The Third Realm - Chapter 20 preview (Patreon)

Heaven’s wind. It blew everywhere, from up high in the tallest and coldest of peaks to the lowest valleys that flooded with each spring. Wu Ying followed the wind that gusted through the dry western desert north, letting it take him to the steppes where the snow had let to loosen its grasp.

Along the way, he met other cultivators, other clans and mortals.

Some meetings were amicable.

Drinks in a wayfarer inn, suckling pig, pan fried noodles and warmed peach wine over a wandering, philosophical conversations about daos, duty and responsibility and personal honour with a disparate group of orthodox, heretical and wandering cultivators.

An invitation into a noble lord’s mansion and personal library where Wu Ying perused and was gifted a new cultivation exercise – the Whispering Winds – that would help guide his voice to receptive ears across forested li and ringing battle. All for a handful of gifted fresh herbs and an hour’s instruction on the sword given to a budding swordsman.

Others, less so.

A trio of wandering cultivators, seeing Wu Ying’s wealth, stalking him. Three days of travel through the rolling plains, where hills were plentiful but trees sparse. Stalked, hunted and finally, cornered. Blood, wet upon the ground as tender mercy was revealed to hide the darkest of fangs and bodies were left behind, to rot as greed met the edge of blade.

In the eves of a destroyed village, corpses and grieving mortals alike surrounding him, Wu Ying met the failure of soldiers and cultivators. Demonic beasts, left alone as a corrupt magistrate stole the funds necessary to equip the army and strengthen protective talismans ran rampant. Leaving behind naught but death and despair.

Through it all, the wind blew. Offering Wu Ying little lessons about what it might be, what it spoke of. Showing him the disappointments of humanity as they failed to enact Heaven’s will, as order broke down to chaos and mortals and sects alike suffered.

Until, such time, as he was standing upon the steppes of the north, where snow gave way to fast growing grass and herds of thundering goats, cattle and sheep travelled, guided by the herdsmen and nomadic tribes that called such land their home.

In their midst, Wu Ying, still clad in his thin silk robes, head bare to the weather as his Wind Body ignored the vagaries of the cold weather was crouched. He had paused in his journey, following the scent of a rare plant to this spot. Before the herd could reach the Purple Thunder Thistle, he scooped it up, pulling it from the earth to deposit in his World Spirit Ring.

Better stored away in his ring than eaten by the hungry eyes of the goat before him. Or so he believed. There was, after all, sufficient other plants for the Thunder Goat before him to consume. All of which he tried to communicate to the obnoxious creature staring at him as he crouched on his knees, meeting its baleful eyes.

“…” The buzzing noise, a language that was familiar yet far from his own caught at his attention. Seconds later, a rough hand landed on the goat’s neck, fractions of a moment before it lunged at Wu Ying.

Startled by the sudden shift to violence, Wu Ying pushed backwards, drifting off the ground and backwards. He alighted on top of another animal, riding the creatures movements as it twitched at the sudden presence before it stilled, realization that Wu Ying was no heavier than a leaf.

“…” Again, more unknown words.

Rather than answer, Wu Ying studied the speaker.

The first thing that struck Wu Ying was the speaker’s height. A good foot taller than Wu Ying, muscular and clad in fur obviously derived from the animals around them, the speaker had their hair kept in place via a simple leather headband which peeked out from under the flat fur cap they wore. There was a darkness in the other’s gaze, an anger that rose as Wu Ying regarded him, even as his own aura spiked.

High Energy Storage than, missing but one Energy Storage Meridian before reaching Peak. Powerful, and as Wu Ying’s gaze flicked sideways, not alone. Another half-dozen or so herders, men he had noticed but dismissed arriving soon after.

Their auras – all of their auras – had been hidden. Like his, but now all of them rising. Energy Storage cultivators one and all, a staggering amount of force to be faced with all of a sudden. He idly noted the curved wooden bows in half their hands, the ways fingers found arrow hafts without drawing them.

Yet.

“My apologies,” Wu Ying spoke then, choosing to use the language he was most familiar with. So many dialects, so many languages. He had studied some, learnt others, his greater memory as a cultivator offering some aid. Yet, this one was new, and so he wandered blind. “I do not speak your language.”

No recognition in the eyes, though a few of the herders slowed. It would have been comforting, if those members were also not the ones with bows.

“I mean no harm,” Wu Ying raised his arms sideways, showing that his hand was empty. “I was but gathering some plants when I found myself between your herd.”

“…” the initial speaker called out, though this time he seemed less like he was talking to Wu Ying directly.

Still, no one was drawing a weapon.

“…” Another voice, this one filled with humor.

Wu Ying turned and smile over at the speaker.

“…”

More voices, before one of the bowmen turned and started running away. Beneath his feet, the goat had shifted a few times, trying to get him off it. Failing to do so, its horns began to glow, dancing back and forth. Out of the corner of his eyes, Wu Ying watched as the herdsmen fell back, and instinct warned him to ware.

