by Tao Wong
Those who used a jian long enough—or any weapon—would gain a Sense of the weapon. Not just its weight and reach, though obviously that was important, but an understanding about the jian as a weapon. Its advantages and disadvantages compared to other weapons, the most common attacks for the weapon and its true benefits. At this stage, minute differences in each weapon no longer bothered the wielder. The next level was the Heart of the Sword, where a wielder no longer felt the sword was a weapon, an external tool, but a portion of their body. As for the reputed Soul of the sword, the wielder would no longer need a jian to replicate the weapon itself.
“Long family jian style. And some other footwork.” Yuan Rang hummed then smiled thinly. “Let us find out.”
Once again, Yuan Rang crossed the distance between them in a second, his sword flashing. Wu Ying met the attack as quickly as he could, battling the stronger opponent with everything that he had. Yet deep within, Wu Ying knew he was going to lose. Even with his cultivation suppressed, Yuan Rang’s body was strengthened significantly through the cleansing and opening of all his major meridians. On top of that, Yuan Rang was at least at the Heart of the Sword. Even his own father had barely touched the edges of that realm.
In a half dozen more blows, Wu Ying knew with sick certainty that Yuan Rang was holding back. And not just a little. In his fight with Yin Xue, Wu Ying had known that Yin Xue had achieved the Sense of the Sword already. Even so, Wu Ying had had the feeling he was only slightly behind the other, close enough to see Yin Xue’s back. A figure he could reach, if he practiced hard enough.
Yuan Rang was a peak that he could not see. His skill and understanding of the jian, the esoteric movements of his blade and the casual strength each of his blows generated sent Wu Ying constantly stumbling back. In those half dozen blows, Wu Ying was certain that Yuan Rang was actually fighting outside the “normal” distance his style specialized in.
All this thinking came at a cost, as Wu Ying quickly found out. Another block, a quick wrist twist, and his sword flew from his hand, leaving Yan Rang’s jian resting against the hollow of his throat.
“Eight passes,” Yuan Rang said, shaking his head. “Pitiful. Pick up your sword. Let us begin again. Try to last until the fish are ready.”
“Senior.” Wu Ying bowed and scrambled to grab his fallen sword. He quickly checked it over before Wu Ying turned and took his guard again.
“If you do not improve, I cannot actually test my move properly,” Yuan Rang said scornfully. “Do try not to disappoint me again.”
“Yes, Senior.”
Yuan Rang’s only answer was a thrust, and the ring of blades once more erupted in the clearing.
***
It was late afternoon when the nearly non-stop sparring came to an end. If not for the frequent breaks that Yuan Rang allowed for eating and prepping and cooking more fish, Wu Ying was certain he would have fallen over already. The constant pressure of battle, the fast tempo of the fight, and the unceasing routine had combined to tire out Wu Ying’s mind, relaxing the tight control he had placed on his moving cultivation. Unconsciously, Wu Ying had begun to cultivate while moving and fighting. Not a lot, and it only helped boost his fighting ability a little while drawing in just a touch more chi than normal. Yet that was not the only gain Wu Ying received in the hours of sparring.
His Sense of the Sword had grown, expanding in leaps and bounds such that his initially shaky grasp of the Sense of the Sword had firmed and progressed. Wu Ying knew that he had reached a greater mastery of the sword and had perhaps even touched the peak mastery of the Sense. In effect, Wu Ying from now on would be able to pick up any jian and, within moments, use the weapon well—perhaps not to the peak of its ability but close to it. In a fight where inches and micro-seconds counted, Wu Ying would intuitively understand both the weight, heft, and strength required to wield the weapon.
“Rest and cultivate. We will fight one last time after that,” Yuan Rang said sternly.
Wu Ying’s eyes widened before he slowly nodded and went over to the water’s edge to do as ordered. As he cultivated, Wu Ying considered Yuan Rang’s style. Over the course of the afternoon, Yuan Rang had slowly exposed more and more of his native form, rather than using generic strikes that pressed Wu Ying. As such, Wu Ying now had a much broader understanding of Yuan Rang’s style. Yuan Rang fought upright, often staying within his opponent’s measure and using quick wrist motions to block attacks and land blindingly fast wrist cuts. When an opponent pulled back or left an opening, Yuan Rang would step forward in quick, fast lunges whose target shifted positions at the last moment. In effect, Yuan Rang’s was similar to the Long family style, though it used less footwork to create openings, instead relying on flexible wrists and arms and a high level of perception.
