We didn't travel inside the chariot for long--not because I lacked Spirit Stones for change, but because the kids grew bored and wanted to test out their new toy(s) by the very normal and completely standard and not at all crazy method: beating the shit out of each other.
As such, I 'parked' the chariot as we came across the massive jut of the Heavenly Lake that separated the two landmasses; Forbidden Spirit Wilds, the side we were currently on, and Imperial Jade Province, where Jade Blossom City was in.
While the kids (including Long Tao) started redecorating the surrounding landscape (a rather depressing one, as it was mostly composed of low, dry grass covering the quite dusty open field), I chose to be the cook for the first time in a while, with the trusted old alchemist on my side as an assistant, and the bird on top of my head who was yet to actually leave it, and the other bird cosplaying as the first bird and hanging out on my left shoulder.
"I never got to ask, but do you think it's a smart idea?" Lao Shun said as I started to heat up the water to boil it.
"What is?"
"Bringing him and, well, that," he eyed the bird on top of my head and pointed at Han Yimu. "They smell like trouble."
"Yes, because we otherwise never get into trouble."
"... fair point. But you are still inviting more of it." a fair and reasonable warning, but at this point, honestly, I just learned to go with the flow. I've tried resisting the system and Long Tao and their many whims, but, ultimately, things always seem to play out in such a way that we become centers of something.
Whether it's one of those philosophical wonderings of the existence of free will (or lack thereof), with us walking the path that's predetermined for us, or whether it's just the nature of extremely talented cultivators to always stir things up no matter what, in the end the results remain the same for the most part.
"Maybe," I said. "Or maybe I'm building an assault team so insane, anyone who sees us will go running the other way."
"... I wouldn't be surprised," he shrugged with a faint chuckle as the water began to boil. "You've changed quite a bit."
"I have?"
"You were a whole lot more cowardly when I first met you."
"Oh. I wouldn't worry; I'm every bit the same coward now as I was back then. I just... I just learned to trust them. Not completely, but for the most part."
"That's... admirable, I suppose," he said. "And a bit troubling."
"Hah. Tell me about it. Here, hold this," I said, handing him a few plates of fresh veggies that I'd been storing in the 'prison'.
"... dare I ask?" he looked at the plates and then at me and then back at the plates before asking.
"I mean, you're a brave, courageous man."
"So, no."
"Just a toy, just a toy."
"Right. And I'm just an alchemist."
"Hey, you said it."
"Ugh," he groaned as I tossed in the minced meat and then the veggies into the boiling water, using my finger to stir it. Well, not my literal finger--I connected a thread of Qi to the tip of my finger and extended it flatly, using it to stir. "I take it back. You're still the same child you were when we met."
We fell silent and looked over at the kids where Dai Xiu was currently having fun with Han Yimu; the latter, on top of having just 'restarted' his cultivation, was also learning a new weapon. Which, well, didn't lend itself to 'fair' battles.
He'd pierce forward with the spear, she'd duck sideways and then pummel his jaw or his ribs or the side of his face without holding back... much. And then he'd barrel backwards for about forty to fifty yards, dusted up from head to toe, bloodied scrapes being patched up immediately after. He'd picking up on the Surging Spirit Art shockingly quick, as though it were tailored for him.
It was for naught, however, as the moment he'd go back in... the same fate awaited.
**
Han Yimu was frustrated, and he was angry, and he was shocked, and he was horrified, and he was a million small things all at once.
At the top of that list, however, resided horror--the art Master gave him, Surging Spirit Art, was literally heaven-defying. He'd never seen or even read about anything quite like it--not even close, at that. It was the kind of art that kids would dream about--When I grow up, I'll learn an art that will heal all my wounds immediately so I can find for months with no end!
And though many kids dreamed of the art, it didn't exist. Well, he thought it didn't exist, at least.
Not that the Surging Spirit Art was at that level, of course, as it did zap quite a lot of his Qi any time he healed himself, but that was with abysmal mastery and after learning it for a few days, at most. What about after a month? Or a year? Or a century?
He was certain that, were its existence to be revealed in the Upper Realm, everyone would be descending to hunt the Master down. Not disciples of sects, no--Emperors and Empresses would personally descend. That was how insanely tempting the art would be.
Beyond that, there was the spear.
How did his Master know?
From the onset, Han Yimu felt the kind of kinship with the cold metal of hte shaft that he never felt when holding a sword. And though his thrusts and parries were clumsy and ill-timed against Dai Xiu's insufferable speed, he felt them far more potent than his sword ever was at the same realm.
In fact, despite being stripped of his method and all his arts not a week ago, and having just learned a new method and one utility-art a couple of days ago, he genuinely believed he was stronger as he was now than he ever was in the Spirit Manifestation Realm. No, even beyond that--his current strength rivaled him when he was at the peak of Revolving Core Realm.
... which begged the question.
How was he still being toyed with by these literal children? Was he simply so lacking in talent that just any slightly talented kid could wipe the floor with him? Of course not. Though he lacked in resources and backing, Han Yimu was certain of the fact that he did not lack in talent. In fact, even if he wasn't the most talented disciple of his former sect, he was undoubtedly among the top three, or top five at worst.
And yet, it felt like it didn't matter.
"You're thinking too much," suddenly, the strange boy that gave him the creeps suddenly spoke up, stepping away as Dai Xiu immediately retreated. He heard faint chuckles echoing from the back and felt his spine chill for some reason. "Fights, no matter how much you think about them, are fought outside for your mind." was... was he really being lectured on fighting by someone half his age?
"Uh, I, I just thought--"
"--no thinking," the boy said quite casually, standing about ten yards from him, hands behind his back. "One hour. For one hour, every time you have a thought, I will break one bone of yours."
"H-huh?"
"Attack me. Just remember--no thinking."
Anger swelled inside his heart suddenly; though he knew he was likely weaker, even Seniors back in the sect showed more respect toward him. Looking at the boy's defenseless pose, he scoffed inwardly and considered from which side to attack.
Which was when it happened.
The first thing that he registered was the snapping sound--and then the pain. He just barely caught side of his entire left arm snapping backwards like a twig, with pain shooting through him like a bolt of thunder. He didn't scream, biting his tongue, but fell to his knees as the sudden burst of pain was too much.
How? How?
"Use the Surging Spirit Art," the boy's voice, which just moments ago sounded like the chime of some arrogant kid, was now a reaper's call. Cold, unfeeling, dreadful. "You have a minute to fix it. Oh, and it still stands--no thinking. About anything. Feel the pain, fix the pain, and use the anger to attack me. That's all you have to do for the next hour. Merely endure. It's not that hard, is it?"