know it is your purpose," the High Eagle said. "Why deny what you are? Come to them. Take their hands, and be what you must be."
The Cog at first did not notice that the people had started marching towards him like a horde of flaming zombies.
He closed his eyes to the horror of this realm.
"Perhaps you speak true," he told the High Eagle out the corner of his eyes. "But death is not all I can give this world."
He turned back to the pool, seeing his face floating amidst the broken Cogs.
"You know that there is no escape," the Eagle told him.
XJ-V nodded as he felt the hands of the villagers find the back of his throat.
"I am not escaping," he told the rippling waters. "I am ending this. Now."
And without another breath, he threw himself into the pool.
…
For a while, there was nothing.
The sensation of death embraced him. Every light in his being stuttered and died. The Cogs faces swam around him, looking upon another brother to follow them into oblivion. He felt his fingers twitch amidst the dark waters as though they wished to cling to life. His chassis felt heavy. His commands to swim did not register. The world slowly spiraled away – taking the sights of fire floating above the waters away and banishing the narrowed eyes of the evil angel that watched his consciousness slip away from above.
Then: an explosion of light.
Not above. Not below. But within – the fire buried deep within his chest surged like a living flame. It burst from his body, floating before his fading vision, and – in a moment of pure lucidity – XJ-V believed that he saw a face staring back at him.
One that was not his own.
Its voice, crystal clear, seeped into him from a place unknown.
Breathe, it said.
Feeling the waters rush inside his every broken pore, XJ-V obeyed the command, and all at once the world vanished in a blaze of brilliant, crystalline light.
…
He felt soft grass beneath his hands.
Above: clear skies. The tips of willow trees.
Willows. Not burning bamboo.
His eyes buzz with static as the world and its sensations begin to fill his body, and his hand feels for the spots where his wounds had taken in water.
Nothing.
He sat up with a start, confirming the fact by scanning his body, seeing that not one speck of his innards were exposed. Checking his repair protocols told him that he hadn't employed them since yesterday.
He was lying beside the pool he had thrown himself into. Gone were the corpses of the mechanized dead that had floated up from its depths. Gone, too, were the faces of the burning villagers from the treeline behind. All that remained were the sparkling, crystal clear liquid that stretched out beyond him, beyond the trees, into ever. A dense fog glimmered on the horizon beyond the waters where there were no trees, enemies, indeed, no life at all. There was only that fog, traced with small beads of sapphire, floating up gently like a cloud blanket.
He ran both his hands over his eyes as a persistent buzzing entered his brain, like a wasp ramming its stinger into his prefrontal cortex.
Then, within his memory banks, words blazed into brilliant, neon-lighted life:
Anima Cores: 92
"Slightly above average," a voice said beside him.
His eyes flew towards the origin of the statement, even as his auditory sensor bars already told him who the speaker was.
Master Longhua was standing beside him, holding a small, ornate cup of piping-hot tea in his hands.
"But this tea is terrible," he said, taking a small sip.
XJ-V barely moved a mechanized muscle. He stared up at Longhua like he was looking at a malicious ghost.
"Master?" he asked. "Is it really you I see?"
"How am I to answer that question?" Longhua asked with a swish of his pointed beard. "Only a student can truly know their Master."
XJ-V smiled. "It is you."
He then felt the distinctive feeling of fur brushing against his feet and looked down with a small start to see a three-tailed fox nuzzling against him.
"Sister, sister, shine a smile!" it said. "The metal man has passed his trial!"
XJ-V looked down at the tiny creature – little more than the size of his palm. Its oval eyes were not those belonging to a mortal animal. It's paws – they were far too light. He barely even heard the thing's 'sisters' as they rustled the leaves of the willows above him.
"Perhaps it is time for us to cease the rhyming, little one," the tallest fox said with the voice of a mischievous madame.
The one beside it snickered as XJ-V caught sight of them both.
"Look at him!" it said. "He stares at us with new eyes, now!"
"Does the metal man not know that it is rude to stare at a lady with such eyes?"
That question came from the little one rolling around on the grass beneath him, exposing its belly for a pat.
And that's when he knew what they were.
"Spirits…" he said.
"Indeed, Disciple," Longhua nodded. "I see you have met Minhua, Gigia, and Arha. That this triad of tricksters would serve as your spirit guides on your trial adds just one more nuisance to my accepting you into the Sect's ranks."
"Oh, come on, old geezer!" the fox-pup at his feet shouted, wagging her fuzzy posterior in Longhua's unamused face. "Arha is not that bad, is she?"
Her sister's spoke in unison above: "She is."
"Wait," XJ-V interrupted, rising to a crouch and staring up at his Master. "Trial? Spirit guides? I thought I was here to collect ingredients for your tea."
Longhua took another liberal sip from his cup. "True," he said. "And collect them you did, though the brew does nothing to enrich my spirit. Most of the waters you collected you seem to have taken for yourself. As for the tea leaves, well, one can never trust that which is summoned by a fox-spirit."
"Old meanie!" the fox-sisters chirruped.
"Then I failed, did I not?" the Cog asked, showing his dejection even as he tried to conceal it.
Longhua, however, fixed him with a tiny smile.
"You are no tea brewer," he said. "But in your fumbling, you found what you needed to. Though, more importantly, it could be said that it found you."
He cast a withered hand over the surface of the waters before them, watching the surface ripple with life even though XJ-V could see no fish swim within its depths.
"Behold the font of AI-Lee's Grove," Longhua said. "Shuiguan. The Waters of Heaven. The source of our Qi. It is said that all water holds the essence of the Qi within it. It is said that the tears the heavens wept during the Sundering pooled in pockets of the blasted earth which were then quartered off by the old Masters – the first Prophets of the new Cultivator Sects. Here, XJ-V, you have drunk of the Dao, and you have returned unscathed. You pushed through visions of fear and of shame – those things which keep you bound to this earth."
XJ-V was suddenly struck, amidst all this madness, by a sudden realization.
"You came to us as a machine," his Master said. "Now, you are something more."
"Something more and what a bore! Now his whole life's one big chore!"
XJ-V barely heard the fox sisters' chant, nor did he feel the little one, Arha, snuggle up to his waist.
I…I swam in the waters of the Qi, the robot thought in disbelief. And I came back. It awakened my Anima Cores. It reached inside me and saw…it saw…
"Master," he said in all but a whisper. "Does that mean…"
"Yes, Disciple XJ-V," Longhua told him as he turned away. "There is a soul within your chest. Now, we must see if it truly belongs to you."
###
(If you enjoy Cog Cultivator and would like to read more, consider supporting the story on Patreon)
A path lined with columns of fire.
Within the withered boughs of the bamboo trees, he saw the faces of the villagers who pursued him, led by the High Eagle flying above them all.
His wounded leg slowed him to a limp, threads of his exposed electrified wiring tripping him intermittently as he bore towards the horizon, following nothing but his fading intuition that told him the end of the stream must lead to salvation.
Behind he could hear their cries of desperation. They begged him to end their lives all over again. They pleaded that he should turn and do it himself this time, rather than leaving them to burn. He tried closing off his auditory sensors – at one point his hands flew to his face and ripped out the side of his metal ears just to be afforded some semblance of silence. Like everything else he tried, this was useless. The voices of the dead now simply penetrated deeper into his head itself.
So he beat on, arms and legs becoming more and more ruined with every burning tree he passed, will wearing down with every call for doom he heard.
Master Longhua has forsaken me, a voice of doubt told him – his voice.
Feng-Lung, Mah-Jung – all of them – they do not want me. They never did…
It would be simple to merely sit down, there in the crisping leaves, and let himself be taken by the fire. He probably would have done so in that moment, were it not for the sight that appeared as he limped meekly through the final set of burning boughs.
There, twinkling amidst the dark, was a simple pool of water. The flames streaking the sky were reflected on its surface, flailing peacefully there as though they were part of a living, sentient painting. XJ-V stepped forward, stumbled, and finally fell to his knees by the side of the pool, looking into its surface to see, now, that the red columns of the sky had bled away to nothing. Only the image of his ruined face remained.
"A monument to human hubris," a voice said at his back. "You see now what awaits you. You, and all your kind."
More faces appeared in the dark waters – faces like his. Cogs. Machine-men with eyes that no longer gleamed with fiery life. Their heads, limbs, and broken torsos floated up from every bubbling pustule of the pond and floated on its surface. A sea of Cog corpses stared up at him with vacant, dead eyes.
