A Thousand Li: the Fourth Wall - Chapter 1 preview (Patreon)

*Author Note: Preview chapters are rough/first drafts. These chapters have not been edited, expect that there may be errors - however, feel free to point out consistency issues!*

What Came Before

Decades have passed since Long Wu Ying became a cultivator of the Verdant Green Waters sect. He has his calamaities and boons, rising within the ranks of the sect, losing his Master, being banished and following the wind and his heart to all the corners of the world. He met many disparate individuals, grew his understanding of the sword and acquired powerful new equipment as well as meeting his current companion, Yang Mu.

On his triumphant return, a decade later; Wu Ying would be tasked with the development of the Verdant Green Waters Sect's Wandering Gatherer program, a task that he took to with skill and alacrity. Over a decade of careful cultivation of his students passed, with many learning his methods and methodology; growing the strength of the sect further.

However, a slow growing calamity in the form of a multi-nation wide drought increased the pressure faced by the various nations. In particular, the warmongering kingdom of Cai has grown restless once more, seeking new conquests to feed its people and its armies. To forestall an invasion and oncoming calamity, the kingdoms of Shen and Wei maneuvered to find a diplomatic solution with the Cai in the form of spirit binding peace treaties.

Unfortunately, the entire peace negotiation was a ruse. Betrayed by a power-hungry faction within the Wei, the Shen kingdoms and the Wei loyalists were beset by the Cai king, Cai Meng De and his vaunted guards as well as the traitors. Even expecting betrayal, the Verdant Green Waters sect and the Shen kingdom were nearly defeated.

In an attempt to fight the half-Immortal Cai Meng De on equal grounds, Wu Ying attempted to reach immortality himself. However, he learnt; all too late, of a flaw in his Body Cultivation and Spiritual Cultivation, a conflict in daos that ensured that his merging of the two was flawed at best.

Even his attempt to bring down the ire of the heavens upon Cai Meng De and himself failed, leaving him broken and nearly dead. Only the use of miraculous pills from Yang Mu's many treasures and his stubborn will left Wu Ying alive after his misstep. It did not, however, come without cost and numerous luminaries of the kingdoms fell as the Cai king showcased his might. 

As the all devouring dao of Meng De threatened to swallow all that he held dear, Wu Ying chose to make one last attempt and sacrificed his World Spirit ring and all the resources within. Giving up his most precious possession, the continent wide ring within was too much for the nascent immortal to swallow whole, and the king finally fell.

In the resulting chaos and release of energy, true Immortals and dragons from heaven descended to contain the damage, creating a new mystic realm to be battled over on the border between Cai and Wei. To guard over it and the Wei border, the remnants of the Wei loyalists and the surviving Shen kingdom forces stayed behind, watching over this new land.

As for the man whose sacrifice this new treasure trove, Wu Ying was not to be seen. Whisked away at the end as the Cai king died and destroyed the land around him; the wind cultivator was brought away to be stabilized and healed. 

If a man with a broken and conflicting dao could be healed.

Chapter 1

Cultivation, at its heart, is the defiance of the heavens.

That was the first thought Wu Ying woke to. 

The second, was the pain.

Pain was a constant and enduring facet of his life now, a constant throbbing that encompassed his entire body. In the last few weeks, he felt he had gained a new appreciation for the various forms that agony could manifest itself within. The slow, throbbing of a torn ligament, the dull ache of tired and overused muscles, the sharp, shooting pains of nerves and skin rubbed raw. The explosive jolts that came from movement around broken bones and bruised organs. He knew them all, but none hurt as the soul-deep wound within him.

There were not words for that pain, though it dwarfed all others.

It was no surprise, for this was the ache of a broken being; a mismatch as soul and body clashed. The merging between immortal soul and immortal wind body had failed, leaving Wu Ying stitched together by will and alchemical pills alike. In his dantian was the broken shards of his Core, shattered in the midst of freeing his immortal soul. In due course, it should have been absorbed, the remnants used as fuel for the merging.

Instead, it lay within him, as shattered as his cultivation.

Lying on his back, in the room that had been set aside for him at the top of the inn run by the Platinum Sages, Wu Ying stared at the mid-morning sun stream in from the open window. A part of him noted that they had once again allowed him to sleep in, over his own protestations.

Bird calls could be heard, the inn itself located not far from the temple that it serviced and not far from a major trade route. Not exactly on it, even if it would have made most sense for commerce; but the customers who visited the inn and who traded for the goods in the other half were numerous and not idle passerbys.

