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

by Tao Wong

Wu Ying dueled, and a portion of his mind noted the increased speed, increased flexibility his new body provided him. Each moment he danced among blades and spears, among spinning chains and smashing mace heads, he won. Five against one, but they could not contain him any more than one could contain the wind.

  A pair of swirling dao swords were caught in a cross-body block. A shift in chi surrounded him. A twist in a body glimpsed from the corner of the eye. A precursor to an attack.

  Wu Ying charged forward, using his shoulder as he locked blades with his current opponent to push him off-balance. Even so, the attack his opponent had readied tore at Wu Ying’s robes, skipping off the underarmor he wore beneath. Wu Ying grunted in pain, but he had no time to worry about a minor issue like pain and injury.

  A drop to the ground bought Wu Ying time as a spear thrust missed his head, though the dip of the spear shaft struck his shoulder, bruising it. A cut with the wooden jian, reinforced with his wind chi, skipped off an arm bracer that did little to stop the surge of wind chi Wu Ying sent after it. The almost invisible strike of compressed air and wind chi cut his opponent’s face, tearing open a cheek and ripping off an ear. His opponent reeled back, opening the encirclement.

  Before Wu Ying could take advantage of it, a kick to Wu Ying’s back sent him toward a raised mace. He twisted, his right-hand jian extending as he pumped energy through it, swinging it widely and toward his back to force his opponents back. At the same time, he rode the smashing mace strike down, bending his body around the strike and yielding to the force.

  He failed of course, but he managed to shed enough of the force and borrow its impetus to complete his spin and send a knee into the mace-wielder’s shoulder. Wu Ying landed, twisting both blades around his body with his shoulders and arms as he rose, warding himself. Chi flared, extending the blades briefly, forcing his opponents away. The Dragon’s Whirlpool.

  After Wu Ying finished, he stumbled a little, chest aching from the crushing blow, a cut that he never even noticed receiving bleeding down one leg. Shoulder bruised at some point, numerous cuts across his arms, and the wound on his cheek still weeping blood.

  He could not hold this door forever. Five against one was too much, especially when they were at least as strong as he was, if not stronger. If not for their lack of control, their mindless aggression that had grown and torn at the framework of their teamwork, he would already have fallen.

  Yet he had no choice but to continue to hold on. In the distance, Wu Ying smelled the fires, heard the shouts of the roused population, and sensed the disturbance in chi as Elders and other sect members fought to control the flames.

  Fought for control and sometimes just fought.

  “You snuck people into the sect itself,” Wu Ying said, understanding slowly filtering in.

  It was not just people outside the sect who threatened the Double Soul, Double Body Sect, but people within too. That was the only explanation for the lack of reinforcements. For the chaos.

  It was why Wu Ying’s warnings had been so stymied.

  There were traitors within and without.

  His opponents had no answer beyond their weapons and aggression. That was all right, for Wu Ying met their attacks with his own.

  To buy time. To win.

  ***

  Wu Ying twisted his wrist, feeling the slight resistance his opponent’s heart and ribs gave as he tore his sword from his opponent’s chest. Blood stained the edge of Wu Ying’s blade, dropping off as the swirling wind chi that surrounded his weapon flung it aside.

  Eyes wide with surprise and disbelief, his opponent exclaimed, “No, it can’t end like this—”

  Wu Ying had no time to listen to the rest of his opponent’s words, to his objection to the ending of his life. There was not enough time, not at all. Even as he killed his opponent, Wu Ying was spinning aside, blocking another attack by the mace-wielder, swaying aside as a spear shot past where his head would be. He barely needed to dodge the last.

  “Aim better!” snarled another of Wu Ying’s opponents, having to skip aside as the spear threatened to impale him.

  Forced to retreat, the threatened opponent diverted his own attack, leaving Wu Ying an open space in their encirclement to charge up a sword strike. The wind and chi attack spiraled out from the thrust, only to be blocked.

  It didn’t matter. The attack was but a distraction, sufficient to let Wu Ying duck free of the encirclement he had plunged into. And all it cost him was another blow from the haft of the spear on his back, an attack that left a deep bruise.

