A Thousand Li Books 1-3: An Omnibus Collection for a Xianxia Cultivation Series (A Thousand Li Omnibus)

by Tao Wong

  “I want archers on our side too,” Wu Ying muttered as he reached the end of the field and rubbed his chest.

  ***

  To Wu Ying’s surprise, the mock battles became a mainstay of the training regime. Outer sect members were drawn into the mock wars, forced by their trainers to partake, while the martial specialists took the role of the opposing cultivators. As the training grew formalized, additional arms and armor appeared, partly to reduce injury for the outer sect members and also to allow the martial specialists to cut loose. Using a chi-filled air strike to blow apart a pike line at full and at half-strength were very different things.

  In time, additional defensive options were added, with one-use talismans and special defensive equipment given out. Of course, it wasn’t just the martial specialists who acted as the opposing cultivators, though they were the majority. After all, the hot-blooded youth of the Sect all enjoyed a little rumble once in a while.

  What amused Wu Ying was the addition of the Elders, many of whom argued and fought for the right to be the commanders of the opposing teams. It took the intervention of the Inner Sect Hall Master himself to sort out that growing issue. Now there was a sign-up sheet and rotation for the Elders.

  Even more amusing to Wu Ying was the small, but persistent, betting ring that had formed around each battle. A couple of times, Wu Ying had tried his hand at gambling, but after losing a couple of Meridian Opening Pills, he had given up on that sin. Wasting resources, even if these resources were less useful to him now, was anathema to the peasant.

  Scenario after scenario played out over the next month, with Elder Hsu seeming to take great delight in coming up with new potential battles. Sometimes the cultivators were sent in as the vanguard and had to deal with unbroken pike lines and flights of missiles. Other times, they were driven to the flanks, sent as reinforcements for fractured platoons, a stiffening agent for broken morale. Or they might fight between the opposing groups, dueling one another in support or in opposition of a winning side.

  In short order, Wu Ying gained both an appreciation of the aid a cultivator could bring to an army and a realization of how limited their effects could be. Since most of society had received some cultivation training, most soldiers were in the early stages of Body Cleansing. As such, while Wu Ying was stronger and faster, he was not, in reality, a major factor in any fight.

  However, those at the Energy Storage stage were able to project their chi in attacks that could shatter lines or reach behind guarding shields and kill archers or officers. Some cultivators with powerful qinggong skills were able to pass through packed lines to attack officers and other cultivators. The more powerful the cultivator, the more damage they could deal, their chi stores ample to deal out multiple strikes.

  But for all that, cultivators were still human. Blades could wound, arrows could pierce, shields could bruise. Exhaustion, the press of bodies, the sheer mass of numbers of “normal” soldiers could wear down even the most powerful inner sect member. That was driven home in the sixth battle, when the cultivators were massed against a larger number of outer sect members. Forced to fight a delaying action, they did well. At first. But eventually, the cultivators fell. An errant blow. A missed parry. And one would fall. And then another. Wu Ying prided himself that at least he was not the first nor second to fall. He had managed to last for a while, using his skills and careful management of his chi and positioning to survive. Even if he did not manage to score as many kills, he had survived.

  A failure, a lesson. It was all experience, as Elder Cheng had told him. And now, Wu Ying sat in his courtyard, meditating on the battles. Taking them in not only to analyze his martial forms to do better, but to study them for his own cultivation. His dao. What had he learned?

  An image. Senior Ge, powerful and heroic, standing in the line. Beating aside poleaxe cuts, tearing weapons out of hands and striking raised shields. Each blow so powerful that he crumpled the wooden defenses and blew away his attackers. Striding forward into the middle of the battle line to be swallowed by the masses. Gone.

  Tou He and himself, standing side by side as a rain of arrows dropped. Wu Ying pulling upon the Brilliant Woo Petal Bracer to charge his Dragon’s Breath attack, slicing apart arrows that fell upon their team. Tou He striking the ground with his staff and forming a chi-empowered barrier. The flight of arrows was either cut apart or blocked, falling to shatter around them. Skipping past the defending pair, the rest of the team hit the side of the line.

