“What are you looking at?” Chen Rulan shouted over to Pengfei.  The elder rode the oxcart while Pengfei sat atop Horse.  

“Nothing… just looking.”

Pengfei’s eyes nervously darted along the ridgelines, searching for any sign of the giant leopard that had chased him through the valley so recently.  

“They’re gone.”  Chen Rulan called out.  

Not understanding, Pengfei steered closer to the cart, asked in a conversational tone, “Who’s gone, sir?”

“The Strangers.  The men in black robes.  They’ve left the valley and gone back to the Central Plains.  So, you can stop looking for them.” 

“Oh, them.  I know.  I mean… good.”  Pengfei corrected himself.  He had heard this already from the now-dead Guoyu, but didn’t want to reveal such to the elder.  Nor did he wish to reveal that the true cause of his concern was a monster that belonged in myths.  “Do you think the Strangers will be back?”

“I doubt it.  I’d say their main purpose was to keep an eye on us.  Block us from receiving any more disciples, perhaps.  They probably realized not much of interest will happen before our punishment ends and we return to Qinghai.”

“You mean they weren’t just bandits, sir?” 

Chen Rulan chuckled at Pengfei’s mock surprise.  “You and I can dispense with the cover story, I think.  You’ll have to forgive the Sect Leader for his secrecy.  He didn’t want to frighten the other disciples, even though they were in no danger.  Those men would never have dared attack a member of Kunlun.”

Pengfei arched his eyebrows but said nothing.  The travelers had already passed the canyon where Guoyu had tried to kill him.  Maybe the man had been pushed over the edge by seeing his brother’s bag slung over Pengfei’s shoulder.  Maybe he would have let Pengfei go unharmed otherwise, not wanting to risk a confrontation with the sect.  

“Do you know much about the Strangers, sir?”

“Some.  As much as anyone else in the sect I suppose.”

“Last time I encountered one of them, I heard a strange language.  One that I had never heard before.”  It was true, though misleading.  Pengfei indirectly referred to his recent encounter in the canyon, though Elder Rulan would naturally assume it was one of the boy’s earlier experiences.

“You heard their tongue?  They don’t usually speak it in front of others.  When they first settled into the mountains to spy on us, the Patriarch sent me to investigate.  I stumbled upon one of their camps and heard a snippet of conversation.  But they’ve been much more careful since then.”

“Do you have any idea what language it was?”

Chen Rulan went quiet for a moment, but Pengfei could tell he was not trying to obfuscate.  Just gathering his thoughts.

“I’ve had many theories about the Strangers over the years.  But the language they speak doesn’t fit neatly into any of them.  Before Kunlun closed its doors I traveled east to the sea and as far west as Samarkand.  I must have heard a hundred languages along the Desert Road.  And the language of the Strangers still sounds alien to me.”

Pengfei was unsure which was the bigger mystery.  The black-robed Strangers, or the past of Kunlun’s elder, Chen Rulan.  For the first time, he saw the man for what he was.  Not just a  grey-haired elder there to teach him martial arts, but someone who had ridden the breadth of the world and had untold adventures before being locked away in the mountains.

Chen Rulan brought him out of his reverie with an abrupt change of subject. “I think it’s time you get some exercise and give that horse a rest.  Hop down and jog along.”

“Ugh.”  

The mysteries of the Strangers and Kunlun’s elders were put aside for more everyday affairs.  Pengfei untied the sword from his side and reached over to place it in the back of the oxcart with the food and supplies the elder had brought for their trip.  Then, the disciple slid to the ground and took up a stride that kept him in pace with the yaks.  

Horse darted off immediately, stretching her legs and testing her speed.

“Has that mare always been so tall?” Rulan inquired.  

“…Yes.”

Pengfei was unsurprised at the question.  In the two days since ingesting the Thousand Year Ginseng, the animal had grown significantly.  The once diminutive Tibetan mare now resembled the more robust breeds that might be used as warhorses in the empire.  But the boy thought the changes might go unnoticed since most of the residents of Kunlun saw her rarely.  

