Lyn sat. What she sat on was frying her brain. Beneath her butt was a gold bench. Not a bench painted gold, not a wood that looked gold. She was sitting on a bench made out of glowing solid gold. Around the sides of the bench, it was encrusted with gems ranging from fingernail clipping fist size. She knew that this bench was entirely too expensive for her to even be looking at, much less using.

 

She remembered that just one day ago thinking that just a scrap of his clothing would be able to buy the village. Well looks like she was right. 

 

She sat there. Waiting for her legs that felt like water to feel like jelly. That way she could continue walking away from her nightmare of a village. But she was enraptured by the cultivator in front of her.

 

He was using his paintbrush to paint a landscape. Old fields that had turned fallow over the years. Saplings that have started to push up through the ground, and bushes scattered across the field obviously nibbled on by the deer and other wild animals in the area. Off in the distance was a dilapidated shack, its thatch roof rotting away and sunken in on the west side. 

 

The Cultivator painted the landscape, his magic brush changing colors and sizes without touching his palate. One moment the man would be painting the clouds with a large brush, only for Lyn to blink, and the brush would be smaller than Nguoiban’s smallest makeup bush. Mesmerized, Lyn missed what he said, only recognizing that he had even talked because he pointed the brush right at her.

 

“Child. Do you have a name?” He said. His brush painting a deer off in the distance. Lyn kicked her feet. The bench was really high off the ground, she was lifted onto it by his magic. 

 

“Lyn,” Lyn said. Not much to really say when someone magical asks you a question. For all she knew he also had a magic power to tell truths from lies. Besides, what was the point to lie about her name, it's not like it meant anything. She’s not important right now, she is only a newly runaway slave. She wants to be his follower. Best to start with the truth.

 

“Ah.” He breathed, turning to look into her eyes. She had to look up. He was really tall, even when he was sitting. “Then this Son, greats Lyn.” He gave a slight bow. His void black hair covered his golden eyes but for a second. 

 

“So, Like… Where are we going to go?” Lyn felt like she whispered. Even with them sitting on the bench for a while, her breath still has not come back. Her flight from that place still affected her. 

 

“Wherever we decide. My goal is to see the countryside. You must discover a goal for yourself, and I shall eagerly watch.” He returned to his painting. Now he was focusing on the foreground. Rotting posts, many with boards that once connected them together in a fence, are now broken or recycled into trellises for vines to continue their expansion on. 

 

“Ok. But, that… Why?” If her mind was frazzled before, then having a cultivator decide to follow her was very very strange. It's like having a character from a story decide to follow you. Why would someone so important want to follow runaway slave Lyn.

 

“I wish to be amused.” Again his brush came to point at her. He stuck the back side of the magic paintbrush in his mouth to absently chew on it. “ To follow you would only take half a century. I’m curious as to what you will make of yourself.” He said around the brush, he held his thumb up, seemingly trying to measure something in the distance. 

 

“Why, I’m not that interesting.” She was just her. Not much more.

 

“Of course you are interesting. Who else would hide payment from their master, then go and sneak back into the layer of a monster to steal its treasure. Only in the end, to defeat that same monster they have been scared of.” He started to paint the picture again. To Lyn’s eyes, it seemed like the picture was complete. “Besides, I have been looking for something to take my attention, and you were the first opportunity to come along.”

 

“Why are you painting?” It was bugging Lyn. This was supposed to be a cultivator. He was supposed to be destroying mountains, finding rare treasures, and killing spirit beasts. Like all the stories said they did. Not magically painting on the side of the road.

 

“I find it enjoyable.” He let go of the palate to twirl his hair, and the palate continued to majestically float beside him. “Cultivators live for a long time. Finding ways to enjoy this time is paramount.”

 

Lyn was convinced that her ticket to success was a deadbeat. He should be out, lifting mountains, practicing his moves, and meditating. Not whiling away the time. What good could come from him? 

 

“How old are you? You can’t be that old. You look really young.” His skin was flawless. Not to mention that every single story always had the masters with long white beards. She always like it when the bards told her how the masters would trip over their mustaches. “Well, if I'm a project for you.” Lyn jumped up onto the bench. She was literally standing on unimaginable wealth. She still had to look up into his eyes, his torso was taller than her.  “Then I want you to train me!” She stood tall, her legs and everything hated her, and she trembled from the effort and pain. This was important. She was remaking herself, she would be better tomorrow than she was today. 