In fact, the clientelle of the inn was so selective that another inn had formed opposite it, willing to not just shelter under the aegis of a pair of Nascent Soul cultivators but also take their cast-offs. After all, even customers who dared to visit might not brave a night under such a building, for the quiet pressure of a pair of such cultivators could cause great harm to a new cultivator.

Or, in this case, turned and tuned to Wu Ying's own distress, help keep him intact. 

Slowly, Wu Ying peeled off the duvet, the silk stuffed blanket helping to keep the autumn chill. He had lost track of the months he had been recovering, early days and nights blending into one another. Medicinal baths and acupuncture needles, herbal broths and cultivation pills swallowed galore. His back and front were a map of red and black circles of bad blood drawn to the surface and released as cupping sessions were conducted over and over again.

Not just cupping. So many slight cuts and pricks from needles to release bad blood, to allow chi and energy to flow properly. Firm massages and steam baths, where he sweated out impurities and created gunk that was nearly as bad when he had first started cultivating. He knew, was somewhat amused, that much of the impurities he sweated out was collected, processed and resold by Lady Yang. After all, broken half-Immortal that he might be, it was still an Immortal's blood and sweat.

There was a thought there, some great philosophical debate about the castoffs of the great being treasures for those below. A musing on the structures of the world, the imbalances that existed. Were allowed to exist. 

His jaw clenched, anger rising within him at the thought. Pain, arriving not long after, as he doubled over, clutching his chest as his heart threatened to tear itself apart. Soul and body at war again, heavenly wind rejecting his anger, his rebellious soul. He coughed, again and again, his face growing red as he fought for breath.

A voice, carefully watching but giving him privacy now by his side. A hand on his back, patting it, pouring precious chi into his body. He struggled, even as the auras that contained him pressured him. Twin auras, yin and yang working together to heal and contain. Wu Ying knew what to do, fought to calm his heart; to reduce the rage.

To regain peace, lest he tear himself apart.

"Wu Ying, calm. Calm, please." The hand on him, pouring chi within and trying to aid his healing was urgent. Yang Mu held back the tears in her heart, to focus; but it came out in her eyes nonetheless.

A part of him raged, screamed and protested the unfairness of it all. He had come so far, had nearly reached the end; only to find that the last wall was one he could never climb without first lowering his head. He was to bend knee, to a heaven that refused to care for those below, whose rules caused harm far and wide and offered no relief.

Another portion, the same farmer that had suffered droughts and floods alike; whose crops had burnt under harsh sun or were lost to broken fields refused to bend, to wilful childishness. The world had always been structured this way, there had always been those who were more fortunate and those who were less.  Karma and fate cared not for the feelings of those they affected, and protesting never fixed the dyke or sowed the crops.

He was no child. He had no right to protest. He could only do what farmers had done, all their lives.

Bow head and bear it.

Yet, another part of Long Wu Ying raged against that thought. The Long family had long led their village, been their guardians, been their protectors. Farmers they might have been, but also swordsmen. Individuals who held their lives and the lives of others in their hand, at the edge of their blade; by virtue of skill and dedication and training. 

"Hun dan! It's the worst so far. He's tearing himself apart. Adjust the formations, my love. Or else he'll draw more heavenly chi and a calamity upon us." Deep voiced, Boss Yang spoke hurriedly.

More. More than that.

He was no farmer, not any longer. He had chosen the path of a cultivator. He had chosen to defy the heavens.

For the first time, Wu Ying realised that perhaps Master Cheng's choice to make him his apprentice was not just about random fate or past karmic ties. Perhaps, he had seen within Wu Ying a fellow rebel, a man who defied the very structures laid forth by the heavens themselves. Though Wu Ying had never walked the same path, perhaps they had journeyed in the same direction.

Hating the very structures both were forced to live within. Hating the balance of the world, and wishing to change it in their own ways. Or at least, refusing to bend to it.

"Ying, please. Please stop. I know you hate it, I know... but you have to stop. You can't keep doing this, not now. Just wait. Please..."

He knew he should. Stop. Calm. Rest. Set aside his burden, his rage for a minute. Two. A day, a week, a month. He knew he should, as his heart raced and shuddered, fists clenched so tights that blood sprang from his fingernails, his breathing ragged and shuddering as he tried to inhale.

He knew he should, but he could not find it in him today to do so. After all, he had spent so long in control, in tortured pain and hazy existence. He was tired, of compromising. Of being in pain.

The morning light was gone, clouds gathered outside in a massive cyclone. A howling wind that brought with it scents of a thousand li of lands and people and animals alike, reminding him of a world more to see. He could hear voices, he swore, familiar ones. Impossible ones.

Voices of those he might leave behind, if he forced the issue. Better to do it, to find a balance now; to make himself whole or die trying...

Even if he left behind...