  Free, Wu Ying rolled and twisted, leading his motion with the wooden sword and allowing the built-up wind chi to release in a sword strike that forced his opponent back. As the mini-cyclone washed outward, pushing back his opponents, the heart-stabbed opponent slumped to the ground. He joined a second corpse, fallen as burning both lifeblood and cultivation base finally caught up with her.

  As Wu Ying backed away to give himself a moment to breathe, his sight wobbled a little. His dantian was nearly empty, the swirling center of it dragging down as much chi as it could as the Never Empty Wine Pot sought to refill it. His aura tugged upon the unaspected chi in the environment, but there was so little of it left after their fights. Now, the environment was littered with exploded chi from their fight, all of it aspected. He could draw it down, but he needed to break the aspects, make it his own before he could use it.

  As for his body… Wu Ying straightened with a bloody grin, a blow having knocked a tooth loose and torn open the inside of his cheek. His breathing hitched, multiple bruised and cracked ribs and a long cut down his front making each breath a struggle. His legs were riddled with cuts and stabs, blood staining his pants.

  And still, his enemies were still standing.

  Spittle-flecked mouths below bloodshot eyes and flushed cheeks, in blood-stained robes, the remaining trio threw themselves forward, and Wu Ying met them. One was maimed and half-blind, the mace-wielder limping from a deep cut in his leg, and the last jian-wielder bled from a variety of shallow stabs across his upper torso. They were all, like Wu Ying, running low on chi and on their last legs.

  Their next clash would likely be their last. One way or the other.

  An explosion from the side, one of flame and heat, then a figure flew from the rooftops. Clad in pale green and blue robes, now soot-and-blood-stained, the figure bounced across the ground a few times before coming to a stop. He lay silent and smoking, a much-shortened bamboo staff clutched in his hand.

  “Tou He!” Wu Ying cried, fear gripping his heart.

  His distraction was all his enemies needed, as they swarmed him.

  The spear was the first to stab out, aimed for what would be the center of Wu Ying’s body but off just a little. Wu Ying swayed aside, deflecting the weapon with his off-hand by pure reflex. Still, he moved too slow and it scored against his tilted body, blood flying through the air.

  The mace came swinging in on the same side that he had swayed toward, aiming to miss his sword. Wu Ying blocked it anyway, but the weak side of his sword just glanced off the hilt of the mace before the weapon crushed into Wu Ying’s arm and bone cracked.

  Screaming, Wu Ying flew to the side, the momentum of the mace attack leaving him spinning away so that his final opponent had to chase him with his shorter weapon. Wu Ying backpedaled as quickly as he could, attempting to regain his balance and the momentum of the fight even as he blocked the thrusting attacks sent his way.

  The next few seconds were a frenzied dance of bloody blades, attacks appearing before his eyes, stabbing and cutting without cease.

  Block high and angled. Circle down low. Across the body in a parry. Thrust low to catch blade. Up high to push cut blade. Across body. Beat left. Parry right. Down low.

  Again and again, never having time to recover, Wu Ying was pushed back. His concentration, his focus, narrowed to a band of flashing blades and the opponents before him.

  Then another attack appeared from outside his focus. Wu Ying
had no time to dodge it, the spear head sinking into the top of his shoulder. Luckily, it was his left shoulder, where his arm was already crippled. The pain shook Wu Ying from his stupor. He blocked another attack, pushing himself forward to lock blades with his other opponent.

  Wu Ying struggled for dominance; bodies pressed together. Too close now for the spear-wielder to attack him. Lips peeled into a bloody grin, Wu Ying sensed the moment his opponent was about to pull back, the indrawn breath he took as he relaxed.

  And Wu Ying lurched forward, smashing his forehead into his opponent’s face. A brief moment of surprise as his opponent stumbled backward. Wu Ying’s blade tip dipped and plunged into the small of the throat, tearing open a windpipe.

  Another opponent down, but Wu Ying was swaying. His wounds were bleeding slower, his heart struggling to keep up. The spear-wielder, already angling, grinned at Wu Ying. He paused, making the cultivator stare at him before his spear shot out, aimed in ironic vengeance at Wu Ying’s eye.

