The Third Kingdom - Chapter 14 preview (Patreon)

Organising a tournament was a headache of bureaucracy and overinflated egos.

Wu Ying watched as the various contenders were allocated their positions and tournament rings, as the initial round of matches were begun. The contest, to ensure fairness would take place over multiple days, with each contestant having a total of five fights. The top eight fighters with the highest number of wins would then be seeded to the quarterfinals, where an eventual winner would be found.

A fair method, Wu Ying had to agree. Much fairer than the sect tournament he had participated in and most other tournaments. Then again, those tournaments had included hundreds of participants, forcing the more common single elimination method.

To explain away the need for fairer tournament methods, the usual excuse had been that fortune and fate was just as important for a cultivator as any minor thing like fairness. A cultivator required not just skill but luck, and if they were not fated to win, they were not.

Mostly though, Wu Ying just assumed it was just easier in terms of organization. And truth be told, no vaunted son or daughter of heaven would ever complain about such rules in public. To do so would be an admission of a lack of confidence in their skills. Something none of those arrogant children of noblemen would ever dare admit.

“Huh… I guess that is one advantage of your kingdom,” Wu Ying muttered to himself as he waited his turn.

Liu Jin, assigned to the same dueling ring cocked his head to the side. “What advantage?”

“Your nobles are few, their members lacking in the arrogance that those in my kingdom contain. Here, it’s hard for me to tell the difference between noble son and wandering cultivator – lacking as you all are, in ability.”

“Are we truly that far behind?” Liu Jin murmured. Neither one of them spoke too loudly, though Wu Ying had only a little concern about being overheard. Still there was daring and then there was arrogance.

“If those I see here are a common example… then yes. Most battle techniques and styles are at best what we would consider novice forms. A few have partial intermediate ones,” Wu Ying shrugged. “Whereas the nobles of our kingdom are trained in peak or even perfected battle techniques from birth.”

“And what level is your Long family style?” Liu Jin prodded, a little affronted.

“Before, I would have said an intermediate style, perhaps peak if I was being generous. Though, the more I delve into it, the more I believe it was my fault in misunderstanding the text than in the form itself,” Wu Ying replied, unashamedly. “But it is not perfected, though it can withstand blows from those who use such techniques.”

After all, he had stood against his Master who had the Heart of the Sword and a perfected technique. Or so he assumed. He had never asked, what with the gap between them all too stark already. Knowing the categorization of a technique – and how obscure and political the taxonomy of techniques could become – did little to help him breach the gap.

“In truth, I find myself adapting the style the more I continue my cultivation journey. It’s development did not, I believe, take into account my own particular… progress.” Wind Body, Wind Steps, and the Formless Realm.

“How… nice.” Liu Jin’s lips pursed. “For us, the army takes away most of the talented when they are young. The nobles might be able to hire those who are retired, but any family that grows too prominent are heavily taxed the next season or required to provide a higher corvee.

“Standing out is a recipe for disaster. For nobles or sects.”

“Then, why do you all take part?” Wu Ying said, flicking his hand around at the other participants. “Is it not the same?”

“Ah, we’re wandering cultivators. It’s different,” Liu Jin said. “We must compete, for the prizes on offer. Finding or accessing good techniques or resources is difficult. Anyway, a single strong wandering cultivator is nothing, not against the might of the kingdom.” Bitterly, he added. “A strong ant is still an ant after all.”

Wu Ying fell silent, remembering the damage in his own Sect from the latest assault. How entire portions of a mountain had been damaged, even through the defensive arrays put in place. He recalled the immortal and dragon battle over a province and the subsequent damage as Nascent Soul elders fought for a drop of the dragon’s blood. And wondered.

Did the kingdom truly not understand? Or were their reserves, their hidden powers so great that even a single Nascent Soul wandering cultivator was no real concern for them?

Then again, he had to yet see a single Core Formation wandering cultivator here. Admittedly, the prizes offered held not interest to those at that stage. It might be that reason, why there were none. If not… if it was not mere coincidence, then darker tides drifted through this kingdom.

“You’re up.” Liu Jin said, breaking Wu Ying’s contemplation.

The wind cultivator blinked. He shook his head and dismissed thoughts of the greater politics involved, instead hopping lightly to descend on the raised platform.