A tap of his foot took him into the sky, moments before the built up charge around the Thundering Goats released, sparking into lightning. It arced between goat, jumping between each of them as the roar of thunder filled the steppe before tendrils of electricity reached Wu Ying. They struck him, sending shocks dancing through his body before more tendrils were grounded.

Letting out a series of satisfied bleats, the goats moved away from the falling Wu Ying, allowing him to thump to the ground to the satisfied laughter of the herdsmen.

“Oh… that was what they were saying.” Wu Ying said as he lay on the ground, staring up at the sky. Well, he guess he deserved that. He’d be a little annoyed too if some random stranger stood on him. Little arcs of lightning danced across his flesh and he sighed, eyes drifting close. “I think I’m just going to lie here, for a bit.” Turning his head sideways, he stared at the nearest goat. “If you don’t mind.”

Another bleat and dip of the head was all that answered Wu Ying, so he just lay there. Waiting, for the presence that the wind spoke coming to the herd. Hopefully they spoke a common language. Otherwise, he could only hope playing the fool was sufficient payment over trespassing on their territory.

He really was not looking forward to fighting his way out otherwise.

***

Wu Ying had sat up by the time the slow-moving thunder cloud that was the newcomer arrived. The man’s presence was similar to a high pressure front, pushing upon Wu Ying’s aura with the strength of their own, a loud and brazen warning about what might happen if he chose to act out. That the aura dwarfed his own Core Formation one was humbling, the difference in strength speaking of at least an entire variation.

When the man finally arrived, Wu Ying made sure to be on his feet, his robes cleaned from the grass stains. He had, briefly, considered changing into something a little more appropriate – but then again, what might be appropriate? Considering the dress of the herdsmen around him, it might be that a more rustic look might aid his case more.

In the end, he met the newcomer in what he had worn before, bowing low as he regarded the other with all his sense. Wind shifted and swirled around the other, brushing ever so gently against them. It was clear, from what whispers he could gather, that the Nascent Soul cultivator before him had a similar dao; one of thunder and lightning rather than wind perhaps; but a weather borne one anyway.

Her scent spoke of that, all too easily, the sweet, pungent odor just before the start of a thunderstorm, the smell of fresh rain falling on grass. Her aura rumbled, pushing against Wu Ying’s own but not on purpose, more like a disturbed animal shifting in its containment.

Like the powerful aura emanating from her figure, to Wu Ying’s bare sight, the Nascent Soul cultivator was a tall, imperious woman who looked to be in the later stages of her life, with wrinkles along her eyes and brows. She was clad in a singular piece of dress, the colourful cloth wrapped around her crossways and held together with a highly ornamental leath belt. It was entirely unlike the free flowing robes that he wore, hers was a colourfully woven bright blue like the summer sky, with tight sleeves and a long skirt worn over the top of what he assumed were trousers. Long leather boots with a flat heel adorned her legs.

Unlike the other herdsmen in their sheepskin coats and cloaks, wool facing inwards; the cultivator before him wore nothing of the sort like Wu Ying, her body – or her dao – more than sufficient to handle minor vagaries of temperature and rain.

“Greetings, Honored Cultivator.” Wu Ying intoned, offering a low martial bow befitting her rank and strength. “I am Long Wu Ying, a minor wandering cultivator and herb gatherer.”

Silence greeted his words, and he looked up as he straightened eventually. The woman was just staring at him, stormy grey eyes regarding him imperiously.

“I apologise for any intrusion and inconvenience I might have caused.” Pausing, Wu Ying considered and chose to tell the continued truth. “I was but following the wind and the trail of herbs when I encountered your flock.”

“And stole from the land,” she spoke at last, cutting off his excuses. Her voice was amusingly deep for a female, husky and aged and with little amusement in them. Her accent was atrocious though, but at least understandable for the most part.

“Stole?” Wu Ying said, frowning. “What I took will either regrow or was about to be eaten.” He gestured at the goats, many of which were being led away quietly by the herdsmen as the confrontation between the pair continued. “It seems like there was not much theft there.”

“Without making an offering, all such actions are theft,” she spoke, stepping closer “Then again, I would not expect otherwise from a southerner.”

Her words cut at Wu Ying, much like the aura she used to suppress his own. He raised his own chi and spiritual strength in return, unwilling to bow to her actions immediately.

“If you have specific rituals, I am more than willing to learn them,” Wu Ying murmured, offering her a clasped hand bow. “And undertake whatever ritual actions of forgiveness might be required, for the taking of these plants.” He paused, inclining his head. “I look forward to instruction from the Honored Elder.”

“No Elder of yours,” the woman said, snorting. “We do not hold to the strictures of your false clans, as though such bonds are not fragile things that will break during the depths of a harsh winter.”

Wu Ying’s eyes narrowed, but this time, he chose not to answer.

“You may call me Khan Erdene(5),” she finally said.

Wu Ying smiled then, a small one, as he bowed to her again in greeting. Well, whatever they had planned, whatever she wanted from him – and he had a feeling this was a matter of want rather than need, because no weapons were being drawn – it seemed they were willing to do so civilly. And that was a good thing.

