by Tao Wong
“Well, it’s your dao,” Li Yao said. “You retrieve the demon stone from your kill. I’ll get the rest.”
“I was hoping to spend my time harvesting,” Wu Ying said, gesturing around the den. “This is a gathering space for chi energy. We’re likely in a natural chi reservoir, or perhaps where some minor dragon lines[51] branch off.” That demon and spirit beasts gathered and lived where the chi density was greater, in an effort to improve their own cultivation, was common knowledge. “There’s likely some valuable herbs around.”
Li Yao made a face, looking at the massive monster she would have to cut into, then at the injured Wu Ying. She hesitated, searching for an excuse to not complete the work alone.
“Unless you want to sit around while I harvest, Senior,” Wu Ying pointed out.
“No. No, this is more efficient. I’ll harvest the stones and get the villagers to come and butcher the beasts,” Li Yao said decisively.
Immediately, the noblewoman moved away from Wu Ying, heading for the corpses. Getting up gingerly, Wu Ying pulled up the top of his robes and flicked his hand, making his harvesting gear appear from his storage ring. Time to get to work.
***
“Can I ask a question?” Li Yao said to Wu Ying as the pair lounged in the village elder’s hut later that day.
Rather than riding for the sect immediately, the pair had elected to stay for the day. The elder had insisted, offering to cook up a portion of the demon meat for tonight’s feast while buying the rest from the cultivators. Since the Elder had offered a much better rate than the sect would, the pair had happily traded the meat for taels.
“Of course, Senior.”
“Why did you not take all the yellow vein primroses? Also, you took the majority of the other flowers, but left the plant. You didn’t for some others,” Li Yao said.
“There is no additional reward for bringing the full plants since the sect grows them already,” Wu Ying explained. “The flowers are worthwhile and can still be sold, but the plant itself is worthless. This way, the plant can continue to grow out here, in the wild. It’ll even be ready for harvesting next year.”
“Ah…” Li Yao shook her head. “I never knew it was that complicated.”
“Neither did I till recently.”
Li Yao sighed. “You’ve found a better occupation than the one my family made me take before I entered the Sect.”
Wu Ying made an encouraging noise as he sipped the tea offered by the village elder. Good tea, he would have thought once. Now, Wu Ying knew it was of poor quality. The leaves had been left in the sun too long for drying, making the tea a strong, bitter brew but which held up after multiple brewings. It was so different from the delicate, layered tea Ah Yee made for Wu Ying.
“Terpsichore.”
“That’s… the dancer occupation?”
“Yes,” Li Yao said, lowering her head as she tried unsuccessfully to hide a blush.
“It might help with the martial styles.”
“Oh, it does,” Li Yao replied, sounding grumpy. “It really does, which is the worse thing.”
Wu Ying could think of no rejoinder, so he said nothing. Better to enjoy the day off. He would cultivate, but his wounds still leaked traces of demon chi, something time or a good pill would fix. Till it was gone, cultivating was a foolish idea, since drawing in external chi would draw in the demonic chi too. He would have to spend as much effort cleaning and ejecting the demonic chi once it polluted his body as just waiting. So, for now, he and Li Yao could rest, relax. Enjoy their time after the battle, away from the sect.
Chapter 15
“Seniors.”
Green-clad bodies bowed and stepped aside, the outer sect members clearing the way for Wu Ying, Li Yao, and Tou He as they made their way back from another mission. It was their sixth—no, seventh—mission since the start of summer. The monsters might have changed, the harvest altered, but the demand on the martial specialists had continued to grow.
Wu Ying shook his head as the trio clambered up the stairs. Time since Li Yao’s and his inaugural mission had flown by as quick as an arrow loosed from the cultivator’s bow. So much had happened that a bare few events stood out in Wu Ying’s memory. Elder Li’s first words of praise when he brought back stalks of Celestial Marsh Grass in good condition. A demonic hippopotamus as it bore down on Wu Ying, its mouth wide as it threatened to swallow the cultivator whole. Training beside one of the many waterfalls during spring, while a light rain fell and his jian cut apart drops of water.
