Qiu’yue woke up with a headache. She found that her Tang-ge was watching her with an odd look.

His fists tightly clenched frightened the young girl. Qiu’yue tried to get up, but a burning at her chest assaulted her, and she coughed up blood.

Jang-Guo did not respond. The innocent Qiu’yue told herself that it was because of his leg. With her heart pounding like flames, the girl wiped the blood from her mouth. It was then that she noticed her new claws as the light glanced off with a sharp glint. Qiu’yue grew more frightened. She turned to Jang-Guo, but found him turned on his side, back facing her, and asleep. Something about him struck great caution in the girl. Qiu’yue retreated her pleading hands. The girl cradled herself, curled into a ball.

Qiu’yue inspected her reflection in her sharp silver claws. The girl thought the nine-tails braid adorned on her head to be pretty and elegant — but her bloodlust toward the slain white nine-tailed fox reignited and she quickly undone it to let her hair flow freely.

The girl coughed up blood once more. Her entire body felt embittered with a coursing fire. Paled further than normal, the young girl’s cold face like the moon proclaimed the presence of death. Wracked with fire, yet shivering, the girl hugged herself until she too fell asleep.

Jang-Guo turned to face the young girl after he confirmed her to be sleeping. Squinting his eyes, the boy contemplated something dark deep within him — grew frustrated, cursed, before retreating into sleep.

When the two children woke up, the awkward air drift over them from before lingered. It coiled around their throats and squeezed, pulsating like a drum.

“Qiu-di,” Jang-Guo greeted with an empty smile. It faltered, wobbled like a man hopping across stones, before it collapsed and fell into an icy cold river of regret. Jang-Guo glanced up to shield his face from the girl. “Let’s get moving, ok, brat?”

Biting her lips, the young girl nodded. “Tang-ge, little Qiu’yue will help carry you.”

“No!” Jang-Guo shouted, spit flying everywhere. Qiu’yue stepped back with alarm. She lowered her head and rubbed her arm. Jang-Guo cursed under his breath. “Qiu-di, what I mean, is, that as a cultivator, I have pride. I will crawl if I have to.”

Qiu’yue nodded as if she accepted and understood her big brother’s words. She looked at Jang-

Guo and said, “Tang-ge, at least let me wash your wound. Papa always washed Mama’s wounds when she came home from war. I don’t want your leg to get infected and get cut off.”

Without waiting for a response, the five-years old girl ran to gather water in her hands. Manipulating her qi to seal up any crevices, the girl brought over water to Jang-Guo. She allowed Jang-Guo a sip which he cautiously took, as if he was placing his head inside a lion’s mouth. Then Jang-Guo untied the cloth around his thigh. Qiu’yue washed it real good.

“Aren’t you nervous about seeing so much blood?” Jang-Guo asked as she worked.

Shaking her head, the girl responded, “Mama always came home with worse.” She glanced at her own body. “Besides, I’m a cultivator, right, Tan-ge?”

Not getting a response, the girl silently worked. When she was finished, Jang-Guo nodded.

True to his words, Jang-Guo began crawling to the portal. Qiu’yue followed close behind him. He paused before he entered.

“Qiu-di, who were your parents?”

The girl tilted her head. “Papa usually stayed home with me. He wrote a lot of poems about ponds. Mama —” the girl paused, and frowned, “I don’t really know. Mama always told me she was a genius in war.”

“I see.” Jang-Guo said to himself. He asked another question. “What do you want in life?”

The question caught the young girl off-guard. She was just five years old, and only two months had passed since her induction into the cultivator’s realm. All she possessed of life were the memories in her: kite-flying, mooncakes, and her Mama and Papa smiling along with her. She was too young to crave power or love or any of that; but raised in an elite household, she was also too old to say to another person about her silly dreams. The girl had told that she cultivated because she wanted to find her parents, yet she felt as if those words were hollow. And it was at that moment that Qiu’yue realized she was empty — as all inexperienced children were. She still believed that her parents were fine.

