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Chapter Three hundred forty-two
🕑 Added 2025-01-23 00:36:30 +0000 UTCEven as Li gathered herself to lift back into the air, Lianhua spoke to Kaz. “Do you think you can stop this without damaging the Tree any further?”
Kaz laid a hand on Li’s neck, and the dragon paused long enough for him to reply. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “But Nucai has a way in and out of the Tree that doesn’t damage it. Wait for just a little longer, and I swear I’ll find a way to open that way.” He was, after all, surprisingly good at opening passages others believed were closed to him.
Lianhua’s lips pinched together, but she nodded. Turning to the others, she drew in a deep breath and said, “Yingtao, Chi Yincang, stop these kobolds, without blowing up or cutting down the Tree. Grandmother, you and I will stop panicking and start thinking. Kaz is right. There has to be a better way to get inside.”
For a moment, it seemed like Baihe might rebel, but then she, too, drew in a breath and said, “As you say, Granddaughter.” Something like pride shone in her eyes, and then she looked back at the Tree. Her turbulent ki began to settle as she folded her hands together in front of her, bending down her small finger with the one beside it, as she pressed thumb and first two fingers together. Deep, brilliant ki flashed as she thrust her arms forward, keeping only thumbs and first fingers together. Red and blue ki gathered in the diamond-shaped space formed by her fingers, and she stared into it as if she could see something far different from what lay before her.
Li, in turn, flapped her wings, swiftly rising above the humans’ heads, circling the huge, battered trunk of the Tree. The other side of it wasn’t as badly damaged, with some bark still remaining, though most of the roots showed signs of some serious effort towards destruction. There were a few branches here as well, and as they got closer, Kaz could see that most of the broken ones had already been dead, and had simply broken off as the Tree shook.
<It was already dying,> Li said as she landed near where the skull had rested for so many years. The Tree had begun to grow up around it at some point, so there was a shallow, dragon-head-shaped groove in the bark. This slow envelopment had ceased, however, and now that Kaz had seen live, healthy trees, he could see half a dozen signs that Li was correct.
“After so many years of waiting, what happened to make Nucai change?” Kaz asked. “We know he’s been quietly manipulating the Magmablades, and possibly using the Irondiggers for his own purposes, though we don’t really know when that began. Still, it seems like he was willing to wait however long it took, until…what?”
He climbed down cautiously, but felt nothing more than a twinge. His Wood ki was finally beginning to regenerate, and as far as he could tell, his core was undamaged, in spite of the intense pain he’d suffered. He moved toward the ribcage, which no longer looked as if Qiangde might suddenly gather new flesh and rise again. Instead, the bones were skewed and twisted, with some leaning against each other, while others had fallen down.
There was a long silence, and then Li reluctantly said, <You? Everything seems to have happened since you were born, or at least since you were offered to Nucai.>
This had certainly occurred to Kaz, and he hesitated as he was about to slide between two ribs. He chuffed a small laugh, tugging at the longer fur between his ears. “I’m not so arrogant as to think that this great and powerful being altered all his plans for me. He could have squashed me like a jiachin when I was a pup. Someone like me, though…maybe. Nucai was definitely trying to create a kobold with all five kinds of ki, but when my core broke, and he used my own image to ‘fix’ it, he said mine was just one of the better ones. That implies there have been others, and could well be more still in the future.”
He edged closer to the cracked core he could see in the dimness. There wasn’t much power left in it, after all this time, but hopefully it would be enough. “The question is, what else contributed to now being the right time. Perhaps the only time? And I think Qiangde is the only other person who can answer that question.”
Li was stuck. If she shrunk down enough to pass between the bones, she would be too small to reach the core or pull Kaz back. If she remained at her largest size, she could reach far enough to bite Kaz and tear him away from the core if it threatened to subsume him again, but she couldn’t get the rest of her body anywhere close. <I don’t like this plan,> she said, eyes whirling with concern.
“Neither do I,” Kaz said, reaching out to touch the core.
Qiangde delicately nibbled the Sacred Plum held in his claw…
No, Kaz thought, I’ve seen that. I need something older. He pushed aside the memory, trying to find others, hidden away within the core. A core was the being, and the being was their core, which meant that somewhere-
Qiangde delicately nibbled…
Again and again the scene filled his mind, forcing Kaz back into the dragon emperor’s final hours. The core was broken, its power and personality all but gone. Was this truly all that remained? No. He refused to believe that.
Qiangde delicately nibbled the Sacred Plum…
Kaz started to push this down again, but paused. There was something different this time. The taste of the fruit was faded, and his surroundings were barely there, as if they were nothing more than ghosts of something all but forgotten.
