The Third Kingdom - Chapter 27 preview (Patreon)

The night had grown dark, the last light of the sun having slipped away long ago. The moon, hanging low in the day was only just beginning to grow, the barest slip of light being offered. The stars that hung high above, a streak of white by a mad painter of light and fury along with the light of low hung lanterns provided illumination for the streets below.

Inside his room, Wu Ying sat, silent and still, his chest rising and falling with rhythmic monotone. In slow, hold, out slow, hold. He meditated, not cultivated for the necessity of deep cultivation precluded the more important aspect of what he did here.

That was, waiting for the inevitable attack.

Around him, the single glowing light of a spirit lamp illuminated the surroundings. Wu Ying sat on his bed, a simple cotton and hemp comforter laid across the wooden bed to provide minor cushioning as he sat cross-legged, cycling his breathing. His sheathed sword rested on his lap, inches away from his hand.

Wards lay across the walls, entrances and within the room itself, while talismans waited to be recalled at the flick of a finger. Under his robes, Wu Ying wore the armour that he had been given so many years ago and rarely took out now. Barely better than mortal armour, it was unlikely to do much against a Core Formation expert. He had considered leaving it off since it would weigh him down, but chose to keep it after a moment’s further hesitation. It could be useful.

No bow, though he could have used it. By the time he noticed his assailants, it would be too late to use the weapon. And even after all these years, he was no more than a passable archer. Good enough to take down an animal in the wild for meat. Not someone you would trust to deal with a scout.

So many years, and he had not gained any further equipment. Not for combat at least. He had a few items of utilitarian use, a pot that heated its contents without flame, a series of fire lights powered by chi that would illuminate locations around him, spirit rings and messengers. Gathering was expensive, the numerous spirit storage boxes probably his greatest expense.

He had his swords, but those were a hobby. And he only had two hands.

Violence had; while not disappeared, at least not become as omnipresent in his life. He had slacked on picking up items for defense and offense. Sitting here; he wondered how that would affect him. Perhaps if he had dedicated some of his resources into such things…

Too late for regret. It was always too late for regret. Wu Ying drew another deep breath and watched shadows shift, listening to the whispering of the wind as it spoke of secret rendezvous’, consoling companions and sorrowful training.

So few were awake, even the Pan sisters, delirious in their joy and relief at their results had trudged back to their beds and were fast asleep. Leaving Wu Ying and a few night owls to stand watch over the deepening of the night.

Breathe in and out. Wait.

Time passed, creeping onwards to take the future slowly. In the cocoon of serenity, Wu Ying watched it pass by, counting the fading of each second by the rhythm of his breathing. When change came, it was not in the direction he had expected.

Of course, it would never be that easy.

Cries and the ringing of bells, the screams of worry and concern as the sudden explosion of smells appeared. Burning wood and silk and hemp, lacquer and wax smoking away and choking those who moved. All those smells and more filled the room, an explosion of scents that had been hidden until now.

Cultivators woken from sleep rushed back and forth, forming the bucket chain required to put out the fire. Or at the least, contain it such that no further buildings were burnt. Water cultivators, channeling their chi gestured and called forth the liquid, only to see it evaporate upon contact with the supernatural flames.

Wu Ying was out of his room within seconds, hopping across the street to the rooftop on the other side. A miniscule exertion of energy, even as he pulled the winds to him; sending it swirling about to verify if an opponent was waiting.

None were, but the wind brought snatches of conversation.

“Just appeared, out of nowhere!”

“How many…?”

“A half-dozen dead, slain in the common room. More upstairs maybe…”

“Throw more water!”

“Useless. It’s not natural fire. Evacuate the other buildings. We need to contain it first…”

More words, more exclamations and shouted orders He filtered those out, even as more and more voices added to the din, as cultivators and mortals rushed to provide aid. The well was worked by a pair of water cultivator who pulled streams of water into a pair of bathtubs, where others filled the never-ending bucket chain from it.

Earthen cultivators, slower to react began to call forth clay from the ground, tossing it at the flames in an attempt to suffocate them. Other fire cultivators wove a barrier, keeping sparks from jumping onto nearby wooden buildings, even as a couple of braver souls attempted to locate the living within the residence.

Further away, near the dug stream that had fed the surroundings and the pavilion, others worked to guide the stream through newly created channels while also forming a second bucket chain.

Amidst all this effort, the fire cackled with unrestrained fury. Wood cultivators focused on either side of the burning building in an attempt to reinforce them as the heat grew ever more stiffling.

