Fragile Vessel
30
The Hounds of Justice were known as the elite guard of the Ministry of Law and Justice, but Hu Wen had not expected them to be actual dogs. As surprises went, that was high up on the list. None of Hu Wen’s acquaintances who claimed they had had run-ins with the hounds ever mentioned it.
Bunch of no-good lying bastards, he thought with affectionate rancor.
The hounds were not merely armed with teeth and claws, but also actual weapons. All four of them had metal batons about ten inches in length, and while they did not seem to be able to infuse their weapons with qi, they nonetheless could deflect attacks with ease.
The largest one rushed towards Hu Yuan, two of them headed for Hu Wen, and the lean one sprinted towards Leng Xiang. Hu Yuan’s sword flashed bright blue but Hu Yuan was forced back by the sheer force of the hound.
Trusting his brother to handle himself, Hu Wen focused on the two fighting him. He ducked away from one hound’s bite but his steel claw was caught in the powerful jaws and kicked the second one in the ribs, sending it sprawling. The one who clamped his teeth around the handle of the steel claw ripped it out of Hu Wen’s hands, but Hu Wen landed a heavy fist under his armpit and then disarmed it, just in time to use the hound’s baton and his own steel claw to deflect a vicious swipe from the second hound.
He staggered back at the ringing impact. At least his qi absorbed most of the hit, and the hound was forced back several paces too. The pointed ears flicked irritably, as if the hound was annoyed by the metallic clash, and then he charged again. Hu Wen went low and rolled, sweeping his claw across the hound’s shins and ripping through a thick leather boot.
As he got to his feet, Hu Wen spied his weapon near the front wheel of the car. Ducking another swing of the baton, he took a step towards his steel claw and jerked his leg back before the first hound could slam his weapon into his knee. On reflex, Hu Wen swept his steel claw downwards, feeling the tips pierce the hound’s back armor and into flesh, yanking the weapon out of Hu Wen’s grip. The hound howled and swung his baton, landing a hit on the inside of Hu Wen’s shin. The impact stung like a jolt of fire, momentarily numbing his foot.
He sensed the second hound behind him and instantly dropped to one knee, barely avoiding sweeping claws, and took the chance to grab the hound by his ankle. Immediately, he shoved from the outside of the hound’s knee with all his qi-infused strength to break the limb. The hound screamed.
Hu Wen channeled his qi into the tips of his fingers. The steel weapons he designed were merely to extend his reach; Hu Wen's true prowess lay in his mastery of the Tiger Claw technique. He snapped his hand out under the hound’s jaw and gripped his throat. Before the hound could react, Hu Wen crushed his neck.
The first hound was panting, his tongue lolling out. Blood stained the ground. Hu Wen’s steel claw was still dug into the hound’s back, out of his reach.
Hu Wen’s upper lip curled. “No matter what you wear, you're still just another dog. Come now, and I'll beat you like one.”
On and on he pressed his foe, ducking jabs and swings of the baton in the hound’s right hand and the swipes of his left. The hound was visibly tiring and the injury was serious enough to impede its movements. Hu Wen whirled around and then slammed his hand into the hound’s midsection. With a roar, he forced qi into the point of contact, tearing a massive hole through the hound’s abdomen. The hound fell face down onto the ground.
Kicking the dead hound onto his front, Hu Wen retrieved his weapon and then strolled over to the car to get his other.
Looking up, he saw his brother Hu Yuan glowing with thick bands of light blue qi as he battled the biggest hound. Hu Wen snorted inwardly. His older brother still believed in fair fights, as if the hound was going to let them go if Hu Yuan bested him. His right hand still dripping in gore, Hu Wen watched for a break so that he could help Hu Yuan, but there was no gap for him to intervene.
Then again, Hu Yuan did not appear to need help. He danced under a baton, struck the outside of the attacker’s elbow with the pommel of Soaring Frost, and slashed the blade diagonally down from shoulder to hip. The hound yelped and stumbled to his knees, clutching his side. To Hu Wen’s scornful amusement, his older brother finished the job with a heel kick to the side of the hound’s head, knocking him out.