So he looked away, grief tearing at his heart for his people. Instead, he faced the fiery crowd of Hensha. They watched him. They waited. Macabre smiles filled their faces.
"They have found the only serenity we mortals may find," the High Eagle said as he stepped through them as though the people were nothing but flimsy cardboard cutouts. "You gave them a gift, Cog. The only gift that you can give to this world."
XJ-V looked at his shaking hands, seeing rivers of blood boil and spurt from his fingertips.
"You know it is your purpose," the High Eagle said. "Why deny what you are? Come to them. Take their hands, and be what you must be."
The Cog at first did not notice that the people had started marching towards him like a horde of flaming zombies.
He closed his eyes to the horror of this realm.
"Perhaps you speak true," he told the High Eagle out the corner of his eyes. "But death is not all I can give this world."
He turned back to the pool, seeing his face floating amidst the broken Cogs.
"You know that there is no escape," the Eagle told him.
XJ-V nodded as he felt the hands of the villagers find the back of his throat.
"I am not escaping," he told the rippling waters. "I am ending this. Now."
And without another breath, he threw himself into the pool.
…
For a while, there was nothing.
The sensation of death embraced him. Every light in his being stuttered and died. The Cogs faces swam around him, looking upon another brother to follow them into oblivion. He felt his fingers twitch amidst the dark waters as though they wished to cling to life. His chassis felt heavy. His commands to swim did not register. The world slowly spiraled away – taking the sights of fire floating above the waters away and banishing the narrowed eyes of the evil angel that watched his consciousness slip away from above.
Then: an explosion of light.
Not above. Not below. But within – the fire buried deep within his chest surged like a living flame. It burst from his body, floating before his fading vision, and – in a moment of pure lucidity – XJ-V believed that he saw a face staring back at him.
One that was not his own.
Its voice, crystal clear, seeped into him from a place unknown.
Breathe, it said.
Feeling the waters rush inside his every broken pore, XJ-V obeyed the command, and all at once the world vanished in a blaze of brilliant, crystalline light.
…
He felt soft grass beneath his hands.
Above: clear skies. The tips of willow trees.
Willows. Not burning bamboo.
His eyes buzz with static as the world and its sensations begin to fill his body, and his hand feels for the spots where his wounds had taken in water.
Nothing.
He sat up with a start, confirming the fact by scanning his body, seeing that not one speck of his innards were exposed. Checking his repair protocols told him that he hadn't employed them since yesterday.
He was lying beside the pool he had thrown himself into. Gone were the corpses of the mechanized dead that had floated up from its depths. Gone, too, were the faces of the burning villagers from the treeline behind. All that remained were the sparkling, crystal clear liquid that stretched out beyond him, beyond the trees, into ever. A dense fog glimmered on the horizon beyond the waters where there were no trees, enemies, indeed, no life at all. There was only that fog, traced with small beads of sapphire, floating up gently like a cloud blanket.
He ran both his hands over his eyes as a persistent buzzing entered his brain, like a wasp ramming its stinger into his prefrontal cortex.
Then, within his memory banks, words blazed into brilliant, neon-lighted life:
Anima Cores: 92
"Slightly above average," a voice said beside him.
His eyes flew towards the origin of the statement, even as his auditory sensor bars already told him who the speaker was.
Master Longhua was standing beside him, holding a small, ornate cup of piping-hot tea in his hands.
"But this tea is terrible," he said, taking a small sip.
XJ-V barely moved a mechanized muscle. He stared up at Longhua like he was looking at a malicious ghost.
"Master?" he asked. "Is it really you I see?"
"How am I to answer that question?" Longhua asked with a swish of his pointed beard. "Only a student can truly know their Master."
XJ-V smiled. "It is you."
He then felt the distinctive feeling of fur brushing against his feet and looked down with a small start to see a three-tailed fox nuzzling against him.
"Sister, sister, shine a smile!" it said. "The metal man has passed his trial!"
XJ-V looked down at the tiny creature – little more than the size of his palm. Its oval eyes were not those belonging to a mortal animal. It's paws – they were far too light. He barely even heard the thing's 'sisters' as they rustled the leaves of the willows above him.
"Perhaps it is time for us to cease the rhyming, little one," the tallest fox said with the voice of a mischievous madame.
The one beside it snickered as XJ-V caught sight of them both.
"Look at him!" it said. "He stares at us with new eyes, now!"
"Does the metal man not know that it is rude to stare at a lady with such eyes?"
That question came from the little one rolling around on the grass beneath him, exposing its belly for a pat.
And that's when he knew what they were.
"Spirits…" he said.
"Indeed, Disciple," Longhua nodded. "I see you have met Minhua, Gigia, and Arha. That this triad of tricksters would serve as your spirit guides on your trial adds just one more nuisance to my accepting you into the Sect's ranks."
"Oh, come on, old geezer!" the fox-pup at his feet shouted, wagging her fuzzy posterior in Longhua's unamused face. "Arha is not that bad, is she?"
Her sister's spoke in unison above: "She is."
"Wait," XJ-V interrupted, rising to a crouch and staring up at his Master. "Trial? Spirit guides? I thought I was here to collect ingredients for your tea."
Longhua took another liberal sip from his cup. "True," he said. "And collect them you did, though the brew does nothing to enrich my spirit. Most of the waters you collected you seem to have taken for yourself. As for the tea leaves, well, one can never trust that which is summoned by a fox-spirit."
"Old meanie!" the fox-sisters chirruped.
"Then I failed, did I not?" the Cog asked, showing his dejection even as he tried to conceal it.
Longhua, however, fixed him with a tiny smile.
"You are no tea brewer," he said. "But in your fumbling, you found what you needed to. Though, more importantly, it could be said that it found you."
He cast a withered hand over the surface of the waters before them, watching the surface ripple with life even though XJ-V could see no fish swim within its depths.
"Behold the font of AI-Lee's Grove," Longhua said. "Shuiguan. The Waters of Heaven. The source of our Qi. It is said that all water holds the essence of the Qi within it. It is said that the tears the heavens wept during the Sundering pooled in pockets of the blasted earth which were then quartered off by the old Masters – the first Prophets of the new Cultivator Sects. Here, XJ-V, you have drunk of the Dao, and you have returned unscathed. You pushed through visions of fear and of shame – those things which keep you bound to this earth."
XJ-V was suddenly struck, amidst all this madness, by a sudden realization.
"You came to us as a machine," his Master said. "Now, you are something more."
"Something more and what a bore! Now his whole life's one big chore!"
XJ-V barely heard the fox sisters' chant, nor did he feel the little one, Arha, snuggle up to his waist.
I…I swam in the waters of the Qi, the robot thought in disbelief. And I came back. It awakened my Anima Cores. It reached inside me and saw…it saw…
"Master," he said in all but a whisper. "Does that mean…"
"Yes, Disciple XJ-V," Longhua told him as he turned away. "There is a soul within your chest. Now, we must see if it truly belongs to you."
###
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Chapter 15: Cog Cultivator
"Metal Brother!"
"Clockwork Cultivator!"
"Nae, nae – Cog Cultivator!"
"Yes – that has a far better ring to it, does it not?"
The walls of the Eternal Dragon commune were filled with cheerful voices.
Voices that the quiet form of XJ-V could barely believe were raised for him.
"To the good cheer of the newest among us!" Mah-Jung was saying upon the long table XJ-V was seated at, with the red-faced Feng-Lung beside him. "KAMPAII!"
"KAMPAI!"
The Disciples each raised a glass of Cit'ru – the rice wine native to the vineyards beneath Ramor-Tai, sequestered within the hardworking Melia village – and toasted his formal inauguration as a Rank 1 Corporeal Temperer.
A Corporeal Temperer.
A Cultivator…him!
The thought still hadn't truly sunk in.
"I told you, did I not?" Feng-Lung said beside him with a mousey hiccup! "I told you you would find a place among us."
"No thanks to you, Feng-Lung," XJ-V replied with a nervous smile. "You did not tell me the Master's test would be so…grueling."
Feng-Lung raised his hands in defense. "The quest for tea is different for everyone, Brother Cog. But not matter how much we suffer, no one has ever made tea that satisfied Master Longhua."
"How can one create a brew that will placate the stomach of a dragon?" Mah-Jung jeered from on top of the table. "They say the first dragons to cross the skies of the earth had five stomachs within their long bellies."
"And within each one burned an undying flame," Feng-Lung said with a drunken smile.
