The Third Realm - Chapter 2 preview (Patreon)

Morning the next day saw Wu Ying wandering the city, a new child attendant by his side to translate when required. Mostly though, in the middle of winter, there was less to do in the village. Upkeep of lands, repair of buildings and fences, the shoring up of drainage ditches and the care of the tea plants as they hibernated.

He wandered the surroundings, listening to the unintelligible conversations around and waited. For scent and the halting explanation of his attendant had told him that the Pan sisters were meeting with the village Chieftain and the council of elders, relating in detail the events surrounding the tournament.

Wu Ying was in no hurry, passing by the stock houses that surrounded the village square and the training pells where young children were shown the way of the spear by older teenagers. Many worked through the forms, thrusting, grunting and spinning their metal tipped mock-spears, intense concentration on their faces.

Others strode across the raised plum blossom poles. Rather than the more common five poles sunk deep into the earth in the shape of a plum blossom, the Zhuang clan used a dozen such poles, the latter group soaring higher than the height of a man.

On these poles, children hopped, jumped and skipped while others worked their way through the armed and unarmed forms. With two set of a dozen poles, there was more than enough space for the half-dozen advanced students to train.

For a time, he watched their training before he moved on. Brief observation was acceptable, but staying too long would have been considered rude until he was invited. Still, as he passed another half-dozen children, some as young ans five, all seated with their legs crossed and meditating, he was struck with a sense of familiarity.

The Zhuang clan, for all its differences in speech, architecture and dress were more similar to his own village than the greater Zhao kingdom they inhabited.

At lunch, Wu Ying found himself seated by himself, a single piece of fried fish offered to him along with a large helping of stir fried vegetables. A quick review of those around illuminated the degree of privilege given to him, as entire families shared the same amount of meat for their meals.

Yet, he dared not protest, instead vowing silently to discuss payment and trade at a later date. After all, he was the famed Verdant Gatherer. And a few months – even months travelling with burdens like the Pan sisters – meant he had refilled his stores of herbs.

Especially since his ability to share and sell his collection had been curtailed. More from a sense of unease and wariness than any rescinding of his own Authorised Merchant Token.

He had just begun to dig into his meal when Liu Ping plopped herself down beside him, cradling an entire plateful of fish and a heaping soup bowl of rice. Wu Ying raised an eyebrow at the woman, whose increased appetite and sleeping patterns had led to a filling out of her muscular form. Further changes from her bloodline it seemed.

“Which room did they put you in?” Liu Ping asked without preamble.

“The house two buildings south east of the second well,” Wu Ying replied.

“You got a full house?” She grumbled outloud then let out a low humpf. “Damn Core Cultivator.”

“That seems a little….” He paused, considering what word he should choose.

“Truthful?” An entire fried fish was picked up by the body and the head was chomped upon. Wu Ying raised an eyebrow as she chewed, silent reproach as everyone watched the woman. After she swallowed, she snorted. “What?”

“You do have manners.” Wu Ying chided her.

“Whatever.” Liu Ping waved the fish. “It’s fried well enough to make the bones crunchy and tasty. It’s good this way.”

“And the use of your hands?”

“Chopsticks are becoming a little… fragile.”

“That sounds more like a failure of control on your part than the fault of the chopsticks.”

“I know, alright? Immortals above, you’re as bad as my brother!” Liu Ping replied, a flash of pain crossing her face that was smothered after a second. The raw wound of her grief had scabbed over, but it was still fresh. “It’s not good if I broke all their chopsticks.”

“Ah…” Wu Ying ducked his head in apology. He had not realized she had meant to be considerate – in her own way. “Your bloodline continues to strengthen?”

“Change, at least.”

For a long moment, he regarded the girl. She seemed, if not happy, at least accepting of the changes that she was undergoing. The raw edges of her grief had blunted, hours spent weeping over her loss and abandonment late in the night trailing off, as wounds to both soul and heart healed.

More so, the changes in her physicality, while gradual were significant. Whereas she had been slim and graceful before as per the usual mode for cultivators, now, she had a much more athletic build. Muscular, but not large, just solid. As though all the trials and her journey through it had given her a solidity of presence that even Pan Shui and Pan Mu, so close to her age, lacked.

“What?” She mumbed around a mouthful of fish.

“You’ve certainly changed.” Her eyes narrowed, but Wu Ying ignored it. Teasing her was fun, but not something he needed to do. “What are your plans, now that we’re here?”

“Mmm…” Liu Ping looked around, then spotting her target pointed. “I’m going to take a nap. Right there.”

“You just woke up!” Wu Ying protested.

“Uh huh. Now I’m going to nap,” Liu Ping said. “It was a long trip.”

Wu Ying had to admit, she was not wrong. Months on the trail, with few enough late wakings had worn even on him. And he was – by temperament and experience – more used to roughing it than the others. However, the fear of the government finding them and quieting them or otherwise taking revenge had driven them on, fleeing official sanctions.

Still…

Before Wu Ying could object, an older man appeared. He bowed in greeting to the pair and then, hesitantly, spoke to them in the common tongue. “Expert Long. Expert Liu. This one – Mo Heng – greets you. We offer apologies, for the tribal council continue to be busy.”

“Mmmmhmmmphhhfff…” Liu Ping acknowledged around a mouthful of rice, cheeks stuffed to the brim.

Rolling his eyes, Wu Ying stood up and bowed to the other. Only a little, more an inclination of the head than an actual bow. He was, slowly, becoming to understand the difference in ranks his new status required. Even if, in the future, he might hide it; there was no hiding it from this village.