  Wu Ying’s jian suddenly felt too heavy to move, too slow. He tried to bring it over to block, but the spear was moving too fast. He watched his death approach, the tip of the spear growing ever larger as it sought his life.

  A stick. A simple stick. The broken and shattered end of a staff saved his life. It plunged into the cultivator’s head from his blinded side, thrown through the air. The spear veered off course, barely missing Wu Ying.

  And then, there were no others in the courtyard. The last cultivator, the mace-wielder, was gone. Wu Ying turned his head from side to side, searching. At some point, he had run.

  Wu Ying swayed again on his feet, then found himself on the ground. He fumbled at his spirit ring, pulling out healing pills. Snake and Ox Blood Marrow pills, Bone and Flesh Restitching pills. He swallowed them in quick order, whimpering as they exploded with energy that his body drew to it hungrily.

  All around, the sounds of battle filled the air. Fires burning, explosions of chi shattering walls and pavement. Hot wind brought the heat of the flames and the smell of burning chi and bodies.

  Propped up on one elbow, Tou He offered a shaky grin before he slumped back down to stare at the overcast sky, lit from below. Each of his breaths plumed, water vapor rising.

  They’d survived, but the battle still raged on around them.

  Chapter 27

  A head—a very pretty head with raven-black hair that was a little askew and a streak of dirt running along the chin—popped into Wu Ying’s view from where he lay on the ground, cultivating and attempting to heal his wounds. Her curious expression, slightly stressed, turned serious as she stared at him.

  “What are you doing lying down on the job?” Xiang Wen said. “Come on, there’re more dark sect cultivators to deal with.”

  “I’m healing. From dealing with multiple attackers when we should have been backed up,” Wu Ying said. Yet he could not help but force himself to sit up. A part of him worried that she might still be an enemy, but considering she wasn’t stabbing him with the sword in her hand, he figured he was safe. If she had, he might not even be able to stop her.

  “Plans changed. Things got a little hectic on our end.” Xiang Wen offered Wu Ying a hand up, which he happily used. Her hand was warm and quite soft and smooth, though he did idly note a few familiar calluses. Considering they were cultivators, she practiced quite a bit with her sword to keep those. “But we dealt with it.”

  “And left us alone,” Tou He called, still lying on the ground. He waved Bai Gui away as he tried to help him up. “I’m not going to be moving for a bit.”

  Wu Ying frowned, looking over. Only then did he notice how low in chi his friend was. While Wu Ying had recovered some of his chi and his wounds had stopped bleeding, his friend still bled a little here and there. And most importantly, Tou He seemed nearly entirely empty of any chi.

  “You didn’t…” Wu Ying asked as he hobbled over, a little bit of fear in his voice.

  “Just at the end.” Tou He flashed Wu Ying a little smile, jerking his head back toward the tower. “When I realized the mace-wielder had run off, I tried to help but couldn’t move. Had to burn a little lifeblood for that throw.”

  “Damn it, Tou He. You can’t keep doing that.”

  “No, but better a little of my life than all of yours, no?” His friend’s eyes drifted shut, before he murmured, drowsily, “Now, I’m just going to… rest.”

  Wu Ying wanted to shout at his friend more but was interrupted by the others saying, “Come on. The fighting inside the tower is still ongoing.”

  “Where are the Elders?” Wu Ying said, looking into the distance.

  He felt the thrum of power, the explosions of energy that bled all the way over to them. Whatever had started in the docks and the northern residential district, it had drifted outward over the water itself. Which was good, because he knew if the fight was around them, it was quite possible none of the Energy Storage cultivators or below could survive the impact of the clashing chi.

  “It’s a full assault. A ship came in late at night under cover of the mist. Disgorged a half-dozen Core-sect cultivators along with some spirit beasts. The attack in the residential district and docks took down the defenses first, then they flooded in. The Sect Protectors are fighting them now,” Bai Gui said. “Everyone else fled to those spots to do battle, including some traitors.”

