The Third Realm - Chapter 24 preview (Patreon)

Weeks of cultivation, not just to compress and create the necessary Core layer within his body; but also to consolidate his cultivation afterwards. Weeks to draw in the ever-present wind chi from around him, to layer it in his dantian so that he had energy to progress, all of it aided by the simple cultivation aids – even the Twice Cooked Dog Kidney and Wolf Liver Pill.

Cultivation this time was simple. His recent experiences in the last few years, of teaching and training, of the governments and cultures he had studied and learnt from, of the whispered moments of enlightenment had been fed within even as he layered another layer in his Core.

When he finished the layering, the Core layer itself was hard and clarified, stronger than anything he had ever felt. His dantian was not filled to the same extent, the lack of a cultivation tower robbing him of easy access to abundant chi. Yet, he was much better off than he could have hoped.

Still, Wu Ying would have stayed within for at least a few more days, to enjoy the respite from conversation, to study and practice and wash himself. He would, if he had a say in it, have stayed within for a few more days.

If not for the wind and the warning it brought.

Emerging from the tent as the day neared noon, he cast his gaze over those present in the village itself. At the same time he expanded his spiritual senses aggressively, sweeping through the camp without any subtlety. The new Core layer within his body offered him even greater fidelity in his senses, where everything within a hundred feet of him was noticed to the finest detail with his senses unfurled to this extent. It was not, of course, sustainable – no immortal mind could handle all this input without end. Still, it was a marked degree of strength.

More than that, after multiple progressions, his Core was now at the same size as those who had just started the journey; perhaps a little larger. Even though that was the case, Wu Ying understood that he had, contained, more wind chi; a greater degree of refined strength than someone of the same apparent level.

And that did not even include his skill with his jian.

“Cultivator Long! Congratulations on your successful cultivation. However, we ask that you work on your control of your new strength a little more.” The figure that hurried over to Wu Ying from a nearby tent was clad in the hide armour of the tribes. At a glance, Wu Ying could tell he was in the upper edges of Energy Storage and had the Sense of the Sword.

“There are two score fully armed and armoured individuals riding on horses coming from the south east. They smell of blood and death and are using talismans to suppress their aura. There are three Core Formation cultivators in the retinue and they too are working to suppress the presence of the others,” Wu Ying said, curtly. His mind was flowing fast, picking out words from those half-heard; replacing them when he could not remember the right ones. Intent was enough, at least. “I doubt they are coming for a drink, with all that preparation.”

The guard paled at Wu Ying’s words. He stood stunned for a second before he spoke. “How, how do you know all this?”

“They smell. Very badly,” Wu Ying said, grinning viciously. “They have not washed for at least a month.”

“Borjigin…” A grimace crossed the guard’s face. Then, he hesitated, though Wu Ying’s domineering presence over the tribe was raising alarm all across the tribe. Women were calling children close, those with weapons close on hand went to check on their draw or gripped it tight while cooks looked up from their stove pots, setting some to simmer. Further afield, tribesmen were turning towards the village, a few moving to corall their herds and pull them closer.

Yet, for all his new strength, he could not alert those in the farthest reaches. Not with any clarity. The herds sprawled across multiple li, some driven hours away. Those, Wu Ying hoped, would just be out of the way.

“Go! Alert them.” Wu Ying snapped, seeing the guard still frozen.

A jerky nod, the steel command in Wu Ying’s voice and the trace of killing intent leaking through sending him sprinting away. Set throughout the camp were simple metal shields, propped up or kept near the front of ger’s for sunning. Grabbing one of those – perhaps even his own – the guard began to slam his drawn sword into it.

Nearby tribesmen stared at the guard, their jaws dropping open. They might not have overheard the stilted conversation, might not have understood it, but the ringing was enough.

Rather than wait, Wu Ying took to the skies, calling forth the wind. He floated upwards, ascending above the ger top’s, rotating in mid-air as fingers of wind plucked at sleeves and hems, tickling his face as it whispered of a darker, bloodier future.

Idly, he noted how simple it was to float through the air now. The trickle of power required from his Core was negligible for his current reserves, the wind feeling firmer under his feet even as his body, lighter like a wind. The only issue with his current technique was that he was no imposing, unmoving figure but more a drifting leaf.

From on top of a turtle, two figures emerged from a massive ger. They stared at Wu Ying, leaping through the air; one riding a floating shield, another being carried by a ghostly horse.

