A Thousand Li: The Second Sect: Book 5 Of A Xianxia Cultivation Epic

by Tao Wong

  “Wu Ying.” Yu Kun’s voice and gentle nudge of an elbow broke the ex-farmer from his thoughts.

  Together, the pair hurried forward, catching up with the Elder and his attendants. By the time they caught up, the Elder was half done with his monologue about the tower.

  “Now, I understand there are some who need the use of the Tower immediately?” Elder Huang said, lips pursed slightly.

  “Yes, Elder,” Wu Ying said, bowing low. “If it pleases you, I would seek to ascertain my elemental body’s details to make full use of your library.”

  The Elder blinked, having been focused on Wan Yan, expecting her to speak. Turning to Wu Ying, his gaze swept over him once more. As Wu Ying breathed, a touch of metal and rust filled his nose, just a hint of it, as the Elder reached out and touched Wu Ying’s aura.

  “You?” the Elder said, slightly incredulously.

  “Yes, Elder.”

  “Fascinating. Elder Cheng is certainly eccentric,” Elder Huang said, smirking. Even as Wu Ying bristled, he gestured toward the tall double doors before the tower. “In either case, arrangements have been made. You will find them ready.” Dismissing Wu Ying, he turned to the others. “Now, due to the cost and requirements, it is optimal for us to wait a day between activations.”

  “Of course, Elder. There is no rush,” Wan Yan said.

  Tou He echoed the sentiment, while Yu Kun smiled and bowed. His job was done, and this part had nothing to do with him. He would find his own entertainment in the sect.

  Turning to Wu Ying, who was still standing beside them, the Elder snorted. “Well? I thought you were in a hurry?”

  “My apologies, Elder.” Wu Ying sketched a bow then hurried in without a backward glance.

  His heart sped up a little as the solution for his problems finally stood before him. Anticipation dried his mouth, and a smile tugged at his lip.

  A solution. At last.

  Chapter 10

  Within the building, a single empty column rose to the ceiling with a staircase that branched off to the various rooms and floors within. Wu Ying frowned, realizing he was uncertain of which floor he was to journey toward, only to be interrupted by a waiting attendant.

  “Long Wu Ying, inner sect cultivator of the Verdant Green Waters Sect?” the thin inner sect member asked.

  “Yes,” Wu Ying said, turning to the man. He noted the other was holding out his hand, as if waiting for something. “I’m sorry, what do you need?”

  “Your sect token or a letter acknowledging your identity from your master or a recognized Elder from your sect.”

  Wu Ying extracted his sect token and offered it to the other. The man took it, turning it over and over, sending a pulse of energy through the token to make it wake up and showcase its authenticity. After reviewing the information in detail, the man handed Wu Ying his token back and led the cultivator not up but down.

  They traveled three floors down before Wu Ying entered a chamber that dominated the floor with doors leading outwards into other locations in the basement. Looking up, Wu Ying could barely spot the top of the tower. To his surprise, Wu Ying saw hints of blue, showing that the building was open to the elements at the top.

  The chamber itself was layered in black jade of the highest quality, its walls carved with inscriptions. The floor was inlaid with gold of intricate complexity. Though Wu Ying could understand the occasional word, the combined intent and chi embedded within the inscriptions made his senses ache just from being in the same vicinity, forcing him to withdraw his aura and reinforce it.

  The shock of the overpowering layers of enchantments kept Wu Ying’s attention until he had reinforced his defenses, such that he only then noticed the others within the room. A trio of Elders stood to one side, chatting with one another. Behind them, another half dozen inner sect cultivators waited upon the Elders. Wu Ying hurriedly made his belated greetings, only to be directed brusquely to the center of the room, inside an inscribed pentagon.

  “Now, stand still. Let the chi that strikes you flow. Do not try to channel it, or you will injure yourself. We do not accept any responsibility for anything untoward that might occur,” the cultivator who had guided Wu Ying down instructed him.

  “Untoward?” Wu Ying said.

