by Tao Wong
The solid impact of fist on wood ran through Wu Ying’s arm, entering his body and jarring him. Even as he felt the reverberations finish, he repeated the process on the other side. Eyes narrowed, Wu Ying repeated the action. Two hundred punches—one hundred on each side—was the minimum number each day. Each motion was planned, focused. Each punch was carefully analyzed as Wu Ying worked to perfect the motion.
Wu Ying focused on the external rotation, the structure of his body, to ensure that he had the movements perfect. Though the manual on external power generation helped in that regard. No, Wu Ying was focused deeper. Sensing the flow of his chi, driving his chi with each motion and pulling it back at the same time. Internal chi manipulation, along with external rotation, was at the heart of the Mountain Breaking Fist.
A hundred punches with each hand against hard rosewood. After finishing the practice, Wu Ying straightened and walked away, shaking his numb and aching fists. Blood dripped from torn open wounds, punches that had landed off-angle and skidded along the hardwood, tearing old scabs and skin.
“Thank you, Ah Yee,” Wu Ying said as he dipped his injured hands into the pail of ice-cold water the servant had laid out for him. The shock made Wu Ying hiss, but he forced himself to keep his hands in the pail, watching the clear water stain with his blood.
“Of course, my lord,” Ah Yee said.
“Not a lord.” Flexing his fingers in the cold, Wu Ying winced as his newly wakened nerves sent their protest over their abuse. In another minute, he would start the next set of forms.
“Yes, my lord.”
Wu Ying ignored the servant as he considered the Mountain Breaking Fist. The more he practiced the style, the more Wu Ying realized that Elder Khoo must have picked this style with care. It was not exactly an internal energy style, nor did the Mountain Breaking Fist rely solely on external. Instead, it combined the two and the flow and projection of chi to provide maximum impact. That the style could be used without the full projection of chi allowed Wu Ying to practice the technique, but at a much reduced effectiveness.
Still.
Wu Ying exhaled and sent a pulse of chi out through a clenched fist. The formerly still pail water twisted and jumped as the sudden force rebounded from the bottom of the pail. Water splashed out, soaking Wu Ying’s shirt and making him smile wryly. Even this small projection was better than what he had managed before. Much better…
“Do you wish a clean shirt, my lord?”
Wu Ying shook his head. “No, I’ll need to wash after anyway.”
“Of course.” Ah Yee took the pail as Wu Ying walked over to the empty center of the courtyard. “I’ll exchange the water.”
“Thank you.”
Wu Ying exhaled and closed his eye. Next. Forms for the Mountain Breaking Fist. Then Wu Ying would try the next step in the Long family style. Specifically, he would try to replicate the next step, the one that his father could only offer minor pointers on as he was not in the Energy Storage stage himself. The Dragon’s Breath. Projection of energy through the jian by making the sword part of oneself.
Afterward, exercise. Then work on his Iron Reinforced Bones technique to help fix his aching hands and tired body. All that before he had his second breakfast and went to class. Wu Ying’s days were busy. But busy in a good way.
And so, day after day passed, week transforming into another week as the winter months ground on. Training with Elder Hsu continued, as did Wu Ying’s personal martial and strength training while the cultivation exercises grew in familiarity. For Wu Ying, this was a peaceful period in his cultivation journey, a time when he grew without worry or concern. A time when he could stop, learn, and improve himself.
Sadly, Wu Ying knew all such times must come to pass, like winter itself.
Chapter 9
When Wu Ying arrived at the martial specialists’ training ground, he was surprised to see it buzzing with a larger number of trainees than normal. Further to Wu Ying’s surprise, the cultivators were not in the sparring rings but gathered around Senior Ge.
“What’s going on?” Wu Ying asked Tou He when he managed to make his way to his friend.
“Aftereffects of ghost month[15],” Tou He said.
“So late?” Wu Ying said.