“We thank you for informing us.”

“I am the Chief? Head? Supervisor of the gardens for spirit vegetables.” Mo Heng continued, touching his chest. “We understand Expert Long has vegetables too? Picked from the wilds.”

Wu Ying blinked for a second before he chuckled and nodded. “Yes, I’ve picked some wild herbs. Maybe if you’re more comfortable, we can speak through a translator?” He gestured at the kid standing respectfully by the side.

Mo Heng smiled in gratitude, then rapid fire spoke to the translator. The youngster just nodded along for a time before translating to Wu Ying.

“Elder Mo cannot trade the rarer items you might have, he does not have the right. However, your more common herbs is something he is authorized to trade and any that you need to plant to ensure they do not go bad, he is authorized to aid you in that too.” A slight pause, then after Mo Heng blathered on, the kid added. “He’s also to share pointers with you about the growing of spiritual herbs and show you our greenhouses.”

“I would be happy to see it.” Wu Ying glanced down at his meal, still mostly unfinished and hesitated.

“We will see you at the greenhouses. I’ll show you the way,” the kid quickly translated when Mo Heng noticed Wu Ying’s hesitation.

“Thank you. I look forward to it.”

Wu Ying watched as Mo Heng retreated, leaving the kid to watch over the group. In the meantime, Liu Ping had finished her meal, not having stopped. Seeing his glance, she spoke.

“What?”

“Do you want to come?” he offered.

“To listen to you drone on about vegetables?” her eyes twinkled at the last. “No. I’ll sleep.”

Snorting, Wu Ying watched as she stood up and ambled away after depositing her plate and bowl, taking a seat beneath the tree and then closing her eyes. He frowned, making a note to continue following up with her, on her goals now that they had arrived.

He had not forgotten, that she had left all that she knew behind. And even as adroitly as she as at avoiding the topic, he knew she would have to face the world at some point.

For now though, looking down at his meal, he focused on finishing it with all due respect. Concerns about his friends, cultivation resources and lessons and future plans could wait for after he ate.

After all, he was no longer dealing with one crisis after another.

***

Passage through the tea fields and the greenhouses was both enlightening and fascinating for Wu Ying. Working with his translator, Mo Heng detailed the work the clan did in great detail, happy to discuss everything from drainage, weeding and harvesting of the tea plants to the formations that surrounded their fields and greenhouses.

He perused their methods, touched the soil and checked their compost heaps, gauging cuttings and rotations while sensing the flow of chi through the location. He studied their formations, both large and small, watched as gardeners flowed wood, water and earth chi through plants and soil, carefully tending to plant after plant.

They spoke, exchanging information, professionals offering insight to other professionals. When they came to plots and formations where it suited his goods, Wu Ying unslung the bag he carried and extracted the carefully tended plants that had been held in semi-stasis in their enchanted jade boxes, replanting the spirit herbs to ensure their longevity.

He noticed the others watched as he did so, noting the methods and the chi flows he used, the tug of power and the burying of energy and watering of the plant. He did not mind, as whispered conversations passed from one to another.

In the end, they adjourned to a small building located beside the greenhouses themselves, one replete with the scent of drying, smoking and fermenting spirit herbs where a tea was delivered and manuals and scrolls were exchanged.

The parties – elder Mo Heng, his apprentices and a couple of elder gatherers along with Wu Ying – spoke of esoteric manuals and plants, probing one another for the cherished knowledge each party held. Mistakes in old manuals, located and corrected, methods of identification of rare or uncommon herbs, of mutations and failures were spoken of.

“I’d found the white star peony in this clearing, but as I was going to collect it, I noticed a certain… scent.” Wu Ying gestured with the cup of tea in hand. “Droppings, from the black demonic mountain cat. Of course, at that time, I only knew it was demonic in nature – from smell alone if nothing else – but not its colour or mutation.

“Still, it made for great fertilizer which was the clearing was filled with the peonies. I checked, of course, for its presence before I harvested my share. What I hadn’t realized was that the demonic cat had scented the clearing in a way that I had not been able to sense,” and what a humbling moment that had been for him, “so when I left, I left a trail behind.”

“Did it find you?” one of the apprentices asked, eyes wide with wonder. He reminded Wu Ying of his own self, listening to returning soldier tales around the campfire in his village. Excited by the idea of war, but knowing that they themselves wanted nothing to do with it.

“Oh yes. Late at night, when I was sleeping,” Wu Ying said, making a face. “Smart beast too – it avoided my formation flags I’d laid around the tree, coming in over the top. If not for the fact that I always set some talismans on the tree above too, it would have caught me out.

“As it was, it still cut me up pretty badly before I put it down. Still, its fur made for a good trophy for the next sect I visited.”

Stories. His of derring do and the perils of being a wandering gatherer. Theirs of frost and wind, of drought and fire and the predations of smart insects, the overabundance of rain and the lack of it and of course, the greed of merchants.

The group spoke, using manuals and scrolls for illustration, sketching new images and snacking on plates of appetisers long into the night. Professionals, regaling one another with the burdens of farming and gathering. For the first time in ages, Wu Ying found himself comforted, for even in the talk of mortal tea bushes and fields, he found a chord of familiarity and knowledge.

His people, even if a little removed. And though their struggles might be a little les dire than his own, their experience was no less real, their wisdom borne of decades of toil no less profound.

Even as the moon rose and set around them, they spoke; stories and memories and knowledge all together. And the wind flowed, whispering its own secret to Wu Ying.

Of peace and direction and contentment and knowledge. Of the proper order of things, under Heaven.

And Wu Ying listened, learning.