A Thousand Li: The Second Sect: Book 5 Of A Xianxia Cultivation Epic Read online

  A Thousand Li:

  The Second Sect

  A Cultivation Novel

  Book 5 of A Thousand Li Series

  By

  Tao Wong

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  A Thousand Li: The Second Sect

  Copyright © 2021 Tao Wong. All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2021 Sarah Anderson Cover Designer

  Copyright © 2021 Felipe deBarros Cover Artist

  A Starlit Publishing Book

  Published by Starlit Publishing

  69 Teslin Rd

  Whitehorse, YT

  Y1A 3M5

  Canada

  www.mylifemytao.com

  Ebook ISBN: 9781989994788

  Paperback ISBN: 9781989994801

  Hardcover ISBN: 9781989994832

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  About the Publisher

  Books in A Thousand Li series

  Glossary

  What Happened Before

  The dark sect has reared its head, their plans unknown, their intentions unrevealed. Even learning of their existence saw Wu Ying’s mentor, Master Cheng, be poisoned. To save him, Wu Ying and his friends as well as Fairy Yang set out on a perilous journey to collect the ingredients of the rare poison used to injure Master Cheng.

  The expedition was successful, but not without cost. The dark sect took umbrage to their actions, attacking the group multiple times and revealing their hand. Deeper signs of their influence on the war between kingdoms are seen as well, but on a more personal note, Wu Ying is gravely injured in their last encounter.

  Forced to make use of an untested medicinal bath, Wu Ying survives the encounter but finds his cultivation and his body changed. Now, he must find a way to deal with the changed body and understand what it means for his journey to immortality.

  Chapter 1

  Pain rose within his chest, gripping his innards tightly as it clenched and released, sending tendrils of agony through his entire body. Wu Ying bent over, waste effluence exploding from his mouth and nose, splashing against the edges of the chamber pot. His stomach clenched, his guts churned again, and Wu Ying desperately sucked in air before he forcibly expelled the contents of his guts once more.

  Cold hands, clammy against the iron chamber pot, gripped tight as another racking shudder ran through his body. Wu Ying was forced to hunch over as his body expelled the numerous poisons and corruptions that had collected within him. Black, green, and yellow bile flooded the chamber pot, staining the copper in it. Cold and unpleasantly damp robes hung against his body, while the noxious fumes from within the pot assaulted his nose. As for the taste that coated his tongue—that was best left undescribed.

  “Good. Now, finish the drink.” The aged feminine voice was cold and impersonal, a barked order rather than the warm embrace of a mother’s cajoling. It was a familiar refrain and tone for Wu Ying by this time, weeks after his return to the Sect.

  Forcing himself away from the chamber pot, Wu Ying looked up to see Auntie Yi holding a porcelain bowl. She held it far away from her body, even though she’d made this same concoction multiple times for him in his manor’s kitchen.

  The washroom was situated a short distance from the kitchen itself, connected to the autumn-leaf filled courtyard. Later on, after dealing with Wu Ying, he knew that Auntie Yi would sweep the bare stones clear, caring for his training grounds with the same cold and professional detachment as she tormented him.

  Wu Ying’s nose scrunched up as he caught a whiff of the odious concoction, forcing words from his lips that he knew made him sound childish. “Do I have to?”

  “Yes. Unless you want me to inform Elder Cheng that you are refusing to complete your treatment,” Liu Tsong spoke up, the senior apothecarist standing to the side with her hands on her hips. She glared at Wu Ying, almost taunting him to answer in the affirmative.

  Wu Ying knew better than to take her up on the offer. Master Cheng had driven him even harder than Liu Tsong, intent on finding something to aid Wu Ying in recovering the time he had lost while recuperating and to fix the injuries he had incurred. The more esoteric the treatment, the more he seemed to enjoy inflicting it upon Wu Ying.

  He would not let Wu Ying shirk. Not for any reason.

  After taking the porcelain bowl from Auntie Yi feeling the light warmth emanating from it, Wu Ying gagged down the rancid concoction. As it passed his lips and tongue, he felt the gritty sand and tasted the charcoal that was part of the alchemical soup and felt the stab of beetle legs imperfectly crushed as it slid down his throat. He knew every single ingredient in the drink—to his poor imagination’s demise—forced to learn it by Liu Tsong as part of his training.

  After swallowing the last dregs of the thick, greenish-brown slurry, Wu Ying handed the porcelain bowl to Auntie Yi before bending back over the chamber pot. The women quickly backed away, shutting the door behind the man and leaving him to wait. In short order, his body—aided by the swirl of chi he constantly formed—had drawn the essence of the drink into his body. It swirled through the pathways of his body, tugging at his muscles, his tendons and ligaments, even his bones before returning to its starting point in his guts.

