by Tao Wong
In short order, Wu Ying was engaged with the three archers, his blade flicking back and forth as he blocked their attacks. His breathing came short and fast as he drew in the chi the three stained the air with. Fire, metal, and earth chi, all of it mixed together. There was some corruption in two of the three chi flows, but the third was clean, smelling of nothing but flame and heat. Nor did he smell anything from the three attackers targeting Tou He.
Dragon strokes the Painting parried a lunging blade high, the return push cut on his side delivering the tip of Wu Ying’s sword into his opponent’s eye. Only the barest edge of the jian entered before his assailant flinched, but it was sufficient. The abject horror at being blinded sent his opponent reeling away, the hidden edge of swirling chi tearing open the orb entirely.
Wu Ying’s success did not come without a price. A mace came crashing down on Wu Ying’s foot, knocking him down to the rooftop. His thigh throbbed, the bone creaking alarmingly as the powerful attack nearly shattered his femur. Only the powerful Body Cultivation and strengthening he had done saved him.
Rolling, Wu Ying came to his knees in time to deal with an overhand cut from a dao, shedding the attack off his weapon sheath to his left. He used the same motion to bring his own weapon cutting upward, an attack that his opponent attempted to dodge. And succeeded—all but for the shimmering, almost invisible field of wind chi that coated Wu Ying’s weapon. The wind chi edge tore at his opponent’s armor, slicing open robe and underarmor, sending metal scales clinking through the air.
Sounds of scuffling to the side had Wu Ying edge in a clockwise direction, catching sight of Yu Kun in the midst of a brawl against two new attackers. Wielding his hooked swords, the ex-wandering cultivator flowed between the pounding, abusive attacks of a spiked knuckle brawler and a spear attacker. Still, Yu Kun seemed to be on the backfoot, already sporting a deep bruise across one eye and a limp, along with his bleeding arm.
Tou He, with his defensive style, was much safer and less injured. Even keeping his three attackers at bay, Tou He managed to occasionally attack with a burst of flame or a staff strike. In particular, the attacker with the arrow in his calf was the target of the majority of the beating, half his clothing burnt off already.
Wu Ying took all this in with a single glance before he was back on the defensive, his opponents pushing him. His jian darted and twisted, blocking strikes as he was forced across the rooftop with each step. A part of Wu Ying was surprised by the sheer number of attackers, while another portion catalogued the strength of those around him.
Nearly half of the attackers were Body Cleansing cultivators in the late or peak stage of Body Cleansing. As they fought, more and more of their auras leaked through the simple enchantments they carried, burnt away as they used their chi. It was no wonder no one had noticed their presence. Using the talismans, so many of them had acted like plain—low Body Cleansing cultivation—mortals.
Worse. He felt it now.
Wu Ying’s eyes narrowed as he flipped backward, off the edge of the building he was on, then kicked against the nearby wall to fly right back upward. His feet left deep divots in the wall behind him, even as the attackers who had rushed forward were bowled over by his sudden return.
A quick grapple with one hand and Wu Ying twisted his body in midair, pulling his opponent with him as he landed. Wu Ying’s blade plunged once, deep into the body, before he was forced to back away and go on guard. His opponents, now reduced by one, rushed him once more.
Yet Wu Ying’s attention was not really on his attackers. For the underlying hum of chi that surrounded the tower, that powered its subtle but benign defenses, had disappeared. They had been so prevalent, Wu Ying had stopped considering them—until the energy they had drawn from the surroundings, that they emitted just by existing no longer pulsed.
The tower defenses were off.
And, as he had suspected, a score of black-clad figures rushed toward it through the streets below.
***
“Where’s our reinforcements?” Yu Kun shouted as he retreated, his swords hooked together to give him range and drive back his attackers. They ducked low and retreated, only the spear-wielder contending with the increased attack range.
“Where’s the signal for the others!?!” Wu Ying said.
The moment Wu Ying and his friends had been attacked, they had crushed the tokens they had been given to signal for help. Yet none of the alarms that should have roused the sect had arisen.
