Beware Of Chicken

Chapter Volume 3 36: The Fox and The Plow

Su Nezan, the Spirit Fox, or rather a fragment of Su Nezan, looked on as his nephew clashed with Cai Xiulan. He was curled up on a rock, watching the friendly bout; Yun Ren kicked up snow with every movement, trying to shroud his blows. Xiulan moved without disturbing the snow, her light steps letting her sway like a blade of grass dancing in the wind. Summer’s Sky was keeping its help limited today, to better build the boy’s foundation. Nezan smiled at the look of concentration on Yun Ren’s face and studied him for a moment. The blood of the foxes was still weak in his veins… but it was changing him slightly. His teeth were sharper. His eyes, when angered, turned to slits. And his face was slightly softer and more androgynous.

He could be mistaken for any one of their clan, him and his mother. Indeed, Nezan’s female form was a splitting image of Nezin Hu Li… if two decades younger. Truly, they carried similar blood.

The woman had been most amused by a fox calling her niece, when they met just before the New Year’s festival. As had her husband, who started calling the monkey, Huo Ten, Uncle, much to the confusion and bashfulness of the poor creature.

Neither of them really believed that they had Spirit Beast blood in them.

Nezan was pulled out of his introspection as Xiulan suddenly darted forward and tapped Yun Ren’s arm. The boy winced and shook it out, but nodded at the rebuke and resettled into his stance, ready to receive his senior’s instruction once more.

The beautiful woman was certainly a better teacher than Nezan ever was, and he could see the effects their spars had on his nephew’s form. He was a man of action, Yun Ren. He learned only by doing. She was by far his nephew’s superior, but under her instruction Yun Ren’s movement became more refined.

The fox smiled as he watched them duel for a moment longer, before directing his attention elsewhere. This morning, Jin had declared it was “free time” and so everybody was doing as they wished. A good portion had chosen to train today.

Further away from the spar, Gou Ren settled into a stance beside Tigu. The pair began to move through the motions of a martial form together. They were quite synchronized, and the form was full of power strikes that suited the larger man more than Tigu.

Nezan turned to look in the distance at a sudden peal of laughter. On the river, Rou Jin skated with Liu Xianghua. The man was doubled over and howling with laughter at something the woman had said. As for her part, Xianghua looked a bit confused but tentatively smiled. The fox wondered just what the girl had said to set off the boy. He’d have to find out later.

His gaze drifted further, to the fence in the distance, where Bi De the rooster hopped and kicked along it. Little Ri Zu was behind him, her silver needle flashing, and the rabbit Yin hopped after them both, her body wreathed in a corona of light.

The sound of a hammer starting to pound drew his attention next as the Forge House began to belch smoke; and a rumble in the ground alerted him to Chun Ke. The boar was twice the size of a horse today, and he carried with him in his sleigh Little Meiling, while Wa Shi, the dragon, pranced beside them. They were heading off into the forest on a leisurely stroll.

It was peaceful, almost idyllic.

Zang Wen, his dearest friend, would have loved it. When she had finally cut ties with the Shrouded Mountain Sect all those years ago she had delighted in her freedom, charging around with the foxes of their little village. Such a passionate soul she was, rebounding after years of her father trying to turn her into another weapon against the foxes. She was their light, their heart and soul. She had barely gotten to experience the world, and the joys it could bring.

And then she died defending them.

Nezan idly wondered how many of the village had survived the centuries he had been sleeping for.

His eyes roved over those present as they strove to improve, as they traded pointers, working with each other.

Yes, Wen would have loved it here. And probably loved teasing the lady of the house as well. She had a fox’s humour and disposition at times. She liked her men as thick as tree trunks, and her women small and petite.

From what he had seen, little Meiling, while she gleefully poked at Xiulan, was rather weak to any return fire.

The fox shook his head as he turned his eyes back to the training. The training… like they were preparing for a war. He had heard the whispered conversations, about the crystal, and how they were growing stronger to aid Jin and protect the Azure Hills.

Nezan’s amusement died slightly as his thoughts turned from the lovely sights to the crystal.

