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

by Tao Wong

  Chapter 24

  Cracked ribs jostled as Wu Ying sat upon his plodding horse, sending sharp pains shooting through his torso and stealing his breath. He churned his chi, using the energy within to bolster his bones and help offset the pain and the damage, to patch himself together. But, for all of that, the damage was done and would not heal any time soon. He could only swallow a Blood Cleansing Pill, borrow the vitality it released to help his body fix itself while he rode, and keep an eye on Bao Cong.

  Because as injured as Wu Ying was, Bao Cong was more damaged. Pale, with little chi left and the wounds in his leg and shoulder still leaking blood occasionally, the cultivator swayed in his saddle. They had lashed him to his horse to ensure he did not fall while they rode. Still, Wu Ying stayed close, ready to catch the slumping body or grab the reins if necessary. Bao Cong was insensate, his wounds wrapped, a Marrow Opening and Blood Cleansing Pill already swallowed and working their healing magic. Even so, it was debatable if he would survive if they did not stop soon.

  But that was, of course, the last thing they could do. After they had finished the battle, they’d ripped the storage rings off the bodies of the enemy cultivators and taken their weapons and horses before leaving. If Wu Ying’s group was lucky, they had been the outermost patrol and their presence would not be expected for a while. If not…

  If not, they would have another battle to fight. And the truth was, none of them were in a position to do so. Even Yin Xue, who had taken pains to reduce the amount of energy and danger he put himself in, was looking worse for the wear, though he continued to ride at the head of the group. As for Li Yao, the petite cultivator sat on her horse, alert and tense by dint of will. Wu Ying sensed the churning abyss that was her dantian, the way she drew in chi without needing to cultivate—so low was her energy state. Tou He was much in the same boat as Yin Xue—mostly uninjured but tired and forced to ride at the back to keep an eye out for problems.

  Wu Ying grunted as another rough step made him wince. As he rode, his mind churned with recriminations. They should have planned better. He should have gotten more—more talismans, more enchanted items. Figured out a better distraction or way to sneak in. He should have expected things to go badly, and he should have planned for them to cause a distraction or split their forces somehow. He should have…

  He should not have brought his friends.

  As they rode, he faced his guilt over that final fact. He had asked and they had come, but now, their lives were in danger. For him. For his parents and his village. They would not have acted without him asking. And so, their deaths and injuries were his to bear.

  As he cast a look at the swaying Bao Cong, at the way Tou He redid the bandage on his arm, Wu Ying mentally chided himself for his selfishness. He’d wanted to save his family, his village—but he had put his friends in danger. Who was he to trade their lives for others?

  Then again, he’d asked and they’d chosen to come. And wasn’t that too part of the deal between friends? You came when they asked, or sometimes, when they didn’t. Because you trusted they’d do the same for you. Just like in the village. When a dike broke, when a fire started in a house, you didn’t stop to ask if they would help you when your time came. You acted—because weighing give and take, weighing the benefits and liabilities of aid would just see homes destroyed, animals killed, plants washed away.

  And if you did more for one person than they did for you? If they died owing you a debt? Then perhaps that too was fated. The karmic balance would restore itself at some point. In the future, in this life or another, all debts balanced eventually. That was the promise of the Dao, of karma.

  A cough from Bao Cong drew Wu Ying’s attention and he rode toward him, pulling out a mundane water bottle. He passed it to the man, letting him drink before Wu Ying took a swig as well. It was a pity he’d lost the Never-Ending Flask, but its sacrifice had given them a few minutes when they had needed to run. Precious time to set up the talismans. To pull away and hide.

  As for the flask—it was just goods. And those, those could be repurchased.

  If they survived.

  ***

  Surprisingly, for all their concern, they made it through the day without issue. They rested for a few hours in the deep of the night, when it was too dark, too dangerous, to ride their horses on earth that might be littered with potholes or staffed by bandits. As usual, with the coming of war, chaos reigned. And while the army had kept bandits back for a time, now that it had gone, they’d creep back in between the coming of one army and the next. Raiding, stealing, and killing before they moved on like the locusts of civilization they were.

  The cultivators rested for a few hours in the dark, taking turns sleeping and watching. Wu Ying volunteered to stay awake; his dantian had mostly refilled as they had rode, unlike his friends’. And so while his friends slept or cultivated, he watched over them. Until early morning light filtered in and it was time to go.

  Hard tack, dried sausages, jerky, and compressed meal were stuffed into mouths as they rode, switching animals every few hours. Bao Cong looked better, as did most of the others. But that just meant a harder, longer ride today. Speed rather than stealth was their protection now.

  For a week, the group rode at a hurried pace. Only twice did they run into additional cultivators. The first time, they’d managed to spot their enemies beforehand and lay low, hiding until the patrol rode off. The second time, they were forced to do battle. Luckily, they were scouts from the Wei army, individuals who were more intent on escaping with their knowledge than standing and fighting the group. After an exchange of blows and the death of one of the Six Jade Gates Sect members, the scouts had broken away. The brief battle saw the laming of a couple of horses, leaving Wu Ying’s group with insufficient spares for a proper rotation. As it was, the horses were tired, barely able to keep up the pace the group had set.

