A Thousand Li: The Second Storm: Book 6 of a Thousand Li
Date: 2021-12-01 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Action & Adventure; Fiction
Description: When War Wages, Even Innocents Perish Two years have passed and the war between the kingdoms of Shen and Wei rages on. The dark sect moves in the shadows, striking against the noble Verdant Green Waters Sect, damaging, killing and kidnapping their members. Among the victims - Fairy Yang, Wu Ying's martial sister. On a desperate quest to retrieve her, Wu Ying finds himself caught up in inter-sect politics and headed straight for a trap. Tragedy awaits, but some paths, a man must walk. No matter the cost. The Second Storm is the sixth novel in the A Thousand Li series, a book on immortal cultiva
Publisher: Starlit Publishing

A Thousand Li:

The Second Storm

A Cultivation Novel

Book 6 of A Thousand Li Series

By

Tao Wong

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

A Thousand Li: The Second Storm

Copyright © 2021 Tao Wong. All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2021 Sarah Anderson Cover Designer

Copyright © 2021 Felipe deBarros Cover Artist

A Starlit Publishing Book

Published by Starlit Publishing

PO Box 30035

High Park PO

Toronto, ON

M6P 3K0

Canada

www.mylifemytao.com

Ebook ISBN: 9781990491344

Paperback ISBN: 9781990491351

Hardcover ISBN: 9781990491368

Large Print Hardcover ISBN: 9781990491375

Contents

What Happened Before

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

Authors Note

About the Author

About the Publisher

Books in A Thousand Li series

Glossary

What Happened Before

Long Wu Ying, once a peasant farmer, now an inner sect cultivator of the prestigious Verdant Green Waters Sect of the kingdom of Shen, has had a variety of experiences, forced to go on multiple expeditions and trials to save his family and his Master.

His many trials have seen Wu Ying receive enlightenment, but also injury. Forced to take counsel in another sect, Wu Ying learns that the injuries and the subsequent medicinal bath used to heal him have awakened and strengthened a nascent bloodline. One that has influenced his physical body, giving him a wind elemental body.

This wind elemental body—a higher form of elemental situated between wood and fire elements—is rare and difficult to cultivate. While attempting to find a suitable cultivation method, Wu Ying stumbles upon another plot by the dark sect that has plagued his Master and him and foils it, though not without cost in blood and pain.

In gratitude, Wu Ying is allowed to study the Sect’s own prestigious wind body elemental technique created by their founder. The Seven Winds technique promises great power—if Wu Ying can discern the meaning beneath the cultivation method.

After all this turmoil, and having nearly died once more, Wu Ying chose to take a step back from directly confronting the dark sect. His martial skills, while considerable, are not the only way he can contribute, and as such, Wu Ying chooses to study and practice his other techniques.

Chapter 1

They came for him on the road to Feng Jian.

Four figures clad in black, their bodies blending into the shadows cast by the foliage on that single track, earthen path he traversed. Wu Ying was moving swiftly, his cloth-shoed feet barely touching the ground as he swept forward, intent on reaching the city before the night arrived in all its glory.

His clothing, those dark and light green robes of the Verdant Green Waters Sect, were mildly stained and dirty, the unearthly silk unable to deal with the numerous days and nights Wu Ying had spent in the backcountry. Even its enhanced durability had given way under the wear and tear of days traipsing through spider-infested, monster-laden untamed wilderness. The robes were still soft, cooler and gentler than anything he had ever worn before his introduction to the Sect, but Wu Ying could almost feel the dirt that rubbed against his tanned and grimy skin.

Not that he had time to worry about that right now. As four assailants stepped out of the shadows, Wu Ying shifted the flow of chi in his feet with but a thought, allowing himself to regain the weight he had held off the earth with his qinggong technique. A hand dropped to the worn hilt of his belted jian, though he chose not to draw the weapon.

Not yet.

“What can I do for you, Honored Cultivators?” Wu Ying said, his voice a little harsher, a little darker than before. For two years, he had crossed the roads and backcountry of the kingdom of Shen, collecting and harvesting herbs for his Sect and their allies. In that time, he had grown up and changed, his voice deepening a little, the boyishness of before disappearing. Wariness had replaced naivete.

After all, this was not the first time he had been waylaid.

“You are the Verdant Gatherer?” The speaker was to Wu Ying’s left, taller than the others. His face was clean-shaven, his topknot tied high to allow his hair to spill out behind him in a brown wave. There was a cruel streak in his eyes, even as he fingered the pair of butterfly swords in his hands.

Rather than answer, Wu Ying drew a deep breath. He let the warmth from the light exertion of running for hours on end dissipate. The thrum of earth chi beneath his feet and the brush of the wind caressed his face. More importantly, his breath brought with it the scents of the four, their positions and their elemental affinities.

Three fire cultivators—the leader and the two behind—while the sole wood cultivator stood on Wu Ying’s right. She had on light perfume that made his nose itch and his eyes burn a little. Poisonous then, the kind that would cause his sinuses to close and his eyes to water. Not sufficient to kill, but a subtle advantage. She likely had more poisons on her, if she used one so carelessly.

Not a single one of them above mid-range in Energy Storage.

“Well, are you?” Another push by their erstwhile leader.

“Some call me that,” Wu Ying admitted. It was a stupid title, one he hated to acknowledge. But his shame was likely going to die in the next few moments. “Do you have business with me?”

A grin. A shift in balance from behind, feet brushing packed earth. The woman to the right lowered her hands, little glints of metal appearing between her fingers.

That was enough.

Wu Ying unsheathed his sword, the blade flicking out in Dragon unsheathes its Claws. He drop-stepped to the right, borrowing a touch of the howling northern wind to give him speed. The blade cut across a neck, tearing open arteries and throat. Then the ever-changing western wind to spin him around, combined with Dragon paints the Sunset to take a hand that had extended for his unguarded back, a dagger—a cike[1]’s weapon—dropping with the dismembered limb. Another shift, another form, another cut.

Three breaths.

Then Wu Ying returned to where he started, shaking the traces of blood off his sword. His enemies crumpled to the ground, and he pushed his chi outward, covering himself and his aura. The rain of blood fell around him, sliding off his aura to drip to the earth and strengthen the plants that lay beneath.

Three breaths, four enemies.

And another damn delay.

***

The walls of Feng Jian loomed above Wu Ying, the main gates already closed. This was a time of war, and even so far from the frontlines, caution had spread. Only the small wicket gate, set inside the main gateway doors, was open, letting in the few late entrants. Lights set just ahead of the walled gates allowed the archers and soldiers sight of those looking to go through, while leather-shod watchmen patrolled the walls above.

Wu Ying breathed a sigh of relief, smiling a little and slowing as he felt the eastern wind catch at a stray lock of hair, playfully tugging it in front of him. He smelled the touch of the ocean, so far away that the salt air and smell of fish was but an impression rather than a reality. Then, swirling around the walls, over and above it, the wind carried with it the noises and smell of the city inside.

Refuse and cooking soup, boiled rice and the ever-present smell of burning wood, the cries of children and the clink of wine bottles. Tea and medicinal herbs served to the drinkers in cups of glass and porcelain, the whisper of silk and hemp on flesh, the clatter of shutting doors and opening windows. Civilization, given smell and sound.

All behind a doorway still open to visitors.

That was a relief, since sneaking into another city because he was late was tiring. Wu Ying had done it a few times, when he was too tired to argue with gate guards just doing their jobs. When the walls were only tens of feet high and a few moments’ exertion would take him to the top. Such impediments were not for cultivators. No, the enchanted wards and the spiritual senses of the few cultivators on guard were the true barriers.

Those would work for most cultivators, but Wu Ying had spent too much time practicing his aura control. Walking amongst the untouched groves of nature, sneaking beneath the eyes of prowling tigers and hungry snakes had impressed the need upon him.

Thankfully, today was not one of those days of grey morality. That made Wu Ying smile in greeting to the guards even as he flashed his sect token. No travel pass for him, no documentation required to show he was allowed to leave his land or indicate that he was a free man.

A cultivator was afforded much respect. Respect that was commensurate with the responsibilities they theoretically bore. Though sometimes Wu Ying wondered if it was not respect but fear that offered them such great leeway.

Thoughts for another day, over tea or mulled wine. Tonight, he strode forward and was soon past the towering stone gates and wooden doors. In the bustling city, with his pack of herbs and the gathered belongings of those he had slain, Wu Ying passed through the streets of the unfamiliar city with ease, knowing from prior conversations and the similar compass grid layout of such cities where to go. The center of the city was where the magistrate lived, and nearby, surrounding the central building, would be the sect offices. Close enough to the central point of power yet set aside from it.

A good metaphor for the way immortal sects functioned in the province of Shen. Not all kingdoms were like that, but all too often, the necessity of cultivation, the long-lived nature of the Patriarchs, and the needs of governance were at odds. The push and pull of nationalism and autonomy, of freedom to cultivate and the duty of the powerful were at odds.

Wu Ying was a few blocks away, the pack of herbs on his back shifted once again to sit more comfortably on his shoulders, before the sect’s guardians noticed him. He could have been closer—or not noticed at all—if he had not chosen to allow a little of his cultivation base to leak. After all, it would be rude to turn up without warning.

He noticed the guardians’ awareness of him by the subtle pressure on his aura, the brush of their senses against the energy he was emitting ever so carefully, observed how they detected the way chi—thin and mixed as it was in the city—churned and was drawn toward him as he cultivated while walking.

Wu Ying pulsed his acknowledgement of their notice and kept walking until he was before the walled entrance of the sect mansion. He could spot the three-floor complex behind, hear the murmur of mortal servants and immortal cultivators within, and bowed to the two outer sect guards who stood watch.

“Long Wu Ying of the Verdant Green Waters Sect, come to pay respects to the Plum Blossom Villa Sect.” He added a pair of clasped hands and slight bow in greeting to the guards, more as a gesture of respect for the institution he was visiting than to the low Body Cleansing cultivators standing before him.

“Honored Cultivator, your presence is expected.”

Greetings were returned, bows deeper and more respectful. A gesture and Wu Ying walked within, passing the thick wooden doors, feeling the thrum of contained chi as he passed the threshold of the formations that concentrated chi around the sect.

The formations made the mansion a better cultivation location, increased the ambient chi within by tens of times, but it was still nowhere close to the levels Wu Ying was used to in the wilderness. Still, he chose not to mention that. Cities were always bereft of natural chi. Too many people, all of them cultivating, had adverse effects on the natural order.

Within, he took a few moments to wash himself in the waiting bowl of floral water, then patted his face and hands dry before smiling at the waiting cultivator. Wu Ying eyed the other man curiously, noting how he kept his own aura contained, his cultivation base focused. Careful…

Still, the other was quite clearly a peak Energy Storage cultivator like Wu Ying. Probably a surety against assassins. Sadly, there had been too many of those in the last two years.

Beside the usual greetings, little conversation was had as Wu Ying was shown into the mansion, crossing through the open courtyard and passing the single gazebo by the western wall. Wu Ying cocked his head, noting the way the chi flowed, the size of the grounds and distance to the walls, and frowned a little. His guide noted Wu Ying’s bewilderment but chose not to speak. A slight surge of Wu Ying’s chi sent wind gusting around the sect. It brushed against leaves, trees, and walls before returning, bringing scents and the knowledge that those walls really were not illusions. And were just as distant as they appeared now that he was within the sect proper. Without comment, Wu Ying followed his guide into the free-standing hall further within the sect.

“Cultivator Long from the Verdant Green Waters Sect, Elder Lim,” the guide said. He stepped backward, fading into the background.

Wu Ying walked into the open room. It was sparsely furnished with squat chairs, a low tea table, and the implements for tea brewing on it. To the side of the tea table stood another taller table, bare of items. And on the walls were two different paintings, one featuring eight koi and the other a single horse. Beautifully painted, though lacking any chi or dao insight.

“Cultivator Long, thank you for visiting our humble sect. Word of your many deeds, praise for the skill and speed of the Verdant Gatherer, has reached even our humble ears,” Elder Lim said with a little smile. “Have you eaten?”

“Only in passing,” Wu Ying said.

Frowning, Elder Lim raised his voice. In minutes, fresh rice, a plate of steamed vegetables, and poached chicken in the Bai Qie Ji style was served, the skin of the poultry golden and fatty, the ginger, chilli, and soya sauces by the side. Elder Lim even took the time to pour Wu Ying a cup of tea, offering the cup to Wu Ying with his very own hands.

“My apologies about the meager repast, the evening is late and we dine early,” Elder Lim said.

Wu Ying shook his head, thanking the Elder profusely. He ate quickly but carefully, making sure to pause at times to properly taste the meal. When he was done, he set his chopsticks on top of his empty rice bowl—which he had refilled three times—and bowed to Elder Lim. “My compliments to your chef and your grocer. The quality of the ingredients and the cooking is exceptional.”

Elder Lim smiled, and the pair continued to chat about minor matters. The conversation had touched lightly on the war thus far, mostly revolving around the latest rumors spreading through the jianghu[2]. Which new, heaven-defying weapon had been forged. What new, earth-shattering style had been found and how many Masters had been beaten. The latest accomplishments at the meeting of heroes at the Seven Hills and Two Rivers. The funeral of a Patriarch of a heretical sect and the scandalous behavior of his three ex-wives and one current wife.

Light gossip that both parties passed to one another. Such acts threaded together the world of the sects, leaving them stronger and informed. Before, long before, Wu Ying had gossiped with others of his ranks on these matters, his knowledge gained third or even fourth hand. Now, as one of the most well-traveled sect members in the kingdom, he found himself contributing to such conversations and often as the main source of news for a remote sect like the Plum Blossom.

It helped, of course, that his position was somewhat unique. As an Energy Storage cultivator, he had not the prestige of the Core Cultivating Elder before him. A full—and difficult to pass—stage above him, the Core cultivator could overwhelm Wu Ying with the sheer quantity and quality of the chi he contained. In battle, Wu Ying’s best option would have been to run.

Yet the Elder’s sect was small—barely a hundred disciples in total. They had a half dozen Elders at the Core level, a number that had not moved in a score of years. Their Patriarch was not even at the stage of Nascent Soul but a high-grade Core Formation cultivator. In terms of sect prestige and strength, they were much beneath the Verdant Green Waters.

Those two matters would have placed Wu Ying still below the Elder in prestige. But, as Wu Ying sensed the Elder’s impatience slowly thinning, there was one other aspect that allowed him to converse with the Elder like a peer.

“This one thanks the sect and Elder Lim for the warm welcome. Yet my presence here was not just a simple courtesy call,” Wu Ying said.

“You have it then?” Ill-concealed excitement in the older man’s voice.

“Yes,” Wu Ying said.

He reached behind him, shifting the bag to the side, and stuck his hands into the simple, hemp item with its minor enchantments to block aura sensing. Out of sight of the Elder, he extracted the carved white jade box from his World Storage ring. He had had no reason to place the herb in the jade container, since his World Storage ring with its twist of living space would have kept the herb alive. But he had been warned that his ring would be in much demand if its full abilities were known. Rather than risk additional complications, Wu Ying chose to keep it and its full abilities secret.

Thus, he handed the storage container, one built to contain and preserve valuable herbs, to Elder Lim with both hands. Wu Ying waited, sitting back, as the Elder opened it and stared at the purple and green mushroom that throbbed with released chi. Long moments the Elder sat, contemplating the spiritual fungi.

Wu Ying had to clear his throat to remind the other. “Unfortunately, the mushroom itself has been harvested, as you can see. It is best not to expose it to the elements before it is ready to be used by your apothecarist.”

“Of course!” Elder Lim closed the lid with a click of stone on stone, then gestured for the waiting cultivator to approach. He handed the box to the man who had shown Wu Ying to this room, giving curt instructions to hand it to the Master of the Apothecarist Hall, before he turned his attention back to the waiting cultivator. “We cannot thank the Verdant Green Waters enough. Your reputation is truly befitting of you, and I can only see it growing with one so young.”

“You flatter me, Honored Elder.” Wu Ying bowed in his seat before straightening. “I hate to be crass, but…”

“Payment. Of course, it will be sent to the Verdant Green Waters direct as instructed.”

“And the promise…”

“Will be kept. Elder Wong and myself will join the battle against the kingdom of Wei, no matter the result of the breakthrough attempt.”

Wu Ying smiled. “I would expect nothing less from such an honorable sect. Though curiosity makes me ask…”

“The reason for the ingredient?” Elder Lim shrugged and leaned closer, his voice lowering. “A simple pill to aid the process of accumulation of insights. Elder brother Chu has long been on the brink of a revelation but has been unable to achieve the next step. This, we believe, will aid him. And if not…” A trace of sadness crossed Elder Lim’s face before he shook it aside. “In any case, it is late. Let us show you to your room. You will stay with us for a few days, will you not?”

Wu Ying nodded, murmuring his gracious acceptance. As much as he benefited from being in the wilderness, gathering and selling herbs and aiding the war in his own way, rest was required too. A proper bed, a heated bath. Luxuries that one sorely missed when one was forced to do without for weeks or months on end.

And anyway, he had another purpose for being here.

One that required his re-entry into the civilized world.

Chapter 2

The merchant house that feted him was pulling out all the stops this morning, intent on offering everything from fine wine to rare delicacies and beautiful serving attendants. The willowy and pale water-aspected scholar who bent over and offered a smile while he served Wu Ying tea was a nice touch, though to Wu Ying’s senses, he needed to spend more time exercising and cultivating than lounging around. Still, he appreciated the effort.

Just not enough to give the merchant a break on the negotiation. “Forty tael per catty[3].”

“Honored Cultivator, we cannot—”

“Forty-one tael per catty.”

“Forty-one is perfect for the Blue Spirit Grass,” the merchant said hastily. He surreptitiously wiped his flushed face, his neatly trimmed beard waggling as he spoke. “Now, the Purple Fire Lotus Roots…”

“Six harvested, one alive and unharvested, all premium quality.” Wu Ying picked up a roasted soybean with his chopsticks before popping it into his mouth. He chewed the soybean, tasting the light sesame oil it had been coated in and the white pepper and salt used to spice it.

“Yes, exactly. Extremely well cared for, like all your products, of course,” the merchant blathered on, doing his best to praise Wu Ying while setting up his negotiating position.

Wu Ying ignored him for the most part, nodding when appropriate. His attention was more on the food and the thin paper wall that hid the pair of merchants who were aiding the lead negotiator. One was the head of the herbal acquisition department, and the other was a weedy younger man with a series of books.

In truth, Wu Ying would have preferred to work with the head of the acquisition department directly, but due to the sheer volume and quality of herbs he was bringing, it would be considered highly insulting for anyone but the head of this branch to treat with him. So they had to do this dance, where the head of the acquisition department and the youngster who handled their on-hand finances worked out how much they could afford and secretly communicated it to the branch head.

Except every movement they made, every gesture was something that Wu Ying picked up. His spiritual sense, boosted with his affinity for wind, offered him a sphere of perception that made their actions as clear as though they were standing in front of him. Of course, it helped that it was an enclosed room and he was not in combat.

“Six hundred and eleven taels,” Wu Ying said, cutting to the end. He felt a little guilty taking advantage of them this way. While he was not taking them for every single tael they could afford, he was going to drain them for every tael they had on hand.

“I… well…” The branch head wiped his face again. “We can do that. But—”

“I’m also looking to purchase some items.” Wu Ying’s words made the branch head perk up, life coming back to his eyes. “This is the list.”

A slight twitch of his hand and Wu Ying extracted the document from his spirit ring. His third normal spiritual storage ring, the old one he had acquired a long time ago. In truth, it was the smallest ring he owned these days, but it had a sentimental place in his heart. Anyway, it was large enough to keep his swords and some miscellaneous items.

“If I may…” The branch head fell silent as he perused the list, nodding again and again. He gestured and the attendant came over, taking the list and scurrying off to check their stock.

At the same time, Wu Ying noticed the presence of two other attendants outside the hallway who were waiting for their signal. Pretty young things, one long and slender and the other a little thicker, with a decent heft to its body. He couldn’t sense beneath their outer coverings of course, but even those were elegant, bronzed and oiled with the greatest of care. Wu Ying looked forward to revealing them in all their glory.

The swords in the attendants’ hands that is.

Seeing Wu Ying’s attention drawn to the side, the head merchant smiled a little and gestured. The attendant at the door pulled it farther open, allowing the pair holding the weapons to step in. They walked over and knelt, offering the weapons that were seated upon gilded cushions to Wu Ying.

“If I may…” the cultivator muttered.

Of course the branch head agreed, while Wu Ying stood and took hold of the first sword. The long, slender jian was more a duelist weapon than meant for war, elegant and light in his hand. He stepped away and unsheathed the weapon then twirled it. He performed a few cursory cuts, tasting the weight and balance before he tested its edge and flexibility. A few seconds later, he returned the weapon and picked up the next.

This weapon was heftier, wider, and weighted a little more toward the tip. It was meant to cut across heavy armor, to crush and break delicate weapons like the first. They were both straight swords, but the difference in blade length and width, balance, and even the size of the hilt made the forms he would have to use different.

Diametrically opposite, even.

And they were gorgeous. Spirit-level weapons at least, they hummed with the chi and love that their crafters had put into them while forging the blades. The lines of the weapons were intricate and graceful, the hilts and sheaths carefully carved with designs to fit the weapons.

“Beautiful,” Wu Ying remarked. He had to mentally smile, knowing that the merchants had obviously prepared for him.

It had become a bad habit of his, these last two years. Ever since Wu Ying had found himself with some extra funds on hand—and having his weapons chip and wear during his repeated fights as the dark sect tried to kill him—he had begun a collection. Of jian, to be exact.

It was not entirely selfish. Having multiple weapons of the same kind aided him in his progression and understanding of the blade. As he worked with more weapons beyond his preferred size and shape, as he progressed not only through his own sword fighting style but those he purchased or acquired while traveling, he broadened his knowledge.

“The Honored Cultivator is very gracious. We are but a small and humble branch of our merchant company and these are the best items we have on hand. If we had known exactly when the Honored Cultivator was coming…”

Wu Ying tuned out the branch head as he continued to test the heavier blade in his hand. It was a pleasure to hold and wield, and it would suit a few of the style books he had purchased. It would—of course—suit the Long family style, though he would have to adapt his grip a little and focus on more cuts than he usually did. It would be good to switch up his style, and really, he had another half dozen swords of the thinner kind although only two of them were Spirit-level weapons.

On the other hand, he had come with a certain goal in mind. Debating internally, Wu Ying returned the sword to the attendant before taking his seat.

“There is one other item that I have acquired…” Wu Ying began, choosing to detail further another item he’d managed to pick up. He would have to be careful about pulling it from his World Spirit Ring, but he had practice doing it and cleaning the soil from those he extracted.

Even so, it was not the wisest course of action, but that sword had been so pretty.

***

New sword in hand, Wu Ying was eager to test out the weapon. Thankfully, the sect he was a guest within had a series of training grounds for use, including a clear area of paved flat stones. Unlike some other portions of the training grounds, places where deep impressions from countless feet over the decades had worn away the stone while the same forms were practiced by disciples, this location had its tiles changed regularly. After all, this was the free form area.

Breathing deeply, Wu Ying took his position in the center of the training space. He exhaled once, then shifted from stance to stance, his movement agonizingly slow as he stepped, raised, and lowered his feet, his feet and hips leading the motion most of the time. His fingers strained a little as the point-heavy jian sought to dip and cut, but he refused to let it, matching sword and arm motion with the rest of his body.

Deep within, he focused on the metal of the jian, the weight of it. It was not as agile, not as connected, as a wooden weapon, the cultivator unable to tap into the wood element fully. Yet wind surrounded his weapon just as it surrounded any other, and in so doing, it gave him a degree of control. Enough that it could support his practice.

Form after form, step after step, Wu Ying wove his way around the tiled floor, his feet crossing the space slowly. Thirty minutes later, he finished his latest form, the fourth one of the Long sword style. Pausing, he contemplated testing another manual he had purchased, one he had been perusing the night before. It was a military manual, cheap and easy to find, with basic forms that could be taught to every soldier. It required little in terms of flexibility or memory, and an entire section was focused on fighting in a shield wall. However, the open form section had a few moves that Wu Ying considered adding to his repertoire, at least with this weapon.

Before he could begin again, a voice interrupted his contemplations, making the cultivator cock his head.

“Your sword form is remarkably steady. Though most opponents do not move that slowly.” The young woman who spoke did so while smiling, taking the bite out of the words.

“Of course. I was but familiarizing myself with the weapon,” Wu Ying said, not taking offense. He idly drew a truncated breath, enough so that he could draw in her scent more fully. To his surprise, he smelled nothing from her beyond her light floral perfume. The pressure of her aura spoke of her Peak Energy Storage cultivation, but she hid her elemental affinity well.

“I noticed. Still, if you want to learn your weapon properly, you should do so while sparring,” the woman said, eyes twinkling.

“Only if my opponent forces me to extend myself,” Wu Ying said teasingly.

Keeping her smile, the lady bowed a little. “Let me introduce myself. I am Cultivator Zhang Cui Hien, the Senior Disciple of Patriarch Jin. I would be honored to trade pointers with you.”

A smile crossed his face and Wu Ying gestured back toward the center of the clear area. Cui Hien followed him, stepping onto the sparring floor with grace, the pink outer layer of her robes floating around her, the lighter sky blue of her inner robe dancing with each movement and setting off her white skin. Wu Ying could not help but notice her pert, bunny nose that made her look much younger than her likely late twenties. Perhaps older. It was sometimes hard to tell the age of cultivators, with their extended lifespans and differing breakthrough points in cultivation.

The pair raised their swords, saluting one other. Cui Hien wielded a jian much like Wu Ying usually used, thinner and lighter and meant for precision attacks and cuts. On the other hand, Wu Ying continued to hold his new, heavier cutting weapon.

After saluting, Cui Hien took a high stance, the weapon raised above her head and pointed downward a little. From this guard, Wu Ying knew, she could lunge forward and stab him, bypassing any sweeping defenses he might use by a slight disengage as she lunged. If he went with a sweeping cut late, she could even raise her sword higher, going for a deeper thrust. The high guard also offered her options to throw wrist and elbow cuts from either direction as she closed, then transition to the same lunging attack. Or, for a longer tempo, use the blade and positioning as a rising cut to attack his hand. A feint with a lunge could draw a defense which would expose him to that.

And those were just the most basic options. She could be using the high guard as a distraction, luring him to focus on it while she committed to an unarmed strike, a cutting kick, a trip, a strike with her free hand.

Options, so many options. In turn, Wu Ying took a middle guard, the Dragon Entreats. It was a safe position, one that kept his weapon between him and his opponent. Safe, boring, and common. Every fighting style had a variation on it, with minor adjustments to footwork, free hand position, and angle of the sword; but all with the same focus. Wu Ying did not mind since it suited his feelings this day.

In silent regard, the pair stood in their respective guards, unmoving. They watched each other over their swords, their breathing slow and rhythmic. As two peak Energy Storage cultivators, either could cross the short distance that separated them in the training ground in the space of a half breath. The most minor of mistakes, a shift in weight, a shuffle from left to right; it was all enough to give an opening.

It was why so many battles between such combatants were static.

Until they were not.

Wu Ying was the first to move. The tip of his sword dipped down a little, the point going off her center line. He shifted his balance forward at the same time, easing his weight onto the tip of his toes. Cui Hien moved immediately, cross-stepping toward him while keeping her sword raised. A light glow rose from her sword as she concentrated chi into it, the weapon threatening to erupt with blade intent.

Rather than step forward or sideways, Wu Ying extended his back leg and fell into a reverse lunge. His sword tip snapped upward, going from pointing toward her knee to pointing at her neck. At the same time, he infused his attack with chi and his sword intent, projecting the entire attack out from the tip of the blade and sending a crescent of energy at his opponent.

The same light smile on her face, Cui Hien twisted her back foot, leaning away from the attack as she let her own tip drop, and she extended the length of her blade. Wu Ying’s eyes widened as her control—so artful till now—gave way a little, her affinity with her metal weapon shining through.

Metal affinity made her weapon even more dangerous to his own wind affinity. Rather than meet her attack, he continued his collapse, her attack barely passing over his prone form. Rolling across the ground with one leg extended beneath him, Wu Ying spun toward her lead leg, using his back leg to sweep her.

Rather than using a little skip to avoid his sweep, Cui Hien chose to leap high over Wu Ying, her sword still extended and stabbing at his lower form. Extended leg, missing its attack, was pulled closer, Wu Ying’s sword rising to cut and shift aside the lighter weapon. Small cuts appeared on the ground, sword intent burrowing into stone tile as it was driven aside and away from his still spinning, twisting body.

As she landed, Cui Hien extended her energy once more, pushing it deep through her leg and connecting metal to earth. Tiles shattered, dust and stone shards exploding outward to pelt Wu Ying. Already on his feet, the cultivator danced through the attacks, using the central wind’s techniques to avoid the explosion. A small thrust of energy kept the air around him clear, swirling aside her impromptu distraction even as he closed in with his sword.

Then the heavier sword did what it did best. Northern wind with its domineering and cold energy flowing through his body aided his own Long family sword style, the pair of movements and chi flow joining together to give weight to each blow.

Sweeping cuts, delivered from the shoulder and elbow, borrowed energy from twists in the hips and body and came crashing down upon Cui Hien. There was no hiding from the attacks, no way to shrink from the enveloping assault like the cold of the north, sucking away energy and stamina with each battering strike.

On the defensive, his opponent struggled to weather the attacks, deflecting each blow while reinforcing her weapon using her chi. Unlike an earth aspect, the metal aspect was good at cutting and defending the weapon, not so much for offering protection—though it was better than fire or water in that sense.

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.

“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 chi 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.

That was his path.

His training in the Sect, book knowledge and rote learning, all that he had learned had only ever crystallized while he was traveling. It was the same now, Wu Ying knew instinctively. It was only by walking these many li that he would find his dao.

***

Head bent, hands buried deep in the dirt, Wu Ying gently loosened the roots of the Flame Lotus he held. A beautiful flower with a circular series of petals and a single large petal and stamen in the center that seemed to burn and twist in the wind, the plant was quite rare, often only found in the remnants of a forest fire or near famed volcanos.

It still sounded strange, the idea of mountains that boiled such that the very earth itself transformed into living flame. What kind of life was had near such mobile threats? At least rivers could be managed by dykes, but if your dykes were on fire themselves, how could you control the moving earth? If Wu Ying had not read multiple accounts about such impossible mountains, he would never have believed in them. Even now, he was uncertain about his desire to visit one.

Rare materials or not, tempting the gods of flame and earth seemed foolish.

Because the number of locations suitable for growing fire-aspected herbs were rare, Wu Ying was taking the time to dig out this herb. It was uncommonly found in the wild, but in the rainy and mist-covered kingdom of Shen, it was extremely rare. As such, taking care of it and placing it within an appropriately adjusted formation within his World Spirit Ring was paramount to his future. The ability to grow such flowers and provide them regularly would contribute to his ever-growing source of income.

Of course, first he had to extract it properly. Wood chi, drawn from his dantian and run through his meridians to ensure it was properly aspected, helped to coax roots apart. Earth chi did the same for the rich loam he worked upon. Of course, Wu Ying was sending his own unspoken reassurances—to pick up the earth right after, to store it in his ring, to marry the two.

And he meant to do all that. Except he might have to delay the last part, since a Green-Skin Tiger was crouched above him, staring at the back of his neck as it questioned the void of its stomach and whether it was time to pay a visit to the cultivator beneath him.

The monster had crept up on Wu Ying while he worked, its own wood aspect allowing it to jump and travel across the treetops with minimal hindrance. If not for Wu Ying’s precautionary bubble of winds—a swirling, never-ending churn of air that brought scents and sounds to him—he would never have noticed the deadly feline above him.

As it was, all the monster’s precautions had meant little. Yet rather than attacking it, Wu Ying chose to wait and see what the Tiger chose to do. This was no Demon Beast, driven mad by the build-up of chi within its perverted core, unable to process the corruption and hungering for flesh and the kill.

This was a true Spirit Beast in the equivalent Energy Storage stage of its life. It was powerful, dangerous, with tricks of its own. But also, still a beast—and thus amoral in its rationalization. If it was hungry, it would kill Wu Ying and feed on his corpse. If it was not, it would allow him to go without issue.

In turn, Wu Ying paid it the same level of courtesy. He had no need for the creature’s fur, organs, or even its Spirit Beast core. If it did not choose to attack him, he would not choose to attack it. Another time, perhaps, they would be dire enemies, but until that time…

The pair would exist in harmony.

Wu Ying finished extracting the flower, holding the entire plant aloft. He laughed at how beautiful it was, before he twisted his hand a little and stored it away. The Tiger, still debating its hunger, twitched at the casual use of chi and rose to its feet. Turning, Wu Ying stared upward to meet the tiger’s predatory gaze.

Limpid brown eyes, at peace with the world, stared into tawny yellow ones. Eyes locked, the pair regarded one another, before the tiger let out a chuff.

Wu Ying bowed, ever so slightly, never choosing to take his eyes off the predator. Half-risen, the Tiger sprang away, crossing the air between one tree to the next, a distance over twenty meters. It landed on a slight branch, flexing its wood aspect to harden said branch and stop it from swaying. Then another push with powerful back legs and it leapt to another tree, leaving Wu Ying’s sight.

The cultivator snorted, watching the show-off animal. “Goodbye, old father.”

Wu Ying turned back to the earth to fulfill the promise he had made to the ground. Best do it fast, before plant and ground took offense.

Also, while the creature might have left now, Wu Ying had no desire to be here if it changed its mind.

Just in case.

***

A screech was followed by a green-furred claw flying at his face. Wu Ying leaned backward, dodging the attack, allowing the furry beast to pass him by. He used the momentum of his initial movement to keep spinning, the swords in his hands warding off the troop of jue yuan that surrounded him.

Water and wood jue yuan[5], bipedal furred beasts that were part human, part monkey. They hunched over a little, able to walk on their feet but reverting to chasing and throwing themselves on all four when agitated. Like right now, as Wu Ying cut at those attacking him.

Whenever his back was turned, another jue yuan threw itself at the cultivator, attempting to cut him with glowing, chi-strengthened claws. It was because he was surrounded entirely that Wu Ying had chosen to draw a second weapon, the extra length of steel aiding him in warding off the screeching monsters. The difficulty increased further as it was not just bodies they hurled at Wu Ying but rocks, sticks, and more odorous projectiles.

Stranger than the simian propensity to fecal attacks was the clothing they wore, scraps of robes, trousers, and shirts hanging off their forms. Many were dirty and disheveled, torn and stained by long use, yet the creatures chose to wear the clothing as though mimicking their betters.

Another hurled rock, this one coming low. Wu Ying raised his foot and stepped over it, then gusted forward still on one foot to land within a few feet of an offending jue yuan. The creature hissed, large yellow teeth on display as its lips pulled back, unafraid as Wu Ying’s weapon fell short. Then the weapon extended as the cultivator infused it with his energy.

The extended blade pierced the monster’s open mouth and tore a hole on the way out. A half second later, Wu Ying had drifted away, one sword deflecting a body with a flickering cut across a flying torso. The other threatened a trio of swinging monsters above.

Brown eyes set in a tanned face stared at the monsters with animosity. Wu Ying knew where those clothes came from, the reason why the creatures had so many. They did not trade, they did not weave or create. The jue yuan only stole, entering villages and stealing women and the occasional smaller male. The lucky ones were killed and eaten, their clothes torn from their cold, dead bodies.

The others… Wu Ying heard a screech, his gaze falling upon the leader. A jue yuan beast with a Spirit Beast core at the high Energy stage, pulsing with Earth-aspected strength. Already, Wu Ying had had to dodge a dozen earthen spikes, conjured from the ground, and one muddy, grasping mudhole. One cloth shoe was gone, sucked down by that same hole. Annoying, but not the reason for his animosity.

No, it was the fact that the leader was significantly less hairy, its spine straighter, its features much closer to human. Those stolen women all too often were forced to bear children for the jue yuan, a way to strengthen their tribe and deal with a massive male-female population imbalance.

These creatures were true monsters, plagues upon villages. It was one of the reasons why people like his father had been so important, the need for hunters and fighters a necessity even in peaceful settlements. For sometimes, monsters appeared from the depths of the forest.

And needed to be eradicated.

Another earthen spike, another flying body. Another cut.

Wu Ying’s blade shone in the afternoon sun, and he knew, by the end of this day, those blades and the forest would be dyed red.

***

The forest might be bountiful and wild and replete with chi, a place to contemplate the dao. But it was also a place of monsters and beasts, creatures spoken of in folk tales and around late-night campfires. Monsters of myth and legend, given savage form.

Or unnerving grace.

Wu Ying held still, watching the hou stride past him. A herd of the deer-like creatures with a head of a fiery lion walked through the moonlight to the clear pond, wary of potential predators. The single alpha hou, nearly twice as large as the others, watched over them with small flickering flames dancing across its body. As the rest of the herd sated their thirst, small ripples originated from their bodies, pushing against the floating lotus leaves.

Breathing slowly, Wu Ying tasted the air and the chi the wind brought with it, giving him a sense of the strength of these creatures. There was a wide range, from low Body Refining does to the Core-strength alpha. Wu Ying still struggled to properly understand the differences in strength among Core cultivators, to grasp the power differentials. It did not help that most Core Elders had grasped, at the very least, the most basic of aura control, such that they were not constantly pressing their aura onto others.

The greater stages though, the subtle refinement that locked out the escape of any chi, that blocked active spiritual perceptions was much less common. And even when such perception methods were trained, cultivators often used visual detection rather than other senses. Wu Ying knew few bothered training touch- or taste-based sensing methods, while blocking aural-based sensing methods was incredibly difficult. Perhaps even more difficult than scent-based methods, as controlling the chi emitted when speaking required specialized training. Only cultivators who spent their time studying that form of secondary occupation—singers, terpisore, and musicians of all sorts—had such a skill.

Even then, few of those cultivators took the time to learn to assess another’s cultivation base from their words alone, at least not during the Energy Storage stage. However, just by the process of training their skills, most such secondary occupations soon gained an innate talent for sensing stages.

Still, those particular skills were devoted to delving into human cultivators. In the wild, animals focused on three main methods of verifying danger—sight, scent, and noise. Of those, Wu Ying could control his emanations via his aura for the first two and could easily handle the third by just not speaking. In this way, his presence while watching these creatures would be, in theory, hidden entirely.

And hidden he needed to be, for the hou were magnificent but generally extremely skittish creatures. Their hides and manes were much sought after, as was their meat. Hunters prized the rare animals, driving entire herds to extinction at times. Once, supposedly, hou were much more populous, but constant and indiscriminate hunting had devastated their populations.

Now, the survivors lived in the deep forest, preyed upon by creatures more powerful than them, and survived by dint of stubbornness and caution. In truth, Wu Ying had tasted their meat on occasion and had to admit, it was exquisite. It was a pity they were impossible to raise in captivity, thus leading to their slow and likely eventual decline.

Seated in the bushes, his breathing low and shallow, Wu Ying watched the herd graze and drink their fill for an hour before they slowly departed, much like a fading memory. He chose not to take even the oldest of them, allowing the potential resources to pass by.

Like the tiger before, Wu Ying sought to find his role and point of balance out here in the wild. Take too much, too indiscriminately, and such creatures would vanish. He had no need for their meat or manes. Their spirit stones, while powerful, were not unique. They would offer nothing more than additional coin or contribution points, and both he had in abundance for his meager needs.

So he waited till they were gone, then made his way to the pond. He did stop to sweep through the area, picking up their droppings and depositing them within his World Spirit Ring, adding to his compost pile.

His dirty job complete, Wu Ying undressed before diving into the pond, seeking the Metallic Marsh Pond Grass he had come here for. The hou and their droppings were just a bonus. As were the half-dozen aggressive catfish that attacked him the moment he entered the pond, the three-foot-long creatures tearing at his skin with their ragged teeth.

Fighting in the water was difficult. It was not his element, and the wind offered no help, nor did his minor affinities for fire or wood. His swords were unwieldly within the pond, strikes too slow to catch the aggressive catfish, or when they struck, they glanced off the creatures’ protective scales. In the end, he put away the weapons and pulled a smaller knife, offering his arm to the catfish to give him a moment when he could strike with the dagger, driving the blade into monstrous bodies while they worried his limbs.

Powered by his sword dao and sharpened carefully after each use, the dagger slipped through scales, leaving the monsters to leak silvery blood. One after the other, he killed them this way, gutting the fish and storing their bodies in his World Spirit ring for later, his body covered with wounds. If not for the greater toughness of skin and muscle that originated from his cultivation in both soul and body, he would have died long ago.

As it was, harvesting the Pond Grass was difficult as he bled from open wounds. By the time he struggled to the shore, Wu Ying could only make it a few feet from the water before flopping over, exhausted.

Fatigue claimed him long before he could stem the blood flow from his wounds. Not that he needed to, for his greater constitution took care of the open wounds, clotting them sufficiently. When he woke later, Wu Ying washed, applied herbal compact, and bandaged his wounds with little concern other than a mild fever that had arisen.

That, Wu Ying would take care of later via apothecarist pills and a slow trudge through the forest to a nearby pre-prepared campsite. During the course of his long walk, he wiled away the time by vowing to raise the price of any aquatic herb he gathered. It was not worth his time or pound of flesh. Every single time, this happened.

Every. Single. Time.

Chapter 4

Just over a month later—twenty-nine days, time enough for the moon to complete its cycle, allowing Wu Ying to pick herbs and flowers that only bloomed during certain moon phases—and the cultivator had finally made his way back to civilization. This was his usual schedule—just over a month in the wilderness, a few days in civilization, and repeat. Making his way through the ever-growing list of requests, expanding his search areas.

Of course, he varied the time and locations he traveled to and within. Asking the local sects he visited to help deliver the necessary herbs, paying them for their aid, helped keep his movements a little more obscure. Now, Wu Ying stood before the cliff-perched sect building, the simple monastery-turned-sect-headquarters spread across the entirety of the mountain, and sighed. Time to stop playing vagrant and return to society.

Already, he felt pressure upon his aura, the regard of the sect guardians. Two of them, one living on a nearby mountaintop and the other who stayed within the monastery itself. Wu Ying allowed them to probe his aura, sweep across his spirit-herb-filled bag and his own body. The silent regard was all too common by now. What he was not used to was the way the auras almost flinched, one after the other.

Nor the sudden, fast-moving presence that appeared before him. Wu Ying stepped backward, a hand falling to his sword even as the old woman arrived, a bare handbreadth from him. She wore simple robes, the hem and sleeves a little threadbare, her long grey hair done up in a bun. Brown eyes, filled with sympathy rather than anger, peered at him even as the wind that surrounded Wu Ying settled, some of it pushed aside by the sudden appearance of the Core Formation Elder.

“You are Long Wu Ying, of the Verdant Green Waters Sect?” she asked abruptly.

“Yes, Elder…” Wu Ying said, bowing.

“We have been looking for you,” the woman said.

A moment later, Wu Ying felt another presence, this one off to his right. Wu Ying turned and spotted the portly Elder Guardian who stood on a bamboo tree, his weight bending the long trunk and forcing it to sway. The newcomer was not bothered by the unsteady perch, bobbing with casual ease as he regarded Wu Ying.

“Ah… I am sorry, I did not take the Placid Tea Sect’s request to be particularly urgent,” Wu Ying said. “If it was, I apologize, as it was not communicated to me.”

“It isn’t,” the first Elder said, her lips pursing. “Though if you have our Marsh Grass—”

A cough from the other, and the woman shook her head.

“My apologies. We—all the allied orthodox sects—have been searching for members of the Verdant Green Waters who are experiencing the world to pass word.”

A cold feeling wrapped around Wu Ying’s guts, a sudden premonition causing him to stop breathing for a second.

“The Verdant Green Waters has been attacked.”

And then he exhaled, as the root of his worries arrived.

***

Getting rid of his extra herbs and all those he had specially collected for the Placid Tea Sect was the first priority. Wu Ying chose not to bargain, nor did the sect choose to rip him off. In fact, they were extremely gracious in taking all his extra herbs, promising to deliver what items were not meant for them.

Once he had rid himself of his obligations, Wu Ying readied himself for the long journey back, working with the sect guardians to chart his course home. While information of upcoming arrivals of boats and the current state of the rivers and docks was gathered, Wu Ying learned the details—both known fact and rumor—of what had happened to his Sect.

The known truths were sparse, the distance between sects and the lack of official word contributing to the paucity of information. Just under a month ago, on the day that Wu Ying had returned to the wilderness in fact, the Verdant Green Waters Sect had been attacked by the dark sect in force. Multiple Core stage Elders, four Nascent Soul Elders, and numerous Energy Storage cultivators had gathered close to the Sect before laying siege to it.

Outer defenses had been breached, some suspiciously failing at the opportune moment. The town below had been partially razed, more in passing than in any concerted attempt at destruction. The attackers had rushed up the mountain, where the Sect Guardians had held off the initial assault as the Sect was warned.

Unfortunately, the Guardians failed to contain the entire attacking group and many of the Guardians had died in the attempt, overpowered and overrun. Even more Elders had perished soon after, the dark sect members sacrificing themselves and using taboo skills that burnt lifeblood and drew upon darker energies in the assault. Much of the Sect had been damaged, centuries-old formations broken and buildings destroyed.

The number of dead was known to be in the hundreds, though that was where facts ended and rumors began. Tall tales that changed with each passing merchant, each shocked trader who brought word. Two-thirds of the Verdant Green Waters Sect had perished. No, only two-thirds of the outer sect. No, nearly all the Elders. All the Guardians were dead or deeply injured and the Patriarch himself had been killed. No, the Patriarch had descended from the mountain and had wiped out all the Nascent Soul attackers. No, it was the inner sect members who were all slain, with the outer sect members left untouched because they had been the traitors.

So many rumors, so many half-truths that none could tell fact from fiction. Yet a few true threads ran through them all—the strike against the Verdant Green Waters had been aided by some from within, the damage to the prestigious Sect was significant, and the dark sect had wielded taboo powers. Powers that allowed them—if only briefly—to match the better trained Verdant Green Waters members.

Disaster.

So much of it, that it seemed that all the karmic misfortune the Sect had accumulated had been rained down upon it on one night. Now, all members were called back. The Sect’s power, once extensive and expansive, was to be concentrated.

In the murmurs of the Guardians of the hosting sect, Wu Ying also heard the thread of concern within their voices. Without members of the Verdant Green Waters aiding the orthodox sects in stifling the chaos of war, tragedy would abound. Bandits would flourish in these lawless times, and more unorthodox and dark sects would propagate, bringing with them their taboo and disastrous practices.

In the void left behind, chaos would reign.

All of which was ancillary to the worries that plagued Wu Ying. Once they had the best estimate of a route for him, Wu Ying took off, for the first time pushing his movement skills to the maximum. While he had practiced using his qinggong Wind Steps, his body cultivation, and soul cultivation methods together to achieve his top speed, it had always been in short bursts.

This was the first time he would attempt to hold to near his maximum rate of movement for any length of time. He knew, of course, better than to attempt to sprint all-out, and concern over being ambushed ensured he kept the use of his chi consistent to the draw he took in from the environment. But other than that, he expended his wind chi in a constant flow, lightening the weight of his body, pushing off more fiercely with every step to cover more distance and tapping into the ever-blowing gale to carry him along. Traces of dao energy from his body cultivation mixed with his aura and the environment, allowing him to be carried upon the wings of the wind with each step.

Li after li passed in a flash, dried leaves left fluttering in his wake, minor potholes appearing at irregular intervals as his control slipped, his strikes cratering pressed-earth roads and the occasional broken tree branch. His aura control relaxed ever so slightly, his killing presence and his cultivation stage a clear warning to spirit and demon beasts.

He had no time for them, nor for the bandits who might impede his progress. His friends, his family, his Master and martial sister were all in danger. Had been in danger. Might be again with how weakened the Sect was. And Wu Ying had not been there.

Guilt gnawed at him, contested only by the encroaching hunger that tore at his belly. He quieted one with snatched meals from roadside vendors and travel rations and the other via long years of discipline, pushing aside guilt for later consideration.

Distance that had taken him weeks to cover was crossed in days, dirt and sweat covering his face, hollow and black rings under his eyes. As he drifted through dense bamboo forests and towering trees, day and night, he snatched sleep in fitful handfuls, waking at the barest noise only to travel again.

He finally reached the kingdom courier boat at the small fishing village it stopped to provision at, where his sect token and desperate gaze allowed him passage. Only then did he collapse below deck, sleeping dreamlessly as oars and sails, powered by cultivators, took him home.

***

The creak of oars, the splash of water dripping from them, and waves slapping at the hull rung through the air as Wu Ying stood on the bow of the ship as it edged into port. Impatience coursed through him, making him shift and draw short breaths, filling his nose with the smells of fresh water, unwashed sailor bodies, and weeks-old ash. He jittered such that he pushed chi through his muscles, and when they were within a few hundred feet of the docks, he threw himself from the boat, flashing across the water to land on the dock, his feet leaving ripples behind him as he treaded on the liquid.

Wu Ying briefly remembered his first arrival to the Sect, of his martial sister abandoning them to rise upon the cliffs and through the waterfall, flitting upward using her qinggong method. Now, he could do that too. If not for the other, more drastic change to the Sect—the trio of cultivators on the dock, pointing their weapons at him.

“Sect token and name,” the leader grated out, his ji—the spear, cross-guard axe-blade, and pick combination polearm—leveled at Wu Ying’s throat.

Even from a distance, Wu Ying felt the unbridled anger that flashed through the man’s eyes, along with the fire aspect of his cultivation. His companions were metal and earth oriented, wielding polearms as well, though of different varieties. None of them had friendly countenances, a far cry from his first arrival.

Behind the group, the town itself looked to have passed through the attack with only minor damage. Then again, from the rumors Wu Ying had gathered, the attack had not originated here. It made sense then that the docks had been spared.

“Long Wu Ying, returning cultivator, brothers.” He fished his sect token from his ring, opening his hand to showcase the item. He infused it with a little of his chi to verify ownership before allowing the man to float it over to himself with a trace of power. An idle part of Wu Ying’s mind admired the other’s control of his external chi, though concern warred with caution.

How badly damaged was the Sect that they had sent down only a single middle-level Energy Storage cultivator to guard the docks, along with two Body cultivators? They might be martial specialists, but neither were that powerful.

Then again, were there perhaps other dangers he was missing?

“I said, what are you doing here?” Even after inspecting Wu Ying’s token, the other cultivator had not grown friendlier. In fact, the leveled halberd was thrust forward and neared Wu Ying’s face, almost making him flinch with its proximity.

Anger flickered through Wu Ying, the disrespect warring with his empathy and understanding. Another breath, one that he used to help filter the swirl of chi through the battered dock even as he sent tendrils of air swirling to gather more, before he answered. “I heard about what happened and came back. As requested and ordered.”

“And what took you so long?”

“He was probably wandering through the middle of the forest,” a familiar voice called, emerging from what seemed like thin air.

Wu Ying frowned, staring at the spot, surprised he had not even sensed the change.

“Unhappy to see me?” Yu Kun said, joking.

The other cultivators, having received the senior cultivator’s assurances, had retracted their aggression, pulling back their weapons and even going so far as bowing to Wu Ying.

“No, not at all. Just worried…” Wu Ying shook his head, trying for levity. “That you won’t be able to pick up any more companions with that new face of yours.”

New face indeed, for a long scar ran down one side of Yu Kun’s face. It had healed in the majority, though it was still prominently red with the beginning of scar tissue forming. Otherwise, Wu Ying noted the hint of medicinal herbs that surrounded his friend’s body, a clear indicator of constant use of such products, along with the slight hitch in his step and the way he favored his right side.

Markings of a battle hard fought. And lost, potentially.

“Mmmm… worry more for yourself. Men like signs of bravery,” Yu Kun said, crossing the last few feet and offering a hand for Wu Ying to clasp.

Grip it tight, he did. Relief was evident in both their eyes, in the firmness of the hold. And then, all too soon, the contact was sundered.

“I…” Wu Ying paused, courage failing him for a second. “I need to go.”

“The village?” Yu Kun asked.

Wu Ying nodded.

“Go.”

Wu Ying did not need further prompting, flashing away and past the other guards. Worry that had endlessly quested through his body, unable to find escape, flared once more. This time, Wu Ying did not hold back, crossing the town as quickly as he could, burning chi. A quiet part of him screamed at the danger he had placed his family in, in trying to guard them from the war.

Man planned for the future, but the fates laughed at all such plans. The threads of karma wove through souls and time itself and ignored the desires of mortals. Wu Ying felt a thread of enlightenment there, one that perhaps expanded on his realization from before. However, he was too much in a hurry to follow that thought.

He pushed enlightenment aside as he crossed cobbled streets and over the city wall, running across packed earth roads worn by the tread of feet to pass under heavy foliage on the way to the village. Behind the town that served the Sect, under the eaves of the mountain and nestled against its base, the newly recreated farming village hid.

Not well enough, it seemed.

Wu Ying stopped as he turned the switchback and finished ascending the rise, seeing the small rice farming village that he had built standing before him. Mostly. Signs of burned houses on the outskirts were everywhere, the guard formations that kept away demonic beasts shattered. Rice fields were in disarray, a few empty of the water that kept pests away, the rice stalks still growing thankfully.

And the people… the people…

Hungry vision darted across the working figures, noting the trio of bow-armed peasants who watched him, having stopped their chores. Those, he ignored after verifying none were his father. Many of the other men and women who worked the fields were known, each familiar face offering a modicum of reassurance. But none were his parents.

When he was done with his initial assessment, Wu Ying moved once more. Hurrying toward their still-standing abode. Worry gripped him till he caught their familiar scents, heard his mother’s calming voice. He slowed a little, opening the door firmly to stare within.

He caught sight of his mother first, unharmed, bent over a stovepot that brought with it the earthy and bitter smells of herbal medicine. Then, his father’s resting form, one half leg propped upon a pillow. Half leg, for everything below the knee was missing.

“Papa!” Wu Ying cried, beside his father in less than a breath, never even recalling how he crossed the floor between them. He gripped his father’s hand, pain and regret cracking his voice. “What happened?”

“Your idiot father thought he was a cultivator,” Fa Rong said, her stern voice filled with affection and exasperation. “He decided he had to go up the mountain to help, after we beat the three fools who came to test our village.”

“You went up the mountain!?!” Wu Ying’s voice rose in horror and rising anger.

“It was our duty. They—you—have graced us with protection. The least we could do is help protect them,” Yu Ri, his father, said.

“And how did that work out for Ju Re?” Fa Rong said waspishly.

His father winced a little before he firmed his gaze. “A man’s duty does not change, no matter the loss that might occur.”

“A fool’s dedication to unneeded duty just leaves behind pain and regret. How much good did your sacrifices do?” Fa Rong said.

“Enough,” Yu Ri replied, the tone of the argument sounding like a familiar refrain between the two. “We dealt with two of their men before that other cut us down.”

“Two!”

Before they could continue the argument, Wu Ying interrupted them. “I’m just grateful to see you both… alive.” Wu Ying’s gaze flicked to his father’s missing leg.

“Do not worry. I learned to deal with a limp. A missing leg is just an extension of that,” Yu Ri said, smiling reassuringly.

“Good, good…” Wu Ying replied absentmindedly. Now that he knew his parents were fine, another worry grew.

“You have not been to your Sect, have you?” Fa Rong said gently.

“No, not yet.”

“Then go. We are fine. We’ll speak more later.” Her voice grew softer, hints of dire prophecy leaking through her voice, warning Wu Ying. “You should go.”

Wu Ying paused only long enough to pass off a few medicinal pills he had on hand before he left, hurrying up the mountain. He ignored the common paths, instead choosing to ascend vertically for the most part. Eventually, he knew, he would have to use the official ways in, but for the short term, it would get him there faster.

And haste, even if it was late, was necessary.

If nothing more than to assuage irrational feelings.

