by Wong, Tao
“And my wishes!”
“Are in error,” Fa Yuan said softer, her voice muffled by being spoken to the floor. Even so, Wu Ying could hear them loud and clear. As could Master Cheng.
“How dare you…” Master Cheng stopped, coughing as he tried to regain his breath. His coughing went on and on, such that Wu Ying eventually looked up from the floor to see his Master holding a silk handkerchief to his mouth.
“You have always desired to ensure that the majority may ascend with their karma untethered,” Fa Yuan said, her head raised like Wu Ying. “But what we were doing, what they are doing…” Fa Yuan glanced at Wu Ying and shook her head. “Our mission is more important than your personal ties. If small holes are not fixed, bigger holes will bring despair.”
Master Cheng frowned, then sighed. “I do not care for your decisions. But… you are correct. It is your dao to decide. And while we rest…” He looked away at the writing brush and paper on his bedside table. His gaze grew contemplative, then flicked to Wu Ying. He shook his head slightly before gesturing with his hand. “Get up, get up. And tell me, where are you on this?”
“We have located multiple possible locations for the ingredients for the cure, but…” Fa Yuan hesitated as the pair clambered to their feet and stood at attention beside his bed.
“Many of those will not be available right now, not until late autumn when the Ben return,” Master Cheng replied. “I know. And your preparations?”
“Coming along.” Fa Yuan listed the work they had both done, going into detail about the mundane preparations they had set up.
Wu Ying stayed silent, for Fa Yuan did a good job of listing their accomplishments. In addition, it was the first time he was getting a clear picture of their entire expedition, from the resources and contribution points spent, to the letters and correspondence Fa Yuan had conducted to smooth their journey. Everything from speaking with local magistrates, alerting them of their potential visit and requesting help to keep an eye out for the materials they required, to contacting local sect Elders, asking much the same.
Sister Yang was even perusing the messages that flowed back and forth from the Verdant Green Waters Sect to the numerous smaller sects that littered the kingdom, searching for information about the kinds of goods they had for sale. The last was mostly done via official channels, as the Elders in charge of such correspondence sent regular lists between each sect, offering trades and hiding specific needs within a slew of others. It was all very conspirational, Fa Yuan explained to Wu Ying’s inquiry, as no sect wanted to expose weaknesses or desperate needs. And yet, at the same time, the trading of such rarities and treasures between sects made them all stronger.
“It’s why Elder Li pushes you so hard,” Master Cheng said. “A Gatherer at the Core cultivation stage would be a real coup for the Sect. As it is, we do a brisk business with the herbs and pills we create from her garden.”
“Surely other sects have Gatherers and Spiritual Farmers?” Wu Ying said.
“Of course, but at her level of expertise?” Master Cheng shook his head. “Even if they did, consider our gardens. How we balance the needs of the Sect.”
Wu Ying paused as he recalled idle conversations with Senior Goh. His eventual garden that he’d create on a nearby—but not too close—mountain was one of his Senior’s favorite topics. What he’d do to alter the chi flows, what plants he’d grow, which mountain he’d pick. Even now, the gardens that Elder Li controlled took up a significant portion of the chi flowing through the Sect, chi that was gathered by the sect arrays from their surroundings. The need to balance security, growth of their personnel, and the growth of the spiritual herbs was one that continued at the highest level. Eking the most out of their allotted amount of environmental chi to push the growth of the plants without affecting the rest of the Sect was a constant battle.
In the end, there was a limit. And thus, wandering Spirit Gatherers, like Wu Ying, who went into the wild places and picked wild spiritual herbs would always be needed to supplement a sect’s needs.
Or at least, that was the theory. Wu Ying had many years left to go before he reached the point where his actions were a true supplement.
“As for our expedition members,” Fa Yuan said, once she was certain the pair had finished their side conversation, “it is myself and Wu Ying at the moment. I am speaking with the Sect Leader, but he has refused my request for additional Elders.” She frowned.
