Sundered Soul: A Wuxia/Xianxia Cultivation Novel

by Rick Scott

  “I see that look in your eye,” Waru said with a laugh. “I wonder if I’ve made a mistake in telling you this much.”

  “I just… I just can’t believe it.”

  “Trust me, it’s what saved your life a second time. Your father convinced them to allow him to raise you as his son. I suppose they considered a normal education in the mystic arts to be of too much risk. The peaceful life of an artisan instead would be far easier to control and reveal any traces of your past life or desires.”

  “So I was… just some kind of an experiment then?” A sudden indignation lit inside him as the words pierced his heart. “Was that all I was to my father?”

  “Hey, don’t think so ill of him. Xian Lu loved you, lad. Or grew to anyway. He wasn’t one equipped to show it, but he did.”

  Kenji’s throat tightened. Those words felt more true than any he’d heard tonight, his father’s last words to him especially. Xian Lu gave his all, to give him not just a second chance at life…but perhaps a third.

  Thank you again, Father…

  “But for what it’s worth, yes…” Waru sighed as he continued. “I suppose you were an experiment of sorts. To the state at least… But I’ve watched you grow, Kenji. Very closely at first. But as I told you… in these last few years, we grew complacent. Because we knew you were not him. At least not in spirit.”

  “So what am I then?”

  Waru shrugged. “Just Kenji.”

  Kenji fumed inwardly, but then his own ambivalence perplexed him. One moment he was in disbelief and horror at learning that he might be the Bloody Duke, and now he was incensed that he might not truly be him after all. “This is all very confusing.”

  “I know it is, lad. It’s why we sought to never tell you. For a time we believed even the emperor had forgotten all about you. But it seems the Tsu have not.”

  “How did they know where to find me?” Kenji asked. “And who else in the village knows about me?”

  “Only myself and the elders,” Waru said.

  “Not Ben Fai?”

  Waru chuckled. “I’m afraid that loathing was simply a matter of station. You were but a dullard to him. One his daughter was infatuated with.”

  That caused him to reflect on Shinoto again. By the heavens, how this changed things now. If he were honest, his entire reason for chasing rebirth was to prove himself to both the village and her father. But neither existed anymore. And now, he’d already been rebirthed. He wasn’t behind Shinoto in advancement… he was 17 years and 80 Dans ahead.

  80 Dans…by the heavens… “How old was I?”

  “Huh?”

  “The Duke… how old was he? You said they used a thousand-year rope, right?” Kenji then rushed to look inside his pack and produced the small spool of golden rope. “Was this it? Is this what Father used to rebirth me?”

  Waru furrowed his brow as he looked upon it. “Perhaps so… where did you get this?”

  “I found it hidden in the workshop. Was he truly so old then? A thousand years?”

  Kenji’s heart sped at the thought that he could not only be so powerful, but an ancient immortal as well. Just the idea of it was chilling.

  Waru shook his head again. “Perhaps only your father would know for certain. The stories say the Bloody Duke was not native to these lands… He came from the North, settling in the Tsu region before starting his conquest.”

  Kenji’s head was spinning now. He looked to the Xjian woman, Olja. She was the missing piece here. “What do you make of her? She seemed to know who I was… or that I was special at least. She knew that the demon had come after me. But why?”

  “Ah the demon…” Waru shifted on his rear. “Your father said that the demon you described is what’s known as a Bloodskull fiend. They are dark summons from the nether world, used to track things. With the Tsu so close behind it and especially now seeing that witch, they might have been the ones that summoned it in order to find you.”

  Kenji’s stomach grew cold. “So I am responsible then…”

  Waru opened his mouth as if to take back what he’d said, but then simply closed it again.

  “It’s alright,” Kenji said. “If I’m truly who you say I am… then perhaps my legacy lives on with me still.”

  “Hey, don’t ever think like that,” Waru said. “I’ve known you your whole life, lad. You are not the monster I saw slay a hundred men with a single stroke. You have a good heart, Kenji. Your own heart. I believe Li Wan Fu was judged by the heavens for his sins, and you are the karmic rebirth of his atonement.”