Hu Wen was too far to see if his brother had cut the hound deep enough. Hopefully he had, or that hound might be a problem. Then a movement overhead caught his attention.
Leng Xiang swooped over the brothers and landed clumsily. She was panting and her brow was damp with sweat.
The final hound charged at her just as she straightened. His arm dangling uselessly by his side and he was limping. Leng Xiang’s length of fabric crackled with violet light but the end of the cloth was in tatters.
“I can’t kill him,” she called out, twisting out of reach and taking to the skies again, her wings visibly straining.
Hu Wen noticed the faint golden threads still entangled about the wings. Cursed things; his fearful old man had insisted on her wings being sealed, against Hu Wen and his mother’s wishes. Leng Xiang had agreed to it though, and the procedure was done by three qi masters.
‘I can’t kill him.’ She’s still keeping her vow not to take life. Hu Wen scowled and ran forward, catching the hound by the back of his neck. Another burst of qi severed his spinal cord. Hu Wen let the body drop unceremoniously.
“Let’s get out of here before more hounds come our way,” said Hu Yuan. “Xiang, are you hurt?”
“Don’t talk to my wife,” Hu Wen interrupted curtly, and wiped his bloody hand on his thigh. “Come on. We should be able to get out through one of the side gates. Curse that Lady Zhao; old women really are the most troublesome.”
*
The Emperor sent for Situ Mengjian after the morning court session, and ordered the imperial physicians to take off the cast.
Perched on one arm of the Emperor’s throne was a strange man dressed in apricot-colored robes and his hair bound in a bun atop his head. There was a tadpole-shaped birthmark on his cheek. When he saw Situ Mengjian, he beamed and waved at him, as if they were friends. Situ Mengjian, unsure if he ought to return the gesture, merely held his hand up in a meek manner.
“You are overly familiar, Nanguazi,” the Emperor chided, but there was no real censure in his tone. Given where the stranger was seated, he must be close to the Emperor.
The man called Nanguazi shrugged and hid his hands in over-large sleeves. “The boy is cute.”
“He is cute, indeed, our Dreamseer,” said the Emperor languidly. Even through the beaded veil of his crown, Situ Mengjian could see the proprietary smile on the Emperor’s face. “But more than that: he has a kind heart and a knowledge of etiquette, both which you sorely lack.”
“Maa, I have all the hearts I need,” Nanguazi said in an airy tone, as if he were not speaking to the most powerful being in the kingdom who could order his execution at any moment. “And why would I need etiquette with your Majesty? I know you’re too fond of me to get rid of me.”
The team of four imperial physicians looked over Situ Mengjian’s leg and pronounced him fully recovered before exiting, heads bowed. None of them looked up at Nanguazi nor the Emperor. Situ Mengjian wondered where Nanguazi was placed in the hierarchy of the court. His uncle had never mentioned anyone being allowed to be that familiar with the Emperor, not even the Empress.
Unsure of the level of formality needed, Situ Mengjian gingerly lowered his right foot to the ground. After so many days of immobility, the sensation of putting weight on his right leg was disorienting. He wobbled slightly but managed to straighten, before he dropped to his knees and bent at the waist, touching his forehead to the cool marble floor. “Forgive this lowly one the delayed courtesy. Ten thousand years to the Most Beneficent Emperor!”
“You may rise.”
Nanguazi skipped down the nine steps from the throne down to Situ Mengjian and extended a hand. “Here. Try to stand.”
“Thank you,” said Situ Mengjian. “...Lord Nanguazi?”
“Ha! Just the name will do. I’m no lord.” Nanguazi’s hand was much cooler than Situ Mengjian expected. He supported Situ Mengjian with hardly any effort. Close to, Nanguazi appeared older than his breezy attitude suggested, but there was a decidedly mischievous cast to his gaze.
The Emperor motioned for them to approach the throne. “Sit beside me, Mengjian.”
“I’m not sure he can walk up the steps yet,” Nanguazi remarked.
