by Tao Wong
“Yes. But the few exercises we’ve found have not been particularly useful,” Tou He said. “Adjusting them to fit my particular situation is dangerous. Maybe even more dangerous than using a tried-and-tested method of opening another dantian.”
Wu Ying could only incline his head in acknowledgement. One was testing a new cultivation exercise whose effects were unknown, the other a tricky matter of manipulating energy. Still, at least the effects were known for the second method. “Are there other side effects?”
“Other than immediate death or destruction of one’s cultivation base?” Li Yao said sarcastically to Wu Ying.
“Yes. Outside of those.”
“It’ll make my time in Energy Storage longer,” Tou He said. “I’d have to fill not only all my meridians but both dantians to their maximum level. And then, when I reached Nascent Core…” He shook his head.
“Then?” Wu Ying asked.
“The options when you have two cultivation cores are… interesting,” Tou He said. “The number of cultivation manuals that can handle such a situation are limited. We are uncertain if we can even find one that suits my current cultivation, and if we do, we don’t know what it might require. It might make ascension…”
“Impossible,” Wu Ying said.
“Yes.”
The trio fell silent under that rather dire pronouncement. In some ways, Wu Ying knew that planning for the Nascent Core Stage at this point was rather premature. After all, while they were progressing well at clearing their Energy Storage meridians, the actual process of consolidating and breaking through into the Core Stage was dangerous. Many prodigies failed at that stage, some damaging their cultivation so badly they could never progress further. Others never dared the attempt, preferring to stay as a peak Energy Storage cultivator with the benefits of a longer life, strength, and respect that entailed.
And all too many fell in between. One only needed to consider themselves as an example. Tou He had to work out how to either enlarge his lower dantian or risk opening a second one. Li Yao, Wu Ying knew, was being pressured by her parents to return to her family. To act as guardian, as aid for their family. And potentially, a bride to progress their family’s fortune.
Himself? Wu Ying had his corrupted and marred body to contend with.
The peak of cultivation was perilous, the journey wrought with dangers and the pitfalls sudden and unexpected. Ambushes, petty jealousy, and spirit beasts all sought their lives, impeding their trip. And the cliff between one cultivation step to the next was often too high, too insurmountable for all but the most daring, most gifted, and most fortunate of individuals.
“Enough!” Li Yao said, breaking the glum silence. “You should put some meat into that mouth of yours, Wu Ying. You’re all bone now. Too thin to truly satisfy a woman.”
Wu Ying flushed red, choking a little as he tried to speak.
Tou He nodded sagely while endeavoring to keep his face straight. “Yes, Wu Ying. You should do your best to satisfy women.” A pause. “Like your Elder Martial Sister.”
Wu Ying’s eyes widened, and he looked to the side where the incense clock slowly burnt. He noted the metal balls that were held aloft by string, waiting to be burnt to signal the quarter hour. He counted them off quickly and made a deduction of the time.
A bad deduction.
Rather than wasting further time, he speared a piece of spiced pork and placed it on his rice, scarfing the food down.
If he was late, Sister Yang would have his head.
***
Hurried and lighter conversation, conducted between the hasty consumption of numerous bowls of rice, meat, fried vegetables, and tofu, was followed by a hurried departure and bath. Wu Ying arrived at his Elder Sister’s place on time. Her mansion was one of the largest and most elegant of the entire Sect’s, meaning that Wu Ying had to race up the mountain once again.
Elder Yang, colloquially known as Fairy Yang to many, was the most eligible bachelorette in the Sect and thus had gained significant benefit from her beauty and the prestige it brought to the Sect. She had taken over much of Wu Ying’s evenings, intent on progressing his education beyond cultivation manuals into more civilized aspects.
That was why most evenings, when the Elder was present, he would arrive at her residence, dressed in his finest robes, to take a seat against the wall and listen. Listen as her numerous suitors paid attention to her, while she held court in her living room, and they spoke of civilized and cultivator topics.
