by Tao Wong
The water was his only chance, so Wu Ying ran. Another ten feet, then suddenly, he was there. At the banks of the river. The river and the waterfall that crashed down into it, generating the thunder in his ears. With a groan, Wu Ying stumbled forward, realization hitting him. Of course the loudest part of the river was where the falls fell.
Hope disappeared as Wu Ying stared at the water. In the foaming white beneath the waterfall, directly beneath the thundering cascade of liquid, he thought he saw something. But another shout made him turn around to face his assailants. Tired, bleeding, and bereft of hope, Wu Ying raised his weapon. Better to die standing.
“Sorry, Papa. Sorry, Mama.”
Chapter 14
The bandits slowly exited the dense undergrowth, no longer feeling the need to run as they cornered the bleeding cultivator. Wu Ying slowly looked across the group, his chest heaving as he sucked in air and his blood slowly mixed with the water lapping in the river.
“Finished running, have you?” Ji Ang said when he sauntered over. “I told you there was nowhere to go.”
“Leader! He blinded my brother. I ask that you let me kill him,” a particularly tall and gangly bandit snarled, showing the hooked sword that he held. “I’ll kill him slow for making us run.”
“You’re not his match, Ko Yan,” Ji Ang said, shaking his head. “I’ll finish him myself.”
“No! He hurt my brother. I will kill him,” Ko Yan said, moving forward with a snarl.
Ji Ang rolled his eyes and flicked his hands, allowing the other bandit to go forward.
Ko Yan grinned as he stalked forward, leering at Wu Ying. “I’m going to make you hurt and cry.”
“You said that already,” Wu Ying said softly. “At least your brother was better at getting things done. When he could see.”
The goading worked, making Ko Yan rush forward, his sword rising above his head. Wu Ying waited, watching, then moved, his sword speeding forward as he used the Sword’s Truth. The strike took Ko Yan in the throat, tearing through cartilage and bone and nearly decapitating the man. The next moment, as Wu Ying’s weight came fully down on his leg, the cultivator stumbled, nearly falling from a sudden lack of strength. He pushed himself upward with the help of his sword, his head spinning.
“One more,” Wu Ying breathed, offering the group a bloody smile.
“I told him,” Ji Ang said with a roll of his eyes. He raised his jian before he shook his head. “Let’s end this farce. Archers!”
Wu Ying blinked, straightening and trying to gauge the distance between him and the rest of the bandits. Too far. Even as the creak of bows being drawn reached his ears, he desperately considered his options. The dagger. If he pulled and threw it, perhaps…
“Who dares disturb me?” The voice roared through the riverbank, making pebbles dance and leaves shake.
An arrow, newly drawn, accidentally loosed into the ground. The group froze as a suffocating pressure enveloped them.
“What… who is that?” one of the bandits blathered, his hands shaking so badly he could barely hold his spear.
“Senior! I did not see you there. I apologize,” Ji Ang quickly recovered, bowing to the speaker behind Wu Ying.
Taking a gamble, Wu Ying turned his head carefully to look behind him and caught a glimpse of the speaker. A vivid-blue-and-white-robed man with a long, lustrous beard strode out from underneath the waterfall. As he walked lightly on the churning water, steam rose from his body as the water that soaked him evaporated.
“Your killing intent has disturbed my cultivation. How dare you bring your petty squabbles here?” the cultivator snarled.
Even tired as he was, Wu Ying could tell that the presence of this cultivator was far above any of them. He reminded Wu Ying of the senior Elders in his sect, those who had formed their cores. In other words, they were but bugs to the waterfall cultivator.
“We did not know Senior was using this waterfall. We would not have dared follow that cultivator here otherwise,” Ji Ang said, quick to push the blame onto Wu Ying.
“I… I was trying to get away, Senior.” Wu Ying wanted to raise his voice, to speak stronger, but he was finding it hard to even stay standing and conscious.
“Go. All of you. This one is about to die as it stands. And your killing intent is disturbing me,” the Senior said, looking between the group.
“But we have to kill him!”
There was no warning, no indication, just a twitch of a hand, and suddenly a spray of water flung itself at such speed that it tore apart the speaking bandit. The attack left a bloody mess and torn leaves behind, covering those bandits who stood beside the outspoken bandit with blood and viscera.
