Chapter 17: Enlightened Beast

  Strangely enough, I didn’t feel conflicted or anything after committing my first murder.

  I sat by the riverbank, my feathers still dripping. The current was gentle here, winding lazily through a grove of moss-covered trees. A dragonfly hovered above the surface before darting away, and the only sound for a moment was the soft gurgle of water. My eyes stared at the rippling reflection of a bloodstained bird.

  Was it normal to be this calm? Should I feel guilt? Revulsion?

  I tilted my head, watching the distorted image shift in the current.

  I didn’t know if that monkey had a spark of wisdom or if he was just another beast who happened to speak. Master once said there were different kinds of cultivating beasts… solitary ones like leopards or snakes, and then there were the Pack types. According to him, pack beasts were strange. If one of them awakened and became wise, the rest sometimes followed, especially if that awakened one was stronger. It was like a chain reaction… the stronger the leader, the greater the odds the rest would rise above mere instinct.

  I wondered if the monkey I exploded have a family. Maybe even a wife, a few children, and even grandparents. Maybe I just started a war with a bunch of banana-munching lunatics. Great.

  I sighed and slumped against a rock. The sun peeked through the canopy, warming my damp feathers. It had been a week… maybe two… since I left the Sacred Hill. I didn’t keep track of the days. Every sunrise blurred into the next. Every night was spent in a different tree, sometimes curled awkwardly under a leaf, other times balancing on a branch, hoping nothing tried to kill me in my sleep.

  I had used my martial arts more than I expected. Master said martial techniques were treasures passed down through the sects, meant to be cultivated and mastered over years. Apparently, I was cultivating mine by sheer necessity. I was bruised, scratched, and reeked of blood. My beak had chipped once. My wing still ached from that tumble down a ravine two days ago.

  The Earth Breaking Spade had been my most-used move. A straight, stabbing jab powered by my entire body and my qi. Master had scolded me once when I used it to break a rock out of boredom. Now, I was using it to blow holes in enemies.

  And it worked.

  Far too well.

  I submerged myself again, letting the water rinse off dried blood and dirt. Some of it came off in streaks. Other patches clung stubbornly to my feathers. I couldn’t tell if the red stains were monkey or something else. Honestly, I didn’t want to think about it.

  I missed the Sacred Hill.

  I missed Master’s nagging voice, his lazy yawns, the smell of tea steeping in the mornings. I missed having a place to sleep that didn’t involve worrying about falling off a branch or being ambushed by stone-throwing simians.

  But most of all, I missed having direction. Real direction.

  Right now, all I had was a vague goal… find Master. Somehow. Somewhere.

  I hopped out of the river, shook myself dry, and looked around. The forest wasn’t entirely unfriendly, but it had made it clear I wasn’t welcome. Still, I had survived this long. That had to count for something.

  “You better be in trouble, old squirrel,” I muttered. “Because if you left me just to go on a vacation, I’m going to pluck your tail.”

  I spread my wings, took a running hop, and launched back into the trees.

  Another day. Another chance to get ambushed.

  Wonderful.

  A few more days of wandering. A few more days of flapping through brush and dodging aggressive squirrels and spear-wielding monkeys. But finally, I got something solid.

  I met a turtle. And not just any turtle. This one was the size of a house and so old I swear the moss growing on his back had its own ecosystem. His shell was like a boulder, covered in faint lines that glowed slightly when the sunlight hit them just right. He floated in a shallow lake that looked more like a crater filled with sky-colored water.

  At first, I thought he was a rock. I hopped onto him and was about to nap when the “rock” moved and nearly sent me flying.

  A low rumble like thunder rolled out from beneath me.

  “Little bird.”

  His voice echoed directly in my head, like a thought that didn’t belong to me.

  “You're far from your nest. What brings you to my waters?”

  I straightened up, cleared my throat, and tried to sound confident.

  “I’m looking for someone. A squirrel with a sword. Short, smug, and very grumpy.”

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  The turtle didn’t laugh. He blinked slowly, as if the speed of the world simply didn’t apply to him.

  “Ah. The sword-wielding sage. I saw him.”

  My feathers perked up instantly. I almost fell off his shell again in my excitement.

  “You did? When? Where?”

  He floated lazily in a slow circle. Ripples spread out from his massive form, disturbing the reflection of the trees above.

  “He passed by here some time ago. Headed south, toward the mountains where the sky grows red at dusk. He did not stop long, only asked a few questions and offered a peach. A decent peach.”

  My heart fluttered. That sounded like Master. Offering fruit, asking questions, and leaving in a dramatic fashion. That was him to the core.

  Why was he going south? And… how recent was this?

  I dropped off from his back, landing lightly on the grass.

  The turtle’s massive head turned toward me. His eyes were deep, layered with age and a patience I didn’t yet understand.

  “There is unrest. Among the humans.”

  He didn’t have to explain. I’d seen the signs. Sects and clans were stirring, hunting beasts like me for cultivation materials or spiritual cores.

  “They hunt anything with a spark now. Even those who’ve never harmed their kind. Enlightened beasts, as we call ourselves. But to them... we’re all just the same… demonic. Different. Prey.”

  I tilted my head.

  “Enlightened beasts?”

  That was a new term I’ve learned today. Beasts weren’t really big on writing books… and culture among our kind was rather… meh.

  The turtle gave a soft chuckle, like stones rolling together.