***

Under the red paifang, the gate entrance somehow looking pristine and untouched in direct contrast to the destruction that marked the trail before the paifang and right after the columnar entrance marker, a familiar figure lay, smoke curling up from his long pipe. Wu Ying smiled a little to see Guardian Lu resting there, looking tired and worn but alive at least. And uninjured, beyond the peeking hint of bandages across his chest.

“Did you bring any leaf?” Guardian Lu said upon spying Wu Ying.

The Elder brightened as Wu Ying extracted the packages, acquired as he’d traveled, from his ring. His eyes widened even more as he noted the trader seals on them. A light gesture and the bundles were pulled from Wu Ying’s arms onto the Guardian’s lap, where all but one disappeared. That one, in its brown and red packaging, rested on his lap as the old guardian tamped out his pipe.

“About time fortune’s favor returned,” muttered Elder Lu. “You have no idea what kind of leaf I have had to partake in since the attack.”

“I’m glad I could brighten your day, Elder,” Wu Ying said respectfully. After a moment, he glanced through the opening of the entrance the guardian lay under, impatience thrumming through him. He stilled it, somewhat, choosing to ask the questions that burned through him. “And the Sect…?”

“Has been hurt,” Elder Lu said. “They killed Guardian Yun’s trained beast and came from behind, taking us by surprise. Guardian Yun and Xu fell in battle, while the rest of us were injured. The Patriarch had to exit closed cultivation early to aid our unworthy selves. Many of the inner sect fell, as did Elders.” Something moved in Elder Lu’s eyes when he said the last, sending a thrum of anticipation through Wu Ying. “And they burned down the outer sect library. But the core of our Sect survived, though we lost some promising young core members and direct disciples.”

Wu Ying winced at the litany of destruction. “You did not mention the outer sect…?”

“They were attacked too, but only by others close to their strength. There was death, but fewer in number. The outer sect is not the strength of the Verdant Green Waters. In fact, more of them likely died from the battles we fought above them than by the dark sect’s hand.”

Wu Ying nodded a little, his gaze drifting away and across the mountain range. He had been uncertain till now, but at least a few of the nearby mountains had changed shape in the interim. Nascent Soul Elders doing battle could shatter cliff faces and break mountain tops, reshaping a valley with the strikes they layered. Rumors were that battles between true immortals were even more destructive and much of the land had been reshaped during the earliest times, before the moratorium on fights in the Middle Kingdom had been enacted by the Yellow Emperor.

Not that it stopped some immortals, the demons and the dragons that warred with them, but the land was no longer reshaped every year.

“But you’re not here to listen to me,” Elder Lu said, the pipe gesturing inward. “Go. Your Master and friends await.”

Wu Ying bowed in thanks to Elder Lu before he entered the damaged Sect, rushing upward. Each step took him higher, retracing well-worn pathways. Memories fought with reality as Wu Ying climbed and the war-torn surroundings pushed aside more peaceful images.

Up here, on this corner, he had found a young couple enthusiastically kissing behind the bushes, their passions caught up by the dual cultivation method they had begun to practice. His rice-burdened presence had caught them by surprise when he stumbled into the bush that hid them. For weeks after, the pair of outer sect members would rush away when they caught sight of him.

There—the outer sect kitchens where he had deposited so many sacks of grain. One side was entirely destroyed, as if a giant broom had swept away roof and walls. The other side was gutted, kitchen fires having escaped their confines and burning down stores and building itself. Now, a hastily erected lean-to allowed a familiar Elder, arm still bandaged, to continue his cooking, outer sect members scurrying around at his orders.

Farther up, rubble only.

Dozens of cultivators and mortals moved through the rubble under the watchful eyes of inner sect scholars as they rescued portions of manuals and training guides. A series of long tables, sheltered under silk and wood awnings, held the recovered pieces. Manuals were unrolled, checked for damage, and set aside in storage rings.

Scrolls and manuals were not the only things being found though, for a small line of covered corpses lay to the side, bodies extracted from the demolished building. Even from where Wu Ying was as he ran by, he could smell the bodies, the way they had decomposed and bloated, exuding gasses from decaying innards and liquifying skin. Even if cultivator bodies took longer to decompose than plain mortals’, their elemental affinities and greater chi preserving bone and skin, it had been nearly two months since the attack. Where the bodies had gone too far, sacks were used for the skeletal remains, individuals with fire, wood, and earth chi cleansing the bones before putting them away.

More than the physical signs of destroyed buildings were the scars on the living. Not just the physical ones, the individuals with missing limbs or still healing broken bones, but the psychological scars.

The vaunted Verdant Green Waters Sect had been attacked, their glorious headquarters assaulted, and their members killed. The aura of invincibility had been tarnished, and cultivators unused to being on the losing side were flinching or looking about warily, unseen enemies plaguing their minds.

Perhaps, more than anything else, that was the greatest damage done to the Sect. Buildings could be reconstructed. Formations rebuilt. Members replaced. But centuries of reputation, that would take longer to replace.

Up and up, Wu Ying climbed, across shattered flagstone pathways and cutting through new routes carved from the earth. He had to admit, some of these new passages were faster too. More than a few times, he spotted Earth-aspected cultivators working with wood cultivators to reinforce the new passages, bracing cliff faces and laying new flagstones.

The moment Wu Ying passed through the outer sect quarters into the section where the inner sect cultivators lived, the signs of battle increased. Trees were chopped down, trunks scattered or shattered under the brutal attacks of cultivators. In the distance, hidden behind broken walls and graceful topiary, Wu Ying spotted the residences of other cultivators, many damaged, though the occasional residence lay untouched.

Soon enough, Wu Ying found himself inured to the damage, his mind unable to process the gravity of it all. Even the cracked and burnt doors of the library and armory only gave him a moment’s pause before Wu Ying continued his climb, finally reaching Elder Li’s residence. Hers first, since it was closer, with its expansive gardens.

To Wu Ying’s surprise, the gardens and their contents lay untouched. Familiar faces greeted his entrance, many of the young women who worked within taking defensive actions. He made it all of four steps into the garden before he found himself caught, his movements restricted by a formation. Wu Ying felt tiny metal threads binding him while the earth churned, slowly rising up. His gaze darted around the gardens, taking in stones, formation flags, and redirected streams. Realization struck soon afterward, even as the metal strings heated up.

“Ru Ping!” Wu Ying shouted, channelling chi through his body to reinforce his skin. He considered next steps, even as he readied himself to break free and flee.

“Wait, wait, don’t do anything hasty!” Ru Ping said, the big cultivator waving in the distance. To Wu Ying’s surprise, rather than approach him, his Senior went in a different direction, heading crosswise to him and disappearing around a bush.

Uncomfortable long seconds later, as Wu Ying considered breaking out forcefully from the hot restraints, the ghostly strands of metal that held him close disappeared. The earth that had begun sucking him stopped, though he was still left submerged calf deep in the ground.

A small surge of power had Wu Ying out of the trap, cleaning his clothing off with quick stomps on the ground. Some of the other cultivators, assured that he was a friend and recognizing him now that panic had subsided, came forward to speak with him. Wu Ying found himself caught up in the conversations, hearing disjointed recollections of the battle and what had transpired.

“Enough, enough, you can speak with him later,” Ru Ping commanded, sending away the other junior cultivators.

Wu Ying smiled, watching the women leave—some of them more reluctantly than others—and turned to the rotund cultivator. Only to be swallowed in a hug. Wu Ying held himself uncomfortably under the unwanted and unusual physical contact[6] before returning the man’s embrace with pats on his back.

Ru Ping let go after a second, pushing him back to look him over. “Good. It’s good you’ve arrived. Before it’s too late.”

“Too late?”

Ru Ping’s somber nod, and the flashes of pain in the eavesdropping cultivators around them, hinted at what was to come. Still, Wu Ying refused to believe it, even as he was led within Elder Li’s abode.

Refused, until the evidence was before him.

Chapter 5

Elder Li, the cane-wielding Core Formation cultivator, had always been more petite than most others. Her long, white hair and wrinkles had marked her great age, along with her encyclopedic knowledge of herbs. Even for all that, she had never seemed small to Wu Ying—her sheer presence and aura had brooked no such comparisons.

Now, lying in bed, sunlight streaming in to strike her legs from an open window, half her face burnt and red with infection and one eye unseeing, she looked frail and tiny. The smell from the room had alerted Wu Ying of what he could expect, the sickly smell of death and rotting flesh, of infected wounds stifling even the herbs that smoked in the distance.

Elder Li had been dozing, but the moment Ru Ping stepped foot in her room, her eyes snapped open. She turned her head, seeing out of her one good eye but apparently finding it hard to focus. “Who is it?”

“Ru Ping, Master. And also Wu Ying,” the man said.

“He’s here, is he? Idiot child,” Elder Li said, looking past Ru Ping. “Lucky like the carp[7], always able to find an advantage no matter what happens.”

“Yes, Master,” Wu Ying said as he was let in. He squatted beside her bed and bowed. She placed a hand on his head for a second and he felt a little pulse of chi run through him as she verified his identity and progress.

“You’ve grown and stabilized your foundations,” Elder Li said. “Good, good… you’ll need it. For what is to come.” A pause, which she used to catch her breath. “Now that you are both here, I will pass on the last of my inheritance.”

“Master—” Ru Ping said, his voice filled with anguish.

“Hush. We both know I’m dying. The wounds are too much, and even if they were not, the poison would end it all.”

She gestured behind him, and Ru Ping turned and opened the cupboard. Within was a covered bowl that she asked to be brought over. Before he handed it to her, Ru Ping used his chi to warm the contents.

Once she had drunk the medicine, the Elder leaned back, allowing it to take effect. Curious, Wu Ying leaned over to stare at the dregs, his eyes narrowing. He could not recognize much within—his studies as an apothecarist had taken a backseat in the last few years—but he still picked out a few of the herbs within by smell and sight.

“These…” Wu Ying said, hissing. At least a quarter of those he spotted were poisons themselves. Another third, if used inappropriately, could damage the body through overstimulation of vital functions. As for the last portion, he recognized them as pain killers and blood burners.

“Now that you’re here, there is no reason to hold back,” Elder Li said, swinging her legs off the bed. She reached out, looking for her usual cane, and not finding it, she snarled. Another gesture and another cane, one looking nearly brand new, flew from a corner into her hands. “Come. We have much to do.”

Stomping out of the room, pushing past the pair, she strode toward her cutting room. Old plants, many withered away due to neglect, lay on the tables, implements discarded where they were. Inside, another gesture with her cane lifted up the wooden boards, revealing a tunnel.

She led them both within, even as she spoke over her shoulder. “Ru Ping, you know this place, though you have not come here often. The mansion, the gardens, it is all yours. I have spoken with the Patriarch and he has agreed to this.

“Wu Ying, you were never meant to be here. If I had lived…”

Wu Ying winced, her blunt appraisal of her regard of him painful to hear. He understood it, but it still did not ease the sting of her words.

“Stop acting as though you didn’t know,” she continued peevishly. “Still, I’d rather see you take these than see them disappear. Copies only, mind you! Perhaps Ru Ping will find someone more deserving in the future.”

Underneath, the Elder waved, lighting the beast cores that sat ensconced against the walls. The underground chamber was made of simple, compacted earth, braced and hardened via Elder Li’s own aspect to ensure they held. Scrolls and manuals were displayed along the walls and on living bookshelves, the branches grown from potted plants below.

Along the farthest wall, trapped behind a formation, was a series of suspended seeds and cuttings. Elder Li stomped over to them, waiting for the boys to reach her before she pointed at the seeds.

“These are all Ah Ping’s. I want your cultivator’s oath on that, Wu Ying.” She glared at him.

Wu Ying could not help but note the way she gripped her cane, the location of the request. He was in the center of her power, her secret abode. There were no other witnesses right now, and even if there were, what would it matter to her? She was dead soon.

“I see you understand.” No beating around the bush either, as Elder Li tapped the end of her cane on the ground. “Now, will you give it?”

“I would have, freely,” Wu Ying said, making sure to keep his face calm, choosing not to show how much her words hurt. There was nothing to be gained there. Pushing energy into his dantian then drawing his aspected chi, he thrummed his soul cultivation as he spoke. “All items marked by my Master Li Qui Xia, designated for my Senior Goh Ru Ping, are his and his alone. I shall not seek them, speak of them, or otherwise covet them.”

“Good enough,” Elder Li said.

She stomped around the room, highlighting manuals and items. Whatever she felt was suitable for Wu Ying, she tossed at him, making him scramble to grab them. At first, he had been worried that she would damage the delicate manuals, maps, and scrolls, but upon holding the first few, he knew his worries were ill-placed. All were well-made items, whether leather skin or pulped leaves from chi-empowered plants. None of these would be damaged from careless handling.

Still, Wu Ying made sure to stack them carefully. Just because Elder Li did not care how she handled the works did not mean she would not complain if he did not treat them with utmost caution. As for her ill manner, most of his aggravation had been driven away by the sight and sound of what she listed and explained, his world expanding with each sentence.

“… treatise on the fourteen different growing formations for death-attuned plants by Master Wong…”

“… my earliest experiments on gardens. Probably redundant for you now but useful as a guide to teach students…”

“… a listing of the other Gatherers in other sects and what they specialize in, along with the plants they often have on-hand. There’s a shorter copy with the Bursar but…”

“… oh, so that’s where that went. Great late night reading, but the plot I thought was a little thin…”

That last was accompanied by her idly tossing the book aside after flipping through it. Wu Ying caught sight of the interior, one that was quite dense—with illustrations. Quite vivid illustrations of men and women, doing private things. The man blushed a little, even as Ru Ping brushed his hand along the table she had tossed it on, the book missing after his hand moved back. When he caught Wu Ying spotting his movements, the fatter disciple winked.

The full inventory took over four hours, and while Wu Ying was grateful that she took the time to do it with them, a part of him yearned to be set free. He had another Master he had yet to meet, friends he had yet to speak with since his return. He knew not of their fate… and he was stuck below ground.

Yet each time he cast ever more impatient glances toward the door, Elder Li moved on to another portion of the room, ignoring his silent entreaties. Ru Ping was of no help, his focus entirely on what she had to say.

However, as much as she had collected, as large as the room was, eventually she came to an end. Wu Ying’s arms were full, even the few documents that she was willing to share with him still significant.

“Good. Now, one last thing…” Elder Li said, tapping Wu Ying’s head with a finger.

A flash of power entered his skull, burrowing through his meager defenses, and he fell backward. The documents in his hands flipped upward as he fell, only for her to catch them with a sweep of her hand and deposit them on the table. Elder Li stayed silent, ignoring Ru Ping scrambling to rearrange the table and the contents, as she stared at Wu Ying mercilessly.

Only when he managed to regain control of his limbs and stand back up did she speak, her voice curt, but the strength that she had exhibited earlier looked no more than an illusion. “That is the location of a missing land, one whose entrance only opens every century or so. It’s not appropriate for Ru Ping to go, but I expect you’ll share your proceeds, yes?” Wu Ying nodded dumbly, before she gestured with her arm. “Then go. I have nothing more for you. What else there is to give, I’ll give to my true disciple.”

Wu Ying nodded, putting his hands together and offering her a deep bow. He held it for a long time, head bent, till he felt the cane strike him on the back again in dissatisfaction, along with another harumph.

In truth, Wu Ying was hurt by her actions. Yet he chose not to take her bitterness to heart. He might have failed her test, but she still was willing to provide him some aid. And her anger, the spitefulness he could sense, was more because of her upcoming death and her failure to find a proper disciple to pass on her knowledge and experience as a Wandering Gatherer like she had been herself.

Time and the dark sect had robbed her of her ideal future and all she had was him and Ru Ping, failures as far as she was concerned. Neither lived up to the potential of what she had been, neither strong enough to take on the mantle of responsibility that she bore in the Sect.

So yes, she was angry and bitter; but it was not just at him.

Or at least, as Wu Ying straightened and thanked her wholeheartedly for her guidance, he told himself. And if he had to remind himself of that thought as he exited the underground space and her house after collecting the documents… well, that was no one else’s concern.

In the end, he pushed his concerns aside. For he had others to see, others to meet. Including, finally, Master Cheng.

***

“Master.” Wu Ying bowed low, standing in the central courtyard.

He had entered the building without issue, the doors opening to his touch, mortal servants stepping aside as he swept within. Only to find his Master was missing, even late in the day as it was. Words with the servants had indicated that he was busy with the other Elders, occupied with planning and rebuilding the Sect. Rather than chase around the Sect for his Master, searching for him or interrupting other important business, Wu Ying had chosen to stay.

He had to admit, a part of him had wanted to rest. The day had been long, the emotional toil of seeing the changes in the Sect, the disparate conversations he had been forced to partake in while climbing the mountain after leaving Elder Li’s place draining him. Too many faces, scarred and tired, some almost eager to relate their experiences. Others staring at him with accusation in their eyes, silently demanding to know where he had been. Why he had not joined them in facing that night of terror and betrayal.

For betrayal there had been, by traitors in their midst who had lain long in wait. Formations had failed, passcodes and sect tokens giving assassins and attackers access where they should never have had a chance. The hardest hit locations and professions were those that were most popular—the apothecarists, the blacksmiths, the library. Too many traitors, placed high above.

Wu Ying had learned from the other gatherers, gardeners, and carers of the herbal plants of the disparity in forces sent, and Ru Ping’s momentous achievements in adjusting the formations to guard the gardens while Elder Li fought those few who came for them. How Ru Ping’s final adjustments had trapped the attacking Elders, allowing Elder Li to kill the pair.

But even then, she had been injured gravely. The spirit gardeners and farmers had pulled back behind formation walls to hide while the rest of the Sect battled for their lives. Wu Ying read that last line in the way they spoke, and while a part of him sneered at their cowardice, he let none of that show. In truth, his reaction was emotional, unfair. Like Ru Ping, those gathered in the gardens were not fighters.

Far from it, in truth.

That was, perhaps, the greatest tragedy. Too many of those who chose not to fight had learned the hard way that struggle and danger were an intrinsic part of the jianghu and had fallen to the blades of the dark sect. Amidst the chaos, the outnumbered dark sect martial cultivators had managed to cut down too many of the Verdant Green Waters inner sect cultivators before they’d managed to kick the iron plate[8] of its martial combatants.

Even then, the losses among the martial combatants were high. Many of those still in the Sect were there only to rest and recuperate or train, since the pressure on the Sect to contribute to the war and provide aid to the kingdom had grown over the last few years. Few were in peak condition, and as such, caught by surprise, they had fallen.

All of this, Wu Ying had pieced together from conversations through broken ruins, till he had taken his rest, awaiting his Master. Part of the tension he had felt was the way certain members had avoided his gaze, changed the subject, or just dodged speaking with him entirely. There was a secret, a tragedy that none wished to broach with him.

Wu Ying could have commanded the news from the mortals or outer sect members. Yet a premonition of dread had kept him silent, sipping on tea and supping on snacks till his Master had appeared.

“Wu Ying,” Master Cheng said, smiling a little as he strode over.

Wu Ying could not help but eye the man, searching for injuries. His Master had recovered well from his poisoning and had not, it seemed, picked up any additional lingering wounds. He still stood tall and imperious, and though he had aged a little after his poisoning, Master Cheng was still a handsome middle-aged man in the prime of his life with long arms and a fencer’s grace.

“I apologize for my lateness. I came as soon as I heard,” Wu Ying said.

“Do not apologize for doing your duty,” Master Cheng said. “The progression of your own cultivation is more important than this minor problem.”

“Minor?”

“Yes. Read the histories. Our Sect has weathered worse dangers in its time. This attack, while unfortunate, is not unique. In fact, some might say that we have grown arrogant in our strength and this is but the karmic repercussions of our attitudes and actions.” Master Cheng’s eyes darkened, his voice lowering, “Those people are fools, of course. Karma is not so simple to understand.

“Or split.”

“Master…?” Wu Ying said hesitantly. Something in the way his Master said the last made him worried. He had noticed it over the last few times he had visited, ever since his recovery. An uncertainty, a shadow in a once-confident man. Sadly, it was not something Wu Ying could question, for it was not his place.

“Still, you have done well. Your contribution has been noted, not just by myself but many of the other Elders. Outside of some direct descendants, your contributions to the war efforts have been of particular note,” Master Cheng said with a slight smile. “You have done us proud.”

Wu Ying bowed in acknowledgment, more to hide the blush that threatened to mar his face. When he straightened, he found Master Cheng had taken a seat at the table and was pouring himself a cup of tea. Wu Ying winced, realizing he had forgotten to do that, but his Master did not seem to care about the lapse in courtesy.

“Now, sit. There is much to discuss. Including the kidnapping of your martial sister.”

The cold stone chair was hard on Wu Ying’s bottom, the edge of the table catching his lower rib as he suddenly found his legs giving way in shock. Only now did Wu Ying notice the anger in his Master’s eyes, the suppressed rage. Only now did he see it and wonder how had he missed it earlier.

***

“By the time Elder Hsu, Elder Dong, and myself made it up, they had already captured her. Destroyed the majority of her residence, though your sister had made good use of all those gifts. They must have lost at least a tenth of their forces assaulting her residence,” Master Cheng said. “We only knew she was alive later, when some other sect members mentioned spotting her bound and unconscious form as the last Nascent Soul cultivator fled.”

“Four Nascent Soul cultivators,” Wu Ying said wondrously. “I could never imagine they had so many.”

“It helps when you have the resources of two sects to grow,” Master Cheng said bitterly. He downed his cup of tea and poured himself another, before gesturing for a nearby servant to bring something stronger. “Of the three whose bodies were left behind, all three were known members of orthodox sects. Two had hidden their ascension even from their sects, though all three were under suspicion.

“We believe that was why they were chosen to lead the attack. They had left too many clues to stay in their positions, acting too impulsively during this war. Now, they were sacrificed to damage us.”

“But why kidnap Sister Yang?”

A single raised eyebrow. “Surely you are not that young.”

“That…” Wu Ying flushed again, though this time he was not sure if it was anger at what he implied was happening to his martial sister or embarrassment at the topic. He was, like many others who did not devote themselves to specific kinds of cultivation, still inexperienced. The control and storage of a man’s essence was important, such that most cultivators chose to abstain[9]. At least, until they had progressed somewhat and studied the essence of holding back. “Is wrong.”

“Yes. But since she has not partaken either, any dual cultivation practice with your sister would be…” Master Cheng hesitated, apparently searching for a word. The right word, if there was one. “More effective.”

“But why her?” Wu Ying waved. “Surely there are more—”

“Your sister has the dual burden of her beauty and her promise,” his Master replied. “She has broken through early but is still in the early stages of consolidating her strength. Compared to many Core Cultivators, she is weak, but full of potential. All that could be stolen with the right ritual.”

Fists clenched, eyes darkened as Wu Ying growled. He turned his head aside, not looking at Elder Cheng for a second before he drew a deep breath and forced calm. Anger was useful, rage could drive you onward when willpower and stubbornness gave way, when long nights of passion had banked the fires. But wrath without control was foolish.

Another breath, then he let it out slowly. “Then what are we going to do about it?”

“Nothing. I have been ordered to not attempt her rescue,” Master Cheng said, his voice flat. “The sects have agreed to not attempt a rescue at this time. For her or any of the others who were kidnapped.”

“What!?!” Wu Ying shouted, his hand hammering down on the table. It creaked alarmingly, the expensive chi-infused wood barely holding up against his assault. Under the silent regard of his Master’s gaze, Wu Ying sat down again heavily, asking quieter, “Why?”

“That’s the other reason we believe they targeted so many of the Fairies—for a few other attacks, more focused, were conducted. They are baiting a trap, luring us to act rashly. Or so the Patriarch believes,” Master Cheng said. “The other leaders agree.”

“Then we just let them do what they want?” Wu Ying said.

“Of course not. We are planning an assault—a true assault—against the dark sect and the kingdom of Wei. One that is coordinated with the army, and which will teach both that we are not to be trifled with. Until then, we must endure.”

“Not us. Them,” Wu Ying said bitterly, unable to look at his Master any longer. Remembering his martial sister, who was truly like a sister to him, who had cared for him, trained him, advised him.

And now, he was being ordered to abandon her.

***

Conversation with his Master had petered out soon after. Oh, Wu Ying had received a proper briefing on the night, more details as seen from the Elders’ perspectives. He was also briefed on the damage done and the recovery efforts. As his Master had said, the damage to the Sect was in some ways nowhere near as significant as it looked upon first viewing.

Yes, they had lost numerous Elders and inner sect members. Yes, the entire outer sect library had been burnt down, with significant loss of records. Yes, a number of items had been stolen from the armory, including some rarer items. Most damaging of all, promising blacksmiths and apothecarists had been poisoned and killed, leaving a gap that would take years to replace.

However, the fighting strength of the Sect, by the very virtue of when the attack had been conducted, had remained untouched. The Sect Guardians might have been diminished in number, but there were others who could take their places. Long dormant formations could be re-established to bolster the Sect. And the myriad number of martial cultivators who had been busy doing battle on the front lines or reinforcing the peace of the kingdom were untouched and were now summoned back for the Sect’s own final strike.

They had been hurt, but not killed. Still…

“She died, eh?” Wu Ying said sadly. After he had finished speaking with his Master, he had returned to his residence to find it untouched and in one piece. To his delight, in short order, his friends had arrived, and he was now hosting an impromptu gathering. “I… I guess it was a good death. As much as any death could be.”

Tou He sighed sadly. “Yes, amithaba. The end comes for most of us. At least she is past the pain now, and might have a better chance in the next life.” A hand ran across his bald head, the ex-monk still keeping the affection. “I was only a day out, but by the time I arrived, it was all too late.”

Wu Ying nodded. “I didn’t even hear about it till a month later. At least the rest of you have been back for a while. At least you weren’t…”

“Told nothing?” Yu Kun snorted. “I only knew about the attack when they had us march back.”

“I still don’t understand why you, of all people, decided to join the army,” Wu Ying said, shaking his head at the ex-wandering cultivator.

Yu Kun’s mohawk had been trimmed recently, leaving the sides of his head bare and his hair tied off neatly. Like Wu Ying, Yu Kun had a slightly more tanned appearance—a quirk of his ethnic group farther in the south and west that spent too much time in the sun—and was now in his early thirties at least. Specific details were of course hard to tell once everyone had passed their Body Cleansing stage. Still, the man was older and more experienced—and, potentially, past his prime.

“Do you know how much they pay you for just standing around, training?” Yu Kun replied. “And the training! They have Elders from a variety of sects actually giving lessons—and some older wandering cultivators to make sure it’s practical.” He patted his chest. “All those pills have helped dislodge my blockages.”

“And your injuries?” Wu Ying asked.

“Eh… a moment of carelessness.”

“A moment of foolishness,” Tou He said. “Our friend thought he could take on a Core-level Spirit Beast alone. Rushed to the town’s aid before the rest of us could arrive, held it off long enough for the rest of the guardians below to arrive.”

Yu Kun shrugged, tracing the wound on his face before shrugging. “You would not believe the thanks I got…”

Tou He rolled his eyes at the leering suggestiveness the ex-wandering cultivator offered.

“I hate to say it, but I’m glad we’re back. I’m thinking, in a few months, I’ll be attempting to breakthrough,” Yu Kun added.

“And better here than outside?” Wen Yin Xue said, the noble son of the lord that Wu Ying’s family had once been beholden to in their village. The nobleman had disappeared soon after their return with his family’s style, taking to a closed-door cultivation period that had kept him out of trouble. At least, till trouble arrived at his doorstep. Since his return, Yin Xue had put on some bulk, his features sharpening a little as he progressed his cultivation to the peak of Energy Storage too.

Rumors were that the nobleman had led a sortie of his own and held off the depredations of an entire team of the dark sect. Certainly, his contributions were quite well spoken of, such that even Wu Ying had heard of them in his little time home.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Yu Kun said derisively. “Aren’t you supposed to be, I don’t know, sipping wine somewhere?”

“Don’t speak to me like that. Of us all, I’m the only one who was here,” Yin Xue replied.

“Ahem…” Liu Tsong cleared her throat before raising a single eyebrow. The senior apothecarist was seated a little to the side of the table, setting her apart and yet making sure she was included. Her hair was pulled together into its simple and elegant bun, one that Wu Ying knew she wore to keep her hair out of the way during brewing sessions. As always, there was that hint of apothecarist brewing solutions surrounding her, a hallmark of those in the profession that even the most expensive of soaps could not remove entirely.

“My apologies, Senior Sister. I did not mean—”

“To forget about me?” The eyebrow stayed arched.

“I could never, but you are so far above us that I would not dare include you so casually,” Yin Xue said.

“Smooth…” Wu Ying said, half-smiling. “It seems spending time courting my martial sister has paid off.”

“Oh, he’s one of those?” Liu Tsong sniffed.

“They all are,” Li Yao said. Then she glanced at Wu Ying, smiling a little. “Well, except this one. He never had eyes for her. Which always made me doubt his eyesight, in truth.”

“Mmm… she is pretty.”

“An understatement,” Li Yao replied. She unconsciously touched her jaw, something Wu Ying knew his ex-girlfriend thought was a little too soft. He actually liked it. It gave her heart-shaped face a more relaxed look, unlike the imperious beauty that was his martial sister. Not that Li Yao had listened to him when he told her, of course. “And most of us were not around because we were busy doing the Sect’s business.”

“I never indicated you were not,” Yin Xue said, touching the hilt of his sword by his side. It sat a little high, forced up due to the position they had to take, crowded around on the wooden chairs of Wu Ying’s dinner table. “But it is true that we could have used all your help. They targeted us in the core buildings, but thankfully, found us harder to beat than…” Yin Xue glanced at those around. “Well, hard to beat.”

“You’re a core member of the Sect now?” Wu Ying said, surprised.

“Of course,” Yin Xue said, lifting his chin imperiously. “They promoted me a year ago. At the tournament that you chose not to attend.”

“I didn’t choose,” Wu Ying grumbled, crossing his arms. “I was in the North, finding some Desert Cactus and helping that—”

“Cute princess. We remember,” Li Yao said, rolling her eyes.

Wu Ying blushed a little, finding himself uncomfortable at his ex’s mention of a brief meeting and courting. It was never anything serious, of course, especially since… “She’s not a princess. Just their chief’s daughter. They don’t do inheritances by lineage.”

“Yes, like barbarians.” Yin Xue sniffed.

Yu Kun narrowed his eyes, leaning forward before he found Tou He gently restraining him with a hand on his arm.

“It was a pity that Lei Hui died soon after Wang Min’s sacrifice. The poison that they used took him, with his previous injuries,” Tou He said, picking up the thread of their earlier conversation. “Bao Cong and Jin Rong both were slain too, with Bao Cong trapped in the foundry with the others and Jin Rong overwhelmed.” Once more, his conversation drove the group to grow silent in shared loss. “Also, Elder Ji Ang…”

It took a while, with a few more interruptions, before Tou He had finished listing of all those that Wu Ying knew who had died. Some he barely remembered, just names without faces, while other faces were given names. Guilt welled up within the cultivator once more as he realized how little he knew of his own Sect members. Even Yu Kun had a better grasp of the Sect. All that time Wu Ying spent outside the Sect had its own price, and this—and his own lack of advancement in the Sect’s hierarchy—was one of them.

“And of course, there were the kidnappings,” Tou He said finally. He picked up his cup of tea and sipped on it to wet his dry throat. “Those…”

“I know of them,” Wu Ying said, eyes growing dark.

“She…” Liu Tsong trailed off, knowing how Wu Ying felt and wanting to reassure him. The truth was, she knew there was nothing to be done. Not without a rescue.

“She has time,” Li Yao said firmly. “I asked my Master about what they want, and he was certain we had some time.”

Wu Ying’s jaw dropped a little. That was the first he had heard mention that there was anything to do, that she might still be alive, never mind unharmed. “What do you mean?”

“They’re using the kidnappees as bait, right? Well, with the Elders especially, we can tell if they’re dead.” At the puzzled expression on Yu Kun’s face, Li Yao explained. “Our sect tokens. You link them to your blood and aura. We keep a token in the inner chambers to allow us to know if someone died. It doesn’t always work, but if the token breaks or fades, it mostly means they died. With the Elders, they use a stronger ritual to link it tighter. Significant changes in the aura can be tracked in our copy of the sect token.”

“Significant like…” Wu Ying took Li Yao’s nod to be acknowledgement of the unasked question.

Yu Kun frowned, touching his storage ring. “And can they track us with that?”

“Not us. Elders though, certainly,” Li Yao said. “They haven’t tried to obscure her signal, so we know they want us to come after her and the others. Once they start their… activities… it might break the token.”

“It won’t,” Liu Tsong said softly. “The Sect has planned for such changes. But the dark sect might not know that.”

“We’d know though, if they did anything,” Li Yao insisted.

Liu Tsong had to agree with her assertion.

“Then we can save her,” Wu Ying said excitedly.

“Are you a fool?” Yin Xue said. He paused, then shook his head. “Who am I asking? Of course you are. But are you that much of a fool?”

“What are you saying?” Wu Ying demanded.

“That they are expecting—planning—for the Sect to come after them. They’ll have Core Formation cultivators in place. What can someone who hasn’t even broken through expect to do?”

Wu Ying growled, angry at Yin Xue’s all too practical words.

“What are you doing here again?” Yu Kun said, looking at Yin Xue flatly.

“Making sure he’s not being a fool,” Yin Xue said. “Being a real friend. Because the rest of you, you’ll just agree and commiserate with him. Refuse to make him understand the truth, because of his feelings. She is lost. They all are.

“All there is left is revenge.”

A somber silence dropped over the group, the words shrouding the friends’ initial happiness at seeing Wu Ying. Even when conversation started again, moving on to less serious topics, that reminder hung over them all.

Chapter 6

It was the second full day since Wu Ying had returned to the Sect and he still felt constantly unbalanced. A walk along a familiar path would take a sudden turn as unrepaired damage was bypassed, or a previous residence was demolished, its replacement being constructed by Sect members and mortal workmen alike. Formations that used to flicker quietly in the background now hummed against his skin, while others were entirely silent, destroyed in the attack.

Passage to the library was highly restricted, involving multiple checks to his aura and sect token before he was allowed to enter. His initial requests for aid from Elder Ko was pushed aside, instead being relegated to a Senior Scholar. An hour of waiting later, Wu Ying was still seated outside the man’s impromptu office, a cup of tea and tea brewing equipment beside him as the scholar read over Wu Ying’s files to acquaint himself with Wu Ying’s particular problems.

It was there that Elder Ko found Wu Ying sipping on the tea and cycling his chi. The Elder waited patiently till Wu Ying found a stable point to exit his cultivation—a matter of mere seconds—while making use of the free time to pour himself a cup of tea with his remaining hand.

“Elder Ko,” Wu Ying said, standing and bowing to the Head of the Library. The cultivator could not help but sweep his gaze over the older man, noting the loose hanging sleeve and the weariness that had made its way through the enhanced constitution of a Core cultivator.

The lost arm was no surprise, for it was a fast-growing legend how the Elder had sacrificed his arm to save a rare and precious work. And in so doing, he had somehow gained a flash of enlightenment that aided him in holding off the Nascent Soul cultivator that had been tasked with destroying the library. It was said that Elder Ko was likely to become the next Nascent Soul Elder in the Sect—if he ever found time to contemplate and solidify his moment of enlightenment.

“My greatest sympathies on the damage done to the libraries,” Wu Ying said.

“Your feelings are appreciated.” Elder Ko sipped on the tea and made a face. “Too bitter. You let it steep too long.”

Wu Ying shrugged. It was true, but he was no tea practitioner. While he might have been made to drink a wide variety and thus gain a greater appreciation of the art, he had also spent the last two years making do with what he could find or brew himself. Tea was tea. Boil it, steep it, drink it. Move on.

Elder Ko’s gaze sharpened for a second, before he shook his head and turned toward the Senior Scholar. “Leave it. Cultivator Long’s situation is unique and requires more than you can offer. Continue to the next.”

Wu Ying hid his sigh of relief by raising his cup, grateful to have the Elder take a personal interest.

Watching the man hurry off, Elder Ko sighed. “I would normally have him follow to learn, but we are entirely too busy. The new security protocols are necessary but cumbersome.” Gesturing for Wu Ying to leave his cup and depositing his own, the Elder guided Wu Ying away while he extended his senses, “tasting” Wu Ying’s aura. “Hmmm… very good aura control. Very, very good. I take it you’ve been using it while gathering?” He barely waited for Wu Ying’s acknowledgement. “Peak Energy Storage, and hmm… Body Tempering at full Wind Body. Very good. You have not wasted your time away then.”

Wu Ying smiled a little, murmuring agreement to the Elder’s words.

“Your Wind Steps are lacking though. Though I assume that is why you’re here partly. While it might be named Wind Steps, it is more descriptive than factual. No true wind-aspected chi is required.” Elder Ko sighed. “Still, it is a good basic form. But basic is not what you desire anymore, is it?”

“No, Elder. I was hoping, with the contribution points I’ve accumulated…”

“Yes, yes. As your Master might have mentioned, we have discussed your contributions greatly. In fact, if you were not out of the Sect so often and your Master had not so strenuously objected, we would have made you a Core member of the Sect already.”

Wu Ying blinked, looking at the Elder, puzzled as they moved past the lower levels of the inner sect library to ascend higher. This was a level he had not visited at all, never having had either the contribution points or standing to ascend.

“Core cultivators receive greater resources from the Sect—a better residence, access to better pills and manuals—but they are expected to return as much. Whether by continuing to expand their cultivation at a greater than normal rate or, eventually, contributing directly. Contribution points are deducted every month for such access.” The Elder shrugged. “Most have sponsors who manage that matter for them, but since you are not in the Sect…”

“Most of those resources would be wasted on me,” Wu Ying said.

“Yes. However, I see no reason why you should not have, at the least, access equivalent to them. Or one of direct lineage.” A slight smile crossed his face as he pointed at a lounging inner sect cultivator who had yet to spot them. “You’ve certainly done more to annoy the dark sect than some.” His voice raised a little toward the end, forcing the young girl to jump.

“Master!” She blushed, bowing low. “I was just considering certain tracts in the—”

“You were lazing.”

“No, I would never. But I had a thought about how we could file those kicking manuals from Fei Hong and—”

“Enough.” Elder Ko said with a sigh. “Just return to working, Ah Jin.”

Cultivator Jin bowed and scrambled away, leaving Elder Ko and Wu Ying alone.

“I did not realize the Elder had a disciple.”

“Not by choice,” Elder Ko said, making a face. “She was… gifted to me by a friend as a favor. She has the mind for the work but lacks the discipline.”

Wu Ying shifted uncomfortably at having the Elder complain to him about one of his contemporaries but chose not to say anything. He neither knew her nor had any reason to contradict one of the few Elders who chose to look upon him favorably, or at least without any inborn prejudices.

“Now, we were discussing your needs. A new qinggong method, possibly for faster travel and combat. What else? That cultivation method you have, body and soul, they should be sufficient, no?” Elder Ko said, pushing on. “And I do remind you, if you are willing to provide a copy of your notes…”

“I cannot, as you know,” Wu Ying declined the offer once more.

“Of course.”

“However, I was hoping that further manuals on Energy Storage chi manipulation outside of the body might be possible, along with perhaps higher grade works for first and leg styles.”

Elder Ko nodded, leading Wu Ying down a corridor filled with high bookcases, plucking manuals as he went along, handing them to Wu Ying as he did so. The Elder paused at times, adjusting the stacks as he searched for other manuals, muttering to himself a little as he worked and listened.

“And perhaps a blade form suitable for a Core Formation cultivator for my blade.”

That last made Elder Ko pause and turn to Wu Ying, eyes narrowing. “Do you not already have a family style?”

“Yes. However, much has been lost with it over the years,” Wu Ying explained. “Also, it seems that my own unique situation has required me to expand on the Long family style to better suit myself.”

Elder Ko nodded. “Ah, you’re at that stage then.”

“Stage?” Wu Ying said.

“Most martial artists reach a point when the rote teachings of a single style stifle them,” the old man said, stroking his chin with his single hand. He gestured around the room. “Every individual, every cultivation style is uniquely different. Pluck two leaves from the same tree. How different are they, even though they come from the same origin? So it is with us humans. It is by watering your mind with multiple styles that you may grow strong and sturdy, able to weather all that may come.”

Wu Ying smiled, grateful that he did not need to try to convince the other Elder. Over the next few hours, the pair criss-crossed this floor and the one above, the journey taking longer than normal as Wu Ying was put to work at times, sorting scrolls that had been missing.

More than once, the Elder had crowed with happiness at finding something that had been moved to the wrong location or finding a work thought lost. Most went into his storage ring, to be extracted at the right location, his encyclopedic mind seemingly able to record the spot for every work and item he carried in his storage ring.

Eventually though, the pair ended up where Wu Ying had met the young lady, a wide assortment of manuals set before them. For once, the variety was staggering; nearly fifty different works broken into the four areas of inquiry for Wu Ying.

“Now, one of the advantages that a core member of the Sect has is the greater trust we place in them,” Elder Ko said, tapping the table with his finger. “They are allowed to peruse the full manuals. I do recommend, however, that you only spend a little time on each. Enough to understand their overall strengths. After all, not all fertilizer is suitable for the same field, yes?”

A nod from the ex-farmer, Wu Ying idly noting the change in examples to accommodate his knowledge base. Not that the metaphors or warnings were that hard to follow.

“Nor will I, today, go through each work individually. I have spent more time with you than I expected.” Elder Ko held up a hand, stopping Wu Ying before he could apologize. “It was time well spent. I have begun to ascertain their plans for the library and the individuals involved. They were all too careless with their placement of scrolls and traps. I look forward to dealing with the traitors who have yet to show themselves.”

At the mention of additional traitors, Wu Ying tensed, but Elder Ko shook his head immediately. “This is an internal matter. Worry not. I might be injured, but this, I can deal with. Now, before I manage that unpleasantness… I wish to speak about a few of these works in particular.”

Wu Ying perked up, knowing that anything the Elder had to say was important. Of course, more than once the Elder had tested him and his own understanding with such explanations, the man seeming to revel in tricks and challenges.

Still, knowledge was knowledge. And Elder Ko was a font of it.

***

Wu Ying rubbed his temples, glaring at the retreating Elder Ko’s back. A brief discussion indeed. Just a few highlights, of course. A small matter, for certain.

“He really does like to talk a lot, doesn’t he?” a voice piped up from behind Wu Ying, a little high and a little sweet, almost childish in quality. A voice that Wu Ying had heard sounding much more contrite only a few hours back.

“Cultivator Jin—” Wu Ying started.

“Cultivator Qin. Qin Li Jin,” the woman corrected Wu Ying.

“Cultivator Qin, I would not dare voice such opinions about your Master,” Wu Ying said.

“Oh. You’re one of those stuffy ones. And here I thought you’d be more fun, being a commoner and all,” Li Jin said, her face falling.

Now that Wu Ying was staring at her, he realized she might actually be as young as she looked, somewhere in the mid-teens at best. A child, in other words.

Especially compared to his own, rarefied age of twenty-two.

“Even in peasant villages, we were taught to respect our elders,” Wu Ying said bitingly.

“Mmmm… whatever. But you should read these two more carefully,” Li Jin said, pulling two manuals from separate piles and handing them to Wu Ying.

“Why…?” Wu Ying said, puzzled and a little angry at the girl’s casual recommendation. After all, a bad suggestion could wreck his progress. Especially considering she seemed to have pulled out an energy projection technique and a qinggong method, both of which were of paramount importance if he was to complete what he had planned.

Stubby fingers tapped the first energy storage manual. “Xuanwu[10] Energy projection. Used with fists, kicks, or shorter weapons, because it borrows from the cultivator’s aura to project a serpent of energy or a shield—the tortoise shell. You have good control, so it’s a good start. It’s unaspected, which is the best we can do for a wind body like yours. More importantly though, it’s a Core Formation technique but one that requires a lower amount of chi than others while increasing its damage by borrowing from your dao conception.

“And you’ve begun to gather one already, have you not?”

To Wu Ying’s surprise, he found a pair of particularly perceptive eyes peering into his own. He leaned back a little, for there was something ancient and ageless in her gaze, for a brief moment, before it disappeared.

“As for the other one, this qinggong method is flame based. You burn bright, so with a little enlightenment and more training and experimentation, you might make use of your fire and wind chi to make it your own.” Li Jin’s fat fingers waved around in front of his face while she added, “Anyway, flames move to wind, and wind rises because of fire, so I’m sure you can work something out with it.”

“That…”

“I know. I’m good. But you’re still boring.” Smirking, Li Jin extracted a stick of dragon beard[11] candy from somewhere, sticking the small toothpick of it into her mouth and skipping off behind a book stack.

Leaving Wu Ying alone to look at the piles of remaining manuals.

First up were the couple of rare works Elder Ko had located and, rather than making them disappear entirely, had handed to Wu Ying. He had been adamant in explaining their drawbacks, so reading over the manuals was more of a refresher of the details and gleaning specific issues that Elder Ko might not be able to pick up due to Wu Ying’s own unique situation.

Well, unique for the Verdant Green Waters. He assumed that the Elders in the Double Body, Double Soul Sect would have a better idea of what he might be facing. Wu Ying had even visited the other Sect a few more times, making use of the contribution he received for delivering unique and rare herbs to consult about minor problems with his cultivation process.

Of course, each time he visited, the Elders would gently and not so subtly pitch his transition over to them. They even indicated a willingness to pay off the Verdant Green Waters to free him from any obligations he might have, but thus far, Wu Ying had stayed loyal.

“Heavenly Soul, Earthly Body,” Wu Ying muttered as he read the manual cover. A bit pretentious.

This was a qinggong method, an ancillary martial exercise that aided in development of one’s qinggong skills rather than an actual new system. The light body exercises were powerful and necessary for travel and fights, though many cultivators chose to only spend a little time on them. Mostly because a large number of cultivators never chose to leave the Sect, and for those who did, riding horses and taking a boat downriver was both more comfortable and often faster.

For Core Formation cultivators, there was also a third, less common but much faster method of travel—movement through the air. In most cases, that was via enchanted objects like flying swords, discs, and chariots, all powered by the Core Formation cultivator’s own chi.

This qinggong exercise then was a precursor to flying. Firstly, on swords and later, by utilizing one’s own chi and dao concepts. Of course, it was meant for those at the Core Cultivation stage, though there were training exercises even at the Body Cleansing stage which would enable one to begin this process.

Of particular note to Wu Ying was how it combined chi projection with intent and dao understanding. While utilizing weapon intent was somewhat similar, it was also a very narrowly focused slice of attacks and energy. In that sense, this manual offered insight into a new and potentially useful area of chi manipulation.

Unsurprisingly, Wu Ying set the book aside for now. There were numerous exercises that worked on the same concept, though this one had been ill-used due to it hosting concepts of air flow and energy manipulation that did not seem to mesh with other works. Wu Ying needed to dig into it further, since he only had the barest understanding of the entire thing from what Elder Ko had mentioned.

Which brought him to a series of other exercises for qinggong progression. A couple of similar supplemental exercises and skills were included, all of which Wu Ying skimmed through to grasp their basics. They each had their own advantages. Some were much more cost-efficient on chi use, making them suitable for Energy Storage level cultivators, while others focused on long-range movement and the use of space dao to shorten journeys. There was even one that taught cultivators to extend their aura, to wrap it around themselves and their mode of transportation. Horses to start, but later on, even boats and ships, allowing their steeds to aid their users in travel.

A couple of the qinggong manuals provided were not just exercises—supplementary methods that improved upon an existing base—but entirely new styles. Two were outstanding, the One Thousand Li Step and the Forester’s Path both being marked improvements over the Wind Steps Wu Ying currently used. The first borrowed from the dao of space itself, allowing an individual to shorten the distance between each step. To make most use of it though, you had to have some understanding of the dao of space, an area that Wu Ying had little understanding of.

The second, the Forester’s Path, was a path that Wu Ying was more suited to. It required a little of the knowledge he had gained as a Gatherer, though its dao path was different from his foraging and harvesting one. Subtle differences that might, eventually, grow too large; but using the Forester’s Path, one would be able to traverse forests and other wooded regions more quickly. It was less useful in a city since much of its skills borrowed the strength of the forest to allow the user to pass through the dense woodlands as one.

Even at a glance, Wu Ying understood that it made use of the intrinsic connection between one patch of woodland with the next, allowing a user to step between areas of similarity. The more profound the individual’s connection to nature and the woodlands and the stronger the user’s spiritual sense, the farther they could travel using this method.

It was, in fact, something that Wu Ying felt was almost tailor-made for him. Unfortunately, Wu Ying’s greatest hesitation was the sheer amount of training required to make use of it. He could already see that it would require a significant amount of time meditating and practicing the movement and chi flows required to make use of the technique.

And time was not on his side.

Setting aside the manual for now, Wu Ying turned to the martial art manuals. Profound training manuals for the martial arts—whether fist, leg, or sword—not only contained specific movements, but they also expanded upon training exercises and chi flows through the meridians. At the base level, a human body had only so many variations in movements, and of those, only a certain number of actions were the most efficient method of defense or offense.

However, a well-conceived martial style did not just take into consideration the initial clash of arms but the second, third, fourth, and fifth movement. Rather than advancing, one might retreat—to the side, directly backward, even lowering one’s body. Each movement, each step guided one’s opponent to the next location, like a chess match that eventually revealed an opponent’s weakness.

On top of that, adding chi flows provided bodies with greater resistance, greater strength or flexibility, or in some cases, even range above human norms. A sudden flood of chi could help a fighter cross the distance between them and their opponent in a surge, while at the higher levels, Dao understandings could alter the kind of battle entirely.

Chi mixed with sword intent, punches and kicks that helped project energy; all of that warped the way high level cultivator battles were fought. It was these kinds of manuals Wu Ying perused, focusing on ways to expand upon his current styles while growing their usefulness. While undertaking a complete revamping might provide a stronger overall foundation, he just did not have time to do that.

Rather, his focus was on what could be added now to his repertoire.

The Shen kicking style was more focused on twisting strikes, on placement and focus of the body, a higher degree of mobility and close-in attacks that would help Wu Ying break away and use his sword. Integrating it into his fighting style had allowed Wu Ying to close a gap in the Long family style—though his father had much to say about how it wasn’t a gap but a lack of foundation on Wu Ying’s part—while the Mountain Breaking fist style had focused on powerful, focused singular fist strikes. A fight ender, if he could land them.

However, much to Wu Ying’s chagrin, as he had progressed with his understanding of the Long family style and integrated it further with his new body and cultivation methods, as well as making use of the sword projection, both his fist and leg forms had fallen by the wayside.

He no longer needed to keep others from closing in on him. It was rare that an enemy was able to sneak in that close. Nor did he often have need for an open-handed style, what with his ability to project his chi into an ethereal blade itself. Only in certain circumstances was it better for him to try to subdue an enemy than just outright kill them, whether that opponent was monster or cultivator.

Which left him spending less time using both techniques. Now, he needed to find a way to make both the movements and the attacks something that he could, once more, integrate into his fighting style. It was that gap that he searched for, a spark of inspiration or a form that the manuals might illuminate.

There were a couple that, given more time, Wu Ying might have studied. One of the styles—the Whispering Wind—was a series of highly acrobatic kicking techniques. Even at a glance, Wu Ying could tell it required a significant amount of speed and flexibility to pull off, since many of the attacks originated from multiple unusual stances. Fascinating, but like other techniques, out of his range for now.

As for fist techniques, he had much better luck finding ones that might work with his current Mountain Breaking Fist. In this case, it was the pretentiously named Heaven Shattering Fist suggested by Li Jin, which had many similar techniques to the Mountain Breaking Fist but borrowed from the aura and chi flowing through a cultivator to a greater degree. It was, unfortunately, mostly focused on metal and earth chi, but Wu Ying felt he could still make use of it. At the back of the book, there was further discussion of dao-empowered techniques, borrowing from the heavens’ strength as it were.

As for aura and chi projection work, Wu Ying had to dig deep into the manuals, screening each in hopes of finding something useful. In short order, he had discarded the pair of works that Elder Ko had recommended since one tapped into a series of meridian channels in a way that would likely damage his current soul cultivation, and another was focused on slow, gradual development of the technique. It would be, potentially, a stronger technique than the others he found—perhaps even allowing him to project his entire consciousness later on by using an aura body—but it required decades of study.

Decades that Wu Ying did not have.

Even as he finished reading, the cultivator had to stand and stretch, his body tired and aching from the long hours he had spent sitting still. Extending his spiritual sense to the edges of the room, he felt the sun bearing down through windows, reminding him that he had been there for an entire day.

Still, he had made some decisions; though perhaps the final decision was best reached after a night’s rest. Fingers resting on the manuals, Wu Ying measured the need for haste with the knowledge that too great a rush would mean tragedy.

And finally, he chose to walk away. Decisions could come another day, when he had rested thoroughly. He had time, at least this much, to contemplate his future.

Chapter 7

Wu Ying yawned into his sleeves and eventually gave up, churning his chi to force himself awake. The wash of energy through his body perked him up, though he knew that such techniques came with a cost—greater exhaustion at a later date.

Rest was what he had wanted when he returned to his residence, but he had been waylaid by Tou He for a drink and meal, then when he finally stumbled to bed, he was woken an hour later by his servant with a summons by his Master. Leaving Wu Ying waiting beside a brewing pot of tea, trying to stay awake while Master Cheng took his time arriving.

As he began to nod off again, the initial impetus of energy disappearing, Wu Ying forced himself to stand. Rather than stay seated and fall asleep, he made his way to the training grounds, informing the servants beforehand, before he extracted his jian.

Step by step, Wu Ying traced the forms of the Long family style. He chose to use the traditional forms as taught to him by his father, as explained in the manuals passed to him. No changes, no adaptations for his own body or style. Just the forms as taught to him.

When he was done and his Master had still not turned up, Wu Ying chose to repeat the exercise; but this time he explored the form using his other martial styles and studies. Adjusting the Sweep of the dragon’s Tail to a higher position so that he could, if he wanted, pull the strike back and use a kick instead of a cut. Using the Dragon’s Breath with his aura and sword intent, borrowing the explosive power of the Mountain Breaking Fist to add a sudden surge at the end to send a pulse of sword intent instead of a thrust. Combining Scattering the Raindrops with the fifth wind of his Body Cultivation, using the movements to both dodge and parry illusory attacks.

He adapted the forms, testing new movements one after the other, exhaustion driven away by focus and studied exploration. Multiple times he stopped and tested a new adjustment, going so far as to take a few new steps to the new form exploration before he returned to his starting position, dissatisfied. Each time, he fought a battle with an imaginary enemy, one stronger and more powerful than ever.

Surprisingly, three figures dominated his imaginary combat landscape. His Master, Elder Fang, and an old figure, a wandering cultivator who had pushed Wu Ying well past his initial limits. He had not met that man in ages, yet he stood tall within Wu Ying’s landscape of foes, taller even than the dark sect Core cultivator who had nearly killed him two years ago.

After all, Wu Ying had only watched the dark sect cultivator for a few minutes, exchanged a single pass of blows, before he was struck aside. As for the others, they had fought him in multiple exchanges, enough that he could recreate them in his mind’s eye.

Unknowingly, time passed for Wu Ying, his attention entirely directed within. He even missed the appearance of his Master. When his Master picked up his weapon and attacked him, Wu Ying reacted by instinct, exchanging a series of blows with the imaginary-turned-real figure before he realized what had happened.

Only to step away a few moments later, hands shaking and leg aching from a hard block by his Master.

“A good mental projection of me,” Master Cheng said. “But if I had known you would do this, I would have varied my techniques more.”

“Mental projection?” Wu Ying said, stepping back and bowing to his Master in proper greeting. He sheathed his sword, then placed it back in his storage ring.

“A mind technique. Some martial artists make use of it to improve themselves. You are doing something similar, though if it is of interest, I believe Elder Ko has additional manuals on such techniques. I’ve found them mildly useful—just paying attention has been sufficient in my experience,” Master Cheng said. “You seem to be varying your opponent though. I recognized myself and Ah Yuan, but who was the third?”

