Chapter 700: Dance

The coldness sunk into their bones. The drums and zither dropped off, leaving the haunting fiddling of the Erhu dueling with the fading hope of the whispering flute. The dancer’s red hair had faded, losing its brilliant color in this bleak and lifeless landscape. His sword seemed too heavy for him to wield any longer, but he did not give up. Even if he couldn’t move the sword, his steps grew longer, making up for his deficiency with long sweeping steps. He looked like he was leaping over snow heaps, bounding through an unforgiving wasteland of white.

The freshly fallen snow was kicked up by his passage, leaving a cloud of whirling white dust in his wake. The hopeless tremor of the music faded away, leaving utter silence as the man came to a stop and fell to his knees. He slowly pulled the sword to lie across his lap and his head hung down, staring at the mirrored surface of the blade. After a long period of silence the snow that had been falling with increasing volume and fury suddenly stopped. Without knowing why, the previously furious woman spun and smashed her stick against the other drum.

Boom!

Then she swung her body weight from side to side, lunging to the left and right in time with her strikes of the two drums. Badum. Badum. Badum. Two quick beats in a row. Faster and faster, like the beating of a heart. Then the sky brightened and a sliver of sunlight fell upon the man, making his sword shine. He lifted it and stabbed it into the ground, using it to pull himself back to his feet. The cloud parted and faded away, the chill faded away, chased off by the growing sunlight. The leafless branches of the trees transformed, tiny buds sprang up upon them, the green dots like many pinpricks of life. The brightening sky darkened again, and like the floodgates had opened, rain fell. The staccato pattering of rain upon soil broke up the heart-like drumbeat.

For a few moments there was only rainfall and the man started to slowly walk in a wide circle. His sword leaned against his shoulder like an umbrella, and he started to step quicker, tapping upon the small puddles that were forming and kicking the water about him. Then the flute came back in, with a soft tone. Long smooth calls that slowly grew louder and more confident. Then the zither appeared again, quick joyful plucks of the strings broke the rain and the man flicked his sword to either side. It twirled to either side of him and then stabbed towards the sky.

The clouds parted and he bathed in the sunlight. The trees and other plants exploded with growth. Thick green leaves spread everywhere and brilliant colors appeared as flowers budded and blossomed in rapid order. The drums returned again in force, light rapid tapping, giving life to a faster tempo. The man’s sword flickered to the left and right, carrying him through quick and light steps. The sun seemed to get even brighter and they all felt it grow warmer. The song grew happy and sated. The dance more vibrant, stomping steps to the left and right, he swayed back and forth in time with a now folksy beat, louder and louder, the song grew to a crescendo. A moving tune finally hit its high and then slowly tapered off.

Clack.

The sword snapped back into its sheath with a loud sound. As if perfectly on time, the song stopped instantly, with that final sound capping the whole performance off. The women found themselves breathing hard from the exertion of their playing. They also couldn't help but share a look. Somehow they’d all been drawn in, it was a completely impromptu performance, but they could feel what to do next and each of them had followed along with their parts perfectly. How did that man make such a thing happen?

The previously furious woman shook her head and then put her drums away. They disappeared into her storage treasure, a jade amulet, and she turned around. She walked back over to the other three women while untying the sash around her back and armpits that had been holding her sleeves up. She stood next to her friends with a frown on her face. The third woman to step forward wasn’t looking nearly as belligerent as her friend. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and gave them a sinister look. She held out her hand and a blade appeared in her hand, which she brandished towards them. The mirror polish of its surface caught the line, creating a shimmering spectacle.

Then she lowered the blade and looked dejected, “I was going to shave someone’s head, but it looks like I won’t get that fun.”

She was staring at the third man who hadn’t yet acted, especially at his bald head. She even looked at his brow ridges, seeming annoyed that even those were hairless. The blade disappeared from her hand, and instead a table appeared in front of her. Then she waved her hand over the table and a dozen dishes appeared upon it. She glared at the bald fellow with silvery eyes, “Come on then. Finish them all.”

The man in question stepped forward with a smug look on his face. A look which disappeared as soon as he reached the table and got a good look at what was on the plates and in the bowls in front of him. As he stepped up, a scent not unlike death wafted up to him and he frowned. If that wasn’t bad enough there were all sorts of other unkind smells as well as something that made him instantly sneeze. Looking over the dishes there were things covered in blood red peppers, a bowl of brilliant green custard that was bubbling, and a black tar-like soup. With such weirdness in front of him, he went with what looked safest and picked up a steamed bun. While staring down the woman he took a bite.

Then his face twisted, delighting the woman. After a few seconds, his face returned to normal and he took another bite. Each bite twisted his face, making his lips pucker and his eyes seal shut from the extreme sour and tart. Then he had to move onto the next dish and had to drink a cup of the bitterest drink he’d ever tasted. Then the woman made him cleanse his mouth with water before facing an onslaught of terrible foods. At many times he looked on the verge of losing everything and making a mess out of the proceedings, but somehow he managed to keep down the terrible dishes.

He moved on to the first brilliant fiery spicy dish after eating all the disgusting, sour, and bitter ones. That was when the woman smiled brightest, as nearly half the table was loaded with dishes that each got hotter than the last. She had set up a whole gauntlet of burning spicy foods and she was looking forward to making this fellow sweat and cry from the heat.

Unfortunately for her, the bald man seemed happy to finally get to the spicy foods. All the dishes that he sensed were spicy he had saved for last, to help celebrate making it through the gross ones. He started with some noodles that were soaked in a spicy sauce and looked almost caked with pepper flakes. The woman frowned when he ate the whole dish without even batting an eye. Then he moved on to the thick green sauce that was bubbling. He ate a spoonful and then frowned, “Spicy fermented fish sauce?”

He didn’t seem to care about the heat, but the flavor. He struggled through another gross dish and then easily ate the rest of the volcanic and tar-like spicy dishes, commenting on how lacking in flavor they were. The poor woman watched with annoyance as her greatest weapons were defeated without any trouble.

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