The Archery Calamity

The morning sun cast a golden hue over the bustling marketplace of Heavenly Aerial City, its warm rays illuminating the countless stalls that lined the cobblestone streets like colorful beads on a string. Merchants hawked their wares with practiced enthusiasm, their voices rising and falling in a chaotic symphony that somehow managed to be both jarring and melodious at the same time.

Wudi Egun meandered through the crowded marketplace, his eyes darting from stall to stall with childlike curiosity. The intoxicating aroma of freshly steamed buns wafted through the air, causing his stomach to rumble in protest. He patted his belly sympathetically, promising it sustenance in the near future.

"Just a little longer," he whispered to his disgruntled abdomen. "Once I find those spirit herbs , I'll feast like immortals."

His stomach gurgled in response, clearly unimpressed by his promises.

As Egun turned a corner, his attention caught by a particularly vibrant display of silk fabrics, he failed to notice three imposing figures approaching from behind. Their steps were measured and purposeful, their expressions a curious mixture of relief and annoyance.

"There he is!" a voice boomed, causing Egun to freeze mid-step, his body tensing like a startled cat.

Before he could even turn around, a hand clamped down on his shoulder with enough force to make him wince. Slowly, with the reluctance of a man facing execution, Egun pivoted to face his captors.

The three Young Masters of the Ancient Li Family stood before him, their matching jade-embroidered robes fluttering dramatically in a breeze that seemed to exist solely for their benefit. Li Yang, the eldest, fixed Egun with a stern glare that would have made lesser men soil themselves. Li Yong, the middle brother, crossed his arms over his chest, his foot tapping an impatient rhythm against the cobblestones. Li Sheng, the youngest, merely smirked, clearly enjoying Egun's discomfort.

" Brother in law," Li Yang began, his voice carrying the weight of mountains, "where in the eighteen hells have you been? And why, pray tell, did you leave the residence without informing anyone?"

Egun's mind raced faster than a startled rabbit, desperately searching for an excuse that wouldn't result in his immediate dismemberment. "I was just... I mean... I needed some fresh air and—"

"Fresh air?" Li Yong interrupted, his eyebrow arching so high it threatened to disappear into his hairline. "The Li Family compound has seventeen different gardens, each specifically designed to provide the optimal balance of yin and yang energies for cultivation. Are you suggesting our air is somehow... insufficient?"

"No! No, of course not!" Egun waved his hands frantically, droplets of nervous sweat beginning to form on his brow. "Your air is excellent! Top-notch! The finest air I've ever breathed! It's just that I wanted to... to..."

"To what?" Li Sheng prompted, leaning forward with predatory interest, like a cat watching a cornered mouse.

"To buy a gift!" Egun blurted out, the lie forming on his lips before his brain could catch up. "For your honorable sister! Yes, that's it! A token of my... appreciation."

The three brothers exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them that Egun couldn't begin to decipher.

"A gift, you say?" Li Yang's voice had softened slightly, though suspicion still lurked in his eyes like a hungry shark. "And where is this gift?"

Egun's gaze darted around desperately, landing on a nearby stall selling ornate hairpins. "I was just about to purchase it when you found me! What a coincidence, right? Ha ha!"

His laughter died a quick and painful death under the weight of their stares.

"Enough of this nonsense," Li Yong declared, grabbing Egun's arm with surprising strength for someone whose hands looked like they'd never done anything more strenuous than turn the pages of a book. "You're coming back with us. Now."

"But I haven't—"

"Our sister has been crying," Li Sheng cut in, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. "Crying, Brother in law. Do you know what happens when our sister cries?"

Egun swallowed hard. "The heavens weep?"

"Close," Li Yang nodded solemnly. "Father threatens to disembowel whoever caused her tears. With a very dull spoon."

Before Egun could process this terrifying information, he found himself being unceremoniously shoved toward an ornate carriage that seemed to have materialized out of nowhere. Its exterior was carved with intricate dragons that looked suspiciously like they were laughing at his predicament.

"But I didn't—" Egun's protests were cut short as he was pushed inside the carriage with enough force to send him sprawling across the plush seating.