"I'm sorry, Ah Mu. That cyclone will take us all, if we don't stop him." Boss Yang, calm and firm. The hands on his back were pulled away, the sudden loss of chi sending him deeper into a spiral; his laboured breathing stopping entirely. His heart, beating, stopped. Then a strike, so hard and fast along his head.

No pain, it was too fast, too precise.

Just unconsciousness and the dubious peace of sleep.

***

He drifted, in and out of consciousness. 

Sophorifics were poured down his throat, healing draughts and alchemical pills, cupping and mild blood letting. Needles emplaced in his body to stabilise his body once again, even as his soul raged and drifted; drawing upon the flow of the world unconsciously. Trying, again and again, to heal itself; to complete the merging that had begun and failed.

Barriers glittered in Wu Ying's stunted and damaged spiritual sense; his soul that had empowered such sense in disarray and injured. Yet, these were so numerous, so close and under assault; even he could sense them all. Formations meant to guard against the attacks of an immortal, burning up under assault of heavenly and hellish chi. 

A whirlwind spun, slow and across vast distances. Dark rain clouds that never released their desperately desired bounty, scents from lands far and wide lingering in the air. The world waited, as though with bated breath; heavy with promise and moisture.

He listened, to conversations; as he was treated, drifting in and out of troubled sleep.

"Can we not ask the Divine Physician to come again, Ah Pa?" Yang Mu pleaded.

"We tried. You know how he is." The voice so gentle, aching with pain from an inability to do more, to ease a child's burden. "Not even for any choice within your Mum's vault will he move, if the case does not interest him."

He remembered the old man, long cream and grey robes and a big beard. Staring down at him, poking and prodding. Rude, but with a Core that smelled of healing herbs and that reinvigorated Wu Ying just by his presence. He remembered, words exchanged as he drifted, as he drifted now, eyes growing heavy.

"And this doesn't?"

"He says, it's all too common. There's nothing more he can do for us, beyond the..."

Wu Ying wanted to stay awake, but could not. He never caught the end of that conversation. He sweated, he woke, even in his dreams, he ached and screamed and raged.

When he woke next, memory came and the knowledge that perhaps there was something...

"Could we track down an immortal? Guan Yin? Li Tie Guai? Maybe the Peach Collector?" Boss Yang speaking, hushed and quiet. Not wishing to wake Wu Ying. Not wishing for his words to carry, to his daughter.

"Guan Yin was seen in the west. The drought there is even worst. She's doing what she can, but she will not come; not for this when there are so many others. The Peach Collector was sighted in the south, a year ago. He was with the Colonel of the Drums, dealing with what our daughter found there."

"It's grown that bad?"

"Yes."

"And Tie Guai?"

"No one has seen him in a decade." A slight movement, the brushing of hair. "We've tried all of those we know. You know how they are, the ones who still stand here. Elusive, immaterial. They might aid us, but there are so few and the need..."

"So great." A voice, lower. "And it grows worse."

"Hush. She's coming..."

Wu Ying could tell, for he sensed her even now. She had tied their connection close, put herself and her life on the line. Like a compass point in the world that he could point to, unerringly or a tree that could be seen no matter where one was. She was there. 

Always.

He wanted to get up, to berate her for risking her life and for her foolishness. He wanted to get up, to wrap his arms around her body and hold her tight and tell her all the things he should have said, that custom and emberassment and foolishness had stopped him from doing so. He wanted... more time.

He tried, but even that short movement robbed him of his energy. He slept, his dreams troubled by past regrets, wasted time.

To waken, to another voice.

"You're injured!" Yang Mu's voice, loud. Not coming from his room but the open window.

"It's nothing. Just some people trying to stop us." Grim, worried. The generally cheerful speaker's voice now direct, focused. "I'm sorry. We tried to come as fast as we could but the roads are in disarray, the borders closed."

"The war..."

"Wars." A gentler voice now, cultured and prim and precise. Carefully balanced in its emotions of hope and anxiety. "How is he?"

"Dying. I can't..."

"I know. Your parents said there is a way."

"It's..."

"Dangerous." A nod. "Make the preparations. I'll see him now, but don't worry. I'm used to this." Wry now, almost rueful. "He always does this."

A sob, choked back. There was no answer, no further words. Silence, and then that burning presence was by his bedside. No longer harsh, but the warmth of a hearth ina  cold winter, a cooking fire roasting a rack full of meat skewers. 

"Don't speak. We'll get you better, fix you up." A pause, then Tou He's hand came down to squeeze his shoulder, warmth and comfort rushing through the connection. "So, rest, my friend."

And then, he really did sleep, his dreams untroubled.