Each evening was a new event. One night, they had spent the time painting—even Wu Ying—a single jade vase. Master Painter Shun had walked between each individual, critiquing their attempts while paying, of course, close attention to Fairy Yang’s. Even now, Wu Ying could remember Master Shun’s verdict on his attempt—that at least his paper still had intrinsic value. In the washroom.
Other evenings focused on other topics. Music—where Wang Min, his musician companion from the expedition, made regular appearances and helpfully explained the intricacies of the musical piece behind a one-way sound ward—was a common event that was well attended. As there were dozens of instruments to showcase, and even more classic and new pieces of music, those nights—and the seats in her living room—were extremely popular.
Nearly as popular were evenings dedicated to the appreciation of the terpsichore performances. Of course, it helped that on those nights, Fairy Yang limited the number of male attendees to a select few. Wu Ying had more than once had to regretfully turn down bribes for his seat during those evenings. Fear of his Elder Sister kept him in line, if not his own good sense and disgust at the lecherous gleam in the eyes of the cultivators requesting his seat.
Then, of course, were the evenings where the focus was upon their shared passions.
Cultivation and the various cultivator-only pursuits. Blacksmithing evenings—with Spirit Beast materials specifically—were unpopular and sparsely attended, though Wu Ying found them fascinating. Apothecary was well attended, though those evenings were limited due to the complexity of the political maneuvering required to choose the lecturers and those who would showcase their skills. Sister Yang often complained that she would ignore them all, if she could, if they were not so important. As it was, she accepted their requests to showcase their skills as rarely as she could.
But of all the evenings, of all the events that his Elder Sister engineered to supplement Wu Ying’s education, there was a set of nights he truly dreaded. That they were highly popular did little to encourage him. For it was on those nights that the scholars—often penniless individuals like his own peasant upbringing, but more self-important—came in droves.
It was the nights that focused upon scholarly aspects—poetry recitals, literary discussions on the classics, evenings celebrating calligraphy and the practice of it as cultivators and scholars—that they flocked to.
All of those evenings drove Wu Ying to distraction and boredom. Endless discussions about the meaning of a single sentence in a poem, the thoughts a famous poet might have had two centuries ago, it was all inane to him.
And, of course, tonight was another such tortuous evening.
“Wu Ying. You’re nearly late,” a companionable voice called, making Wu Ying wince.
He turned and spotted the speaker, Wen Yin Xue, the arrogant son of the nobleman who had once ruled Wu Ying’s village and himself. Now, they were both inner sect members and Yin Xue was a highly regarded member of the noble and scholar group that met with Fairy Yang. The only thing that made Yin Xue’s presence bearable on these evenings was the fact that he, unlike many of the other scholars, was not interested in courting the Fairy. He made the motions, of course, but he was here more for the networking.
“I know. But almost is—”
“Too close to the deadline. What have we discussed about being tardy to such events?” A chilly feminine voice cut off Wu Ying before he could finish speaking.
Once more, Wu Ying winced, turning to the speaker. He sketched
a bow to the radiant, jade-alabaster-skinned vision of beauty who glowered at him, the sheer presence of her displeasure enough to make him quail. Or perhaps it was the half-dozen courtiers surrounding her already, who stared at him disdainfully.
“I’m sorry, Elder Sister. I, well, I—” Wu Ying cut himself off, straightening and clasping his hands before bowing again. “I’ll do better.”
“Do so. Now, make sure the equipment is ready. We’ll be practicing calligraphy again this evening. Master Cho will be gracing us with his presence. Make sure to place yourself closer to the front of the room. He was particularly enamored with your writing attempts.”
Wu Ying bowed again, then looked at Yin Xue, who was smirking. “Perhaps Brother Wen can aid me? A second pair of knowledgeable hands will be useful.”
“Well, he is a guest,” Fa Yuan hesitated.
