by Tao Wong
Ji Ang put the projects aside. “Barely adequate. The tempering work could be done better. Heat distribution was barely acceptable. The iron you used was not purified properly. And you are using the most simplistic of hammering techniques for all three. It would have been better to use the Three Leaf technique for the dagger and the Seven Wind and Two Blossom technique for the sword. As for your helm, well, for a peasant, it would be acceptable. No one else would wear such an ugly piece.”
“Yes, Elder,” Bao Cong said, bowing his head as he was reprimanded.
“Take your pieces and give them to the shop. They will price and sell them for you. Come back tomorrow. We will work on your technique,” Ji Ang said, waving.
Bao Cong bowed, taking hold of the three pieces. Wu Ying tilted his head sideways at the Elder’s words before he remembered the works completed by the blacksmiths were their property. All blacksmiths paid the rental of the forge with sect contribution points and could elect to pay for materials with their points or with real money. Because of this, the materials and final products were considered theirs.
Wu Ying’s musings were cut short as Ji Ang turned toward him, staring at the cultivator. “You are unaspected, correct?”
“Yes, Elder.”
“Mmm… fire aspects are good for the actual act of forging. But do not be misled. It’s not required. Metal aspects are extremely useful as well—the resonance with ores and metals provide a blacksmith a strong base.”
“Thank you for your advice, Elder.”
“Good. Now as for your work,” Ji Ang said, scowling. “Who told you to cultivate?”
“I… well…. No one, Elder.”
“Fool. Your job was not just to last the day but to learn! Did you grasp the difference in the color of the coals? Did you see how much of a difference the temperature and airflow you provided mattered? How about when Bao Cong pulled out his work?”
“But I couldn’t tell!”
“Of course not! Did you expect to learn how to do it immediately? Learning is a matter of repeated attempts. The more you pay attention, the faster you learn. If you are not interested in learning, I have no use for you.”
“My apologies, Elder.” Wu Ying bowed, wincing as he chided himself for taking the easy way out. He knew better too. It was not as if what Ji Ang was saying was any different from what his father had taught him before.
“You will come back in three days and join the class. You will work the bellows alone. If you fail to work the bellows the entire day by yourself while the class is learning, you fail. If you cultivate or lose focus, you fail. Do you understand?” Ji Ang said, leaning forward and glaring at Wu Ying.
“Yes, Elder. Thank you, Elder.”
“Good.” Ji Ang stalked off.
Once the Elder left, the pair of waiting blacksmiths moved toward the now-abandoned forge, shooting Wu Ying semi-pitying and semi-disgusted looks. With a grimace, Wu Ying scurried away, his face burning with shame at having the pair overhear his dressing down.
Still, at least he had not been barred. He only needed to do better.
He would do better, Wu Ying vowed, as he hurried away to wash off his shame. And sweat.
Chapter 4
“Thanks for showing me around,” Wu Ying said as the pair walked along the stone paths. This morning, Wu Ying and Tou He were headed to the training grounds reserved for inner sect members. In particular, the second largest training grounds—the one unofficially reserved for the martial specialists. “And sorry again for leaving you.”
“No need for the apology,” Tou He said. “I was forced to complete a lot of paperwork anyway. But I’m surprised you’re interested in martial specialization.”
“Why?” Wu Ying said with a frown. “It seems like a good fit with my family training.”
“Oh, you have the training,” Tou He said, nodding. “But you’re not like… well, you’ll see.”
“Not useful.” When Tou He refused to elaborate on his cryptic statement, Wu Ying added, “How about you? How did you end up with the martial specialists?”
“My sponsor sent them to find me,” Tou He said with a roll of his eyes. “Seems like he felt I would fit in.”
“And do you?”
“It’s been fun sparring.”
Wu Ying shook his head at his friend’s statement. “Are you going to take this as your supporting occupation?”
Tou He shook his head. “Too much trouble. I was thinking of specializing in tea ceremonies.”
Wu Ying stumbled, turning to stare at Tou He. Wu Ying’s jaw worked, words failing to come before he sighed and slapped his friend on the back. “Then I’ll expect to be invited to more tea parties.”
