Chương 9: Chapter 55: The Dao of Delivery

To an observer from afar, the only thing visible on the plains of Nakjo that night was a streak of light, moving quickly across the low-lying hills. It pierced through the darkness like an arrow in flight, never wavering from its path. Upon closer examination, the light would reveal itself as a horse and rider. The rider was a young man of imperial stock, with a bit of the plainsfolk blood in him.

He was so small when set against the immenseness of his surroundings, the towering black clouds and the endless landscape. And yet he somehow seemed grander than all of them combined. But there were no observers that night. Not unless one counted the marmots, jackals, and owls. And the wolves. — The fact that it wasn't raining was a small blessing.

Song estimated that they'd only been riding for thirty minutes of the three or four hours they expected to be on the road – if the dirt track they travelled on could really be called a road. They kept mostly to a simple trot, interspersed by short stints of walking. Running a horse too hard could be fatal for their hearts, and the tales often told of noble steeds who galloped all day only to die at their destination. He was learning all kinds of new things today.

Like that his night vision didn't work quite as well when his dantian was lighting everything up in shades of white. He'd had to tamp it down just enough for Bonbong to keep his full speed, while also giving his eyes enough of a break to see beyond the ring of light. The wind felt like it was stripping the flesh from his belly, and he held down a shiver. Shivering could come later; right now he needed to focus. Breathe in, breathe out. Head of stone. Heart of steel. Hold your tongue. Hide your thoughts.

Breathe in, breathe out. He could do this. It was just a ride like any other. There was the familiar bouncing of the saddle, and the thick musk of Bongbong, offset by the scent of wet grasses brought to his nostrils by the screaming wind. The wind brought with it other sounds too. Of animals fleeing the oncoming light, and distant thunder. And as it whipped through the tall grasses, it brought forth the maddened raving of demons, waiting to catch him in their claws and teeth.

They hissed and spat off in the black distance ahead, their filthy words ripped to shreds by the winds until they reached Song's ears as mere whispers. Song clutched his father's grasswolf mantle tight. His night vision only stretched so far, and beyond several hundred paces even he couldn't pierce the darkness. Scary stories they'd told by the fire in days past rattled in his brain, and he gritted his teeth against the fear. After another hour he felt his eyes trying to tug shut.

The endless dark and wailing winds were beginning to take their toll; he'd never felt so alone or tired in his entire life. Not even when he'd been in the Void. But this time he wasn't alone. He whispered hoarsely, "Can you talk to me, Cyrus? Help me stay awake." ["If you get too tired, you can always let me take over,"] Cyrus replied, matter-of-factly.

"Thank you, but I want to do this. Mae is my cousin." ["Suit yourself. Offers out there. You know, this reminds me of the postman's creed. And the pony express. I wonder if it was like this for them in the old days too."] Cyrus said, his tone cheerful. Song wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry.

"Post–man? What's that? A man made of wood??" ["Hah! Remember how I asked you about long-distance communication in Murim and you mentioned the escort kings and the peddlers? Well in my world we had people whose job it was just to deliver messages, which we called post. Hence, postman!"] The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Song chattered a laugh.

"How could there possibly be enough 'post' to justify that as a job?" ["Hey, almost everyone could read and write where I lived. And it wasn't like there were demons and monsters roaming the lands, so all you needed to send a message to your family across the country was someone willing to travel from point A to B. In the early days, people rode horses, or ponies. Hence the name 'The Pony Express'. They had one in New Brunswick, though there were a few more around the continent as well. They'd ride across the plains to bring letters from home to the early settlers."]"Does it remind you of that because I'm delivering a message on horseback?" Song asked, giving Bongbong a reassuring pat. His beloved mount hadn't flagged for an instant, clearly picking up on its rider's desperate haste. Song swore that the big brown gelding would get all the daikon its heart desired if and when they made it to their destination. ["Sorta,"] Cyrus answered. ["But I was actually thinking of the Postman's creed. Well, the one down south anyway – in Canada all we had was 'Delivering A Stronger Canada', which was dumb. But everyone knew what the real postman's creed was."] Cyrus stopped speaking, leaving an anticipatory pause. Song waited for a beat, before huffing, and asking, "And what was it?" [" Neither snow, nor rain, nor sleet, nor gloom of night can stay these messengers from their appointed duty. It's like that mantra you always use, but for delivering mail."] Song sat in silence for a while, considering the phrase. The more he thought about it, the more he liked it. It truly encapsulated the 'dao of delivery' that he'd been forming in his head. Nam Gwansoo had really been onto something if even the odd mortals of Cyrus's world took such a simple job so seriously.

"Neither snow, nor rain, nor sleet, nor gloom of night, shall keep this cultivator from his delivery," Song whispered to himself, to the Great Ones, and to Cyrus. He cycled qi to his dantian, cracked the reins and sent Bongbong surging forward into a canter.

"Hyah!" They rode onward, Cyrus continuing his inane chatter all the while. — They heard it before they saw it. It was a sound that Song would always remember. A low guttural baying that echoed over the plains until it seemed to come from every direction at once. Song felt it from his belly right down to his bones. A grasswolf. Then there was another. And another. And another. Bongbong whinnied nervously, and Song reached down to pat his gelding's neck comfortingly. ["Movement behind us and to the right!"] Cyrus shouted. Song swiveled his head over his shoulder and strained his eyes. Then he saw it too, shapes on the horizon gently loping over the hills. The bright orange of their four eyes and the misshapen tendrils on their backs confirmed it. Grasswolves. Four of them. Song gave Bongbong another kick, and the gelding went from a trot to a canter. Behind them, the wolves slowly fell into the distance.

"They're slower than Bongbong," Song said with relief.

"I don't think they'll catch us." ["Up front and left."] Cyrus snapped. ["Eyes forward!"] Song's eyes focused to the front, just in time to see several more figures come hurtling over a small hillock a hundred meters ahead of them. They charged towards him, their thornlike claws tearing up the soil.

"It's a trap," Song groaned. He wheeled Bongbong off the trail and kicked the horse into a gallop. He was truly thankful for his ability to see in the dark as he guided Bongbong on the clearest path through the rubble that always dotted the plains.

"Did the morning caravan even make it? No, we would've seen signs of an attack." ["They had the army with them. Maybe this isn't even the entire pack. Didn't Iseul say that she thought they may've surrounded the entire village?"]" Teacher An did say something like that," Song gasped, his body tensing as his knees forced him up and down to the brutal beating gait of the gallop.

"How many can you count?" ["Gimme a sec. One, two…. five… maybe ten total."]"Can we outrun them?" Song guided Bongbong in a wide ring around a large rocky outcrop ahead. It lost some of their lead, but he didn't want to chance there being more wolves hiding in the tall stones. ["Looks like it. We're pulling ahead. We just need to make sure we don't get encircled. Uh oh, up on that hill to the right."] Song spared a glance in the direction Cyrus had indicated and felt the blood in his veins turn to ice.

Standing on a hill just about two hundred paces away was the biggest grasswolf he'd ever seen. It had six glowing orange eyes on its head that were visible even at this distance, and when it howled and charged forward the ground around it erupted with spears of stone.

"The foundation level wolf!" Song shrieked. It was even more terrifying than how his father had described it. From the dozens of whipping tendrils on its back to the slavering maw of brambles that couldn't even be called a mouth anymore, it was a nightmare made wooden flesh. ["That would make it… at least three times stronger than you right? At the minimum? How screwed are we?"] Cyrus asked nervously. ["Wood and Earth qi make you strong and tough, not fast, right?"] In answer, Song pointed Bongbong directly away and kicked hard.

"HYAH!"