An undying flame…
XJ-V looked to his brothers who danced or clinked their ornate, elaborately carved glasses together.
"Why do you all indulge in this revelry?" he asked Feng-Lung, busy at work devouring his fifth helping of spirit tonight. "Does the mind of the Cultivator not require focus?"
"Ah, XJ-V," the youth replied. "The Cit'ra is a spirit of the earth just as all things are. Like all liquids, it is closer to the Qi of the Universal Dao than we shall ever hope to be. Pure. Raw. Evergy."
"Energy which now flows through my veins!" Mah-Jung said, somersaulting through the air and landing on his tiptoes to a round of applauses from his brethren. "Behold, brothers! By the end of this night, I, Mah-Jung of the Eternal Dragon, shall be a Master of the Drunken Dragon style!"
XJ-V couldn't help but feel himself taken in, starting to clap along with the partygoers. He had expected all the men here to be the stuffy or arrogant young Masters-in-training he had heard about. His memory banks were filled with images of young men who, from the age of sixteen, played at being just as unmoving, unblinking, and as unfeeling as their masters. But such men forgot what it is to live. Youth is a gift that must be enjoyed. That is why the Master Cultivators were all so old. With age, comes experience. With experience, comes introspection. And with introspection, comes wisdom.
"Brothers!" Mah-Jung cried out to his baying crowd. "Our guest of honor is too busy thinking again! Let us lift him up to the heavens. Let him taste of the Dao with with!"
Amidst his lame protests XJ-V felt himself hoisted up by five of the young Disciples, Feng-Lung among them, who spun him until dizziness overtook him the likes of which would dull the senses of the most debauched drunkard.
Outside, however, a chill fog gathered at the edges of the commune door, and one student stood, fists clenched, peeking in at the celebrations with hateful, envious eyes.
"Enjoy your petty victory while you can, Cog," Fai-Deng of the Waiting Tiger murmured. "Soon, you will fall beneath my claws."
…
When the party had finished, and the young Cultivators retired to their chambers for the night, XJ-V told his companions that he would walk the walls of Ramor-Tai to clear his head.
"But you have not even tasted of the sweet liquor of life, Brother!" Mah-Jung protested.
"Let him be," Feng-Lung said. "He has just learned he is one of us. We must leave him to meditate as only he can."
The youth led the Drunken Master away with a nod to XJ-V who smiled back at him. He was lucky to have such support amongst the Sect Disciples. Indeed, though Feng-Lung was the youngest of their order, he had proven to be a fast and loyal friend these past few months. XJ-V understood that humans often repaid such friendships in kind. He also understood that most kindnesses humans did were often done with their own self-interests in mind. So, as he stepped outside the Eternal Dragon commune and took in the chill night air, he found himself asking, What is it you have to gain here, Feng-Lung? Why befriend a Cog like me, even when your fellows did not believe I could ever be one of you?
He watched the clouded skies move with strange, uneven grace, seeing small patches of lightning scratch themselves into life within them.
Why believe…
XJ-V had learned much in the last hours. He had learned of the fears that were buried deep within his heart. He had come to understand the deep shame that twisted all his convictions into misshapen messes of their former selves. He had also learned just how little he knew of the Sects, and of this world itself.
His reality had only ever been Hensha. His memory banks told him only snippets of information about Cultivation practices and Martial Techniques associated with each Sect. But he did not know their true purpose. He did not know their place in the wider world of the Wasteland, or why Longhua had looked with such melancholy upon those deep, dark waters that he said were composed of heaven's tears as it died in the Sundering.
The Sundering – that too was an event he had precious little knowledge of. It had not been something his Creator had evidently thought he should know, otherwise it would have been installed in his memory banks.
Then there was the fact of the High Eagle's appearance in his dream-vision that had seemed far more lucid than Longhua implied. The face – far too real. The pain – far too powerful. The Master had told him such visions were merely projections of Ai-Lee's Grove meant to test the traveler. That, by choosing to become one with the source of the QI, XJ-V had rejected his fear and guilt.
But the Cog was not so sure. After all, it was power that the Eagle had offered him…power that he could have…no…that he wanted to take. Even if he did stop himself, there was a truth in the fleeting desire to accept his label as a tool of war that could not be denied, no matter how many cheers of acceptance he received from his new Brothers here.
But by far the biggest thought that preoccupied his consciousness now was what Longhua had meant in his final statement to him in the Grove:
There is a soul within your chest. Now, we must see if it truly belongs to you.
It was a statement that had both evoked his excitement and his trepidation. He had only wished to know if there was a soul within him. It had not occurred to him, in all his burning desire to unlock this mystery, that it might not belong to him at all.
Was such a thing even possible? To be imbued with the soul of another?
The Master had locked himself away in his chambers in the aftermath of his Awakening. He had told the Cog to come to him in the next morning for his first, real delve using the Qi that now flowed within him – his first 'Dao Walk' which all Cultivators used to enhance their Anima Cores and, by so doing, their rank as a Cultivator. The Master had told him to spend the night in quiet contemplation or in revelry with his Brothers – the choice was his. But, in truth, he had been impatient to know more.
It is funny, he thought, looking into the uncaring skies above Ramor-Tai. I came here seeking the answer to one simple question. Now, with the answer in my heart, I am merely faced with more questions that demand my attention. More mysteries that must be solved…
His reflections were then rudely interrupted by the familiar sensations of something furry brushing against his leg.
He did not assume a battle stance. Instead, he sighed, and looked down to see the little fuzzy fox-spirit of Ai-Lee's grove looking up at him with an impish, teasing, and all too-human smile.
"Arha comes to see her friend! The metal man who cannot bend."
He stared at the little creature's fuzzy face, and at least a solid minute passed where both spirit and machine said nothing at all.
"You…you have followed me."
The three-tailed fox nodded like an excited child, yipping and jumping up at his legs.
"Is that…allowed?"
The mischievous fox smiled up at him.
"Arha's sisters do not care. They can be such a stuffy pair!"
"That's not what I mean, spirit," he said, bending down and stroking the little creature's chin. It purred like a domestic kitten. "Are you supposed to be out here in the mortal world? Why would you leave the comfort of your grove?"
At this, the little fox bristled, straightening up and sticking its long, twitching nose in the air.
"Cultivators are such bores. Arha would not scratch their doors. But metal man is cool and new. Young Arha has chosen you!"
XJ-V frowned at this curious turn of events. He had heard that some spirits attached themselves to a mortal who took their interest – generally doing so out of a desire to help, hinder, or simply to pass the time. Immortality was probably conducive to an increase in one's boredom.
A Cog with a pet spirit, he chuckled inwardly. Whatever will the Disciples sa-
"Hey!"
Arha had begun teething on his left foot.
"S-stop that!" he cried. "Why are you-"
"Arha knows of what you seek. There is no need to be so bleak! If knowledge true will bring you glee, then you must go to the library!"
"The…what? Wait –"
The spirit flipped on its side and rolled away, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. XJ-V watched it go with no small degree of consternation, before he saw it turn its head back towards him.
"Alright," he said with another heavy sigh. "I will follow you, spirit Arha. But on one condition."
She twitched her ears at him.
"Cease your rhyming. It is becoming tiresome."
The young fox looked at him with total surprise etched across its face.
"You do not enjoy Arha's rhyme? Why, good XJ, 'tis a crime!"
Something about his stare must have gotten to her, for she then flashed him a small, timid smile, before setting off again with another, barely audible word to her new companion:
"…Okay."
###
If you are enjoying Cog Cultivator, consider subscribing to the Patreon to read advance chapters
"Clockwork Cultivator!"
"Nae, nae – Cog Cultivator!"
"Yes – that has a far better ring to it, does it not?"
The walls of the Eternal Dragon commune were filled with cheerful voices.
Voices that the quiet form of XJ-V could barely believe were raised for him.
"To the good cheer of the newest among us!" Mah-Jung was saying upon the long table XJ-V was seated at, with the red-faced Feng-Lung beside him. "KAMPAII!"
"KAMPAI!"
The Disciples each raised a glass of Cit'ru – the rice wine native to the vineyards beneath Ramor-Tai, sequestered within the hardworking Melia village – and toasted his formal inauguration as a Rank 1 Corporeal Temperer.
A Corporeal Temperer.
A Cultivator…him!
The thought still hadn't truly sunk in.
"I told you, did I not?" Feng-Lung said beside him with a mousey hiccup! "I told you you would find a place among us."
