A Thousand Li Books 1-3: An Omnibus Collection for a Xianxia Cultivation Series (A Thousand Li Omnibus)

by Tao Wong

  “Hurry up. I don’t want to be late,” a new sect applicant said, his voice dripping with scorn. In front of him, a trio of coolies struggled under the added weight of the rice bags the noble had placed on their backs. Wu Ying idly wondered what he had paid the coolies – or even if he had. Few commoners would dare object to such a request from a cultivator.

  Wu Ying said nothing as he leap-frogged the group, keeping to his slow jog as he let his chi churn through his body. The sect’s standards were different than what he had expected. Cheating was expected, even encouraged to some degree. Each guide’s initial order to bring the bags up were worded vaguely enough that cultivators could—and did—find ways around it. After all, cultivation required not only discipline but insight, craftiness, and luck. So long as the cultivator managed to make his way to the sect with his bag, he passed. Well, so long as he did that and had a strong enough backer.

  “Wu Ying. Fifth load of the day. I expect you’ll be getting another bag tomorrow.” The gatekeeper chuckled.

  “Elder Lu. Please don’t joke about such things,” Wu Ying said as he slowed down and released his cultivation. Perhaps the greatest progress he had made was the speed with which he could shift from cultivating on the move to normal interactions.

  “Who is joking? Elder Huang is a real believer in hard work.” Seated cross-legged on his stool, the gatekeeper drew on his long pipe again.

  “This is for you, Elder,” Wu Ying said as he reached behind him and untied the bag. He handed the roll of tobacco to Xi Qi that he had been entrusted to carry from one of the ship’s captain. Xi Qi smiled upon receiving the package, stroking the wrapping like a lover.

  Once again, Wu Ying wondered about the gatekeeper. Even to his new senses, Wu Ying could tell that Xi Qi was more than a lazy old man. Yet he never cultivated and insisted on constantly polluting his body with smoke. But as Wu Ying was learning, everyone in the sect had their own secrets. And vices.

  “Chen family tobacco. Only two catties are ever sold to outsiders.” Xi Qi sniffed at the package reverently. “Well? You best be off.”

  “Yes, Elder.” Wu Ying bobbed his head and took off running once more.

  When Wu Ying had set down his bag and was stretching tired muscles, Elder Huang found him.

  “Wu Ying. I heard you did five loads today,” Elder Huang said.

  “Yes, Elder.”

  “Good. Very good. Pity that I have to give you up, but today is the last day I’ll have you for the whole day,” Elder Huang said. “Tomorrow, you’ll begin your studies in the mornings. But I expect you here in the afternoons. Understand?”

  “Yes, Elder Huang,” Wu Ying replied, trying desperately to keep his face smooth.

  “There should be enough time for one more load. Go,” Elder Huang said, pointing.

  Wu Ying winced, knowing there was no way he would make it back before dark. And climbing the hill in the dark was a painful experience. Obviously he had not been successful at keeping his elation hidden.

  ***

  There were more newcomers than Wu Ying expected. Sure, he had seen the various recruits arrive over the last two weeks, but seeing them all gathered in the large courtyard, the amount of them struck home in a way that seeing them dribble in had not. There were easily at least fifty recruits in the courtyard, some socializing, others going through a slow stretching routine.

  “Damn. All these nobles,” a voice muttered behind Wu Ying, causing him to turn to stare at the speaker. He blinked, seeing a bald, short individual in bright orange Buddhist monk robes. Seeing Wu Ying looking at him, the monk returned Wu Ying’s scrutiny by looking him up and down. “You’re not one of them, are you?”

  “No. But what are you doing here?” Wu Ying said with incredulity. It made no sense for a monk to be in the sect—their objectives were rather different.

  “Oh, my Teacher sent me here after I was kicked out,” the monk said, rubbing the top of his head. The baby-faced monk flashed Wu Ying an innocent smile, one without an ounce of deceit in it. Clasping his hands in front of him, the monk bowed. “Liu Tou He.”

