But first,

Chapter One

The sun bathed his magnificent figure. He was like a marble Greek sculpture, modeled after the Canon of course. He stood proud amongst the men of little China. The clouds hid behind gray mountain scenery, yet the grass was fecund and bright. A crunch would sound with every footstep. You could taste the thin air, but know, this place was never lacking in life.

“Guilinggao! Guilinggao! Come get your guilinggao!â€? a peddler shouts, his wrinkled face cracking a smile at passer-bys.

The monumental man swooped beside the peddler, collapsing against a crate, “How much for say a bowl, already prepared?â€?

“Oh, that’s a nice accent you have. You not around these parts, are ya?â€? said the peddler, peering curiosity.

“Ah, ha ha! Well, that’s not hard to notice, is it? My name’s Pan. I came from Cambridge. What’s the price, good sir?“

“15 yuan. I made this batch in morning. Here,â€? he said while cracking open the cooler box, in it were bowls of fresh guilinggao, their scents rising into the gentle mountain air.

“15 yuan, that’s it? Here you go. Thank you.â€?

Pan peered at the bowl with his hand clenched on the spoon as it slid into that gooey blackness, “Oh God! Dick!â€?

“Dick in my side!â€?

Pan collapsed on the floor, the bowl shattered into many pieces, his face twisted in agony.

The peddler gave a smirk, and dug his fingers into his own forehead. He pulled them down forcefully; his whole face was soon peeled off, revealing gears, LEDs, and other general technology.

“Hahaha! Pan Fernandez-Schrodinger, did you think you could escape the rivercrabs?â€?

He further dug at his own face until all that metal and wiring was jumbled on the floor. There stood a crab, joystick in its right claw.

“R-r-rivercrab!? I thought the grassmudhorses defeated you! Damn you!â€? Pan snarls as he pulled the sharp object from his side.

With a shrill rip, he tossed the mysterious stabbing object onto the bushes along with torn sinew and blood. He let out an exasperated gasp as he tried to breathe in more air than the mountains could provide. He lifted his head then forced his body up; with a slouch forward he pulled his whole left arm forward. His right arm gripped the peddler’s android body as the crab glared in fear. With a snap of his biceps, Pan tore through the crab’s shell. Its claws and legs scattered throughout the plain. Pan’s fist was covered in gory seafood and smelled awful.

“You are already unfashionable,â€? Pan barks.

Pan looked around the headless robot and found the cooler box. He pried it open with his bloodied hand, part of the crab’s shell had pierced his skin on contact. He scooped out another bowl of guilinggao and seasoned it with honey and palm sugar. With a single gulp, it rested in his stomach. His stomach roared in dissatisfaction. His eyebrows furrowed.

“This guilinggao… is not pure.â€?

He sighed and looked at the clouds. He went to China in search of that true guilinggao, the guilinggao that made him a champion among men in those numerous street fighting tournaments and cooking competitions on Food Network. That guilinggao used real powdered turtle shell, not some awful substitute lacking in soul. This trip was like a nightmare. The rivercrabs were appalled by his strength and wanted to oust him from China. They thought him a threat to the harmonious society. Everyday, they were hounding after him like he was some fugitive, not a mere man looking for medicine. He gave a deep sigh and flipped his phone open.

On the contact list was Nightmare. He pressed the call button, clutching his injured side still raw red. Many years had passed when Nightmare first discovered guilinggao. He endlessly searched for the true guilinggao for many years. But he had done it. Nightmare was like a mentor to Pan. He surely would not mind handing a few clues to his old apprentice.

Chapter Two

Cloth draping from a figure poured down the wooden recliner. A vaguely human figure’s chest rose and shrunk rapidly in the darkness. Another tap from that finger, pale in the dancing rays, another breath echoed through the windowless room. Moonlight only pierced through the puncture in the roof. Here was the silhouette of a robed elder whose pounding breaths only filled the air. His presence was like that of an erhu, a companion to the ambience. However, a sudden vibration broke the air. A melody shook the room. Dust gathered from the roof slid down. The wooden panels cracked. “You wa shock!â€? the man’s phone howled. The man jabbed his finger through the phone and set it on speaker.

