Jin Mu: THUNDER UNLEASHED

Chapter 2

Gray clouds hung low over the valley their bellies streaked with pale lightning that didn’t touched the ground The village was gone half drowned and burned the smell of ash and wet earth thick in the air.

Jin Mu stood among the ruins soaked to the bone. He had been standing for hours he thought time felt strange now His clothes were torn his hands caked in mud He should have been dead all the wound was gone sealed without scar His heart beat steady each thud echoing faintly in his ears.

When he looked at his reflection in a puddle he almost didn’t recognize himself. His eyes that was once dark brown were now rimmed with faint silver like metal

“What have I become…” he whispered.

He turned toward the road there was nothing left here no living soul no reason to stay the villagers had either fled or fallen the bandits were nowhere in sight. The old man’s words still haunted him All gifts demand a price.

Jin Mu felt the truth of that with every breath. His chest no longer rose warm it was cool When he closed his eyes he could sense the faint shimmer of dark, endless coiling like smoke.

He walked until the sun broke through the clouds. The road down the valley bordered by blackened trees Each step drew him farther from what he knew By nightfall he reached a small settlement at the edge of the foothills a handful of crooked homes the sign read Wutai Crossing Smoke rose from chimneys the smell of stew drifted on the damp air Life still moved here unaware of what the storm had left behind.

He kept his hood low as he entered the inn the keeper a round man with half a beard looked up from his counter.

“Traveler?

“Just a roof and some rice,” Jin Mu said quietly his voice came out rough and deeper than before.

The man eyed him a moment longer then shrugged. “Eight coppers.”

Jin Mu fished through his belt pouch His hands trembled slightly He realized with a slow sort of horror that his pulse never quickened his fear didn’t change his breath.

Upstairs in a room that smelled of damp wood he collapsed onto the bed Sleep didn’t come the rain started again near midnight He stared at the ceiling listening to its rhythm.

the whispers began.

At first they were faint whispers But soon they grew distinct, curling words at the edge of his thoughts. Voices that were not his own.

You should have died… why didn’t you die?

The fire, the blood… we saw you burn.

Give it back It’s not yours.

He sat up sharply the room was empty yet in the corner where the candle guttered low, shadows seemed too deep moving where they shouldn’t He reached for the pendant only ash remained on the cord around his neck.

“Gensuo?” he whispered.

No answer.

The air grew cold the whispers pressed closer crawling under his skin his vision blurred and he saw shape pale translucent human the dead Their eyes were hollow mouths open in silent plea.

“Stop,” he breathed. “Please…”

The shadows quivered drawn by the sound.

Instinct or something older rose inside him His chest tightened and a faint black light flickered around his hands He thrust his palms forward without thinking.

The light burst outward like smoke caught in wind, rippling across the room and the whispers cut off. The cold vanished.

Jin Mu fell to his knees chest heaving like he had run the room was still but the mark of what he’d done lingered a thin scorch line on the floorboards, faintly glowing.

Downstairs, a voice called, “Everything all right up there?

He forced his voice steady. “Just a candle It’s fine.”

He lay back against the wall trembling The power had answered him but it felt nothing like cultivation Qi. It was older something that moved at the edge of death itself.

By morning he was gone.

The road to the southern hills cut through wide plains of wild grass the sun was bright too bright after days of storm Jin Mu walked until his legs ached then stopped near a creek to drink.

He wasn’t alone.

A man sat on the far bank sketching something into a notebook. He looked young maybe a few years older than Jin Mu dressed in travel robes stained with ink and dust. A thin sword lay across his lap untouched.

“Long road for a farmer,” the man said without looking up.

Jin Mu stiffened. “And a longer one for a scholar.”

The stranger chuckled. “Touché.” He flipped the notebook shut and glanced up His eyes were bright and clever also tired all at once “Name’s Orin you heading south?

“Just passing through.”

Orin studied him a moment longer then smiled faintly. “You’ve got the look of a man who’s lost something Or found something he shouldn’t have.”

Jin Mu didn’t answer the scholar didn’t press him they walked together silence settling comfortably between them. The road wound past old ruins half swallowed by moss Carvings still marked the stone ancient runes of protection long faded.

Orin brushed his fingers across them murmuring, “These are from the First Sects… They spoke of energy born from stillness from the silence of decay Most scholars call it a myth.”

Jin Mu’s steps slowed. “What kind of energy?

“Death Qi,” Orin said lightly, as if speaking of the weather. “They believed it was the other side of life dangerous but necessary Too much and it corrupts. But controlled properly…” He trailed off, glancing at Jin Mu’s expression. “Why? You’ve heard of it?

Jin Mu looked away. “Only in nightmares.”

The scholar smiled again half amused and curious. “Then perhaps your nightmares are wiser than most.”

They reached a fork in the road Orin gestured south. “The next town’s half a day that way Safe enough though the locals whisper about lights in the fields If you’re traveling alone might as well share the road.”

Jin Mu hesitated the storm clouds had returned on the horizon, faint and distant Somewhere within him that pulse of black power stirred again warning

He nodded once. “All right South then.”

They walked on.

Behind them unnoticed the old carvings on the ruined stones began to glow faintly silver and black pulsing before fading back to dust.