A Thousand Li: The Second Storm Page 3

  Eventually, Wu Ying began to flag, the heavy outpouring of chi and the speed of his strikes slowing down. Cui Hien’s deflections opened his body more and more, forcing him to take longer and longer to return his sword to position. All to her plan. In time, a larger than normal gap between attacks appeared and the pair reacted at the same time.

  Cui Hien pushed forward, infusing a fist with metal chi to punch forward even as she brought her sword back into guard. Wu Ying retreated, his feet pushing off the ground with a tap, the Wind Steps qinggong technique of his Sect allowing him to flow out of range with barely a pause.

  Of course, Cui Hien was not done with her attacks, sending the projection of a metal fist after his retreating form. Bending from his waist, Wu Ying let the punch pass over him, the caress of passing wind brushing his chest. From his bent position, Wu Ying lifted his front leg, kicking outward, and projected his own attack.

  A muffled oof marked the first telling blow of their spar, just as Wu Ying finished the backflip, standing again with sword in hand to see his opponent rubbing her chest. She glared at him, then charged, shadows of energy flicking outward as she sent metal chi spiraling from her sword.

  Smiling, Wu Ying met her in battle, matching her ferocity with his own. If she thought she could win with just energy, he would show her otherwise. The Dragon dances in the Storm met her deluge of blade chi as he bent the twisting, flowing motions of the form with the fickle western wind.

  ***

  Ten minutes later, the pair stepped aside, eyes glowing with the joy of battle, chests heaving as they drew in breath and chi alike. Cui Hien was more tired than he, forced to match the pace of a peak Energy Storage cultivator, one who backed up his attacks with his Body Cultivation. In fact, Wu Ying was breathing only slightly deeply, his energy stores still decently high. Of course, it helped that he had achieved a true understanding of his Never Empty Wine Pot method, such that he cultivated even when he fought. Still, giving away all his secrets would be bad form, so he breathed deeply and faked exhaustion.

  “You move like the wind,” Cui Hien said admiringly as she finally caught her breath. Then, turning to the spectating group of cultivators, she gestured to Wu Ying. “We might choose a harder fighting style, one focused on fast strikes and heavy blows, but that is not the only style. As Cultivator Long has so kindly shown us, a more elusive style to avoid retaliatory counters and fast cuts can stymy our style just as well. Cultivator Long has achieved much with his understanding of the sword and understands the Heart of his weapon all too well.”

  Wu Ying bowed to Cui Hien a little then turned to the cultivators, understanding what she was doing. Making the most of the wandering cultivator to train her juniors was a long-standing tradition, though… “I have only achieved the Sense of the Sword, Honored Cultivator Zhang.”

  “Please, just Cultivator Zhang. There is no need for such formality,” Cui Hien said, smiling. “And my apologies on the mistake. It was an honest one, for your skill with the jian is fearsome indeed.”

  “Fearsome perhaps, but Cultivator Zhang managed to hold her own,” Wu Ying said in praise. A part of him was rolling his eyes at the entire conversation, the platitudes they were throwing at one another, the praise. Of course, he had not lied—for the most part—since she had lasted the entire battle. And if he could have won the fight a half dozen times during their passes, she did not need to know that.

  Learning to hold back, to not dishonor or humiliate his host was important. He had nothing to prove, not to them. They honored him enough for his skills as a Gatherer. His skills with the weapon could stay hidden. For his own safety, if nothing else.

  “Honored—”

  “Please, Cultivator Zhang,” Wu Ying said, interrupting her. “Just Wu Ying will do.”

  “Cultivator Long is too kind,” Cui Hien said, gently rejecting Wu Ying’s push for more informality. The ex-peasant’s eyes twinkled, though he chose not to mention it. It was, after all, her decision. “But his significant experience in true battle would have allowed him to win, if we were not just exchanging pointers.”

