He woke up 24 hours earlier, staring up at the mountain that they were about to climb, feeling utterly hollow.

  That summarized his feelings at the moment pretty well, actually. That had been his most horrible death yet, and it wasn't just the agonizing pain that he'd felt. It'd been the paralysis, the inability to do anything at all but simply wait until Uncle Liu decided that he was going to kill Wu Hao.

  Why was it that every attempt to get a dagger seemed doomed to failure? It was absurd. All he wanted was to be able to defend himself. Was that a crime? If it wasn't, why was it so goddamn hard?

  He fought himself, tossing, turning, wondering if the blessing of revival wasn't a curse instead.

  "721," a harsh voice cut through the chaos that was ravaging his mind. "Control yourself or you will be marked defective."

  726 was staring at him again, voice loud. He wasn't the only one, because 720, 723, 726 and the rest were staring at him, too.

  He could understand, a little bit. From their perspective, he'd just started freaking out, out of nowhere. From his own he'd just died in paralyzed agony unable to do anything but watch as a needle rammed into his forehead.

  For a moment he felt a sudden, wild urge to tell 726 and all the others to go fuck themselves. It was easy for them to say that he had to control himself: they didn't have to experience death after death.

  But none of those thoughts were at all productive, and having just experienced one death, the last thing Wu Hao wanted was to experience another. He pushed all of those feelings down as deeply as they could go, forced his breathing back under a modicum of control and plastered a neutral expression on his face.

  "Apologies, Brother," Wu Hao said. "I very nearly experienced cultivation deviation."

  The others threw glances at each other, then drew back. None of them wanted to be nearby when one of their own exploded, because that could prove just as lethal as being the one who'd experienced the deviation.

  "Why?" 729 asked, and then his tone turned snide. "Are you that bad at your tasks?"

  "I can't say," Wu Hao said. Trying his best attempt at a reassuring voice, he continued: "I resolved it, though. It's over now."

  "Good," 726 said. "Walk at the back of the group nevertheless. Report to me if you experience another near-deviation."

  That was new.

  "Brother?" Wu Hao asked. "I do not understand."

  "Report to me," 726 repeated. "I will have an Uncle terminate you so that you do not drag the rest of us down."

  That wasn't new at all.

  "Thank you, Brother," Wu Hao said, trying to restrain another hysterical impulse bubbling up from inside him. "All in service to Father."

  "All in service to Father," 726 said. "Now go. Lateness would be disappointing to Father."

  There was nothing else Wu Hao could say to that, so instead as they set out he focused on what the blue box had given him this time.

  Knowledge of Anatomy I told him about the organs in his body and let him know their functions. He was still in the dark as to how Uncle Liu had caused him that much pain with two needles or how a single needle had paralyzed his tongue depending on how deeply it'd been stuck in, but at least he now knew that the effect of paralyzing him entirely could be achieved by inserting a needle at precisely the right spot in his spine.

  He couldn't do it himself, obviously. That'd require a level of precision that Wu Hao could only really achieve if his target was already paralyzed or deliberately holding himself still to let the technique work, all of which were caveats which Uncle Liu didn't need to reckon with.

  It hadn't taught him anything about actually preventing being stabbed with the needles himself, or what to do when he'd gotten paralyzed again. Presumably that level of knowledge would be the result of being killed the way he had been more often, but that wasn't something he was going to do.

  Which reminded him that he still wanted to know something, so as they walked, Wu Hao took a moment to fall in next to 723, who gave him no more than a cursory glance.

  "723," Wu Hao said, and immediately felt like an idiot. There was a reason he tried not to speak.

  "What?" 723 grunted. "Are you experiencing another -"

  "No."

  "Then what?"

  "How do you know so much about herbs?" Wu Hao asked.

  723's eyebrows furrowed. "I don't. The Uncles know much more."

  "Of course," Wu Hao said quickly. "And Father more still."

  "Yes," 723 said. His tone didn't betray anything, but a clear amount of ridicule carried through anyway.

  "But how did you learn what little you do know?"

  723's steps slowed down and, though it was only minute, his brows furrowed. For some reason, he was giving the question actual thought, it seemed. He said nothing for a bit as they stepped, expression occasionally shifting. Wu Hao figured that he must be trying to force his way through the haze that clung to his mind, the same way it'd clung to Wu Hao's before all this.

  "The mountain speaks to me," 723 said slowly. "Before this, I - grhh -"

  He grunted, apparently grappling with something, and then his expression went slack again. The moment had been lost.

  "Nevermind," he said curtly. "Don't ask about it again."

  And, with that, he didn't just resume his usual pace, but he began to power his way forward until he almost surged past 726, who gave him a momentary glance and then let him run forward.

  Wu Hao knew the conversation was over, but he couldn't stop himself from thinking: Huh. I guess I'm not the only one with a few memories left.

  That was... Honestly, Wu Hao didn't know what it was. So far he himself remembered only his name, but other than that his past before becoming a deathsworn was a total blank. Did the others remember things, as well?