“Cultivator Dun, my honored benefactor while I was on my first mission,” Wu Ying said.

“Ah, yes,” Master Cheng said. “His technique is fascinating. Much more evasive than the traditional styles, though with a high degree of explosiveness. He fought you mostly at a distance, but I think if you were to meet him again, he would have a variety of close-in styles to show you. Something, I note, you have begun to progress upon yourself.”

Humming his agreement, Wu Ying waited to see what his Master wanted to do. A part of Wu Ying desired another bout or two, wanting to test the mental construct and his new plays in reality. Another portion was impatient to know what he had been summoned for. And a third portion, creeping up from his bones, murmured of his exhaustion and the need for rest.

“But that is not what I came here to discuss with you.”

Wu Ying said nothing, waiting patiently.

“As the lead in the counter-offensive in the Sect, I hear things. Especially about you and your friends.”

Still, Wu Ying stayed silent.

“Silence will not save you. Making inquiries about ships that will be leaving, requesting updates on the border, and laying down travel rations…” Master Cheng stared at Wu Ying. “Did you even consider being inconspicuous?”

“I thought using Auntie Yi was,” Wu Ying said innocently.

“Not trying to deny it at least,” Master Cheng said.

Wu Ying flinched, a little late, as the blade came down on his head, the flat side striking the top of it. He rubbed the bruise and shivered a little as the cold evening wind caught at his stale sweat.

“What did I say?”

“That the Sect would not be going after my martial sister,” Wu Ying said flatly. “That it would be better to launch a full assault than to wander into the obvious trap that her kidnapping was.”

“And yet, you choose to defy our wishes.”

“I will not abandon her.” Wu Ying crossed his arms, though he kept an eye on the blade just in case. Not that blocking it would stop his Master from hitting him more if he so chose. “Just like I did not abandon you.”

“You…” Master Cheng’s lips thinned at the reminder, before he shook his head. “You are a fool. You are only an Energy Storage cultivator, yet you choose to throw yourself into such predicaments. You tread where even Patriarchs fear, strolling in willingly with all the confidence of youth.

“Do you not know that you consign yourself and your friends to death?”

“My friends aren’t coming,” Wu Ying said.

“If you truly believe that, you are even more of a fool.”

Wu Ying grimaced, thinking back to Tou He’s recent visit, the gleam in a few eyes. He sighed, accepting the truth of his Master’s words. At least one of them would turn up, even if Wu Ying did not ask. In truth, Wu Ying knew he would need their help.

“I will not give up on her. Nor should you, Master,” Wu Ying ground out.

Silence fell over the pair while Master Cheng stared at Wu Ying for the longest time. Then he turned away, walking toward the end of the training ground. He turned about, placing one hand low by his side and the point of his blade low. “Move.”

Wu Ying blinked, then scrambled aside. He stopped a short distance away only to receive a flat look from his Master. Only when Wu Ying was secreted on the outside of the training floor and a formation had sprung up around the entire area was the man satisfied.

Eyes narrowing, Wu Ying watched his Master. Waited as he felt the energy around his Master grow. He sensed his Master’s chi as it churned, rising around his still form and flowing through his Master’s meridians. It moved so slowly, shifting and changing with each pass before consolidating at the tip of the weapon.

Wu Ying felt the changes, the way the blade grew sharper, its intent changing under the play of Master Cheng’s dao intent. Karma, and the severing of it, thrummed through the blade. Even as a bystander, one standing outside the protective formation, a part of him quailed at the sight of the blade, shrieking in fear.

Then, muscles bunched, twisted. Again, that ever-too-slow shift of energy, the uncoiling of potential as his Master exploded into motion. No lunge this, but a cut. A singular cut that rose from the ground to the sky. A blade that moved so fast, Wu Ying could not see the edge of its movement, only feel the effect as it sliced apart the air itself, leaving an ear-splitting explosion of noise and a shriek of air returning.

His soul vibrated, twitching in fear, his spiritual sense thrumming as the wind spoke to him of the cut’s effect. As it told of him something more, something less substantial but still important, was torn apart.

Then the blade was sheathed, his Master straightening.

“Karma Severing Blade.”

Three words before his Master left, leaving Wu Ying to ponder what was shown to him. And what had been left unsaid.

***

“We expected you back earlier than this,” the library attendant said, making tutting sounds as he checked out Wu Ying’s armful of manuals. “Are you certain you have enough points to cover all this?”

“I should,” Wu Ying replied. “If not, if you let me know the difference, I’ll see if I can make it up.”

A sniff from the attendant, the young man obviously unimpressed with Wu Ying’s words. Then again, Wu Ying reflected, he had probably heard the same thing multiple times. And some of the manuals he was getting were restricted and likely highly expensive.

The attendant swiped Wu Ying’s sect token over the jade tablet he used, one that allowed him to read and sense the information in it. “Interesting.”

“What’s interesting?”

“Elder Ko has marked your file.”

“With?”

“None of your business.” Even after saying this, the attendant kept reading before he looked up, staring at Wu Ying with a suspicious gaze. Eventually, he put down the tablet and pushed the manuals over the counter. “You’re good.”

“My token?” Wu Ying said, even as he waved his hand over the books and deposited them in his ring. He was surprised he managed to get them all, since the restrictions were not necessarily just contribution points but prestige as well. Then again, he had done a lot for the Sect’s reputation over the last few years.

“Here. I’ve taken off what I’m meant to,” the attendant said as he handed over the jade seal. Wu Ying took hold of it, almost wanting to ask how many points he had left. Before he could, the attendant continued. “You should also visit the armory.”

“Huh?” Wu Ying said, surprised.

“Elder Ko’s direction and note to any attendant dealing with you. To inform you to go to the armory.” The attendant leaned forward, then dropped his voice. “So what did you do to get such preferred treatment? I can pay if it’s a secret…”

Wu Ying shook his head, stepping back at the sudden avaricious gleam in the attendant’s eyes. “I’m a Gatherer.”

“Huh.” Some of the greed disappeared, though it was mostly replaced with suspicion.

Rather than continue to engage with the man, Wu Ying bowed then scooted out of the building, the manuals in his ring seeming to weigh him down. They were all copies of course, but still, they were the highest grade works he had ever acquired—other than his copy of the Seven Winds Body Cultivation manual. A manual that he had yet to grasp even the edges of when one considered that the last two winds were aspects he had yet to pierce.

For now though, he would be grateful for what he had received. Rather than take the Heaven Shattering Fist, he had chosen to take the Xuanwu Energy Projection technique, assuming that training one form of energy projection would be sufficient. On top of that, he had purchased the Heavenly Soul, Earthly Body qinggong exercise to aid his movement skills, and finally, the Whispering Wind kicking technique. That last one, he would not train now; though some of the stretches could be incorporated into his daily training to ready his body. From what he had seen when he skimmed the work, much of the stretching was already part of his Body Cultivation technique.

None of the sword techniques he had read were appropriate for him. At least, none that he could have studied and practiced to make use of. He’d still picked up a half dozen manuals anyway, figuring he could read through and integrate them into his own style eventually.

Thankfully, the gap in his techniques and deadliness had been fixed by his Master when he had shown Wu Ying his Karma Severing Blade. Remembering it, Wu Ying shivered once more.

That cut, much like the lunge that Cultivator Dun had used on Wu Ying, was burnt into his mind. Over and over, Wu Ying had replayed the movements, the chi flows, till he was certain he had memorized every movement, every second of the technique. A part of him wished his Master had done it again, or a half dozen times more. But his teacher had opened the door. Wu Ying would have to enter it himself.

It was with some impatience then that Wu Ying found himself before the armory, the building standing untouched amongst the devastation of the surroundings. A clear circle nearly twenty feet from its walls stood unharmed too, the grass alive and vibrant, unlike the blasted and dead earth in front of it. A certain sign of the formations that had been triggered.

Too bad the danger for the armory had been theft from those within, precious relics taken by traitors before the warning had arrived.

A fact that Wu Ying knew had greatly angered Elder Wen. Even now, the armory was running on a skeleton crew as the personnel were put through another round of interrogations and loyalty tests.

Even with the higher prices, there was a line to enter the building as cultivators spent their contribution points to acquire much needed enchanted equipment. The loss of life, the attack, and the rumors of direct war meant that many wanted to acquire what they could.

Which left Wu Ying standing in line, waiting while sect members were slowly allowed to enter. Exhaling roughly, the cultivator forced patience on himself, allowing his chi to slowly churn through him as he cultivated.

Life was transient, but lines and delays were eternal.

***

Wu Ying tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for his turn. He’d had to come out of his meditation trance since he was only a few individuals away from entering the building. Considering how grumpy the attendants were, missing out on them calling his name was unlikely to endear him to them. While that was unlikely to cause any real problems, still, Wu Ying chose to pay attention.

While he waited, conversations from those around filtered over, the wind carrying fragments of sentences to his ears, even when some were attempting to be discreet.

“I can’t believe they attacked us…”

“I know, right? What bad luck, to get caught in a time like this.”

“And did your Master also tell you how it’s actually good luck? How tribulation offers opportunity, and we just need to look for it?” the young girl who started the conversation whispered to her friend.

The other girl tittered, the pair behind the serious-looking scholar who stood at Wu Ying’s back.

“Crazy! Like she ever had to bother with any attacks or tribulations. Do you know, I hear she rose up to be a Master by just focusing on her dances? Anyway, she’s focused on the dao of refined beauty.”

“Refined beauty?” the other girl said. “What is that?”

A lowered voice, almost as if the next word was scandalous. “Makeup.”

Another series of giggles. Their conversation turned to actual makeup, how to rogue one’s cheeks, the latest perfume, and how to refine one’s eyebrows, and Wu Ying tuned them out.

“… you know how dire things are. Why, I might die tomorrow, or even the next day. And still with my refined seed…”

“You must be joking, you know I have eyes for Er Hu…”

“Him? What does he have that I don’t?”

“Courage.”

“…”

A smile crossed Wu Ying’s face as he listened and shook his head, dismissing the breeze that brought that imploration. Conversations, both big and small, turned over his mind, even when he was called in and brought to an empty room where he was left to wait once more.

Inside the quiet marble walls and bare room, Wu Ying had nothing more to ponder than their words. Danger and tribulation, opportunity and risk. It all came together, and yet so many others had risen through the ranks without such instances. Centuries of peace, held together by the Verdant Green Waters Sect, had turned troubled for those who sheltered under its auspices.

Yet that too was an illusion. The peace was hard-won by peasants in the field and martial cultivators on the roads. Peril at the edges of civilization, held back by those who chose to take on that burden or were forced to. Now, brought within, to find the members of their Sect wanting.

The winds of fate had blown hard, and the stalks of many a cultivator life had broken. Those who had survived the initial calamity might still fall, for there was never a guarantee when planting a field. Circumstances outside of any farmer’s control could destroy a harvest—too much rain, too little rain, too hot a day, or the churning, hungry bellies of the locusts and bugs.

Troubles, great and small, no matter the strength of those who were burdened with them, arrived without fail. The Heavens did not choose to offer greater or lesser burdens, its casual disregard for those below as certain as their indifference if one chose to rise once more after being crushed.

To mortal eyes, the travails and travesties placed upon one soul or another were as unfathomable as the movements of the stars themselves. Those who chose the easiest way in life were like farmers who but scattered their seed in one field, who chose not to build the dykes and irrigation canals necessary when droughts arrive. Perhaps you could survive, perhaps it was possible to do well, for years. Perhaps one could even grow multiple harvests in the same field, year after year without stop.

And perhaps, one day, a flood would come, the soil would give way and wash away your land and harvest. In the end, only the Heavens would know; and so man could only choose how to plan for the future. To do the work now, in fear of a troublesome future, or to accept disaster when it struck and… move on.

“Huh…”

Wu Ying shook his head, realizing how shallow his thoughts were. Yes, it was important to train, but what if one trained too much? What if all that planning for a disaster came to naught? Who then was better off? Those who spent their youth living a life they loved? Or the man who planned for the disaster, and finding none, had naught but his preparations and years of misery to accompany him?

No enlightenment here then, though Wu Ying found himself pondering the question and looking over his own life. He had spent so much of it training, studying, learning, then working that he rarely had time for relaxation. More than once, he had chosen his cultivation path over the embrace of a young woman, the rigors of courtship. Chosen to sacrifice the now for an uncertain future.

For all that, so many others were ahead of him. Whether through artifact of birth or skill or chance, he lagged behind those at the peak. Was the journey he was taking worthwhile? Were the choices he made beneficial? What, in the end, did he want to dedicate his life to?

Was there a point in creating rigid structures around desire and need? Or perhaps Wu Ying should be like the wind he cultivated, blowing which way it desired, sometimes still, sometimes a hurricane gale. Acted upon by greater forces and, at the same time, a great force in itself.

***

Wu Ying’s crisis of confidence was interrupted by the door sliding open. To his surprise, Elder Wen was the one who walked in, the tiny, matronly woman looking exhausted, bags under eyes. She stomped over to take a seat, tutting when she realized there was no tea or snacks. Her attendants flew into action, barking orders, while Elder Wen regarded Wu Ying over the table. The cultivator had scrambled to his feet and greeted her, only sitting down once more when she gestured for him to do so.

“You’ve been absent for a long time,” Elder Wen said.

“I have,” Wu Ying said.

“You’re also not wearing the Woo Petal Bracer. Though I note you’ve finally purchased the silks,” Elder Wen said. “Quite a few, from the records the branches have shared.”

“Gathering is a dirty business.” Wu Ying moved his hand, depositing the bracer on the table. “Unfortunately, I’ve found that my new cultivation interferes with the charging and use of this.”

“Mmmm…” Elder Wen picked up the bracer, turning it over in her hand as she extended her senses. Wu Ying felt the brush of her aura, the way she sent a thread of her chi into the delicate jade bracelet as it hummed to life. After a few moments of inspection, she reached out sideways and dropped the bracer, fully expecting—and rightly so—that one of her attendants would be there to take it. “It has been decently cared for. Some minor disruptions in the inscriptions, some minor wear. We can credit you a portion of its selling price while it is fixed.”

“Thank you,” Wu Ying said, bowing from his seat.

From the outer door, additional attendants came hurrying in with a plateful of snacks and tea, serving the pair with brisk efficiency. The smell of chrysanthemums rose from the teapot, a much lighter and more floral blend than the black tea Wu Ying preferred. The attendants only quailed once when Elder Wen glared at the pair of attendants doing the serving before they pushed past it and continued. Once the refreshments were served, they surprisingly did not stay but hurried out.

At Wu Ying’s puzzled look, Elder Wen sighed.

“While civility is required, some matters must be allowed to lapse in the wake of the attacks,” the Elder said. She sipped on her teacup again. “Now, I understand you’re about to do something foolish again.”

“I—”

“Hush. If I wish you to speak, I will tell you.”

Wu Ying clamped his lips shut.

“Now, not surprisingly, you are not the only one who has a vested interest in reacquiring our lovely Elder Yang. Among them, Elder Shih in particular has been most generous in his contributions.”

Wu Ying blinked, recollection of the man coming back to him. He had been one of his martial sister’s most ardent courtiers.

“Though there have been many who have offered some degree of aid. Fools.”

“Fools?” Wu Ying said, tamping down his anger in case he misunderstood why she called them fools.

“Yes. If one intends to court a lady, you should be willing to go all the way. These half-measures so many take… what woman has ever swooned over a declaration of mild liking? Who would tie their marital string to another whose most ardent declaration was ‘I can spare a few tael,” Elder Wen ranted.

Behind her, the pair of attendants who watched over the proceedings had to hide small smiles, and even Wu Ying had to admit, she had a point.

“Mark me well, child. If you ever find a woman, you best place her above your own pitiful life. Your life—or your martial sister’s.” A glint in the eye, before she leaned forward, dropping her voice a little. “Unless, of course, you’re interested too?”

“No!” Wu Ying said, firmly and quickly.

“Ah. Good,” Elder Wen said. “It’s always tricky, when such romances happen. It’s not impossible, of course, but… tricky.”

Wu Ying decided not to pursue that line of conversation. Instead, he brought the topic back on track. After all, he had wasted countless hours in line and waiting for her. “And what aid is there for me?”

Elder Wen turned and gestured to the girls, who approached the pair. On either side, the girls went down the table, pulling and depositing items from their storage rings and filling the long board between the pair.

“Apothecarist pills—for healing, poison removal, chi restoration and cleansing—in wide variety. There are some here”—a tap toward a much smaller pile—“that should also aid you in your Body Cultivation. I recommended those, since many were uncertain. After all, the success of this endeavor rests upon your shoulders.”

Wu Ying nodded a little, while she pointed toward smaller piles. “Other pills for each of your companions. They are labeled and marked, just hand them the piles. Anything not used, you should return. Do not take them.”

Again, another nod of acknowledgement. Some of those pills flickered with hidden flames, others gleamed with the flecks of metal within. One, a golden pill, was the size of his fist and made Wu Ying wonder how it would be swallowed whole. In all cases, they carried the scent of medicine and contained chi to aid in cultivation and breakthrough.

“This here, these two are more interesting. The Clear Mind Pill would normally be reserved for those in the Core Formation stage. Taking one now, while in Energy Storage, will reduce the effect of it when you take it again. But it can offer you enlightenment,” Elder Wen said. “And borrowing the strength of the Heavens might be the only way you succeed.

“Keep the other pill for your martial sister. Sometimes, such trials can be the kindling for true insight. Perhaps she will find something to aid her progress.”

Wu Ying smiled, then looking at the pile and the impatient attendants, stored the various items away in his storage rings. Once the table was clear, more were deposited.

“This next section are the things you men always forget. Necessities for Elder Yang when you rescue her.”

Wu Ying looked at the pile, which included multiple sets of robes and underclothes, wrapped packages of makeup items including red papers for staining lips, blush powders, and more, and chose to deposit all these in a secondary storage ring. Among the things given to him was a set of weapons, including a pair of twinned swords and multiple knives and weaponized hairpins.

“Thank you, Elder, for considering such matters,” Wu Ying said.

“If I didn’t, would you?”

“I had planned to bring some of what you gave me.”

“Let me guess. A bunch of peasant robes and a lot of weapons.”

“Food and medicinal pills too.”

Elder Wen sniffed. “Barely acceptable.”

Rather than answer, Wu Ying turned back to the start of the table where a new set of items had been deposited. He knew some of them on sight. Formation flags for camping, ones that created alarms or altered the flow of light or chi around the campgrounds to ward away wandering Spirit Beasts. There was more though, things he had not encountered before. Along with a stack of talisman papers.

“Communication methods—Spirit Paper, a Mirror of Speaking, Beads of Distress—are here. Limited by their range and methods, of course. Use the beads if you find her and need help in extraction. The Mirror has a range of only a few hundred li, but communication is paired to others of its kind. Impossible to be intercepted except by the best formation masters. The Spirit Papers…” Elder Wen shrugged. “You know those, yes?”

“I do, Honored Elder,” Wu Ying said. Those were generally either keyed to a specific location, or with the right mental image and auric impression, could be sent to hunt for specific individuals. The papers could be folded into appropriate shapes and released, the spirits so summoned riding the paper till they reached their targets. Or were destroyed enroute. More often than not, the second case if enough distance was covered. After all, without many defenses, Spirit Papers were easy prey for birds, torrential rain, and the occasional hungry insect swarm.

“These are Night Mares.” Elder Wen tapped the next series of talismans, ignoring the formation flags at the moment. “They’ll conjure paper steeds for you. The energy within will last twenty-four hours per talisman, so be sparing in their use. There are a half dozen here.”

Wu Ying blinked, surprised to see them before him. He had looked into such talismans before, but due to their complexity in design and high chi investment, the cost of such mobility items were high. Much better to buy a good steed than a single talisman. Knowing that, few talisman masters bothered to make such papers, driving the cost further up.

Still, considering he had no idea in what state his martial sister or any other of the kidnappees were in, this could greatly aid their escape. He scooped up the talismans and stored them away in his main storage ring, murmuring thanks. Only to be astounded further when Elder Wen pointed at and explained the next item.

“Seven Sunset Palanquin. Demon-charmed, it will carry four through the air for seven nights. It will not work during the day, so you must find a place to hide or use an appropriate formation,” Elder Wen continued. “After seven days, it will need to be charged under the new moon with metal, fire, and earth chi.” She glared at Wu Ying. “Do not try to do that yourself.”

“Yes, Honored Elder.”

“Now, these other talismans might be useful in situational aspects. The Everlasting Night, Chi Restraining Siphons, Earthen Tomb, Flames of the Western Forest, …” Elder Li listed each talisman as she pointed them out.

Most of the time, Wu Ying had broad knowledge of how the talismans worked from past experiences or lessons. In other cases, their names were quite self-explanatory—Hungry Ghost Banishing Wards for example—but a few, he had to have her explain.

“Seven Whips, Four Ties? Wood and earth restraining chi. Used on the ground often as traps, though you could throw them down in the middle of battle. Just don’t be there when it triggers.”

“Wave upon the Water is a water-breathing talisman. There are two dozen here. Simple to use, it also makes you a little faster while submerged. We considered offering you the Seal Body talisman but chose against it.”

“Turtle Shell doesn’t give you an actual shell. It just hardens your aura. Only a very short use though, barely five minutes. These are apprentice works.”

More talismans were explained and listed, until Wu Ying felt his head was about to burst from the information. Seeing his distress, Elder Wen gestured to one of the attendants. She extracted a small scroll, offering it to Wu Ying with two hands.

“A list.”

Wu Ying bit back a grumpy remark, instead bowing low to hide the irritation that he hoped did not show on his face.

“Now, let us speak about the formations we have,” Elder Wen said, gesturing to the side.

Wu Ying stifled a groan, but he asked for a list of those too. Which, to his gratitude, was quickly delivered this time. Eventually, even the largesse of the talisman and formation masters ran down and the table was cleared, with a much smaller number of items left on it. Each of these was more interesting though, especially in the variation that they offered.

“Now, what we have here is more specialized and geared toward yourself. As the exact makeup of your party is yet to be determined”—a statement that made Wu Ying grimace, as he knew that was a conversation he would have to have soon—“they will have to come by and speak with us directly. Still, your friendships in the Sect are well known. I should note, the amount being offered to them is significantly less… deep.” Elder Wen paused, then added in a tone that was obviously pained, “We are also finding our stocks severely depleted. Between the actions of the traitors and your fellow sect members, we do not have the range of offerings we are used to providing.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Because I’ll have a list of things you should return to the Sect, if you encounter them,” Elder Wen said. “But enough of my needs. What we have here is a little more interesting for you, I’m sure.”

Wu Ying could not help but silently agree.

“Now, rather than provide you with a large amount of semi-useful equipment due to your unique heritage, I’ve elected to offer you more specialized items. If that is acceptable, we can discuss what has been brought over,” Elder Wen said, gesturing at the grouping of items. The two most prominent being the gleaming jade scaled armor and a bow and a quiver of arrows.

“Specialized is acceptable,” Wu Ying said. It was very much in line with his own thinking. Wind being a secondary chi form, one derived from fire and wood, it meant that his natural antithesis also rose from both water and metal. Not to the same extent as one whose soul and body cultivation methods were aspected entirely to either conflicting chi type, but enough that it made a difference.

“Then let us begin with the protection. Jade Scale Armor created by Lan Wu,” Elder Wen said. “We were able to acquire a half dozen of his works, this being the most inferior. The jade will accept any type of chi, while the scale methodology of creation gives you improved flexibility. It’s also thin and light enough that it could be worn under your clothing.”

At her gesture, Wu Ying picked up the armor, marvelling at the almost silky feeling. It was, as mentioned, incredibly light, weighing no more than a thick woolen sweater. As he lifted it though, he noticed a particular issue.

“The noise…”

“Once you invest it with your chi, I believe that should no longer be a concern,” Elder Wen said.

“Should?”

She shrugged, the old lady making a gesture and receiving a cup of tea placed in her hand. She drank the cup, making a face as it had grown cold, and gestured for another before answering Wu Ying. “It’s not as if I’ve ever outfitted a wind cultivator. But considering the jade takes on aspects of the chi most needed, I believe that is correct. You may test it out later, and if it is unacceptable, choose something else. However, you will not find a more secure form of protection at your strength level. Fully invested, this armor can take even a strike from a Core Formation cultivator.”

Wu Ying nodded, placing the armor back down as she moved to the next item.

Instead of the bow and arrows he had expected, she pointed at another bracer. “This is the Gold and Silver Bracer of the Calming Winds. It’s not a weapon, but an item you might find useful in other circumstances.”

“What does it do?” Wu Ying said, frowning as he picked up the jewelry, eyeing the delicate scrollwork that joined the different metal wires together.

“If you infuse the bracer with your chi, it creates a field of calming energy that surrounds you. It reduces the wariness of those affected subtly, making guards less alert and slower to react.”

“How easy is it to notice?”

“Not at all. It’s a minor change in the ambient environment, so unless one is particularly perceptive, even a Core Formation cultivator would miss the effect,” Elder Wen said.

“This is a real boon if we are to sneak in.” Then a thought struck him. “But what if I have companions?”

“They will be affected too, though if they train to resist the effects, they will be less susceptible. I recommend you do such training,” Elder Wen said drily.

“Of course.”

Wu Ying turned the bracer over and over in his hands, taking in the details before he pushed up his sleeve. In short order, he had it on and was infusing his chi into the bracer to get an understanding of what it was like. Of course, he had to make it his own, but that was a small matter since any imprint the item had had had been wiped before it was returned to the armory.

It did not take long before Wu Ying felt his chi being swallowed by the bracer, the way it moved along the wires, being imbued and altered by the enchantment wrought into the item. To his surprise, the wind aspect of his chi was stripped out partly, though not completely. Obviously the name was only partly correct, for he felt strands of water and earth being woven into his chi and released. There were other aspects too, more uncommon and higher form, including spirit; but that was outside his own experience for now.

So engrossed in the entire proceedings was Wu Ying that he only noticed the effects on the attendants when Elder Wen tapped him on the arm with a fan she had extracted. Looking around, Wu Ying spotted the way the attendants were standing, little smiles on their faces, the tension from being in the presence of their testy Elder having bled away. When Elder Wen gestured for more tea, it took them a moment to notice and even longer to provide it, though not a flicker of alarm showed on their faces—not even when Elder Wen glared at them.

When she had received her tea, she said, “Satisfied?”

“More than that. This will be a great boon.” Wu Ying stopped infusing the bracer with his chi, startled by how much of his energy had been drained in that short time.

“I see you’ve noticed. It’s meant for those at peak Energy Storage or even Core Formation. Use it when you need to, and not otherwise.”

Wu Ying acknowledged her words before turning to the bow. That had drawn his attention immediately, since he was rather surprised it was not a sword. After all, his favoritism for that weapon was well-documented.

“You’ll need more than just your jian if you want to complete your mission. A way to end those from a distance might be necessary,” Elder Wen explained, gesturing to the bow. “I understand you have some experience with these?”

“As did everyone in my village. I do well enough,” Wu Ying said.

“You might find your abilities have increased since your ascension,” Elder Wen said. “If you haven’t tried it recently.”

Wu Ying shook his head, acknowledging he had not. After all, he was a Gatherer, not a hunter. His prey did not move. Well, outside of a few very specific cases, and even those moved extremely slowly. Getting close to his ingredients was never a major issue. As for food—well, spirit rings and pills did a lot to aid the entire supply issue, as did the ability to move faster than a mortal deer or rabbit.

“Are you thinking my wind aspect would aid my arrows?” Wu Ying asked.

“Potentially.”

Nodding a little, Wu Ying picked up the bow and strung it. He tested the draw, wincing as he realized it refused to move. Putting a little more effort into it and infusing some chi into the bow that seemed to actually hunger for the energy made drawing the string back easier. He checked the draw weight for a second, sighting down empty air before he gently relaxed the string once more, careful to not let it slip from his fingers and damage the weapon.

“Does it have any special properties?”

“Increased range, increased strength,” Elder Wen said. “Nothing more, though the arrows in the quiver are unique. They are enchanted to reappear later, allowing you to reuse them. Given enough time, the quiver will even reform the arrows themselves. The jade tips allow you to imbue chi into them, to pierce defenses more easily and deal with spirits and demons.”

Wu Ying nodded, recalling some of the creatures he had fought over the years. While certain magical items and woods were specific weaknesses, jade weapons had the advantage of being dangerous to almost all creatures.

Of course, the fragility of most jade meant that only by infusing the weapons with chi would they last, which meant that only cultivators could use them. And even then, they were rarely brought out, since even hardened, jade would still wear down. A quiver that created and returned arrows was powerful magic and precious, though Wu Ying wondered if it was a little wasted on him.

Well, he would not decline their largesse.

Unstringing the bow, Wu Ying stored it away in its carrying case, then after making a quick inspection of the arrows, he put the case and quiver in his storage ring. The arrows were not much different from normal, high-quality items. Their four-point jade tip was smaller than normal, so it would be good for penetration but not great for doing damage or opening wounds. If he needed to kill an unsuspecting guard, he was probably better off purchasing actual man-killer broadhead arrows.

While Wu Ying was contemplating making better use of the bow and arrows, Elder Wen had picked up a small wooden case. She opened it, revealing a copper-and-steel pair of scissors, elegant and beautiful in its simplicity. “Now, this is from Elder Shih himself. The Scissors of the Green Python[12] will cut any binding, shearing through even the strongest item. Whether it be magic or steel, the scissors can part it.”

“You’re worried about her restraints?” Wu Ying guessed, after pondering the addition.

“He is. Capturing a Core Formation cultivator is difficult. The bindings—whether it is Dao Robbing Silk or the Shimmering Golden Rope or something I have not named—will be difficult to break. Especially for one with your cultivation.”

Wu Ying nodded, taking the deceptively heavy box from her. When he reached out to touch the scissors, she tsked and smacked his hand with her fan.

“Do not touch. Only wield it when required. The sheers are delicate and contain significant power. Too much for its form, in truth. It will break within a few uses, so only use it when required,” Elder Wen warned. “Otherwise, leave it in the box. It is enscrolled to contain both the scissors and its chi.”

“Of course.”

After that, she offered him a few other minor enchantments. Arm and leg protection that was made of dyed and enchanted wool and covered with the skin of a Spirit snake to aid in protection against injuries to the extremities.

A larger storage ring, to replace the one he mainly used. That reminded Wu Ying to deposit the extras he had picked up from his attackers, making the Elder smirk a little. Their contents and the rings would be added to his contribution point list, once they were checked over for potential curses.

Prayer beads that lit up with a gentle glow, offering illumination at night. The amount of illumination was controllable via chi, though safeguards ensured it could never be used as a weapon. Those safeguards were all too common after more than one foolish cultivator had thought to make a mundane item into a weapon and ended up damaging themselves or their allies.

Other, minor conveniences.

Wu Ying took them all and made sure to offer his thanks before Elder Wen chased him out. Though not after taking his sect token and leaving him penniless once again. At least in terms of contribution points, till he returned with what he could.

For all that, Wu Ying could not find it in himself to care. If he failed, he would not need those contribution points. And what he had received already, in terms of contributions and payments, was far and above what he could have hoped to acquire by himself in years of toil.

He was armed. He was trained. Now, he just had to save his martial sister.

Chapter 8

It was the morning the next day when he finally managed to arrange a meeting. It had taken Wu Ying that long to track down his friends. They had scattered throughout the Sect, and only messages left in their residences were a certain method of ensuring they were properly contacted.

Wu Ying had to grumble to himself, wishing that he had spent some time studying how to send spiritual thoughts to others. It was a specific cultivation exercise, one that borrowed from the dao of souls and required quite a powerful spiritual sense. Neither of which Wu Ying had in abundance at the moment. Really, only Core Formation Elders spent any time on that skill. And even then, few enough of them did, so the skill itself was uncommon.

There was a wind cultivation method Wu Ying could learn. Something about sending whispered words on the wind. He had heard of it in tales. Stories about cultivators often had some element of truth in them, though how much he was uncertain.

But for now, he had nothing. Locating the others to speak with them still had to be done the old-fashioned way of sending servants to search and leaving notes. No magical method to contact one another was possible, though there were rumors of a far northern Sect that had managed to enchant their tokens with such an ability. Short-range for sure, and aided by the formations that surrounded their sect itself. Still, it was such a boon that the Patriarch of the Verdant Green Waters had placed a request for further information in the assignment hall.

All of which meant that his friends had descended on his residence in the early hours of the morning like starving locusts. Luckily, Auntie Yi rose to the challenge with her usual aplomb, having arranged for the delivery of multiple courses of breakfast foods including simple congee, fried bread sticks, pancakes, and steamed buns. Of course, since Tou He was present, slices of barbecue pork and small sticks of chicken hearts and livers were available as well.

All this, Wu Ying smelled long before he made his way to his dining room. The subtle smell of broth-soaked boiled rice, the gamey odor of chicken livers lightly cooked over an open charcoal flame, and the smell of deep-fried bread mixed with the hint of perfume and musk of cultivators, light soap beads, and the ever-present whiff of falling fresh water.

Wu Ying stopped a short distance into his dining room, watching his friends consume his food, his hair still a little damp after his bath. Morning exercise had made him sweat more than normal, the integration of new martial forms a difficult—both mentally and physically—workout. Necessary though.

“It’s your table. There’s no reason you need to be invited,” Yu Kun said upon spotting the hovering cultivator, waving to one of the empty chairs.

“I was not waiting to be invited,” Wu Ying said as he crossed the wooden floor.

“It’s okay, you can sit with me. I won’t bite,” Li Yao said with a smile. Her eyes glinted with humor as Wu Ying grumpily sat down, taking the offered bowl of plain congee with a murmured thanks.

“I called—”

“No,” Liu Tsong cut him off.

“What?”

“After breakfast. Did no one teach you manners?” she said.

Wu Ying’s eyes narrowed, spotting the badly hidden grins among the group. He was surprised, again, to see Yin Xue here. The invitation had been extended, but it had been done more out of courtesy than true expectation that he would arrive. After all, while they were no longer enemies, they were not exactly blood-bound friends. And Yin Xue was a core member of the Sect. Much like Liu Tsong, if for very different reasons.

“We talked about the fields all the time at breakfast,” Wu Ying bit out.

“Ah, but we’re refined cultivators,” Yu Kun said before he belched. A quick lean to the side had the chopstick that Li Yao threw at him miss by inches, before the mohawked wandering cultivator grinned. “Well, most of us.”

“Eat first,” Tou He said, lowering his voice so that everyone was forced to quiet down to listen to him. “What you have to say will be easier after you’ve eaten.” He grinned. “Anyway, it’s hard to hear you over the rumbling of your stomach.”

“It’s not—” Wu Ying clamped his mouth shut as his stomach betrayed him.

The laughter this time was not at all hidden, and he growled at his friends before grabbing a drumstick and stuffing it into his mouth. Still, he had to smile a little, grateful for the moment of camaraderie they had enforced.

All too soon, the meal was over. Conversations about love lives, crushes, cultivation exercises, and tournaments passed in a blink of an eye, leaving the group to regard Wu Ying in silence. For a moment, the boy—no, man now—found himself thrown off, surprised that so many individuals of disparate backgrounds were waiting on a poor farmer. Then he shook it off and spoke.

“Thank you. All of you. I’m sure you have guessed—it seems the entire Sect has guessed—” Wu Ying began.

“Only those with eyes to see and ears to hear!” Yu Kun jibed.

“That I intend to attempt to rescue my martial sister. And any of the other women—”

“And men!” Li Yao added.

“—kidnapped.” Wu Ying glared at his friends who had interrupted him, only to be met by unrepentant grins. “I’ve also heard that some of you have begun making preparations to join me.” Wu Ying paused, then continued. “I won’t try to dissuade you. Your path is yours to choose, and if it joins mine, I will be grateful. However, I can’t have you all just turn up.”

“Oh? Why not?” Liu Tsong asked, her eyes glinting with humor.

“For one, not all of you should come. What we’ll be doing…” Wu Ying hesitated.

“Is a trap and likely going to lead to our deaths,” Yin Xue said. “We know. But we’re not all coming for your martial sister, anyway.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her that.”

Yin Xue smiled thinly at Wu Ying before he went on. “But we are well ahead of you. We realized long ago that not all of us should go.” He paused, then glanced around. “In fact, none of us should.”

“But we’re going,” Tou He said firmly.

“And knowing that, and you, we’ve made some decisions.”

“I’m needed to aid the Sect in producing healing and other medicinal pills,” Liu Tsong said.

“I’m leading an entire group of martial cultivators,” Li Yao said. “We’ve been training to use the Seven Waterfalls formation for half a year.”

“And I’ve received three different assignments to aid you,” Yin Xue said. “Those taken might not all be as famed as the Fairy, but they are beloved in their own ways.”

Wu Ying blinked, knowing his surprise showed on his face as he turned to Yu Kun and Tou He.

The ex-wandering cultivator shrugged a little. “I’m not tied down like them. And I hear her suitors are making quite a few concessions, yes?”

“They are,” Wu Ying confirmed.

“Mercenary,” Yin Xue said disdainfully.

“Oh, and you getting assignments from the other families are any better?” Yu Kun shot back.

“They approached me after Wu Ying returned. They offered it to me due to my close relations to Wu Ying and Fairy Yang.” A slightly sardonic smile crossed Yin Xue’s face. “And perhaps, knowing I am a noble, they felt safer to approach me.”

“Close relations! Hah. You’re just holding on to Wu Ying’s and the Fairy’s sleeves to rise.”

“At least I will. Unlike some mud-born western barbarian—”

“Why—”

Tou He leaned forward, getting in the way of the two shouting friends. He cleared his throat before murmuring, “Amithaba. A harmonious family, a successful journey[13].”

“Not family,” Yin Xue muttered.

“We know,” Yu Kun shot back.

Only for Tou He to raise his voice, while looking at Wu Ying, who was rolling his eyes. “When do we leave?”

Once more, Wu Ying hesitated. His friend had not voiced his intention directly, taking it as a given that he would be coming. And a part of Wu Ying realized he had always assumed Tou He would be there with him. When had he not? In turn, Wu Ying came when his friend occasionally asked for help. Though that was too little, too rare. Though…

“The day after tomorrow. The boat I’ve hired leaves then.” There were a few nods from those around, but Wu Ying was not done. “You do realise, even if we succeed, doing so… The Elders will be angry. At me, mostly, for leading it but you are not my subordinates. Not to them. I’m not even the most Senior…” He trailed off, eyes flicking over Tou He and Yin Xue who were coming. It was arguable who was considered the more senior among the trio who were leaving, though Tou He had been in the Sect before them.

“My Master will shield me,” Tou He said blithely.

“And success is lauded more than failure among the Core,” Yin Xue replied.

Wu Ying stared at his friends a beat longer, before he nodded once, firmly, accepting their words. Still, if this was happening, then he owed them. Turning away, he leaned over the table, fixing his gaze on Liu Tsong. “I am hoping you can do me a favor.”

“What pill do you need me to make you?” Liu Tsong said, guessing his intent.

“Not me. For Tou He. And I’m not certain, but it should incorporate this—” Wu Ying extracted the small bottle from his storage ring, depositing it in front of the alchemist.

The moment the bottle appeared, drawn from his World Spirit Ring, the very air in the room changed. Fire and wind chi streamed toward it, as did unaspected energy. Other forms, like water and what little earth there was in the air, was pushed away. Only metal floated, untouched.

“What is that?” Li Yao said, awed. They could all feel it, the metaphorical weight of the item.

“Blood from a fire dragon,” Wu Ying said.

“Wait… you managed to get some from the Wu Gorge Calamity?” Yu Kun said. “How? I heard even Nascent Soul Elders rushed there.”

“Luck. I was nearby when the battle began and managed to make my way to one of the locations they fought over. Even then, I was only at the edges. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—get closer to the epicenter,” Wu Ying explained.

“What Calamity?” Liu Tsong said, looking confused as she picked up the bottle.

She popped open the stopper, releasing vapors. Only for a fraction of a second before she had to shut it, for released into the open, just the vapors threatened to tear the chi from their bodies. All the cultivators had to fight to control their energy, clamping down on their auras to contain and stabilize their foundations.

At the same time, flashes of insight into the very nature of the world rushed through them. Not just of fires and dragons, of animals and clouds, but of the greater threads of nature that bound them all. The very nature of the mythical creature was imbued in its blood and offered both enlightenment and calamity.

Silence fell over the group as they fought to memorize and contemplate the flickers of greater understanding that had arrived without warning. Eventually, the lingering traces of energy and dao inspiration disappeared, their reality seeming a little flimsier, a little less real to Wu Ying. Having been exposed to this before, Wu Ying found himself better able to manage the change while the rest of his friends were still dazed or thoughtful.

His attention was diverted by the feel of energy flowing, that rush of heaven-sent chi that meant someone was having a breakthrough moment of enlightenment. To his surprise, it was no one at the table itself. Standing, Wu Ying followed the feeling around the corner to see a spilled tray and a cross-legged older woman in the throes of a breakthrough.

Wu Ying’s jaw dropped a little, but he shook himself clear of his surprise. Instead, he tidied up the mess, leaving Auntie Yi to her fortuitous encounter. At her age, the breakthrough was a blessing—it would extend her lifespan by a few years, maybe even a decade, and heal some old injuries. It was unlikely she would breakthrough to a new realm, but even a minor improvement in her Body Cultivation was better than nothing.

By the time Wu Ying returned to the group, mouthing her name to those who shot him an inquisitive look, the group had organized itself once more. The bottle had disappeared into Liu Tsong’s storage ring, hers strong enough to contain any fluctuations caused by its sheer presence. A minor requirement for working as an apothecarist.

“This—” Tou He was cut off by a curt gesture by Wu Ying.

“You are not allowed to reject this. You’ve done much for me. This is the least that I can do.” Seeing the mulish look in Tou He’s eyes, Wu Ying added, “Anyway, it’s fire aspected. You’re the only one who would benefit from that.”

“Certainly not me,” Li Yao muttered, looking a little pale. Wu Ying noted how the ice-aspected woman’s aura was a little cracked. It looked to be coming back stronger, healing over after being subjected to the abuse of the dragon’s blood. “Next time, warn us, will you?”

“I didn’t open it!” Wu Ying said defensively.

“If you’d warned her, she wouldn’t have done so,” Li Yao said.

Wu Ying grimaced but decided to drop the argument. No one was going to win it, and she was not entirely wrong.

“This… Wu Ying. I do not think I can do it justice,” Liu Tsong said, her voice perturbed. “How many drops did you gather?”

“Three.” Wu Ying paused, then added, “I intend to sell one to the association, gift the second to Tou He, and reserve the third. Though… if the production first fails…” He shrugged. “Well, that’s why I’m giving it to you first.”

Liu Tsong nodded. “Thank you. This opportunity is truly appreciated.”

“This humble student is but thankful for the years of guidance you have provided me,” Wu Ying said, offering a bow. While he might dabble in apothecary, even he could admit that he was uncertain to what extent working with such rare material would help her progress her craft, just that it was certain to do so.

“One other thing. Taking this now will not provide you the full effect.” Liu Tsong looked at Tou He. “It might even be dangerous. We’ll need to know when you would consume the pill, so we can adjust the dosage appropriately.”

Tou He nodded, then glanced at Wu Ying and smiled a little. “Best to take it now. I might not have the opportunity if I do not begin immediately.”

Liu Tsong nodded. “Then I should leave.” She stood, obviously in a hurry to begin.

After showing her out, Wu Ying took a seat again, only to find Yu Kun staring at him, eyes wide and hands clasped.

“Wu Ying… I’ve been a good friend too…”

“Stop. Please stop!” Wu Ying said, shuddering as he backed away from the grasping hands that reached for him and the over-exaggerated simpering look the wandering cultivator was showcasing.

As Wu Ying scurried away, the group laughed at the pair’s antics.

***

Afterward, the rest of the gathering passed quickly. Wu Ying informed those who were coming of the offers at the armory, and the trio headed off to see what they could acquire. Li Yao excused herself at the same time, promising to return later in the evening to practice against Wu Ying, but citing her duties to the Sect for her departure.

Wu Ying did not mind, for while they were friends, their paths in life were diverging further every day. He knew Li Yao had her own concerns. Rumors of a love triangle abounded, though not being around—and not wanting to dig too deeply—he was uncertain of the details. In either case, his own preparations were nearly complete.

A quick visit to the library to acquire more mundane information—maps of the kingdom of Wei and updates on the location of the armies and contested cities and battle lines—and to the stores to acquire base supplies saw the last of his preparations dealt with. The rest could be handled by Auntie Yi when she exited her meditation.

A dinner with his parents saw to the necessary goodbyes, tear-filled and laden with unspoken lamentations and murmured words of love and encouragement.

After that, Wu Ying turned his focus to the weapons and manuals he had acquired. He could not familiarize himself with them all immediately, but a quick overview would not harm him. By the time evening rolled around again and passed, Wu Ying was feeling much more comfortable with the bow and had even begun integrating some of the various exercises from his manuals into his daily routines. At least so far, there were no unexpected conflicts with his cultivation methods, though that was always a concern.

It was the next night, the night before he was to leave, that Wu Ying received another summons from his Master. It was one he had expected, for the most important part of this rescue—Fairy Yang’s sect token that would guide him to her—had yet to be obtained. Wu Ying initially had considered breaking into the administrative building to acquire it, but with his entire endeavor well known, he expected that one of the many Elders would ensure he received it before he left.

And if not, well, the early morning of the day he left was the best time to steal the token anyway.

It was with some expectation that Wu Ying met with his Master, only to find himself subjected to a training session with sword and fist. Only when Master Cheng had wrung all the energy from Wu Ying’s body and left him with half a dozen bruises did they stop, the Master Swordsman sheathing his practice weapon and waving his student to a seat. After the brief consumption of food and beverages to restore their constitution, Master Cheng finally pushed the token forward.

Wu Ying reached for it, only to find his Master holding it firmly with two fingers. Looking up, the cultivator was surprised to realize that his Master was regarding him with a highly conflicted expression.

“Master?”

“This…” Master Cheng shook his head. “As a good Master, a responsible one, I should be ordering you to stop this foolishness. The Sect does not take defiance that lightly. For my own dao…” He laughed then, bitterly.

“Master?” Wu Ying asked, surprised and concerned.

“Take heed, my student. Use your fool of a teacher as an example when you ascend. Before you do so,” Master Cheng said, “pay attention to your dao, to what you choose to make your world about.”

Wu Ying made an encouraging noise, understanding there was something he needed to say.

“Do not be too narrow in your thoughts or else you’ll find yourself like me, stymied in your progression and by innate desires.”

“I do not understand, Master.”

“Or if you do so, be firm in your decisions. Do not hesitate, do not prevaricate and mar your own future.”

“You’re worrying me, Master.”

“Worry. Hah! And there it is. I believed in severing all karmic threads, in freeing myself from the bounds of karma and in so doing, being able to rise to immortality. It was so clear to me that was the path to immortality. So simple.” Master Cheng shook his head bitterly at the fool of a youth he had been. “Instead, I took on your sister, then you, for I thought—I believed—there was a connection that had to be resolved from our past lives. Instead, I entwined myself ever deeper with this world.”

Wu Ying went to protest, only to be silenced by a glare.

Master Cheng pulled his fingers back, his voice growing heated and pained. “I sought out the dark sect when I noticed their tendrils reaching through the jianghu because I thought it my duty—but it was against the very foundation of my core! I should have left, joined the wandering sages and the spiteful hermits on their mountains to be true to my own dao.”

“I—”

“Your Master is a fool. And fool that I am, I am sending you to do what I cannot.” He nodded toward Fairy Yang’s duplicate sect token, his voice dropping. “Save my Senior Disciple for me. Please.”

“I will do whatever it takes, Master,” Wu Ying said, bowing as he kept the token.

“Good. Then this is what we will be doing to aid you…” Master Cheng pushed aside the refreshments and cleared a portion of the table before extracting a map of the two kingdoms. “This is what we know of her whereabouts and the trap and their plans for the future…”

Chapter 9

Wu Ying found himself unable to sleep, his mind filled with the conversation of the night before. Much was said, and much left unsaid, especially about his Master’s outburst. For the first time, Wu Ying wondered about the unspoken fate of the many Elders above him. So many stalled, so many failed to ascend. How deep did it grind into their confidence, watching those beneath them rise and rise, till they too fell? Despair, jealousy, frustration was all too easy to fall into.

Yet so many gave without thought. And others, harbored their knowledge.

Wu Ying pushed that thought aside again. Elder Li had made her choice, as had he. And though he might not have realized the test was happening at the time, he could not fault her for it either. After all, even now, he would hesitate to trade his World Spirit Ring for her knowledge. If that made him a bad disciple, then so be it.

Fitful sleep was given up on, and instead, he returned to his training grounds. Under the moonlight, long hours were spent replicating a cut. He had other manuals to work upon, other exercises to study, but this simple movement felt like the key to the future. A single cut, a single motion. Even if the flow of chi through one’s meridian points, even if the focus and adjustment of position was demanding in its exactness, it was perfect for his mindset.

Stand, ready, cut.

Reset.

Stand, ready, cut.

Reset.

Over and over, as sweat poured down his body and the motions engrained themselves through his physique. As he perfected the timing of the physicality and the flow of energy. Ignoring the greater danger, the greater requirements of dao imbuement.

For now, at least.

Till morning light came trickling through clouds, basking his sweat-covered form, and breakfast repast was offered to him. Wu Ying ate and thanked his servant before leaving the Sect, once more on a desperate journey.

“And if that’s not familiar, I do not know what is,” Wu Ying muttered, eyeing the red paifang and the lounging Elder who seemed to always be there. Wu Ying sensed it now, to his surprise—the depth of the Elder’s aura, the loamy earth, the hardened granite of his aspect.

“Leave on a journey one man. Return, another. Or do you think you are still the same boy who first left?” Elder Lu said, the guardian smiling.

“No, Elder,” Wu Ying said, walking over and presenting his sect token. “Or should I call you Guardian Khoo?”

The Elder picked it up, turning it over in his hand and registering the energy within before tossing it back to Wu Ying. “So long as you keep supplying me with good tobacco, you may even call me Senior.”

Wu Ying smiled, bowing to the laidback Elder, grateful that he seemed to have grown a little more relaxed, less judgmental of his own failure. Or perhaps he had just been out of his favorite tobacco for too long when they first met again. “I would not dare.”

“Best not. The Patriarch does get irritated at informalities. Best remember that, when you meet him.”

“I shall, though I do not expect to be given such an honor.”

Elder Lu laughed softly, his beard bobbing with each moment of laughter, breath pluming in the early mountain morning. “Oh, child, you go to rescue Elder Yang. If you succeed, you will have restored part of our honor and returned one of the shining prodigies to the Sect. Meeting the Patriarch will likely be the least of the honors they will bestow on you.”

Then, the Elder grinned.

“And then, they’ll make you kowtow a hundred times till your forehead bleeds for daring to defy them.”

Wu Ying snorted but understood. That was the danger and the opportunity in working with such a large organization. They would exult in his success and daring, but at the same time, they would punish him severely for disobeying their orders. No hierarchy could survive a maverick, yet they needed them at the same time. And so, a tradition of both reward and punishment had grown up.

Still, he had entirely forgotten the aspect of receiving a reward. He had not truly considered what would happen when he had found his martial sister and brought her back. Nor, after a moment, did he do so further. That future was but one of many potential ones.

And the least likely.

“I once spoke to you about the choices one makes as a Guardian. What to guard, what to leave to fate itself. You chose not to listen then. Will you listen now?” Elder Lu said as he pulled the pipe from his mouth, straightening a little.

“I hear.”

“But not listen.” A curt gesture cut off Wu Ying before he could object. “That is as it should be. It is your path to walk. Your choice of who to protect and who to take into your heart. No, my advice is not about your path. It is simply this. When you have found what you seek to protect, do not discard it lightly.

“For any reason.”

Wu Ying blinked at Guardian Lu, uncertain what the man meant. Yet already, the Elder was turning away, tapping on his long pipe and fussing with its bowl as he cleared it of burnt leaves and tobacco. Dismissing the boy who had bothered him all too often and yet, perhaps, had some modicum of potential.

Left surprisingly disturbed by Elder Lu’s words, Wu Ying bowed once more to the aged Guardian before taking off down the well-worn pathway. He had a boat to catch after all.

***

His friends waited for him at the town’s dock, the sleek river boat they were to travel upon in the last stages of loading. The roar of the nearby waterfall droned on while its eternal spray caught on swirling wind, dampening long hair and robes. Droplets fell from silken and enchanted robes, mist deflected off the quartet of Energy Storage cultivators. Outer Sect members watched the group with suppressed awe, their auras revealing what their expressionless faces hid.

Wu Ying smiled a little, amused by their reactions. He felt, for a moment, indescribably distant from the boy who had arrived on a merchant ship, wide-eyed and clad in dirty peasant clothing. So many times in the following months, Wu Ying had returned below, carrying rice and other victuals to the Sect above like these outer sect members. And just like them, he had stared at Inner Sect members in their different robes with their powerful auras with awe and longing.

Yet that boy seemed so distant to Wu Ying now, a child who had little relation to him. The expeditions, the desperate battles he had undertaken, it had all changed him. Even the last two years of travel, of visiting other sects. More peaceful by far, but those visits and travels had left their mark on him too, if in subtler ways.

“What are you waiting for? An invitation?” Yin Xue said to Wu Ying, shaking his head as the man marveled over the realization. Yin Xue leapt lightly onto the boat, avoiding the gangplank and showing off his martial ability.

Not to be outdone, Yu Kun jumped onboard too, leaving Tou He and Wu Ying to take the more stable and longer path up the gangway. Behind his friend, Wu Ying cocked his head in consideration, for a subtle heat emanated from Tou He.

“Your control has slipped,” Wu Ying said, surprised. While none of his friends had his level—or need—of aura control, Tou He had not been as sloppy even a few days ago.

“I am struggling to handle the change in strength,” Tou He replied, leading Wu Ying to the observation deck just ahead of the bridge and out of the way of the busy sailors and oarsmen. “Your gift was more profound than expected.”

“It worked then?” Wu Ying said excitedly.

“In a sense. Liu Tsong apologizes that she had to waste a pill, though its remnants might be recoverable to a minor degree. She has given the waste to one of her more promising students to study,” Tou He explained.

Wu Ying nodded impatiently, already having expected that result. After all, dragon blood was a semi-divine item, outside of Liu Tsong’s current capabilities.

“And due to my current level, she and her Master decided not on a single pill but a series of them. I took the first today, and I must admit, I am grateful for their caution.”

“That strong?”

“You are unable to comprehend the depths of this ocean, my friend, without experiencing it yourself. Tou He’s eyes sparkled and he grinned savagely, a surprising action from someone normally so placid. “I look forward to testing out my new strength soon.”

“I… see,” Wu Ying said, eyeing the man cautiously. He worried now that perhaps he had done the wrong thing, giving such a savage, fierce gift to his placid friend.

Then, as though the cloud had blown away, Tou He’s expression softened to its usual affable manner.

Perhaps Wu Ying had just imagined it. Or perhaps, as Tou He had mentioned more than once, he truly was unsuited for a monastic life. After all, his presence in the Sect had been for a reason. It did take quite a bit to be tossed out of a Buddhist monastery.

“How many do you have?” Wu Ying asked, wanting to judge the changes. Perhaps it was something that he could watch. Perhaps Tou He but needed time to adjust.

“A half dozen. I’ll take them over the next few weeks and be ready by the time we arrive.” Then, lips pursed, Tou He asked, “You do know where we are going?”

“Of course. I’ll inform the others tonight,” Wu Ying said and gestured toward the water as the ship slowly pushed off, slipping away from the dock and into the flow of the river. Whichever way they chose, most journeys from the Sect started on this river. “But it’s about a week on ships and another two cross-country.”

“Not more on the ships?”

Wu Ying shook his head. “There’s a siege across the main waterway we’d have to use. Better to avoid it entirely.”

“The Wei have it?”