  “Injuries, loss of cultivation, madness.” His guide sounded bored. “If you refuse to go ahead, know that we do not refund either.”

  Wu Ying glared at him, though his guide seemed unperturbed. Eventually Wu Ying gave his reluctant assent, knowing he had little other choice. His guide nodded, hurrying out of the ritual circle.

  Really, this couldn’t be that dangerous, could it? After all, hundreds of others had used it. Reassuring himself, Wu Ying breathed deeply, wondering when this would begin.

  Then, without warning, the chi surged within the room, surrounding him. Demon stone lights, offering the majority of the illumination in the room, surged then died. Even the filtered sunlight from above guttered out.

  Plunging Wu Ying into darkness.

  Seconds before the chi surge struck.

  ***

  It was like plunging into the glacial waters of their Sect’s mountain. It was the tingle in the extremities after one stepped out of the rice fields in autumn, as feeling returned after hours submerged within cold water. Body grown so numb, you could barely feel it at all. It was the look a qilin gave you just before it made its displeasure known.

  All that and more was what Wu Ying felt as the chi surge struck him. His muscles clenched, then released as he forced them to relax as the energy flowed. His meager instinctual defenses were battered aside, his aura cracked apart so quickly that he smarted from its erasure.

  Pain, energy, cold.

  And then warmth.

  He stopped shivering, his body relaxing as though the cold water had become the warmest bath. It reminded him of the cauldron he had spent so many days floating within, constantly heated, constantly cooked. Energy erupted from his pores, forced out with each breath, leaking from his meridians.

  His own energy, the formations. It all escaped. It did not matter for it gushed through him and was replaced.

  Around Wu Ying, the once dark chamber lit up. Inscribed gold glowed, tracing the pentagon he stood within and the major lines that made up the pentagon itself. Words formed at the top of each point of the pentagon. One word for each of the major elements, the forms that matter and energy passed through.

  Fire caught his eye, glowing as it did like the heat of a furnace. Fire always climbed, always searched for greater heights. Ambitious, dangerous, aggressive. Yet necessary for the everyday elements of life, giving warmth, passion, and life. Unable to exist on its own, it eventually burned away, creating…

  Earth. Located at the top, its words dull but solid. The central direction and the precursor to each change of seasons. Without the stability of this element, the elements would fall apart. Earth’s roots held everything together, forming the basis of the middle kingdom. The stabilizing agent of the elements.

  Metal next, because metal was contained by earth. Hard, unyielding, only giving way under the greatest of pressures. Necessary for all life, yet too much and it would grow too rigid, becoming too controlling.

  Metal was what you used to carry water, that contained the fluid element in useable form. Wisdom came from water, from understanding that even the calmest lake could have hidden depths. Movement without movement, peaceful but unrelenting. Able to wear away all things, given enough time.

  Water was needed, carried by metal to feed the last element—wood. Not just trees, but plant life itself. Wood was the element that dug into the earth, splitting it apart with the inexorable nature of life, changing it. Strong, flexible, adaptive as life had to be. Wood was growth and change.

  But it would give way to fire. And then the cycle would continue, ever onward.

  Wu Ying’s gaze locked on the wood element, noting how it glowed. He sensed it now as more and more of his chi leaked into the surroundings, how his chi
stained the very elements about it. Some water, some metal and earth, as was necessary for any living being. But more fire and wood.

  Another surge of chi, and he felt his legs buckle. He found himself on his knees, a hand against the dark jade floor, blood leaking from his nose. He coughed, feeling sweat and blood run down his arm and stain his shirt. His body shuddered, energy leaking not just from his meridians but from his muscles and bones, the blocked channels within his body.

  The energy pooled as it rushed away, drawn by the formation to the various words, filtered apart. The symbols for wood chi and fire glowed ever greater.

  There were other lights too, words appearing farther away from the main elements and the borders of the pentagon. Energy that gushed out from him, flowing to new characters farther from the initial words. Now that they were lit up, Wu Ying found himself able to understand them. In particular, the character that seemed to be pulling his chi from the wood and fire runes, robbing the two base elements as it sat between the two.