 

Son, the cultivator looked at her. She could see him scan her body. From the tablecloth that wrapped her ankle to her not-so-good rag shirt that clothed her. Her hair was still clumpy from dried blood and probably was dusty and muddy from her impassioned flight from the place that will be destroyed. 

 

“This Master accepts.” His blasé acceptance took the wind out of her sails. Was it so easy for a cultivator to make such a life-altering decision like that? Now that Lyn thought about it, the ability to reshape the countryside to their liking, and obliterating entire cities and villages with a single swing of a sword. Yes, they probably are blasé about the life-changing potential of their actions. 

 

“I was expecting that to be harder. I was like, expecting you to give me an impossible test to show my worth or something. Like, go and kill a spirit bear, find this long lost treasure.”

 

Her master just shrugged. “This Master believes it would be amusing to watch the failure of your proposed adventure. For seeing the demise of the presumptuous is always a jovial time.” Lyn dropped down onto the bench. 

 

“Sooooooo… Now that I’m your student, what do I do?” Lyn never actually expected to get this far. She was expecting to follow him around, ingratiate herself into his service, sleep outside the inns he went to, and shine his shoes or something. 

 

Lyn huffed. She needed to move, even if her body felt like a sack of potatoes. She needed to do something. She tried to bite her thumbnail. 

 

“Ow. crap that hurts. When did I hurt my thumb?” Lyn thought back through her last day of adventuring. The Bastard didn’t break her hands in the morning. The wall was scaled without too much problem. The monster spider tore through her ankle, but the magic coin healed that. Oh! Her thumbs hurt from when she punched the Bastard in the face, and her hands hurt too. Actually, her hands just really hurt in general.

 

He chewed on his brush once again. “The current state of your person is of a worrying degree. This master finds that his Qi was used in your current state. Would the student be tolerable to having their wounds ameliorated?” 

 

Lyn tried to reach into the pocket of her ruined good rags, but her hands just wouldn't open or work right. The cultivator-turned-master reached over and tapped her right hand with a long finger. Her hand glowed bright green as his magic sparkles went into her hand. With popping and cracking, that she heard but not felt, she could flex and open her hands once again. She was stunned. He touched her other hand. With magic sparkles seeping into her skin, she saw how her knuckles and bones rearranged themself. That her bones going from her wrist to her knuckles were zigzagging under her skin. But, as the magic settled in they straightened, her skin shifting and moving like cockroaches were running rampant under her skin.

 

“This master, with Qi created by his own ability, bestows good health upon his Sutdents hands. Would the Student be permissible to allow this Master to grant them a healthy body?” He turned to look down at her. Really he was so tall that sitting down as they were now, she only reached up to his belly button. 

 

“If you're offering.” He let go of the paintbrush, it floated with a cloud of green sparkles, drifting across the canvas occasionally making minute markes. His huge hand came over, and Son pressed a finger gently on her forehead. Lyn crossed her eyes to keep the finger in vision, utterly missing the green sparkles that flowed down her body. 

 

“This Master has noticed the Student's most grievously damaged assets, are the Student's head, ankle, and chest.” His finger left her head. “This Master also notices that his Qi was used in these body parts before?” 

 

“Uh, I used the magic coins you gave me?” Lyn reached into her bandaged ankle and retrieved her spent coin. The glowing magic in it was still there, but it was noticeably dimmer than this morning. “I put them on my wounds and it healed them.”

 

“Ah, the Student has discovered the wonders of using Qi. Qi has many wonderful applications, more than even one such as I could dream in my life, long as that is.” He tapped the coin with this finger, and the glow returned with vengeance. “Copper, Silver, Platinum, any sufficiently pure metal may absorb Qi. Many on the Path use these coins as batteries to fuel their progress or even spells. Lyn, child, using Qi without plan, or experience, may… No. Using Qi without knowledge of its use will harm you, as well as your compatriots. Lyn you must be much more careful with this power in the future.” 

 

Lyn looked at her new brightly glowing copper coin. It saved her from death multiple times, it can’t be that dangerous.

 

“What’s the worst that can happen? It saved my life, like at least 4 times today.” 