Of course, Wu Ying knew that what he was seeing was only a shallow depth to the style. It was obvious that the style and its usages changed when chi was projected through the weapon. As Yuan Rang was suppressing his cultivation, Wu Ying knew he would not have a chance to experience that particular portion of the style yet. For which he was extremely grateful.
“Ready?”
“Yes, Senior,” Wu Ying said and stood.
Wu Ying looked down at his sword, grimacing slightly. Truthfully, he would have preferred a few more minutes to work out some of the chips in the sword, bring back its sharpness. But Yuan Rang was not really asking, so Wu Ying set himself for another round of sparring.
The moment their blades clashed, Wu Ying knew this time was different. The speed that Yuan Rang was moving, the certainty in his attacks gave hint that this time, he was serious. For the first time, Wu Ying had a glimmer of understanding of why Yuan Rang had spent time sparring with him earlier. If Yuan Rang had unleashed his full potential at the start of the day, Wu Ying would not have even managed to last three passes.
As the pair fought, blood blossomed around Wu Ying. Lunges and light cuts scored his body. His already tattered tunic became even more frayed, his shirt finally giving way to reveal his slim, muscled, and bloody torso. Again and again, Wu Ying had to sacrifice portions of his body to light cuts to avoid exposing himself to deeper, more dangerous follow-ups. That was Yuan Rang’s style—forcing the opponent to either choose to block quick attacks at the edges or to swing too wide, block too hard, and open oneself to a lethal strike.
Wu Ying’s breathing grew ragged, his eyes squinting hard as his view of the world shrank to the tip of the jian, the edge of the blade, and the tap of feet on soil. There was no conscious realization, no particular action that Wu Ying could point to, but suddenly, he knew. Throwing himself backward, Wu Ying desperately brought his sword sweeping across his chest and face even as Yuan Rang exploded into a blindingly fast lunge. Flat of the sword directed toward Yuan Rang, Wu Ying adjusted the angle ever so slightly as Yuan Rang dropped the tip of his jian, the point directly aimed at Wu Ying’s heart.
Wu Ying sacrificed the flat of his blade to protect his heart, placing his palm to reinforce the weapon even as the explosive attack smashed the jian into Wu Ying’s chest. The pair flew backward, crossing half the lake before the explosive impetus of Yuan Rang’s attack faded, sending Wu Ying’s body continuing to fly across the river and smash into the other bank. The senior cultivator landed on the raging waters, tapping on the water lightly to fly backward to the dry shore. With a dismissive wave, Yuan Rang shook out his sword and returned it to his sheath.
“Minor achievement. I have a long journey yet,” Yuan Rang muttered, disappointment clear on his face. He turned away, not even offering Wu Ying’s prone form a second glance before he took off running across the treetops.
On the other bank, Wu Ying lay still and unmoving until a cough erupted from his chest. Groaning with pain, Wu Ying rolled over as the shattered remnants of his blade fell to the ground. Shaky fingers moved toward his chest and tugged at the shards of metal that had embedded in his chest. Wu Ying stared at the remnants of his weapon. If he had not blocked the attack with the
flat of his blade… The sheer strength of that attack…
Too tired to take in the implications, Wu Ying let his head fall back onto the ground and stared at the slowly darkening night. Drawing a deep breath, Wu Ying decided to once again cultivate and heal his newly gained wounds. This constant abuse of his body, healing and being injured, was bound to leave him with scars. Once again, Wu Ying chuckled. Good thing he was no precious scholar.
Chapter 15
As the morning sun greeted Wu Ying two days later, he stood up from his cultivation. Clad only in tattered pants and dried blood, Wu Ying made his way into the river to wash and find some breakfast. It did not take him long to start a fire, his flint always stored in his coin pouch. A peasant’s wisdom that, but one that stood him in good stead. Thankfully, the summer weather meant that even the evenings were nicely warm.
