A Thousand Li: the First War: A Xianxia Cultivation Series Read online

  Li Yao frowned at Tou Hei. “What you mean? You’ve played with his sword too.”

  This time around, Wu Ying could not help but laugh at Tou Hei’s red face. Once they diverted Li Yao from asking about the blushing, the group turned their discussion back to the new assignments in the hall. And, of course, what they intended to buy with the contribution points they would earn.

  Chapter 2

  “You want to learn how to fight with an army?” said Chao Kun. The older martial specialist was in the late Energy stage of cultivation, rumored to be only a step away from reaching Core cultivation. Standing just under six feet, Chao Kun was handsome but not devastatingly so. His point of pride was his hair that reached his waist.

  Tou Hei and Wu Ying were standing before the late stage Energy Storage martial specialist in the middle of the martial specialist training hall. Of course, the training hall wasn’t a single building but a series of three buildings, a training yard with a dozen sparring arenas and the requisite exercise and training equipment. While technically not for the martial specialists’ exclusive use, few who were not dedicated to martial arts dared to visit the martial hall. After all, the martial specialists just were not very good at not being competitive.

  “Are you thinking about joining the war?” said Chao Kun.

  “No,” said Tou Hei.

  “Maybe,” said Wu Ying simultaneously. Tou Hei looked at Wu Ying with surprise, only to have his friend shrug. “I was supposed to fight in the war, you know? A part of me thinks that maybe I should go back and help.”

  “Well, you don’t really need to worry about that. They only choose from martial specialists when they’re looking for volunteers. You’re not one, Gatherer,” said Chao Kun. “Also, you are not even at Energy Storage. It would be foolish to allow an inner sect member who isn’t a martial specialist to join the war. There are so many better options.”

  Wu Ying thought that Chao Kun was exaggerating a little but chose not to contradict his senior. There was nothing to be gained by making his senior lose face. In any case, he had a feeling his senior’s comments were more to alleviate his guilt than about practical considerations. “It’d still be worth it for us to learn.”

  “Very well.”

  Chao Kun looked around the yard and spotted a few other martial specialists. He waved them over, gathering the group around him.

  “Much of how a cultivator is used in a war will depend on the cultivator’s abilities. A Core Formation elder is a very different individual from someone who has not reached the Energy Storage stage.” Chao Kun looked directly at Wu Ying when he said that. “That being said, since we are mostly in the Energy Storage stage here, I will focus on our use there.

  “Firstly, for those who have significant experience with qinggong techniques, they are often used as scouts and for flanking attackers. The ability to move quickly and silently across all kinds of terrain to attack resupply convoys, direct other scouting parties to hit un-fortified defenses, and in some cases, even take out their opposing army’s officers are highly valued.”

  “But doesn’t Elder Ko recommend we stay away from qinggong exercises?” Wu Ying asked with a frown.

  “Only until you reach Energy Storage,” one of the other cultivators said. “Also, Elder Ko is a bit of a traditionalist.”

  The group laughed, only to quiet from a glare by Chao Kun.

  “Whatever he might be, Elder Ko is our Elder and should be respected. He only desires the best for each of us. And I’m sure his advice has helped everyone here at some point.”

  The group mutely nodded at Chao Kun’s words.

  “Good. Now, continuing. We have cultivator scouts who work alone for the most part, though they might work in pairs if they’re working behind enemy lines. But not all cultivators have the skills or temperament to make good scouts. As such, most cultivators are grouped in small teams. Those teams can work independently of the main body, or in other cases, fight alongside the army itself. When working interdependently, very little additional training is required.”

  “Because we do that already?” Tou Hei asked.

  “Yes. Exactly.” Chao Kun gestured at the group, then made his gesture wider to encompass the mountain and Sect. “We already work in small groups all the time. And while the army raiding parties might be better equipped, most are not much better trained than your average bandit group.”

  “Some of them become bandits anyway,” another martial specialist complained.

  The group nodded. It was no secret that some soldiers, ill content to become farmers or to return to a life of drudgery, turned to banditry. And while the local lords were tasked with dealing with the groups, when the bandits were too well trained or numerous, the Sect was offered the chance to finish the job.

