Days passed. Moving as swiftly as he could on foot, Wuya put space between himself and the dead bullies, and more importantly, himself and his demonic aura.

His pilfered coin pouch swung emptily at his hip, but he wore new robes, dark red with a light red hem, and his cheeks were no longer quite as hollow, nor his limbs quite as bony. Walking along the path in the pre-dawn gloom, he hummed to himself.

Ahead, a clearing opened in the forest. He jogged into it, then stood in the center, turning slowly. Wuya drew his sword and turned again, checking the size of the clearing.

Satisfied, he sheathed his sword and began breathing exercises. Slowly, he began to step, walking the path of the first form at half speed. He drew his sword smoothly and continued into a low slide for the second, then third, leaping into the air.

He landed and threw his weight into the fourth form. The dirt underfoot shifted, sending him further off-balance. Wuya’s foot caught on his opposite ankle, and he tumbled to the earth.

“Argh. Don’t lean into the fourth form. I know I’m physically fifteen, but I know better than to do that. Come on, Wuya.” Shaking his head, he pushed himself up. Though honestly, I shouldn’t be practicing the forms yet. I should focus on the fundamentals.

I have the chance to live it all over. Remake my body to perfectly suit my arts. Practice all those times I should have, instead of running off and causing trouble.

But… if Kai Bailong actually shows up, the fundamentals won’t do anything against him. I need more than that. More power.

An image flashed through his head, ancient. Kai Bailong barely as old as Wuya was now, dressed in simple white-and-blue robes, laughing earnestly, head tipped back.

Wuya’s face twisted. Now that’s ancient history. He stood, dusting off his knees, and assumed the first form again. Again, he reached the fourth form and slammed to the floor, unable to maintain his footing.

Wuya grit his teeth. What am I doing wrong?

Undeterred, he pushed himself back up. Again. Again. Always, his feet stumbled on the first step of the fourth form, and he crashed into the floor again. Dirt stained his new red robes. He took a deep breath and climbed to his feet once more, for another try.

“You aren’t going to get very far if you ignore the fundamentals.”

Wuya jumped.

A hand closed on his shoulders and held him in place. The other hand slapped the outside of his thigh, white sleeves swinging gracefully. “Not enough muscle in the thighs leads to weak knees. You lack the strength to pivot fast enough.”

“Let go!” Wuya snapped.

The unseen man reached down and tapped his calf. “Weak calves. Not enough explosive power to launch yourself upward.”

A light touch on his hip. “And these bony hips. No flexibility. Disqualified.”

Wuya twisted out of the man’s grip, snarling. He whipped around and pointed his sword at him.

A young man in white stepped back, putting his hands up to show himself as harmless. He gave Wuya a friendly smile and nod.

Wary, Wuya backed away, keeping his sword between himself and the man. “Who are you?”

The young man tipped his head and smiled.

Wuya backed away, disturbed. Do you jump out at people and give impromptu lectures when you get bored? Gross. He nodded to the interloper. “Excuse me.”

“I didn’t mean to disturb your practice. Please, continue.”

“Who would?” Wuya muttered under his breath. He narrowed his eyes at the young man, searching his face.

The young man smiled back at him, waiting. He possessed a gentle, scholarly demeanor, his face soft and kind. Long black hair fell back from his face, tied loosely at the bottom. A few escaped strands swayed on the wind. Spotless white robes swirled around him, long and flowing, not the short robes of a swordsman. At the same time, sharp eyes watched Wuya closely, and the sword at his hip showed signs of use, no mere decoration.

Wuya shook his head and walked away. A dozen steps down the path, he glanced back.

The young man leaned against a tree, resting. He caught Wuya’s eye. With a smile, he lifted his hand in a little wave.

Wuya scowled and turned back around.

As he walked, the man’s words echoed in his mind. Not enough muscle… weak… bony…

His nose wrinkled, but then he sighed. He’s right. The Seven Forms of Autumn aren’t a demonic technique. I know I need better strength, dammit!

Demonic techniques allow practitioners to gain power rapidly, essentially shortcutting the usual process of cultivating martial prowess, but at the cost of warping the mind and body. Use them long enough, and you risk crippling yourself or falling insane. Even at the height of my power, I still took care to fend off the side effects.

As an orthodox technique, the Seven Forms of Autumn won’t cripple me or drive me mad, but on the other hand, I can’t unleash their full power until I’m much stronger. If I use what little demonic aura I have left, I can forcibly draw out the Seven Forms’ power, but it injures me in the process.

I know I should focus on gaining strength and establishing my fundamentals. I can’t keep relying on my old demonic strength, or Kai Bailong will catch me. It’s just… argh, no. No excuses.

