A Thousand Li: the Second Expedition Read online

  Up, until he reached two-thirds of the way to the peak of the Elders’ residences. Until he finally reached, panting, his Master’s residence. Outside the building, Wu Ying paused before the barred wooden doors, staring at the elaborate golden lion knockers. He drew deep breaths to calm his breathing, to settle his heart, and have his chi stop churning. He readied himself for what came next. For he had a sudden premonition that what came next would change his life forever.

  Again.

  Chapter 2

  The residence that his Master lived in was one of the larger complexes in the Sect. It was also set farther back in the grounds, the pathway to it almost hidden, the building blending into its surroundings. As was typical, the layout of the residence was in the formal siheyuan style of architecture. This consisted of a northern main residence with its entrances facing the south with buildings on the side along the east and west axis. The side buildings were connected to the main house via pathways, all of which faced in toward a main courtyard.

  Due to space constraints, rather than sprawling across a large amount of land, most residences on the mountain grew vertically. As an important Elder, Elder Cheng’s house consisted of a second floor for the main building and a second courtyard offering him extra space for guests. The building itself was made of wood, with pounded earth lower walls and wooden supports.

  For a moment, Wu Ying stood before the main gate, staring at the large wooden barricade and its couple of door knockers. A sense of dreadful anticipation filled him before he pushed on the door knockers. The dull, metallic thud roused the servants within, one of whom opened and greeted Wu Ying in quick order, ushering him into the main residence.

  To Wu Ying’s surprise, he found his Master lying on the divan in his living room beside his open plan bedroom, pale but lucid, a bound paper book beside him. Wu Ying bowed low, offering formal greetings which were swiftly returned.

  “Ah. I see that you have heard,” Elder Cheng said, shaking his head slightly. “You do not need to concern yourself. It is a minor injury. It will heal itself in time.”

  Wu Ying frowned, staring at his Master. The usual masculine set of his jaw and the long, swordsman’s arms were still there. But his face was paler, gone from a perfect, unblemished white to a sallow, sickly yellow. Small trembling movements on those long fingers as they held the book across his body were easy to discern, and the casual lounging robes his Master wore stank of old sweat.

  “What happened?” Wu Ying hesitated and added, “If you can tell me.”

  “I cannot. Not in detail. But your sister is fine. We managed to escape with minimal injury.” Elder Cheng let his hand drop, placing the book by his side as he focused on Wu Ying. “The rest you are not ready for yet.”

  “If they came for you…” Wu Ying hoped the allusion to his own vulnerability could extract further information from his Master.

  “They would not dare to attack the Sect.” In a softer, quieter voice that Wu Ying did not expect his Master to think he heard, Elder Cheng added, “At least, not yet.”

  “And is there not anything I can get for you?” Wu Ying said. “Herbs, some special pills?”

  Elder Cheng shook his head. “I am well provisioned. The poison will dissipate. Enough about me. Show me what you have learned.”

  With a small exertion of strength, Elder Cheng stood and walked toward the doors and the entrance to the courtyard. His movements were small, careful as he guided himself to a nearby bench, where he sat again, facing the inner courtyard.

  Wu Ying, trailing behind his Master, took position in the courtyard, in the center of the training ring. At a nod from his Master, Wu Ying drew his ever-present jian, saluting him then the shrine to Guan Yu. The long, straight sword was Wu Ying’s favorite weapon, perfect for carrying on a daily basis, and one that he had studied since childhood with his father. At his Master’s urging, he began the sword form of his family.

  The Long family sword style had once been famed across the kingdom, a powerful style that had been wielded by one of his ancestors in the Nascent Soul stage. That, over time, his family had not been able to showcase another cultivator of that strength had lost them much prestige, eventually resulting in them ending up as peasants, as their ancestor had once been. Still, the style itself was powerful, well developed in its form. It just required a practitioner who could bring its full strength to the fore.