Standing before him was a man wielding dual dao blades, a wide grin on his face. Even from his basic stance, Wu Ying could tell. This was not going to be a difficult battle.

He jumped.

Wu Ying struck.

The fight ended.

***

Later that evening, the small group of friends took a seat in the same restaurant. All of them had passed their first two fights scheduled for the day, winning them with varying degrees of struggle. Gao Qiu, Liu Ping and Wu Ying had won handily, while Liu Jin – the weakest of them all – had nearly lost his last bout. If not for an fortunate stumble by his opponent, he would have lost his match. Even so, he cradled an injured arm that was slowly healing as deep bruising was rectified by his cultivation.

“You truly are gifted with that sword,” Gao Qiu said. “Even knowing the forms you were using after showing them off, none of your opponents could lay a blade on you.”

Wu Ying waved his hand. “My opponents lacked movement techniques. If they were to study some, they would have been faster.” He shook his head. “And I was lucky, that my second opponent did not even breakthrough the Energy Storage stage.”

“Yes. Strong though.” Liu Ping grinned. “When you punched him in the mouth, I don’t think anyone expected him to get back up.”

“Stubborn more than strong,” Liu Jin said. “And foolish. Wu Ying had to beat him so much that he might not even be able to compete tomorrow.”

“But it was a good showing,” Gao Qiu said. “At his level, the matchup was probably the best he could hope for. Now, anyone wanting a Body Cleansing guard would hire him. A guard who will not stop fighting for you is worth more than a stronger one who gives up at the first sign of trouble.”

“Well said,” Pan Shui commented as she plopped herself down on an empty seat. “Cultivator Poon did his best. We might even invite him to visit our vill-urk!” Rubbing the top of her head, Pan Shui glared at her sisters. “What was that for?”

“For speaking out of turn. Again!” her elder sister snipped. She then gestured to the remaining empty seat, the pair of them the only ones of the three sisters there today. “May we join you?” Gao Qiu was quick to agree and the older sister sat down, brushing a hair that had escaped the triangular headdress of her clan back over her ear. Closer now, Wu Ying could not only see the family resemblance but understand why she had been called the Flower of the North West Hills. Pale skin, tiny, upturned nose; beautiful cheekbones. A little more heart shaped and soft than the preferred mode for ‘Fairy’s in the Shen kingdom, but lovely still.

“I am Pan Yin of Laiban village. This is my younger sister, Pan Shui.” She introduced themselves once more, receiving quick words of introduction from the rest of the group.

As Wu Ying finished his own introduction, she bowed to him. “Of course, Expert Long. I am grateful you indulged my sister yesterday.”

“Nothing to be thankful for.” Wu Ying gestured to Pan Shui. “She is talented and I learnt much.”

“Told you!” Pan Shui shrunk away almost immediately when Pan Yin looked over.

“Is your other sister well?” Wu Ying continued.

“She is recovering well and should be able to fight tomorrow,” Pan Yin replied. “Thank you for enquiring.”

“Ill-luck, fighting a poison cultivator,” Liu Ping said, making a face. “They should ban them from competing.”

“There is no need,” Pan Yin said. “Their styles are just as relevant as ours and are good training. The Seven Pavilions have already restricted the kinds of poisons they may wield and ensured that those who fight them have ample time to rest before their next bout. It is all that we can ask.”

Wu Ying nodded. “It will be interesting to fight one for sure.” He rubbed his chin, recalling the past. “I’ve never had an opportunity to battle one with such low stakes. Such tournaments, they are useful for such experiences.”

“What kind of experience is it? When they are restricted?” Liu Ping said. “Obviously they will not be able to showcase their full strength.”

“It is better than nothing,” Gao Qiu rebutted. “After all, it’s not as though Expert Long or even ourselves are showing our full skills either.”

Liu Jin flushed a little, looking down into his wine cup. Of them all, Wu Ying knew, that statement was patently untrue for him.

Turing to Pan Yin, Wu Ying smiled at her. “I noticed the style of your spear was slightly different from your sisters. Are there more variations of the spear style in your family? Or just more advanced methods?”

