by Wong, Tao
Other than a few familiar faces, most of those present were strangers to Wu Ying. Some utilized martial skills that Wu Ying had never seen before, styles uncommon to the Sect. He could not help but stare, playing their forms, their preferences, through his mind and setting them against his own style.
“Are you just watching today?” a voice called to Wu Ying. It was a little on the higher pitched side, the words shot out like the spray from a waterfall, unending and indiscriminate. The speaker had a large, flowing beard and, surprisingly, had his hair shorn tight to his scalp except for a single line down the center.
It was uncommon for individuals to cut their hair. Most held to the old ways, keeping their hair uncut as a sign of respect to their ancestors, their parents, who had given them their body. But time and practicality had worn at the edges of this tradition for some. Of course, there were also the mountain clans and other small groups of individuals who kept to their own traditions, putting needles in their faces, marking their skin, and cutting their hair. Wu Ying could not help but wonder which group the speaker was from.
“Well, no. I was hoping to spar,” Wu Ying replied.
Wu Ying looked down, noting the man’s pair of hook swords. The shuang guo were uncommon weapons, requiring great skill to use. The hook swords had a single straight blade rising from the substantial crescent guards that the wielder could hold, their hands protected by the crescent blades. A hook was formed at the end of the straight blade, allowing the weapon to catch, twist, and strip weapons. Certain styles even used the hooks to extend the range of the weapon, hooking each pair of blades together by their ends. At the bottom of the sword guard, a spike jutted out, allowing the wielder to strike his opponent in close proximity. The entire weapon had multiple forms of attack, but all of them required great skill to weave together.
“Are you available?” Wu Ying said.
“Obviously. We’ll take ring three,” the man said, striding away without waiting for Wu Ying to follow. Confident that Wu Ying would do so.
Wu Ying shrugged, seeing no reason to delay. He had to admit, he was quite interested in playing with the man. While his father had described the weapons to him, he had yet to experience them himself. Shuang guo were an eclectic weapon, more suited for a civilian than a soldier. And, Wu Ying added to himself, a cultivator. After all, few cultivators were required to fight in an army rank.
The pair ascended the empty platform, hopping up the edge and landing on the stone floor. They both placed their hands on the starting enchantment, channeling their chi into the barrier. In this way, the enchantments could form the necessary protection, utilizing both the fighters’ and the environmental chi as a source of fuel.
“Wang Yu Kun, inner sect cultivator. Using the Seven-Star Mantis[7] form,” Yu Kun said, announcing his style as he raised and saluted his training weapons.
“Long Wu Ying, inner sect cultivator. Using the Long family sword style,” Wu Ying replied as per tradition. He too raised the training weapon he’d drawn from his spirit ring. While they could use real weapons, it was generally frowned upon. In recent days, the Elders had put a stop to such practices almost entirely. They could ill afford to allow their new martial cultivators to be injured during this time of need.
They started out slow, circling one another. Watching each other for their movements. Wu Ying rejoiced as he circled, feet never crossing one another, feeling the thrum of new energy from the meridian he had opened. He was now a quarter of the way to the next step—the formation of his Core—and he would soon open the third out of eight Energy Storage meridians.
But that was for later.
For the moment, Wu Ying tested his opponent. He tested his speed, his reactions, his style. Wu Ying offered his blade as he closed, watched as Yu Kun beat at his sword in quick sweeps, attempting to catch the blade at the forward half. Each twist of the hooked weapons attempted to trap his jian, forcing Wu Ying to withdraw his own sword, to make small disengages to keep his sword free.
In turn, Yu Kun rotated the swords around each wrist as he kept the cuts coming at Wu Ying. He stepped closer to Wu Ying with each movement, attempting to cut Wu Ying off. Wu Ying focused on keeping his sword pointed at his opponent’s chest, at cutting off the line of attack by leaving his sword a threat.
