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

by Tao Wong

  To take a step further.

  To move forward.

  To a solution.

  ***

  Hours later, Wu Ying lay in a medicinal bath, one put together from the exact formula in the manual he had read. It was meant for Body Cleansers rather than Energy Storage cultivators and for individuals with a lesser wind alignment, but it was cheap enough for Wu Ying to test after he had provided the attendants the majority of the herbs from his World Spirit Ring.

  Of course, after the numerous herbal remedies, brews, and medicinal baths he had taken, Wu Ying expected little from such a basic bath. The only reason he was testing it now was to see if the specific variations in the manual would provide any aid to his worsening condition.

  Leaning back against the circular tub, its smooth wooden slats allowing him to prop his arms across the back, he luxuriated in the heat and warmth that seeped into his muscles and bones. If nothing else, the warmth would provide some degree of relaxation, hopefully helping his natural body processes to cleanse some of the built-up toxins.

  Today’s training had progressed him a little, he could feel it. More, he began to see a way through his body, an understanding that he had missed even after hours working with Master Cheng. They had worked to hone his sword skills, his martial skills, to purify his soul and let him adjust to his body. But not until now, as he ran through the stretching exercises, through the movement forms, did Wu Ying begin to understand the changes his body had undergone. And the changes it would slowly undergo.

  Not hard like iron, not immutable like water, not raging and hot like fire or centered and solid like earth. Not even the living, changing form of wood that twisted and adapted, but the breezy, amorphous nature of wind. Able to bend and turn, to shift and adjust at the barest hint. You could not cut wind. You could contain it, shrink it, but you could not destroy it.

  Wind… was different. It was light as a feather, as invisible as a lover’s caress. And as necessary, as longed for as a breath after a long swim underwater, as a missing parent’s love. Yet as gentle and inconspicuous as it could be at times, it could also rage. Hurricane winds that tore apart trees and threw oxen into the sky. Stinging gales that could sweep a sky clear and scour the flesh from bone.

  Wu Ying knew he was just beginning to understand, to grasp what wind chi did for him, but part of him was truly looking forward to learning. After just the first round of training, he felt himself growing faster, more able to use his new body.

  His eyes drifted closed, good thoughts muddling together as the heat and herbs seeped into his muscles. He slept, floating in the bath water.

  Chapter 14

  Cinnamon and stagnant water seeped into his dreams, invading his peaceful thoughts. He shuddered, the smell waking up nightmares, turning his brightly colored moments of peace darker. Before it could invade his dreams fully, Wu Ying woke to tepid water and an acrid smell.

  The bath had grown cold, his skin wrinkled after so long floating within. Herbs, no longer boiled, had spoiled, polluted and fetid oils and chemicals drawn from his body by the bath. His nose wrinkled and his body felt heavy, tired as he pulled himself out. A set of now-cold buckets of water washed the residual grime from his body even as Wu Ying fully woke to his surroundings.

  The wooden bathhouse was empty, the spirit lights turned low and deepening the shadows within. He shivered a little as the evening cold pervaded the building even as he slid on his clothing. But there was something else, something that had woken him.

  He drew another deep breath and smelled it again. Corruption. Filth. The dark sect…

  Head turning, Wu Ying followed the smell along the hallway. It did not take him long to find where the scent seemed to be concentrated. Late at night as it was, he did not spot any other cultivators, which was a blessing for his dignity. After all, Wu Ying was rotating his head from side to side, sniffing and acting like an animal.

  He stopped in front of a door to another bathing room. He tilted his head, noting the small wooden slat indicating it was occupied. Remembering the layout of his own room, he knew there was a simple changing area before the actual bathing room. The bathing tub and room would be blocked off by a curtain, so if the corrupted individual was inside…

  Wu Ying stayed still and focused on listening. At first, he heard nothing unusual, but eventually, the background noise of the inn faded away, allowing him to pick out the noise from within the room. The gentle splashing of water, the drip of droplets falling from the bathtub to the floor. The crackle of a fire as the entire bath was heated.

