by Tao Wong
His gaze fixed on the meditation pad, considering if he should train. Part of him, the diligent, stubborn part, said yes. He was not talented, he was not gifted, he was not rich. He had to spend every second, every moment he could training. That was the only way he could progress. Even now, while he had been trying to sleep, his dantian and chi had churned, working through his body subconsciously. A part of him, like breathing. But like breathing, concentrated effort would see better results.
As he considered getting back to work, Wu Ying stared at his hands, noted how they clenched and unclenched, felt the unruly flow of chi within his body, the unbridled and restless energy.
There was no way he could get any real training done. He was too agitated to stop, to wait, the train. He needed to move, needed to be out of this stuffy enclosure, needed noise and sound and movement. Meditating could make the energy calm, himself calm, but he’d have to face those images. Face them again—and he was tired of that. Better to move.
Mind made up, Wu Ying quickly threw on a set of robes, this one plainer and darker than his usual Sect robes. Better to dress like a plain soldier than to wear his Sect robes. He drew too much attention that way. Still, Wu Ying made sure to put on the under armor and his sword, worried that a surprise attack might occur. Better to be ready.
As he exited his tent, Wu Ying glanced up and down the pathway. There were no lights on in any of the other tents nearby, which contained other members of the Sect. He let his gaze linger on the tent that contained Li Yao, debating if he should walk in and talk to her. But she was sleeping. His presence would not be taken well. Also, he could imagine the kind of rumors that would start if he entered an unmarried woman’s abode in the middle of the night. Better not to.
Instead, Wu Ying dodged muddy parts of the unpaved path, nodding to the few soldiers who were up. It was well past the middle of the night, and in a few hours, the army would begin its march as the sun rose. The soldiers who were awake and lounging around campfires were up because they too could not sleep. Some would have just come off a watch, some spent their last few hours taking care of their equipment. A few were drinking away their sorrows or nursing injuries that refused to let them rest.
Occasionally, Wu Ying considered joining them. But even if he wasn’t dressed in his Sect robes, the gulf between the soldiers and himself as a cultivator was too vast to breach. He was different from them, and his presence would be anything but relaxing. His imposition would be unwanted, and even if they chose not to say anything, he would know. Better to let them enjoy their evening, to spend it in their own company, and rest before their long march.
Strolling through the inner part of the army encampment, Wu Ying found himself in a portion of the encampment he had not visited. Here, a large tent dominated, lights still on, a quipan and other instruments playing to draw in visitors. Like a moth to the flame, Wu Ying joined the slow trickle of curious individuals approaching the tent.
To his surprise, the brightly colored tent’s front awning flaps were open, the waiting vestibule glowing and allowing the visitors to enter its welcoming, warm embrace. Not just lamplight, but the occasional spirit lamp was lit, dispersed to ensure there were no shadows here. As the main tent flap was pushed aside, Wu Ying felt a blast of warmth that brought the smells of well-spiced, well-cooked meat, of spilled alcohol and delectable foods within. His stomach rumbled, and hunger joined curiosity in demanding Wu Ying explore.
Once inside the tent proper, Wu Ying was surprised to see that it was actually larger on the inside than he had expected. He let his chi billow out, sensing the ambient flows of energy within, curious to see if it was a formation or a trick of the light. Instead, Wu Ying sensed something else and retracted his aura.
His gaze darted past the cultivators, mercenaries, and soldiers who sat around rough wooden tables, drinking and gambling and talking to the servers and companions. The servers were beautiful men and women sliding in and out of reaching hands, smiling as they deposited food and wine, never staying too long. Wu Ying’s gaze tracked across the various servers, surprised that all of them, from serving wench to cooks, were cultivators in the Energy Storage stage at the least, most in the mid-level.
Even more surprising were the working women—and the occasional man—who sat and nuzzled, who laughed at the lewd conversations before they led their temporary companions into another room. These women and men of the night were dressed even more scandalously than the servers, their tops thin—or non-existent—their skin oiled and glistening, sleeves barely hanging on to heaving bosoms, slits on the sides reaching up to their hips, or all too tight pants. It was enough to make Wu Ying blush.