  Another memory. Of himself fighting a pair of Energy Storage cultivators as he tried to block them from approaching their rearguard. He was losing. Of course he was losing. The Long family style was not a defensive style. Nor could he win against two others—even if he was more skilled. But he didn’t have to win. He just had to delay them, because in delaying them, the rest of his team could do their job.

  Memories, learning, understanding. Each breath, he assimilated them. And then another memory rose, unbidden.

  Crouched in a rice paddy with his family and the rest of the village. Working together to plant stalks of rice in the water, moving from rice field to rice field. Some tried to do it alone. But the work required to plant the rice stalks was backbreaking and tiring. You could work together or alone, but together was faster. More efficient. And more fun.

  The same lesson.

  It was all the same lesson. Perhaps Wu Ying was dumb. Perhaps he was slow. Or perhaps some lessons had multiple facets to them. Each bowl of knowledge consisted of multiple grains that had to be chewed upon and digested individually—even if it was the same bowl.

  Chi swirled, gathered and formed, beckoned by the breakthrough. The world approved, once again, as a part of the Dao—the greater way—was understood. Wu Ying absorbed it, took in the chi even as it petered out. It was only a small lesson after all, and one he had once known. But still.

  New experience. New enlightenment. Another step on his path.

  Chapter 3

  Letters from home were always a treat. Having to cross hundreds of li[59] to reach the Sect, letters had to be carried by local merchants or private postal couriers. Such individuals worked circular routes around the kingdom, only deigning to visit places like Wu Ying’s village when sufficient time had passed. As such, the village had to rely on the trips by locals to the main city or the occasional merchants who were, for obvious reasons, less regular during the winter.

  Seated in his study in mid-afternoon, Wu Ying caressed the side of the letter. It had arrived last night, but rather than waste candlelight to read the correspondence, Wu Ying had used it as a spur for today’s training. Now, having finished early, Wu Ying broke the seal on the wrapped scroll and peered within.

  In short order, Wu Ying had sorted the two letters into three components. First, set aside for later consideration, was more discussion about the Long family style. That would require time to puzzle out, since his father had taken to writing more and more cryptic statements as Wu Ying progressed. Second, was the actual letter from his father. The entirety of the contents fit on a single piece of paper. And lastly, the letter from his mother, which would contain the meat of the correspondence. That was the letter he read first.

  Wu Ying greedily devoured the news from home, reading through her letter in one quick burst before returning to its start on the right[60]. Wu Ying read more slowly now, savoring the details.

  …Chief Tan returned today from the city, having delivered our fall taxes and having sold the rest of our stores. We have more than enough for the winter, thanks to your generous donations. Chief Tan has made a deal to purchase a half dozen piglets in spring, when we have finished building the village pen. Three of those piglets will be ours, the Zhangs will own one, and the village will share the last two. I know you are concerned about us, but we must plan for all our futures.

  He also brought back news that the others who left with the army will not be returning this winter. They are training very hard and expect to see fighting next year. He
did bring back rumors that another conscription will occur, though I fear they will be disappointed by what they find if they choose to do so. There are few enough. But just the threat has the Pengs talking of bribing Chief Tan—their only son just turned fourteen.

  Wu Ying’s lips thinned. Fourteen. It seemed the kingdom was growing desperate if they were lowering the conscription age that far. He sighed, shaking his head. This was why war never saw a winner. Even if you won, your kingdom suffered for the next generation. If they took away all the farmers, who would grow the rice?

  The money you sent for us to store for our travels arrived safely. Thank you for the herbs too—they have helped a lot with your father’s leg. While Chief Tan continues to be resistant to the idea of leaving, many of the other villagers have agreed to consider it. We’ve begun preparations for the journey, though leaving so much of what we have built is hard for all of us. We pray that the army will hold and make all our preparations for naught.

