Heaven's Golden Finger - Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Ignoring the idiot's question, Shun focused on the problem at hand. He twisted his fingers in an elaborate seal, creating a chill Lake array between them and the corrupted soul. It was still babbling hatred, the same hatred as the voice that'd entered his meditations earlier. It was not, however, powerful enough to get past.
"Thanks. Now, can you climb?"
Shun was in no fit state for walking and he knew it. He was absolutely in no state for climbing. Two cracked ribs, a bruised leg and a badly twisted ankle ensured he had to depend on the brat. All while trying to find their way to safety from a chasm leading straight into the depths of the Demon World. Oh, and escape the corrupted soul who'd apparently taken a dislike for them. "No. I cannot. And I ask again. Are you an imbecile?"
"I got all 'A's on my thing logic." Shirong paused. "Oh, damn. You probably don't know what that is, do you?" Before Shun could swat him for his stupidity, the brat shifted Shun around. "Grab my neck and hold on."
"No. Run." It made no sense trying to climb. Once that thing broke past his seal it could follow them up. If Shirong ran he had a chance of reaching the other end of the chasm. There'd be help there.
"What if I run towards the Demon World instead of away? Do you know which way I should go?"
Now Shun wasn't sure what to answer. His Shidi was, infuriatingly, right. He knew what this place was but he wasn't strong enough to be set as its guard yet. He'd no idea which direction was which. "Fine." He wrapped his arms around Shirong's neck. "Move. Fast!"
"Yes, Shixiong."
Shirong had the advantage of size and strength. And, fortunately, the sides of the chasm weren't so steep and sheer a person couldn't climb. It was just difficult. Behind them, the corrupted soul shrieked and howled, ripping at Shun's array and sending waves of pain through him with every tear. If he didn't need his hands to hang on, he might have supported the array. As it was, all he could do was hope it'd last.
Light brightened as they rose. It'd been just an hour or so past sunrise when Shun had found his wandering Shidi and now it was late afternoon. Spring air flowed down, swirled around them and seemed to give Shirong a boost in strength. He'd been faltering, but now, with one last effort, he dragged them both over the edge of the chasm and onto the steep hillside.
Shun released the younger man as soon as he could safely do so. A part of him would rather die than accept this man's help. Another part was realizing just how wrong everything was. He rose to his feet, prepared to fight, though he knew he'd no hope of winning against the boy in front of him. "Who are you?"
Lying flat on the narrow rock, Shirong sighed. "Can we discuss this when we're safe? Is that thing still after us?"
"After us? Or after you?"
Another sigh, this one straight from the depths. "After us both, in a way. Look, do we have to do this now? You're hurt, anyway."
The trouble was the brat, or whatever he was, was right again. Shun sheathed his weapon. "That spirit was the real Shirong. I hate him with every fiber of my being, but you're the interloper. What right do you have to that body?"
"Not sure, to be honest." The stranger sat up. Peered over the edge of the chasm. "He's coming. Can you at least let me get you to safety before we talk?"
Shun didn't trust the boy at all, but he'd done his best to keep Shun alive despite everything. So, "If you can't give me a good accounting later, I will find a way to deal with you."
"Fair enough." Shirong knelt so Shun could climb on his back again. "Near as I can tell, the safest way is down the hill. Hold tight and let's see if I've got enough luck to get us out of here before my not particularly illustrious predecessor catches up."
It was night by the time they reached the base of the mountain. Not a safe time for travel at all, but fortunately they found an abandoned temple nestled in the foothills. Fake Shirong muttered, "Of course there'd be an abandoned temple. There's always an abandoned temple."
"Why wouldn't there be, faker?"
"Oh, I don't know. It's just awfully convenient. And such a vulgar envelope." At Shun's frown, fake Shirong considered his words. "Damn. Another thing you wouldn't know about. It means something that happens all the time in stories. Like the Monkey King always has to steal peaches?"
It seemed to Shun that the Monkey King did always have to steal peaches but he decided not to argue the point. "Now. I want answers."
"Do you have anything to start a fire with? It's a long story and I'm hungry and you're shivering."
Yet again and infuriatingly, the faker was right. Shun set him to gathering firewood and, once that was done, allowed his element just enough freedom to set the tinder alight. Inevitably, it flared bright and tall, almost setting the roof alight before he got it under control. "Damn. Every time."
"Is there a reason?"
"I have to suppress it. I... never mind. Answer my questions, damnit. Stop trying to distract me."
The wry self-deprecating smile on Shirong's lips was unfamiliar and somehow almost endearing. No. Not right. Not fair. Shun should not be liking the fake Shirong so much that he'd be unable to banish him when the time came. "All right." Fake Shirong sat beside the fire, pulling out some steamed breads from his sack. "Do you believe in reincarnation?"
