A Thousand Li- the First Step

by Tao Wong

  “Har, Uncle, it’s true.” Wu Ying chuckled. “Is dinner ready then?”

  “Ah, you are terrible. Eating so much, you’ll eat away my profits,” the boat captain said with a pained smile.

  Together, the pair ascended the steps to where the crew was already busy eating. Before he joined them, Wu Ying begged off to wash himself clean at the stern of the boat, as was his usual routine. After cultivating all day, even Wu Ying found his stench unacceptable, never mind the poor sailors who would have to sit next to him.

  Shucking his robes, Wu Ying stood at the stern with only his pants on and pulled water from the river up with the bucket, washing himself and cleaning off his long hair as he did so. Idly, he glanced down at his body and the scar along his torso from the injury caused by Yin Xue. After all this time, the injury had fully healed, leaving only a diagonal scar.

  What surprised Wu Ying more was the state of his body. Having spent so much time cultivating and working on technique, Wu Ying had not really paid attention to the changes. He no longer had a mild layer of fat across his torso, all of it burnt away by constant activity and revealing chiseled abdominal muscles, thighs that were as wide as a young girl’s waist, and calves that had doubled in size. In fact, looking downward, Wu Ying was surprised to note that his pants were riding a little higher than normal—barely covering his ankles now.

  “Did I grow taller?” Wu Ying muttered, shaking his head. Well, he was still growing, barely having crossed sixteen years of age. But all this muscle was unsightly. He would certainly never be mistaken for a refined scholar if he looked like this. “Then again, what would I do with one of those scholarly women? It’s not as if I have much to speak with them about.”

  Laughing, Wu Ying quickly dried himself and moved back to the group of sailors. He might have spent a little more time reading the classics than his classmates, but that did not make him a scholar. Far from it—he still had not finished even the four books and five classics[19].

  A week of traveling had taken them across one county entirely. In town, Wu Ying would have to find another ship to ride on, as this one headed east now. Hopefully that task would not be too difficult. After all, the town was bustling with activity. Surely a boat or two would be going in the direction he needed.

  “What do you mean there are no boats?” Wu Ying said incredulously as he stood before the administrative office the next morning.

  While boat captains did not need to register where they were going, it was beneficial for them to do so. In this way, both correspondence and additional trade deals could reach the boats when necessary. Of course, most boats ran a fixed course—going back and forth on fixed schedules—but itinerant traders also made up a portion of the traffic on the rivers.

  “You heard of Bandit Chao, yes?” the attendant said tersely.

  “Of course,” Wu Ying replied.

  “Well, he’s been very active lately, as all the river guards have been withdrawn west due to the war. Now, few merchants dare run that route unless they’re traveling together. You missed the last convoy by two days,” the attendant said.

  “When will the next one leave?” Wu Ying said.

  “Not for at least another week,” the attendant replied. “Many of the captains have already shifted their routes to other locations. It might be less profitable, but it’s better than losing your life.”

  Wu Ying sighed and rubbed his head in frustration. He could not afford to wait two weeks for the ships to leave. Even though he had a little extra time, it was only a few days at most.

  “If that is all, you can leave. Others are waiting!” the attendant snapped at Wu Ying, who apologized and left, frowning.

  His only choice was to travel over land. But overland travel, especially if he went with a merchant, was slower. Much slower. Then his only choice…

  “I’ll go myself!”

  Saying and doing were obviously two different matters. For such a long journey, Wu Ying would need provisions. After all, he had not attained the state where he could subsist only on morning dew and sunlight. At this stage of his cultivation, Wu Ying needed food and a lot of it. Better then to purchase more and plan to buy even more at each of the villages he would pass.

  In truth, Wu Ying would prefer to purchase everything he needed in one go and then cut across the land, using smaller trails and roads to speed up his travel. But strong as he was, carrying too much would slow him down. And he could not afford a horse. Never mind the fact that he had never learned to ride a horse.