"Our sister has been missing you terribly," Li Yong informed him as the three brothers crowded into the carriage, effectively blocking any potential escape routes. "She hasn't touched her food in hours."

"Hours?" Egun repeated weakly. "That's... concerning?"

"For someone who usually consumes enough food to feed a small army? Yes, it's very concerning," Li Sheng nodded gravely. "The kitchen staff are beside themselves with worry. Chef Lao threatened to commit ritual suicide if she doesn't eat his special eight-treasure duck by sundown."

"Isn't that a bit extreme?" Egun asked, his eyes widening.

"Chef Lao takes his culinary art very seriously," Li Yang shrugged, as if threatening suicide over uneaten poultry was perfectly reasonable behavior. "Last month, when Father suggested his soup needed more salt, Chef Lao locked himself in the pantry for three days and composed seventeen poems about the tragedy of unrefined palates."

The carriage lurched into motion, its wheels clattering against the cobblestones with what Egun could only interpret as malicious glee. He slumped back against the cushions, accepting his fate with the resignation of a man who had long since given up trying to make sense of his life.

"Fine," he sighed, watching the marketplace disappear from view through the small window. "Take me to your sister."

The three brothers exchanged triumphant smiles that sent a chill down Egun's spine. Somehow, he had the distinct feeling that he had just agreed to something far worse than he realized.

*****

The Li Family compound sprawled across the Heavenly Aerial City like a slumbering dragon, its numerous courtyards and pavilions connected by winding pathways that seemed designed specifically to confuse visitors. Ornate gates marked the entrance to each section, their massive doors carved with scenes depicting the family's illustrious history.

Egun found himself deposited unceremoniously in one of the outer courtyards, the three Li brothers vanishing with suspicious haste to "inform their sister of his return." Left alone, he contemplated making a break for it, his eyes darting toward the nearest exit with undisguised longing.

"I could just..." he muttered to himself, taking a tentative step toward freedom.

A nearby bush rustled ominously.

Egun froze, his cultivation senses tingling with alarm. Slowly, he turned his head to find a pair of beady eyes staring at him from within the foliage. 

A small, wizened face emerged, belonging to a garden attendant so ancient that he appeared to be more tree than man.

"I wouldn't if I were you, young master," the old gardener croaked, his voice like dry leaves rustling in the wind. "The Young Miss has eyes everywhere. Last month, a messenger tried to leave before delivering his message to her personally. They say he's still running laps around the compound, convinced that his legs will fall off if he stops."

Egun swallowed hard. "That's... that can't be true."

The old gardener shrugged, disappearing back into the bush with disturbing ease. "Suit yourself. But don't say old Feng didn't warn you."

With a defeated sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul, Egun abandoned his escape plans. Instead, he decided to explore his temporary prison, hoping to find something to distract himself from his impending doom.

His wandering feet eventually led him to a large, open area where dozens of young disciples were engaged in various forms of martial training. 

Some practiced sword forms with fluid grace, their blades catching the sunlight as they danced through complex patterns. Others sparred with bare hands, their movements so swift that they appeared as little more than blurs to the untrained eye.

The display of martial prowess was impressive, but what truly caught Egun's attention was the long table set up along one side of the training ground. It was laden with bamboo steamers, each one undoubtedly containing delicious dumplings if the heavenly aroma wafting through the air was any indication. Several pitchers of water stood nearby, condensation beading on their clay surfaces.

Egun's stomach, which had been relatively quiet during his carriage ride of shame, now roared to life with renewed vigor. The sound was so loud that several nearby disciples paused in their training to stare at him with undisguised amusement.

"Betrayed by my own body," Egun muttered, placing a hand over his rebellious stomach as if that could somehow silence its demands.

After watching the training for a few more minutes—and surreptitiously checking to ensure no Li siblings were in sight—Egun casually made his way toward the refreshment table. With the stealth of a master thief, he picked up a small plate and began serving himself a modest selection of dumplings.

"Just a few," he promised himself, even as his hand seemed to develop a mind of its own, piling dumpling after dumpling onto his plate. "I'm a guest, after all. It would be rude not to sample their hospitality."

