A Thousand Li: The Favored Son: A Cultivation Short Story

by Tao Wong

  “They’re new,” Wu Ying said. Unfortunately, the outside world’s class system continued to be a factor even in the outer sect, as Wu Ying well knew. It was only in the inner sect that differences between peasants and nobles were buried, overcome by the stronger differences between the skilled and the lazy. “They’ll learn.”

  “Maybe.” Li Yao’s eyes grew dark for a moment, in memory of her own family. Wu Ying reached out, squeezing her hand covertly. He released it and dropped his hand when he noticed Feng eyeing the pair of them, his lip curling up.

  For a moment, Wu Ying worried that Feng might make a scene. There were no rules about fraternization between inner sect members, but it was quite clear to those with eyes that neither he nor Li Yao were of the same social class. Li Yao was small, graceful, and pale, her few accessories expensive and enchanted. Wu Ying was tanned from his secondary occupation and his own upbringing, bereft of accessories, but for his sword.

  Still, it did not take long before Feng turned away and walked over to Qiu Yue. In the meantime, Li Yao eyed the now bored nobles. Clapping her hands together, she waved a hand to regain their attention; her usual sunny nature reasserting itself as she led them to the next spot.

  ***

  An hour and a half later, the group had finished the tour of the outer sect library. Even the dubious Feng had been forced to admit that the sheer variety of cultivation manuals, fighting techniques, and martial styles available had been impressive. A demonstration of the outer sect martial technique had made less of an impact, many of the nobles having family techniques that were as good, if not better than the fist style that was taught to outer sect members.

  Thankfully, the inner sect was more grandiose. Here, Sect exclusive buildings could be found. The inner sect library, the apothecary halls, the gardens, and smithery all held the promise of the Sect itself – immortality for the gifted. In these halls and more, a cultivator could expand their secondary occupations.

  Now, the group stood in one of the many combat halls. The name itself was a misnomer, for the combat hall was a small complex made of multiple buildings and a large courtyard filled with fighting rings. In the rings themselves, a scattering of inner sect members trained, some practicing chi-based strikes whose attacks struck protective shielding, while others dueled.

  “This is better,” Feng said, eyeing the training Sect members. “Now, they look better than children scuffling.”

  “Ah Feng!” his father snapped.

  “No,” Lord Yi spoke up. Meanwhile, his daughter peered interestedly at one of the shirtless fighters. “Your son is right, Lord Cui. This is what I have come to expect of the Verdant Green Waters.”

  “Yes, Lord Yi. Of course, you are right.” Lord Cui immediately changed his tone.

  “Still, they are not as good as our own guards,” Qiu Yue spoke up, tapping her lips. “I bet Yu Fei could beat them. Don’t you think so, Sister Yao?”

  Li Yao’s smile grew strained as Qiu Yue addressed her. Around the speakers, the other nobles were looking much more interested in the conversation as Qiu Yue’s words were a direct attack against the Sect’s prestige.

  “Maybe. It’s been many years since I saw Yu Fei,” Li Yao said. “But those you see are normal members of the Sect, training their martial skills. Of course, the martial specialists of the Sect are better, but they have their own hall.” Li Yao paused and added before anyone else could. “And many are not in the Sect, due to the winter requests.”

  “Pity,” Qiu Yue said. “But, you’re a member, aren’t you? Could you not put on a demonstration for us?”

  “It would not be appropriate,” Li Yao said, gesturing down with a hand and playing demure.

  Wu Ying’s lip twitched a little as he watched Li Yao. The young lady was normally so much more upfront, always eager to fight. Now, she was declining the opportunity. But he could understand it. Their assignment was to show the nobles around and impress them without hurting their feelings. Having Li Yao beat their personal guards risked injuring their overweening egos.

  “How about him?” Feng gestured to Wu Ying. “Is he a martial specialist too?”

  “No,” Wu Ying said. “I am a Gatherer.”

  “A herb gatherer?” Feng’s nose wrinkled. “But, you carry a sword.”

  “Gathering can be a dangerous job,” Wu Ying said. Some of the other nobles scrutinized his face for sarcasm, while a few others nodded. Feng looked at his father, puzzled.