Jang-Guo took the girl’s silence as an answer and dragged himself through the portal. Qiu’yue quickly followed, worried about Jang-Guo’s wound.

The girl covered her eyes as the portal transported her to an octagonal room. Decorating the entire containment were red candles. At the center of the room was engraved some words:

“Fourth Trial: Devouring Stars like the Eclipsing Moon, Ziran. [Ziran refers to spontaneity and individuality.]”

Jang-Guo noticed a deep emotion swam deep in her brown eyes. He scanned the room once more and found only red candles — some floated but nothing mystical. After all, he and the other orphans lived inside the flowers of a living tree. Therefore, Jang-Guo found himself confused at the emotion shown by the girl: not yet fear, nor does it seem like sadness or grief, and certainly the emotion was not a happy one.

“Qiu-di,” he called. The girl did not respond. Caught in a tanglement of memories, the girl simply stood there.

Ka! A ghastly howl streaked across the dark sky. Several blue-robe clad servants slumped over dead — yet no wound or bleeding was visible on their body. Their bodies lined the ground from the closed gates all the way to the main halls of a magnificent mansion. At both the gates and the doorway of the main halls stood a stone tablet in the five-fingers shape of Mount Tai. Both stone tablets inscribed with blood ancient incantations were split down the middle. The dead totaled 30 people. The howl increased as if someone was capable of hurting a beast able to produce such a horrendous sound. Rickety-rickety! Rickety-rickety! Strange clacks of ancient peach wood blocks. Ding! Ding! Ding! Chimes from golden bells.

Yet the beast entrapped in the octagonal cell formed of hand mirrors remained vengeful. Eyes like the sun but sliced with an infinite abyss. Nine beautiful white tails flowed like silk. And the beast’s hair billowed despite no wind. White fur covered the beast’s long slender forearms, though the underside remained bare.

A man garbed in yellow robes stood opposed to the beast. The man’s ashen face was illuminated by the hundred of red candles which lit the halls. He was the one clacking the peach wood blocks. He was the one controlling the golden bells ringing out at the beast. He was the beast’s husband.

“Ka!” The beast howled. Twisting her face into a smile, green blood smeared at the corner of her lips, the beast cried, “Idiot! Idiot! You think you can keep the Celestial Fox under such common chains?”

“You are no Celestial Fox; the Fox is a noble immortal of gold,” the man replied coldly in response.

“Your white tails invite only death.”

The beast hissed and laughed. “What cold words to say to your wife.”

“You are not my wife. You are but a demon in need of an exorcism!” The man said sternly, threw down his blocks, and pulled from his sleeves a peach wood sword.

“Ha! Mirrors no longer work. Bells no longer work. Now, you use a peach wood sword,” the beast growled. “Are you not afraid of slaying your actual wife?”

“You are a coward — you will give me back my wife before I actually kill you,” the man frowned.

“And you are but a hack cultivator,” the beast smirked. The beast coughed up more blood which quickly turned green. She got up from her stomach, her tails waving about madly. “Ka!”

All the mirrors shattered and the man took a step back. A thick mist exuded from the beast as she hissed once more. The mist converged on the candles and plunged the man into darkness. With one grand flick of her wrist, the bells fell dead. With neither sound or sight to assist him, the hack cultivator cautiously held his peach wood sword close to his body.

The beast lunged forth. Ching! The hack cultivator sliced through empty air.

“Dear, I love you,” the beast whispered with a giggle behind the man’s ear.

Swish! The man pivoted and leapt back and cut down with his sword.

“Dear, how can you do that to me?” She whispered into his ear again. “I am your wife.”

The man leapt back and swung his sword madly. The knot on the top of his head became undone in his panic. His long black hair fell loose and obscured his eyes.

The beast paced around the halls. Scampered up pillars. Scurried across ceiling ledges. Leapt about loudly; pounced and tumbled.

The beast giggled in the wife’s voice. The man grew furious.