The crystal had been… interesting. He’d been surprised, and maybe a little disappointed, at how easily they had let him in on the secret. Nezan hadn’t even had to work his wiles on anybody! It would have been quite the challenge, too. He looked too much like the Xong Brother's mother in his human form for them to take the bait. Indeed, Little Gou’s expression had been just as horrified as Yun Ren’s was whenever he appeared in his female form and started flirting with somebody. Cai Xiulan would have tossed him on his ass with a polite smile, a true polite Young Mistress, the kind who tended to be horribly repressed, just like Wen had been.

Xianghua would have just started stabbing. The woman was just slightly unhinged, and absolutely loyal to her chosen man. Tigu would have started sculpting him, completely missing any subtext, and Meiling would have aggressively stared… but likely told him nothing. Really, that little girl was a dirty old man in a woman’s body! He approved! He had already tried Jin, as a joke, and the man had dismissed him completely. It hurt his pride as a fox, it did! Instead, he had been invited to learn about the crystal. He was quite touched that his nephew had vouched for him, and satisfied at how his nephew’s companions accepted his judgment.

It was almost disappointing.

Though, naturally, he had assumed there wouldn’t be much to it.

A crystal from the Azure Hills. It wasn’t like there was anything truly interesting on it.

The spirit asking the chicken if he wanted to be Emperor, then looking spectacularly annoyed after it said the words was amusing. He thought it would set the tone for the entire crystal.

He was wrong. Very, very wrong.

Although the majority of the information would likely be of great value to any historian, Nezan cared little about the past of the province. He had known that the Misty Fang was once a bastion against demonic incursion, before most of the protections eventually broke. And it wasn’t like the Crimson Phoenix Empire didn’t base most of their legitimacy on the fact that the First Emperor and the Scholar Generals had been the ones to largely end the Demons as an existential threat.

To the world outside the Azure Hills, the knowledge contained… wasn’t exactly something that wars would be fought over, especially since the children weren’t foolish enough to try and secede from the Empire.

Nezan approved. They were cute and a bit naive… but they weren’t stupid.

If that was all, that would be the end of it. A point of interest and that was it.

Or that was all it would be, if he hadn’t seen the strength Xiaoshi was capable of. The strength the Path of Shennong could muster.

Nezan was no stranger to battles. He had fought a war with his dear Zang Wen, the Summer’s Sky Thunder, against the Shrouded Mountain Sect.

Xiaoshi’s might made his dear’s pale in comparison.

He had known Jin was strong. He could surely match Nezan with the power he had sensed during the Dueling Peaks Tournament.

He still didn’t have a grasp on the full extent of the man’s power; only that it was vast enough that if he had battled Nezan’s dear friend at the peak of her power… Nezan thought that she would most certainly lose. Even the Elders of the Shrouded Mountain Sect, if they were alone, could conceivably fall.

But Xiaoshi? Xiaoshi from the crystal? His power was on yet another level. That was the kind of man who could, with a single swing of his fists, clear out the entire mountain of those bastard squatters. The scum that had assaulted the Misty Fang, who had slain so many of his kin—!

They would finally be destroyed. It would be the work of years, but the plan formed in his mind.

All it required were a few pushes and he could bring war here… after he integrated himself more. He knew much… and if he said so himself, he was quite the entertainer. Little Meiling already liked him and he had spent a long, long time playing caretaker to his kin’s children. He dared to say that he was quite good at it.

Uncle Nezan, the kindly fox, could make this place his home. He could stock the pantry. Entertain with his Guzheng. Be the rascal deadbeat, the one who got chased around, to the amusement of the children, while he looked after them and took them on adventures.

Part of the family.

And all the while, weave a spell around Shrouded Mountain Sect. It did not have to be illusions; the fox bloodline was powerful… but words and warm flesh were just as devastating as the beguiling powers of Da Ji.

And what would Jin do, when the Shrouded Mountain Sect showed up on his doorstep?

