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

by Tao Wong

  “No, you’re just charging me. Remember, this is timing training,” Liu Tsong said.

  “There is no such training!” Wu Ying howled as his stomach grumbled.

  “Well, there should be.”

  Laughing, Liu Tsong continued to tease him, forcing Wu Ying to try to catch her as she taunted him with his meal. The other two laughed, watching. It was an entirely unfair matchup, considering the inner sect member was both an entire cultivation level higher and more skilled. But then, good training always meant pitting yourself against your betters. And Liu Tsong was purposely pausing at times, giving Wu Ying the opportunity to catch her when she came to a rest—if he could judge and use those breaks properly.

  ***

  Another night and Wu Ying stood before Elder Cheng. The cultivator slowly pivoted on one foot into a drop lunge before a cross-body block and recovery followed by a pair of wrist cuts. Also known as dragon catches the rainbow. The moment he had finished the cuts, Wu Ying pivoted on his foot and repeated, moving in a slow circle.

  “Focus on those cuts. They should originate from the wrist only. Do not move your elbow!”

  “Drop. Drop. Let the earth take you. Do not push.”

  “Faster! Your back leg must recover immediately.”

  “Lower your weight. Bend your knees and relax your stomach. Remember, keep your weight centered around your dantian.”

  Again and again. Each iteration an improvement, building on the last. Sometimes, Elder Cheng would spar with him. Other times, it was form work or drills that focused on a single area of improvement. Over and over again.

  ***

  Days passed like that, the last dregs of summer fading, turning over with the cold winds of autumn. As much as Wu Ying trained, so did his friends. It seemed as though the sect itself had caught a training fever. Every day, the courtyards filled with sect members, each of them practicing their martial styles or cultivating in a desperate bid to increase their standing. It was not just the newcomers; even those who had been around for a while worked hard. After all, those sect members who showed no improvement from year to year were in danger too—if in nothing but a decrease in the resources the sect would dedicate to them.

  The library grew busier as sect members browsed the books in search of a solution or a quick fix. A magic pill that would give them an edge over the competition. The assignment hall grew busy as well, since a few sect members had given up on winning a decent position at the tournament and were looking to bolster their standing via contributions. Demon subjugation assignments were quickly snatched up, the experiential training and additional funds from such activity highly popular.

  For the second time in his life in the sect, Wu Ying found himself indulging in the routine of training and cultivating. In the blink of an eye, the leaves on the trees had turned color and dropped, signaling the start of a longer, colder season. Only the occasional letter from home, finding its way to him via merchants, broke the monotony of his life.

  That, and his friends. Surprisingly, Zhong Shei stayed, spending the months in training and cultivation. Whether it was the atmosphere or his newfound determination after their fight with Ji Ang, Zhong Shei’s cultivation and martial prowess soared, breaking through two meridians. Of course, even with his newfound discipline, Zhong Shei would still pay regular visits to the brothels and inns at the base of the mountain.

  Two days from the start of the sect tournament, Wu Ying’s eyes opened in his room as he exhaled a turbid breath. His nose wrinkled as he stood, grateful for his forethought of stocking up on clean cloth and buckets of water. A few minutes later, Wu Ying had cleansed his body of the filth and grey impurities that had coated his body.

  Body Cleansing 8. Four more meridians to go before he was ready to progress to the next stage. It was remarkable growth for someone who had been at Body Cleansing 2 a bare eight months ago. Of course, Wu Ying knew that it was as much due to a few fortunate encounters and the support of his friends. While it was possible to grow and be enlightened by doing nothing more than staying in a single place all one’s life, most people—and perhaps most importantly, him—needed stimulus. Impetus. Experience.

  Rubbing his chin, Wu Ying grimaced and reached for his knife. Better to clean himself up while he pondered if, perhaps, he had found the beginning of his dao. The Dao of the Restless Feet? The Dao of Unfortunate Circumstances? The Dao of the Uncultured Wandering Farmer?