Ching! The beast struck with her claws. Intercepting the blow with his peach wood sword, the man slid his blade against the sharp claws and moved in. Glancing his sword off the beast’s claws, the man proceeded to strike. The beast blocked it. Several more blows ensued. A brutal exchange of claws against blade.

After a mere breath, the two leapt back from one another. Not a single one of them was hurt. Though the man was certainly more tired. He slid back and clutched his chest. He gurgled and coughed up blood.

The beast cracked her joints. Illuminated by the moon above, the beast’s smirk shown through and mocked the man. Sensing victory, the beast bursted with yin qi! A coldness took over the halls, chilling the very air into ice, coating the pillars with frost. Her entire body vibrated with strength and bulged with muscles. Exploding with raw power, the beast swung her entire body at the man.

“Ka!” Blood spurted from her mouth. Her claws merely inches away from the man’s face, as if stopped short of caressing him shortly. Shaking, her eyes drifted down to her ribs. The peach wood sword impaled through her.

The hack cultivator pulled his sword back with a stone face. The beast stumbled backwards and fell onto her knees. One hand placed over her wound, she glanced at the man with a questioning face.

He answered, “As much as I hate to admit it, you fight the same way as Yin Yin. Even a child boy can slay you if he knew your openings.”

The beast glared and growled as she coughed up blackish blood. “You will use your qi to save me, so you can save her. And I will simply return from my slumber then. If not, you will have killed your wife — a grave unforgivable sin!”

“Just go back to sleep, beast. I will save your wife. I have saved her from you before,” he growled back.

The beast laughed weakly. “Flowery poetry does not work forever.”

She closed her eyes and her body slumped over. Then she fell over onto her unwounded side.

Rapidly, her tails shrunk back into her and the claws and fur fell off. The man rushed over and pressed his head against the woman’s chest.

He cursed. Not a pulse was heard. He recited some poetry, some beautiful declaration of love. Nothing happened.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he cried. The man grabbed one of the fallen claws and sliced his wrist. He pressed the spring of blood against his wife’s lips. As the blood poured down her throat, her face regained a peach hue. Still, the man felt no sense of life from her. Left with no choice, he pressed his wife’s palms against his chest. Instantly, the man screamed and his back arched as he felt his wife absorbed the very life from him.

While she absorbed qi and life from him, he took his peach wood sword and pressed it against his wife’s forehead and muttered incantations. When her wound healed, her eyes snapped opened to reveal golden suns — instantly! the hack cultivator slapped his sword against the woman’s forehead three times in quick succession and breathed out bindings. The beast howled as she was pressed back in her weakened state into a deep slumber. His wife fell unconscious and slept gently in her husband’s arms.

Her hand stabbed half the way into her husband’s stomach. He grimaced and pulled his wife’s hand from his innards. He gently laid her down onto the floor. With a pale face, he tore one of the nearby dead servant’s robe and wrapped it around his wound.

From the doorway, a little girl of about three watched with fearful awe.

“Oi! Brat,” Jang-Guo shouted and grabbed a hold of Qiu’yue’s shoulders. The girl snapped out of her haze and screamed. With one great exertion of force, which caused numerous rips to erupt on her flesh, the girl spun around and swept the entire room with her qi and snuffed out all the candles. The entire room plunged into darkness — yet at the center, with Qiu’yue as the epicenter, it felt as though the very moon was given life.

“Brat?” Jang-Guo called again. “Qiu-di, are you fine?” The boy remembered the palm prints on his chest and dragged himself away rather than forward.

Qiu’yue followed Jang-Guo’s voice and responded quietly, “Tang-ge, I, I’m fine. Something just came over me.”

Jang-Guo nodded with hesitation. Qiu’yue smiled weakly in response.

With the trial cleared, the sound of a door opening reached the two. Jang-Guo and Qiu’yue went through the doors onto the next trial.

The two children had been stuck on the fifth trial for quite some time — a few days had passed. The fifth trial named appropriately by Sun Devouring Moon was called, “Labyrinth of Sand, Meditation on the Way”.