“Master? Are you there?â€? a voice emitted from the phone; static could not hold back the emotion of his struggle, one that this elder was all too familiar with.

“Guilinggao follows God every step,â€? the man replied with a beautiful baritone voice; the room shook in awe, its cracks tore open as more of the moonlit night shone through the now wall-less room.

The squall of the night swept the robe away. This elder was fashioned with a silver mane, its strands galloping in the gentle wind. His arms were carved with a tame ferocity, both imposing and kind. His face was built from years of training, not once undermined by his age. Those fingers thought ghastly in the nightly black were actually a radiant tan like they were dipped sunlight.

“What do you mean by that, Nightmare-sama?â€? Pan said squeezing his phone tightly against his ear.

“Do you remember the name, ‘Peklo’?â€? Nightmare said, reclining in his chair as the soft illuminations danced sporadically on his cheeks like it was a piece of cubism.

“…The Man Who Destroyed The World.â€?

“Peklo was a good friend of mine. No, he was my ‘aniki.’ Let me tell you about his descent into guilinggao, his descent into Gui-Ou.â€?

Pan threw his tongue against the air like a dagger in shock, “Aniki!? Gui-Ou!?â€?

“Peklo was the purest man I ever met. He was brimming in this indescribable euphoria. He loved everyone. He cared for everything. That is why, when he sought to perfect his fist, Nanto Guilinggao Ken, he fell. You see… You see,â€? a tear tore down his face, “Through his journey, he learned of the dark side of humanity! That man, within a year, was a brooding shell of himself. That enthusiastic spirit was vanquished like tears in the rain. I thought it natural at first. After all, people are bastards. It was good that he learned that, but,â€? Nightmare struggled but rubbed his throat with his finger, “But.â€?

“Cloudberries, they are delicious as fuck!â€? a young Peklo shouted, his transparent visage floating above Nightmare like some form of twisted mockery.

“Cloudberries, I can’t love such a fruit. No longer! No more!â€? the Peklo began to snarl, evaporating, as the storm grew stronger, howling like the ghosts of his life.

“…They look like balloons,â€? Nightmare cried.

“What?â€? Pan said.

“Listen! Abandon that quest! For your own sake! For your master! For the love of mankind!â€?

Pan’s fingers began to slide against his phone, “What is this devil speak? Damn you! You’re a river crab! Aren’t you!?â€?

Pan hurled the phone, its fragments scattered in the breeze. Falling to his knees, he held himself with brittle palms, tarnished with blood and dirt.

“Th-Those bastards even stole Master from me!? I will have my revenge!â€?

His body slumped into the mud, his face smeared in earth, “I’ll definitely find guilinggao.â€?

Nightmare could only sigh as the thundering clouds above casted their awful shadow.

It was morning. Light flooded Pan’s almond eyes. He rose, his eyes still furrowed since last night. His knuckles were frozen and tense as weapons of war. He peered at his back. Even the cerulean sky seemed corrupt at heart. This whole mountain tasted of scorn, with a bitter iron taste. Pan felt vulnerable. The world truly was against him. Why at this moment? Why at such a time for need? He muttered in sorrow, Yuriai.

Adorned with amber hair that billowed like strings of silk, donned in a laced red top covered by that bulky leather vest and steel shoulder pads, she was fascinating. She had piercing eyes of golden hazel, and full peach lips. That face was shaped like a heart. But this heart could only love one. Her name was Xie Yuriai, heir of the Rightful Ryuza Bloodline. She was destined to but one man, a man who must win her heart by the heat of battle. Pan could feel his trembling heart as it crashed against his ribcage. He shook his head at the skies, his lush auburn hair showering on his forehead. He had to win The Date of Blood. He, her true love, promised Yuriai. He could not abandon their love. His eyes were tightly shut in thought, gazing in the pool of gray matter. Something tingled. He could feel heat escaping his skin. It was minimal yet-

Pan twisted around to find his whole body and the acre around him engulfed in darkness. With wide eyes, he howled astonished,

“Buddha Gundam!â€?

