Chapter 3 — Fists Rise with Thunder, a First Glimpse of Divine Might
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 2 of 3
The Butcher bellowed, his twin blades whirling like rain, the clang and clash of their blows like a cloudburst battering pear blossoms. "Faster! Faster still! Your butchering knife can be faster yet! The move is called Night Cleaves a Thousand Cities' Wind and Rain, and what it demands is speed, the butchering knife falling swift as wind and rain in the dark, drenching the whole city! Faster, I say!"
The blade-light quickened, three silver dragons threading up and down around the wooden post; the wind grew louder, and the hiss of blade-qi blended into it. Where it touched ground, deep gashes sprang up all at once.
Blade marks.
"Good, that is the speed I want! The faster your blade, the stronger your blade-qi. But you are still not fast enough. Fast enough that your blade-intent is a wildfire, burning, burning again!"
The Butcher was like a man possessed, wielding his knives in a whirl that dazzled Shen Mu's eyes. "Burn! Burn! Let your blade burn, let your qi burn, let your spirit burn! After the burning comes divine ability!"
Whoosh!
His blade passed through the air, and from the friction it caught, whooshing, into flame; the two knives streaked to and fro like a pair of fire dragons, more terrifying with every turn.
The fire dragons lunged straight at Shen Mu, and he had no way to block them. Then suddenly the two dragons soared skyward, tearing apart the black night above Hidden Remnant Village, a sight beyond all dread.
Shen Mu stood dazed. The Butcher's blade was truly terrible.
Above the village the darkness surged in and swallowed the fire dragons, the blade-light, the blade-qi, all of it.
That darkness had life in it. It seemed enraged that the Butcher had raised a blade against it, and an unbearable black pressure bore down upon the village as though to devour it.
But then the stone statues at the four corners of the village blazed a little brighter, and drove the darkness back.
"Thieving sky!"
The Butcher stood on his stake, a knife in each hand, and howled at the heavens, half mad: "One day I will split this black open! One day I will slaughter my way back! What they cut from me was my waist, and what I lost was my legs, but not my head! I will kill..."
"Grandpa Tu has gone mad again. But Grandpa Tu's blade is so fast. He has refined his blade art into a divine ability. When will I be able to match his speed?"
Shen Mu looked up at the raving Butcher with admiration, set down his butchering knife, and went to find one-armed Master Huo.
"The Butcher's blade must cut out fire before it counts as a divine ability. My fist must strike out the sound of thunder before it counts as mine!"
Master Huo's face was grave. His single arm clenched into a fist, and his bones crackled in long volleys of popping. He said coolly, "Shen'er, when you can hold lightning in your hand, your fist will have some small accomplishment to its name. The Butcher's blade is quick; my fist breaks the limits of sound, breaks the bonds of air, and bursts out with matchless force! One arm can train a fist. One arm is a thousand arms. One hand can still give out the sound of thunder, the thunderclap itself!"
Boom!
A muffled thunder rolled forth. It was the fist Master Huo had thrown, exploding like the crash of thunder.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
A whole chain of thunderclaps followed. Shen Mu's eyes could not catch the speed of Master Huo's punches; the afterimages of those fists made it seem that the one-armed Master Huo was no longer one-armed, but had grown a thousand arms.
Faster and faster flew the fists, and those thousand arms seemed to hold lightning in their palms, crackling arcs of electric light; every blow was rolling thunder, every blow splashed lightning!
"This is the Myriad-Armed Vajra of the Eight Thunderclap Arts! When your fist is faster than sound, you can command the thunder. One punch, one palm, can destroy a man's soul and body alike and leave him in ruin through ten thousand kalpas, never to be reborn!"