  Wu Ying smiled, then raised his blade, the bracelet of jade beads around his striking arm rattling a little as they settled, and eyed the edge. He winced a little, letting his reaction show, as he spotted the minute and significant chips in the blade. Like himself, Cui Hien had not gone all out, but even then, her metal-aspected chi had sharpened her attacks, leaving his newly acquired weapon with some minor damage.

  Nothing that work with a whetstone could not remove, but it was one reason he purchased so many weapons. Most swords would eventually wear away, especially when faced with equivalent leveled weapons and opponents. There were a few famed weapons, crafted from rare materials like sky metal and using crushed spirit stones from Core or Nascent Spirit creatures, that did not wear out. But those were rare. And expensive.

  “Contentment with poverty is fortune's best gift: riches and honor are the handmaids of disaster,[4]” Wu Ying muttered to himself as he sheathed the battered sword.

  “Ah, Cultivator Long is a scholar,” Cui Hien said, walking over. Her weapon had been sheathed already, and Wu Ying knew hers would be perfect. Another advantage of the metal aspected. At least when facing the much weaker wind aspect.

  “Just a passing study,” Wu Ying said humbly. Too many evenings with the famed Fairy Yang, forced to listen to scholars and nobles murmuring to one another, his own calligraphy critiqued.

  In truth, he had shown up to fewer of those lessons in the past couple of years, but on long, lonely nights in the woods, he had grown to find comfort in poems. Even if he might never compose a poem of quality himself, there was a truth and a yearning in such works that spoke to his mind and soul. And in so speaking, might provide a shred of enlightenment.

  So it was with all arts. All forms of expression. Poems to books, to philosophical diatribes and the paintings that hung around the sect. Music that tinkled through the buildings, the drum of rain upon hard-packed ground, the shard of light that struck a cup of tea.

  Art and expression offered a glimpse into the greater Dao through the lens of humanity. Enlightenment upon aspects of the world that had more to do than the thunder of blood in the ears while fighting. In the quiet, a bolt of samsara rang even louder, consuming one’s self.

  “Of course,” Cui Hsien said, smiling. “Now, if we could lean upon Cultivator Long’s goodwill, perhaps he would care to show us a little of the fundamentals of his style? In a way that might aid us in our own, that is.”

  Wu Ying turned, seeing the bright expressions of the other sect members. The majority were inner sect members of course, but there was a scattering of outer sect members as well, individuals with some skill that might benefit. It was not the entire sect, but a large number of those considered the core were here today.

  “I will be honored to do so.” Another smile, a bow, and Wu Ying walked toward a nearby rack of weapons.

  He chose a smaller, thinner wooden training weapon before he returned to the training floor. He would conduct a small lesson and, in so doing, interact with the various sect members and their own form. It would be a race, of course, to see who learned more in this lesson.

  In all things, an exchange.

  ***

  Later that evening, Wu Ying turned in his seat, rotating sideways a little and extracting his foot from under the table. He set down the brush he had been using to write a letter home, his chest widening and opening as he turned toward the moving shadow in his room. No shock, no surprise, but still, he took precaution against his visitor.

  It was the time to be cautious.

  “And the results?” Elder Lim said as he strode into the light. His brows were drawn down, his eyes betraying the confusion and resentment that troubled his mind and churned in his heart.

  Wu Ying did not blame him. “Two.” A gesture to the beads that took up space on the table, extracted from his bracelet. Once lustrous jade were now marred, two entire beads darkened.
r />   “Who?” Elder Lim said harshly. Then the Elder raised both hands. “I apologize. The discourtesy is not meant to be directed at yourself.”

  “I understood, Honored Elder,” Wu Ying said, accepting the apology. “These are trying times.”

  Not wanting to draw it out further, he described the pair of cultivators he had spotted. One, an inner sect cultivator who had stood near the head of the line, and the second, a youngster who had showed great promise with the sword but was an outer sect member.