“Were they always this young?” Tou He asked, eyeing the group of new outer sect members who bowed and scraped. “Were we?”
“Look at the bearded elder speak,” Li Yao teased Tou He. “Oh, wait. You’d need hair first to be bearded.”
Tou He sniffed as they continued to climb, the outer sect members scurrying off to classes or their tasks. “It is a choice to be beardless.”
“And bald?” Li Yao shook her head. “You’ve been in the sect for a year, and you’re already putting on airs.”
“Are we?” Wu Ying recalled his impression of the inner sect members, the nobles, when he first arrived. Wu Ying looked back, searching the faces of the outer sect members as they left. Looking for what, he was not sure. Disdain? Disgust? Disappointment? He found nothing but deference from those who met his gaze, few as there were.
“Are you what?” Li Yao said, poking Wu Ying to get him moving again.
“Arrogant.”
“My confidence is not arrogance,” Tou He said. “We are, as Chao Kun says, one of the better, younger teams.”
“You do realize he had to add the younger before he said one of, right?” Li Yao teased again.
Tou He shrugged, his confidence unshaken.
“He has been insistent we take on more missions.” Wu Ying grew gloomy. “Though it’s partly because so many of the martial specialists have had to leave for the war.”
“Wei has really pushed their armies this year,” Li Yao said.
“If General Shen had managed to stem the enemy at the river, it would not have mattered,” Wu Ying said. “Now, they’re in the plains and threatening three cities.”
“Please stop. You know talking about war bores me,” Tou He said. “And I just want to get the mission reported and have a proper bath. We’ve been on the road for a week this time.”
Wu Ying sniffed but sped up as Tou He pulled away from them. The man was right—faster was better. If nothing else, depositing his heavy bag filled with the plants he had harvested would be a relief. Wu Ying dreaded the upcoming meeting, knowing he would be spending the remaining daylight and quite possibly a chunk of the night arguing with the attendants over the quality of the items he had brought back. As he grew better and more competent at harvesting, the volume and quality of his harvest had grown. Now, the attendants had become parsimonious in their payments.
As they finally ascended to the inner sect, the trio split up. Li Yao and Tou He would go to the assignment hall to turn in their assignment token and let the sect know they had completed the job. Wu Ying went straight to the apothecary’s shop to deposit their harvest. As he walked, Wu Ying could not help but look around, taking in his surroundings and marveling at how a single year could change things and his view of it.
Now, he was an inner sect member. A rise so fast that some of the other outer sect members were of a higher cultivation base than he was. Yet even those members had to pay him deference, societal and sect rules reinforcing the rigid social structure. As he passed, outer sect members stepped aside, allowing Wu Ying to traverse the pathways without issue. Now, he recognized and was even on nodding basis with many of the other inner sect members. He no longer felt lost in the sect, knowing his way around the grounds.
Still, some things stayed the same. Elders were still existences that towered over the rest of them. The Elders in charge of the various halls were of even higher prestige, though their presence was rare. As for the Protectors, Wu Ying had yet to catch a g
limpse of the famed guardians. Which, considering what they did for the Sect, was probably for the best.
It was strange to think, but a year in, Wu Ying was settled. Even his interactions with Elder Pang were coolly cordial. Wu Ying had begun to hope he could, like so many others, exist in quiet solitude and cultivate.
Well, he could hope.
Wu Ying smiled as he walked into the apothecary hall, heading straight for the end of the hall and smiling at the attendant. Even the attendant’s slight flinch when she caught sight of Wu Ying and his large bag could not shake Wu Ying’s contentedness.
***
Sunlight filled Wu Ying’s courtyard, basking the cultivator’s shirtless and sweaty body. It gleamed off his well-developed pectorals, glinted off drenched muscles that were tight with exertion as they strained to keep Wu Ying’s body aloft. On a pair of suspended rings, Wu Ying hung inverted, arms spread as wide as he could, forming an inverted T. In that suspended position, the cultivator breathed in slow metronome, muscles trembling as he practiced the strength-building exercises his manual had provided.
