The Third Kingdom - Chapter 15 preview (Patreon)

Morning the next day. His opponent – Hao Zhi - was a fist cultivator. He stood there, arms split wide; waiting for Wu Ying to make a move. Breathing, slow and easy but so loudly that it was as though bellows the size of a mountain was working. Wu Ying watched the man’s feet, the way he moved, and then on a whim, recalling all that had been said, sheathed his sword.

“What is he doing?” Liu Ping by the side of the ring spoke, her voice rising and shrill. “Why is he putting his sword away?”

“Can I change my bet?” Pan Shui, a short distance away, cried out, turning to the bookie. He was already pulling his hands back and shaking his head.

Whispers from the crowd, all around. The morning sun cooked his skin, reflecting off the healthy tan, the smell of fried fish and dough mixed with congee and fresh ginger from the breakfast still being served in the restaurant floating through the air.

It made him smile. As did the voices around him.

“Does he not want to win?”

“Is he that confident?”

“This is going to be amusing…”

Wu Ying tuned them out, stalking into the center of the ring. His opponent followed a moment later, his eyes sparking with fury.

“You mock me, little man. I shall split you apart and make you understand what it means to taunt the Tiger Giant of Lushu” Hao Zhi’s voice roared before he leapt, unleashing a punch at Wu Ying. “The Earth Trembles!”

Not a punch. A series of punches. Fast, but not blazingly fast. Wu Ying dodged and slipped, spun around and beneath, his arms flicking up and sideways to block when he needed to do so. Pain blossoming along his arms, bruising him even as he swayed and dodged.

Like a rockslide, almost impossible to stop but if you were fast enough, easy enough to dodge. Wind Steps combined with his close combat movement techniques like the Whispering Wind kicking forms. Down, right hand touching the ground, kicking out at a fist. Foot connected with fist but even on the rebound, his opponent’s hand grabbed his leg. He spun, kicking backwards and hard as he projected energy and the wind at the Tiger’s face.

The blast of wind made his opponent fall back, eyes squinting shut. He threw Wu Ying into the air as he flinched and the wind cultivator spun, riding the air currents to land on the ground. Wu Ying’s leg hurt, the few seconds where the man gripped it leaving bruises.

Closing was a bad idea then.

That was also what made this fun. Rather than charge directly at his opponent, Wu Ying ran around the edges of the platform, picking up speed. He used the Heavenly Body technique to lighten his body, making the explosive power of his movements even faster. Mixing the Whispering Wind kicking techniques in, Wu Ying launched his attacks from odd and dead angles as he ran around his opponent, striking at most three times before he retreated.

Impacts like a sledgehammer striking wood rang out, the Earth-chi hardened body of his opponent receiving the blows well. Strikes that would have broken bone in any other left only red imprints on bare flesh, even as Wu Ying dodged his opponent by the depth of a paper thread each time.

This was the game they played. Hao Zhi only required a few, unblocked strikes to end this battle at most. Wu Ying’s own Body Cultivation, while hardening and improving his constitution overall was not focused on durability or strength. Speed, flexibility, agility – those were his tools.

Again and again, Wu Ying struck, his kicks landing on arms, thighs, ankles and head. He even managed to strike a few body blows, impacting just under or against floating ribs, driving energy into unprotected kidneys and liver. Those elicited small grunts of pain, but the man he was fighting kept coming.

More importantly, each moment of triggering his skills was drawing down Wu Ying’s own chi levels. And while he might have reserves in his Core, it would be impolitic to use it. Eventually, he made a decision, slowing down and coming to a stop in front of his opponent.

The man snorted, clashing fists together. “Finally ready to fight instead of running, eh?”

“Just softening you up.” Wu Ying grinned. “Any good cook knows, you need to beat the meat a little if it’s too hard before you begin.”

“If I am a dish, it will be one you choke on!” Having finished speaking, Hao Zhi lunged, his great strength shattering the stone plates beneath his feet as he threw himself at Wu Ying. “Mountain Breaking Punch!”