The sect’s observances of the ghost festival had been perfunctory, consisting more of hitting all the necessary rituals rather than any actual veneration for the dead. They had made the offerings of vegetarian food, burnt the incense and joss paper at the entrances of the sect in large urns, and raised the spirit formations. In truth, the entire month had passed so quickly that Wu Ying had barely paid it attention, as he was so caught up in his own training. Still, the ghosts who were not appeased would create trouble immediately after the gates to hell had closed, rather than waiting for months.
“The sect only takes action after the local residents have done their part,” an older student said, glancing back at Wu Ying and Tou He. “It’s not as if we’re going to act without payment after all.”
“Oh,” Wu Ying said, recalling that all those sect contribution points and funds had to come from somewhere. “What are we doing then?”
“Receiving our assignments,” the same student said, absently tucking a strand of long hair behind one ear. “The most senior students get first pick. Then Senior Ge helps coordinate who goes where.”
“Right.” Wu Ying scratched his head, stepping back out of the crowd. As he was not technically a martial specialist, the entire allocation of posts was not really something he was directly involved in. On the other hand, it was not as if these assignments were only for martial specialists. They were just the preferred audience.
As cultivators received their orders, they split up with their assigned groups, leaving the training grounds one by one. In the meantime, Wu Ying had to wonder how they knew the allocation was even happening at all. Did it happen every year at a certain time? Or was it a daisy chain of servants running around and informing each other? Perhaps that was what the other cultivators did with their servants. Certainly Wu Ying had noticed that the assignment hall had outer sect members and non-cultivators lining up and hanging out a lot. Of course, Ah Yee was a little old and had her hands full taking care of his residence. Still, it was something he should investigate.
“Wu Ying. Tou He. Are you both up to an assignment?” Chao Kun said to them when the vast majority of the crowd had dispersed.
“Us? ” Wu Ying said, surprised.
“Yes.”
“Don’t you have others?” Wu Ying said, glancing at the others who still stood around.
“Yes, but I’ve got more work than people,” Chao Kun said. “If you sign up with us, I have some control over where you go. Unlike if you go with the assignment hall.”
“Does that mean I have to leave the sect?” Tou He said, glancing northward and eying the forest-covered mountains that surrounded the sect.
“Yes. You’re also running short on contribution points, no?” Chao Kun said.
Tou He winced but acquiesced. Wu Ying hesitated, knowing that he did not need to take the assignment. But when he spotted Tou He looking at him, he could not help but voice his own agreement.
“Excellent.” Chao Kun handed them the scroll he held. “You have Hongmao village. Map included. It’s a small group of hopping vampires[16]. Bring lots of rice.”
“Why couldn’t we take the rice from the bottom of the mountain?” Wu Ying grumbled as he carried the rice sack down, along with the remainder of his camping equipment. Carrying an entire bag down the mountain when there were literally hundreds of bags at the bottom made no sense. It did not help that Wu Ying’s storage ring was filled with the most important necessities—his weapons, his personal copies of his cultivation manuals, and notes for the next stage of his cultivation exercises. Of course, the cultivation exercises and the martial styles had to be left behind. With all that, there was no space for a big bag of rice.
“Paperwork,” Tou He said. “They need to account fo
r each bag, which means they have to account for the ones down there when they come up.”
“I know that, it’s just…” Wu Ying shook his head. It hurt his heart to think that this could be one of the very same bags he had hauled up earlier in the year. “And why am I carrying the rice?”
“Because I’m carrying the camping gear?” Tou He pointed out.
Wu Ying fell silent since he had no counter. Rather than continue that line of conversation, he turned the topic to their actual assignment. “Did you manage to get any further information from the villagers?”
To make the request, the village had sent some of their own over with the requisite payment. While Wu Ying had gotten the rice and the rest of the camping gear together, Tou He had gone to talk to the villagers.
“Not much. The hopping vampires are based in a cemetery. The villagers have been trying to contain them with a ring of rice, but that’s insufficient with the constant rainfall,” Tou He said. “They tried banishing a few, but their Taoist priest fell ill and has been too sick to do more than paint a few talismans.”
