“It’s been too long!” The tall cultivator growled in barely restrained frustration. Unlike most, his robes were the darkest green, appearing near black in the soft morning light. His hair was done up in a severe style, the long ponytail waterfalling down the back of his travel cloak from a plain black wood clasp. A bag sat by the door, dumped there unceremoniously when Feng Jianyu had stormed into the private quarters of the Liu Clan Leader’s abode. His motions were minimal, as was the volume of his voice, but the fury wrapped up tight in the swordsman’s body was evident in the tenseness of each muscle.

“Why has no one been sent to retrieve them?” He demanded, face set in disproving lines as he glared at the man stood before him. The man he had brazenly interrupted when he’d heard the news that two of his peers had been missing for over two weeks. Feng Jianyu had only just returned to the sect, not even having had time to change from his travailing gear when he had found out that Liu Li-Tai and Zhou Jinhai had gone missing while out on what should have been a simple Hunt. Neither man was the type to dally on such missions, especially Zhou Jinhai, a cultivator so obsessed with the blade that he surpassed even Feng Jianyu himself in his diligent practice. Not an easy feat.

Liu Lingzhu, courtesy name of Liu Huizhong, the current leader of the Liu clan, regarded the younger cultivator with steady eyes. There had been no distress signal sent, and it had been graded as low-risk. It was not uncommon for cultivators to spend longer out in the field than strictly necessary, either because their Hunt was progressing slowly, or because they were working on their cultivation or other skills. And to be fair, Liu Lingzhu was not stupid, he knew they stayed out there for the freedom and vice the mortal world offered. Though he didn’t know the two cultivators in minute detail, Liu Li-Tai was from a secondary branch of the ruling Liu family line, and Zhou Jinhai was an outsider who had joined the sect as a boy and was looking to be a true talent with the sword. But as to their personal proclivities? Liu Lingzhu was uninformed.

Regarding the angry Feng Jianyu before him he finally folded his hands into his sleeves and dipped his head slightly in permission. The warrior didn’t wait for a verbal dismissal, turning on his heel he stalked to the door, grabbed his dusty and soiled pack, slid the door open with a loud bang and stomped out. Liu Lingzhu had no doubt that the other would go directly to where the missing sect members had originally been sent. Content to leave the matter to Feng Jianyu’s single-minded determination, Liu Lingzhu settled back down at his desk and the scroll upon scroll of paperwork.

For his part, Feng Jianyu stormed across the clan complex, ignoring the startled looks and surprised calls from the other sect members, Masters and younger students alike. As a higher ranked Inner sect member, but not yet a Master in his own right, he had no need to answer their curiosity, and was loathed to pause even an incense of time longer than had already passed. Only waiting until he reached a sprawling garden area with a quiet pond in the center, where there were no bystanders to be harmed by the backwash of his technique. He made a sharp hand sign and his wickedly sharp sabre flew from it’s scabbard to hover just above the ground before him. With a step he was atop the blade and shooting into the sky, faster than a flying arrow.

The sun was barely at it’s zenith when the dark-clad cultivator shot into the middle of the village, the sword’s speed barely slowing down as he stepped off and dropped to the ground, catching the blade before it streaked past his shoulder and returning it to it’s sheath in a movement so fast no mortal could have followed it. One moment there was no one in that exact spot, and in the next, a dark robed figure stood in the middle of a sudden dust cloud, robes billowing and hair streaming over one shoulder from the forceful halt of his momentum. He stood stock still like a statue as the startled guards scrambled from their seats at a nearby teahouse and streamed over to surround the stranger. Not that any of them got too close, shivering just from the aura the surrounded the visitor.