  Breathing hard, Wu Ying focused on his cultivation and his attempts at keeping the contents of his stomach still. The longer he held the substances within, the more impurities his body could draw into it before their eventual expulsion.

  Long minutes later, Wu Ying finally was free from the torments of his body. He understood why they were doing this after his impromptu “medicinal bath” had forced numerous impurities into his body. Where he had once cleansed his body, now, he had to repeat the procedure that Body Cleansing was meant to have finished. Except this time, he had to do it in an even more invasive manner due to the extent the bath had combined the impurities into his body. A fact that could be easily discerned by the darker skin tone he had gained, a permanent alteration to his body. Thus far, the treatment prescribed by Liu Tsong required him to imbibe this drink every day.

  This and one other.

  The second drink, Wu Ying took from the wa
iting ladies when he exited the building. Another alchemical soup, this one tasting significantly better. It had, among other ingredients, a dose of wild honey mixed within, as well as a touch of rare rock salt from Yu county, both of which helped to wash down the rancid taste in his mouth. He would still brush his teeth later, then chew on mint, but for now, it would do.

  A few steps farther, and he took a seat in the prepared meditation area in the middle of the courtyard. A small cushion, stuffed with discarded linen to provide comfort beneath his body, sat upon bare cement, the early-morning sun shining upon it. Seated with crossed legs, the liquid rolled through his body and spread a diffuse warmth that seeped into the smallest portion of his mortal form.

  Breathing slowly and evenly, Wu Ying reached for his chi again, speeding up the flow of energy throughout his form. What had been expelled had left gaps within his reinforced body, areas devoid of sustaining energy. The liquid warmth, the nutrients within it would replace and strengthen weakened muscles and lengthen tendons, reinforce organs, and harden bone.

  Shutting away the outside world, Wu Ying focused upon integrating the liquid. When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see Liu Tsong still seated a short distance away at the courtyard table, reading through her apothecarist manual.

  Wu Ying took in the beautiful apothecarist. Like most cultivators, she had grown more refined, her fair skin ever more pale and smooth, her movements more graceful in her own journey to immortality. The bevy of beauties who thronged the Sect made the daily tasks within the Sect difficult to complete without the occasional distraction. A heaven-sent location for your ordinary peasant, a location that would have made any mortal king’s harem a disgrace. Not that there were many of those left.

  Even so, Wu Ying pushed aside any amorous thoughts with practiced ease. She was his senior, his teacher in apothecary, and such considerations were unfilial and unworthy of him and her.

  Turning his head away, Wu Ying breathed in and exhaled, slowing down his cultivation. One advantage of all this constant repetition, forced expulsion of fluids and going over the basics, had been an improvement in his skill at cultivating while moving. Now, he could hold the flow of chi within his body and through his meridians with as little thought as most people breathed.

  Of course, thinking of breathing, he wrinkled his nose as he looked down at his body. He reeked; his body having expelled impure fluids via his sweat glands during his cultivation. As an Energy Storage cultivator, he had not missed this particular aspect of Body Cultivation, but it seemed that his recent bath had reset his body. Pushing aside the thought, he stood, knowing that Liu Tsong had waited for a reason. Of course, he made sure to stand downwind of her and the entrance doorway of his small courtyard residence.

  Having been an inner sect member for a few years now, and with his own contributions, Wu Ying could have acquired a larger residence. One higher up the mountain, with a larger lot, nicer furnishings, and more servants. However, he had little use for such luxuries.

  After all, the upkeep of all that would cost more contribution points per month. And Wu Ying acquired his contribution points the hard way: picking herbs, joining occasional hunts for spirit beasts, and even carrying grain up the mountain. He would not waste it on the upkeep of a building he did not make full use of.

  This one, with its multiple bedrooms, two living rooms, and even a servant’s quarter was more than sufficient for him. His only real regret had been the lack of a proper garden space, but now he had his own World Spirit ring to care for. He could garden to his heart’s content within that ring, especially since he still had to create a proper chi-flow formation within. Even better, its contents would be protected from the vagaries of the climate.

  “You’re done?” Liu Tsong said. It was a rhetorical question, for she continued speaking. “There is something I need to speak to you about.”

  “As you wish, Senior. I am at your service,” Wu Ying said.

  “It’s about your body.” Liu Tsong let her gaze rake over his form. She took in his broad shoulders, the tanned skin that was almost copper in color. Simple brown eyes that were still empty of any conflict or deception. She shook her head. “When you took that bath, it changed your body. You know that, yes?”

  Wu Ying nodded.