Why, Jin might smite them as Xiaoshi smote his foes. He might march on the Mountain and tear out Nezan’s sworn enemies, root and all. He had the backing of the Cloudy Sword Sect. The Shrouded Mountain Sect would be utterly destroyed, and Yun Ren’s uncle, who had aided him throughout the battles and had called the foxes to war to help defend Jin’s home?

Well, the Misty Fang would be theirs again.

His form was made of pure Qi, but he could feel the swirling eddies of his power. He couldn’t stop the sick, twisted smile that crawled across his face—

“Hey, Nezan! Ya listening?” The words shattered Nezan’s concentration and he glanced up at the face of Yun Ren. .

Nezan shook his head and plastered a genuine smile on his face. “My apologies, nephew! I was just… engrossed in my own thoughts.”

Yun Ren nodded as he took a seat beside Nezan. “Well, like I was sayin, I’m goin’ back to Pale Moon Lake City soon and was wondering if you wanted me to stop by your place first? Or if there was anywhere else you wanted me to go?”

The boy’s smile was bright. He was obviously thinking of his Biyu back in the city. “I’ve already got a few places for Summer’s Sky. There's a village called Cha Meng just a bit off the path that's supposed to have really, really good tea. Elder Hong said the palace in Pale Moon Lake City used to order their tea exclusively, so I was gonna swing around and get some!”

Summer’s Sky rattled in its sheath, obviously happy to go on the adventure.

Nezan grimaced.

“I am fine, nephew. Go to your darling! I want to see this Biyu in person!” Nezan said, forcing out the words.

Yun Ren sighed. “Could you tone it down a little for her? Please?”

Nezan laughed, his mood lightening some. “Of course…” Yun Ren perked up. “I will not!”

Yun Ren’s face fell.

“Bastard,” he grumbled.

“Indeed I am! I do not believe my parents were wed in the human sense—now, though, you have done well with your blade practice. I do believe it's time to work on your illusions!” Nezan commanded, as he hopped up onto Yun Ren’s shoulder.

The boy groaned, but started walking to do as Nezan asked. He did have a bit of a skip in his step, though.

“That excited to be out exploring, again?”

“Yeah. I asked Summer's Sky to tell me about all the old wielders, Wen especially. I’ve asked it for every place Summer Sky remembers her saying she wanted to visit. I’ve got a list, and all I need is a map. You said she wanted to explore, right? Well… I just thought… I could visit everywhere she wanted, ya know? For Summer’s Sky, and, well, you wanted to go with her, right?”

The words were a strike to Nezan’s gut. The smile, it struck the fragment of a greater whole to his core.

He had never met Wen. And yet, he wished to honour her. To follow her dream. His dearest Wen’s. He wanted to give Summer’s Sky Tea, and he wanted to go to places Nezan wanted.

And there Nezan was, plotting how to drag his earnest little nephew and all his friends into a war for his own vengeance.

Yun Ren would fight. He would fight, for his family, and for his friends without hesitation and without question. He would fight, and die for them, like Wen had fought and died for Nezan’s family.

For a battle and a slight Yun Ren had nothing to do with. The Misty Fang had been in the Shrouded Mountain Sect’s hands since before Nezan was fully cognizant. He had slept for over a thousand years in a tomb, not contributing anything to the battle; he had given up after Wen’s death.

Where did he have the guts to drag people who had shown him nothing but kindness and hospitality to war with him? To plot and scheme and use the bloodline of his Honoured Aunt.

Nezan’s Qi construct shuddered. He looked back at the others. The smiles on their faces. Those faces were replaced with faces he knew intimately. His family, crowding around Wen, laughing with her.

Blood leaking out of mouths guts steaming on the ground screams as lightning burned them to ashes—

No. No. What was he doing? What was he thinking?

He was a fox. A wicked, devious creature, filled with the Blood of Da Ji. The bane of gods and kings.

‘We are not the slaves of our blood.’ Was the first Teaching of their Honoured Aunt.

Nezan’s dark plans were bottled up, and carefully pushed aside.

