The Qi Arts Master Chapter 8
The fallen White Tiger lay utterly still, without the slightest twitch. Thinking it dead, Tian Ailang drew near. A vague revulsion stirred at the thought of eating a mountain beast, but what could he do with a tiger already gone?
"I wonder if tiger meat tastes good?"
At Tian Ailang's musing, did the White Tiger flinch? Or was it his imagination?
Tian Ailang stepped right up to its nose, pondering how to carry it off. "How am I supposed to haul this thing? Everyone would love it if I brought it back, right? They'd be shocked. Or should I chop it up?"
The downed White Tiger's leg gave the tiniest quiver.
"Ah! Cutting it into pieces would make it even harder to carry. Nah, scratch that."
As Tian Ailang's soliloquy echoed through the cave, the prone White Tiger inwardly reeled in absurdity.
The White Tiger was a spirit beast from Baekdu Mountain. Back when the Qi Arts practitioners thrived, the mountain's energies were auspicious, making it a fine home. But on the day the Qi Arts lineage was wiped out, the cataclysmic battle with the Demonic Cult had infused the land and air with potent demonic qi. For a spirit beast that sustained itself on nature's blessed energies, it was as if their house had burned down—they'd had no choice but to relocate to the neighboring village.
Yet upon settling in, they discovered a 200-year-old imugi dwelling here. From the perspective of a 500-year-old White Tiger, though, the serpent was laughably insignificant. It had chased the imugi off in a single breath, aiming to claim lordship of the mountain. But that underestimate proved fatal: as it lay dying, the imugi bit into its heart.
The White Tiger had tried to expel the invading venom with its spirit qi, but failed. Exhausted, it had collapsed in this cave. Now, with not even the strength to move, on the brink of death, some human shows up babbling about how tasty it'd be and chopping it to bits. It was enough to drive anyone mad.
Krrruuuhhh…
Gathering every ounce of its remaining strength, the White Tiger strained to convey that it was alive—that it was still kicking.
"What? You're alive?"
Tears streamed from the White Tiger's eyes at Tian Ailang's words.
"Ah… don't go making me feel bad…"
Tian Ailang felt an odd pang of guilt. His grandfather had taught him that spirit beasts and Mountain Lords inhabited mountains brimming with spirit qi, playing vital roles in enriching nature and maintaining its order. Qi Arts practitioners, who lived in harmony with the great forces of nature, shared that world as dear friends with these mountain lords. So from the first glance, the idea of eating one had felt wrong—but he'd heard nothing against devouring a dead one, and figured it'd delight his companions. Now that it was alive, though, he cleanly set aside any such notions.
"Where does it hurt?"
With his mind clear, Tian Ailang finally took in the White Tiger's condition properly. Sensing the human had decided against killing it, the beast reacted even more fiercely.
Krrrng…
Gazing at the pitiful creature, Tian Ailang placed a hand on its head and closed his eyes. The White Tiger flinched at the touch but soon recognized the familiar energy, filling with surprise and joy. It yielded its head trustingly to him.
Tian Ailang slowly attuned himself to the surrounding qi. A multitude of energies began to register. Linking his senses to them, he probed the White Tiger's body. As his awareness passed from the head to the heart, he felt a foul, clotted mass.
"You've got poison in your heart, huh. And it's some nasty stuff."
Had he not laid hands on it, he might not have noticed—but now that he had, he resolved to save it. Focusing on the poison, Tian Ailang assumed a cross-legged position. One hand he placed where the crown acupoint would be, the other over the heart.
The beast's alien physiology was unfamiliar at first, but by calmly circulating his qi, he began drawing out the toxin—sucking it through the crown point while pressing it from the heart, luring it toward the mouth. He didn't know what kind of poison it was, but its qi resisted fiercely.
Kruuung!
With the White Tiger's guttural cry, the venom surged from its maw. Sweat drenched Tian Ailang's body. It was his first time channeling qi this way for healing, and against such virulent poison—it had taken real effort.
He knew little of toxins, but figured a Mountain Lord this size would've perished without intervention. After a hard-fought struggle, he'd extracted every last bit from the body. But it wasn't over yet. Leaving the qi-depleted beast like this was like abandoning a breached dam. Without self-recovery, it'd collapse again soon.
Tian Ailang kept his hands in place, resonating with the qi of the great wilderness and infusing his own alongside it into the White Tiger. Since breaking through to the fourth stage of Qi Arts, he no longer divided his breath control into Microcosmic or Macrocosmic Orbits. He simply opened his body as a single conduit. Vast natural qi could flow freely without eroding his sense of self—he just entrusted everything to the wilderness.
