***

  Yǚchén listened to the sounds around him as Huànxiàng stepped through the open corridor out of the Grand Elder’s abode toward the medical bay. On his left was the city below, its denizens clamoring about, going every which way in the strange chaos of bustling city life. On the right lay an expansive tunnel, with several blue, glowing lanterns hung along its sides with white rope. Despite the burrow’s massive size, it twisted significantly, making it impossible for Yǚchén to see what was at its end. Just as Yǚchén was catching a glimpse, a voice cut his concentration.

  “Annd we’re here!”

  Zhéguī extended his arm upward at the building behind him, smiling.

  “Better hurry up- you don’t want to die from an infection, do you?”

  The boy banged on the white mushroom stalk door to no avail. He cupped his hands over his mouth and recoiled his body, as if preparing to blow a war horn.

  “OY DOC, YOU GOT ANOTHER INJURED FELLA!”

  No response.

  “GRAND ELDER’S ORDERS!”

  Nothing.

  “HE’S WILLING TO TRY SOME MEDICINE!”

  The door slammed open, revealing a young girl, maybe 7 years old, dressed in a large turtle shell. Her face was blank, bearing no expression. She wasted no time with formalities, hurriedly speaking as she waddled behind Huànxiàng, pushing the two forward. Her legs marched forward at a rapid pace as she whispered to herself and spoke in a monotonous voice.

  “Chugga Chugga Chugga Chugga. Quick, quick, we move quick. Go. Go. Choo Choo.”

  The injured boy looked back at Zhéguī, who seemed to detect his worry.

  “Don’t worry, Doc Mó here will take good care of you. Call her Little Mómó. She knows just about everything when it comes to medicine. She just does a little… science as payment.”

  Yǚchén did not speak, hoping to minimize blood loss, but looked over at Zhéguī with a look that said,

  That doesn’t give me any confidence, you know.

  Zhéguī chuckled, doubling down in reply to the look.

  “Don’t worry about your wound, worry about afterward!”

  Yǚchén stared daggers at Zhéguī.

  I’m pretty worried about everything right now, you prick!

  The girl in the turtle shell paused her run and stuck out her tongue at Zhéguī, continuing to push forward after. The only issue was that Huànxiàng had already walked into the doorway, so she fell face-first, letting out a strong (by her standards) “aiya” as she hit the ground.

  Expecting to be made fun of, she looked up and saw a different face of Zhéguī as he turned back around, stepping through the open corridor toward the Grand Elder’s Hall. He looked… worried. Yet, he still laughed as he sauntered off.

  —

  Yǚchén lay in a cloaked room, the verdant tapestry forming a shroud around his bed. Outside of it was the cluttered and disheveled wasteland that was called a clinic. Still, somehow, by a small miracle, it was functional. Yǚchén would make it.

  Huànxiàng stood at his bedside, pensive. Finally, he spoke.

  “Why can’t I tell anyone anything?”

  Yǚchén shushed him and paused for a moment, considering his options. He knew something was suspicious about this place, but he couldn’t run or defend himself if someone wanted to do anything to him.

  There was no choice for him but to trust Huànxiàng, who had at least proven himself reliable, even if his origins were suspect. He’d have to guarantee Huànxiàng’s trust one way or another.

  Yǚchén pensively whispered, trying to sort through his thoughts as much as he was communicating to his only ally.

  “The reason that so many buildings in City 1 collapsed was that their wooden foundations were ripped out by force. You’ll see patches of moss where splinters used to be. That means that these people have lived outside before, but from what I’ve seen, it’s clear they’ve forgotten that even wood exists, substituting it with hardened mushroom. Their clothing is probably sewn from lichen or something, too.”

  Huànxiàng’s head tilted, nodding while processing the information, though he did not understand even half the words that Yǚchén said. Yǚchén continued sorting through his thoughts as pops and hisses came from the building behind them.

  “I introduced myself as coming from Yǐng in the state of Chǔ, but every city here is named numerically. It’s clear that that boy Zhéguī hasn’t seen or heard of the outside world for his whole life. So, shouldn’t he have at least asked questions?”