As if the heavens themselves had been waiting for Wu Ying’s words, calamity struck. Flames rose in two corners of the town, the rumble of explosions and the wave of heat arriving soon after. One was near the docks, burning brightly around where the warehouses would be. Another was farther away, in the northernmost residential district where many of the Double Soul, Double Body Sect Elders lived. Flames flickered and caught on forest edges, before guttering and dying.
The explosion of the warehouse and the signal drums that struck were muted, as if they were many more li away than they truly were. Understanding struck at the same time as a miss-timed block, Wu Ying’s opponent’s sword digging into his shoulder and sending Wu Ying skidding backward. It was only his reinforced skin and the poor suitability of the dao for thrusting that saved him.
“There’s a formation!” Wu Ying cried.
Looking around, Wu Ying searched for the offending silencing formation, but he was unable to locate it in the dark. Rather than spend further time on it, he swung his weapon, sending out blades of wind and sword intent, indiscriminately.
His opponents reacted predictably, jumping aside at first until they realized his true intentions. Then they tried to block his attacks as the attacks cut against roof and surrounding walls, battering at the formation’s foundations.
“Yes. About time!” Yu Kun cackled.
Swinging his hooked-together swords, the ex-wandering cultivator tore up the rooftop as he retreated, bouncing across the building as he headed for the square. In turn, his attackers grew less cautious as they attempted to stop Yu Kun’s retreat. In so doing, they paid for it as the wily ex-wandering cultivator tossed out a package of sand and salt, blinding the pair. A rising cut of projected sword intent tore into the leading arm of the distracted spear-wielder, forcing the man to drop his weapon.
Tou He caught on as well, though the cultivator took little additional action other than to inch away from his attackers. Unlike the others, he maneuvered himself away from the tower. That expanded the pyramid the three were fighting from, each of them shifting farther away from the others as they sought to find the edge of the formation.
“Keep moving!” Wu Ying cried, using his newfound lightness of feet to throw himself off the roof to the one across the street. Bare air passed beneath his feet, the wide roadway crossed with a simple surge of energy and power.
For all the danger they were in, Wu Ying could not help but grin. All that training, all that cultivating had seen results, results that he had not fully appreciated until now.
A crash from below, a shout of pain. Wu Ying twisted his head, unable to see Yu Kun anymore as the cultivator fought in the square. Further screams filtered in, along with cries for help and the chaos of the rising flames from the city. Wu Ying’s eyes widened, realizing that formation had been broken.
“Good!” Wu Ying said to himself, sliding backward with one foot behind him as he absorbed another heavy blow from the dao.
Wu Ying struck with his sword sheath, bruising his opponent’s knee before he riposted. The blade sank into a forearm. Now all three of his attackers were injured. The one he had stabbed in the back looked the worse for wear.
“Death before slavery!”
At first, the shout came from the cultivator wielding the paired daos. It was soon taken up by the others. Moments later, the smell of their chi turned rancid and oily, burnt and ashen as their bodies flushed red, smoke rising from their forms in the cold night air. They were burning their lifeblood and cultivation base,
eyes growing bloodshot, energy leaking from increasingly frazzled auras.
More importantly, as they attacked again, each of their blows were faster, fiercer, and heavier. Wu Ying’s arm hurt, his fingers trembling from each strike. Thankfully, his Spirit-level sword held up against the attacks with ease, his opponents’ weapons being chipped and, in one case, shattering entirely from the abuse.
Yet as Wu Ying retreated, barely able to outpace his attackers and keep them from swarming him, the sudden change of tempo was not at his location alone. Wu Ying heard the increasingly desperate shouts from where Yu Kun was. He felt the sudden surge of energy as Tou He, careful with his usage of chi until now, burned bright, flame chi swirling around him in a column that reached tens of feet high. The ex-monk’s staff exploded with flames with each block, lighting up the night sky further.
