“What is that?” Chen Rulan asked. He raised himself from the bench of the yak cart as the wooly beast pulled the wagon along the valley.

  “Hmmm?”

  “That.” The elder squinted into the distance and pointed. “What is that?”

  Pengfei reluctantly took his eyes from the ridgeline and followed Elder Rulan’s finger, saw something flapping in the wind ahead of them.

  “Oh, that. It’s my tent, sir.” Pengfei recognized the canvas he had used to cover himself and his mount after the deadly encounter with Guoyu.

  “Your tent? What in blazes is it doing out here?”

  “I camped out while surveying the valley for pastures. I guess I forgot the tent when I went back to the bunkhouse.”

  “You forgot the tent?” The elder looked at Pengfei like he was a simpleton. “Just go and collect it, boy.”

  Pengfei kicked his heels gently into Horse’s sides and she accelerated with a jarring burst of speed.

  “Calm down! You’re being way too obvious!” Pengfei shouted against the wind into the mare’s ear. He tried to rein her in, but the sheer power of the mount was overwhelming ever since she had consumed the Thousand-Year Ginseng. The effects had become more pronounced in the days following the incident.

  He somehow pulled the mare to a halt, dismounted, and started folding up the discarded tent. He worked slowly, struggling to gather the stiff material as it blew in the wind. He was vaguely aware of the cart trundling up behind as he sent darting paranoid glances all around.

  “They’re gone.” Chen Rulan said from the yak cart.

  Not understanding, Pengfei looked up as he stuffed the refuse he had collected into a saddle bag. “Who’s gone, sir?”

  “The Strangers. The men in black robes. They were spotted leaving the valley, back toward the Central Plains. So, you can stop looking for them.” The hulking man gazed down compassionately at Pengfei. “I shouldn’t be talking about them with a disciple… but you’ve suffered at their hands more than the rest of us.”

  “The Strangers… right. Thank you for telling me, Elder.” Pengfei nodded. He had heard this news from the now-dead Guoyu, but it was nice to have it confirmed.

  --That still leaves a couple dead bodies that I probably need to get rid of. Not to mention the giant fucking leopard… --

  He shot another nervous look up to the ridgeline.

  Once he was mounted again and they were moving north, Pengfei asked Chen Rulan, “Do you think the Strangers will be back?”

  “I doubt it. I’d say their main purpose was to keep an eye on us. Block us from receiving any more disciples, perhaps. They probably realized not much of interest will happen before our punishment ends and we return to Qinghai.”

  Pengfei nodded. “So… we’re done pretending they were just bandits?”

  Chen Rulan chuckled, stroking his black and grey beard. “You and I can dispense with the cover story, I think. You’ll have to forgive the Sect Leader for his secrecy. He didn’t want to frighten the other disciples. Even though they were in no danger. Those men would never have dared attack a member of Kunlun.”

  Pengfei arched his eyebrows but said nothing.

  --That man… he was going to let me go, before he saw his brother’s bag on my shoulder... if I hadn’t picked that satchel up, Guoyu would still be alive.--

  Pengfei’s mind reeled. A tightness somewhere above his eyes. Still no guilt or sadness, just the eeriness of happenstance, and a difficult adjustment to his new reality.

  --Killer… I’m a killer now…--

  He shook his head, as if that could clear the strangeness of it.

  “Do you know much about the Strangers, sir?”

  “Some. As much as anyone else in the sect I suppose.”

  “Last time I encountered one of them, I heard a strange language. One that I had never heard before.” Pengfei was careful to phrase his speech so the elder would assume he referred to an earlier encounter.

  “You heard their tongue? They’ve been so careful recently… haven’t caught any of it in quite a while.”

  Pengfei peered at the elder questioningly. Chen Rulan looked to the disciple, to the valley, and back again, finally relenting.

  “Those men… they’ve been in the valley a long time. It’s been a back and forth since they arrived. They spy on us, we track them. In the early days, they weren’t as careful. We could hear snippets of strange conversation when we got close. But the past couple years… just Mandarin.”

  “Do you have any idea what language it was?”

  Chen Rulan shook his head. “Before Kunlun closed its gates, I traveled east to the sea and as far west as Samarkand. I must have heard… a hundred languages along the Desert Road. And what the Strangers speak doesn’t sound like any of them.”

  --Holy shit…-- Pengfei looked at the elder, seeing him in a new and unexpected light.

  “What?”

  “Sorry elder, I just never thought of you traveling like that. I guess – “

  “Hahaha, it’s alright, it’s alright. Completely understandable. But my brothers and I had our adventures, once upon a time. We weren’t always old men, locked up in a mountain, teaching martial arts to whelps. Speaking of which, I think it’s time you get some exercise. Hop down from your saddle and let that horse rest.”

  “Ugh… yes, sir.”

  The mysteries of the Strangers and Kunlun’s elders were put aside for more everyday affairs. Pengfei untied the sword from his side and reached over to place it in the back of the cart with the food and supplies the elder had brought for their trip. Then, the disciple slid to the ground and took up a stride that kept him in pace with the yak.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Horse darted off immediately, stretching her legs and testing her speed.

