A Thousand Li: The Second Storm: A Xianxia Fantasy Epic Read online

  “You have it then?” Ill-concealed excitement in the older man’s voice.

  “Yes,” Wu Ying said.

  He reached behind him, shifting the bag to the side, and stuck his hands into the simple, hemp item with its minor enchantments to block aura sensing. Out of sight of the Elder, he extracted the carved white jade box from his World Storage ring. He had had no reason to place the herb in the jade container, since his World Storage ring with its twist of living space would have kept the herb alive. But he had been warned that his ring would be in much demand if its full abilities were known. Rather than risk additional complications, Wu Ying chose to keep it and its full abilities secret.

  Thus, he handed the storage container, one built to contain and preserve valuable herbs, to Elder Lim with both hands. Wu Ying waited, sitting back, as the Elder opened it and stared at the purple and green mushroom that throbbed with released chi. Long moments the Elder sat, contemplating the spiritual fungi.

  Wu Ying had to clear his throat to remind the other. “Unfortunately, the mushroom itself has been harvested, as you can see. It is best not to expose it to the elements before it is ready to be used by your apothecarist.”

  “Of course!” Elder Lim closed the lid with a click of stone on stone, then gestured for the waiting cultivator to approach. He handed the box to the man who had shown Wu Ying to this room, giving curt instructions to hand it to the Master of the Apothecarist Hall, before he turned his attention back to the waiting cultivator. “We cannot thank the Verdant Green Waters enough. Your reputation is truly befitting of you, and I can only see it growing with one so young.”

  “You flatter me, Honored Elder.” Wu Ying bowed in his seat before straightening. “I hate to be crass, but…”

  “Payment. Of course, it will be sent to the Verdant Green Waters direct as instructed.”

  “And the promise…”

  “Will be kept. Elder Wong and myself will join the battle against the kingdom of Wei, no matter the result of the breakthrough attempt.”

  Wu Ying smiled. “I would expect nothing less from such an honorable sect. Though curiosity makes me ask…”

  “The reason for the ingredient?” Elder Lim shrugged and leaned closer, his voice lowering. “A simple pill to aid the process of accumulation of insights. Elder brother Chu has long been on the brink of a revelation but has been unable to achieve the next step. This, we believe, will aid him. And if not…” A trace of sadness crossed Elder Lim’s face before he shook it aside. “In any case, it is late. Let us show you to your room. You will stay with us for a few days, will you not?”

  Wu Ying nodded, murmuring his gracious acceptance. As much as he benefited from being in the wilderness, gathering and selling herbs and aiding the war in his own way, rest was required too. A proper bed, a heated bath. Luxuries that one sorely missed when one was forced to do without for weeks or months on end.

  And anyway, he had another purpose for being here.

  One that required his re-entry into the civilized world.

  Chapter 2

  The merchant house that feted him was pulling out all the stops this morning, intent on offering everything from fine wine to rare delicacies and beautiful serving attendants. The willowy and pale water-aspected scholar who bent over and offered a smile while he served Wu Ying tea was a nice touch, though to Wu Ying’s senses, he needed to spend more time exercising and cultivating than lounging around. Still, he appreciated the effort.

  Just not enough to give the merchant a break on the negotiation. “Forty tael per catty[3].”

  “Honored Cultivator, we cannot—”

  “Forty-one tael per catty.”

  “Forty-one is perfect for the Blue Spirit Grass,” the merchant said hastily. He surreptitiously wiped his flushed face, his neatly trimmed beard waggling as he spoke. “Now, the Purple Fire Lotus Roots…”

  “Six harvested, one alive and unharvested, all premium quality.” Wu Ying picked up a roasted soybean with his chopsticks before popping it into his mouth. He chewed the soybean, tasting the light sesame oil it had been coated in and the white pepper and salt used to spice it.

  “Yes, exactly. Extremely well cared for, like all your products, of course,” the merchant blathered on, doing his best to praise Wu Ying while setting up his negotiating position.