  Chao Kun gestured for the group to focus. “Now, for the teams fighting with the army—which can make up most of the cultivators sent, depending on the needs and the ways the general uses us—the training is different. Standing in a line with soldiers in a pike wall would make poor use of our skills.”

  Wu Ying imagined his sword in a pike wall, the way he moved, and shuddered. All around, the other martial specialists did the same.

  “So instead, most generals have us acting either as reinforcements, shock troops, or flanking strikers.”

  “Isn’t that the same as fighting alone?” the noisy martial specialist said.

  “No. Because not only will you have to learn to understand the flags and drums of the army, you might be tasked to act independently. Which means reading the flow of the battle. More”—Chao Kun held up a finger—“if you are reinforcing a line, you will have to not only rush to the broken line and beat the enemies, but also contain your style so that when the regular reinforcements arrive, you may leave.”

  Once again, the group tried to imagine that. There were more than a few grimaces as their imaginary scenarios played out. Big, swinging attacks, especially for those who wielded polearms, would be contraindicated. It might patch the hole fast, but then none of their reinforcements could take over. Same with big movements with the intention to reposition.

  “For those acting as the vanguard or as shock troops to break a line, you’ll need to learn how to do that. That means training against massed volleys of arrows and how to break a shield or pike wall,” Chao Kun said. “Flanking is a little easier, though individual tactics there are somewhat different. Your goal will not be individual fatalities but disrupting the formation. In some cases, powerful and shocking attacks will be more important. The best flanking teams can break right through a formation, hopelessly disrupting an entire side. Again, you’ll have to learn what works best for you, depending on your styles.”

  “We should learn that,” Tou Hei said, elbowing Wu Ying.

  “Yes, yes,” Wu Ying muttered. It would certainly add to that experience Elder Cheng had spoken of.

  “For the elite cultivators—those who have shown their ability—the generals often have another task for us. The most dangerous task.” Chao Kun swept his gaze over the group, making sure he had their attention. “Cultivator hunting.”

  “Hunting?” another of the martial specialists muttered.

  “If we are sending groups of cultivators to disrupt and bolster our men, don’t you think the enemy will want to stop that?” Chao Kun said rhetorically. “Of course they will. And we will too, on our side. So we hunt their teams of cultivators, and they ours. Generals craft special teams and send them to fight or delay other hunting or disruptive teams.”

  Wu Ying nodded. That made sense. But… “What do Core cultivators do then?”

  Chao Kun looked at Wu Ying before he shrugged. “It depends on the number of Core cultivators the enemy has.”

  Wu Ying raised an eyebrow in further query.

  “If we have more, we send those who are in surplus to fight and disrupt,” Chao Kun said. “In those cases, either their Core cultivators come out to fight and are beaten—or at least injured. Or they retreat
until the numbers match. And we do the same.”

  Wu Ying nodded, recollecting the fights he had witnessed that involved Core cultivators. Alone, they could easily devastate an entire division. Even an Energy Storage cultivator could injure multiple soldiers with a single strike. But a Core cultivator not only had more chi, but also could expand the size and range of their attack. A single strike could consume an entire platoon. And while Core cultivators were still mortal, they were much harder to injure since their flesh and bone were strengthened by the chi within. A Core cultivator that studied Body Strengthening exercises would be a nightmare for an army.

  Already, Wu Ying could see how a war could be—would be—fought between the armies. Keeping the number and presence of Core cultivators hidden in each army would be of vast importance. Intelligence—drawn from cultivators and spies—would play an important part in clashes.

  “Any further questions?” Chao Kun said. “If it’s nothing important, we’ll begin. Some of you will need to play the soldiers. Others will take the part of the cultivators.” When some grumbled, Chao Kun glared at all the martial specialists who had opened their mouths. “You’ll all get the chance to play the hero.”

  Seeing that his last pronouncement had the group silenced, Chao Kun grinned and clapped his hands together. “Good. Then let’s begin. Gao Fei. Lu Feng. Wu Ying. You can be the cultivators. Everyone else, grab a polearm.”