“Our apologies, Senior. You are correct. We will leave now,” Ji Ang said and bowed, waving his group back. He glared at Wu Ying, who could only offer a bloody smile before Ji Ang turned around.
As they left, Wu Ying slumped to the ground, willpower finally running out.
“I would begin cultivating once you’ve drawn out that dagger and bandaged your wounds. If you survive, that would be your fate,” the core cultivator said, almost disinterestedly.
Wu Ying turned to stare as the man walked back toward the waterfall. “Thank you, Senior.”
Receiving no reply, Wu Ying began the slow process of bandaging his wounds. He started with the ones that were easy to get to, doing his best not to jar the dagger in his stomach. When he was finally ready, having torn apart his clothing for bandages, he gritted his teeth. Gripping the dagger tightly, he pulled it out with a surge of strength then stuffed the cloth around the newly revealed wound. Not daring to disturb the Senior, he had gagged himself beforehand, so his cries were muffled. As he fell over from the pain, Wu Ying blanked out, only coming to minutes later.
Blood. So much blood lost. And his body still bleeding. Worse, Wu Ying knew that he had internal damage—muscles, veins, and innards torn apart from the jostling knife. Only the fact that the knife had been mostly blunt at the edges—more a shiv than a knife—had saved Wu Ying from receiving even more damage. Still, Wu Ying knew from his previous experience that infection would come soon.
There was but one solution. If he could cultivate and cultivate well, he could drive the impurities and the infections out from his body, keeping it clean and clear. To do that though, he would need a lot of chi. Grasping within his robe, Wu Ying levered himself to a sitting position and popped open the pill bottle.
One chance.
Wu Ying was exhausted, in pain from his injuries, and woozy from blood loss. Even with the pill, Wu Ying knew his chances of success were low. There was one way—to overdraft his chi from his dantian. To use it all, not leaving a single ounce in reserve. If it worked, he would break through the next level and heal a significant portion of the damage. If he failed, he would die on the spot.
Wu Ying swallowed the pill and waited in lotus position. In seconds, he felt the warmth from the pill enter his stomach, pulsing through his body as it drew power toward him. The tendrils of chi it sent through him made Wu Ying grit his teeth as it woke up his wounds. For a moment, his concentration wavered, then Wu Ying pushed the pain aside with a surge of will. His entire focus drew down deep into his torso, into his dantian, as he worked to collect the chi surging through his body.
First step, collect the chi, letting it run through his current meridians as needed, but mostly keeping the majority swirling within. Keep drawing the power in, from both the surroundings and the pill. The water, flowing a short distance away, refreshed the chi in the surroundings constantly and improved the flow of chi much the same way his movement-based cultivation did. It was part of the reason why cultivating in such locations was so common.
Wu Ying drew upon this external chi as well as the chi from the Marrow Cleansing pill, letting it swirl around the core of his dantian. He felt his dantian strain as it battled to handle all the new pressure. Pain radiated from Wu Ying’s wounds, nibbling at the edges of his consciousness even as Wu Ying struggled
to keep the energy together. Wu Ying knew he was taking part in a careful balancing act—pull in as much chi as he could hold and channel before he lost his concentration entirely, before he lost consciousness. Eyes closed, darkness wreathed his inner world, nibbling at the edges of his mind. Slowly, Wu Ying felt his consciousness fade.
Time.
He set loose the energy, where it thundered down his meridians. The chi forced them open, burning his nerves and deep in his body as chi ran rampant through it. He plunged deep into his dantian and forced the energy out, pushing and shoving at the pool as he emptied it. It felt as if he was inverting the pool of chi within his body, blocking the flow of chi back to it even as he poured out the remaining energy. The pain increased as the energy, unable to move freely, burnt him from within.
Wu Ying coughed once then again, blood flying from his lips as blood vessels within him broke. Blood dripped from his nose, delicate vessels torn asunder. Wounds that had stopped bleeding broke open again, vicious black and green sludge mixing with his heart’s blood. Pain, so much pain that Wu Ying was in no danger of losing consciousness now, consumed him. But perhaps because it was so great, it stopped mattering.
