Cao Noh Seeks Instruction

Cao Noh rested in the back of a farmer’s cart driven by a single emaciated ox, a piece of straw clenched between his teeth. The sun had risen in the east, but it was still early morning. Cao Noh was a young man, tall, dark of hair and dark of eye. His hair was a tangled mess, and his ruddy skin spoke of many days spent under the open sky. To say he only had the shirt on his back would be inaccurate; he pawned that yesterday.

The farmer driving the cart was an old man, hunched over with years, a wide reed hat resting upon his head. His name was Cy Nu. Cao had run into him at the market in the town of Pauper’s Hill. The farmer had failed to procure a laborer to ride with him. After sharing a drought of wine with the man Cao had determined he wasn’t so much in need of a laborer as he was in need of protection through a particularly dangerous stretch of road just outside Pauper’s Hill. Cao agreed to ride with him in exchange for a string of cash and transport to a particular bend. The farmer had been kind enough to pay up front and Cao’s passive pressure was more than enough to guard them through the worst of the road.

Now Cao was riding in the back of a farmer’s cart, completely useless to the farmer, alongside to the fabric, alcohol and salt he was carting back to his homestead. Cao closed his eyes letting the swaying of the cart rock him to false sleep. Any other cultivator would take advantage of this time by, well cultivating.

Any cultivator worth their salt would meditate. They would meditate in order to strengthen their spirit by quickening their qi flow just as mundane exercise would strengthen the heart. Cao didn’t meditate even now, not because he didn’t know how, nor because he was lazy, but because it’d very recently become a superfluous exercise. Superfluous after the new cultivation method his mother had left him.

Ten months ago, Cao’s mother had died. Lady Yao was a kind woman that’d lost her husband due to a false accusation of stealing a scroll from his ancestor’s library. Cao had never once questioned how, when this story was related to him in childhood, his mother had known his father was innocent. He found that answer out on her deathbed, when she revealed the scroll’s location.

The scroll that Lady Yao had stolen detailed a strange cultivation technique called the Infinity Rising Void Method. Cao had initially considered burning the scroll, hoping to cleanse his mother’s crime.
Through his half sleep, Cao felt his hand grip the small tan bag around his neck. The bag was made from pig bladder and it held a pinch of his mother’s ashes. Cao told himself that he carried his mother’s ashes in the hope of finding a holy site to cleanse her remains. The truth was, he was seeking a way to speak with her, to ask why she’d stolen the scroll. Why was the technique worth being the architect of her husband’s death and her life’s misery?

When he first discovered his mother’s betrayal, Cao’s anger and confusion drove him past the desire to destroy the scroll. He needed to know what had been worth all her suffering. He read it.

The scroll had been defaced with angry writings in the margins, probably written by the clan’s ancestor. He complained that though he’d devoted a year to learning this cultivation method it was WORTHLESS. The breathing technique circulated Qi as quickly as a tortoise and even base meditation would serve him better. At the end of the scroll the ancestor confessed if it wasn’t rumored to have been written by the Crimson Emperor himself; he would have destroyed it.

That last line piqued Cao’s curiosity. Cao was a failure as a cultivator; he accepted that as unequivocal truth. Cao had failed to form an adequate foundation, lost nearly every real fight he’d been in and barely made enough as a mercenary to scrape by at the best of times. Still, the idea of learning a technique penned by the Crimson Emperor himself? It was too good a prospect for Cao to pass up and he fully expected to fail.

Cao’s much maligned foundation, the Empty Spirit, was hardly worthy of the term ‘foundation.’ His Qi had started at such a low level that Cao could barely use half the techniques his mother had taught him. Even the Earth-Rank technique to heal himself nearly exhausted him every time he used it. The Dragonbreaker Fist his mother had perfected nearly killed him the one time he’d attempted it. So, with no expectations of success, Cao studied the scroll.

The scroll was astoundingly easy for Cao to understand. It was like he spent his entire life practicing cultivation in a foreign language, but here? Here was someone who spoke his tongue! The idea of the Void, the nothingness to be found within Qi, described in the scroll was music to Cao’s ears. In just a month, Cao learned Infinity Rising Void. Then he went into Closed Door Cultivation for 8 months.

At first, the flow of Qi was much as the Ancestor described, sluggish and difficult. Cao persevered. Doubling down, Cao cleansed his body through fast and meditation. Accepting total isolation he searched desperately for that hurdle he could clear, for the moment he’d attain what the Crimson Emperor described as a constant circulation.

After months of constant meditation Cao left his cottage, starving, exhausted and humiliated. What was he thinking? If an Ancestor couldn’t make this technique worthwhile what on earth made him think…? His Qi flow kept circulating. Cao was no longer consciously circulating his Qi, and yet it was not stopping. It was as if his soul had been forged into a friction-less environment by the Emperor’s technique. An environment where there was nothing to stop or even slow his Qi’s circulation.