  ***

  Two hours later, Wu Ying was bouncing on the balls of his feet at the back of the line of “soldiers” as he waited for the signal. At first, there had been just over a dozen of them learning aspects of the fight. There had been a lot to learn, from the various flag signals and meaning of barked commands, to the most effective forms. The first hour had been a terrible mess, and within ten minutes, Chao Kun had made everyone slow down to reduce injuries.

  Perhaps the clumsiness of their actions was what had attracted the first of the crowds. It was unusual to see the vaunted martial specialists failing at anything combat-related. At first, only a few inner sect members had come to watch. Then as word spread, more and more Sect members arrived. The group had grown nervous and self-conscious, making even more mistakes—which Chao Kun pounced upon and berated the group for in ever more creative language. Just before the entire group dispersed in disgust, Elder Hsu appeared.

  The eccentric Elder, best known for studying a Northern snail-style grappling art, had been attracted by word of the training. Seeing the pitiful number of members on both sides, he had taken over from Chao Kun and proceeded to order the gawking crowd to join as new “soldiers.” Freed from playing the soldiers, the martial specialists were split, with Chao Kun and Elder Hsu receiving equal numbers. Then the training had begun in earnest.

  Wu Ying found himself grinning in a predatory fashion, his entire body poised forward as he waited. Waited for the flags to change. For the soldiers in front of him to part. Or for the drums—drums which had magically appeared in the last fifteen minutes—to signal another change. Behind, Chao Kun stood on a raised platform, focused on the lines.

  A pink flag in the side of Wu Ying’s vision moved. He turned, watching the flag holder’s hands. Up-right, down-down, down and left. Wu Ying took off, closely followed by Tou Hei. The pair loped left and wide, passing behind their own soldiers at a distance even as Wu Ying counted the raised taps of the pink flag. One. Two. Three. Three cultivators looking to flank their party.

  “Right two,” Wu Ying called to Tou Hei.

  “Heard.”

  And then they were around their own people and coming within sight of the enemy team. Wu Ying drew and exhaled, sending a flash of power—more a push of wind than a serious attack—at his targeted opponents. This was the Dragon’s Breath attack Elder Cheng had told him to practice, though much reduced in strength. Tou Hei kept running, passing behind Wu Ying and going wide. His staff was ill-suited for fighting close to the soldiers, thus leaving Wu Ying to stay tight to the army and defend them.

  The blast of chi-soaked air struck at the enemy. The closer of the two was more wary, bringing his dao[2] in a cut to destroy his portion of the attack in defense. His partner, less cautious, was caught out and stumbled back. Growling in frustration, the second martial specialist stopped running and moved warily off the field of battle, crossing behind the third member of the team, who was busy trading blows with Tou Hei. The pair paid little attention to the “dead” cultivator as they fought, wide sweeping attacks of staff against shield and mace.

  Wu Ying had no time to focus on their battle, caught up in his own fight with the dao wielder. For once, Wu Ying had to admit, his favored weapon might be less than perfect. In a battle as fierce as this, with his movements restricted, the dao—whose only requirement was to cut—beat out the finesse of the jian. Frustrated and unable to move away, lest he open the soldiers to an attack, Wu Ying went on the defensive, blocking and throwing light cuts in return. Each blocked blow sent shocks down his arm.

  A flicker of motion in the corner of his eyes. Wu Ying flicked his sword to intercept it but was too late. The sand-filled bag attached to the arrowhead smacked into Wu Ying’s chest, leaving him with a bruise. Surprise filled Wu Ying for long enough that his opponent had to pull back a strike or risk injuring Wu Ying further.

  “Arrows?” Wu Ying said, looking around. On the top of Elder Hsu’s viewing platform, a semi-familiar cultivator stood, arrow nocked to bow and firing on the opposite end of the field now. “Bao Cong? That’s not fair!”

  “Off the field!” Wu Ying’s former opponent snapped at him.

  Realizing his mistake, Wu Ying scrambled off, idly noting the trio of arrows that littered the area around Tou Hei. It seemed that the ex-monk’s defensive style—the Mountain Resides—could protect even against projectiles.

  “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 cu
ltivation 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.