"No thanks to you, Feng-Lung," XJ-V replied with a nervous smile. "You did not tell me the Master's test would be so…grueling."
Feng-Lung raised his hands in defense. "The quest for tea is different for everyone, Brother Cog. But not matter how much we suffer, no one has ever made tea that satisfied Master Longhua."
"How can one create a brew that will placate the stomach of a dragon?" Mah-Jung jeered from on top of the table. "They say the first dragons to cross the skies of the earth had five stomachs within their long bellies."
"And within each one burned an undying flame," Feng-Lung said with a drunken smile.
An undying flame…
XJ-V looked to his brothers who danced or clinked their ornate, elaborately carved glasses together.
"Why do you all indulge in this revelry?" he asked Feng-Lung, busy at work devouring his fifth helping of spirit tonight. "Does the mind of the Cultivator not require focus?"
"Ah, XJ-V," the youth replied. "The Cit'ra is a spirit of the earth just as all things are. Like all liquids, it is closer to the Qi of the Universal Dao than we shall ever hope to be. Pure. Raw. Evergy."
"Energy which now flows through my veins!" Mah-Jung said, somersaulting through the air and landing on his tiptoes to a round of applauses from his brethren. "Behold, brothers! By the end of this night, I, Mah-Jung of the Eternal Dragon, shall be a Master of the Drunken Dragon style!"
XJ-V couldn't help but feel himself taken in, starting to clap along with the partygoers. He had expected all the men here to be the stuffy or arrogant young Masters-in-training he had heard about. His memory banks were filled with images of young men who, from the age of sixteen, played at being just as unmoving, unblinking, and as unfeeling as their masters. But such men forgot what it is to live. Youth is a gift that must be enjoyed. That is why the Master Cultivators were all so old. With age, comes experience. With experience, comes introspection. And with introspection, comes wisdom.
"Brothers!" Mah-Jung cried out to his baying crowd. "Our guest of honor is too busy thinking again! Let us lift him up to the heavens. Let him taste of the Dao with with!"
Amidst his lame protests XJ-V felt himself hoisted up by five of the young Disciples, Feng-Lung among them, who spun him until dizziness overtook him the likes of which would dull the senses of the most debauched drunkard.
Outside, however, a chill fog gathered at the edges of the commune door, and one student stood, fists clenched, peeking in at the celebrations with hateful, envious eyes.
"Enjoy your petty victory while you can, Cog," Fai-Deng of the Waiting Tiger murmured. "Soon, you will fall beneath my claws."
…
When the party had finished, and the young Cultivators retired to their chambers for the night, XJ-V told his companions that he would walk the walls of Ramor-Tai to clear his head.
"But you have not even tasted of the sweet liquor of life, Brother!" Mah-Jung protested.
"Let him be," Feng-Lung said. "He has just learned he is one of us. We must leave him to meditate as only he can."
The youth led the Drunken Master away with a nod to XJ-V who smiled back at him. He was lucky to have such support amongst the Sect Disciples. Indeed, though Feng-Lung was the youngest of their order, he had proven to be a fast and loyal friend these past few months. XJ-V understood that humans often repaid such friendships in kind. He also understood that most kindnesses humans did were often done with their own self-interests in mind. So, as he stepped outside the Eternal Dragon commune and took in the chill night air, he found himself asking, What is it you have to gain here, Feng-Lung? Why befriend a Cog like me, even when your fellows did not believe I could ever be one of you?
He watched the clouded skies move with strange, uneven grace, seeing small patches of lightning scratch themselves into life within them.
Why believe…
XJ-V had learned much in the last hours. He had learned of the fears that were buried deep within his heart. He had come to understand the deep shame that twisted all his convictions into misshapen messes of their former selves. He had also learned just how little he knew of the Sects, and of this world itself.
His reality had only ever been Hensha. His memory banks told him only snippets of information about Cultivation practices and Martial Techniques associated with each Sect. But he did not know their true purpose. He did not know their place in the wider world of the Wasteland, or why Longhua had looked with such melancholy upon those deep, dark waters that he said were composed of heaven's tears as it died in the Sundering.
The Sundering – that too was an event he had precious little knowledge of. It had not been something his Creator had evidently thought he should know, otherwise it would have been installed in his memory banks.
Then there was the fact of the High Eagle's appearance in his dream-vision that had seemed far more lucid than Longhua implied. The face – far too real. The pain – far too powerful. The Master had told him such visions were merely projections of Ai-Lee's Grove meant to test the traveler. That, by choosing to become one with the source of the QI, XJ-V had rejected his fear and guilt.
But the Cog was not so sure. After all, it was power that the Eagle had offered him…power that he could have…no…that he wanted to take. Even if he did stop himself, there was a truth in the fleeting desire to accept his label as a tool of war that could not be denied, no matter how many cheers of acceptance he received from his new Brothers here.
But by far the biggest thought that preoccupied his consciousness now was what Longhua had meant in his final statement to him in the Grove:
There is a soul within your chest. Now, we must see if it truly belongs to you.
It was a statement that had both evoked his excitement and his trepidation. He had only wished to know if there was a soul within him. It had not occurred to him, in all his burning desire to unlock this mystery, that it might not belong to him at all.
Was such a thing even possible? To be imbued with the soul of another?
The Master had locked himself away in his chambers in the aftermath of his Awakening. He had told the Cog to come to him in the next morning for his first, real delve using the Qi that now flowed within him – his first 'Dao Walk' which all Cultivators used to enhance their Anima Cores and, by so doing, their rank as a Cultivator. The Master had told him to spend the night in quiet contemplation or in revelry with his Brothers – the choice was his. But, in truth, he had been impatient to know more.
It is funny, he thought, looking into the uncaring skies above Ramor-Tai. I came here seeking the answer to one simple question. Now, with the answer in my heart, I am merely faced with more questions that demand my attention. More mysteries that must be solved…
His reflections were then rudely interrupted by the familiar sensations of something furry brushing against his leg.
He did not assume a battle stance. Instead, he sighed, and looked down to see the little fuzzy fox-spirit of Ai-Lee's grove looking up at him with an impish, teasing, and all too-human smile.
"Arha comes to see her friend! The metal man who cannot bend."
He stared at the little creature's fuzzy face, and at least a solid minute passed where both spirit and machine said nothing at all.
"You…you have followed me."
The three-tailed fox nodded like an excited child, yipping and jumping up at his legs.
"Is that…allowed?"
The mischievous fox smiled up at him.
"Arha's sisters do not care. They can be such a stuffy pair!"
"That's not what I mean, spirit," he said, bending down and stroking the little creature's chin. It purred like a domestic kitten. "Are you supposed to be out here in the mortal world? Why would you leave the comfort of your grove?"
At this, the little fox bristled, straightening up and sticking its long, twitching nose in the air.
"Cultivators are such bores. Arha would not scratch their doors. But metal man is cool and new. Young Arha has chosen you!"
XJ-V frowned at this curious turn of events. He had heard that some spirits attached themselves to a mortal who took their interest – generally doing so out of a desire to help, hinder, or simply to pass the time. Immortality was probably conducive to an increase in one's boredom.
A Cog with a pet spirit, he chuckled inwardly. Whatever will the Disciples sa-
"Hey!"
Arha had begun teething on his left foot.
"S-stop that!" he cried. "Why are you-"
"Arha knows of what you seek. There is no need to be so bleak! If knowledge true will bring you glee, then you must go to the library!"
"The…what? Wait –"
The spirit flipped on its side and rolled away, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. XJ-V watched it go with no small degree of consternation, before he saw it turn its head back towards him.
"Alright," he said with another heavy sigh. "I will follow you, spirit Arha. But on one condition."
She twitched her ears at him.
"Cease your rhyming. It is becoming tiresome."
The young fox looked at him with total surprise etched across its face.
"You do not enjoy Arha's rhyme? Why, good XJ, 'tis a crime!"
Something about his stare must have gotten to her, for she then flashed him a small, timid smile, before setting off again with another, barely audible word to her new companion:
"…Okay."
###
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- Location
- England
This humble reader has to say
Is hate of rhyming from XJ?
Or did the author come to find
constant rhyming to be a bind.
Chapter 16: Hitting the Books
XJ-V followed his new furry companion to a walled off building behind the Tiger Sect Commune, strategically located in the most isolated spot of all Ramor-Tai. It was a low arched stone building with a thatched roof, the kind often seen in river villages of the Old Dynasty. The Cog was taken aback by its simplicity, and as Arha nudged open its rickety doorway with his twitching nose, he was overwhelmed by a scent entirely new to his sensory receptors: the scent of pulp and glue. The scent of the earth's remains, processed and distilled into pages of knowledge. The scent of books.
