by Wong, Tao
“So we give you the remaining materials and you kill our friend?” Wu Ying said. “It doesn’t seem like a smart trade.”
“Well, you have my word we’ll play fair,” the leader said, obviously gloating.
“Not good enough.”
“Eh, we might be at an impasse then.” The leader tightened his grip on the sword, lifting it up and over his animal’s head, letting it rest pointed straight down. Readying himself for the fight.
“Do not be so hasty. Let me think about this.” Wu Ying looked at Wang Min, whose head was lowered, staring at the charms. He murmured to her, “What’s the range on the charm? If we get him away from them, could you turn it off? How far away before they cannot use it?”
She looked between him and enchantment. When she spoke, it was hesitantly. “Maybe half a li?”
Wu Ying huffed. That made sense, since any further and an Energy Storage cultivator would have trouble projecting their energy. Even their senses only reached tens of feet. Of course, the energy to activate the talismans was aided by the fact that it was minuscule and part of the enchantment itself, but a fight could easily interfere with the transmission.
“Okay. Get it off as soon as you can,” Wu Ying informed her. He turned to the opposing group. “I won’t give you the materials, not yet. She’ll ride him and herself away, and then we will trade. When he’s out of your range.”
“And let more of you escape?” The fat cultivator sneered.
The other cultivators broke into laughter as well.
“There are five of you. There will only be three of us. Are you that afraid that you will lose a fight?”
One of the previously silent cultivators growled, the top half of his face masked while the lower part twisted as he kicked his horse forward. He only stopped as a flash of chi from behind broke the ground before his horse.
“Don’t. We’ll be punished if we fail. You know that,” the leader said, glaring.
Reluctantly, the masked cultivator rode backward.
The fractures in their opposition were interesting. If he had more time, perhaps Wu Ying could exploit it. But not right now. Still, seeing that there were no additional objections, he sent the pair off. Soon enough, they turned a corner, disappearing from sight as rolling hills and shrubbery took them away.
“How long do we wait?” the leader asked.
“Ten minutes,” Wu Ying said. It would give his friends enough time to escape. And then… and then he would sully his honor further.
***
Long minutes passed with excruciating slowness, the two groups regarding one another in brittle tension. Wu Ying occasionally glanced back, noting the growing crowd of mortals that lurked off the road and behind trees. None dared to involve themselves in a standoff between cultivators. He wondered what they looked like, how it felt to them. In their Sect robes, Wu Ying and his group were easy to notice while their opponents were dressed in black and grey, devoid of their affiliation. Three of them even had their faces covered, though the slim bodies of two of those dressed and covered that way gave hints to their fairer sex.
Eventually, the dark sect group leader spoke up, having returned his sword to rest above the pommel of his saddle. “Did you really think we would let you spoil our plans so easily?”
“I didn’t think you would be so blatant,” Wu Yin said. “Acting against me and my martial sister in public, kidnapping my friend. Even stopping us here…”
“Bah! The peasants know nothing. And as for you all”—the leader stroked his beard—“do you think what you have to say matters? What proof do you have?”
Wu Ying’s eyes narrowed. True, they had no true proof here. His martial sister might be able to prove that Lu Ren and the Heavenly Lake Sect might be corrupted, might be using banned cultivation types and exercises. But it did not mean they were part of a dark sect. The use of shortcuts to improve one’s cultivation was not unknown. The desperate, the stymied, they all took ill-advised actions.
As for himself? Wu Ying had no evidence. Lei Hui’s wounds could be dismissed as injuries on an expedition. Wu Ying’s encounter could be ascribed as a desperate attempt to excuse his failure. He had no bodies—and even if he did, corpses would be of little use as proof. It was not as if the dark sect tattooed or branded their followers. Even if someone were to believe they were robbed, bandits were not an uncommon matter.
Still…
“We are inner sect cultivators of the Verdant Green Waters. We do not lie,” Wu Ying said firmly. “Our words, our tale would be taken seriously.”
“By some.” The leader grinned.
“And they’ll make themselves perfect targets.” The fat cultivator laughed. “A good meal for me and my Master.”
