Upon the passing of the third day, the fourth day they were to hunt together. Hao’s hunting group, the one created by his now good friend Lou Yi Shou, fell apart. The disbandment was not instant, but gradually a reduction of number until only three remained.

  Jingshe did not show up on the second day. That was the day just after their first hunt. She took her pay for that one bull, leaving the other four behind. The four hunted together. An awkward ground pursuing the same type of beast over and over; The green-horned bulls.

  It might have been a good thing Jingshe left that day. The tension was high every morning; it started before they left the mission hall. And lingered throughout the morning, building slow. The afternoons were worse. They had to decide who had to carry the bull they slew back up the mountain. On that first day, Jingshe egged on the Hao and Tui to fight. Nearly succeeding occasionally. That day, human and beast blood nearly mixed before noon sun rose. They had to sit in the tree shade and wait while no one could see.

  Tui and Hao resolve their issue by simply not speaking to each other. Each found something to do in the silence of their search.

  Hao spent silent morning hours, when dew made the ground slick, pondering the creature they slew. Green-horned bull, that cannot be their real name. Do they have one? Or did people never bother? He did more than think. There were plenty of things he could do while others were not looking.

  Not that the group got along just by being quiet. Tui used a similar tactic on every hunt. He smiled when he was causing pain to those weaker than him. But Hao was always quick to deliver a killing blow. He swapped over to using a palm technique for the finishing blow; Each time Tui held tight to the axe in his hand with a viscous smile.

  Hao’s arrangement for less pay for more blood and food stood. And it lasted. Tui would laugh, and Yi Shou questioned. Hao knew it best to not respond. But each day he gave an hour of his day to butcher with Senior Tuzai when they brought the beast back from their hunt.

  There, in the butcher hall, things he didn’t want to know he taught. He found the topics more curious every for every beast he moved in and out. All while hearing demands for inert beast blood. Anatomy, blood, butchering, blood, philosophy, and more of inert blood. Hao figured out the pattern in which the man spoke.

  He didn’t know how much longer he could delay giving more. But Hao knew, the later, the better for all involved. Maybe after I learn the Second Step of the movement technique. He found a rationale, and reason to hold himself to.

  The hunt and butcher hall was not all he knew in the days passing. Most of his time went into comprehending what he already knew. Learning more. There were little herbs for him to grab on the mountainside. But he would grab them if he could when no eyes were on him. He took them back, researched them, and tried to grow them in the bag.

  That last day they hunted together was a cursed day to start with. They had to search the area for the bull they were hunting as it seemed to move, and Hao found nothing but grassroots for herbs. Jingshe’s shadow was lurking too, it seemed. As soon as they started hauling the beast back up, the mountain tension reached a new peak.

  Tui was not the initial cause. No one knew what the cause was, really. It was an outburst, and not just for the big man, but all four. And in turn, the four held each other back. Even Junior sister Dai showed her blade the sun. Yi Shou did not stand for Dai being insulted.

  In truth, Tui told them nothing he had not said before, “Your children relying on my strength.” He said in so many words. Of course, he had an insult ready for each of them. Hao’s origins were a talking point again, and Hao mocked the strength he was proud of.

  “And you’re here in this hunting part because you choose to. You’re just giving out your strength to the next generation, right? You could have a pick of any hunting group, eh? Is that why you’re here…” Hao said, and much more. He knew the only time Tui was quiet was when he was reeling from an insult that stunk of sarcasm and truth. He needs a few minutes to process it.

  That was what led to the day following. A morning that was quick, too short. Hao walked into the mission hall, expecting to be the last to arrive. He had his breakfast with the Wu women. Said his good morning to Grandma and Grandpa He in the library.

  There he saw two people. Yi Shou with Dai hiding behind his arm. “Brother Hao, I don’t think anyone else will be coming…” he said. It was his strange greeting. In that same energy-filled way of talking. Louder enough to reach over the others around.

  Hao could only apologize in so many ways. Yi Shou seemed uninterested in the apology. His patience was reaching an end with the group, too. He lost his interest in the woman named JingShe and was more enamored with the girl Dai now.

  “Don’t worry about it. I have everything I need to go into seclusion for cultivation. I will not see a brother in a while, at least six months,” he said, giving Hao a bow and a pat on his hand while he held it.

  Farewells were spoken in a few words and handshake hugs or bows, and Hao would not see them for a while. An odd thing and sudden farewell. But Hao looked forward to seeing his new friend again. Not now that the one name Lou Yi Shou would teach him the grief and sorrows of betrayal. As bad as the pain of losing someone.

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  For now, the days returned to the way they were but were nothing like the days four nights before. The situation was only slightly different, but the people had changed entirely. Another rumor spread in that short time. The mixed-hair islander was easy to spot.

  Its origins were obvious. As he was on the hunt now too, perhaps the one I indirectly beat already is feeling pressure. They spoke of Hao as a mad tyrant who was weak but had no respect for authority. Another, its origins the same, said he was a beggar whose poverty drove him to foolishness; it was based on the idea that Hao collected the coin of mortals and threw it away.

  The rumors had an undesired effect on the one who spread them. It helped spread the word that he was the one who rang the Bone-Shaking bell. But that was addressed as a lie. That he was nothing more than a bastard son of an elder, who got in through the back door.

  The opening of the mid-summer cave was approaching. People exiting their seclusion, disciples that had not seen the sun in months, caught wind of these rumors. Rumors got altered and twisted. New versions replace the old ones.

  “I heard it was one of the Elder’s bastards. The Elder faked the ringing of the bell to let the child he left behind join the Sect out of pity.”

  “Yes, that one. I heard that one too. His aptitude is so bad it was the only way to get him into the Sect.”

  “Hm, truly despicable. He is a waste but treats his fellow disciples poorly. Using his status to join missions and then stealing from his team.”