No time to mock the man for shouting his skills. Instead, Wu Ying jumped, meeting the other in mid-air too. He led the way his own leg, flooding his form with chi as he executed his own technique.

Fist and leg impacted, but rather than take the impact direct, Wu Ying allowed his lead foot to fold, borrowing the energy of the impact and push to help spin him around. At the same time as one leg contracted and he spun about, he extended his other leg as he let himself arc over his opponent’s arm and shoulder.

The crack of his heel crushing his opponent’s cheek, his point of impact shifted low just before he struck to avoid a killing blow, resounded through the field. An explosive breath exhaled from his opponent, swirling the air around Wu Ying as he began to land. But even injured and stunned, his opponent was moving, an uppercut catching Wu Ying on thigh.

Flipped up and over, he impacted the floating barrier keeping him in the rink, his body sliding down; one leg entirely numb with only the barest hints of radiating pain beginning to arise. Wu Ying landed in a crouch, his own opponent stumbling around, punch drunk.

Pushing on one foot, Wu Ying made to continue the fight when the referee; watching from outside spoke up.

“Halt!”

Wu Ying froze, then let himself relax, breathing through his nostrils as the pain radiating from his thigh – and thank god the blow had not targeted a few cun to the right. Otherwise, his chances of having a family would have been nullified.

“Cultivator Long would have been thrown outside the ring. As such, he has forfeited this duel!” the referee announced.

Loud murmurs rose up in objection.

“Cultivator Hao is not able to fight any longer!”

“What? No. We saw Expert Long pull his blow to not kill his opponent!”

“So did Cultivator Hao! Or do you think he’d be standing if his peaches were struck?”

“Enough!” The voice that rose up crushed all the arguments, though it had no chi infusion. It was just the skill of a man who had contended with arguing cultivators for a long time and knew how to pitch his voice. In this case, the head referee. “The rules of the tournament were laid out at the beginning. Whether or not Cultivator Long could have – or should have – won matters not. He was thrown out of the ring while his opponent is still on his feet.

“We will brook no challenges to our authority. Those who continue to do so will be dismissed from the competition.”

As much as the other cultivators might want to argue, none dared do so. After all, honor and a good fight was one thing, but the prize on offer was more important. At least this moment.

At the referee’s gesture, the energy surrounding the barrier was cut-off and friends of Cultivator Meng rushed up, gripping him by his arms and leading the stunned fist fighter off. The crushed cheek bone around his face had begun to swell with fluids and was glowing red hot. The moment Cultivator Meng’s feet impacted the earth, another cultivator was pressing a herbal compress to his face.

“Can you get down yourself?” The referee had approached Wu Ying while he watched his ex-opponent, the man’s gaze on Wu Ying’s injured leg.

“Yes.” Pushing himself up, he sent more chi into his body, ascertaining the damage. Bruised for certain, no tearing though. He would have trouble utilizing it fully, but it was not a crippling blow. On the other hand, even sheathed with his chi and with a solidified wind exterior, the leg he had used to kick his other opponent still throbbed.

“Then please leave. We must fix the ring before the next match.”

Wu Ying turned a little, regarding the referee. His tone of voice was guarded, his entire demeanor watchful. He sensed the other referees and guards watching him too, obviously wondering if he would throw a tantrum.

“Of course,” Wu Ying replied, bowing.

He did not miss the sigh of relief as he limped down the ring.

***

“Teaches me to wager on you,” Pan Shui grumbled, arms crossed as Wu Ying sat, stretching his injured leg out near the rings, watching the other combatants. “You lost me a good ten tael!”

“I never asked you to bet on me.”

“No, but I knew how good you were.”

“Gambling is never a sure thing,” he replied easily. “If it was certain, then it would not be gambling, would it?”

“Why did you do it?” Gao Qiu asked, having come down from his own battle. Currently Liu Ping was fighting in the furthest ring with her brother watching over her.

“I thought I’d win,” Wu Ying replied, truthfully.

“You did win,” Pan Shui insisted. “And if that referee…”

“He made the right call.” Wu Ying sighed. “I should have formed a wind barrier to allow me to push off, but when he hit me, I lost focus.”