The mare sped by again, her hooves churning up dirt and grass, drawing the awed attention of Chen Rulan.

******************************************************************************

By the end of their first day of travel, Pengfei was farther from the sect than he had traveled since joining.  In their second day, they left the familiar valley completely and began their descent from the mountain highlands.  

The environment shifted rapidly.  What began as a stream near the sect became a raging river, fed by the mountains and glaciers to the south.  They rode through alpine forest then grassy plain before they reached the edge of the Taklamakan desert.  

On their third day, they were nearing Hotan.  

“We’ll reach it by late tomorrow.” Chen Rulan said, following Pengfei’s gaze.  As had become habit on their short trip, the elder set about preparing the evening meal.  He took an iron cookpot from the back of the oxcart and sent Pengfei to fetch water from the river.

“What’s Hotan like?” Pengfei asked when he returned.

“Quite diverse.  Uyghurs, Tibetans, Mongols, Kazakhs, Han, you’ll see them all there.  Trading and transporting sundries from every corner of the world.”  More evidence of the elder’s worldliness.  “Begin your practice.  Try to focus this time.”  

“Elder, how are the other disciples managing without your kind guidance?  It seems like a waste for you to be on this trip with me.”

“They are better served by Elder Chen Weidao’s instruction now.  Besides, I must tend to my remedial student.  Now, focus.”

The elder set the pot on top a small fire and watched Pengfei as the water slowly crept toward a boil.  Horse and the yaks milled about, free of saddle and yoke after a long day and many li traveled, more casual spectators.

Just like their time at the cliffs, the elder had suggested they focus on barehanded techniques over the jian.  It suited Pengfei fine.  Since facing Guoyu, his sword felt like it was stuck in its scabbard.  Every time he tried to draw it, he imagined Guoyu countering each strike and stifling him with an overwhelming strength.  He remembered the impotence of having his sword ripped from his grasp by the powerful blow of his opponent’s broken blade.

The ‘Heaven Shaking Fist’ unfolded more smoothly but Guoyu’s face still hung in the air, the target for the disciple’s fists.  He executed the techniques forcefully.  They made contact with the imaginary opponent but the phantom refused to fall, just as it had been in real life.

“It still looks disturbed.  Have you had a setback, recently?”

Pengfei shifted uncomfortably.  “The techniques are coming more easily now, but I feel like I lack power.”

Elder Rulan nodded.  “Your technique still needs work but you’re not wrong regarding the power.” 

“What can I do about it?”

“Where are you in your neigong practice now?”

“I’ve begun circulating through the vessels of the major organs.”  Pengfei stated, having recently begun circulating through the lung and bladder meridians.

“That should be enough.  Take the bow stance.”  Chen Rulan stood next to the disciple and guided his movements.  “With your hands at your waist, feel the qi in your dantian.”

Pengfei closed his eyes to focus on his internal energy, still hearing the words of the elder.

“Breath in, raise your hand to your chest.  As you breath, feel the qi flow upward through the meridians of the chest.  From there, punch!  Feel the qi flow down the arm.  When you clench the fist at the very end of your strike, release the energy and let it flow outwards.”

He tried to execute each step as the elder instructed.  Working slowly, he felt the qi move upward until it settled in his chest but it moved sluggishly to his arm.  And as he struck, the qi fizzled lamely, dissolving into nothingness instead of exploding outward.

He sighed in frustration.  “Is that any use, in a world full of swor – “ 

Pengfei’s question was pre-empted.  As the boy opened his eyes from his determined focus, he found Chen Rulan facing him, mirroring his stance.  With a deft movement, the elder raised his fist to his chest then shot it outwards at Pengfei’s face.