  Wu Ying ignored him for the most part, nodding when appropriate. His attention was more on the food and the thin paper wall that hid the pair of merchants who were aiding the lead negotiator. One was the head of the herbal acquisition department, and the other was a weedy younger man with a series of books.

  In truth, Wu Ying would have preferred to work with the head of the acquisition department directly, but due to the sheer volume and quality of herbs he was bringing, it would be considered highly insulting for anyone but the head of this branch to treat with him. So they had to do this dance, where the head of the acquisition department and the youngster who handled their on-hand finances worked out how much they could afford and secretly communicated it to the branch head.

  Except every movement they made, every gesture was something that Wu Ying picked up. His spiritual sense, boosted with his affinity for wind, offered him a sphere of perception that made their actions as clear as though they were standing in front of him. Of course, it helped that it was an enclosed room and he was not in combat.

  “Six hundred and eleven taels,” Wu Ying said, cutting to the end. He felt a little guilty taking advantage of them this way. While he was not taking them for every single tael they could afford, he was going to drain them for every tael they had on hand.

  “I… well…” The branch head wiped his face again. “We can do that. But—”

  “I’m also looking to purchase some items.” Wu Ying’s words made the branch head perk up, life coming back to his eyes. “This is the list.”

  A slight twitch of his hand and Wu Ying extracted the document from his spirit ring. His third normal spiritual storage ring, the old one he had acquired a long time ago. In truth, it was the smallest ring he owned these days, but it had a sentimental place in his heart. Anyway, it was large enough to keep his swords and some miscellaneous items.

  “If I may…” The branch head fell silent as he perused the list, nodding again and again. He gestured and the attendant came over, taking the list and scurrying off to check their stock.

  At the same time, Wu Ying noticed the presence of two other attendants outside the hallway who were waiting for their signal. Pretty young things, one long and slender and the other a little thicker, with a decent heft to its body. He couldn’t sense beneath their outer coverings of course, but even those were elegant, bronzed and oiled with the greatest of care. Wu Ying looked forward to revealing them in all their glory.

  The swords in the attendants’ hands that is.

  Seeing Wu Ying’s attention drawn to the side, the head merchant smiled a little and gestured. The attendant at the door pulled it farther open, allowing the pair holding the weapons to step in. They walked over and knelt, offering the weapons that were seated upon gilded cushions to Wu Ying.

  “If I may…” the cultivator muttered.

  Of course the branch head agreed, while Wu Ying stood and took hold of the first sword. The long, slender jian was more a duelist weapon than meant for war, elegant and light in his hand. He stepped away and unsheathed the weapon then twirled it. He performed a few cursory cuts, tasting the weight and balance before he tested its edge and flexibility. A few seconds later, he returned the weapon and picked up the next.

  This weapon was heftier, wider, and weighted a little more toward the tip. It was meant to cut across heavy armor, to crush and break delicate weapons like the first. They were both straight swords, but the difference in blade length and width, balance, and even the size of the hilt made the forms he would have to use different.

  Diametrically opposite, even.

  And they were gorgeous. Spirit-level weapons at least, they hummed with the chi and love that their crafters had put into them while forging the blades. The lines of the weapons were intricate and graceful, the hilts and sheaths carefully carved with designs to fit the weapons.

  “Beautiful,” Wu Ying remarked. He had to mentally smile, knowing that the merchants had obviously prepared for him.

  It had become a bad habit of his, these last two years. Ever since Wu Ying had found himself with some extra funds on hand—and having his weapons chip and wear during his repeated fights as the dark sect tried to kill him—he had begun a collection. Of jian, to be exact.

  It was not entirely selfish. Having multiple weapons of the same kind aided him in his progression and understanding of the blade. As he worked with more weapons beyond his preferred size and shape, as he progressed not only through his own sword fighting style but those he purchased or acquired while traveling, he broadened his knowledge.