  The story of a great ancestor and the family’s subsequent fall from grace was a familiar one for many other families, as Wu Ying was growing more and more cognizant of. In a nation as large as this, everyone had a family member who was rumored or known to have been strong at some point. Bloodlines, hidden knowledge, it was less uncommon than you would think. Only those families who had broken away from the main branches or those who had lost their heritage entirely could not quote a fabled ancestor.

  From form to form, Wu Ying flowed. Dragon unsheathes its Claws, transformed to Dragon swiping at the Clouds, to Return in the Snow, to Dragon sweeping its Tail. With each motion, chi informed his use. And as Wu Ying practiced the forms more, he realized that each form was as varied as his own imagination.

  What could be a block in one situation could be the start of a trap in another or a feint the next time it was used. A simple lunge, the Sword’s Truth, could begin or end a form, or in some cases, even be a feint to be followed by a controlled retreat.

  Ever since he had gained his first Energy Storage meridian, his projection of sword intent, the sword chi that he gained and passed through his weapon, had grown stronger. He could wield the sword intent with as much strength, as much grace as he could his own body. With a sliver more understanding of the weapon, of the jian, Wu Ying knew he was only a step away from achieving the Heart of the jian.

  From form to form, he flowed, his breathing matching his motion. Explosive when needed, deep and steady when required. He was so caught in his art, he forgot where he was until the form was done and he sheathed his weapon.

  A slow clap rose from his Master. “Better. Much better. You have grown comfortable in the basic form. You have integrated your sword intent into the form itself. It seems that allowing you to run to your parents has borne fruit.”

  Wu Ying bowed in gratitude. “Yes, Master. The experience, fighting the Wei, the spirit beasts, has opened my eyes to the basic form.”

  “Good. Very good.” Master Cheng’s face then grew serious as he leaned forward and fixed Wu Ying with a disapproving glare. “Then what of your third form? How has that progressed?”

  Wu Ying winced. The Long family sword style did not consist of a single form, but multiple forms. Unfortunately, while Wu Ying had studied each form in detail, he had focused practice on only the first one. Of the five that he had access to, one was a generic sword style, meant for use with both the dao and the jian, and the other four focused entirely on the jian itself.

  He had a passing knowledge of the first and second forms, had practiced the third on occasion, and had only studied the motions of the fourth and fifth. He had not even gone as far as memorizing them—mostly because the fourth and fifth forms were not meant for those at his cultivation level. But the third form, like the second, could be utilized by those who had yet to reach Core cultivation stage. As his Master well knew.

  “I have practiced it somewhat,” Wu Ying offered.

  “But not enough to show me?”

  “It’s… it’s not up to standard, Master.” Wu Ying admitted ruefully.

  “Show me.”

  It was not a request, but a command. And so, Wu Ying went through the motions. With his Sense of the Sword, he did not embarrass himself completely, but compared to the fluid, rehearsed motions of the second form, he moved like a child given a stick for the first time. His previous form had been filled with intent and consideration in each action, the forms flowing fluidly from motion to motion, perfectly positioned and balanced at all times. With the third form, each of his actions lacked intent, lacked strength. To a layman, it might
look acceptable, but to a master of the weapon, like Elder Cheng, it was a travesty.

  Three quarters of the way through, Master Cheng finally had enough. “Unacceptable. Continue practicing this form in the evening and morning. The third form takes full advantage of your energy meridians and should be practiced now that you have gained access to them in full. They can only help your cultivation. Which, I note”—Elder Cheng’s voice grew even more angry—“you have stalled on. Again.”

  Wu Ying winced. His obligations had slowed down his progress. Wu Ying knew his Master saw little to be gained in all the time he spent running back and forth on missions, spending time with his family. Even though his Master had allowed Wu Ying to indulge his sense of honor and duty, it was a point of contention between them. Sometimes, Wu Ying wondered about the fate that had led him to this master. In so many ways, the pair of them had conflicting ideologies.

  As Wu Ying stayed bowed in acknowledgement of his Master’s scolding, Elder Cheng spoke. “Ah Yuan, now that we are back, I want you to keep an eye on him. He should not be allowed to slack off on his cultivation. You know why.”