 

Her master hummed. Putting his hand back on the floating brush to manually paint once again. She felt a warm feeling course throughout her like she warmed up the bathhouse just a touch too hot. It felt invigorating, and it also massaged her muscles. The headache that she didn’t know that had gone away, the light turned much more bearable, and the ankle she was idly tapping didn’t click anymore. 

 

“WOW! That felt great! What’d you do! Was that magic! Can you teach me! That’s amazing” Lyn sprang to her feet on the bench. Excitedly pacing along the huge bench. Really the thing was the size of a picnic table, and it was super high up. 

 

“This Master shall teach you as you desire.” He rolled a hand, again the paintbrush idly putting details onto the painting. In his hand appeared a long black thorny stick with a root ball in the end. 

 

“This, Student, is a shillelagh.” He twirled the knobby piece of wood around his hand with alacrity, and ease.  The thing barely reached his elbow. “I received this as a gift from a clan far in the west. They took me into their home an estate on an island of emerald. The only condition my gracious hoasts tasked me with, is that I place second in a tournament. This Master did, only allowing the newly crowned king to place before me. In the grace of my hosts, they gifted me this weapon from their clan’s founding.” He flipped the weapon so he held the root ball in his hands, pointing the leather-wrapped handle at Lyn. “Unfortunately for myself, the weapon was crafted by mortals, for mortals. Even as the Qi of fire, and familial love course within, the only purpose this weapon has is its wentimentality.” 

 

Lyn jumped off the bench and started to swing the staff around with abandon. 

 

“This weapon shall be the fundamental building block of the path you have decided to walk young Lyn.” Lyn heard Son snap his fingers, and the staff was encased in glittery green. “I would like you to punch the head of the shillelagh.” 

 

“Wait, why? It's a weapon? Shouldn't I learn how to use it? Like isn’t that the point of a weapon, so I don’t need to punch?” Still, Lyn was not going to anger the Cultivator that just healed all of her ills and accepted her as a student without cause. She balled up her hands, thumbs tucked into her fists for the extra mass, and threw a punch as hard as she could. Only to be stopped when the cultivator’s magic cushioned her hand.

 

“That is not how a punch is to be thrown.” He held out his hand. Palm up, “Observe.” He curled his fists into a ball with his thumb tucked neatly underneath. “The method of your instincts has led you astray. For the instinctual method will dislocate the thumbs of the successful attacker.” 

 

Lyn unbaled her fists and made what was apparently an actual fist. It felt weird to have her thumbs neatly tucked underneath like that. Like her hands were stretching. Hands at her side she threw an overhand at the shillelagh. Once again the green sparkles stopped her from attacking the stick. 

 

“That is not how you punch either.” The cultivator stood from the bench. Lyn thought he was tall before, but now seeing him stand he had to be at least ten feet tall. He fell into a stance, his feet were wide apart, and he bent his knees until it looked like he was sitting in the air.” This stance is the Horse Stance. Please enter it.” 

 

Lyn tried to, she spread her feet very far, and she tried to sink as low as he instructed. It was difficult, her knees shook and her legs felt on fire after only a few seconds. She looked up at her new master…

 

“I don’t want to call you master.” Lyn had just run away from a man with the same name. She hated the thought that she was running from one abusive relationship to another. If she could start this… The thing that they had going on a not bad foot, then she would try.

 

The cultivator was still in Horse stance, as easily as he sat on the actual bench. “This… Teacher shall allow the student to use this title.” He slowly punched, his hand resting on his hip palm up. Slowly he extended it rotating his hand until it was palm down and fully extended. “This, movement is a punch. The most standard attack one shall find on their path.” He withdrew the punch, completely reversing the movement. He punched again with the other hand. The exact same movement is probably practiced millions of times. 

 

“The purpose of teaching the use of the body over weapons is simple.” Again another punch. He was probably expecting her to do the same. Lyn tried to punch, but it felt wrong. “The path we shall all walk is long. During our travels, weapons may not be within our ability to acquire, especially weapons that we have long traveled the path with. For if the circumstance or combat requires the use of an axe, we shall use the axe. Except, our path has been accompanied by the sword first of all. With a solid foundation of arms created from one's own body, one shall be competent with any given arm.” Throughout the explanation, Lyn’s knees were too wobbly to really punch well.

 

It was really difficult to listen and be in self-inflicted pain at the same time. Somehow Lyn managed. She would punch, and green sparkles would correct it. Every time had green sparkles. She apparently, was really bad at punching. Maybe there could be something else they practice right now? 