  “The Honored Cultivator is very gracious. We are but a small and humble branch of our merchant company and these are the best items we have on hand. If we had known exactly when the Honored Cultivator was coming…”

  Wu Ying tuned out the branch head as he continued to test the heavier blade in his hand. It was a pleasure to hold and wield, and it would suit a few of the style books he had purchased. It would—of course—suit the Long family style, though he would have to adapt his grip a little and focus on more cuts than he usually did. It would be good to switch up his style, and really, he had another half dozen swords of the thinner kind although only two of them were Spirit-level weapons.

  On the other hand, he had come with a certain goal in mind. Debating internally, Wu Ying returned the sword to the attendant before taking his seat.

  “There is one other item that I have acquired…” Wu Ying began, choosin
g to detail further another item he’d managed to pick up. He would have to be careful about pulling it from his World Spirit Ring, but he had practice doing it and cleaning the soil from those he extracted.

  Even so, it was not the wisest course of action, but that sword had been so pretty.

  ***

  New sword in hand, Wu Ying was eager to test out the weapon. Thankfully, the sect he was a guest within had a series of training grounds for use, including a clear area of paved flat stones. Unlike some other portions of the training grounds, places where deep impressions from countless feet over the decades had worn away the stone while the same forms were practiced by disciples, this location had its tiles changed regularly. After all, this was the free form area.

  Breathing deeply, Wu Ying took his position in the center of the training space. He exhaled once, then shifted from stance to stance, his movement agonizingly slow as he stepped, raised, and lowered his feet, his feet and hips leading the motion most of the time. His fingers strained a little as the point-heavy jian sought to dip and cut, but he refused to let it, matching sword and arm motion with the rest of his body.

  Deep within, he focused on the metal of the jian, the weight of it. It was not as agile, not as connected, as a wooden weapon, the cultivator unable to tap into the wood element fully. Yet wind surrounded his weapon just as it surrounded any other, and in so doing, it gave him a degree of control. Enough that it could support his practice.

  Form after form, step after step, Wu Ying wove his way around the tiled floor, his feet crossing the space slowly. Thirty minutes later, he finished his latest form, the fourth one of the Long sword style. Pausing, he contemplated testing another manual he had purchased, one he had been perusing the night before. It was a military manual, cheap and easy to find, with basic forms that could be taught to every soldier. It required little in terms of flexibility or memory, and an entire section was focused on fighting in a shield wall. However, the open form section had a few moves that Wu Ying considered adding to his repertoire, at least with this weapon.

  Before he could begin again, a voice interrupted his contemplations, making the cultivator cock his head.

  “Your sword form is remarkably steady. Though most opponents do not move that slowly.” The young woman who spoke did so while smiling, taking the bite out of the words.

  “Of course. I was but familiarizing myself with the weapon,” Wu Ying said, not taking offense. He idly drew a truncated breath, enough so that he could draw in her scent more fully. To his surprise, he smelled nothing from her beyond her light floral perfume. The pressure of her aura spoke of her Peak Energy Storage cultivation, but she hid her elemental affinity well.

  “I noticed. Still, if you want to learn your weapon properly, you should do so while sparring,” the woman said, eyes twinkling.

  “Only if my opponent forces me to extend myself,” Wu Ying said teasingly.

  Keeping her smile, the lady bowed a little. “Let me introduce myself. I am Cultivator Zhang Cui Hien, the Senior Disciple of Patriarch Jin. I would be honored to trade pointers with you.”

  A smile crossed his face and Wu Ying gestured back toward the center of the clear area. Cui Hien followed him, stepping onto the sparring floor with grace, the pink outer layer of her robes floating around her, the lighter sky blue of her inner robe dancing with each movement and setting off her white skin. Wu Ying could not help but notice her pert, bunny nose that made her look much younger than her likely late twenties. Perhaps older. It was sometimes hard to tell the age of cultivators, with their extended lifespans and differing breakthrough points in cultivation.