  In surprise, Wu Ying straightened. He spotted Fa Yuan, his martial sister, who had arrived without a single noise in the entrance of the residence at some point. And, as he turned, he spotted the knowing glance that passed between the pair.

  “Yes, Master. But you should be resting.” There was a tone of chiding in Fairy Yang’s voice. “I shall see to him.”

  “Yes, yes,” Master Cheng said, waving.

  He pushed himself up, taking the young lady’s offered hand and muttering about impudent students. Still, he allowed her to take him into his residence while Wu Ying put his weapon away and cleared the courtyard. His movement to join them within had been waved back by his martial sister, so he waited.

  When Fa Yuan exited, she raked her eyes over Wu Ying before she nodded. “Come. We shall leave our Master to his rest. We have much to speak of.”

  ***

  The pair adjourned to the top floor of the teahouse, taking one of the private rooms within. The doors were left ajar for propriety’s sake, though the privacy formations were activated. It blurred the faces of anyone within, ensuring that others could not see subtle reactions or read lips, while also blocking all noise from within the formation. It was a suitable compromise for privacy’s sake to ensure Wu Ying did not gain any additional aggravation. After all, Fairy Yang had gained her nickname because of her great beauty.

  As a single child, Wu Ying thought that this was perhaps what those with elder sisters experienced. Both being marveled at for their luck in having a beautiful female in residence and pitied, for they would be forever out of touch. Of course, as martial brothers and sisters, they were not blood siblings and could potentially form a close relationship. But the cultural mores around such fraternization were nearly as strong as those around true blood relations.

  As Wu Ying served the requisite tea to his martial sister, he let his gaze roll over her heart-shaped face, the exquisite, unblemished pearl-white skin, the slight, delicate nose, the perfectly sculpted eyebrows, and the long, lustrous black hair. Even her martial robes, green and grey as befitted an Elder, did little to hide her slim and well-proportioned, athletic body.

  Yes, he knew, he was definitely pitied. But Wu Ying was also grateful, for he had, occasionally, traded on her infamy for his own use in gaining some small advantage in the assignment hall.

  “Our master is gravely injured,” Fairy Yang said, broaching the topic after she had thanked him for the tea.

  Wu Ying nodded, not at all surprised. After all, as much as Elder Cheng had tried to hide it, Wu Ying had noted the damage. At Elder Cheng’s cultivation level, the injuries must be significant to last this long. Otherwise, he would’ve expected Elder Cheng to be cultivating, speeding up the healing process, rather than lying on his divan in his residence.

  “What can we do?” Wu Ying said.

  “Do you know why he refused to acknowledge the injury?” Fairy Yang said.

  “He did not want me to be beholden to him further. Or vice versa.”

  “A little of that. But he also worries about you.” Fa Yuan paused, swirling the teacup and its contents. “Our mission, it was dangerous. Involving you at your cultivation level would be reckless.”

  “Good thing I’m young and reckless.” Wu Ying flashed her a grin, trying for rakish insouciance. “Cultivation is not a safe path. Choosing the safest way is only a choice to a dead-end.”

  Fa Yuan shook her head, but a slight smile pulled at her lips. “Are you certain?” When Wu Ying nodded firmly, she sighed. “Very well. Both your Master and I have noticed a rise in tensions between the States of Wei and Shen. We believe the rise is not a natural increase but due to the machinations of a dark sect.”

  Wu Ying frowned. Dark sects were one of the four types of sects: orthodox, heretical, demonic, and dark. Of those, the first two were relatively benign. The Verdant Green Waters Sect was an orthodox sect, though not as much as the famed Wudang Sect.

  Heretical sects might be unusual in their teachings and sometimes destructive, but not necessarily wrong – just uncommon for the norms of society. Even demon sects were part of the Dao, though their presence in the natural world often resulted in its warping. It was the dark sects—those that followed the darker, evil forms of acquiring power—that were regularly suppressed by all.

