by Tao Wong
Finding it in his meridians was hard and forming it even harder. He had to pass his unaspected chi through his meridian points to create wood chi first, then over fire-chi-oriented points to burn it and create air chi. Not too fast, or nothing would catch fire. Not too slow, or the chi would become fire chi.
The process was difficult, but eventually he got the hang of it.
That was the easy part. Soul cultivation was something he had done for years, decades even. Even if controlling the exact aspect ratio and speed of flow of his chi within his body to create wind chi was new, he had experience in the actual techniques.
Now, came the real test.
Now, he had to diffuse his newly acquired wind chi throughout his body.
Wind chi was slippery, prone to escaping. If he did not contain the chi with his will, it would slip through his grasp, just as water chi did. Moving it was harder too, for too great a force made the wind chi compress, making it more difficult to move. That was unlike water chi, which could be shoved around with impunity, so long as one’s will was strong and impervious. At the same time, wind chi was also willful, intent on expanding to fill any location with even the smallest of nudges, much like fire chi. And like wood chi, it seemed to constantly be absorbed by the very walls of his meridian, intent on escaping and joining every part of his body.
That was the good part. He didn’t have to work very hard to make his wind chi part of him. It wanted to do that, wanted to be subsumed. Yet at the same time, it also refused to displace other chi, refused to shove aside other aspects. At least, not without some force. More force than Wu Ying was comfortable using.
Thankfully, enough of his body still needed to become wind-aligned that it didn’t matter. Theoretically.
Wu Ying began the process of cultivating the basic wind body manual, intent on imbuing his body with wind chi to test his theory.
Long minutes passed as he churned his chi, felt it disperse through his meridians into veins and arteries, into individual capillaries. He felt a shift a half hour later as energy expanded, as old blood and flesh warped as it took on the aspect of the chi he pushed in. A slow, dull ache originated from the portions that changed, radiating from his chest outward as it added to the symphony of agony that already existed in his body.
Wu Ying cultivated, his body straining, his energy thrashing. Five circulations, completed with painstaking care as he worked his way through the manual. Only an hour of work.
Then he was done. He collapsed sideways, toppling over as exhaustion caught up.
***
“Drink!” Tou He pushed the cup at Wu Ying.
It was a simple brew, a recipe given to Wu Ying by Senior Hou and tweaked to better suit Wu Ying’s body as per the body cultivation manual they had perused. Senior Hou had been remarkably prescient on what was needed, with only a few standout items that they had swapped out that would work better for a wind body than a wood body.
Of course, adjusting an apothecarist brew was dangerous. Wu Ying would never have tried it if not for his own knowledge of apothecary and the fact that Senior Hou’s original brew had already lost its efficacy. It was still not advisable, but he was willing to risk it. After all, when one was dying, minor risk of further injury was… minor.
Or at least, Wu Ying had told himself that when he had passed Tou He the recipe before he began cultivating. Now, sipping on the warm, blossom-scented drink, he was grateful for his risk-taking. If nothing else, this smelled and tasted much better than the original recipe.
“Yes, yes.” Wu Ying pushed aside the bowl, half-finished, as he waited for his stomach to settle. “I’m not meant to be chugging it.”
“Are you meant to be collapsing?” Tou He said caustically.
“I was just tired. It’s been a long day,” Wu Ying said, waving the matter away. When Tou He made a noise of disagreement, he continued. “Seriously, I was just tired. I might have pushed things a bit much, but I didn’t hurt myself.”
Tou He grunted, watching his friend sip at the drink a little longer before asking the question he had clearly been burning to ask. “Did it work?”
“Hmmm…” Wu Ying sent his senses into his body again, trying to judge the changes. Only five revolutions, when any substantial change required hundreds, if not thousands, meant that changes—if any—were hard to notice. At least he hadn’t had a cultivation deviation this time. “Maybe? I think I’m a little sturdier?”
“Are you supposed to get sturdier with a wind elemental body?”
“Not that way,” Wu Ying said, irritated.
“Then?”
“It’s… it’s like the wind chi is more solid within me. It feels like I’m improving, even if it is only marginally.” Wu Ying frowned, rolling up his sleeves. The stain on his arm, the blackened skin that looked so much like a bruise or liver spots one would see on the elderly, had not changed. His clothing was clean as well, other than some minor staining and the rank smell of dried sweat. “I didn’t exude anything this time.”
“Yes. Which your laundress is grateful for.” Tou He frowned. Obviously, considering all that Wu Ying had gone through, a flood of exuded corruption chi might have been better.
“I don’t know if this”—Wu Ying raised the bowl—“or the body cultivation is helping, but it doesn’t seem to be harming me at least. If I can reinforce my body, maybe it’ll slow down the poison.”
“Maybe?”
“Yes. I’ll need to try this a few more times, and the other methods.”
“Won’t what you are doing clash with other cultivation methods?” Tou He asked.
“It’s why I chose this one.” Wu Ying pulled the manual from his storage ring and waved it at his friend. “It’s a little like the Yellow Emperor method in that it seems to be a foundation builder. It won’t take me very far, but hopefully it also won’t create major problems if I find something better.”