  “I’ll run,” Wu Ying volunteered. He’d done it before. It was not pleasant, but he was stronger than he had been. And even if he grew tired, it was nothing that would stop them.

  A moment later, Tou He jumped off as his horse as well. “You are not the only one who doesn’t fear a little hard work.” He laughed, the ex-monk still able to find some humor in their situation.

  Whether it was because he was ashamed or because he saw the wisdom in a matter, Yin Xue descended from his stallion as well and stroked the side of his horse’s neck. “We will run until the animals have recovered a little.”

  Together, the three cultivators ran alongside the animals, leading them and their friends on the journey back to the crossing, back to the river, back home.

  They ran past numerous fleeing peasants, merchants who flinched and glared at the cultivators. It was clear who they were, especially when on the second day of running, Wu Ying and the others changed back into their Sect robes. There was no point in hiding who, what, they were. Not anymore.

  Li after li of paved ground and crushed earth passed beneath their feet under the insistent beat of the horses’ hooves. Another animal lost her shoe, growing lame soon after. They left the animal behind, abandoned with a merchant for a few coins, before they took off again. Even as they ran, Wu Ying glanced back to see the merchant pulling hair dye from his pack and beginning the process of mixing it into the mare’s body. Wu Ying had no doubt the once-brown horse would be stained black in a few hours.

  They kept moving, even as the sun was blotted out by heavily laden clouds. With them, rain and wind arrived, washing out the roads and slowing their pace. It only became more miserable as they grew soaked under their cloaks and their mildly weather-resistant Sect robes.

  Bao Cong grew grumpier, the ache in his leg and the constant pounding of rain driving him into sullen silence. Li Yao caught a cold on the second night, her small frame chilled to the bone. Even her improved cultivator constitution could only do so much, especially when so much of her chi was expended during the day while she rode, helping them replenish waning stamina. None of them were
particularly energetic, but still, they pushed on.

  Late at night, when the group stopped, exhausted and tired, Wu Ying prepared their meals. Pulling from the herbs he had purchased, and some from the ones he had found around the camps, the cultivator cooked new meals and steeped medicine soups, providing them to his friends. He may not be a full-fledged apothecarist, but his studies had given him at least a basic understanding of what would benefit them. It was a waste of herbs, a waste of money, to do it the way he did, but both of those were of little consequence to Wu Ying at this time. They had to escape, and their pursuers, while likely just as inconvenienced by the rain, would also likely be better prepared and provisioned.

  All they could do was go on.

  They headed north and west until they reached a small fishing village, one that bordered the river separating the two states. By this point, they believed themselves far enough that the passing of coin and the subtle threat of their openly displayed weapons was enough to make a fisherman take them across the river. Even the threat of patrols on the other side, one that shot arrows without hesitation at ships that swung too close, was muted for the fisherman. After all, Wu Ying and his team were immediate threats, unlike the potential threat of patrolling soldiers.

  When the team finally landed on the other shore, the group relaxed, a palpable tension fading. For a time, they lingered by the shore, staring at the flowing waters and the border across the misty river. Wu Ying was not sure who began laughing first, but in short order, they were all chuckling and smacking each other on the shoulder as the relief of their escape ran through them.

  Eventually, Li Yao sobered and recommended they keep moving. Even if they had outpaced their pursuers, they were still too close to the border. But as they took off at a more sedate pace, a much more relaxed air drifted through the group. They had managed to do it. Now, all Wu Ying had to do was traverse a war-torn country to return the cultivation manual.

  As if the heavens itself knew what they had gone through, the rainstorm finally let up, giving them their first glimpse of the sun in days.

  ***

  Two weeks later, a tired and dirty group stumbled into Lord Wen’s abode. They’d had to swing wide, taking even more time on their journey back, running into demon beasts and bandits along the way, as they avoided the dueling armies near the border. Luckily, word from the local populace had allowed the group to avoid the armies and their patrols, often for nothing more than the favor of dealing with the latest menace that had been driven to their home.

  Lord Wen had been as good as his word, allowing Wu Ying’s family and the village to leave. What amused Wu Ying, in a cynical and tired manner, was the way the Lord had already filled the empty houses and fields with refugees from the border. It seemed that the constant fighting and the threat of slavery had driven away even the hardy peasants who had lived in those areas. Wu Ying was sure, if asked by magistrates or pursuers from their former landowners, that all of the new residents of his village—his past village—would swear that they had lived there for ages. It would be a good disguise for them. After all, who kept track of and paid attention to peasants?

  And if the armies were close to their new homes, at least their army was between them and the enemy.

  Wu Ying was thinking those thoughts while staring at the teacup in his hand. The group waited in the very same room they had first been seen in. Only the quiet announcement of the Lord’s presence took his attention away from his cynical thoughts.

  “You have it?” Lord Wen said. “Show it to me.”

  Wu Ying complied. There was no point in dragging this out. He missed the Sect, his bed, and his home. He wanted to make sure his family had settled in—had made it for that matter. This entire journey had been a long diversion from his goal of becoming an immortal cultivator.