“It’s a village style,” Pan Yin replied. “And there are multiple branches of it, yes. You have a keen eye, Expert Long.”

“Perhaps we could exchange pointers, in the future,” Wu Ying said. He was not certain, but he felt that she too had achieved the Heart of the Spear. Though it was hard to tell, without crossing blades with her. If that was true, her family was truly blessed to have two such prodigies.

“Perhaps we can,” Pan Yin said.

Gao Qiu looked around, his eyes tracking over the surroundings. Wu Ying did the same, noting how the Elders and their disciples had returned to ‘their’ table at the front of the restaurant overlooking the dueling rings. A somber air had draped itself over the table though, leaving the tables closest to them the least desirable and those seated hunched and twisted away from the group.

Satisfied by what he saw – or didn’t see – Gao Qiu lowered his voice as he spoke. “Did you all see the guards?”

“The Guard Captain and his investigator?” Pan Shui said, before nodding vigorously. “They were watching everyone who was fighting.” Checking for which hand they wielded their weapons, Wu Ying could not help but think. Narrowing their list of suspects. “They were particularly interested in the jian fighters.” Her eyes landed on Wu Ying, as though reminding him of their earlier conversation.

“Do you think they have had any further clues of who killed Cui Wen?” Liu Ping asked. “It’s a bit exciting, isn’t it? Like we’re in a story.” Pan Yin scoffed, making the younger girl flush.  “Well, it is!”

“I’d rather have excitement in my story’s, rather than live them. I’m sure Expert Long agrees. After all, he lived through a war, recently, no?” Pan Yin said, looking at Wu Ying.

“Uhh… well. Sort of,” Wu Ying said. He played with the teacup before him as everyone turned their attention to him. “But I was just a Gatherer for most of it. I spent my time picking herbs, not on the front lines.”

“But surely you saw some action?” Pan Yin probed. “I heard they were even attacking wandering cultivators to weaken your kingdom.” Wu Ying hesitated before he eventually nodded. “Perhaps you could tell us a little of this…”

The cultivator flicked his gaze between the group, Gao Qiu’s gaze on him. He remembered what the other man had asked and could not help but consider what Pan Yin wanted from this story. When he met her gaze, he saw her flick her gaze over to her eager younger sister.

Oh. That kind of story.

“Well, I did see a few things.” Wu Ying said, running memories of desperate battles and loss friends as he tried to recall what to say. Some losses, well, those were still too raw. Friends, killed, ignominiously out of sight. Their heads tossed to him like so much garbage. Other stories weren’t his…

Eventually, he found one that… suitable.

“I was one passing through the county of Xi, on the way to a sect that I had a delivery for. The Three Stalking Cranes. There was a small village I meant to stop at…”

Pan Yin smiled a little as Wu Ying began to relate his experiences, offering the slightest of nods again. He noted it but did his best not to be distracted. This story, well, for the dead and departed, it deserved his full attention.

The other cultivators stayed silent, leaning in to listen. He even idly noted how some of the nerby tables had grown quieter, as a tale of another kingdom was told.

***

Wu Ying was surprised when he stepped out of his room later that night to hear another door opening. Turning his head a little, he spotted Pan Yin standing there, watching him. Their dinner had taken a while, where drinks and attempts to top his own tale had proceeded apace.

“I wished to thank you, Expert Long,” Pan Yin said, bowing a little to him.

“For what?”

“Your story.” She smiled a little tiredly, as she gestured with one hand. “Many chafe at the restrictions placed on us. They hear of the wars and battles, of the border skirmishes by the army and the riches won and believe they can do better. The story’s told by the musicians, the storytellers and poets are all of the glories and moments of bravery.

“And not the losses, the grief and pain. The villages razed, the family’s torn asunder. The warriors crippled.”

“You speak as though you know of it too,” Wu Ying said, his voice dropping. Memory, of those she spoke of flickered across his mind. Men and women, some so damaged that their cultivation journey utterly rent astray.

Villagers, looking upon burnt fields with the knowledge of a hungry future for them and their family. Parents staring at returning sons, wondering if it was better for none to return than another crippled mouth to feed. And the loathing in their own eyes, for thinking such thoughts.