Qiangde delicately nibbled the Sacred Plum, closing his eyes so he could properly relish the way his ki surged through his body. He had searched for such a fruit for nearly a hundred years, ever since he discovered that they existed, and now he had one. The other dragons mocked him for having no Fire, and it was true, but they would learn what could be done with Earth and Wood.
Yes. The memory was frail, and Kaz thought it was too old, but it seemed that the power of the Sacred Plum was enough to burn these moments into the core. If this was Qiangde’s first plum, and the other his last, how many more had he eaten in between?
Qiangde delicately nibbled the Sacred Plum. It was awkward, eating with his human hands, and he wished he could become a dragon again. He needed to practice, though. The humans would…
That one was gone, disappearing into the fading power of the core. Kaz reached for another.
Qiangde delicately nibbled the Sacred Plum, trying to cycle his ki as slowly as possible. Earth ki surged within him, but he held it with an adamantium claw. Earth was no longer his most powerful element, but everything he had learned about ki told him that in order to ascend, he must remain in balance. And perhaps this time the seed would take root. He had finally found a place with enough ki to…
Qiangde bit into the Sacred Plum, teeth viciously tearing through its delicate flesh. How was it possible that he had spent so long standing by a tree stump waiting for a rabbit? He had believed that if he simply grew stronger and learned all he could about human cultivation, he would eventually ascend. Wasn’t that what the humans did? And yet here he was, four centuries after beginning an empire, still no closer to leaving this pitiful world than he had been on the day he hatched…
Qiangde absently chewed the Sacred Plum, compressing and cycling the flood of Earth ki that filled his body. He knew what he had to do now. He was certain. Balance was the key, but not his. If he could upset the balance of the entire world enough, his path would open…
Qiangde crouched beside the shelter of a hill, watching the titanic battle that was occurring overhead. He felt so small in this shape. He hadn’t worn it in years. Still, it allowed him to mingle with the humans of this tiny mountain village, and when the time came, it would allow him to steal the treasure he’d been stalking for so long….
This. This was the one. Kaz was certain, perhaps because the Plum hadn’t yet made an appearance. It was there, he could feel it, but he needed to hold onto it a little longer.
All around him, the humans knelt, hands rubbing together as they prayed to the being they worshipped. Annoyingly, they didn’t speak his language, since his most recent descendents had decided that these mountains were too difficult to pass, and focused their efforts on expanding to the north and south. Maybe after all of this he would return for a little while. Just long enough to make sure they included his new home within the borders of his old one. The humans might be weak, but they had developed luxuries to which Qiangde had become accustomed. It would be good to-
Overhead, vast wings spread, blotting out the Gate. It was still small, but it had finally become large enough to allow through something truly dangerous. Qiangde had no name for the creature, but it was almost as deadly as a dragon, and, even he had to admit, even more powerful. After all, if Qiangde was strong enough to be certain he could win such a battle, he would have found a way to lure his prey to him, rather than following the path of the Gate until he found it.
A relatively small blue light burst upwards, but when it impacted the winged shadow, it seemed to explode, growing vastly larger as it grasped its foe, claws digging into what passed for its underside. Something that was probably blood fell to the ground, hissing as it burned away the plants and soil that belonged to this place. The power it contained was not compatible with this world, which is why it needed to be destroyed, allowing that power to diffuse into the native ki, losing its purity through cycle after cycle, until it could be claimed.
The humans surged backwards, and Qiangde moved with them, though he intended to come back later and gather any blood or other materials that might remain after this battle ended. This wouldn’t be the first time, though it would undoubtedly be the most potent.
Overhead, ki so dense it became visible roiled around a similarly dense darkness. The two powers fought, but this was home to one, and a strange land to the other, so in the end there was no doubt who would win. Finally, the intruder fell from the sky, wings trailing behind until it impacted the earth with a thud that made the ground shudder beneath Qiangde’s feet.
Humans screamed, then screeched again, this time in praise as the glowing ki-light overhead condensed into a spark and returned to them. The creature contained within blazed so fiercely that even Qiangde had to look away, but then it fell with a sigh, its light guttering out. A small white animal lay on its side, red staining its fur, each breath shuddering in its small chest.
Qiangde took a step forward, feeling his mouth stretch in the thing humans called a grin. After all the time he spent among them, such expressions had become second nature, but he forced it back. The priest he was pretending to be wouldn’t smile upon seeing this lesser deity so wounded, and not all of the teeth in that smile were quite human anyway.