“There’s a lot of uncertainty in your words, my friend.”
Wu Ying could only laugh ruefully. It was not as if he did not know the murky swamp of uncertainty he wandered in.
“Well, might as well finish your drink. Then I expect you to sleep.” Tou He ran a hand across his bald scalp, flashing a wry grin. “So shall I, as I finally get a chance at the formation tomorrow.”
After a moment, Wu Ying asked, “Do you want me to be with you?”
“No. Sleep in. I doubt I’ll have anything as dramatic as you.”
Wu Ying tried to glare at his friend, but eventually broke out laughing. He hated to admit it, but he did make the simplest tasks complicated. Perhaps in a previous life, he had caused trouble for the gods themselves, so they picked on him now.
***
Wu Ying woke late the next morning—at least late for him. The sun was well on its way to reaching its zenith, unlike his normal dawn risings. Even so, he felt exhausted, his body racked with pain. His sleep had been mostly restful, though he still woke a couple of times.
After completing his morning routine of washing and cultivation, Wu Ying strolled down the stairs, only to find that the inn had closed its kitchen for the morning. Caught in the awkward time between breakfast and lunch, Wu Ying chose to leave the residence in search of sustenance.
The city buzzed with commerce. It did not take him long to find a roadside cook with skewers of meat and small white buns, kept warm by the steam rising from the cart. A handful of coins was enough to procure his breakfast, which he ate while walking.
Wu Ying knew he should be headed straight for the library. He had a lot more research to do. However, curiosity drove him not to the library directly, but to the inn where the corrupted cultivators were supposedly staying. He wasn’t entirely certain what he expected to learn, especially considering he had woken so late, but Wu Ying still felt driven to at least look.
The district—if you could call that a location a half dozen streets over from where he stayed—that the corrupted individuals stayed in was made up of tall, walled-off residences and qui
et streets. Wu Ying heard the thrum of voices behind the walls as individuals cooked, played, and lived their lives sheltered behind the walls. Occasionally he encountered residences without such noise, replaced instead by the glint and hum of talismans and enchantment formations. The paved streets and generally silent surroundings made Wu Ying stand out as he searched for the building.
It did not take him long to reach it, only for his investigation to be stymied by the closed doors. There were no sounds originating from within, and active enchantments kept both noise and his own senses from penetrating directly. Yet, perhaps due to the nature of his sensing techniques, Wu Ying could smell the stain that those within had created.
It was strong. Much stronger than what he had sensed on the palanquin a couple of nights earlier. Wu Ying frowned, uncertain of the difference. There were many potential reasons for this disparity—a longer stay within, a larger number of individuals, maybe even the use of rituals to utilize those tainted beast cores were among the few that came to mind.
Frustration bubbled within him as he stared at the impenetrable walls and closed gates. He stalked forward for a second, about to knock and demand answers before he pulled himself away. He shuddered at his actions, pushing down his impatience, and forced his feet to walk away.
He forced himself to breathe, to find a center. The pain, the recollection of the damage they had done, unresolved anger at his injuries… it boiled over, threatening to make him take action when patience was required. And perhaps this new bloodline was making him more impetuous, more impatient.
Tou He was right. Wu Ying needed to wait, needed to study and heal himself. Pushing matters now, before he was ready, was a fool’s action. He let his feet take him back toward the library, only casting a single glance back at the imposing residence.
He was halfway to his destination when Wu Ying remembered that they had not even told Yu Kun of the issue. He blinked, smacking himself on the head. It took him only a few minutes to find a local messenger boy that he directed to leave a note for his friend at the inn. Perhaps they could meet tonight or tomorrow morning.
There was much to tell. Both to Yu Kun and his Master.
***
“Cultivator Long.” The voice pulled Wu Ying from his reading, yanking brown eyes up from yellowed parchment.
He turned to the speaker, meeting the gaze of the petite library elder, Elder Zheng. She was so short that even when he was seated, Wu Ying had to look down a little to see her face.
Of course, the moment he realized who had greeted him, Wu Ying stood, bowing. “Elder Zheng.”
“I have the answer to your question about the manuals,” Elder Zheng said. “Including the request to review and purchase some of these others. I have agreed to the request for these documents.” She held out three different manuals, a light smile on her lips. “I hope they meet your needs.”
Wu Ying took the manual summaries she offered, turning them over to see the titles. Northern Gale Freezes All Body. Eastern Gust and Western Breezes Body. The Five Winds Body. He mouthed the names silently before looking at the waiting Elder. “Thank you, Elder Zheng. I have a question, if I may.”
She had a slight smirk, as if she knew what he was about to ask. “Speak.”
“The Five Winds—it sounds similar to your former Patriarch’s Seven Winds.”
“It is a bastardization,” Elder Zheng replied blithely. “The work was created by his second disciple using an incomplete understanding of the Patriarch’s methods. It simplified much of the Patriarch’s enlightenment, making it easier to apply but less powerful.” She inclined her head toward the manual. “Still, the second disciple ascended to the Core cultivation stage with his body cultivation before falling when he attempted to breakthrough in his Soul Cultivation to the same stage.”
