Malware: A Cultivation Academy Series (Bastion Academy Book 2)

by J D Astra

  But we moved on through a door in the back. We came to a comparatively small room with a rectangular wooden table devoid of the embellishments seen elsewhere. There was a small fireplace with burning embers at one end, and a plain wood door to another room at the other end. If I had to guess, this was the servants’ dining room.

  Marina took the seat at the head of the table next to the fireplace, and I put myself next to Ko-nah. The tailing servant stood at the door, blocking the way back. His gaze stayed locked on me as he pulled his shoulders back and flexed his muscles under his tight dobok. I assumed this was to scare me into not filching anything off the table, and I rolled my eyes as I looked away.

  The second door swung open, and two servants entered with trays of bowls, utensils, curry, and rice. They served each one of us individually, and I bowed my head with a mumbled thanks as they served me. The woman didn’t look me in the face or reply, but hurried on to serve Hana.

  “Cho, how about you?” Marina asked with a perky smile.

  Cho shrugged. “My family owns a farm. We produce about five percent of the kingdom’s rice.”

  Marina hummed happily. “Perhaps we’re about to dine on the fruits of your family’s labor now.”

  “Maybe.” Cho bobbed his head. It was obvious his mind was still on his sister.

  When everyone was served, I dropped my head and closed my eyes in prayer. When I opened my eyes, Marina was smiling curiously. “What was that, dear?”

  “It’s an outer-city thing,” Ko-nah said before shoving a spoonful of curry in his mouth.

  She scowled and straightened. “I hope you don’t think we’re trying to poison you.”

  Heat bubbled up in my stomach. “I was giving thanks. For many years, my family was on the edge of starvation,” I said with a twinge of anger. “Praying is something we do to remind ourselves that there may not always be food, and so we must be grateful for what we receive.”

  “Oh,” Marina said uncomfortably.

  We took a few bites in awkward silence until Marina spoke again. “I didn’t realize it was so bad.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not that way for everyone, but many live in scarcity. My apprenticeship with an instructor at Bastion provided the stable funds my family needed to thrive, and that is one of the things I give thanks for at every meal.”

  Marina’s shoulders relaxed. “Tell me more about where you live, Namnak.”

  “We don’t need to talk about this,” Ko-nah said with a glower aimed at me. I nodded and returned to my curry.

  The remainder of the meal was painfully quiet aside from a few “safe” questions about classes and what we’d learned this year. On our way out, Marina stopped and thanked us for the company, then added, “Ko-nah should show you the dojang. He hopes to become powerful like his father—”

  “Wansil Wong is not my father,” Ko-nah snapped, and Marina shrank back. “He makes that well known every chance he gets,” he mumbled and moved to retrieve his things.

  “Right,” she whispered and looked down.

  I scowled at Ko-nah, heat filling my face. How could he speak to his mother like that so cavalierly in front of others? Even in private, I wouldn’t dare to give my mother such an ungrateful tone. He purposefully avoided my gaze as he pulled on his shoes.

  Marina sucked in a deep breath. “You should go down to the dojang anyway. I know wansil Wong wanted to give you something.”

  “It can wait. I need to get back to school.” Ko-nah pulled his jacket from the servant’s hands and stuffed his arms through.

  “Ko-nah,” Marina warned with a worried look. “You know wansil Wong does not like to be disappointed.”

  We all stood aside in awkward silence as they stared at one another. Finally, Ko-nah sighed. “Let’s go then,” he said and waved us toward the dojang on the pier. He cut through the manicured lawn with a moody march.

  I turned to Marina and bowed. “Thank you for hosting us, and the delicious meal.”

  She dipped her head in what would pass for a respectful bow from a wansil. “It was good to meet you. I’m glad Ko-nah finally has some friends at school.”

  The others bid her thanks and farewell, and then we followed Ko-nah—who had waited most impatiently—to the pier. I replayed the image of Marina’s face as Ko-nah snapped at her, then the tone of her voice when she talked about him having friends. Frustration swelled in me near boiling point. She seemed like a good person. Naive and sheltered, but kind.