Yin Xue, knowing his cue, spoke up. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Very well. We will be walking in the gardens until you are ready,” Fa Yuan said. She met Wu Ying’s eyes, not needing to add the personal message that he had better hurry. He knew she hated the way the others clustered around her, demanding of her and her attention.
Bidding his Elder Sister and the various Elders and other cultivators who clustered around farewell for now, Wu Ying rushed into her courtyard manor. He ignored the pain his still-healing wounds shot through him, barely noticing the floral scents from the newly cut flowers gifted to the Elder. As usual, none of them had coordinated their gifts, leaving the room a mishmash of clashing scents.
“Thank you for making me work. Again,” Yin Xue said, as he joined Wu Ying near the bowls of water laid out for them to wash up.
After cleaning off the dust, they dried their hands before exiting to the first courtyard, intent on moving to the second one and the northmost second courtyard living room where the event would be conducted.
“You know you prefer it to walking around staring at flowers you don’t recognize,” Wu Ying said, teasing the man. “Anyway, this way you can receive a seat nearer the front with me.”
Yin Xue bobbed his head in thanks. That was true enough, though they both knew that Yin Xue only dared to exert such undue influence on the seating arrangements once in a while. Like Wang Min, prior interaction with Fairy Yang or Wu Ying gave them some level of social status, but it did not obviate the pressures of hierarchy.
“Come, let’s get this done with,” Wu Ying said, walking through the open, central courtyard, eyeing the three-quarter moon as it rose above them. They would not have much time to ensure the room was ready, if Master Cho arrived on time.
***
Surveying the room, Wu Ying nodded. Small tables had been acquired and set in rows, all facing toward the northern wall, diagonal to the entrance from the courtyards. Each table, set so low that one would have to sit on the floor cross-legged to work, was supplied with green ivy-made paper, a brush, and an inkwell. Even from here, Wu Ying could smell the light floral scent that the expensive inks gave off in their totality of volume.
Each set up was exactly the same, each arranged such that brush, paper, inkwell, and other accoutrements were perfectly aligned. In truth, he and Yin Xue had had little to do beyond verifying the work done by Elder Yang’s well-trained servants. But that last-minute check was always required, since a minor mistake could simmer and boil, erupting into impromptu duels over hurt feelings.
Nobles and scholars and other self-important individuals, too caught up in their supposed importance, were as prone to the bruising of their ego as a wild orchid its petals. Perhaps because so many who turned up to such events had little more to their reputations than their family name and an inclination toward words and the scholarly vices.
Certainly, a large percentage of the attending individuals had stalled in their cultivation. The process of breaking through Energy Storage meridians was quite unequal in some ways. The nature of the blockages one had varied depending on the individual’s body, and so, some like Tou He found it easier than others to clear the blockages. And even when a cultivator finished clearing all eight Energy Storage meridians, he still had to collect, hold, and finally, compress chi to create his core.
As for the few Verdant Green Waters Elders who chose to turn up, success and progress during the Core stage was even more difficult. Core development had two entirely different concerns. Firstly, it was the compression and growth of the core itself—the shell that would house the Nascent Soul that would break free. But the Nascent Soul, the new being that was required to be rebirthed from the core like a chick hatching from an egg, had to be fed via a steady stream of enlightenment. Specifically, the dao enlightenments that suited the individual.
And that second portion, the dao enlightenment, was where all too many Elders failed. Enlightenment about the world, about the elements, about an aspect of the soul was all too easy to acquire in some ways. But finding a dao that could encompass oneself and one’s new soul? That was more difficult. Any undesirable epiphanies had to be discarded, shifted away from the burgeoning soul. Though how one managed to do that, or the intricacies of growing a new soul—or reforming your own—puzzled Wu Ying. Those things, when he asked Master Cheng or Sister Yang, were meant for those already in the Core Stage. All he knew for certain was that each method was different, personalized for the individual and for the cultivation method.