It had been nearly a month since Cao had given up. His Qi had not stopped circulating for even a moment. He wasn’t even sure he could stop it at this point. The Qi circulated while fighting, sleeping and eating. Nothing stopped his Qi’s circulation. It was like Cao was in closed door cultivation every hour of every day while he continued to live his life normally.

When Cao first learned the Infinity Rising Void Method he was about 1/4 of the way through the Lower level of the 3rd realm. Now? He was about 2/3 the way through the Mid Level. IF this continued he could reach the Pure Realm’s bottleneck by the end of the year. After that? He didn’t know.

The cart rolled to a stop and Cao quickly gathered his belongings and exited the wagon. Before him were rolling hills ridged by terraced fields. In the distance was a wooded hill with a foreboding pagoda atop its crest. Even from here, Cao could see the pagoda was in disrepair with long creeping vines crawling up its sides. As you came nearer the pagoda the fewer fields you would see. The hills next to the pagoda were completely abandoned.

The farmer held out his string of cash, a chord of jingling coins. Cao turned and accepted the string with a bow. The farmer hesitated to leave, “you sure you want off here sir? Locals avoid this area and for cause. It is said the dead are restless within that tower.”

Cao listened politely still bowed. When the farmer finished his warning, Cao clasped his hands in front of him showing the utmost respect, “that is what I hope for sir.”

The farmer blanched at that frank admission and hurriedly made his excuses before driving his oxen away. Cao straightened as soon as his elder left, smiling gently, he tied the cash around his belt. He had sought this pagoda because it was rumored to be the home of a powerful fangshi, one with a talent for waking the dead. Unconsciously Cao’s hand drifted over his mother’s remains. A talent Cao hoped to convince the fangshi to utilize.

Cao kicked off the ground and soared towards the pagoda.

#

The landscape became a blur beneath him as Cao Noh flew like a dragon. With a single kick Cao landed at the foot of the pagoda’s stairs, or what had once been the pagoda’s stairs.

The pagoda’s stone stairs were ripped asunder by overgrowth. The pagoda itself was dressed in clinging vines, its once handsome wooden walls were pocked with moss. The pagoda was small, with only two tiers. The first roof surrendered to the surrounding vegetation, a cloying almost sickly green. There, just above the pagoda’s nearly rotted door was a corpse flower. Its towering yellow phallus fell just short of piercing the pagoda’s upper roof.

The higher roof denied all of the surrounding woodland’s attempts to gainsay it. Its roof tiles were a brilliant orange forming a curve towards the sky, at the crest were red wooden frame met orange tile, was the carving of a grinning demon’s head.

The second floor was likely where the fangshi was. With a kick, Cao leapt to the pagoda’s door, landing among the brush and thorns. Cao clasped both hands before him, bowed and shouted.

“Cao Noh seeks instruction from the great fangshi!”

Silence greeted him.

Cao stood at the pagoda’s door for hours, unmoving, the sun passed through the noon hour and slowly, ponderously set. The moon rose, bright and full. The sounds of the night assaulted Cao’s ears. Still he did not move. The moon ascended to midnight and then the doors opened.

Cao bowed deeper and prepared to enter when he heard a rustling beyond the door. Cao dove out of the way as a figure flung itself towards him. Cao rolled to his feet smoothly as the figure landed at the foot of the destroyed staircase.

Cao felt the urge to vomit as the figure stiffly turned by hopping in place. It was dressed in a mandarin’s uniform with a paper talisman hanging from its hat. Its arms stretched out rigidly in front of it, ghastly long fingers ending in sharp claws. The figure’s skin was a sickly white-green with rot and moss pockmarking its features. It was a jiangshi.

As the living corpse kicked the ground, Cao held his breath. The jiangshi flew towards him with a great howl escaping its lipless maw. With a great snap the jiangshi brought its claws down towards Cao’s head. Cao stepped to the side, avoiding the claws, but the jiangshi was on him. Hopping in place with astounding speed, the jiangshi brought himself face-to-face with Cao, its horrifying breath nearly causing Cao to gasp, to breath.

Cao backed away quickly and delivered a kick into the jiangshi’s stomach. The monster flew back into the wall of the pagoda. Bones snapped on impact, but it didn’t care. With a jerk the creature came back to its feet and leapt for Cao.

Cao’s eyes widened as he barely avoided the jiangshi’s claws.