“No, we are besieging an army that took one of our cities,” Wu Ying said. “But the commander might order four strapping Energy Storage cultivators to join him.”

“Ah.” Tou He nodded. “It would be difficult to decline, what with the king’s edict in his hand.”

While normally cultivators, especially those in sects, were allowed to go about their business unmolested, the on-going war had started to bend such informal rules. After all, sect members were still technically citizens of the kingdom, and it was only custom that set them apart from direct service. More than a few pressured generals had seen fit to apply this theoretical citizenship and had imposed upon traveling cultivators to aid them in their efforts to push back the Wei armies. Powerful as cultivators might be individually, when faced with an army, most gracefully agreed to temporary service.

However, this was not the time for Wu Ying or his friends to get caught in patriotic duty. As important as taking the city might be, they had more important things to do. A few days’ delay was better than a few weeks, and more importantly…

“Once we are docked, I will be moving fast to make up the time. I hope you’ve been training your qinggong skills,” Wu Ying said, his eyes glittering with amusement.

“Of course,” Tou He said. “So long as we make sure to stock up properly beforehand.” The ex-monk rubbed his stomach, the low groan emanating from it almost drowned out by the creek of ropes and masts above and the snap of the sails as they caught the wind.

Laughing, Wu Ying shoved his friend in the shoulder, sending him off to the galley to cadge some food. He watched Tou He amble off, amused to see that the other pair of cultivators were being berated by the first mate—respectfully of course—for starting a minor competition across the covered foredeck. Dodging and playing tag amongst the pallets of goods that were waiting to be stored below, getting in the way of sailors and frightening more than one as blows passed within inches of the mortals.

Wu Ying turned from his friends to stare at the receding misty mountains, the roar of the waterfall fading, and committed the sight to memory. It might be the last time he saw it, and though the memory might be washed away by Grandmother Meng’s[14] soup, still, he would try to hold on to it.

He watched for a long time, the pounding waterfalls, the jade buildings peeking out the top of the mountains, and the ever-present highlands, till they faded away. Then, seeing that the foredeck was empty for the most part, he drew his sword and trained.

The past fled in the wake of water, and the future was still uncertain. Wu Ying would meet it with the edge of his blade as he always had. Best get to sharpening.

***

Days later, the first monsters attacked. The shui gui burst from the water, clambering up the edges of the wooden hull, water dripping from their shells and stinking of seaweed and slime. To their surprise, the sailors were ready for them, spears and tridents stabbing into upraised heads, catching them just below their green shells while their clawed hands were encumbered. Red blood splashed across green-blue skin, the monsters falling into the water below.

Ready or not, there were more monsters than sailors. The creature’s nest had yet to be ascertained, the cultivators meant to locate and destroy it recalled to the Sect. Instead, they faced ready sailors and a pair of waiting cultivators.

Sitting on the foredeck with Tou He, Wu Ying watched Yu Kun and Yin Xue rush across the ship, calling out numbers as they dispatched monster after monster. They flowed from location to location, barely seeming to pay attention to their opponents, a stark contrast to the controlled fear of the sailors they fought beside.

“I’m uncomfortable with allowing them to make this attack a game,” Tou He said, the ex-monk bouncing a little on his feet with ill-controlled nerves.

“So you’ve said, my friend. And you are welcome to join them, if someone looks likely to be injured,” Wu Ying said. “But it’s a good chance for me to assess how far they’ve come.”

Tou He made a soft noise of agreement, his eyes tracking the swift movement of the pair. They darted across the boat, always managing to catch the turtle-backed monsters before they landed a killing blow.

Wu Ying had to admit, watching as he was, that Yin Xue had progressed well, his sword style having grown ever more dominant since he changed styles to one he had stolen from the main family branch. It was not a style that Wu Ying knew intimately, but it reminded him of sabre styles in the way it focused on hard, heavy cuts and explosive motions, while keeping some of the dexterity that was so reminiscent of the jian.

It helped that Yin Xue had progressed far with the Wind Steps system, able to cross the deck in flashes of movement and strike monsters with surprise before he moved on. Eyeing the way Yin Xue moved, Wu Ying had to revise his opinion a little of the qinggong method being used. It might have a base in the Wind Steps, but it had been subtly altered.

Probably a secret art held for the Core members of the Sect.

As for Yu Kun, the water-aspected cultivator was slower but made up for the difference with creative uses of his dual hooked blades. The cultivator did everything from hooking the blades together to use the sharpened hilts to slice at the monsters, to throwing his weapons and using the blood bound within the bodies to send his weapon swirling back. Where Yin Xue covered ground via movement, Yu Kun did the same with careful placement and noting where problems were likely to crop up.

It took only a few minutes for the ship, still under sail, to leave the vicinity of the ambush point, the monsters torn away by sailors and cultivators. As Yu Kun took apart the corpses left on the ship before tossing aside the now shell-less creatures, Wu Ying turned to his friend.

“See? No problems.”

“I guess…” Tou He let out a breath, forcing himself to calm. He cycled his breathing three times more, before the agitated nature of his aura calmed. “Still, I will take part in the next attack.”

“Of course,” Wu Ying said.

His friend bade him goodbye afterward, heading to his room to further cultivate, much to Wu Ying’s secret relief. The constant ingestion of the pills, once every few days, had strengthened Tou He, but the fiery nature of his element seemed to be overtaking his normally placid demeanor. It would, Wu Ying believed, eventually settle after sufficient time in processing.

Still, surveying the deck that was being cleaned and the few injuries suffered by the sailors, Wu Ying had to admit that they had progressed quite far. He and his friends. Years ago, such an attack would have pressed them. Now, the entire incident had not even required Wu Ying to unsheathe his weapon.

He had grown, as had his friends. Soon, they would see if it was enough.

***

The small city that bordered the Li county was familiar in sight, though this was the first time Wu Ying would visit it. It took a little convincing for the guards to understand that the Honored Cultivators had no desire to see their magistrate and even more convincing for the Sect’s branch office to hand over the mares the others required. Wu Ying took one, though he opted to load it down with goods and supplies rather than ride it. In short order, they were out of the crowded city, pushing past the refugee-filled streets, many gaunt with hunger and flinching in fear from the conscript teams that roamed the streets.

Outside, as the team was about to set forth, they were waylaid. Eight riders, waiting in a nearby copse of trees, emerged, their myriad-colored robes sending the group into wary guard. Wu Ying crouched a little, dropping the reins of the horse he led as his eyes narrowed. He took in the newcomers, surprised to note a familiar face.

“What are you doing here?” Wu Ying said, hand still on the hilt of his blade. A slight creak informed Wu Ying that Yu Kun had drawn his bow, while Tou He and Yin Xue spread out.

“We mean no harm, Cultivator Long.” A slight frown on a beautiful face, her scent now clear of the burnt chi that had once dominated it. Xiang Wen bowed from her saddle. “My apologies for the surprise, but we thought it best to make sure our presence was hidden from our enemies.”

“How did you…” Wu Ying cut himself off, spotting the formation markers around the team. Scent and aura removing markers to hide their presence. Eyes narrowed further in consideration, he judged the cultivators before him.

All of them had good aura control, though it seemed they had relaxed them enough that Wu Ying could read their aspects and cultivation levels. They were all peak Energy Storage cultivators, a myriad of elements though fire and metal dominated. As for the robes, they were orthodox sect robes, sects of high standing.

“Yes. My Elder Sister insisted we set up a scent-eradicating formation. She says you smell out cultivators like a truffle pig,” a man, thin-faced but muscular in his body, said. He pushed his horse forward, his long sideburns flapping a little in the light wind that pulled at the orange and brown robes of the Whistling Iron Monkey Sect. Just behind him, another similarly dressed cultivator rode, hunched over his saddle and looking bored. “We’ve come to take our revenge on the dark sect and will be joining you.”

“There’s a concerted push against our enemy being planned, Honored Cultivators,” Yin Xue said, smiling a little. None of that smile reached his eyes though. “Perhaps you’d find your skills better suited there.”

“Turning us down?” the Whistling Iron member said with a sniff. “You have no right to even make such a decision. We will exact our revenge for what they did to our sect.”

“I will save Fairy Yang and win her hand.” Shen Wei preened on his massive mare, his massive beard well oiled. It seemed the wandering cultivator they had met barely a year ago had done well, raising his own rank by a single step in the Energy Storage stage.

“You may have her, for it is Fairy Xia that lights up the heavens before my eyes.” Wu Ying could not see who it was who had spoken, hidden as he was by the other cultivators.

“I just want my Zhang Min returned unharmed.” Another voice from behind. The man’s voice was a little too high to be considered traditionally masculine but a little too rough for most women. “You can keep the Fairies.”

“Idiots, all of you. My sister deserves much better than any of you.” Xi Fan Yi, the other woman in the group, rolled her eyes as she pushed her mare forward. Flanking her came two more of her sect, both men and wearing the same robes denoting their inner sect membership. “But we waste time arguing. You—you are Long Wu Ying, are you not? Do you recall me?”

“I do, Cultivator Xi.” Wu Ying bowed a little and straightened, some of his caution subsiding. “Am I to understand that your sister was kidnapped as well?”

“Yes,” Fan Yi said. “A few other women from other sects too. They too will join us, if they can, but we knew you would be coming this way and chose to meet you here. Now, shall we ride?”

A moment’s more hesitation, then Wu Ying’s gaze bounced between the two women. The men, he did not know, but of the women, one had a clear reason to aid him. And the other… well, she had a clear reason for wanting revenge against the dark sect. Also…

“Cultivator Sun has proven herself once before, has she not?” Tou He murmured to Wu Ying.

Emboldened by the reminder, Wu Ying bowed low to the group. “Then I thank you for your aid.”

He gestured for them to join them on the road and soon, the group was riding. There was only a minor moment of confusion when the newcomers noticed Wu Ying was running alongside them rather than riding, but when they realized he was easily keeping up, the group fell silent.

Wu Ying’s silent cultivation and training of his qinggong methods were broken soon after as Yin Xue fell back to speak with him.

“Are you certain they can be trusted?” Yin Xue muttered, shooting a distrustful glance ahead.

“Some of them,” Wu Ying said.

“And the others?”

“Would you prefer for them to follow behind?”

That question made Yin Xue fall into contemplative silence. He chuckled. “Well, if we’re holding the snake, at least we know how it’ll bite, eh?”

“Yes. Now, we just have to make sure we know when it’ll choose to.” Wu Ying shared a knowing look with Yin Xue before the man spurred his horse forward, falling into easy conversation with one of the newcomers.

Nodding to himself, Wu Ying made note to talk to them later. For now though, he had training to do. And not much time to do it in.

***

The Heavenly Soul, Earthly Body qinggong method had two parts. The first was the flow of chi through his body, touching upon various meridian points as it altered its composition and aspects. The movement through his meridians was in addition to the normal course of energy while using the Wind Steps method, so it required him to break off the energy coming from his dantian into another circulation pathway. This was the main area of practice for Wu Ying while he ran, for the use of multiple streams of chi, while not unusual, was difficult to manage. After all, he was already using the Never Empty Wine Pot method, cultivating for his soul cultivation, and controlling the flow of energy through his aura itself. Even if some of these exercises had become almost subconscious, it was only almost.

Each breath sent energy coursing through his feet, pushing downward with each step, while every exhalation lifted him upward, lightening his body as chi pushed up toward the heavens. Each step landed on the flow of environmental chi that pervaded the world as much as it did the dirt road beneath his feet. Wind Steps used the chi around to give speed in movement, and the Earthly Body portion of the exercise connected further with it, pushing Wu Ying onward.

He varied the technique further at times. For his cultivation methods, his true Wind Body was in play as Wu Ying pushed his chi into it, firming up the surrounding environment and chi flows, allowing it to drive him onward. The very air, using the combined Earthly Body, Heavenly Soul technique and his wind body was almost, almost, as steady and stable as the ground to walk upon.

Occasionally, energy would falter, the flow would stutter, and Wu Ying would stumble. Air steps would break, the half-inch of cushioning disappearing. Movement techniques that should have taken him five feet ahead fell short by a foot or two. Upturned rocks, meant to be passed over or moved out of the way, failed to shift, potholes forming as too much chi was pushed into the ground. Water soaked his feet, only to be wicked away the next second by fire chi.

Wu Ying would push aside the minor failures, smooth out the flow of chi, control its expulsion further, reduce the fire that threatened to overheat him, firm the earth to adjust his footing, and borrow metal to stiffen toes and dig in for greater impetus. Chi flowed and he ran onward, until the sun was high in the sky and past the noon hour. Finally, a small waypost was spotted, the ramshackle hut awaiting passersby with the delectable smell of cooking wafting through the air.

Without a word, the group halted at the stop, handing over their horses to be dealt with. Yu Kun and Wu Ying both refused the offer of aid by the overburdened stable boy, leading their horses to the simple tie-post themselves and relieving their beasts of their burdens before taking out brushes to care for them while their steeds supped on water.

Yu Kun glanced at the others, a little sneer crossing his lips before nodding to Wu Ying. “Nobles, eh?”

Wu Ying shrugged, knowing the attitude was a little unfair. He knew Yu Kun understood that too, but Yin Xue’s presence and increase in cultivation seemed to have brought out the worst in Yu Kun. After finishing in silence, Wu Ying walked over to the group who had taken seats around the few tables, the only other occupants having vacated the waystop the moment the cultivators had arrived. Whether out of fear or good sense, Wu Ying was uncertain.

The annoying cultivator from the Whistling Monkey Sect sneered at Wu Ying as he moved to sit by his friends. “Why bother with a horse if you intend to run all the way?”

“Training,” Wu Ying answered.

“Perhaps before we continue the conversation, introductions are in order?” Yin Xue cut in, heading off the discussion. He gestured to the group, quickly giving their names. “We are, of course, from the Verdant Green Waters.”

“Xi Fan Yi of the Western Crescent Moon Sect,” Fan Yi replied. She gestured to her two companions, members of the same sect and admirers of her sister, naming them. One was entirely too forgettable, an average-looking, pale-skinned scholar, while the other almost rivaled Fan Yi in beauty with his delicate nose and sharp cheekbones.

“I am Sun Xiang Wen of the Whistling Iron Monkey Sect,” Xiang Wen said, offering Yin Xue a small bow and smile. She turned and pointed toward the annoying loudmouth. “This one here is my sect brother, Li Jie Kai.” She then went on to name one other.

Of course, Shen Wei was not to be outdone, pounding his chest as he spoke. “I am Shen Wei. I have no Sect, for I require none. My climb to the heavens will be legendary.”

“As is your boasting,” the high-pitched voice cut in, sneering derision on the face. To Wu Ying’s surprise, the speaker was no female or effeminate—or young—male, but a portly gentleman. He had multiple bowls before him, with two entire containers already finished and a third being worked upon. Tou He, a short distance away, was watching the man with admiration.

“And you are?” Yin Xue cut in before the argument could begin.

“Yao Xiao Peng. I represent the Garden of Forgiveness Sect,” Xiao Peng said.

“Is that Sect not made up of pacifists?” Wu Ying said, frowning. “Buddhist?”

“Not Buddhist,” Tou He corrected firmly.

“In the majority,” Xiao Peng said, tapping the table. “However, just because our sect does not believe in violence does not mean that we cannot aid you.”

“Not very passive with your words, are you?” Yu Kun jibed.

“No one said I had to be. Well, at least none of my Elders have made me change.” Xiao Peng patted his stomach. “Anyway, I’m not the best example of my sect. My Master made me promise to point that out. He said you’d know better if you visited, but since they rarely leave their buildings…”

Fan Yi tapped her lips before nodding. “I remember them. We purchase a number of their talismans and engraved inscription tablets for use through the sect. Very powerful daos of temperance and protection.”

“Thank you,” Xiao Peng said.

“Then you met my sister when she visited,” Fan Yi said.

“Aye. Beautiful as the rumors, though nothing compared to my own Zhang Min.” The cultivator let out a long, sorrowful sigh, his eyes glazing over at a treasured memory.

Wu Ying rolled his eyes a little, his minor mockery caught by Xiang Wen, whose eyes crinkled.

Xiang Wen leaned forward a little, making her sect mates frown, and whispered to Wu Ying, projecting her words with chi to ensure privacy. “Don’t you think it’s romantic?”

“No,” Wu Ying said, replying in the same way.

“No romance at all. You have the heart of a peasant,” Xiang Wen said, her voice still light.

“Probably because I am.”

She smiled at the honest reply while Fan Yi, a short distance away, narrowed her eyes in consideration. Before anything more could be said, Fan Yi was gently nudged back by Jie Kai.

“Food. Eat it. We have a lot of ground to cover.” Turning his head, Jie Kai glared at Wu Ying. “You too. Unless you want us to leave you behind.”

“Can’t,” Wu Ying said, smiling grimly. “I know where they are.”

“I also,” Fan Yi cut in. “So eat. I will not let your tardiness injure her further than it already has.”

Wu Ying tilted his head, considering what Fan Yi said. A wash of concern, remembering how much time had passed, flew over him, before he shook his head and turned to his food. He might be late, but no one else had chosen to act.

He would not let others guilt him into taking on a shared burden.

Chapter 10

Days quickly blended together. Twice more, the group found themselves joined by other cultivator parties. The dark sect had hit hard, capturing multiple individuals when the opportunity arose. Sect members, too impatient for the final push, or understanding that their loved ones would be sacrificed, sneaked away to join the group. Their initial tiny party swelled to a full score.

Running behind, trailed along by a couple of other physical enthusiasts, Wu Ying worried over how fast word had spread. They were not a small group any longer. A powerful force in many ways, able to destroy the smallest of sects by themselves. Yet too small, too weak—they had not even a single Core cultivator in their midst. Depending on the forces arrayed against them, they could easily be wiped out. After all, secrecy was no longer their weapon to wield.

That evening, Wu Ying called a halt to their journey early in a small clearing. It was cramped with so many lofty personages, the smells of their chi, the pressure from their auras prickling his skin. The wind brushed his hair, whispering secrets about cultivation techniques and blossoming romances, all to be pushed aside by the cultivator. The horses were stabled in the forest itself, while locations for tents were marked out on the edges of the clearing and a central fire pit with a pile of ready wood was left unmolested.

“Why are we stopping early?” Fan Yi said, confronting Wu Ying when the horses were settled. “We could cover another four li at least.”

“This is a good enough spot. And we need to discuss our plans for when we arrive,” Wu Ying said, looking at the group that had gathered. “My initial plans of entering in a more stealthy manner and extracting my martial sister are unlikely to work.”

“Why?” Jie Kai said. “Afraid you can’t do it under the eyes of your betters?”

Wu Ying just stared at the idiot before he answered the first, more important question. “Do you think they do not know we are coming?”

“They always knew,” Xiang Wen said. “It’s always been a trap.”

“True. We will meet them in glorious combat,” Ng Hong Miao said, the woman grinning savagely. Like her trio of sect mates, she sported a number of scars across her face and arms and bore a large dao by her side, the white and grey silks of their sect robes marking them as members of the Eight Vicious Daos. Like their sect and chosen weapon of choice, the members were all straightforward and a little bloodthirsty.

“My preference would have been to avoid combat if possible, but I doubt it is. Not anymore,” Wu Ying said. “And a trap set when they do not know when we’ll arrive is different from trappers who know of our intentions.”

“You think there’s a traitor among us,” Xiang Wen said.

“Who? I’ll kill them myself,” Shen Wei said. The big wandering cultivator snarled and glared at all the cultivators, a guandao appearing in his hand to punctuate his threat. Those nearest to him shifted away, hands falling to their own weapons. Tension increased as Shen Wei growled. “All of you? Come. I’ll take you all on.”

“Stop giving us wandering cultivators a bad name,” Yu Kun snapped, slapping Shen Wei on the back. “What? Being in love made your brain like porridge?”

“You—”

Yu Kun rolled his eyes and muttered, “This is why I like men. We’re much easier to date than women it seems.”

Wu Ying cleared his throat, catching everyone’s attention, though he did see a few of the other cultivators eyeing Yu Kun speculatively. Choosing not to get distracted, Wu Ying continued. “I do not suspect anyone here. But if you heard of this journey, more—within your sects or outside—will have too. Our goal is no longer a secret. I suspect we will see a major battle when we arrive.”

“And you want us to train together,” Fan Yi said. “I dislike the delay, but your reasoning is sound. Do you intend to mix the sects?”

Wu Ying nodded. “More than that. We need to be ready for a Core cultivator.”

The statement sent a chill through the hot-headed group, making most of them take a step back from platitudes of competence. Energy Storage cultivators all of them, they could not cover the difference in tiers by themselves.

“A formation then?” Tou He said. “There are some that the martial members were taught that equalized the difference.”

“Yes,” Hong Miao enthused. “But there are only four of us here. We need four more dao wielders to make use of the Twenty-Eight Vicious Cuts.”

“The Verdant Green Waters has one that utilizes five,” Tou He said. “I studied it, but it works better with polearms.”

“Any others?” Wu Ying asked.

There was profound silence at his question. Wu Ying was not surprised. The training of martial formations was something only studied by martial focused cultivators, and even then, only by a small number.

Wu Ying brushed away the silence, glancing around the group and making quick note of those within. “Then let us split up. Hong Miao will take the dao wielders and train them”—he looked at the woman, who nodded firmly—“and Tou He those who wield polearms. If we are lucky, we will not need these preparations, but I would rather we are trained for it.”

“Will your Elders not care that you impart such sect secrets?” Jie Kai said, sneering.

Tou He smiled beatifically and put a hand before him, bowing a little as he spoke. “What will come, will come.”

“And my Master said we should make sure everyone knows how good we truly are!” Hong Miao said. “What better way than to see it for themselves! Maybe some will find the true path of the sword.”

“You mean the jian?” Xiang Wen said, her hand dropping to the hilt of her sword, lips quirking in good humor.

Wu Ying rolled his eyes as he spotted the girl teasing Hong Miao and made sure to draw a deeper breath. No taste of any corrupted chi, so at least her causing trouble wasn’t being driven by a malady of the soul. Just a lack of common sense.

“Enough. The rest of us will discuss how we can aid them,” Wu Ying said, clapping and sending off the two groups.

That left nearly half of the group, one set that was easily split off as their dedicated—or at least, mildly talented—ranged combatants. The others, Wu Ying set to working together as a team for the moment.

Leaving him alone with the pacifist.

Xiao Peng smiled as Wu Ying turned to him. “My apologies. My aid in battle will be minimal, I fear.”

“Then what can you do? You did say you could help,” Wu Ying said.

“I did. I brought some talismans and an enchanted circle, one that we use to trap distraught spirits and demonic beasts.” Xiao Peng lowered his voice, hands clasped over his ample tummy. “Also, the occasional rogue Elder who thinks they can bother us.”

“Really?” Wu Ying said excitedly. Then he calmed himself as he realized there was likely a catch.

Seeing the change in demeanor, Xiao Peng nodded. “Yes, there is a minor issue in their use.”

“Which is…?”

“Time or chi.”

“Tell me more,” Wu Ying said, gesturing for the man to follow him. He made sure to take the man away from the clearing since their presence was becoming an obstacle for the now sparring groups. “Tell me everything.”

***

A day later, Wu Ying created a fifth major group, though its participants would change every day. This group was led by Xiao Peng through a series of chi exercises meant to improve their ability to control the extrusion of their energy into the world, and specifically, to manage its flow into a series of formation flags. As one of the group’s leaders, Wu Ying made sure to join the first group to receive this training.

The exercise itself was, supposedly, simple. Control one’s breathing, pour your chi through a series of meridians as indicated to ensure it was unaspected—for the exercise—and later, specifically aspected for the formation they would need. Then control the amount and speed of energy flow through one’s hand. To aid that, simple crystals were placed in their hands, the goal to keep a steady light emitting from it.

“Now, all of this is just the basics,” Xiao Peng said, walking around the group and wobbling with each step. “Once you have gained competence at the very basics, we will begin putting you to the test.”

“What test?” a baby-faced kid asked, one of the core members of a smaller sect, his entire demeanor screaming boredom. The crystal in his hand, even while he spoke, emitted a steady light, perfectly illuminating him and the surroundings.

“Abrupt energy flows, disruptive chi attacks, constant and increasing pressure from auras,” Xiao Peng said.

“Oh, the usual.” The kid stood, tossing the crystal back to Xiao Peng. “I’ve done it before. Get someone else.”

Xiao Peng nodded benignly. “I apologize, but what is your name again, Cultivator?”

“Huang Er Shu of the Golden Lotus Sect,” Er Shu said, smirking.

“Which Golden Lotus?” Wu Ying spoke from his seat, turning his attention to the pair fully. His own crystal guttered and flickered like a candle caught in the wind. His ever-flowing wind chi refused to blow steady, fighting his control every step of the way. “The one in Lu province or Ko?”

“There are two in Ko province,” another cultivator said, her lips turning up lightly. “One with an ostentatious lotus pavilion decked in gold and another with a garden shaped like it.”

Er Shu’s eyes narrowed at the cultivator in annoyance, as if he sensed her mocking him. However, she continued to smile gently, a picture of serenity spoiled only by the light sweat across her forehead and the flickering light of her crystal.

“I am from the original Golden Lotus Sect in the Ko province.” Eyeing the girl, Er Shu added, “The one with the pavilion. And you are pushing it too hard through your sixth meridian to start. Smooth that out first, then exude.”

“I thank you for the guidance.” A slight pause. “Senior.”

Xiao Peng, to Wu Ying’s surprise, actually bowed low to Er Shu, his voice filled with admiration. “I have heard of you, Cultivator Huang. You are considered a true prodigy by my Masters. You will, of course, not be required to take remedial lessons from one such as I.”

Er Shu smiled at Xiao Peng. “No apologies needed, Honored Cultivator.” Turning to Wu Ying, who was still listening, he shook his head. “Though you have mighty labor ahead of you.”

Looking at Wu Ying as well, Xiao Peng made a pained face of agreement.

Glowering at the two, Wu Ying turned his attention back to his crystals. He would calm his energy, he would learn to do this. Gritting his teeth, he focused deeper, muting out the sounds of fighting and training going on all around him. He even turned down his aura and other predatory senses as he turned within.

Time faded as the world compressed to nothing more than his body and the flow of chi to the crystals. Wu Ying eventually managed to combine the ever-blowing Northern Wind with the calmness of the Central Wind, allowing the movement chi to steady itself for the most part. Yet he struggled, for the illumination grew and died in small amounts, never holding steady for more than a dozen heartbeats. Patience and focus could improve the time, but his chi refused to stay still, refused to be contained and boxed. Even when he managed to control his energy, deep within what he exuded, small vortexes and curls were rife.

Occasionally, Xiao Peng wandered by, murmuring words of encouragement or advice. Wu Ying heard them on a subconscious level, pulling them into his techniques and attempting to make it work. Yet his body was different—unique almost—and the recommendations did not always work for him. Many times, he found his progress hampered due to the advice, though the occasional successes also plunged him forward.

In time, a hand was placed on his shoulder, bringing Wu Ying back to his senses. Looking around, he was surprised to see that the majority of the other cultivators had departed and were seated around the cooking fires, supping on their meal or otherwise conversing.

Wu Ying took in the casual camaraderie among those who had met before, the receding tension between the members of the smaller and larger sects, and even a few budding trysts. Yu Kun chatted amiably with an older inner sect cultivator from another sect. Shen Wei, boisterous and large than life, was showing off his muscles to a pair of tittering cultivator girls.

“You should eat,” Xiao Peng said, offering Wu Ying a bowl of rice laden with stewed meat and vegetables.

Wu Ying took the bowl, smiling in thanks, and set the crystal down by the side. He relaxed the flow of his chi, allowing it to return its usual routine of pulling from the world as the Never Empty Wine Pot took over, refilling the base level of his body and the dantian within.

“I’m sorry, this is taking longer than I thought,” Wu Ying said as he extracted a pair of chopsticks from his storage ring.

“No need. Your body and affinity is unique. I’ve never met another wind cultivator before,” Xiao Peng said, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “It seems a very restless aspect and cultivation method.”

“It’s not that bad,” Wu Ying said defensively.

“Of course, of course. I did notice you cultivating even during our runs,” Xiao Peng said leadingly.

“Moving cultivation, yes. It suits me, though it’s less effective in some ways than the orthodox method.”

“Yet it suits you. And your cultivation methods,” Xiao Peng said, getting a nod from Wu Ying. “Still, that restlessness, it does not suit my formation.”

Wu Ying winced, knowing that was coming. “I’ll—”

“Keep practicing. Yes, I assumed as much,” Xiao Peng said, nodding toward the crystal Wu Ying had set aside. “Do so. I believe it could aid your understanding and control of your own chi. But for what we do…”

“You don’t want me to be part of it.”

“Yes.” He gestured toward Wu Ying’s side where Wu Ying had placed his jian when he sat cross-legged to train. “I understand you have some skill at that. Perhaps you should focus on such matters and leave the rest to us.”

Wu Ying hesitated then bowed his head in agreement. It disappointed him, frustrated him, that he would not be able to step in to aid them in using the containment formation if necessary. Still, Xiao Peng was right. They should focus on their strengths, rather than shoring up their weaknesses. Against the overwhelming might of a Core cultivator, only the best could be used. And Wu Ying and his riotous, rebellious chi was not one of those.

At least, not when it came down to holding down a formation.

Digging into his food now that Xiao Peng had left him alone, Wu Ying resolved to eat fast and begin training again. He had wasted enough time on the crystal. And they only had a few weeks left before they were to reach the location where his martial sister was held.

***

Later that night, Wu Ying was flowing through his forms, focusing on the Mountain Breaking Fist and the Shen Kicking Methods while powering his aura with the Xuanwu Energy Projection Technique. The time spent transferring energy to the crystal had given him an insight into the technique, one that he wanted to integrate into his practice right now.

Hours of practice, combining the strength and endurance training required while occasionally snapping attacks outward, had flowed past as cultivators slowly bedded down, one after the other. The watch rotations changed around Wu Ying even as he worked, energy trickling out into his aura then hardening.

The Never Empty Wine Pot method had already taught him how to sense the edges of his aura, how to deflect or sieve the correct type of chi. Now, the tortoise portion of the Xuanwu technique taught him how to tighten up that same aura, layering the chi that made it up in a way that was different from the rain-deflecting methods he had learned before. It allowed him to retract the aura to an even closer edge, while hardening it to become an impervious shell.

In theory.

The same problem with his wind chi came into play here. The unaspected chi that the Xuanwu techniques were geared toward was hard and unmoving, more difficult to shift than water or fire chi, but easier than earth or metal chi to manipulate. Closer to wood, in truth; though even then, it missed some of those aspects. His own wind chi was more restless.

Hours of learning to layer the chi, to gradually build that shell. Wu Ying felt his understanding of chi flows, the use of his meridians and the volume of chi he could wring out of his body increasing with each step. But the shield itself…

The shield was spongy. More soft wood or sucking mud than an impervious shell of solid metal. He eventually had given up on using unaspected chi entirely, modifying the skill to work with his own wind chi. Easier to manipulate, though the results were less then stellar. His wind chi refused to stay contained by anything but the barest modicum of barriers, held to him more by a sense of attraction and ownership.

Hours of snapping kicks and punches, hammering blows into unseen enemies, constantly attempting to control the technique.

Only to finally stop when Wu Ying had wrung his body dry of chi. In time, his dantian would refill his body, would give him easy access to energy he could reuse. Until then, Wu Ying flopped to the ground, seeing the stars peeking out from the cloudy skies, the moon hiding beneath the horizon, and exhaled in frustration. His eyes drifted closed, exhaustion taking him, only to be startled awake when a shadow blocked out the heavenly light.

“You don’t stop, do you?” Xiang Wen murmured. She took a seat beside his collapsed form, a slight smile on her lips. “Nearly everyone else has slept, but here you are, training.”

“Nearly everyone?” Wu Ying turned his head sideways, then seeing nothing, propped himself upward with one elbow. He caught sight of Hong Miao and another of her sect mates training their sword forms in one corner and Tou He meditating in another. As he turned back to Xiang Wen, he spotted another awake, though not training. In fact, the way Jie Kai was glowering at him, Wu Ying was certain that Jie Kai had no mental space to consider training. “Your sect brother does not like me.”

“He does not like anyone who might catch my interest.” Xiang Wen smiled a little depreciatingly. “They’re all very protective of me.”

“Why?” Wu Ying said, pushing himself upward to sit cross-legged. He felt the Never Empty Wine Pot method kick in once more, drawing in chi to his dantian to refuel him. Already, he churned it through his body, refilling the empty portions of his body, flooding cells to bolster himself. However, something was a little different this time, and Wu Ying grew distracted, reaching out to touch the aura barrier.

“Most men focus on me when I speak with them,” Xiang Wen said, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Well, except for the cultivation fanatics. You’re one of those, aren’t you?”

“One of what?” Wu Ying said, wrenching his mind away from the subtle changes in his aura. The way it had grown more permeable, becoming less of a firm barrier and more like eddies and whorls of wind, pulling and pushing the environmental chi around.

“A fool,” Xiang Wen said.

“Well, we knew that the first time we met,” Wu Ying said, grinning unabashedly.

That made Xiang Wen turn bright red, which made Jie Kai stir. He stilled after a second, but Wu Ying felt his regard sharpen, a hint of bloodlust entering the stare.

“A gentleman would never—”

“Peasant.”

Xiang Wen rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard of you and your peasant ways, standing beside Fairy Yang in her domain. You’re no more peasant than I am just an orphan.”

“You’re an orphan?”

“Sect orphan.” She inclined her head toward Jie Kai. “That’s why they all think I’m their little sister and must be protected.” A roll of her eyes. “Even the ones I’ve managed to pass by on our cultivation journey. To them, I’ll still be a child squatting randomly to relieve herself[15].”

“I never had siblings,” Wu Ying said, his voice growing sad. He knew it was a matter of some contention with his parents, a shared misery that he had never been informed of. He could have asked, but a part of him did not want to. At least, not since he had become an adult and they would have given a real answer. Some things, some hurts, never ended. “Must be nice.”

“Oh, it is at times. It’s also stifling,” Xiang Wen said.

Wu Ying nodded. The pair fell silent for a time, him cultivating a little to recharge himself and her sitting there, quietly and entirely at ease.

Eventually, he cocked his head and spoke, his voice low and relaxed. “I never thought you were reckless. Vengeful maybe, but not reckless.”

“And you think this is reckless?” Xiang Wen gestured around her, and he nodded. “You are right, I guess. It would be reckless, if your Master and the others were not planning on drawing the dark sect away with their own strikes.”

Wu Ying nodded. That part of the plan had been imparted to him, their part in the overall strategy. Their little excursion would be used either to draw Elders away from the initial attack by the orthodox sects of Shen or to split the forces facing the orthodox sects. Of course, timing the entire thing was difficult, for if they arrived too late or attacked too early, the Elders who might be sent to deal with them would not be needed.

“There will still be at least one Core Elder there. Maybe more.” Wu Ying shook his head. “I assume more. Even if we succeed, the losses we will face…”

“It will be what it will be,” Xiang Wen said. “We can but try. I will not let anyone, even your Fairy, suffer at their hands.”

He frowned, raising a finger. “What do you mean, my Fairy?”

Rather than answer, Xiang Wen stood and brushed the skirts of her robes gently as she turned away and walked off. There was a smile on her lips, a satisfied look on her face as if she had learned something that eluded Wu Ying.

“What do you mean my Fairy?” Wu Ying called after her, but still received no answer. He did, however, get a few muttered curses thrown his way at his raised voice.

Wincing, he fell silent, only to turn his head and see Jie Kai had redoubled his glaring. So palpable was his bloodlust that a few of those sleeping nearby had turned or scooted away from Jie Kai in their sleep. Making a quick decision, Wu Ying stood and walked off, choosing to find a better place to recuperate.

Whatever story the man had conjured in his overprotective mind, Wu Ying chose to ignore it for now. Trouble in their party before the battle was the last thing they needed.

And a quiet part of him had to admit, remembering Xiang Wen’s sashaying form as she left, the man might have a little reason to glare at Wu Ying. As for any assumptions about the Fairy, well, all he could do was fight them as they cropped up. It was not his fault others could not grasp the fact that he did not see his martial sister in that way, no matter how pretty she was.

Chapter 11

In the late afternoon of the next day, Yu Kun dropped backward to where Wu Ying ran, dismounting even as his mare kept trotting. He let his steed follow the group, choosing instead to run alongside Wu Ying and the only other cultivator training beside him at that moment.

After a half dozen steps, Yu Kun let his pace drop a little, angling his body such that he pushed between the pair, ending up next to Wu Ying. When the other man stared at the ex-wandering cultivator, topknotted mohawk bouncing along behind him, Yu Kun grinned wide and even went so far as to leer lecherously at the other. Sniffing, the other cultivator picked up his pace a little, angling away from the pair.

As for Wu Ying and Yu Kun, the pair ran for a time in silence. Yet, without a word, Wu Ying slowed his pace a little, allowing the gap between them and the other cultivator and the rest of the mounted group to increase.

Only when Yu Kun was satisfied did he speak, his voice relaxed though a tiny bit breathless. “We caught another Spirit Messenger.”

“Who?” Wu Ying asked, frowning.

“Yin Xue,” Yu Kin replied. “On the north-eastern side of the road.”

“Any indication of who the message was for?” Not that Wu Ying expected any positive results from that question. After all, they were all Energy Storage cultivators. They had enough control to separate their chi and use it in an unaspected manner, leaving fewer traces on the spirit paper. Without someone who was specially trained to sense any lingering traces, it would be a truly sloppy spy who would be found by them.

“No.” Yu Kun shook his head as well. He coughed a little, a trace of dust slipping into his open mouth before continuing. “Notice anything back here?”

“You should solidify your aura further,” Wu Ying said. “You’ve been slacking on your training.”

Yu Kun sniffed. Once, long ago, he had been nearly Wu Ying’s match; but time in the Sect, time on other assignments and focusing on just cultivating meant he had not paid as much attention to ancillary skills. At least, Wu Ying noted as they ran, the man’s qinggong skills were decent—even if his stamina left a lot to be desired.

Grunting in annoyance, Yu Kun focused outward, pushing against the membrane of his aura and solidifying it. The water cultivator’s external aura reminded Wu Ying more of a droplet of water, the edges of it defined but wobbling with every second as it was sharpened, dust particles and environmental chi soaking into it. Under Yu Kun’s conscious care, the dust and other particles he did not desire were rejected, shed behind him as they were pulled across the top of his membrane by the motion of his running and the flow of chi within the aura.

It was a curious method, and one that Wu Ying studied silently for a time. It was different from the way other, more orthodox, cultivators used their water chi. Most just hardened their aura shell entirely instead of taking on the aspect. An unorthodox—at least for the Verdant Green Waters—method.

They ran for a few minutes, Yu Kun practicing his aura control, before Wu Ying, having tired of mining the man’s control for inspiration, spoke up. “Nothing back here. Too many chi scents and auras. So many of them have enchanted objects or are practicing their chi exercises as they move that I cannot distinguish between them all, never mind any messages they might be trying to sneak out.”

“I didn’t think so. Whoever it is, they’re good.”

“They are,” Wu Ying confirmed. “Why didn’t Yin Xue tell me himself?”

“He didn’t want to run,” Yu Kun said with a smirk. “It wouldn’t be lordly enough for that one.”

Wu Ying made a face before he murmured, “I think he was as worried about his dignity as the fact that it would be unusual for him to come.”

“And not an ex-wandering cultivator like me?” Another smirk, but it was tinged with a level of wry acceptance.

Wu Ying could only shrug. Good people or not, lords or peasants alike, preconceptions from their earlier upbringing were hard to cast aside. No matter how well meaning, no matter how many moments of enlightenment, it was all too easy to fall into old routines, to regress. After all, even gods fell. How much easier was it for mere mortals?

Eventually, Yu Kun spoke again, his voice distant. “This was already an impossible task before traitors were added to the mix. Now…”

“Yes, I know. I would not blame you or any of the others if you changed your minds. It’s still possible to turn around.”

“But you won’t.”

Wu Ying shrugged broad shoulders, his face set in a grim and determined line.

“As I thought.”

The pair continued running, massive bamboo forest parting on either side on the worn, packed earth road. They passed a slow-moving merchant pushing a simple handcart along the road in silence, the man’s middle grade Body Cultivation more than enough to lever the item over potholes. Eventually, Yu Kun gradually picked up the pace, pulling them close to the solitary runner ahead of them.

Eventually, the ex-wandering cultivator spoke, his voice wry and filled with cynical humor. “I was growing tired, standing still.[16]”

***

Later that evening, Wu Ying met with Xiao Peng as the pair walked the perimeter of the wooded clearing, the burbling of a small stream filling the space from where it ran a short distance away. The cultivators were quick to set up their camp, moving with long practiced ease even as cooking fires were started and pots of water set to boil. The fastest to finish their preparations had even begun training again.

Not to say that all the cultivators were that focused. More than one had had to be gently reminded they were here not to court the pretty young ladies in their midst but to rescue even prettier ladies.

Others, including a pair of brothers from a small sect, had chosen to lounge under the cloudless summer sky, staring at the lonely moon while snacking on roasted sunflower seeds. It was only when Hong Miao strode over, waving them to their feet, that they took their places in her formation, still joking with one another.

As for Wu Ying and Xiao Peng, the pair chatted idly about formations as they planted formation flags into the ground, Xiao Peng often adjusting the final location of Wu Ying’s construction.

“No, no. You need to move that two cun[17] left and one cun ahead,” Xiao Peng said.

“Does this level of exactness really matter?” Wu Ying grumbled.

“Of course it does. Optimal placement of flags will see a net increase in coverage and strength of the formation. In this case by around sixteen percent.” Xiao Peng waved the feng shui compass in his hand, gesturing expansively. “It would be better, but the ambient chi levels here are a little erratic with the flow of water chi from the stream interacting with the flame weeds, causing disruptions. There’s also too much metal chi—probably from some buried bodies and their items. If we stabilized the chi…”

Wu Ying pressed his lips together, forcing aside his impatience for a second. This was Xiao Peng’s specialty after all, and what little Wu Ying could gather could aid him in creating garden formations too. Certainly, Brother Goh was the same when discussing optimizing the chi flows in the Sect.

Eventually, the pair’s work took them a distance from the clearing and Xiao Peng touched the jade bracelet on his arm. It glowed a little and Wu Ying caught the scent of fire and wind surrounding them, locking out sound and sight.

“We’re safe?” Wu Ying said.

“For now. We should not linger too long,” Xiao Peng said.

“Any results last night?”

In answer, Xiao Peng held out the crumpled portions of another Spirit Messenger. Wu Ying frowned, reaching for the spirit paper. He brought it close to his nose, sniffing it, but any lingering traces of chi were long gone, suppressed by Xiao Peng’s aura. Making a face, Wu Ying moved to open the paper, only for it to burst into flame and crumble away, leaving ashes in his hand.

“Guarded, eh?” Wu Ying said, brushing the ash from his fingers. The flames had been easily kept away from his skin by his aura, leaving him untouched. Though he had noticed a little bit of the fire chi attempting to worm its way in. A marker perhaps? Or just the nature of the chi used? Impossible to tell, at least for now.

“Yes. Do you think we caught them all?”

“The messages?” Wu Ying shrugged, looking back toward the clearing where the others trained, where the traitor lurked. “I think so. So far at least. They tried again this morning.”

“Then we best finish setting up this formation.” Xiao Peng touched the bracelet and the field surrounding them faded away. “We need to be training too.”

“Yes, yes. And you can lecture me more about proper placement.”

“Teach. I’m teaching,” Xiao Peng said lightly, patting his ample belly once he finished planting the last formation flag. “Passing on hard-earned knowledge. And for that, I’ll take another bowl of dinner tonight.”

“So what, you’ll eat six bowls instead of five?”

“I must keep my figure!”

“How else will Zhang Min know you’re prosperous, right?” Wu Ying teased.

“Exactly!”

***

A hand came down on Wu Ying’s shoulder, waking him. Hand on his sword, Wu Ying pushed upward, his mouth opening to cry out only for fingers—soft, lavender-and-cinnamon-scented fingers—to press upon him, shushing him. His mind catching up, Wu Ying stared up at Xiang Wen, who had woken him.

She leaned over, whispering into his ear, “Someone left the camp.”

Nodding grimly, Wu Ying kicked clear of his blankets and slipped out of the tent with Xiang Wen close on his heels. He found Tou He, whose watch had been shared with Xiang Wen, standing on the perimeter, his staff held out beside him and almost vibrating in eagerness as he stared at the mist-covered bamboo forest.

“Any idea who?” Wu Ying asked, looking at the tents clustered around them.

“No. We can check the tents later, but we should catch them first,” Tou He said.

“Cultivator Sun, if you can check the tents and watch the perimeter while we are gone,” Wu Ying said. He noticed her angry glance, but he cut her off. “It is less problematic if they catch you looking in than Tou He. Especially with the women.”

Another grimace, but she nodded. This was not the time to argue.

Once he had her agreement, Wu Ying turned to leave, only to realize his friend had already taken off without him. Growling under his breath at Tou He’s unusual impatience, Wu Ying chased after, grateful that Tou He’s changed aura made his scent unusual and unique. An easy trail to follow.

Now, if only their prey was as easy to track. If not for the marker that the formations had placed upon their prey, they would never have noticed the traitor leaving.

But they had, and it was this marking and the visual trail of chi they left as they fled through the forest that Tou He and Wu Ying followed. They raced along the tops of the bamboo forest, the tall plants and their leaves swaying as they were stepped upon by the pair. As he ran, Wu Ying idly wondered why Xiao Peng had chosen pink as the marking color.

Admittedly, in the middle of the night, amongst the mists that risen in the lowland area they were within, the flash of pink was quite visible. Perhaps the man had planned ahead.

Step after step, his body propelled via chi and the environment that wrapped around him, Wu Ying flowed forward and easily caught up to his friend. Powerful as Tou He had grown, his qinggong technique was still a little behind, his speed nowhere near Wu Ying’s.

Rushing forward as they were, they nearly missed the signs of the upcoming trap. It was only the shift in chi ahead of him, the belated glimpse of something glinting as the mist parted, that warned Wu Ying. In mid-air, unable to change course, Wu Ying wielded his sword, desperately pouring chi into its edge and sending a flash of sword intent outward. The Dragon’s Breath cut apart the wires, even as he shouted a warning.

“Trap!”

As Wu Ying was slowed for a second by his attack, Tou He flew by him.

Bamboo fell, sliced apart first by Wu Ying’s defensive movement, then shredded further as the thin wires strung across the surroundings fell. Leaves, bamboo stalks, and the wired trap rained down, forcing the ex-monk to stab his staff into the top of a split bamboo tree. The entire tree bent and folded, leaving Tou He to balance at the tip of his own staff, upside down and on one hand. Better to do that than risk being touched by the chi-infused metal wires that had so easily cut apart even thigh-sized bamboo trees with a casual touch.

As the pair recovered from the trap, Wu Ying landing on the point of a nearby tree, the attack arrived. It came from their flanks, shards of light and metal flashing through foliage.

Wu Ying spotted the attack first. Without time to unleash another strike of blade energy, he was forced to parry the throwing knives, his jian flickering through the night like the head of a hummingbird.

Tou He chose a less subtle route, allowing his aura to flare. It burned away the mist surrounding him, revealing flying knives that were knocked askew by the push of rolling flame chi. The attack skimmed and parted, only one knife nicking the ex-monk, while Wu Ying choked on the sudden oppressive heat and humidity.

In the distance, the mist broiled as the heat ate away its integrity. The ex-monk kept pumping more energy into his expanded aura even as he used the swaying bamboo and his staff to catapult himself toward the source of the attack, yanking his weapon out at the last moment.

Wu Ying followed more carefully, bouncing off the sides of bamboo stalks as he searched for the assailant, intent on flanking their target. Better to take his time than let the assailant escape. Anyway, unlike Tou He, who spun his staff, blocking another series of knives that came at him from their as-yet-unseen attacker, Wu Ying did not specialize in defense.

Soon, Wu Ying lost sight of his friend, though the flame aura and heat gave away his location. Allowing himself to fall toward the ground with each step, Wu Ying kept muting his own aura till it was entirely closed off and tight to his body.

Moments after he landed, he crouched, listening and breathing. Scenting his opponent. Having located the pair, Wu Ying dashed forward, borrowing the heavy gales of the Eastern Wind to bring him closer fast. As silent as the oppressive heat of the summer, as calm as the central wind, Wu Ying rolled forward, a part of the very air itself.

He circled round, even as pained grunts and the sudden creak and pop of shattering of bamboo marked the clash of the pair of cultivators. Animals—normal and spirit—dashed away through the undergrowth, intent on leaving the surroundings to the battling titans. All the while, Tou He’s vibrant flames licked in the background, attempting to find purchase in the wet environment.

Still, Wu Ying could not see the one they fought. Even as his feet found purchase on dried leaves and wet ground, the cultivator stalked their assailant. Glimpses of moving shadows, flowing mist that slowly dispersed, gave hints, the pulse of flame chi driving away the mist in spurts before it rolled back in.

And still, nothing.

A muffled grunt brought Wu Ying’s head up, his head turning a little at the noise. The sharp scent of iron filled the forest, blood from a new injury flowing from Tou He. It was easy to tell who, what with the sharp tang of flame chi interwoven into the blood, the mixture of an all too familiar and uncleansed taint. Dragon blood overrode human physiology, marring it.

“Come out!” Tou He roared, punctuating the shout with a wave of his staff. Flames billowed from his strike, the air igniting once more.

Wu Ying hunkered down, forcing a shield of wind over himself, hardening it against the fiery attack even as he borrowed the sudden change in the environment to extend his senses. He felt the way the wind moved, the sudden gaps as it swirled around tree trunks and pushed bamboo shoots, the leaves that caught and danced through the air and the hardness of solid objects that refused to be budged. Rocks, particularly strong tree stumps, or rises in the ground. And finally… a body.

There.

Wu Ying’s lips peeled back in savage delight as he rushed forward. A hand rose and fell, the blade held within wrapped in chi and sword intent, the Dragon’s Breath attack wielded at where he had last sensed the attacker. Even before his strike was complete, Wu Ying was channeling more chi into his blade, the entire thing humming with energy as he struck again and again.

The very air was crisscrossed with the flying sword intent, Wu Ying draining the chi in his body to finish the battle quickly. His attack, wrapped in solid air, hidden beneath the larger and flashier attacks conducted by his friend, went unnoticed at first by his opponent. Until it was within only a half dozen feet, and it was nearly too late to dodge.

Nearly.

Another strike on the ground, a billowing of energy and power. Solid shadows formed in a circular shield, the darkness almost seeming to writhe and twist as if it were a living thing. The muted almost-screams of shadows sent shivers down Wu Ying’s body as his trio of wind-empowered attacks impacted. The shadows parted, and for a second, Wu Ying had a glimpse of a small body, shrunk in on itself, clothed in dark robes and a face mask. Long hair, bundled up.

Blood splashed, and to both cultivators’ horror as they closed in on either side of the dark sect cultivator, they watched the shadows swallow the blood.

Another strike, this time from Tou He, a stab of his staff. The simple wooden weapon seemed to extend, flying forward as it was propelled from the backhand through the lead, gripping hand, its very tip glowing.

Once more, that muted non-scream erupted, shadows parting under the light of Tou He’s strike. Flames illuminated the robed, shaven-headed ex-monk’s form as he followed his weapon thrust, tendrils of mist swirling in the distance of the shattered forest clearing.

The shades fell in on themselves, pulling away and lightening up the surroundings, the pervasive gloom brightening a little.

Tou He’s strike found nothing but earth, impacting with a resounding thump of solid earth and a brief flash of flame. He left his staff in the ground, Tou He’s breathing ragged and the corner of his thigh bleeding from the earlier attack, eyes darting about for their attacker.

Wu Ying slowed, scanning the treetops and ground. He found no traces of their opponent and slowly stalked closer to Tou He. When he did so, he realized why his friend had not moved the staff—something writhed still under the lightly glowing staff.

“What is that?” Wu Ying said. “And where is he?”

“Something unclean,” Tou He said angrily. “A shadow spirit from the demonic realms.”

Wu Ying sucked in a breath, finally noting the burnt, slightly oily smell emanating from the twitching shadow spirit. It moved slower with each second, obviously injured by Tou He’s and Wu Ying’s strikes. In fact, it seemed to be bleeding, dark chi infecting the earth and air.

Eyes sweeping over the surroundings once more, Wu Ying noticed a disturbance in the ground. A few quick steps and a stomp sent the earth, hastily piled up, collapsing in on itself. A hole in the ground was revealed, a shallow trench leading away from their location.

“Earth moving…” growled Wu Ying. It was a specialized movement technique, one he knew from stories but had never experienced himself. “What other skills do they have?”

“Unknown. But you should follow them. I must cleanse this area,” Tou He said, forcing more chi into the tip of his staff. Fire blossomed, burning at the edges of the monster that not-shrieked weakly again. “This infection must not be allowed to spread.”

Wu Ying nodded, loping along the edges of the trench, occasionally glancing around for additional traps. Best not to get ambushed, though instinct told him their opponent was running in truth. Their brief battle had seen their opponent injured, their resources—including the unclean spirit—taken.

They had won this fight, even if their victory was hollow of meaning. No corpse, no knowledge, and no information had been discovered. Worse, they had revealed their own hand.

***

“And?” Xiang Wen asked Wu Ying when he arrived back at camp.

The cultivator was a little surprised to note that Yin Xue was awake, standing at the other edge of the campsite and keeping watch, but then Wu Ying decided he approved. Yin Xue could be trusted, and having another pair of eyes watching was important.

“We didn’t catch them,” Wu Ying said. In fact, as he quickly related, he had lost the trail when it crossed through a rocky section, where any sign of the movement underground was hidden. However, it was clear that their opponent had been moving toward the camp site, which was why he had hurried back. “Are we missing anyone?”

Xiang Wen shook her head. “All heads are accounted for. We didn’t wake everyone, but I counted them all. Yin Xue checked again. Every head is accounted for.”

Wu Ying blinked, surprised.

Yin Xue, having walked over casually on his circuit, added, “Yes. Every single individual is here. A few were awake too, wondering what we were doing. We had to make excuses, but I think they guessed.”

“Damn. We wounded him, so maybe if there’s blood…” He turned his head, drawing a deep breath, but found no telling hint of iron. Well, except from one tent, but that young lady had been accounted for earlier. Not that Wu Ying was going to let others know he could pick up on that monthly saga.

Even he could learn from his mistakes.

“I can walk the perimeter again and look.” Yin Xue gestured to their surroundings. “But if they managed to get out through your protections, they probably found a way back in too.”

“They did. I didn’t notice it till I arrived, but they created a minor breach in the formation. Not enough to break it, but enough that someone who knew what to look for could sneak in,” Wu Ying said, then sighed. “They also shed the tracking qi we set on them at some point during their flight. Though…”

Xiang Wen raised an elegant eyebrow, noting the clear hesitation in Wu Ying’s words.

“Tou He was throwing around his fire chi. It’s very…” Wu Ying was uncertain of how to describe it. “Cloying. And strong. He might have burnt off the tracer accidentally.”

“He’s much more hot-headed than I recall,” Xiang Wen said.

“That’s this one’s fault,” Yin Xue said wryly.

Wu Ying glared at the nobleman, who smirked and walked off, sweeping his gaze over the ground to check it for signs of the traitor’s return. Hesitating for a second, Wu Ying took off in the opposite direction. A moment later, Xiang Wen fell in with him. She stayed silent, though it was a patient but expectant silence.

“I gave him some… cultivation aids,” Wu Ying said, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked. Each step took them around the large clearing, and while he used his eyes, mostly Wu Ying was doing his best to scent out their attacker. At the same time, his spiritual sense extended, brushing against the cultivators within their tents. To little surprise, he found a number of the cultivators awake, some reading, others cultivating silently. A number of auras were a little too sharp, a little too awake for either of those languid activities, so Wu Ying made sure to keep his voice low. “It’s had some side effects.”