  They were something new every day. Someone more ridiculous than the others. I can’t wait to find out what the final piece of twisted nonsense they come with is. Or will they just forget it ever happened? Hao thought. Say as you wish, but leave me alone.

  Hao was leaving the mission hall. He had plenty enough points now, more food and meat than he carried to figure out. He did not need to go to the food hall any longer. His new plan was to stay on the second floor of the library for a few nights. This would be his second round of such time passed by like clouds when he was reading. A few points went to Silvers to send to his parents on the island.

  Just a few steps from the mission hall, four older men were coming his way. “Oh, we should challenge him to a life-and-death match.” A man leading them said. He pointed in Hao’s direction. It was not a coincidence and not the first time such a thing happened. People were always eager to talk. And some were bold enough to follow through.

  Hao tried not to take offense, a harsh task. He imagines it as a way to gather experience in battle. But it never stopped at a one-on-one duel. Rarely was such honor kept between men and women who wanted to fight. The number of bruises became countless, both given and collected.

  They, of course, none of them were courageous enough to take out a life-and-death contract. They clung to life. Instead, Hao would get them to sign a mission contract, a bet of sorts, another way to collect sect points.

  Again Hao collected a few new bruises just walking through the Sect. No grudges. Small animals were weak alone; they felt bigger in groups, that is why they attacked him, that is why they attacked him together after he took all their points. Most groups left him after a few bouts. They were growing poor just before the rains of summer came.

  At the library on the second floor. Line shone through the great window above the door. Taller than Hao, and many others who came and went. Bruised and sore, he hid his beatings well, only showing the scar on his knuckles, but not the blood on his palms. But hiding what was obvious did not stop him from wincing when he turned the page of paper.

  He was enjoying palm strikes more and more. So he looked for palm techniques first. And he read many. There were pages after pages of swords, axes, and spear techniques. But he did not trust him the way he trusted his own hands. He had yet to find a tool that did not crumble after a few swings under his hand.

  As for palm techniques. They were far from perfect. In fact, they were of little use outside of one-on-one bouts. With little to no killing power, his palms failed to bring him quick and clean success.

  In comparison, Tui, who had little to no technique, had an axe which allowed him to break the flesh and bones of Demonic Beasts. Innate talent, being born with great strength, may have contributed to his feats, but a good weapon went a long way.

  Hao wanted to find a weapon, too. He wanted to have one he could use, and use well in the secret realm. But he would not give life over to practicing a weapon or tool. Only use it to the point the weapon submits or breaks, as it would in time.

  He got recommendations from people who he could talk to without ridicule. In their kindness, Grandma and Grandpa He spent their time with him on the second floor. If they were up and about, they would come and tell him tales, and stories, and fill gaps in the book’s information. Answer questions Hao had, if he had any.

  He kept his injuries to himself. As they were spry in a sense, certainly bold. But he did not want them to worry. As for the rumors of him, he did not care to hear them with his ears. But he hoped words that belittled him would not reach his Grandma and Grandpa He.

  “A true man’s weapon, if he has to use one, is a spear.” Grandpa He said, his old voice cracked but never went breathy. The old man slouched when he sat. When he stood, that was when his chest was held high and his head higher.

  The old man liked to paint while he spoke. He spoke his boldest when he had a brush in his hand. “Your path is your own to decide, boy. That path you want to follow, the Dao you favor most. Well, that path is yours if you make it so.”

  There was always more he had to say. And more others wanted to add. “Palm techniques are viable. But it is hard to achieve great things when you rely solely on your flesh.” He repeated a few times. “In the future, great things can be achieved with one hand and strong qi.” He said it while painting an image of Hao with a spear.

  It made Hao think a spear was not an awful choice. He had held one or two before—not that I used them as they normally were—He held a harpoon in the past, too. Not that it helped him learn anything, just that he had the most experience with that shape of any weapon.

  The topic of weapons was often dismissed during breakfast. Meiqi uncharacteristically urges Hao not to go to the secret realm. She tried flattery, anything really to get him to change his mind. Eventually, she had to relent when he asked the last time. “If young master must, he would look handsome with a spear. But do not die with it. No one looks handsome dead.”

  Most of the morning after that was used to educate him. Unless they were talking about the rumors they had heard. “Ancestors have to be involved.”, one would say their tactics in turning Hao to their side were becoming clumsy. It was hard to push total control over someone once you truly cared for them. But they were relentless with this fact.

  Zhengqi was more subtle with her intentions. And more accrue with her reasoning. “Ancestor is helping in its spread, I guarantee. He controls the servants. He doesn’t want them to have any hope of joining the sect like the young master”

  Meiqi was the more extreme one. Once she gave up on stopping him from going into the secret realm, she instead tried to inspire a violent side of him. “Others, too, wish to make you appear weak. You just have to prove they are weaker than you. Take their tongues and they won’t be able to stay anymore.”

  Hao stopped bringing it up during breakfast. The jam was just as sweet as when thinking over a severed tongue. But he would rather hear the two women laugh than hear them speak of violence with saddened desperation.

  The last person he spoke of it with was the Senior Tuzai. Unsurprising he did not care, not in the slightest. It passed like any other word between them.

  The ears of the butcher only opened when the inert beast's blood was the topic leaving his tongue. Or he felt the urge to spout philosophy to death.

  “Carry a smaller blade as well. For bringing a silent wakening.” Li Tuzai said, just once after a day of stripping down hides. He gave Hao a book on killing techniques. It was not a cultivation book or a practical technique, but an encyclopedia of vital points and finding gaps in opponents’ defenses.

  It was not a pleasant read but changed the way he looked at the people walking by in the sect. Including all those who went to the mission hall to sign the contract and give him their points.