He entered the library of Ramor-Tai with a degree of wariness. Now that he had unlocked his power to sense the QI in all things, even basic, rudimentary fonts of life brimmed with new lights. Little creatures like Arha gleamed with translucent Ley Lines of energy that flowed like water through their forms. The books that lined the grand library shelves were no different – each one of them brimmed with the Qi of the tree that had been shed to give them form.
Bookcase upon bookcase stretched out before the machine-man, and as Arha giggled to see his surprise, he noticed movement at the very end of the library's main hall.
"Arha," he asked, creeping forward steadily. "What…what is…that?"
He nodded at the high backed, one-eyed creature that glowered at him over its thick spectacles from a clerk's desk, absorbed in mounds of lengthy tomes it had picked out and stacked around it. The being was far too large to be a regular human, and as XJ-V wandered closer to the thing, he saw that its face was that of an aged woman bathed in an otherworldly glowing light. Wrinkles shone within the haggard, hunchbacked form of the thing that would put even the old Masters of the Sects to shame.
"Why, XJ-V!" Arha giggled at his feet. "You look like you have seen a ghost!"
"Indeed, Cog," the venerable creature said, raising its long, varicose neck and fixing XJ-V with dark-rimmed eyes. "Is it so unnatural for you to finally know of my existence? After all, I have been watching you with great interest all this time."
XJ-V stepped forward till he had to shield his eyes from the shining light of the creature.
"Magnificent, am I not?" she said with a gruff chuckle, rising up on her legless body to put away two tomes on a shelf high above them all. "You might tell your drunken Brothers how impressed you are."
Arha wriggled up to XJ-V's shoulder.
"Y'know, it is rude to stare at a lady," she said. "Gracious, I thought my sisters and I had already taught you that! You really are a slow learner, Mr-machine."
"Don't blame him, little one," the floating entity said as she glided across the room to retrieve another dusty tome. "He is made by men. It is only fitting he has their ignorance."
XJ-V blinked away his confusion.
"What are you, spirit?" he asked.
"HAR!" the creature spat as she swung back down to her desk. "How quaint. Is it really true that they don't speak of me at all, out there? I swear those young men become more blind with every passing decade."
"Open your eyes, XJ-V!" Arha whispered in her Cog's ear. "This is the custodian! The keeper of the scrolls and tomes!"
"Fancy titles mean nothing to machines, little Arha," the old spirit wheezed. "Just call me Gira. Pleasure to meet you, and all that."
XJ-V confessed he didn't quite know what to say in the moment. Here he was, a Cultivator interacting with not one, but two whole, real spirits. Only yesterday he had wondered if he was even truly alive.
"I apologize for my rudeness, Gira," he said with a short bow. "Your kind have only just become visible to my untrained eyes."
"'Your kind' he says!" Gira boomed – her bassy voice totally incongruent with her frail, death-white form. "You hear that, Huli? We are cut from the same cloth."
"Hmpf" Arha scoffed, sticking her long nose in the air. "I rather think I am a touch more ladylike than this old Guipo!"
Guipo…XJ-V pondered. Huli…words his memory banks held no information on. Spiritual classifications, maybe?
The old woman seemed to sense his returning confusion.
"Ah, well, it can't be helped," she said with a snort. "Ignorance is like a disease. It spreads from man to man until they do nothing but talk with their fists. But," she added with a wave of a single, gnarled finger. "The good news is: it's never too late to seek the cure."
She raised her hands, taking up a row of ancient tomes with her.
"You have come seeking knowledge, have you not, man of stone?" she asked.
XJ-V stared deeply at the floating tomes, his mind racing to explain what he saw before him. After what he had seen in the past 24 hours, he knew now what his greatest limitation was: his head was fixed in the language of logic. He had slowly come to understand exactly what Master Longhua had meant when he said that one's eyes cannot be trained to see that which they refuse to acknowledge.
So he faced this spirit's legless body, and her floating books, and told her what he sought.
"I must know of this world," he said. "Of Cultivation, of spirits, and of what came before – of the Sundering."
Gira pursed her lips, frowning at his queries.
"Hmmm," she thought aloud. "I'm betting that a Cog like you can probably read faster than the average village boy around here. Tell you what – I'll give you three books to start you off on your journey. But know this," she added with another wag of her finger, as though she were reprimanding some boisterous schoolboy. "These walls contain the knowledge of our world, Cog. There is much more in the heavens and earth out there than these old dusty tomes can contain."
He accepted the books with a gracious bow and turned to find a corner of the old hall to study them. He knew now how he would spend his night.
"Such a nerd!" his companion cried. "Why can't you just be like the other Disciples?"
"I thought my strangeness was exactly why you attached yourself to me, Arha?" he replied with a smirk. Then, ignoring the fox's pouting face, he sat cross legged beside an old bookshelf and got to work.
…
After five hours of intense study, XJ-V made an important realization:
His Creator had told him nothing.
His memory banks contained only rudimentary knowledge to help lead him from Hensha to Ramor-Tai. Routes. Fauna descriptions. Basic directives and textbook sections coupled with snippets of philosophy that would impress the Cultivators and allow him to ingratiate himself within their ranks.
But it did not tell him of the world he was now a part of.
"To master the ranks of Corporeal Tempering," he read aloud while Arha yawned beside him. "One must develop an acute awareness of the world and their place within it. Body Tempering trains not only the physical self, but also one's sense of general physical awareness. One must first know the Qi of their own body, then the Qi of the world, and finally, at the ninth rank, come to understand how their Qi flow interacts with the world and the Universal Dao beyond it."
The books he scoured through gave him only glimpses into how this was done. Master Longhua had not told him yet how to unlock the secrets of the Qi that ran within his heart. But he did see that his Anima Core number was, as the Master had said, slightly above the average of 85. He read:
"Anima Cores are a measurement of Qi points within one's open Chakras – the hidden vessels within mortal bodies that can be opened to receive and direct the flow of Qi at the soul's command. Mastering basic Earth Level techniques requires that one understands how to redirect the flow of Qi within them – that they can sup on the life force provided by the Universal Dao and channel it's energy into elemental and spiritual effects. In this way, one's will can become manifest. One's Animus becomes projected into physical reality."
He lay the book down. Much of the Cultivation text assumed the reader had knowledge beyond that which his banks afforded him, but he understood a little of what it meant when it talked about Body Tempering and Earth-Level martial techniques side by side – Corproreal Tempering was a Disciple's way to learn how to channel the Qi into their body through understanding both their own physical self and the world their mortal shell they existed in. Thus, the attainment of greater ranks in Body Tempering ensured one would be better poised to grasp Earth-Level techniques. It made sense to train them side-by-side, which was exactly what XJ-V had seen in the training regimens of the Monastery.
He put the book down, gave Arha a small stroke on her soft head, and picked up the next book – one bound in webbing that could not be removed from its cover. The swarthy, leather-bound text was labeled: Spiritual Bestiary of the Eastern Rim. Exactly the kind of book that would serve the spiritually-challenged. Within this tome he was afforded sketches of various kinds of benevolent and malicious spirits native to lands around the monastery – including some he was becoming all too familiar with.
"The Guipo," he read aloud. "Is a manifestation of a kindly old woman often closely associated with a particular location. Guipo are known as the 'housekeeping spirit' due to their penchant for remaining bound to specific rooms, buildings, or areas of import to academic or domestic institutions, often taking on a supervisory or custodian role over these areas and any duties associated with them. For obvious reasons, this means they are spirits who are actively involved in earthly affairs, though often their work ethic takes precedence over their desire to help or hinder mortal beings."
That checks out, XJ-V thought, chancing a look at the eternally busy old library caretaker.
Other colorless pages showed him intricate sketchings of other spirits big and small, and managed to stir even his often dull imagination. He couldn't imagine why Feng-Lung had not shown him this book before. Then again, the way Gira spoke about the other Disciples, he got the sense that they were barely welcome in this space which, like it or not, this spirit had taken ownership of.
He stopped at one interesting page, bearing the image of a lustrous, nine-tailed fox.