His wind continued to swirl, bringing further knowledge; locating individuals of import. Jochi, the Pan sisters, Shi Fei and Kong Lai, they were all easy to ascertain. Then, the wind carried another conversation and he paid attention.

“Is leader Gao alive…?”

“Barely…”

“Liu Ping?” Wary, worried.

“Missing.”

That was what he had been waiting for. Not just the fire – that was a distraction, he knew instinctively. The deaths, the fire, all of it to keep others busy. Liu Ping’s kidnapping was the goal, the bait to draw Wu Ying from his room.

It was almost genius, if you ignored the damage done to everyone else. Smiling grimly, Wu Ying called the winds to him, sending his chi through them and connecting to the world like he had not since arriving here. He felt every twist of the air, the rising currents over the flame, the stink of sweat and tang of burning blood.

The wind whispered to him, bringing secrets – sweat and replete hormones on two figures, working side-by-side, neither looking at the other – and shame – a man, hiding in the dark of the stables, fingers caressing burn scars over and over again – and finally, her scent.

The wind tugged at his hair and robes, beckoning Wu Ying to action. He had stood on that rooftop, waiting. But the time for stillness was over.

Now he moved.

***

Coincidence? Planning? Or mockery. Wu Ying was uncertain which it was, but the scent trail led him to a familiar field, one where he had trained for hours late at night; seeking to understand his new sword, the challenges he might encounter.

Fitting, perhaps.

He spotted them within, two figures; one lying prone and unconscious on the ground. The other, standing upright and cloaked in folds of clothing such that neither their sex nor their features could be determined.

Wu Ying stopped at the edge of the field, turning his head from side-to-side as he eyed the surroundings. Gusts of air flowed forwards into the field before being rebuffed, redirected by an unseen formation. He stood there, silently, as his chi and spiritual sense expanded, demanding an answer. One of the truths about wind is that you could not keep it out – not entirely. Well, not unless one was underwater.

Here, now, he eventually found an entry. Moving air ruffled his robes and he drew a deep breath, but it was of little use. The cloaked figure had shuttered their aura, hiding scent and chi signature from inspection, while the formation stripped the remainder of details. Only Liu Ping’s unguarded aura gave clues, and even that only informed him she was still alive.

“Afraid to finish this, Cultivator Long?” The voice was familiar but altered; twisting in the night as chi was layered across it.

“Just being careful…” Wu Ying raised his hand and gestured, once and again. He was no formation master, versed in how to break a formation with the minimal of exertion. However, this was not a defensive formation, not in the traditional sense.

Active as it was, it was simple enough for Wu Ying to destroy the formation flags and the ground on either side of him in long arcs of furrowed earth with projected sword intent.

Earth bloomed and fell, the sound like a thousand firecrackers going off repeated through the night. Wu Ying smiled grimly, noting how his attack had released the energy of hidden talismans as well. Even as their trap was destroyed before their very eyes, the cloaked figure made no motion to stop Wu Ying.

“Satisfied?”

“I doubt that word is even viable till… well…” Wu Ying gestured around him. “This is settled, no? But I am curious, Elder Cao; why you continue to hide your presence.”

Silence, then laughter, free and unrestrained with a hint of wildness in it at the same time. Reminiscent of the woman who had attacked him so many weeks ago.

“So, you know. How?” Elder Cao said, tossing aside her cloak to reveal herself in her armour. A second later, her weapon appeared in her hand as she drew it forth from her storage ring. The butt of her polearm came down, only to crash into the side of Liu Ping’s insensate form. It drew a cry of pain from her, which made the Elder frown.

A second later, the general idly kicked Liu Ping away, sending the injured woman tumbling through the air. Wu Ying threw a hand out, formed wind in the direction of the woman, using his chi to help break her fall. He dared not make a bigger move, for Elder Cao watched him carefully, seeking an opening large enough to finish him.

The tumbling fall of Liu Ping’s body, the involuntary groans, it all made Wu Ying’s blood boil. Yet, he forced calm on himself, sending his anger outwards. Anger and passion could aid one in a fight, but only if it was controlled. For now…

For now, he would answer her.

“Elder Tsui and Eng are still in the village,” Wu Ying said. “No one else but another Core Formation cultivator would dare stand before me so arrogantly. A simple matter of deduction, when I realized that.”

Elder Cao paused, then sighed. “So, all your words. It was meant to lure one of us three out.”

Wu Ying nodded.