Besides, if my strength is higher, I can draw more power out with my demonic aura. It’s a win-win.

Chen Wuya took a deep breath, settling his mind. My mind is influenced by my body. No matter what body I’m in, it always influences me. I can’t let my youthful body’s impatience take control of me.

He looked at his hands and clenched them into fists. Bones stood out on their backs and down his forearms. His stomach rumbled.

Wuya sighed deeply. “I need more food.”

The sun slowly rose. The path became more populated, and finally grew into a town. People bustled about. A river ran along the side of the village, and a rickety wooden bridge crossed it. A few inns and shops advertised their wares along the road. The smell of roasting meat and baking sweets filled the air.

Wuya drew a deep breath, then let it out. He touched the pouch at his hip and felt its emptiness. Only enough coin remained for a single night at an inn, something he intended to save for bad weather. Casting a regretful look at the delicious food, he trudged over to the river.

“—of the Evil Raven and the Brilliant Hero! Gather ‘round, gather ‘round!”

Mid-pace, Wuya halted. A shabby puppeteer gestured to a small crowd of children, welcoming them closer, while he continued his bark: “The ancient tale, once more brought to life! Come watch the shocking rise of a dark god and his inevitable defeat at the hand of good!”

Eyes narrowed, Wuya stalked over. He crouched down at the back of the crowd of kids, propping his head in his hands. He stared expectantly at the puppeteer, a sinister light in his eyes.

The puppeteer ran a hand down the back of his neck and shivered. He glanced around, but, finding nothing, returned to his smiling self. Humming, he settled behind a screen. Beside him, a pretty girl raised a flute to her lips and played a haunting tune.

“A long time ago, there was a swordsman.”

Descending on slender strings, a handsome puppet in red appeared, a sword in hand. He gestured at the crowd, tiny sword darting all around. The children screeched, giggling in delight.

“A great swordsman! A swordsman the likes of which had not been seen in a great many years! Upon the field of battle, he slayed enemy after enemy.”

Fierce puppets in spiky black armor galloped up to the red puppet upon massive, fearsome horses. The red puppet darted out, and the black-armored puppets fell in two, cut apart.

Chen Wuya’s eyes softened. Behind the screen, the puppeteer wiped the sweat off his face and let out a sigh as the strange pressure lightened. It must have been too long since I did a show, for me to get so nervous!

“Even the Heavens recognized his might, and when the war was over, he ascended to Heaven as a martial god.”

A white paper beam of light descended from the sky and fell upon the red puppet. The puppet turned his head upward and rose up into the waiting clouds.

“However! Little did they know the wickedness that dwelled in his heart! That swordsman was none other than Qiu Xuanwu. The wicked Qiu Xuanwu was unwilling to climb the ranks of Heaven. He thought he deserved more than the lowly role of a martial god, and grew envious of the other gods. In his jealousy, he committed crimes against Heaven and attacked his fellow deities! Heaven had no option but to cast him down!”

The red puppet plummeted from the skies, now ragged, the sword in his hand broken in half.

Wuya’s eyes narrowed once more.

Behind the screen, the puppeteer hesitated. His shoulders ached with sudden weight. Sweat broke out down his back. His next line fled his mind, completely lost. “Er, he…”

The flautist raised her eyebrows at him and played a trill.

The puppeteer’s eyes brightened. Right! “Cast down from Heaven, Qiu Xuanwu no longer possessed the immortality of a deity, and his divine energy was severely damaged. However, that fearsome man did not repent, or apologize for his deeds. Instead, still bearing jealousy in his heart, he crawled into the underworld and gathered demonic energy.”

The ragged puppet dipped below the stage. Black paper mist swirled around the bottom of the stage, dark and mysterious. A few of the children gasped.

“He emerged a dark god, an evil deity, and lead an army of monsters and demonic beasts against the Heavens!”

Now clad in black with ferocious red eyes, the puppet emerged from the fog. Behind him, horrid monsters bared claws and fangs, bodies twisted, some emaciated, others malformed, eyes bulging, ribs pressing against starved chests. The children squealed in horror. A few hid their faces, afraid.

“Heaven had never seen an upheaval like this! The gods united their might, but Qiu Xuanwu’s underhanded plots and twisted methods undermined them. He destroyed the gods, one after another!”

White figures with indistinct features descended from white clouds to meet the army of beasts. The two battled, falling apart. Wherever the black-clad puppet stepped, the white deities collapsed to the ground.

A dreamy smile spread across Wuya’s face. He nodded along, eyes glazed as the past rose up before his eyes. Ah, what wonderful times. If only I could go back to those days. Trampling the so-called deities under my feet… what an incomparable feeling.