  “Long Wu Ying,” Wu Ying said, offering a palm over fist greeting in return. Still, he looked slightly askance at Tou He. A monk who was sent out but still wore his robes? Suspicious.

  “Ah. Don’t worry,” Tou He said, waving as he tried to dismiss the topic. “I just liked eating meat too much. My father was a hunter, see? And until he died, we used to hunt and eat meat all the time. When he died, my uncle sent me to the temple, but… well. I snuck out to hunt all the time. My Master said I was a bad influence on the rest of the acolytes.”

  “That…” Wu Ying fell silent, shaking his head. Really, he knew nothing about the inner workings of a monastery, so it sounded possible. “But why are you still dressed like that?”

  “It’s more comfortable. The Elder said I could wear this,” Tou He said.

  Wu Ying raised an eyebrow but shrugged. Well, it did not matter to him, but Tou He’s orange robes set him apart in the sea of grey, black, and green. As it was, the pair of peasants were already ostracized. If you were already on the outs, did it matter if you were further different? Wu Ying mulled the thought over, never having been in such a situation. Tou He seemed happy to stand in companionable silence until the clapping of a pair of wooden boards drew all their attention.

  Standing at the head of the stairs leading down to the courtyard, a young man stood with his hands clasped behind his back. Unlike the outer sect members in their uniform robes, the man stood in pale-green-and-blue robes, staring at the group.

  “I am Cheung Chi Sing,” Chi Sing began.

  “Greetings, Senior Cheung,” the new recruits bellowed as a group.

  “I shall be your martial arts instructor.” Chi Sing flicked his hand to his right, where a small trail left the courtyard. “To begin with, follow the trail. The last five to arrive will be required to spend another hour training.” When the group made no move to go, Chi Sing harrumphed. Even that small exhalation of breath sent a gust of wind down the steps to swirl leaves and sticks. “Go!”

  Like a colony of rabbits, the group exploded into action, rushing for the pathway. Caught at the back of the group, Wu Ying growled slightly as he moved to overtake the others. His movements were brought to an abrupt halt when Tou He placed a hand on Wu Ying’s arm.

  “That path leads around the mountain. Wait. There will be time to overtake them all,” Tou He said.

  Wu Ying glanced at the pile-up at the entrance to the pathway, the shoving, elbowing, discreet and not-so-discreet blows, and slowed down with Tou He. No point in getting injured just yet.

  “How do you know?” Wu Ying said.

  “Ah. I have spent many hours cleaning the paths,” Tou He said with a slight smile. “I was assigned to the path-clearing detail when I arrived.”

  “I was running goods up the mountains,” Wu Ying offered.

  The pair of them finally broke into the path, going at a slow jog behind the others. As all the recruits were at least Body Cleansing 4, the initial pace the group set was quite good.

  “I saw,” Tou He said. “You were cultivating too, were you not?”

  “I was,” Wu Ying said, surprised at Tou He’s insight.

  “It is very similar to how some of our—the monks—were taught to meditate while moving.” Tou He’s lips twisted in a wry smile. “I was never good at that.”

  “If you can talk, you should be ahead,” Chi Sing said, appearing next to the pair.

  The pair jumped, turning their heads to see their senior easily keeping pace by tapping on the ground with his foot every once in a while, bounding multiple feet with each step. It looked as though he was out for a casual stroll.

  “Yes, Senior,” the pair chorused.

  The two sped up, nearing the nobles in front of them. As they attempted to pass though, the nobles swerved in front of them, blocking their path.

  “Is this how you want to play this?” Wu Ying growled, anger flaring. �
�Fine. Tou He?”

  “Right.”

  Wu Ying swerved left as Tou He went right, forcing the nobles to choose who to block. When the nobles chose to block him, Wu Ying grinned and waited a moment to allow Tou He to pass before he went right as well. When the nobles attempted to block him again, Tou He slowed down in front of the nobles, forcing them to stumble or crash into the monk. As the nobles broke their rhythm, Wu Ying darted to the side. Together, Tou He and Wu Ying put on a burst of speed.

  “Good work.”

  “Easy,” Tou He said.

  “Next?”