Twenty-three.
Twenty-four.
Twenty-five breaths later, Wu Ying relaxed his arms, allowing them to come back to his hips. He flipped over, allowing strained muscles to loosen as he landed on his feet. He crouched for a moment before forcing his tired body to straighten, air filling his lungs fully.
Better. Wu Ying smiled grimly. Better today than last week. But still not good. It was strange to him how the exercises in the manual rotated, forcing him to focus on different muscles every couple of days. It made little sense to Wu Ying, but for now, he followed them religiously. He did not have the requisite background knowledge to change the physical cultivation style. Not yet at least.
And in truth, over the last six months, Wu Ying had to admit he had seen the effects of the exercise manual. His strength had grown by leaps and bounds, even as his cultivation had stalled. That was not a bad thing, since Wu Ying used the time to reinforce his cultivation, ensuring the numerous meridians he had opened were properly cleansed. In time, he would break through to the next level. Until then, the increases in strength—and yes, physical bulk—were proving to be useful. In his sparring matches alone, he had noted the sudden increase in explosive power giving his sparring partners increasing trouble.
As his breathing came under control, Wu Ying stretched, popping a few joints before he turned to the rings again. He reviewed his next exercise before hopping upward to grab the rings. No time to stop. Not yet.
A half hour later, Wu Ying finally collapsed on his back, groaning as the muscles in his arms and shoulders trembled uncontrollably. Even lying down, he hurt. Today, he had added a pair of breaths to each of his exercises.
Once his breathing was under control, Wu Ying sat cross-legged on the bare earth, eyelids drooping as he tapped into his dantian. Calling forth his chi, the cultivator guided the energy through his meridians, finding the sore muscles and the bones they sheathed. Not much damage this time, since he was mostly working muscles instead of compressed pressure or blows. On the other hand, yesterday’s sparring match had resulted in a series of almost microscopic cracks along his arms, ribs, and shins. Those cracks were where Wu Ying directed his chi, interlacing the cracks with motes of the power that sat within his body. The chi slowly reinforced the cracks and the bones around them, making them harder than ever.
Microscopic damage, tiny increases in density. Like water striking stone, wearing away the stronger material, except in reverse. In time, his bones would grow stronger. In time.
An exhalation as turbid air left his lungs. A breath in as lactic acid and other corruption was sweated from his pores. And a breath out as he drew in more chi into his body, sifting it through his dantian and meridians and making it his.
Slowly.
It was late afternoon when Wu Ying finally stood, his cultivation complete. If not for the need for sustenance and a bath, Wu Ying probably would have kept cultivating. As cultivators grew more experienced, stronger, their ability to focus, meditate, and cultivate grew in proportion. Minutes spent in meditation would grow to hours, then eventually days and weeks. By that point, sustenance pills would take the place of food. Placed under the tongue while cultivating, the chi-empowered pills fed the body, taking the place of regular meals and allowing the Core Cultivators to work undisturbed.
But unlike them, Wu Ying needed sustenance. And the food laid out on a nearby table was perfect.
Wu Ying deposited himself on a stone chair at the table, already tearing a drumstick off the chicken and smiling at Ah Yee. “Thank you.”
“No thanks required, Master Long.” After a moment, Ah Lee added, “Should I go out and purchase more cookies and snacks for tomorrow?”
Over the last few months, Wu Ying had learned to pick out the disapproval in Ah Yee’s voice. It was so faint, only someone who had spent as much time as Wu Ying had with her would ever notice it.
“Tomorrow?” Wu Ying blinked then chuckled. Of course. Tomorrow was the last day of Liu Tsong’s classes. The senior cultivator was likely to come over. “Yes. Please.”
***
The next day, Wu Ying was perched on a chair opposite Liu Tsong in his residence, shaking his head ruefully. “Did you have to end the lesson like that?”