“You could have finished the fight with that kick,” she insisted, shaking her head. “What was that kick anyway?”

“There’s no full name for it, but it’s part of the sixth form in the Whispering Wind system,” Wu Ying replied. “You know, with any other cultivator, that kick should have been enough to end the fight.”

“Yes. But you were a fool anyway. Mercy is for the weak,” Kong Lai replied, the female sect cultivator appearing by their side. “Any who take part in this contest know that they risk their lives. Sacrificing a victory for mercy just weakens you.”

“Unless one’s dao is of mercy and justice,” Shi Fei, behind Kong Lai as she walked up, added. “After all, the dao is myriad and the Lady Quan Yin has shown us that way too is true.”

“Hah! She and her kind are an exception. Let those who follow it do so, but they should not be here.” A hand waved around the tournament grounds, her brown robes flapping. “Give alms, tend the sick, pity the poor. But we are warriors. And mercy is for fools and the dead.”

“What are you bothering us?” Pan Shui asked, her arms crossing as she glared at the sect cultivator. “I would think you would not desire to lower your status to speak with us wandering cultivators.”

“Elder Eng has deigned fit to speak with Cultivator Long. And anyway,” she grinned viciously. “I’m to make use of this ring next.” A jerk of her head to the side where the ring was just now emptying, the pair of cultivators – dao wielders both – limped off, sporting cuts across their body. Nothing too deep, for they had both held back.

“Who’s your opponent?” Wu Ying asked, curiously.

“Me.” Liu Jin said, having returned. There was a trace of fear in his voice, though he hid it after a second and nodded to Gao Qiu. “She won. She’s just making friends.”

Gao Qiu smiled in relief.

“Come, boy. I want to get this over with quickly,” Kong Lai said, flicking her gaze over Liu Jin before curling her nose. “If you fear being hurt, just concede.”

Liu Jin bristled, even as the girl strode off. Shi Fei, listening to the two raised one crimson robed hand and spoke. “She’s not kidding. I’ve watched her fight. She’s… ummm…”

“Brutal.” Pan Shui finished the sentence. “We’ve all seen it. Almost a good thing her Elder Brother isn’t here. It’s the sect’s style.”

The referee called out, and under those troubled words, hurried over to join the girl in the ring.

***

“Enough!” The voices rose, from all around the ring. Within, the participants ignored the shouted words, as blades clashed and blood dripped.

“End it!” Gao Qiu called out to the referee who shook his head.

“No outside interference. Only the participants may end a fight.”

“She’s killing him!”

“The rules are the rules.”

Another blow, Liu Jin’s dao knocked aside. She slid in under his open guard, her paired short axes slicing into his body. Liu Jin managed to retreat, dodging the majority of the force of the cuts but not avoiding them entirely. Blood flew through the air as long cuts carved across his body and left arm, with just a singular blast of flame energy keeping her back. The injuries joined a half-dozen other deeper cuts.

“Liu Jin! Give it up,” Gao Qiu called out.

“No! I can still fight,” Liu Jin replied.

Wu Ying winced, for Kong Lai had not slowed in her attacks, charging and blocking the sword with a heavy swing of one axe. She shoulder-charged Liu Jin and hit him hard under his shoulder, bouncing him backwards even as he tried to backpedal more. Before he could finish flying, she finished her form by jumping and spinning, bringing her axe down.

He slammed into the ground, the blade biting deep into his chest, blood exploding from his mouth as she sunk her axe deep into his body. He bounced, once and then again to lie bonelessly on the dueling ring floor.

A second, as screams of outrage and worry and then the entire ring flicked off and the surrounding group exploded into action. A water cultivator was one of the first to arrive, just behind Wu Ying who had bandages in his hands that he lay on the open wound.

“Move…” the water cultivator snapped at Wu Ying, shoving his hands aside even as his hands glowed. “I’ll keep the blood in, but we need him to wake and close his own wounds.”

