What an Immortal Dreams of in Spring

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Under the Emperor of Jade, the world has learned Wushu. By harnessing the power and focus of Wushu, one might become one with the world; immortal. The immortals grant energy to the land, releasing the Qi gathered by the living to rejuvenate the world and allow life to flow. Mortals till the land and soil, cultivating this Qi into their bodies in pursuit of enlightenment, yet most will fall short of the goal and be slain. A never ending cycle; perhaps even called the circle of life.

However, when immortality is already achieved, what is there to dream of in the spring time? How does one walk the world when you have eternity to look forward to?
1. Quiet Town Yi Li

BlackHadou

Bunny-Sensei
To attain true mastery over oneself and the world, it becomes necessary to train the body and the soul. When they reach perfect harmony, only then does the world bend to one's will.
- Unknown Master

It was Spring. The birds should have been chirping, and men should have been merry with wine after a good harvest. It should have been a time of peace, and of the coming years. Unfortunately, the Year of the Dragon had come, and none of these things were the case. The streets were silent and caked with dust, as the entire town gathered before the central square, the great circular dojo found within, and the seven men dressed in black suits, headed by an elderly man in a traditional robe, face and hands wrinkled and his hair and beard as white as snow. His eyes hid behind a pair of sunglasses, as he stood, loose and his hands behind his back.

Where his gaze went, breaths stopped. The weight of his murderous intent caused lesser mortals to confront their own mortality. It was, perhaps, a miracle that no one had died as of yet. A vicious cycle of near misses that perpetuated additional staring from the master, as he scrutinised the stock before him.

The sky was entirely too bright for this day of reckoning, where the must of mortals was put on display. There was a sombre acknowledgement that of the villages young, very few would survive. The rest would be sacrifices to the stream of life, ensuring the prosperity of the village and the surrounding land.

"Master and Immortal, Zhou Seifong, in attendance." One of the suited men declared, stepping forward and doing a short curtsy, his right fist smashing into his left palm. "The village of Yi Li has been appraised. The village must offer seven qili in appeasement of the old ones. Gathered from the capital are…" The man swallowed briefly. "Seven qili worth of fighters. If you wish to preserve you people, then rise up and prove victorious!"

There were very few murmurs and even fewer who dared move. The suited man glanced to the master for but a moment, but the master did not move.

No one did.

"Am I given to believe then, that the village of Yi Li will not contest and will offer sacrifice?" The suited man continued. "Very well, offer your fi-"

"I will fight!" The first volunteer was big, a strongman who worked the fields. His arms resembled thick branches as he strode forward, pulling his torso free of his tunic and letting the garb hang around his waist. A brave first combatant, but almost certainly going to die, too.

The first never survived. He was, in every sense of the word, a sacrifice.

"Wufei." The master spoke one, swift work. The suited man at the very end nodded, striding forth and striping away his suit jacket, revealing a business shirt beneath. That really was all it was to these men. Business.

Wufei was somewhat young, dark locks spilling past his neck in a absently tied ponytail. The sunglasses came off, revealing a pair of green eyes, as he dropped them and crushed them underfoot. His hands slowly spun into position, fingers curling into the claws of a tiger as he lowered his central weight.

"What is your name?" Wufei's voice was soft. Very soft. The man grit his teeth, each mighty, thick leg lifting into the air and slamming into the ground.

"Mifeng! Your match, student of the Jade City!" The time had come for the customary smack talk, yet Wufei's lips just pursed.

"I will ensure you receive an appropriate grave, Mifeng." His answer was curt, dismissive. He clearly didn't believe the man before him could put up a fight in the slightest.

Wufei's chest expanded, and contracted. Mifeng's arms twitched as he settled into a closed defence, his hands held high near his head. Neither warrior moved at all, sizing the other up. The battle began only in the mind, where wills and killing intent waged war.

"Kyuuuuuuh!" Then Mifeng moved. For a man easily past six foot, and as large as he was, he was surprisingly limber, charging the odd ten meter distance in seconds like a bullet from a gun. Wufei did not move at all. Watching. Waiting. The freight train of muscle came hurtling forward. Mifeng's fist came down, and his right shoulder took the lead.