  “Has that mare always been so tall?” Rulan inquired.

  “…Yes.”

  She sped by again, her hooves flicking up grass and dirt into the elder’s surprised face.

  ******************************************************************************

  The pace was slower than Pengfei had expected but by the end of their first day of travel he was still further from the sect than he had been since joining. By the third day, they left the familiar valley entirely and began a long descent from the mountain highlands into the desert basin below.

  The environment shifted rapidly. What Kunlun called a river, flowing through their valley, was in reality not much more than a stream. But as it flowed north it became a truly raging torrent, fed by the mountains and glaciers the travelers were leaving behind. The yak and Horse carried them through alpine forest then grassy plain. The air grew warmer as they neared the Taklamakan.

  --56…57… wonder what kind of sights Hotan has to see… 58…59…60--

  Pengfei stood from his push-ups, ran a hand across his sweaty brow. The muscles of his chest spasmed slightly.

  “Are you done?” Chen Rulan asked from over the cooking fire. They burned sticks and leaves instead of dried yak dung, now that the fuel was plentiful around them.

  “Almost. What’s Hotan like?”

  “Diverse. Uyghurs, Tibetans, Mongols, Kazakhs, Han, you’ll see them all there. Trading and transporting sundries from every corner of the world.” Chen Rulan spoke with more of that worldly authority that had captivated Pengfei recently. “Get back to it.”

  “Elder, how are the other disciples managing without your kind guidance?” Pengfei’s sarcasm was good natured, and the elder answered with the same light heartedness as the boy bent to execute more repetitions.

  “They are better served by Elder Chen Weidao’s instruction now. Our eminent swordsman. Besides, I must tend to my remedial student. Now, focus.”

  The elder set a pot on top a small fire and watched Pengfei as the water slowly crept toward a boil. Horse and the yak milled about, free of saddle and yoke after a long day and many li traveled. More casual spectators.

  Pengfei finished his calisthenics as the rice went in the pot. Without prompting, he began the forms of the ‘Heaven Shaking Fist’.

  The basic stances and strikes of the first form, then the footwork of the second. As he had for the past several nights, he pictured Guoyu at the end of his blows. He executed the techniques forcefully but each one felt too short, too slow. Even when they did make contact with the imaginary opponent, the phantom refused to fall, just as it had been in real life.

  “It looks disturbed.” Chen Rulan noted simply.

  “I had a match recently… it made me realize how weak I still am.” Pengfei looked at his hands. “The techniques are rough and I feel like I lack power.”

  The elder just nodded, so the disciple asked, “What can I do about it?”

  “Use a sword instead.”

  The boy shook his head.

  --The sword… I couldn’t even keep a hold on it. It definitely needs work. But…--

  The flaws from his recent life-and-death battle ran through his thoughts. The flailing of his fists, the impacts that had left no mark on his opponent.

  “I need to improve the fist.”

  Chen Rulan sighed and took the pot of rice off the fire. “Some things will come with age. You’re tall, but you’re still young. You’ll fill out, get stronger. And as your technique improves, the blows will land harder.”

  The elder offered a bowl to Pengfei, but the boy made no move to take it. Just stood, waiting expectantly.

  “Hugggh…” Rulan sighed. “Where are you in your neigong practice now?”

  “I’ve begun circulating through the vessels of the major organs.”

  “Alright.” The elder set his own bowl down and stood, holding his palm up as a target. “Throw a straight punch. Throw it hard.”

  Pengfei raised his fists. Then he stepped forward and shot his right hand out as he moved, twisting his waist to put power behind his punch. It made a loud clap against the elder’s palm, but the man showed no sign of discomfort.

  “Good. Slower.”

  Pengfei repeated the strike, at half the speed.

  “Slower.”

  He threw the same punch again and again, reducing the speed each time Chen Rulan commanded, until the motion proceeded at a snail’s pace. When Pengfei began another repetition, the elder spoke again.

  “This time, bring your qi. Just a drop. Follow the path I show you.”

  The man placed his index finger on Pengfei’s torso and moved it slowly as the boy followed.

  --I’ve only done this in meditation. How do I…?--

  The first time, he could not even find the small spark within himself. His senses were occluded by reality. But the instructor and the pupil repeated the exercise several times. After more attempts, Pengfei could sense his internal world just beneath the external one. The circuits within himself, as his body moved through space.

  “To the Pericaridium Meridian, along the arm.”

  Pengfei’s energy followed the elder’s finger as he slowly extended the punch to complete the technique. He felt the warmth in his wrist and hand as the qi reached the end of its journey.

  “And now send it out.”

  Pengfei paused at the end of the strike then, then stood straight. “Send it out?”

  “Like this.”

  Chen Rulan faced him, mirroring his stance. With a deft movement, the elder raised his fist to his chest then shot it outwards at Pengfei’s chest.

  Thundering Sky Strike (lei tian quan – 雷天擊)

  There was that heat in the air again, like standing too close to a bonfire. Similar to the pressure exhibited by Guoyu, but more. This was not just a sensation, there was real force exerted. Even though the fist stopped short of actually making contact, Pengfei felt an undeniable impact slap his chest. He stumbled backwards.