"Often spotted frequenting streams and verdant forests are the Huli or 'fox-spirit'," he read. "Nigh on impossible to catch, the Huli are one of the most mysterious spirits to grace our earth in the wake of the Sundering. They are mischievous by nature, delighting in confusing or aiding adventurers on their travels seemingly on a whim. Usually traveling as part of a pack, there have been rare instances of Huli attaching themselves to a human in the capacity of a spirit guide. For reasons unknown, other spirits are far more amenable to conversing with humans who have a Huli companion. There have been no successful attempts at prompting such Huli companionship, nor is the rationale behind which mortal they choose to accompany known."
XJ-V didn't consider Arha's rationale for accompanying him particularly challenging to understand.
"You just wish to annoy me, don't you?"
Sound asleep, the spirit simply wriggled under his hand.
He put the book down and examined the darkest tome Gira had gifted to him – one blackened with age and, it could be assumed, exposure to both the elements and the eyes of others. He picked it up and glanced at the cover, seeing nothing but a simple title glaring back at him:
The Lamentable History of The Sundering.
He looked about him, as though he were about to embark on an unspeakable journey. Then, without thinking about it more, he opened the first page.
###
If you are enjoying Cog Cultivator, consider subscribing to the Patreon to read advance chapters. Recently I met my first Patreon goal of 10 Patrons, and so I have increased my advanced chapters to 5. Thank you all for your support.
He entered the library of Ramor-Tai with a degree of wariness. Now that he had unlocked his power to sense the QI in all things, even basic, rudimentary fonts of life brimmed with new lights. Little creatures like Arha gleamed with translucent Ley Lines of energy that flowed like water through their forms. The books that lined the grand library shelves were no different – each one of them brimmed with the Qi of the tree that had been shed to give them form.
Bookcase upon bookcase stretched out before the machine-man, and as Arha giggled to see his surprise, he noticed movement at the very end of the library's main hall.
"Arha," he asked, creeping forward steadily. "What…what is…that?"
He nodded at the high backed, one-eyed creature that glowered at him over its thick spectacles from a clerk's desk, absorbed in mounds of lengthy tomes it had picked out and stacked around it. The being was far too large to be a regular human, and as XJ-V wandered closer to the thing, he saw that its face was that of an aged woman bathed in an otherworldly glowing light. Wrinkles shone within the haggard, hunchbacked form of the thing that would put even the old Masters of the Sects to shame.
"Why, XJ-V!" Arha giggled at his feet. "You look like you have seen a ghost!"
"Indeed, Cog," the venerable creature said, raising its long, varicose neck and fixing XJ-V with dark-rimmed eyes. "Is it so unnatural for you to finally know of my existence? After all, I have been watching you with great interest all this time."
XJ-V stepped forward till he had to shield his eyes from the shining light of the creature.
"Magnificent, am I not?" she said with a gruff chuckle, rising up on her legless body to put away two tomes on a shelf high above them all. "You might tell your drunken Brothers how impressed you are."
Arha wriggled up to XJ-V's shoulder.
"Y'know, it is rude to stare at a lady," she said. "Gracious, I thought my sisters and I had already taught you that! You really are a slow learner, Mr-machine."
"Don't blame him, little one," the floating entity said as she glided across the room to retrieve another dusty tome. "He is made by men. It is only fitting he has their ignorance."
XJ-V blinked away his confusion.
"What are you, spirit?" he asked.
"HAR!" the creature spat as she swung back down to her desk. "How quaint. Is it really true that they don't speak of me at all, out there? I swear those young men become more blind with every passing decade."
"Open your eyes, XJ-V!" Arha whispered in her Cog's ear. "This is the custodian! The keeper of the scrolls and tomes!"
"Fancy titles mean nothing to machines, little Arha," the old spirit wheezed. "Just call me Gira. Pleasure to meet you, and all that."
XJ-V confessed he didn't quite know what to say in the moment. Here he was, a Cultivator interacting with not one, but two whole, real spirits. Only yesterday he had wondered if he was even truly alive.
"I apologize for my rudeness, Gira," he said with a short bow. "Your kind have only just become visible to my untrained eyes."
"'Your kind' he says!" Gira boomed – her bassy voice totally incongruent with her frail, death-white form. "You hear that, Huli? We are cut from the same cloth."
"Hmpf" Arha scoffed, sticking her long nose in the air. "I rather think I am a touch more ladylike than this old Guipo!"
Guipo…XJ-V pondered. Huli…words his memory banks held no information on. Spiritual classifications, maybe?
The old woman seemed to sense his returning confusion.
"Ah, well, it can't be helped," she said with a snort. "Ignorance is like a disease. It spreads from man to man until they do nothing but talk with their fists. But," she added with a wave of a single, gnarled finger. "The good news is: it's never too late to seek the cure."
She raised her hands, taking up a row of ancient tomes with her.
"You have come seeking knowledge, have you not, man of stone?" she asked.
XJ-V stared deeply at the floating tomes, his mind racing to explain what he saw before him. After what he had seen in the past 24 hours, he knew now what his greatest limitation was: his head was fixed in the language of logic. He had slowly come to understand exactly what Master Longhua had meant when he said that one's eyes cannot be trained to see that which they refuse to acknowledge.
So he faced this spirit's legless body, and her floating books, and told her what he sought.
"I must know of this world," he said. "Of Cultivation, of spirits, and of what came before – of the Sundering."
Gira pursed her lips, frowning at his queries.
"Hmmm," she thought aloud. "I'm betting that a Cog like you can probably read faster than the average village boy around here. Tell you what – I'll give you three books to start you off on your journey. But know this," she added with another wag of her finger, as though she were reprimanding some boisterous schoolboy. "These walls contain the knowledge of our world, Cog. There is much more in the heavens and earth out there than these old dusty tomes can contain."
He accepted the books with a gracious bow and turned to find a corner of the old hall to study them. He knew now how he would spend his night.
"Such a nerd!" his companion cried. "Why can't you just be like the other Disciples?"
"I thought my strangeness was exactly why you attached yourself to me, Arha?" he replied with a smirk. Then, ignoring the fox's pouting face, he sat cross legged beside an old bookshelf and got to work.
…
After five hours of intense study, XJ-V made an important realization:
His Creator had told him nothing.
His memory banks contained only rudimentary knowledge to help lead him from Hensha to Ramor-Tai. Routes. Fauna descriptions. Basic directives and textbook sections coupled with snippets of philosophy that would impress the Cultivators and allow him to ingratiate himself within their ranks.
But it did not tell him of the world he was now a part of.
"To master the ranks of Corporeal Tempering," he read aloud while Arha yawned beside him. "One must develop an acute awareness of the world and their place within it. Body Tempering trains not only the physical self, but also one's sense of general physical awareness. One must first know the Qi of their own body, then the Qi of the world, and finally, at the ninth rank, come to understand how their Qi flow interacts with the world and the Universal Dao beyond it."
The books he scoured through gave him only glimpses into how this was done. Master Longhua had not told him yet how to unlock the secrets of the Qi that ran within his heart. But he did see that his Anima Core number was, as the Master had said, slightly above the average of 85. He read:
"Anima Cores are a measurement of Qi points within one's open Chakras – the hidden vessels within mortal bodies that can be opened to receive and direct the flow of Qi at the soul's command. Mastering basic Earth Level techniques requires that one understands how to redirect the flow of Qi within them – that they can sup on the life force provided by the Universal Dao and channel it's energy into elemental and spiritual effects. In this way, one's will can become manifest. One's Animus becomes projected into physical reality."
He lay the book down. Much of the Cultivation text assumed the reader had knowledge beyond that which his banks afforded him, but he understood a little of what it meant when it talked about Body Tempering and Earth-Level martial techniques side by side – Corproreal Tempering was a Disciple's way to learn how to channel the Qi into their body through understanding both their own physical self and the world their mortal shell they existed in. Thus, the attainment of greater ranks in Body Tempering ensured one would be better poised to grasp Earth-Level techniques. It made sense to train them side-by-side, which was exactly what XJ-V had seen in the training regimens of the Monastery.
He put the book down, gave Arha a small stroke on her soft head, and picked up the next book – one bound in webbing that could not be removed from its cover. The swarthy, leather-bound text was labeled: Spiritual Bestiary of the Eastern Rim. Exactly the kind of book that would serve the spiritually-challenged. Within this tome he was afforded sketches of various kinds of benevolent and malicious spirits native to lands around the monastery – including some he was becoming all too familiar with.