  They could hear something boiling in the back and being poured, followed by the kicking of metal, a brief “ow,” then the rustling of parchment being pushed around as the little doctor walked from one place to another. Yǚchén continued,

  “And didn’t we meet in a place where we were at most an arm’s length away from the moss? Why don’t I have the ‘Moss Plague?’ I’m not paralyzed, when I should have been. I just don’t really understand—”

  But just as Yǚchén was about to speak, a quiet voice cut him off.

  “Oops.”

  Boom.

  The walls rattled as a cloud of dust and smoke filled the air. A scraping of ivory and stone and a muffled "awawawa" could be heard from the other side of the medical bay.

  Huànxiàng, startled, turned toward the commotion and found Mò tucked neatly inside her oversized turtle shell, slowly skidding to a stop. She slowly peaked out of her turtle shell with the same unbothered face as before, realizing she was upside down.

  After many heaves and ho’s, each followed by a soft “aiya,” she muttered,

  “Bandage boy, help me up, please.”

  Huànxiàng obliged, holding onto her shell and standing up, his posture a bit crooked, and lifted.

  Though he intended to lift her onto her feet off of her back, he had forgotten to release his hand, and was now holding her and the shell directly above his head. Above him, Mó popped her head out again and saw that Huànxiàng was holding her with one hand. Looking at her surroundings, she powerfully expressed her utter shock at this turn of events.

  “Waaaah.”

  She spoke in a slightly higher pitch than usual, before resetting to her natural voice. Mó looked around the room, turning around in the shell before speaking,

  “So this is how it feels to be a bat.”

  Huànxiàng let out an exclamation in the same measured tone that Mó took.

  “Oops.”

  He then placed her on the ground, right side up. When she stood up on the ground, she let out a small “Hup.”

  Yǚchén, still on his cot, sat up and saw the bizarre sight. Bewildered, his mind raced to come up with a conclusion.

  Huànxiàng was strong enough to lift that giant turtle shell with that thin arm of his? He couldn’t do that unless he was a cultivating martial artist. That explains why he wears that relic on his face, and his intelligence. He probably failed to break through from one stage of Enlightenment to another, and fell into Qì Deviation. I guess he’s on the lucky end, only losing his memories and intelligence.

  Yǚchén smiled a bit.

  I wonder if he had a book of his techniques with him. I’ll check on the way up. Maybe I can figure out why he was wearing an outfit to cultivate Yáng energy in a place filled with Yīn energy.

  Mó took a scroll of mushroom off of a shelf, as well as an ink brick and a brush. The scroll was already scribbled over on one side, so she turned it around, preparing to scribble some more. She then scrubbed a black brick on her stone table, a thick trail of black following it. She dipped her brush in the ink and began to write on the scroll’s back, stating her words as she wrote them.

  “Gunpowder, crushed iron and Flame Centipede Poison. Not good to eat. Goes boom.”

  Huànxiàng stood up and looked back at Yǚchén with a questioning look, choosing to overlook the mishaps of the doctor.

  “You just ‘really don’t understand’ what?”

  Yǚchén pondered, genuinely perplexed.

  There might be something, but I need to make sure of it myself.

  “...I misspoke. It’s nothing.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  I can’t let Huànxiàng know what he’s looking for. Even if he’s strong, there’s too much risk that he would tell others.

  Laying back down in his cot, he thought,

  A loyal sword can kill anyone, but it cannot kill an army all at once.

  Knock. Knock.

  A little pair of knocks came from the door, followed by a booming voice.

  “Oy, short stuff! I’ll die of waitin’, ya know!”

  Mó waddled up to the door and crossed her arms, looking at it annoyedly, though her face did not show it.

  “Not possible. You’d die of thirst, starvation, monster raid, or exhaustion. Not waiting.”

  What? Monster raid?

  Zhéguī paused for a moment before shouting again, his voice having a twinge of mischief this time.

  “Just ‘cuz you like turtles doesn’t make you one, so quit being so slow!”

  Huànxiàng looked over at Mó’s face, terrified of the scowl she had on her face.

  “Ha? Mó IS a turtle.”

  She opened the door, winding up a powerful fist to whack him with. As soon as the silhouette of Zhéguī was apparent, so too were the tendons above his heels, which seemed to glow red for just a moment. He grinned a little, his eyes obscured by his hat.

  “Boom.”

