The Third Kingdom - Chapter 21 preview (Patreon)

“Cultivator Long, it seems I shall have a chance to test your expertise myself,” Shi Fei said, smiling widely at Wu Ying as he took his place on the ring. The pair waited for a beat till the ring’s protective enchantments were activated, a slight hum cutting all sense of the world outside off and leaving the pair trapped within.

“Cultivator Shi.” Wu Ying put his hands together and offered the man a martial greeting before he drew his own weapon. No point in using a sword draw to open his attacks. He could feel the thrum of power, the twisting spin of energy of the formation around him, the sun beating on his bare skin as he stood in the unshaded ring.

A small part of him still debated losing. It would not be surprising for many if he did so. After all, a wandering cultivator being beaten by an inner sect cultivator? A story as old as time. No one cared about the actual truth, when a good story was available instead.

“I look forward to exchanging pointers with you,” Wu Ying finished.

“And I you. “My Master says that I might learn about killing intent from this match. In fact, he asked that you show me that, if you could.”

“Killing intent?” Wu Ying said, puzzled. Not by the term of course. He had felt, dealt with it, all too much.

Shi Fei smiled, blandly. A flicker of something in his eyes though, hints of hidden ire there. “He says the edge of one who has seen war and death like you will be much more potent than a garden flower like myself and the rest of my sectmates.”

“Ah…”

Wu Ying watched as Shi Fei finally drew his own sword. He watched the man ready himself mentally, girding his paltry killing intent. As though one’s enemies would give one time to compose your mind, solidify your composure.

At first, the clash was entirely physical, no energy infusing either blade. Wu Ying chose to match the other with style and intent, pitting his own martial training and form against the other. Thrice they clashed, blades flashing and small sparks flickering and dying as their weapons bounced off one another before Shi Fei retreated.

Even now, Wu Ying wielded a simple Saint-quality jian. Not the shattered sword jian, but one that he was more familiar with – longer, thinner, more elegant. His most recent acquisition was carefully stored away in his storage ring. Until he spent a few hours practicing with the weapon, he had no desire to wield it. Especially not in public in a tournament setting. Even if he had gained the Sense of the Sword himself, familiarity with a weapon was important.

Deeper within, Wu Ying knew he also had a peasant’s fear of parading his wealth before others. Bad enough that many might notice the storage rings he owned, the World Spirit Ring and the numerous herbs he carried. Wearing such an expensive weapon would mark him even further from his own humble beginnings. And even if he knew, intellectually, that he had come far the rice farmer he had been, he still struggled with such an acceptance emotionally.

Nevermind the fact that wearing an expensive weapon in poor, peasant clothing might elicit its own brand of trouble. Accusations of theft might be the least of his concerns then. No, better to be low profile if at all possible.

For now…

“You dare!” Shi Fei’s snarl brought Wu Ying back to the present, as the other man retreated with a simple push of his feet. He glided backwards, moving as swiftly as flame across an oil-filled rag, his lips curling up.

“I apologise but… I do not understand.”

“You! You disgrace me with not even paying full attention to this fight.” Lips curled up, the veneer of politeness and civility dropped aside as Shi Fei ranted. “Just because you were from the Verdant Green Waters, you think you can disregard our sects? You, who have been rejected by your own sect?”

“Tread carefully there. You speak of things you do not comprehend fully.”

“Hah! What is there to comprehend? You are not even a martial cultivator and you dare disrespect me and my sect by ignoring our fight.” Shi Fei’s aura, never the most stable to begin with began to smoke, flames flickering on and off as he stood there, ranting at Wu Ying. “I will show you the true strength of my sect and make you grovel.”

Before Wu Ying could reply to him, whether to calm the man or inflame his passions further, Shi Fei charged. Tiny explosions of flame and rock marked his movement, as he flickered forward. It was not a direct charge, like the flight of an arrow or the fall of a stone but the jumping, twisting path of flame which shifted and bent at the slightest gust of wind or other element.

“Steps of the Flickering Flame!”

Murmured words from outside the ring, brought to him by the wind. Not that Wu Ying was paying that much attention to such things, instead devoting his time to dodging his opponent’s cuts.

Shi Fei’s jian cut and struck, thrusting and stabbing as it attempted to land a blow on Wu Ying. The man’s style was all about light cuts, driven from wrist and elbow extensions at near maximum distance.

A safe, wearing series of attacks that would breakdown defenses as injuries accumulated. It was aided by the burning aura that surrounded Shi Fei’s weapon, such that any defense that crept close to the guard or that impacted too long would leave a trail of heat on his blade.