Three humans rushed forward, and together they lifted the injured animal, which watched them with grateful blue eyes. The Divine Rabbit was the weakest of its brethren, and the most likely to be brought to such a state. How convenient that it had also become the object of worship for a small village of zealots, making it surprisingly easy to find.
All Qiangde had had to do was slaughter a few thousand cored beasts in the area surrounding the village, thus making it more likely that a powerful invader would be able to pass through the Gate, and now his prey was finally within his grasp. It was only too bad that the leader of this village was already in Golden Core, while his successor was in mid-Core Formation, making them a little too dangerous to confront directly. For now.
As the Rabbit was carried away, the remaining humans cast up a final prayer, then began to disperse, returning to their homes. Qiangde pretended to move with them, but in fact parallelled the Rabbit and its bearers. He was fairly certain they would take the creature to their temple, which had been built over a powerful pool of Wood ki, but he had learned long ago not to base his actions on assumptions.
Soon enough, however, the Rabbit lay on the altar in the temple, its eyes closed as it took in the power of the earth. As far as Qiangde had been able to determine, Divine creatures could only take in the purest of ki, which meant they couldn’t use the ambient power of the world unless it was from a source like this one.
Qiangde waited until the leader departed, off to check on the damage caused by the monster. This left his successor and a weak young priestess who was only in early Foundation. This priestess had nothing to recommend her other than the Rabbit’s favor, but somehow she kept growing far faster than any human had a right to. This effect, or rumors of it, was the very thing that had brought Qiangde’s attention to the Divine Beasts in the first place. Since then, he had learned so much more, and now he, too, would benefit from their power.
Reaching down, Qiangde caressed the pouch at his waist, feeding it the precise balance of all five elements that he had keyed it to. A cool, smooth-skinned fruit fell into his palm, and he lifted it to his lips, savoring the flavor of the Divine Plum as power began to fill him. It was so much, and yet so little. Once he had believed this fruit alone might allow him to fly beyond the sky, but now it was only a tool, one of many.
Drawing in a deep, centering breath, Qiangde pulled power from both his core and his dantians. His toe pressed into the dirt, making the smallest of sounds, but the young disciple looked toward him. How had she heard him when the Core Formation priest had not? Well, it didn’t matter. It was too late for both of them.
It was almost merciful, their deaths. Fast and all but painless, and they would never know how badly they had failed. The Rabbit opened its blue eyes as the female slumped, blood trickling from her mouth, but Qiangde was already removing a crystal from his pouch. A seed crystal, one might say.
Before the Rabbit could react, crystal and seed plunged down, impaling the Divine core. The Rabbit tried to pull away, but Qiangde was fast, with the strength of the Plum running through his cycle. One powerful back leg managed to draw deep marks across Qiangde’s belly, and he pressed the crystal down with unnecessary force.
Already the Rabbit’s strength was draining into the crystal. Wood wasn’t what he needed for the seed to sprout, but that was all right. He would get Earth soon enough. Right now, the important thing was that the Rabbit’s Wood would keep the seed stable and ready to sprout as soon as conditions were right. And in the meantime, Qiangde had the Rabbit, and the crystal that held its power.
Teeth bit into Kaz’s arm, pulling him back, away from Qiangde’s core. <That’s enough!> Li said, tugging him back so he wasn’t even close to the bones. She wrapped her body around Kaz protectively. <Your ki was draining into that thing the whole time you were touching it. Look.>
Kaz turned, staring at the core. Where it had been all but empty when they arrived, now it held a small but steady glow of power. All five elements were there, in a balance that was eerily familiar. Kaz turned his attention toward the pouch that rested at his waist, remembering how empty it had been when he first touched it. What had Raff told him about such pouches? They were tied to their owner, at least until they used up the last of the power that owner had given them. That was why they were rarely stolen, because it could take months or even years for that power to run out, depending on the quality of the pouch. What were the chances that a dragon emperor had the very, very best?
Kaz was definitely wearing Qiangde’s storage pouch, which Zhangwo had probably been keeping for the express purpose of waiting until his master’s power finally ran out. How long would that take? He had a feeling the answer was something in excess of eight hundred years. He was also now certain that he knew at least one reason Nucai had continued experimenting on kobolds even after Qiangde died, and perhaps also why Nucai had begun to act after Kaz became old enough to use his power.
Qiangde had locked everything in the mountain to his precise balance of ki, and Nucai had spent centuries trying to replicate it, without either Qiangde’s core or Kaz’s ability to see ki as a guide. How many times had he tried and failed? How many hundreds or thousands of shiyan had he made? But with Kaz, he had finally gotten it right. The balance of ki that Kaz had had before he began altering it precisely matched that of the dead Master of the mountain.