  “Not Ah Feng…” Elder Lim breathed out harshly. He hung his head a little before he straightened. “We will take care of it. You and your Master have our thanks.”

  “The enchantment”—a gesture to the jade bracelet—“was created by Elder Dong and Elder Xiong working together.”

  “But first advanced as an idea by your Master, is that not true?” Elder Lim said.

  Wu Ying nodded.

  “Then the honor lies with him in majority.”

  Another nod since Wu Ying felt no reason to argue with the Elder.

  “We shall, of course, pass on our thanks for the aid given to us to your Sect directly,” Elder Lim said. “Did you find the documents and maps you requested sufficient?”

  Wu Ying glanced at the pile that had been delivered that afternoon after his training. He had begun reviewing the information already, though much of what was within were repeats of what he already knew. Still, minor variations in the same treatises on herbs and gathering journals could be enlightening, and the sect’s own maps were useful.

  “Yes, thank you, Elder.”

  “You are welcome to stay longer, of course.”

  “Of course,” Wu Ying acknowledged. Still, he had done what he needed to here, and he had many more locations to visit. The list of those with needs for his skills and the herbs he gathered grew longer every passing moon, even as the speed of his collection grew. Still, he had one last question he was forced to ask. Even if it was the most awkward one of all. “And the other Elders…?”

  “Have been checked by the Patriarch himself. Using the enchantments provided by yourself,” Elder Lim said. “We used the announcement and celebration of the successful pill refinement to do so.”

  Wu Ying bowed, noting that Elder Lim chose not to detail their findings. It was not surprising to him. Few sects would choose to reveal such a weakness. Yet what Elder Lim chose not to say was just as telling. Wu Ying kept his features calm, waiting till Elder Lim had left before he let out a sigh.

  The dark sect’s tendrils reached deep. Everywhere Wu Ying went, he plucked out a few. And yet, it never seemed to end, those corrupted or compromised seeming to grow like rats in a rice barn with each passing day.

  It was their existence that had extended the war, that forced the sects to do battle on two fronts. Even as the State of Wei pushed the war on the borders, traitors in their midst harmed the kingdom of Shen from within. Two years of constant battle, and even now, the sects had not chosen to take to the field in force.

  Another sigh before Wu Ying shook his head and turned back to his letter. He did what he could to aid the war effort, and that was all that he could do. Let those higher than him worry about strategy. For now, he had a letter to finish and tomorrow, another long walk to undertake.

  Chapter 3

  Leaving the city was easily accomplished. Wu Ying chose to begin his journey early in the morning, long before the majority of those in the sect or hub of civilization had woken. The urbanites woke late, at least compared to an ex-farmer like him who was used to being up before the dawn. That his body, now tempered in both forms of cultivation, required even less sleep than most was but another bonus.

  After writing his letter to his parents, left in his room to be sent off later by the sect as a courtesy, Wu Ying had spent the rest of the night poring over his maps and adding to his own map.

  He had five different map sets now, all replicas of one another but showing different markings. One denoted local population centers including the sects present in each landmark and the kind of influence they exuded on the world. The second was a topographic map, offering information about heights, foliage, and rain density. Another map denoted known hazards in terms of spirit and demonic beasts, marked knowledge of threats that were drawn from the information provided by the local sect.

  The last map set was Wu Ying’s personal and most precious one—maps that detailed locations of precious herbs. He had two types of such maps—one with his own confirmed locations of valuable herbs and areas that would need revisiting at later times, and another drawn from the information provided to him as part of his services.

  All this knowledge—compiled from the maps offered to him by his Gathering Master, Elder Li, the Verdant Green Waters Sect’s own library notes, and the multiple documents in the other sects—was aiding him in his gathering work. Rather than wandering the hills in the vague hope of finding what he needed, he could reference his notes, increasing the speed and profitability of his ventures. Right now, the benefits were marginal, but in a decade or two, all this information could make his name.