  Because of this, it took Wu Ying nearly the entire morning to purchase supplies, pack, and ready himself. Leaving through the east[20] gate of the town, Wu Ying once again marveled at how easy it was to travel as a sect member. He only needed to show his sect stamp, and formalities like the travel pass and the entrance fees were waived.

  Still, Wu Ying considered, it was best if he hid his allegiance soon. Elder Lu’s advice resounded in Wu Ying’s mind. A cultivator could never be too careful, as those cultivators who had something to prove and those who wished to acquire unique knowledge or riches would target others of their kind. Violence in the martial world was a given. As such, once he was a decent distance away from the gates, Wu Ying found an empty clearing to exchange his robes for his peasant clothing. After hoisting his backpack and hiding his pouch inside his tunic, Wu Ying jogged.

  Even though he was running, Wu Ying chose not to use this time to cultivate. For one thing, he no longer had the protection of Senior Yang. For another, the area around him was new and unknown, forcing Wu Ying to check his map and the directions each time he came to a crossroads. Rather than risk getting lost or being interrupted or attacked while cultivating, Wu Ying focused on improving his control of his aura.

  Li after li passed as the hours turned, Wu Ying only breaking to drink water and chew on the travel food he had purchased. Simple meat and vegetable buns and soya sauce-soaked glutinous rice balls with pieces of chicken made up the majority of the food he had bought. Smaller packages of vegetables and rice lay in his bag, awaiting the evening when it was time to cook. Since it was nearing the end of the moon phase, there would be little light to run at night, even if Wu Ying was willing to risk that kind of danger.

  That evening, Wu Ying found a small clearing a distance from the road. Rather than the usual rest stops which he could ill afford, Wu Ying preferred sleeping outdoors. Even if animals and spirit beasts roamed the countryside, he should be relatively safe. After all, it would require significant bad luck to draw one to him in the vast wilderness.

  “Cook the meat and the vegetables first. Stir it in with the rice with the sauce afterward,” Wu Ying muttered as he set the small pot he had brought along on the fire.

  All settled, Wu Ying stood and stretched, considering his next steps. “Ah! I haven’t actually tried the sword yet.”

  Speaking out loud seemed like a strange thing to do, but considering he had been running for the entire day without speaking to anyone, the sound of a voice—even his own—was comforting. Pulling the blade out of its sheath, Wu Ying inspected the weapon.

  The sword Liu Tsong had provided was a simple iron sword, made by a serviceable craftsman but not anything of note. Still, it was the first sword he had ever owned and it was, for his purpose, perfect. A simple straight blade, edged on both sides and slightly longer than his father’s sword. The hilt was wrapped with leather to reduce slippage. There was no tassel on the end of the sword, but that was fine with Wu Ying. He knew certain flashy fighters enjoyed adding them, but he found them annoying.

  “Let’s try this out,” Wu Ying said after glancing at the pot. He should have just enough time to finish the basic form before his meal was ready.

  Stepping away from the fire, Wu Ying resheathed the sword and entered a neutral stance. The first step of the Long family jian style forms all started with a neutral stance, as the first act was always the drawing of the sword. It was rare, in the style’s viewpoint, for a practitioner to start with the swo
rd drawn, so obviously the first thing one must learn was how to unsheathe the sword.

  Step. Draw. Twist the hips and tuck the shoulder slightly. Roll upward even as the blade came free from its sheath. Each motion followed the other, each action a continuation. One of the intrinsic aspects of the form—of the style—was the continual motion that it required. In addition, the style was domineering, incisive, and penetrative, focusing on long steps and quick strikes that required the practitioner to commit fully then retract immediately. Unlike some other styles, the Long family style focused dominating the battlefield with each action, such that feints and attacks blended into one another seamlessly.

  As Wu Ying moved, the air around him rose, kicked up by the swift movements of his feet and the whirl of his blade. Yet the wind sputtered and died, rising and falling as his movements hesitated or his attacks cut but were unable to generate sufficient strength. Twenty minutes later, Wu Ying finally came to a stop, the sword sheathed with a flourish.

  “Cao. Still missing by a half-inch,” Wu Ying said as he looked around at the kicked-up dirt. He sighed and shook his head, walking over to his pot of food. “I’ll need to practice more to get used to this blade. But first, dinner!”