  “Spiritual herbs are often guarded by demon beasts. Some of the rarer herbs are even farmed by these creatures,” Lord Yi said to his son, his voice taking on a lecturing tone. “Gatherers must know the differences in herbs, their likely locations, and be able to survive the actual gathering process. Some–many–take the safer path and bring additional help.”

  “But I bet he can fight,” Feng said.

  “I have some skill,” Wu Ying admitted.

  “Then, fight me. Surely a little lesson would not be amiss.”

  Wu Ying frowned, but had to admit that there was little he could find to object to that. Feng was only Body Cleansing 5. A duel between them would not even be considered fair, and so it would be more of an impartation of knowledge. Still, Wu Ying hesitated, fearing that there was something more to this that he had missed.

  “Wu Ying,” Fairy Yang’s voice rang out from behind the group, startling him.

  “Senior,” Wu Ying said.

  Around them, the lords murmured to one another while the guards stared, both from the shock of being caught by surprise and by the beauty of the woman speaking.

  “If our guests desire to test their prowess, we should accommodate them,” Fairy Yang said.

  “Yes, Senior,” Wu Ying said.

  Feng grinned, almost skipping to the nearest fighting arena. Feng stopped by the loaner rack of weaponry, picking a jian from it before he hopped onto the raised hexagon platform to await Wu Ying. Wu Ying took a little longer in selecting his weapon, checking over each jian to find one that most closely approximated his own weapon. Only when he found a suitable weapon did he ascend the steps to the fighting arena.

  “The matches will be for light touches only,” Wu Ying said. “First to ten. Avoid strikes against the head, crotch, and small extremities.”

  Feng sniffed, obviously disdaining the restrictive rules, but Lord Yi nodded in gratitude. Wu Ying took a step further, raised his sword in salute, and waited until Feng repeated the action.

  “Cui Feng. Forked Branch Sword Style,” Feng announced as he swept his sword down.

  “Long Wu Ying. Long Family Sword Style,” Wu Ying said.

  Once the announcements had been made, they approached the center of the arena and began to circle one another. Wu Ying’s eyes darted downward, taking in Feng’s footwork. That motion was enough of an opening to bait the impatient teenager who lunged, blade directed at Wu Ying’s throat. A slight sway of his upper body removed the target while Wu Ying’s blade crossed over the top of Feng’s. The barest of contact before Wu Ying drove the tip of his blade down and around as Feng recovered from his missed attack. Blade pointed at Feng’s thigh; it only required Wu Ying to lean forwards slightly to drive his attack home, all the while keeping his opponent’s blade trapped.

  “First point,” Wu Ying said, disengaging and stepping back to create space.

  Feng growled, but nodded to acknowledge the strike. He moved more warily now, cautious about Wu Ying’s attacks. Even so, the next few engagements were substantially similar. Wu Ying was a Body Cultivator at the twelfth stage and had achieved the Sense of the Sword, and thus was both physically stronger and technically better than Feng by a significant degree.

  Again, and again, their swords crossed. In short order, Wu Ying reached eight points, and Feng’s patience ran out. The young lord’s son took a step back, drew a deep breath, and pushed his chi from around his dantian. Outside the arena, Lord Cui hissed in exasperation as Feng’s aura grew stronger by leaps and bounds.

  “An aura
strengthening technique?” Fairy Yang commented to Lord Cui. “Wasteful to use for an exchange of pointers.”

  “The young are impetuous,” Lord Cui said. Obviously, he could not rebuke his own child in public – what face would Feng have left if his father did that?

  Wu Ying tuned the pair out as Feng finished consolidating his aura and began to attack. A half-dozen blocks in, and Wu Ying understood the degree that Feng had managed to increase his speed and strength using the aura strengthening technique.

  More so, after so many passes, Wu Ying had a grasp of the Forked Branch style and its philosophical underpinnings. The Forked Branch style was meant to be a tricky style, one filled with feints and focused on positioning. Each action should allow its wielder to launch an attack from multiple directions, forcing the opponent to guess and reposition. Continual movements and positions would eventually place their opponent off-balance or unable to block the final attack. A thrust would be followed by a sidestep, opening up the inside of the sword. A twist in the feet of the user would lower the body, allowing a cut to the legs or to act as a dodge. Follow up attacks might be a rising cut or a full cut-through horizontally. It was a good style if used properly.