  “You threw your qi at me!”

  “Don’t be foolish. It’s not a ball to be tossed about. I ‘emitted’ qi with my strike.”

  Pengfei nodded at the brief explanation, “I read about this in the ‘Heaven Shaking Fist’ manual. I didn’t realize it was so – “

  Chen Rulan cut off the boy’s awed tones. “Emitting qi, shooting it out with your attacks, is … dramatic. But simpler than using it to reinforce or empower your own body.”

  “Power…” Pengfei asked himself, ruminating on the nature of it. The difference in raw strength when he had faced Guoyu. Then to the elder, “Is learning this enough to make me a 2nd rate?”

  “Hahaha…no. Heavens no.”

  “What does it take?”

  “If you ask different people you’ll hear different answers.” The elder returned to the fire and picked up his dinner again. “In general, to be considered 2nd rate you need to be able to use qi in your techniques, though what I just showed you is hardly enough to qualify. At 1st rate, you must be able integrate the internal and external seamlessly. Beyond that is murky. But why do you ask?”

  “Just curious. And I’d like to catch up to the rest of the Jin disciples at some point.”

  Chen Rulan shrugged. “Well, something like the ‘Thundering Sky Strike’ is a quick way to put some force in your attacks. But don’t focus on it too much. Power should only aid your technique, never replace it. Now, come eat before your food gets cold.”

  Pengfei reached for the qi in his dantian once again, saying to the elder. “Yes, sir. I’ll be right there. Just a few more tries.”

  ******************************************************************************

  They approached Hotan, passing through fields and farms irrigated by the river. Copses of trees dotted their path but the more distant hills were dry and brown. They could feel the desert closing in on them, but just out of sight.

  They reached the city early in the day, giving ample time for Pengfei to drown in culture shock. The architecture was earthen clay and colorful tile mosaics.

  The region’s Uyghurs were incredibly diverse in features. Sometimes they appeared like they belonged to a far-flung corner of the earth; other times he recognized something in a face that he might have seen in his own hometown.

  Chen Rulan navigated the streets with practiced ease. Pengfei could only ride behind the cart on the narrow lanes and stare at the elder’s back. So many questions popped into mind but had to go unanswered in the cacophony of the bustling oasis town.

  They arrived at an inn, or at least Pengfei took it to be an inn. Elder Rulan dismounted the cart and entrusted it to a boy, with a few words of the local dialect. The yak pulled the cart to a nearby barn, Horse trailing behind. Luggage came inside and was passed off to the lady of the house, with more instructions spoken by the elder. Seeing the man keep his weapon on his hip, the disciple did the same.

  “Where to first?” Chen Rulan looked to Pengfei expectantly.

  “What? Why are you asking me, sir?”

  “The Sect Leader entrusted this task to you. I’m just here to facilitate. I know the lay of the land, but the business is up to you.”

  Pengfei looked up and down the street as he considered. “I have a friend in town somewhere. I’d like to reach out, get her advice about the horse market. Do you know where to find the Tibetan community?”

  “When big groups come through here, they usually camp outside town to the west. It’s a bit late in the day to make the trip, I’d leave it until tomorrow if possible.”

  “Okay, then...” Pengfei ran down the long mental list of goods and services he had constructed over the past month. “Let’s go see the leatherworkers and blacksmiths.”

  Thirty saddles in three months, another one hundred and seventy over the following three years. It was the type of order that would almost never be seen in the civilian community. Those numbers were in the province of governments and militaries.

  But it was not just the tanners and leatherworkers who balked at the orders. The blacksmiths, carpenters, and grain houses were similarly stunned. But there was no shortage of merchants in Hotan. Once Chen Rulan had an idea of what was required, he was able to negotiate between several shops to obtain the best prices and an early delivery date.

  No money changed hands directly. Since the elder worked as translator, some of the details were lost to Pengfei. He got the impression a local firm managed a portion of Kunlun’s assets, that they would satisfy any obligations incurred by the sect.

  But Pengfei could not use these unknown financial brokers for his next bit of ‘personal’ business. He accompanied the elder back to the inn after the day’s haggling was concluded, then obtained permission to explore the immediate area on his own.

  He retrieved a string of coins from his personal belongings. The funds that Jin Nanxi had entrusted to him for the illicit purchase of alcohol.

  It had taken more than an hour to find a tavern. Apparently, the dominant religion did not make allowances for spirits, but Pengfei found some eventually. He only dared to buy a single case since it would need to be transported back by the yak cart. Any more than that would surely be noticed by Elder Rulan.

  Pengfei was impatient to test the product and took one of the clay jars for himself that evening. He climbed the outside of the inn’s barn and sat atop the roof.

  --Colder than I thought the desert would be.--

  He still wore his thick coat, but let it hang open in a crisp breeze. The sun was setting and in the dim light he could see desert sands hanging in the air, over the town to the north.

  He sipped the wine lazily, with one hand on the hilt of his sword, feeling like a hero. But when he thought of seeing Pema the next day he began to sweat against the cold.

  --I hope she’s happy to see me.--

  He took another sip of wine and tried to recapture the bravado he had felt just a moment ago.