Embarrassed, Situ Mengjian made a valiant effort, but on the fourth step he stumbled and would have planted his face on the step if Nanguazi had not caught him around the waist. Even though they had similar builds, Nanguazi handled Situ Mengjian like he weighed nothing.
Once he had righted the younger man, Nanguazi grinned and winked at him. “Let me help.”
Before Situ Mengjian could utter a syllable, Nanguazi swept him into his arms and, in the blink of an eye, deposited him onto the throne next to the Emperor.
“There you go,” said Nanguazi, stepping back and clapping his hands twice. “Well, now, you do look very good there.”
The Emperor chuckled. “You’re a menace, Nanguazi. Go seek out Yixiao. He’d be interested in your news.”
“And leave this defenseless little rabbit here in your Majesty’s clutches?” Nanguazi folded his arms, putting on a stern expression.
“Be off with you. You will be summoned tomorrow after the first hour.” The Emperor laughed again. Situ Mengjian was not certain if the Emperor was truly amused, but since Nanguazi merely skipped blithely out of the hall without actual reprimand, he supposed that the eccentric man was one of the Emperor’s favorites.
Seated this close to him, Situ Mengjian could smell the Emperor’s elegant perfume and see the curl of his eyelashes over his golden eyes. His heart started beating faster.
“Now, I asked you to be here because I have some things to discuss with you,” said the Emperor, drawing Situ Mengjian’s attention to the present moment, “and it would be easier to show you what I meant.” Then, apparently to thin air, the Emperor called out, “Drop the screens and show the route we’ll be taking.”
A massive white fabric screen spanning nearly the entire width of the hall slid silently down from the ceiling, and a light shone on it, with lines and words depicting the different cities in the empire. Situ Mengjian was agape with wonder. With a languid wave of the Emperor’s right hand, the picture changed, just one area on the map growing larger and crowding out everything else.
“Is that the imperial city?” Situ Mengjian squeaked and pointed, too excited to be quiet. “How is this possible?”
“The Imperial Court has its wonders.” The Emperor placed a hand between Situ Mengjian’s thin shoulders, and the warmth of that hand seeped through the Dreamseer’s shirt. “We’ll be departing from here soon, and that place in the southeast, marked in red, is where we’re headed. Our route is marked in blue. Take a look at the cities and towns along the route and tell me if there are any you’d want to visit. We can go to perhaps four or five, or if the river is swift, six.”
Situ Mengjian nibbled on a knuckle as he considered the options. There were easily over two dozen along the route, and he would love nothing more than to explore all of them. Nonetheless, this was not a pleasure trip for him - it would be far too extravagant of the Emperor to organize all of this just for Situ Mengjian - and he did not want to seem spoiled.
“I’ll have to think about it, your Majesty,” he ventured at last. “I’ll have to read a little about the different options before choosing.”
“Hmm. We don’t have a lot of time, however,” said the Emperor. “In that case, we will travel as we have always done, and you will have your chance to look around the cities that are used to hosting the imperial barge; in the future, when time allows, we shall travel incognito, with just Nanguazi or Yixiao with us. Would you like that?” He patted Situ Mengjian’s knee.
That would be heaven. Situ Mengjian nodded. Then, shyly, he asked, “Will Master Huang be able to join us on this voyage?”
The Emperor tilted his head, the bead pearls shifting with a soft, dull sound. “You wish for him to be there?”
“I… I have grown friendly with him,” Situ Mengjian confessed. For some reason, his cheeks and the back of his neck felt warm. “And as the archivist of the Dreamseer, he should be present to record my experiences, should he not?”
The Emperor hummed, as if in contemplation. “He should. He will join us once we’re on the water.” Then, almost casually, the Emperor added, “You ought to be careful of what you say in our presence. While we consider ourselves generous, we also do not enjoy sharing what is ours.”
*
Du Kuang felt the inhuman curiosity of the Gatekeeper pressing upon him even before he was fully awake.
"It's rude to stare," he said, his words slurring together. Then he sat up and stretched, flexing his feet to test if he was fully recovered from the fight the other night. Old woman or ancient beast, the Gatekeeper packed a heavy punch.