“He killed them? But how? Deities are immortal!” one of the kids piped up.

“Precisely! He struck them down, but lacked the power to kill them. Determined to become the supreme deity and ascend to the throne of Jade Emperor, he sealed the gods away deep in the underworld!”

The scene swirled. A black throne rose up in one corner, a massive iron door behind it. The bits of god flew behind the iron door, and the door shut. The black-clad puppet settled into the throne.

“What happened then? All the gods are gone!” a child asked.

“In his haste, Qiu Xuanwu failed to seal every god. Some gods were away from Heaven when he attacked. Among them… was Kai Bailong!”

The throne and iron door vanished. Instead, Heaven’s white clouds swirled around the background.

Stepping onto the clouds, a puppet in white looked around. Lovingly crafted, its every dimension was crisp and perfect. A tiny brush had brought its face to life in exquisite detail, the phoenix eyes glittering, a stern expression on its small face. The children gasped and applauded. A few whispered praises, eyes wide. A puppet this beautiful was a rare sight!

A fierce pressure slammed down on the puppeteer’s chest. He shuddered and gasped a breath, wiping his sweat again. I haven’t felt this much anxiety performing since I was a child. I need more practice!

“A martial god who ascended after Qiu Xuanwu, he escaped Qiu Xuanwu’s jealousy. The arrogant Qiu Xuanwu thought Kai Bailong was undeserving of his attention!”

The children giggled.

Behind the screen, the puppeteer adjusted his collar. Is it just me? Does no one else feel this intensity?

The black puppet appeared again. Black and white puppets clashed, their swords flashing. Evenly matched, they fought back and forth across the stage. Time and time again, the white puppet won, only for the black puppet to scurry off, or send a monster against the white puppet, or enact some underhanded plot and escape. The children booed.

Chen Wuya booed along with them. Annoyed, he muttered under his breath, “If Qiu Xuanwu lost so many times, how did it take so long for Kai Bailong to release the other gods? This play is utter slander. I had the upper hand. It’s Kai Bailong who kept scurrying off like a cockroach after I defeated him time and time again!”

If I hadn’t been so arrogant as to ignore those mortals, he never would’ve defeated me! Who would’ve thought a righteous god would depend upon an underhanded trick, risking the lives of pitiable mortals? It was my failing that led to his victory, not his strength! Chen Wuya let out a huff and crossed his arms, still crouching. His scowl deepened.

At last, the two clashed in the throne room. The white puppet gestured, and a golden circle surrounded the black puppet. It fell back, arms flying. The white puppet swooped in, piercing the black puppet through the chest. The black puppet sank down, dead. The children clapped and cheered.

Chen Wuya turned his head aside and clicked his tongue.

The white puppet walked to the door and opened it, and all the other gods rushed out. The door and the throne fell down, replaced by Heaven’s clouds. The gods all clustered around the white puppet, singing his praises.

“The other gods wanted to give him the Jade Throne. However, Kai Bailong was too humble, too virtuous to desire a reward! Instead, he requested that the other gods not purge Qiu Xuanwu’s soul. He would lead Qiu Xuanwu back to righteousness. In Kai Bailong’s eyes, even Qiu Xuanwu’s filthy soul was worthy of redemption. He guided Qiu Xuanwu through the cycle of reincarnation, over and over, until his demonic aura could be purged.”

The human puppets vanished. In their place, two bugs appeared. One, black, crawled along the floor. The other, white, framed in a scintillating paper halo, hovered above, watching over the black bug. The bugs vanished, replaced by lizards, birds, cats. Always one in white hovering above, surrounded by a halo, and one in black, lowly and weak, crawling below.

“Over and over, endlessly following Qiu Xuanwu, until his soul could be guided to righteousness once more!”

The second puppet faded from black to gray, from gray to a shade from white.

“Remember, children. No matter how lost you are, no matter how far from righteousness you might stray… as long as you turn away from evil and devote yourself to righteousness, you too—”

Scoffing, Chen Wuya stood and walked off. He shook his head. “What bullshit. As if that shitty, nagging asshole was some great hero!”

Annoyed, he lashed out with his sword and severed a bamboo pole. Chen Wuya caught the pole and tapped it against his shoulder as he walked. Reaching the bank of the river, he plopped down and began to string the bamboo, turning the pole into a fishing rod.

Fishing for my dinner like a beggar! If the other deities saw me now…

The taste of raw frog rushed up in his throat again, and he gulped. He shook his head and wiped his mouth, barely resisting the urge to retch. “At least I can cook my food, now…”

“Oh? What a coincidence.”