As Wu Ying supped on his breakfast, he stared at the map and sighed. The map was relatively barren of the geographic features, but at a guess, Wu Ying had two choices from his current position. Head back to the road and follow it, risking the possibility of running into Ji Ang and his bandits again. Or strike out through the wilderness. Though he might save some distance, the direct route was also more arduous and dangerous. While there might be fewer monsters that lay in wait, there would definitely be more powerful spirit creatures in the hinterlands.
On top of that, Wu Ying knew that he was late. Not actually late yet, but he had spent too long cultivating and healing. Even if he used the road, he wouldn’t make it on time. Even so, Wu Ying was determined to at least try. Perhaps some other purchasers had been delayed or dissuaded due to the increased danger.
“Through the woods,” Wu Ying finally said to himself.
Going by the road made little sense. He was almost certain Ji Ang would be waiting for him there. Or if not the bandit leader himself, his people. Better to cut through the backcountry. But before he left, Wu Ying took the time to cut down a couple of bamboo shoots and sharpen their edges with the remnants of the sword. Even though it was broken, Wu Ying took the sword and its remnants in his scabbard. Perhaps a good blacksmith might be able to fix it.
Decisions made and now armed, if not dressed, Wu Ying took off at a slow jog through the woods, away from the river. Thankfully, he had enough backwoods knowledge to guide himself in a mostly straight line. With the way roads worked in the surroundings, he was sure to hit another one if he kept going in the same direction.
As he ran and worked on suppressing his new cultivation level, Wu Ying also found time to muse about his most recent experience. Yuan Rang was a bit of an enigma. While it was obvious that Wu Ying had been used as a sparring partner, Yuan Rang did not necessarily need to use a beginner like him. If Yuan Rang had been willing to wait even a day, he could have visited any city and found a martial arts school or arena to do the same.
Then again, Wu Ying mused, Yuan Rang might be a lone wanderer. They were common—independent cultivators who had no sect or school to back them. They were rumored to be extremely paranoid about showing their cultivation and martial secrets to others. The use of an arena or even challenging a school would be public matter, no matter what was promised. In the end, rumors would circulate. Picking on Wu Ying was safer. And if Wu Ying had failed to sacrifice his sword, Yuan Rang would have been guaranteed to end any talk about his style.
Which, Wu Ying wondered, led to the question of why Yuan Rang had not ended his life when the attack failed. He had no doubt Yuan Rang knew he had survived. Was it, like his sponsor in the sect, a belief in fate? Certainly his earlier actions when he saved Wu Ying from Ji Ang had indicated the same. Then again…
Then again, perhaps Yuan Rang did not care. Wu Ying had already angered the bandits, had been grossly injured, and in the end, was only a Body Cultivator. What could a novice cultivator like him actually understand of Yuan Rang’s style, of his final attack?
Lips pursed, Wu Ying considered the question, replaying the last fight in his mind. Yes, what could he learn from it?
***
The green spirit snake lunged, and only a swift side step and a cross-body block with his improvised spear kept Wu Ying safe. Emerald scales and a slitted yellow eye the size of a dinner plate passed by inches from Wu Ying. The snake had overgrown its normal brethren, being nearly as wide as an oxen and easily thirty feet long. The creature had attempted to ambush Wu Ying and had only managed to spike itself on a spear, forcing this intense battle.
Moving too fast to stop, the snake smashed into a tree, shaking the boughs and sending a cascade of leaves and fruit falling. For a moment, the snake stopped, dazed. Wu Ying snarled, spinning the spear and jumping high before thrusting forward as he fell, using the combined weight and thrust to punch the sharpened edge of his spear into the snake’s body. As the spear sank through meaty flesh, Wu Ying felt the momentum of his fall halt for a second.
Previous passes with the snake had already informed Wu Ying that that was the only way to pierce the monster’s tough scales. Perhaps if Wu Ying had a proper spear, he would have more options. Thankfully, the spot he had targeted had been scraped a little raw after repeated strikes, leaving the sharpened tip to plunge into the meat.