Wu Ying grunted, recalling the specialized peach-wood weapons the pair had drawn from the sect’s stores. That the sect had these weapons lying around in the armory, waiting for someone to borrow them, was kind of amusing to Wu Ying. Because really, how often did you need edged peach-wood weapons?
“Did you get any urine?” Tou He asked.
“Har.” Wu Ying shook his head, recalling the shocked look on the attendant’s face when he asked. And the attendant’s greater shock when the attending Senior crossly informed the cultivator that such stores were reserved for greater threats. “No. Surprisingly, black dog urine that is properly conditioned and treated is hard to acquire. It seems the urine has to come from pure black dogs during certain periods of the month for proper effectiveness.” Grinning with mischief, Wu Ying added, “But I was told that if we could find a young man who has never touched or shared an intimate moment with a woman, his urine would work.”
“Really?” Tou He said blandly. “That’s good to know.”
The pair raced down the mountain, crossing li after li before Wu Ying finally couldn’t stand it anymore. “It’s you. You’re the young man!”
“No. I’m not.” The still-bald ex-monk picked up the pace.
Wu Ying’s eyes widened and his friend pulled well ahead of him before the cultivator shook off his shock. After that pronouncement, Wu Ying definitely needed an answer. Or better yet, a story.
Days later, the pair finally arrived at the village sans a story about Tou He’s scandalous rendezvous with a young lady. Wu Ying wondered how much his friend hid beneath that smiling demeanor. After all, Tou He had been kicked out of the monastery. Wu Ying had even briefly doubted the veracity of his story, but the cultivator pushed those doubts aside. He had no reason to believe his friend had lied to him and good reason not to let doubts mar their friendship.
Wu Ying eyed the village as they reached the top of the grass-covered hill that housed the central living areas and the shops that made up this farming village. Beyond the fact that Hongmao was located in a series of rolling hills, unlike the flatter terrain of Wu Ying’s village, Hongmao could have been said to be a copy. Numerous residences rested among the hills and stepped fields. The villagers were out in the fields, working the land, weeding, clearing out ditches, and repairing terraced walls. A wave of nostalgia washed over Wu Ying as he saw the all-too-familiar scene.
The villagers eyed the pair of sect cultivators, clad in their green-and-blue robes, with caution and some relief. Wu Ying understood the caution entirely. Too many “real” cultivators considered those who had not ascended in their cultivation as lesser beings. Though now that he had been on the inside of the sect, Wu Ying could not help but wonder if some of that might have been an issue of nobles looking down on commoners, rather than cultivators looking down on the untrained.
As they entered the center of the village, the village head appeared, breathing hard from his run to greet them. “Greetings, honored cultivators.” The village head bowed low. “I am Teoh Kah Hock[17]. Welcome to our small village.”
“Cultivator Long Wu Ying of the Verdant Green Waters Sect.”
“Cultivator Liu Tou He of the Verdant Green Waters Sect.”
The pair bowed in unison as if they had planned it, forcing Wu Ying to smile as he realized what they’d done.
“Thank you for coming, cultivators. The hopping vampires have been troubling us greatly,” Kah Hock said.
“Not at all.” Wu Ying followed the village elder as they walked into the village. “Have you not tried to hunt them during the day?”
“We have, honored cultivator. But though the jiangshi might be weaker in sunlight, they are still not weak. And there were too many by the time we found them,” Kah Hock said.
“Too many?” Wu Ying said.
“Yes. The cemetery they live in is an older one. Abandoned by our village centuries ago. We did not realize it was not consecrated any longer till, well, now,” Kah Hock said, making a face. “The Taoist priest we hired to consecrate the grounds and appease the spirits when we learned of it was injured and grew sick from the overabundance of yin chi. He says he will go back when it’s cleared.”