  In truth, a little portion of him burned with resentment toward Elder Li. He knew she too had created her own map, one significantly more detailed than his. However, that most private of documents—rather than the generic ones she had shared with the Sect and him—was barred to him. He had never asked for it, for their relationship had been damaged when he refused to hand over his World Spirit Ring.

  Some days, he still wondered who had been correct. It was his ring, his funds. Yet she had asked him to hand it to her, to allow her to protect him from potential retribution and the interest of those stronger than him. She had asked him to trust her and her intentions, and he had refused, in action if not words.

  By his inaction, he had breached the unspoken bond of faith between teacher and student. She would still train him, impart her knowledge for the good of the Sect. But her deepest secrets, the most hoarded pieces of knowledge that could make a Gatherer truly a Sect-altering power?

  That was not his to learn. For now and potentially forevermore.

  Warm air blowing against his skin brought Wu Ying’s attention to the present. He smiled and murmured thanks to the wind, knowing it was not alive. And yet, there was nothing wrong with expressing his gratitude. The air brought a new scent and Wu Ying smiled, taking the hint.

  Past regrets tugged at his thoughts, beggars of the mind that sought to steal from him the pleasures of the present. Like the panhandlers who cluttered the streets of any city, one could give and give, offering the currency of one’s time, only to find oneself destitute and the regrets still as numerous and voracious as ever.

  Feet touched upon the earth, the thin leather soles of his cloth shoes offering him full sensation of the pebbles and leaves he landed upon. His steps disturbed not the dry twigs and leaves, the gentle press of his aura on branches ensuring that they turned from him as he went. Not a trace of his passing was left behind—as he had learned to do over these many years.

  Much of his practices had been learned by trial and error, but movement in the forest was now as natural as breathing. It helped that his new Soul Cultivation style aided him in this, the Formless Realm offering his soul an enhanced connection to his wind aspected Body Cultivation. The process of shifting over to the new cultivation method had taken significant time, not just in the shifting of chi flows but also growing in understanding of the particular idiosyncrasies and strengths of the style. It had many, though many were hidden within the depths and interactions of his own Body Cultivation.

  Yet, the moment Wu Ying had completed the transition, breaking through the last few Energy Storage meridians had come speedily. As though his Yellow Emperor’s soul cultivation method had been hampering him.

  Now, he was poised on the brink—that same brink so many others had faced and failed—of becoming a Core cultivator. It would take only a small push, in theory, to begin the formation of his core. His stores of ch
i were close to filling, the refinement process and cleansing of all his meridians completed.

  Yet Wu Ying hesitated.

  As so many others before him, he hesitated for he dared not take the last step. He sensed something missing, a gap in his knowledge, a void in the enlightenment he had achieved. Forming his core, compressing his energy was dangerous, the activity prone to failure. Without a fundamental understanding of one’s dao direction, a cultivator had nothing to form the core around.

  And since he needed to seed and grow that Nascent Spirit which would, at the end of Core Formation cultivation, break through and form his immortal soul, he needed that direction. Sadly, Wu Ying knew he still lacked that.

  Some things, though, he had learned in these past few years. In the time he had spent away from the Sect and during his expeditions. Among them was this…

  Out here, darting under the boughs of ancient trees, running along hidden deer trails and climbing colorful canyons, seeing and tasting the world around him.

  This was what he desired.

  Not the everyday push of the yolk, driven by oxen across an all-too-familiar field. Not the routine of waking and weeding and planting. Not the taste and smell and sight of houses and faces he knew all too well. Those things, once familiar comforts, now felt restrictive.

  The daily wake and training in a sect, the rote learning from cultivation manuals and meditation while contemplating the latest treatise or philosophical discussion. The grind of closed-door cultivation, pruning away at one’s failures and refining one’s strength, all while enclosed by four walls.

  Not for him.

  Out here, in the wilderness, seeing new cities, basking in new presences, speaking with Elders and bringing both joy and disappointment with his appearances.