  Wu Ying breathed a sigh of relief. This was good. Ever since he had learned of the upcoming war, he had wanted his parents to come to the Sect’s city. What had started as a goal to safeguard his parents had morphed into one to save the village, as his parents had refused to leave their long-time friends to suffer alone. Even convincing his parents to consider leaving had been a test of Wu Ying’s scholarly skills. Even if most times, the peasants were left alone—unkilled, unenslaved—accidents happened. And in war, those accidents left behind broken bodies and empty homes.

  It relieves my heart that you are part of the Sect. And working in as prestigious an occupation as a Spirit Herb Gatherer. I think—and your father agrees—that this suits you. You were always wandering around the fields when you were young, always curious about the world. And while it might be dangerous, I know that your father’s lessons will keep you safe.

  Wu Ying smiled, reading on as she turned to gossip. He shook his head at the litany of births, of the few deaths—much fewer with the fixed housing and surplus of food—that winter brought. He read about the travails of soil and drainage before his eyes fell onto the only portion that made him grimace.

  …marriage was great. If the heavens are willing, they will sire a child soon.

  While discussing marriages, I know you are enamored by this Li Yao. She sounds like a very nice young lady. But she is the daughter of a noble. When the time comes, duties and obligations will pull on her even more strongly. In that, she is even less free than you. We have no expectations of you, in terms of lineage. Your father has settled himself with your goal of immortality. In that way, the family name might continue for all eternity perhaps.

  Remember. It is good to explore your feelings, but do not give too greatly. Some people are not meant to be together.

  Wu Ying glared at the paper, almost wishing his mother was here for him to shout at. To explain. Of course, he would never do that. Still, it was a passing desire, an indolent, unfilial wish. Because what did his mother know of Li Yao? Of cultivator society? Why did she feel the need to meddle from so far away?

  Exhaling, Wu Ying calmed himself and his mind. She was his parent, and all parents meddled. At least all she offered were words of advice, rather than commandants like Li Yao’s parents.

  Setting aside the letter to be filed with the rest of their letters, Wu Ying turned to his father’s next. This one required only a single read-through.

  Wu Ying,

  I know what your mother has written to you. I will not say that she is wrong, nor will I recommend that you join the war. I will note that there is opportunity in conflict. You are my son, and I wish you the best. I know that whatever you choose to do, you will do it with forethought and caution.

  On that note, I do wish that you take notice of the amount of funds you have been sending us. It is not seemly for our son to send so much to his parents, especially to a small village like ours. Save some of those funds for your own cultivation. Your mother and I have more than enough.

  I have included additional notes from what you have spoken of when practicing the form. It sounds like the martial arts that you have learned can complement our own style. Continue to keep an open mind and make sure that you practice our form. While the Long family style has stagnated in the past couple of generations, it was once well renowned. There is more depth in the style than you will see at first glance. As you learn more, you will see that martial arts is a clouded and deep lake. I am only sorry to say that I do not have much additional advice I can offer. You will soon surpass me.

  Your father

  Wu Ying sighed after finishing the letter. His father was not a man of many words and certainly not one to express bountiful emotions. Still, Wu Ying preferred his short letter to his mother’s. The heartfelt warmth and trust in Wu Ying’s decision-making was heartening. His father hadn’t even mentioned Li Yao.

  Wu Ying tapped his lips, staring at the letters before he set them aside to be filed. He picked up his own stationary, dipped his brush in a nearby inkwell, and wrote.

  Papa, Mama,

  I have received your letters dated the nineteenth day of the tenth moon[61] of the year. Thank you for your thoughts and all your consideration. Papa, I have not had a chance to read your thoughts on our style, but I’m sure they will be enlightening as always. Not a lot of interest has happened in the last few months, as we have mostly spent our time studying.