“Good. This is already too much of a burden on the Sect,” Master Cheng said. At Fa Yuan’s unhappy glare, he continued blithely. “They are needed on the front lines. Or cultivating. For next year.”
Fa Yuan made a face but nodded. The war ground on, and while they had lost much ground in the north this year, with the potential of a new city taken and controlled over the border river, the fight next year would be even more intense.
“But two is insufficient. Can you not find others?” Master Cheng turned toward Wu Ying. “Do you not have friends in the inner sect?” He then turned to Fa Yuan. “Have you not put up a mission?”
“I do!” Wu Ying protested. “Tou Hei has already offered.”
“The monk.” Master Cheng nodded. “Good.” He raised an eyebrow at Sister Yang.
Fa Yuan made a face. “I have been holding off. It is not time yet, and… well, I am a little low on contribution points.”
Master Cheng sniffed. “I told you those Elixirs of White Marble Complexion are too expensive.”
“I didn’t see you complaining when we got into Wei Zhou because of that merchant.” Fairy Yang glared at Master Cheng. “And my ointments and elixirs have nothing to do with my current predicament. If I was conducting my usual routines—”
Master Cheng winced and raised a hand in supplication. “My apologies. Your Master was wrong. I should not have said anything.”
Fa Yuan nodded, crossing her arms. A little smile danced on her lips though, and Wu Ying noted it was on Master Cheng’s too. Somehow, he got the idea that this discussion and fight was something they’d done before.
“I’ll make arrangements for the assignment to appear in the Hall, and the payment of the goods. I believe we need a proper storage method for the heart…” At Wu Ying’s nod, Master Cheng muttered to himself before he nodded. “I might know someone. I’ll send some letters…”
His next words were too low to hear properly, but Wu Ying caught something along the line of “grumpy old man.” Wu Ying smiled at his Master’s burst of energy. Still, he also noted how much quieter his Master had grown as they talked, how his gestures had become less vigorous. When Wu Ying shot a concerned glance at Fa Yuan, she nodded and tapped the bed with her hand, drawing Master Cheng’s attention to her.
“We should go. It is late,” Fairy Yang said.
“Late?” Master Cheng peered outward, then seemed to realize how dark the night had grown. With a wave, he dismissed the pair, muttering about how he’d send the letters tomorrow.
By the time the pair had reached the door to his bedroom, he’d fallen asleep. Head lolling to the side, the once-energetic swordsman slept, flickers of pain making his face twitch now that he was unconscious.
“Will he be fine?” Wu Ying asked softly as they left the residence. To see his Master so tired, so damaged, to smell the reek of his damaged chi… it worried him.
“He will be,” Fa Yuan said fiercely. Then, quieter, she added, “He has to be.”
Wu Ying could only nod in agreement. Even if it was more hope than belief, they would try to make it true.
Chapter 8
With Master Cheng throwing his support behind them, preparations sped up. A few days after his talk with his Master, Wu Ying found himself breaking through and opening his third Energy Storage meridian. This time around, no portentous enlightenment had provided him aid. Instead, good old hard work had seen his progress. But that meant Wu Ying was low on refined chi in his dantian again. A third breakthrough without enlightenment was unlikely to occur before they left. But at
least he was no longer lagging his friends.
Just as futile as hoping to breakthrough was Wu Ying’s search for aid among his friends. Outside of the ever-reliable Tou Hei, his allies were of no help. Li Yao avoided Wu Ying at every chance, spending her time running long-term assignments. Liu Tsong had declined outright when he pressed further, while the other martial cultivators he spoke to were either caught up in their own training or serving on the front lines like Yin Xue.
Bao Cong had gone so far as to laugh in Wu Ying’s face. He then made Wu Ying spend the rest of the afternoon helping him pump the bellows while he regaled Wu Ying with the many, many reasons he would not be journeying outside of the Sect again, including on-going aches in his previously injured bones every cold morning.