  Nodding, Wu Ying gently edged the door open, drawing a breath as a blast of steam was released. He smelled the edge of corruption, stronger than ever now. It seemed almost concentrated, as though it was being released by the bath. Or being concentrated and cultivated.

  Brows drawn down, Wu Ying slid the door farther open and slipped in, shutting it immediately. The noises from the other room uninterrupted. He held his breath for long moments, waiting to see if he was caught, before he exhaled gently.

  Nothing.

  Tiptoeing forward, Wu Ying eyed the surroundings. In the simple open shelving was the usual array of towels and robes provided by the bathing center. Extra wooden skin scrapers, buckets of water, and soap beads were all lined up. The entire floor was gently sloped, an open grate of bamboo allowing water to run off.

  But the corrupted cultivator’s robes were missing, as were his private belongings.

  Biting his lip, Wu Ying debated going further. Then the memory of being struck, of being impaled and nearly dying flashed through his mind. The attack on him, on Fairy Yang. His Master, wasting away. No, a dark sect cultivator deserved no privacy, no propriety. They were poison users and traitors, individuals corrupted by their desire for power.

  Again, Wu Ying tiptoed toward the curtain that blocked the view into the bathtub. At the least, he intended to understand what medicinal bath they were using, maybe catch a glimpse of who it was. Understand why the smell, the corruption, kept growing, intensifying. Was it an attack? Or were they cultivating their infernal method?

  He raised his hand to push aside the curtain. It was a small movement, enough to let him see partway within. The first thing he spotted was the wooden staircase leading up to the raised tub and next to it, a pedestal to place robes and other precious items upon. To little surprise, Wu Ying spotted a spirit ring, a jade necklace, and pair of hairpins laid on top of the robes. Expensive jewelry, a little feminine but nothing spectacular. He frowned, shifting the curtain further to spot the cultivator lounging in the tub.

  Long hair, black and lustrous, spilled over the edge of the tub, a shapely head, and thin, pale shoulders. They were muscular, but in the noble sense—shapely, without the large protrusions someone who worked all day long in the farms or blacksmiths gained. An apothecarist then, perhaps. Or a dissolute scholar.

  As he watched, the head bobbed up and down in regular time as the cultivator breathed. From here, Wu Ying could see, smell, and sense the strength of the cultivator. High Energy Storage, and there was the lingering smell of cinnamon and salt water mixed with that corrupted scent.

  Cultivating? Wu Ying frowned, stepping forward. A light tinkle as the curtain hooks shifted, striking one another. He froze, eyes widening in surprise. His hesitation nearly cost him his life.

  A sweep of a hand scooped up water with preternatural speed before it was flung out of the tub. Chi surged through the hand into the water, imbuing it with energy and weapon intent.

  Wu Ying threw himself aside, weaponized droplets tearing the curtain and his robes. A few struck him, leaving long cuts across his skin as he rolled. A burning pain in his right calf as an attack punched through the skin.

  As Wu Ying came to his feet, the cultivator within the tub continued their movement. A surge of energy threw the cultivator out of the tub, a hand on the edge before they landed on the opposite end from Wu Ying. A free hand had caught the robe, and the cultivator spun, sliding on the clothing
as Wu Ying drew a sword from his ring.

  “Assassin!” the cultivator snarled.

  Shapely eyebrows drew down, one hand clasped low against her body to keep the robe closed. Another reached for the spirit ring as droplets splashed to the floor and her wet skin made the pale cream silk gown transparent. He could not help but notice the shapely curve of her lips, the small, upturned nose, the shape of her…

  “Despicable beast!” A flash of light as she drew her weapon from the spirit ring. The tip of the blade dipped and thrust, water caught on the edge before it was pushed forward, sending a stream of water and sword intent at Wu Ying.

  Wu Ying blocked the attack with his jian—a wooden jian, he realized, having drawn it to his hand without thought—by using a defensive pattern to shed the attack aside. Chi pumped into the weapon, the weapon shimmering in his hand as the coating of wind chi sprang around the weapon and interacted with the wood.

