The stairs stretch down far further than Gao Mu can see. The center of the stones is filthy, dirt trailed in by countless feet standing in stark contrast to the rather pristine stonework surrounding it. A warm gust of air wafts out of the tunnel’s depths like a hot breath. Mu shivers. She can’t help but feel like she’s about to walk into the maw of some great beast. Her anxiety is mildly tempered by the swooshing noises behind her and completely squashed by the sound of a loud crash and breaking wood.
“Tch.”
For some reason she feels like she should ignore the noises. She considers it briefly before taking a glance back. Immediately she regrets her decision. Half leaning over the back of her chair while simultaneously managing to keep her legs on the footstool is the glorious Song Suwan. She pulls on a rope while muttering curses under her breath, a motion of her hand making the thing crack like a whip in her attempts to dislodge it. Following the rope with her eyes Mu notices the other end is knotted into a lasso and currently tied around one of the legs of a table. Judging by its current position the table was stacked upside down and sat in the corner atop another table prior to being caught by Suwan and pulled off. Now however it sits diagonally, the bottom stuck in the floor after the fall broke through a floorboard and the top still resting on the other table.
The earcuff atop one of Suwan’s ears lights up in short bursts and the blonde’s eye twitches as it does. Other than the grandmaster only An can faintly sense the laughter of a sentient doll being transmitted into the cuff through qi.
Mu loses just a little bit of respect for her master when the blonde lets out a quiet cheer upon managing to free the table. Watching the piece of furniture scrape over the ground her eyes widen. How could she have doubted her Master like this? Just a moment ago she was riddled with anxiety and now she feels light again. Looking to her left and right she can see Yating and An are both notably less stressed as well. Nodding her head as if to say ‘As expected of Master Song!’ she turns on her heel and skips down the stairs.
The other two promptly follow behind her. The moment they do Suwan stands up and chuckles, wondering what Mu’s mind cooked up this time. With a shrug she gets to work and walks from one entrance to the next. One by one they are melted shut, even the escape tunnel several kilometers away that Twelve mockingly pointed out the moment she thought she was done. And then the other six in several more directions, each further than the last and each one pointed out just a bit more smugly than the one before.
Even so it takes her less than ten minutes to seal all entrances other than the one the rest of her group ventured into. Without further ado she rushes down the long stairway, her spiritual sense allowing her to perceive everything her disciples are doing without them being any the wiser as to her presence. She takes another swig from her gourd, with some luck she won't even need to intervene. After all, she has no intention of doing so unless one of her disciples would die otherwise.
-----
Yating is going to die. That thought races through her mind as she pulls her halberd back and watches her opponent flop down lifelessly. Not only do the robed fanatics rush at them the moment they spot them without any regard for their lives, no, the further in they go the more frequently they seem to encounter foes. Perhaps if she could fight to her strengths she wouldn’t be nearly as worried but sadly that’s not an option. The tunnels are far too small to freely swing her halberd forcing her to rely on short slashes or stabs, a fighting style both she and the weapon are ill-suited too. Add in the fact that she is desperately restraining her cultivation lest she catches Mu and An in her scent arts, the realization she hasn’t seriously fought anyone for nearly a decade and her qi fluctuations forcing her to pay more attention to stabilizing her flow than to the enemy all combine to slowly grind her down. She straightens herself and holds the halberd by her side, a deep breath helping her maintain what little control she has left as Mu passes her by to face the next enemy.
Mu takes a brief glance back at her allies. With one hand holding her nose shut An is rummaging through the cultist’s robe to see if she can find anything of import. The pugilist clenches her fists in front of her, determination blazing in her eyes as she nods her head. How can she fall behind when her friends are trying so hard? She takes another quick peek back at Yating before she continues on just a bit faster. The woman’s every movement exudes mastery to her eyes. The halberd strikes slaying foes with the bare minimum of motion, the calm and collected way she falls back after every hit, not even the slightest hint of arrogance in her demeanor as she switches with Mu despite being so much more skilled. Yes, Mu nods to herself, she’ll definitely do everything she can to catch up, even if she has to work ten times as hard!
Bursting through a door she arrives in a large chamber. Easily ten meters across, the room is circular in shape and appears to be the main room of the complex. What’s more important however is the contents of the room. Seeming to serve as both armory and quarters for the cultists, nearly a dozen of them are present and every one of them is more armed than the last. As Mu’s eyes flick from figure to figure she remarks that at least one of them is quite literally armed to the teeth.