“Move it!” A voice behind Wu Ying woke him from his stupor, making him take a couple steps forward.
Not fast enough for the other, as Wu Ying was pushed slightly aside as the speaker brushed past without another word. Wu Ying’s eyes narrowed before he dismissed the provocation. He was no impatient noble, worried about his honor. A little rudeness did not merit a big fuss.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” a familiar voice called to Wu Ying on his opposite side.
He turned, spotting Lady Pan, and only then realized that the musicians in the corner were headed by her companion. Yan Qing lounged in the corner, his bow dancing across his erhu.
“Is this yours?” Wu Ying asked.
Lady Pan laughed. “As much as anything can be considered to be owned, it is mine. Now, since we have fought together, I must make sure you have a good time. What can I get you? And don’t worry, nothing that happens here will get back to your Sect mates.”
“I didn’t know what this was,” Wu Ying quickly explained, trying to fight down the rising blush and her implications. “I’m not really here for any…”
“Food? Drink? Company?” Lady Pan laughed, placing a hand on Wu Ying’s arm and gently guiding him deeper into the tent. Her laugh was so unlike Li Yao’s—full-bodied in the same way, but deeper, more seductive. “Come. You’ve come to visit me, it would be rude for me to let you go without at least a drink. Everything else, you can decide if you will partake of later.” As Wu Ying’s mouth opened to continue his protests, she added, “Or not.”
Forced forward by her gentle but unyielding pressure, Wu Ying traversed the large tent. He was not even surprised to see Bai Hu curled up in one corner with a young lady on his lap, murmuring besotted words into her ear. Deposited in a chair himself, Wu Ying nodded in greeting to the other two occupants of the table. They flicked a glance at Wu Ying and nodded companionably to Lady Pan before they turned back to their own conversation.
The female owner of the tent smiled and gestured to one of the passing waitresses before turning to Wu Ying. “Can’t sleep?”
“I didn’t realize this was even here,” Wu Ying said. “I’m so surprised. It’s not what I expect in the middle of an army encampment.”
Lady Pan shook her head, clearly amused. “You didn’t notice the tents at the edges of the encampment? The ones the common soldiers spend time and coin at?”
“Of course I did. I know about that. But this, this is a little more…”
“Opulent. Professional. Luxurious?” Lady Pan teased, placing her hand on his arm again. He felt the heat of her hand as it traversed the thin silk of his robes. It felt… nice. “Thank you. It’s taken me many years to build this.”
Wu Ying’s eyes narrowed as he considered the lady. She looked young, but so did most cultivators. Once you began cultivating in earnest, especially if you reached the higher stages, aging slowed down significantly. A Body cultivator could expect to live to a hundred, hale and healthy. An Energy Storage cultivator could easily double their lifespan and look young for three quarters of it. As for Core cultivators, they counted their lifespans in thousands of years. As lifespans increased, it was hard to tell the age of others, other than through mannerisms and what they said. He wondered how old Lady Pan really was. Forty? Fifty? Probably no older, for she was only late high Energy Storage
and he got the feeling she was not one to stall there.
“Good. So many of you youngsters, so rude, asking the age of those they just met.” Lady Pan turned and took the wine jar from the server before serving herself and Wu Ying. “Come, let’s drink.”
Wu Ying picked up the cup, raising it to her as well. “What are we drinking to?”
Lips twisted in a smile, she stood and raised her voice. She was not shouting, but every word she said carried through the tent, drawing everyone’s attention. “To surviving and taking another step on our path to immortality.”
The words brought a roar of approval from the cultivators within the room, drawing shouts even from some of the soldiers themselves. Other soldiers, their heads lowered, looked embarrassed as the cultivators quaffed their drinks and slammed the cups down in approval. The servers spun around, quickly refilling empty cups where tables had no pots of wine or liquor open.