  A part of him absently noted that it was not that wood weapons worked better because that was his aspect but because it better drew the wind chi—wood to fire, forming wind—from his body.

  A bigger part was mortified as he stared at the stunning woman throwing strikes of mixed sword intent and water chi at him. He spun and cut, blocking the attacks and sending dispersed energy in desperate defense. It took him a few precious seconds before he could speak.

  “Wait, it isn’t like that!” Wu Ying cried.

  “Oh! You’re just a normal pervert then.” She snarled, her face flushed. It highlighted her high cheekbones, the sharp eyes, and the dark hair that flowed around her as she continued her attacks. A hand pulled back above her head, then she thrust forward, energy pushing outward in a wave.

  “I’m no pervert!” Wu Ying said desperately.

  The energy of her attack struck the bathtub, shattering the wooden boards even as the water smashed open the tub on Wu Ying’s side. The entire thing flew off its raised stilts, the fire beneath exposed to the air and flaring high even as the entire bathing implement came at him.

  Without time to think, Wu Ying reacted.

  The Sword’s Truth with the formation of Dragon’s Breath had energy collect around his body as he lunged forward. He idly noted that, reacting by instinct, he tapped into his new wind body, forming slight gusts of wind around his body even as the energy around his aura hardened. Water and wooden boards parted before his weapon and body, exploding outward.

  The energy of his thrust took him across the room in a single motion, over the open flames and straight into the young lady.

  Wood met metal jian as the female cultivator blocked his attack. She stumbled back a little, slipping on the wet floor before she exerted her chi, fixing her position. Wu Ying’s momentum would not be arrested that easily though, and he let his hand collapse as he grabbed her weapon, twisting his own body as they collided. She spun, taking in his energy, the pair held together by Wu Ying’s grip.

  Bodies hugged together, hand grasping hers so that she could not attack him again, Wu Ying idly acknowledged the splattering of blood from his own wounds. Shattering the bathtub had not come without cost, the energized water within cutting through his aura. His breath and hers were mixing as they breathed hard, locked together and staring at one another over their weapons.

  “Hold your attacks. Please,” Wu Ying said. “It’s a misunderstanding!”

  The woman opened her mouth, making Wu Ying relax a little. Hope flared that they could talk about this. He was no perv—

  The headbutt she delivered sent him reeling, though old martial instincts took over. As he fell, he yanked her back with him, pulling the pair of them into a roll over the wet floor and away from the contained fire. His back hit the floor first, then as he kept the momentum moving, hers. In the end, he ended up on top of her, straddling her figure, weapons pressed against her neck. Blood dripped from his injured nose as she glared at him.

  “I said, stop!” He shoved the weapons down near her neck when she moved to buck him, her chest pressing into his as she began arcing it.

  The woman relaxed as she continued to glare. “I would rather die than let you defile me, pervert!”

  Slight movement at her shoulders and Wu Ying looked to the side. He spotted her fingers dancing, beckoning the water on the floor. He flicked his gaze back to her, about to say something else, when the doors to the bathroom burst open.

  He caught a glimpse of a fast-moving blur, something entering the room, before it struck him, throwing him off the female cultivator. Wu Ying smashed into the bathroom wall and slid down the edge as the senior cultivator stood over him, glaring.

  Coughing, ribs aching, Wu Ying let go of his weapon in defeat. Water soaked into his back, making him shiver, as the light reflected off the flames around the senior cultivator’s fists.

  This was going to be hard to explain.

  ***

  “Long Wu Ying, cultivator of the Verdant Green Waters Sect,” Elder Huang intoned, his voice loud and commanding. And disapproving. Very disapproving. “You snuck in and spied upon Cultivator Sun Xiang Wen while she was bathing, an honorless and perverted action. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Wu Ying flushed, hands clenching on the table. They were seated around a table in a meeting room inside the bathhouse, Cultivator Sun on the opposite of the table. The cultivator was now fully dressed and dried off, her hairpin inserted and jade necklace hidden between the swell of her shapely breasts. Behind Wu Ying, the senior cultivator who was in charge of the bathhouse stood, arms crossed over muscular chest. Wu Ying could almost feel the glare the man sent him, the way he seemed to ache to hit Wu Ying again.