“You want us to help you draw out your opposition,” Wu Ying said softly. He shook his head, his lips compressing tight. “I think you’ll find your wishes might bring you more trouble than you believe. We are not prey for you.”
“Har. As if we haven’t done the same for a hundred years,” the fat cultivator said mockingly.
The leader growled, shushing the man. “That should be long enough, no?”
“Yes.” Wu Ying exhaled, then reached into his ring. He extracted the wood-and-earth imbued storage box from his ring. At the man’s gesture, he pushed the top open, displaying the heart within. “Satisfied?”
“Good. Throw it over and we will be done,” the leader said.
Wu Ying watched as the man’s hands twitched down by his side, out of Wu Ying’s direct line of sight.
“Of course.” Not letting his face shift, Wu Ying let his hand drop lower, in preparation to lob the box underhand. As he did so, he whispered to his friends, “I’m sorry.”
As if the entire group had been waiting for the signal, as the box soared through the air, both sides exploded into action. Weapons were drawn, bows were raised and arrows loosed. The hundred gates of hell broke open and Wu Ying could only hope it was not to accept him and his friends.
Chapter 33
Wu Ying’s first act after throwing the box was to kick his horse into a canter, sending it into a jerking run to the side of his starting position. At the same time, he bowed his body low as he cross-drew his jian. His actions allowed him to dodge the thrown knife that whizzed past his face, the weapon empowered by air chi.
By Wu Ying’s side, Yu Kun had unhorsed himself almost completely, leaning so precariously over one side of his ride that it looked as if he would fall at any moment. He fired his bow from that position before dropping the weapon and pulling his swords from his spirit ring as they closed on their opponents.
On the other side, Wu Ying heard the thunder and impact of attacks rebounding off Tou Hei’s defense. He could only hope that his friend was doing well, for it was Wu Ying’s turn to return the attacks. He swung his sword once, then again, using quick elbow cuts. The first was a feint, but his second cut sent a spiral of empowered sword chi at his target. Caught off-guard, his opponent managed to block the attack but failed to protect his horse, which was the farmer’s main target.
Rearing in pain, the horse bucked and twisted, bleeding from its face and body. The wound had dug close to the creature’s eyes, causing the creature to buck and twist, panicked. Its slim-waisted rider was forced to fight the mare as it turned and bolted, leaving Wu Ying and his team to face the other four.
Three, for Yu Kun’s attack had lamed another mare as they closed.
“Cowards, attacking animals!”
The accusation was, to Wu Ying’s amazement, coming from the fat, cannibalistic cultivator. He looked truly enraged and cut across in front of his leader to charge Wu Ying directly. The mustached leader had to pull his horse short as the fat cultivator swung his guan dao straight down at Wu Ying.
A lean to the side and a cut at the head of the heavy halberd sent the weapon away. True to all guan dao wielders, the fat cultivator was absurdly strong and reversed course of the weapon. Wu Ying could only pull his own sword into a block, ab
orting his riposte at his opponent’s wrist to guard himself.
Caught in the rising blow, Wu Ying was nearly lifted off his seat. Hands trembled as Wu Ying’s horse, frightened by the swinging weapon, kept moving forward, driving Wu Ying closer to the cultivator. Rather than let the opportunity pass, Wu Ying struck out with his fist, embracing the power within the Woo Petal Bracer and infusing his fist attack with chi.
The energy-infused chi blow struck the guan dao’s shaft, punishing weapon and cultivator. Rocked by the attack, the fat cultivator failed to capitalize on Wu Ying’s back, leaving Wu Ying free to face his next foe. The mustached leader.
Wu Ying goaded his horse closer, the pair traded blows with their jians, cutting and thrusting at one another. The mustached leader was good and forced Wu Ying to focus on him.
Meanwhile, Tou Hei stepped in to deal with the guan dao cultivator, the ex-monk meeting his opponent on his feet rather than on his horse, while Yu Kun battled the pair of other cultivators—one horsed, the other unhorsed—with his swords. The last enemy cultivator continued to attempt to return on his panicked horse, too stubborn or too inept to get off it.