Bereft of options, the pair could only hope that the additional contribution points offered in the assignment by their master would draw some of the more adventurous inner sect cultivators. Meanwhile, the pair discussed what they could do to push ahead and strengthen what could be a small expedition, while reviewing the information on material gathering spots and planning the trip.
To Wu Ying’s surprise, one of the potential routes would bring them to a city he knew well. Remembering his first ever assignment, Wu Ying took the time to write a letter to an old friend, sending it off with the next ship that left for Hinma.
As research on potential locations returned fewer and fewer reliable locations, Wu Ying – at the urging of Sister Yang—returned to cultivating more fully. Only by strengthening himself would he be able to reduce the burden he was on the Elder during the expedition.
After acknowledging the potential dangers awaiting them, Elder Cheng had turned Wu Ying toward a new series of training exercises. His Master had even opened the doors of his own cultivation library, passing on to Wu Ying a series of simple, yet fundamental, cultivation exercises. They were all focused upon using the chi in Wu Ying’s Energy Storage meridians. It was those cultivation exercises that Wu Ying focused upon—when he was not refining additional chi.
Late in the evening, at a time when he would have been working in the library with Fa Yuan, Wu Ying sat in his abode, legs crossed, hands resting on his knees, three fingers extended, thumb and forefinger touching one another. High above, thunderclouds rolled as dragons cavorted and raindrops fell. Wu Ying cultivated, drawing in the chi of the world and circulating it within himself before expelling the refuse.
Once he had set up the basic flow of his cultivation, Wu Ying gently took his mind off the act itself, just as he did when he was moving, and focused on his new exercises. First one, then the another.
Even as rain struck the roof, bouncing off paving stones and splashing against fine sand, it refused to touch his skin. For the most part. Wu Ying controlled his aura, doing his best to tighten it around himself and ward off the falling raindrops. Unfortunately, each time Wu Ying failed to keep his aura tightened around himself, failed to release the energy within him and firm up his aura, raindrops entered, soaking him.
This cultivation exercise had many names, even an official name, but no one called it anything other than the aura umbrella. The cultivation exercise was simple in theory, difficult in practice. But in mastering it, a cultivator could ward off basic environmental factors. Heat, cold, and, of course, rain.
It also lay the groundwork for more powerful defenses at both the Energy Storage and Core Formation stages. Complex, detailed, and involved cultivation exercises of the same form at the Core Formation stage allowed cultivators to reinforce their auras to such an extent that it was as though they had the strongest suit of armor around them at all times. It was such strength that made Core Formation cultivators dangerous to mobs of mortals and Body Cleansing cultivators.
Of course, even Energy Storage cultivators could practice such exercises, but few had the chi to keep such defenses running or the control over their manipulation of their chi to make it work. Furthermore, much like his Iron Body technique, these defensive techniques could be split between passive and active kinds. The aura umbrella was an active defense requiring constant exertion of chi. His Iron Body technique, as a refinement technique, was passive and much more manageable.
Unfortunately, even though Wu Ying had significant experience in aura manipulation and had grasped the initial stages of this exercise quickly, he still lacked the fine control of drawing chi directly from his meridians at a steady rate. On top of that, he lost a significant portion of the energy he sent to his aura membrane as it leaked out to the world. As such, it was not long before he had to stop and allow the rain to strike him unhindered while he replenished his chi reserves.
Still, that time was not wasted. Then Wu Ying practiced the second of the cultivation exercises his Master had passed to him. Much like the utility aura exercise, the chi-sensing exercise given to him was meant to improve a cultivator’s ability to utilize the energy in his meridians.
In this case, chi-sensing exercises helped one sense the flow of chi within the external environment and the internal body. There were numerous types of such exercises—one for each kind of sense with multiple schools of training for each. Of course, certain senses were more useful. Sight had thousands of schools of training exercises, while taste had only a score that were well-known.
Unlike the common sight or hearing exercises, or even the personal-touch-based one, Wu Ying’s Master had passed on a cultivation exercise focused on the sense of smell. The exercise required making it part of Wu Ying’s existence, like breathing, seeing, or hearing. It required Wu Ying to “smell” in a different direction, as if he had to listen in a different direction and locate a noise without seeing it. But, of course, it was a new scent he was trying to note. Yet at the same time, it was not new. For he had “smelled” it all his life.