  “I didn’t spy on her to be perverted!” Wu Ying said, dragging his attention back to the Elder and the accusation.

  “But you did spy on her.”

  “I did, but I didn’t know it was her.” He crossed his arms, drawing a deeper breath and fixing the smell in his mind and senses. It was still there, for certain. “I was following a scent of corrupted chi. One that I had come across before when dealing with the dark sect.” Unconsciously, he touched his chest where the scar lay. “I was trying to ascertain who it was and what was happening.”

  “Dark sect.” Elder Huang scoffed. “That old story.”

  “They’re real!” Wu Ying insisted.

  “So your excuse is that you snuck into a private bathing area to check on a fairy tale. Instead of, say, informing the attendant on duty,” Elder Huang said.

  “I…” Wu Ying paused. Well, yes, he could have. He probably should have. But they already knew that the corrupted had been taken in by the Double Soul, Double Body Sect. Telling the sect might not have done much.

  “You took matters on by yourself.” Elder Huang’s voice dropped.

  “I did, Honored Elder,” Wu Ying agreed. “But the dark sect are insidious and dangerous!”

  To his surprise, he caught Xiang Wen nodding a little. Less to his surprise was the snort from behind him as the muscular cultivator spoke up.

  “They are nothing more than children’s tales. No dark sect has been seen in decades in the State of Shen. No matter what stories you might make up, they do not exist.”

  Before Wu Ying could object, Xiang Wen spoke up. “They are not children’s tales. They are very much present. And at work.” Wu Ying’s eyes narrowed as she turned to Elder Huang. “Elder, I begin to understand matters. And…”

  The Elder raised an eyebrow at her hesitation. “And?”

  A hand clenched, then she met the Elder’s eyes with conviction. “And I ask that you let me deal with Cultivator Long myself. It is my honor, my modesty”—she turned redder but did not drop her eyes—“that has been impaired.”

  Elder Huang’s eyes narrowed, then he shook his head. “No.”

  “Elder—” she spoke up, only to be cut off as he raised his hand.

  “I will not let him off for breaking our rules. He will pay recompense”—an eye fixed on Wu Ying—“you will, not your Master”—before he
turned to Xiang Wen—“for breaking our rules and for the damage done. The rest, I will leave to you.”

  She raised her hands, clasping them as she bowed. “Thank you for your wisdom and generosity, Honored Elder.” Beneath her bowed head, she shot Wu Ying a glare.

  Quickly, Wu Ying echoed her.

  “Very well. I shall return to my rest,” Elder Huang said, lips curling a little in a sneer as he stared at Wu Ying. “I do not expect to be forced to deal with anything like this from you during your stay. Yes?”

  Wu Ying bowed. “Yes! Of course, Elder.”

  The Elder snorted and stalked out of the room, followed by the other senior cultivator. Leaving Wu Ying to stare at the young woman who glared at him. The beautiful, enraged cultivator who reeked of the dark sect’s corruption.

  ***

  After the Elder had left, the silence stretched long. Wu Ying shifted, stubbornly refusing to break the silence as Xiang Wen stared at him, her dark eyes glinting with consideration. He waited, forcing himself to stop fidgeting, focusing instead on the ache in his calf and the other injuries she had caused. He managed to distract himself with the pain well enough that when she spoke, he was surprised.

  “You thought I was a dark sect cultivator then?”

  Wu Ying nodded, and her lips curled up in a sneer.

  “And what were you going to do if I was one? Kill me?”

  “That’s the second time you’ve accused me of being an assassin,” Wu Ying said. “I am no honorless killer.”

  “Then?”

  “I needed to verify what you were and what you were doing. If you were cultivating, if you were attempting to sabotage the sect, I would have informed the Elders.” His eyes narrowed as he continued. “You still reek of their corruption.”

  Her fist clenched for a second. She breathed harshly, forcing a measure of calm over herself, her voice trembling a little with rage. “You know nothing, Cultivator Long, and would be wise to keep that in mind.”