 

“I’m really bad at this. Can we do something else?” Well, nothing asked not thing gained. 

 

“Yes. Should this exercise be of too high a difficulty, there are others that may be even more beneficial.” He stood from his stance and sat back down on his glowing bench. Her new shillelagh floating before her as she tried to punch it flew off into the distance. “Should you no longer wish to practice the most fundamental attack? Then the student shall work on the most fundamental of fundamentals. Please, retrieve your weapon. Quickly. 

 

Lyn looked off into the horizon. The weapon floated at least a mile away. She started to jog to it, only for a voice to speak into her ear, “You must be quicker than this. Please be faster.” So she ran for the piece of wood, like a dog. 

 

Yes, she decided. There was trouble in asking.

 

—

 

  

As the sun set. Lyn dragged herself back from the tenth run. Sweat poured down her body. Her legs felt more watery than her desperate flee this morning. 

 

Lyn flopped onto the ground. A rock was poking into her side, but it was still less painful than the stitch in her side that she got from running so much. 

 

“WHY!” Lyn needed to gulp in more air. Her lungs burned, her feet slippery with blood. She was not going to ask for a different lesson again. 

 

“The foundation of all marital disciplines requires the warrior to act. To act, by necessity, requires movement. Running is movement, heavy and sustained. As such the foundation built by this movement shall be strong and lasting.” Her teacher sat on his priceless bench. A different painting on his easel. This time he was painting a beach, a moon high in the sky. “Child, come. This teacher shall not be disgraced by the Student's appearance.”

 

He waved his hand, and green magic glittered in the light of the setting sun. Lyn was mesmerized by the display. Like all the other times throughout the day, her teacher displayed his abilities. This time, instead of crafting a new canvas, or a weapon, a huge tent appeared. It was a bright glowing white, a beacon to all those who had eyes. The flaps opened with a silver magic of their own. 

 

Lyn was drawn to this new construct. Shuffling into the otherworldy tent she saw magnificence beyond belief. Gold glittered in all places, silks and tapestries of old glories past displayed with abandon. A pair of blue slippers walked themselves over to her. She slipped her feet into them, only for the slippers to magically shrink themself to her feet. 

 

Her new shoes guided her to a porcelain tub with silvered claw feet. She shed her clothes and leaned her shillelagh against its edge. After slipping into the tub water poured out of thin air to fill it up. 

 

It was the most luxurious and amazing warmth Lyn had ever experienced. The warmth soaked through all of her tired muscles. The water gently washed her, taking all the grime, dirt, and blood from her day's activities away. All evidence of her adventures throughout the morning disappeared. 

 

Lyn dunked her head under the crystal clear water. All the blood and dirt hidden in her black tresses dispersed into the water. Only for that refuse to disappear as more clean water was magicked from the sky. 

 

A tray filled with potions and soaps waddled on small wooden legs to her sanctuary. It jumped up onto the edge of her tub. Reaching out to the bottles and tubs of stuff, Lyn tried to puzzle out what they were for. Of course, each had its own label, each character painstakingly painted on, and each as confounding as the last. 

 

She opened a little vile, it smelled like mint, its consistency waxy. “Hu, this has to be soap. Well smells good enough.” Lyn cleaned her body with the mystery concotion, and when she was done, she relaxed. Feet up and readying herself for the next day. 

 

“If this is what being a cultivator is like, then it's well worth it.” She reached out for her mattress bundle that had walked itself by her bath. Reaching inside her makeshift pack she retrieved her treasure box. It was one of her most prized possessions. The box itself was a treasure itself, from finding the correct wood to steal, figuring out the tools, and actually making the box without any of the girls' knowledge. Theft was rampant at the inn, after all, nobody had much, so if you wanted something, you took it. Not the nicest place or way of doing things. But, that was the way the place made you.

 

Reaching inside she pulled out her red ribbon. It was a gift from Duu Huu one lunar new year. They were walking through the stalls some of the adults made to celebrate, and to make some extra money. It was a little slip of linen dyed clay red. He won it from a game where he had to smash a pot that was suspended from a washline blindfolded. Obviously, he did, and inside was the ribbon with a little saying on it. Neither of them could read, so it didn’t matter what it said. She used it to tie her hair up sometimes. But, it had started to fray at the edges. Lyn did not want such a happy moment to disappear. So she locked it in her treasure box, hidden away from greedy hands. 

