The Third Kingdom - Chapter 18 preview (Patreon)

Standing in the ring, Wu Ying stared at his opponent opposite him. Wielding a pair of maces, the man kept casting glances around, paying attention not just to Wu Ying but the referees and audience. Not that he was the only one. The entire village was subdued today, the merchants clustered closer together along the main path, wandering cultivators moving in groups.

It was at the invitation of the Pan sisters that he had joined them to traverse the way to the dueling rings, braving the glares and suspicious looks the other cultivators turned on them. Strangers all, they were the obvious suspects.

As expected, rumors about what had happened to Liu Jin had spread, no matter what kind of restrictions Elder Cao and Teng Fei might have placed. Now, everyone knew not only about the second death but the bloody painting. Rumors had sprung up, brought to Wu Ying by the wind, of even more paintings found; though the lack of blood in the air spoke to the untruth of that.

“Begin!” The referees voice rung out, dragging attention back to the ring itself. The mace wielder blinked, looking abashed and made his salutations, his words echoed soon after by Wu Ying.

A flicker of movement and then the man ran forwards, casting himself in a spinning vortex of bashing, thumping weaponry. He moved in a circular form, constantly turning as each attack was blocked, rotating himself and Wu Ying in a spiral around the ring itself.

Gasps of amazement rang through the surroundings, as partway through the initial clash, small globs of water began to form around Wu Ying’s opponent. Brushing up against one of the globs of water had Wu Ying hissing, for it felt like contacting vicious acid itself, leaving his arm throbbing and smarting from the minor contact.

Rather than stay close to his opponent, Wu Ying infused the surroundings with his own chi, exploding it outwards into a brief gale. Using the distraction and the dust kicked up that forced his opponent to cover their eyes, he backed off, his sword rising to project sword intent to buy time.

“Acid orbs…” Wu Ying commented. “What a unique elemental form.”

“My family’s style and dao is of acid and dissolution, of cleansing and destruction.” The wandering cultivator boasted, even as he charged. “I’ll crush and mash you, till you are nothing more than paste!”

“We shall see…” Wu Ying met the man’s charge with his sword, cutting high and low, weaving a flashing defense. He used reverse parries, cutting against the backend of the swings or catching the strikes at an angle to push maces aside. A dao wielder with their wide, cutting sabers might meet ferocity with ferocity, attempting to overwhelm the opponent with strength alone. Wu Ying on the other hand carried the jian and would not take such an obstinate form.

Subtlety and grace to meet ferocity. Open voids and positioning to ensure his opponent’s second weapon could not reach him, not without losing time and power as they turned and twisted, as weapons were sent off-line.

Pick at the open gaps, when arms crossed, when body turned and spun, cutting lightly. At the same time, water might be malleable and change to fit myriad containers, but it was still a liquid. It was slow and strong compared to the wind. For where water moved to take up space, air just compressed in on it itself.

Let water be present in air, let it exist beside him. For Wu Ying need only move around it, like the breeze itself, flowing away just before it touched him, always just a little farther away. Allowing water to chase him, even as he took pieces off the other.

Wu Ying’s eyes glinted as the battle frenzy took over for him, as he danced with his opponent. He controlled his aura, tamped down the amount of energy he put into his attacks, prolonging the fight as he drifted around the stage.

Conserve energy, conserve chi. Fight, with the least amount of energy used, dance on the edge of his opponent and find the heart of his weapon. The sword was a weapon of finesse, of elegant solutions to savage problems, a sharp compromise between civilization and the barbarian.

Eventually, the multiple cuts, the ever increasing number of wounds slowed his opponent, forcing him into greater and greater errors. Robes were torn, sleeves shredded and stained by dripping blood. Energy drained, wasted as it was splashed about the ring with ever widening, desperate motion.

Wu Ying drifted to a stop, sword leveled at his opponent’s throat.

“I concede,” his opponent said, his eye burning with resentment. He shut them for a second, the drifting trio of acidic orbs returning to his body, splashing against open wound. They mixed with blood and open cuts before disappearing, the opponent only allowing the smallest hiss of pain to escape from his lips as flesh burnt and boiled, but wounds were burnt shut. “I have not the skill to beat you, nor the reserves to wear yours down.”

“Thank you for the pointers,” Wu Ying replied.

“Hah!” The man snorted. “I should thank you. Damn sword prodigies…”

Turning the water cultivator stomped away, putting his paired maces back in his belt. His friends ran over, some murmuring angrily about the dishonorable way Wu Ying had fought. Some muted clapping occurred, even as bettors grabbed at their wooden slips to receive their payout. In the corner, Gao Qiu broke away from those he spoke with, moving to another group. Before their dissatisfaction could grow, the bell began to sound; alerting all of a new drama.

Because, of course, there was more drama.

***

Village square, almost opposite where the rings had been set-up on the other side of the makeshift settlement. That was where they found the prisoners.

Three men, on their knees, enchanted manacles glinting around their hands as they were forced to bow their heads whilst trapped by the wooden pillory, the long rectangle of wood where head and arms were fastened side-by-side, forcing the cultivators to carry the weight of the entire ensemble on their shoulders and neck.