  A simple character that said…

  Wind.

  Wu Ying’s eyes widened, staring as his chi continued to pool there. Other characters lit up, those farther away from the elemental runes to mark other aspects that his body had gained. One made him blink, one that he knew the character of rather intimately.

  Blood.

  And then pain returned, his head pounding, his vision fading. Hurried shouts erupted, muttered exclamations, and the energy rushing through him petered out. Wu Ying let out another groan, spitting blood from a tongue he had bitten, trying to clear his throat to breathe easier.

  Energy flickered then faded as Wu Ying struggled to keep his consciousness. Light from the spirit lamps and above filtered in even as the glowing words disappeared. Fading, just like the pain in his body.

  Slowly.

  ***

  Wu Ying cleaned himself in an adjacent bathing room, grateful that he kept an extra set of clothing—peasant robes for use when he was gardening—in his storage ring at all times. They were still better than the stained and bloodied sect robes he had worn before. It would take an almost mythical level of cleaning to have those be presentable once more. Not after bleeding and spitting up on them as he had.

  A part of him could not help but wonder if cultivation always had to be so messy. Then again, life was messy. Those few who never found their lives messy generally ignored the mess they created or had someone else to clean up after them. A luxury for the rich, or coddled, or fortunate.

  Not a life for a peasant. Not for Wu Ying.

  And really, he would have it no other way, if you pressed him.

  Life shouldn’t be simple and easy. If it was, he would likely find it suspicious. After all, plants in the wild grew up fighting for nutrients, for sunlight, for their very existence. And if you could find rice stalks in the wild, they were never as plentiful as the ones his village grew. But they did taste ever so sweeter.

  As for the stalks that he farmed, that he cultivated? Whose lives were carefully tended, whose soil was raked and filled with water to ensure nothing else grew, who were watered and shaded and transplanted carefully? Well, they were all rice grains that were eventually taken and threshed and consumed.

  A life without challenges, without some level of mess, was just a carefully cultivated rice plant waiting for another to harvest it. Challenges were what made humans grow stronger. Or at least, so Wu Ying believed.

  And maybe he was wrong.

  Yet as he straightened his peasant robes one last time before exiting back into the chamber, he could not help but glance at where he had lay, now cleansed in flame and water. And think that perhaps he might have learnt something through all that pain.

  Maybe some lives could grow without struggle, tread life’s roads without boulders in the way. But not his.

  “Cultivator Long.” His former guide’s voice interrupted Wu Ying’s thoughts, the ones that were trying to remind him that he did not mind being dirty, throwing up, and in pain all the time. That it was part of his journey and if he just accepted it, it would be better. “If you’d follow us, the analysis of your results await.”

  Wu Ying smiled, offering a slight bow to the guide. He followed as he was shown to a small, attached room, one that he noted had a significant number of wards attached to it. Nearly as many as the chamber they had just left.

  “Everything is warded for privacy’s sake, of course,” the guide said, confirming Wu Ying’s thoughts. “It would take a true immortal to break through our wards. And even then, we’d know.”

  “I would never presume that your honored sect would have done anything but safeguard my privacy,” Wu Ying said.

  The guide smirked, gesturing at the seat at the table that Wu Ying should take before he exited. The moment the door closed, Wu Ying felt the enchantments flare, settling into place more fully. He bowed to the three other occupants of the room before he took his cross-legged seat at the low table. He smiled in thanks as one of the occupants filled a teacup for him, the scent of brewed jasmine tickling his nostrils. Reminded of his thirst, Wu Ying sipped on the brew while regarding the other occupants.

  At the head of the table sat an old man, his white beard wispy, the lines across his face deep and wrinkled. His movements, as he looked over the documents on the table, were jerky on occasion, as if his control had given way as his body betrayed him. Yet as old and feeble as he might have been physically, Wu Ying could feel the stored energy of a Core cultivator emanating from him. Though the energy felt strange. Smelled strange. Old, slightly sour. As if a wine had gone slightly bad.