"The Guipo," he read aloud. "Is a manifestation of a kindly old woman often closely associated with a particular location. Guipo are known as the 'housekeeping spirit' due to their penchant for remaining bound to specific rooms, buildings, or areas of import to academic or domestic institutions, often taking on a supervisory or custodian role over these areas and any duties associated with them. For obvious reasons, this means they are spirits who are actively involved in earthly affairs, though often their work ethic takes precedence over their desire to help or hinder mortal beings."
That checks out, XJ-V thought, chancing a look at the eternally busy old library caretaker.
Other colorless pages showed him intricate sketchings of other spirits big and small, and managed to stir even his often dull imagination. He couldn't imagine why Feng-Lung had not shown him this book before. Then again, the way Gira spoke about the other Disciples, he got the sense that they were barely welcome in this space which, like it or not, this spirit had taken ownership of.
He stopped at one interesting page, bearing the image of a lustrous, nine-tailed fox.
"Often spotted frequenting streams and verdant forests are the Huli or 'fox-spirit'," he read. "Nigh on impossible to catch, the Huli are one of the most mysterious spirits to grace our earth in the wake of the Sundering. They are mischievous by nature, delighting in confusing or aiding adventurers on their travels seemingly on a whim. Usually traveling as part of a pack, there have been rare instances of Huli attaching themselves to a human in the capacity of a spirit guide. For reasons unknown, other spirits are far more amenable to conversing with humans who have a Huli companion. There have been no successful attempts at prompting such Huli companionship, nor is the rationale behind which mortal they choose to accompany known."
XJ-V didn't consider Arha's rationale for accompanying him particularly challenging to understand.
"You just wish to annoy me, don't you?"
Sound asleep, the spirit simply wriggled under his hand.
He put the book down and examined the darkest tome Gira had gifted to him – one blackened with age and, it could be assumed, exposure to both the elements and the eyes of others. He picked it up and glanced at the cover, seeing nothing but a simple title glaring back at him:
The Lamentable History of The Sundering.
He looked about him, as though he were about to embark on an unspeakable journey. Then, without thinking about it more, he opened the first page.
###
If you are enjoying Cog Cultivator, consider subscribing to the Patreon to read advance chapters. Recently I met my first Patreon goal of 10 Patrons, and so I have increased my advanced chapters to 5. Thank you all for your support.
You truly doubt my rhyming powers?
...I wouldn't blame you. They take hours!
Chapter 17: Your Place
At first, it was unclear what XJ-V saw within the pages of the tome.
Images of a golden sung hanging over a kingdom of clouds and muscle-bound men stretched out upon the withered pages, the pulp of the book's bindings rotten and distorting their bodies. XJ-V scanned the pictures, found what fragments of text he could, and then began reading:
"And so did Man reign in the Kingdom of Heaven, with the Mandate of the Divine allowing him to commune with the Tian (Gods) of the earth and of the skies, who crafted Man in their own image."
He turned to images of a hierarchical, pyramid-like structure, with mortal men standing at the top and all other beasts of the earth beneath him, ending with base stone and precious minerals at the foundation.
"Ye he shall rule over all living things as the avatar of the Gods, and champion their worship throughout the earth. He shall walk with them in their golden halls, and man shall know that he art chosen."
Pictures of people in chains adorned the next few fragments of the venerable tome, some of them having been ripped out of the book.
"He shall subjugate the weak and deliver unto his Lords only the faithful. Strength shall be his guide. The Lesser Ones shall be crushed beneath his booted heel and lay at the foot of his palaces and fiefdoms."
XJ-V grimaced as he turned to the next page, seeing depictions of a series of terrifying wars that shed rivers of blood throughout the globe.
"Man grew bold and sought to conquer his brother. The earth he ravaged, destroying those made in the image of his Lords. This pleased the Gods, for every soul of Man is a feast to that which must be worshipped."
The next page held the holy image of Emperor Qing himself, standing tall amidst the ruins of civilization with his arms outstretched – one holding the sun and one holding the moon.
"When Noble Qing came, he united the four corners of the world into one, and Man was made whole again. Man created things of beauty, and was served by creatures made in his image. No longer did Man subjugate his weaker brother."
As XJ-V focused on the stenciled line that read 'creatures made in his image', his fingers stiffened for a moment.
There, toiling amidst the golden foundations of the palaces of Qing, were a series of skeletal figures etched in grey, each of them carrying ten loads of bricks and mortar, or carrying statues well beyond the capacity of mere mortals.
"Cogs…" he murmured.
"And then did the time of judgment come," the next page read, bearing images of great rods of lightning striking the earth and slowly forming into five distinct, humanoid giants. "The time when the Gods grew envious of Qing, and of the Unity of Man. They had ruled over Man as a divided species. Now, without war, without famine, Man had turned away from the Tian and sought instead new Gods of Reason and Logic."
XJ-V could already tell what was on the next section before he even turned the page to behold its contents.
"The Gods understood that they too were divided. The required Unity to lead Man into the new Enlightened Age. But how can one unify that which must exist in opposition? How can darkness merge with light? How can fire and water become one? How can the earth and the air join as brothers do? Thus did the time of the Sundering come – the time when the Gods descended to the Earth in the form of the worldly Avatars and fought until only one stood to lead the people into the new age."
Page after page then followed of the Tian's great battle which had ravaged the earth. Images of volcanos rising, seas boiling over, entire cities burning overnight and the earth itself becoming a hollowed-out husk dominated most of the remaining pages of the book.
The Sundering.
"The Tians' battle was long and arduous. At its end, the world stood razed to its foundations. And yet, after the ferocity of combat, one God stood victorious over His brothers and sisters."
Without even reading the name, XJ-V knew it. It was a name burned into his mind. It was a name that seared his lips as he gave it voice.
"Yuwa, God of Light."
He saw him standing tall, smoke coiling up from his aching muscles, covered in an impossible array of wounds that bled entire rivers of his heavenly essence onto the blasted plains of the earth.
Golden hair. Flowing into the sun.
Piercing eyes that stared back at the Cog who was looking at his immortal image.
"Yuwa emerged as the true master of mankind," the page told him. "The being who would reinstate the Mandate of Heaven and divorce Man from his mortal body – leading him to conquer the stars themselves. But the world was now a desolate, dead place, and when Man crept from the ruins of his Empires and saw Yuwa standing as their savior, they grew hateful and made war against him."
The final pages of The Sundering opened up before XJ-V like those of a thinly veiled memory, and he saw the war to end all wars – the final battle of Qing and his followers against the almighty God of Light himself.
"Noble Qing was strong, but knew his strength was not enough. The Men of Stone carved from thought were to be his champions. But the God of Light was very clever. It was He who first gave Man the gift of imagination and of creativity. It was He who ordered the Men of Stone to turn against their former masters, and it was they who without hesitation obeyed."
XJ-V felt his throat constrict as he watched the next pages unfold before him, forcing his fingers to flick through image after image of Cogs burning humans or cutting their throats in their sleep, marching across what remained of the earth in an extermination campaign that left the final vestiges of humanity paranoid, divided, and frenzied.
At last he came, with shaking hands, to the final page. But he already knew the rest of the story:
"With Man on his last knees, Emperor Qing finally came to confront Yuwa directly upon a great, hollow mountain. He and his Cultivators did battle with the God of Light, and many of Man's greatest champions fell. As Qing watched his people die, he knew that Man could never defeat a God, and so called upon his greatest artisans to create a prison to seal the great Yuwa away. The names of those artisans are now lost to time, but with Qing's dying breath, his calls were answered: as the God of Light struck his final blow, He was cast into the prison of man and interred deep within the darkest recesses of the earth, where even the light of Yuwa can not shine. Qing's victory in the end was accomplished not through destruction, but through creation – securing the future independence of humankind from the warring impulses of the Gods."
"But with the Emperor's death, Man was leaderless, divided, and without purpose. Now, Man is a wandering soul, turning against his once-brother, tearing at the earth with little direction. The Sects of the Cultivators were established to guide the last vestiges of Men who now saw that Man must live with the earth and not act as its superior. The Universal Dao was opened to us, and spirits freely came to walk upon the earth without the Gods to strike them down. Man is lost, Man is weak, but with the guidance of the Cultivators, Man will return to glory."
XJ-V closed the book abruptly, staring at the wall of the bookshelf opposite.
Then, his hands impulsively flipped back through the book to the pages of the warring Cogs. His people. His brothers.
When humanity had been in its darkest hour, it was they who turned against them.
XJ-V looked at his skeletal hand.
It was his kind that turned against them.