  “Of course.”

  Grinning wide, Wu Ying sped up even further. Too bad all this overtaking meant he had no chance to cultivate. But this kind of training was good too. After all, while it was possible to cultivate without studying martial arts or relying on one’s body, the sect had little use for those who could not defend themselves. Well—at least ones without special skills.

  Once the pair had overtaken another two groups of nobles, they watched as Chi Shing passed them with the greatest of ease. Obviously disinclined to provide any further motivation to those at the back, the senior was on his way to the front. Exchanging looks, Tou He and Wu Ying picked up their pace again. Somehow, they knew if they did not put on a good showing after that talking-to, they would face even more sanctions.

  ***

  An hour later, the pair jogged into the courtyard, breathing deeply. Some heaven-blessed individual had placed a series of water barrels in the courtyard where the leaders had already congregated. Without a word, the pair headed for an unpopulated barrel to drink their fill before the others arrived.

  True to his word, Chi Sing noted the last five outer sect members to arrive before he guided the entire group through another punishing workout that involved wind sprints, burpees, clapping push-ups, squats, crunches and more. At the end, Chi Sing demonstrated the sect’s most basic martial art form—the Seven Diamond Fist. It was categorized as an external martial art, one that focused on the strength of the body rather than internal strength and, as such, was perfect for the Body Cleansers.

  At the end of the two-hour repetition of the form, the group was lined up and forced to enter the most basic of cultivation and martial art stances—the horse stance. Legs spread wide, feet facing forward, the group squatted until their thighs were parallel to the ground, and their arms were held akimbo as if holding a giant urn. There, they were forced to stand and cultivate while a gentle wind blew through the courtyard.

  It had been weeks since Wu Ying had cultivated standing still. Ever since Fairy Yang had shown him the way of moving cultivation, Wu Ying had exclusively practiced it. Considering how much of his life had involved running physical errands, it made sense. Moving cultivation allowed him to cultivate for more hours than most, which had progressed the opening of his sixth meridian significantly.

  Now, he was standing still, sending his chi through his body, and Wu Ying found it more difficult than he had ever thought to stay still. Drawing chi through his breath, into his body, and circulating it to enter his dantian before it could enter his meridians to do good was difficult. It was very much like pushing mud with one’s hands in a flooded field, an endeavor that was as tiring as it was fruitless. The dregs of chi that he managed to corral and send to his dantian were tiny, especially compared to the amount that he needed.

  Part of the problem with progressing to each new level in Body Cleansing was the need to store ever more chi in one’s dantian. Without adding to the chi a body held, keeping fully opened meridians clean and unsullied was impossible. Wu Ying often imagined his meridians were like the canal system in the village—if you added another field with its own canals, you needed more water. Too little water and none of the fields were properly submerged, resulting in little to no crops.

  Cultivating to his next level was very much like that. First, he had to draw in more chi. Moving allowed him to tap into the chi of the world more easily, though Wu Ying had to admit his ability to retain the energy that he absorbed still left a lot to be desired. He might only hold three parts in a hundred. Which was better than many of his contemporaries in the village, but was far from the one-in-ten that the true prodigies were rumored to be able to achieve.

  In either case, right now, he was attempting to draw more chi into his dantian. At the same time, he could send what little chi he had through his body, diverting a slightly larger than normal amount to the currently clogged sixth meridian, the kidney meridian. In time, Wu Ying knew he would gain enough chi that he could force the issue and break through. Or he might be like Fa Hui and suddenly realize that his next meridian had cleared.

  That was the thing about cultivating in the Body Cleansing stage. So much of it was the slow, gradual cleansing of the body and meridians that sudden jumps in levels were possible. As the process was more of a case of cleansing the body instead of reaching a significant new threshold, it was not unheard of—though uncommon—for individuals to progress in multiple levels.

  The tolling of the mid-day bell woke Wu Ying from his cultivation, drawing him back to full awareness of his body. He drew a deep breath, sending his chi back into his dantian and slowly letting it subside. As he stood, he noted the low ache in his knees, hips, and arms from holding the horse stance for so long. All around him, he saw others slowly shaking themselves out. A few nobles were standing up from seated positions. Surprisingly enough, Senior Chi Sing dismissed them to go for lunch without a further word.

