“I told you, the storms come early,” Dong Lingli said, standing after hearing the rain crashing on the tent roof like a drum.

  Lingli’s head came up from his bedroll. His eyes slowly readjusted to the normal hue of the world, finding the only person in the tent was him.

  Hao heard the words from inside the tent. He was sitting just outside, at the far corner of the tent that faced away from the camp. It was right in that spot he did his noon cultivation and wanted to continue in the storm.

  Hao leaned his head back slowly on the tent, making light taps that made the material act soft. “Brother Dong Lingli, I will come back in before the ice rains start.”

  Hao watched the start of the Storm; even Dong Lingli peeked his head out to watch the torrent.

  Any fire still burning caught the wind, bending up in the air. Luckily, no tents caught aflame. The clouds swelled as bucket-sized raindrops fell, smothering the Secret Realm. Even the smoke of the freshly extinguished fires was pummeled to the ground.

  Dong Lingli made eye contact with Hao, both looking at the bolts of slithering serpent-tailed lightning tearing apart the sky above the clouds.

  “Seniors should take care…”

  Lingli pulled his head back into the tent, dodging a raindrop that exploded on the tent’s side.

  Hao went in and out of his Cultivative state. In the noon hours, no one could see him, yet right now, the sun was being cloaked by the clouds that grew larger, branching in every direction. Anyone who wanted to look could. Lightning struck the ground, skating across the grass without leaving a mark.

  As it traveled towards Hao, he closed his eyes, pooling his focus.

  He took in a deep, long breath. The energy thundered through him, fizzling in his Meridians. The conflicting Energies within lighting fractured apart. Hao turned it to a steady flow, feeding his body and core, purifying his soul.

  Hao breathed back out, letting anything unwanted out of him, preparing for the next strike. With each strike, this lightning grew more powerful, and even the sound was bolder. And something in Hao, his soul, unformed, became stronger. Hao noticed that even the Spirit-Holding bag was feeling lighter.

  Hao let his sense run loose in the bag, his connection to the bag getting deeper as its depths continued to expand. I need to ask someone about this.

  After a few more lightning strikes, Hao returned to the tent. A chatter had begun outside, and new fires inside and out were being lit. The wind had frozen. People began moving as the World grew still. That night, the wind was fast and ruthless, but the ice was fast coming aggressive but leaving early.

  Hao was inside before the first flake of snow. He lifted the edge of the tent. “Brother Dong Lingli, I’m coming back in. I’m a little wet. I will just stay over here until I’m dry.”

  “The ground is the ground, Senior is too generous…” Lingli pulled his eyes off whatever he was tinkering with, looking over at Hao, and he paused for a moment. Lingli pointed at his head.

  Hao knew instantly what Lingli meant. He reached up, running his fingers through his hair, it wasn’t knotted up, or clogged. The rain washed away the gray dust.

  The two talked for a while, Hao didn’t try explaining anything. Dong Lingli was dismissive anyway. Even avoiding the topic of lightning running close to the tent every time it struck.

  They did more than dismiss topics. Hao took this as a chance to practice speaking; he had not talked to many people his age or of any age. Very few didn’t shoo him away.

  Hao was surprised at how much he told Dong Lingli, nothing incriminating, and Dong Lingli told quite a bit about himself as well. Of course, both had lines they did not cross. Every Cultivator needs a secret or two. And the more you wanted to survive the Cultivation World, the more secrets you would find beneficial.

  Hao tried to give over a holding bag to the man. He had a few to spare. A gift and a bribe, an offer of good will you could say. He could see the holding bag the large young man had on his waist, but with the pace he moved at and the item, he constantly swapped in and out. Dong Lingli seemed the type that could use a second one. He already had a large bag fit for his back, sitting at the side of the tent.

  “Senior doesn’t trust me without a bribe?” Lingli said, leaning over the oversized bag Hao was just looking at. He dug through tool after tool until he found what he wanted, shaking his head.

  Lingli turned it down, but Hao insisted. “Brother Dong Lingli. You have answered a few questions for me already, not to mention your willingness to keep a few secrets.” Lingli turned him down again, sinking back into his task for just a moment.

  Dong Lingli saw his shadow flickering on the tent wall, turning to see the fire dying. He almost forgot to fuel it. “Senior, you don’t need to call me by my full name.”

  Hao already noticed the flickering light. He helped, handing him logs from the Spirit-Holding bag, reaching into his robe each time to disguise his actions for reaching into a normal holding bag.

  Hao poked the fire, knocking the largest log to the side, “Then I don’t think you should call me Senior either. I don’t think I’m your superior in age nor, I’m guessing, Cultivation.”

  Dong Lingli laughed, “Brother Hao, then? But you are not completely right. When I first ran into you, I knew I would instantly lose any sort of fight with you. With special circumstances, maybe.”