"You should be grateful I let you sleep that long," the Gatekeeper retorted. "You think I let any baldie sleep on my Jade Bed?"
Instead of responding, Du Kuang stood and straightened, channeling his twin qi from his core outwards to his limbs, and then cycling them through his entire body. The qi he learned from Master Bai was strong and steady, and more intense than last night; the qi he possessed from before had, however, weakened.
A part of him was alarmed, but it was a very small part of him. Mostly he was relieved. That qi had caused him to nearly lose his mind once. If this Jade Bed was able to draw that poisonous influence out of him…
He turned in the direction of the Gatekeeper, making sure to keep his sightless gaze directed at the level of an actual human's face and not at the level he kept perceiving the Gatekeeper's actual eyes were. "Is it possible for-"
"No."
"You don't even know what I was going to ask."
The Gatekeeper snorted rudely and set down something on a hard surface. "Breakfast," she replied. "Chair is three steps forward, four steps to your left. No utensils needed - all I have are buns stuffed with mushrooms. I've no tea, either. You'll have to make do with spring water."
As the blind man made his way across the room to the stone furniture, the Gatekeeper added, "And I know what you were asking. You're hoping the Jade Bed will draw that corrupting blood-based qi out of you."
Du Kuang did not know what he looked like, but his expression must have conveyed something profound to her.
"It won’t." She did not elaborate.
He couldn’t help his little sigh of disappointment. Twenty years now since he stopped cultivating qi the way his master taught him, but it had not abated in its power. This morning was the first time it had felt weak.
“Gatekeeper?”
“What do you want?”
“Why did you insist on me staying behind?”
“Because I’m bored and you fight well,” she said, chewing noisily.
“No, really.”
“Because I’m really bored, and you fight well enough to be a distraction.” She continued eating, and he did so too. The buns were chewy and the stuffing savory, if a little over-stewed for his taste.
Suddenly, the Gatekeeper spoke up. “Boy, you know you’re dying, right?”
It was something he had known for the past two decades, but hearing it said aloud by a virtual stranger was still startling. He managed to smile. “Yes. Master Bai Yunxian explained my… condition when she found me.”
The Gatekeeper hummed. “I’ve heard of this Bai wench but haven’t met her. Someday, perhaps.”
She hacked and spat. “However did you end up with that cursed qi anyway?”
Du Kuang smiled thinly. “My teacher taught it to me.”
Eighteen years the man had instructed Du Kuang in the cultivation of blood-based qi, which grew the power of his qi exponentially faster than traditional cultivation methods, because blood was always flowing, but not once did his teacher mention that practitioners of the method had all died from madness sooner or later. If Du Kuang had not blinded himself, he would have gone insane years ago.
“Wow, what a bastard.” She chewed some more before asking, “Where’s this teacher now? That Bai girl took care of him?”
“He’s dead,” Du Kuang answered serenely. “I killed him.”
Blood spray on snow. The color remained bright red for hours, even as night had fallen. It had been so cold.
And her slender hand in his, colder than snow, colder than ice.
The Gatekeeper cackled approvingly. “If he taught you that shit, then it’s good that he’s dead. You done eating, kid? Let’s get back to sparring. I’m waiting for you to land a proper blow.”
Du Kuang cycled his qi through his body, then nodded. “Yes, I’m ready. Thank you for your help, Gatekeeper.”
“I ain’t helping you,” she retorted instantly. “I ain’t no softie like that dead old monk. So much trouble just because he wouldn’t kill someone who deserved it.”
“Oh? Who was that someone?”
“Never you mind.”
“Gatekeeper, please tell me.” Du Kuang put on what Jiang Hong had told him was his most charming smile.
The ancient being pretending to be an old woman sighed heavily. “I’ve seen plenty of pretty faces and sweet smiles when I was younger, boy.”
Du Kuang tilted his head. “Have you told any of them about it?”
“No.”
“Let’s have a wager,” he said brightly. “If I last more than an hour against you, you’ll tell me about the dead monk and who he should have killed.”
The Gatekeeper snorted. “You’re on.”