“It's been a long time!â€? Buddha Gundam guffawed heartily.

Chapter Three

Hokuto Hevimetaruken is a 1,800 year old assassination art developed during the Three Kingdoms Era by Cai Wenji. The art specializes in striking the 708 Keiraku Hiko with Heavy Metal. Seeping through the harmonious channels of the elements with its melodies, the sonic waves of this art can pierce through flesh and strike these specific points without so much tearing a single cell. In effect, Hokuto Hevimetaruken is the ultimate assassination art with its stunning precision despite its thrumming booms of savage Scandinavian soul.

Nightmare rose from his chair. His heavy boots crushed the planks through, revealing the foundation. His silver shroud swirled in unison with his mane. He put his finger on his headband and pushed on through, eyes closed in mediation. The heavy sun steamed his golden biceps. Smoke decanted from his pores, swelling into pockets of fogs around him.

“A young man leaves home to follow his commander,

With gilded armor and jeweled sword, to seek his fame.

He doesn't know his horse's bones are wounded by the cold water–

He sees only the evening clouds rising above Dragon City.�

He shook his head.

“Has Hokuto Hevimetaruken lost its young successor?â€? said a voice, full of sharp vowels padded on swooping highway of pitches, “It really is your own fault for aging so badly.â€?

Nightmare turned to see a man dressed in lavish princely attire, a gold engraved breastplate adorned by falcons and held tight by a large leather belt fastened over a Kelt, a tan shroud covered his huge shoulders and swept beneath his leather sandals. His sun-baked blond hair nestled upon a headband with a cross emblem.

“Hero!â€?

Nightmare gave a smile, but quickly scowled. There was no air of friendliness from that brazen man. Hero slipped his palm on his slender hip, unfastening his whip.

He began to stroke it, eying Nightmare with half-closed eyes, “We live in a fabulous era, do we not? States torn asunder, nations torn by warlords, even the Kurds are segregated into several systems of control. A new sort of feudalism, I’ve certainly taken a liking to it,â€? he pointed the whip sharp at Nightmare’s heart, “But the weak don’t survive.â€?

His aura began to shoot out waves of heat; Nightmare clasped his arms into a cross. His forearms began to bear the burden of flames. Nightmare could feel his feet slipping beneath him. Dust began to curl all around, mixing with the fog, creating a sandstorm of sweat and earth. He took a heavy breath, dust poured into his lungs but it did not bother him. He learned the art of filtering from the government that once housed him. Dirt poured from his pores, swiftly rejected. He let out a tremendous roar with those baritone cords, his lips detached, his mouth spewing his own aura. The whole body began to shake. No, it was the surroundings that were shaking as a gentle blue began to crawl around Nightmare. His arms slowly inched from each other until his yell grew into one giant boom. At which, his arms were spread like wings. His face was stern and shut. The sweat-mixed dust had collapsed into mud. But for Hero, he stood in a circle of summer, not withered by Nightmare’s roar.

Hero itched his nose with a leather-laden hand, “Are you aware of the Date of Blood? The time of destiny nears. The heiress of the Rightful Ryuza Bloodline will become my bride,â€? he leaned toward Nightmare and gave a wide smile, “I assume your pupil is entering? You’d better withdraw him,â€? Hero’s face began to twist into a façade of concern, “He might get injured.â€?

Hero straightened his torso, his arms behind his back. He gave a gentle glare at Nightmare covered in grime. His eyes were like beautiful sapphires, but here they were laid on a bronze bust. He was the bronze with that odor of expense, strength, and of course, wastefulness. He cracked a laugh and fastened his whip onto his crested belt, its tip dragging a trail of flames behind him.

“Impossible. He obtained Christopher’s whip,â€? Nightmare remarked in curiosity, his knuckles squeezed the filth from its gaps, pouring into a pile on the aged stone foundation, “What have I been doing all this time? It wasn’t right to idle by during all… this… All of this!â€? the air erupted around his raised fist.