  Kenji chuckled. “Now you sound like an old soothsayer.”

  Waru laughed. “Perhaps I am! But know this… No man can choose what fate has dealt him, but he can choose how to deal with his fate.”

  “I was wrong… not a soothsayer… a damn poet. And not a good one.”

  Waru merely laughed again.

  “So what do we do now?” Kenji asked. “These Tsu men want me for what I am.” That thought then triggered something else. “And they don’t even need me alive, apparently.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Before my father sent me back, the one with the claws told me so… before he killed me.”

  Waru grimaced. “I don’t know… Who knows what those dark arts call for? Perhaps they don’t need you alive to possess your doma. The witch that was with them was perhaps the one who summoned the demon too. And if so, they’re all very powerful indeed.”

  “Did my father know all this?” Kenji asked.

  “Know what?”

  “That the village would be attacked because of me? Is that why he made me come with you on this journey to heal the Xjian woman?”

  Waru sighed. “Looking back… perhaps he suspected...or feared it a possibility. But I don’t think any of us expected something like this so soon. Like I said, how men that powerful and even the demon got through the wall is beyond me. It makes me fear what’s happening in the north.”

  Kenji had learned of the history of the Great Wall as all Zhou children had—constructed over a thousand years ago by the great Zhou Emperor, Zi Zjan Wi, during the height of the third dynasty. It was built to defend from the barbarian hordes and giant spirit beasts to the north, the places they now called Tsu and Xjian. But Kenji had never considered it much beyond that.

  “Have you even been to the wall?”

  Waru nodded. “A few times. Hells, if you travel north far enough you’ll run into it sooner or later.”

  “What’s it like?”

  “Taller than a hundred-year-old tree in most places and covered in protective runes. And what’s not covered in runes is covered by soldiers and cannons.” He jerked his chin at Olja. “Seeing people like her and those Tsu crawl through… I wonder just how badly the war is going on the frontier.”

  Kenji thought again at how quickly those men and that witch burned Han Village and everyone in it. Despite the potential his newfound inner strength gave him, he was still a dullard with no true skill of his own. Even Waru, as skilled as he was with a spear, was no match for them in the end. As his father said, getting Olja to Amatsu and reviving her, would be their best protection against them.

  “Will we be safe in Amatsu?”

  “Of course!” Waru said, slapping his leg. “They’re a much bigger village and they have a sect of the mystic schools there. The chief sent word ahead by sparrow. They’ll be on the alert. Trust me, lad. There will be a dozen 20th-Dan warriors waiting at the ready.” He made the proclamation with a hearty laugh and Kenji could tell he was exaggerating to put his mind at ease. Even with a sect of a mystic school, an artisan village would be lucky to have even a 15th Dan.

  “We just need to reach there,” Waru said. “We’ll be safe.”

  “What about her?” Kenji asked, again looking to the Xjian woman. “My father said that she would be our only hope for protection. What Dan do you think she is?”

  “Eh…I’m not sure…” Waru rubbed his head. “She’s powerful for certain. B
ut she could be a liability too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We don’t know what she knows. For her to know that demon was tracking you, she had to know something. And if she does, we don’t want her blabbing her mouth to everyone else in that village. As I said, this is your secret to keep now, Kenji. The Bloody Duke was both feared and hated in these lands. It would not do you good for people to know that that’s who you truly are.”

  A shiver ran through him at the thought of that. He’d have to reconsider the whole idea of being open with this. He especially wasn’t going to tell someone like Chet Fai. But where did that leave him with Shinoto?

  “The chief had given me a letter to give us discretion when visiting the healing center. But I’ve blasted lost it now.”

  “Was that what was in the chest you went back for?”

  “Aye, it was.”

  Kenji smiled. “Don’t be upset. Your forgetfulness saved your life the second time around.”

  Waru drank. “I suppose… the wheels of fate are confusing.”