Wu Ying hid his smile while his own cup was promptly refilled by Lady Pan. He lowered his voice as he leaned forward. “You make that toast often?”
“Often enough,” Lady Pan said with a slightly smug tone. “It is a good toast. And one we all believe in.”
“We all?” Wu Ying asked, glancing around the room. One thing he had noted was the absence of anyone from a sect. At least, by their robes. They could be like him, hiding in plain sight, but he was certain that none of the Verdant Green Waters Sect members were part of this group. Those he knew by sight.
“Independent cultivators. The heretical, the unusual, the ones who do not believe in your straight and narrow path.”
“The Sect offers many paths. That’s why we have multiple cultivation methods, multiple styles, even Elders who teach different philosophies,” Wu Ying said.
“You only think you do.” When Wu Ying straightened in anger, she shook her head. “Will you listen? Before you judge.”
Wu Ying’s lips twisted, but eventually he nodded. For a moment, he wondered if she was going to make a pitch for something more dangerous, more heretical. If so, he would need to escape, inform the general. But then he dismissed the notion. Somehow, he did not think that the general, or Elder Pan, would miss something like that in the middle of their own encampment. Fanciful thoughts.
“Good. Your sect, most sects, believe the only way to immortality is by hard work. Hard work in different styles, in different cultivation methods, but hard work. You put in the hours, you train, you draw in chi, and you work at progressing your cultivation. Hundreds, thousands of years perhaps to reach one’s goal.” Lady Pan spoke softly, her eyes fixed upon Wu Ying’s.
He reluctantly nodded, for what she described was true. There was no progress without hard work.
“But why?” When Wu Ying moved to answer, she placed her fingers on his lips briefly, leaving a tingling sensation, a burning warmth that left his heart beating faster. “Why do that? When we have so many examples, so many stories, of those who have achieved immortality without taking that path?”
“You’re talking of Lan Cai He and Quan Zhong Li[67],” Wu Ying said.
“Them, and many others. How many have found immortality because of a lucky item, because of their deeds, from of a gift from those above? Fortuitous encounters, peaches of immortality, even the help of other immortals. So many roads, and yet, the sects only choose one.”
“But that’s because…” Wu Ying wasn’t sure why. He thought about it, sipping on his wine as he did so.
Lady Pan smiled at his furrowed brows while she turned to manage a few other matters her employees drifted over to discuss with her.
As he set down his cup, Wu Ying spoke up. “That kind of immortality—a lot of it isn’t true. It isn’t… theirs.”
“Because they have no dao? Or they find their dao later?” Lady Pan nodded in acknowledgement. “Mostly true. Some though, they find their dao later and become as strong, if not stronger. And really, immortality is immortality.”
Wu Ying grimaced but nodded. “Still, you can’t control the other options. There is no way to harness destiny and luck.”
“True. But are they better?” Lady Pan stood, tapping Wu Ying on his shoulder. “Think about it. Talk to the others. You are young now. You’ve only just started your journey. Sometimes, the path can be circuitous.”
Leaving Wu Ying to think about the matter, Lady Pan went to speak to her other guests. Wu Ying nursed the wine bottle, turning her words over and over in his mind. A different path, a different way to the heavens. In some ways, it was intriguing. Even if intuition told Wu Ying that this was not entirely for him, there was something to what Lady Pan said.
Sometimes, the way ahead was circuitous.
***
It was late in the night, as the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, when Wu Ying made his goodbyes. He clapped Bai Hu on the shoulder, thanking the talisman master and slipping the talismans he’d purchased into his jacket. If he hurried, he’d make it to the contribution points store before they opened, beating the lines. There was a lot to do still, and if the army was removing itself, Wu Ying had a lot to plan. But if there was more than one way to cultivate, perhaps there was more than one way to steal a manual.