  I am glad to hear you are doing well with the funds I have sent. Please, let me know what you might need when you arrive. I have spoken with Elder Huang who runs the kitchens and he is willing to assign you multiple plots of land to the north of the Sect. The land will need to be cleared and drainage built, but I have assured him that this is something the village is well equipped to do. There is a nearby stream that feeds into the main river here, so it is decent farming land.

  Wu Ying grimaced as he finished that part of the letter. That had taken quite a bit of convincing—and quite a few journeys up and down the mountain—to arrange. Still, with the agreement of Elder Huang and the magistrate in the city below, the village’s arrival—if necessary—would be smooth. Even after all his work, Wu Ying knew that the villagers would refuse to leave unless things went bad. There had been too much sweat and bloodshed put into the development of their village to leave it so easily.

  I continue to take lessons with Elder Li as well as reading further about the various herbs suitable for someone at my cultivation level. There is a lot to learn, and even if I have some experience at this, I still make mistakes regularly. Senior Goh continues to praise how much I’ve accomplished, but I think he is more interested in the fact that I have decent martial skills and thus will allow him to work the gardens more. Still, the things he has taught me while encouraging my development are highly useful, so I am grateful for his attention.

  In the winter months, I have other regular classes put on by the Sect. Much of this knowledge ranges from the classics to formations and spiritual equipment. I cannot say that I am the most brilliant student. As you know, there are many better suited to the scholarly lifestyle. Still, I do not think I shame our family. Certainly, compared to Tou He, I find many of the lessons easier. Tou He’s previous life as a monk has created interesting gaps in his education.

  Good news about Tou He too. He’s managed to clear his fourth Energy Storage meridian. His Master is very happy with his progress, though I understand they intend to slow his breakthroughs now. At least for the next few months to consolidate his development.

  Wu Ying looked at the letter and what he’d written. Tou He was, in many ways, the quintessential prodigy. A martial prodigy who had spent years of his life studying multiple styles. An incredibly quick cultivator. Except there was that unspoken issue with Tou He’s chi cultivation. The ex-monk still had not revealed the details of it, but Wu Ying knew that Tou He’s master was hard at work searching for a solution. If they could not find one, Tou He’s rapid ascent could find itself bottlenecked at the Core Formation stage.

 
Admittedly, for many cultivators, that would be a problem they wished to have. But like Wu Ying, Tou He sought the furthest reaches of cultivation. To be bottlenecked before truly stepping on the road to immortality would truly be a shame.

  Lip curling up, Wu Ying shook his head and returned to his writing.

  I continue to practice the other martial styles that were taught to me. I believe I’ve managed to achieve a small breakthrough in combining the three styles. Fairy Yang has been particularly gracious about spending her time teaching me. Of course, she is very busy as the newest elder in the Sect, but she seems to make a little time every week to continue my training. It seems that unlike my Master, she is willing to be more hands-on. Elder Cheng continues to feel that too great a hand in my training will divert my fate.

  Of the two cultivation exercises I have learned, I’ve achieved a greater understanding of the Aura Strengthening. I am unable to progress the technique further though, as I’ve sealed and compressed my aura as much as possible within my current cultivation level. Further progress will have to wait until I reach the next level.

  There was no knock on the door as Ah Yee arrived, carrying a small, covered, clay drinking bowl on a serving tray. The older woman, his designated servant, set the bowl beside Wu Ying before lifting the lid with a flourish. Wu Ying choked at the smell from a mixture of months-old herbs, dirt, and other foul-smelling ingredients.

  “Your daily supplement, Master Long,” Ah Yee said. “Remember, don’t leave it too long. It will lose potency if it grows cold.”

  “And taste worse,” said Wu Ying.

  Not that the sludge-coated oil taste could be much worse. The supplement was a requirement for Wu Ying’s second level of his other cultivation exercise—the Reinforced Iron Bones technique. At this stage, it was insufficient to wait for damage and repair his body when it occurred. He had to induce the damage and the cleansing—which was where the sludge came in.