by Wong, Tao
She waited a beat, seeing if any of the cultivators would speak in the silence. None did as they paid respects to the Elder. A smile crossed her face before it was banished, leaving the same serene and stern appearance that Fa Yuan normally sported.
“We have learned to fight together under the most taxing of circumstances. You have done well, guarding each other’s backs and mine. If we continue in this spirit, I am certain we will be successful.” Fa Yuan raised her glass, then called the usual cheer. “Ganbei[17]!”
The group downed their drinks after the Elder. As cups were lowered, Wu Ying spotted small smiles on faces all around. As Fa Yuan had said, they might have failed to gather the Chan Chu’s heart, but this was only the beginning of the expedition.
Chapter 15
In the morning, the group made their way out of the marsh to meet Lei Hui. Finding his location was a simple enough matter of extending their senses to locate the ripple and subtle interaction of chi against their minds. The talismans in use were meant to nudge spirit beasts and other aggressive animals away from the camp, but for a trained cultivator, they served as a beacon.
Once they entered the clearing, they found the camp set up to the usual standards. Multiple tents, a full campfire and grill, even a section where Lei Hui was practicing his apothecary. The horses were stabled a short distance away, feed bags and a small water trough available for them. Lei Hui had even managed to place a table for them to rest at, shaded by a giant cloth canopy. It was a luxurious camp, worthy of a noble.
“We have some items for you,” Yu Kun called to Lei Hui the moment they arrived. He extracted the various valuable portions of the snake and frog, all sealed in enchanted wooden and stone boxes.
“Did you succeed?” Lei Hui asked. He received his answer in the downcast looks among the group and sighed. However, he brightened in short order as he perused the various innards and other portions of the beasts.
After storing his own small pickings, Wu Ying made his way to the pair with more languid steps. Tou Hei, on the other hand, sat down almost immediately, his breathing having grown ragged as the day had advanced.
Elder Yang, glancing over the group, eyeing their injuries both minor and major, spoke up. “We will rest here for three days before we continue. Lei Hui, finish whatever work you might have within that timeframe.” Fa Yuan turned to Tou Hei. “You will need to be able to ride.”
The ex-monk gave her a nod before beginning the process of cultivating and healing himself. He only paused to slip a pill underneath his tongue to feed his body the nutrition and energy he would require.
As three days passed, Tou Hei and Yu Kun healed, Wang Min practiced, and Wu Ying worked with Lei Hui in prepping the ingredients. Under Lei Hui’s careful and exacting precision, the pair prepared and brewed pills, feeding them to the group when necessary and storing others when possible. Occasionally, Wu Ying scoured the nearby region for additional spiritual herbs and ingredients under the watchful eye of his martial sister.
In this high ambient chi environment, he found numerous fields of vegetation and rare plants untouched by Spiritual Gatherers to add to his collection. Some of those he picked, he dried and stored in his spirit ring, but many, he stored outside the dead, spiritless void to ensure their preservation of natural energy.
Once the period of rest was over, the group packed up and left. Thanks to the increased healing properties of an Energy Storage cultivator, Tou Hei was mostly healed at this point. At this stage of their cultivation, they healed many times faster than a normal mortal, allowing them to recover from what would be crippling injuries in a matter of weeks, if not days. In fact, outside of dismemberment and loss of limbs, their increased cultivation levels allowed most cultivators to fix what would be lingering problems among Body Cleansers.
It was because of these increased healing properties and the general increase in strength and health of the populace that the Yellow Emperor had initiated cultivation training in all the lands. Ever since his initial push, the resulting kingdoms that had arisen after his empire crumbled had continued the tradition.
Even at the risk of rebellion, the might a company of Energy Storage cultivators brought to an army was well worth the trade-off. Of course, in such instances, such companies would be tightly tied to the ruling kingdom through wealth, cultivation incentives, and subtle threats to the cultivators’ families.
