Chapter 8 — The Mouth in the Dark

CHAPTER 8

The Mouth in the Dark

“Come out, you little bastard!” Ma Liang shouted from above.

The beast didn't look at him.

It looked at Shi Feng.

The drain was barely wide enough for two men. Black water covered the floor, and thin roots hung from the broken ceiling. Behind Shi Feng, daylight shone through the channel opening.

It was ten steps away.

The young Split-Maw Beast was only six steps away.

Its head spread sideways when it opened its jaws. A grown one could swallow a man's shoulders. This one would have to bite twice.

Shi Feng lowered the spear point towards its eyes.

“I'm not good meat,” Shi Feng said quietly. “Try the three upstairs.”

The beast sprang.

He thrust without thinking. His old clan training chose the angle, but his arms couldn't give the spear its old speed.

The point scraped across the beast's cheek.

Claws struck the shaft.

Crack!

The spear broke in the middle. Shi Feng slammed into the wall, and the air left his lungs.

He rolled before the jaws closed. Teeth struck the stone beside his ear. A chunk of rock fell into the water.

His chest hurt. His ankle couldn't hold him properly. The beast turned its head, dragging the spearhead stuck beneath its cheek.

Shi Feng was afraid. There was no shame in admitting that. Fear wasn't going to open his meridians, though.

He caught the broken half of the shaft and pushed himself upright.

“Is he dead?” Chai Jin called.

“Not yet,” Zhou Ping answered. “I heard him hit the wall.”

They sounded annoyed.

Shi Feng's anger turned cold. If he got out of this drain, those three would be next.

The beast lunged again. This time he slipped sideways before it moved, pressing himself into the shallow gap beside the root bed.

Its shoulder struck the narrow stone lip.

The jaws stopped an inch from his robe. Shi Feng jammed the broken shaft into its open mouth. The beast bit down, and wood splintered between its teeth.

Its claws scraped the floor as it tried to force its body further into the gap. He couldn't overpower it. Even a young spirit beast was far stronger than his present body.

But the stone wasn't going to move for it either. Shi Feng reached past its cheek and caught the exposed spearhead.

The edge sliced his fingers.

He pulled hard.

The blade came free, bringing a strip of flesh with it. The Split-Maw Beast shrieked, and its jaw opened wider around the wood. Shi Feng drove the blade upwards beneath its chin.

It struck bone and stopped.

The beast's claws caught his side.

Hot pain tore across his ribs. His robe split, and blood ran into his belt.

“Die!” Shi Feng shouted.

He pressed both hands against the broken metal and pushed with his entire body. The trapped beast jerked forward. Its own weight drove the point through the soft gap behind its jaw.

Blood poured over Shi Feng's wrists.

The claws stopped moving.

Shi Feng kept hold of the blade. A twitch ran down the beast's tail and struck the drain wall hard enough to shake loose dust.

He waited through it.

He didn't know whether Split-Maw Beasts could play dead. He only knew that taking his hand away too soon would be stupid.

“Brother Ma, it cried out!” Chai Jin shouted.

“I have ears!” Ma Liang answered.

“Should we go down?” Zhou Ping asked.

“You first,” Ma Liang replied.

Nobody climbed down.

For three breaths, he stayed pressed against the wall. He didn't trust the silence. Then the beast's head sagged, and its jaw closed loosely around the shattered shaft.

Shi Feng slid down into the water.

He was alive.

For now.

“It's quiet,” Chai Jin called.

“Wait,” Ma Liang answered. “A wounded beast may pretend to be dead.”

Shi Feng looked at the corpse blocking the drain.

“So can people,” Shi Feng whispered.

He dragged his pack free and pressed wound powder against his side. The powder stung so badly that his vision blurred.

The claws missed his belly by less than an inch. If they went deeper, no powder would help him. He tore a strip from his spare robe and bound the wound as tightly as he could.

Above, the hunters began arguing about who should climb down.

Shi Feng took out one of his aunt's fever pellets, looked at its red shell, and put it back. She specifically said it was for fever. It wouldn't restore the blood running into the water.

He was glad he listened to her complaints while she packed. The wound powder stopped the worst of the bleeding. He pushed the pack beneath his arm and tested the strip around his ribs.

It held.

The cloth slowed the bleeding. He could stand if he kept his back against the wall, but his right ankle wouldn't carry him up the shelf. He needed the root, then a way past the hunters. Standing here waiting would solve neither.

Shi Feng ignored them. He reached towards the silver root growing beside his knee.

One side was black. The other carried a clear, cold sheen. No ink came away beneath his wet fingers.

“Meng Shou, you'd better not be another liar,” Shi Feng muttered.

He scraped a piece no larger than his smallest fingernail from the living root. Then he put it on his tongue and swallowed.

Cold spread through his throat.

His trembling hands suddenly stopped.

Shi Feng shut his eyes and tried the breathing exercise he performed every morning. Air entered his chest. His thoughts followed the old route through his body.

For eighteen months, that route led nowhere.

This time, something answered.

Not qi.

A faint ache appeared beneath his sternum. It spread outwards through places he no longer expected to feel.

His heart pounded.

“There!” Shi Feng whispered.

The sensation vanished.

He opened his eyes sharply.

No! He didn't imagine it. Something inside him moved.

His bloody hand lay against the Split-Maw Beast's neck. Beneath his palm, the beast's flesh began to sink.

Shi Feng froze.

Warmth poured into his hand, then rushed up his arm. It wasn't the cold strength of Yin Jade Root. It carried the fierce vitality of the dead beast.

He pulled away.

The flow stopped.

His chest rose and fell rapidly. He stared at the pale patch beneath the beast's jaw.

“What is this?” Shi Feng said.

The hunters heard his voice.

“He's alive!” Chai Jin shouted.

Shi Feng didn't answer. He pressed his hand against the corpse again.

Warmth returned at once.

The hunger beneath his sternum grew stronger. His body wanted the beast's blood, flesh and remaining qi. It wanted all of them.

Shi Feng was stunned, but he didn't let panic take over. He tried to stop without removing his hand.

The warmth stopped.

He willed it to return.

It returned.

He could control it!

Shi Feng checked his injured fingers. The cuts were still there, but his hands weren't as cold. A little feeling returned to his numb arm.

The change was small and clear. This wasn't a dream, and it wasn't the root making him imagine things. Whatever woke inside him could take strength from the corpse.

And right now, he needed strength more than he needed an answer.

He pressed harder. The pale patch spread from the beast’s jaw to its shoulder, and his numb fingers began to warm. The change followed his touch. He could test it again after he escaped.

A crossbow bolt splashed into the pool nearby.

“Young Master Shi!” Ma Liang called. “Come out! We were only testing your courage!”

Shi Feng looked towards the daylight.

His wound still hurt. He still couldn't fight three Qi Condensation cultivators. But the vitality entering his body was real, and two silent channels inside him were beginning to respond.

He pressed his other hand against the beast's belly.

“Then wait,” Shi Feng replied quietly.

Ma Liang couldn't hear him from the channel above.

That suited Shi Feng perfectly well.

He only cared about the strength filling his empty channels.