"So you mean to pass the cult's town-guarding sutra, the Great Nurturing Heavenly Demon Sutra, on to Mu'er?" asked the Cripple.
Grandma Si nodded slowly. "He is better than me. The Demon Art of Creation is but one divine art within the sutra; when I used it to strip skin for garments there was always something baleful about it. But I never dreamt of pitting it against Tempering the Yang Soul in the Sunlight of the Eight Thunder Moves. He thought of it." The Herbalist echoed her praise. Grandma Si laughed: "So if he masters the sutra, who knows but that he will carry the demonic canon to new heights?" The Mute signed something, and the Deaf shook his head: "Don't tell him. The pleasure would be gone." The motley elders broke into knowing laughter.
Here in the Village of Broken Elders, peal after peal of thunder rang out. Qin Mu and Old Ma crossed and recrossed, each wielding the very same move, the Nine Dragons Reining Wind and Thunder.
Crash — Thunder rolled, deafening, as their fists met. Qin Mu stumbled back, his footwork coiling like a divine serpent — a seeming retreat, in truth an accumulation of power. In a few steps his might peaked, and he struck at Old Ma like an angry dragon bursting from the abyss!
"Little wretch, you've even altered the Heaven-Thieving steps I taught you." The Cripple was astonished. Qin Mu's footwork folded on itself like a coiled dragon gathering to spring. Exceedingly treacherous. Then Pwhump, pwhump, pwhump — they traded but a single punch, yet forty-five great crashes rang out, and Qin Mu was hurled back, his body undulating like a dragon to shed Old Ma's force, landing steadily on his feet.
"Old Ma is still Old Ma," the Cripple praised.
Old Ma said: "Mu'er, have you grasped the essence of this move?"
Qin Mu's expression flickered. He blurted: "Your fist-force differs from mine! In mine are forty-five dragons, but all of one kind. In yours are forty-five breeds of divine dragon, every sort different!"
"You comprehend it," Old Ma said, a rare warmth in his eyes. "In the Great Thunderclap Monastery are a hundred relief carvings of heavenly dragons, called the Hundred Dragon Images — the first Tathagata carved them from the hundred heavenly dragons he had beheld. The Nine Dragons Reining Wind and Thunder carries forty-five dragon-forces and calls for forty-five images, yet the Monastery holds a hundred. Do you know what that means?"
Qin Mu's heart shook. "Every time you strike, the dragon-force in your fist is different from any time before!"
Old Ma nodded. "It seems a single simple punch, yet hides endless variations within its force. Mu'er, watch closely!"
Old Ma threw out his single remaining fist. A dragon's cry sounded, thunder rolling — one dragon-shaped breath of qi erupting like an angry dragon bursting from the abyss to devour. Twin dragons dashed forth; three forces cracked stone and split rock; then four dragons tearing, five refining the demon, six treading the cycle, seven overthrowing the seas, the eightfold heavenly dragons, and the nine dragons of wind and thunder! Forty-five dragon-forces in one punch, vivid as true dragons — and above the village forty-five green dragons appeared, echoing with thunder and crisscrossing lightning.
Qin Mu looked up and saw a single cloud suddenly shatter and vanish. From it a man's head tumbled down and thudded at his feet — a monk's head, hidden in the cloud for reasons unknown. "Could some demon have killed him and carried his head aloft?" Even as he guessed, two arms and two legs dropped from the sky, and a body landed beyond the village.
"Not the work of a demon at all!" Qin Mu's heart pounded. "The monk hid himself in the cloud!"
The Mute, the Deaf, the Butcher and the rest seemed long inured to such things. Nor did Old Ma seem to notice he had blasted a monk to death. He glanced toward the Ancestor beyond the village. He was demonstrating his power — cowing the cult's strongmen!
In the neighboring village, the boy Ancestor was moved. "The fist arts of the Monastery are indeed formidable, though a degree short of the old Tathagata. I know the one-armed man now. An outcast, the horse king's god Ma Wang Shen, honored Venerable Ma — he fought his way out long ago and won fame in a single battle. I never guessed he hid here. This village is not to be taken lightly."
The Elder of Discipline glanced at the fallen body. "A monk of the Monastery, blasted to death by Ma Wang Shen. Strange — how did one come to be here?"
The boy Ancestor smiled. "Doubtless sent to watch him. A small matter; the Tathagata is old and will not stir. What truly interests me is that boy's fistwork — of very high caliber. He has never studied the Tathagata Great Vehicle Sutra, yet brings the full might of the Eight Thunder Moves into play..."
Back in the village Old Ma withdrew his gaze. "Mu'er, what did you see in that punch?"
Before Qin Mu could answer, Old Ma struck again. Forty-five new breeds of green dragon appeared, thunder and lightning raging. Punch after punch he threw until for a hundred li the sky was thick with circling green dragons, knotted into one vast coil, serpentine heads outward — and let out a single mighty roar! The roar of a myriad dragons, shaking heaven and earth!
This was no longer a display for Qin Mu. It was a naked show of power — to the Great Ruins, to the Heavenly Demon Cult, to all who harbored designs upon the Village of Broken Elders!
Qin Mu stared until his eyes went straight. The cultists in the neighboring village went pale, yet could not help gasping in admiration. "From now on, should any of you meet Ma Wang Shen alone, yield him three parts of the road," said the boy Ancestor.
The Elder of Discipline murmured: "Does our cult need to fear so small a village?"
"Fear? Hardly the word," the Ancestor smiled faintly. "They are already crippled, their skills not what they were. Yet two stand at my own level — he without hands or feet, and the blacksmith. As for the rest, they outmatch even our twelve Holy Guardian Elders and four Town-Guarding Heavenly Kings. The Saint Maiden is likely the weakest of all. See that Butcher with but his upper half? If ever you laid eyes on him, he surely impressed you, for he bears a name — Heaven Blade!"
The Elder of Discipline's heart jolted, glancing in disbelief. "That very Heaven Blade? Was he not dead long since?"
"I, too, heard he was dead." One of the Guardian Elders said: "He went mad, cut his way into the firmament, and slew toward the gods; the sky was dark with cloud, the blade-light threading the thunderclouds until his corpse tumbled down from on high. If this Butcher is that Heaven Blade, how did he live again?"
"For one of his realm, even a wish to die is hardly easy," said the boy Ancestor.
The Elder of Discipline asked: "Ancestor, why agree to the Cult Master's Wife, letting this brat become the Holy Sect's Junior Cult Master? His strength is hardly fearsome."
"This boy's strength is indeed not fearsome. He is green. But those around him are the terrible ones," the Ancestor said. "Men who bestrode the winds in their day. They will pour into him all they have learned, and add our Holy Sect's Great Nurturing Heavenly Demon Sutra — heh heh, should he become our Cult Master, the Holy Sect profits hugely!"
The Elder of Discipline was won over: "The Ancestor is wise. Yet why test him?"
The Ancestor returned: "What if he prove a fool? He must be tested. Send word to the hall masters of the three hundred and sixty halls: they may use only the power of the Spirit Womb realm! On the morrow, let him enter the halls!"