A Thousand Li: the Second Expedition: Book 4 Of A Xianxia Cultivation Epic Read online

  A Thousand Li:

  The Second Expedition

  A Cultivation Novel

  Book 4 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 Expedition

  Copyright © 2020 Tao Wong. All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2020 Sarah Anderson Cover Designer

  Copyright © 2020 Felipe deBarros Cover Artist

  A Starlit Publishing Book

  Published by Starlit Publishing

  69 Teslin Rd

  Whitehorse, YT

  Y1A 3M5

  Canada

  www.starlitpublishing.com

  Ebook ISBN: 9781989994092

  Paperback ISBN: 9781989994108

  Hardcover ISBN: 9781989994115

  Contents

  What Happened Before

  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

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  About the Publisher

  Books in A Thousand Li series

  Glossary

  What Happened Before

  As the war between the States of Wei and Shen continue to heat up, Wu Ying continued his training with the Verdant Green Waters Sect. However, realizing that his family could be in danger of the upcoming warring season, Wu Ying planned and conducted an extraction operation of his family and the village to the Sect itself.

  Forced to bargain with Lord Wen, the group journeyed into the state of Wei itself, to conduct a daring raid to retrieve the bloodline scrolls and cultivation methods for the Lord. To do so safely, the group joined the war efforts, doing battle with rival Sect leaders.

  Having successfully retrieved the cultivation method, Wu Ying and team brought the village back to the Sect, only to find that the war itself had swept by with little effect. Amused by the vagaries of fate, and enlightened upon the futility of humanity’s plans, Wu Ying settled himself into a period of study, intent on progressing his cultivation base and setting aside mortal concerns.

  Chapter 1

  The compressed earth path up the mountain was wide and well trampled, countless feet having worn away any greenery. Clad in dark-colored cloth shoes, the two martial artists hiked up the winding trail, shaded from the late evening sun by the towering dove trees with their heart-shaped leaves on either side of the bare trail. Wisps of clouds occasionally covered the sun as a light breeze rustled dried leaves and brought the scents of blooming flowers and fresh flowing water to the pair of immortal cultivators.

  As they climbed, the occasional whistle of birds chirping to one another filtered through the undergrowth, breaking through the on-going argument between the pair.

  “Did you really have to carry all that?” Tou Hei said, exasperation clear in his voice as he strolled alongside his friend, his wooden staff over one muscular shoulder.

  “It’s not hard. And I need the contribution points,” Wu Ying, the other cultivator, said defensively.

  He glanced at his bald friend, clad at last in the pale green and blue robes of the inner sect. Sometime after their return last autumn, Tou Hei had stopped wearing his signature orange monk robes and had begun wearing the inner sect attire of the Verdant Green Waters Sect. He had continued to keep his head shaved and his prayer beads around his neck though, unwilling to give up all aspects of his past.

  “But all of it?” Tou Hei said, pointing at the burden Wu Ying carried. “Shouldn’t you leave something for the others?”

  Wu Ying made a face as his feet dug into the ground again, the multiple rice bags strapped together shifting precariously on his back. He shifted his weight sideways, keeping balanced the entire makeshift-backpack that was twice his height and three times his weight. The motion was automatic, his breathing only hitching a little. Doing so was no more difficult than the strength training they regularly practiced in the inner sect. Feats of such strength and endurance were nothing, not for a pair of Energy Storage cultivators.

  “This isn’t all! There’s a ton more to take.” Wu Ying protested. “There’s still beans, fish, tofu, and more. I even saw a ship coming in on the river from Shazi Po. I bet that has the new sect robes.”

  Tou Hei shook his head. “Still, how many points is this? Ten? Twelve?”

  “Seven.” Wu Ying exhaled before taking the next step, feeling the ground beneath his feet give way and compress under the added weight. Once more, he made a note to himself to practice his qinggong exercises. Of all the aspects he was working on, the “light foot” exercises had been the most difficult to grasp since his ascension to the Energy Storage realm. “They lowered the amount last month.”

  “Did they?” Tou Hei frowned then shrugged, letting the matter go.

  For the ex-Buddhist monk, the struggle for contribution points had never been a concern. The tea master had always had more than he needed. The materials for tea ceremonies – at his level—didn’t require much in terms of contribution points. And as an honorary martial specialist, Tou Hei had more than sufficient opportunities to earn sect contribution points by dealing with wandering spirits and demonic beasts.

  Wu Ying sighed as he exhaled, then he wiped the dirt off his tanned face, pushing aside long hair that had come loose from its ties as he took the next step. He felt a flash of jealousy rising up and squashed it, knowing it had nothing to do with his friend.