“We’ll have to find a third then,” Tou He said.[34]
Wu Ying spotted a quartet of nobles, each of them clad as gaudily as they could manage in sect robes, sauntering along the paths. In particular, Wu Ying’s gaze flicked to a noble’s jian, sheathed at his side. Bedecked in jewels and gold on both sheath and hilt, the weapon looked useless in combat to Wu Ying’s experienced eyes. His lips curled at the sight.
“What are you looking at?” the noble in question snarled.
“Nothing,” Wu Ying said reflexively, before remembering and straightening himself. He was no longer a peasant or an outer sect member. While they might have a higher status, it was only by degrees. “Nothing at all.”
“Are you calling me a liar?” The noble stepped closer before his friend blocked him with his fan. The jian-wielding noble’s gaze flicked to Tou He, and recognition appeared in his eyes before he inclined his head to his friend and erstwhile leader.
“You pair are the new Body Cleansers from the latest intake, yes?” the leader of the opposing cultivators said.
“Yes, Senior,” Tou He replied.
“Leave them,” the leader said. “There’s nothing to be gained from dealing with Body Cleansers.”
The bejewelled-jian-user sneered at his friend’s words, but still, the group walked off. Wu Ying compressed his lips, his hand clenching and releasing by his side before he shook his head. The damn nobles thought they were so much better…
“Let’s go, Tou He,” Wu Ying said.
His friend smiled wryly and led the way, bringing Wu Ying to the training grounds without further incident. When Wu Ying arrived, he found his attention taken by the impressive view. The training complex was made up of a trio of double-story buildings which ringed the grounds. Toward the northern portion of the grounds, the archery range abutted the slope of the mountain. In the center of the training grounds, a series of raised combat stages were situated in the traditional hexagram pattern. Those farthest from the entrance glimmered in the morning sunlight as the chi barriers broke up the rays. The chi barriers were erected to mitigate attacks delivered from within. Closer to the entrance, the stages were bare of such extravagances, meant for those looking to practice mundane techniques or who could not project their chi as yet.
Already, in the early morning, numerous bodies crowded the training floors. Some trained in the bare ground in the west working a variety of wooden dummies,[35] while others walked, skipped, jumped, and otherwise moved from painted footprint to painted footprint. In another portion of the floor, various kettle bells and iron jars were being used to build strength; a few of the more enthusiastic individuals being beaten upon by sticks while carrying those jars.
Overall, the entirety of the training grounds was filled with muscular, enthusiastic, and focused individuals. While the majority of those were men, there were a significant number of women moving through the routines, most of them wielding weapons of one form or the other.
“Brother Tou He!” a cheerful voice called from within the grounds as the pair made their way down. The speaker had the longest hair Wu Ying had ever seen on a man, flowing all the way down to the bottom of his buttocks and carefully braided. Outside of his outstanding hair, the man was quite plain, with brown eyes and a flat nose. “I see you brought a guest.”
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“Senior Ge,” Tou He greeted the other with a smile. “This is my friend Wu Ying. Wu Ying, this is Senior Ge Chao Kun. Senior Ge is a Sect Core member.”
“And quite advanced in his energy cultivation,” Wu Ying said with admiration. Even now, he felt the push from Chao Kun’s aura. It was evident Chao Kun was close, if not ready, to begin the process of assimilating a Core. “Thank you for having me here, Senior.”
“No need to stand on ceremony. Here, we only care if you can fight,” Chao Kun said. “Are you ready to do so?”
“Yes, Senior,” Wu Ying said.
“Good. We will take stage three,” Chao Kun said before he strode over to it.
When the pair who occupied the stage noticed Chao Kun coming over, they paused before smiles broke upon their faces and they stepped away from each other respectfully. They did not leave the stage though, the pair whispering to one another.
In moments, Chao Kun had led Wu Ying to the stage, where he pointed upward. “There you go.”
“Uhh… Senior?” Wu Ying said hesitantly.
“You said you were ready to fight. Well, go on then,” Chao Kun said, crossing his arms.