  The pair raised their swords, saluting one other. Cui Hien wielded a jian much like Wu Ying usually used, thinner and lighter and meant for precision attacks and cuts. On the other hand, Wu Ying continued to hold his new, heavier cutting weapon.

  After saluting, Cui Hien took a high stance, the weapon raised above her head and pointed downward a little. From this guard, Wu Ying knew, she could lunge forward and stab him, bypassing any sweeping defenses he might use by a slight disengage as she lunged. If he went with a sweeping cut late, she could even raise her sword higher, going for a deeper thrust. The high guard also offered her options to throw wrist and elbow cuts from either direction as she closed, then transition to the same lunging attack. Or, for a longer tempo, use the blade and positioning as a rising cut to attack his hand. A feint with a lunge could draw a defense which would expose him to that.

  And those were just the most basic options. She could be using the high guard as a distraction, luring him to focus on it while she committed to an unarmed strike, a cutting kick, a trip, a strike with her free hand.

  Options, so many options. In turn, Wu Ying took a middle guard, the Dragon Entreats. It was a safe position, one that kept his weapon between him and his opponent. Safe, boring, and common. Every fighting style had a variation on it, with minor adjustments to footwork, free hand position, and angle of the sword; but all with the same focus. Wu Ying did not mind since it suited his feelings this day.

  In silent regard, the pair stood in their respective guards, unmoving. They watched each other over their swords, their breathing slow and rhythmic. As two peak Energy Storage cultivators, either could cross the short distance that separated them in the training ground in the space of a half breath. The most minor of mistakes, a shift in weight, a shuffle from left to right; it was all enough to give an opening.

  It was why so many battles between such combatants were static.

  Until they were not.

  Wu Ying was the first to move. The tip of his sword dipped down a little, the point going off her center line. He shifted his balance forward at the same time, easing his weight onto the tip of his toes. Cui Hien moved immediately, cross-stepping toward him while keeping her sword raised. A light glow rose from her sword as she concentrated chi into it, the weapon threatening to erupt with blade intent.

  Rather than step forward or sideways, Wu Ying extended his back leg and fell into a reverse lunge. His sword tip snapped upward, going from pointing toward her knee to pointing at her neck. At the same time, he infused his attack with chi and his sword intent, projecting the entire attack out from the tip of the blade and sending a crescent of energy at his opponent.

  The same light smile on her face, Cui Hien twisted her back foot, leaning away from the attack as she let her own tip drop, and she extended the length of her blade. Wu Ying’s eyes widened as her control—so artful till now—gave way a little, her affinity with her metal weapon shining through.

  Metal affinity made her weapon even more dangerous to his own wind affinity. Rather than meet her attack, he continued his collapse, her attack barely passing over his prone form. Rolling across the ground with one leg extended beneath him, Wu Ying spun toward her lead leg, using his back leg to sweep her.

  Rather than using a little skip to avoid his sweep, Cui Hien chose to leap high over Wu Ying, her sword still extended and stabbing at his lower form. Extended leg, missing its attack, was pulled closer, Wu Ying’s sword rising to cut and shift aside the lighter weapon. Small cuts appeared on the ground, sword intent burrowing into stone tile as it was driven aside and away from his still spinning, twisting body.

  As she landed, Cui Hien extended her energy once more, pushing it deep through her leg and connecting metal to earth. Tiles shattered, dust and stone shards exploding outward to pelt Wu Ying. Already on his feet, the cultivator danced through the attacks, using the central wind’s techniques to avoid the explosion. A small thrust of energy kept the air around him clear, swirling aside her impromptu distraction even as he closed in with his sword.

  Then the heavier sword did what it did best. Northern wind with its domineering and cold energy flowing through his body aided his own Long family sword style, the pair of movements and chi flow joining together to give weight to each blow.

  Sweeping cuts, delivered from the shoulder and elbow, borrowed energy from twists in the hips and body and came crashing down upon Cui Hien. There was no hiding from the attacks, no way to shrink from the enveloping assault like the cold of the north, sucking away energy and stamina with each battering strike.