  An explosion erupted behind his legs from small charges wrapped around his ankles. The force propelled Zhéguī to the stone ceiling of the shop, from which he jumped down to the ground and grabbed the hand of the bedazzled Huànxiàng.

  Huànxiàng looked around as they ran through the clinic, and saw a flipped over turtle shell, out of which the “awawawa” of Mó echoed.

  “I’m s’posed to show you around! Don’tcha wanna see the city before rest time?”

  The confused boy stopped for a moment and turned his head to look at an equally shocked Yǚchén. Catching on that Huànxiàng was asking for permission, Yǚchén spoke, his voice aquiver.

  “Go with him.”

  With that, Huànxiàng followed Zhéguī out of the shop, awkwardly tripping over his feet and running past Mó.

  Seeing those two running out of the shop, Yǚchén turned over to Mó, who was once more upside-down.

  “How are you still alive when you get thrown around so much?”

  A glint appeared in her eager eyes, preparing to share her genius insight.

  “Shell.”

  She tried to signal a thumbs-up, but her being upside-down unfortunately communicated the opposite to Yǚchén, who was now thinking of the dubious quality of his treatment. Seeing his worried face, Mó asked,

  “You sure about hiding that from Bandage Boy?”

  Yǚchén smiled bitterly, as if accepting reality. The loneliness in his eyes seemed to chill the room. He muttered under his breath,

  “...yeah.”

  “Good, good. It's time for science.”

  Yǚchén's eyes widened as the little doctor walked out. He laid back down.

  Huànxiàng, come back soon!

  ***

  Zhéguī took Huànxiàng through the winding streets of the city, their steps echoing softly against the ground. The air carried a faint dampness, mingling with the earthy scent of mushrooms and mineral-rich stone. The moss contained in the streetlamps bathed everything in a soft, ghostly blue glow, making the stone and hardened mushroom structures appear as though they were shimmering under water. The buildings themselves were intricate, composed of layers of compressed fungal stalks, carved stone, and even bone.

  Zhéguī gestured to a towering pillar-like structure on their left.

  “That’s the central water well. Dug deep into the cavern’s base, filters out most of the grime. We use a mix of special sponges and purifying minerals we find in the deep tunnels. Not bad, right?”

  Huànxiàng nodded, though he wasn’t sure how wells worked. The idea of water coming from anywhere but the underground rivers seemed strange.

  The city looked to be a blur, filled to its brim with wondrous things that he could not begin to understand. It was so filled with people- the people he would have to hide himself from. He simply followed his guide as he continued talking.

  The streets bustled with activity despite the dimming lamps. Vendors sat behind stands made of stacked shale slabs, trading items like hardened resin tools, shimmering cave crystals, and nutrient-rich fungi. Children played near the walls, carving shapes into the soft mushroom plaster with bits of sharpened rock. A group of workers carried bundles of dried moss on their backs, heading toward a processing area where it would be turned into fabric and insulation. There was a rhythm to it all, not eerie or stagnant, but lively—every task had purpose, every person a role.

  Zhéguī suddenly turned down a narrow alley where the walls were lined with bone-etched murals, depictions of past generations, of great hunts in the deep tunnels, and of myths about creatures that supposedly lurked in the unreachable lower layers of the underground. Zhéguī spoke casually, his hands behind his head and walking backward, looking at Huànxiàng.

  “Some people think the old world we came from was deeper in the dungeon, but I dunno. Every time we go deeper, all we find is some pretty rocks and death.”

  He chuckled, though his tone had a flicker of something else—something uncertain.

  Huànxiàng followed without question, taking in the city’s details with wide, curious eyes. He didn’t fully understand the weight of what Zhéguī was saying, but he could feel it too for a moment—that there had to be something more than this.

  Zhéguī stopped outside a small alcove carved beneath a stairwell, patting him on the shoulder as he presented it with dramatic hand gestures.

  “Alright, here’s your place!”

  Inside, a humble cot made of woven moss and fungal fiber rested against the back wall. A small lantern filled with softly glowing moss hung from a bone hook above it. As Huànxiàng entered the home, Zhéguī announced,

  “I gotta go, but don’t go breakin’ the place up like that Little Mómó does!”