  “Perhaps you can speak to the chief when we reach Amatsu Village,” Kenji said. “Explain we need privacy.”

  “Me?” Waru shook his head. “The people in that village don’t know me. I’d just be an old drunk to them. It’s why I needed that letter. You’d be better off speaking to them than me.”

  “Me?”

  “You were the son of an elder, Kenji. You know what that makes you now? You’re the highest-ranking member of the Han clan…or what’s left of it.”

  Kenji’s mind froze for what seemed the umpteenth time this morning. Another stark revelation. “But Chet Fai is older than me, right? Even if I’m rebirthed and some mystic warrior they wouldn’t know—”

  “Ben Fai was a shopkeeper, not an elder. And you were trained by your father in the sacred Han arts. You’re special in more ways than one, Kenji. Keeping yourself alive is more important than you think.”

  A heaviness weighed on his chest as he took it all in. He was indeed the sole remnant of the Han arts. Survival for him didn’t mean just survival for him anymore…an entire school of knowledge now depended on his existence.

  Another tree would never be rebirthed, unless he or someone he taught did it.

  Kenji glanced downriver, once again fearing those Tsu warriors showing up at any moment. “We should head out soon then…”

  “We will,” Waru said. “But try to get some rest first. I’ll keep watch. You have some hard rowing ahead of you to get us further upstream, lad.”

  Waru laughed to lighten the mood, but for Kenji there could be no such thing.

  Hard rowing ahead indeed…

  He’d just become the most hated man in the entire Zhou Empire and last chief of the Han clan.

  Chapter 18 – Sellblade

  The reek of smoke and death was thick in the air.

  Chow Meugo reveled in it as he overlooked the remnants of the small village. It was morning now and the light gave form to the full destruction wreaked by their handiwork. Not a structure remained unburned by Zhe Ahn’s fire. As instructed, the bodies of the villagers were gathered in the square, awaiting inspection…but by whom, he didn’t know.

  “Curse this waiting…”

  Chow Meugo kicked over the remains of the general store, releasing his frustration. What was left of the building collapsed to the ground with an almighty crash, filling the air with ash, smoldering embers, and pieces of broken tile.

  “Yes…that will surely help the situation, Meugo.” Zhe Ahn stooped over the pile of corpses, examining them as a chef would a pile of fish at the market. She drew her knife and severed a finger before placing it in a small sack. “We always knew this would be the most difficult part of the job. Why lament over it?”

  Chow Meugo grimaced at the witch. Annoying as she was, she was also right. They had no idea who their employer was. Only that after the work was done, that they should remain in place and wait for payment from a man who would identify himself only as Purple Leaf.

  Purple Leaf…he thought. What a name.

  But such was the way of the Iron Company. The mercenary guild held utmost discretion when it came to the identity of both their clients and contractors. It was the key to its prosperity and success—identities known by symbols and codes only.

  Although for the truly successful, somewhat the opposite became true—where the symbol or code took on a life of its own—a name that struck either fear or commanded respect, and was known to all, peasant and noble alike, but the exact identity of its owner, known to no one.

  Chow Meugo’s own moniker, the Honey Badger, had yet to reach that level of notoriety. He was known so for his appearance and the ferocity of his personalized mystic arts style—a savage variation of the traditional fist arts. Although the few who did come to know him by that name, rarely lived long enough to repeat it. Perhaps he should take to wearing a mask, he considered, and leaving his marks only maimed instead of killed, in order to spread his renown.

  But even that wouldn’t help him with the problem they faced at the moment.

  This had all seemed a simple enough task when he’d taken the job outside the wall and one well-suited to his liking—follow a demon into the heart of the Zhou Empire and destroy whomever it found, along with anyone else. That part had proven simple, if not enjoyable, but now, standing still in the heart of the enemy’s stronghold was causing his stomach to sour.

  As Zhe Ahn had said, this was the most difficult part of the entire job. If the fee had not been so lucrative, with half paid up front, he never would have taken it—even if it did come with the added benefit of exacting revenge upon the empire for its long-past sins.