  Unfortunately, Feng was not doing so. A style was but an expression of a form of combat, a preference. Feng did not embrace his style’s philosophy, its form of expression. He was impatient and aggressive, preferring fast-paced attacks rather than feints and careful positioning. Worse, Feng would always take the most obvious option after each movement, never attempting to mix up his attacks.

  All this meant that even if Feng was stronger, he still could not land a strike on Wu Ying.

  “Ten,” Wu Ying said, hopping back twice in quick succession after his latest cut across the back of Feng’s arm.

  Feng growled, cradling his arm lightly. That last strike had been harder than Wu Ying had wanted, a mistiming of motion between the pair.

  “Again!” Feng demanded.

  “Enough,” Lord Cui said. “You are not his match. Come down, reflect on the fight. And thank Disciple Long.”

  Feng muttered a quick thanks to Wu Ying as he walked off. Just as he left the arena, Feng flashed Wu Ying a vicious little smile, one that he then shared with Qiu Yue. A cold shiver ran down Wu Ying’s back as he was struck by a sudden sense of dread.

  “Thank you, Disciple Long,” Qiu Yue said. “But, don’t you think that was a little unimpressive?”

  “Unimpressive?” Li Yao said, bristling.

  “Of course,” Qiu Yue said. “Cui Feng is only Body Cleansing 5. Disciple Long is on the cusp of achieving Energy Storage stage, at least. Even if he strengthened his aura, it was unimpressive. We barely saw Disciple Long’s ability.”

  “I think you are downplaying how well Lord Cui Feng did,” Wu Ying said, offering Cui Feng a smile and then turning it to the other nobles. “He did push me and showed promise. As a disciple of the Sect, I’m certain he will improve further.” Sweeping his gaze over the nobles, Wu Ying noted that most of them had grown bored with the fight and were looking toward the nearby inner sect dining hall. As the midday sun had passed its zenith, it was past time for food.

  “Maybe. But I want to see what a real inner sect member can do.” Qiu Yue raised her voice as Wu Ying tried to walk off the stage.

  Li Yao opened her mouth to cut her off, only to be interrupted by Fairy Yang. “And what do you suggest? I do not think fighting you would be appropriate.”

  “Let Yu Fei fight,” Qiu Yue said, waving to the lean bodyguard who stood behind her and her father. Lord Yi stood by, watching the entire play with a half-smile on his face, declining to stop his overbearing daughter.

  Wu Ying let his gaze rest on the bodyguard. Clad in high-quality steel lamellar plates and a padded overcoat, Yu Fei carried himself and his long axe-headed polearm with the casual arrogance of the well-trained. When Yu Fei’s gaze met Wu Ying, a chill ran through his body. Yu Fei was a trained killer, a fighter who had seen his share of blood.

  “No, I don’t think we will,” Li Yao said, raising her voice. “This is not part of the agenda. We have already let you divert us once. Maybe another time.”

  “Pa Pa,” Qiu Fei whined.

  “Cowards,” Feng added his own taunt.

  Lord Cui watched the interplay between Qiu Fei and his son, calculating advantage between annoying the disciples and gaining favor with Lord Yi before he chose to stay silent.

  Wu Ying shook his head, ignoring the taunts. He was stopped from exiting when Fairy Yang raised a hand. “Wu Ying. Take the challenge.”

  “What?” Li Yao shouted and then flushed a little with embarrassment. She turned even redder when Qiu Fei smirked at her.

  Wu Ying stared at his Elder and martial senior before sighing and turning back. He did not understand what Fairy Yang was playing at, but knowing her, she had a reason. Returning to his starting spot, Wu Ying waited for Yu Fei to find a suitable practice weapon.

  “Lee Yu Fei. Flawless Crimson Great-axe,” Yu Fei announced himself. Wu Ying did the same, repeating his earlier introduction.

  Unlike the fight with Feng, the battle with Yu Fei started without further preamble. Yu Fei approached quickly and wielded his great-axe in large, sweeping motions that forced Wu Ying to backpedal and block constantly. Each attack was a threat, and even glancing blocks sent tremors down Wu Ying’s arms. Worse, as the match continued, hints of red could be seen forming around the blade edge of the great-axe.

  “Good fire chi,” Wu Ying complimented Yu Fei as he dodged back again. His feet brushed up against the edge of the platform, only open air beneath his heel.