Chapter 20
The next morning, the army withdrew. Preparations for it had taken place all through the night, meaning that the army required only a few hours to get itself together and leave. Not that the entire army left at the same time, for a section of it stayed behind to keep an eye on the city, ensuring they were not attacked while they were moving. Even so, as Wu Ying sat on his horse, watching the divisions march away, he could not help but notice the waste.
Not just of the bodies, which littered the field from the night before. This time around, the army had not bothered to clean up after itself. Nor the various pieces of last night’s antics. The corpses that drew incessant wails and cries from those inside the city were just a portion of the waste he saw. For the city still burnt, smoke curling up from the fires that had ravaged the city all through the night. Even with the help of the cultivators within, the army had managed to set on fire a number of the neighborhoods, leaving the city ravaged.
Furthermore, in front of the city walls lay the shattered masonry and the remnants of the siege weaponry. So many trees, so many yards of rope and hundreds of nails left to rot before the city. Every single siege engine, every trebuchet, assault cover, and sky ladder had been destroyed last night—at the cost of lives. All of it, a waste.
Wu Ying turned his head, spotting the nearby hillsides that had seen their fields destroyed, the water left to drain out, the trees that provided shade cut down. Small huts, used for rest, for cooking midday meals, and storing farming implements, had been burnt down.
All destroyed.
Wasted.
Wu Ying shook his head, staring at the remnants of the siege. He did not understand the point of all this, this battle, this war. He understood the Sect leader’s rumored dao, but he didn’t understand why the king felt the need to expand. His kingdom had food, water, and land. Yet he was forcing his kingdom to fight.
Beside him, Li Yao sat, her thoughts hidden behind an impassive mien. In silence, the pair watched the troops go by, tasked with keeping an eye for enemy cultivators. They were on a hill, overlooking both the city and the army as troops passed them to the south. In a change of pace, Wu Ying’s group had been assigned to the northern portion of the encampment.
This was their last task for the army, for they would leave soon after. That discussion had not gone well. But luckily, Chao Kun, in his role as the leader of the cultivators, had intervened, allowing them to continue with their own mission.
As for Li Yao and Wu Ying, things had been strained. As it should be, considering how twice now they had fought over the very same mission. The strain from the disagreements had told on their burgeoning relationship. Neither of them knew how to step back from their positions. How to apologize and forgive. Especially when neither of them thought they were wrong. It was a clash
of priorities rather than of morality, for both agreed the other had a point. In such a situation, neither party knew how to approach the subject, so they continued to avoid it. They focused not on their relationship or what there was of it, but on the job at hand.
That was the smart thing to do. It was the responsible thing to do. They weren’t the only ones on this mission. Or at least that was what Wu Ying told himself
“Do you have a plan?” Li Yao asked, finally speaking up.
“Yes,” Wu Ying replied.
Before Li Yao could ask for further details, the pair of cultivators froze and turned almost in unison. The change in the ambient flow of chi was so great that neither of them could miss it. It was also a highly familiar change in the environmental chi, especially in the sect.
They turned and saw the rigid form of Yin Xue on his horse, his hands down by his sides, his reins dropped and forgotten. Luckily, the animal underneath him had also sensed the change and was turning his head from side to side in curiosity. This was not a bad change; it was, in fact an opportunity. Not just for the man sitting on the horse, but the horse itself. In such close proximity to enlightenment, the change in chi and the world itself could provide the creature an opportunity to progress its own cultivation. And so, man and horse meditated, one upon the glimpse of a universal proof, the other upon the way the world flowed.
Wu Ying shook his head, staring at Yin Xue, and said, “That pig-footed man.”
But he said it softly, for even a Six Jade Gates sect member might pause in his attacks when another cultivator faced enlightenment. They all sought these small glimpses of the universal truth, the Dao. They searched and fought for the heavens’ benediction on their understanding, their wisdom. To break another’s trance, to take away an individual’s opportunity to advance, was something only hated enemies and those in the middle of battle might do. As for everyone else, they honored the moment.