  “We can sit?” Wu Ying muttered as he eyed the seated nobles, many of whom had even found mats for their bottoms.

  “They can.” Tou He inclined his head again. “Their sponsors came and gave them permission.”

  “Sponsors?”

  “The Elders who allowed them in.”

  “Of course. I understand now,” Wu Ying said as the pair walked toward the dining halls. Wu Ying then realized something and frowned, looking at Tou He. “How were you able to see all that? Weren’t you cultivating?”

  “Two minds,” Tou He said, holding up his fingers. “It’s a technique they taught us at the temple. Though my Master says he wished he never taught that to me. Perhaps I would not have gotten into as much trouble.”

  “Sounds like an amazing technique,” Wu Ying said.

  “At my level of insight of the technique, it’s only marginally useful. It lets me fully perceive the outside world while cultivating,” Tou He said with a shrug. “It’s similar to what you do when you cultivate while moving.”

  “Really? You think I could learn it?” Wu Ying said, perking up. He immediately froze, realizing how gross a breach in etiquette he had made. Asking someone to teach their techniques was just not done.

  Tou He nodded. “Of course. Just find me sometime and we’ll try.”

  “Really?” Wu Ying said, wide-eyed.

  “Of course. I am no Taoist to discard knowledge or Legalist to think it should be restricted,” Tou He said with a sniff. “If you ask, I will teach.”

  “Thank you!” Wu Ying said, dumbfounded and grateful.

  Together, the pair moved off, chatting about what they had learned and their afternoon tasks, leaving behind the five sect members who had been late to begin another workout. Unlike inner sect members, all outer sect members had tasks they had to do each day. It was only in the morning that they had time to cultivate and train. Still, considering the abundant food and the coaching they received, Wu Ying was grateful. He would be more grateful if he didn’t have to carry so many damn bags of groceries though.

  After chuckling to himself, Wu Ying found himself explaining his thoughts to Tou He, his first new friend in the sect.

  Chapter 7

  “Still ascending the mountain?” Yin Xue mocked Wu Ying at the paifang that lead into the sect.

  Beside them, Lu Xi Qi, the gatekeeper, watched while drawing on his pipe.

  “Yes,” Wu Ying said with a grunt. He shifted slightly, the bag that weighed him down digging into his sho
ulders. Two months since they had started proper training and he had managed to increase the weight he carried to ten bags. He could have carried more, but there were physical limits to how many he could carry without the bags falling as they became too awkward.

  “A perfect role for a peasant,” Yin Xue said.

  “Oh? And what are you doing?” Wu Ying said with a frown.

  “I am working the library,” Yin Xue said.

  At his words, Wu Ying started slightly. Of course. He had been so caught up in his own cultivation that he had forgotten the sect had numerous facilities outside of the kitchen and his quarters.

  “Forget it. A peasant like you would never be able to gather enough contribution points to read anything worthwhile.”

  Wu Ying frowned. “Contribution points?”

  “Har. Peasant,” Yin Xue said, shaking his head as he walked off.

  Wu Ying frowned, staring at the lord’s son and wondering how it was the pair of them had grown so antagonistic. They were from the same county. Should they not, at least, be acquaintances?

  But life was never that simple. Envy. Pride. Regret. It all got in the way of human interaction. And so, the pair stood, opposing each other. Yet seeing Yin Xue made Wu Ying realize that he had forgotten his reason for being there. In the routine of his everyday life, the comfort of good food and clear orders, he had lost sight of his original objective. Inner sect member. Not to while away his days working on his cultivation at a leisurely pace.

  “Thank you,” Wu Ying found himself muttering to the retreating back of his nemesis.

  “You are more and more interesting every day,” Xi Qi commented. When Wu Ying looked at him, the gatekeeper chuckled and pointed with his pipe. “Best deliver your goods.”

  “I will. But, Elder, may I ask a few questions?”