  “Not much of a challenge, is he?” Qiu Yue said beneath the stage to Li Yao, her voice raised enough to taunt the other.

  Distracted for a second by the speech below, Wu Ying barely got his blade up in time to block a sweeping horizontal cut. The attack was taken near the guard of his weapon, giving him as much leverage as possible, but it was still too much, and the polearm’s head and his own blade pressed into his shoulder as he skidded a few feet.

  Rather than be pushed off the stage, Wu Ying took the momentum and let himself collapse, rolling across the ground before he rose.

  “Rolling like the dog that he is,” Feng called out.

  Wu Ying ignored the play below the stage, knowing that his best retort would be via his blade. He shook out his left arm, the fire chi having scorched it ever so slightly before he reset himself.

  “One.” Yu Fei said.

  Once more, they engaged, their weapons clashing in a constant chime of blocked attacks. This time, Wu Ying took a more active role, attempting to close in on Yu Fei and get within the polearm’s reach. Unfortunately, Yu Fei was a skilled polearm user, and even when Wu Ying closed the distance, Yu Fei would shorten or switch to a reverse grip, using the polearm butt to strike at Wu Ying. A minor misjudgment of distance had Wu Ying miss a cut by an inch, only to have Yu Fei swing the polearm upwards, between Wu Ying’s legs. The cultivator crumpled in pain, his ears thumping with the blood that had rushed into them.

  Long moments of agony, only relieved by careful breathing. When he finally regained control, Wu Ying found Yu Fei crouched beside him.

  “My apologies. It is hard, being a favored son. But I must do what is asked,” Yu Fei whispered. When Wu Ying stood, Yu Fei had returned to his starting position, leaving Wu Ying looking confused and in pain.

  Below on the stage, Li Yao was shouting at Qiu Yue, who was smirking. Lord Yi looked bored, while Feng openly gloated.

  This was a set-up. Except while he was taking the strikes, their target was Li Yao. He was but the means they were going to chastise her. Or taunt her. It was hard to tell, the history between the pair of girls obscure to Wu Ying. As for the other favored son… Wu Ying’s gaze turned to Feng, who balked as Wu Ying glared at him.

  A fool.

  “Stop playing around and beat him. You are embarrassing our master,” Fairy Yang’s words floated into Wu Ying’s ear, carr
ied along by tendrils of chi. Spiritual communication – a power that was only available to those in the Core formation stage. Wu Ying started and stared at his senior, who jerked her gaze to where Yu Fei waited.

  “Ready?” Yu Fei called.

  Wu Ying’s nod brought a flood of attacks as Yu Fei exploded from his corner. The quick series of thrusts and cuts were meant to put Wu Ying on the defense. Shifting tactics, Wu Ying altered his footwork, mixing up the usual wide, circling steps of the Long family style with the footwork of the Northern Shen, a style that focused on quick movements and a spiraling journey to the opponent. Combined with quick strikes, including blocks with his forearms, it altered the pace of the duel.

  In short order, Wu Ying was within his opponent’s guard and in range of his sword. Dragon sweeps the Branches put Yu Fei on the defensive. Wind steps with each strike brought Wu Ying closer, at which point he used Falling rocks in a Rainstorm to lash out with his foot. The first kick struck Yu Fei’s lower hand’s fingers, the second went even lower, striking at the shins, and the weakened grip on the polearm. Yu Fei managed to keep the grip and defense, though it allowed Wu Ying to step deep into his defense and flip the grip on his sword to pommel strike Yu Fei in the stomach.

  Yu Fei staggered back, more from the momentum than pain. After all, he was dressed in full armor. As Wu Ying stepped away to reset–as was proper–Yu Fei struck. Catching the attack with his left forearm, Wu Ying felt the attack bruise him to the bone. In retaliation, Wu Ying swept his blade in a pair of quick, crisscrossing cuts across Yu Fei’s torso. The strikes rung through the arena, wood, and iron sending tremors down his arm. As Yu Fei retreated to recover his balance, Wu Ying hopped back, opening up the distance between them once more.

  “Are we still exchanging pointers?” Wu Ying said, doing his best to keep his voice clean. “Because striking while resetting is not normal.”

  “My apologies. I got over-enthusiastic,” Yu Fei replied blandly.

  “I think that is almost enough,” Fairy Yang called out from below. “One last pass. Our guests are getting hungry.”