As he fought, Wu Ying tried to rejoin his friends. He regretted splitting their forces, necessary as it had been. Now that the formation was broken, he heard the sounds of battle from the tower itself. Even as Wu Ying jumped over a spear thrust and rolled to his feet, throwing a Dragon’s Breath attack behind him, he watched a corner of the tower explode outward, showering books and masonry on the square below.
As he rose to his feet once more, Wu Ying snarled, wondering where their reinforcements were.
Chapter 26
A blow from a mace threw Wu Ying backward, the strength of the cultivator using it having grown to suppress Wu Ying’s own by twice. Sheath crossed against sword to back it up, Wu Ying skimmed across the edge of the roof, tiles flying out from behind him, shards striking the backs of his legs. As he reached the roof’s edge, Wu Ying pushed off with the tips of his toes, flipping through the air.
Even before he landed on the ground, a spear shot out, aimed for Wu Ying’s head. A tilt of his body and head saw the weapon miss, his attacker’s aim half-off due to his eye injury. Closely following the spear was the third attacker, throwing himself off the building in a rush to catch up, blood pouring from his chest wound.
Wu Ying growled, thrusting his sword out repeatedly. Dragon’s Needles were from the fourth form of the Long family style, a series of quick, repeated thrusts of the weapon. Combined with the Dragon’s Breath, it allowed Wu Ying to send small bursts of sword intent to attack and wound his dual-wielding opponent. That the attacks were significantly underpowered meant little, as he needed to bleed the attackers.
And bleed them, he did. His opponent ignored the multiple needle-like wounds that pierced his body as he cut at Wu Ying, sending a surge of black-and-brown-stained sword intent in return. Blade lifted, Wu Ying twisted as he shed the attack, using his aura and wind chi to send it cutting away from him. He was still pushed back, kicking up dirt against the cobblestones of the square he had landed in.
No time to worry about his bruised feet, Wu Ying charged forward as his opponent landed. If he could reach him in time, he could end this…
Instinct threw Wu Ying into a sideways roll, barely dodging the mace that swung down and shattered the paving squares, sending shards of stone scattering through the square. Even as Wu Ying threw himself aside and cut out with another burst of sword intent, the spear-wielder was on him, forcing him onto the defensive.
Around Wu Ying, the once-pristine stone square was now shattered and broken, a victim of Yu Kun and his opponents’ fight. Rubble from the tower, portions of it having been destroyed, were scattered across the ground too. Remnant bookshelves, cultivation works, and the occasional spirit lamp lay strewn around.
Most disturbing of all—bodies. Too many of them were clad in the Double Soul, Double Body Sect’s robes. More than one visage Wu Ying recognized, library attendants fallen with looks of fear and shock, pain and loss writ large. It was no surprise so many lay slain—they were not martial combatants, but librarians after all. Even if most had learnt some form of self-protection, there was a stark difference between those who fought regularly and those who did so out of necessity.
Never mind the fact that the dark sect cultivators were burning their lifeblood and cultivation bases, making them stronger than even the Energy Storage cultivators. It was madness that they were choosing to do this.
“Where are the Elders and Sect Protectors?” Wu Ying snarled, falling back to where Yu Kun was fighting, one arm hanging by his side and bleeding. “They should have heard this by now!”
“I don’t know!” Yu Kun said. “Where’s that woman or her people? Were you wrong?”
Wu Ying could not help but shake his head, having no answer either. Then there was no more time to talk. Blades flashed, spears thrust, and the clash and pant of cultivators echoed through the air. In the midst of it, Wu Ying turned over the question.
Wan Yan had told them not to get involved. She was obviously part of the dark sect. Yet, could Xiang Wen perhaps had been part of it too? Did they get taken in and the dark sect have even more conspirators than they had expected?
A cut of sword intent spun through the air, slicing open Wu Ying’s cheek. He hissed, pushing his speculations aside, and forced his opponents back with a flurry of strikes. Up and down, the Dragon searches for Fireflies spun, much-battered sword sheath and jian flowing together until Wu Ying’s opponents staggered back, clutching at bleeding arms and legs.