Now.
He released his grip on his dantian, allowing the chi to flow again. It thundered back into the center of his stomach, pounding the walls of the container, and it was all that Wu Ying could do to hold it together. As more flooded in, Wu Ying worked to guide the chi out, restoring the circulation circuit. Seven meridians now thrummed with power, though even Wu Ying could tell that the seventh’s was barely broken open. Insufficient chi to properly facilitate its use.
But with seven open meridians, his body was healing and fixing itself at a rate that was more than ten times the speed of a non-cultivator. Infection that had threatened to take root was pushed out, burnt away by the chi that soared through his body, while his wounds slowly scabbed over. In the blink of an eye, the Meridian Opening pill was used up and his body’s acupuncture points opened, sucking down chi as fast as they could. Without thinking, Wu Ying let his hand dip into the water nearby and sipped water from a cupped hand to replace his lost fluids. The entire movement was unconscious, driven purely by instinct.
Under the waterfall, where water pounded his body, strengthening it and drawing additional chi toward him, the core cultivator sat. An eye cracked open, staring briefly at Wu Ying’s silent figure before it closed again, and the lightest traces of a crooked smile crossed the cultivator’s face.
Under the pounding thunder of the waterfall, the gurgling brook, and softly swaying leaves, the pair of cultivators sat, drawing in the world’s chi as they grew stronger.
***
When Wu Ying finally consciously opened his eyes, days had passed. Cultivation, true cultivation, always passed in the blink of an eye. For powerful core cultivators and beyond, cultivation could easily take months or years. At that stage, the cultivator was not only processing additional chi but also the insights, the minor moments of enlightenment that the cultivator had accumulated. For those advanced cultivators, the chi they drew in was more than sufficient to sustain their bodies.
Wu Ying was nowhere close to that stage, and by now, his body had processed all the normal stores of energy. If he continued cultivating, he would seriously hamper his body’s healing as it took even more resources from his body, eating away flesh and nerves. For now at least, his body had patched over the majority of his wounds.
“Thank you, Senior, for your earlier help and for letting me stay,” Wu Ying said as he stood. When he finished speaking, Wu Ying bowed low in the direction of the waterfall.
If the senior cultivator had not intervened, Wu Ying would have died for certain. Even then, he almost did. A part of Wu Ying wondered why, but he dismissed the question. Whether it was completely altruistic or there was another reason, Wu Ying would pay the debt when needed.
Having paid observance to formal courtesy, Wu Ying walked farther down the river. During his flight, Wu Ying had lost his pack. His clothes were torn, tattered, and blood-stained. Not that the peasant tunics he wore were a great loss, but without his sect robes that were in his pack, he had nothing to change into. Rather than walk through the woods with blood-stained robes, Wu Ying decided to move downstream before he attempted to wash himself clean. In that way, he would not be disturbing the senior. Or at least, he hoped so.
There was, of course, a certain amount of hesitation in leaving the vicinity of his erstwhile protector. He had no guarantee Ji Ang was not waiting for him to do that very thing. Then again, Wu Ying also dared not stay too long and potentially anger his benefactor. Better to leave and risk being attacked again. Still, Wu Ying cautiously checked the forest edges and the surroundings before he waded into the water to wash and find a meal.
An hour later, Wu Ying had a fire and just under half a dozen fish roasting on sticks. He was looking at the food impatiently, his stomach growling at even the hint of freshly cooked fish. Thankfully, the fish in this particular river were both trusting and nowhere near fast enough to avoid the cultivator. Even so, the light exercise of catching his meal had informed Wu Ying that his wounds were still in need of healing. At least in this life-and-death battle, he had come out ahead.
As fat sizzled and dropped onto the fire once again, Wu Ying lightly poked the edge of the fish with a whittled stick, watching as the wood slipped into the cooked flesh with ease. Lips pulled wide into a grin, Wu Ying took the fish off the fire and placed them on a washed, flat rock.
“That smells good.”
The words made Wu Ying jump, a hand dropping toward his sword before invoked memory told him who the speaker was.
