Chapter 44
Chapter 44: Monkey Pass Breakthrough, Part 2
The guard talked too much, but his hands were quick. He made his note in the ledger, returned Zhao Chun’s token, and waved her toward the entrance.
Zhao Chun’s goal was clear: mind and body moving as one. Movement came first. She chose the Forest-Piercing Trial.
The instant she slipped through the palm-sized opening, she refused to relax. She sprang forward without pause, driving deeper into the fog.
The gray mist thickened abruptly, collapsing her world to a few yards of visibility. She had to feel out each step before daring to leap, testing the ground and the angles of the stone.
The stone forest was jagged and uneven, but not lifeless. Strange pines clung to the cliff walls, twisted into bizarre shapes. The damp air fed vines that crawled over rock, and moss slicked the surfaces in a way that made every foothold treacherous. Each time Zhao Chun used the stone as leverage, she watched for the slip that could send her tumbling.
She had only just threaded her way past three or four layers of stone fans when something slammed in from the right—a fast, dark blur.
It’s here.
Zhao Chun tightened her grip on the Crimson Edge Dagger and raised it in front of her, guarding her body.
The Shadow Monkey looked disturbingly real. Even its fur was sharply defined. Its eyes, however, were a vivid, unnatural red, and its mouth was crowded with needle teeth. One glance was enough to know it was not an illusion meant for show.
The moment it appeared, it hurled itself at Zhao Chun again and again, attacking with both hands and teeth.
It was smaller than an ordinary monkey, but that only made it faster. Its claws were sharp enough to make the spine go cold. Zhao Chun refused to let it close, striking with her dagger to keep her distance.
Speed, however, was not strength. With a single slash, Zhao Chun knocked it flying several paces.
The instant it recoiled, she surged forward and cut across its belly, splitting it cleanly in two.
There was no blood. The Shadow Monkey scattered into two clouds of black mist and dissipated in a heartbeat.
Zhao Chun didn’t linger. She pressed on.
The deeper she went, the more Shadow Monkeys appeared. Often she finished one only for another to arrive immediately after—an unending chain. At least they came one at a time rather than in a pack.
As the fights stacked up, Zhao Chun learned their pattern. Their danger lay entirely in claws and teeth. Even a mid Qi Refining Stage cultivator would be torn open if caught once. But if she avoided the striking limbs and the bite, the monkey’s body was vulnerable—easy to destroy with a single decisive blow.
Easy did not mean effortless.
The constant interruptions slowed her forward progress more and more. She lost track of where she was in the forest and how far she’d come. All she knew was the rhythm: dodge, strike, advance. If she tried to ignore a Shadow Monkey, another would appear. If she hesitated, the risk of a claw catching her skin climbed too high.
Time blurred.
Her limbs began to feel heavy, as if molten iron had been poured into her arms and legs. Even her thoughts turned murky, reduced to instinct and repetition. She forced herself onward, cutting through mist and shadow alike.
At last she burst through another narrow opening—and the world opened up.
The fog fell away. Zhao Chun collapsed to the ground, drenched in sweat, her strength completely drained.
She swallowed a pill to restore her stamina and regulated her breathing for several ke. Only then did she push herself up. Her clothing had been treated with a dust-warding spell, so it wasn’t dirty, but wet cloth clinging to skin was miserable. She flicked off a simple cleansing technique and felt herself dry again.
Then she looked around.
The small opening behind her had to be the exit. Nearby stood an ancient pine, its branch stretched outward like a welcoming hand. Beneath it rose a stone tablet polished smooth as a mirror. Carved into it were the words:
Zhao Chun, mid Qi Refining Stage, eight ke
Eight ke?
Zhao Chun frowned. A full shichen. That was far too slow. Even the slowest times on the board were within 100 breaths.
She followed the narrow path beside the old pine back toward the entrance and returned to the gate pavilion. The talkative guard was gone, replaced by a short, stout old man.
“Where’s the guard from earlier?” Zhao Chun asked.
The old man scratched his head and smiled. “Tu An? He only works the daytime shift. He already handed off.”
Only then did Zhao Chun notice how dark it had become. The moon had risen and hung among the treetops. She had set out in the afternoon, and between the travel time and the trial itself, night had crept up on her. In this place, wrapped in gray fog, it was even harder to tell time.
“Is there anywhere nearby to rest?” she asked.
She would need to run the stone forest dozens of times. If she could stay close, she wouldn’t have to waste energy traveling back and forth.
The old man looked at her with open surprise but didn’t pry. “Go right after you leave the pavilion and you’ll find a row of stone-door caves. One Cui Stone buys 10 days.”
That was cheap.
Zhao Chun thanked him. As she turned to go, he called after her, curiosity catching up. “You’re Zhao Chun? How long did your run take?”
Zhao Chun held up one finger. “A shichen.”
The old man’s hand paused on his beard. After a long moment, he murmured, “Eight ke… that’s real talent.”
Zhao Chun found the caves easily. She placed a Cui Stone into the small hole by the door; it vanished at once, swallowed as if by a living throat. The stone door opened, and she stepped inside.
The cave was plain: a stone table, two stone stools, and a stone bed at the back. The bedding, at least, was clean.
Zhao Chun took a meditation cushion from her storage bag, sat down, and began her nightly cultivation.
But the strange, fleeting sensation she’d felt in the forest vanished the moment she stepped out of it. She pressed her lips together. There was only one answer: she would have to try again and again until she grasped it.
The next day, Tu An was back on duty. When he saw Zhao Chun walk in, he let out a startled sound. “You’re here again?”
The question was pointless the moment it left his mouth. If she wasn’t here to run the trial, why would she be standing in front of him?
“You made it through yesterday?” he asked instead.
“I did.”
Tu An’s eyes went wide. “You really made it through? How long did it take?”
“Too slow,” Zhao Chun said bluntly. “Eight ke. A full shichen.”
Tu An sucked in a breath, visibly offended on behalf of the entire world. “Slow? You have to be joking. Do you know how many people can’t get through and come out carried? Even if they do make it, it takes several shichen and they’re covered in wounds. And you—look at you. Not a scratch. And you’re back again today!”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Tell me the truth. I won’t laugh. Did you really make it through?”
Zhao Chun pushed his face away with one hand and raised an eyebrow. “An old man recorded it last night. Check the ledger.”
Records were always cross-checked against the stone tablet. Tu An knew that. He only muttered, “So you can’t even take a joke.”
Zhao Chun studied him for a moment, then asked, “Is Threefold Stone Forest really that hard?”
Tu An nodded emphatically. “Ling Zhen Sect has 36 danger grounds. The stone forest is the hardest. These days hardly anyone comes. Other places are dangerous because of terrain, miasma, heat, cold—things like that. This place is dangerous because of the Shadow Monkey grand array. If something goes wrong, you might not die, but losing a limb or being crippled? That happens.”
Zhao Chun had seen those claws and teeth. She believed him.
She reached into her sleeve, pulled out a small cloth pouch, and tossed it to him. “100 Cui Stones. Record me for five more runs.”
Tu An weighed the pouch in his hand and muttered under his breath, “Not tall at all, but she’s a complete weirdo…”
“I can hear you,” Zhao Chun called, already turning toward the entrance.
Tu An flinched and ducked behind the counter like a guilty child.