  When dinner was nearly over, Wu Ying straightened his back, an errant sound alerting him. Turning away from the fire, he peered into the darkness and frowned as he carefully set aside his bowl.

  “Who is it?” Wu Ying called.

  Instead of an answer, a snuffling came from the undergrowth. Standing warily, Wu Ying let his hand land on the sheathed blade, eyes narrowing. A pair of eyes three feet off the ground appeared, glowing red in the firelight.

  Wu Ying winced as he stared at the boar. A flame-spirit demon boar, it seemed. One that had achieved some degree of strength over the years. Even a normal boar was a menace. Their greater weight, their low-slung body, and the thick layer of fat that covered their vitals made them difficult to injure and kill with normal weapons. Add in the boar’s naturally aggressive nature and most farmers preferred to deal with wolves—at least those animals had reason for their aggression. A spirit-enhanced boar was just the same, except multiplied by ten.

  Lowering his stance, Wu Ying eyed the boar, who snorted and snuffled. A sudden bunching of its muscles telegraphed its charge. The creature crossed the space between them in a breath, hooves sending clods of dirt into the air. Exhaling, Wu Ying stepped sideways even as he drew and cut. The attack slashed across the boar’s neck, cutting deep and parting skin, fat, and muscle. But such was the size of the boar’s neck that the attack failed to hit a vital spot.

  “Damn it,” Wu Ying snarled as he spun around, lashing out even as the boar turned.

  His next attack scored its back, leaving a shallow cut across its tough hide. As Wu Ying jumped back, the boar let out a squeaky oink and released a wave of fire at Wu Ying. An additional jump backward allowed Wu Ying to avoid the majority of the attack, leaving his face and exposed skin red and hot.

  More cautious now, Wu Ying fell back into his guard as he waited for the boar to attack him again. The boar rushed Wu Ying, who stepped aside as he lashed out in a series of quick wrist cuts that opened the boar’s skin. Better to focus on a slow fight, one that wore the monster down, than attempt another decapitating strike.

  As he fought, Wu Ying focused on controlling his breathing, knowing he needed to keep it regular and calm to control his body. Yet the thrill of battle ran through him, his heart speeding up and his vision narrowing as he fought for his life, alone, for the first time. Oh sure, spirit beasts had attacked the village before, but he had never been at the forefront. Nor had he been alone.

  Together, the pair fought, the boar relentless in its aggression while Wu Ying moved smoothly in circles. Luckily, the monster could only use its fire attack once in a while, allowing Wu Ying to focus on cutting the monster apart. As time wore on, the pair grew increasingly tired. As the boar charged Wu Ying once again, he neatly side-stepped the monster and cut again. Wu Ying’s blade sliced deeper into the exposed muscles on the boar’s back, making the monster snuffle in anger once again. However, this time, as Wu Ying landed, his foot trod on an overturned piece of earth and he lost his balance for a split second. The boar twisted around as it took the opportunity to charge Wu Ying again.

  “The Sword’s Truth,” Wu Ying shouted as he regained his balance.

  Without time to back off, Wu Ying could only trust in the first major attack form of his style. The Sword’s Truth was a lunge, but a lunge filled with the intent and conviction of the cultivator. It required full commitment, as it gathered all the strength in a cultivator’s body, requiring the cultivator to completely believe that nothing could withstand the attack itself.

  Facing the monster head-on, the blade was directed slightly off the line of the monster’s charge, aimed at the exposed wound on its neck. Braced in a perfect line, the sword bucked in Wu Ying’s hand as the weight of the monster pushed down on him. The impetus from both of their attacks pushed the sword deep into the creature’s body even as Wu Ying’s feet dug up the earth as he was pushed back. Thankfully, the attack was sufficient to pierce something vital in the monster’s body. It stopped thrashing finally, leaving Wu Ying with some light wounds on his arms and an aching hand.

  “Finally,” Wu Ying said and leaned against a nearby tree.