“Cultivator Long. What are you doing?” Elder Daginaa; the first of the Core Formation elders in the tribe said as he rode up on his metal shield. Light glinted off his armour, as metal filings in the air were pulled towards him in a constant stream, plating his body and clothing in a glittering layer.

“In the distance, two score riders and three Core Formation cultivators approaching with the smell of blood and death on their breaths,” Wu Ying gestured in the right direction.

Frowning, Elder Daginaa waited only for a moment for Elder Ogdai to arrive on his spirit steed before he turned his attention. At the same time, Ogdai took over careful watch over Wu Ying, though he stayed a distance away. No need to close the distance when one’s favoured weapon was a bow. The fact that the bow seemed to shimmer with suppressed energy, a Saint-class weapon and imbued the arrow that lay against it with that same energy did not escape Wu Ying. Just as much, the steed he sat upon was stronger, denser than any spirit he had ever sense. In the meantime, Ogdai himself felt weaker; as though the Core within himself had diffused.

“Ancient ancestors and embattled spirits,” Daginaa said when his focus came back to the present. “How did they know?”

“Luck? They always try at least once,” Ogdai replied.

“With one Core Formation elder though. Never three.” Eyes narrowed, Daginaa looked at Wu Ying before he shook his head. “They must have cast the bones, or asked the spirits.”

“Bad timing. She is at a sensitive point,” Ogdai replied. “If she is interrupted.”

“Yes.”

The pair shared a long look before they turned to stare at Wu Ying directly.

“I hope that we can speak with them first,” Wu Ying said. “I will not attack them, for no reason. Nor will I take part in an ambush.”

The pair frowned at Wu Ying’s words. It was Daginaa who spoke up, his voice troubled. “You tie our hands. For we know the Borjigin and their enmity with us is long.”

“Nonetheless. I will not attack them first.” Wu Ying gestured at the tribe below. “The most I can offer in that regard is to protect the non-combatants.” Then his lips qwirked up a little as he sensed Narangerel stride out of a tent, bow in hand, arrows on her hip to join a group of other women and elderly similarly armed. “Or at least, the ones here.”

The pair of Elders exchanged another unreadable glance before they nodded in unison. Ogdai turned back to Wu Ying, gesturing in the air around. “Stay here then. Do you mind a little deception?” When Wu Ying shook his head, he grinned. “Good. Then do not fear them.”

“What them?” Wu Ying said, but it was to empty air.

Ogdai had already turned away, his spirit horse riding crossing the distance with long steps, even as a song rose from the Elder’s lips. It was deep and low, a throat sung song that sent shivers down Wu Ying’s bones and which conjured spirits into being, or perhaps drew them in. In moments, he found himself surrounded by spirits, creatures that were barely there to his senses; and yet undoubtedly real at the same time.

“Oh, that them.” Wu Ying exhaled a long slow breath, doing his best to calm his pounding heart. The magic he was seeing, the spirits and the dao’s and the cultivation methods, it was different from what he was used.

Even as he watched, Ogdai rose into the sky while Daginaa rode his shield lower, waving his hand around as he gathered tribesmen to him. He placed himself and his recruits directly in the way of any assault, the gathered tribesmen and their horses pawing impatiently at the ground.

In the distance, the assaulting Borjigin continued their approach, not having sped up. One disadvantage of containing one’s own spiritual aura was that, unless you had a dao like Wu Ying’s that contributed to the sensing otherwise; you were highly constrained.

Not that they would not notice the reception community, but it would take a few more li at least. Enough time, perhaps for them to turn aside. Yet, Wu Ying doubted such a reasonable course of action was about to occur.

For now, he could only wait as those below him readied themselves for war, locating bows and arrows, pulling children and elderly to the tops of the stone turtles and otherwise arming themselves. Some, teens too young to take part in the fight readied for the battle in other ways. Pails of water, placed near the sides of ger. Other pots set to boil, while campfires along the ground were banked.

Preparations for death and battle and healing, perhaps.

Wu Ying watched it all, and could not help but look at the spirits that rose in bidding. Some, a rare few, were humanoid in shape. Many coming from shrines, ancestral spirits that might have been but the personification of the duty and allegiance or perhaps, the very souls of their ancestors themselves. Most though were spirits of hearth and home, of land and sky, of ghostly herds like those clustered around him, or thunderous goats below.