 

The warm water continued to pour into her little domain. Hopefully, tomorrow will be as event-filled, if a little less exciting.

 

—--

 

Son glanced at his painting. It was a coastline that will never be seen again. He destroyed it in a battle over… Something important… A dumpling. Yes, his wife made a dumpling and a rival decided it smelled, rightfully, wonderful. As such, Son and his new rival made combat over his wife’s cooking. 

 

Son won. The rival's body moldering with the fishes. The coastline is much more rocky now. It was a wonderful fight, the rival almost made him make an effort. Alas, after that event no other challenger has come.

 

Son felt the pressure of sword and flower Qi. Binlon, a companion of his centuries ago, was fighting someone on the path of fire and pine needles. A very curious combination of energies to focus on. They were testing their strength off in the mountain ranges thousands of miles away. Should they come within the county, Son would need to convince them from continuing their contest. He could not have his new limpet die from stray attacks. 

 

The last time he had a limpet was… Before the dumpling… Almost one and a half centuries ago. Quite a long time in his six centuries of life. Truly he was entirely too young to be molding such talents. Truly a genius of his time. 

 

Son breathed in the errant Qi he created from his painting. He shifted the Qi into his core. A shifting ball of gold. If one could taste it, it would taste like nothing you have ever tasted before. His core was constantly creating, and generating new things. His newest limpet would help to create new and exciting Qi for him to sample. 

 

Son liked to live in the realm of mortals. He was still young, relatively speaking. Many have tired of the constant churn of mortal life. Every time you would get invested in a mortal and their challenges, they proved their mortality. Eventually, the old monsters on the path gave up and only focus on the ever-dwindling numbers of the immortals. 

 

Personally, Son liked that mortals constantly had something to prove. That they packed their lives with stuff, festivals, work, and love. He liked that there was something that a mortal would strive for. That they were not strangled by the weight of power, that saying the wrong prefix or uttering a name long dead would not lead to blood fudes. 

 

He could feel his limpet start to sleep in the tub. It was a gift from a friend long dead. His friend had enchanted it to forever pour water into itself. Wonderful after a month of relentless training. His limpet deserved a reward for displaying such earnest effort in their training this afternoon. 

 

Son stretched his senses out across the county. The village he had left was preparing to riot. The Slave Master had been hurt from the tussal with his limpet. After evaluating the small amount of Qi the mortal has managed to accumulate throughout his life, soon it will end. His limpet has just claimed her first life on her journey. 

 

Further than that he felt a village slowly depleted of life. A scourge must be passing through this small corner of the world. The souls of those mortals going to feed the life of the ground they plow. Returning the Qi they have created and continuing the cycle. 

 

Son breathed in the energy from the moon. Waxing as it was. Many a poet shall write of her esteem and beauty. He cycled the energy from poems past. 

 

Son decided to continue their journey in the morning. There was a town only two days' walk down this road. He could smell the chicken the tavern keeper was smoking for feasting on the morrow. 

 

What should the little limpet learn next? She has shown admirable determination. She seemed slow at running, possibly from her bleeding feet. The shadow silk slippers should ensure that the problem will not reoccur. The matching gi he shall present her in the morning should bring her appearance in line with expectations enforced upon him. 

 

As his limpet pulled herself from the bath and was escorted to a sleeping mat, Son meditated upon his day. He thought of his past limpets, of their accomplishments. He thought of the ways that he failed those small seeds of potential, and how he hindered their growth. In the past, he believed that he was to be a gardener, pruning unwanted branches, and wrapping wire around stocks that wished to droop. He envisioned himself crafting a magnificent bonzi, pristine, aesthetic, the perfect warrior. 

 

He failed. 

 

His warriors were never satisfied with his accomplishment. They wanted to become him. At least at first. He accepted their initial wishes and molded them in his image. But, as the students came to master their future, they saw that they were not his image. His students saw themselves as bushes or grass to Son’s oak. They were to be forever judged as a tree when truly they are an orchid. 

 

He would not do so now. His mind usually so set to think decades in the future, now need to be changed to that of years… Days… Hours. Yes, to train this limpet he would not think of the future, but of the present. This will be a very nice reprieve from his thoughts. 

 

It's not easy being exiled from your family.