  Laughing, Wu Ying nicked his chin and had to stop and dab at the wound until the blood stopped running. Still, he couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle once in a while as he dressed. A glance out the open window allowed Wu Ying to check on the angle of the sun. Time to get moving if he did not want to be late.

  A part of Wu Ying wondered how Yin Xue had done. The nobleman’s son had been at Body Cleansing 4 before they arrived. The last time they’d met, he had progressed to Body Cleansing 6. Could he have progressed further? Easily—with the support of his father and the sect.

  Body Cleansing 8. Wu Ying let out a tired breath. It was not enough to achieve a place in the inner sect. Most of those who entered the inner sect were in the 10s, if not at Energy Gathering stage, when they finally achieved that honor. Now that the tournament was days away, Wu Ying faced the truth of his ambition. As much as Wu Ying desired otherwise, he could only hope to stay in the sect for another year.

  Perhaps Tou He was right, Wu Ying sighed. Perhaps all this struggle was in vain. But if man did not endeavor to better himself, then what use was he? Even the farmer wanted a better harvest every year, or a larger field. Ambition was intrinsic to the human condition—but tempering that ambition was the course of the wise.

  Shaking off the morose thoughts, Wu Ying closed the door of his room. Better get going if he did not want to be late for training. If he could only ensure he stayed, then that was all he could do.

  Chapter 21

  Once a year, the sect’s main bell was used. Once a year, to mark the time for the outer sect members to gather and again to mark the start of the Verdant Green Waters Sect’s annual tournament. The tournament was always held at the end of autumn, as the weather turned toward winter but before the snow fell. It was the perfect time to test what the students had learned during the busy period of the year—or so the sect said. In truth, Wu Ying believed it was to save the sect the cost of winter’s rations—but that was, perhaps, the cynical farmer within him. After all, you always had to think about the harvest and winter stores.

  In either case, the members of the sect were gathered in a courtyard higher on the mountain, one so large that it was easily three times Wu Ying’s family’s fields. Even then, the crowd was gathered like sheep, with barely enough space for all the outer sect members. Thankfully, the inner sect members were scattered on the slope and buildings around, watching the proceedings. For now, the outer sect members would do the fighting. Most were gathered for a good show and a chance to see the rising stars of the sect, those who would replace the members who had fallen out of favor or left.

  Of course, the number of inner sect members naturally decreased each year. Being a cultivator was a dangerous job, and the various external assignments took their toll with death, injury, and missing members a fact of sect life. Sometimes inner sect members left on multi-year assignments or for experiential training, freeing up space in the sect compound. It was up to the Inner Hall Master to decide how many spots he had that year—taking into account loss of sect members, those away for experiential training or secluded cultivation, and the gifted—or wealthy—few who would be elevated directly.

  In the crowd, Wu Ying craned his neck, desperately searching for Tou He. He knew that Liu Tsong and Zhong Shei were above, watching the proceedings in comfort. That, of course, left Wu Ying with only Tou He—but neither had thought to arrange to meet up earlier. Threading through the crowd with occasional pushes and apologies, Wu Ying growled in exasperation and considered giving up on his fruitless quest.

  “Well, look who has survive
d,” a familiar mocking voice rang out.

  Wu Ying turned to meet the voice and spotted Yin Xue and his usual entourage. The entourage itself consisted of five individuals, two of which were commoners like him. Wu Ying was slightly ashamed of them, by how quickly they felt the need to grab onto the coattails of another. Of course, flanking Yin Xue were a pair of noblemen’s sons who were part of the entourage, the “main players.” From what Wu Ying recalled of the pair, neither had the talent or discipline to elevate themselves from the outer sect. Which, as much as Wu Ying hated to admit it, Yin Xue did.

  “Yin Xue,” Wu Ying greeted, mostly politely.

  “You dare use the Lord Wen’s name directly. How dare you!” One of Yin Xue’s barking dogs stepped forward, snarling.