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Did they have names? Did they have pasts? Surely they had to be, but who had they been before all this?

  Who had he been?

  He lost himself in thought and movement for a while as they walked, but then reality reasserted himself as he nearly fell down a long stretch of rocky slopes that required careful navigation.

  Who he was, he decided, didn't matter. What mattered was what he was going to do now, and that path still seemed clear.

  Wu Hao would not give up on trying to get a knife. He'd just have to try again with one of Uncle Liu's knives, and this time he wouldn't get caught. To that end, he'd have to revise his plan a little bit.

  The mushroom was easily found, now that Wu Hao knew where it would be ahead of time. He didn't have to spend as much time trying to root around in the grasses trying to search for where it'd been, which as an additional bonus meant that he didn't have to get mocked by 729. Or not more than usual, at least.

  This time, he tried to be a little more careful about how to handle the mushroom. Last time he'd tried to take it by the cap, and as a result spores had sprayed across his clothing. This time, he took a careful hold of the stem, which was a lot more sturdy than it looked, and pulled it gently out of the ground.

  No spores. He was impressed with himself for that before he realized that that wasn't the important thing: this was just in preparation for getting into Uncle Liu's tent, and that was where the hard part would be.

  726 sent him back to the camp, and from there he followed the same route as he had last time. He announced his presence, entered the tent, studied the mess that littered the floor, and waited until Uncle Liu turned to him.

  "You found this?" Uncle Liu asked, tone mildly reproachful. "You handled it without gloves?"

  "Yes, Uncle," Wu Hao said.

  "Well, I suppose you could've done worse," Uncle Liu said. It was such a rare example of praise, even if it was grudging, that Wu Hao actually hesitated.

  Then he remembered the feeling of paralysis and agony. He didn't hesitate any longer.

  "Uncle," Wu Hao asked, trying to sound... Well, not childish. A little interested, maybe. "What does this herb do?"

  "It's a mild diuretic," Uncle Liu said, plucking the mushroom from Wu Hao's hands. "That's not relevant, though, I suppose. Its main effect is being used in several recipes that require specific qi attunements, which means that they're often used together with things like Thousand Waves Seaweed to keep several of their more useful properties active while balancing out its water qi."

  "I... see," Wu Hao said, even though he didn't. "What's a qi attunement?"

  "Most herbs are originally born without any inherent qi," Uncle Liu explained. "Thus they consume the qi around them to grow. As such, when someone transplants a herb from one place to another, throughout generations its growth will be directed slowly to revolve around the environmental qi..."

  "What kinds of qi are there?" Wu Hao asked.

  Uncle Liu opened his mouth to explain, but then closed it again and shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I've already told you more than you need to know. All you need to know is that this mushroom will be useful to me."

  And, as an afterthought, he added: "And Father, of course."

  "Why?" Wu Hao asked.

  But it seemed that he'd exhausted Uncle Liu's patience, because the man's eyes only narrowed slightly behind his glasses.

  "It doesn't matter," he repeated, slightly more forcefully. "Not to you, 721. Bring me other examples of such herbs, should you find any."

  "Understood," Wu Hao said, backing down.

  Uncle Liu nodded, then looked back to his stash of herbs. Without saying anything else, he walked over to his collection. The same place as the last time, which was handy. If he'd walked to any other sack, then Wu Hao's entire plan was ruined, because that was the only sack that would lead to Uncle Liu's back being turned to Wu Hao.

  And, as Uncle Liu bent to rifle through his collection of bags and dried herbs, Wu Hao padded over to the table on quiet but quick steps, and then he placed his fingers on one knife.

  No reaction came, so he moved as quickly as he could and snatched it up. Last time he'd tried to place it in his sleeve and failed repeatedly to draw it out again, but this time he wasn't going to make the same mistakes. He held it in his hand by the blade, high up enough that the handle was hidden behind his arm and most of the blade rested behind his palm.

  His newfound knowledge of anatomy helped, though it also made him uncomfortably aware of the damage that the knife could inflict. On him, as well as on others.

  "Then I'll go," Wu Hao said, heart hammering in his chest.

  Uncle Liu said something indistinct, rummaged around a little more. Then he glanced up at Wu Hao.

  Wu Hao's heart almost stopped, but Uncle Liu only gave him that single glance and then said: "Go, then."

  And that was all, because then he looked back down. Wu Hao took quick, measured steps to the entrance, making sure that he wouldn't expose his sweaty palm or the knife that he was hiding, and left without another word.

  He waited with bated breath to see if Uncle Liu would notice this time as well, but he didn't. There were no demands to stop, no hands on his arm to hold him back. No needles through his acupuncture points, either. That was nice.

  In the end, he stood there, the reassuring weight of the knife in his palm, and after a moment to come to his senses again he walked off, in what he hoped wasn't at all a suspicious way to walk. He encountered no one - no deathsworn, no uncles. Certainly no Father.

  He'd done it.