  Huànxiàng bode Zhéguī goodbye as the cave boy closed the door and sauntered off.

  Huànxiàng sat down on his cot, taking out the other thing he had since the moment he woke up- a thin , blank booklet. In front of him, the leather cover began to glow with an ethereal light.

  He stared at the title embossed in it: The Dào of the Slaughterer, and opened the first page.

  ***

  Mèi’s cell reeked of mold and damp straw. The single torch in the hallway cast flickering shadows across the uneven stone walls, barely illuminating the two figures within through the small window out of the dark stone room. Mèi sat with her back against the wall, chains still binding her wrists, but her fingers worked tirelessly against the rough wooden slats beneath them. The despondent boy remained where he had been since their arrival—curled in the corner, head resting against the cold stone. Mèi muttered under her breath as she grinded the links of her shackles against a wooden chunk she had managed to carve out of the carriage and hide in her sleeve.

  “We’re getting out of here.”

  She stole a glance at the boy. He hadn’t spoken since they were thrown in here. He hadn’t even looked up. Mèi decided to try her hand one more time at gaining an ally while also working to sharpen the wood into a lockpick.

  “What’s your name?”

  He finally murmured words in response, his voice dull.

  “You’re wasting your time. They’ll just catch us again.”

  Mèi clenched her jaw.

  “I’d rather go down fighting for my life than resigning to my death. Now answer. What’s your name?”

  Silence stretched between them. The only sound was the rasp of metal against wood, until the boy finally spoke.

  “...Liángsēn.”

  Mèi smiled a bit at the potential ally she’d made.

  Finally, a splinter came free. Mèi hid it in her palm, then turned to him, voice softer this time.

  “I know you don’t care what happens to you, but I do, Liángsēn. I’m not leaving you here.”

  Something in the boy’s posture shifted, just slightly. It wasn’t much, but maybe it was enough.

  With a trembling hand, Mèi barely worked the splinter into the keyhole of her shackles. It was a slow, painstaking process, but after a few tense minutes, a soft click sounded, and the metal bands loosened. She rubbed her wrists, then moved to help Liángsēn. He let her.

  The moment the locks fell away, they tensed at the sound of footsteps outside. A guard was coming.

  Mèi pressed against the wall, motioning for Liángsēn to do the same, and tore the front of her dress. As the heavy door creaked open, she lunged. The guard barely had time to react before she slammed into him, driving her knee into his gut with all her strength and body weight in one hail mary attack. The two landed outside of the stone cell, and the guard beneath her gasped, having the wind knocked out of him. She reached for his knife strapped to the right side of his pelvis. When she grasped it, she drew it and—

  A blunt pain lanced through her side.

  She tumbled until she stopped and sprawled out on the ground, a few ribs broken from where she was struck. She battled her shock to try and move her head upward to see her assailant. She cursed under her breath.

  It was another guard, grinning snarkily as he held the hilt of his barely-drawn blade, which he had used as a concentrated battering weapon. The first guard, recovering, reached for his sword—

  —and stopped.

  Liángsēn had moved. His fingers wrapped around the hilt of the downed man’s blade, and in one fluid motion, he turned the weapon against the second guard. The sword cut through the air in a movement so beautiful, so effortless, that for a heartbeat, the guard didn’t even realize he had been struck. He fell without a sound.

  Mèi barely had time to register the moment before shouts rang out from both entrances. More guards. They were surrounded.

  Gritting her teeth, she rolled the fallen guard over and tore his dagger from its sheath. Without hesitation, she drove it into his neck, ensuring he wouldn’t rise again.

  She attempted to draw the blade of her kill, but as she tried to pick it up, she realized it was too unwieldy for her to use. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for anything she could use with her other hand.

  There—a water barrel in the corner. She made a mad dash toward it, her pain numbed by adrenaline, yanking the lid free.

  It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

  She raised the makeshift shield and stepped back-to-back with Liángsēn, muscles coiling and sweat dripping down her forehead as the guards closed in. She murmured.

  “Stay close.”

  “As long as you do.”

  The quip annoyed her, but she had to leave it for later, if there even was a ‘later.’

  The two had the same thought racing through their minds as they looked back to the entrances of the room, filled with a seemingly endless number of enemies.

  This is it. No turning back now.