"Of course. Don't pretend you're a reincarnated Shirong, come back to change your past. I won't believe you. You're too different."
"Times change people, though. I could be." Before Shun could answer, fake Shirong continued, "I'm not, at least I hope I'm not. Next question. Do you believe in transmigration?"
Students of the sect had to start with the basics, establishing their foundations and their golden core, before being allowed to study the deeper knowledge. Shun's golden core had only just formed, so while he knew the term, he'd little understanding of what it meant. "I know the word. I know it's when a being dies too soon, before he can finish a Heavenly appointed task and creates an open place that must be filled. Is that your claim? That your soul was summoned to replace Shirong's?"
"I can't prove it," fake Shirong admitted. "But just before you started kicking me for breaking the cauldron, I was lying in a hospital bed dying of marmoset disease.... Oh, wait. You probably don't know that one either. Call it total organ failure." He shuddered. "It... isn't pleasant."
Unable to comprehend the rest of the fake's statement, Shun focused on what he did understand. "I didn't kick you until you called me a woman!" Really, Shun knew he shouldn't let himself get distracted, but that insult still rankled, especially since he'd gotten whipped for his response to it.
"Sorry about that. Men don't wear robes or have hair as long as yours where I came from. And my eyes were blurry." Fake Shirong shrugged off the discussion. "Never mind. The point is, I found myself in this body, able to remember things he'd done, but with my own memories as well."
"And the real Shirong? The one who's hunting you? What happened to him?"
"Do you know what he was trying to do, just before that cauldron exploded?"
Shun couldn't help sneering. "Show me up, as usual."
"That too." Fake Shirong pulled the scroll case he'd found earlier out of his sack. "Here. I don't recommend trying this. I've a feeling it was never meant for you. But...."
The scroll was in an older writing style, but Shun had no trouble reading the title. "Heavenly Attribute Elixir?" He examined the recipe itself. "You're saying he was trying to concoct this? But you found that scroll in that hole."
"I did. But his memory showed me where he'd found it first." Fake Shirong sounded mildly disgusted. "He put it there to study while he was supposed to be cultivating. You knew him. Was he the sort to share?"
"No. But you didn't either."
"Two reasons. First, I wanted to know just what he tried to do. Second, I was afraid you'd try it and wind up killing yourself too. Read the caution at the bottom."
Shun did, though it was rough going. 'The greatest risk to this noble elixir it is the test it requires of the creator. To claim the blessing of Heaven, one must be worthy of Heaven's blessing. The creator must refine his own soul within the crucible of time and cleanse themselves of their ill-intentions. If they fail, they will fall to their own corruption and shatter, losing their Selves to eternity.'
"It took me half the night to read that," fake Shirong admitted. "But if I understand it correctly, I think it means my late and unlamented predecessor blew his Spirit up. That thing chasing me right now might be too broken to come back to this body."
There was no way of telling. Shun wasn't skilled enough to answer that question. "So that's why you ran?"
"No." Fake Shirong eyed him. Sighed. "You won't believe me."
"I don't know what to believe. But I can't trust you if you don't at least try telling me."
Hesitantly, fake Shirong said, "I don't want to be blessed."
Shun understood the meaning immediately. "What makes you think you are?"
"You don't think I wound up with two attributes and a changed element just because I transmigrated, do you?" Fake Shirong gazed at the fire. "Back in my old body, I'd read about people like old Shirong. Struggling against adversity, apparently trash, only to reveal themselves blessed with some... thing... that would make them a powerhouse in the martial world."
"Those types show up all the time." Shun had never considered Shirong as a likely candidate, but maybe he should have. "Why wouldn't you want such a thing? The real Shirong never hesitated to grab all the glory he could."
"Which is probably why he failed to make that elixir correctly," fake Shirong muttered dourly. At Shun's startled chuckle, he managed a grin. "Oh, you can laugh."
"Rarely. Don't get used to it. You didn't answer my question."
"Because I don't want a blessing if it means cursing someone else. Besides, it'd be so damned boring."
Shun wanted to believe. Wanted to trust. He was painfully aware how dangerous it would be if he did so carelessly. He hated the old Shirong. Hated every last smug smirk and self-absorbed claim to Heaven's blessing. Hated how old Shirong had all too often been proved right. Heaven loved him and hated hated HATED Shun.
"Even if everything you say is true, you should have talked to the Elders...." The look on fake Shirong's face made Shun falter. "What?"
"There's a prophecy about me. About old Shirong."
"I. Know." Shun couldn't help sneer as he repeated, "'Blessed by Heaven and Earth, a forest of strength will rise to restrain the Demon King.'"
"There's more to it than that. He probably never mentioned it to you because it'd reveal too much. But the other half says, 'The Demon King will rise from a burning lake to avenge himself on those who slighted his mother, and only the blessed one can subdue his rage.'"