“Fire-aspected helpers?” Xiang Wen said.

“Yes.”

“Powerful cultivation aids to affect his temperament so much.”

A nod.

Xiang Wen flashed Wu Ying a cheeky grin, widening her eyes and putting her hands together as she raised the pitch in her voice to wheedle him. “Cultivator Long…”

Wu Ying shook his head, ignoring the teasing as they continued the walk. Their futile trek ended soon enough with no sign of their quarry.

At the end, exhausted from his midnight shenanigans, Wu Ying bade good night to those on the watch, after making sure Tou He had returned safely. Their only hope was that they might spot the cultivator the next day, when his or her injury gave them away.

They could only hope.

Chapter 12

Head down, breathing coming in a slow and steady rhythm, Wu Ying ran behind the group. Beside him pounded the footsteps of three others, including Hong Miao and Shen Wei. Pounded, for both of those cultivators were significantly less versed in qinggong exercises and were forced to trade light steps for additional power to drive them forward.

The quartet running at the back didn’t stay too close to the group riding their horses. There was no point, and while their auras might be able to block the rising dust from impacting their breathing or clothes, it did little for their vision. Wu Ying could try to nudge the wind to aid them in seeing. Drive his chi such that it caught up with the mounted riders, pushed their dust cloud to the side and off the road. But that was a waste of energy, and even if the days of training and running behind had aided his light step ability, he was still only a peak Energy Storage cultivator.

Wasting energy, when one was behind enemy lines, was foolish.

Nor would being closer help find their traitor. Days of watching carefully still had not revealed any wounds that could not be explained from training or carelessness. Unless they were looking to undress and inspect each of the cultivators, they could only fume helplessly. At the least, it seemed, the traitor had chosen to lie low, for no further Spirit Messages had been detected.

Or the traitor had managed to release a message telling all.

Perhaps such communication was not required anyway. Now that they were behind enemy lines, having crossed the invisible boundary that marked the zone of control between the two warring states, matters had grown more tense. They were at least a good fifty li past the formal borders, the State of Wei having made a degree of advancements that had yet to be rectified.

Out to the sides of the dirt road, the scouting parties rode. They could not afford to push their scouts out much farther since the border region they traveled through had always been less than well managed. In such spaces, Demon and Spirit Beasts thrived, an added buffer against surprise attacks. Marching an army through these roads would be difficult, and smaller teams were, for the most part, under significant pressure.

Still, Wu Ying was relatively certain they would be safe. After all, they were nearly thirty powerful cultivators now, having picked up another larger group just before crossing the border. No Demonic Beast or even a pack of them would dare launch an attack. And while Nascent Spirits could end their lives without a thought, creatures of that might were rare and their abodes well-marked.

No, more dangerous were the border patrols that were likely still in play.

Wu Ying knew that more and more men had lost their lives over the past few years while attempting to solidify the borders, marching on patrols down dirty, barely maintained dirt roads, applying pressure to wandering merchants and the occasional fleeing peasant. All too often, those patrols were backed by powerful cultivators, though the number and quantity of those sent varied.

It was those patrols—or the chance of even more specialized groups—that had dictated their route. The chosen route added just over four days to their overland journey but would hopefully throw off any enemies searching for them. Certainly, the news provided to them by the various groups that had joined them had not altered Wu Ying’s planned route by much.

All that taken into consideration, the scouts were necessary but, hopefully, extraneous. That vague desire was dashed in short order as Wu Ying’s foot left the ground once more, his body soaring through the air, and his graceful movement was punctuated by the scream of a horse and the muffled cry of its rider.

Heads turned toward the sound of danger, the more experienced cultivators on the other side scanning their portion of the road in case of an ambush. None appeared, at least not from the eastern side of the road where the scout was shaking his head.

On the west though, the demonic beast that strode out of the undergrowth, the weakly struggling torso of a cultivator in its mouth, was more than enough to take the team’s attention. A majestic beast, its shoulders easily reaching the heads of the horses that reared and shuffled away from the striped, yellow tiger. Flickers of shadow crept across its long-limbed torso, hiding and displaying the rustic gold of its flesh, even as the pressure of its demonic core pressed upon the group.

“Core Demonic Beast!” one man shouted.

At the same time, Yu Kun recognized the creature and cried, “Black-Limbed Maneater!”

“Formations!” Wu Ying shouted, his command taken up by the other formation leaders.

Too late, as the Maneater made its move.

It pounced, Tou He forced to roll off his horse and use his staff, which he pulled from his spirit ring to aid the Demonic Beast in its leap. Even so, the back legs of the beast tore off the head of his steed with barely any resistance, leaving the headless body to totter and twitch before falling to the ground, still kicking. Blood splashed all around the ex-monk as he backpedaled.

Animals, well-trained steeds all, panicked at the sight and smell of blood and the demonic tiger in their midst. Chaos reigned as cultivators sought to calm their animals, draw weapons, and attack the monster.

Even as Wu Ying ran forward, pushing his qinggong techniques to the maximum, he watched as the shadows on the creature’s back flicked outward, attacking cultivators and their animals alike. One shadow-limbed blade tore a long line of blood across an arm, while another was blocked by Jie Kai, the man wielding a pair of swordbreakers. The heavy iron of Jie Kai’s Saint-level weapons shrieked under the attack, the newly dismounted cultivator’s leg throwing up rock and dirt as he was pushed back.

Sword hand dropping to his own sheathed weapon, Wu Ying focused as he neared. The teams needed time, both dao and polearm users attempting to fall into position under the shouted orders of their leaders. They needed time, and that was what the floating, non-trained fighters were meant to buy.

Fighters like him.

Another step, another shriek, another leap by the Maneater. The fan—fan?—wielding cultivator fell backward, the massive metal fan cracking under the strain. The creature dipped down, jaws the size of a torso clamping on a shoulder as the fan bent. Screams from the cultivator rang out, high pitched and desperate.

A yellow talisman struck an open eye, burning brightly and making the creature flinch. The reflexive jerk threw the fan-wielding woman away, her shoulder torn open and bleeding freely. Metal bands grew from the talisman paper, joining with the half-dozen slips that struck the creature as Xiao Peng desperately enchanted and threw the formations.

It held for a brief second before it shattered, the papers burning up. Angered, the Maneater turned toward Xiao Peng, its dripping jaws dropping open, cultivator blood striking the ground. It roared, the sound alone pushing those it faced backward, the hot wash of uncooked, spoilt meat on its breath wrinkling Wu Ying’s nose.

It was enough of a distraction to get Wu Ying close though.

The Sword’s Truth, mixed with Wu Ying’s understanding of the various other sword forms, became a single, elongated attack. Wisps of chi formed around him, a streaming image formed of wind and light, the silhouette of something larger, even more dangerous than a tiger appearing behind Wu Ying.

He struck, his body rotating ever so slightly as his blade sank through metal-like fur. Blood spurted, his blade entering half an inch before dense bone—strengthened over decades, perhaps even centuries, of beast cultivation—stopped his attack. The energy of Wu Ying’s charge had to go somewhere, and his weapon shattered.

Caught out by the metallic betrayal, Wu Ying stumbled, his swift movements halted. Angered by being genuinely hurt, the beast spun around, its jaw seeking the cultivator’s death. Only to be blocked as another jian, a little more slender but infused with the full strength of its wielder’s chi, struck the turning head. Xiang Wen’s feet skidded backward as she stood beside Wu Ying, her arms locked in determination before she turned and twisted, borrowing the demon’s force to throw its head upward.

“Move!” Xiang Wen cried as her sword darted out to intercept a waving shadow tendril.

Recovered from his surprise, Wu Ying left behind the hilt of his broken weapon, striking the ground with both hands. Channeling the Heavenly Spirit, Earthly Body technique, he lifted and threw himself backward, flying tens of feet backward and behind the line of cultivators even as arrows, imbued with chi, rained down on the monster.

Finally, Tou He and his polearm wielders were ready. Their defensive and longer weapons darted forward, striking and harrying the creature, the quartet forming a circle around the creature and a single additional member always in the air, blocking off ascent. Weapon blows rained down upon the monster even as the dao wielders led by Hong Miao positioned themselves outside the circle of polearm wielders.

In the midst of this, Xiang Wen fell back, one side of her body bloodied from a missed block from a shadowy tendril. Yet the woman ignored it, for the Maneater was not done.

Not at all.

Another roar, this time its full killing intent summoned to the reverberating attack. It chilled the blood of the surrounding cultivators, harkening back to when such creatures stalked humanity at the dawn of their age. Its full effects were, however, blocked and diminished by the sound of empowered instruments.

A short distance away, behind the doubled formation of fighters, pipa[18] and dizi[19] were being played by Fan Yi and another of her sect mates, their faces pale as they fought the roaring Core beast and the waves of chi it spilled outward.

Wu Ying hunched down, tightening his hold on his aura as he was battered by the monster’s attack. The reverberation of the two opposing forces was amplified at the edge of his aura, highlighting the swirling flurries and gusts that was his chi. Under his intent, the wind chi pulled the attacking chi toward itself and turned it around, turning the attack against itself. Flickers of understanding crossed Wu Ying’s mind as he applied the modified Xuanwu technique, shoring up his defense as he stood and drew the gift of his Master’s sword from his ring.

He had drawn the Spirit-sword his martial sister had given him earlier on reflex, a bad choice he now knew. This weapon he held was stronger, better. Already, Wu Ying was infusing the sharp cutting edge of the winds into his weapon, the mercilessness of the Northern Wind, the hot, robbing warmth of the South. He but needed an opening.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Wu Ying saw he was not the only one still on his feet. Chained together by the chi tendrils of the formation, the Eight Vicious Dao Sect members and their fellow formation members still stood. Slipping past the frozen polearm fighters, they launched their attacks, sabres filled with savage and hungry chi.

Too late.

The encroaching darkness, coming in from the forested edges of the road, unseen by all but a few, fell upon them all. Enveloped in shadows, sight faded for all but the most perceptive of cultivators. The musical instruments grew muted, the monster’s roar somehow sinking into their very bones.

Sword light, darkened by the shadows, fell unseen. The roars and screams that followed grew even more frantic, the clash of blade on fur and hardwood like muscles, the crunch of broken bones and gurgling blood mixing with the pervasive and strengthening smell of blood.

Wu Ying cursed, not daring to move. He had too many allies, too few enemies. Even his sense of smell could not help him here, the stench of spilled viscera and the twisted smell of shadow chi mixing and confusing him. His aura senses were sending mixed signals, the other cultivators and the Maneater moving too fast for him to find them.

Salvation came via another.

The ex-monk struck the ground with his staff, igniting the weapon then himself. Flames grew, burning the shadows aside. In seconds, racing along the connections of the formation, the flames wrapped around the remaining polearm-wielding members standing beside Tou He. Lit up in flames that injured them not, the cultivators added their chi to Tou He’s, growing the dome of light.

The flames carried with them another sense, another aura, one drawn from the blood consumed by the ex-monk. One that had been hinted at in Wu Ying’s aura but was dominant in Tou He’s display. A presence that made even a Maneater quail in fright, its gaze flicking to the five lit cultivators standing around it.

Shadows banished, Wu Ying saw the initial attack by the Eight Vicious Daos had not been in vain. Though a couple of the cultivators lay on the ground, one feebly crawling away, their attack had injured the creature. One leg dragged behind the Tiger, and multiple long lacerations, including one nearly bisecting an eye, lay across the beast’s body.

Arrows and bolts, a half dozen of them, landed on the monster’s open wounds. Each of them contained the chi of powerful cultivators. Blood dripped furiously from one attack. Another had the skin and flesh darken and necrotize while fire crisped and sealed other wounds. Other attacks, filled with metal and earth chi, burrowed deeper within the monster, injuring vital organs.

Mentally cursing himself, Wu Ying recalled his own bow and arrows. No time to switch now. He darted forward, his sword clashing with a swiping claw as the Maneater was driven to retaliate. Wu Ying caught the attack moments before it bisected the still Tou He. Another strike, coming from the other side and too fast for Wu Ying to block, was engaged by Yin Xue, the nobleman straining.

“Good of you to arrive,” Tou He said, bald head gleaming with sweat.

Next to his friend, Wu Ying felt the battle happening in the environment, the way Tou He and the others in the formation shook the Maneater’s very cultivation with the flames of the formation, suppressing its speed and strength.

Taking advantage of this, Wu Ying and Yin Xue pushed forward in unison, batting aside claws with each movement. Occasionally, other cultivators darted in to relieve the pair, a myriad of weapons on show, from a hooked fishing pole to a spinning knife and chain that tore at the monster’s face.

The remaining members of the dao formation regrouped, new members replacing the injured. Trapped in the closing circle, twice the monster attempted to escape. The first time, its leap was thwarted by a floating talisman charm and the combined loosing of arrows and bolts.

The second time, Shen Wei, the massive, bearded cultivator, launched an impressive drop kick that smashed the tiger flat before Shen Wei was batted aside by a twisting shadow claw. The big wandering cultivator flew through the air, out of sight into the shadows.

Finally, finally, the newly reformed Twenty-Eight Vicious Cuts formation was ready. The dao wielders flowed forward, taking turns to unleash the twenty-eight cuts, making the Core-level creature caught within spin in circles. The rest of the cultivators fell back to allow the others to work, leaving the monster at the epicenter of the fight. Hounded, attacked by multiple members using a formation, the Maneater struggled valiantly onward.

Until the twenty-sixth cut, when Hong Miao stepped forward, her sabre rising across its exposed neck, bisecting it. Headless, the demon beast tottered for a few more steps, nearly cutting apart Hong Miao with its reflexive retaliation before it collapsed.

Wu Ying stood far back, one hand still clutching his weapon, his breathing fast and heavy as he attempted to refill oxygen and energy at the same time. He shuddered at the recollection of the last attack. Others might have missed it, but there were traces of a dao in it, one that was entirely unkind and all too sharp for his liking. One of blood-letting and savage delight in battle.

“Healers!” a voice called from behind. A voice, Wu Ying realized, that had been calling, desperately, for a while.

Shaking away his concerns for his erstwhile allies, Wu Ying snapped orders, memory bringing up the names of those with some small degree of healing skill. As for himself…

Well, he had a few poultices and bandages to lend to the cause.

***

“How bad is it?” Yu Kun asked, later in the day.

The monster had been skinned, its body filleted, even the bones taken and stored away. The demon beast core was kept by Wu Ying at the moment, as were the majority of the treasured parts, only the meat—all too much for a single person to hold—being spread around. Now, they were many li away, having departed the battle scene lest another creature be drawn close by the blood.

“Bad enough,” Wu Ying replied. “Three deaths, four major injuries. We’ll lose another two members as they have chosen to stay with the injured.”

Yu Kun nodded. “Against a Core-level Demonic Beast? One that used a different aspect and is a true maneater?” The mohawk-wearing cultivator shook his head. “That is quite good, I would say.”

“Maybe, but we cannot afford to have another battle like this,” Wu Ying said.

“Amithaba, my friend,” Tou He said, approaching the pair. He had spent a short moment with one corpse at the request of a sect member, praying over it even if he was not a true monk. After that, the body had been wrapped and placed in a storage ring to be returned to the corpse’s sect.

“Even if it will be, it’s not…” Wu Ying shook his head, pushing aside the flicker of conscience. Those here were here by choice, and he could only keep telling himself that. “We should keep moving.”

“That’s the other problem,” Yu Kun said, grimacing.

“The horses.”

“Exactly.” Yu Kun gestured around, and Wu Ying eyed the group. Unlike the cultivators themselves, the animals had died faster and easier, with many backing away once the group had dismounted. A few of the less well-trained animals had broken off, leaving their owners bereft of equine companionship.

Wu Ying made a quick count, then did it again while his friends kept silent as he came to the painful conclusion. “We’re four animals short.”

Fan Yi appeared by Wu Ying’s side, seemingly having spent her time listening to the group. “We need mares for all the injured.”

Wu Ying made a face, but nodded. “That…”

“We’ll need to leave two more of our group behind. Those staying with the injured can move on their feet, but there needs to be guards.” Fan Yi gestured backward, pointing at the surviving member of her sect. “Li Ren will go back with my sect brother’s body. We but need another volunteer to ensure their safety.”

“I’m sorry about—”

“He should not have been standing so close,” Fan Yi said. “He was never a good melee fighter. I told him to stay back, use his crossbows.” The trio stared at the cold woman, the way she accused her now-dead sect mate. Then, to their surprise, she brushed at the edges of her eyes, her head bowed. “Find your fourth. I… I… need to…”

She never finished her words, stalking off. A full third of their members, gone in a single fight. They would have to reconfigure their formations, attempt to make up for the gaps and hope that there were enough left behind to cover any further problems.

A single fight, and a third of them were gone.

“I can give up my own steed,” Wu Ying said, making a quick decision. “But in either case, we should get moving. There’s a turn-off a few li ahead. The injured could split from us there.”

“Then we best get moving,” Yu Kun replied.

A shared nod and they moved apart, chivvying the still traumatized group onward. There would be time to grieve later. Now, they had to make up for the delay.

Chapter 13

A few more days after the incident with the demonic beast saw the group deep within enemy territory. Late in the day, after their usual bout of training at their campsite, with rations split and food cooked over banked fires, the group gathered around Wu Ying. He had news to give, the latest intelligence recently arrived via a Spirit Messenger.

“One of our spies in a Wei sect has confirmed that Fairy Yang and Xi and the other kidnappees have been transferred to a manor house farther in the province. It is isolated from any city or village, with the grounds around it constantly patrolled by the owners of the manor,” Wu Ying informed the group.

“Which family is that?” Fan Yi said.

“The Mao family.” Wu Ying’s answer led to mostly blank faces. All but Yu Kun and Yin Xue in fact, which surprised Wu Ying not at all. He gestured to Yin Xue. “Can you explain about the Mao family?”

“The Maos are one of the five pillars of the Wei,” Yin Xue said. “They have a reputation for being highly militaristic, with large lands and prosperous villages. However, it’s the trio of cities they control, on the crossroads of multiple rivers, that provide the majority of their income. They’ve always been looking to take further land from the Shen, all the way down the river Li.”

“Are they strong?” Hong Miao said, straight to the point.

“Individually, they are not one of the famous martial families. They do support the White River Sect heavily though, with funds and cores,” Yin Xue replied.

Jie Kai straightened, eyes glinting a little. “That is a reputable orthodox sect. I—we—fought them on the borders a number of times and have never noticed any of the issues you would expect of a Dark-Sect-ridden group. Unlike certain unorthodox sects we’ve dealt with. They even allowed one of my sect mates to retreat when they did not need to. Very honorable and upright.”

“Still, the Maos could request aid from the Sect, perhaps some members of their martial forces, can they not?” Wu Ying said.

“Yes, but…”

Jie Kai began, only to be cut off by Xiang Wen. “They might not truly know who they work for. You know how it is. A simple request by the Elder and you’re off.”

“You get requests direct from Elders?” Hong Miao said, wonder in her voice.

“Of course. How do you get assignments?” Xiang Wen said, turning to regard the big woman in curiosity.

“They throw wooden slips with the assignment details into the training rings. We fight for them,” one of Hong Miao’s companions rumbled. “The different shades of wood indicate the difficulty, and you must fight for whatever you can acquire.”

“That’s so brutal and inelegant,” Fan Yi said, the young noblewoman seated on the edges of the group, the pipa on her lap.

“That is how you gain strength!” the Eight Vicious Daos cultivator insisted, the long edges of his sideburns trembling.

“Inelegant,” Fan Yi repeated. “We receive our assignments via jade slips pushed under the door.”

“No choice?” Yin Xue said, sounding surprised.

To the lord’s son’s surprise, the non-Verdant Green Waters Sect cultivators broke into laughter. He frowned, and seeing his confusion, the others laughed even more.

“Only a Verdant Green Waters member would have such largesse,” Hong Miao jeered.

“I have a lot of choices,” a cultivator from a sect so small that Wu Ying had forgotten its name already, as he had its owner, piped up. “There’s always more work than we can do.”

“That’s because you’re too small,” Fan Yi said with a smirk.

There was a glare, before Tou He spoke up, his voice calm and reasonable. “The size of your sect is to your advantage, friend. A small sect has nearly as many needs in some ways as a larger sect like the Eight Vicious Daos or the Strident Cranes. However, you have fewer members, so you have more choice. On the other hand, they have the opposite problem—too many cultivators, not enough assignments.”

“And the Verdant Green Waters takes the lion’s share of the good assignments too,” Xiang Wen said with a crooked smile, “leaving the rest of us the dregs.”

“Yes. Though now, they might not be so haughty. Maybe some of the local lords and villages will send their requests to us. Then we’ll be able to show how well we do at dealing with demonic beasts, wandering spirits, and overzealous bandits.” Jie Kai smirked. “After all, they are not as mighty as they once were.”

The Verdant Green Waters members stilled, before Shen Wei, having listened to them all speak about matters he cared not a wit about, spoke up. “We were being informed about our target. Your sect troubles matter little to me.”

Wu Ying flashed the big cultivator a smile. “Yes, exactly. We do not know how many we face, though as mentioned, there might be cultivators from the White River. I expect more dark sect cultivators who have shown themselves, traitors from other sects and their like, to be present too.”

Slow nods, before Xiang Wen asked, “Do we have any guesses about the forces arrayed before us?”

“And what of their states? Are they unharmed? Untouched?” Fan Yi said urgently.

“Of the forces… nothing. Though my Master cautioned in the message that he believed there to be at least one Core stage Elder still there.” Wu Ying turned to Fan Yi. “As for the hostages, they are, it was believed, mostly unharmed.”

“Mostly?” Fan Yi paled a little as she whispered that word.

“A…” Wu Ying hesitated to tell what had been passed on to him but forced himself to forge on. She had—they had—every right to know. “An incentive to hurry up was sent. It was the third, though my Master did not mention the others to me before. I assume the other messages were lost.”

“An incentive?” Yin Xue said calmly, though his eyes glittered with suppressed dread.

“A finger,” Wu Ying said flatly.

Gasps, winces, and in Xiao Peng’s case, a sudden suppressed retching motion as he paled and swayed. Wu Ying frowned, and Tou He moved over to the man, patted him on the back, and murmured consoling words.

“Whose?” a voice called.

When Wu Ying named the poor victim, there was a cry of rage. The man stomped away, disappearing to the edges of the clearing where he trembled with unspoken feelings.

“Now, we know what they will do. Let us discuss what we will do in the coming few days. Even with the new location, we’ll be there soon,” Wu Ying said, and the group nodded, resolve burning in their eyes.

Once more, he swept his gaze over the shrunken group, curiosity warring with whether the traitor was still here. If he was even still alive. After all, demonic beasts cared not for human loyalties. The Maneater killed and ate as it desired.

In either case, Wu Ying resolved to stay on guard. Whatever plans they made, additional arrangements would be required for when the heavens made their decree and the dice tumbled wrong.

***

Late evening once more and Wu Ying walked the perimeter. He checked on the formations, feeling the web they wove around the group’s resting spot, hiding the sight and smell of the fires, turning down the pervasive pressure of chi. Perhaps a truly powerful and sensitive Elder could notice the alteration in environmental chi, the way it drifted toward their clearing faster than normal as the cultivators drew it in to reinforce themselves. For everyone else, this web of formation flags would keep them hidden.

Finishing his circuit, Wu Ying moved back to the training clearing. He could not afford to train too much since he was on watch, though a few other cultivators were moving in the dim light shed by the new moon and twinkling stars.

A chain hissed and spun, the light clank of steel links rattling through the night as a dagger tip was cast forward before being yanked back. The entire chain-and-dagger combination was a minor change from the usual steel wire or—much more commonly—rope and knife combo; but Wu Ying had to assume the change was due to the speed and aggressiveness with which the cultivator was wielding the weapon.

Constant spinning cuts, throws, and twists parted the air, while a short distance away, another pair of cultivators moved through a slow-motion two-step, bare-handed training exercise. Each cultivator would take turns attacking, making two full motions before stopping and allowing their opponent to make their own two motions. Often, the situation devolved to a single clear and strike and a second strike, before the other side took their turn.

Wu Ying knew the training exercise, having done much the same himself. He mostly preferred single-turn versions, since it forced one to take the ideal motion—whether a single step and cut or a drop kick—to place oneself in the best position while disadvantaging the other. In this version though, push strikes that disrupted the opponent’s balance, deep steps toward the outside, and even light grappling made more of its presence known.

A foot sweep, conducted at a snail’s pace, meant the victim was able to transfer weight ever so slowly. Foot raised, sweat poured off her face as her assailant followed up the turning sweep with a curving elbow strike to a temple. It struck ever so gently and pushed off her line of sight before the motion was halted.

Foolish, Wu Ying could not help but think. In this position, body arched, the majority of the back offered to the young lady, her opponent was in a disadvantageous position. As she showed, a moment later, when a hand came to rest on her opponent’s shoulder and she completed her airborne assault, raised foot swung via muscle and qinggong techniques to wrap around neck and torso. A second later, using the same momentum, she pulled her opponent off balance, upsetting them both. The subtle arching of her back, the control of an arm, ended the bout as she threatened to snap neck and dislocate shoulder.

Standing, the pair bowed; a quiet argument about the number of moves the entire spinning attack consisted of was begun.

Turning away, Wu Ying forced himself to extend his spiritual sense, wrapping it around the clearing. It was simple enough, though on a few occasions, he felt the subtle pushback of other auras, nudging him away from tents to protect privacy.

Eyes half closed, he paid attention to the thrum of chi, the way energy shifted in the space. As he had progressed in his cultivation, his spiritual sense had grown and changed too, as if it was his own skin that extended across the sphere; the feel of a breeze pressing against the surroundings, the heat of flames, or the solid presence of earth and the vibrant, changing power of wood.

Combined with the meditations and mantras of the Heavenly Soul portion of the qinggong exercise, Wu Ying was able to extend the sensitivity of his mind and soul to the environmental chi around them. At first, he stood still, but eventually the restlessness within him forced him to walk, circling their resting place as he sampled the chi and the world around him.

Each step was a light tread upon the ground, each movement crossing multiple feet as though the air itself picked him up and cast him forward. He glided across the ground, his passage not even disturbing the blades of grass he trod upon in his continual circuit.

Heavenly Soul, connecting him to the Dao above, opening a doorway to the concept of space and the heavens. Making him as much part of nature as the tree that grew by the wayside and, in this connection, providing buoyance to his body. He no longer trod through the world like most cultivators and mortals, pushing apart the air and karmic ties by sheer force of will.

No, Wu Ying floated through space, an intrinsic portion of it such that there was no differentiation between him and the world. At least, so he chanted, so he murmured. His grasp of the technique thus far was minor, his expansion on this ability a struggle.

Around and around Wu Ying circled, till the incense burned down and it was time for another to take his place. He woke the man and nodded to his companion who had been undertaking his guardianship from the comfort of a branch on a nearby tree. Then, feeling as though he was so close to a breakthrough, Wu Ying returned to pacing.

A half hour later, Wu Ying looked up, the long grass swaying around his feet. Concentration broken, he sank, weight pressing upon the blades of vegetation he had been standing upon, crushing leaves beneath his feet. Head turning a little, a smile danced across Wu Ying’s lips as he realized where he stood.

Even when he was not thinking about it, he was prepping to gather.

Carefully, he bent down, eyeing the long grass he stood upon. When an errant breeze blew, he swayed backward, using the edges of his robe to ensure he did not touch the swaying blades with bare skin. A flicker of movement and he cut at the ground, levering up plots of dirt before placing multiple square bu[20] of earth with its still living vegetation into his World Spirit Ring.

Then a light hop and he dashed across the tips of the blades before tragedy struck.

Wu Ying landed at the edge of the clearing, using his sword to send slices of energy outward. It struck the swaying grass, sending stalks tumbling to reveal green and white robes. Another push of chi, and he sent the falling grass away in a gust of wind, revealing the presence that had followed him, that he had sensed in the periphery.

Wu Ying walked forward, careful not to touch the blades, and pulled the body back into the forest. Then another retrieval from his storage rings, and he pressed a few pills through tender lips. For himself and for Tou He, who slowly woke up after Wu Ying had forced the medicine down his friend’s throat.

“You shouldn’t have followed me,” Wu Ying said. “Sleeping Sage Grass is very dangerous, even for cultivators.”

“Mmmmphhfff…” Tou He muttered.

Wu Ying snorted, taking a seat off to the side while he waited for the antidote to take effect. He felt its potent chi and medicinal ingredients coursing through his body, just as it must be affecting his friend. The ex-monk had his eyes closed, actively cultivating and forcing the energy to flow through him faster, improving its effects.

Wu Ying chose not to bother. While he had been cut by the sharp blades of grass a little and had breathed in the light narcotic effect, the dosage he had received was very low. Added to his own experience with such plants, the pill would be more than sufficient to ward off the minor poisoning.

Eventually feeling better, Wu Ying stood and walked toward the ground he had cleared and where his friend had lain. Rather than waste time, he chose to begin his next set of training. Training that he conducted late at night, when the others were not around to watch.

Sword drawn, he rotated his feet ever so gently, bending forward. He let his mind fall back to a moonlit evening, to the form of his Master slowly pushing energy through his meridians such that Wu Ying could sense it. He remembered every bunched muscle, every shift as his Master turned and cut, the rising blade parting the air and the very nature of the heavens itself.

Once he had fixed it all in his mind, then and only then did Wu Ying repeat the action. Physical repetition was simple. The actual attack, physically, was not much different than what he had trained before. Some minor alterations in placement of feet, in angle of the cut and the location of his hands. The studied and careful activation of muscles to ensure the fastest, smoothest attack. Simple, for a martial artist who had dedicated years of his life to the art.

On the other hand, the flow of chi, the twisting passage through his dantian and meridians was hard, the weave more complicated than anything Wu Ying had ever attempted before. Multiple times had he tried it, a few times coming close to injuring himself—or in a few cases, going so far as doing so—for the energy double backed on itself, criss-crossed in such a way that deviations were all too common.

If not for his expanded constitution, the hardiness of the Body Cultivation techniques he trained and the medicines he consumed, Wu Ying would have been seriously injured pushing forward as he had with this technique.

Yet, that was not that most difficult issue. For there was one other aspect Wu Ying had yet to even cross the boundaries of. The addition of a dao that made the attack truly dangerous. The dao conception of karma and the severing of it. That was what Wu Ying missed, what his Master had dedicated his whole life toward.

Dedicated and, if his words were to be taken at face value, had failed to properly integrate.

The attack was powerful, more powerful than anything Wu Ying had access to at this time. If he could grasp the dao, if he could perhaps integrate some of his own insights, it would be a formidable weapon. One that could breach the difference between the Energy Storage and Core Formation tiers.

It was why he moved so slowly through the motions, why he stood for long moments, unmoving at other times.

His mind cast backward, searching for answers, for enlightenment.

The Karma Severing Blade.

A failed attack, for karma, the thread of fates that bound individuals, could never truly be cut. Not by any mortal man. Every action, every choice, led to another. From the moment one was born, the child took upon its head the burdens of its parents, the debts—social and financial—they had acquired. Its very survival was dependent on the largesse and bounty of those who brought him up. For no human spawn was born self-sufficient.

As one grew, peasant or noble, further ties of society bound one close. Cloth was woven in house or taken in trade from other families. Rice fields were jointly planted and cared for, drainage ditches maintained for the community to ensure that rice grew well.

Merchants arrived from afar, carrying paper, furniture, metal instruments, and tea, along with word of those who lived in nearby towns and villages and, of course, the kingdom.

Taxes were paid to those above.

Conscripts were taken from villages and forced to serve an army, only to return injured or wreathed in glory.

Roads of crushed earth, rebuilt spring after spring while unseen cultivators guarded against demonic and spirit beasts.

And that was just the mortal world.

High above, immortals battled demons and oversaw the workings of heaven. Distant stories of the past spoke of dragons and gods fighting over land, forming tidal waves and crushing mountains in their battles. All of which gave way to the occasional altercation now.

Diplomacy had replaced hot-headedness, bureaucracy stifling bouts of possessiveness. At least in the Middle Kingdom. Rumors of battles between immortals on the edges of the numerous kingdoms against barbarian hordes, against overpoweringly mighty Spirit Beasts trickled in constantly. And across the seas, further rumors of entire pantheons that eyed their lands.

Karma tied them all to one another. No mortal could escape it, no matter what they did. Severing it meant splitting the very fabric of society, leaving an individual as a sole tree in a clearing, ready to be struck down by the next lightning storm or mortal in need of wood.

Realization that his Master was not just wrong in his dao but foolishly wrong struck Wu Ying. It shook the mind palace he resided within, the pillars of serenity trembling before he forcibly stabilized it.

His Master had been wrong, and the dao imparted into this cut was wrong.

Yet the strength of the attack, its ability that his Master had showcased. That was truth too.

The duality of both truths bounced within Wu Ying’s mind, forced him to hold the conflicting ideas together while he searched for his own answer, his own dao in the space between both truths.

A dao that he had only barely begun to grasp, drawn from knowledge gathered from myriad sources, myriad places, myriad people and experiences. The key to his own ascension. That not for him, the stable life in the Sect, an organized routine, and a sedate passing of days as he slowly accumulated knowledge.

No.

What Wu Ying knew, what he had learned, had come while moving through numerous trials and tribulations, from comments from friends and enemies and from experiences slowly collected like rice grains from a spilled pot after numerous trials and challenges while traveling.

He could not, would not, hold himself apart from the world, from nature and society. Yet, he had chosen to walk a path that only coincided with it at times. A passing wind that took up wealth and knowledge, spoken words and cloying scents, leaving behind people and places and a trace of itself as it moved on.

Not a severing of karma, but a trade.

Wu Ying moved without thought, without intention. Wuwei[21].

His sword rose.

It cut.

The world changed.

***

Wu Ying woke from his fugue state to find himself sprawled on the ground, a cloth bundle tucked under his head. He tried to stand only to find his body failing him. Muscles screamed in protest, multiple minor tears and injuries making themselves known. He grimaced then winced as he felt dried blood crack on his lips and across his cheek. Eyes were gummed close and took great effort to open, only for Wu Ying to find himself staring into the slowly lightening sky.

“Good,” Tou He said, his voice coming from the side. His voice sounded wrong, too distant at times and then much closer. “Stay there and circulate some chi. I’m going to pass you a healing pill to take.”

Wu Ying tried to nod and winced as a sharp stab of pain radiated from neck.

“Don’t move, I said.”

Focusing within, Wu Ying searched his body for damage. He was relieved to find that his meridians were undamaged, if strained. Though the easily accessible chi within his body was drained, the energy in his dantian, the reserves that he built upon was overflowing. His dantian throbbed, offering a feeling reminiscent of having overeaten.

Chi that was unaspected, but tasting of something colder, purer. Heavenly chi, that often came with enlightenment. Except…

He had none of that. He was certain. He had just been contemplating his Master, his Master’s form, then his own dao.

He had had no enlightenment; he had just moved.

Memory of a single, boundless moment when he had cut, upward.

A blade shining through the air.

Air parting before it.

Earth rent apart by the wave of energy and dao intent.

And then, wind rushing into the gap created.

Knocking him over.

Wu Ying’s eyes flew open again, having closed as he remembered.

Remembered.

He struggled to his feet, pushing past the pain, only acceding to Tou He’s request to take the pill and water that was pushed on him because it was faster than arguing. He strode back to where he had been practicing, to the field of Sleeping Sage Grass, to behold what he had wrought.

Destruction.

And renewal.

A rent, from where the line of his cut had started, rose through the horizon, earth dug in a channel so neatly sliced that he could spot the edges of an unlucky earth worm and deeply sown plant roots. Blades of grass, caught in mid-sway, had been sliced apart, their edges sharply demarcated even as they swayed in the wind. The tear in the earth carried on in that twisted angle of his rising cut for as far as Wu Ying could see, the edges hidden by the rise and fall of the earth and the remnant grasses.

Yet along with the destruction of the earth, he noted the way the soil had been picked up and driven forward, new leaves and branches scattered through the field. Even portions of smaller shrubbery and the twitching bodies of a pair of smaller animals lay insensate in the field. Water too, drawn down from the heavens to leave a light coating of morning dew. All of it had been thrust into the damaged earth and spread across the land by the gale wind of his attack, at the command of his dao.

Or…

Wu Ying shook his head, knowing instinctively that was wrong. He was not completely wrong, but his understanding missed something. That mistake had cost him, injured him during that moment of clarity and testing. If he had gotten it right, he would not now be hunched over, breathing a little hard, his body throbbing and bereft of chi.

Though perhaps the last one was unavoidable.

The base attack had been something a Core cultivator had researched and practiced. The flow of chi through his meridians was complex, the requirements to power the attack massive. As a mere Energy Storage Cultivator, he should not have been able to even use it, if not for his Body Constitution providing additional chi.

“Wu Ying?”

The voice pulled him from his thoughts, making the cultivator turn. Blinking, Wu Ying noted the rising sun, much higher than the glimpse he had had when he woke. He flashed Tou He a smile, then took the sheathed sword his friend offered and placed it by his side. A part of Wu Ying marveled that he had forgotten his own weapon. Another part noted how exhausted he must be, from the drain of his own chi and that moment of quasi-enlightenment.

“I’m fine. But we should go back,” Wu Ying said.

“Yes, we should.” Tou He gestured and Wu Ying hobbled forward. He did not even attempt to use his chi to power his qinggong techniques, knowing that doing so would be futile. “Though…”

“What?”

“Just that when you told me to recuperate, I assumed I’d find you on watch,” Tou He said, his tone forcefully light. “Not passed out and requiring me to watch over you.”

“You were taking too long,” Wu Ying muttered, limping along. Then he turned his head to the side. “Did you want to speak about something when you followed me?”

Tou He hesitated, something flashing through his eyes, before he shook his head. “Another time. Tell me about your enlightenment instead.”

Wu Ying frowned, but excited over what he had done, he spoke of his quasi-moment of enlightenment. He did, however, choose to skip his realization that his Master’s path was broken. That was too personal. Instead, he alluded to other observations and focused on the motion itself.

Eventually, when they finally heard the approaching footsteps of the other cultivators, voices raised in concern as they called for the pair, Tou He asked, “What is it called?”

“What’s what called?” Wu Ying said.

“The attack.”

“Oh…” Wu Ying hesitated to offer his Master’s name. The Karma Severing Blade was not what his own was. Far from it. In fact, thinking of the motions, the way he had adapted some of the Long family style motions almost instinctively, the way his wind chi had flowed and even the dao conceptions, it was closer to… “A Wandering Dragon.”

“A little pretentious, is it not?”

Wu Ying grinned. “Perhaps. Perhaps it’s only the first motion of it…” A small trill went through him, as if something deep within acknowledged his words. “But that’s what it’s called.”

“The first blade of the Wandering Dragon,” Tou He said the words contemplatively before he nodded. “Well, it seems you have found your own way then, friend.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Wu Ying said.

The other cultivators finally arrived, looking red-faced and a little put out by the slow-moving pair.

It seemed Wu Ying had quite a bit of explaining to do.

Chapter 14

Due to Wu Ying’s injury and an unplanned detour through the nearby forest, it took the team an additional day to arrive at the Mao compound. The mansion was not a single construction but a series of interconnected buildings and gardens with the entire series of residences enclosed by a towering wall. Unlike most urban center walls, these walls were of a significant height—nearly fifteen feet tall—and had walkways at the top of the wall for guards to patrol. Along with the physical barrier, Wu Ying knew there would be formations to stop flying demonic beasts and other opponents who could just avoid the physical obstacle the wall presented.

Camped a short distance away—though far enough that a patrol of the external grounds would not likely find them—the group broke into all too familiar teams. One, led by Xiao Peng, focused on putting together the formations to hide their location. Another set up the campsite, while a third kept watch for demonic and spirit beasts. The final group, Wu Ying’s tentative command team, gathered around him to discuss their plans.

“We should scout the mansion before we attempt to break in,” Yu Kun insisted. “A direct assault is bound to fail.”

“No one’s suggesting a direct assault,” Yin Xue said with a roll of his eyes. “But there’s a wall in the way and no trees tall enough to offer a proper vantage point. How are we supposed to see inside to get any usable information?”

“We still need to bypass the formation,” Fan Yi said. “Normally, studying it beforehand will increase our chances.”

“Xiao Peng has a formation breaker, and so do I,” Wu Ying said, touching his storage ring. “It was one of the requirements for coming.”

“I have one too,” Xiang Wen said, then nodded to where Jie Kai glared at the group. “Or, well, my sect brother does. He is somewhat competent at its use.”

“Still, if the mansion’s formation is too strong…” Fan Yi said. “We need to be certain.”

“And if we get caught scouting the mansion?” Yin Xue said. “They already know we’re coming, but they don’t know when. If they learn about our presence, it’ll make a difficult task impossible. Walking into the lair with the tiger awake is much different than when it sleeps.”

“Formations are not like… like…” Fan Yi shook her head. “They’re not all the same things. Just because we have formation breakers doesn’t mean they will work. This is an old mansion. Maybe we need to use all three at once to get in. Maybe a single one is required. But if we try and can’t enter, they’ll harm my sister for certain.”

“And what makes you think they won’t if they find us scouting them?” Yin Xue said.

“Because then they can lay a trap!” Fan Yi rebutted.

“Actually,” Wu Ying said, interrupting the pair, “both my and Xiao Peng’s formation breakers are meant to cut through the formation without actually breaking it. It creates a hole so that we can sneak in.”

“Mine is an actual formation breaker,” Xiang Wen said softly. “It’s a variable strength formation though, which should allow us to drill through the formation so long as it’s not an Immortal-grade formation. We just have to have enough people powering it.”

Wu Ying blinked in surprise. Even the formation he had acquired—been given—was only Spirit-grade. To gain what had to be a Saint-grade formation breaker, Xiang Wen must have paid a dear sum. Or the Whistling Iron Monkey Sect must truly want revenge.

“Then we really should scout it out,” Yu Kun said. “With the right people, they won’t even know we’re there. We have a few cultivators who have excellent aura control.”

Wu Ying made a face. “I can see you looking at me.”

“Who asked you to specialize in that?” Yu Kun smirked.

Yin Xue shifted uncomfortably while the big, bearded cultivator, Shen Wei, thumped his chest. “I shall join this too.”

“And so should Xiao Peng,” Fan Yi said. “He needs to go.”

“I’m surprised you are not offering,” Yin Xue said, looking at Fan Yi. “Since you are so insistent on this course of action.”

“I know my limits,” Fan Yi said, bowing her head a little. “My training was to expand my presence, not shrink it. I learned to project with my instruments rather than to pull back. Except for a few moments, of course.”

“Enough,” Wu Ying gestured, cutting off Yin Xue before he could continue to needle her after losing the argument. “Shen Wei, myself, and Xiao Peng will go.”

“You should take Chong Huan too,” Xiang Wen cut in.

Wu Ying frowned, and it was Tou He who supplied the answer. “The one who looks like a panda.”

“The deep-set eyes? Looks like he needs more sleep?” Wu Ying said.

The group nodded in unison. It was a very apt description—other than the lack of rotundness of course. The shadows under the cultivator’s eyes had been remarked upon quite early on by them all.

“Why?” Wu Ying said.

“He used to act as a scout for the military when the Broken Reeds Sect served on the front lines. He only came back half a year ago,” Xiang Wen said. Seeing the others look at her, she shrugged a little. “We talked.”

“Talked?” Wu Ying muttered. He suppressed a surge of irritation, wondering where that emotion had come from. No reason why she shouldn’t talk to others. In fact, if he hadn’t been so focused on his own training, he would have done more such socialization. Did in fact try, though the group mostly spent their time training too. The expected danger they were walking into had driven away any desire to spend too much time mingling.

He shook his head, dismissing errant thoughts. A look upward caught sight of the rising moon, the new moon waxing and offering a sliver of light. Too bad it was not a few days earlier, when the moon was gone and a scouting trip safer. Not that even the lack of light could hinder the sharp sense of a cultivator by much, but Wu Ying would have taken any advantage he could get.

They needed it.

“We meet at midnight then,” Wu Ying decided, gesturing for others to go. They all had duties, training to conduct. Better to complete them now, including his own notes about what should happen if his worse fears came true.

All too soon, midnight arrived. Wu Ying had spent the last few hours at the edges of the clearing, cultivating and trying to find a calm that eluded him. Even the act of cultivation had been difficult. Thankfully, tonight was a Body Cultivation evening, so he was drinking down the contained sludge Liu Tsong had packed for him.

Sludge, for it tasted horrendous, even to his senses. It contained remnant medicinal ingredients from the process of making Tou He’s pills, stabilized via other ingredients. Too powerful to be thrown away, too unstable for most to consume. Gifted to Wu Ying because when blended with some other herbs and pills she used, it would work as a cleansing agent. Fire to burn away stagnant impurities and to help conjure the wind that was so much a part of his body now. It hurt, but this was not the first time Wu Ying had taken some concoction to improve his body.

Pain was an old friend anyway when it came to Body Cultivation. It was, Wu Ying had come to realize, one of the reasons so few bothered with it. The process of altering one’s body, of cleansing the impurities and gaining an aspect, truly was agonizing, as nerves, muscles, and tendons were burnt away and replaced—often in minutes when it should have taken hours or days.

Today though, Wu Ying focused not on replacing but cleansing by using the pills, the techniques he had learned from the Seven Winds to help drive the impurities from his body. He had changed into old peasant robes, knowing that at the end of this particular session, his clothes would be soiled beyond redemption. Or at least soiled enough that a thorough cleaning in professional facilities would be required.

Hours, of moving and breathing. Steam rose from his body, swirling into the air to disperse, light displays of power at the edges of the clearing where he stood as the formation broke down the noxious fumes he generated. Somewhere along the line, Wu Ying noted, someone had even put up a minor privacy formation around him—to block out sight and scent.

The work eventually cleared his mind sufficiently. No longer did he struggle to find peace, to keep the constant concerns and worries from invading his mind. The repetitive and twisting motions of his cultivation technique required him to pay full attention or risk injury, and the flow—which eventually ended with the controlled, circular, and spinning techniques of the central wind—helped settle his mind. The fears and doubts about what they would encounter still swirled, but they were now on the outside of the central peace he had created, the tranquility in the center of a twister.

Two years he had been practicing, improving his body, cleansing and refining the impurities left behind by his medicinal baths. There were still clogs within, areas that needed to be purified. Bone in particular was the most difficult, though even his skin had grown a lighter shade now. A part of him would always be marked by the wood and fire chi though.

Two years, he had refined his body, improving it and gaining a greater understanding of the cultivation method he had won at the Double Soul, Double Body Sect. He had stood on the edges of cliffs, watched the twist and turn of eddying gusts, swayed on top of bamboo forests as the cold biting wind of winter robbed him of his warmth, and even glimpsed a twisting tornado at the furthest edges of his journeys, along canyon walls that spun the dust devil to magnificent heights.

Each day, each month, he had gained a greater appreciation of the Five Winds.

And had yet to even touch the periphery of the other two.

The Winds of Heaven and Hell.

Sometimes, Wu Ying wondered if it was an impossible task. Even with guidance, the Patriarch’s own student had been unable to discern the path. How much more disadvantaged was he, studying from written accounts and a copy of the manual.

A shake of his head and he discarded the thoughts. Better to focus on cleaning up, for it was nearly midnight and time to go.

Soap beads, abrasive and painful with tiny nuggets of uncooked rice embedded within, helped to exfoliate his skin. Water drawn from his World Spirit Ring cleansed the rest, before he made the entire puddle and the earth beneath his feet disappear, added to the compost pile within his ring. Impurities for him perhaps, but the waste was filled with chi, energy that the ever-growing World Spirit Ring required to expand.

“Heaven has a road, but no one travels it. Hell has no gate, but men will dig to get there[22],” Wu Ying murmured as he finished dressing, his mind turning once more to the last words of the Seven Winds. “Perhaps the way to the winds of hell is to just… keep trying?”

Another shake of his head, bemused at himself again. After all, his default method of breaking through was hard work. Can’t figure out the text? Spend more hours studying. Can’t achieve the fighting style? More hours practicing. Slower than the prodigies at cultivation? Spend more hours cultivating.

Easy.

Except when it stopped working.

Emerging from the privacy ward, Wu Ying looked around, only mildly surprised to see that the rest of his impromptu team was ready. There were even a few others—Yin Xue, Tou He, Fan Yi—waiting on the sidelines, watching. Impatient and desperate to help, but unable to.

Wishes of good fortune were quickly passed on before the team spread out.

Time to go. Time to check out the mansion.

And hopefully, the prisoners within.

***

Traversing the distance to the mansion, the group came to a stop at the edge of the forest which had been cleared within a few hundred bu from the mansion’s walls—the range a skilled cultivator could land an arrow. This open expanse surrounding their target made it impossible for the team to close in on the compound without being seen, leaving the team to survey the buildings through squinted eyes and, in a few cases, cultivation abilities.

Wu Ying, without the skill to pluck information and details from the distance, chose to watch for problems and signs of patrols or demonic beasts. A quick survey of his martial sister’s sect token told him she was likely within, though the formation had diffused the signal sufficiently that it did no more than give a general idea of her location. It was why they had been moving in the right direction even before the latest reports had arrived, but why the reports were so important for that final push.

Eventually, Wu Ying managed to move the group in a wide circle around the building complex, taking them downwind of it. There, he found a perch on a tree just a few steps within the forested area and sat, cycling his chi as he drew in the scents borne to him by the wind.

Once again, he could not help but be grateful for his Master. The choice to train him in a secondary sense first, to push him to extend and develop that ability, had paid dividends. Few individuals bothered to hide such things, and even those who did—like a mansion complex located in the middle of untamed spirit lands—were hiding such information under less developed formations than those meant to block more commonly used sensory skills.

So where sight and sound might be completely hidden behind the formation flags and enchantments, mild scents still filtered through. Of course, they were mixed with the normal odors of the natural world, but that was why he trained.

Eyes half closed, Wu Ying sifted and sorted, picking out details that were hidden by tall walls and chi-imbued defenses. Animals—both mundane horses and a few with the sharper scent of spirit beasts. Other domesticated creatures along the edge of the walls, cared for as simple meat sources.

Other food types—grains and wheat, beans and curdling tofu, cook fires and boiled tea—the aromas mixing with bathing salts and oils used to cleanse bodies. Easily ignored, as were the flowers and floral arrangements meant to provide pleasant scents, all mixed with the slowly leeching smells of the seasoned wood of floors and packed earth walls.

Then, finally, the more difficult to detect scents of individuals. More difficult since the formation specifically targeted the change in chi, the way it altered in cultivators. Fascinating that someone had gone so far as to work out how to do that, but it made things more difficult for Wu Ying. Even so, the formation was not perfect, not when multiple Core cultivators were within.

Silently, Wu Ying breathed and filtered, teasing apart the various unique scents he noticed. Time passed and the cultivator fell deep within himself, for the focus required was taxing to the extreme. So much so that when someone touched his leg, pressing aura and skin, Wu Ying startled and nearly fell off the tree branch. Only a last-minute grab by Shen Wei stopped his near upset.

Righting himself and dropping to the ground, followed soon after by the big cultivator, Wu Ying raised a single eyebrow in inquiry. Dawn light filtered through the trees and the clouds in the distance, time having passed all too quickly.

Even before Wu Ying could gather his thoughts, Shen Wei spoke, shattering the stillness in Wu Ying’s thoughts and the small glimmer of satisfaction at the information he had gathered.

“We have a problem,” Shen Wei said.

Chapter 15

“How could you lose him?” Wu Ying growled, glaring at Shen Wei. Of them all, the big cultivator was the only one who had had no other role than watching for trouble. Wu Ying had even taken the moment to affirm that the big cultivator was on watch before he had turned his mind to sensing those within the walls.

“I heard voices coming from the east,” Shen Wei said defensively. “With the minor talismans they had up, they should have been safe.”

“And were there voices?” Wu Ying said.

Rather than answer, Shen Wei lifted a small reflective metal piece. Wu Ying frowned at the formation plate.

“Distraction,” Wu Ying said, realization dawning.

“Yes. But why didn’t they take them both?” Shen Wei looked at Xiao Peng, who had finished packing his instruments.

Xiao Peng looked up, flicking his hands over the packed formation tools he had been using to gauge the barrier in the distance. “I set a few talismans around me. It’s a precautionary measure I always take.”

“And Chong Huan didn’t.” Wu Ying shook his head. “But why take him at all? Why not just go straight to the compound?”

“Perhaps we’re looking at it the wrong way. What if Chong Huan is a traitor?” Xiao Peng said. “What if he needed the distraction to escape Shen Wei?”

Wu Ying worked his jaw for a second before he nodded. That made more sense really. If that was the case… He turned to the complex, frowning a little as he noted that it still looked quiet and sleepy. If a warning had been given, it had not spread yet.

“We need to go,” Wu Ying said.

“No.” Xiao Peng shook his head. “You should go. Remember that clearing with the two trees, one crooked?”

Wu Ying nodded.

“I’ll set up there and begin the formation breaking process. Shen Wei will guard me.” Another moment of hesitation on Wu Ying’s part before Xiao Peng growled. “We don’t have time. Bring your people in. If we are to act, we have to do it before they are all aware.”

Wu Ying let out an exasperated huff. His greatest fear—that they would charge into a fully alert location—was coming to fruition. The only advantage they had was fast disappearing, but if they moved quickly enough, as Xiao Peng said, perhaps they could still recover a little. And when it came to moving fast through the undergrowth, Wu Ying was better than any other.

“Set up then. I’ll get the others moving,” Wu Ying glanced between the two before he added, “Be careful. If they find you…”

“We shall run,” Shen Wei said. “Go!”

A nod, then Wu Ying took off, engaging the full extent of his qinggong techniques. Wind Steps combined with Heavenly Soul, Earthly Body made every step he took cross multiple feet within seconds. His body was as light as the wind, twisting and turning around tree trunks and over fallen logs, flowing beneath branches and hopping across low-hanging shrubbery. The only impediment to his movement was the vegetation that blocked a direct sprint. Yet he threw himself into rolls, leaped over logs with one hand, and danced across streams and rivers with each movement, barely slowed down.

More and more, Wu Ying was realizing how apt the suggestion for the Heavenly Soul, Earthly Body method had been. It tapped into his own dao understanding of the winds, of the air that hung around the forest and danced through leaves. Like air, he moved around obstacles, lightly dancing across the surroundings like the western wind, denying the tempestuous and powerful nature of the eastern gales.

Long minutes, before Wu Ying found himself back at the camp. He burst through the formations, dropping to the ground in a swirling gust of dust and leaves, feet skidding across the ground. His presence and his headlong rush had been noted by the scouts, so what he faced when he arrived was a group of awake and armed cultivators, all searching his face for news.

***

“I told you,” Yin Xue grumbled, running beside Yu Kun and just behind Wu Ying. Their muffled conversation was nearly drowned out by the rushing footsteps of the cultivators that followed. “But does anyone listen to me? Nooo…”

“Better the traitor come now than stab us in the back, I say,” Yu Kun said, the man’s mohawk and top knot tied tightly today. He carried his bow strung, an arrow slipped across the bowstring and ready to be nocked at a moment’s notice.

“Bah! Now we’re running to our deaths. And five Core Formation Elders! How are we expected to win that kind of fight?” Yin Xue said.

“Five in the complex,” Wu Ying corrected, concern over the morale of the rest of the team warring through him. He’d had little enough time to inform the group of what he had learned. “We know at least two of those are Fairy Yang and Fairy Xia. And I might have miscounted.”

“Yes. There’s probably more,” Yin Xue said.

“Gods above, Yin Xue. You’re always so pessimistic. It could be less,” Wu Ying said. “And anyway, there’s a reason why we’re doing it the way we are. Now, come on. We need to hurry.”

The team finally made it to where Xiao Peng waited. The other members of the group who had followed Wu Ying, those not going in, slotted themselves into space at the gestures of the formation master, pouring chi into the formation flags that were ready for them. Immediately, Wu Ying felt the tempo and twisting spiral of chi that Xiao Peng had created that linked their space to the protective formation harden.