“Not my fault!” Liu Tsong said. “Elder Wei insisted this is the best way to have them pay for actual lessons.”
“But…” Wu Ying sighed. The last lesson had not been so much a lesson as a tease, with Liu Tsong going over the vast sea of knowledge a pill refiner needed to assimilate before they could be considered competent. From the simplest things like the variety of herbs—of which they had managed to cover about a hundred—to the choosing and maintenance of pill cauldrons, the distribution and mixing methods of pills, and even chi impartation to pills were all briefly mentioned.
“You want to know it all, right?” Liu Tsong grinned evilly.
“Yes, yes, I do.”
“That’s how we get our contribution points.”
“Bah!” Wu Ying grumbled.
Liu Tsong smiled, making Wu Ying chuckle too. She was right. As much time as he had spent gathering points, he’d poured them down the drain of training, learning new recipes and spending time working the pill cauldron. As often as he could, it was under expert supervision. Fairy Yang’s earlier warning about how expensive pill refining was resounded in Wu Ying’s mind.
Even when he dropped his blacksmithing lessons, Wu Ying still found he had insufficient time. It was no wonder that progress in cultivation was measured in years and decades. Wu Ying almost regretted his time studying blacksmithing, but he reminded himself forcefully the no one, not even the gods themselves, knew how the threads of destiny would weave themselves.
“I heard you achieved another breakthrough in your Northern Shen Kicking Style. I thought you were working on the Mountain Breaking Fist,” Liu Tsong said.
“I was. I am,” Wu Ying said. “But martial styles aren’t a direct either/or, you know. The Mountain Breaking Fist has motions similar to my other styles. A few points of clarification in the style manual translated well with some unclear points in the Northern Shen. Once I applied it… well. You know.”
“Are you still focused on your pill refining?”
“Of course. But it’s slow.” Wu Ying shrugged. “Learning the herbs, the plants, and ingredients is simple, easy, compared to the actual pill refining. I don’t think I have any talent there.”
“Rubbish. I’ve watched you. You aren’t a genius, but you are competent. You just need time.”
Wu Ying sighed. “Blacksmithing was so much easier. Even when I made rubbish, it was usable rubbish.”
“Then why continue with pill refining?” Liu Tsong bit into her cookie.
“I’m not sure. It’s a challenge, I guess,” Wu Ying said, smiling wryly. “A synergy with my harvesting.”
“And you intend to continue? Harvesting?”
�
�For now. It’s not as if Elder Li is letting me take another assignment. And I’m good at it.”
“Good.” Liu Tsong picked up another cookie. “So. Tell me about your latest attempt.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m your half-teacher?” Liu Tsong said. “And because I need a laugh.”
Wu Ying made a face but agreed to her request. After all, as much as she might tease, Liu Tsong always provided Wu Ying the clarity he needed.
***
Late that evening, when Liu Tsong had finally left, Wu Ying found himself back in the training yard, a letter from his father and the cultivation manual for the Long family style set before him. Once again, he let his eyes roam over the words his father had written.
The Dragon’s Breath is the first and most important attack form of our style. The Dragon’s Breath is not a specific attack, but the projection of sword chi and intent by a wielder. At its core, the Dragon’s Breath wraps the jian’s blade with the user’s projected chi, extending its edge and length and forming a new edge from the sword intent of the user. It is said our founder was able to project a blade twenty feet long with just his sword intent and his understanding of the dao of the jian.
As I have written before, with your intermediate understanding of the style, your sword intent is insufficient to project your attack with any force. As such, if you intend to continue to pursue this form of study, you must be prepared to use significant amounts of chi. It is why the masters of our style have always reserved the use of the Dragon’s Breath until the Energy Storage stage at the very least.
To answer your questions—and recall, I can only provide second-hand advice at this time—the projection of sword intent is a state of mind. From your letter, it is clear you are mixing the projection of chi with that of intent. To clarify the difference, begin with the finger exercise. Now…