****

On the opposite side of the training ground, far enough away that Egun hadn't noticed her arrival, Young Lady Meng stood with the rigid posture of someone who had been told countless times to "stand up straight" and had taken the instruction far too literally. 

Beside her, Steward Peng hovered anxiously, his weathered face creased with concern.

Young Lady Meng was not, by any conventional standard, a martial prodigy. What she lacked in talent, however, she more than made up for in enthusiasm and an unshakable belief in her own abilities that bordered on delusion.

"Today is the day, Steward Peng," she announced, her voice carrying the absolute certainty of youth. "Today, I shall master the art of archery!"

Steward Peng, who had witnessed her previous attempts at "mastering" various martial arts—attempts that had resulted in three broken windows, one traumatized peacock, and a small fire in the ancestral hall—tried his best to look supportive while simultaneously calculating the potential property damage.

"Perhaps, Young Lady, we should start with some basic instruction?" he suggested delicately, eyeing the bow in her hands as one might eye a venomous snake. "Archery is a complex art that requires years of dedicated practice to—"

"Nonsense!" Young Lady Meng waved away his concerns with the casual dismissal of someone who had never faced the consequences of her actions. "It's simply a matter of pointing and releasing. How difficult could it be?"

She picked up a bow that had clearly been designed for someone with considerably more upper body strength, nocking an arrow with the confidence of someone who had done it a thousand times before, despite this being her first attempt.

"Now," she declared, turning to Steward Peng with a radiant smile, "when I hit the target—not if, but when—you must clap and praise my excellence. I expect nothing less than complete amazement at my natural talent."

Steward Peng opened his mouth to protest, to explain that perhaps she should consider starting with a lighter bow, or at least aiming at a larger target, or maybe just putting the whole thing down and taking up calligraphy instead. But the words died in his throat as Young Lady Meng assumed what she clearly believed was a "cool and badass" stance.

Her feet were positioned all wrong. Her grip on the bow was awkward at best. The arrow wasn't properly seated. And her aim... well, her aim was pointed at approximately everything except the actual target.

"Young Lady, I really must insist—" Steward Peng began, his voice rising with urgency.

But it was too late. With a triumphant cry that sounded suspiciously like "Witness my greatness!", Young Lady Meng released the arrow.

Physics, being the unforgiving mistress that it is, immediately took over. The arrow flew—not toward the target, which stood innocently to the east, but in a completely unexpected westerly direction. It soared through the air with deadly purpose, as if guided by some mischievous deity with a particularly twisted sense of humor.

Across the training ground, Wudi Egun had just selected a particularly plump dumpling, lifting it reverently to his lips. His eyes closed in anticipation of the culinary delight, completely unaware of the projectile hurtling toward his posterior.

The arrow struck with unerring accuracy, embedding itself in Egun's buttocks with a solid *thunk* that echoed across the suddenly silent training ground.

For one long, suspended moment, nothing happened. Then, like a volcano that had been dormant for centuries suddenly deciding to remind everyone of its existence, Egun erupted.

"AIYEEEEEEEEEEEE!" His scream reached a pitch that shattered several nearby teacups and sent a flock of birds exploding from the trees in panic. The plate of dumplings went flying, raining down like delicious projectiles on the heads of several stunned disciples.

Egun's hands flew to his injured backside, his face contorting into an expression that couldn't seem to decide between agony, shock, and utter disbelief. Tears sprang to his eyes as he hopped from one foot to the other, creating a dance that would have been comical if it weren't born of such genuine pain.

"My ass!" he wailed, his voice cracking with emotion. "Who shot my ass?!"

Across the training ground, Young Lady Meng lowered her bow, her expression shifting from initial surprise to something resembling smug satisfaction. 

With the grace of a noble heiress—which, to be fair, she was—she strode across the training ground toward her unintended victim, Steward Peng trailing behind her like a man walking to his own execution.

By the time she reached Egun, he had progressed from hopping to a sort of pained shuffle, his face locked in a grimace that was neither smile nor frown but some horrifying in-between expression that made him look like he was simultaneously experiencing the greatest joy and the worst suffering of his life.