But all this was the opening act of their duel. A twist of the wrist brought one hook sword close, beating Wu Ying’s jian. A second hook sword caught Wu Ying’s already disengaging jian as it circled in the same direction. It pulled the sword high, off-line from Yu Kun’s body as the cultivator stepped close. The first hook sword kept moving, cutting toward Wu Ying’s neck.
When faced with two swords, one must act quickly and decisively, stepping into the gap your sword created or retreat. But with retreat cut off by the edge of the platform, Wu Ying had only one choice. He dropped low, sliding his body along with his foreleg, shifting forward while maintaining the lower level as he struggled to bring his sword back in line. At the same time, Wu Ying brought his free hand upward.
Dragon strokes the Painting was the technique he executed. It was a dangerous—almost insanely so—defense against a weapon. It required you to catch the sword as it cut, deflecting the blade by pushing against the flat of the blade. In some scenarios, the worst-case scenarios, you pushed at the blade itself. So long as you managed to touch the blade at the same spot throughout its motion, the lack of motion would ensure the blade itself did not cut you. It was the same reason one could tap the edge of a kitchen knife, checking for sharpness, and yet not cut oneself.
Unless said knife was extremely sharp, or the force was extremely high, or you made a mistake and let the blade slide the distance of the edge of a grain rice. Which, when one considered that all this had to be done at speed, was likely to happen. If not for the light coating of chi that Wu Ying wrapped his hand with, if not for his training in the Iron Body Technique, if not for the fact that this was a practice blade, if he had any other choice, he would not have chosen to take the risk.
But he had none. And so, he Stroked the Painting, sending the hook sword skimming alongside his body. He neared Yu Kun, slamming his freed shoulder into the midriff of his opponent. It forced Yu Kun back, giving Wu Ying a momentary opening as he brought his sword in-line. A second more, and he’d…
A sharp pain along the back of his shoulder as the hook of the second sword dug into his back. Wu Ying hissed, then rolled his shoulder, freeing the weapon and letting it slide past. The blunt instrument skidded along his body, following Yu Kun’s retreat.
“Your win,” Wu Ying said.
“A beautiful deflection,” Yu Kun praised.
Wu Ying raised his hand, flexing it slightly and spotting the slight redness from the action. He’d felt it, the way Yu Kun had infused a little metal chi into his weapon, making it sharper, easier to handle. Against a real weapon… “Not that beautiful. I’d have been cut.”
“But still, you’d have deflected it.”
Wu Ying considered the question and nodded. If he’d had a second weapon, if he’d shifted to a pommel strike… well. Many possibilities. “Again?”
Yu Kun grinned, raising his sword and saluting Wu Ying. A quick reply and the pair began again, this time with the initial feeling out period much shorter. Blades flashed as Wu Ying worked to stay on the outside of Yu Kun’s body, forcing him to turn again and again. This time around, Wu Ying took the fight to the other.
And if he was grinning just a little… well, sparring was fun. And his body, his senses were so much stronger than before.
***
As the pair of combatants hopped out of the fighting ring, passing through the fading barrier, they fought to control their breathing. Wu Ying sighed internally, making a note to spar with Yu Kun further. As he had suspected would happen, Wu Ying had lost more than he had won. The cultivator’s eclectic, flashy style with the hook swords and their ability to grab, twist, and deflect Wu Ying’s jian had been a new experience. Add to that Yu Kun’s high
er cultivation and his own Sense of the Sword, and Wu Ying was more than matched. There was nothing to be done about it. Only experience would bridge the gap between them.
“Did you recently breakthrough?” Yu Kun asked after he had stored his weapons. Already, both their breathing was normalizing as chi and air entered their lungs.
“I did. Why did you ask?” Wu Ying said, cocking his head.
“Your movements were sometimes off. As if you expected to be a little closer or a little farther with each movement.” Yu Kun gestured with his hands, trying to describe Wu Ying’s motions. “They improved as we fought. The differences became smaller.”