Nightmare turned to his demolished house. He eyed the foundation then walked a few meters to the east. He gave the dirt a thunderous stomp with the steel toe of his boot. He raised his right arm and gave it a plunge against the newly formed crack. He began to hurriedly scrape away the debris and opened a box encrusted with the jewels that spelt, GODLAND. He gently opened it, and slipped his hand in. It came out with a picture of Rei, a silver haired bealty and martial artist, and with it, a pink robe and a packet of guilinggao powder. He slipped the robe on. With the robe, only a feminine chin could be seen and occasionally his colossal masculine hands. He slipped the picture of Rei and guilinggao powder into his chest and smashed the jeweled chest into shards of wood along chipped diamonds, jades, onyxes, and sapphires. With that, he left. But there in the winds unknown to Nightmare, stood a still figure, muscled and short jet hair curling, eyeing every moment. The figure cracked its fist.

Chapter Four

“Buddha Gundam, just what are you doing here?â€? screamed Pan’s lungs at full throttle.

“I was thinking…â€? the Gundam said, “Why not settle things here and now? Can you really protect Yuriai? I was built for war. You are but a man, made of flesh and bone. Tell me,â€? the Gundam kneeled, caressing its index finger on Pan’s cheek, “Is it more logical that a gargantuan machine is more suited to the protection of the heir against these miserable bandits of Jianghu than a weak loaf of undercooked yeast, emotional and with an inefficient kung fu?â€?

“Inefficient kung fu!â€? Pan barked back in anger as his veins pulsated.

“You cannot hope to defeat me. I am a mech who has learned the greatest martial arts,â€? the Gundam said as it began to push against Pan’s cheek, his bones cracking.

Pan stepped back, pushing away the finger with the strength of his whole torso, “You’re insane! Can’t you consider Yuriai’s feelings?â€?

“Power is everything in this world! Yuriai will fall for me once she sees you for what you are, you piece of bread!â€?

“I’m not bread!â€?

“You break like one!â€? the Gundam howled as its finger tore through Pan’s arms and into his chest, Pan could feel his ribs rattle.

Pan thrashed his legs as they rose off the ground. He was tossed a hundred meters. Right before his back could hit the rock, Pan managed to plant his hand onto the ground and swirled from a handstand into a combat pose, proclaiming his martial arts style. Sound waves ripped through the valley. In retaliation, flocks soared into the skies before exploding into a feast of blood while invoking the melody of Fuckingham Palace.

The Buddha Gundam straightened its palm, like a monk in prayer, “Nanto Gandamuken!â€?

Pan pointed his finger at the Gundam, sonic waves rippling like an echo, “Before we begin, let me just say this to start! I am fairly strong!â€?

“Let’s see whose kung fu is truly the strongest!â€? the Gundam roared as it poured its tremendous steel frame onto the battered Pan, “When we were each birthed, my power levels were already a thousand over yours! Can you defeat my deadly body press technique, passed down a hundred generations of sumo?â€?

Pan pressed his boot firm against the Gundam’s chest. If it breathed, he would feel it enveloping his whole body. Their eyes stood in deadlock, as the Gundam’s frame rattled, and Pan’s boot quivered. All the while, wisps of energy began to curl at the center of impact; soon they burst into flames, igniting the already scorched desert into a blazing inferno. Pan could feel his soles beginning to wear away. They were quite expensive shoes. He felt the evil of materialism take hold of his shin as the boot began to slide. He let it down with a slam while planting his other boot onto the mighty chest and launching a hundred meters above the monstrous colossus. There, floating in the sky, Pan could only ponder the meaning of this retreat. Was this fear?

“How can you protect Yuriai if you’re afraid of losing your shoes? A real man wouldn’t even consider the cost of losing a fashionable leather jacket! And you call yourself the successor of Hokuto Hevimetaruken?â€?