Young Lady Meng surveyed her handiwork with critical eyes, tilting her head to examine the arrow protruding from Egun's buttocks as one might appraise a particularly interesting piece of art.

"You," she announced, pointing an accusatory finger at the whimpering cultivator, "were standing in the path of my arrow."

Egun's jaw dropped so far it threatened to detach entirely from his skull. "I... what?"

"If you hadn't been standing there," Young Lady Meng continued, her tone suggesting that she was being incredibly reasonable, "my arrow would have hit the target."

Both Egun and Steward Peng turned to look at the target in question, which stood a good thirty meters to the side of Egun's position. It would have taken a violation of several fundamental laws of physics for the arrow to have hit that target from its current trajectory.

"That's... that's not how arrows work," Egun managed through gritted teeth, the pain in his posterior making coherent thought increasingly difficult. "They travel in straight lines, not around corners!"

Young Lady Meng's eyes narrowed dangerously, a sign that Steward Peng recognized all too well. It was the look she got right before someone found themselves assigned to clean the pigsties for a month.

"Are you suggesting," she began, her voice dropping to a silky whisper that was somehow more terrifying than any shout, "that I don't know how to shoot an arrow?"

"Yes!" Egun exclaimed, gesturing wildly at the shaft protruding from his behind. "That is exactly what I'm suggesting! Because you clearly don't!"

A tense silence fell over the training ground. The disciples who had been pretending not to watch the unfolding drama suddenly found urgent reasons to be elsewhere, clearing the area with impressive speed.

Young Lady Meng's cheeks flushed pink, but whether from embarrassment or anger was impossible to tell. Then, with the quick thinking that had saved her from countless other self-created disasters, she lifted her chin and declared, "I meant to hit your buttocks. That was my target all along."

Steward Peng made a strangled noise that might have been a suppressed groan, his face flushing with secondhand embarrassment. 

"Young Lady," he whispered urgently, "perhaps that's not the best thing to—"

"I am an excellent archer," she continued, ignoring his attempt at intervention. "I hit exactly what I was aiming for."

Egun stared at her, his pain momentarily forgotten in the face of such audacious shamelessness. 

"You... you meant to shoot me in the ass? On purpose?"

"Of course," she nodded firmly, doubling down on her lie with impressive commitment. "It was a test of my precision. And I passed with flying colors."

Steward Peng looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. His face had progressed from pink to a deep crimson that suggested he might spontaneously combust at any moment.

"Young Lady," he pleaded quietly, "you're making it worse."

But Young Lady Meng was on a roll now, her fabrication growing more elaborate by the second.

 "In fact," she added, warming to her theme, "hitting a moving target like your buttocks is considered an advanced technique. Many archers train for years to achieve such accuracy."

Egun's mouth opened and closed several times, no sound emerging as his brain struggled to process the sheer audacity of her claim. Finally, he managed to sputter, "Why? Why would you target my ass with your arrow? What did my innocent buttocks ever do to you?"

Young Lady Meng blinked, clearly not having thought this far ahead in her improvised explanation. 

"Because... because..." Her eyes lit up with inspiration. "Because it's the largest target you presented! Naturally, as a beginner, I would aim for the largest available target."

A collective gasp rose from the few remaining spectators who hadn't managed to escape the scene.

"Did you just call my ass fat?" Egun's voice rose to a pitch that threatened to shatter glass. "First you shoot me, and now you're insulting my physique?"

"I didn't say fat," Young Lady Meng corrected primly. "I said the largest available target. It's a compliment to your... proportions."

"How is that a compliment?!" Egun howled, his hands still clutching his injured posterior. "In what twisted realm is shooting someone and then commenting on the size of their ass considered complimentary?!"

Young Lady Meng sniffed disdainfully, as if Egun was being deliberately obtuse. "Well, if you're going to be so sensitive about it, perhaps next time I'll aim for a smaller target. Your head, perhaps?"

Steward Peng made a noise like a dying cat, his professional composure finally cracking under the weight of Young Lady Meng's increasingly disastrous attempts at saving face.

"There won't be a next time!" Egun declared, his voice rising with each word. "Because I'll be nowhere near you or your deadly arrows ever again!"