Tou He smiled at Wu Ying’s bewildered look, taking hold of Wu Ying’s arm and guiding him to the stairs. “It’s fine. Just don’t kill anyone.”
“But I don’t have my practice sword!” Wu Ying said, touching the sword he carried on his waist. Ever since he entered the inner sect, he had traded out his cheap weapon for one of the better ones gifted to him by the merchants. This jian was the plainest of the lot, yet it still was styled too extravagantly for Wu Ying’s personal taste. But a gift was a gift.
“We don’t train with practice weapons here,” Chao Kun replied, his voice holding a trace of a sneer. “Those are for children and those who cannot control themselves.”
“That’s not right,” Wu Ying muttered. But the way everyone nodded at Chao Kun’s words told Wu Ying he was not going to convince anyone about the appropriateness of training gear. Instead, he looked between the pair on stage.
Wu Ying extended his senses to their auras to gain a sense of their strength. Both were beginning stage Energy Storage, which made sense as the pair had been training together. One wielded the jian—the straight sword Wu Ying himself preferred—while the other had a dao that was mildly curved. It was almost a jian if not for the curl at the end, which would give the blade more weight. Neither pair had drawn their swords in their practice bout, having been practicing their unarmed martial arts.
“Really? This one?” the dao wielder said with a frown. Under the training clothes the dao wielder wore, Wu Ying saw hints of significant muscle along his arms. “He can’t be more than mid-stage Body Cleansing.”
“Tou He brought him. Stop complaining and fight him, Ah Rong. Or let someone else,” Chao Kun said.
That stopped the dao wielder’s complaints for a moment. “Very well, let us get this over with.”
Jin Rong walked forward from the edge of the stage, unsheathing his dao as he did so. Wu Ying’s eye was drawn to the weapon, and he could not help but marvel at its exquisite beauty. It shone with a luster he had seen only in a few other blades, the edge catching the light with every motion. The way Jin Rong handled the weapon, Wu Ying could immediately tell the other had a decent understanding of it.
“Draw your weapon,” Jin Rong said impatiently.
Wu Ying’s lips pressed tightly in irritation. Because of his irritation, he took his time to continue gauging Jin Rong as he placed his hand on his own jian. Jin Rong probably had the Sense of the Sword like him. The first step, Wu Ying knew, was to see if he had the Heart. If he did, with his higher cultivation unsuppressed, Wu Ying would stand no chance. If not, then so long as this continued to stay as a practice match, he could put on a decent showing. Maybe even learn a little.
“Come on!”
Wu Ying shook his head, pushing aside any thought of stalling further. He could see even Chao Kun looked impatient, while a small idle crowd had gathered. Tou He flashed Wu Ying an encouraging smile as Wu Ying drew his sword and fell into the opening stance of his style.
“Dao users are aggressive. They must close in to attack, for a cut has less reach than a lunge. Those who underestimate you will approach quickly to reach their measure immediately.”
His father’s voice threaded through Wu Ying’s mind before Chao Kun started the match. Primed, Wu Ying saw how Jin Rong leaned a little too far forward, how his knees bent as Chao Kun’s words were ending. Immediately, Wu Ying dropped, his hand extending as he hid his body behind the guard. The motion caught Jin Rong’s explosive surge, forcing the other to stutter his steps or impale himself on the jian. Even as Jin Rong stopped, Wu Ying recovered forward and brought his jian up to beat aside the dao, throwing his opponent even more off balance, before Wu Ying finished with a pair of wrist cuts targeted at his opponent’s neck that never landed.
As suddenly as it began, the match was over. Jin Rong stepped back, a discontented expression on his face, though the dao wielder did mutter a quick congratulations to Wu Ying as he left the stage. Wu Ying straightened, surprised it was over that simply.
The jian wielder walked forward, drawing his sword as he did so. “I won’t underestimate you like Jin Rong. He’s always too quick to judge.” His opponent was even darker than Wu Ying, almost a dusky tan to his skin, which blended with his jet-black hair. “Let us begin.”