Tou He nodded amiably, looking around the quiet village center. Wu Ying followed his gaze, spotting a group of elders and a pair of kids lying and sitting in a corner of the village square, soaking up the rays of sunshine. All of them were strangely pale and entirely too lethargic, especially the children. Wu Ying extended his senses, feeling toward them, and frowned as he felt the lack of pressure from their auras, the absence of vital chi within their bodies.
“They are the victims of the jiangshi,” Kah Hock said when he spotted the pair’s eyes. “Those who survived.”
“I see,” Wu Ying said, growing more resolute. Thrice-damned restless spirits.
“It is too late to journey to the cemetery tonight,” Kah Hock said. “If the honored guests will accept our humble hospitality, we will show you the cemetery tomorrow. We would ask for your aid tonight if they break through, but the priest’s formation should hold.”
The pair quickly accepted Kah Hock’s suggestion, placing their burdens down in the guest rooms offered inside Kah Hock’s own home. As the largest building, it was also the only one that had enough free space to properly accommodate the pair. Wu Ying took the opportunity to wash away the stink of his excess cultivation while leaving Tou He to finish unpacking. Once they were done, the pair exited their rooms to explore the small building.
To their surprise, the cultivators found a silent Taoist priest in the inner courtyard, seated in a cross-legged meditative position. Like the other victims, the bearded priest was unnaturally pale and doing his best to soak up the yang energy from the sun. Unlike the other victims, he also bore physical injuries along his arms and across one blood-stained, bandaged shoulder.
Tou He elbowed Wu Ying, jerking his head toward the exit, and the pair tiptoed out. Best to leave the priest to heal. Over the next few hours till the end of day, the pair walked the village, eying the defenses set up, their peach-wood weapons strapped to their bodies.
Later that night, Wu Ying and Tou He sat across from each other in the lamp-lit courtyard. The priest had abandoned the courtyard when the sun fell, passing a few words of greeting and caution to the pair before he retired. Village-head Teoh excused himself after offering the pair their supper, indicating he had to check on the remainder of the village.
“This is really very good,” Tou He said, holding up the simple bun made from a rice wrapper and stuffed with fresh chives, bean sprouts, onions, and marinated pork. “Not enough meat, but quite tasty.”
“You and your meat,” Wu Ying said with a roll of his eyes.
Tou He grinned unrepentantly. “What do you think?”
“Of?”
“The assignment.”
“There are more hopping vampires than we were told to expect,” Wu Yin
g said.
Initially, that number had been six. Too many for the single Taoist priest, but viable for a pair of experienced cultivators. Even if neither of them were in the Energy Storage stage. From their conversations with the few villagers, it looked as though the initial estimates were grossly wrong. There were at least a dozen of the monsters, a number that would require at least one other cultivator. If not two.
“Can we do it?”
Wu Ying considered the question. “Not if we fight them all.”
“Then?”
“We hunt. Tonight,” Wu Ying said, pushing aside his concern. “If we can catch them alone, it should work.”
“Will they be alone?” Tou He asked as he finished off the bun.
Wu Ying shrugged. It was not as if he had ever dealt with so many hopping vampires. There were many reasons for the vampires to be born. Evil necromancers would raise them to harass a village for money, while others rose from corpses that were not properly consecrated. In this case, errant spirits had chosen not to return to hell and taken control of rotted bodies. In Wu Ying’s village, there had been but a single incident of these monsters, and in that case, it was a single body.
“Well, the sun has set,” Tou He said, eyeing the darkness before he picked up another rice bun and his new staff. “Shall we?”
Wu Ying frowned as they walked the inner perimeter of the village. In the village center, he heard the fearful murmurings of the villagers and saw the blazing lights the villagers had started to offer a modicum of safety and illumination. But at the edges of the village, where the bangua signs marked the beginning of the spirit formation, Wu Ying found the leaking light an annoyance. Unfortunately for their night vision, the pair had to often turn back toward the village center thanks to the twisting paths.