“Two Liu Cultivators came here about two weeks ago.” He stated flatly, his tone as hard as iron. Feng Jianyu was not a man well versed in social niceties on his best days, and today was certainly not one of those. His usual brusque manner was even more cutting than normal. Allowing for no questions, only answers to his demand. “Where did they go?” The guards seemed stunned, but finally one shifted on the spot hesitantly, paling as dark eyes turned their impatient glare his way. “I heard tell of two cultivators in the Liu colours that went onto the mountain.” He raised a hand and pointed at the looming mountain that backed the village, it’s peek white with snow and flanks streaming thick clouds. “Supposedly, they had been asking about the demon that lives there. The path starts at the north gate, just follow that as it’s the only trail in that direction.”

The dark-robed cultivator had already turned in the direction the young guard had indicated, and with no other word, he simply vanished. The men all looked at each other, then shrugged with deep relief. A wandering cultivator was always a dicey prospect, but the ones affiliated with a sect seemed to at least attempt to avoid killing too many locals when they blew through like a bad storm. The youngest looked to where the dark shape could be seen flying away into the distance. “I hope he finds his friends…” Some of the other men scoffed and one slapped the back of his head. “Just be glad he didn’t hang around here. Those cultivators are a crazy bunch, and damned dangerous. Never cross one.” The older guard with liberal gray in his beard, cautioned the younger man in a knowing tone before turning his back on the mountain and whatever chaos was happening there. Their job was to protest the village from bandits and thieves, not worry about Cultivator issues.

As Feng Jianyu flew, he spread his senses out, seeking any trace of Zhou Jinhai and Liu Li-Tai. Both men were peerless swordsmen, but Feng Jianyu had a bad sense about the entire situation. Neither man was the type to linger away from the sect, and the mountain’s flank was covered in an aura that was heavy with foreboding. The first spike of qi he felt had him plummeting to the ground, forming a crater as he landed since he took no care for the forest floor or the trees around in his rush. But all he found was a black pole and the faintest trace of dark qi. The spike he had felt had been Zhou Jinhai’s aura echo, and had to be left deliberately by the two missing men.  Following that thread of qi he found a trail and ran along it, utilising the most basic of qinggong techniques at his disposal, each step sending him far along the twisting path as he simply cut through any foliage that got in his way with his aura hardened like a sword blade.

It wasn’t long before he dropped to the ground in the middle of a clearing clearly created by a vicious battle. Sword cuts sliced the tree trunks all around, and the earth was deeply torn up by the uncontrolled use of qinggong. The creeping residue of some foul shadow technique clung to the area, leaving behind a chill that affected the spirit rather than the flesh. Only then, under that desiccated, smoky miasma, did he catch the distinctive scent of old blood and corruption. Sending himself shooting directly towards the source, heedless of the trees he left as exploded trunks in his wake, he came to an abrupt stop a bare breath later. There, huddled against an untouched tree, were two blood-stained figures. Hurrying over, Feng Jianyu quickly knelt besides the two men, shocked at the state they were in. Only to freeze when he realised neither was moving, or breathing. Frozen, it was only when a sudden, rattling breath wheeze past blue lips did he break from his statue-like stance and quickly reached out, fingers hovering before the cracked lips.

Yes, at least one was still alive. Relief hit him harder than he had expected as he carefully eased the still, cold body of Liu Li-Tai out of Zhou Jinhai’s stiff arms. Clearly the smaller man had tried to carry his taller counterpart, probably seeking help. But unfortunately for Liu Li-Tai, that help hadn’t arrived in time. Jaw unconsciously clenching, Feng Jianyu set the body down carefully before gathering the comatose figure of Zhou Jinhai into his arms and lifting the man like he weighed no more than a small child. Fingers twisting into the proper sign, his jian flew from it’s place at his hip and dropped before him. Stepping up he paused to glance down at the body of his friend and bowed his head in apology. “I’ll be back soon.” He murmured under his breath, knowing the man would have wanted Feng Jianyu to save his partner before being concerned over his discarded mortal flesh. With the unconscious cultivator in his arms, he guided the sword up into the skies once more, headed at a swift, but more careful pace back to the Liu sect’s Willow Retreat.