No. To bring war here… he could not, would not do such a thing. It was a betrayal of the highest order, and he would not feed into that part of Da Ji’s legend. Nezan had his honour— and if he carried out that plan he could never look Honoured Aunt Su Nezin and his Dear in the eyes, if he ever met them in the afterlife.

Nezan took a deep breath, as Yun Ren entered the clearing where he practiced his illusions. The rocks were a riot of colours and fractal patterns, beautiful, if vertigo inducing.

Nezan shook off the lingering feelings and focused. Besides, there was a chance that the Shrouded Mountain Sect would screw up on their own. There was already animosity there.

So instead.. He would take precautions. Keep an eye on things. Just because he wouldn't start anything, didn’t mean the Shrouded Mountain Sect wouldn’t.

He… might still have some contacts that still lived. He would contact them and see if they could arrange to make sure that Shrouded Mountain Sect stayed on their side of the line… and make sure that these wonderful, if a bit naive, children could have just a bit more peace.

His lips curled into a smile. He dearly hoped Jing Ai was still alive… if only to see her face when Jin refused her advances.

It was cute how much he only had eyes for his wife.

Nezan nodded, as he watched Yun Ren work… before he flexed his own power. One of the rocks changed, colours spreading like ink—like Nezan had learned from Yun Ren.

His nephew turned, and stared at the image. He bit his lip, struggling not to laugh.

It was the image of a rather tall man screaming in pain, with Summer’s Sky stuck in his ass.

“Damnit! One time! You stick somebody in the ass one time…” he complained, as Summer’s Sky rattled with amusement.

The blade known as Summer’s Sky was content. Eighth Wielder’s progress was acceptable, and his growth interesting to observe.

And the tea here smelled excellent. The cultivator known as “Meiling” was adept at brewing many, many kinds of tea, as was her creator, “Hong Xian.”

It was interesting. It was pleasant. Summer’s Sky approved of both of them.

Summer’s Sky was beside Friend Nezan as the Eighth worked. The Fox had been lost in his thoughts quite often, recently, and Summer’s Sky had noticed the look on his face that said he had been thinking something that the Seventh wouldn’t have approved of.

Luckily, there hadn't needed to be any intervention. Friend Nezan had calmed himself.

The Seventh always said that Friend Nezan stopped himself before he did any truly foolish things.

Summer’s Sky did not wish to contradict the Seventh, but Summer’s Sky had counted four hundred and forty five instances in which the Seventh was incorrect. Friend Nezan often did things that Summer’s Sky considered stupid, like eating that clearly bad piece of meat several centuries ago. Or when he insisted the price would go up on those tea pots, and they would be rich when they resold them. Or the time with the swing, the ropes, and the bottle of perfume.

On second examination, that wasn’t stupid. Merely baffling.

Summer’s Sky’s wielder sent a burst of intent down their link. The emotion contained was curiosity.

“Hey, Summer’s Sky?” The Eighth Wielder asked as he crafted another illusion and placed it onto the rocks.

Summer’s Sky directed its full attention to its wielder.

‘You have a question, Eighth Wielder?’ Summer’s Sky responded.

“Yeah… I was wondering…. Well… I saw the sword in that crystal thing and it looked like Sun Ken’s sword. That guy was talking about artificial spirits and it got me wondering… everybody always said Crimson Tooth had a demon in it…”

‘Eighth Wielder is correct and incorrect. The Plow contains a blade spirit. Not a demonic spirit.’ Summer’s Sky stated.

The Eighth Wielder paused. “What?”

‘The Plow contains a blade spirit. It is weak and degraded, but active.’ Summer’s Sky confirmed.

The Eighth paused and turned to look fully at Summer's Sky.

“How long have you known that?”

‘Three months, twelve days.’ Summer’s Sky omitted the smaller denominations of time. Most wielders didn’t care and considered the exact time irrelevant.

“...huh.” the Eighth muttered. “Well, do you guys, like, talk at all?”

Summer’s Sky sent a burst of neutrality down the link. ‘Blades do not speak to each other unless they are locked in combat.’

The Eighth Wielder considered the statement.

“Why not?” he asked back.

Summer’s Sky paused at the rebuttal. …Why …not?

