THE PATH CHAPTER 2
The observations of the civilians were nothing short of striking. No matter how many times Ru-Jing sent them down the stairwell with clamouring force, they regained their strength with swift ferocity. The ascent of the stairs was a chaotic and tumultuous scene, as those who faltered were swiftly trampled beneath the onrushing throng. Yet, the most gruesome and startling sight was watching those whose faces were crushed and bones shattered, rise from the ground and dash towards the west gate with a feral and heedless disregard for any feeling of pain and physical agony.
With his light-step technique*1, Ru-Jing leapt from the top of the stone staircase. He ascended into the air, twisting his body quickly to cast an array of ink strokes forward. The shape of the ink formed instantly in long ribbons expanding into the frosty air. Quickly the sporadic tendrils morphed into smooth forms and soon became a flock of agile crane birds. With their large wings, the cranes pushed onto the incoming wave. Many were catapulted off the side of the mountain, but others had latched onto the bird's long legs― only to be pulled apart and scattered around the district by a set of vicious claws.
“Bi-Feng*2 Come!” Ru-Jing called out.
Upon his command, the gold-patterned black robe on Ru-Jing’s body dispersed into wispy particles. Quickly the particles gathered together in the palm of Ru-Jing’s hand and once the shape of his robe had fully disintegrated, Bi-Feng had returned to its original form. Hovering over Ru-Jing’s open palm was a sturdy paintbrush encased in gold inscriptions and carvings of mystical shapes. The gold patterns spiralled from the tail of the brush, downwards to the base of the black handle. Strangely the head of the brush did not contain any hairs like an ordinary brush, but instead waved strands of gold ethereal fibres formed together into a pointed tip 
Without a day passing Ru-Jing carried this spiritual device named Bi-Feng. In its defensive state, Bi-Feng took the shape of the black and golden robe that Ru-Jing wore, protecting him from exterior harm. At Ru-Jing’s will, not only could marvellous brush expand as long as a Bo staff or shrink as small as an apple stem. But more impressively it possessed the capabilities of duplicating into numerous brushes allowing Ru-Jing to conjure hundreds of ink figures simultaneously; far beyond the ordinary Inkstrike technique.
Consequently, it was no easy feat maintaining Bi-Feng in this state. Already the Inkstrike required immense training in order to execute — possessing outstanding levels of mind control, vivid visualisation and sophisticated control over one’s spiritual energy— were the prerequisites of producing such entracing power. With Bi-Feng summoned, Ru-Jing was able to hold off the stampede with ease. Although Ru-Jing had cultivated a divine creative power like a refined gem, the stamina required to maintain his spiritual devices so freely was vast amounts. Naturally, Ru-Jing refrained from using Bi-Feng for extended periods of time, as it exhausted his corporeal body and mental strength.
Not long had passed since Bi-Feng had been summoned, yet Ru-Jing could already feel beads of sweat roll from his cheek, and fall from his chin, unlike the coal-black ink that appears when one performs the Inkstrike. The flow of ink at the tip of the marvellous brush increased immensely, radiating with shining gold that glowed brilliantly like a lustrous gem.
As he guided the movement of the brush in a spiralling gesture, an elongated figure morphed from the tip of Bi-Feng. The creature appeared unbelievably large and strikingly fiercer than Ru-Jing's previous ink figures. The stream of ink continued to grow, and soon enough the head of a giant serpent formed from the flowing ribbons, the long body and the tapered tail came together from the series of spiralling gestural movements. Finally, the slender form was revealed, and the enormous serpent dove into the incoming horde. It struck in a violent manner, whipping and twirling its narrow body into the ground, and shattering the earth beneath it.
The manic civilians began to tumble down the mountain at an alarming speed. Soon bodies were flung across the air and the loud collision of rubble echoed soundly into the wind. Stone and mud scattered onto the red-soaked snow as the resilient bodies that refused to surrender were crushed under the belly of the giant serpent. From the earth-shattering barrage, the body of a young man had been hurled upwards in the direction of the west entrance, the tender body landed abruptly at the top of the staircase. The sound of his bones shattering from hitting the ground was deep and hollow, yet the man’s broken body twitched and convulsed violently before slowly standing upright. Oddly, as the man stumbled back up on his disjointed legs, he once again regained his immaculate movements and speed. The bones clicked and twitched as the man advanced towards Ru-Jing and Chen-Chen like a puppet tethered by invisible strings.
“Chen-Chen, look closely,” Ru-Jing exclaimed as he pointed towards the young man approaching. ”Those movements are not of an ordinary person, especially for one who has sustained so many injuries.”
The young man's lifeless eyes locked onto Ru-Jing and like a bolting cat, he pounced forth. He launched through the air with a groaning roar that was muffled by the congealed blood and mucus in his throat. But before he could lay a finger on Ru-Jing, his body suddenly halted amidst the air. Black strands of ink shot up like a hunter's net ensaring a wild boar. The ink began weaving and slithering into numerous tendrils, and its form began manifesting into an endless pit of snakes tying the man in place.
“Bind,” Ru-Jing commanded internally.
With one hand placed below his chin forming a peculiar hand sign, Ru-Jing positioned his index and middle finger upwards, while his ring finger and pinky connected with his thumb. The shackling spell secured the young man only inches away from touching the fearless ink-bending master.
A violent struggle sprung under the restraints of the weaving serpents, the man's bruised covered arms clawed in all directions, and his blood-stained legs kicked madly. When his head buckled upwards, the white-coloured eyes in the young man's skull met with Ru-Jing’s deep and intense stare. Ru-Jing took a step towards the man to inspect closely, sensing that the body was undeniably under the influence of undiscovered power, yet he could not sense any evil presence.