Fire was ash and flame, heat that scorched and reminded him of campfires. Water was fresh and bright, the scent in the morning or the feeling in the nose as you stood by a waterfall as it pounded away at the rocks below. Metal was the tang of blood and rusted metal, of the slide of oil on his sword. Earth was the most familiar—overturned soil and the musky smell of good compost. On the other hand, air was the most difficult, the most elusive. It was the barest hint of the cold wind from the north, the taste of the sea from the east, a mixture of spring and winter.
And all of it was mixed together and had grades, different scents depending on where he was, who he was with. The chi that erupted from the earth, that blew through the sky, that congregated around the wood and metal of his sword. It lived everywhere and shifted with the tide of the dragon lines beneath his feet. It was everywhere, and yet, it was a flitting presence except when it encountered an individual.
And perhaps that was why Elder Cheng had given him this particular exercise. For once he mastered it, the scents of others would make it much harder to surprise Wu Ying. Very few cultivators thought to hide their scent of their chi. Hiding a physical scent was easily forgotten, so a metaphysical scent like chi? How much easier to ignore.
While hiding a chi scent was similar to the way one suppressed their aura, it was also different. For with exhalation, each movement or gust of wind, the world was stained with the loss of one’s chi to the external environment, the extraction of chi through simple existence and cultivation.
Wu Ying knew he could have spent hours puzzling through chi scents, the way personal chi and environmental chi interacted. In fact, learning to control his own and the way his aura was suppressed would aid his own cultivation. At the same time, it was also time-consuming, and improvements could only happen on the margins. Slowly.
In truth, that could be said for all his cultivation exercises. They built upon his fundamentals, allowing him to make use of the Energy Storage meridians more efficiently. In turn, in time, he would be able to move faster, last longer, and project attacks much more powerfully. But all of that was in time.
A journey of a thousand li started with the first step. And so, Wu Ying pushed the thoughts aside and f
ocused deeper, doing his best to make every moment of practice count.
***
Where new skills and exercise might slowly evolve his use of chi, continued practice and repetition with care allowed Wu Ying to build upon the foundation of his martial skills. Integrating disparate forms into a whole style that was his own—an interpretation of the Long family style that diverged from the founders. He spent hours working his way through the forms, exploring chi projection as he switched sword forms, of fighting with the remaining martial specialists.
Among the new recruits to the inner sect, Wu Ying found the most use in training against. Their unique weapons and styles added a flush of clean water to the stagnant fields of martial cultivation in the Sect. In this new water, Wu Ying’s martial expertise grew as though spring had arrived once again.
Days turned to weeks as Wu Ying trained. Time slipped by as face after face before his blade changed. He’d forgotten the name of his current opponent already as the pair sparred this hot summer day.
Like himself, his opponent was a jian wielder. Unlike Wu Ying, his opponent was six and three quarters of a foot tall and had an appropriately sized jian, giving him an incredible reach advantage. Added to that, Wu Ying’s opponent made use of a second weapon—a gauntlet of metal he kept equipped for when Wu Ying closed the distance.
“You can’t win if you keep running,” the martial specialist taunted good-naturedly. His jian kept stabbing, each strike light by his standards, but heavy on Wu Ying’s arms as he deflected the fast-moving tip.
Like Wu Ying, he’d refined his body, but he’d refined it for strength, not durability. Most annoying of all, even more than his taunts, was that his opponent did not even have a specialized style. Self-taught, self-trained in actual combat, his fighting style was a sloppy affair that should not work but did.
A duck and a light push of Wu Ying’s sword captured his opponent’s jian. The man’s control of his tip and his positioning was not optimal. It allowed Wu Ying to step into the man’s outside line, forcing the weapon away from his body while allowing him to seek his opponent’s heart with his tip as he closed the distance.