Wu Ying’s silent musings were interrupted when voices from outside, fast approaching, caught his attention. While Yin Xue had been taking the time to speak with the servants, thanking them and arranging for one to inform Elder Yang, the nobleman was all too ready to scurry to the entrance at the signs of her arrival. On the other hand, Wu Ying wandered to his own self-assigned seat. He did not need to act as though the heaven’s themselves shone from Fairy Yang’s footsteps.
Still, he knew better than to sit. Not just yet.
As their hostess arrived, Wu Ying bowed. Elder Yang smiled slightly, eyeing the interior before offering him and Yin Xue a nod of thanks. She stepped aside from the entrance, murmuring to each of those who stepped within, assigning them seats with quick movements.
As usual, there were some minor scuffles, barbed words, and hurt looks as the choice seats were allocated. More than once, seating arrangements had to be carefully readjusted as more prestigious individuals made their presence known.
All this, Wu Ying absently watched. Yin Xue did what he could to ease Elder Yang’s burdens, escorting those she could not to their seats, intervening among the inner sect members. It was a dangerous game he played since he had no official standing. But he did it all with smooth civility, earning a thankful nod from Elder Yang and a few considerate looks from other Elders in the Sect.
All of which, Wu Ying was thankful, he could ignore. Though he could not avoid those inner sect cultivators who made their way over to him directly.
“Junior Long, you look well.”
“How goes the training? Will you be allowed to go on assignments soon? Don’t forget to invite me when you do!”
“Are you sure you can’t take a day trip? I’m told the Silver Valley Hot Springs have a number of valuable herbs. We’ve got to chase off this herd of demon monkeys that have taken it over. We could use a Spirit Herb Gatherer.”
Wu Ying let the conversations wash over him, answering perfunctorily. He was doing well. He could not leave. No, not even to gather more herbs. Elder Li did not have any new Spirit Herb Gatherers. Yes, he could offer a few suggestions.
“Master Cho! Thank you for coming,” Sister Yang’s slightly raised voice cut through the hubbub, making the group of thirty or so cultivators turn toward the entrance.
In the doorway, an elderly man, a Body Cleansing cultivator barely in the late stages, stood. Yet every cultivator in the room bowed to the old man as he stepped within.
“Was the palanquin ride sufficiently comfortable?” she asked.
“Yes, yes. Very well carried. Thank you for sending it for me. Walking up the mountains gro
ws more tiring every season,” Master Cho said. His white beard flowed down his chin, a little scraggly, the deep folds on his face drawing closer as he smiled at Sister Yang. “But an old man could not turn down such a charming invitation.”
Yin Xue, beside Wu Ying now almost as if it was magic, muttered under his breath, “And the large beast core she sent for his time probably helped.”
Wu Ying snorted a little but kept silent. For Sister Yang, beast cores in the Energy Storage stage were a dime a dozen. Almost all those present at her gathering would arrive with a gift for her. If he had not been her junior brother, he too would have been expected to bring one.
In short order, Master Cho was at the front of the building and Fairy Yang had taken her seat, surrounded by her grateful entourage. The old man waited for a long few seconds, ascertaining that he had their attention before he spoke.
“Today, we will work on a few well-known poems. Now, remember, the art of calligraphy is an art. Your imagination and your ability must combine together in the act of creation. It is the movement of your brush on the paper, the judgment of the kind of ink you are using and the environment as well as the poem that will mark the proper creation.” He turned, fixing Wu Ying with a look, then a few others, as he continued. “Some of you are new to this but have shown some degree of talent. Use your past experience, use your martial forms and enlightenment as cultivators.
“Done well, many scholars have been enlightened by the very action of creation itself!”
The silence that followed Master Cho’s brisk pronouncement was profound. Applause would have been crass, but more than a few cultivators offered the Master a bow in acknowledgement. Though he might only be a Body Cleanser, it was his expertise and mastery in calligraphy that they were leaning upon today. As such, as their teacher, he would be accorded proper respect.
“Now, we will begin with a simple poem.” Master Cho waited for everyone to pick up their brushes and dip it on their ink stones, wetting it to their appropriate level, before he began to recite.