Taking the form of a complex puzzle, the trial constantly teased the two children. The exit was always visible to the children — a grand set of blue doors seemingly made of porcelain and water. No matter where the children went or how the walls made of sand shifted or changed, the doors always stood above the maze and mocked the two stupid children. And the trial was utterly boring — no monsters, no scenery, nor did they get hungry or tired. It was simply sand and the relentless march of time.

The children had tried both spontaneity and stillness to solve the puzzle. They attempted to punch through the walls toward where the doors stood. Yet, the doors either physically hopped up into the air and away or the children felt as if the distance never shortened. And when they simply sat still, hoping the puzzle would solve itself similar to a finger-trap, nothing happened. Though the shifting sands moved the children, often it moved the children close to the children only to move them further back.

Taking a break after mindless walking, the two children decided to sit — maybe they’ll get lucky and the sand will carry them to the exit. With no hunger or need for sleep or even desire, the children simply sat. Not knowing how much time has passed, Jang-Guo opened his mouth to engage in conversation — small talk — yet no words came out of his mouth. He closed it and inspected his wound for what might be the 42nd time.

“Tang-ge, I thought we became blood brothers,” Qiu’yue spoke, interrupting Jang-Guo’s courtship of the dead skin around his wound.

Jang-Guo looked away. “We are blood brothers, Qiu-di.”

Qiu’yue started to cry. Jang-Guo tried to leap to his feet, but his wound prevented him from doing so. Flustered, the boy shouted, “What’s wrong, Qiu-di?”

“You hate little Qiu’yue,” the girl responded bluntly.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Yes you do. You hate me just like how my parents hate me.”

Jang-Guo facepalmed. “Brat, the fuck you thinking? Of all the times you choose to be spoiled...Your parents don’t hate you. And I don’t hate you.”

“Papa left me. And Mama haven’t looked for me.” She looked at Jang-Guo. “You’re scared of me.”

“You don’t know for certain that your parents aren’t looking for you,” he responded. “And, brat, Qiu-di, I just don’t know exactly who you are.”

Qiu’yue sniffled. “You all told me that they weren’t looking for me.”

Jang-Guo grimaced at that statement.

“And I don’t know who I am. I don’t know anything about myself.” Qiu’yue frowned.

Not knowing what to do, Jang-Guo simply waited for Qiu’yue to finish crying. When she finished crying, the boy crawled over despite his worries and patted the girl’s head.

“You have Meili, right? I’m not giving her to you though, just, you have her, right?” Jang-Guo said.

The girl nodded. Jang-Guo also nodded. “Then good. Let’s solve this stupid puzzle and move on.

Cause Meili is surely missing her big brother right now.”

(Meili sneezed. She shook her head with a sneer before returning her attention to picking out her part of the loot. Her eyes glittered at a golden bracelet with a blue jewel.)

Wiping her tears from her face, the girl stood up. The pair resumed walking. That was the only solution allowed for cultivators — to keep moving, walking their own paths and clambering over their own obstacles.

The Way was simply such. What is will be; what was will remain. Holding such

realizations, the children kept on moving chanting the mantra in their heads. After a few more days of walking, the sand labyrinth collapsed and only the blue porcelain doors remained.

“Two more trials,” Jang-Guo muttered. He smiled at Qiu’yue. There was still some uncertainty in him — though much of it has submerged underneath after unavoidable interaction with the young girl.

“Qiu-di, let’s do this!”

Qiu’yue smiled. Her eyes were still red from constantly crying and her face was paler than before.

The two stepped through.

Author's Note: Well, one more chapter and the trials will be finished. Gonna have an boss fight, yay. I like writing these chapters more though, probably better too. A lot of foreshadowing here. Like way into the future too...I dragged the trials on way too much. Hmm. I really just wanna jump into the more exciting stuff now. Long drawn out stories like this was a bad idea for someone who is just starting out...

Also, this friend of mine was watching Ultraman in class today...nostalgia af. Am I the only one who think Ultraman 80 is the best one? Best opening theme song at least?

As always, thanks for reading.