A half-dozen cuts and parries, sparks flaring higher over and over. The shimmering heat of Shi Fei’s blade blended with the smell of crisping hemp robes, the dryness of the air as he robbed the moisture in the semi-isolated ring and set it aflame.

“Going to burn me out?” Wu Ying asked, as he deflected another cut with a twist of his wrist. He felt the warmth of Shi Fei’s sword as it passed within inches of his own hand, but he had not sat in multiple medicinal baths, being slowly boiled alive for little reason.

This much heat was nothing.

“Heat or exhaustion, pain or fear; the Crimson Flower sect will set it alight.” Another clash, sparks flying. Shi Fei extended his blade, sending a tendril of flame licking out and forcing Wu Ying to lean aside as the living flame sought his face. “If you delay any longer, you will lose. So, show me what you truly have. Gatherer.”

Wu Ying stepped and spun, kicked off the edge of the ring. He kept moving, even as he sent a flicker of his own blade essence outwards. He had wreathed his own weapon in wind chi to protect it, the tiny turbulent flames revolving around his weapon constantly. Now, he unleashed it in a small spiraling Dragon’s Breath attack that forced his opponent to block.

The attack was not meant to kill, it was not even meant to injure. The air dispersed upon impact as Shi Fei blocked, but the diversion was sufficient for Wu Ying to put additional distance between the pair. He stared back, bouncing lightly on his feet as he contemplated his next action.

“Running away. I guess that’s all you’re really good for,” Shi Fei said, smirking.

It was an unsubtle provocation. Lacking in true bite. Yet, Wu Ying flicked his gaze upwards, to land upon the pair of Elders who watched. To sense the overlying aura that pushed down upon all of them, as Elder Cao continued to make her presence known.

Well, perhaps a little demonstration would not hurt. If he was to lose, he might as well do so with style.

“Killing intent, eh?” Wu Ying murmured. He let himself fall into the headspace, stopped taking the entire spar so lightly. He felt his mind sharpen, growing focused and cold as the North Wind. He could even feel the wind coming, sweeping at, around and through the barrier, robbing the atmosphere of its heat.

Sparring and fighting for real were two different things. Even a duel was different from his desperate battles to survive. Some tactics, some options reared their head – calling forth the western wind to pull sand from the ground to land in Shi Fei’s eyes. Eastern wind to howl and gust, to gut the flickering flames of that fiery aura and shove those delicate, intricate footsteps off course. Central wind, with its constant course changes rising upwards, tripping and pushing into his blade.

Options rose and were discarded.

He had no desire to showcase the entirety of his tricks. Instead, Wu Ying leaned into the expectation the other man had. The wind around his blade spun ever faster, becoming a keening wail. He threw cut after cut, Dragon’s Breath’s extension of chi energy and sword intent mixing with his winds.

In the blade, he wove his killing intent within. Honed through desperate battles, sheared clean of meaningless desires and weak aspirations. Soaked in the blood of enemies and victims alike and then washed clean in the tempest of his soul.

Death, desperation, intent, focus. The willingness to take a life, to bear the karmic burden and find oneself… Altered.

Shi Fei wove himself around the half-dozen energy projections, sometimes only dodging by inches. His aura contracted and twisted, almost dying at points as the shearing wind passed all too close. Wind might make fire grow, but only if in small quantities.

Too much, and even the fire would go out.

While Shi Fei dodged, Wu Ying closed the gap. He guided his opponent with attacks, hemming the other’s options with blade strikes and energy extensions of his weapons. Searing hot blade came stabbing out in retaliation and Wu Ying, leaning aside by inches let the all too hot weapon sear hair and clothing, bake exposed skin.

Too close for anyone without a Body Cultivation method. First and second degree burns would be the result from being even this close, the radiating heat of flame chi scorching all. Yet, for all that, Wu Ying’s own attacks were taking its toll. Under the killing intent of Wu Ying’s blade, the cold implacability of doom that arose with each clash of blade, fear began to pierce Shi Fei’s demeanor. He battled now not just Wu Ying’s blade but fear now.

No surprise then, that when Wu Ying closed in and struck out with a fist wreathed in wind, it caught Shi Fei by surprise. Even wreathed in wind, Wu Ying’s fist burnt, his opponent’s aura having seared skin on contact. It was one thing to come close, another to impact it direct.

Still, his attack sent Shi Fei flying back, only a last minute save by the fire cultivator as he stabbed his sword into the ground and pivoted around it kept the cultivator in the ring. He landed and took two more blade strikes on his arm and leg, nearly tottering off the ring before he managed to regain his feet.

