Chapter Eighty-Four: The Celestial Network

“We’ve arrived! Get ready to break the seal!” The foreigner shouted as he led his men through the portal to their destination.

“Evil spirits, begone... Evil spirits, begone...”

“Who’s chanting?” The foreigner frowned and glanced back at his subordinates, one of whom pointed forward, signaling him to look ahead.

Turning his head, the foreigner saw that at some unknown point, an old man and a rotund fellow had appeared in the mirrored space. Both held strange implements made of unknown materials.

“Evil spirits, begone... Evil spirits, begone...”

Accompanied by a chant whose purpose the foreigner could not fathom, a green light shone from the objects in their hands, piercing straight into the ground and seeping through the entire mirrored space.

Crack, crack. The foreigner extended his hands, as if twisting a Rubik’s cube between them.

How dare you stir up trouble in our mirrored space? You must be seeking death!

He began to twist his hands, and the whole mirrored space started to spin. The foreigner meant to crush the old man and Trull by warping the space itself.

Snap—

A sound like a rope breaking rang out from nowhere, and the foreigner suddenly realized the mirrored space had slipped from his control. Faint streaks of green energy flickered all around him.

These green energies were like a myriad of locks, sealing off his access to the controls of the mirrored space.

“Keep breaking the seal!” the foreigner commanded. With a flick of his right wrist, a spear appeared in his hand, and he strode toward the old man and his companion.

“Trull, keep chanting, don’t stop.”

The old man handed his implement to Trull, then rolled his neck and loosened his aging waist, stepping forward to meet the foreigner head-on.

Hup!

He dropped into a horse stance and beckoned the foreigner with his right hand. Kid, you think you can bully an old man just because you’re young? Don’t you know Jackie Chan learned all his kung fu from me?

The foreigner narrowed his eyes and lunged with his spear, leaving a blur in the air. With decades of training, he was no slouch himself.

The old man flicked his right hand, striking the side of the spear to deflect it while swiftly closing the distance. Against such long weapons, the threat diminished greatly once you got in close.

But the foreigner was far from helpless. Even as he attacked, his footwork remained steady, retreating in sync with the old man's advance. His spearwork shifted from offense to suppression, maintaining the gap between them.

Slap!

Seizing an opening, the old man clapped his hands together, conjuring a guillotine-like blade of energy that cleaved the spear in two.

As the spearhead broke off, the old man hooked the shaft with his left hand and stepped in, swinging his right arm in a wide arc—a mighty blow that smashed the shield on the foreigner’s arm to pieces.

Using the momentum, the foreigner staggered back, dodging as he moved. With a pull of both hands, he drew out a flexible whip.

Crackle— The whip flickered like a faulty lightbulb.

The old man seized the moment, darted forward, and hammered a flurry of short punches into the foreigner’s torso, his fists trailing afterimages through the air.

Swish, swish, swish— Just as the old man prepared to press the attack, several whips snapped across his path, blocking his advance.

With a backbend and two backflips, the old man dodged the hidden assault and landed smoothly behind.

“Who told you to interfere? Go break the seal for me!” the foreigner barked at the mage who had stepped in to help. Yet the twitch in his cheek betrayed his own uncertainty—a taste of the old man’s rapid-fire punches was not so easily forgotten.

Driving off the would-be helper, the foreigner tore off his shirt, revealing his bruised and purpling torso. “You stubborn old fool, let’s see how much fight you have left!”

His words were fierce, but his confidence was wavering. For some reason, he could no longer sense the magic web; the gap between energy draws had suddenly doubled. Otherwise, his whip wouldn’t have failed moments earlier.

“The strength I have left is more than enough to flatten you!” the old man retorted, absently rubbing his lower back. That last sequence had strained it—a bitter reminder that age catches up with everyone.

They glared at each other for several seconds, then charged at once.

The sound of their clash echoed through the small mirrored space.

Why is this taking so long? How hard is it to break a seal? Useless fools! the foreigner fumed inwardly, hands aching as if his bones might shatter.

Alas, I can’t deny it anymore, the old man thought. Ten years ago, with this much time, I’d have beaten him to a pulp by now. His back throbbed with pain, sapping his strength—kung fu without a good back was sorely diminished.

“Master! Step aside!”

In the midst of their struggle, a voice called from beyond the mirrored space.

“A thousand miles, the demon is struck by lightning’s coil; the white dragon soars, cleaving the sky!”

A dragon’s roar entwined with thunder split the mirrored space in two.

A thin red line appeared across the foreigner’s forehead. He staggered forward two steps, then split cleanly in half and crashed to the ground.

With his death, the mirrored space vanished completely.

“Master! Are you alright?” Trull rushed to support the old man, worry etched across his face.

“I’m fine.” The old man clutched his back, stood up, and gazed up at Lam Ching-ying, who hovered overhead.

In Lam’s hand was a celestial longsword, ethereal and gleaming, with the spectral figure of Lü Dongbin, the Sword Immortal, behind him.

“Heaven’s network has reached here already?” the old man asked with a smile.

Lam nodded. Why was he so much stronger than the old man? Because before his master departed, he had secured him a temporary post in the Celestial Bureaucracy.

The greatest benefit of this post was access to the Celestial Network. The whole web was suffused with the recycled auras of the greats. In the past, borrowing power required tedious approval—a full ceremony to summon a deity. Now, with so few users, that was no longer needed, and Lam could draw upon the highest grade of power he could handle.

Boom!

A mobile storm settled on the other side as Zheng Xian emerged from it, he and Lam trapping the remaining mages in between.

Next came the rhythmic tramp of marching boots. Squad after squad of soldiers advanced, weapons raised, encircling the mages.

They had just finished evacuating the nearby civilians.

“Hands on your heads! Get down on the ground!”

Cut off from the magic web, their energy unruly, surrounded by firearms and with two powerhouses overhead, the mages had no choice but to obey, hoping for leniency in their punishment.