  His once-pristine clearing was now trashed, the ground riven with holes from the boar’s striking feet, burnt grass sputtering, and the boar’s blood splashed everywhere. Only Wu Ying’s decision to hoist and secure his bags of provisions above the treeline earlier had kept them safe.

  “This will not do for tonight’s rest.” Never mind how uneven the earth was now, the smell of blood would bring insects and bigger monsters. “Better find another clearing.”

  Shaking his head, Wu Ying moved to pull down his bags. Rather than unhook the rope once he’d collected his bags, Wu Ying tied it to the boar’s body and hauled it up, allowing the monster to bleed out as Wu Ying bandaged his arms. Briefly, Wu Ying considered storing some of the boar’s blood but then shook it off. He had not brought a container for it. More’s the pity. Better to take the meat and be grateful that he had that much.

  “Oh!” Wu Ying smacked himself on the head. “It’s a demon beast!”

  Grinning, Wu Ying stared at the carcass. Somewhere in there, the monster had a spirit stone. His very first. While it was likely small and dim as befitted the smaller demon, it was still a demon stone. When he returned to the sect, he could trade it in for more contribution points. Worst-case scenario, it was still worth a decent amount of coin.

  Smiling, Wu Ying settled down to wait, more content with the disturbance. He almost wished he would be attacked again.

  Almost.

  Chapter 12

  As the rest stops along the road system were spaced roughly a day apart, Wu Ying decided to carry the meat from the boar to the nearest stop and sell it there. Since he managed to arrive around mid-morning, the owner of the stop was more than happy to purchase the meat to feed the lunch and dinner crowd. As Wu Ying stared at the taels he had been provided, he could not shake the feeling that he had been cheated. Certainly, paying the same price per cattie for spirit-infused boar meat as for normal pork seemed wrong. But in the end, Wu Ying took the funds and the hot meal gratefully. It was not as if he could actually carry all the meat with him, nor did he have the salt or time to smoke the boar properly. Better to sell it and earn a little coin than to worry about the matter.

  Having properly consoled himself and eaten a warm meal, Wu Ying took off once more at a leisurely jog. While he received more than a few strange glances over the fact that he was running with a big bag slung over his back, since none of those individuals managed to overtake him, it was of little concern to Wu Ying. And really, while his cultivation and body were strong, that was only in comparison to the base ranks of the populace. Older and more experienced cultivators were able to do what he did with ease, and even among the
commoners, the occasional gifted genius cropped up. As such, Wu Ying’s actions, while unusual, were not entirely uncommon. Especially since Wu Ying had yet to study or master any qinggong[21] skills to move lightly at superhuman speeds.

  Along the way, Wu Ying paid attention to the traffic on the road. Even if travel by the canals was both faster and more convenient, many locations were not connected that way. As such, everyone from merchants, beggars, scholars, monks, government officials, cultivators, and more used the roads. The conveyances used varied depending on the individuals’ stations. Everything from simple wagons to carriages, horses, and rickshaws were seen on the road, though just as many were like Wu Ying, making do with nature’s most popular form of transportation.

  Even though Wu Ying found himself surrounded by people, he spent no time talking to them. And while there were numerous kinds of travelers, the roads weren’t packed. More often than not, he saw people at clearings resting, or he would pass another group as he ran. On a few rare occasions, he was passed by those on horses or in carriages.

  Wu Ying found the entire scene endlessly fascinating. This was a life that he had never been exposed to, and the traveling community seemed to have a series of mores that he was slowly gleaning. Many of these wanderers seemed happy, free from the social and economic restrictions that kept farmers locked to their land. It was an eye-opening sight for the young man, much like his first city. Once again, Wu Ying was forcefully reminded that the world under heaven held marvels and wonders galore.

  Day after day, Wu Ying found his life repeating the same pattern. Run, eat, train his aura strengthening techniques and his martial art forms, eat, get attacked by spirit beasts. Not that he was attacked every night, but the attacks were more often than common sense would have suggested. On one particular day, Wu Ying found himself leaning on a shop counter, nursing a sore rib while talking to the rest stop’s proprietor.