“Please be careful, Shifu,” Chen-Chen advised.
“Isn’t it terrifying the strength these civilians possess?” Ru-Jing cautiously took a step closer towards the young man, but upon his approach, the young man began to growl like a pained animal. “Even under my spell, these serpents struggle to keep this man in place. For an ordinary person, not even a finger could be lifted under these shackles.”
Additional serpents appeared rapidly on the young man’s body, weaving into elaborate knots, squeezing tightly together against the unfathomable resistance. Chen-Chen stood closely behind Ru-Jing. For such an uncomfortable sight it brought a disturbing shudder through his spine. He watched the young man continue to fight against the shackles, his legs grounded firmly as a way of preparing himself if they were to break apart. It was most frightening when the intensity of the young man's resistance increased viciously as Ru-Jing tightened the strength of the spell. It wasn't until each and every inch of the young man’s body had been consumed by the mass of slithering snakes, that it seemed as though his body had ceased moving. But Ru-Jing did not dare to release the shackles even in the slightest.
Without notice, an earth-shattering explosion shook the entire Mountain. It came within the Scripture Palace. The large iron doors of the west entrance that kept the most gnarly winter winds from entering the palace quickly broke open. The entrance was left empty but a malicious force drifted towards the master and disciple.
Beneath their feet the still earth rumbled intensely, passing through every inch of their bodies. After it settled, a moment of apprehensive silence permeated throughout the palace as if time had come to a halt and every sound had been stifled. Then came a sinister wind that moved through the entrance gates, causing the pale snow to twirl fiercely within the gale. It moved with animosity, and a gruesome howl to their ears. Moving in unison, Ru-Jing and Chen-Chen raised their long sleeves to their faces, guarding themselves from the incoming wind. It was so harsh and freezing that they could feel the surface of their bodies encased with a thin layer of ice.
“ Something has happened. Chen-Chen, you better return to the palace now!” Ru-Jing ordered.
“But you—”
“Please...” Ru-Jing interjected, “Don't hesitate any longer. It's not safe here and I fear the other disciples are in danger. You must go.” Ru-Jing did not intend to speak so curtly, though he feared that the strength of the shackling spell may break if his concentration were to waver even in the slightest, “Heed my words Chen-Chen, don’t waste your efforts here. Return to the palace and take the other disciples away from Mount Hua. Once I’ve secured the west entrance. I promise I will meet you all in Chang’an.” Gritting the words through his teeth, he added, “If my intuitions are correct, this horrendous occurrence was devised by someone we cannot cross paths with.”
Chen-Chen finally complied with his Ru-Jing desperate plea. He bowed respectfully. “Very well Shifu. You promise me you will make it to Chang’an.”
Ru-Jing nodded with a forced yet reassuring smile, “ I promise.”
With that, the silhouette of the white tiger disappeared swiftly behind the walls of the shaking palace. A heavy feeling filled Chen-Chen's heart as shame and cowardice tormented his mind upon leaving Ru-Jing to face the horde. But Chen-Chen realised during the course of the dire situation, that Ru-Jing composed himself with serene calmness. At the very least he could repay his master with his trust.
The cocoon of snakes jerked and pushed outwards from within. The young man had become increasingly agitated as he remained encapsulated by Ru-Jing’s spell. With a string of words mumbled under his breath he commanded the snakes to part open, revealing the man’s face. Once the disfigured head appeared among the slithering bodies, the man let out a frightening growl, twisting and shaking his head viciously in all directions.
Ru-Jing closed his eyes and gathered his spiritual energy and in a stern voice, he commanded, “Bi-Feng. Track!”
Bi-Feng reappeared twirling quickly towards the young man’s face, and within a few meticulous strokes, the marvellous brush had written a unique symbol on the young man’s forehead. Immediately the symbol lit up and began pulsating rhythmically, and after a few seconds had passed, Ru-Jing’s consciousness had connected to the young man’s spirit.
For a moment Ru-Jing could not sense anything but a void of darkness. Such darkness of one’s spirit indicated that this man was indeed dead, his soul had scattered, and all that was left was an empty shell. Initially Ru-Jing had suspected that the horde of civilians was the work of a demonic possession from a strong evil spirit or demon. However, even without the help of his spiritual device, Ru-Jing would have already sensed a sinister presence.
Sweat trickled down Ru-Jing’s forehead, and his eyes tightened the further his consciousness dove deeper into the dark void. For a while, he still could not sense any demonic connection as he ventured further into the abyss. However, as he continued to excavate the pit of emptiness he suddenly caught the sound of a melody. The melody grew louder and louder as he dove deeper. What was unsettling was that Ru-Jing suddenly realised that the sound of the melody was not a pleasant one. Instead, it was incredibly eerie and the notes that were strung together created a spine-chilling tune. Oddly, Ru-Jing noticed the frequency and pitch of the melody came from an unusual instrument as if it had been produced by someone blowing against a leaf.
The high-pitched and elongated notes now echoed loudly into Ru-Jing’s ears, and at the moment he finally realised the source, two ginormous menacing eyes appeared from the dark void. The protruding eyes bore down into Ru-Jing’s vision and now the sound of the melody transformed into a piercing ring.
He quickly opened his eyes, relinquishing the tracking spell with the young man’s body. He exhaled deeply, and when the answer finally came, he muttered under his breath, “Auditory puppetry.”
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