Beside the prisoners in their heavy cangue, the Seven Pavilion guards stood. However, the mostly mortal guards were not the major reason the three wandering cultivators so trapped were not attempting to break free – chi-flow hampered or not – but the final figure of the Elder Cao in her armor.

Many of the wandering cultivators who had gathered at the ringing of the bell were watching the Elder with ill-disguised unease. Her aura had blanketed the surroundings through all this time, but this was the first time many had actually seen the Core Formation cultivator. After all, her entrance into the restaurant had been brief and without fanfare. That she wore her helmet and amour in full and stared around impassively added to her intimidation factor.

Low voiced conversations dominated the group, even as Wu Ying reached the edge of the crowd. He briefly considered his options before making his way to where Pan Shui and her sisters stood, a wide gap around them and the rest of the cultivators. Next to them, but not too close was the northern archer and the fisherman, the pair of men uncomfortable near the sisters. He noted, idly, that Gao Qiu was there too, having been joined by a pair of White Flower Merchant Cultivators he had noticed before, though Liu Ping’s absence was notable.

“What is going on?” Wu Ying asked the ladies.

Pan Yin shrugged, placing a hand on her younger sister’s arm before she could speak up. “We don’t know. We’re all here because of the bell.”

“And them,” Pan Shui said, nodding to the prisoners.

“And them,” echoed Pan Yin.

Wu Ying turned to regard all those about, drawing deep on the air as he drew in the scent of those around him. He remembered what had been asked and took extra care to pay attention, memorizing locations and faces.

Just in case another body turned up.

“We told you, no one leaves.” Elder Cao’s voice cut through the hubbub, shutting down conversations as she looked around the group. “Until the perpetrator of the murders are found, any who leave will be considered to be obstructing a royal investigation and punished accordingly.”

Voices rose, but Gao Qiu’s was the loudest of them all. “What does that mean?”

“The punishment is to be held here, in these cangue for thirty days. Then five years conscription with the army,” Elder Cao replied.

“Five years!” Gao Qiu looked at the three cultivators, two of which were in their mid-thirties and the last in his early twenties. They all bore some familial resemblance in the hair and eyes. It was obvious Gao Qiu noticed that too, for he raised his voice. “You can keep his father and the other one, but the youngster – five years as a conscript will mean he’d lose any chance of growing further. How is that fair?”

“It is not a matter of fair, but the law,” Elder Cao replied. “They had a duty to stay and aid us in the investigation. And they chose to shirk that duty. This is just punishment.”

“Just.” Gao Qiu almost spat the word out, but at the look Elder Cao turned to him, quietened down.

That the other wandering cultivators around looked unhappy at what she had pronounced was perhaps his only safety. Still, Wu Ying was surprised he dared speak out, knowing what he did. Then again, if he did not, how would Gao Qiu recruit for his cause? Rebels who did not rebel were just loud curmudgeons.

Politics. Wu Ying scoffed internally as he continued to listen.

Elder Cao continued. “They will be forced to stay here, under guard. Let this be warning to all of you. And if you fear delays in your continued… wandering… I recommend you speak with the Guard Captain and the Investigator.”

Having spoken her mind, the Elder stepped upwards, a sword appearing beneath her feet and carrying her back to the Pavilion. Wu Ying tracked her leaving, turning her words over in his mind.

“The Sect Elders did not come,” Pan Yin murmured.

“So?” Pan Yin, the middle sister replied.

“Just an observation.”

“Do you think they’ll cancel the tournament?” Pan Shui frowned in deep thought. When her sisters and Wu Ying turned to stare at her, she shrugged. “What? I can’t solve the murders. But I did come here for the tournament. It’d be a shame to come all the way and not win any prizes.”

“Probably not,” Jochi, the archer said, crossing his arms as he approached the group. “Southerners are too stubborn to change their minds. And the Seven Pavilions still needs someone to marry their daughter off to.” He grinned, rubbing his chin. “I’m looking forward to the dinner.”

“Dinner?” Wu Ying said, puzzled.

Pan Shui snorted. “For the shortlist. It’s tonight.” Her eyes narrowed. “How did you not know this?”

“I’ve been… distracted.” Wu Ying gestured at the three cultivators and their guards. The group grimaced, even as the remainder of the wandering cultivators dispersed, heading back to the rings to fight or to gossip. There was a lot to talk about.

“Well, it sounds like we should see if we have a chance on being this shortlist,” Pan Yin said, smiling tightly. “I’ve heard the dinner will be pretty good.”

“Good? I hear they searched a half-dozen counties to find the chef that will be cooking the meal tonight.” Pan Shui said, waving her hands around. “If you breathe deeply, you can smell the ducks and pigs being roasted, the rice and fish that is being steamed and the vegetables that they are prepping.”

“Like your food, do you?” Wu Ying replied, though he smiled a little as he breathed deep. He could taste it on the wind, the dishes already being prepped. He could hear the noisy cooks prepping vegetables and meats, washing rice and crushing soy beans to prep the tofu.

“I’ve seen you eat.” Pan Shui waved a finger under his nose. “Too bad you might not make it.”