“Some of us have travelled too,” Pan Shui said. There was something in her eyes, in the way she held herself that spoke of an age greater than what showed on her face. For a second, Wu Ying wondered exactly how old she was. Thirty? Forty? More?

Insight struck, one coupled with his greater spiritual sense. Pan Yin’s path of cultivation was stalled, her final meridian blocked. Never stepping further and forced to accompany the prodigy of a sister on such tournaments. To babysit someone who would outstrip them in cultivation levels, but perhaps not wisdom.

The world was unfair, to ask so much of another. And yet, here she was and not a word had she breathed of it.

“I see.”

“My apologies. I just wanted to thank you,” Pan Shui said, stepping back to her doorway. “I will not inconvenience you further, on your evening.”

Wu Ying bowed, wishing her well before departing. Still, he could feel her gaze on his back as he left and noticed a figure in the windows. Once he was outside the boundaries of the small village, he triggered his qinggong techniques, using Wind Steps to take him far away, past the farmed fields into the surrounding forests.

A good half hour of moving under the waxing moon and Wu Ying finally arrived at the clearing he had been aiming for. A dimly lit location, bereft of major vegetation but a single felled and rotting log. Feet touched down lightly on the cold grass and Wu Ying smiled, letting his aura expand. Testing the surroundings, beckoning the winds to him.

They came, answering to his queries.

A few Spirit Beasts, a rabbit sleeping deep in its burrow that had breached its second rank as a Body Cleanser, an owl drifting through the night on the verge of a breakthrough, a hunting fox. Nothing that would bother him.

“Good enough,” Wu Ying murmured to himself.

Next he went around the clearing, pulling out the formation flags leftover from his rescue. They would hide his aura, shielding the clearing from others who might sense his practise. It was not perfect since the flags were meant to handle the chi excesses of an Energy Storage cultivator, not one who had entered Core Formation. Nor was he particularly adept at their placements, but it would do.

In truth, he had meant to wait till he had left the tournament to practice, when he was alone in the wilderness once more. But time and events had altered his plans.

It was too dangerous to wait till he left to fully test his new cultivation level. He had reinforced the first step sufficiently that he no longer worried that he would accidentally damage his newly made Core. Now, he needed to know the full extent of the changes in his body.

There were too many figures moving in the shadow at the tournament, too many layers of politics and pride and greed that he did not understand. It felt like he was back in the Sect again, a poor mortal coming to a land of cultivators and stumbling across lines of propriety and civility that he never knew existed.

Except this time, he was more experienced.

Now, he could sense those layers of politics even if he did not understand them. Now, he knew the one truth about the jianghu, the one aspect of the martial world that carried from kingdom to kingdom. Now, he had the strength to protect himself.

He was no shrinking Energy Storage cultivator, no matter how he chose to act. He would not swan about, believing himself better than those below him. But he would not hide from himself the extent of his progress.

Drawing his blade, Wu Ying took the first stance of the Long family sword form. He steadied his breathing, centered himself and then moved.

First form. Learn the blade, become the blade. Simple moitions, the fundamentals of all movement from wrist cuts to straight thrusts. Drop low, explode forwards.

Lunge.

Study the basic movements for one could not build a tower on shaky foundations.

Second form.

Specialised for the jian itself and which had begun to incorporate aspects that would make using energy projection viable. Less emphasis on sweeping cuts, the motions faster, more subtle. A jian was a gentleman’s weapon, where skill and subtlety with blade and body was more important than raw strength and aggression.

In a duel, it was said, the jian would beat a dao, all other things being equal so long as the jian wielder kept his composure. Of course, under the unrelenting assault of a dao wielder, the ferocious and savage attacks might break even the calmest of minds.

Already, Wu Ying could feel the difference. Calling forth the chi from his Core, the energy surged and retreated with ease, his body twisting with greater flexibility than ever, his connection to earth and air deeper than before. The energy in his blade extended and collapsed with barely a thought, moving to his whims in a way it had never done so before.

Without stopping, as he came to the end of the second form, Wu Ying continued to the third.

Third form, firmly meant for those in the Energy Storage stage and those touching upon Core Formation itself. His sword hummed, the swirling winds of air around it cutting through the atmosphere with each swing. No longer was the blade, his energy and his body separate items – they all moved in concordance with one another.