A burning lake. A slighted mother. Cold chills ran straight up Shun's spine. "He thought I was this Demon King?" It'd explain so much about the real Shirong's attitude towards him. "Me?"
"I'm afraid he wouldn't have been the only one." Fake Shirong gave him a long level look. "You said people with Heaven's blessing show up all the time, right? Do they always have an enemy they have to defeat? One who hates them for their good fortune?"
What could Shun say but, "Yes." It was almost impossible for him to accept. "Then... I... have to become.... I...." A solid ache started inside him. The Elders knew it. Knew his fate. That was why, from the day they learned his bases, they never believed or trusted him. Why he could never seem to earn any respect. The only one who really seemed to care was his Shizun and he was Shun's grandfather and naturally biased.
"Bullshit!"
The sudden exclamation made Shun stare. Fake Shirong sighed. "I left the sect hoping that'd break the tie between us. Hoping my good fortune wouldn't have to mean your bad. Obviously there's more to it than that. But I refuse, I utterly refuse, to believe I'm going to have to fight and kill you. So I want to find out more. Find out what that prophecy really means and try to fix it."
"Why?" At fake Shirong's confused expression, Shun clarified. "Why would it matter to you?"
An odd look crossed fake Shirong's face. Then he smiled. Shrugged. "Because it's not fair and it's not right and I'm not having anything to do with it." He pointed at the floor. "It's late. We should sleep. We can talk about what to do next in the morning."
Tell the truth, Shun was exhausted himself and more than ready to rest. "Fine. But this isn't over."
"No. Obviously not." Fake Shirong lay flat on the other side of the fire and seemed to fall asleep immediately.
It took Shun longer, staring blankly at the cobweb covered rafters and trying desperately not to cry.
The smell of cooking woke Shun. Fake Shirong sat by the fire, holding two chunks of meat on a stick. "Hungry?"
Shun had to admit he was. He looked at fake Shirong, a little amazed to realize he didn't hate that face as much as he had before. It had to be the changed expression. The last time real Shirong had looked at him without sneering had been when his Shidi had been small, before Shun's bases had been determined. Before he'd built his foundation and gone on to become a disciple.
Everything had gone wrong after that. Now he understood why, but it'd been hard, no, impossible to understand how all his hard work could count for so little. He'd ignored the amusement his antithetical bases caused the other children. Ignored the fact that he went without a master for almost a year longer than any of the other disciples. Ignored the fact that his grandfather had likely accepted him out of pity.
All right, now he knew they'd all had a reason. The thing was, what were they expecting to do? Keep him in the sect to finally lose control under the pressure? Or were they just watching and waiting for a reason to throw him into the chasm so he could fall?
There was one other possibility. Perhaps they'd been waiting for the real Shirong to reveal his true power and take him out for them? In the end, it all would have amounted to the same thing. The question was, would following this fake Shirong still end with his heart shattered and his mind lost? Was he doomed to fall no matter what?
"So, my thought is, find the Elder who made that prophecy and find out if he still says the same with me here." Fake Shirong said, once they'd eaten.
"What do you propose to do about your predecessor? You don't think he's going to leave you alone. Corrupted souls can be damned stubborn and you are walking around in his body."
Fake Shirong fell silent. Then, finally, "Honestly, I'm not sure. It's fair he'd be mad about losing. He was pretty damned sure he was slated to be the hero. But he did do it to himself. So I don't feel as bad about it as I would if I'd come back here and took some poor slob's body who didn't mess himself up." He sighed, wiping grease off his face fastidiously. "I guess try and keep him off me and find out what the Revered Predecessor has to say about him."
It seemed a reasonable answer. "Then I'm coming with you."
A mix of pleasure and worry suffused Shirong's fine-boned features. "Ah... are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, I don't want to get you in trouble and it seems like I always do."
"That brat always did."
"True. But... well you were still getting in trouble because of me even after I took over. And I swear I never tried to cause it."
Even if that were true, the real Shirong had had no experience in the world outside the sect's walls. His memories wouldn't help and fake Shirong might be intelligent, but he wasn't wise. He barely remembered the courtesies as it was. Shun couldn't leave this innocent idiot to wander the world outside alone. Besides, "Shizun ordered me to either bring you home or accompany you if you had good reason to leave. So I'd have to come, even if I didn't want to."
There was an odd bright look in fake Shirong's eyes but he didn't explain himself. "All right. Maybe, just maybe, the two of us together will cancel each other out." He smiled wryly. "And, too, if you're fated to become the Demon King, you might as well do it in front of me. Who knows. Maybe I'll be able to restrain you right then and there."
Somehow, Shun managed to laugh, though the thought sent a sharp pang through his chest. "I doubt even your blessed luck could be that good."
And, if it were, he could hope this Shirong would kill him quickly, before he did too much damage.