  “I used your ma without permission. I’m sorry,” Mae said as we caught up to Ko-nah.

  ‘What for?’

  “Reconnaissance. The signal isn’t in the mansion.”

  ‘That leaves one other place...’

  Chapter 28

  WATER LAPPED GENTLY against the sturdy dock as we made our way down to the massive structure. The details of the dojang revealed themselves the closer we drew. There were twin winged salamanders on each of the massive doors, and they were painted—recently—with gold and silver, respectively. The towering columns that supported the high ceiling were engraved with faces, names, and dates. Most of them were Wongs.

  Ko-nah bashed the gold knocker against the wood and stepped back, tapping his foot as he waited. He seemed equal parts impatient and nervous. I wondered what his mother had meant when she said wansil Wong didn’t like to be disappointed.

  “Do you really want to know?” Mae asked.

  I grimaced. ‘I’m not sure it would be good for our health.’

  “Only if you keep acting on those wild protective urges... You can’t be everyone’s hero, Jiyong.”

  ‘Says who?’ I smirked and could practically feel her rolling her eyes. I knew I had limits. I just didn’t want to think about them.

  The crease in the door glowed with golden ma munje, then several clicks, shifts, slides, and clanks followed. The massive entry creaked as the door hinged inward to reveal a bulky man three times my size with a short-sheared haircut.

  “The Master asked for me,” Ko-nah told the hulking man in a red-trimmed black dobok with sleeves ripped off at the shoulders.

  He bowed and backed away from the entry to allow us passage. Ko-nah gestured for us to follow him in as he skulked past the monstrous man. I bowed shallowly as I passed, then marveled at the inside.

  It was warm and smelled of smoky Dragon’s Blood, an ancient plant thought to have been a boon for muscle growth. We’d learned about it in Li Alchemy I, though we hadn’t been given samples of it to experiment with. As Sung-ki put it, Dragon’s Blood was too dangerous for growing students.

  High hanging braziers blazed dimly a few meters below the tall roof, casting an intense atmosphere of reverence. The floors were all red painted wood and dropped down into circular tiered arenas at every other column.

  The base of each column was strapped with ten-centimeter-thick pads that showed various levels of wear. Students shifted clockwise around the center beam, kicking and punching as they went. The students breathed in unison, exhaling hard and saying hwah, hwei, or huma with each strike. I didn’t understand the words, and assumed they were either nonsense, or secret Wong family chants.

  Many houses had developed their own language modifications during the war so they could communicate in secret on the battlefield. When fighting against regular foot soldiers, it was the easiest way to outsmart and overwhelm them, but going up against other munje masters was a different story.

  They had all learned to develop their ry skill to a point of intuitive understanding. It allowed them to decipher in real time what was being said based on tonality, inflection, facial expression, posture, and a dozen other factors. They became masters of spy craft, being able to mimic any fallen master’s appearance and secret dialects.

  Spymaster infiltration went deep, and seventy years ago, many prominent families had held trials for their wansil-yu, ensuring they truly were who they claimed to be. Only two imposters had been identified in a family that collapsed under the weight of losing their l
eaders. Those were the last public executions held on Insig palace grounds.

  I pulled my mind back to the present as Ko-nah led us through the training grounds and into the sparring arena at the back of the dojang. The salty bay breeze battered against my face as we stepped through the final door. I shielded my eyes from the bright shimmer of afternoon light against the crystal clean water and breathed deep the freshness of it.

  The opposite wall was almost entirely paper doors, with a few, thick support beams in between. The doors had been pulled back to reveal a two-meter-deep patio overlooking the bay. The toots of transport tugs sounded far off, and seabirds cawed as they swooped down to the open water, looking for food.

  “Wait here,” Ko-nah said and pointed to a bench up against the wall closest to the door.