  Wu Ying looked at him, extending the sense he had worked on, and sighed. Probably no better than Body Cleansing 4. Maybe a poor 5. His actions once again reminded Wu Ying of one of his more recent frustrations. All that time spent learning how to judge other people’s cultivation by their presence, only to learn that it was a skill Tou He and the rest of the outer sect members had been taught by the sect during his absence. It was frustrating at best, though his own exploration of the skill had given him a better “feel” than most. Few of the outer sect members could judge beyond “low, mid, and high” levels in each stage.

  “What. Have nothing to say?” the dog snarled, and Wu Ying rolled his eyes.

  “Not to a dog like you.” Wu Ying turned to Yin Xue and nodded before he turned to go back to looking for his friend.

  “Don’t bother with the peasant. We’ll take care of him later,” Yin Xue said a little too loudly behind Wu Ying.

  Wu Ying shook his head as he pushed away. Damn idiot. After all this time, he still seemed to have it out for Wu Ying. Which really puzzled Wu Ying in a way. Was Yin Xue’s ego so small that he felt the need to stomp on Wu Ying even now? Was he that insecure in his place in the sect, insecure in who he was, that the existence of a peasant that he knew was considered an insult to his ego?

  Perhaps. But in either case, Wu Ying could not fix him. All he could do was look for his friend and do his best in this exam. Yet a fruitless half hour of searching for Tou He later, Wu Ying found himself lost in the crowd with nothing to show for it but a slightly sweaty back. Exhaling a tired breath, Wu Ying looked up as the sect’s main bell rang once more.

  Too late for anything else now. The crowd fell silent, all the outer sect members turning to face the main landing, where the Outer Hall sect master had walked forward. This was the first time Wu Ying had seen the august personage, Elder Khoo Yang Min.

  “Sect members, we welcome you to the annual tournament. Here, you will vie with your fellow cultivators to ascertain your standing in the sect. While martial prowess is only one of the factors that decides your continued presence in our sect, the Verdant Green Waters Sect has always stood firm in its obligations to the state of Shen. We are its guardians against other sects, the sharp jian and the unbowing dao of their defense. As such, your standing in this tournament will greatly influence your overall standing in the sect.” Elder Khoo’s voice carried across the courtyard with ease, empowered by chi so that everyone within the courtyard and those watching could hear him.

  Hands behind his back, the long-haired, white-bearded Elder stared at everyone with piercing eyes over his long, hooked nose. “For all that, we have little reason to judge you individually. Your sect trainers have all assessed you over the course of the year. If you look at your sect seal now, your current standing in the sect will be displayed. Those of you content with your standing may leave the courtyard. Those of you who are unhappy should stay.”

  Wu Ying nodded slowly and pulled the sect stamp from within his robes. With just over two thousand outer sect members, the bottom ten percent would be sent home. More than two hundred members. Wu Ying pulled out the sect stamp and stared at the glowing lines of information, illuminated via the chi contained within.

  “One thousand, nine hundred, three!” Wu Ying exclaimed, anger flashing upward and flushing his face. “What in the thousand hells?”

  “What kind of trash are you to get so low?” a nearby cultivator scoffed, looking at Wu Ying. The man stood with his feet akimbo, arms bulging out of a set of robes that had somehow lost its sleeves.

  “I’m no trash.”

  “That’s what they all say.” The cultivator smirked at Wu Ying, who growled back.

  However, while the pair were facing off, various sect members within the courtyard were moving. Some decided to leave the courtyard, content with their placing. Others stayed—preferring to risk the tournament than to be ejected immediately.

  “Not leaving, trash? You think you can do well?”

  “Better than this false ranking,” Wu Ying said.

  He looked up, twisting his head to the side, and spotted Elder Mo standing nearby the Outer Sect Master, staring directly at Wu Ying and smirking. Wu Ying’s teeth pulled into a snarl before he looked down, not wanting to confront the Elder. Not yet at least. Anything he could do to the Elder would be like a toddler complaining about an adult—all sound and fury but without any real effect.

  “Hah! You overreaching fools will all say that. I’ll be your first opponent then.” The cultivator grinned, flexing his biceps again.