Wu Ying leaned back then backed off even more as he realized an actual healer was arriving. A wood cultivator, the man was holding forth acupuncture needles that he gestured with, embedding them in Liu Jin’s body with a throw. The injured cultivator’s heart rate dropped, while blood that had been held back slowed as blood flow was cut off.

“Hold him still, I need to sew these wounds close,” the healer growled, then looked around. “I also need a Flickering Yang Blood Formation Pill, a Four Marrow Bone Reinforcement Pill and an Eight Skin Domain Layer Pill.”

Wu Ying shook his head, not knowing those pills. However, most of those sounded like basic pills, meant for Body Cleansers. He quickly searched his Spirit Rings, finding a couple that might work. Before he could speak, the referee was there; pill bottles in hand.

“We do not have an Eight Skin Domain Layer Pill, but we have the Yin-Yang Layered Skin Pill.”

“That’ll do…” the healer pointed to the man’s mouth. “Blood first, then bone. But only when I tell you to.” Hands deep in Liu Jin’s chest, he swore. “She cut his artery’s and veins…” Hands plunged into his pouch, a curved needle and string appearing in his hand. He started sewing, his wood chi burrowing into the body beneath him to hold vein and artery ends together.

“You craven worm, you pox-ridden lover of pigs and horses, you demon infested hag!” Liu Ping was being held back by Gao Qiu and the same fist cultivator Wu Ying had fought the day earlier, even as Kong Lai looked down her nose and Shi Fei attempted to pull her back. “If he dies, I’ll rip your guts out and feed it to you!”

“I did nothing more than win,” Kong Lai said. “I warned him, before the fight. He should have conceded. Someone as untalented like him is nothing more than trash.”

“Trash!” Liu Ping surged forwards again, a sudden musky scent rising in the air as her cultivation aura ran unbridled.

Gao Qiu focused, pushing his own aura of water over her, attempting to calm her bestial energy she put out. “That’s what you and the army think of us, isn’t it? We know all about the deals you sects make with them. Taking the nobles, the rich who can afford your services!”

“ENOUGH!” Gao Qiu roared, twisting Liu Ping around. “Your brother lies dying, and you are trying to pick a fight.”

His words shocked the cultivator, making her shut up. He shoved her again and she stumbled away and turned to the ring where the healer working on Liu Jin muttered, so softly that Wu Ying only caught it barely.

“So much drama. He’s a cultivator. A blow like that won’t kill him…”

The healer’s hands were still flying across the body, finishing up his stitching. The water cultivator who had worked together initially had stepped back while the referee continued to hover, ready to feed pills to the delirious victim. Seeing everyone look over, the water cultivator shrugged his shoulders as he pulsed his own aura, sliding blood off skin to splatter on the ground beside him.

“What? It’s true. If we left him alone, he’d probably die. Maybe if he woke up and managed to swallow some healing pills and use his chi control to aid him. But, with us around?” the cultivator shrugged.

Wu Ying frowned, turning the man’s words over his head as he peered at the wound. In truth, as bloody as the wound had been, she had not crushed his heart. She might have nicked his lungs and certainly chopped apart and broken ribs, but those were not immediate life ending blows.

A hand came up, touching his own chest where he had been run through. His own injury had been somewhat similar, though the attack had injured his own heart from what he had been informed. In addition, he had also suffered minor wounds throughout the flight… But even then…

He watched the water cultivator and healer, the referee and the way the others reacted to their words. Some looked confused, others contemplative. Perhaps they were exaggerating their lack of reaction, but if so, it was at least calming the crowd down. What could have been a disaster and a massive fight had settled, as the healer finished his work and with the aid of the referee and other cultivators were taking the injured Liu Jin away.

Lips pressed together, Wu Ying discarded his concerns. For now, he would let their words lie without probing them. It seemed that at least with a few others – Gao Qiu included – this was the silent conclusion they had all reached.

Even so, he watched as Shi Fei and Kong Lai were shunned, none willing to speak with them. The muttered words of recrimination and old grudges brought to life once more. And Wu Ying had to wonder – how much more drama there might be in this tournament?

It was, after all, only the second day.