  His own desperate need for contribution points was no fault of Tou Hei’s. The ex-monk had smartly chosen not to set up an entire displaced village. He also didn’t have a secondary occupation as a budding apothecarist, an occupation that was known to eat contribution points and materials like a taotei[1].

  Between those two factors, Wu Ying had spent the entirety of his spring and summer running Sect quests, trying to rebuild his bank of contribution points. With what he owed the Sect, and with the village only beginning to get on its feet, the last few months had left him little time for practice. He’d only managed to consolidate his gains, ensuring that his cultiv
ation base and his meridians were thoroughly cleansed.

  “Yeah. We took in more outer sect members than usual. It seems the villages are looking to dump as many as they can to us and the other sects,” Wu Ying said.

  That was no surprise if one considered things. Which, Wu Ying had to admit, was not something he’d thought of until lately.

  Cultivation sects were often protected from the vagaries of war, for while they might offer a few members to the war efforts, they rarely saw the wholesale destruction or disruption villages might experience. Few kingdoms, no matter their strength, wanted to start the escalating conflict that sect destruction entailed. A single angry and determined survivor could wreak significant damage. Assassinations, brutal attacks against the bureaucracy of a nation, even delving into darker daos and massacring entire villages were well-worn tactics by the vengeful. Never mind the karmic issues of such destruction, or its effect on diplomatic relations in the future for such a kingdom.

  Better to let your own allied sect handle attacks on other sects, and, in turn, receive the brunt of the displeasure such genocide might result in.

  “So why?” Tou Hei said.

  “Seven contribution points is above average,” Wu Ying said. “I have needs. I need to pay off Bao Cong. I also want to bank enough points so I don’t have to keep worrying about it all.”

  Wu Ying shook his head. The worry about his finances, about how many contribution points he had, kept him up late into the night most days. It affected his training, affected the way he progressed on his contemplation of the Dao. Perhaps, it was his master’s—Elder Cheng’s—influence, but he could feel the burdens of his past relationships bind him, slowing down his cultivation speed. Even his weekly visits to his parents had begun to feel constrictive.

  Cultivation, in itself, was a selfish endeavor. It went against the needs of the family, of friends and society. After all, cultivation focused on the progress of an individual, outside the bounds of society. The use of cultivation materials, the endless hours of practice, of meditation, of drawing in chi from the world. It took away from time spent with family, aiding your village or company, or progressing one’s kingdom.

  Cultivation, at its heart, was selfish. The desire to become immortal was against the very rules of heaven. It defied the natural order, while still being part of the Dao.

  For the Dao encompassed all things, all possibilities. As such, the possibility of becoming immortal was part of the Dao. It had to be. It was just a small, almost unimportant, portion of it when one compared it to the entirety of the Dao[2].

  Yet, balanced against the needs of the family, of society at large, the pursuit of immortality could wreck a family, a nation, a society. Numerous kingdoms had fallen due to the selfish pursuit of its ruler, families left broken. Some cultivators, like his Master, cut ties with all. Trying, as best as he could, to be free of such obligations. Others, like Wu Ying himself, tried to walk that razor edge between familial and societal duty and personal desire. Both, in their own ways, tried to grasp the Dao.

  “How much more do you need?” asked Tou Hei, interrupting Wu Ying’s musings.

  “With my latest gathering? And this mission completion? This should be enough.” Wu Ying shifted his weight forward a little, letting the pack that dwarfed him in both size and weight shift as well. He had to admit, perhaps this was a little much.

  But he had chosen to grab the rice bags as much for nostalgia as the contribution points. After all, seven points was but a single handful of Spirit Grass.

  “Good.” Tou Hei rubbed his bald head. “Running all these quests with you has been rather tiring.”

  Wu Ying flashed his friend a grin, gratitude welling up within his chest. Since his breakup with Li Yao, Wu Ying had few that he could rely on to run the more dangerous combat and gathering missions. While he could and did join the other groups that formed within the Sect, it was always good to have someone you could rely on. After all, none of the Sect missions offered to them by the nobility and the villagers were safe.

  If they were, they wouldn’t have been offered.

  “Thank you, once again.”

  “No need. That’s what friends are for,” Tou Hei said. “Now, come on. I’m getting hungry.”

  So saying, the cultivator sped up, leaving his friend behind. Wu Ying glared at the departing back before he hunkered down, circulating his chi within his dantian, and pushed forward. He was getting hungry too.

  ***

  Under the paifang that marked the official start of the Sect grounds, Wu Ying spotted the gate guardian, Elder Lu. The old man sat under the brownish-red column of the paifang, long pipe held in hand, tobacco smoke drifting upward and polluting the fresh mountain air. Wu Ying could just catch the edges of the pipe smoke scent, the sweet, cloying taste of tobacco and burnt herbs tickling his nose and staining his taste buds.