Wu Ying raised his weapon to salute the other. The moment his blade dipped, the jian wielder was on him. From the start, Wu Ying felt pressured by his opponent’s jian, his opponent always staying just outside of his measure by inches. It was a goading style of swordplay, one which required his opponent to have complete confidence in his ability to judge Wu Ying’s movements. The style was frustrating, but it was the way that his opponent’s jian moved that sent a shiver through Wu Ying. Each dip, twist, and disengage Wu Ying completed was followed unerringly by his opponent. It was as if every action, every movement in his style was known to the other. No matter what he did, Wu Ying could not free his weapon.
For a tense minute, the pair played at the extreme range of their weapons. In that minute, Wu Ying broke into sweat, his breathing growing short as his mind flashed through the numerous openings he was showing the other. And each time he closed off a line of attack, he would find his opponent had found the next opening already.
His opponent smiled, his sword disengaging from the deadly dance. Wu Ying blinked, falling back at the sudden motion. As he recovered, his mind catching up with his reflexes, the opponent’s jian was headed directly toward his left eye. This time, his opponent’s attack was not a feint as he closed in and covered Wu Ying’s jian with his own, sending Wu Ying’s blade skittering off-line.
Lips drawn tight, Wu Ying gave up his blade. Instead, he dropped low using the Crane stretches over the Water from the Northern Shen Kicking Style to glide past the weapon. Or he tried at least, for his opponent’s sword tracked his motion precisely, the tip moving upward at the last moment. Rather than complete the form, Wu Ying brought his sword to his side, guarding himself as he disengaged.
“My loss,” Wu Ying said. When he was sure his opponent had heard and dropped the tip of his weapon, Wu Ying did the same. “Might I know Senior’s name?”
“We call him Hei Mao[36],” Chao Kun said. “Brother Mao likes to play with his opponents before he finishes them.”
“I told you not to call me that,” Hei Mao said as he sheathed his sword. Yet he did not provide Wu Ying another name. “Don’t worry. Your loss was not bad. You need more time to improve your Sense of your sword. You are still short by a lí[37].”
“Thank you, Senior.” Wu Ying shivered, staring as Hei Mao walked off the stage, headed for Jin Rong.
Before Wu Ying could move off the stage, he found a new opponent on it, smiling at him as she propped a thick staff on her shoulder.
“Where are you going? You don’t get to leave,” the woman said as she bro
ught the quarterstaff off her shoulder to point at Wu Ying. “Come! I want to taste your sword.”
Coughing resounded from around the stage, but Wu Ying did not have time to focus on the amused audience. He barely had time for his sword to come to guard before the staff swung toward his face. Hastily blocking the attack, Wu Ying retreated as he fought to regain the momentum in this match. As he backpedaled, he saw Tou He smiling beatifically by the side, watching contentedly.
***
Two and a half hours later, Wu Ying was hit by a double-fisted punch that sent him flying off the stage. Wu Ying rolled as he struck the ground but could not recover before he smashed into the edge of another arena stage. Lying on his back, Wu Ying blearily raised his jian, only to realize no one was approaching him. Why would they? He was out of the ring finally.
As his head cleared and the pain in his chest faded, Wu Ying scrabbled to sheath his weapon. He rolled onto his knee, pausing when his head spun from exhaustion. To help, Wu Ying sent a flood of chi through his tired form, his head clearing as the chi refreshed muscles and renewed his energy. Eventually, Wu Ying levered himself upward, tamping down his chi flow as he weaved tiredly toward his friend.
Chao Kun nodded to Wu Ying. “You did well. Your technique is still rough, with too much movement and little integration between the two styles. But there are moments of brilliance in your fighting. You’ve had decent training and good instincts.”
“Thank you, Senior,” Wu Ying said.
“Then he is welcome to train here too?” Tou He said.
“Yes. Wu Ying has passed,” Chao Kun said. “The first role of any sect member is to grow strong to protect the sect. Everything else is ancillary. Those with a gift for combat, those with the discipline to better themselves, or those with the desire to protect are all welcome here. As martial specialists, we will raise the level of all our brothers and sisters of the sect!”