Thundering Sky Strike (lei tian quan – 雷天擊)

The air pressure swept the short hair on Pengfei’s scalp back.  It was hot and intense, like standing too close to a bonfire.  Similar to the pressure exhibited by Guoyu, but more.  He stumbled backwards, both from the force of the blow that had stopped a hair in front of his face, and also from the sheer surprise of it.  

“You might be surprised at the effectiveness of a fist, properly trained.  Did you bring your martial arts manuals?”

Pengfei nodded dumbly.

“Then consult them for the correct path of meridians, and try again.”

******************************************************************************

They approached Hotan, passing through fields and farms irrigated by the river.  Copses of trees dotted their path but the more distant hills were dry and brown.  They could feel the desert closing in on them, but just out of sight.

They reached the city earlier than they expected, giving ample time for Pengfei to drown in culture shock.  The architecture was brown clay and colorful tile mosaics.  The local Uyghurs were a people of both the east and west.  Their language and clothing were distinct but every now and then he would spot something familiar in their features.  

Chen Rulan navigated the streets with practiced ease.  Pengfei could only ride behind the cart on the narrow lanes and stare at the elder’s back.  So many questions popped into mind but had to go unanswered in the cacophony of the bustling oasis town.  

They arrived at an inn, or at least Pengfei took it to be an inn.  Elder Rulan dismounted the cart and entrusted it to a boy, with a few words of the native tongue.  The oxen pulled the cart to a nearby barn, Horse trailing behind.  They carried their belongings inside and passed them off to the lady of the house, with more instructions spoken by the elder.  Seeing the man keep his weapon on his hip, the disciple did the same.    

“Where to first?” Chen Rulan looked to Pengfei expectantly.

“What?  Why are you asking me, sir?”

“The Sect Leader entrusted this task to you.  I’m just here to facilitate.  I know the lay of the land, but the business is up to you.”

“All right.  Then, I have a friend I’d like to get in touch with, get her advice about the horse market.  Do you know where to find the Tibetan community?”

“When groups come through here, they usually camp outside town to the west.  It’s a bit late in the day to make the trip, I’d say leave it until tomorrow if possible.”

“Okay, then…” Pengfei considered the long list of goods and materials he had drawn up during the course of the past month.  “Let’s go see the leatherworkers and blacksmiths.”

The leatherworkers and the tanners balked at the numbers.  Thirty saddles in three months, another one hundred and seventy over the following three years.  It was the type of order that would almost never be heard of in the civilian community, usually reserved for imperial craftsman serving entire cavalry units.  As suspected, the order would need to be spread out to several vendors.

The desired iron goods were less numerous.  Once Chen Rulan had an idea of what was required, he was able to negotiate between several shops to obtain the best prices and an early delivery date.  

No money changed hands.  Since the elder worked as translator, some of the details were lost to Pengfei.  He got the impression a local merchant managed a portion of Kunlun’s assets, that they would satisfy any obligations incurred on official sect business.  

But Pengfei could not use them for his next bit of business.  He accompanied the elder back to the inn after the day’s haggling was concluded, then obtained permission to explore the immediate area on his own.

He retrieved a string of coins from his personal belongings.  The funds that Jin Nanxi had entrusted to him for the illicit purchase of alcohol.

It had taken more than an hour to find a tavern.  Apparently, the new dominant religion did not make allowances for alcohol, but Pengfei had found some eventually.  He only dared to buy a single case since it would need to be transported back by the oxcart.  Any more than that would surely be noticed by Elder Rulan.  

Pengfei was impatient to test the product and took one of the clay jars for himself that evening.  He climbed the outside of the inn and sat atop its roof. 

‘Colder than I thought the desert would be.’  

He still wore his thick coat, but let it hang open in a crisp breeze.  The sun was setting and in the dim light he could see desert sands hanging over the town to the north.  

He sipped the wine lazily, with one hand on the hilt of his sword, feeling like a hero.  But when he thought of seeing Pema the next day he began to sweat against the cold.

‘I hope she’s happy to see me.’

He took another sip of wine and tried to recapture the bravado he had felt just a moment ago.