  “Elder Lu.” Wu Ying put his hands together, palm over fist, as he bowed to the Elder. He had to shorten the bow significantly or risk tipping over. Even with the chi that flowed through him from his opened and cleansed meridians, from the single open energy storage meridian in his body, Wu Ying still had to contend with the physics of the universe. When Elder Lu nodded back in acknowledgement of his greeting, Wu Ying continued. “Is that a new blend?”

  “It is. But you don’t have time for these pleasantries.” Elder Lu took his pipe out of his mouth, leaning forward as the ends of his long beard fluttered in the wind. “Your martial sister is looking for you.”

  “She’s back?” Wu Ying said. His Master and his martial sister, Fairy Yang, had left at the start of the year on a personal quest. They hadn’t informed Wu Ying of their intentions, leaving him to manage his own business. Wu Ying understood. He was still too junior to help.

  “Yes. Your Master is injured,” Elder Lu murmured, a trace of concern in his dark brown eyes.

  Wu Ying’s eyes widened, and he struggled with the straps on his back. Frustrated, he yanked on them hard, tearing the ropes free and dumping the entire package. It tilted dangerously for a second before Tou Hei moved, grabbing hold of it and balancing the entire burden of rice sacks. When Wu Ying looked at his friend, he received a single, simple nod.

  Assured of the rice’s delivery, he took off running at full speed headed for his Master’s residence. A small worm of worry burrowed into his chest as he ran. What kind of injury could it be that had sent two Core cultivators back to the Sect in ignominious retreat? What kind of enemy had they met that could injure them so badly?

  He had no answers. He would not, until he found his Master.

  ***

  Wu Ying ascended the mountain swiftly, feet pounding into the ground. As he rushed up the path, he passed outer sect members in their dark green and light striped robes, taking care of the chores that kept the Sect functioning. Those chores ranged from mundane tasks like sweeping the cobblestone paths, trimming hedges and trees, cooking, and running errands to more exotic, immortal sect-only tasks like caring for the occasional Spirit beast pet, tending to the spiritual herb gardens, or rebuilding damaged martial training halls.

  Amidst all that, he spotted classes of outer sect members learning new martial forms, studying classical cultivation and philosophical texts, and of course, cultivating. So many of them were either seated cross-legged or standing in horse stance, breathing in quiet rhythm to the world or their own heartbeats. Drawing the chi of the heaven and earth into their bodies to filter through their meridians and collect in their dantians. All to gain even an ounce more progress on their journey.

  Through all these, Wu Ying ran, taking himself farther and farther up the mountain. Past the outer sect halls and training grounds to where the inner sect members, like himself, resided. Their halls and training grounds were similar in nature, though larger and more ornate. Their classes, their lectures were led by Elders more often than not, their cultivation practices held in secluded courtyards as each cultivator progressed their individual techniques.


  Inner sect members weren’t put through a mass training program, instead receiving individual training in their cultivation methods. As inner sect members, they were expected to be able to progress their cultivation individually. Those who failed, and failed too long and too often, might find themselves demoted. Or, in the worst cases, removed from the Sect’s main headquarters.

  It was to other, smaller branches, scattered throughout the land, that these forsaken, discarded members would be sent. Their cultivation journey cut short, their prospects removed. They’d have to struggle, aid the local villages, and perhaps, in that way, progress their cultivation. They would no longer have easy access to well-paying assignments, no longer be able to purchase cultivation pills or access the library with ease.

  Still, it wasn’t entirely impossible even for these “banished” cultivators to continue. Sometimes the change of pace was all that was required for a cultivator to grow. Occasionally, a few cultivators found inspiration in such external work. And so, the Elders said, this practice was good for individuals, while helping the Sect grow its influence.

  On Wu Ying ran, passing the inner sect library and the armory that hosted the collected spiritual weapons and equipment of the outer and inner sect members. Upward, offering quick nods to Elders, as he passed the busy assignment hall, where he was to report the completion of his mission. And as he sprinted, breathing in deep, he caught whiffs of smoke and ash, felt the touch of fire chi as the distant ring of hammer on metal signaled the presence of the blacksmithing halls.

  No smell from the apothecary halls, of course. They dealt with much more dangerous materials, and without proper ventilation, without proper wards in place, they might accidentally poison the entire Sect. More than one failed apothecarist’s mixture had poisoned its creator.

  No, no scent from the apothecarist halls, even as he passed them and climbed higher and higher, leaving behind the inner sect buildings until he reached the stupendous heights of the residences of the Elders. Each house was a small compound containing training rooms, apothecarist buildings, resting places, and kitchens for the Elders. Each of whom had their own servants, drawn from the outer sect or, sometimes, the mundane servants who served the Sect itself.