  We took a seat, my eyes adjusting to the light within seconds, and watched the main event straight ahead. Ten students—perhaps a little older than me—sat in a wide circle around a well-built older man kneeling at the center. He had black, slicked-back hair, numerous scars etched across his bare back and biceps, and the tanned skin of a man who spent his days under the heat of the sun.

  The master and the students breathed deeply, silently, the only movement the shifting of their shoulders and chests. All at once, the students jumped from their rested position and charged the man still kneeling. Their muscles surged with black zo, and they attacked in a wave-like pattern, dancing in a circle around the man as each darted in for a punch or kick. They were smart, throwing blind-spot hits interspersed with their forward advances to catch him off guard, but he was faster.

  It was as if the master could sense their intentions, though they varied their patterns of attack. Every so often, one student would dart in too close to another, and they would hurt each other’s efforts, or even collide. It was obvious that these students were not yet at the top of their class, but they were superior in skill to me—perhaps not Hana, though.

  “There’s some kind of underwater structure here...” Mae trailed off.

  ‘Using more of my ma, I see. What did you find?’ I asked.

  Her voice was strained. “It’s difficult to tell. The walls are thick metal, and I’m not finding any good openings to sneak your ma through. I’ll keep trying if you keep making more.”

  I checked my reservoir. It felt half-depleted, so I cycled energy from lunch into ma. I siphoned energy from the Dragon’s Blood incense and slipped my zo band into place. No harm in having a little extra of that, too.

  As the Dragon’s Blood energy passed through my band, I felt a rush of power zing through my spine and up to my head. It was intoxicating for the briefest of seconds, and then it left me with a low-level buzz of amplified strength. Cautiously, I cycled another, smaller batch of energy. The same feeling, yet less intense, surged again.

  “Oh, first time experiencing mind-altering substances. Fun!” Mae said with exuberance. Then she cleared her throat. “But also reprehensible. Enhancement substances—even natural ones—can have drawbacks. I’m not sure what this one’s will be, so we better not do that again until we have a better understanding of it.”

  I shook my head to clear the musky cedar aroma from my nostrils. Every time I detected the scent, I had the urge to cycle its energy, despite Mae’s warning. I turned my attention to the fight and ignored my band.

  Two of the students had fallen back already, one boy clutched a shoulder and the other her gut. The eight remaining students were getting slower. It was apparent the Master had not diminished in strength or speed. His stamina was incredible.

  The master landed a heavy counter-kick to his attacker’s chest, sending the student sailing backwards two meters. The boy rolled to his side and coughed up red, then gasped for breath before he laid his head back. Cho leaned forward, ready to rush to the boy’s aid when Hana held him back.

  “Don’t. It would disgrace him,” she warned, and Cho returned to his seat, uncomfortable.

  There were only six students left, and one face caught my attention. I squinted through the bright flickering light off the water and recognized the broad, broken nose of Tae-do. I watched more closely as I committed his movements to memory. Knowing them might come in handy if I have to tangle with Tae-do again.

  There were only three students standing now, all of them panting from exhaustion. Tae-do circled behind the master and darted in, aiming for the kidney. The master twisted, stepping out of the way of the strike and simultaneously rolling his body into a heavy backfist, aimed at Tae-do’s head.

  The blow landed with a loud crack, and Tae-do pirouetted clumsily to the floor, already unconscious. He bounced against the wood and lay still. The other two students changed their tactic with Tae-do out of commission. They clustered together, defending each other’s sides as the master went on the offensive.

  In another fifteen seconds, the last two were down, and the master stood victorious. The master did not bow or speak, but walked to the far-right end of the room where a large desk with a shrine to a winged salamander sat. He pulled open a drawer and removed a vial of brilliant green liquid. He walked to each passed-out student with the uncorked potion and wafted it under their noses.

  The students roused with a start, and immediately groaned, holding their damaged places like the others. The master roused Tae-do last and stayed knelt at his side.

  “What did you learn?” the shirtless master asked in a deep baritone.