And only then because Wu Ying had stopped his attacks, a smile on his lips, his blade on his shoulder.

“Daring. But you’re injured. And that strike, while surprising was not painful,” Shi Fei taunted, though Wu Ying could hear a trace of fear in it. “Now, I’ll show you the true strength of the Crimson Flowers!”

Wu Ying’s lips curled up. He shook his hand a little, feeling the tender skin of the knuckles of his hand. He had held back a little from sending too much wind into the man upon impact such that he was not blown off stage entirely without any chance of recovery.

Though, one had to admire his style. And the way the very air began to catch on fire, as even more energy was pumped from his dantian into his opponent’s aura. Tiny motes of unseen locuses of flame chi erupted into blossoms of fire all around Wu Ying.

“Hell Flower Petals.” Shi Fei announced, confidence returning.

For all the show he put on, Wu Ying could not help but notice he was sweating. Judging by the sheer amount of chi he was pumping out, the strain in his eyes and the way the flames moved; Wu Ying could not help but judge the technique an advanced one. Probably meant for Core Formation elders to use – not a simple Energy Storage cultivator.

In retaliation, Wu Ying poured his own chi into the surroundings, strengthening his aura. A small gust of wind picked up around him, the central wind taking control of safeguarding the space around his body. Gusts of wind sent the petals of flame swirling away, never allowing the attack to actually impact him directly.

“That’s it?” Wu Ying said, cocking his head to the side curiously.

“Fool!”

More and more energy, pouring into the surroundings. The temperature kept rising, overpowering the north wind. Outside, the audience huddled close, the gusting wind that failed to enter their ring freezing those around. More than one mortal was chattering while in the distance, farmers grimaced at the unseasonable chill.

“Now, watch!”

Shi Fei raised his hands and the myriad sparks of fire that had formed throughout the air doubled and then doubled again. Caught in the central wind, they swirled around Wu Ying, unable to touch him. Not until Shi Fei clapped his hands together, sending the flames shooting their way through his defenses as they were guided by his chi.

Inside the cyclone of flame, the Hell Flower Petals blossomed, thunder and smoke erupting, draining moisture and robbing him of energy. Wu Ying exhaled. He had taken the other man too easy. Now he was trapped, with fractions of a second to choose what to do.

Arrogance. It would be his undoing.

Just not today.

Wu Ying drew his chi in, hardening his own aura. It would not stand a frontal attack, so rather than wait for the Hell Flowers to complete, he exploded through the flames. The Sword’s Truth combined with his understanding of his own body and styles, hardened around his own aura allowed him to crash through the flaming attack.

Sometimes, in battle, one had to choose how you died, not how you survived.

In this case, he chose… forwards.

The heat was oppressive and Wu Ying was forced to close his eyes as he passed through the cyclone of flame. Yet none of the petals stuck to him thanks to his own chi defenses, the petals of fire thrown outwards as they were caught in the o gullies and gusts of wind that formed the outer edges of his aura.

On the other side, exiting, Wu Ying saw Shi Fei’s wide, surprised eyes. Moments before his own sword plunged into the man’s shoulder, exiting in a shower of blood from the back. A last minute change of targets ensured that the attack struck the meaty, non-critical part of his opponent’s shoulder.

At the last moment, he further dispersed his wind chi. No need to widen the wound, to damage him further. No need to cripple the other man, not to make a point. He even went so far as to break his attack, bending elbow and allowing his arm to fall behind his torso as he pulled it in, such that he impacted the other with his other, outstretched hand. Palm on chest to throw his opponent off his sword and out of the ring.

Then Wu Ying skidded to a stop, blood on his sword, watching as Shi Fei bounced once and then again. The wandering gatherer smiled, grimly, as he watched Shi Fei stagger to his feet, looking exhausted and incensed at losing. Behind Wu Ying, the Hell Flower’s finished their attack, closing in on itself and then exploding upwards, searing everything within to ash.

Looking over his shoulder, Wu Ying raised a rather bemused eyebrow. A little too fatal an attack, for a friendly duel. Shaking his head, he thanked the winds and stilled them as smoke trails rose from around his body and clothing.

“You wanted to know what it was like to fight in a real war? That. A small part of that. Winning, no matter the cost. Because that’s all we had,” Wu Ying said out loud. There were a few in the audience, Shi Fei included, who could use those words of caution.

Having said his piece, Wu Ying swung his blade to shed the blood on it, sheathed the weapon and strode off. Suddenly, he had no desire to watch any further fights.

Killer or not, he needed to be alone.