“That…” Wu Ying paused, uncertain of what he wanted to say.
The manual could be both great and horrible. That the disciple reached the Core cultivation stage with it was good news. That he fell mattered little, since it was in pushing his Soul Cultivation. Though there might have been issues that manifested from body to soul. The interactions could be minimal or significant, depending on the individual. In the end, all three manuals were good, if not great. Better than what he was reading now.
“Thank you.”
After Elder Zheng had marked off the cost of the manual summaries in his token, she offered an enigmatic half-smile before leaving. Wu Ying checked the token again, wincing at the tiny sum he had left. If he wanted to acquire the complete form of the manuals, he needed to start working on his assignments.
Another thing to add to the long list of things he needed to do. Standing, Wu Ying walked over to the attendants, handing them notes to pass on to messengers. Hopefully arranging times to call upon his assignees would not be difficult. Sometimes he missed being able to just walk over to his neighbor’s farmland and greet them, without the need for elaborate rituals and notes beforehand.
Why was it that the richer or more powerful one was, the more barriers one created between oneself and others? If isolating yourself was the price of power, did strength then make you weak and alone? If you were alone due to fear of those around you, did you not turn away from another form of enlightenment?
Wu Ying mused on the matter as he walked back to his seat. Even he had begun to isolate himself, without thought. Where he had once worked with the sailors on the boat, now he hid away, cultivating and training. Even his recent few months of recuperation had been done in isolation, in his home and Master Cheng’s.
Wu Ying shook his head, troubled by the thought. His life before the Sect had been a communal one, one built out of friends and family, of social gatherings and working together to harvest fields and patch canals. Even as a cultivator, his greatest wins had been with his groups of friends. He was only this successful because of his companions.
Yet those who climbed higher and higher had fewer and fewer contemporaries. How much damage did isolation, did breaking the bonds of companionship and socializing, have on a cultivator? He had seen the effects on his Master, in how he lacked friends and support in his endeavors. How Fairy Yang used her popularity for her own gain—and others’—but also shied away from deeper connections.
Where was the balance between openness and privacy? Between familiarity and isolation? If a king was isolated by his position, how much more isolated were Nascent Soul Elders and Patriarchs? Was that the only path forward—to stand alone at the peak?
Or was there another way?
***
A few hours of reading gave Wu Ying the barest of understandings of the books. He had finally set aside the works for deeper consideration later, as he returned to the Body Cleansing training rooms. As much as he desired to read more, he knew what he searched for—the understanding, the knowledge—would not come in a few extra hours of cramped reading.
No. He was better off practicing, working through the basics of the physical routine that came with the manual he had purchased. Among other things, the manual had come with a series of forms—closer to static and moving stretches than martial forms—as part of its cultivation method. It was this that Wu Ying intended to practice, all the while attempting to cultivate and let the wind chi in his body flow. Done correctly, it should not only expand and imbue his body with the wind chi he was desperate to access with less pain, but also progress his wind elemental body.
His need to understand the body he had been given was what drove Wu Ying to train tonight. A part of him knew he needed to grasp this difference, this change in himself before he could truly understand which manual he needed.
As he set himself in the room, starting with a simple elongated horse stance before moving toward the first stretching pose, one requiring him to lift his rear leg and extend it while keeping his body straight, he considered his body and the fallow fields he had been gifted.
For that was how he had begun to envision what he had been provided. The medicinal bath had moved
Wu Ying into a new series of uncultured fields. Larger, more expansive than the ones before. Its soil well cared for, its drainage canals well dug. And while he could survey the fields with a glance from his home, he did not know the fields. Not really.
He moved from stance to stance, forming wind chi that dispersed through his body and sent flutters of stored chi thrumming in acknowledgement. He learnt which canals needed repair. Noticed the weeds that had overgrown one field. Saw the rot setting in in another. Realized that the compost pile was placed too close to the inflow from the river.
Places to repair. Places to plant. He dug his hands into the earth of his body, tasted the soil and smelled its properties, turning it over with every step. Good soil, well-kept and fertilized. But filled with rocks and weeds, the waters within befouled.
As disgusting as each moment was, a visceral shudder breaching Wu Ying’s body with each step, each moment, he kept at it. Stretching, pushing his body to the limits, he cultivated as he drew in the chi from the world, churned it through his meridians to make it his own, exuded chi from his skin and muscles. And learnt, ever so slowly, what body he had.
And if the pain of cultivating, of moving, threatened his concentration, tossed and turned his consideration and racked his mind with pain, it was but a natural tradeoff. Because there was no easy path for Wu Ying, no simple method to progress. He had made his choice to fight, to be injured, to cultivate. And now, he chose again to accept the pain and the exhaustion, the aching weariness in his bones and the shortness of breath, the moments when he collapsed to his knees and threw up from the agony.
To take a step further.
To move forward.
To a solution.
***