“Senior sister Gao, let us face these together.” Yating says while swirling her halberd around, finally able to move the Guandao without bashing it into a wall. Mu swells with pride, a goofy smile on her face as the other woman calls her ‘senior sister'. She puffs out her chest and puts her hands on her hips.
“Leave it to me! I can handle them, sister Yating.” She replies while rushing to meet the first cultist charging at them. Unlike the ones she encountered before this one manages to parry her punch, the flat of his curved scimitar carrying the blow past him as he lashes out with a dagger. Mu somersaults backwards making the slash go over her. Within the same motion her foot catches the man under his chin, his head snapping back with a loud crack before he collapses.
Her next opponent uses a pair of kukris in a way that leaves her with little room to strike, the twin weapons constantly moving in alternating patterns to both block off all incoming attacks and lash out like a snake. Two probing blows strike naught but air, Mu’s palm strikes stopping moments before they’d enter the weapons’ radius. By the third the lack of resistance unbalances her opponent enough that she can drop onto a palm and kick the man’s leg out from under him. A quick leap back up followed by a downwards kick to his temple ends the man and sees Mu rushing forth once more.
The brief moment the pugilist was delayed proves to be enough time for their opponents to begin to get organized as three opponents attack her in sync. A man with a pinched face lashes out at her with a chain whip, the move clearly aiming to restrain her mobility while his ally closes in. With bulky muscles straining and a loud grunt the second man swings one of the spherical hammerheads atop his paired weapons to force her to block or dodge straight into the path of the whip.
Mu notices the whip’s erratic movements just as she is about to attempt to catch it and opts to vault over the hammer swing instead. Her eyes widen mid-air when she spots her third opponent holding several thin needles between his fingers, ready to throw them the moment she is out of position. She bends her leg, catching the shaft of the hammer in the hollow of her knee and letting the momentum swing her the other way just as the whip is pulled back.
She doesn’t have time to rejoice over the narrowly dodged needles as the momentum pulls at her and sends her careening through a table. Kicking off a bedside she spins and catches herself on one palm. Her attempt to push herself upright comes to an abrupt halt when the chain whip coils around her ankle and pulls her straight into the path of a downwards hammer blow. Mu barely manages to cross her arms in front of her before the strike lands with a thunderous crack. The sheer force slams her hard enough into the floor to send shards flying and force the breath out of her lungs.
“Mu!”
Pulling air back in with a big gulp Mu latches on to the hammer’s shaft as it withdraws for another strike, her leg coiling back to pull the whip user in. Once she reaches the surprised hammer wielder’s face her knee crashes into his nose, shattering it and caving his face in. Her elbow impacts the side of the unbalanced whip user’s head and forces it to meet a similar fate. Using the falling men as cover Mu manages to land on her feet once more, she spins around herself before letting go of the hammer sending it flying straight at her final opponent. Iron meets flesh with devastating results, the unfortunate combination flying back until it abruptly comes to a stop when it meets the back wall. Mu hisses through her teeth while pulling her arms closer to her.
“Argh! That stings. I’m definitely going to get a bruise because of this. Ow, I think they cracked a rib as well!” She rants as she prepares herself for her next opponent. One that doesn’t seem to be coming. She clicks her tongue when she notices the rest of the cultists are gathered near the back of the hall, seeming to guard one of their number as they transform.
“Oh shit!”
Cracks like the breaking of bones resound through the room as the demon’s chest swells and distorts. Flesh is pulled apart when it leans backwards with a loud roar, the skin seemingly too tight for its contents causing it to rip and tear. Each rib bursts free from its cage, lengthening and extending like crab legs. The weight forces the being forward, its bottom ribs crashing into the floor and scraping like nails on a chalkboard as the thing topples and slides further. One of the cultists is too slow to get out of the way and is speared on to the sharp ends with a loud squelch, the thing’s arm lengthening and broadening into a claw not unlike that of a lobster.
With a loud snap the cultist’s head is separated from its body and lifted to the demon’s mouth. Its jaw extends and falls off entirely as the head is forced into its esophagus, a large bulge showing its path through it and into the bulging mass of organs that hangs from the demon’s spine. The thing’s humanoid legs struggle to find traction yet each time they manage to kick off a tremendous amount of force propels it forward, the infernal scraping sound of its ribs carving furrows into the floor causing ears to bleed and teeth to clatter.
Mu stands frozen in place like a deer in the headlights, her eyes frantically searching for a way to fight the thing without getting turned into mush. Unknowing or uncaring of her turmoil the thing draws ever closer.
EntonaVZ· Oct 23, 2022