“Benefactor.” Wu Ying bowed to the senior cultivator, dropping his hand away from his sword. That the cultivator had managed to sneak up on Wu Ying was not surprising, if somewhat ego busting. “I’d be honored if you joined me.”
“I will,” the cultivator said, sitting down and taking the proffered stick of fish.
In silence, the pair ate, Wu Ying’s aching stomach only slightly mollified by the tender white flesh. That he had to give the majority of the fish to his benefactor was painful.
“Thank you for the meal. I am Dun Yuan Rang,” Yuan Rang said finally.
“A pleasure to meet you, Senior Dun. Long Wu Ying at your service,” Wu Ying said with a slight bow of his head.
“You have interesting enemies, Wu Ying,” Yuan Rang said.
As Wu Ying flushed and opened his mouth to protest, his stomach rumbled again. “My apologies!” Wu Ying bowed immediately.
“It seems I have taken your lunch.” Yuan Rang stood then looked at the water before he shook his hand. A sword dropped into it, seeming to appear from nowhere.
Wu Ying’s eyes widened as he realized that Yuan Rang carried a storage ring—an enchanted object that could store objects in a hidden space. Wu Ying had heard of them in tall tales spoken of cultivators, but had never expected to see one in use himself.
As Wu Ying was getting over his surprise, Yuan Rang drew his sword from its scabbard. A gentle flick of his hand made the sword dart out and plunge into the water. Finger held before his face, Yuan Rang swirled it around for a few moments before he jerked the fingers back to himself. Following his gestures, the sword flashed back out of the river to land in Yuan Rang’s hand. On the sword, still wriggling slightly, were seven large and exquisite-looking river carp.
“Here.” Yuan Rang gestured as he dropped the carp onto the stone Wu Ying had used. He also absently tossed a small pack on the ground. “Salt.”
After thanking Yuan Rang, Wu Ying quickly cleaned, gutted, and pierced the fish before setting them around the fire. Yuan Rang stood a short distance away, staring at the flowing water without moving.
“Come,” Yuan Rang called to Wu Ying when he was done and had washed his hands clean of the offal.
“Yes, Senior?” Wu Ying said, trotting over obediently.
“You practice the Long family jian style and are at the
seventh layer of Body Cleansing, yes?” Yuan Rang said.
“Yes, Senior.” Wu Ying was not surprised that his secrets were exposed—his attack, his cultivation, it had all been in the presence of this Elder.
“Good. I will suppress my cultivation to your level then,” Yuan Rang said and walked a short distance away.
When he turned back, he had drawn his jian, the scabbard disappearing into his storage ring. Yuan Rang’s breathing slowed down and an unseen pressure faded as his breathing evened out. Even Wu Ying could tell that Yuan Rang had actually done as he had said he would.
“Senior?” Wu Ying said, puzzled. Still, with a naked sword pointed at him, Wu Ying automatically drew his own. Against such a strong opponent, a draw strike would be too slow.
“I have been contemplating a new martial skill for my jian. It is time that I tested it out,” Yuan Rang said. “Try not to die too fast.”
Wu Ying’s eyes widened as he raised his sword to block the sudden lunge. Even with his cultivation suppressed, Yuan Rang was blindingly fast, the lunge he had used covering the ground between them in a blink of an eye. Wu Ying stumbled backward, his back foot spraying pebbles as he finally regained his footing. His left hand landed on his right, steadying it and stopping the shaking in his weapon’s blade even as the ache in Wu Ying’s hand subsided. A single strike and Wu Ying had almost lost his jian and his head.
“Decent. But you have not achieved the Sense of the Sword fully yet, have you?” Even as he spoke, Yuan Rang circled Wu Ying, his sword lazily dipping and circling.
“No, Senior,” Wu Ying said as he automatically moved in the same direction as Yuan Rang, keeping the distance open with the footwork he had learnt. The Sense of the Sword was the first true level of understanding the sword—or any weapon really.
At the most basic level, anyone could use a sword by picking it up. But at that stage, most users saw the sword as a tool—a powerful, deadly, sharp tool. But they would not be able to use it to the full extent and would, in effect, treat the jian in their hand the same as they would a dao or a hooked sword or even an axe.
