Remember More

Chapter 37

REMEMBER MORE

CHAPTER 37

They flew above the top of the forest, just over the edge of the trees. Zhang took it up a notch. He sped up.

John found it difficult to stay on him. He had never flown this fast before. The two were like jets zooming over the Mojave Desert in military exercises. Several times, they sent out sonic booms as they continued to crank up the power and increase their speed.

Twenty seconds and Zhang was starting to leave John behind. Bit by bit, the distance between the two men increased and John was getting desperate, until it hit him and he realized something.

He concentrated and turned his mind to the qi that was already coated over and around his body to protect him. He smoothed it out in sections and made it more aerodynamic. He rounded out his front end, pointed out his back end and turned himself into a full-on teardrop shape. Now there was no drag or air friction on him whatsoever.

He sped up.

Pulling up alongside Zhang, he smiled at him.

Zhang smirked. "Took you long enough."

Zhang took the lead and dove into the thick of the forest itself. He began weaving left and right between the boles of the trees.

Here, the wood was dense. It was a strain on John's eyes, as he had to use his special vision to see the oncoming trees well ahead of him, and then plan out his route so he wouldn't smash into one of them and knock it down. Somehow, he knew it was the point of the whole thing. He would fail the exercise if he did so. And these were all exercises, weren't they? Tests. This one, of magneto-vision and manoeuvrability and how well he had mastered the art of flying beyond just speed only.

A little more zigzagging around and Zhang was convinced. It was obvious that John had this part down pat. He hadn't knocked down a single tree.

The older man stole a glance over his shoulder behind him. He smiled. Changing directions, he shot straight up. John kept just behind.

In less than a minute, they had cleared the storm ceiling. It was a beautiful night out. Here, above the clouds, the moon was shining, that pockmarked scimitar, hanging in the sky and you could see for miles in its luminance, even without magneto-vision.

It was cold here. To keep warm, John thickened the envelope of qi around himself and saw that Zhang had none.

Blast! John shook his head. The old man was at it again! How was he doing this? He was always the strongest when he showed no qi on him whatsoever. Even back when he was flying along through the forest, or when they were sparring on the ground and in the air, Zhang's qi was always invisible, like it was hidden deep within himself and out of reach. How was he able to do that? And what did that mean anyway? That all of it, every last ounce of his qi was being utilized and none of it was wasted? Was that it? Unlike with John? Or Beltzner? Was Zhang more efficient with it? But…

Zhang took off again. John tailed him.

The old master led the way down and down again, back to the mountainside by Wudang. This time he led the way toward a waterfall, a magnificent line of water that carved out the side of a rocky cliff, splitting it down the middle along its stony face.

Zhang headed straight for the curtain and then dove into the lake that sat at the foot of the falls.

Under the water, Zhang attacked. John responded accordingly, with the Thirteen. Always and always, it came back to the Thirteen. John sunk a little deeper into the lake so he'd have more elbowroom.