“Tou He?” Wu Ying asked. If they had been betrayed, then his friend was the only one they could rely upon.
“Still on the rooftop,” Yu Kun replied.
“We need to finish this.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing!”
A stamp of his feet had Yu Kun sending his own paired swords swinging up, distracting the spear-wielder who charged him. Yu Kun wrapped his injured arm around the spear’s haft, locking it still. Not to give up the chance offered by his friend, Wu Ying sent a blade strike, only for another of their opponents to block it.
With a surge of energy, Yu Kun broke the spear just before his opponent yanked it away. It cost him though, blood spurting from his already injured arm. Grabbing his friend by the back of his collar, the sheath of his sword falling by the wayside, Wu Ying threw the pair of them away from their opponents, back toward the tower.
Behind them, the tower shook again and stone sprayed out of it. Thankfully, not toward the pair.
“If we don’t stop them, the tower will fall,” Wu Ying said.
“I know!” Yu Kun said exasperatedly.
Wu Ying eyed his friend, the way he was favoring his arm. Then Wu Ying turned to the five injured but still functioning opponents. Some should be dead, but they refused to fall, the berserk skill they were using keeping them on their feet. His mind made up, he pulled Yu Kun and shoved him at the tower’s entrance.
“Go! I’ve got this.” Wu Ying cried. He twisted his hand, pulling forth a wooden jian as replacement for his sheath from his spirit ring and tuned out his friend.
He could only hope Yu Kun could do something when he entered the tower. Maybe surprise the opponents. Or turn on the defenses.
Something.
As for Wu Ying, he had five opponents to finish.
***
Long family style—third form, dual wielding. It was not an actual series of movements, but an addition to the third form that focused on the use of a second weapon—or a sword sheath—in the off hand and the minor adjustments required between forms. Dual wielding was not, contrary to what amateurs thought, innately better than single sword. While a second weapon offered significant advantages, major issues cropped up if one studied dual wielding immediately.
Firstly, with two swords, it was all too easy to forget the basic principles of swordsmanship. Leverage, edge, positioning, distance, and timing played a larger role in the techniques of swordsmanship than having a second blade. Unless one was a heaven-defying protégé, learning all those aspects with a single weapon was a difficult enough challenge. Doing so with two hands, and judging every aspect for both weapons at the same time, often meant you missed the subtleties of the blade.
In add
ition, wielding two weapons, especially two long jians like Wu Ying preferred, created its own challenge. The weapons were easy to tangle with one another due to their greater length. They were also more difficult to use for blocking purposes, as the greater length brought the balance point farther forward. Especially for the weaker left hand.
Yet for all that, wielding two weapons was useful in a variety of ways. The greater reach of his off-hand jian let Wu Ying strike and threaten with greater effect. A twisting block that took a spear from the inside of his body to the outside right foot would normally leave Wu Ying wide open on the left. Yet his second weapon easily blocked a thrust; and tangling the weapon near the strength of his guard, he could thrust forward with the same hand and clip the spear-wielder’s retreating arm.
Another step, a twist low and spin let him carry the attack through with a cut toward an extended foot near the ground, even as he kept his right sword raised and pointed at an angle toward the sky. That allowed Wu Ying to intercept a falling blow and shed it away from his head. Then his legs unfurled as he exploded from his crouch into a thrust.
Dragon sprawls in his Lair became Flashing claws before Dinner. Feet twisted and wove as Wu Ying shifted position constantly and integrated the footwork of the Wind Steps and Northern Shen styles, a constant twisting, sprawling, and bobbing motion that altered the height and angle of his attacks. Strikes passed over his head or flew past his rising body. Cuts were dodged by swaying chest and hips aside while sweeps missed as he raised his feet in sharp kicks.
Wu Ying dueled, and a portion of his mind noted the increased speed, increased flexibility his new body provided him. Each moment he danced among blades and spears, among spinning chains and smashing mace heads, he won. Five against one, but they could not contain him any more than one could contain the wind.