  “Really?” Wu Ying said with a roll of his eyes. Idiot. Even Wu Ying could tell, especially from how slim his waist and legs were, that the cultivator had spent all of his time working on his upper body. Once upon a time, a caravan guard had come by who looked much like this cultivator—all bluster and proud of how strong he was. Then he challenged Old Yi, who had grown a little fat since his back injury. The pair spent the next hour chopping wood to see who was stronger and fitter. At first, the guard had done well, splitting logs with a single blow. But soon enough, he ran out of steam while Old Yi chugged on, splitting log after log. The simple fact was that Old Yi knew how to split the logs from long years of practice, knew how to use all of his body. “If we are so lucky, I’ll accept the challenge.”

  “Good. It seems all those who are content with their places have left,” Elder Khoo said, cutting off further discussion. “For those who have stayed, I commend you. It should not be a cultivator’s place to be content with their placing. We challenge the gods with our very actions. Settling is not for us!”

  Even if Elder Khoo said that, Wu Ying knew that human nature would see most individuals more than happy to “settle.” At a certain point, struggling was not worth the effort—especially if one was already limited by one’s talent. Still, Wu Ying was there, waiting, just as much because of the trick played on him by Elder Mo as for any desire to upgrade his status.

  “Now, since there seems to be more of you than normal, we shall have a quick elimination round. Fight honorably and with care. Remember, these are still your fellow sect members. Intentionally killing one another is not allowed. Now, pick your partner.”

  The sleeveless cultivator smirked at Wu Ying, who eyed him up before returning the nod. For a second, Wu Ying touched the sword at his side—a practice sword he had taken out just for this event. Thankfully, due to the Sense of the Sword, he had not needed to practice for hours beforehand to get used to the weapon.

  “Hey! No weapons,” the muscled cultivator said, eyes bulging at Wu Ying’s motion.

  “Why?” Wu Ying cocked his head to the side as he waited for the Elder’s start signal.

  Unlike the pair of them, it seemed others were having trouble finding a suitable partner.

  “It’s not manly,” the cultivator said, though the nervous glances he kept giving Wu Ying’s weapon told another story.

  “That’s a good point,” Wu Ying said, relaxing and letting his hand move away from the hilt of his sword.

  At that point, the gong that signaled the start of the fight rang out. The muscled cultivator sprang into motion, throwing himself in an overhead leap while cocking a hand back to throw a powerful punch. Wu Ying stepped for
ward, his hand dropping to his sword even as his other hand tilted the scabbard to allow for the quick draw that was part of the Long family style. Dragon unsheathes his claws.

  The blow cut across the cultivator’s body, cracking ribs and bruising muscle even as Wu Ying completed the form and turned. A quick cut to the back finished the spasming, over-muscled cultivator before Wu Ying sheathed his blade.

  “But I don’t care.”

  Chapter 22

  “Tou He!” Wu Ying said, finding his friend seated after having rounded nearly the entire courtyard.

  After his initial fight, Wu Ying had watched the other fights, expecting the next stage to happen immediately. That expectation had been dashed, so he had taken the free time to search for his friend. Tou He waved to Wu Ying and gestured to an empty patch of ground, where Wu Ying sat gratefully.

  “Thanks!” Wu Ying said as he took a steamed meat bun from Tou He. “You brought food, eh?”

  “You didn’t?” Tou He asked, and Wu Ying shook his head. For all his preparations, eating had not been high on the list.

  “I thought we’d have a chance to eat. Or food would be sent,” Wu Ying said.

  “True. I doubt anyone expected that,” Tou He said with an inclination of his head.

  Wu Ying followed his gaze to where two giants among the outer sect members continued to battle it out, the cause of their current predicament. It had already been a half hour, but both contestants refused to budge. They were so evenly matched and of high enough cultivation that the deadlocked wrestling match they had undertaken had put a stop to the entire event.

  “I wonder why they don’t just move on. Or call it done. I’m certain we’ve been trimmed down enough,” Wu Ying said. Of the initial few hundred, less than a hundred were left in the courtyard. Surely they could start the simple elimination rounds now.