The Gundam’s boosters bellowed, its blue flames flickering. With a thunderous quake, it was in the air with a trail of azure hell behind it, hand outstretched for Pan. Pan could feel gravity’s pull like it was the Gundam’s dearest friend. He let out a shout and shot his leg downward like a dagger. The fearsome sidekick sent Pan tearing through the air. Here, it was! The moment of destiny! Pan’s boot touched the Gundam’s palm. Their energies clashed, and the air around them exploded in splendor. What was this? There was a sudden absence of the Gundam’s hand, Pan could his body slipping through. He felt like he was being hurled downward. Suddenly, the smoke settled. Pan’s eyes widened as his face met the metal knee of the giant. Pan could almost feel his neck tear from his torso as his eyes gazed behind him, then onto the distant floor. His body was still like a shot down fighter jet, scorched in flames. The Gundam guffawed and turned. It sniffed a mysterious flower held in its hand.

“On second thought, how can I prove my miraculous powers when Yuriai is nowhere to witness it? Taste my pity, it is a love deeper than you can imagine or craft. Can you really question me for not being human after this dose of passion? I will allow you to train a few more days. We shall meet again, dear mixture of dough and yeast.â€?

The Gundam tossed the flower. It gently massaged Pan’s cheek.

“If you seek guilinggao, you’d best seek out the Southern Mystic,â€? Buddha Gundam continued, “But be wary. Your flesh is to my metal, your blood is to my oil. Metal is symbolic of my tough guy exterior. Oil is symbolic of my rich personality. Such a quest will be futile against my fists of toxic love. Oh! Ah!â€?

Pan felt a sickening euphoria from that last sentence. The Gundam’s voice had suddenly shifted into this angelic voice that made him think the unthinkable. He bit his lip and quickly tried to dispel the thoughts with the image of Yuriai. Pan closed his eyes. The void swarmed his thoughts. He dreamt of many things that restful period…

The wavy winds seemed to melt onto the moist parchment of the earthen. Blue jacket swaying against the mighty landscape, Pan’s boots shivered with every stomp forward against the desert’s squall. He pushed his arm forward, the jacket’s leather smoldering to the vivid star perched on Death’s cumulonimbus saddle. In the distance, a swirl of colors started to merge into a man sheathed in light wool with a curved tool wrapped in cloth alongside an arm fashioned in the bracer of a marksman. His eyes were hollowed deep beneath the shadows of his brow. His beard protruded from chin, cheek, neck, and chest, galloping on his torso like a horsetail. He hovered gently like a specter on the cracked earth.

Pan stopped, dust settling along his body. He looked like he was claimed by the sands dancing in the wind, frozen with head turned toward to the bearded man. The man merely passed him. Pan twisted his head to the side for a last glance. There was no one. Dust poured from his mouth as he let out a sigh. Suddenly, he felt his stomach burst as his blood splattered on the sand-ridden floor. In front of him was that man. No, it was not just a man. It was the Man, the Gui-Ou. Suddenly, the Man seated himself beside Pan, offering cloudberries. A young Nightmare appeared from the sandstorm and sat next to the Gui-Ou.

“Aniki, together we are…â€? Gui-Ou smiled.

“Bealtiful,â€? Nightmare hugged Gui-Ou, their bodies firmly planted on each other like a socket to a plug.

They both rose, but Gui-Ou suddenly slammed his fist into Nightmare, throwing him several meters away, blood racing across the air.

Nightmare cried, “Have you really turned that grim and cold? Just because you’ve been reject-â€?

“That is not why! These fists, I will create order with these fists!â€? Gui-Ou remarked as a tiger approached; he quickly made work of it with a swift squeeze of the tiger’s throat, “I learned many things, and I can only thank… him…â€?

As blood poured from the torn animal’s carcass, Pan’s vision grew dim. He woke to find himself in a quaint house. Stone bricks and a roof fashioned with olden tiles. It smelled modest yet antique. He gazed out the bright window, lush evergreen captured his eyes. But his vision quickly thrashed back to the bleak roof of the house as the pains got to him. A woman suddenly peered over his face. Pan’s eyes fluttered. It was Yuriai, her long autumn locks caressing his neck.

To be continued