“And, what? You expect to reveal my actions to the Elders now, with the way you are expanding your aura and destroying my formations? You think the three of you are enough to win?”

Wu Ying shrugged. “Win or lose, this has to end.”

“Brave words. Even as you play for time, delaying me while alerting those fools with your aura.” Elder Cao smirked. “That only means I have to finish you off, fast. Blame only yourself for what is about to occur.”

So saying, she charged, the leading point of the dagger-axe polearm pointed straight at Wu Ying’s body. Her aura, filled with her element of metal, the heaviness of her dao of duty and responsibility exploded forth. It sent fragments of metal towards Wu Ying, even as her dao tried to pressure and slow his own defense.

In turn, he fought back. The winds rose around him, sending metals spinning away or into the ground, robbing them of their angles of impact. Small slivers twisted and escaped his own grasp and impacted his robes and skin, bouncing off hidden armour where it covered him. Where it didn’t, it left tiny tears along his flesh that welled with blood.

Wu Ying cut, casting ghostly blade formations of wind and blade intent, stacking them before him as he retreated. Elder Cao disregarded the wind blades, her dao and aura crashing into them long before she did, the heaviness of her aura shattering the wind containers and dispersing them.

Her dao, tempered by decades of experience and enlightenment crashed upon Wu Ying stronger and more insistent than ever, draining him of energy. Cursing, he dismissed the thought of using external chi techniques. Even now, his own nascent understanding of the Dao and the winds, of movement and freedom and knowledge struggled to aid him in slipping between the grip of an unyielding, rigid belief system.

Dragon Paints the Sunset met dagger-axe, pushing the spearhead away from his chest. Immediately, Elder Cao transitioned, pulling her attack back a bit and cutting downwards. The massive, heavy head of the polearm swung down, axe blade swinging at Wu Ying’s right shoulder.

Rather than meet it head on, Wu Ying swayed aside.

She followed immediately, swinging the weapon sideways even as her steps brought her closer, haft of the polearm striking him in the side as he managed to curl up his arm to take the blow and duck inwards. He shifted his feet, called forth the wind and his own qinggong exercises to lighten himself as he was attacked, robbing her of her force.

After all, punching a feather might crush it a little, but the feather was just as apt to move before the fist arrived, borne away by the wind.

Elder Cao’s blow sent him flying away, the crushing wheel of duty behind each blow. A portion of Wu Ying’s mind tracked her attacks, blocking her movements as he realized what happened just now. She had felt him out, tested him on their first ever meeting. When he had reused Dragon Paints the Sunset against her attack, she had anticipated it.

She had been planning her attack, playing with a mental form just like he had her. Except she was better at it than he was.

Luck, only luck and his own ability had managed to save him from a grievous wound. Even then, his arm throbbed, the cold fury and relentless barrage of her attacks leaving him bruised. If he had not been a Body Cultivator, he would be sporting a shattered arm and possibly ribs about now.

Thoughts swirled through his mind as he flowed into his own forms, throwing a few sword strikes out laced with his own aura and dao. Rather than dodge them, Elder Cao bulled her way through, the sword chi shattering on her aura and armor. The enchanted armor took the sword chi, weakened already and gleamed further, though each attack seemed to dull the dark metal plates.

Spinning and cutting, her polearm stabbed, chopped and struck at Wu Ying, forcing him to employ the full extent of his martial techniques. Each parried attack sent reverberations through his arm, the powerful weapon turned aside by the Saint-sword he held in hand.

As they fought, Wu Ying infused his will into the weapon further and further, wrapping it with small eddies of wind. The innate metal of the weapon resisted his own element, but the mastery of the blacksmith and the dao he had introduced reduced that resistance significantly. To both temper the weapon and strengthen it while reducing its own resistance to other elements was one of the ways a Saint-level sword differed from pure Spirit-weapons.

Even with a proper jian, Wu Ying was being pushed back. It was not her technique, nor her innate speed or strength that was overpowering Wu Ying. Spending time fighting her in his mind had allowed Wu Ying to cross the distance between their mastery of martial styles, while being a Body Cultivator gifted with wind chi allowed him to deal with her cultivation difference in speed. Even in terms of raw strength, she was not significantly stronger than him.

What he lacked was the sheer power of her cultivation, the difference between a multi-layered core and a rooted understanding in one’s own dao. Elder Cao had decades on him, decades honing her belief system, the structures of her personality and reality such that it could affect the world around her. Decades of wielding her dao in the wider world and growing the immortal soul within her body. It was not at the stage of a Nascent Soul wielder, where their very perception of reality began to alter the flow of the world about them, but it was enough to hamper him.