  Lord Wen stared at the tablets, infusing them with his chi and humming to himself as he read through the text. He studied the documents for long, long minutes. Much longer than he probably needed to to ascertain their validity. Wu Ying was not sure if it was rudeness or that the Lord was used to making others wait. In either case, eventually Lord Wen looked up.

  “Good. And my son? You have a copy?” he asked.

  “Yes. I made one while we traveled.” Yin Xue smiled.

  Of them all, the nobleman’s son had gained the most from the trip. He had begun training with the new cultivation method, rerouting how his chi moved, how he tapped into the world. At first, his cultivation level had regressed, but in short order, he had cleared his meridians again and even improved his cultivation. He was now in the middle levels of the Energy Storage stage. That left Wu Ying significantly behind all his friends, still stuck at Body Cultivation 12.

  “Good. Cultivate well then. Your mother will be happy to hear that.” Lord Wen stared at his son for a moment more before he waved Yin Xue outside. “You should speak with your cousins. Pass on your gathered wisdom. They will be learning this method soon.”

  Lord Wen glanced at the others, taking in their disheveled appearance, then clapped his hands. In seconds, servants arrived. He directed them to take the others away to wash up, leaving Wu Ying and himself alone.

  “Lord?” Wu Ying asked. He did not fear betrayal, not at this point. It would make little sense. Then again, none of this made sense.

  “This transaction is over.” Lord Wen tapped the manual. “But for what you’ve done, what you did to my son, I will not forgive you. You will not show yourself before me again. Hinder my son’s potential again and I will take further action.”

  Wu Ying stiffened at the threat. He glared at the nobleman, then he paused as a thought struck him. He regarded the nobleman for a long moment before he said in wonder, “You really believe he could be a true cultivator.”

  Noblemen sent their children to the Sect to gain power. Influence. And, eventually, to return to the fold. Not even one in a ten thousand cultivators grew a Nascent Soul. Not even one in a million ascended the heavens. Few nobles, few families, would gamble with those odds. At least, not with first sons.

  “He has more talent than anyone in the last three generations. He will either be a powerful cultivator, a strength for our clan, or he will be an immortal. If”—Lord Wen fixed Wu Ying with a glare—“others do not get in his way.”

  Wu Ying shook his head and even found himself smiling as he slapped his hand on the table and stood. “The matter between your son and me was put aside long ago. I do not carry him any longer. Nor he, me. Perhaps you too should set the burden down.[72]”

  Lord Wen continued to glare at Wu Ying, who bowed to the man.

  “If you are done, I will join my friends—my Sect mates—in cleaning up. We will be leaving soon,” Wu Ying said.

  Lord Wen hesitated before he waved the cultivator away. Whatever he wanted to say, he’d decided to keep to himself. All the better, in Wu Ying’s opinion. The nobleman had little power over him now.

  ***

  “Did you get what you wanted from your journey?” Elder Lu asked Wu Ying, nearly a month later. He hefted the package of wrapped tobacco leaves, sniffing at the contents and smiling.

  “My family and the village have arrived and are settling in,” Wu Ying said.

  He had just come from visiting them, wanting to see that they had settled in before anything else. The villagers had all arrived footsore and travel weary which was no surprise. That they had complained and were frustrated about their unnecessary trip, having learned that their village was fine was to be expected.

  Some were already talking of returning, of claiming back what was theirs. Others had found Wu Ying to talk to him of their needs and the work that had to be done to ensure their new village would be able to sustain itself. Some sought to use his resources. Others to detach themselves from Wu Ying’s largesse as quickly as possible. Luckily, good soil and strong bodies meant that setting up the village and producing some food was viable in the short-term. Add in the Sect’s never-ending need for supplies and it was
likely they would be self-sufficient in a year or two at most.

  Still, the underlying resentment was pronounced and affected Wu Ying as he left the villagers, a reminder that even if he thought he had done the right thing, not everyone agreed. Worse, as the village elder droned on and on about what was required, Wu Ying had felt himself grow bored. Not angry or upset, but bored. Because their needs, their wants were so mundane.

  So far from who, what he had been. What he was.

  “But did you get what you needed?” Elder Lu asked.

  Wu Ying drew a breath and considered the question. Truly considered it. Finally, he smiled at the Elder. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

  Sometimes, one had to take a long journey, cross many li, and fight a few battles before one could find that what they needed, what was required, was still and had always been where they had started.

  Wu Ying was no commoner farmer turned cultivator anymore. He’d had to save his parents, save his village, but not because they were part of his future or even his present. It was because, at the end of the day, he’d had to do so so that he could move forward.

  “Good, good. Because Elder Li has been complaining about your absence. You better go see her, after you see your master. She’s got a lot of work for you.”

  Having said his part, Elder Lu closed his eyes and leaned back against the pillar. Around him, the group offered the elder, the gate guardian, a deep bow of respect before they hurried in. Already, the bonds that had held the group together were fraying, parting as they returned to their lives. Even if they had grown close over the last few months, they each had their own goals, their own pursuits. Cultivation, at its heart, was a lonely pursuit.