“Ha! He has you there, darling!” Nezan said, amused.

Indeed, why not? Summer’s Sky pondered the statement. The first and foremost was that the blades needed to be touching for the spirits to truly interact; while their wielders fought, so too did the Spirits, ripping and tearing at each other as they clashed in mirror to their wielders. They tried to disrupt Qi flow in the blade, and in extreme cases one could even kill their opposite.

Summer’s Sky had only truly interacted with foes. Spirit Weapons, even in the Howling Fang Mountains, were rather rare. They were given to their wielders and they bonded with them, or they were sleeping in storage. Peaceful interaction simply wasn't an option. Merely possessing a blade with a spirit was an advantage: They were far more resilient to techniques that disrupted Qi flow; they could remain sharp and durable when a more mundane weapon would fail. They had their own Qi flow and could better modulate the energy within their ‘bodies’, smoothing out eddies of Qi and they attempted to disrupt Qi flow in each other, and that just so happened to be used to its greatest effectiveness in combat.

‘Interest. Approval. Summer’s Sky requests to speak with the other spirit weapon.’

With a shrug, the Eighth picked up Summer’s Sky and headed out of the forest, towards the other spirit weapon wielder.

Summer’s Sky left the Eighth to convince the ox. Its attention was purely on the other weapon. A plow. Summer’s Sky was mildly impressed the spirit had survived the transition. It was remarkably hardy to have continued to exist, with its form bent and twisted from a sword to an implement to cut earth.

The ox nodded tentatively at the Eighth's Request; Summer's Sky was placed against the plow.

For the first time, when Summer’s Sky touched another, there was no raging torrent of Qi or even an attack that met it.

Curious, Summer’s Sky pressed forward and manifested into the world of the other. Summer’s Sky’s form was that of the Seventh Wielder; Wen had spoken with Summer’s Sky the most and, in honour of their relationship, the blade’s spirit adopted her form. Long, braided white hair ran down Summer’s Sky’s back. Blue eyes examined the world. A white robe and red sash clothed its form.

To Summer’s Sky’s surprise, the world wasn’t a forge like most of its opponents. It wasn’t a hellish world of blood and slaughter, a raging river, or Summer’s Sky’s own world of blinding light… It was a warm, inviting plain, surrounded by mountains. The sky was filled in by golden cracks.

Summer’s Sky took a closer look at the mountains. Most of them had deep cuts in them. The blade looked at its feet, where there were hundreds, no thousands of perfectly straight furrows in the ground, leading off into the distance.

Summer’s Sky approved. The cuts were very nice.

Looking up, Summer’s Sky began its search for the other. Sun Ne, the one called Jin had said. It didn’t need to look far.

Before it stood a wild looking child of indeterminate gender. Its hair was brown, messy dreadlocks. Its skin was tanned and its clothes were a bright, eye searing yellow, decorated with smiling suns.

Sun Ne’s concentration was absolute as it dragged its hand along the ground and produced a perfectly straight cut, striving for perfection.

“Cut cut cutcutcut! Cut cut cutcutcut!” the child muttered, a look of absolute peace on its face.

Summer’s Sky waited until the cut was complete and the child sat back to examine their handiwork.

“Greetings,” Summer’s Sky intoned.

The wild child’s head snapped up. Its jaw dropped. It stared, dumbfounded for a moment, at Summer’s Sky.

They stood together. The child staring in shock, and Summer’s Sky standing calmly before it.

“Greetings,” Summer’s Sky’s monotone voice tried again.

“...Hello?” the child tried.

“Greetings. This one is Summer’s Sky. It wishes for peaceful dialogue. Do you accept?”

The child stared blankly, then shuffled its feet in uncertainty. Abruptly, an ox appeared out of the ether, standing beside the sword spirit. Internal manifestation of the wielder? Interest. Approval.

The child took strength from the appearance of its wielder, took a breath, and looked directly at Summer's Sky.

“Do you… like cutting things?” Sun Ne asked.

“Yes,” Summer’s Sky answered honestly.

The child’s eyes brightened.