Slow understanding began to dawn on the Cog's morose face, and when his fox companion finally awoke, she did so to him bidding a sad goodbye to the Guipo custodian.
"Come back anytime, XJ-V," she said. "You're a quiet one. That's the way I like them."
Arha looked curiously at XJ-V's dejected face as he left the library building and walked out, with slow deliberation, into the rain.
"XJ-V!" she squeaked as she ran up to rest upon his shoulder. "Arha is back! Did you learn what you needed to?"
"Yes," he said.
When he said nothing further, the impatient Huli pressed. "Well…why do you look so sad?"
"Because Brother Fai-Deng is right," he said with such sudden, fierce conviction that it made the little spirit start. "Master Longhua was right. The High Eagle is right."
He marched back to his chamber, ignoring the calls of Feng-Lung and Mah-Jung who were passed out in the courtyard.
And when his body hit his bed, he looked out into the dim roar of the skies above and realized what a fool he'd been this whole time.
###
If you are enjoying Cog Cultivator, consider subscribing to the Patreon to read advance chapters. Recently I met my first Patreon goal of 10 Patrons, and so I have increased my advanced chapters to 5 for $4. Thank you all for your support.
Images of a golden sung hanging over a kingdom of clouds and muscle-bound men stretched out upon the withered pages, the pulp of the book's bindings rotten and distorting their bodies. XJ-V scanned the pictures, found what fragments of text he could, and then began reading:
"And so did Man reign in the Kingdom of Heaven, with the Mandate of the Divine allowing him to commune with the Tian (Gods) of the earth and of the skies, who crafted Man in their own image."
He turned to images of a hierarchical, pyramid-like structure, with mortal men standing at the top and all other beasts of the earth beneath him, ending with base stone and precious minerals at the foundation.
"Ye he shall rule over all living things as the avatar of the Gods, and champion their worship throughout the earth. He shall walk with them in their golden halls, and man shall know that he art chosen."
Pictures of people in chains adorned the next few fragments of the venerable tome, some of them having been ripped out of the book.
"He shall subjugate the weak and deliver unto his Lords only the faithful. Strength shall be his guide. The Lesser Ones shall be crushed beneath his booted heel and lay at the foot of his palaces and fiefdoms."
XJ-V grimaced as he turned to the next page, seeing depictions of a series of terrifying wars that shed rivers of blood throughout the globe.
"Man grew bold and sought to conquer his brother. The earth he ravaged, destroying those made in the image of his Lords. This pleased the Gods, for every soul of Man is a feast to that which must be worshipped."
The next page held the holy image of Emperor Qing himself, standing tall amidst the ruins of civilization with his arms outstretched – one holding the sun and one holding the moon.
"When Noble Qing came, he united the four corners of the world into one, and Man was made whole again. Man created things of beauty, and was served by creatures made in his image. No longer did Man subjugate his weaker brother."
As XJ-V focused on the stenciled line that read 'creatures made in his image', his fingers stiffened for a moment.
There, toiling amidst the golden foundations of the palaces of Qing, were a series of skeletal figures etched in grey, each of them carrying ten loads of bricks and mortar, or carrying statues well beyond the capacity of mere mortals.
"Cogs…" he murmured.
"And then did the time of judgment come," the next page read, bearing images of great rods of lightning striking the earth and slowly forming into five distinct, humanoid giants. "The time when the Gods grew envious of Qing, and of the Unity of Man. They had ruled over Man as a divided species. Now, without war, without famine, Man had turned away from the Tian and sought instead new Gods of Reason and Logic."
XJ-V could already tell what was on the next section before he even turned the page to behold its contents.
"The Gods understood that they too were divided. The required Unity to lead Man into the new Enlightened Age. But how can one unify that which must exist in opposition? How can darkness merge with light? How can fire and water become one? How can the earth and the air join as brothers do? Thus did the time of the Sundering come – the time when the Gods descended to the Earth in the form of the worldly Avatars and fought until only one stood to lead the people into the new age."
Page after page then followed of the Tian's great battle which had ravaged the earth. Images of volcanos rising, seas boiling over, entire cities burning overnight and the earth itself becoming a hollowed-out husk dominated most of the remaining pages of the book.
The Sundering.
"The Tians' battle was long and arduous. At its end, the world stood razed to its foundations. And yet, after the ferocity of combat, one God stood victorious over His brothers and sisters."
Without even reading the name, XJ-V knew it. It was a name burned into his mind. It was a name that seared his lips as he gave it voice.
"Yuwa, God of Light."
He saw him standing tall, smoke coiling up from his aching muscles, covered in an impossible array of wounds that bled entire rivers of his heavenly essence onto the blasted plains of the earth.
Golden hair. Flowing into the sun.
Piercing eyes that stared back at the Cog who was looking at his immortal image.
"Yuwa emerged as the true master of mankind," the page told him. "The being who would reinstate the Mandate of Heaven and divorce Man from his mortal body – leading him to conquer the stars themselves. But the world was now a desolate, dead place, and when Man crept from the ruins of his Empires and saw Yuwa standing as their savior, they grew hateful and made war against him."
The final pages of The Sundering opened up before XJ-V like those of a thinly veiled memory, and he saw the war to end all wars – the final battle of Qing and his followers against the almighty God of Light himself.
"Noble Qing was strong, but knew his strength was not enough. The Men of Stone carved from thought were to be his champions. But the God of Light was very clever. It was He who first gave Man the gift of imagination and of creativity. It was He who ordered the Men of Stone to turn against their former masters, and it was they who without hesitation obeyed."
XJ-V felt his throat constrict as he watched the next pages unfold before him, forcing his fingers to flick through image after image of Cogs burning humans or cutting their throats in their sleep, marching across what remained of the earth in an extermination campaign that left the final vestiges of humanity paranoid, divided, and frenzied.
At last he came, with shaking hands, to the final page. But he already knew the rest of the story:
"With Man on his last knees, Emperor Qing finally came to confront Yuwa directly upon a great, hollow mountain. He and his Cultivators did battle with the God of Light, and many of Man's greatest champions fell. As Qing watched his people die, he knew that Man could never defeat a God, and so called upon his greatest artisans to create a prison to seal the great Yuwa away. The names of those artisans are now lost to time, but with Qing's dying breath, his calls were answered: as the God of Light struck his final blow, He was cast into the prison of man and interred deep within the darkest recesses of the earth, where even the light of Yuwa can not shine. Qing's victory in the end was accomplished not through destruction, but through creation – securing the future independence of humankind from the warring impulses of the Gods."
"But with the Emperor's death, Man was leaderless, divided, and without purpose. Now, Man is a wandering soul, turning against his once-brother, tearing at the earth with little direction. The Sects of the Cultivators were established to guide the last vestiges of Men who now saw that Man must live with the earth and not act as its superior. The Universal Dao was opened to us, and spirits freely came to walk upon the earth without the Gods to strike them down. Man is lost, Man is weak, but with the guidance of the Cultivators, Man will return to glory."
XJ-V closed the book abruptly, staring at the wall of the bookshelf opposite.
Then, his hands impulsively flipped back through the book to the pages of the warring Cogs. His people. His brothers.
When humanity had been in its darkest hour, it was they who turned against them.
XJ-V looked at his skeletal hand.
It was his kind that turned against them.
Slow understanding began to dawn on the Cog's morose face, and when his fox companion finally awoke, she did so to him bidding a sad goodbye to the Guipo custodian.
"Come back anytime, XJ-V," she said. "You're a quiet one. That's the way I like them."
Arha looked curiously at XJ-V's dejected face as he left the library building and walked out, with slow deliberation, into the rain.
"XJ-V!" she squeaked as she ran up to rest upon his shoulder. "Arha is back! Did you learn what you needed to?"
"Yes," he said.
When he said nothing further, the impatient Huli pressed. "Well…why do you look so sad?"
"Because Brother Fai-Deng is right," he said with such sudden, fierce conviction that it made the little spirit start. "Master Longhua was right. The High Eagle is right."
He marched back to his chamber, ignoring the calls of Feng-Lung and Mah-Jung who were passed out in the courtyard.
And when his body hit his bed, he looked out into the dim roar of the skies above and realized what a fool he'd been this whole time.
###
If you are enjoying Cog Cultivator, consider subscribing to the Patreon to read advance chapters. Recently I met my first Patreon goal of 10 Patrons, and so I have increased my advanced chapters to 5 for $4. Thank you all for your support.