Speech was always better than war. After all, he had seen all too many battles.

***

Some things, even when you noticed it via one’s spiritual and other senses still required sight, in-person and nearby, to truly grasp. In this case, the moving gers on top of the broad backs of the massive stone turtles(6) plodding along the steppes was a sight to behold. His eyes widened as he took in the creatures, a half-dozen of them, their backs wide enough that at least four gers could sit on each. Their heads were the size of a circular buildings themselves, but even then, it was insufficient accommodation for the tribe.

Which was why there were more people, riding along on horses, cattle pulling wagons trundling beside the turtles with full set-up accommodations beside them. Herds of goat and sheep, moving at the edges of the entire entourage, flicking lightning sparking from their heads occasionally.

The entire procession was at least a few li long, spread out to give one another sufficient space and for the herds to graze. So when they came up and over the rise, everyone but Wu Ying riding a horse; the entire display was spread out for him to see.

“Come, Southern Runner. We have much to discuss,” Khan Erdene spoke, waving Wu Ying down into the throng and pointing to the stone turtle in the center, the largest of its kind. The ger that sat there was massive, with multiple chimney’s sprouting from it to help dissipate the smoke from the stoves within.

“Of course.” Wu Ying nodded amicably, jogging alongside the group. There were no guards – what need there be, when she was powerful enough to squash him? Nevermind the fact that the famed northern horses could likely run even cultivators down eventually, if he chose to make a break of it.

Then again, Wu Ying wasn’t exactly your average cultivator. He gave himself decent odds of escaping the horses. Lousy ones of escaping Erdene. When dao’s so close to one another came into conflict, the one who had the greater cultivation base was bound to win. All of his usual tricks, his advantages with the wind would be stymied by her.

Down, down, they went. More than a few glanced at Wu Ying as he ran, lips turning up in amusement as they watched him jog along. That he was keeping up easily with the cantering horses, even unassisted as he was by the winds was a minor matter. It was obvious that no one actually ran, not here.

Not where everyone had horses.

Then again, Wu Ying had to admit to himself, they probably had lousy movement techniques. He wasn’t even showcasing the modifications in the Twelve Gales, content to keep to the basic structure as taught in the sect itself. Over the years, he’d progressed his understanding and adaptation, making it his own.

In truth, he was not even certain what he used now could truly be called that. Between combining the Heavenly Spirit, Earthly Body techniques, the esoteric movement technique of the elder who had trapped him and his own Wind Body, the resulting movement method was significantly stronger than the Twelve Gales was meant to be.

For now though, he had no reason to showcase it. Even if it meant he was ridiculed a little by others.

Soon enough, the group arrived at the base of the slow moving stone turtle. On closer inspection, Wu Ying noticed what had been hidden at a distance – ropes hanging down the edge of the turtle shell. One after another of the herdsmen had peeled away as they neared, leaving only two guardsmen who had appeared while the group had entered the moving village to ride up to the ropes.

The guards rode ahead, grabbing hold of the ropes and swinging themselves upwards and off their horses, the animals moving at a light trot to keep up with the slow ambling of the giant turtle before they peeled away, guided by the calls of other herders a distance away.

Swiftly clambering hand-over-hand, the pair of guards ascended the turtle with the ease of long practice. Turning his head slightly, Wu Ying watched as Erdene chose to skip the entire process and leapt upwards, pushing gently against her horse such that she did not injure it but somehow still managing to make the leap to the top of the turtle in one movement.

Not that she probably even needed to push, what with her control of her dao and chi. She probably could have flown up, now that Wu Ying thought about it. Left on the ground, jogging alongside and losing ground now that he was side-by-side with the massive stone turtle, he sighed at another test.

Do it like a regular cultivator or show off his skills? If he chose the latter, he would be making the woman wait, a minor insult when she probably knew he could just jump it. On the other hand…

Shaking his head and discarding thoughts of greater or lesser social import, Wu Ying chose to just act on his desires. Sometimes, trying to find the most correct solution just meant you delayed and failed. Sometimes, acting – any action – was better than nothing.

Leaping upwards, Wu Ying angled his leap such that he struck the side of the massive turtle’s shell, feet sliding along the smooth shell for a moment before he pushed again. He called forth a touch of the wind, lightened his own form with the Heavenly Soul, Earthly Body technique and rose again, bounding higher with each movement till he alighted next to the waiting Khan.

Erdene looked at Wu Ying as he landed silently, before turning away and striding towards the large ger in the center, choosing to not visibly comment. No indication if he had chosen right or not it seemed. Forcing him to flounder in ignorance, once again.

Good thing Wu Ying had practice being the ignorant fool.

Following her within, he braced for what was to come. Whatever that might be.

Footnotes:
5 - Yes, I’m drawing from Mongol culture, but not fully. After all, when women can be Nascent Soul cultivators and beat up men, there’s no reason they can’t be the chief’s either.
6 - Yes, I’m making a reference to the stone turtles of Karakorum, the ancient capital of the Mongol Empire