  “Good. Now, most medicinal baths are carefully chosen. We know the ingredients, we know the effects and the combinations within. More importantly, we would have researched the bather’s body and bloodline carefully beforehand to understand interactions. Other than the most basic ones that we provide to all Body cultivators, the complex, more efficient medicinal baths must be tailored.” None of this information was new to Wu Ying, of course, since they had discussed this before. “Yours was not. In fact, looking over the ingredients, I am surprised you did not die. If not for the blood you spilled into it, you would have.”

  “My blood?” Wu Ying said.

  “You remember the pixiu[1]?” Lou Tsong said, and Wu Ying nodded. “The honored beast mentioned something about what he smelled when he met you.”

  “That old joke.” Wu Ying shook his head. Then he paused, realization creeping in. “It was not a joke?”

  “A pixiu is not a fox. They do not joke about such things,” Liu Tsong said. “But I can see why you thought it to not matter. Even examination beforehand of your body showed no indication of such a bloodline. If there had been one, it would’ve been so weak it would have not mattered in most conditions.”

  Wu Ying began to see the light. Because what had happened was not most conditions. It was fortune and grace granted to him by the heavens that he had even survived. “You’re saying that my blood made the bath work for me?”

  “I believe it did, and in stewing within it for so many hours, you have awakened your bloodline. Made it stronger, at the very least.” She absently gestured to the side, continuing. “The medicines we have used, that we attempt, have slowly shown this to be true. What records we had of your body—and with your injuries, there were many—have shown a marked divergence. From where your acupoints reside to the texture of your very meridians.”

  Wu Ying fell silent, taking in her words. It was not all good fortune. Cultivators with strong bloodlines, especially bloodlines from those that were not human, often faced unique difficulties. They required specific cultivation methods, unique medicinal herbs and materials to help them advance. Certain elements were often blocked from them, while others were easier to control. Specialized ingredients were often expensive, rare to find, and sometimes impossible to acquire. More than one previously bright, soaring phoenix had halted their journey to the heavens as they searched futilely for the next rare ingredient to move forward.

  “But what kind of bloodline do I have?” Wu Ying said.

  It was one thing to say that he had the blood of dragons, but there were so many kinds. River dragons, lake dragons, dragons of the sky, of the four compass winds or of the ocean. Those that resided and originated from the heavens and those who had never left the middle kingdom. All of it would change his soul cultivation method, which would be impacted by his body form.

  In that sense, he was lucky that he had stubbornly focused on the Yellow Emperor’s cultivation method until now. After all, if he had chosen one cultivation method with an element that was not suited to his bloodline, he would have had to begin all over again.

  “I do not know. We have been conducting numerous tests, but we will require more of your blood to continue.” Liu Tsong closed her book, making it disappear into her own spirit ring. She stood, smiling at Wu Ying. “But at least we will not be testing more medicinal methods on you. The current one we have should suffice for now.”

  Wu Ying bowed his thanks to Liu Tsong, watching her leave before he walked over to the bathing area. As he walked, he pondered his new fate. Fortune or crippling burden, he could not say. But then, who could?

  Not until one died did one know the value of each action. And sometimes, not even then.

  ***


  Recovering or not, Wu Ying’s days were quite regimented. After his morning healing sessions and cultivation, he had private lessons with Elder Cheng. In particular, his lessons were in the jian, the double-sided straight sword he preferred. Wielded with a single hand for the most part, it could be paired with a shield when going to war or with a dagger or second jian. In earlier periods, it had been the secondary weapon of choice for soldiers, but was now being overtaken by the dao, the single-bladed, curved cutting weapon.

  Halberds, axe-spears, spears, and other polearms were still the preferred method for line soldiers, of course. Combined with archers and crossbowmen and clad in lamellar or scale armor, the front-line of the State of Shen was famed for its immovability. But for cultivators, a greater variety of weapons was preferred, to showcase their traditional martial forms and family-taught martial styles as well as to ensure it suited their personality.

  As with so many things, the appropriate weapon for a cultivator depended on the individual as much as any traditional lineage. The wrong choice of weapon, adherence to tradition rather than one’s own preference and circumstances, could make a cultivator less effective as a martial artist.

  Which could easily spell their death, for in the jianghu[2], violence was always a step away.

  Never mind the occasional, rumored consideration that the choice of a weapon could impact one’s chances of ascending. Of course, that was a hotly debated topic, as enlightenment and the progression of one’s dao was never as clear-cut as many would prefer.

  For someone like Wu Ying, who had studied the jian since he could walk by the side of his father, the line where inclination and nature became learnt preference blurred. Wu Ying could not remember whether he loved the sword because it was something he loved or because he had all hate, all dislike beaten out of him through long hours of grueling practice as a child. If one treasured one’s ability due to learnt expertise, was it any different, was it any worse, than a prodigy’s natural ability?