Now that Tou Hei had healed enough that he was able to ride alongside the group, they set a vigorous pace. Their days transitioned between early-morning combat training, long rides throughout the day where they ate only the food that had been prepared the night before, and evenings when they would cultivate and take on their own personal developmental tasks.
Progress came fast for some. Yu Kun broke through one morning, forcing the group to wait for him. As if his very act of breaking through clarified something in Wang Min, she froze then pulled forth her pipa. In a flurry of fingers, she played, fingers moving over frets and striking strings. As she did so, enlightenment pressed upon her, the grace of the heavens marking her play.
During one of those endless, repetitive days, Fa Yuan raised the issue of Wu Ying’s sword intent. “You study the Long family sword style, do you not?”
“Of course,” Wu Ying asserted. “You know that.”
“I do. Your lack of a formal swordsmanship master shows, especially now that you are practicing the second form,” Fa Yuan said.
“How did you know that?” Wu Ying said, puzzled that she’d managed to dig out information on his family sword style and his teacher. They should still consider his father his teacher.
“Did you think we did not do any research?” Fa Yuan said, shaking her head in disappointment at Wu Ying. She effortlessly moved with the sway of the horse as they made their way through the dense undergrowth of the temperate forest. “Your family style has some history. It took a bit of work, but we learned some details. Including its decline.”
Wu Ying shrugged, controlling his horse with a little less grace. After a few years of occasional rides, he had learned how to maneuver the beasts with more skill. It helped that martial skill—and general physical prowess—provided him a decent sense of balance and rhythm. “Are you suggesting I should find a new style?”
Fa Yuan snorted. “Of course not. You have a full set of instruction manuals in a family style. Why would you give that up?” She cocked her head. “You do have a full set of manuals, do you not?” At Wu Ying’s reluctant nod, she continued. “Even if you found a master willing to take you in, you would have to work your way up their ranks—and most likely, discard the style you know.” Wu Ying made a face at those words and Fa Yuan smirked. “Obviously, you are not willing.”
“Obviously.” Wu Ying’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at the Elder. He considered the reasons why she would bring up the topic. “But I am lacking a teacher for certain aspects. Chi projection through my sword, in particular.”
“Yes,” Fa Yuan confirmed. “Your father has not the cultivation to teach you, and while the instruction offered in your manuals might provide some help, such instruction can be lacking compared to a real master.”
“Would you be willing to help?”
Fa Yuan shook her head, making Wu Ying frown. She held up a hand, then closed her fingers except for the fore and middle finger. Holding them upright and together, she focused, sharpening her aura and bringing forth her chi. She concentrated her aura to a level that the entire area covering her pair of fingers was visible to the naked eye.
“Energy projection comes in many forms, and it differs depending on the cultivation method and the chi aspect one has. My own aspect will conflict with yours,” she said. “But in time, you will learn to project chi yourself. Your cultivation manual and your own exploration will lead you there. No. Your problem does not lie in chi projection.”
“Then…?” Wu Ying said, frowning. It was these kinds of talks he needed an Elder for. It was too easy to find oneself pursuing the wrong k
ind of development. And while it might not take too long to realize the mistake, time lost during the early stages could have significant impact down the road. It was why he was both blessed and cursed by being Master Cheng’s disciple.
Blessed, because Master Cheng allowed him a greater leeway in finding his own path. Which, compared to some of the other inner sect members who slaved away at daos and occupations that did not suit them, was certainly preferable. Cursed, because he lacked the ongoing advice that someone like Tou Hei, whose Master paid more attention to him, gained as a matter of course.
In answer to Wu Ying’s question, Fa Yuan swung her fingers. She put so much focus into the action that Wu Ying saw the sword intent as it struck a nearby twig. The thin, leafy branch swayed for a second in the light breeze before gravity took hold and pulled it to the earth. As if she had been waiting, Elder Yang plucked the twig from the air as she rode toward it, then handed the twig to Wu Ying.