Once he was satisfied, Xiao Peng turned to Wu Ying. “There’s a concealment formation around the pathway too. If you follow the pathway exactly, you should be able to make your way in without a problem. After that, you’ll have to find your martial sister yourself.”

“Thank you,” Wu Ying said, clapping the man on the shoulder.

“Don’t thank me. I’m just doing what I can to make sure Zhang Min is safe.” There was something in the way Xiao Peng said that, something in his eyes that Wu Ying could not read. Not fully.

“Where are the others?” Shen Wei said, interrupting the pair as he looked at the small group with Wu Ying.

Wu Ying stood with only Yin Xue and Yu Kun, the remainder of the group already slotted into keeping the formation breaker open.

“Ready to cause a diversion. If necessary, they’ll draw out the Elders,” Wu Ying said. He glanced at Yu Kun before gesturing to the formation. Rolling his eyes, the ex-wandering cultivator loped off, leading the way. Yin Xue followed soon after, leaving Wu Ying to speak to the remainder, quickly and softly. “Once we’re in, go and support the other team.”

“If you need reinforcements…” Shen Wei said, only for Wu Ying to shake his head.

“Then we’ll have failed. You all drawing them out, fighting them outside of the barrier will be more important.”

“How do the others intend to do that?” Xiao Peng said, frowning.

“The Whistling Iron Monkey Sect’s formation breaker isn’t just an enchantment breaker. It’s a sect eradicator.”

“They can’t…!” Xiao Peng said, sounding panicky.

“Use it? We’re hoping not, but better dead than sullied or dishonored,” Wu Ying said grimly. “Anyway, it isn’t as though the Elders will just wait around for us to power it up all the way.”

The pair of cultivators nodded. Before they could speak further, a shrill and low whistle came from the walls, making Wu Ying turn his head and spot his two friends already within. Knowing they had no more time, he nodded to Shen Wei and Xiao Peng and took off, flitting across the intervening space.

It was time to rescue his sister. Or die trying.

***

Stepping through the hole in the formation was like passing across the thin outer layer of a soap bubble, the formation clinging to him and stretching until it parted, the membrane of chi sliding across his body and making Wu Ying shiver.

On the other side, the cultivator was at the top of the sprawling mansion compound’s walls. To his surprise, a short distance away on his left lay a pair of crumpled bodies, trussed up with Yu Kun standing over them. A single raised eyebrow elicited a non-committal shrug from the ex-wandering cultivator, leaving Wu Ying to guess that they were just unlucky guards in the wrong place at the wrong time. Certainly, they were nothing more than Body Cleansing cultivators in the middle ranges—powerful for mortals, but nothing to a trained Energy Storage cultivator.

Turning his gaze inward while crouching, Wu Ying took in his first in-person sight of the compound. As expected, it was a sprawling complex with winding pebble pathways, manicured grass and earth, gondolas and water features, and multiple buildings within.

To Wu Ying’s left, in its own walled off section, the “true” mansion lay, a three-story building with sloped roofs, full-expanse balconies built of wood and painted red and brown. A half dozen lights illuminated rooms within the building, the flickering nature indicating they were simple wooden lamps rather than the steady light of a spirit lamp. What was more interesting were the presence of Spirit Beast guardians, a trio of foo dogs that prowled the grounds between wall and mansion.

The foo dogs were creatures of stone and earth with lion manes and the stocky bodies of dogs. They moved with a liquid grace that belied their earth-bound nature, fangs of stone and the occasional flash of deep red from the molten rock that made up the creatures emitting from their mouths.

A light shudder ran through Wu Ying as he contemplated the creatures that were, in many ways, anathema to his own wind nature. Best to avoid those, if at all possible.

Turning his attention away from them, he studied the rest of the large dining hall not so far from the mansion, a cluster of smaller residences that were likely for visiting guests and branch families. A large, sprawling building with a low wall around it had its own set of humming formations that were targeted to contain energies, giving away the presence of a training ground.

To the north were vegetable gardens and the farm creatures that supplied the mansion its dairy needs, a supplement to the food requirements of such a large compound. Next to it, Wu Ying spotted even more houses, these low-slung huts reminiscent of his own peasant home, each built with three portions to split kitchen and living rooms and the bedrooms on either side for extended members of the family. No movement from that section, other than the few animals that were awake and shifting about.

In fact, Wu Ying was surprised to note there was little movement anywhere except for the south gate, where the lanterns glowed with the steady light that came from spirit cores and cultivators and guards were speaking. Even in the short time he had been on the wall, it was clear that matters were progressing speedily there, as messengers ducked outward, rushing toward the other buildings.

A quick internal debate and Wu Ying gestured, pulling Yu Kun close.

“They’re spreading word via messengers,” Wu Ying said.

“I noticed.”

“Can you…?”

“Take them down?” Yu Kun made a face but nodded. “I can try to delay it. I assume the main mansion is the area we want least alerted?”

Wu Ying nodded. It would help if they managed to keep things quiet, though a simple alarm bell would make their precautions moot. Still, the longer they could delay, the better. A course of thought that Yu Kun shared, for the ex-wandering cultivator took off to intercept the messengers.

Having surveyed the location via sight, Wu Ying drew a deep breath, filtered the odors with ease, winced as he glanced at the mansion—filled with the sharp, almost overpowering scents of Core Formation cultivators—and leapt down lightly to join Yin Xue.

“Where to?” Yin Xue said, eyes hooded.

Wu Ying breathed in again, filtering traces of the scents, letting his dao and spiritual senses expand a little. Not much, just enough to cover a bit more of the area around him, before he retracted it. After all, such active sensing abilities also meant that others could notice him. Better to stay passive, to filter everything that way to stay hidden.

Then a finger rose and Wu Ying pointed.

Yin Xue nodded, moving in the indicated direction in a crouch, hand on his sword that stayed sheathed for now. No need to draw attention from the few wandering guards with the flash of steel. Together, under the gentle guidance of whispered words, the pair crossed the compound’s grounds.

Each step brought them closer to their destination, a low-slung building toward the north, a short distance from the mansion itself. At first, Wu Ying had dismissed it from consideration, assuming it was a cold storehouse for meats and root vegetables. Something dug deep and kept covered to allow produce to last longer. If not for the subtle and old scent he had picked up, he would have dismissed it entirely.

Now, as they neared, he was not so sure.

Traversing the grounds was a simple if tense affair. Few guards moved about, the majority seeming to have been drawn to the south. In that, Wu Ying assumed, their traitor had done them a favor. Even so, they kept low, their breathing shallow and slow, footsteps carefully placed against the dark, ill-lit ground.

Manicured lawns and open spaces, favored by the residents, made for difficult progress, forcing the pair to duck from building to building and toward the occasional tree, even at times making the pair lie flat on the ground where a minor rise or dip in the land gave them some cover as passing guards swept by. In this way, the pair managed to make their way to a building near their targeted location. Crouched low, Yin Xue stared at their target building before pulling Wu Ying back for a quick whispered conversation.

“You’re certain?” the man asked.

“I know my sister’s scent. She’s particularly strong,” Wu Ying said.

“Why would they—”

“Probably they do not realize it. She knows what my Master taught us, so she’s probably relying on it to get around their blocks,” he theorized.

“The guards…” Yin Xue popped his head around, checking on them before pulling back.

Wu Ying did not bother, having glimpsed what was there. Four Energy Storage cultivators in the mid-grade, all of them fully armed and armored in protective gear and with lights staked above and ahead of them. There would be no sneaking up on the watchful quartet, and they’d seen no other entrance to the building itself. Outside of the single front door, not even windows led within, and the entire structure had been packed down with earth. Breaking in would require an earth cultivator who might manage to shift the earth, though the hum of protective enchantments at the edges of their senses indicated that was unlikely to be easy.

No, they would have to go through the guards. And with four of them, there was almost no chance the pair could end the fight without alerting the others. Unless…

Wu Ying touched his spirit ring, extracting the bow and arrows given to him. He had made little use of them during the journey, though occasional practice had brought back what little expertise he had. On the other hand, the unsuspecting quartet was not even thirty yards away. Putting a shaft through an opponent would likely be viable.

The nobleman nodded, seeing Wu Ying’s actions, and extracted his own bow. One that the ex-farmer had yet to see, though even without sensing its potency, Wu Ying could tell it was a weapon for a nobleman. It hummed with the contained power of a Spirit-level weapon, the mixed metal and wood origins of the weapon perfectly aligned.

Together, the pair planted extra arrows into the ground and drew a deep breath.

A silent gesture of three fingers, and the pair began the slow draw of their weapons, not daring to go fast and alert their prey with a misplaced creak.

Not yet.

As Wu Ying hit the count of one, a moment before he would step out and fire, alarm bells rang, breaking the cut-glass silence of the night and startling all within. So loud and discordant was the noise that a ruckus grew from the woken farm animals and the slow-to-wake humans.

***

“Damn it!”

Even as close as he was, Wu Ying almost didn’t hear Yin Xue’s curse. He did, however, spot the man’s glance back at him, questioning their actions. Rather than speak, Wu Ying finished nocking his arrow, keeping the fletching next to his cheek as he stepped out. He couldn’t feel the strain on his muscles, not just yet, but he knew better than to keep it drawn for too long.

The four guards were on high alert, a pair already hefting their large tower shields and searching for trouble. The other pair of polearm wielders were shifting backward, but Wu Ying had no time to think. His presence, his quick movements had caught their attention, but it was all too late.

Fingers relaxed, the bowstring snapping forward by its own volition. Wu Ying had shifted his aim only a little upward, the short distance barely giving time for the arrow to do more than begin the rising arc of its parabolic journey before it struck, lodging deep in the face of its target.

Not that Wu Ying was watching, his second arrow already placed on thrumming bowstring and swept upward as it was held loosely in his draw hand. He nocked and fired smoothly, stifling his anger as he watched his target block the attack with his tower shield.

Yin Xue had chosen to go for the successful guardsman’s compatriot for his first strike, his arrow lodged deep in the man’s face. Two cultivators down and a third polearm-wielder clutching a damaged leg.

“HELP! ATTACK!” the tower-wielder yelled, falling back as he looked to protect the other surviving member of their quartet.

Wu Ying had no time to deal with them, storing his bow into his storage ring with a flash of chi as he darted forward. No weapon in hand, he chose to work in close and lash out with a powerful spinning sidekick, hammering the center of the tower shield and shoving his opponent into the polearm-wielder. The pair collapsed in a sprawling mess, and Wu Ying took the moment to draw his jian.

Even as he lunged forward to end the fight, an arrow hissed past him, burying in an outstretched hand that scrabbled for a dropped weapon, pinning the limb to the ground. His opponents in chaos, it was a small matter for Wu Ying to end the pair.

Only to turn and find Yin Xue falling back toward him, desperately fending off an attacker that had exited the building they had been hiding behind. Yin Xue’s bow struck and twisted, catching at the edges and flat of the dao that sought his life, his opponent frenzied rather than studied in his assault.

A simple matter then for Wu Ying to step sideways and project a sword cut that bisected leg and body, throwing his under-armored opponent to the ground. Noises and a shout from within the building—a guard building it seemed—grew in volume. However, no new assailants appeared, as the wiser took time to armor themselves.

“Go!” Yin Xue said, drawing and placing a trio of arrows on the ground and grabbing two more to put in his hands, a third already nocked. “I’ll hold them off. You free them!”

Wu Ying turned to the storehouse’s door, searching for the lock and keyhole and finding one. The blood and alert from around them forced the formation to cast a baleful yellow light on them as it activated, illuminating their bodies and their surroundings.

Inward, he would go. If he could figure out how to break in.

A quick cut with his weapon sent a trembling shock through Wu Ying’s hands, the sword vibrating as though it had struck the hardest metal. He pulled back, glaring at the flashing formation that mocked him. In the distance, shouts had arisen, the sky lighting up with mystic words as the compound’s exterior protective formation was assaulted by their friends.

No time to focus on those issues.

Wu Ying reached into his storage ring, extracting a series of talismans. A quick imbuement of chi into them and he threw the yellow paper at the formation. It hummed for a second, exploding into a shower of energy, before it rippled and settled.

“Faster!” Yin Xue’s voice from behind grew more urgent. A sharp crack as another bowstring was released, then a cry of pain.

Silence.

Wu Ying turned, spotting the emerging group. Remembering his talismans, Wu Ying threw a series on the ground, using the Seven Whips, Four Ties to help Yin Xue stall the attackers and a single cast of the Earthen Tomb talisman to help block the guardhouse door. That was a rather interesting sight, one that Wu Ying wished he had more time to review since the earth bulged from the ground upon contact with the yellow talisman, forming a hill that blocked the doorway.

Not that it would stop the guards within who would just break out through windows. Still, it was a delay and one that Yin Xue could use to pick off their guards’ faster brethren.

In the meantime, Wu Ying turned back to the blocked storehouse doorway, yanking out the formation breaker. He didn’t have time or space to create the proper formation, but the formation plate and a couple of closely spaced formation flags was enough for this. Activating the entire thing set his teeth on edge, the power contained within the formation plate tearing apart the enchantment surrounding the building like a child with a sheaf of wet paper.

The lock itself was simple. A surge of chi and an empowered attack cut the soft metal apart under his Spirit-level weapon. A kick to the door and Wu Ying stepped in, pocketing formation plate and flag as he did so.

Only to find himself assaulted, the thrust spear tearing through his robes and punching into his chest.

The Lan Jade Scale Armor saved his life. Scale links deflected the attack upward, twisting his body with the force of the blow. Wu Ying, still holding a formation flag, threw it at the attacker to buy himself time even as he skipped backward, drawing his jian and cursing himself for his haste and carelessness. Obviously, they would have guards on the inside.

Spear thrusts were met with blade edge, Wu Ying using the forearm guards to help deflect the couple of attacks he was unable to block with his sword. Light wounds criss-crossed his upper arms where he was too late with the deflection, his breathing a little hitched from the bruising initial attack. His normal methods of dealing with the attackers were forestalled by the doorway that kept him pinned and out, forcing Wu Ying to brave the deadly entrance even as metal implements stabbed outward.

“I’m nearly out of arrows!” Yin Xue cried from behind him. The whisper of a released bowstring, the crack of an arrow striking wooden shield, and the strangled cry from the receiver were all hints that the battle behind him was proceeding apace.

Even if Yin Xue was more powerful individually, a whole guard platoon could overwhelm him. Especially if the nobleman had to guard the doorway. More importantly, at some point, the Elders would be coming. A part of Wu Ying wondered why they were not here yet.

That thought drove him to action. Those within the storehouse were guarded, stabbing out carefully to keep him at bay, knowing they had time.

He did not.

Borrowing from Tou He’s favorite techniques, Wu Ying surged forward, spinning sword and sword sheath to deflect attacks. He let himself suffer a stab, this one low to the torso. Not mortal, even if he wasn’t wearing his armor. With it, it just left another deep bruise.

Soon, Wu Ying was past the stabbing spears. The attackers fell back to give themselves room, but Wu Ying rushed forward. He took another cut, high up on his neck, one that would have beheaded him if he had not swayed aside at the last moment.

The earthen room was not overly large, barely two dozen paces long with the ceiling only eight feet high. Cramped enough that the spear-wielders found it hard to switch to the butt of their weapons to wield against him when he was close.

And close, he was.

Jian darted back and forth, cutting hands and elbows, sheath cracking across temple, and blade slipping between ribs. Three guards—just enough to guard the way in and stall those coming—fell in as twice as many heartbeats once Wu Ying was close.

“I’m in!” Wu Ying said, calling to his friend outside.

A scan of the surroundings, a series of keys hooked near the only other door. Wu Ying snatched up the ring, then, not daring to wait, he gripped the door. A surge of strength, chi pouring through his muscles as he levered the entire thing open and cast it behind him, using it as a missile to strike aside the guards charging in through the entrance after his companion.

A companion who had only barely managed to get out of the way. Yet not a single breath was wasted by either party as they turned their energies to their duties. Wu Ying sprinting down the hallway to free the other cultivators as Yin Xue guarded their escape route.

Chapter 16

The first floor, if you could call the sloping drop that Wu Ying ran through that, was filled with rooms with doors that were closed but not barred. Nothing within those rooms, to his aura senses that he had stretched to the maximum. No people at least, though the contents showcased the full storage depths of the mansion, with barrels of victuals and rice bags and other root vegetables stored within, as well as a number of crates of peach wine and packets of dried tea leaves.

A cold storage room this level, with minor enchantments to keep away pests. Wu Ying ran through, a part of him cataloguing the sheer extent of storage within. Enough that it would rival the stores of his entire village. A portion of Wu Ying wondered why they had stored so much, wondered if they had been expecting trouble.

Another portion kept extending his senses, searching for his martial sister and the other captives as he ran. The air reeked, though the combination of dried salted fish, dried pork jerky, and herbs from above made it difficult for him to pinpoint his sister’s scent.

As he headed ever deeper, what lay below slowly revealed itself. He could sense the presence of doors barred not just with wood and metal but with elemental energy and enchanted formations. The first few doors he came to, simple enchantment breaking talismans allowed him entrance while the keys he had found opened the metal locks.

Within those rooms, Wu Ying found sights that made him pause for too long. Cultivators chained to beds, shrinking from the light. Mortals too, all too few, their bodies marked from the abuse they had received. At least the cultivators were less abused, their tortures and humiliations less pronounced. Perhaps it was the greater danger of undertaking such tasks. Perhaps it was just the lack of time. Certainly, stripping the skin off a hand entirely, inch by inch, must take time.

Too long, Wu Ying stood and stared, each new sight a shock to his naïve core. But eventually, seconds that were all too precious as Yin Xue fought for his life above passed and he moved. Unchaining, releasing those within from their shackles. In a few cases, those less abused, those still with the fire in their eyes, he passed over a weapon. Swords, collected from guards above or from his own collection.

Wu Ying opened doors and chains, rushing as quickly as he could, ignoring those few who shrank from him, who screamed and cried when he came across them, clutching at their arms and curling up in balls. Eyes, filled with fear, their cultivation bases and their confidence, shattered. The look in their eyes would haunt him, Wu Ying knew, enough that he left them chained rather than free them. For some of them might take their lives rather than chance being captured.

And he had no time.

No time to save. No time but to push on.

He desperately wanted to leave the keys, to let others take over this ghastly task. But he worried that if he left a key behind—the same key that had opened every door after he’d shattered the formations blocking off their entrance, now with a focused chi strike from his sword rather than the one-use talismans—that he would be unable to open his martial sister’s door when he finally found her.

More than that, a growing worry, an ache deep in his chest that slithered and twisted his guts, as he plunged deeper, ever deeper down this nightmarish location, one that asked if she was here. He could smell her, sense the edges of where she should be.

Or so he thought.

The scents were old. There was no guarantee they had not moved her. No guarantee that this entire endeavor was not a fool’s errand.

And so he plunged downward, leaving the shattered and twisted cultivators behind, men and women stumbling out, hair and clothing in disarray. A lucky few wielded weapons passed them by Wu Ying while the rest tore beds and chains from walls, wrapping arms and broken chair legs together. Crying vengeance or crying alone.

Until, finally, Wu Ying found the newcomers. The most recently kidnapped, rather than those taken months or years ago.

All the while cursing himself and the sects for missing all these signs, once again.

***

Fewer mutilations, fewer shell-shocked individuals. In fact, as one very pretty, very important, and very arrogant noble made clear, some had at most been mildly inconvenienced.

“Well, hurry up. Release me faster!” Shen Ru Yuan, the arrogant son of a minor branch of the royal family, said. The first thing he’d done when Wu Ying had entered his cell was announce who he was. He was not considered royalty due to the distance between himself and the king. After two generations, no branch family could call itself royalty—nor have any claim to the throne, by imperial edict—but they were still nobles bearing the Shen family name. “And do you have a change of clothing?”

“No.” Wu Ying glared at the chains wrapped around the man’s legs, the last key in the set he held failing to release it. He shook his head and straightened and stepped back. When Ru Yuan moved to complain, Wu Ying cut him off with a chop of his hand. “I can’t open those chains, not now. Do you know where Cultivator Yang and Cultivator Xia are?”

“What do you mean not now?” Ru Yuan said, glowering.

“Cultivator Yang,” Wu Ying snapped, ignoring the question.

“You can free me, can’t you? You’re choosing not to,” Ru Yuan said.

Wu Ying growled, stepping back, only to have the sleeve of his robe grabbed by the other.

“You can’t leave me here,” Ru Yuan said, though his voice held a trace of pleading it.

“I need to get them first. Then we’ll look at your chains closer,” Wu Ying said. He recognized that the chi-draining metal restraints were not openable using the keys he held. Their keys were probably held by one of the Elders. No more time to check anyway. He’d already spent too long trying to free the nobleman.

“You can’t leave me—”

“They’re at the back of the chamber!” a voice called from behind.

Wu Ying, impatient, struck Ru Yuan’s arm lightly, a short sharp knuckle-led strike at the bottom edge of the forearm to impact tensed tendons. It forced Ru Yuan’s hand open, the cultivator already weakened due to the ongoing chi drain. Ignoring Ru Yuan’s cry and his plaintive moaning, Wu Ying strode out of the cell, nodding thanks to the young lady who hung off the bars of her cell door, staring at Wu Ying.

“Don’t forget me, hero!”

“I won’t. I promise,” Wu Ying said as he hurried away, his words trailing behind him. “And thank you!”

The remainder of the hallway held just over a half dozen cells, leading him to the final room at the end. Even before Wu Ying tested his keys, he knew the doorway was going to be a problem. The scent of his sister and the other Elder—Fairy Xia, he assumed—was much stronger here, leading him to believe the hint he had received was correct.

The fact that the door was no plain wooden-and-metal-barred object but a solid metal obstruction with carved runic iconography and a doorframe filled with additional enchantments also gave truth to his information. Even standing beside it, Wu Ying felt the pressure of the imbued chi. Worse of all, he noticed that there were not one but two keyholes in the door.

“Rotten fruit and ever-growing weeds of the thousand hells,” Wu Ying cursed. For a second, he debated his options before turning from the door.

First things first. He opened the nearest cell, finger still clutching the latest key he had used, and found a pale young woman, chamber pot clutched tight and raised high as a weapon. Wu Ying lifted an eyebrow, eyes tracing the jade chain that bound her leg to the wall and the glowing jade bracelets on her arms.

“What are those?” he muttered.

Methods to trap and drain the chi from cultivators were common, but not significant in quantity. It was rare that even sects needed more than a few of such items at a time, and few crafters—blacksmiths, jewelers, formation masters, or others—would bother spending too much time studying such processes. It meant that while you could always find something on the market, finding the exact same item was rarer. Even if the actual diagrams and blueprints of manufacture became wide-ranging, artisans were likely to put their own spin on the object.

“Jade Severing Bracers,” the woman said, a wry twist to her lips. Still, Wu Ying noted deep shadows under her eyes and a tremble in the hand holding the chamber pot. One that increased the longer she held up the bronze pot. “They don’t cut off my ability to wield chi. Just my extremities if I channel it.”

“At all?” Wu Ying said incredulously.

A nod.

Wu Ying gulped, realizing why she looked pale and exhausted. Cultivators used their chi for everything. Everyone did. It became so common that they all wielded it without thought, a constant power and pressure that aided everything from walking to digestion. To not wield any chi at all would require constant discipline.

“How did you last?” Wu Ying said, stepping inward and stopping as she hefted the chamber pot again. He heard the sloshing within and made a face, not wanting to face that odorous weapon. There was not much space to dodge, and splash damage in this case would truly be hazardous.

“Who are you?”

“Long Wu Ying of the Verdant Green Waters Sect,” Wu Ying said. “I’m—”

“Fairy Yang’s martial brother.” Her gaze raked him before she snorted and put down the chamber pot, slopping some of the contents on her wrist when she did it too fast. A slight grimace, but she wiped it on the bed. “You look like it at least. And if they truly are here to trick me… well. I can afford to lose an arm.”

“How long have they had that on you?” Wu Ying reiterated his question in a different way, now approaching her and taking an arm. He ignored where her hand had been, peering at the jade.

“Two days,” the woman replied softly. “I… well, let’s say they didn’t like what I did with the last artifacts they used.”

Wu Ying opened his mouth to ask further, then shook his head. This was not the time. Though her words did lead to an interesting theory. One he thought to check. “They’re not linked?”

“No, of course not. Can you not…?” The prisoner shook her head. “Of course you can’t. She said you were a farmer.”

“So if I open one…”

“It should not trigger the others.”

Wu Ying grinned, reaching into his storage ring. As he did so, he felt a light tug on his arm, drawing his attention to her face as he continued to hold her hand.

“If you fail, I’ll lose my hand. And I’d prefer if you tested it on my non-dominant one.”

Wu Ying blanched and nodded, dropping the hand he held and taking her other one. He did notice how her eyes narrowed when she saw the scissors he used, the slight nod as he looked at her for acknowledgement. Then he wielded the weapon, pushing only the barest hint of his chi into it to trigger its effects.

Simple metal scissors, inscribed and enchanted, so powerful that the jade bracelet came apart like the finest silk. The barest of pressures as he cut through, the flare of metal and fire chi held within the bracelet blinding him for a second.

Only to reveal an unharmed and whole hand.

“Thank you, hero. Now, the other two…”

“With pleasure,” Wu Ying muttered, getting to work. Once he was done, he handed the woman the set of keys he held and a handful of the remaining talismans he owned.

“Thank you, but a dagger, anything of silver and jade if you have it,” the woman said, making Wu Ying frown. “You want the others freed, yes?”

Wu Ying nodded and chose to pass her what he had rather than argue. No time, no time, no time, the refrain kept playing in his head. The reinforcements Wu Ying had sent to Yin Xue were pitiful and few enough.

He took out a dagger of steel and peach wood, then a baton of jade that came from one of the formation flags. When he showed he had that, the tall woman demanded more formation flags, uninscribed, which Wu Ying handed over.

“Just Spirit level? And a half dozen?” she muttered, sounding disappointed.

“I’m not a formation master,” Wu Ying protested, even as the pair backed out of the room into the hallway.

In the distance, the occasional scream, the boom of clashing chi powers, and the shaking of the earth indicated a desperate battle was being held above them. Yet it was muted in the tunnel, an occasional reminder of the death above them.

“Whatever. You can get the Fairies out?” the girl said, having already stripped one of the formation flags with her bare hands and the steel dagger, prying it apart to the startled glimpses of the other cultivators staring out of their cells. Startled but for a single other individual, the young man missing an eye and looking haggard but paling even more as he spotted what the woman was doing.

“Sister… you don’t have to. I’m sure the glorious hero can…” the man said tentatively.

“Don’t bother me when I’m working, Ah Weng. You know how your voice annoys me,” the girl said. “And when I’m annoyed, I make mistakes.”

A flash of released power as the formation flag in her hand released stored energy, sparking with electricity and a burst of water chi. She smirked, holding up the pieces before turning to the cell opposite hers.

On the other hand, Weng had paled and stumbled away from his door. The bare air in the cells brought his muttered words to Wu Ying, the wind seeming to find the entire thing funny even as Wu Ying hastily re-established the formation-breaking formation once more. It was a waste to use it on something so small, but needs must.

“She’s going to kill us all. I know it,” Weng muttered.

No time to really pay attention to all that, even if, Wu Ying reflected, he never had gotten an introduction. Nor did he have time to contemplate the mad, manic look in the woman’s eye as she approached another prisoner, formation flag and dagger in hand.

The lack of noise, the stillness and emptiness that seemed to emanate from the room behind the door, only the smell of his sister and the other Fairy giving away their presence. Unless…

They were gone.

Again, Wu Ying pushed the thought aside. His hands flew across the formation, sticking the minimum number of flags around the tight confines of the hallway before stepping back. He glared at the formation plate, glowing ever so slightly, its energies drained after opening the storehouse.

Insufficient, perhaps. But it was all he had. Luckily, he could channel his own chi within to power it. And channel he did, eyes half closed, hands gripping the metal plate as he poured the energy from his body through it, imagining the locks of the river of his self opening.

Or perhaps, a gale growing in ferocity, the air chi packing into the formation plate tighter and tighter as the subtle pressure within grew. Until Wu Ying had dumped half of the chi readily available in his body and let it loose, triggering the enchantment.

Energy surged forward, a drill of wind and metal, twisting in a spiral that impacted the earthen wood enchantment before him. Words of power flared to life, the formation dispersing the chi that struck it, sending it swirling around. Wind chi, easily dispersed, wound around the edges, while the metal chi inherent in the formation plate cut into the center.

Yet the attack was more subtle than a direct strike. The dispersal allowed the wind chi to interact with the entire formation, to burrow into the edges and search for weaknesses. And weakness, it found. At the edge of the doorframe, where a miscarved word and warping wood had frayed the enchantment.

Another surge of will, and the formation plate redirected the remaining energy at the weakness, words flickering as the guardian formation began to fail. Yet, Wu Ying could tell as he released the flag and stepped back, it would not be enough.

Snarling, he reached for his sword. If the formation breaker was not enough, he would smash the barrier apart himself.

Only to be preempted by a globule of spit, somehow managing to sneak past the scrolling words of power and protection to strike the edge of the carved wooden array. As though the spit was some arcane acid, the wood crisped and burned. Within seconds, the entire formation failed, word after word flaring all too bright as the energy it contained and attempted to repel overloaded.

To leave the once brightly illuminated hallway bereft of light except the quartet of spirit lights set high along the corridor. A group of surprised cultivators stared at the woman who had caused it all.

“What? Metal chi is weak to water.” Turning without another word, the freed talisman master—for that was what she must have been—moved on to the next cell door, key in hand, ribbons of silk trailing behind her.

Leaving Wu Ying to the unguarded door and the prize behind it.

***

Opulent. That was the word that came to mind. Not just in stark contrast compared to the bare, packed earth cells and plain wooden benches the other prisoners had been confined in, but opulent even compared to his home in the Sect. The cell blazed with spirit lamps, ensuring it was as bright as day within, while wall coverings and graceful paintings covered the walls, hiding their basic nature. Silk drapes for the pair of beds and a simple room divider made of pressed paper with birds and trees painted on each side gave the pair a modicum of privacy.

Rosewood dressers and chests, a dining room table with mother-of-pearl inlay. A pair of chairs pushed up against the table since the entire room, sumptuous as it might be, was still small. And, of course, the pair of young women, both standing and staring at Wu Ying as he pushed aside the hacked apart doorway, his axe—just a plain mortal one he used for stubborn trees and firewood when he was traveling—stored away seconds later.

“Ah Ying,” Fa Yuan said, a smile breaking across her face. One that froze and turned into a wintry glare as he stepped within. “What in the thousand hells do you think you are doing?”

“Rescuing you,” Wu Ying said. And then, noting how Fairy Xia was frowning a little, turned to her and bowed. “And, of course, the illustrious Fairy Xia.”

“My sister?” Fairy Xia said. The Fairy was, in the mode of all the beautiful young women who were given that name, gorgeous. She was thin and tall, with slim hips and body and discerning eyes, long, raven-black hair flowing behind her.

“Outside.” He neared the pair, noting their diaphanous gowns, the sheer material titillating while hiding. Wu Ying gestured, pulling out the bundle of clothing and Fa Yuan’s sword, offering it to his sister. “From Master.”

“He let you come?”

“He objected, but you know how he is.”

Fa Yuan made a face but took the bundle. She moved backward, behind the screen. By the time Wu Ying had passed, at the pair of women’s insistence, the various robes he had brought along to Fairy Xia, Fa Yuan was back. In short order, the few cultivators who had been freed by the mad enchantress outside had come to take their share of clothing, with Wu Ying having to disperse a couple of his own peasant robes to some of the men.

“Ah Ying, do you have something to deal with this?” Fa Yuan asked, touching the necklace around her neck. It was a beautiful jade and gold item, perfectly setting off her the bare skin of her long neck.

A touch of his senses told Wu Ying it was more than plain jewelry and the reason for her current state of being bereft of chi. Much like Fairy Xia, as she walked over.

“Yes.” Once more, Wu Ying extracted the scissors.

Fairy Xia let out a low hiss, as did another watching cultivator, while Fa Yuan raised a single eyebrow. Even as he engaged the enchanted instrument, feeling it thrum through him, Wu Ying was forced to listen to the conversation going on behind him.

“An admirer?” Fairy Xia said.

“Yes, more ardent than I expected.”

“He’ll want a dinner…”

“Maybe a walk in the gardens under moonlight?” Fa Yuan suggested.

“Is he that kind?”

“Very much so. I might have to recite some poetry too. Perhaps even recount how hard the entire ordeal was.”

“Oh gods.” A slight hitch in Fairy Xia’s voice, a slight hesitation betraying that perhaps the lightness that they touched on this topic hid horrors they chose to blithely pass over. As though speaking too seriously on the entire incident would bring it back. “At least yours came…”

Gently, Wu Ying pressed the teeth of the scissors together, the blades slicing through the gold with barely any impediment. But unlike before, Wu Ying felt a little backlash, a twisting spiral of energy that leaked out from the scissors into his own meridians. He hissed, even as a flash of understanding of how the scissors worked caressed his mind.

The scissors did not just break the enchantments binding the cultivators; they also contained and absorbed the chi that made up such enchantments. It ensured that the energy did not attack those trapped, instead swallowing all such energies into the scissors. This was also, Wu Ying now knew, the reason why the scissors had a finite number of uses. This backlash, which he had felt only a small portion of but which forced him to flex his hand again and again in pain, would otherwise kill or injure those trapped.

“Thank you, Ah Ying. I need to meditate now, to recover my chi,” Fa Yuan said. At Wu Ying’s quick gesture, she stopped and took the small box he handed to her, along with a handful of talismans. Cracking open the box, the medicinal smells of a powerful recovery pill filled the air, invigorating those around. “Golden Phoenix Yin Pills!”

“A gift from Elder Wei,” Wu Ying said.

“From her personal collection too,” Fa Yuan noted. “She even provided three.” She glanced at Fairy Xia, who Wu Ying was in the process of removing the chi restraints from. Her necklace was a similarly crafted item, with different materials, but both at the Saint-level range. “Sister, you should take one too.”

“I will once… ah…. careful!” Fairy Xia snapped at Wu Ying, blushing deeply as the ex-farmer stuck his face right next to her neck. She turned away, not daring to look at the man so close to her even as he slipped the all-too-sharp scissors into a gap between neck and chain.

“I’m sorry, but you’re trembling. I don’t want to hurt you,” Wu Ying muttered, even as he got the edge of the blades in place. A quick shift of energy, a closing of his fingers, and the necklace fell away. Wu Ying stepped back, his hands burning. Smoke rose from the tips of the fingers that had been laced through the eyes of the scissors.

“You’re hurt!” Fairy Xia said, gasping as she took Wu Ying’s hand.

He offered her a tight smile, carefully peeling his fingers out of the eyes of the scissors, pulling off some burnt skin at the same time. He hissed at the pain as he put away the scissors, already circulating chi to blunt the pain and speed up the healing process. Without his elemental body having refined and strengthened his body, the burns would have been much worse.

“I would fix that but…” Fairy Xia shook her head and stepped back. “I need to meditate. At least for a few minutes to recover my chi. Then we’ll leave.”

Wu Ying nodded, already running through their options. Staying and fighting was a bad idea, but at the same time, they might not have a choice. If he had been correct in smelling five Core Formation Elders in the compound, that meant there were three others on the enemy side. And even if they had two of their own now, the Fairies lacked chi. In any prolonged battle, they would lose.

“We’ll buy you as much time as we can,” Wu Ying said, deciding on what to do.

He stopped for a second, putting down the bow and arrow he had received from the armory. Hopefully Fairy Xia knew how to wield a bow for he lacked anything more appropriate, other than a Spirit-level jian which he too laid out.

Then he rushed from the room, still pushing energy through his injured hand. A light flexing kept it mobile, sending slight shivers of pain as the energy squeezed out droplets of tainted blood and chi.

As Wu Ying ran, he noted that the remaining new kidnappees had been released, though the burnt and shattered remnants of an individual—along with splatters of blood—in one room indicated that it had not come without cost.

Soon enough, he was passing straggling escapees, some moving slower because of old injuries, others due to fear. He ignored them, as well as the enchantress working on freeing the remaining cultivators, wielding dagger, formation flags, and remnant pieces of other enchanted items to break the others free.

Instead, Wu Ying made his way to the exit, where the sounds of battle continued to rage and the cries of pain and despair echoed down the halls. He could only hope that Yin Xue had managed to survive, that Yu Kun had stayed hidden.

He could only hope that the price of his own desires was not too high.

***

Fire washed down the corridor, forcing Wu Ying to throw a hand forward and direct his wind chi, pushing the heat and flame toward the baked ceiling. Wooden beams, high above, caught fire, wisps of smoke and tendrils of flame dancing between beam and packed earth, choking the tunnel further with smoke.

Cultivators coughed and wheezed, many of them cross-legged as they sought to recover what chi they might while they rested in the anteroom leading into the depths he had just exited. The entire storage building was their stronghold, the earthen banks above and reinforced wooden pillars forcing their opponents to come through the single door.

Forcing Wu Ying and the prisoners to exit that way too.

Pushing past his recovering allies, Wu Ying made it to the front, where he found Yin Xue, slumped in one corner, clutching his arm. More concerning was the deep cut across one side of Yin Xue’s face that wept red, ugly tears and showed the edges of his skull and bisected a now-sightless eye.

“Yin Xue!” Wu Ying cried, falling to his knee. “Here, I have a—”

“Not now!” roared Yin Xue, releasing his injured arm to push Wu Ying back with the other. “Join the fight and hold the demon-ridden line.”

Wu Ying nodded, allowing himself to be pushed back. Instead, he focused on the fight where three other cultivators stood. To the sides of the doorway, formation flags were planted, occasional pulses of chi burning and arcane words of power flaring as attacks impacted the defense. Yet the assaults were not pushed as hard as they could, for a small gap in the formation had been left to allow their enemies to enter. A gap that the three cultivators fought to hold.

As Wu Ying watched, a block by one of the defenders was pushed aside, exhausted and chi-bereft muscles giving way under the axe-head strike. Blood flew, a limb parted, and the cultivator tumbled back. Rather than let his injury stop him, the cultivator angled his newly severed limb upward, sending a pulse of blood directly into his opponent’s eyes.

The automatic flinch, the turning away was enough for the other two cultivators to take advantage of. They struck, burying jian and dao in the attacker’s body. Yet to Wu Ying’s surprise, they chose not to allow their opponent to retreat or for his body to fall backward. Instead, they yanked his corpse inward, freeing up the space.

“Out of the way, fool!”

The voice from behind made Wu Ying duck to the side, even as ropes flashed forward, embedding in the body and yanking axe-spear and corpse inward. Cultivators sprang up from their seated positions and stripped the corpse of armored and enchanted robes, weapons and spirit rings in a frenzy.

“Are you done helping then?” the now-limbless cultivator asked, expertly wielded fingers having struck his own pressure points to slow the flow of blood to the absent limb. He still clutched the shorn limb tight, but there was a wildness in his gaze. “If so, get out of the way.”

Wu Ying shook his head, casting aside his shock at the savagery and desperation in the defense. It spoke of horrors that were yet unnamed, but so stark that the cultivators were willing to do anything to stay free. War might have been brutal and base, but for most cultivators—many who were refined noblemen—it had never devolved. Always, there was a give and take, a level of civility that kept fights civilized. As much as bisecting bodies and robbing futures could be considered civilized.

This? This was something else.

A flicker of thought, then Wu Ying pulled a small enchantment from his hand. “Seven Sunset Palanquin. When there’s a chance, get the injured on it.”

“I’m not—”

“Now who’s delaying!” Wu Ying snarled.

He did not have time, so he pushed the enchantment into the crook of the man’s arm and turned toward the exit, where another female cultivator, clad in bloody and stolen robes, had taken the third’s place. The new battle was in the initial stages, the attacker probing through the narrow gap where the three, all flagging but determined, held. A whiff of another smell, familiar and horrifying, told Wu Ying that the other two standing cultivators were burning lifeblood to stay standing.

A quick review, a considered decision, and Wu Ying drew his sword.

The trio shifted, opening a space as the opposing cultivators spent a moment too long in the bind, and Wu Ying exploded through the gap. Sword leading the way as the Sword’s Truth plunged onward, burying in a well-muscled but feminine arm then tearing downward, parting muscle and tendon along with opening a deep chest wound behind severed flesh.

The attacker shrieked, air escaping from pierced lung and throat as she stumbled backward. Recalling what had happened before, Wu Ying let his chi escape, feeling the way the surge of environmental and escaped chi spun through the room. Using it, he spun in place, pulling the dying cultivator and her weapon inward, creating a mini tornado of wind that tossed the corpse backward and smoke and heat out the entrance.

A step, another, then more. Wu Ying controlled the whirl, Wind Steps adjusted for the small space as his chi exploded outward, taking hold of heat and flame that had leaked through till the cyclone about him was as much fire as it was air. Flames within the building were extinguished as they were robbed of air.

Absently, Wu Ying noted, he was the only one standing in the gap now, the only one silhouetted in the doorway. As it should be.

Then came a pair of new opponents, smaller than those who had come before, dark-skinned like him but clad in black and their eyes gleaming red. Savage killing intent spilled from the pair as they came for him, bearing punch daggers and short swords. No time for further consideration. Wu Ying unleashed the built-up attack.

The Dragon’s Roar—a modification of the fourth form of the Long family style Dragon’s Breath—welded environmental and internal chi into a singular attack. The entire thing drained Wu Ying, both the initial set up and attack, but the swirling strike of wind and flame threw away his opponents and struck even those behind them. Screams of surprise erupted, cultivators twisting away or throwing up chi-formed wards to protect themselves.

Not done yet, Wu Ying threw himself out of the doorway. A second jian appeared in his hand, the blades twisting and plunging as he struck at exposed necks and limbs, blood mixing with the smoke and screams in a savage display of righteousness. He attacked not to necessarily kill, but to injure and slow.

Swords spinning, Wu Ying struck at the cultivators outside, a portion of him noting the differences in the variety of opponents he faced as he fought.

Dragon turns while Slumbering saw him spin with one sword up, cutting just under a helmet of a guard who dared to come too close.

Dragon strokes the Painting with the right sword caught a fangtian ji thrust from another cultivator, the halfmoon blades on both sides giving Wu Ying purchase. He fell backward, Dragon sprawling in his Lair, taking the weapon with him and forcing an overextension. The built-up blade projection from his opponent was released and caught another sneaking attacker who came from behind Wu Ying, his paired maces sprawling outward as he was struck in the chest.

Then Flashing Claws before Dinner used both swords to disarm the polearm-wielder, the purple-robed cultivator screaming as dark and burnt chi smells exploded from his wound, mixing with the ever-present tang of blood and guts.

Heron stalking the Marshes combined with Wind Steps had Wu Ying winding around another attack, another body, forcing his opponents to chase him through the smoke-and-dust-filled grounds right outside the exit.

Yet he was a single man facing over a score of guards and cultivators. Some were basic Body Cultivators, house guards who had progressed to opening a half dozen or fewer meridians. Dangerous only in their numbers, but useful in blocking attacks from the more powerful Energy Storage cultivators. Too many of them, all wearing a variety of colored robes from their betrayed sects.

Wu Ying was but a single man, and as surprise faded, his wounds began to collect.

Dragon strokes the Painting, without proper set up, failed to deflect the twisting, falling strike of a dao. The dao brushed aside Wu Ying’s defense and skipped downward to crash into his robes and the armor beneath. Links compressed and Wu Ying was forced to bend. As the dao pulled away, the mighty Earth cultivator readying for another overpowering attack, Wu Ying was fleeing.

Backward, to drive his reversed jian into a cultivator attempting to sneak up on him. Even then, Wu Ying was struck, the pair of short punch daggers cutting into his buttocks and hip. Dragon sheathes his Claws and a swirling, twisting backward throw allowed Wu Ying to disembowel his attacker.

Too slow.

He was forced to flee again as another polearm-wielding guard swung at him, the crescent blades missing him by a hair. Wind Steps mixed with his wind chi released into the atmosphere kept the dust swirling, the fires from spilled oil lamps creating flickering shadows as he danced between them all.

Collecting injuries, slowly being whittled down.

Till salvation arrived as the rest of the cultivators finally emerged from the storehouse, joining the battle for their very freedom at last.

Chapter 17

Wu Ying blocked the massive steel staff aimed at his head; the weapon wielded by the metal cultivator pushing Wu Ying backward. He would normally have dodged, but to his right, a wall of flame blocked his escape, and to the left, another pair of cultivators were locked in battle. Wu Ying’s arms throbbed from the successful defense, and he watched a massive chip on his sword grow. It did nothing for the follow-up though, the staff-wielder spinning the weapon around his head and winding up a finishing attack.

Only to stagger and choke, his spinning staff flying off into the distance. Wu Ying shuffled to the side as his opponent coughed a little, blood burbling up from damaged lungs, before he slumped forward, senseless.

Behind him, another cultivator stood, the dao he’d used to cleave open Wu Ying’s opponent’s back dripping blood. A savage kick sent the still-twitching body tumbling into the fire where the dying cultivator shrieked, burning alive.

“What did you do that for?” Wu Ying snapped. Killing was one thing. The savagery, the torture was another.

The woman sneered at Wu Ying, blood coating both arms of her stolen robes. A far cry from Wu Ying’s spotless attire. Careful positioning and the swirling, solidified aura he kept active allowed him to keep his pristine state thus far. Long days in the forest had made that almost entirely subconscious, the need to preserve his clothing for as long as possible paramount when one was hundreds of miles from civilization.

“Don’t speak to me of what you do not understand. You might be my benefactor, but we will have our revenge.”

Wu Ying flinched a little, the bloodlust and killing intent from the woman rolling off her in waves. He straightened, refusing to back down, but she had already dismissed him, moving around the bodies on the ground and slicing down with her blade to ensure none of the guards were left alive. Not that the guards were the only ones lying on the ground, for the under-armored and under-armed cultivators had paid a heavy price. Already, a number of the survivors had fallen to their knees, breathing deeply as they restored what energy they could.

Dismissing the gruesome task the woman was undertaking, Wu Ying scanned the surroundings for additional problems. Just outside the entrance to the prison was the palanquin formed from shadow, mist, and paper, ghostly attendants waiting beside it as the most injured cultivators were piled on. In the distance at the northern gate, the thrum of power and repeated explosions filtered to him, indicating that his friends were still caught in battle.

Drawing a deeper breath, Wu Ying ran through potential plans. He could lead the cultivators here away, escaping into the night before an Elder arrived. In fact, he was a little surprised that none had been dispatched to the prison. It would have been the most logical thing to do, unless they had not received word of a breakout and believed that the entire battle was at the front.

Though with the amount of chi expelled by everyone, it would be surprising if the Elders had not noticed something amiss. Did they think that matters were contained here? After all, Wu Ying and his friends—in fact, all those in battle here—were just in the Energy Storage stage. If they thought their guards were sufficient…

His thoughts were derailed, for the cultivators who still had energy had gathered together and begun moving off, weapons held aloft. Torches were held in opposite hands, and as they neared the first building—another storage building, it seemed—the torches were used to light the structure on fire.

“What are they doing?” Yin Xue hissed, having limped over to Wu Ying.

“Taking revenge,” Wu Ying muttered.

“They shouldn’t—”

“You going to tell them that?”

Yin Xue fell silent, having caught wind of their fervor too.

“Anyway, shouldn’t you be on the palanquin?” Wu Ying said, turning his head a little and finding that it was in the final throes of being loaded.

More importantly, there was an altercation as Ru Yuan pushed one of the injured, shoving his way onto the palanquin. On his other side, another man, aiding one of the injured, was trying to block him without actually touching Ru Yuan.

“Go ahead! Touch me. See what my family does to you, you diseased pig!” Ru Yuan raged. “Now, let us leave!” The surge of chi he punctuated his command with set the palanquin rising, the ghostly bearers reacting to the energetic command. Only for them to drop it as another command was sent into them. “You! Stop that!”

“No! The injured go first,” the injured main said valiantly.

“Do you know who I am? My family will… urk!” Ru Yuan was caught off as Wu Ying flickered over, grabbing him by the robes and choking him a little.

A twist of his hips and Wu Ying flung Ru Yuan off the palanquin, his eyes burning with rage. Wu Ying might not be able to stop the other cultivators from their rightful if bloody vengeance, but this, this he would certainly put an end to.

“Get her onboard and leave. Now!” Wu Ying snapped at the stunned gentleman.

The young lady who had been tossed aside, curled up around the open wound in her abdomen, was picked up gently and placed in the palanquin.

Yin Xue, having hurried over, was staring at Wu Ying in complete disbelief out of his one good eye, only to have a finger pointed at him.

“You! You’re going to accompany them. It’ll slow down the palanquin, but they need someone who can guard them. And injured or not, you can still fight, yes?” Wu Ying said.

Yin Xue nodded dumbly and caught the talisman for a Night Mare.

After a brief survey of the worried-looking injured cultivator, Wu Ying cast another talisman at him. “Well? Move!”

Jumping to action, Yin Xue and the other pulled apart the talismans, using their chi to trigger the transformation process. As they climbed on the Night Mares, the palanquin lifted off, bearing its injured passengers. Wu Ying, however, was no longer paying attention. He could only hope that no one chased the palanquin down, but he had done what he could to provide those injured with safeguards. Literally.

More importantly, as Ru Yuan stalked over to Wu Ying, greed and desperation in his eyes, Wu Ying knew he had someone else to deal with.

“No,” Wu Ying cut off the request before Ru Yuan could begin. “Those will be distributed later, for those necessary.”

“I… you can’t… my family will pay well,” Ru Yuan started and stopped, finally choosing a tack.

“I don’t care,” Wu Ying said. “There are too many here who need rescuing. I have insufficient methods of getting them out, so we’ll need to acquire horses and other conveyances. You can take charge of that, if you will.” It would let the coward have a chance to run first, if things went badly. And someone needed to care for the horses. Spotting another young lady—so many of those captured were women, an unfortunate fact of life when it came to the kidnappees—Wu Ying pointed at her. “Help him.”

To his surprise, she nodded in acceptance. Ru Yuan had grown quiet, considering the offer, before he turned away from Wu Ying, though not without a last sneer. Wu Ying shook his head, choosing to ignore the idiot treasured prince. He had more to deal with, including organizing those not in the midst of burning everything down and checking on…

His thoughts were disrupted when Wu Ying caught something at the edges of his spiritual sense. It was like a discordant smell that had exploded in his nostrils, but before he could even do more than turn in that direction, it was there.

A body fell like a meteor, slamming into the ground so hard that clouds of dust and flame erupted from it. As the air cleared, Wu Ying was shocked to see a single man standing within—a man holding the body of a familiar friend. His heart clenched, but before Wu Ying could move or speak, the interloper twitched his hand and cast the body aside. It impacted with such force that Wu Ying heard the bones break and paving stones shatter. The body bounced and slid, leaving a red smear behind.

Just like that, he had lost a friend.

“Yu Kun!” Wu Ying screamed in shock. He stared at the body, smeared across the ground in such a fashion that there was no way his friend could still be alive. His chest clenched and tears threatened to blind him, even as he raged at the loss.

Wu Ying stared at the culprit, the Core Formation Elder who had slain Yu Kun and was casually wiping his hand clean of his friend’s blood.

“I must say, such a commendable effort. He kept me busy with his screaming for much, much longer than expected with his stubbornness. But he eventually told me what I wanted to know.” Discarding the bloody cloth, the Core Formation dark sect cultivator strode forward, feet crushing broken paving stones as he closed in on Wu Ying and the other cultivators.

Many had taken up their weapons and were circling the man while a few, previously ready to fight anyone, had shrunk away or frozen in fear. A couple had even taken off running rather than stand.

The Elder let his gaze roam over the group then sneered. “Do you think this is enough?”

“No,” Wu Ying said, drawing his sword once more. He glanced about, realizing that none of the others—not even the recent kidnappees—were willing to be the tip of the formation. Resigning himself, he walked ahead. “But it’ll have to do.”

The cultivator threw his head back and laughed.

Seeing an opportunity, Wu Ying charged, wanting to take advantage of the man’s distraction. Only for the Core Formation cultivator to release his killing intent and aura, crushing them all to the ground.

Wu Ying stumbled, sinking to a knee in surprise. The bloodlust inherent in the man’s aura, his sheer madness filled Wu Ying’s senses, choking him on the scent of iron and burnt ashes, driving nails of hard-edged killing intent into his skin. His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword as waves of bloodlust washed over them all, powered by a demonic, ashen chi.

“Now do you realize? None of you are worth anything!” Laughing, the man walked up to Wu Ying, a hand held aloft.

At first, Wu Ying thought he was seeing things. He blinked and scrubbed at his eyes, awash with unshed tears and bloody from the aura attack. He firmed up the barrier around his own aura, using the wind chi inherent in his cultivation and body to disperse the attack and absorb it. Yet none of that made what he was seeing change.

Fingernails, at first neatly trimmed, had grown black and long, like the claws from some savage animal. A stark contrast to the clean, orderly, and pristine nature of the cream robes the Elder wore.

“You should be grateful to die by my hand,” the dark sect Elder said, smirking at Wu Ying as he neared, barely even paying attention to the trembling sword Wu Ying gripped.

“What. Hand. Is. That?” Wu Ying ground out. He dared not trust his feet or a lunge, so he pushed himself upward, forcing himself to stand under the bladed pressure of the man’s aura.

“I am Hao Yu Xiang, Elder of the Third Gate, wielder of the Silver Golem Claws,” Yu Xiang said. “And you are a fool, Wu Ying.”

Then there was no more time to talk, for Yu Xiang swung down, claws tearing at Wu Ying’s face.

***

Wu Ying skidded backward, arms throbbing, his sword blade shattered, his heartbeat drumming in time to the rhythmic strikes of batons against metal shield. Another cultivator, wielding his own skill set, sent waves of energy to backup the team and strike at Yu Xiang.

Even as he thought of the enemy, Wu Ying spotted him weaving amongst the trio of attacks Wu Ying’s allies had cast to buy time. The trio of cultivators were from the same sect, all wielding spears, and managed to hold their opponent’s attention for all of two breaths.

Then Yu Xiang pulsed that damnable aura of his, forcing the current attacker to falter. A gap opened in the martial weave they had formed. Yu Xiang grabbed the spearhead, yanking it toward him even as clawed fingers crushed the shaft. Luckily, the cultivator was sensible enough to let go, dropping back in search of more weapons, allowing another to take his place.

But the group was no longer in tune, no longer using a well-trained formation, and Yu Xiang took only another three breaths to cast aside the new attacking trio. One lay on the ground, arm and chest torn, his lifeblood escaping. Another lost his spear, while the third, a dao-wielder, was kicked aside so contemptuously that he flew through the air and struck a nearby burning building, his scream of surprise cutting off abruptly.

Three breaths.

Enough time for Wu Ying to recover, his hands no longer trembling, his primary sword replaced with another from his storage ring. Even as he closed on the Elder, he recalled the claw slash that had nearly taken his life, the hasty block that had cracked his chipped weapon.

A part of Wu Ying cursed, having already lost so many weapons. Now, he was down to his last Spirit-level sword, the heavy jian he had acquired only a few months ago. Then again, against this Elder with his powerful blows and all too deadly claws, the heavier weapon was more suited than Wu Ying’s usual blades.

No more time to think, for he was close now. Projected energy cut through the air, striking true only to shatter against his opponent’s aura. Wu Ying’s eyes narrowed, a tendril of fear clenching his chest tightly. The gap between him and his opponent was like heaven and earth, yet he had to climb it.

“Not running? Fool,” Yu Xiang snarled, clawing at Wu Ying. Blackish lines of power extended outward, forcing Wu Ying to throw himself to the ground in an attempt to escape. Even as it brushed across the air above him, Wu Ying felt his aura shrink away from the attack, the cursed energy within making him quail.