Wu Ying caught glimpses of that as he and the leader spun round and round, lashing at each other. In short order, Wu Ying learned a few things. The leader was strong—at least high Energy Storage, if not peak. Each of his blows, the speed of his reactions, all told of the greater physical strength opening more meridians provided. Luckily, he was not overwhelmingly strong—Wu Ying’s base constitution and strength from years of back-breaking work providing him an equalizing force.
Secondly, neither of them were experienced in mounted combat. More than once, cuts and blocks were fouled by the unexpected movement of the horses beneath them. Wounds on both sides collected as the creatures bucked, twisted, and dodged with the barest modicum of control placed upon them. Only long years of training kept the creatures in battle, guided by inexperienced riders as they were.
As for the third aspect, it was the only thing that kept Wu Ying in battle. For all the man’s strength and speed, he lacked skill. Or, more correctly, he lacked a form that worked on horseback. And while the Long family style was not focused on horseback riding, it was complete and had passages devoted to it. Whereas his opponent lacked even that and often reverted to a few repetitive attacks that allowed him to miss injuring his own ride.
Time passed as blades clashed and horses reared. Wounds collected—a cut on the arm here, a gash on the leg there, a new bleeding wound on the cheek. Neither managed to land an effective hit, though both equine companions were flagging under the repeated goading of their riders.
A passing glimpse told Wu Ying the other cultivator had given up on his ride and was swiftly returning on foot. Another showed Yu Kun pressured, wounded, and tired. Tou Hei was winning his own fight, having struck away the guan dao of his opponent. Now, he was in the midst of finishing his opponent.
But with the returning cultivator, they were out of time. Whoever the returning cultivator aided would be put in a losing position. Hands trembling, cheek slick with blood, Wu Ying ran through his options. What could he do? How could he turn this around?
An idea… but dangerous. A sacrifice. To save his friends, to save those who followed him.
A worthwhile trade.
But he needed a gap, an opportunity. Another blow nearly staggered Wu Ying, his blade pushed so deep that it nearly cut into his body. Earth chi from Wu Ying’s opponent gave his attacks strength, one that chipped at Wu Ying’s jian and made his shoulder and wrist ache. Pushed, leaving him no chance.
A scream, a familiar voice. Wu Ying jerked his head to the side, surprise blooming on his face. Tou Hei was down, clutching his leg as his opponent smirked, floating, black wisps erupting from his hands. Wu Ying smelled that burnt wood, rotting earth scent. Making him choke.
A flash of light, and a twist. Wu Ying jerked in his seat, falling off the horse as the cut tore open his chest. He landed and rolled, the wound on his chest opening further, blood dribbling. A ground-level cut tore at the incoming horse’s legs, crippling it before the leader could reach him. Even as the mare crashed to the ground, the leader flipped through the air.
Exhaustion tore at Wu Ying’s will, leaving him unable to stand. Blood rushed from his chest as Tou Hei attempted to protect himself with flaming chi from the floating black dots the fat cultivator wielded. And Yu Kun retreated, bloody gashes on both arms, one arm barely holding on.
Wu Ying pushed, forcing himself to stand. Refusing to stay down. Even as he realized he’d failed. Again. Made the wrong decision, made the wrong choice.
Killed himself, his friends, and his Master.
As the fifth cultivator arrived, joining with the team leader, Wu Ying faced them, wounded, tired, and bleeding, sword in hand.
A failure.
***
Sword trembling, Wu Ying glared at the opponents sauntering toward him. There were no words, no further conversation. That final attack Wu Ying had swung had closed off all those options. But at least Lei Hui would not die, nor Wang Min. They would be able to escape—probably. He wished he’d passed Lei Hui or Wang Min his world spirit ring. With his death, they would have been able to keep the second set he had within. Another mistake.
Now.
Now it was too late.
Wu Ying’s hands trembled, his jian’s blade dipping and rising in time. His attackers spread out, and Wu Ying cursed. He should have, could have used that moment to try something, anything. But instead, he’d spent it thinking of the past, missing the opportunity.