  The new logs were stacked. The smallest and freshest of the fuel burned into a gray smoke that rose high into the tent, prompting the two to sit down. Lingli was just thinking he could use some rest.

  Lingli began pushing the wood as the flame spread. “Your World Energy is attributed; there is something else too. Your presence is really heavy. I don’t know about your vessel, your physique, body, I mean. Or techniques and skills, but they are important enough to keep hidden. There aren’t many people who I’ve felt breathe World Energy in Reclamation that way. A few in the eighth rank like myself and ninth rank, and some genuine talents, yes.”

  Hao raised his hand, stopping the man from speaking anymore. “Are you sure you should say things like that?” Hao asked, utterly shocked at the admission of Cultivation rank. That was something more than just personal.

  Stronger people could examine lessers with Spiritual Sense. But that was a rude action, even if it was Senior down to Junior.

  Not only was it as intrusive as watching someone bathe or sleep, but it was a sign of total disregard and, on many levels, just as perverse to too many. Often, it was dangerous, sending a level of energy through the body of another who has never been in contact with such heavy World Energy or Qi.

  “Ah,” Dong Lingli started laughing at Hao’s reaction. Hao raised his hands, blocking his vision like he was seeing another person for the first time.

  “Brother Hao, even if I tell you, I probably still know more about you than you know of me.”

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  Lingli smirked, giving himself another laugh, “If a bribe is still on the table, I hope brother Hao has more good food for this great Senior.”

  His mood soured slightly, the smile fading on his face. “Well, in truth, I only just had my breakthrough before entering the Mid-Summer cave. I thought I could skip all the Secret Realms and Trials entirely if I proved my astonishing talent. But I still have the fighting power of people half my rank. And things in the Cannon Fort…”

  Hao never stopped listening, but when he reached into his robe, pulling out more meat and berries, Dong Lingli went silent. It was the first time Hao heard the man speak when it was not a prideful remark of some creation.

  It was certainly more than just hearing the rank that astonished Hao, but how weak Lingli seemed at that rank. Despite his claims of being eighth rank, Hao felt he could knock the man out cold with a slap. Hao had walked past many Cultivators, though he could not gauge their rank, having no sensory skill and only a little knowledge. He could feel the amount of world energy that gathered around them. The stronger the more, but such a measurement could have been useless. The amount of World Energy you take in while wandering around being drunk was night and day from what could be breathed in during Cultivation.

  As for Hao, he was already an abnormality. Most of his cultivation had come from treasures, not something he was not proud of, but it had endless benefits he didn’t know. And his most recent breakthrough made him even more abnormal.

  Lingli smiled, watching Hao take out a small pot, a few slices of meat, fruit, and even an herb or two of fair value. Hao collected some extra water during the storm, too. Lingli could hear the ting of water hitting something more than his tent. As the pot was filled and placed above the fire.

  “If Brother Hao ever needs more help, just ask this eighth-rank genius, Dong Lingli!”

  Hao chuckled; the sight of food can always raise spirits in those who are hungry. The Lingli he first met when entering the tent came back.

  Hao took out a small knife and began cutting the herbs into the pot. “Brother Lingli, you talk a lot.”

  Lingli raised his nose, “Of course, if you know something other people don’t, if it doesn’t cause harm, should you not say it…”

  “For example,” Lingli got close to the herb Hao was cutting, “There are swordsmen with such skill they can split landscapes with no need of a blade.”

  Hao shook his head. He was going to deny the thought, but it seemed at least a few times every season, spring, summer, soon fall, his sense of reality was challenged.

  Lingli made a sound of the knife slicing with his mouth, moving his finger across the herb.

  Most of the sound was blocked by a chunk of ice landing on the tent. The cloth bent, closing in on the two of them. Lingli was fazed; he just continued mimicking the invisible blade chopping the herb.

  Hao gathered himself, not as shaken as he should have been. He took Lingli’s mimicking as a bit of a challenge, moving the knife back and forth as quickly as possible.

  The herb was shredded, disappearing into the pot.

  Dong Lingli shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “Not quite. You are far from being a Sword master of the old Sword Haven.”

  Hao stopped the games, getting the rest of the food in the pot. “I don’t think I have the talent for such an aspiration.”

  “No one does. Not since the sects that were part of the Sword Haven were destroyed. Still, hundreds of people carry around swords full of aspiration. Haha, in the Saber Fort, they all have big sabers on their back, disregarding the Sword Haven but using a piece of the Sword Haven’s legacy. Enough about all those places. The Southern Tip has gotten stranger since I was your age, that was only a few years ago.”

  More and more, the sound of ice hitting the roof, leaving dents in the tent, made having any more conversations hard.

  But while the food was cooking, Hao thought of the shape of the Mid-Summer cave. I can ask Lingli since he is here.