  “There are many names for what we are, little one. Humans call most of us demonic beasts, especially those who have gained speech, wisdom, or strength from feeding on blood. Or just because they don’t like us. We call ourselves enlightened when we’ve awakened, when our hearts guide our claws and not hunger. And then… there are sacred beasts.”

  “Sacred beasts?”

  I’d heard that term before, but only from Master muttering to himself during meditation. Few and far between. Known for their virtue, for compassion beyond survival. Respected even by monks and daoists. Not all who are wise are sacred, and not all sacred ones are wise.

  He turned away slightly, staring at something only he could see.

  “Your Master… he may be seeking them.”

  That made me pause. Master always did have strange interests. He once chased a flying fish across three hills just to see if it could recite poetry. Maybe this sacred beast stuff was another of his eccentric goals.

  I bowed… or tried to, which was difficult, given my physique.

  “Thank you, honored turtle. You’ve given me more than I’ve had since I started.”

  He didn’t respond. He simply closed his eyes and began to sink. Not fast, but… slowly, deliberately, like a mountain deciding it didn’t want to be seen anymore. The lake swallowed him, ripples fading until it was as still as glass.

  I stood there for a moment, still staring.

  South.

  I had a direction now.

  Hopefully, I wouldn’t forget what “south” was.

  I glanced at the sun, made a few circles in the air to orient myself, and took off, flapping clumsily toward the crimson-tinged horizon.

  “Hang on, Master. I’m coming.”

  It didn’t take long for trouble to find me. Again.

  This time, it wasn’t a spear-wielding monkey or a giant boar. No, it was humans. A ragged group, lean and dirty, their clothes patched with leaves and scraps of beast hide. They didn’t bear the Huo Clan’s markings, nor any sect insignias I recognized, not that I was an expert, but I’d spent enough time on the Sacred Hill to know what proper cultivators looked like. These ones were different. Wandering vagrants? Bandits? Hunters?

  They carried no real weapon or spirit talismans, but a few of them moved like trained fighters, and worse… some radiated a faint pressure that tickled my instincts. Body Tempering cultivators. Not all of them, but at least two.

  I recalled what Master once said, and his words echoed clear in my head.

  "Against humans of the same realm, you’ll be stronger. Beasts are born with superior bodies. But once they wield martial arts or cultivate proper techniques, the scales shift. Never take a human lightly if he has form and discipline."

  And these ones… despite their smell and their ratty pants… had some level of form. One even tried to sneak up on me from the left, thinking I wouldn’t notice.

  I did.

  I flared my internal energy, reared my head back, and slammed it twice against the base of a nearby tree. The technique echoed from my bones: Earth Breaking Spade.

  The thick oak-like trunk cracked on the second strike. My stamina dipped hard… I could feel the ache in my chest and wings… but it was worth it. The tree toppled with a groan and crashed toward the bandits like a wooden avalanche. Some scattered in panic, others leapt back with yelps, but I’d already broken left, diving into the opening.

  A blade flashed from the right.

  I twisted on instinct and struck again with my beak… Earth Breaking Spade. Sparks flew as metal met bone. A clang echoed across the forest, louder than it had any right to be. The man holding the sword staggered, his eyes wide.

  “This bird… what the hell?!” he muttered.

  His confusion didn’t last long. If anything, it made them more determined.

  They started shouting to each other, tightening formation. That’s when a wide net came flying at me from above. It was big enough to catch a cow… and more than enough to trap a flightless bird.

  Fortunately, I wasn’t daydreaming.

  I dropped, tucked, and rolled hard to the left, slipping right under one of their legs. The net landed on him instead with a satisfying thump.

  He shouted in surprise, but I was already back on my feet… well, claws.

  Another man came barreling toward me with a round wooden shield. He probably thought that would stop me. That was cute.

  I lowered my beak and lunged. Earth Breaking Spade, again.

  The shield cracked. My beak slammed past the splinters and struck his forearm. I felt the bone snap.

  He screamed.

  I didn’t wait to hear the end of it. I knew hesitation would get me nowhere with these people.

  I leapt high… higher than before… and tucked my wings tight.

  Sky Piercing Talon.

  This wasn’t a warning blow. I aimed to kill.

  My claws slashed down at one of the bandits’ exposed backs, but to my surprise, he twisted and braced just in time. He took the blow and grunted but didn’t fall. I saw blood. I saw pain. But no retreat. Not yet.

  These humans were more resilient than I’d expected. More stubborn than yellow-furred monkeys, more annoying than wild boars. They kept chasing, yelling, throwing nets and rocks, circling like wolves. Their numbers alone made my feathers itch.

  So, I did the only thing I knew would work.

  I ran straight for the river. Not a gentle stream. The rapids.

  If there was one escape method Master had taught me in his stories that worked against most pursuers, it was this. "No one wants to chase a flailing bird down a violent river," he once said. "Even sword-riding cultivators get their sleeves wet."

  I dove headfirst into the roaring current.

  The cold water slapped the air out of me, and the world spun, bubbles and foam blinding my vision. But I kicked and flailed and let the river take me. Behind me, the bandits shouted curses and tried to follow, but I knew the terrain better than them.

  The rapids swept me away.

  Branches overhead blurred past. Rocks under the surface tried to bruise my belly. But I was moving… fast, far, and away.

  And that was all that mattered.