In his mind’s eye, Wu Ying saw his opponent, the form transitioning from one manual perfect motion to another, even as the wind caught and shifted him by hair and hands breadth. A slight sway in the hip, across his arm and a straight thrust became a burrowing cut.

A dropping retreat, front leg splayed sideways for balance exploded the earth beneath it, throwing up dust and redirecting explosive wind to strike from below. Tricks and trouble. Around him, wind rose and formed into ghostly blades of their own, leaving afterimages as he threw attacks that would hurt those who managed to evade his main assault.

Fourth form. A pure Core Formation style. One he had barely ever practiced, only memorizing the physical motions. It required too much chi, demanded the wielder be one with the jian and to trust in each motion as the body spun and expanded energy with each step.

He had just begun, when the attack arrived, plummeting down from above like a meteor. Deadly, murderous intent arrived seconds later, as weapon and body arrived.

***

The wind spoke of his assailant’s approach and Wu Ying parted before the plunging polearm like the breeze itself. Wind Steps took him backwards, kicking off solidified air itself. He flew away, even as the sharpened blade tracked him, the glinting, clear reflection of his own visage staring back at him form the hooked blade that nearly cut off his nose.

Back.

The explosion of rock and earth, energy thrown into air as the figure crashed to the ground with the dagger-axe it wielded. Choking dust arose, obscuring all sight. Wu Ying’s aura caught at the burning heat and sharpened fragments of chi aura that tore out from the point of impact, intent on severing limbs by density and sharpness of the energy, the twisted, burning heat of metal parting in each breath he took.

Wu Ying’s own aura arose, taking sharpened jagged edges in gentle hands of air and pushing them aside, robbing them of angle and ferocity. Shards of earth and metal dropped or split away, the surrounding trees pockmarked and stripped of their leaves by the backblast.

Then, within the swirling dust, Wu Ying sensed movement. A straight thrust, moving so fast that the attacker must have only taken a moment to reorient himself. He brought his own blade upwards, Dragon Strokes the Painting as he parried the attack. Immediately after, Wu Ying transitioned to a counter-thrust.

Around him, his aura sharpened, blades of wind forming and carrying him towards his dust shrouded opponent. Swirling eddies of wind ran around his own jian, a shrieking tempest that rose even higher and hurt the ears as it approached the other’s weapon. Blade against haft, but the wind buffeted the other weapon, battling against his opponent’s control.

Before his own blade could sink into his opponent’s body, shards of metal from his opponent’s aura exploded. Wu Ying tossed himself sideways, switching to a defensive form as he parried the swirling blades of ill-formed metal.

They did not stop coming, even as he beat the initial attack.

Spinning, Wu Ying dodged the attacks, feet impacting a tree. He used it to change directions, charging right back into the fight; blade and cultivation aura battling his opponent’s.

A further flurry of attacks, neither opponent managing to gain an upper hand for Wu Ying managed to dodge each explosive blow, only for his own counter strikes finding it impossible to penetrate the deep layers of swirling metal around his opponent. Even energy projections combined with sword intent could only be deflected by the sheer density of metal defense his opponent wielded.

The pair struck at one another, Wu Ying falling deeper and deeper into the fourth forms of the Long family style. Explosive Dragon Breath attacks, air walking, qi-blades of wind and sword intent, it all came together. Yet…

He was losing. For his opponent was stronger, much stronger than he was – more experienced at his various martial techniques and having a deeper pool of Core Formation chi than his own. The difference between the chi tempered from the Core and within his dantian and meridians was stark, denser, more easily manageable and as importantly, unlikely to disperse in the environment as it was expanded.

Spikes of metal erupted from the ground, dust particles of iron cut through the air in formations, the heavy polearm shearing through the edges of his own jian when it clashed. Only exertions of his own sword intent and aura managed to solidify the air between the blade and axehead of the polearm, pushing it away such that Wu Ying’s blade did not break.

Around them, the clearing widened. Trees in the distance that had stood for decades or even hundreds of years were destroyed. Grass and shrubs were cut apart, the earth rent and tossed from their battle. Even the sky above grew tempestuous, as clouds were pulled from afar to gather over them. His formation flags were ripped out of their moorings, tossed aside to reveal what was happening to all those with senses.