The cultivator turned the twig from hand to hand, staring at the shorn edge. It was a perfect cut, the edge so sharp that when he pressed his finger to it, it drew a trace of blood. He pulled his finger away, sucking on it while Fa Yuan spoke.
“Sword intent and energy projection are two sides of the same coin. By understanding the dao of the sword, you understand sharpness, you understand its place within the universe. Chi projection through a weapon allows you to extend your understanding of the sword, of the cuts you throw, the blows it generates into the world.”
Wu Ying nodded. What she spoke of was common knowledge, the basics of projecting sword intent. It was why those who had a greater understanding of the sword—people like him with the Sense of the Sword, and others who had the Heart of the Sword—were more dangerous than those who did not.
“But have you considered what sharpness is?” Fa Yuan spoke. “You understand the weight of a weapon. You understand its length, its breadth, you understand even how to take care of it. You may pick up a sword and know instinctively what metals were used to forge it, what strengths and weaknesses it might have, its balance and the care taken by its previous owners. That is the Sense of the Sword, the heart of Sword Dao. But have you considered what it means for a sword to be sharp?”
“It is a weapon that has been honed well.” Wu Ying’s brows tightened. The answer was immediate and, he knew, wrong. Yet, it was the only answer he had, at least the only answer he knew instinctively.
Behind the pair, a horse neighed, drawing Wu Ying’s attention to his friends behind. To his surprise, Yu Kun had moved his horse closer, covering the usual six-foot distance they kept between each other. At Wu Ying’s frown, the ex-wandering cultivator offered a guiltless smile.
“Leave him be,” Fa Yuan said. She had obviously noticed him earlier and said nothing. In turn, Wu Ying also kept his protestations silent. It was her knowledge to impart. “Tend to your own development. Your answer describes how a blade is made sharp. It does not explain why.”
Wu Ying frowned, but looked down at the weapon sheathed at his side. A blade was sharp because one sharpened it. But what was sharpness? Why did the blade cut? Force, strength obviously played a part. But the sharper a blade, the less force one needed. So force was not why a blade could part silk or flesh.
What was sharpness? Wu Ying drew his weapon halfway out its sheath to stare at the edge of his blade. Unconsciously, he guided his horse with his knees and reins as he pondered the question. He barely even noticed when Fa Yuan moved away, leaving him alone.
To ponder the concept of sharpness and cutting. And what a sword did when it parted flesh and branch.
***
Two mornings later, Wu Ying stood before a tree branch. He swung his sword, one filled with chi and sword intent, lightly against the branch. It was a simple wrist cut, the tip meant to barely miss the branch itself. If not for the extension of his chi that coated the weapon, he would miss the branch entirely.
The swinging jian brushed past the wooden branch, leaves trembling as Wu Ying’s chi-infused aura struck it. Leaves danced as the entire branch moved. Even as the shorn portion began to fall, Wu Ying threw another cut in the opposite direction. Another wooden chip was sliced off and the branch trembled again, its edges twisting and pulling as gravity took effect.
He stared at the branch, feeling the way his chi had moved, interacted with the wood. The way it split the bark as it passed. Sharpness could be mimicked by controlling one’s energy, by sharpening the edge of one’s control. But the act of cutting was the splitting of one thing into two. A change in the natural order of the world.
Initially, Wu Ying had felt that change when he layered his blade with sword intent and chi. When metal and branch, when metal and sausage or vegetable met. He had felt the change, the parting of ways. Bread, flesh, or wood. That change had felt all the same to his senses. But it had been muted by the metal in his blade.
And so he had chosen to only use his chi, to feel the change when the sharpened edge of his aura met wood. To understand by feel, by forcing the interaction, the change in the dao of the branch. As he cut, he applied the strength of his cut to a smaller and smaller area, parting the wood.