  “Leaving the tower undefended?” Wu Ying said, horrified. That seemed lax, considering how important the tower was to the sect.

  “No. But it doesn’t seem like the Protectors are doing well. Now, shall we?” Bai Gui said, waving them on.

  Already, Xiang Wen had approached the main doors, checking for traps or an ambush, and was beckoning them impatiently.

  Wu Ying nodded, following Bai Gui while he continued to ask questions. The problem with being bait meant that you often did not get a full view of what was happening. “And the rest of your people?”

  “They were inside as planned. They must be what is slowing them down.”

  Just before they ducked in, Wu Ying glanced upward at the tower, gazing at the damage. If the damage done to the various floors was an indicator of the dark sect’s progress, it seemed the attackers had been stymied two-thirds of the way up. An important fact since the top towers of the library kept the rarest scrolls and manuals, and the gathering arrays for the tower.

  Fixing the building itself would be costly, but not important. Fixing the array though, that would be extremely difficult and potentially impossible. Its construction required Masters or Grandmasters in their area of expertise. How strong, Wu Ying knew not. After all, he was so far from the peak of expertise, he could barely spot Mount Tai from where he stood[15].

  “The way down is sealed,” Bai Gui said, waving at the shimmering formation that blocked the way to the bottom of the tower.

  Waves of controlled chi rolled off the green-and-yellow barrier, so powerful that it set Wu Ying’s teeth on edge just standing there. There was no way for them to break through, so they could only hope that the formation had kept out the others.

  Having said his piece, Bai Gui rushed up the main staircase in the center of the building, following Xiang Wen. Not having a better option, Wu Ying followed but was soon left behind by the pair. They flew up the staircase using qinggong practices, their feet barely touching the worn stone steps. Even if they were in a less-than-optimal state, they were nowhere as injured as Wu Ying.

  Climbing the staircase was difficult for Wu Ying, his chest still aching with each breath. His broken arm, hastily splinted and strapped to his side, jostled with each movement. Scabbed-over wounds threatened to break open with each step, even as his aura drew upon the higher concentration of energy within the tower. It helped, a little, in his cultivation and refilling his dantian, but even with the pills burning a hole in his stomach, the new energy did little to allay the injuries.

  If not for his stubbornness and the healing pills he had consumed, Wu Ying might even have stopped. But Yu Kun wa
s up there, and Wu Ying had to know how much damage had been done. Perhaps he might even be able to help, though a part of him worried that they had a Core cultivator above. It was clear he had severely underestimated how many forces the dark sect had at their disposal.

  The first two floors were bereft of signs of battle, but on the third floor, the way upward from the main staircase was blocked by another shimmering barrier. Wu Ying spotted some indications of a fight farther up as he peered upward: broken balustrades, a glimpse of a limp body, and the pungent smell of burnt chi. Even so, with the barrier in place, that way up was impossible.

  Instead, Wu Ying entered the library. There, additional signs of battle were everywhere. The smell of spilled blood and burnt books mixed with the sight of destroyed shelves, scattered scrolls, and strewn blood. The sect library had taken the brunt of the initial battle, and moving carefully within, Wu Ying spotted a few tumbled bodies half-hidden under the rubble. A part of him wanted to check them for life, but the lack of chi auras dissuaded him. He was no healer, and if their own auras had fallen apart, they were in greater danger than his meager skills could offer.

  No. He was a fighter. He would aid them later, if he could. For now, he could only wish them the best of luck. If they still lived.

  Up, he climbed, using the internal staircases the library contained. It was clear this was the backup plan the dark sect had used. Formations that should have been activated had been turned off or bypassed entirely.

  A part of him ached for the destruction he observed, though portions of the library were surprisingly untouched. The vagaries of battle saw parts of the library entirely unscathed, while others were pulverized, the outer walls destroyed and the cold night air filtering in through the new openings.

  Each level required Wu Ying to traverse the floor, searching for the next staircase up that was unblocked. Luckily, the signs of battle were easy to follow. The long lines of released sword chi and weapon intent, the angle of destruction of pillars and shelves, the smell of waste energy expelled led him on.