Each second, Wu Ying was pushed backwards, his chi depleted.

The end came when Wu Ying’s blade, chipped and sheared was shattered upon a descending stroke. A piece cut across Wu Ying’s cheek, tearing skin and bringing with it the first scent of blood. The final blow, barely slowed by the broken blade fell towards Wu Ying’s upraised visage, the edge catching moonlight and growing in size with each fraction of a second.

Only to stop, a hairs breath from Wu Ying’s forehead.

Time held still, in what seemed to be forever before…

Gravity took hold of Wu Ying and dumped him on the floor, as his initial jerking retreat took over and the winds died.

***

“Well fought,” the voice murmured, his voice distant. Her voice. His opponent had backed away after stopping her attack, retreating to allow Wu Ying to recuperate and reorient his mind. It was a break that was welcome, for Wu Ying’s Core was empty, his continual cultivation methods slowly refilling his body as he sat, propped up on his arms.

Wu Ying regarded his assailant, taking her in truly for the first time. A small tug at his cultivation reserves sent the wind spinning, pushing away the last of the lingering dust. Clad in lamellar armour, dark grey and green; a helmet with high plumes upon them, she had a long scar crossing one side of the face where a dead eye regarded him as grey hair peeked out of the corner of her helmet. The woman would have been handsome but for the scar, though those eyes were cold and hard as they regarded him.

Of more interest than her features was the weapon that she wielded. The dagger-axe polearm was a single piece of enchanted steel, its body hardened through chi tempering. Even resting upon the ground, its very presence twisted the chi flows around it, a sharp, biting sensation pressing upon Wu Ying’s spiritual sense as it neared the weapon.

“That is a peak Saint Class weapon, is it not?” Wu Ying said. There were many reasons for why a weapon would be regarded as another grade higher, from the method of tempering and quality of the weapon itself to its hardness; but at the highest levels; the most important aspect was the way it handled the user’s chi.

Wu Ying’s own weapons were but Spirit-class items. The singular Saint-level jian of his Master’s had been acquired by his Martial Sister, many of the shattered swords he had given replaced by equivalent items. Over his years of wandering, he had been unable to purchase a weapon of greater quality; either bereft of funds or connections when one came up for purchase.

“Your weapons are pitiful,” his assailant said, flicking a dismissive glance at the broken hilt lying by his side. “A Core Formation cultivator should at the least have a weapon that suits him.”

Wu Ying shrugged. “My ascension was recent.” No reason to lie, not after being beaten so badly. His pride was in tatters, much like his sword. He stood up, brushing his clothing off, using his aura to help discard some of the stains. Not all, of course, for some had been ground in.

“Mmmm… yes. A careless prodigy, shorn from his Sect, uncaring about the natural order of things,” the woman spoke, speculatively. “Teetering on the edge of understanding and still failing.”

Ignoring the insults, he put his hands together and bowed. “Long Wu Ying greets the elder. May I have the honor of your name?” He did not need to ask her for her official identity. Her cultivation base, her aura was familiar to him. The Core Formation cultivator who had listened to his interview, who had hidden themselves inside the Seven Pavilions compound.

She hesitated, obviously thinking about it. “You may call me Elder Cao.” She flicked her hand, putting her weapon away. “Tell me, what are your intentions for the tournament?”

“Mmm… none.” Wu Ying said as he switched out his empty scabbard for a filled one, strapping it into place above his robes. “I had hoped to gain a better understanding of the kingdom and make contacts with the wandering cultivators here.” He turned his head towards where the other cultivators slept, noting how some lights had appeared even at the distance. Their battle, short as it had been, had certainly woken some others. “Winning the tournament was a consideration, though I had not intended to bully others with my cultivation.”

“Then, will you fight without putting your full strength on display? Mocking the efforts of my employer?” Elder Cho’s voice grew colder. “Or did you have other reasons for coming?”

“Like what?” His chin rose, and a hand fell onto the newly reequipped hilt. Not that he expected to win, but if she thought he would die easy, she would be mistaken. She had put him on the backfoot the entire fight before, but this time, he would be ready.

“Greed. Demonic sacrifice. Perhaps just plain jealousy?” she said. “After all, you did have an altercation with him the night before.”