Wufei's left forearm shot out, as if guiding water, and directed the shoulder to the side. Claw-like hands found flesh, puncturing in and out of the larger man's side, tearing chunks of viscera and gore free. In the span of three seconds, Mifeng had gone soaring past his actual target, howling in pain as he tumbled and tried to right himself.

Still, Wufei did not move, his hands spinning just once as he corrected his footwork and stance, his gaze falling on Mifeng alone. Gasps of terror and shock rang through the crowd. Several went to move. To assist, and-

"Move and your life is forfeit." Wufei's voice cracked out. "Do not dishonour his sacrifice."

"S-sacrifice? I've seen through you boy! You can't take a hit!" Mifeng declared, slowly swaying in, not unlike a boxer, his arms held high. Wufei did not rise to the declaration.

The first punch flew. Wufei's clawed hands batted it to the side, tearing flesh free. A second punch came. Wufei slipped past it, ignoring the graze of his cheek.

A third punch, this one a hook. Wufei's arm shot out, and a scream of agony chorused through the streets, matched only by the wet snap of bone.

There was little suffering. Wufei went to work immediately, stepping in deep. His hands turned into a swift blur, smashing and pelting against flesh and bone, cracking through the armour of the body and shredding the internals of the left lung. One, two, three, the punches turned rapidly into a meaningless number, before the young man finished with an elbow to the temple.

Mifeng crumpled to the ground dead.

"The first sacrifice has fallen! Observe the scales!" The first suited man spoke up, calling over the quiet crowd. Another of the men in suits revealed a set of scales, one side fitted with seven coins, the other, drawing in what looked like wisps of blue. The seven coins were, in comparison, unbelievably heavy.

"The weight of your sacrificed Qi is insufficient! Send forth your next fighter!" There were murmurs in the crowd. Many murmurs. After all, either another sacrifice stepped forward, or the kung fu masters would start murdering indiscriminately. There was no doubt in anyone's minds that Wufei absolutely could commit mass murder.

"I will!"

"I will fight!"

"Bring it on!"

The sacrifices did not wait. They did not discriminate. There was very little order to it all. It didn't matter the number or the size. Wufei was ready. He murdered them all, blood and gore and viscera spreading over the dirt, caking the ground and everyone's feet. A vicious medley of dozens dying, slowly balancing the scales.

But the scales didn't need to balance. They needed to be in the villages favour.

Twenty dead. A bloody mound of corpses. Wufei let out a long breath, his left leg sweeping back into position as his hands slowly lowered into his stance, fingers clawed and ready to strike. Around him, blue qi had welled to reveal the beast within his body, the great white tiger that howled behind him.

"Another sacrifice." He declared. "Next."

No one stepped forward. There was almost no one to step forward. The young of the village, the able, were almost obliterated. This was the sad conclusion of the majority of villages on the countryside. One day, quite soon, when the energy of the land was revitalised by the spilt blood, people from other villages would move in, and life would move on.

No. That wasn't today.

One last challenger stepped forward.

One last sacrifice.

You are…
[ ] Male
[ ] Female

Your name is…
[ ] Write in.

You are…
[ ] One who studies the birds absently as you work the farms.
[ ] A painter inspired by the kirin that visit every so often.
[ ] Lanky, stocky and long, and nothing quite feels right. So you fish.
[ ] Short, lean, and buried in expectations. So you observe the wolves.
 
[X] Plan: The Art of Conflict
-[X] Male
-[X] Sun Shu
-[X] A painter inspired by the kirin that visit every so often.

We shall paint the grand sights and visages, and warning images of the ass-kickings delivered on those foolish enough to take us on!
 
[X] Plan: A Drifting Cloud
-[X] Female
-[X] Yi Qianyun
-[X] One who studies the birds absently as you work the farms.
 
[X] Plan: Still Waters
-[X] Female
-[X] Chen Min
-[X] Lanky, stocky and long, and nothing quite feels right. So you fish.
 
[X] Plan: A Drifting Cloud
 
[X] Plan: The Art of Conflict
-[X] Male
-[X] Sun Shu
-[X] A painter inspired by the kirin that visit every so often.

We shall paint the grand sights and visages, and warning images of the ass-kickings delivered on those foolish enough to take us on!
Sir. Sir. You are a painter.

[X] Plan: A Drifting Cloud
-[X] Female
-[X] Yi Qianyun
-[X] One who studies the birds absently as you work the farms.
So Yim Wing Chun?
 
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