The fifth cultivator attacked first. Rather than a sword, she wielded a mace, a weapon more suited for a peasant than a refined cultivator. The weapon she wielded had a blackened head, and as she swung it, inscriptions lit up with a yellow-red glow.
Wu Ying cut and blocked, careful to block at the handle rather than the mace head. The dark sect leader stalked in the distance, ready for an opening. On his feet, Wu Ying could tell, the leader was even more dangerous. A single opportunity and Wu Ying would fall.
Mace and blade clashed as Wu Ying tried to maneuver himself around the attacks and away from the leader. The metallic chime of their weapons meeting, the shuffle of feet and forced exhalations joined the tinkling of notes. Forming a subtle tune.
Dragons rises in the Evening blocked a blow swung at his collarbone on the right. His scabbard, gripped in his left, managed to push the leader’s jian off-line. It still cut, drawing blood along Wu Ying’s lower ribs, nicking bone. Wu Ying hissed, a susurration of sound.
And then, a twist in the notes. A break before it struck. Their chi, moving to the music that had enveloped them, stuttered to a stop. They all felt it, were all caught. The aural attack had come subtly, sliding beneath their awareness as they fought, and it caught them all, freezing them in place.
Wu Ying was frozen, his movements slowed. His sword fell by his side. His eyes darted across the road. Tou Hei was on his knees, his fires dimmed, the staff on the ground. His opponent’s dark mist attack dissipated, bleeding from his mouth. Yu Kun, hands held aloft, blocked both attacks, eyes glazed as his opponents fought through the attack, their bodies locked.
And Wu Ying. Free. For a second.
The Never Empty Wine Pot was used to hold off chi that was unaspected. The simple umbrella aura strengthening qinggong exercise gave him further protection as his aura constrained external chi from entering his body. It all helped slow down the insinuation of Wang Min’s chi attack into Wu Ying’s body.
Made the effects less.
Allowed him to move.
A rising cut, chi drawn not from his still-sluggish meridian but from the Woo Petal Bracer flowing through the blade. Wu Ying cut upward and sideways, sending the attack across the road. It struck, tearing at muscle and bone, flaying the backs and sides of his targets. A little of it clipped Yu Kun, but his opponents were staggered, injured by the unexpected attack.
Motion resumed as the other cultivators re
gained control of their body.
Tou Hei and the dark sect leader recovered next, the ex-monk smashing his staff upward between the legs of his fat opponent. His opponent crumpled, face white and eyes rolled back. There was no time to rejoice. The dark sect leader attacked Wu Ying, blade snaking out and targeting his back.
Wu Ying crumpled forward, dodging as best he could and failing. Flesh and robes parted under the weapon. Blade grated on reinforced bones, cutting and chipping but failing to penetrate as Wu Ying dodged. He fell and rolled, back and wound impacting the ground and forcing a strangled scream from his lips.
Coming to his knees, Wu Ying turned and cut, throwing everything he had, everything he could into a projected sword intent attack. It struck at both his opponents, but the attack was dispersed with ease. An aural attack of compressed air chi followed Wu Ying’s attack, doing more damage than his own. It staggered the pair, leaving light wounds on their arms.
“Finish the girl! I’ll deal with this cockroach,” the dark sect leader snapped.
The female opponent slipped away, mace swinging in counter-time to Wang Min’s sonic attacks. Air chi met air chi, creating explosive blasts of air that kicked up dirt and leaves on the road. A pebble shattered and cut the dark sect leader’s face, leaving a thin line of blood and infuriating him.
Still, the leader did not lose focus as he threw cuts at Wu Ying, forcing him to defend. Defend with his sword by constricting his aura, reinforcing it against the chi-imbued attacks. As blood dripped, as the leader closed to finish, Wu Ying could only defend.
Another cry of triumph. Wu Ying glanced to the side as he was blasted off his feet and onto his back. The leader rushed over with his sword raised to finish him. Wu Ying saw Yu Kun rip his hooked blades across another neck, severing the head.