Wu Ying opened his mouth to defend himself then clamped it shut. He stared at Elder Cho for a long time, a niggling feeling running through him as he swept his gaze over her all too relaxed stance. “You don’t really believe that. You know I did not kill him.”

Elder Cho laughed suddenly before she leaned on her grounded weapon. “Correct. It’s a pity, I had hoped to tease you longer.”

“Why?” Wu Ying said. “Murder is not a humorous matter, I would think.”

“Ah, but your reaction to the accusation is.”

“When did you realise I had nothing to do with it?”

“Investigator Chu had discounted you early on. The location of the actual murder was not one we believed you had access to.” Elder Cho waved her hand around. “After this, I concur.”

“I do not understand.”

“You might be a genius among geniuses, but even they have an upper limit. Your sword skill is remarkable for one so young, verging on the Heart. Like that child who fights with the spear, a single exemplary matter is of no concern. But you are also a Core Formation cultivator and have a secondary occupation – one that, I understand, you have some skill within.”

“I do, but what does being a Gatherer have to do with this?”

“It is simple. A single exemplary area can be achieved via training and dedication or by a prodigy, who trains little. Two such areas, a genius with discipline. Three?” Elder Cho shook her head. “Three such areas of expertise, as you have? Very commendable. But it would require a once in a generation genius to excel in four professions.”

Wu Ying frowned, trying to figure out what she meant. Cultivation was obviously one area – being a Core Formation cultivator before thirty marked him as special there. His knowledge of gathering, meager as it might be was still a broad specialization that many mistook for great depths. And his own martial skill with the blade would be the third.

So what fourth profession could she think he required, to enact the killing? When he moved to speak, she cut him off, continuing.

“As it stands, your ability at such a young age places you among some of the greatest prospects to arise in our kingdom.”

Wu Ying shook his head, thoughts diverted as he realized she might have no reason to tell him. Perhaps it had to do with that missing sect token? “I am no genius, Elder Cho. I have some minor skill at arms, but I have been beaten by everyone from Cultivator Pan to yourself.”

“And you feel that your bare couple of decades should allow you to stand on the same stage as myself?” Elder Cho’s eyes gleamed. “I, who have fought in border wars for decades? I, who have reached the rank of youji jiangun?”

He winced, bowing his head low. “I apologise. I had not meant-” He stopped when her laughter cut through his apology to look up, his eyes fixing on the woman. “You were teasing me again, were you not?”

“Yes. But your skill for your age is commendable. Your strength as a Core Formation cultivator is pitiful. Wind cultivators like you all have that difficulty.”

Wu Ying’s eyes narrowed. “You have met others like me?”

“One – though he never made it to Core Formation. But the archives of the Imperial Army are extensive, and I perused details about his growth.” Darkness flickered through her eyes for a second, before she continued. “Wind cultivators have a long path, perhaps the longest, amongst Core Formation cultivators. You will have to layer your Core multiple times, for the Spirit you grow will test it. A Wind Core is fragile, easy to break in the beginning.”

“Thank you for your guidance, Senior.”

She waved away his words, leaving Wu Ying to stand there, staring at her. She fell silent too, caught up in old memory’s as he was forced to ask her directly. “Elder. If there is nothing else…?”

“Nothing that is relevant to you.” She began to turn away, only to stop at the end and turn back. “One last thing. You may compete, but do not win the tournament. Sharpen your blade and your wiles. Watch for any who might be suspicious.”

“You believe the killer to still be around?”

“Yes.”

Wu Ying watched as she began to stroll away. Just before she disappeared into the dark, he raised his voice once more, curiosity driving the question. “Where was the murder done?”

“In the compound.”

And then, she was gone, a single leap taking her into the trees.

Wu Ying turned his head from side to side, looking over the entirety of the clearing and all that had been destroyed. Their battle had taken no longer than the time it took for an incense stick to burn; but trees that had stood for a decade were destroyed, leaves stripped and branches cracked.

In the end, Wu Ying looked up to regard the waxing moon that stared down from the heavens, impartial to the doings of the cultivators below. Uncaring of their minor intrigues. And he was forced to wonder, what else was in store for him and this tournament itself.