As he restored the White Tiger's qi, his own depleted reserves replenished. Tian Ailang shook off the dust and rose. He had no idea how much time had passed, but the Damga siblings awaited him. He had to return.
Outside the cave, darkness had fallen thick and deep, pierced only by faint moonlight.
Thud.
Something bumped his foot. Tian Ailang looked down to see a cat—white-furred with bold black stripes—rubbing its head against his leg.
He stared blankly as the cat let out an indignant "Kruung!", as if displeased.
"White Tiger? What happened?"
Sensing its qi closely, he confirmed it matched the beast he'd just treated. A White Tiger the size of two grown men, now a mere cat—it was astonishing.
"Whoa… so that's what makes it a spirit beast. Amazing. Your body's still recovering, so rest up and stay strong."
Amazement aside, Tian Ailang left the White Tiger behind and retraced his steps. Feeling awkward empty-handed, he quickly gathered some eye-catching wild fruits.
He'd ventured deep into the mountains, so it took considerable time to reach the stream where he'd tethered the horses.
'Huh? What's this?'
The horses were gone.
An ominous chill gripped him. Tian Ailang bolted toward where the Damga siblings should be waiting.
But only a small campfire's embers remained, along with traces of their camp.
This didn't feel right. Tian Ailang frantically scanned the area, expanding his qi senses. Nothing.
'After what happened at Baekdu Mountain, I got too complacent.'
Frowning, he swept the surroundings repeatedly. If they'd been kidnapped or attacked, he'd need to track them—but he had no clue which way.
Then, from between the trees, the cat-sized White Tiger sauntered in proudly.
Kruung!
"White Tiger?"
Catching his eye, it suddenly sniffed the air and took the lead, glancing back once.
'Follow me?'
As Tian Ailang trailed slowly, the White Tiger turned to check, just like a guide.
"You know who to track?"
As if understanding, it growled "Grrrng."
"Wow… spirit beasts really are something else. Impressive."
After leading with fervent sniffing for a while, the White Tiger cried "Krring!" and broke into a run. Despite its tiny frame, it moved fast—Tian Ailang deployed Shrinking Earth Technique to keep up.
Shrinking Earth Technique was a daoist movement art that contracted space itself for swift travel. Unlike other lightness skills, it required no exaggerated leg bends—just a walking gait, like a scholar strolling.
Folk tales passed it down thus: "A general, fleeing defeat on horseback, spotted an immortal-looking elder beside him. The elder asked directions and ambled off leisurely. Only then did the general realize he'd been galloping full tilt."
With minimal lower-body motion, Shrinking Earth Technique offered superior balance and stability, a boon for swordsmen, Taoists, and fist fighters alike. All in the martial world coveted it, yet none succeeded. The chief barrier: it demanded immense internal energy.
Even the Huangbo clan's domineering Heavenly King's Steps guzzled qi. Yet with just thirty years' cultivation, one could pair it with Thunderbolt Divine Fist. Shrinking Earth Technique, by contrast, required a full sixty years—daunting for most. The principles were fiendishly complex, too; better to master other lightness skills or footwork instead. Thus it fell into obscurity, practiced only by rarities like the Qi Arts lineage.
The White Tiger halted abruptly at a sheer cliff over a yawning chasm. A path lay opposite, remnants of a bridge—ropes and timbers—visible. Peering down, Tian Ailang saw no bottom; the gap spanned some thirty meters.
Krrrrrr—!
As he pondered his move, the White Tiger signaled across.
"Tiger, come here."
At his call, the cat-form White Tiger leaped into his arms.
No special effort at communication, yet it felt like conversing with an old friend.
"Can I leap thirty meters? Never tried… but I have cleared a nine-meter lake."
Still, confidence welled up. Tian Ailang backed up for momentum, then charged.
"It'll work somehow! Hold tight, tiger. Hup!"
He vaulted high, crossing fifteen meters in a flash. Still airborne, gravity tugged—he gathered qi in his palms like gripping a ball and blasted downward.
Thoom—!
The recoil countered gravity, buoying him up.
"It works!"
Riding the lift, he pulsed qi rhythmically to advance. The White Tiger in his arms purred "Gororong"—scared yet thrilled—urging him on.
Thud.
A few repetitions, and he landed safely.
"Phew~ made it."
Gorong~ gororong.
"Now get down and guide us quick."
Reluctant to leave the cozy hold, the White Tiger dropped to the ground with a sigh and resumed the trail.
* * *
"Ho ho ho, I heard there were two men, but only one's here? Such a shame~."
Yo Hyang, leader of the Blood Cult's Yin Slaughter Squad, licked her red lips and flashed a lascivious smile at Ni Daeyeok and Dam Soyeon.