Wu Ying had just entered the Core Formation stage, his own understanding shallow and nascent. His own Core, and the soul within, were tiny. Such that even those who should have known better had been unable to find it at first. In time, he knew he would progress; but against his opponent…

Against his opponent, he was outclassed. The sheer strength of her attacks, each of her blows empowered to levels he could not match beat him down. Shards of metal flew through the air and more and more began to pick at his skin, tearing lines of blood that welled up and littered the air.

Squinting around the raging maelstrom, Wu Ying fought on instinct, blocking attacks from her polearm as he attempted to retaliate, the earth around them rent apart with each attack. Eddies of wind caught this soil, throwing it into the air, gusts of freezing cold drifting forwards to hamper her movements. The air was choked with earth and dust, hampering vision and the booming noise of each narrowly dodged attack shook the air.

And still she came on. Relentless, unyielding, oppressive.

Another twist, another block; another narrowly dodged chop; the Dragon turns in its Slumber, Rending the Painting, Dragon dances through the Raindrops… Sword and weapon intent flashing, extending and retracting with each moment.

Till Wu Ying failed.

A twisting dodge that was anticipated, his movements a touch too early such that his opponent could shift direction of her attack. The chi-blade extended across the polearm, tearing apart the mundane armour that he wore as easily as wet paper and leaving a gaping wound across his chest.

The explosion of energy along with Wu Ying’s own desperate surge of wind sent dust and his body flying backwards, even as threw an empowered sword strike of his own. This one was targeted at her neck, and rather than bull through or duck away, Elder Cao blocked it; breaking the sword intent on the raised shaft of her dagger-axe polearm.

Tumbling through the air, blood leaking from his wound and coating the surroundings, Wu Ying fetched up on his feet by sheer dint of experience, long legs digging furrows into the earth. He coughed, his chest bleeding around the ragged edges of his armor.

“I’m impressed…” Elder Cao murmured. “That you managed to last this long. But a false Core Formation cultivator like you is no threat to me.”

She sauntered forwards, even as Wu Ying began to concentrate his chi into the tip of his sword. He did his best to hide the attack, knowing he would only have a single chance. The wind rose around him as his spiritual senses fought hers. Dust swirled through the air, hiding their surroundings and him, creating a minor dust storm about them and hindering Elder Cao’s own senses further.

“Do you think that such petty tricks will be enough?” Elder Cao said, amusedly. “You are better off keeping your chi to yourself rather than wasting it.”

Wu Ying’s head tilted to the side, listening. A small smile on his lips, for she would not speak if it did not bother her. At least a little while.

Her footsteps, steady until now, changed as she leapt forward. He could feel her move in his winds, track her location as she pushed against the air he controlled. Rather than dodge, he waited for his opportunity to show itself.

Raised polearm swung downwards, the weight of responsibility, to a kingdom and its rulers carried with it. The air quivered, rent apart by intent and still, Wu Ying made no move to avoid the attack.

At the last second, she sensed it. The attack he had been trying to hide from her, the presence he had sensed rushing towards them. Like a boulder bouncing down a hill, picking up momentum with each falling second, the podao swung downwards at Elder Cao’s head. Only for her to block the attack with her own dagger-axe shaft.

The shaft of the weapon bowed inwards, but the Saint-class weapon would not break; not even with the empowered attacked of Elder Eng behind it. Daos strained against one another as Elder Cao stood, body twisted in place, feet sinking into freshly churned earth as she blocked the man’s attack.

Open to Wu Ying’s own reserved strike.

The Sword’s Truth drove Wu Ying forward, the forward lunge cutting through metal shards and aura, popping open reinforced and enchanted lamellar plate armor to bury itself in Elder Caos lower ribs. It was not his most dangerous technique, but it was the most stable. The most trusted.

He kept pushing, intent on running his opponent through; only for instinct to twinge.

Reacting immediately, Wu Ying threw himself backwards, forming an air shield around himself moments before the metal armour that covered Elder Cao’s body erupted, sending fragments scattering through the air.

Elder Eng and Wu Ying retreated tens of steps back, the Elder pockmarked with the wounds from the explosive attack, his body covered in a light grey-brown armour of earth. In the silence that accompanied the initial blast, Elder Tsui arrived, landing on the ground and reviewing the scene, lips tight.

And for a moment, silence dominated the battlefield.