This wasn’t sustainable, Cao realized. In order to beat this thing, he’d need to use actual techniques, but in order to circulate Qi, he had to breat--

Cao’s Qi hadn’t stopped flowing, there was NOTHING he could do to make his Qi stop circulating. Cao stepped to the side of the jiangshi as he dodged yet another strike. Stepping in close, too close, the monster’s head turned with a crack and with a leaping lunge his fanged maw came towards Cao’s neck. Myriad Illusory Steps. The jiangshi’s teeth sunk into Cao’s image, but on contact, the image faded.

Cao drew a fist back as the jiangshi soared through the air, mouth dumbly grasping at what it thought would be flesh and blood. This technique almost killed him the last time he’d tried it… but he wasn’t the same man he’d once been. The Jiangshi’s neck broke to look Cao in the eye as the warrior thrust his fist forward.

Dragonbreaker Fist.

The jiangshi exploded in a fountain of gore as Cao’s fist rent a huge gash in the earth around him. The jiangshi’s head, still somehow bearing its talisman, landed a half li away from Cao, biting at empty air. Cao marveled. Not only at the fact that the jiangshi was still alive, but at the fact that he wasn’t passed out ass up after using the dragonbreaker fist. Cao looked at his fist, silently thanking the rumored author of that scroll. He really had gotten stronger.

Cao kept holding his breath, he wasn’t exactly sure what the safe distance to be from a jiangshi was. How’d you kill one again? Peach tree wood right? Looking around, Cao did not see a peach tree. He looked at the gnashing jiangshi head. Its long black tongue lapped uselessly at the ground as it attempted to use that to crawl towards him. Yet even that astoundingly long tongue wasn’t strong enough to move its head.

Cao put his hand on his chin as he pondered what to do. He didn’t know how long he could hold his breath, but surely he’d have to breath eventually. Could he make it to sunup? Out of sight should be safe right?

A silky deep voice came from inside the pagoda. “You may enter.”

The voice surprised Cao enough that he almost took a breath. Still watching the disembodied jiangshi head lash at the ground with its tongue, Cao sidled into the pagoda.

The interior was surprisingly well cared for. White painted walls covered in talismans, handsome wooden floors with a small black table stowed to the side. In one corner was a small iron pot, recently cleaned with faint droplets of water on its bottom. Cao’s eyes were drawn to the center of the room, where a bamboo ladder stood. The ladder led to an opening in the ceiling where warm light leaked down. Without hesitation Cao climbed the ladder.

Upon reaching the top, Cao found himself in a massive library. Mountains of scrolls and talismans littered the ground in every direction. Cao marveled, this was much larger than the pagoda had appeared outside.

Cao fully entered the library, only to be beckoned by a voice just out of sight. “Come here.” Cao followed the voice, around a pile of scrolls 40 paces high. He saw a figure reclining on a couch with a scroll in her hand.

The figure was horribly beautiful and shapely. Pale skinned with ruby lips. A loose fitting green robe wrapped around her figure. Yet when that figure’s eyes left her scroll and met Cao’s any notions of lust were banished. Those eyes were onyx black and ancient. Cao prostrated himself immediately under that gaze. His lungs burned from the desire to let loose his greetings.

The figure smiled. “A jiangshi’s range is only a few paces. You can breath now.”

Cao immediately breathed for the first time since that jiangshi had leapt at him from the shadows of the pagoda. As he drew in breath, the smell of perfume overwhelmed his senses, nearly driving him to a daze. He pushed through the daze and began, “I am Cao Noh! I seek your counsel!”

The woman’s eyes drifted back to her scroll, “when you arrived at my door you said you sought my instruction, did the fight with my servant change your mind?”

Cao Noh swallowed, stupid mistake, better to clarify than double back. “I have with me my mother’s remains, I wish to question her--”

Cao paused. He hadn’t hesitated to give that explanation, yet it was an explanation he hesitated to admit to himself.

The woman nodded, not looking up from her scroll. “Parents often leave their children with questions. I’ve helped many find their answers over the years.”

“Why did I—”

“The perfume I wear causes one to be honest, both with me and themselves. Now,” the woman looked up from her scroll again, “what would you ask of me? To contact your mother on your behalf. Or to teach you how to do it.”

Cao hesitated. Here, she was offering a quick end to his goal. A chance to ask his questions and be done with it. However, would that be the end? If his mother’s answers weren’t satisfying, where would that leave him? Cao’s mind wanted to ask the woman to speak to his mother for him and hope he could find peace in that, but his heart, his heart was greedy. The perfume penetrated his body and forced him to give in to his heart.

“I asked for your instruction,” Cao began, “I did not lie.”

The woman smiled a brilliant smile. “My name is Di Yao, and I warn you Cao Noh,” how had she known his name? “I have many enemies and if you accept my teachings, you will inherit them.”

Cao’s head pressed deeper into the floor. “I am resolved.”

Di Yao smiled. “Then the first thing I will have you do, is run an errand for me.”