The next few minutes involved the most terrifying ride of Wu Ying’s life as the snake bucked, twisted, and attempted to throw Wu Ying off even as he worked the spear deeper. Eventually, the bamboo shattered, leaving a gaping wound that bled profusely while throwing Wu Ying off.
After that, it was only a matter of running and hiding until the snake grew bored enough to leave. When Wu Ying finally found the monster again, it had laid down to rest and was easy prey. If not for the fact that the snake had left in the same direction Wu Ying was traveling and his want and need for a spirit stone and meat for dinner, he probably would have let it go. After all, he had let off a couple of other monsters thus far.
Or been let off. Thankfully, the higher-level spirit beasts were happy to do the calculation of damage and survivability. As they gained greater strength, they also gained greater sentience and understanding. Trading his death for damage that might leave them prey for other spirit beasts was a bad trade, and so after testing him, most left.
Having finished skinning the snake, Wu Ying cut off a large portion of the meat, placed it in the skin, and tied off the ends to form a bundle. Wu Ying glanced once more at the beast before pulling out the fangs. The green snake wasn’t venomous, but its fangs would make a nice tip for a new spear. Wu Ying briefly debated then resolved the debate by placing down the meat and lashing together a makeshift spear, one tipped with the snake’s fang. Having finished his hasty construction, Wu Ying replaced his broken sword in its scabbard and took up the bundle before jogging away. Better to leave before any scavenger decided to fight him for the remains.
It was a good thing that most powerful spirit beasts had little interest in humanity and were, naturally, cautious. Wu Ying could imagine the kind of calamity a spirit beast that had developed a core could bring to a small village like his. In fact, the occasional story that surfaced of such a tragedy, of near total destruction of entire villages before the local army or lord put a stop to it, was enough. Whether it was a five-starred brown bear or a blood-mist red deer, those animals were generally content to grow and seek enlightenment in the depths of the forest. After all, their road to enlightenment and cultivation was different from humanity’s. Their dao, at the end, was constrained by their nature. And while some might find enlightenment and grow to be like humanity, few would transcend if they followed that path. As such, it was safer and better to follow the dao of nature.
Of course, that did not necessarily hold true for demon spirits. Among the many lectures that Wu Ying had managed to attend in the sect, one had discussed the classification of demon beasts. At the simplest—and most common—level, demon beasts were spirit beasts that attacked humans. Of course, that inadvertently lumped predator spirit beasts in with “demon beasts,” though those beasts were not necessarily directly ant
agonistic against humans. They would hunt and eat humans if they were sufficiently weak, but no more than any other predator would.
Real demon beasts were different. There were two major kinds. The first were native demon beasts, creatures whose core had been tainted by poisons or toxins or had acquired demonic characteristics due to influence from the demon plane. In rare cases, the most powerful spirit- and dao-seeking monsters might even have followed a demonic dao. The second kind were actual demons from the demon planes. Those were much rarer, since breaches between the planes were major incidences and something the sects and the government watched out for.
As such, while attacks in the deep backcountry happened, the attacks were less frequent—though more dangerous.
***
Nearly three days. Two of which were spent in the backcountry and half of the other traveling on the blessed road Wu Ying had finally stumbled upon. That he even managed to trade one of the smaller demon cores he had collected for clothing and a bag was fortunate, in his view. Of course, on a pure value basis, he had been cheated to the high heavens, but when you were wandering around the countryside with nothing but a pair of ragged shorts, a sword, a coin purse, and a roll of snakeskin filled with spirit beast meat, well, value changed.
Perhaps that was the truth of things, Wu Ying mused. The world that each person saw was but a shadow of the truth, one that changed as the illumination cast by their enlightenment changed. Each individual was a seer of shadows, a blind man groping his way through a fully lit room.
And if so, what was enlightenment? Was his own understanding of the world but a candle in the darkness, an insensitive fist wrapped around a cornerstone of the world? Perhaps that was why no one grasped the Greater Dao of the universe and looked for the smaller daos when seeking enlightenment. Because it was impossible for the human soul to understand anything but a small portion of the universe. And so, cultivators sought the smaller daos of the sword, of fire or water, or the virtues.