  Hoa had to shout for Lingli to hear his words, “Do you have some paper?”

  Lingli handed over a piece.

  Hao began drawing with a piece of charcoal from below the pot.

  First, in the center, was the mountain they were right next to and the surrounding land. The storm zone, along with the two other mountains. Mother Mountain was closer to the Orange forest, and Father Mountain was the opposite, closer to the blue one. Hao continued to draw those two areas, labeling one ‘orange’ and the other ‘blue’. And finally, what was missing on the map of Sword-Face, two safe zones in green, bending out in away from each other, in curved triangles connected to the two forest’s far ends.

  “Is this a formation?” Lingli said, in a moment of respite from the falling ice.

  Hao put the burnt wood back in the fire. “Formation?” But his words were muddled by the clatter of ice once again.

  The smell of food filled the room, and the falling ice pick up pace. Dong Lingli pointed at the pot, shrugging his shoulders, covering his mouth for a yawn.

  They ate while the ice continued to fall. Hao didn’t make the food with herbs because he was making a friend. A comfortable warmth filled the two of them. Hao cycled his world energy through his stomach, letting any Qi inside the meat and herbs fill him. His body and mind felt bolstered. He just had to wait for the voice shouting out the name Mo.

  While Hao was meditating during the ice.

  Dong Lingli felt the opposite, stretching his arms and pushing the blanket of his bedroll aside.

  Hao was rarely tired anymore. Meditation replaced his sleep, helping him get rest. He didn’t have any interest in sleep anyway. There was no point in a reset if he couldn’t wake to the smell of Meiqi’s cooking. Along with Zhengqi laughing at one of her mother’s stories.

  Hao opened his eyes, storing the empty pot and anything else that was his.

  Dong Lingli looked up, waiting for more ice to hit. I became quiet, the ice fall ending, the night growing colder. “Brother Hao, can we talk more about that drawing tomorrow? If you wish, I can tell you what I know of the Peach-Takers Legacy.”

  Hao nodded his head. His night was going to be busy either way, he would stop the only possible witness from falling asleep.

  Lingli was right next to a bucket of crushed berries. It was a jam Hao made, trying to replicate Meiqi’s cooking the best he could. Lingli stuck a knife into the bucket, his face turning when he tasted it.

  “Brother Hao, do you not have any sugar? I think you should stick to Cultivation…” Lingli said, pulling himself into his bedroll.

  Hao stood, “You! Where am I supposed to find sugar here?” In truth, Hao felt no offense; he had already tried it himself.

  Lingli laughed, covering his legs in a blanket after blanket. “Fair enough!” He pulled the blankets up to his shoulders, turning over on the ground.

  “You are tired because you don’t cultivate enough.” Hao sat back down, crossing his legs.

  “Brother Hao sounds like my Senior Brother. I don’t need to cultivate. I am a genius…“ Lingli drifted off to sleep. His red, strained eyes closed for the first time that day. Rare blinking pulled him away from tinkering or reading something. The only things that had that level of appeal were food and a speech about himself.

  Hao went outside. The ice had passed, but the real cold of night was still far off. It was not fully dark out. The strange zone still had lightning dancing in the sky, periodically shining down on the mountains and reflecting it out into the Storm Zone. It got darker as the lightning faded.

  Hao sat, breathing World Energy and listening. It didn’t take long until he heard, “Young Master Mo!”

  The voice was still in the center of the camp. Hao didn’t have to wait a little longer; the patience of others trying to rest with sensitive ears was thin. The next time he shouted, he was chased away. Pushed from one spot to another until he was outside the camp.

  The shouting man wandered the outskirts of the camp, continuing to yell, “Young Master Mo!”

  Hao felt a jolt each time he heard the voice and name.

  Eventually, he was chased from even there, a few people from Two Rivers Fort running out with sabers pointed out. Hao didn’t recognize their voices and didn’t see or hear anyone from the three groups that were arguing on the trail last night. Perhaps that was in his favor, or they all went ahead to Mother Mountain to take the Polarity flower while he was falling behind.

  The Drifting Stream Disciple who was shouting fell back even further before any sort of fight broke out. He was an experienced member of a hunting team. Likely sharing a fair few battles with other people as well. The Two Rivers Fort fighter didn’t have any chance of catching him.

  As it got darker, all the sound in the camp died down. The only sound was the occasional shout of “Young Master Mo!” from far away. Up at the edge of the forest where Hao came from. He could see the light of the spirit stone the man was using for light as he walked back and forth.

  Hao got up and walked out of the camp. He didn’t try hard to be quiet, using Seven Colored Steps, his heart felt cold. A chill brushed over him, but he didn’t care for it, staring at the light of the spirit stone flashing as its holder turned.

  A twig breaking under his foot made the light wave around his face.

  “Who is there?!” the man flinched, swinging the light of the spirit stone around.