  Li Wei entered the square, arriving from the outskirts of the village, passing under the paifang. When Chow Meugo saw him empty-handed, his stomach soured for a second time. “Nothing?”

  Li Wei shook his head. “The home he mentioned was already burned to the ground. There was no one inside, not even a body.”

  Chow Meugo stormed towards the sole captive left alive in the village, a fat little boy of perhaps ten. He remained on his knees, blindfolded and bound. Chow Meugo stooped to him and tore off the blindfold. “Have you lied to me again, little pig? There was no one in that house!”

  His eyes shot open with fright and he trembled. “Please, it’s all I know. It was a large woman with golden hair. That’s who the demon attacked!”

  It took all his strength to not just slit the boy’s throat right there and then.

  This wasn’t good.

  “He’s as useless as this entire village,” Zhe Ahn said, sauntering up behind him. “I hate to say it, Meugo, but I think it’s time we admit that we may have gotten this wrong.”

  “We?” Chow Meugo shot her a foul stare. “You mean you and that demon! Where in the hells is it now?”

  To have come this far and attacked the wrong village would be a disaster. He couldn’t accept that. They’d spent a month silently tracking the beast through the wilderness, travelling south and this was the only village it had ever entered. Still, this waiting game was taking far too long. Whoever ordered this attack had to have done so for a reason—a rival of some kind, perhaps a neighboring village. Someone who wanted it destroyed without evidence and with someone more obvious to blame.

  But to have attacked the wrong village…

  “You’re the one that said forget about the demon, remember?” Zhe Ahn smirked at him. “We’ll have to seek its trail again.”

  “Just summon another one!”

  “It wasn’t my spell,” she retorted. “And there was only one to cast.”

  “And you’re sure you cast it correctly?” Li Wei chimed in.

  The witch snorted, turning her back to the both of them. “This is ridiculous.”

  A powerful gust of wind swept through the village, stirring up ash.

  Chow Meugo looked in its direction as an immense pressure resonated within his doma. This power… Zhe Ahn looked as well
, already twisting into place the jeweled bracelets that were the focus of her power. Dark Qi manifested in tendrils of wispy smoke rising from her body as her eyes turned completely black.

  At the far end of the village three forms touched down from out of the sky.

  Windwalking masters. For once, Chow Meugo’s gut lurched with apprehension instead of disdain. The Qinggong arts were common and usable even at first tier, but to use them to step across not just tree tops, but the air itself, took the prowess of at least a 13th-Dan practitioner.

  “Who the hells is this?” He glowered at the figures in the distance.

  Li Wei drew his dual Dao blades and flexed into a stance. “The client, I hope?”

  But as the figures drew closer, Chow Meugo saw no hope of that. The deep olive and contrasting yellow of Zhou military uniforms became painfully clear as two of the figures dashed forward with Qinggong, ordered by a command from the third in the center.

  “Imperial troops!” he growled, taking on the persona of his call sign as he wielded his dual claws. Channeling Qi from his doma, he opened his meridians to heighten his reflexes and strength, dropping low into a martial stance.

  Zhe Ahn waved her palms, a circle of Dark Qi forming at her feet. “DEMON’S CURSE!”

  A torrent of bright-red flames manifested in a whirlwind and shot out in a funnel towards the two advancing soldiers. One of them came to a standstill, extending his hands in a block. The flames hit an invisible barrier, giving it form as they curved around the soldier, leaving him unharmed. The second soldier dashed to the side and released a Qi-charged yell of his own, volleying a stream of ice shards at Zhe Ahn.

  The witch quickly switched from attack to defense, forming a shield of flames as she stepped to the side. The one who had blocked anticipated the move, and launched a counterattack, sending Zhe Ahn sailing across the street with a powerful blast of Qi from a hundred feet away.

  The witch cried out in pain as she flew through the structure of a half-burned building behind her, her back slamming into a beam and breaking it in two. It then proceeded to fall on top of her, but she managed to deftly roll to the side, avoiding being buried by debris.