Not to be stopped, Wu Ying pushed forward, throwing a series of sweeping kicks at Yu Xiang. The first attack, the Core Formation Elder dodged on instinct. The second, he snapped a quick kick at Wu Ying, one that spun the cultivator around and sent him tumbling through air and across the ground.

Spinning round and round, Wu Ying forced energy through his meridians, taking control of his tumble and landing with a twist, pulling the rotational energy and the explosive release of chi to him. The central wind, a cyclone of movement, became a curving circular attack that he then released at the other. Before he crumpled to the ground, leg throbbing.

Wu Ying knew he was lucky. If not for his Body Cultivation, if not for the Seven Wind techniques and the instinctive surge of protective chi and the enabling of the Heavenly Soul, Earthly Body technique to lighten himself when he was struck, his leg would have been broken. Instead, he was just injured. While his opponent, having caught the returned impetus of energy and sword intent, had had his hair disarrayed and minor cuts showed across his previously untouched robes.

“My, oh my. Our reports on you were a little mistaken. Undervaluing your skill. You truly are a prodigy in the making, are you not?” Yu Xiang said, stalking forward. Almost casually, he dodged a rope-dart strike, flicking a finger to send a lance of chi energy to spear the attacker in the shoulder.

A crossbow bolt flicked toward him next, its head and body wreathed in dark brown energy. It struck the Elder’s aura and shattered, lacing the entire aura with the chi it had contained. A second later, the earth rumbled, giving way beneath Yu Xiang’s feet as he sank.

“Tricks. Petty tricks.” A wave of his hand and a quartet of cultivators charging forward were bowled over by a wave of chi as the Core Formation cultivator flexed his aura. He hissed as one girl dropped to her knee, extending her sword that gleamed red and fiery, burning away the darkened portions of energy that struck at her.

“Tricks, but good enough against you!” the girl taunted. Yet for all her bravado, she swayed a little when she stood, her face all too pale.

“Foolish. We’ve been keeping you all alive for a reason, but if you keep this up, we’ll consider it done,” Yu Xiang said, sneering. “None of you out here are irreplaceable.”

A part of Wu Ying noted the way Yu Xiang worded his statement, the way he flicked his gaze toward where the Fairies had been held. The only real threat to him was the other Core Formation cultivators. Yet they were out of energy, in desperate need of time to cultivate.

If his side had any chance to win, Wu Ying knew they—the cultivators outside—had to drain Yu Xiang of his energy and buy the Fairies time. Yet there was a danger to that too, for in the distance, Wu Ying heard the other battle, sensed the continued struggle at the northern gate. The longer they delayed here, the more dangerous it was for his other friends.

He had already lost one. He could not bear to lose another.

Damned if he waited, damned if he rushed.

Frustration bubbled up within Wu Ying as he stood, pushing aside the pain throbbing through his injured leg. He extracted another sword from his ring, a simple mortal weapon, and paired it with the heavier jian. He strode forward, choosing not to close with projected sword strikes. No use, not against that aura defense. It would have to be cold steel, empowered via the close contact of his own aura and chi, that would deal damage.

Moments before Wu Ying reached Yu Xiang, his opponent flexed his chi again. Earth exploded from the ground, raining around Wu Ying as the Core Formation cultivator freed himself. A blade strike from behind, empowered in silence, hammered into the freed Elder, only for it to dissipate around him. And then Wu Ying was on him, dirt and dust sliding off his own aura.

Wielding both blades, Wu Ying cut and struck, one blade held high and the other low. He varied from simultaneous attacks to rotating exchanges that forced his opponent to block with both hands, pouring his wind chi into the edge of the blades to empower them. Each strike was a shock to Wu Ying’s limbs, each block sending tremors through blade and fingers themselves. He used the full extent of his hard-won skill, borrowing the strength of his opponent’s attacks, spinning and generating momentum in an attempt to cut through.

Dragon paints the Sunset, to Dragon strokes the Painting, a twist and Flashing claws before Dinner struck at eyes and nose, before Wu Ying was forced to use Greeting the rising Sun as a block to shed the falling palm slap.

Second by second, Wu Ying pushed Yu Xiang, claws and blades clashing in a musical crescendo. Yet for all the energy he poured into his attacks, for the variety and subtlety of motion in his forms, his greater mastery in close combat, one unavoidable truth stood before Wu Ying.

Sufficient raw strength would triumph over skill every time.

A small change in pace, a slight mistake. His sword hilt angled a little too high, his body a little too close. Yu Xiang collapsed forward, claws stopped by weapon but nothing in the way of the arm that folded, allowing elbow to lead the way. It caught Wu Ying in the chest, crushed his paltry aura of protection, ignored the minor cushioning his robes offered, and impacted the armor beneath. Links bent, twisting as Wu Ying’s breath was driven out of him, that black pulse of chi driven deep into his body.

Then momentum failed, and energy imparted in the elbow strike threw Wu Ying backward. Purely by reflex, Wu Ying cut with his blades, scoring a line of red across Yu Xiang’s face. He flew backward, breath robbed from him as he crashed into ground and fetched up against the wall of a well, spitting blood and unable to breathe, his mortal sword broken and lost.

Even as Wu Ying struggled to catch his breath, to stand and push aside the pain, Yu Xiang was acting. The half dozen remaining cultivators were struck down, some thrown aside or crippled, others just killed outright. Blood dripping from his claws, the Core Formation Elder looked around. The crossbow and earth cultivator who had bothered him lay by Yu Xiang’s feet, lifeblood seeping from a hole in his torso.

“Well, that was disappointing. Prodigies—treasured sons and daughters of heaven indeed.” A spit to the side, one so caustic that it set the stone to bubbling. He touched his face, eyes falling on Wu Ying, who was still struggling to stand, finally having managed to make his lungs work again. “Then again, you orthodox fools were always too full of yourselves. Now, let’s finish this, shall we?”

Lips pulled apart, showing too many teeth, eyes wide and crazed, Yu Xiang stepped forward. Flickering to Wu Ying, claws thrust in a blazingly fast attack to finish him.

On one knee, Wu Ying could only flinch, eyes closing reflexively as he brought up a hand and sword to defend himself.

***

Heartbeat pounding, a half dozen rapid staccatos. Finally, finally, Wu Ying could breathe again, his chest moving as his wind chi drove out that invasive black energy. Too late, for that claw would tear off his head and end his life any moment now.

Any moment.

When his death did not happen, Wu Ying’s eyes opened, his sword still held steadily in front of him. It had not been batted aside, nor had a body plunged onto it, ending his opponent’s life in a blaze of coincidence and fortune.

Instead, a short couple of steps ahead of him, the dark sect Elder had come to a halt as a pair of unearthly immortal beauties stood before Wu Ying, facing off against their opponent in unspoken animosity. His sister was holding his other—his only undamaged—Spirit-level jian in one hand. As for Fairy Xia, she held the bow Wu Ying had so rarely used, an arrow notched and glinting with chi imbued into the jade arrowhead. As though they’d practiced this, Fairy Xia was a few steps behind his martial sister, ready to cover her.

“Ah, so he was able to free you,” Yu Xiang said with a sneer. “Not that it will help. I can sense your chi levels. You’re barely a fifth full. And you think you can beat me?” The man straightened, the claws on his hand disappearing for a second as he swept a hand down his flawless robes, smoothing and adjusting them. “You think you are worthy to even touch the slippers on my feet?”

“It seems even my little brother is able to do so,” Fa Yuan said, smirking. “I’m certain we can do more than that.”

Anger flashed across Yu Xiang’s eyes as he touched his face and the light cut Wu Ying had managed to lay on him. Then the smile was back, though the anger still smoldered in his eyes. Eyes that swept past Fa Yuan to meet Wu Ying’s, eyes that promised a painful death.

“A lucky blow, no more.”

“Then we’ll repeat that luck, won’t we?” Fa Yuan moved, as though she was done speaking. Or, as Wu Ying had realized while she stood there, feeling her opponent out via her spiritual sense, trying to get a gauge of him.

Her blade tip punched upward, seeking to end the fight before it began. It failed, as Yu Xiang leaned backward and then, realizing it was not enough, backpedaled. He flew backward even as Fa Yuan chased him, her sword edge growing as the chi she forced into the weapon extended the attack.

Within seconds, the pair had covered nearly a hundred bu, Yu Xiang’s claws reappearing. As he finally managed to recover the timing, stomping down to a stop and swinging at the sword to bat it aside, another flash of light appeared. Only a last-minute twist managed to save Yu Xiang from being struck through his chest, though the arrow tore open his robes and left a long streak of blood and torn muscle behind.

Tsking, Fairy Xia shifted position as she nocked another arrow. Not to be outdone, Fa Yuan kept up the pressure, lashing out with fast attacks that forced the dark sect Elder to pay attention to her or risk being crippled.

The entire fight moved at speeds that were almost impossibly quick, the trio taking to the skies in short order as they fled across rooftops, along tree branches and pagoda heads, even going so far as to alight on random swirling leaves as they fought.

Wu Ying breathed for a few seconds, allowing oxygen to return to his body and strength to recover. He pushed himself straight, lips tightening as he considered joining the fight. Then he dismissed that fanciful thought, knowing his presence would be but an impediment.

“Let’s go,” Wu Ying called.

“Where?” one of the other cultivators, a young girl who had fallen to her knees under the assault of that oppressive aura—an aura that had retracted itself now that it was faced with actual Core Formation opponents—asked. She looked around at the recovering group, many who clutched still-bleeding wounds or grimly covered the eyes of those slain.

“To the northern gate. Our friends—those who came for you—are still there,” Wu Ying said. “We need to aid them.”

His words fell like a leaden bowl down a well, sinking deep without result. The cultivator glared at the rescued, many of whom refused to meet his gaze. A few who had refused to help in the initial fight or had fallen to their knees were already moving away, heading for the nearby exterior walls. Realizing he would gain nothing from them, Wu Ying turned north and ran.

A part of him snarled at the cowardice, the selfishness shown by those running away. Yet a more moderate part of him had to admit, he could see their point of view. The brave ones had already been injured, even killed. Those who were truly invested in revenge had run off in the first wave, leaving the more hesitant behind. And of those, many lacked the deep reserves of chi one needed to take part in battle.

Wu Ying could understand those thoughts, but he resented them.

Even as, he idly sensed behind him, others hurrying after him. So perhaps not all of them were utterly useless wastes of flesh and chi that his friend had sacrificed his life for. Perhaps Yu Kun’s funeral pyre would receive a good allotment of paper money, perhaps they might even burn him a mansion or two. Certainly his life, his death, deserved more than a passing footnote in some sect’s records.

Angry and bitter thoughts churned through Wu Ying’s mind as he sprinted across the vast lands within the mansion. He passed buildings, many of them set ablaze, as he ran on pebble-strewn roads and soft, manicured grass. The residents of the compound surrounded him, some struggling to do battle with the fires, but more—much more—slain where they had stood. Men and women, Body Cleansing cultivators and mortal servants for those within, cut down as they emerged from buildings or tried to stem the arsonist that Wu Ying had set free.

Rarer, Wu Ying came across the body of a guard. Most still in the Body Cleansing stage like before, though the occasional one might have broken through to Energy Storage. It was easy to pick them out, the way their corpses contained more chi, leaking it out with their lifeblood. They also smelled different, their corpses cleaner, less filled with the impurities that mortals carried around with them.

Of course, it was not all one-sided. Occasionally, Wu Ying glimpsed the body of one of those he had freed. Legs splayed, hair disarrayed, a lost look in blank eyes. He hadn’t kept count of those he had freed, of those who had run away. Yet he feared that for all he had done, too many had fallen.

Too many dead, even if he had ostensibly saved them.

And what did it mean, if they all died?

Wu Ying was not certain, nor did he dare look at the question too closely. Too much to fear, too dangerous a thought. Shying away from that dreadful future, he finally stopped a bow shot away from the northern gates as he came across another battle.

Chapter 18

It was not the fight Wu Ying had expected. That one was raging outside the gate, where the formation still held. No, the battle he came across was just inside the walls, between those who had run away at first chance—the quartet of survivors at least—and a half dozen dark sect cultivators, all of them clad in a mixture of robes demarcating their betrayed original sects.

It annoyed Wu Ying that they still wore those robes. At the least, a part of him wished, they should dress in one denoting their true allegiance rather than marring the reputation of those sects who were, unknowingly, infected. Then again, considering everything the dark sect had done, dressing wrong seemed like a petty sin to hold against them.

Thoughts flashed through Wu Ying’s mind, all too fast to grasp, spinning like a wayward gust before being wept away. A step then another, and Wu Ying was striking at an opponent’s back. With his presence, his aura, tightened around his body, he might as well be a ghost to the battling group.

It was thus with no little surprise that his sword burst through the chest from the armored cultivator’s back. Wu Ying had infused the full strength of his chi and sword intent into the lunge, the Sword’s Truth piercing mail rings and silken robes to exit the other side. His opponent, his victim, spasmed once, then again before he slumped over, heart pierced.

A jerk of Wu Ying’s sword found it embedded in the dropping body, the mail refusing to part. Wu Ying growled, forced to duck closer to the body as a swing by a heavy bladed weapon nearly displaced his shoulder from his body. Bracing his arm against the body, Wu Ying shoved, pushing with wind and his body at the same time to force the body off his weapon.

The corpse resisted at first before suddenly exploding forward, released to bowl over another pair of combatants. Their blades, their intricate dance, were fouled for a second. Hopefully the right side recovered first, lashing out with foot rather than weapon and gaining the upper hand.

Not having time to watch, Wu Ying used his newly freed weapon to block the horizontal swipe of the heavy pudao[23], the sweeping polearm attack collapsing his defense. Rather than fight strength with strength, Wu Ying let the attack take him backward, tapping on the ground and pushing energy through his meridians as per the Heavenly Soul, Earthly Body method.

He flipped, legs kicked out under him and beneath the polearm, using the contact point as a fulcrum. Still moving backward, Wu Ying extended the kicking leg, slamming it down on his opponent’s extended backhand. He felt bone break as he allowed the heavens to reassert its attractive force, his weight doubling, tripling as he struck.

Pudao tipped, the end crashing to the ground, back hand holding it broken. The lead hand scrabbled to bring the weapon backward, for his opponent to retreat and give himself space even as the cultivator realized how badly outmatched he was.

Too late, for Wu Ying’s sword flickered upward at an angle, twisting around over his head, then downward, drawing a simple ribbon in the air. One that bisected the chest and neck, opening veins and arteries with deadly effect. Dragon blocks the Sun.

No time to watch blood spurt, for strangled cries of disbelief. A weapon fell toward the ground from nerveless fingers, but it never reached the paving stones. A kick by Wu Ying sent the weapon through the air, hilt and body smashing into and bruising another opponent. Distraction enough for Wu Ying’s ally to end the fight.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, three were still standing. Wu Ying and two of those he freed, the last of the escapees lying still on the ground; too late for Wu Ying to have saved. Bitter regret flashed through him, before he pushed it aside.

Later.

“Is that all?” Wu Ying said, eyeing the pair.

One, he recognized. The woman who had scolded him, her clothes now stained not just with blood but ash and smoke. A ragged tear down one side of her face had taken an ear, marring what had been a strikingly enchanting face. If it was not twisted with anger and resentment. The other was a thin, weedy man who looked as if he could barely carry the short spear he wielded but whose presence spoke of more grit and skill than his appearance told.

“Many…” Her voice broke, then she shook her head, bitterness flooding in to give strength. “Of those here, yes. Others are still exacting revenge.”

“On buildings and mortals,” Wu Ying said angrily. Before she could retort, he held out a hand. “It does not matter.” A lie, but a useful one for now. “We need to save them.”

Wu Ying nodded toward the fight across the gates, which was happening right outside the formation that enclosed the entire complex. But something was different about the formation now, something more solid.

“That’s great, but these idiots”—the woman kicked a corpse—“changed the formation. Locked us in.”

“I can help with that.” A familiar voice, as the crazed enchantress and, to Wu Ying’s surprise, Ah Yeng, the same gentleman who had seemed to fear her—her very own sect brother—arrived. “Just give me a moment and more formation flags and I’ll break that formation from the inside.”

Before Wu Ying could reply, another shuddering boom reached them, rocking their muscles and bones. The group turned wordlessly, eyes tracking the chi anomaly and explosion to where the three Core Formation Elders still fought. A few seconds later, the group was rocked again by the rebounding energy, forcing them to shake off the invading chi.

“Maybe we should hurry that along,” Wu Ying said.

Suiting action to words, he pulled out the rest of the formation flags and plates he had acquired, only surprised to note that the woman had picked up the discarded formation breaker plate. The extra formation flags and plate, she pushed into her sect brother’s hands before pulling him along and using a string and some iron as a makeshift chi compass, striding along the line of the wall and muttering to herself.

Bemused, Wu Ying muttered, “Who, exactly, is she?”

“How do you not know?” the bitter woman said as she wrapped her head wound with a torn strip of cloth. “That’s the Mad Formation Mistress of the Fan Clan, Fan Gui Ying.”

“Clan? Not sect?” Wu Ying said.

“She made her name in her family compound,” the wiry man said. “Cultivator Fan—just a child at the time—managed to take down her family’s chi-gathering formation a week before the eighth moon. And then, a week later, just as the moon was rising, she put it back up in time for the mid-Autumn Gathering. She even had to sneak out of her room to do that.”

Wu Ying blinked, turning his head in the direction where the woman had disappeared. He could hear her mutters coming from that direction, as she talked to herself and her poor put-upon sect brother.

“Why mad then?” Wu Ying said.

“Mmm… that’s because the next month, she blew up the formation and half her compound while trying to improve the formation again. Nearly destroyed the cultivation base of her family Patriarch as he dealt with the explosion. She’s as much a danger to her sect and those around her as to the enemies,” the woman said. “Now, we should recuperate as much as we can. The fight outside will not be easy.”

Wu Ying nodded, though he had already been cultivating, drawing in energy from the world around. That was the advantage of the Never Empty Wine Pot method and his own hard-earned ability to cultivate while moving. It still surprised him that so few bothered to study or learn a cultivation exercise like that, but he also knew that few enough individuals spent as much time traveling as he did.

As it stood, Wu Ying was a generalist in so many of his exercises compared to the specialists who made up the sects and were lauded as prodigies. It meant that he would never truly gain any deep understanding of those particular areas, whether it was apothecary and pill making or even cultivation skills and qinggong methods.

Still, it was times like this, when having skills in many different areas, when he shone. He might not be a martial specialist like Senior Brother Ge, with his ability to use the Star Beating Fist regularly as a plain Energy Storage cultivator, but Wu Ying was also no indulgent scion who could be captured with minimal exertion.

And unlike the small group of a half dozen cultivators who had arrived and flopped down facing the northern gate, Wu Ying did not need to sit to cultivate, shutting down his sense of the world around to pull in energy desperately. Which meant while he was standing there, keeping watch for potential problems, he had time to notice what Gui Ying was doing. Of course, noticing and understanding were two entirely different things.

Wu Ying’s knowledge of formations were rudimentary, like his understanding of boating. You raised sails to catch wind and you pulled on oars to push against the tide and adjust your position. He could do both of those things, and in a small enough craft on a placid lake, he might even be able to avoid crashing. On the other hand, he knew he was not to be trusted with an actual ship or anything more challenging than a rowboat.

What Cultivator Fan was doing with the adjustment of the formation plate and new carvings on formation flags was the equivalent of being a boatwright, replacing boards and adding new masts, all the while also guiding the boat through a series of rapids. That the formation—the rapids—she was interacting with kept altering as she plunged in new formation flags and altered the formation plate itself made the entire situation treacherous.

Yet, Wu Ying knew, he had to trust her. The formation breaker was out of chi. It would need months of idle recuperation or a few days of dedicated channeling before it was recharged. Using it, even from the inside, was impossible as it stood. Whatever she did, it had to be enough.

As for the fight going on outside…

Wu Ying drew a deep breath, forcing himself to try to sense something of what was happening outside. Scents from outside filtered in, a touch of chi from the Core Formation Elders, the pain and agony of his compatriots. For the most part, it was all muted.

And inside….

Another shudder ran through the group, throwing those cultivating for a shock. Power coursed through the air as the trio of Elders still fought. That battle, at least, was on the south side, only leaving them to deal with the aftershocks of the clash. The creak of falling timbers, the crack of burning wood spoke of the destruction the compound faced.

Forced to wait, Wu Ying drew another breath and forced calm on himself, pulling in the energy of the world and churning it through his meridians. Their time would come, and soon, and when it did, they would have to face the other two Core Formation dark sect Elders out there.

He just hoped it was in time.

***

“Oi! Soon!” The shout pierced the silent tension that surrounded the group, alerting them all.

Wu Ying tilted his head, eyeing the shimmering golden words that blocked their way, the dome of power that the formation had created just outside the stone walls. The northern gate stood open, the doors thrown wide, but what lay beyond it—the fight that Wu Ying could barely sense through his spiritual perception—was hidden by the formation.

The half dozen former prisoners—the brave, the foolhardy, the bloodthirsty—stood, the cycling of their chi coming to an end. Wu Ying lowered his own energy pull, drawing another deep breath and swallowing the air to settle himself. Along with the calming of his own energies, the smell of burning buildings and corpses from the compound behind them made its way to him. Whatever else happened tonight, the Mao’s family compound would never be the same.

A breath, then another. Then he sensed it, the way the formation that stood above them twisted and warped. Energies that flowed in an ordered manner were churning and splitting in on themselves, hitting strange blockages. The golden glowing letters that stood above them all warped before suddenly disappearing from sight. Yet to Wu Ying’s senses, the energy it contained was still there.

He frowned, then lowered his head to stare at the battle ahead, only to see that bloody, vengeful woman rushing toward the broad back of a grey-clad Elder right outside the gate.

“Not yet!” the rough voice of Cultivator Fan’s beleaguered sect brother cried out.

Too late. All too late.

She struck the area where the formation used to be. Still was, even if it was invisible. Unseen waves of energy ripped through her body, pushing into her. Her scream was cut short, blood and gore scattering like a vengeful red flower as she burst from within, her dantian and core unable to hold the influx of energy tearing her apart.

“Hun dan!” Wu Ying swore. Not only had they lost someone they could not afford to lose, but the Core Formation Elder was now alerted. She even went so far as to turn around and stare at the group.

The air clear now, he was able to ascertain a few things about the battle.

Firstly, the dark sect cultivator was not standing there purely for show. Bands of waters and metal wrapped around her legs, lines of chi locking her in place. Perhaps, Wu Ying reflected, it was best that the hurt and angry woman had perished before she caught sight of another enemy. After all, most of these types of trapping formations were inimical to outside interference.

He felt cold even thinking it, but it was the truth. And more importantly, he had no time to worry about such things. For outside, battling two other Elders—two more! He must have miscounted or been unable to pick them out—was the rest of his group. Or what remained of them.

Tou He led his staff-wielders, just three of them left, in a desperate fight to contain one of the Core Formation opponents. Wielding their polearms, they struck and parried blows at a distance, spinning through the air and weaving their combined chi together to form a barricade of energy. Individually, none of them could have managed it, but working together, they were—barely—holding their opponent at bay. The ex-monk was the one who burned brightest. His very body seemed to be cooking from within as the full power of the dragon blood he had consumed made itself known.

As for the sword-wielders, the Eight Vicious Cuts, they were doing worse. Much worse. It almost seemed, even at the glance that Wu Ying caught, that their opponent was playing with them. Their foe wielded not one of the more common weapons but the liuxing chui[24], the meteor hammer. The two hand-sized weights of the enchanted weapon were connected by a metal chain and infused with fire chi, along with the metal chi that strengthened the weapon itself. Each strike of the spinning, cast weapon detonated with fiery motes of light and heat, burning those who sought to block it or, when dodged, just torched them as it burnt the very air when recalled.

That the entire weapon was spun around neck, arm, leg, or whatever convenient body part to change its direction, angle, and speed meant that it was extremely tricky to judge its next attack. The weapon’s major disadvantages—long wind-up time, lack of deadliness, and potential overcommitment—was easily handled by the flames that roared out of the weapon. Any attempt to lock it down saw the attemptee being burnt badly and the other end of the weapon being used to wrap and crisp the foolhardy one.

If there was a reason that any of the swordsmen facing the dark sect cultivator was alive after being caught, it was because their opponent seemed to thrive on leaving them seared and broken at his feet. Three bodies slowly attempted to crawl away, robes and skint so burnt Wu Ying could not see the start and end of either, but were unable to escape before they were kicked back into the center by the ever-moving Elder.

As Wu Ying watched, edging closer to the gate and the still active barrier, Hong Miao caught the weapon around her dao. Flames licked at her face and arm, but rather than stay still, she threw the weapon straight down, discarding it. The entire weapon and the entrapped blade crashed to the earth, stuck deep within even as she rolled across the ground to smother persistent flames. Immediately, fire chi pulsed down the weapon, melting the dao.

But Hong Miao had sacrificed her Spirit-level dao, a weapon that could handle the heat. At least for a few seconds. And in that brief moment, her sect members and those she had trained rained down strikes on the dark sect Elder.

Flashes of vicious sword energy, powered by chi and the desperate flooding of dao intents and understanding, struck at the Elder. For a fraction of a second, the Elder froze before he moved to escape. A jump took him straight up into the sky to avoid the majority of attacks.

Majority, for unseen to him, unseen to everyone, the two musicians had built up their own contribution. Hovering in the air itself, the unseen, contained cloud… wave… bank… of sound became focused, pulling inward around the lodestone that was the meteor-wielding cultivator’s body. Released from its entrapment, the attack struck, making Wu Ying’s ears ache—even shielded behind the fraying formation. Sound, discordant sound, used as a weapon, ripped clothing, vibrated bone and organ, and caused extremities to spurt blood.

Just a little though.

After all, they were fighting a Core Formation Elder. And the pair of musicians, even if they had been preparing the attack for a while, were but Energy Storage cultivators.

Landing on the ground, the Elder yanked on the chain, pulling the hammer back to him. The sword that had anchored it flopped to the ground, its blade melted. Spinning his weapon around him, the Elder’s demeanor, the stance of his body, the way he regarded his opponents changed. Somehow, Wu Ying knew, he was done playing.

As though the change was a signal, from behind Wu Ying, another shout came. One that had him running forward in a desperate race to save as many lives as he could.

“Now!”

***

Time and reality seemed to twist as Wu Ying sprinted, pushing his qinggong techniques and his Body Cultivation to the utmost. The Southern Wind could be hot and humid, but more importantly, on certain days, it blew hard and strong, bringing with it the hint of the monsoons his village had been sheltered from. Even then, even the memory of the gale winds was strong enough to tear down trees and break roofs.

As he sped onward, flashes of the world washed over him, instances of the battle that he caught.

Pounding feet behind him as the other cultivators sought to catch up.

An arrow, at first passing him before Wu Ying passed it himself.

The captured Dark Elder and Cultivators Xi and Sun, both bracing themselves at opposite ends of the formation, pouring energy into it to keep their adversary contained. As if realizing that the battle was about to turn, the Core Formation Elder was pulsing her own energy through her aura, attempting to crack the formation via brute strength itself. Normally not a viable tactic, since formations built upon the natural world, leveraging upon it to provide greater strength.

But she was a Core Formation Elder. And they were not.

Another flash, another sight. Tou He, ablaze with flames, metal staff spinning to strike his own opponent. It pushed the open-palmed Elder backward, forced him to block the attack. The Elder’s foot rose for a kick, only for another staff—metal in nature, heavy in reality—to smack down upon the knee, forcing the leg down. As Tou He backed off, he kept his staff spinning, flames erupting from one end to strike at his opponent, managing to scorch him even through his protective aura.

The pair of fighters staggered back far enough for Wu Ying to dart past, far back enough for the wind he brought with him to wash over them all.

Arrow impacted and bounced off the aura of the open-handed Elder, doing nothing but distracting him. Then, Wu Ying was away.

Even as the meteor hammer spun and twisted, slipping past a flailing dao, the dao wielder squinting around the harsh glare that assaulted his senses. There was no true impact, the burning fist-sized hunk of metal tearing through chest and exiting the other side, bone and blood crisping. Then, as the poor man was opening his mouth to scream—without air, as he no longer had a chest—the meteor hammer was yanked back. The resulting return journey tore head from shoulders, leaving shattered torso to collapse bonelessly.

Fractions of a second, for this entire tragedy to happen.

Still spinning the metal chain and the balls of flaming metal, the Elder turned. Contemptuously dodging sword strikes that were meant to injure. Avoiding the frenzied attacks of the remaining fighters as they sought to end his life.

And failing.

Then Wu Ying was there, sword extended. Coming in low, sword angled down and away until the last second. There, to try his own hand at ending this fight. A task the others had failed so far.

Chapter 19

Wu Ying saw the Elder turn, his lip creasing in a knowing smirk. Saw how he twisted the chain around his arm, readying it for the strike, looping the weapon such that it changed angle and direction, pivoting around the arm at a greater speed. As the metal head spun upward in Wu Ying’s direction, he paid even further attention to its movement and the cultivator wielding it. He knew that the moment the Core Formation Elder released the weapon and let it shoot outward, it would be committed. Barring any chi-manipulation chicanery.

Yet each step he took drew him closer and closer, Wu Ying no longer porting himself tens of steps at a time but taking rapid shorter steps. It was a trade-off in speed for maneuverability, his feet in contact with the ground, his body perfectly balanced between them. Every step was another moment, another second closer, and the weight still spun upward, unreleased.

Then Wu Ying was within range and the weapon head was above him. It was only then that Wu Ying realized what his opponent intended. Too late to do anything about it, he saw the dark sect Elder release the chain, watched the built-up speed of the spinning weapon launch itself upward. Knowing there was no chance of it hitting him—not in the chest at least.

A breath, and the weapon was past him, the rushing air pushing at the strands of Wu Ying’s ponytail, picking at escaped strands along his face. Time seemed to slow for Wu Ying, his gaze taking in the tightening of his opponent’s fingers, the jerking motion that pulled the weapon taut as the hammer end drew backward and down. Sending it arcing backward to strike at Wu Ying’s rear, where he had no way to see or control where it might strike him.

It was perfectly timed, so even his shorter steps, the ones that took him closer still, had him in mid-motion, his weight forward a little and transitioning. Nothing to offer purchase, nothing for him to step upon but pure air.

Wu Ying was out of time. His sword would not reach his opponent before he was struck.

Not normally.

First things first. Wu Ying sent a gust of energy through his body, out his leg. Wind, working to his command, firmed up underneath him. Just enough that he pushed away, out of the angle of the attack. More importantly, it pushed him into an opening just to the left of his opponent, where his arm was out of the way and the shimmering chain was pulled forward.

Then, it was time to unleash his attack. Sword held low, angled away and down to the ground. Wu Ying turned his wrist, forcing wind chi through the weapon, with just a hint of the fire and wood chi that made up his element within. Wood chi to connect to the life that made up his assailant, the changing, ever-mutable nature of existence itself. Fire chi to sever and burn what he targeted. And, of course, wind chi for that was his element. Wu Ying was using an adjustment of his Master’s skill, a combination of the Dragon’s Breath and the Karma Severing Blade, the first movement of the Wandering Dragon.

Not to cut his opponent, not directly, for the sheer overwhelming protective aura around the Core Formation master—one who had not been battling others of his ilk—would make it impossible. Certainly not when he was expecting the attack.

Not to cut his karma, for that was not Wu Ying’s path. That dao, that understanding of the way the world worked was out of his reach. For now, and perhaps forever. The path he walked was different from his Master’s and, instinctively, he knew it would only intersect at the edges.

No, what Wu Ying cut was the air itself, the atmosphere and wind right in front of and, as he projected the attack, inside the Elder. The wind roared, shrieking as the air parted before his fast-moving blade, leaving a tiny gap behind. The blow compressed everything before it, turning it into a leaden attack that passed above his opponent, never striking him.

Instead, imparted with his chi, imparted with his understanding of the dao of the winds itself, Wu Ying sent it all spiraling upward with the Dragon’s Breath. Cloudy air formed around him, the strike becoming solid, a grey-and-black bar approaching the sky as it rose to the heavens.

Behind it, the very concepts that made up the Karma Severing Blade, the push of chi outward, the burning of the environment that attempted to return nature to its basic course occurred. Air had been forced aside and created a vacuum, one that nature desired to fill. That vacuum was kept in existence by chi and dao understandings, while the extension of the attack robbed the Elder of the air in his lungs.

The attack bypassed the Elder’s aura, a protective sheen that would have blocked any direct assault on him. Yet this attack affected the environment before the Elder and his closely held aura, stopping a mere inch from his skin, its effects passing onward. The gas within his lungs was forced out, the lungs themselves collapsing as they were robbed of structure. Blood and phlegm stained the atmosphere, exploding upward, even as his eyes grew bloodshot and ears popped at the sudden change in pressure.

Surprise made the attack more effective than it would have been in other circumstances. If his opponent had sensed it, had known what was coming; a simple firming of his aura to block the secondary effects, an imposition of his will upon the greater world, would have been sufficient.

Instead, for the first time in the battle, the Elder was injured.

Even as Wu Ying collapsed to his knees, the attack—one that should have been used by a Core Formation cultivator, one that Wu Ying had not ever unleashed in battle before and had, carefully, only attempted in smaller doses—robbed him of his energy. The others took advantage of the Elder’s injury to launch their own strikes.

None of that, not even the glancing blow of the returning meteor chain-end, was something Wu Ying could pay attention to. As he was sent sprawling into the dirt, rolling across the ground, a cultivator jumping over his sprawled form, Wu Ying was insensate to the outside world.

His mind swam, his nose and eyes bled from the aftereffects of his own form, his meridians throbbing from the strain of pushing so much energy through them. Breathing came harshly and fast, as though the very wind that had powered his attacks was now rejecting his presence, refusing to enter his lungs. A pressure, a heavy pressure, pushed down upon him and his senses. A disapproving glance from the heavens above—or perhaps the Dao itself, the very fabric of reality.

Wu Ying struggled, searching for balance, even as the fight raged around him.

***

Enlightenment approached for some like a shrewd mouse after a grain of rice, while under pressure and from quiet contemplation. Enlightenment occurred not because one desired it, but as the mind was shaken apart from the moorings of mundanity, when it was opened to the truths that were ever present around it.

The Dao was both fiendishly complex and foolishly simple. The world that one saw, that one heard, that one felt was all there was. Yet how many saw the world in its entirety? Every single blade of grass as it shifted in the wind, every leaf that rustled, every glint of light? How many could take in all that they felt, the slight warp in silken underclothes, the rougher texture of cotton drawstrings, the minor cuts and discomforts of living in this world?

The world—the Dao—in its entirety was so great that no man, no immortal, could grasp it all. To live, to exist, one must hide from it. Ignore so much of what was present in order to live and function.

Daoist Sages were childlike in their wonder of the world; for how magnificent and beautiful was it? A single bud could grow, transform, and become a towering tree that sheltered hundreds—perhaps even thousands—in its life, offering comfort and succor to birds, bees, squirrels, and more. Then in its old age, it would fall and decay, becoming food for a new set of creatures and plants. Only for the world to renew itself again and again.

A Sage, a true sage or an immortal with their eyes open wide enough, could see the entirety of a tree’s life before it and behind it. How much more wondrous to perceive that knowledge not just across a single strand of life, a single aspect, but for all of it?

How hard was it then to stay sane, to stay logical and unemotional? To find dispassionate reasoning worthwhile when such experience was at one’s fingertips? If one was willing to open their mind?

There was a price, however. For the unwary, the unlearned, the foolish, insanity waited, as a mind exposed to the world broke and broke again. Or perhaps a greater form of sanity, one so large that it was impossible for a normal person to grasp in full.

Thus, humanity strode through life, blinkered and stuffed, content to see the narrow slice of reality that was their existence. Till events shook apart their world.

And enlightenment arrived, reopening one’s eyes.

For Wu Ying, under the baleful regard of the heavens themselves, enlightenment arrived like a bolt of lightning. Not because he had achieved some great understanding of the world but because he was forced, like a toddler who had shattered his teacup and spilled his drink, to stare at the damage he had caused, the brute force effects of his imposition of his will, chi, and dao.

Under the eyes of heaven, Wu Ying quailed and saw more than the single life he had damaged but the hundreds of others he had injured, the shift in atmospheric pressure, the demands he had placed upon the winds and the far-ranging effects of a single cut. Clouds that would never form, birds thrown off course by the cut, a warm air spiral developing to become a tornado many li away.

A demand voiced to the world, answered.

An answer that caused rack and ruin for others.

And finally, the consequences.

On his back, Wu Ying bled and coughed, the regard of the Heavens enforcing themselves upon him. An experience that no one below the Core Formation stage should have, for such wide-ranging effects were their province. Yet he had dared to step into that realm and in so daring, gained the regard of the heavens themselves.

To his ruin.

To his enlightenment.

For understanding flowed too, understanding and knowledge. Of the world around him, of the winds that held him aloft and pushed him down. The heavens whispered admonishment for the injury caused to the world around him. And most of all, how to fix his mistake.

Or more specifically, how to ensure he never made the same one again. For Wu Ying could see the world righting itself without need of a pitiful Energy Storage cultivator, filling in the vacuum he had created, returning equilibrium to the world. No, the universe did not need him to correct what had happened before.

It just required that he not sin again.

Knowledge, like a child rebuked by a parent, came to the sprawled cultivator. And with it, the regard of the heavens as it retreated, the minor incident already forgotten by those above, by the Dao itself. Wu Ying breathed in, the world filling his air-starved lungs once more.

And with the winds came a hint of the paths he would have to traverse to gain the wind of Heaven itself.

***

Then the world came crashing back down upon Wu Ying. His body, pulled upward by the winds of heaven, was released to fall back onto all-too-mortal earth. Sound returned, the discordant clang and clatter of battle and the screams and shrieks of the injured imposing themselves upon the cultivator’s mind and shaking him away from his moment of enlightenment, the pulse of heavenly regard. Not approval, no heavenly chi flowing to him this time, though Wu Ying felt lighter and yet more solid. As though having found his place on this Earth, it would take much more to shake him free.

Then he pushed the last of those thoughts aside and rolled to his feet. His sword, to his surprise, was still clutched in his hand. The blade was unmarked, the energy he had pushed through it insufficient to damage the weapon. He had not clashed with the meteor-chain either, knowing the danger of doing so. As for the blow that had struck him in passing, his body throbbed, but it was but minor burns.

Speaking of…

His eyes swept over the battlefield, taking in their current predicament. And predicament it was, for the formerly trapped Elder was free now. To Wu Ying’s surprise, Xiao Peng and Fan Yi were clashing off to one side, both wielding jians against one another. To his skilled eyes, their struggle was similar to a pair of toddlers waving around wooden sticks in anger.

Wu Ying did not understand it, but he had no time to consider their fight or the betrayal being played out before him. No doubt it was Xiao Peng—the talisman master—who had betrayed them, for there was no reason for Fan Yi to betray her treasured sister.

No time to consider it, for the pair of Whistling Iron Monkey Sect members who had trapped the Elder before were now in desperate battle, attempting to slow the Elder’s rampage, her face twisted in an ugly sneer. The pair had been joined by the ex-prisoners, the group trading bodies for time for the rest of them. Even then, if not for the fact that the Elder seemed to be wielding a trio of spinning cauldrons as her weapons, marking her as a non-martial cultivator, they would have been overwhelmed.

His gaze skipped further, searching for the Elder who should be close to him. Wu Ying found the meteor-chain first, the weapon lying on the ground, unmoving. An arm was still attached to the chain. Following the ends with his eyes like a grisly treasure trail, Wu Ying found the Elder’s corpse. Along with the body of another Eight Vicious Dao’s members, the pair pinned together in a macabre death embrace by a trio of daos embedded in their bodies.

Wu Ying could only guess at the desperate battle and sacrifice to stall the Core Formation Elder after Wu Ying’s attack. And the final death blows that must have been wielded, a punishing sacrifice to give them a chance to win.

But they had succeeded.

They had killed a Core Formation dark sect cultivator as poor Energy Storage martial artists. Numbers did count. Numbers and surprise.

None of which they had now.

For other bodies, some still twitching, littered the moonlit ground. The long shadows, formed from the flames of the fire-wielding cultivators and contrasting with the light of the new dawn gave a further macabre feeling. So many of those who had come had fallen.

And there were still two more opponents.

Tou He and his team of staff-wielders had been joined by the remnant members of the dao swordsmen, all of them seeking to pound the final free-to-move Core Formation Elder to the ground. This was a true struggle, for the Elder was a martial cultivator, or at least had passing familiarity with combat.

All of this took mere seconds to take in, to assess. Whatever hints there might be of the fate of his martial sister and Fairy Xia, Wu Ying could ill afford the time to pick them up. Instead, sword in hand, he rejoined the fight.

Wind Steps took Wu Ying by surprise, for the way he pushed off the ground, the automatic use of Heavenly Soul, Earthly Body that he had trained into himself, blasted him forward farther and faster than ever. Two steps, and he had crossed the distance that would have taken him three before.

It did not stop him from extending his weapon into a lunge, did not stop him from executing the Sword’s Truth in a single, deep strike on that final step; chi and sword intent were pushed to their utmost to pierce the Core Formation Elder’s powerful defensive aura.

Nor did Wu Ying’s remarkable speed give him the advantage of surprise.

His opponent turned with a sneer, palm brushing against Wu Ying’s weapon. The Elder’s movements were fluid, graceful, and almost formless like the water that lightly covered his limbs, protecting skin and bone. The film was so thin, Wu Ying had missed it earlier.

Then Wu Ying’s sword and aura brushed against it. Wind tore at water, deadly sword intent warring with reinforced, refined cultivator skin. Auras cracked and spat as the pair’s chi fought one another. Blade was pushed off course, leaving Wu Ying passing by with no target, his body still in the air.

No matter.

Another surge of chi, another push onto the winds beneath his feet. He firmed the world beneath him, anchored himself in the reality that he could still sense, and pivoted. He used the air footing to execute a cross-body cut.

Even the surprise nature of his movement, the speed with which he could execute the cut since he had actual stable footing to twist with hips and generate power, did little to stop his foe from blocking him. The difference in levels was too great, the base increase in strength and speed too much for Wu Ying to overcome.

However, it did force his opponent to use a hard block rather than his preferred shedding, softer defense. As though knowing how dangerous Wu Ying’s attack was, the Elder’s aura surged and flowed, concentrating at the point of impact. His straight sword—his heavy, soldier’s straight sword—sank deep into the Elder’s aura, pushing inward. It felt like pushing against water with one’s hand, the deeper—the closer—he got to the other’s arms, the harder it became. A rice-stalk’s breadth from the Elder’s skin, Wu Ying’s sword finally came to a stop.

Another turn, a flicker of motion, and Wu Ying was defending himself, using elbows and knees to take the kick that sent him flying backward. Even as his bones creaked and body bruised, he reasserted his connection to the earth and the world around him, bringing his flight to an end early.

Meanwhile, his allies, taking advantage of the momentary concentration of energy, assaulted the Elder from all sides. They did not kill him. How could they? He was so much more powerful than them all.

Even the attacks they managed to land only injured him. Angered, the Core Formation cultivator lashed out with explosive attacks that pulled water from the atmosphere and shot it onward like a drill, piercing skin and bone in droplets of fast-moving liquid.

The attack left Tou He’s hard-won formation broken, another member of the Eight Vicious Daos dead, and their foe angered.

Yet as these things had a wont to do, the battle had come to a halt; the combatants breathed deeply, refreshing chi reserves and stabilizing their minds while searching for an opening. Battles—real battles—had these strange pauses, where as if by unspoken agreement, the opponents chose to stop. A time to survey the battlefield, consider their options and their chances of winning as well as next steps.

In that gap in time, Wu Ying returned, feet crossing bloodied grass and torn earth. He picked his way past discarded weapons, idly noting the talismans that had been used and thrown away, the ones he had passed to the other team, all of them worthless against the Elder.

Four Elders. If only there had been one less. Then one would have been dealt with by the Fairies, leaving the team to fight only two. Two, they could have won against. Two, they could have beaten. Wu Ying knew this, deep within. Two would have meant Yu Kun might not have died.

And now, staring at Tou He holding himself straight by leaning on his staff, Wu Ying sensed the guttering depths of the emptiness of his paired dantians, the fury that sought to overtake his friend’s good sense. It was a wonder he had not given in to the dragon blood, that it had not taken his friend from him. Wu Ying knew he was about to lose another companion if he did not come up with something.

He’d hidden his own training, the expansion of his abilities. They’d known, coming in, that there might be a traitor and had even planned for it. But he’d shown his tricks, used his variation of the Karma Severing Blade.

Yet Wu Ying had never guessed that there was more than one traitor. That Xiao Peng would turn on them after another had been located. That there were so many Core Elders.

He had failed them all, and in so doing, doomed them.

“You’ve done well. You know, we could always use individuals with such strength in the upcoming war. Of course, we’d need assurances…”

Wu Ying tuned out the speaking Elder. He had nothing that Wu Ying wanted to hear. Instead, Wu Ying tightened his grip on his weapon, drew a deep breath, and kept walking, shaking his head a little when he caught Tou He’s eyes.

It was a pity. Wu Ying had just found a way forward. A much-needed route for his cultivation path.

A pity he’d have to die here.

But better him than any more of his friends.

Raising his sword, Wu Ying charged. He was out of tricks, out of special skills or abilities. The rest of this fight would come down to grit, determination, and luck.

And still, he knew they’d lose.

***

Wu Ying fell backward, his meridians burnings and his dantian nearly empty. Each second of battle had seen multiple strikes and defenses, the pair of water and wind users doing their best to embody the very principles of their elements. Water was harder than wind, stronger and more dominant, so Wu Ying collapsed and retreated with each strike, giving way.

Yet it was not entirely one-sided. Wind might not be able to dominate water, but it could move it. It could strip away the liquid, carry it into the clouds and dry out puddles, wash it aside. It was slower, it was less vigorous, but wind was persistent. It was ever present, never ending, and all too close to everything.

Stripping the Elder droplet by droplet, tearing away liquid and energy was hard, for Wu Ying was no tempest compared to the Elder.

Thankfully, oh so thankfully, Wu Ying had his Body Cultivation. Without it, without his ability to bend and twist, absorb the punishment that was dished out to him, he would have fallen long ago. Even more, the very act of Body Cultivation had given him greater stores of energy than most Energy Storage cultivators. And unlike Tou He with his two dantians, Wu Ying had not been in a desperate battle for his life since the start of this new stage of the fight.

Even so, even while they struggled to land blows and blast past the open-fisted Elder’s defensive aura, they knew it was a losing proposition. Wu Ying could see it in the wide eyes, the wild swings, the occasional screamed profanities that his allies released.

Their opponent had been injured, but not gravely. Their opponent had been drained of chi, but his stores were so much greater than theirs to start.

Blows that would have crippled an Energy Storage cultivator were shrugged off, leaving bruises and cuts; but better equipment, stronger bodies, that defensive aura—it all saved the dark sect Elder. In the silken dance that the pair wove, surrounded by Wu Ying’s allies, grace and courage were present, but so was the constant knowledge that it was ultimately futile.

Another second, another break. Water gathered itself as wind shuddered and panted; sword trembling like a blade of grass in a windy meadow. Then water exploded forward and wind was too slow, too tired to fade away in time.

Yet fortune favored the foolish.

A blast of chi threw Wu Ying and the Elder aside, the sideways impact forcing the attackers surrounding them to scramble and stay standing. Together, they turned, searching for the cause, only to see a gaping hole where the other dark sect Elder had been.

“Ah Ning!” The scream that erupted from the open-palmed water Elder was hoarse and filled with anguish. He darted forward, uncaring that he offered the others his back, headed straight for the smoking hole where the other had stood.

Lying around the hole, blasted and twisted, lay the bodies of Wu Ying’s allies. The cultivator let his gaze roam over the group, spotting the disarmed—literally—Jie Kai and the still Xiang Wen. Even the older gentleman, that wiry fighter, was on the ground.

Wu Ying tracked the way the dirt was twisted backward, searching for the cause, for the reason for their victory. He found a young lady smiling, looking a little abashed, scratching her head with a twisted steel dagger and formation plate in hand.

“Oops?” she said, catching sight of Wu Ying’s startled glance. “I might have held back the formation strength a little too long.”

Understanding flooded through Wu Ying as he spotted the missing glowing strands of energy above the Mao compound. Of course. She had not taken the formation down earlier, just opened it for them to escape. In the time they had fought, she must have manipulated it further, changed it to become an offensive formation.

Before finally wielding it at the last dark sect Elder.

So great was the attack that there were but scraps left in the smoking hole, pieces of bloodied silken cloth and tendrils of hair. All of which had been gathered by a frantic water Elder and clutched, tears streaming down his face.

“I should have… I loved you. I should have…” He threw his head up, screaming his rage and sorrow to the skies.

Wu Ying knew this was the time to attack. Knew they would never get another chance. He tried to step forward, but something stopped him. The man’s aura, once still and deep like the oceans, had twisted in his grief. Darker, like the rivers of the dead in the thousand hells that wended its way through them all. Perverted in a way to pull down all those who entered it, to drown again and again before they had finally repented and it was time to return.

An aura so dark and twisted, it made the group shiver and kept them back. Wu Ying could see it, smell the way the Elder’s karmic base, his very dao transformed as he allowed it to overtake him. His core, unshakeable until now, cracked, meridians curdling as his cultivation base was rocked. Yet in the gaps was not weakness, for something bubbled forward into the space that was created.

“What is happening?” Wu Ying asked, his entire body trembling in fear. He did not understand it, not really, but his body, his soul knew that whatever was happening was not right.

“A perverted way,” Tou He said, coming up to his friend’s side. To Wu Ying’s surprise, the ex-monk had his prayer beads out, one hand working the wooden spheres as it was held in front of him. More flames licked along the beads, along the cultivator. Flames that seemed to burn aside the aura that froze Wu Ying in place. Burnt it clear such that, at least, Tou He could talk. There was a low rumble in his voice, one all too reminiscent of a shout on a torn open battlefield, where dragon and immortal had once clashed. “He opens himself to the devils in the other realms, giving them an entrance to ours.”

“Why?” Hong Miao asked, the big woman managing to make her way to them. Her dao gleamed, as if reacting to the dark aura, pushing back at it like Tou He’s flames. “Why would he give up his very soul?”

“Grief,” Wu Ying said.

“Strength,” Tou He added.

“We should strike. Now.” Hong Miao hefted her dao, gathering strength.

“Wait.” Tou He held up a hand. When she looked at him, he added, “He’s still protected. There will be a time to strike, a gap that will be created.”

“How do you know?”

The ex-monk could only smile enigmatically, leaving the woman to growl. Still, she stayed her hand while Wu Ying kept churning his dantian and chi, recovering as best he could. If they were to strike at the right time, then he needed every iota of strength he could find.

Chapter 20

In the dark of the night, the cultivators—all those still able to stand—watched a short distance from the single remaining dark sect Elder. In the distance, Wu Ying heard the cackle of fire, the clash of blades as ex-prisoners still dealt with Mao residents and their guards. There was no longer the boom of clashing chi, no twisting sense to the environment of a battle greater than any they fought going on in the distance. Wu Ying worried about the Fairies, but he could do nothing, for their own opponent kneeled in the blackened hole, undertaking a transformation of monstrous proportions.

The Elder’s aura pulsed and warped, its changes visible now to the naked eye. An arrow shot by one cultivator had failed to penetrate the defensive aura, and a quick darting in by the remaining cultivators had dragged away the unconscious fighters around him.

Xiang Wen lay propped up a short distance away, leaning her torso against the corpse of another cultivator so she could watch their impending doom. Cultivator Xi had finished her battle with the traitorous Xiao Peng, the fat cultivator slain but leaving the woman slumped against the wall, clutching a wound in her abdomen. He had done better for himself than Wu Ying would have guessed.

Even if, Wu Ying lamented, they would never know why he had betrayed them.

Another pulse of energy, and Wu Ying tensed as he sensed Tou He straightening by his side. Hong Miao grinned, the action tugging at the wound on the side of her face, cracking open bloody skin. Soon…

Then something happened that was not to Wu Ying’s expectations. Music. A flute, its windful lament cutting through the night’s chaos. It was no plain musical accompaniment, for it carried chi. Chi that soothed and strengthened their sense of self, that sped up the accumulation of energy and beckoned the gaze of the heavens.

Wu Ying knew this song. He had listened to it played many times during those graceful evenings at his martial sister’s house so many years ago. “The River of the Heavens,” a masterful song composed by Master He Yi Fan. Yet Wu Ying had never heard it played so well, felt its effects this greatly.

Heads turned, and on the wall were the Fairies. Fairy Xia played a jade flute, and his own sister stood with sword in hand. She was crouched low, eyes fixed upon the burgeoning monster.

As if reminded, Wu Ying turned around to see the effects of the song. A disastrous effect, for where the song might aid them in their cultivation, in their sense of the greater dao, it was an assault on the one being twisted. Each note that filtered down from above was a blow, a tear against the monstrous transformation. At first, it seemed to have little effect, but soon enough Wu Ying saw how the Elder’s aura boiled and flinched, shrinking with each note.

“Ah…” Tou He breathed out, his voice filled with wonder.

Then, to Wu Ying’s surprise, a flow of energy came hurtling down, heavenly chi flooding his friend. Tou He’s entire body thrummed, absorbing the bounty as enlightenment struck. A churning, almost hungry tension in his aura suddenly smoothed out, as though the enlightenment and grace from the heavens were oil poured onto the roiling waters of his life. Where contained fury seeking always to escape had once been, now Wu Ying felt as though he stood beside a live furnace. Hotter than anything natural but contained and channeled within.

More than simple enlightenment, Wu Ying realized.

His friend was ascending, his dantians solidifying as heavenly chi filled his form, his meridians and his dantians. It entered the pair of overflowing storage vessels within Tou He, forcing the cultured and personalized chi into tighter and tighter bounds.

“Is he… is he breaking through? In the middle of a fight?” Hong Miao almost shouted, waving her sharp, all-too-chipped sword in exasperation and surprise.

Wu Ying shrugged in answer, half-amused and surprised. Then, seeing her weapon, he looked down at his own. It too was damaged, though not as much as hers. After all, the open-palmed cultivator had done little to damage Wu Ying’s weapon when they fought. Unlike a weapon-wielder would have.

Though…

“Could be good for us,” Wu Ying said, nodding toward their struggling dark sect opponent.

Struggling he was, for the pace of the music had changed a little, adjusting to the fluctuations in the Elder’s aura. The notes built upon themselves, a slow-rising crescendo that impacted the imperfect transformation with greater fervor each time.

The dark sect cultivator, in seeking to change, had opened his soul to outside influence, and Fairy Xia was making full use of it. Rather than directly attacking though, what she did was reinforce the human parts of him, forcing her opponent to expend ever more energy in his transformation.

The effect—the final result—was that what had started as a rising dread over what was emerging had lessened, Wu Ying almost pitying their opponent. Blood and gore dripped from the creature; the demonic seed that had been implanted within was damaged as it pushed against the too-mortal parts outside.

Yet…

“It’s not enough to kill him, is it?” Wu Ying said finally.

“No,” Hong Miao confirmed, tightening her grip on her dao.

The pair fell silent, not having much more to say. If Tou He finished his ascension in time and perhaps had time to begin filling his dantians, perhaps they would have an additional Core fighter. Wu Ying and Hong Miao were gaining some chi from the background spillage of the heavenly chi falling down, but it was but a trickle compared to Tou He’s flood. And obviously, without the same form of enlightenment, as peak Energy Storage cultivators, it was but refilling their empty reserves.

Insufficient to aid them, though a portion of Wu Ying’s wind body was firming and solidifying as it was bathed in the heavenly chi. If they had enough time, if Fairy Xia could damage and delay him long enough, perhaps they could win. And if not… well.

His martial sister stood above. Waiting.

***

Somehow, Wu Ying was not surprised that the fluctuations in the Elder’s energy ended and consolidated long before Tou He finished his own ascension. It was just about typical for the way the night had gone.