  Tae-do rose to his elbows and cradled his jaw. Black zo swarmed around his mouth, and he twisted his head with a loud snap, then wiggled his jaw around a few times. He looked up at the master with a mixture of hate and reverence. “I need to become stronger.”

  “No,” the master said with disappointment. He circled the group. “Ten drakes tear at a dragon. Who is the victor? The strongest? The most cunning?” The master’s gaze moved from student to student as he asked.

  He held up a hand with a single finger. “The most dedicated. You will be faced with uneven challenges on the battlefield. You may face an enlightened one. They are not invincible, but they are many measures your senior. Fight with pure dedication. Focusing on your clan’s victory over the enemy will allow you to perform feats of strength you did not know were possible. This is called The Light of Heaven’s Gate.

  “You know you may not survive, but you will fight to guarantee your clan’s survival, no matter the cost, and the gate will open to you, granting enlightenment over one munje for a limited time.”

  Mae hummed. “He’s talking about what I do to your nanites when we overclock. I’ve learned to control the percentages better now, so I don’t blast your system with one hundred percent overclocked nanites and burn you out in an instant... but it seems they’ve taught themselves how to activate it. Or maybe it’s the body’s natural reaction to hopeless experiences? I wouldn’t want to witness it, but it sounds like an amazing adaptation humans have evolved.”

  The master saw Ko-nah waiting off to the left and then bowed to his students. “You’re dismissed.” The master—wansil Wong, I realized—turned back for the shrine and Ko-nah followed. Ko-nah and wansil Wong moved through a door behind the massive salamander on the shrine, and the students dispersed, chatting idly.

  Tae-do did a doubletake when he saw me, then sneered maliciously. “Here for a lesson, Mr. Law?”

  “We were here for yours,” I retorted.

  “Wanna see another one?” he asked as he approached, his beefy fists vibrating with black zo.

  “Same rules as last time?” I asked and stood as I dumped zo into my own fists. My hands tingled with the surge of Dragon’s Blood energy, and I realized I’d unconsciously cycled it. I brought my mind back to my center and gained control over myself.

  Tae-do chuckled and said to his fellow students, “Little Law thinks he can transmute the energy of our ancestors. What do you say, guys? Should we teach him that lesson?”

  A few of the students snickered, rising to their feet and closing in around me. Some students
seemed uninterested in Tae-do’s challenge, as if he frequently pulled these kinds of maneuvers on outsiders and they were sick of his meddling.

  The door directly to our left—the one back to the hall—swung open, and six older students strode in. The monster man with the ripped-sleeve dobok was among them, following behind another man with curly, slicked back, black hair. Tae-do’s puffed chest deflated by several centimeters, and he shuffled his feet once.

  “Your time is up,” the curly-haired man said to Tae-do.

  “Yes, Wyvern,” Tae-do said with a bow.

  Like lightning, the curly-haired Wyvern had Tae-do in a reverse headlock. He jumped, lifting Tae-do from the ground, and then slammed him down to the floor with a heavy crack. The air rushed from Tae-do’s lungs in a whoof, and his eyes squinted in pain as he reached up to hold his face.

  “It’s Dragon now. I hope this pain will help you remember,” the man said. He stood from the body slam, apparently without remorse. “And fix that bow posture,” he added, then walked away.

  The older group moved on into the arena as the younger students scrambled to get out of the way. Tae-do groaned and gasped for air, pushing up to his free hand and knees. Blood rushed between the fingers of the hand cradling his face.

  No one reached down to help him as they fled the room with haste. Finally, Tae-do made it up to his feet and shuffled to the door, holding his head and avoiding my gaze.

  So that was what his life was like.

  I felt for him. Tae-do’s existence was hard, though different from mine. It was no wonder he was angry all the time.

  “Know thy enemy,” Mae said to me, and I furrowed my brow.

  ‘What?’

  “An old saying. The summary is to understand your opponent is just as human as you, and they experience pain and suffering too. Every action has a motive, and if you understand the driving forces of your enemies’ actions, you can control the battlefield.”