  By his side was a middle-aged woman. If the lead Elder was an old man, tottering on the edge of succumbing to the final journey to the underworld, she was a healthy and hearty middle-aged woman. Past the point of having children but still strong and vigorous. Short, curly hair, broad cheeks, and big, meaty hands and hips fleshed out the woman who stared at Wu Ying fearlessly. She too was a Core cultivator, though a newer one. Not as new as Fairy Yang, but not a peak power either.

  And lastly was the attendant who had shrunk backward, brewing the tea and prepping the ink. Wu Ying glanced at the attendant briefly, assessed his strength, then dismissed him from his mind. An Energy Storage cultivator like him.

  “Elders,” Wu Ying said finally.

  “Fascinating results. Rare too,” the old man said, jabbing a finger at the paper. “Wind-attuned elemental body, with minor attunement in fire and blood.” His eyes narrowed. “Though the blood might just be the bloodline.” He huffed. “If you had held out longer, we could have gotten better results.”

  “My apologies, Elder.”

  “Weak. All you youngsters. Don’t understand how to truly grit your teeth and hold.” He fell silent, the silence stretching for a long time until the woman gently elbowed him. Blinking, the old man focused on Wu Ying again. “Wind, fire, and blood. You understand, yes?”

  “I…” Wu Ying considered then continued. “I don’t. I was told I had a wood affinity.”

  “By who?” The old man snorted. “Some hack probably. Easy to miss, without a proper understanding. Wind is borne of fire and wood, a sub-element of both. You cannot have wind without either. You are stronger in your wood affinity than fire, meaning your wind is much stronger and less prone to sudden conflagrations.” He stabbed at the document before him, pointing. “See?”

  Wu Ying stared at the document more closely, a replica of sorts of the elements that had glowed in the chamber behind him. However, there were other words, long sentences that made little sense to him. After all, what did Seven strips, alder, oak and willow, sap burnt golden mean? It was probably code of some sort, which allowed them to keep the workings of their enchantment hidden even when they rented it out.

  “Not really,” Wu Ying admitted.

  Or it could be as obtuse to them, with only experience giving them an idea. After all, peering into the plans of the Heavens was always a troubling thing. And the details of one’s body,
the true details, was the purview of the heavens.

  “Father, you know he can’t,” the woman said, snorting. “Also, you haven’t introduced yourself.” She turned to Wu Ying and gestured to her father. “This is Elder Hsu Er. I am Elder Hsu Yin.”

  “It is an honor to meet you, Elders,” Wu Ying said.

  “Garbage. You just want to know what we can do for you.” Elder Hsu’s voice quavered as he spoke, coughing a little at the end. He took the proffered cup from his daughter, sipping at his drink—a medicinal one, unlike Wu Ying’s simple jasmine tea—before he continued. “I’ve written out the few options we have in the library. A wind body… it is rare. Even for us.”

  Wu Ying felt himself pale a little, concern washing over him.

  “Don’t let my father discourage you,” Elder Hsu Yin said. “What he calls few is still a few dozen manuals. More than anything you’d find anywhere else.”

  Wu Ying nodded in thanks. “About my bloodline and body—”

  “I’ve taken it into account.” A wrinkled hand pointed at the paper he had been writing on. “Don’t you worry.”

  “Do you have any details…” Wu Ying said, hesitant to push but needing to know more.

  “If you’d lasted longer, we might have.”

  “Father…”

  “Oh, very well.” He growled and pointed. “It’s old. Very old. And faint. You forcibly awakened it and in an improper manner. It stained your body, corrupted it. If you want to make use of it at all, you will need to cleanse your body first.”

  Wu Ying winced. “Do we know more? How?”

  “Dragon.” A finger pointed at the outer layer, where the familiar signs for the various zodiac animals and more lay. “You have some of their chi.” A snort before the old man continued. “Not that uncommon among cultivators. Their strength breeds true, and they are…”

  “Carnal and profligate with their seed,” the woman finished, laughing uproariously as Wu Ying and the attendant blushed.