Young Lady Meng's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Are you refusing to assist in my archery practice? After I specifically selected you as my target?"

"YES!" Egun shouted, his face contorted with disbelief. "That is exactly what I'm doing! Most people don't want to be shot with arrows! This shouldn't be a controversial stance!"

With a dismissive snort that somehow managed to convey both aristocratic disdain and childish petulance, Young Lady Meng turned on her heel. "Fine. Be that way. Just don't stand in my path next time."

As she stalked away, head held high as if she were the wronged party in this bizarre encounter, Steward Peng remained behind, his face a mask of mortification.

"I... I am so deeply sorry, Young Master " he stammered, bowing so low that his forehead nearly touched the ground. "The Young Lady is... enthusiastic in her pursuits. Perhaps we could arrange for a physician to examine your... injury?"

Egun, who had progressed from outrage to a sort of numb acceptance that this was simply his life now, nodded weakly. "That would be... appreciated."

As Steward Peng hurried away to summon medical assistance, Egun gingerly lowered himself onto a nearby bench, careful to position himself so that the arrow wouldn't be driven deeper by his weight. He watched with growing apprehension as Young Lady Meng returned to her original position on the training ground, picking up her bow once more.

"Surely she wouldn't..." he muttered to himself, eyeing the distance between them with newfound wariness.

Not willing to risk becoming a pincushion, Egun decided that strategic retreat was the better part of valor. With as much dignity as a man with an arrow in his buttocks could muster, he shuffled behind the refreshment table, using it as a makeshift barricade between himself and the archery menace.

From his hiding spot, he watched as Young Lady Meng nocked another arrow, her face a mask of intense concentration. Her stance was still all wrong, her grip awkward, but there was a determination in her eyes that was almost admirable—or would have been, if Egun's posterior wasn't still throbbing from her last attempt.

"This time," he heard her declare to no one in particular, "I shall hit the actual target!"

With exaggerated care, she drew back the bowstring, aiming at the target with what appeared to be genuine focus. For a moment, it seemed like she might actually succeed in her endeavor.

Then, as if the universe itself had a personal vendetta against Wudi Egun, Young Lady Meng's foot slipped just as she released the arrow. The sudden movement sent the projectile flying upward at a steep angle, arcing high into the sky before beginning its descent.

Egun, thinking himself safe behind the table, had just picked up another dumpling, determined to at least enjoy some food as compensation for his suffering. He raised it to his lips, mouth watering in anticipation.

The arrow, guided by whatever malicious deity had taken an interest in Egun's misfortunes, completed its improbable arc and plummeted downward, striking him squarely in the left shoulder.

There was a moment of perfect stillness as Egun's brain processed this new betrayal by the laws of probability. Slowly, almost disbelievingly, he turned his head to look at his shoulder, where the second arrow now protruded like some bizarre fashion accessory.

His eyes widened, his face paling to a shade that would have made fresh snow look dingy by comparison. The dumpling fell from his nerveless fingers, landing with a soft plop on the ground.

And then, in a voice that somehow managed to convey the entire spectrum of human suffering in a single sound, Wudi Egun screamed:

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!"

The cry echoed across the training ground, startling birds from trees and causing several passing cloud formations to hastily rearrange themselves. In the distance, a few disciples would later swear they heard the sound of celestial laughter, as if the heavens themselves were amused by Egun's predicament.

Young Lady Meng stood frozen, her bow still raised, her expression caught between shock at her accidental hit and a growing pride that she had managed to strike anything at all, even if it was, once again, the unfortunate Wudi Egun.

Steward Peng, returning with a physician in tow, took one look at the scene and promptly fainted, his body hitting the ground with a thud that seemed to perfectly punctuate the absurdity of the situation.

And Wudi Egun, now sporting arrows in both his buttocks and shoulder like some macabre pincushion, could only stare at the sky and wonder what he had done in his previous life to deserve such cosmic punishment.

As if in answer, a single dumpling, somehow launched into the air during the commotion, completed its own arc and landed squarely on his head, its filling splattering across his hair in what could only be described as the universe's final punchline.