Wu Ying raised his sword, tip aimed at the Elder. He briefly considered trying for the first cut of the Wandering Dragon again but pushed the thought aside just as fast. The attack had cost him nearly all his chi the first time he had used it, and he was nowhere close to full. Using it now would just see it fail. Never mind his still-shaky foundation of what the cut was meant to be like, in truth.

Anyway, the Sword’s Truth had served him and so many others well for centuries. Even if he had varied it, it was because he had come to his own understanding. A part of Wu Ying knew that there was more to be mined in the simple—hah!—straight lunge. A way of mixing it with his own dao understanding, with his wind cultivation method to make it more effective. But now was not the time for experimentation. Now—or soon—would be the time to commit.

Another breath, another flaring in the Elder’s aura as it slowly settled, the notes no longer doing as much damage. The aura hardened, affected less by the powers pushing against it from within and the music from above. Another moment, another breath, then it was time.

In the space between heartbeats, the gap they had been waiting for appeared. When aura retracted within, ready to be unleashed in a new, more inimical form. A time when the demon that was attempting to birth itself from the former human took full control and the human that had been sacrificed to give birth to it died.

Wu Ying thrust himself forward, crossing the space between himself and the demon in a flash of energy and chi. Wind Steps took him forward, his body a straight line behind his weapon as he lunged, sword intent consolidating at the tip and extending the edge a little from the metal weapon. A shimmering swirl of light and air, a twisting current of wind.

Flowing faster than his steps, another flash. Blade intent, powered by chi and furious rage, passed him as the vicious, murderous cut came crashing down. Hong Miao, the last standing member of the Eight Vicious Daos, took action as she threw her attack forth. Her attack impacted first, drawing blood and leaving a thin line across the demon’s hardened skin.

A single breath from his blade sinking into his opponent’s chest, the man’s eyes opened. It fixed upon Wu Ying, upon his blade tip as it sought his heat. He saw the demon raise a hand, ready to intercept the attack. And Wu Ying knew the strike being readied in the demon’s other hand would end him.

Impact.

Wu Ying’s eyes closed reflexively, his body thrown backward as the shockwave passed over him. He tumbled away, controlling his fall by pure instinct and sliding backward with legs splayed, left hand lowered and right hand thrust to the side for balance. Dirt and dust kicked up around him before settling down.

Even now, Wu Ying could only just begin to process the last moments. A body, moving faster than he could ever have believed possible, had impacted the demon with such strength and speed it had thrown Wu Ying backward.

His martial sister had plunged her sword deeply within the injured and weakened Core Formation Elder, the demon-on-mortal-soil. Then the pair had flown away, leaving Wu Ying behind as the impact tossed him about like a lost feather.

Wu Ying turned, searching for the pair. He found them dueling amongst the remnant forest in the distance, shattering tree trunks and causing leaves to fall around them. Before he could take a half dozen steps to help, the battle was over.

Wu Ying’s advance stuttered, dread rising within him. Till he saw with his very own eyes what his spirit senses, his nose already said.

His martial sister, bloodied and tired, walked out of the forest with the demonic head held by its white hair. In the other hand, she carried her sword, black blood dripping and staining the ground. Her long hair flowed behind her as the winds, heaven and hell together, danced around her form and the severed head, rebuking one another in a never-ending argument.

Then and only then did Wu Ying let himself sink to his knees in relief, surprised to find tears wetting his cheeks.

They had done it. If at a cost he might never truly begin to grasp.

***

Anticlimactic was the thought that rang through Wu Ying’s mind as the group cleaned up and cared for the survivors. Fighters swept through the compound as quickly as possible, searching for others of their ilk, finding bodies and loot galore. They pulled back once they were done, knowing that reinforcements would arrive soon enough.

No time to revel in their victory, no time to sigh in relief. A few tears shed for the lost, a few hugs in thanks as fortune and the tempest of conflict brought enlightenment. A deep, lingering ache over the losses they had to ignore and move on from. Wu Ying soon found himself beside his martial sister, offering her what little else he had left in his rings. Supplies, so easily gifted to him, abundant at first, now seemed a paucity. Once that had been done, the pair parted to guide the others in their actions.

“We should leave, sister,” Fan Yi was whining—again—to Fairy Xia as the woman finished checking on the bandage wrapped around her sister. A little blood leaked through, but most cultivators at their level had learned how to handle such trivial losses.

“And we shall. We’re nearly all gathered,” Fairy Xia replied. “But even the swiftest messenger would not have reached the city as yet. We have time.”

“And the fire?” Fan Yi said, gesturing at the still burning compound.

“Hidden by the forest and the hills,” Fairy Xia said, shaking her head. “You worry too much.”

“And you worry too little!” Fan Yi snapped. “That’s why you were captured.”

A flash of embarrassment, then anger, as Fairy Xia straightened and glared at her sister. “I let you speak with me like that, meimei[25], because I love you. But you are embarrassing me in front of others. This is not the action of a proper lady!”

Chastised, Fan Yi fell silent. Xiang Wen, having recently woken up after falling asleep, flashed Fan Yi a sympathetic smile, though she herself was quiet. The explosion that had taken out the other Core Formation Elder had done significant damage. Temporary medical procedures, including the release of acupressure points and freeing of meridians, left the Whistling Iron Monkey cultivator able to function, but unable to speak till her cultivation base settled.

A short distance away, Wu Ying watched Tou He cultivate, having exited his ascension a short while ago. Tou He was staring into the distance, the flow of heavenly chi much subsided as the ex-monk walked around the gouged circle, a jar of holy water in hand and a whisk in the other. He splashed both into the hole, murmuring a Buddhist mantra that stabilized the rupture in the reality firmament and healed the wounds in the earth. The act seemed to be similar to Wu Ying’s own moving meditation, with a much more powerful effect on the world around.

Fortune favored some. And as for himself…

Wu Ying turned to regard his sister standing a short distance away. There was something different about Fa Yuan, a change in her demeanor, in her appearance. The striking beauty was still there, even stripped of her usual makeup. Yet the experience had marked her in some subtle way—spiritually, emotionally, and perhaps even her cultivation?

Once more, Wu Ying considered moving over to speak with her. To ask. Once again, his courage failed him, as he promised himself to do it again. Later. When they were safe.

“That’s good enough. We should go,” Gui Ying said, stamping her feet and dusting her hands after she had finished her inspection of the last of the formation surrounding the compound. She strode back with her much put-upon sect mate who seemed to have become her permanent gopher. “There are no more horses to capture, no more bodies to collect. We should leave.”

“Very well,” Fairy Xia said. Turning to Fa Yuan, she raised her voice in inquiry. “Sister?”

“We go,” Fa Yuan replied, her gaze rolling over to Wu Ying.

Without a word, Wu Ying pulled the last of the Night Mare slips from his ring, unfolding them and pumping chi into the talismans. It was perhaps fate that offered them just enough steeds—paper or mortal—for everyone. It was certainly tragic that so few of them were left, especially compared to the numerous prisoners he had found. The only comfort Wu Ying had was that others had fled early on, refused to stay to fight. Perhaps they had survived.

“I said the same thing,” muttered Fan Yi, so low that no one but a cultivator could hear her. Which, of course, meant they all did. But politeness dictated they ignore the pouting girl.

As they were leaving, the next wrinkle in their escape occurred. Somehow, Wu Ying was not even surprised when it did. After all, it suited the state of this “rescue” that further complications would occur.

He just wished it did not have to be in the shape of multiple Core Formation cultivators.

***

A half dozen of them, their auras blanketing the sky and announcing them long before their arrival. The group members stared at one another, then broke into a run. Even if they could not escape, at least leaving would force the incomers to spend precious chi, give the fleeing cultivators time to regain some themselves. After all, they were using mortal horses or talismans for their movement, while those Core cultivators in the distance might just be flying under their own power.

Or maybe not. Still, running was a better choice, especially since even Gui Ying was indicating that any chance of laying a trap that could injure or kill a Core Formation cultivator was impossible. The simple fact was that the environmental chi had been churned over so much that setting up a new formation would take too long. The deaths of multiple Core Formation cultivators had marked the land in myriad ways. Add the lack of materials and she would be unable to pull another life-saving trick.

Which left them…

Fleeing.

Wu Ying sat upon his paper horse, its skin and hair so close to true life. Coarse hair under his fingertips, the heat of a paper body burning up. It would last the night, then it would end, but the bigger consideration…

“You should leave,” Wu Ying said, leaning toward Fa Yuan. All around them, the road flashed by, crushed earth and fallen leaves scattered by their passing.

In the distance, they sensed the Core Formation cultivators still headed toward them.

She arched a single eyebrow. “Leave you and the others?”

“The ones riding mortal mares,” Wu Ying said. He considered how to phrase his thoughts, then shrugged and decided on being blunt. “You’re more important. You and Fairy Xia and Tou He.” He nodded to the three Core Formation cultivators, all riding on talisman steeds. “If you run, they might chase you, leaving us alone.” He knew he could ask them to do it, but he would not abandon them.  Not after everything he had done. “They might leave those without the Night Mares alone.”

“Or they could send a single Core Formation cultivator to capture or kill the others,” Fairy Xia said. Wu Ying had to nod reluctantly at that fact while she continued, her voice contemplative. “I noticed you made sure my sister had a talisman.”

Wu Ying shrugged, trying for innocence.

“Thank you,” Fairy Xia added.

“You should still run,” Wu Ying reiterated.

“That is not happening,” Fa Yuan said.

“We all came to rescue the prisoners. If no prisoners escape, then everything we have done, all the lives lost, is for nothing.”

That argument made the pair pause, to contemplate his words in silence. For a few moments, as the paper horse that breathed and pounded into the earth in the dim light of the night moved underneath him, Wu Ying thought he might have convinced them. Then the Fairies traded glances and shook their heads in unison.

“We will fight and fall together,” Fa Yuan said.

“They’ll kill you now,” Wu Ying said. “I don’t think they’ll dare let you escape, not anymore. Not after we killed so many and all they lured over were… well, us.”

“We know.” Fairy Xia glanced over to the side, taking in her sister. There was a flash of emotion in there, so deep and complex, Wu Ying could not parse it fully. Regret. Pride. Sorrow. Anger. So many others. But then she smiled at her sister, pride and love shining through. “But I cannot think of a better place to be.”

“And I would not put yourself down too far. You’re all a promising group of prodigies,” Fa Yuan said. “One of you even made it to Core Formation in less than a decade.” A nod to Tou He, who blushed, ducking his head low. He muttered something about luck, which Fa Yuan cut off with a bark of laughter. “It is all luck, my young friend. Or should I say, peer?”

“Never a peer,” Tou He said, turning even redder. His bald head deepened in color, so much so that it was easily spotted even in the dim light of the night. The pale, waxing moon had dropped below the horizon long ago, leaving them with but the stars to guide them. “Senior Sister has much to teach me still.”

“Yes,” Fa Yuan said, sorrow lacing her words. “Now, let us ride. I sense they’ve stopped… probably to review the destruction. If we are lucky, that will delay them for a while.”

The group nodded and put their heads down, pushing their animals to hurry. The mortal horses would flag, maybe even die from this all-out sprint. It would cost them, the next day, if they survived. But the likelihood of that was so remote, Wu Ying cared not.

Better to run now and hope they could gain enough space for the cultivators to recuperate. Better to hope that their enemies would hesitate over the signs of battle, the loss of life of their own people, rather than chase them immediately. Better to hope they were cowards.

Even if that was a fool’s hope.

Chapter 21

“Three.”

The word, spoken softly by his martial sister, jolted Wu Ying from his cultivation. The monotony of their run, the rhythmic nature of his steed’s movement and the need to recharge his body as quickly as possible had lured him into focusing within. A focus that was interrupted by her whispered word.

“Better than expected,” Fairy Xia replied. “One each then.”

The three Core cultivators nodded to one another, while Wu Ying extended his senses as best he could. His spirit sense was nowhere near as wide-ranging as the Core Formation cultivators though, and they had traveled far enough that they had opened the distance between themselves and their pursuers. Nor did his cultivation sensing techniques help here—the wind was blowing the wrong way.

Yet even if he did not know what they spoke of for certain, he could guess. Three Core Formation cultivators—half of those who had arrived at the compound. Perhaps the others had stayed behind, searching. Perhaps some had broken off to chase the Spirit Carriage, the first group to leave. Or to hunt down those who had scattered, leaving the group to fight. Or, more worryingly, perhaps some were just hiding their presence.

Three. An equal fight if one looked only at the surface of things. But their team was exhausted, having only just exited a desperate struggle for their lives. Even if the Energy Storage cultivators tried to help, most of them were too exhausted to make a difference.

There was nothing they could do but ride.

And so they did. Until such time when the mortal horses flagged, growing lame and exhausted. First one, then another fell behind. The group slowed, doubling up when steeds could no longer be pushed. Each delay allowed their pursuers to close the distance.

Eventually, after the fourth animal stumbled and crashed to the ground, refusing to stand, and its rider doubled up, Wu Ying admitted to himself that their time running was over. A nearby cresting hill, free of trees and other shrubbery, offered a location for them to set up for the fight. A last push managed to get weary animals up the rise, whereupon the cultivators jumped off and circled the temporary redoubt, all of them turning to face their oncoming enemies.

At the top of the hill, they had a better view of those pursuing them. Three Core Formation Elders, all of them riding flying swords, shooting across the sky after them. Moving faster than a galloping horse and making it seem no more difficult than striding down a city street.

Gui Ying was scrambling around the hillside, a handful of formation flags in one hand, muttering to herself as she cast about. Her eyes were wide, crazed as she attempted to create a formation in minutes that should have taken hours. Behind her, her sect mate walked, his hands bereft of flags but still keeping an eye on the woman. For all his earlier complaints, his jaw firmed and his hand tensed around the hilt of his weapon every time he looked into the sky at their approaching doom.

Others were less resolute. A trio of ex-prisoners sat or lay on the ground, sobbing at the reversal of their fortune once more. Another pair was carving words into their arms, the beginnings of what Wu Ying could only guess to be a forbidden technique to provide strength and ensure that they could never be captured again. Others, like him and his sister, had just dismounted and faced their attackers, no outward signs of pressure on their faces.

Not unless one knew what to look for. A caress of the pommel of a sword blade. A tracing of the holes in a flute. A set of prayer beads, being slowly counted as a Buddhist sutra was murmured under the breath.

Wu Ying found himself standing beside Hong Miao, the big woman tilting her head as she looked at Wu Ying. When he raised an eyebrow, she leaned down a little, her injured and bloody face cracking into a big, but shy, smile.

“You know, you fight well. For a jian user.”

“Thank you?” Wu Ying replied.

“If, you know, we make it through. Would you care to take a walk around the lake with me?” Hong Miao said, the last in a rush.

Wu Ying blinked. This was not how the script worked. Really, there wasn’t much of a script, not with relations between men and women. Traditionally, all of this would be done at a distance, via the occasional meeting and exchanged glances at festivals among peasants, and not even that, with nobles. Matchmakers would make the initial approach, get confirmation of agreement to the initial courting, then there would be verification of their daos and destinies via the I Ching and…

Well.[26]

This was not it. Wu Ying knew Hong Miao was waiting, but his brain was stuttering a little bit. Things were different for cultivators. They had to be. When an individual could ascend all the way to become a power in and of themselves, able to lay waste to cities with a wave of their hand, social strictures became less rigid and more of a suggestion.

Never mind the fact that Hong Miao was not of the majority clan, but a tribal member of the Ngiao clans, a semi-nomadic group with their very own traditions and…

“Ah, I see.” Disappointment in her voice.

“See? See what?” Wu Ying turned to Hong Miao, blinking, uncertain.

The big woman grinned at Wu Ying, the momentary flash of disappointment gone. She jerked her chin, making Wu Ying follow the direction to where he had been, without thought, looking while his brain had hiccupped. Xiang Wen was cocking an eyebrow at him, the woman just having finished fussing with the bandages around Jie Kai’s wounded shoulder.

Wu Ying blushed, lowering his head and turning back to Hong Miao. “It’s not like that,” he whispered furiously.

“Eh, it’s okay. The willowy ones always take the eyes,” Hong Miao said with a weary and wise tone. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. It’s not as if we are about to survive.”

“That’s—”

She clapped him on the shoulder, making Wu Ying stagger a bit. “I said it’s fine. But if she doesn’t take you, think of me, eh?” Then, lowering her voice, she added, “But not when you’re with a woman of the night. I’m not that kind of girl.”

“I… you…” Wu Ying spluttered.

Only for Hong Miao to break into a loud guffaw, one that made everyone else look at the pair. Wu Ying was blushing furiously, while Hong Miao was striking her leg with her free hand, refusing to answer queries thrown at them.

He did have to admit, even through his embarrassment, that it was a good way to cut the rising tension. A good way for others to live the last few minutes of their life in contemplation of humor than what might be coming.

And the Elders were all too near. A bare couple of li left.

Before their pursuers reached a li from them, another was sensed. Moving faster—much, much faster—and coming from the northwest. Fa Yuan was the first to sense the newcomer, her jaw dropping. She turned, her hand clenching tighter around her weapon hilt. Wu Ying felt him too, a moment later, nearly at the same time as Fairy Xia.

He should not have, could not have, sensed the newcomer normally. If not for the fact that Wu Ying knew this aura. The one that poured itself out into the world, that marked its entrance to battle, warning the three Core Formation cultivators that he was coming well before he arrived.

No surprise attack, but it did slow down the Elders enough that when he skimmed through the air on his own sword, they met a li away from the group. Dark black and green robes flapping in the wind, balanced easily on a Saint Sword, long arms clasped behind his back.

His Master.

***

They spoke. Wu Ying knew they spoke, though he was too far away to hear what they said. The conversation was all too brief, and in that brevity, he could guess at their contents.

A warning.

A series of threats.

A dismissal.

Then, violence.

Wu Ying had always wondered to some extent about his Master’s place in the Sect. It was clear Master Cheng was not well liked. He had not the connections or the status or the prestige to rank highly in the Sect. Even his very dao had dictated he be removed from it to a certain extent—an extent that, as he had related to Wu Ying, might have been better off being entirely committed to. In the end, his position had always been nebulous. And yet…

And yet, he had stood among the Elders near the peak. Not a part of the bureaucracy or the core of the Sect, but still an Honored Elder. An oddity that Wu Ying had marked down to him being a particularly good teacher—after all, his martial sister had become a Core Formation cultivator—and then moved on, only pondering the fact once in a while.

When a word here or there, a passing remark or a glance by others at Master Cheng made Wu Ying consider if, perhaps, he had misunderstood matters.

Now, though, Wu Ying realized, his assumptions had been all wrong. His Master had not stood at the peak because of Fa Yuan, nor because of arcane rules about bureaucracy and seniority. He had earned his position via one thing and one thing only.

Strength.

Three Core Formation dark sect cultivators against a single man. And, to Wu Ying’s surprise, the Dark Sect Elders were losing. The opening stages of the battle had seen an exchange of attacks, ones that had ripped apart the forest and thrashed the road they flew over.

The exchange of attacks lit up the night sky like the beckoning of heavenly fireflies, illuminating the world in streaks of purple, blue, and yellow. Winds howled, kicking up dirt and whispering the secrets of their techniques to Wu Ying as they passed. Choking, cloying, buzzing sensations rippled across all their auras, a million gnats pulling at cultivation bases and dao understandings.

Across the night sky, the quartet fought, moving so fast that Wu Ying struggled to keep sight of them. He glanced over, once, to see Fairy Xia and Fa Yuan trembling, eager to enter the battle but standing still. When they caught his gaze, they gave him a pitying smile.

“We’re too weak right now. That… they are peak Core Formation martial artists,” Fairy Xia said. “Even at full strength…”

“We would not stand a chance,” Fa Yuan said. “I would be a burden to our Master.” Softer, so soft that Wu Ying could barely hear it. “Again.”

Then instinct had him turn to watch once more. A break in the battle, a mistake, and the world tore asunder. A cut that split open the earth and the heavens above, parting clear skies and the enemy cultivator caught in the attack, his body, his soul separated.

“What was that?” Hong Miao shouted, her big hands waving in exaggerated pantomime. “That… my cultivation base, it hurt to even look at it!”

“It was… I saw some of that in your attack,” Tou He said beside Wu Ying, his voice soft and contemplative. “Yours was different, but…similar.”

“Yes,” Wu Ying acknowledged. “Karma Severing Blade. My Master showed it to me.”

Fa Yuan made a noise in her throat, making Wu Ying look at her. She shook her head, declining Wu Ying’s inquiring glance, and looked resolutely forward at the fight.

Curiosity forced to be held in abeyance for now, Wu Ying turned back to the fight. A battle that had turned even more lopsided as his Master fought the pair of surviving Elders.

Blade intent flashed through the sky, leaving white slashes that seemed to live on for seconds after their passing, the very edges of reality seeming to split apart. Explosive blasts of flame met these sword slashes, the whip-wielding Elder who fought his Master combating sword intent with flame. Below, living trees rippled and heaved, seeking to grasp and hold, seeking to pierce and end only to be cut down by idle cuts.

The trio fought, flashing across space and leaving scars upon the world. A light shielding had appeared around the hilltop, powered by the three Elders in turn and channelled through a simple formation hastily constructed by Gui Ying. Of them all, she was the only one more enamored by the formation and its effects in the presence of so many battling Core Formation Elders, muttering about chi flows, dragon lines, and star charts.

“Is he going to beat all three of them himself?” Hong Miao stared, greedily drinking in the battle with eyes wide. “And is he single?”

“Single enough,” Wu Ying muttered, though considering how his Master felt about personal relationships…

“Good…” She licked her lips.

Yet even if his Master was winning, Wu Ying sensed a shift in the battle. At first he could not understand what he was seeing, then he realized what his instincts had been telling him.

The pace was changing, his Master’s attacks growing less powerful. Where his blade strikes had overwhelmed the others in the beginning, cracking apart blocks with surprising ease, now they struggled to match intensity. Not all the time, but with increasing frequency.

To the casual observer, it might not seem much had changed, but to those with significant battle experience—or experience with his Master—the change was apparent.

“He’ll be fine,” Fa Yuan said, her words meant to reassure herself as much as those around her, Wu Ying guessed.

“He is strong,” Fairy Xia said, clasping Fa Yuan’s hand briefly.

Fa Yuan offered Fairy Xia a smile of gratitude, then she stepped forward, dropping her channeling into the formation. “I’m going to watch a little closer.”

“As will I,” Tou He murmured, hefting his staff.

Wu Ying did not speak, instead stepping forward. Only for his martial sister to glare at him.

“He’s my Master too,” Wu Ying said mulishly.

“And you’re only Energy Storage. Peak, but you do not have what it takes, not yet.”

Wu Ying twitched, angry at her honest words.

“I’ll guard him. Trust me.”

Wu Ying could only nod before the pair of Core Formation cultivators strode out of the formation, darting across the treetops and along branches of leaf-stripped trees rather than waste energy flying. Not that Tou He would be able to do so, not till he learned a suitable cultivation exercise.

Perhaps it was their entrance into the battlefield that tipped matters. Perhaps it was just a matter of bad luck, for that was when things changed once more.

A rising strike, the pair of Elders flying past one another in close proximity. Master Cheng twisted, a simple hand switch with scabbard and sword tricking his opponent and leaving them open to a delayed strike from the back. It cut his opponent to the bone, sending them crashing to the ground.

In that triumphant moment, with a single enemy in sight, Master Cheng drifted to a nearby branch, victorious. He turned to his last opponent, weapon returned to guard and ready. One last opponent.

Or so he believed.

The attack arrived from the shadows, dark night offering too many places for those with the right skills. The enemy erupted from the very tree his Master was landing upon, catching him eyeblinks before his foot landed on the branch. Even then, his Master seemed to have sensed the attack, torso twisting as he landed, sword rising to guard himself.

In truth, Wu Ying could never say, years later, if he had imagined all that or if he had seen that fatal moment. After all, he was multiple li away in the dead of the night. Even cultivator-enhanced eyesight was prone to fail at such times.

Even so, the image was burned into his mind forevermore. The assassin’s blade pierced his Master’s back, the dark black and green coating of what could only be poison passed through flesh and bones. His Master’s retaliatory counter-cut that disarmed his opponent. Blood exploding from the wound as he leapt away.

Then time and sight returned to normal, and the battle resumed. His Master against two, no three, Core Formation cultivators. For the second one, struck in the back, had risen again. Except there was a malevolent air around his body now. Even from li away, Wu Ying felt how his soul responded to the new demonic aura, how it rejected its presence. He found himself stepping forward, crossing the space between him and the formation, then down the hill. A part of him expected someone to block him.

It never happened. In fact, Wu Ying realized, he was not the only one joining the battle, even as his martial sister and best friend rushed ever closer to the now desperate fight.

On, he ran.

Racing forward as fast as he could to enter the fight.

***

He never made it in time. The fight moved so fast, now that the dark sect members had played their cards, that Wu Ying had barely crossed three-quarters of the distance before it was over.

He caught glimpses of the battle as he ran, feet pounding the earth, occasionally taking to the treetops when it made sense and was faster. Wu Ying did his best to reserve his chi for the battle ahead, even if he refused to sacrifice speed for that.

His Master’s blade grew ever sharper, its attacks of blade intent seeming to hurt Wu Ying’s gaze and soul to look upon. The Karma Severing Blade was given form and imbued with his Master’s dao with every motion, every attack. The man himself glowed with a suffused light, the poisoned blade still sticking out of his chest as he fought on.

The two transformed cultivators no longer dared to match his Master’s attacks head-on. They dodged aside, seeking ways to continue the battle while avoiding the blade strikes. Only to fail, and for their shadows, their physical forms to shimmer, almost coming apart even as they blocked the web of sword attacks.

On impact, demon and human body split apart a little before snapping back together, a weird shadow duplication as his Master’s attacks separated demon from human. Rejecting one from this reality, severing their ill-fated karmic bonds.

And then, another set of trees blocked Wu Ying’s way, another stretch of earth where it made sense to run on the ground. Trees, looming above him, hiding the battle.

Until sight came back.

His martial sister now engaged with the non-demonic dark sect cultivator. The man had lost a foot sometime when Wu Ying was not watching. The pair did battle, trees warping to block his sister’s graceful dance, cut apart with each movement as she stayed close to him. So close that the cultivator slowly bled to death, having no time to stem the wound.

Tou He struck and pinned down the assassin, his metal staff warping and dribbling a little as the flames that surrounded the monk burnt hotter than ever. His entire body, newly remade during the Core Formation process, crisped along the edges, his clothing burning away under the flames that sparked a forest fire beneath their feet.

The heat, the flames were cleaner and hotter than any Wu Ying had ever felt. A phoenix, risen anew, a lightning bolt cleansing the world. Tou He’s opponent, burning under the onslaught, spit and tossed blood and phlegm at the ex-monk, only for his attacks to burn away before they struck.

Then darkness again. A crashing boom shook the trees and bowled many over, forcing Wu Ying to his knees before he pushed upward again. Instinct drove him to leap onto tottering, falling trees to see.

Another dark sect cultivator dead, Master Cheng flashing over to finish the last demonic cultivator. His sword reached through the sky, projected so much larger than ever. Severing demon and human, crushing the creature that should not have been there.

Tou He, who had been so near the battle, reeled backward, his body shuddering as the near-miss of the humongous, dao-inspired weapon shook his cultivation base and his newly resolved core and dao.

His sister stood on a tree and threw blade strikes at a fast-fleeing figure clutching the remnants of a sword. Leaving the field of battle, hemorrhaging lifeblood and limbless. Multiple li crossed in an instant as lifeblood, pouring from a wound, was used to power his escape.

And then, the battle was over.

Wu Ying was there, finally, to catch his Master as he fell. There to help extract the weapon from his chest and watch as Tou He burnt free the poison and cleansed the wound as best he could. Only to see the knowledge in his Master’s eyes.

Because what was a good deed without tragedy?

Chapter 22

Any good story would end there. Master Cheng in Wu Ying’s arms, dying of poison and injury. A picturesque and tragic ending, with perhaps a footnote that the heroes escaped in the end. Or perhaps the tragedy compounded, even more enemies arriving to bookmark the end of the entire journey.

Life was no story. There were no convenient stopping points, no trite endings that offered a moral lesson to those who listened. Instead, it was complex and messy, filled with random occurrences, moments of startling beauty, and desperate tragedy.

They stabilized Master Cheng as fast as they could before they ran. Thankfully, his Master had more talismans of escape, more Night Mares and even a carriage to carry others. Utilizing it all, the group ran until the rays of dawn approached and the talismans burnt out.

Then, holding aloft the injured, they plunged deep into the spirit forest, using the abundant chi within and the threat of spirit and demonic beasts to hide their tracks. Wu Ying utilized every inch of the woodcraft he had learned in the past few years, aided by the formations he still had, to hide the group when they finally, a day and a half later, stumbled to a halt.

In a cave behind a plunging waterfall, they camped, seeking rest and recovery. Most fell asleep on the spot, while the few still able to stand—Wu Ying and the Core Formation cultivators—took pains to erect protective formations and bandage any final wounds. By the time Wu Ying made his way to his Master, he found him propped up against a stone wall, his breathing slow and thready, his face pale from blood loss, and black veins creeping up his neck from the wound.

It did not take long for the others to exit the inner cavern, leaving Master Cheng’s disciples to kneel by his side, looks of consternation and pain on their faces.

“Why?” Wu Ying could not help but ask, knowing it was impolite and not caring.

“Why not?” Master Cheng said rhetorically. Then, seeing it was insufficient, the man continued. “I have failed so much in my life. When we realized that it was all a trap, that they were sending—had sent—an even greater force to capture you both, I chose to abandon my post.”

Fa Yuan gasped, and Master Cheng nodded. Wu Ying was a little lost at the deeper implications of what he had said, though the basics of it were dire enough. A few probing questions by his sister expanded on that, with the greatest issue being that Master Cheng had been the leader of one of the groups tasked with dealing with a known collaborator heretical sect.

“Enough. It matters not. The choices I have made, they are mine. They may take my name plaque down from the Hall of Elders if they wish. I have no regrets,” Master Cheng said, then coughed a little. Blood stained his hand as he leaned back against the cold stone. The attack had pierced his lungs, and even sealed off as it was, the damage was too significant for them to fix. Perhaps if they were in the sect… but more dangerous even than the piercing wound was the poison. “I have little enough time and we have much to discuss.”

“You—” Fa Yuan began.

“Do not lie. The truth is clear enough.” A slight flicker in Master Cheng’s eyes as he continued. “Anyway, I have not given up as yet.”

Mollified, Fa Yuan fell silent while Master Cheng looked at Wu Ying.

“This is for you.” A single book, extracted and offered to the boy. “The works in my library, you both will share, but Ah Yuan will provide them to you as she sees appropriate. This, though, this is for you.”

Taking the book, Wu Ying raised it, blinking in surprise as he noted the name and, flipping through the papers, the contents. “This is your sword style!”

“Yes.”

“I cannot—”

“I do not expect you to,” Maser Cheng said. “I expect you to adapt it, as you did the Karma Severing Blade.”

“How…?”

“I sensed the remnants of that attack.” A quirk of his lips. “And the Heavens’ disapproval.”

“I changed it… will change it…” Wu Ying muttered, head bowed.

“As you should. They are not always right,” Master Cheng murmured, “but you should take their advice into consideration. Following their path will not lead you to the heavens, but defying them completely is often highly treacherous. Find a path between.

“Or suffer.”

Another racking series of coughs took over the man. When it subsided, he pressed upon a few acupressure points. When he could breathe again, he waved Wu Ying toward the exit, his gaze already shifting to Fa Yuan.

It was only when Wu Ying was nearly gone, the manual still clutched in his hand, that Master Cheng spoke again.

“I… I’m sorry. I wish we had more time. You’ll have to find your own way now.”

Wu Ying turned at the door, getting onto his knees and offering his Master three kowtows[27]. At the end, he added, “There is nothing to be sorry for. The wind blows when it chooses to, and fate demands its due with every turning of the sun. It matters not what we will, karma bends us all.

“I have no regrets in meeting you, Master Cheng. You have enriched my life and offered me a path that I never believed possible. For this, I shall forever be grateful.”

Master Cheng paused, then sighed as he waved Wu Ying out, his next words barely above a whisper. “If only I had realized that at your age…”

Then Wu Ying was gone with an ache in his heart, leaving his Master to speak with his martial sister. The book, he set aside, his mind in too great a turmoil to contemplate the works within. Instead, Wu Ying took station before the falling waters, staring at the splash of white and blue as memories of past interactions danced in his mind’s eye.

***

The next day, they left the waterfall less two bodies. One, a young woman who had taken her life in the middle of the night. Her imprisonment and the demons that had taken hold in her mind too great for her to bear. The second, his Master. They entombed both in the waterfall, taking down the stones holding the ceiling aloft and leaving the pair to their rest.

And if Wu Ying and his martial sister knew that their Master still breathed, having entered a deeper meditation in an attempt to fight off the poison, to set right the damage it had done to his cultivation base and the Core he had formed, that was for them to know and no one else.

Perhaps Master Cheng would emerge decades later. Perhaps, more likely, he would fail and move on, reentering the wheel of life to try again in his next incarnation. If so, Wu Ying hoped he was judged generously by the King of Hell. For all his flaws, for all the contradictions, he was a kind man. A good man.

The rest of the journey, through deep wilderness and enemy lands, took them months to complete. More than once, Tou He and the other Core Formation cultivators were forced to display their prowess in battling the Spirit Beasts that lived deep within the untamed forest. Moving in such a large group, it was impossible to hide their passage, so their presence was contested.

Eventually, they passed through the forests and escaped the kingdom of Wei to emerge to a changed world.

Battle had been waged, and territory, once conquered by the State of Wei, had been retaken. A new border had been created, the dark sect’s tendrils torn out from multiple sects. Freed from the demonic influence and corruption, many had joined the Shen-based cultivation sects in their battle, only to find a more startling discovery.

The State of Wei’s own royal family had been infected. The rot had grown so deep that even orthodox sects within the State of Wei had turned against the kingdom upon the reveal, leading to a coup. It was there, close to the complete destruction and upheaval of their competing state, that things had broken down once more.

Tense negotiations and a competitive tournament among the most powerful three Elders from each kingdom had seen the final withdrawal of the State of Shen’s orthodox sects. Without the backup of the cultivation sects, the Shen army had retreated and consolidated their gains rather than push onward.

All this, the group learned from rumors and news missives in villages and towns that they passed through. Weeks had gone past since the end of the war, with armies still in the field but cultivators having returned to their sects.

In this way, the impromptu group finally found themselves at a crossroads, bidding goodbye to one another. A last dispersal of funds—coin pouches relieved from Core Formation Elders—saw the purchase of sufficient mounts for everyone.

Leaving suddenly close companions to make their final goodbyes.

In one corner, Fairy Xia, her sister, and Fa Yuan murmured heartfelt farewells.

Fan Yi had arrived, before that, to speak with Wu Ying. To apologize for her crass behavior before, to flirt now that her sister was safe. She left him reeling, uncertain of his standing with her. With her sister.

Better not to think of it.

A short distance away, in their own corner, were the disappointed faces of suitors who had realized their desperate rescue attempts had offered them no great gain in the hearts of either beauty.

In the next, Hong Miao and Tou He and the remaining members of the Core Formation beating groups clasped hands and murmured words of earnest bonding. Those desperate minutes doing battle against forces that none of them could have held back alone had seen something more powerful develop.

Standing by herself, Gui Ying regaled her sect brother with more details about formations, explaining what she intended to do with the bounty of cores, hides, and other materials they had collected through the months traveling through the wilderness.

And lastly, Wu Ying and, to his surprise, Xiang Wen and Jie Kai, who had led her to him.

“You’re not as useless as I thought,” Jie Kai said, glaring at Wu Ying. His injury had healed, though his lack of an arm still saw him moving with a slight hitch in his step and the occasional hesitation in movement. “You only got two-thirds of us killed.”

Wu Ying had no answer to that. After all, it was a fact that he had lost all too many. If he had… if…

“Keep climbing. You have something unique, with your”—a gesture with his remaining hand, Jie Kai waved toward the forest that bordered the town—“your gathering. Keep climbing, because otherwise, my brothers will come and haunt you. And I’ll kick your tanned, peasant behind.”

Wu Ying bowed to the man, snorting as he then strode away. He watched the other for a few seconds before turning to Xiang Wen who had been standing quietly, her hands clasped.

“And you? More threats?” Wu Ying said. “Or words of encouragement?”

“My brother is… well. He’s abrasive. But he means well,” Xiang Wen said, eyes twinkling. “It’s not as though we have not all noticed your… distraction.”

Wu Ying shrugged. That too was true. His Master had died—or was as good as dead—and so many others had fallen. And for the most part, all he had done was… “I’ll be fine. I am not happy with what happened. But that is our life, of sorrow and blades, is it not?”

“Is that your cultivation path then?” Xiang Wen said with a sad smile.

Wu Ying shook his head, trying to disperse the melancholy that threatened to take him once more. It had been hard, these last few months. Being busy had helped take his mind away from everything that had happened. The sorrow that threatened to envelop his waking thoughts, that was not who he truly was. He would not let it be.

“No. Just…”

“It’s hard,” Xiang Wen acknowledged, placing a hand on his arm and giving it a squeeze. Wu Ying smiled at the touch, noting how she took back her hand after a lingering pause. “It was an experience—almost, I would say a pleasure—to do battle with you again. Hopefully our next meeting is not so fraught.”

“Well, with the dark sect destroyed…”

“Do you truly believe that?” A single arched eyebrow.

Wu Ying hesitated then shook his head. Even if the orthodox sects had done their best to root out the traitors, there were too many rumors of Elders and other inner sect members disappearing long before they were brought to justice.

“I—we”—a nod toward the waiting Jie Kai—“intend to continue hunting them. Those of us most affected, we will not stop till we are certain they are dealt with properly. And this time, I believe, we will have the support of the Elders.”

Wu Ying nodded.

When she next spoke, she was more hesitant. “Would you…?”

“Join you?” Wu Ying shook his head firmly.

“Ah.” She breathed the word, clearly disappointed.

“This… it’s not…” Wu Ying shook his head, uncertain of how to explain his reasoning. Revenge had never been his driving motive.

Though he would not hesitate to fight the dark sect if their paths crossed once more, they had taken all too much of his time and focus. He had a cultivation path to walk, a dao to find. He might have, during these years doing battle with the dark sect, found parts of the path, but he knew instinctively that seeking revenge would pull him further from the dao he was beginning to form.

“I understand.” Another touch of his arm, a smile that lit up her eyes. She squeezed his arm before letting go and offering him a clasped hand bow. “It was a pleasure, Cultivator Long. I hope that, in the future, we may meet again.”

Somehow, Wu Ying knew, she did understand. He returned the bow and her goodbye and watched her leave, only to turn to find another seeking to bid him farewell. One after the other, the survivors—sometimes resentful, sometimes filled with good cheer—and the prisoners—almost always grateful—bade him goodbye. Until it was just the three members of the Verdant Green Waters Sect at the crossroads.

“She liked you, you know,” Fa Yuan said, a light smile dancing on her lips.

“I know,” Wu Ying replied quietly. “But…”

“But?”

“Different paths,” Wu Ying finished.

His martial sister gave a contemplative nod. Silence fell over the group, each of them caught up in their thoughts. In the end, it was Tou He who growled impatiently and kicked his horse. The pair traded amused glances before following.

Headed, finally, for home. And whatever may lie in store there.

Victorious, if damaged.

Which, sometimes, was the best you could expect from life.

###

The End

Epilogue

“It’s not fair,” Tou He said, hands crossed before his body as he stared at Wu Ying.

“No, it’s not. But he did defy the Sect’s orders, take multiple resources, and have his actions result in the deaths of dozens of shining proteges of other sects. Never mind laying hands on a royal family member—no matter how distant,” Fa Yuan replied. An errant wind rose, catching at her robes—plain white, for the mourning that she was in for their Master—and tugging at her hair that was tied tightly to her scalp. “And then, of course, our Master’s actions reflect on us.”

“I did do all that,” Wu Ying said and then, slightly cheerfully, added to Fa Yuan. “You choosing to enter closed-door cultivation during your mourning period did not help.”

“You are just lucky you were not censured more,” Yin Xue said. The nobleman’s son had returned long before them, his carriage and their passengers having returned on a much more direct route. Those he had brought back had all been healed, their injuries fixed. Even his own grievous wound was no more. Instead, he sported an arm that was a much darker shade than his own, an eye that was a different color, and a story he refused to speak of.

In truth, every time Wu Ying glanced at his pair of friends who had overtaken him in strength once more, he had to admit that the world was truly blessed for some. Fortunate encounters, mysterious masters, and momentous moments of enlightenment paved the way for the heavenly blessed.

As for him…

He hefted his backpack, smoothed out the simple peasant robes he wore, and smiled at his friends. “Do not worry about me. This… is just. The world outside has much to see, and even if they had not exiled me, I would have chosen this path.”

“Truly?” Liu Tsong said worriedly. Of them all, she had had little to do with the war, having spent it in the Sect progressing her profession. It was because of that, she seemed to feel the guiltiest over the losses. Wu Ying hoped she would come to terms with her conscience in time, even as repeated assurances from the others had failed to do so.

“Truly,” Wu Ying said. “The wind goes where it wills, and I can hear it calling to me even now. If I am to progress, to find my own dao, I must follow it.”

After that, more words were said, more assurances passed. Eventually though, they were reluctantly forced to allow him to walk away. At the red paifang, the one leading into the Sect, Wu Ying hesitated. Seated quietly was a familiar figure, one who waited patiently to take and assess his sect token.

But before that, Wu Ying looked back at the mountain’s peak, hidden behind clouds and the throbbing, ever-present rumble of waterfalls. He saw, in his mind’s eyes, familiar buildings, so many of them rebuilt by now. Cultivators training in martial and cultivation techniques, searching for elusive enlightenment. Masters offering pointers and Elders watching over it all.

He stared at the world he had lived in and left all too often in these few years. And found himself putting his hands together and offering the Sect a deep bow. He held the position for long moments before he straightened and turned to Elder Lu, handing him his sect token. Watched as it was taken, to be kept aside until his exile was over and he could return.

“Make sure the wind carries you back, eh, child?” Elder Lu murmured.

Wu Ying smiled, bowing to the Elder. The Guardian of the Sect had watched him come and go so often and would, he knew, be right there waiting when he returned. Just like his friends.

Wu Ying shot them all one last long look, committing their faces to memory. He bowed to them all, one last time. And then he took off down the stairs, letting the wind take him where it would. He had a sense it would take him far before he saw these mountains and his friends once again.

###

Wu Ying will be back in book 7 of A Thousand Li—the Third Kingdom

Author’s Note

Well, that’s the second arc done. I know some of you wanted Wu Ying to ascend to Core Formation, and my initial plans had been for book six to revolve around that. However, that just didn’t work, not with the way the entire dark sect storyline took over the entire second arc. It became something that had to be resolved in a sense, which meant that Wu Ying’s own rather languid pace at ascending had to take a backseat.

However, I can say for certain that the next book will be about his ascension to Core Formation as well as his travels to a new kingdom. We’ll see Wu Ying a little out of his depth and that change, along with some other pieces of enlightenment will push him towards Core Formation as he finally begins to grasp his own dao.

Don’t worry, we’ll be back at the Verdant Green Waters eventually, but the third arc will take place outside of the Sect. When he does return, he’ll be stronger and in a very different position, one that will offer him very different challenges.

I hope you’re as excited as I am to see where Wu Ying grows.

Now, if you haven’t, please check out my other full series, the System Apocalypse (a post-apocalyptic LitRPG), Adventures on Brad (a young adult fantasy LitRPG), and the Hidden Wishes (an urban fantasy GameLit series). Book one of each series follow:

●      Life in the North (Book 1 of the System Apocalypse)

●      A Healer’s Gift (Book 1 of the Adventures on Brad)

●      A Gamer’s Wish (Book 1 of the Hidden Wishes series)

I also write a series of novelettes and short stories within the above universes and more, so I’d recommend you taking a look on my website for more details.

Lastly, if you’re looking for more things wuxia, xianxia, and specifically, cultivation novels, I recommend joining us at:

●      Cultivation Novels

For more great information about LitRPG series, check out the Facebook groups:

●      GameLit Society

●      LitRPG Books

About the Author

Tao Wong is an avid fantasy and sci-fi reader who spends his time working and writing in the North of Canada. He’s spent way too many years doing martial arts of many forms and having broken himself too often, now spends his time writing about fantasy worlds.

If you'd like to support Tao directly, he has a Patreon page - benefits include previews of all his new books, full access to series short stories, and other exclusive perks.

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For updates on the series and his other books (and special one-shot stories), please visit the author’s website: https://www.mylifemytao.com

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About the Publisher

Starlit Publishing is wholly owned and operated by Tao Wong. It is a science fiction and fantasy publisher focused on the LitRPG & cultivation genres. Their focus is on promoting new, upcoming authors in the genre whose writing challenges the existing stereotypes while giving a rip-roaring good read.

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Books in A Thousand Li series

The First Step

The First Stop

The First War

The Second Expedition

The Second Sect

The Second Storm

The Third Kingdom (Upcoming)

Short Stories

The Favored Son

The Storming White Clouds Sect

On Gods and Demons

Clifftop Crisis and Transformation

Imperial March

Villages & Illnesses

Glossary

Aura Reinforcement Exercise—Cultivation exercise that allows Wu Ying to contain his aura, trapping his chi within himself and making his cultivation more efficient and making him, to most senses, feel like someone of a lower cultivation level.

Blade Energy/Chi—A specific type of energy that is harnessed by cultivators who have gained understanding of their weapon. Can be projected for more damage.

Body Cleansing – First cultivation stage where the cultivator must cleanse their body of the impurities that have accumulated. Has twelve stages.

Cao – Fuck

Catty - Weight measurement. One cattie is roughly equivalent to one and a half pounds or 604 grams. A tael is 1/16th of a catty

Cì kè (or cike)—Translates as assassin. It also refers to a type of dark or heretical sect and a form of martial arts taught to assassins or those trained just to kill.

Chi (or Qi) – I use the Cantonese pinyin here rather than the more common Mandarin. Chi is life force / energy and it permeates all things in the universe, flowing through living creatures in particular.

Chi points (a.k.a. acupuncture points) – Locations in the body that, when struck, compressed, or otherwise affected, can affect the flow of chi. Traditional acupuncture uses these points in a beneficial manner.

Cì Kè(刺客) - individuals trained in martial arts meant for assassination and spying, including the use of poison, camouflage, blending into the night and more.

Core formation – Third stage of cultivation. Having gathered sufficient chi, the cultivator must form a “core” of compressed chi. The stages in Core formation purify and harden the core.

Cultivation Exercise—A supplementary exercise that improves an individual’s handling of chi within their body. Cultivation exercises are ancillary to cultivation styles.

Cultivation Style—A method to manipulate chi within an individual’s body. There are thousands of cultivation exercises, suited for various constitutions, meridians, and bloodlines.

Dào—Literally translated, the Way (also spelled Tao). The Dao when capitalized speaks of the universal Dao, the one natural Way or Path. When not capitalized, it denotes a lesser way, a lesser truth.

Dāo—Chinese sabre. Closer to a western cavalry sabre, it is thicker, often single-edged, with a curve at the end where additional thickness allows the weapon to be extra efficient at cutting.

Dantian – there are actually three dantians in the human body. The most commonly referred to one is the lower dantian, located right above the bladder and an inch within the body. The other two are located in the chest and forehead, though they are often less frequently used. The dantian is said to be the center of chi.

Dark Sects—These are considered ‘evil’ Sects. Their cultivation methods and daos tap into darker emotions and often include blood and flesh sacrifice and the stealing of chi from others.

Demonic Sects—Demonic Sects draw power not from the chi in the natural world but from the demonic plane. While not necessarily evil or harmful like Dark Sects, many Demonic Sects are hunted by Orthodox Sects due to the damage their presence can cause to the natural order of the world.

Double Soul, Double Body Sect—an orthodox sect with an unorthodox approach to recruitment, dedicated to the development of individuals with unusual body and soul configurations.

Dragon’s Breath—Chi projection attack from the Long family style.

Elements—The Chinese traditionally have five elements—Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water. Within these elements, additional sub-elements may occur (example—air from Chao Kun, ice from Li Yao).

Energy Storage – Second stage of cultivation, where the energy storage circulation meridians are opened. This stage allows cultivators to project their chi, the amount of chi stored and projected depending on level. There are eight levels.

Heretical Sects—Sects practising unorthodox daos or cultivation methods. These heretical sects might not even focus on cultivation in the same manner as ‘orthodox’ sects.

Huài dàn – Rotten egg

Hún dàn - Bastard

Jian – A straight, double-edged sword. Known in modern times as a “taichi sword.” Mostly a thrusting instrument, though it can be used to cut as well.

Jianghu (Jiāng hú)—Is literally translated as “rivers and lakes” but is a term used for the “martial arts world” in wuxia works (and this one too). In modern parlance, it can also mean the underworld or can be added to other forms of discussion like “school Jianghu” to discuss specific societal bounds.

Li – Roughly half a kilometer per li. Traditional Chinese measurement of distance.

Long family jian style – A family sword form passed on to Wu Ying. Consists of a lot of cuts, fighting at full measure, and quick changes in direction.

Lord Wen—Father of Yin Xue. The Wen family is a branch family of nobles born in the neighboring state of Wei and that defected.

Medicinal Baths— The process of creating a bath in which an individual may steep their body within to strengthen and reinforce the cultivator’s body. Uses a variety of different spiritual herbs and recipes, often concocted to specific physiologies.

Meridians – In traditional Chinese martial arts and medicine, meridians are how chi flows through the body. In traditional Chinese medicine, there are twelve major meridian flows and eight secondary energy flows. I’ve used these meridians for the stages in cultivation for the first two stages.

Mountain Breaking Fist—Fist form that Wu Ying gained in the inner sect library. Focused, single, powerful attacks.

Nascent Soul—The fourth and last known stage of cultivation. Cultivators form a new, untouched soul steeped in the dao they had formed. This new soul must ascend to the heavens, facing heavenly tribulation at each step.

Northern Shen Kicking Style – Kicking form that Wu Ying learned at the sect library. Both a grappling and kicking style, meant for close combat.

Orthodox Sects—The most common type of Sect. Differentiated from other types by the cultivation type conducted.

Qinggong – Literally “light skill.” Comes from baguazhang and is basically wire-fu – running on water, climbing trees, gliding along bamboo, etc.

Iron Reinforced Bones—Defensive, physical cultivation technique that Wu Ying trains in that will increase the strength and defense of his body.

Sect – A grouping of like-minded martial artists or cultivators. Generally, Sects are hierarchical. There are often core, inner, and outer disciples in any sect, with Sect Elders above them and the Sect patriarch above all.

Six Jades Sect—Rival sect of the Verdant Green Waters, located in the State of Wei.

Seven Diamond Fist – Verdant Green Water’s Sect most basic fist form taught to outer sect members.

State of Shen – Location in which the first book is set. Ruled by a king and further ruled locally by lords. The State of Shen is made up of numerous counties ruled over by local lords and administered by magistrates. It is a temperate kingdom with significant rainfall and a large number of rivers connected by canals.

State of Wei – The antagonistic kingdom that borders the State of Shen. The two states are at war.

Tael – System of money. A thousand copper coins equals one tael.

Tai Kor – Elder brother

Verdant Green Waters Sect – Most powerful sect in the State of Wen. Wu Ying’s current sect.

Wu wei—Taoist concept, translates as “inaction” or “non-doing” and relates to the idea of an action without struggle, that is perfectly aligned with the natural world.

[1] Cike is translated as assassin, so I’ll be using the two interchangeably. Not a group like the ninjas or their namesake, cike practitioners were just individuals trained in certain spying and subtle arts.

[2] The world of the immortals.

[3] One catty is just over 1.1 pounds, or roughly half a kilo.

[4] Quote from “A Gentle Wind” by Fsu Hsuan.

[5] The jue yuan (玃猿) are actual Chinese mythical beasts with a penchant for females in old Chinese stories.

[6] Physical contact like hugging is very unusual among Chinese. It’s been said that due to the high population density levels, while Asians are used to closer physical distance while speaking with / interacting, the final barrier (touch) is that much more sacrosanct.

[7] Carps, roosters, magpies, and geese are all symbols of luck, though what type different. Carp are advantageous at advancing due to the phonetic similarity.

[8] To kick the iron plate is a Chinese saying which (as related to me) originates from a story about Fong Sai Yuk—a Chinese folklore / wuxia hero—who fought a challenger with powerful kicking techniques by secreting an iron plate under his shirt. When his opponent kicked it, he broke his toes and Sai Yuk won the competition. Sai Yuk was supposedly a child when this happened.

[9] Side note—this is an actual qigong / Taoist belief in the real world. That when a man releases his sperm, he loses some of his power. It’s why some qigong practices involve learning how to partake in the act of sex without actually losing sperm but still orgasming.

[10] Sometimes translated as Black Turtle or Tortoise and also commonly as “Black Warrior,” the name actually relates both to the God Xuanwu and to the Black Tortoise and Black Serpent generals normally represented with him. In legend, the tortoise and serpent are Xuanwu himself, a part of his body that separated from him to do his bidding.

[11] A traditional Chinese candy made of rice flour that is stretched into thin strands. Melts in heat, has more fat and lower sugar content than cotton candy, though it’s often described as the Chinese equivalent of cotton candy.

[12] Yes, I’m stealing from the Scissors of the Golden Python (Jin Jiao Jian) from Zhu Sheng Niang Niang—the goddess of Fertility and Childbirth.

[13] I’m badly translating and altering a Chinese proverb to fit this. It’s technically “jiāhé wànshìxīng” and literally translated is “family harmonious, everything prosperous.”

[14] Meng Po (literally “Old Lady Meng”) and translated by me as “Grandmother Meng” in this case, is the Chinese Goddess of Forgetfulness. She serves soup on the Bridge of Forgetfulness, to wash away an individual’s memory just before they reincarnate into the next life without the burdens of the previous one.

[15] China has a tradition of putting babies and toddlers in split-crotch pants (kai dang ku). This allows the children to squat, relieve themselves wherever they needed to, and move on. Also, it allows children to be potty trained up to fourteen months earlier than normal.

[16] Yu Kun’s referencing one of the (many) proverbs about standing still in Chinese culture, in this case specifically—“A man grows most tired while standing still,” which is about lethargy and growth.

[17] Chinese inch—about 1.26 inches longer than imperial inch.

[18] Chinese pear-shaped fretted lute. Often considered an elegant instrument, played by women.

[19] Dizi (dizi) is a Chinese transverse flute often made from bamboo. Commonly seen in a lot of martial art shows.

[20] The Chinese yard / pace. Equivalent to 5.2 feet.

[21] Wúwéi—action / no-action, effortless action. The ability to act without thinking or consideration or, acting in a way that it is effortless as it aligns with nature.

[22] This is an actual Chinese proverb, by the way.

[23] Curved, single-edged blade on the end of a long handle. The hilt is not as long as a guandao (the Chinese glaive) but is similar in looks.

[24] The liúxīng chuí is an actual, ancient Chinese weapon. The flail-like weapon requires significant skill to use. You can see variations of the weapon type in the simpler rope-dagger and the Japanese kusarigama.

[25] Term of endearment which means little sister.

[26] Traditional Chinese courtship is somewhat similar to what Wu Ying is thinking, with most marriages a matter of business or networking, to increase the family line. The checking of birth dates and names and destinies by a fortune teller was, in many ways, the most important part in ancient Chinese traditions, as is the gift-giving later on. However, traditional wuxia was written during a time when social mores were opening up, when women (and thus relationships) were more open. So courting started having tones of “Western” dating concepts, though, obviously, aspects of the ritualized dating and soul mates still played a part. It makes for a weird hybrid system that is neither historically or even socially accurate.

[27] Reminder that this is the deep, knees on the ground, hands and arms on the ground bow, with head lowered all the way to the floor. Used as a sign of deep respect.