“It will be what it will be.” Wu Ying replied, shrugging unconcernedly. While the meal would have been pleasant, the potential for complex political problems or awkward social situations seemed to increase exponentially with each death.

Knowing that, well…

Good food could always be found everywhere.

“Well, hopefully you will join us in the final eight,” Pan Shui said. “It won’t be a real tournament if the best don’t fight.”

Even the archer nodded at those words, leaving Wu Ying to grin weakly in return. Together, by unspoken decree the group turned to head back towards the rings. If more than one of them cast a glance back at the captured and pilloried cultivators, they did not speak of it. Nor did Wu Ying mention the presence of the three White Flower Merchant Association members, arguing silently amongst themselves as they shot glances at the prisoners.

Trouble brewing there. Definitely.

***

Wu Ying stared at himself in the mirror, adjusting the fit of his robes. He let his fingers dance across the dressing room table, staring at the multiple storage rings he had set down. A half dozen, each of them thin and non-descript for the most part, made of jade, gold and silver and all humming with the power and dao contained within them.

Only a single ring had not left his fingers as he took his bath. His World Storage Ring never left his presence, for the danger of owning such an item continued to haunt him. He had broken with his Master once, to keep hold of it. Now, after years of use and the slow, careful feeding of his own chi and biomatter, it had grown.

Over the past few weeks, Wu Ying had noticed a subtle increase. Where it had moved perhaps a single cun each day before, now, a full foot might be added on the borders. That might not seem fast, but when it was added to the entirety of the borders in all directions, the expansion would see him owning a significant parcel of land.

Pushing his own chi and awareness into the ring, he hovered over his land in his mind’s eye, like a stern god staring down upon the quiet, manicured land below. A touch of his energy here and there, the shifting of plants or guidance of water flows kept the trapped energy moving in an endless cycle.

Insects buzzed in the distance, snails ate at leaves and earthworms moved deep in the soil. Wu Ying could see it all, sense it all, his mind and soul infused into his domain. Yet, there on the edges, the last tens of feet, it felt different. Less vibrant, not just bare of grass and insects but also the chi thinner.

For a short period, Wu Ying considered what he had learnt. Then, understanding poured into him and he pulled at the formations, the energy pouring into the ring. He adjusted the ring, instinctively, slowing the rate of growth of the world. Grow too far, too fast and the careful balance of vegetation and insects would come crashing down. He knew, then that he had to spend more time, add more dirt, more vegetation to compost and herbs and trees to ground the land. Even water, to ensure the entire thing was appropriately humid.

“Why is it so complex?” Wu Ying grumbled to himself.

He still did not understand why anyone would want to steal this. Sure, it was useful for growing rare herbs and roots, for having a consistent supply of common planats like Spiritual Herbs. But it required so much time and care, knowledge on how to balance everything out, of what fauna to seed, when to rotate specific plants and whereto; all of it to balance the natural chi ecosystem.

Filtering quickly through the ring, Wu Ying made a few final adjustments before pulling his senses back into the real world. Over the course of his travels in the kingdom of Shen, he had tried to find more information about World Spirit Rings. No surprise that he had found little further, what with both their rarity as well as their specialized uses. If there was any information about the Rings, they would be within the libraries1s not available to visiting cultivators like him.

Dismissing his frustration, he finished getting dressed. Stretching a little, he strapped on a sword and left his room. Outside, he found Pan Shui waiting in front of his room, dressed in a purple and red silk dress, the large triangular headdress of her people on top of her head. This was a new one, exchanged and suitable for a formal dinner. Detailed embroidery ran along the edge of the headdress, similar to the ones along her dress.

“What are you doing here?” Wu Ying said, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Do you expect me to go, unaccompanied?” Pan Shui said, the youthful face breaking into a wide smile. “Elder sister said that I needed you to chaperone me and keep me in check.”

Wu Ying frowned. “And you always listen to your Elder Sister?”

“Normally, no.” Pan Shui grinned unrepentantly. Then sobered immediately, her face growing serious. “But normally, people aren’t dying in their sleep or being murdered from behind.”

“A lot of trust, in me.” He nodded to Pan Yin’s room. “When we’re the most likely culprits.”

Pan Shui snorted. “The Verdant Gatherer? A demonic cultivator who kills for his pleasure?” She shook her head. “Unlikely.” Her voice dropped, her eyes glinting with humor. “Anyway, I’m carrying my spear. And if I die, my sisters will hunt you down anyway.”

Wu Ying looked her up and down, not seeing the spear.

“You’re not the only one with a spirit ring.”

“You know, you’re not making a good case for me to be your companion.”

She grinned back cheekily and then fluttered her eyelashes, the movement and look on her face making her no older than a twelve year old.

“Just stop.” He shuddered and she let out a laugh, before he waved her to the staircase. “Come on, let’s go. We don’t want to be late.”

“Definitely not. They might start dinner without us!”

“I really need to introduce you to a friend of mine.”

“Oh, is he a good fighter too?” Pan Shui said.

“Yes. Nearly as good as me,” Wu Ying said. “He also enjoys eating.”

“Really? Tell me more.”