“Ah…” Wu Ying grimaced and nodded. That too was true. Being stronger was good, but when one fought for each chǐ[8], the most minor of deviations could cause problems. A cut that would seriously injure might only offer the barest of grazes, a dodge that was to position yourself for a better strike might instead put you in a more vulnerable location for a second attack if you misjudged your position by inches. “Yes. It’s taking time to relearn.”
“It always does.” Yu Kun nodded. “It is one of the greatest struggles at this stage.”
“Speaking as if you know what it is like in the other stages,” Wu Ying said, teasing the man as they finally arrived at a nearby table. Wu Ying poured a glass of water out, then offered it to Yu Kun as the victor.
“No, no, Senior should not—”
“Har! Senior only by chance. I can tell you’re stronger,” Wu Ying replied. He had no need to check his aura again, for their fight had made it clear that Yu Kun had cleared more of his Energy Storage meridians.
“Still, it would not be right.” Yu Kun pushed the cup back to Wu Ying.
Seeing that Yu Kun’s protestations were not just out of courtesy[9] but out of actual conviction, Wu Ying relented and drank the water. His thirst was probably driving him as much as his desire to get over the courtesies. At least among those in the village, such courtesies were generally shortened. After all, everyone knew everyone, so the gesture was more important than the actual outcome, which, in most cases, was already foreordained.
“Are you a martial specialist, Senior Long?”
“No need to be so formal. We are both inner sect members,” Wu Ying said, punctuating his words with a gesture. It was weird, especially since Yu Kun was at least five years older. “And no, I just have an interest in the martial arts.”
“Ah. Myself too,” Yu Kun said, touching his chest. “It is hard to survive on the road without such skill.”
“You were one of the wandering cultivators?” Wu Ying asked. He had guessed, but it was better to verify.
Yu Kun nodded.
“Might I ask why you joined us?” When he saw Yu Kun freeze, looking uncomfortable, Wu Ying shook his head. “My apologies. That was rude. Your reasons are your own.”
“The Sect has much to offer, and storm clouds gather,” Yu Kun said. “While we might flitter from province to province, some storms are too large to run from.”
Wu Ying opened his mouth to inquire further but was interrupted as a pair of cultivators appeared beside them.
“Are you open to trading partners? We just finished a duel,” one of the cultivators said, gesturing between himself and his partner.
Yu Kun nodded, gesturing for a partner to come with him back to stage three. That left Wu Ying with the other, expectant cultivator. Pushing aside his concerns about what storms Yu Kun sensed, Wu Ying nodded. After all, he still had to practice and make his new cultivation level his own.
Chapter 7
The inner sect armory, holder of mortal, spirit, and saint equipment and weapons was a mysterious building to Wu Ying. No matter how many times he visited, he had never made it past the viewing rooms. Those simple stone-and-marble rooms, with their peaceful paintings on the walls and large, wooden tables to set potential equipment upon, were all that he had ever seen. The building was expansive and likely went miles under the ground.
The attendants who waited upon the visitors saw more of the armory. They took orders, made suggestions, perused through the files of what the armory contained, and took care of those items within. And even then, many only saw small portions of the armory, relegated to care for specific rooms, given specific levels of knowledge.
In this way, the Sect was able to ensure the secrecy of what magical and immortal equipment they held. This level of secrecy, of care, was needed in some cases. After all, a single Saint level sword could engender a bloodbath among noble houses as they strove to provide for their younger generation. A Saint level weapon could raise the level and ability of its user from Core to Nascent Soul. How powerful then would a Nascent Soul level cultivator be with such a weapon?
Sects that flaunted their wealth only made others want to eat vinegar[10] and would only guarantee their eventual downfall. Better to hide their wealth so that both friends and enemies had little to complain of. Of course, such a convoluted establishment of knowledge meant that one was better off speaking with the Elder in charge or one of the Senior disciples when one needed information.
That was, unless you knew exactly what you were looking for.
“Are you sure you don’t have those storage boxes?” Wu Ying asked.
“There are none. And none of similar quality,” the attendant said. He waved the document in front of Wu Ying’s face, scribbled marks on it written in an internal code that Wu Ying could not decipher. “Elder Shin herself replied to this.”