  Dark sects were rarely spoken of—mostly because their very existence was hotly debated. Obviously, certain historical tragedies could be laid at their door. The fall of the Huang Empire. The Red Petal Rebellion. The two-decade drought of the northern kingdom of Yi. But those were old tragedies and their instigators located, prosecuted, and destroyed.

  Dark sects in the modern day were nonexistent. Adults did not take the idea of such sects seriously. They were like children’s nighttime stories, bandied about as nightmare fuel. Those who would progress their dao via violence, bloodshed, sacrifice, and necromancy had been driven out. Or so it was believed.

  As such, when his martial sister spoke of the existence of such a sect, Wu Ying could not help but doubt her words. “Are you certain?”

  He was quite proud his voice did not even shake when he asked the question.

  “No. Of course not. But the poison our Master has had inflicted upon him has increased our certainty. It is the Three Seasons poison.”

  Even though Fa Yuan had said the name of the poison as though it held great meaning, Wu Ying could not place it.

  When he pointed that out, Fairy Yang sighed. “It is a fabled poison, one whose manufacture was supposedly lost long ago. It was used by the dark sects in the past as a way of dealing with those who stood in their way. The Three Seasons poison guarantees the death of the poisoned in three seasons.

  “The first season, the poisoned individual is wracked with colds, fevers, and trembling of the hands. They grow tired easily and lack appetite. Their chi flows slow down, and they struggle to continue cultivating. The second season, they grow even more ill, often bedridden, as their chi grows stagnant. The poisoned individual might even regress in their cultivation during this period. In the third and final season, the poisoned individual grows stronger, the earlier symptoms seeming to have faded away. They are able to use their chi again without fear of failure. But they aren’t able to replenish it—not at a sustainable rate. Those who reach the third season die in short order, as even existing starves them of the energy of the world.”

  Wu Ying’s eyes dropped in consternation. “What can we do? You didn’t tell me this just to warn me, did you?”

  “There is a solution to his poisoning. But finding the necessary herbs and spirit stone will be difficult.” Fairy Yang leaned forward, fixing Wu Ying with a flat gaze. “Impossible, for someone at your level to do alone. But together, we might have a chance. For I will need your help, your skills as a Gatherer. If you are willing.”

  As much as Wu Ying and his Master might have different views
on relationships, he was still his Master. He had set Wu Ying’s feet on the path to immortality. The debt Wu Ying owed could not be repaid in this lifetime. And so, he spoke simply.

  “When do we start?”

  Chapter 3

  The pair discussed their options through the day and late into the night. The servants kept the tea flowing, along with a wide array of snacks and, later on, full meals. Mostly, Wu Ying kept silent, listening to Elder Yang as she detailed their plans over the next few months. In the muted environment of the room, she almost glowed with her passion for the conversation, black eyes gleaming as she spoke.

  “These ingredients…” Wu Ying frowned, staring at the notes before him. “The Sun Lotus blossom, the Heart of a Chan Chu,[3] and the Spirit Stone of a Ben[4]. They are all rare ingredients, aren’t they?”

  He had at least heard of the first, though he could not place where or when. It was probably some random note in one of the many, many manuals on wild herbs and ingredients that he had read in the past couple of years. Unfortunately, many authors had the bright idea to relate the description of one plant with another, as if the reader would know both plants like the original author. Thankfully, most also added a small drawing, though the artistic skills of the scholar varied. And, Wu Ying had to admit, when the relation of descriptions worked, it worked very well.

  “They are,” Fa Yuan confirmed. “The Ben is a flying monster, a three-legged crane. It migrates from the north to the south during the winter months, so we can only wait for them to return. If we are lucky enough, we might learn of an auction hosting a spirit stone. The only advantage is that when they are available, they are often in large numbers as they travel in flocks.

  “The Chan Chu is a spirit frog whose heart we will need to take and store. It’s a three-footed frog whose skin is impervious to normal weapons. Only Energy Storage cultivators or higher can injure it. It lives in wetter, unpolluted environs in general, so we’ll have to travel far to find it.”