But why did it part? What was the point of the separation? A force was applied when wood that was whole and true became two parts. And that parting was natural. As if by sharpening his intent, his chi, his aura, he made his intentions clearer to the branch itself. And, understanding his desires, the wood separated.
If he missed, if he still did not grasp the dao of sharpness or the sword, he understood at least a little of what happened. And mayhap, with a little practice, he could understand more. He could apply his intention to the weapon, to the aura and make such a cut a natural portion of the world with even a blunted weapon.
But he was not there yet.
So he cut.
Cut again.
And with each cut, his control, his intent, grew sharper.
Chapter 16
The city walls of Hinma rose before Wu Ying, four times his height. Crenellations and wooden roofs shaded the guards walking the walls, staring down at the throng of visitors that arrived at the south gate. The cultivators, led by Fa Yuan, rode past the growing line while Wu Ying peered around the familiar green countryside at the flowing river to their left and the town.
“You’ve been here, have you not?” Tou Hei murmured.
“Yes. This is where I got the wine,” Wu Ying confirmed. It was somewhat nostalgic, being back here, though his arrival this time was different from the bedraggled peasant who had arrived in the past.
“Your friend…” Tou Hei trailed off, forgetting the name.
“Zhong Shei,” Wu Ying supplied.
“He lives here then. Will you visit him?”
“If we have time.” Wu Ying rose a little in the stirrups, peering to the east to see if he could spot the second river. It was angled such that he could barely see the edges of it, though the presence of a boat making its way downriver gave away its position.
Given birth at the confluence of two rivers, Hinma was a prosperous town, one whose periphery was filled with farmers making use of the plentiful water and whose mills and factories borrowed the strength of the river for the town’s abundant industry. The constant flow of liquid also ensured a small breeze ran through the town throughout the day, changing direction as the day and season changed. One advantage of the constant wind flow was that the town smelled better than most places of civilization.
A more traveled cultivator now, Wu Ying was clearer of the city’s geographic benefits. He was no longer the uncultured peasant he had been years before. Now, he rode past the waiting farmers and merchants, confident in his place in the world. Or at least, able to fake it sufficiently.
“Elder. Honored cultivators,” the lieutenant of the gate guard greeted the group as they arrived before the looming gates. Made of wood and banded with metal, the gates required multiple guards to open and close, even with the use of the pulley system. Of course, there were few reaso
ns to close the gates during the day. Even at night, only the main gates were closed, the postern gates left open for late arrivals. “Welcome to Hinma. Will you be calling upon the magistrate immediately?”
“We would not want to bother His Excellence.” Fa Yuan gestured into the town. “A message for when he would be available to see us will be sufficient. We will be staying at the Golden Age Pearl.”
“Of course, Honored Elder.” The lieutenant bowed to the group, the feathered crest of his helmet bobbing low. As he bent, his gaze swept over the group and he made a quick count of their numbers. His gaze stopped briefly upon Wu Ying, still clad in peasant robes, before skipping away.
As the lieutenant straightened, he beckoned one of his guards close and gave quick orders to the man even as the group rode into the city without concern. Wu Ying absently noted how the guard trotted off, overtaking the slow-moving cultivators as he headed north.
Like most cities, the main roads leading from the compass-set gates were large and well-paved, the center of the town hosting the magistrate’s residence and the bureaucratic heart of the city. The well-paved, wide roads ensured that traffic was easily managed, with hawkers and roadside stalls carefully managed by the guards. As a main city, Hinma was governed by the local magistrate rather than a nobleman, and it was this personage that Elder Yang would visit later. After all, it would be impolite for someone of her standing to reside in the city without paying proper respects.
“Wu Ying,” Fa Yuan called.
“Yes?” Wu Ying rode up and joined his martial sister at the head of their convoy. He left Tou Hei eyeing the various street meats on display, already fumbling at his belt. If he’d had time, Wu Ying would have stopped him.
“You will be accompanying me to the magistrate.”
Wu Ying nodded.