“Can you buy one? For our use?” Wu Ying pleaded.
“A request has been made. These things take time,” the attendant replied, raising his chin and looking down at Wu Ying from his nose. “It’s not as simple as beating on a piece of metal. Such items are rare and require craftsmen to make.”
Wu Ying frowned at that rather random accusation. And then he realized his tanned skin and his muscular arms likely had given the attendant the wrong impression—that he was a blacksmith. Certainly, he looked more like one than an effete apothecarist whose majority ranks were filled with nobles.
“And the rest of our request?”
“Simple enough. They are all gathered, awaiting payment.” The attendant glared at Wu Ying. “You do have payment, don’t you?”
Wu Ying snorted, extracting the companion token that Elder Yang had given him. He handed it to the attendant, who verified its authenticity against the spirit tablet before deducting the required number of contribution points.
Wu Ying was grateful that his Elder Sister was the one paying for the expedition. The sheer amount of goods that were required—from the mundane items like the rental of the horses, backpacks, and foodstuff, to esoteric talismans, spiritual maps and beacons, and guardian markers—would have bankrupted him twenty times over. And this did not, of course, include the specialized equipment they needed in order to extract and care for the materials they were searching for.
“Is that it?” the attendant said when Wu Ying had taken back the jade token. He glanced impatiently at the door, obviously looking to move on to his next customer.
“Thank you for your time.” Wu Ying bowed, acknowledging the rude attendant. He might be on errand for an Elder, but so were at least half the inner sect members arriving. Better to be polite than to raise a fuss when not needed.
***
“Do you think he knows?” Wu Ying asked Fa Yuan as the pair of them walked up the mountain. They’d been requested to visit their Master from the library by a harried-looking servant who’d promptly left afterward, leaving the pair of conspirators to wonder about the abrupt summons.
“It’s possible. While Master Cheng has been resting, he also has been meeting with the other Elders,” Fa Yuan said, looking as pretty and serene as normal.
Wu Ying’s eyes narrowed at Fa Yuan’s blithe answer. But asking further for reassurance would sound like whining and would not change matters. As much as he wanted it to.
“I guess we’ll find out…” Wu Ying muttered to himself, m
entally playing out the potential consequences of defying his Master’s wishes. Being disowned was the worst option by far, though the least likely.
Making their way into their Master’s abode was a simple matter. To his surprise though, the sight of their Master reclining on his bed was shocking. Master Cheng was no longer the long-limbed, muscular, and graceful individual Wu Ying remembered, but a thin, drawn individual. One whose scent, whose very aura, made Wu Ying’s nose twist in distaste.
“Master,” the pair greeted him together, offering low bows as they stepped into the room and waited for his acknowledgement. At the weak wave of his arm, the pair walked toward his bed, staring at the pale, sweating figure.
“Good. Come closer.” Even Master Cheng’s voice was weak as he gestured them close. They took position next to his bed and, at his gesture, leaned closer. He spoke, his voice dropping with each word. “Closer. I have something to say…
“You idiots!” The formerly weak hand moved with blinding speed, rapping the pair of bowed heads with the end of a closed fist, using the edge of his knuckles. “What do you think you’re doing? Did I ask you to look for a cure?”
“Tsifu!” The pair groaned, moving their heads back and chorusing in unison.
“I—” Fa Yuan started.
“We—” Wu Ying said, then stopped, realizing they were speaking over one another. He fell silent, as was his place, but Fa Yuan was interrupted before she could speak.
“You both defied me. Kowtow[11] and pay respects if you truly think yourself my students!” Elder Cheng roared.
Wu Ying could tell the burst of energy Elder Cheng’s rage had achieved was weak and fading. Still, Wu Ying and Fa Yuan complied, getting on their hands and knees and pressing their foreheads to the floor. They raised themselves up partially then bowed again, repeating the actions a total of three times before they stayed bent.
“Master, we meant no disrespect. It is because you are so dear to us that we defied you,” Fa Yuan replied.