“Are you truly nothing but spirit beasts, lacking form and substance? Developing in a different route? Or are you something different, inherent to this land and people because of their beliefs?” Wu Ying asked the spirits around him. He did not expect an answer and did not get one.

Yet, he could not help but wonder.

In the distance, the Borjigin finally slowed down. The three Core Formation elders briefly had a discussion, their conversation too fast, too fluid for Wu Ying to pick out on; not with the distance, not with his lack of understanding.

Not that it was necessary. Their decision was clear enough, as they relaxed their auras a little and guided their steeds forward. They moved faster now, no longer caring to attempt to hide from discovery and choosing speed over stealth now.

High above, Ogdai watched over the proceedings, his own horse and presence hidden in a cloak of chi and a warping of the air around him by additional spirits. So many were clustered around him, spirit horses like the ones around Wu Ying, but translucent. Hiding the Core Formation elder, even as though below approached the clash.

Silently, Wu Ying watched, his own aura retracted now. He no longer felt the need to alert the tribes and so he kept his own aura contained. A weak Core, perhaps a half-step Core Formation cultivator. That should be enough, to hide and announce at the same time.

A presence, a pressure, spiritual senses playing across the surroundings. Wu Ying’s lips turned upwards, as it attempted to probe his own aura at a distance. He formed his own sword intent and lashed out, careful not to apply too much energy. Even so, the attack cut at the extended spirit and forced it back, which made the wanderer smile grimly.

Probe him, without consent, would they? Perhaps they would learn to keep their slimy hands away. And slimy it was, for the presence had an oiliness to it that he did not like. A burnt tang that reminded him of an all too distasteful run-in with the Dark Sect cultivators.

At least it was not the infernal. Those were worse.

“I do not understand the point of all this,” Wu Ying murmured to the spirits. “Why attack their own people?” Then he shook his head. “No, that’s wrong. They’re not all the same people, even if we think them that. They are the Borjigin and this is the…” Wu Ying frowned, realizing he was not sure of that. Why would the tribe have a name for themselves, call themselves anything. And if they had offered their name upon meeting, he had not understood it.

“So, different tribes, raiding and fighting one another. For herds? For women and riches?” Wu Ying shook his head. “No, even if I put it that way, I still don’t understand it. This land might not be abundant, but it certainly isn’t that scarce that blood and death is the only way forward.”

Silence greeted him once more. More importantly, the first clash was about to occur.

To Wu Ying’s chagrin, his initial assumption that they would rush one another like cultivators in the south where melee weapons were more common was disrupted almost immediately. Rather than a direct charge, arrows were loosed at one another from a distance. The groups peeled apart, splitting at right angles to their initial ride so that they could continue to loose arrows at one another from a distance.

All that is, but the quartet of Core Formation cultivators. Wu Ying frowned, though there was little he could about the result even if he wanted to. Daginaa facing against three Core Formation elders, each of whom by themselves easily swatted even cultivator-empowered, enchanted arrows aside with aura or weapon.

“They’re splitting up. I wonder why?” Wu Ying muttered, surprised to see that the trio were not about to group up and attack Daginaa himself. At least, not directly; for there was significant space now between the trio; with the split ends of each of the tribes teams curving wards. It was like the ends of a bow, fully strung with each grouping one end of the curved bow.

Then, no more time to think about such things as the clash happened between the three. Daginaa, flying forwards on his shield had conjured a dao in one hand, the huge curved sabre lashing outwards and sending a stream of glittering chi at his opponents. It was so broad that if the trio had not split apart, all three would have been struck.

As it was, the elder in the middle just rode right through the attack, his body and his steed fading into insubstantial mist for a brief moment as the attack cut nothing apart.

Curses rang out from Daginaa at that action. “Mahah, you damnable sneak…” then a string of words that Wu Ying had yet to learn. However, from the invective and tone, Wu Ying was certain he understood it’s nature. “Fight me properly!”

“Only a fool fights like their opponent wishes them to!” Mahah’s voice was high and clear, filled with amusement.

A flicker of movement, as the other two attackers took the opportunity to lash out at the distracted Daginaa. An arrow blurred through the air, narrowly dodged by the elder to impact the ground. It exploded when it struck the earth, a deep furrow carved into the land as the expanded energy contained within the projectile expanded itself.

The other attack though did not miss, the whip wrapping around Daginaa’s arm. It yanked backwards, the elder pulled towards his opponent as the barbed whip tore into metallic body. Yet, even as he was pulled away, his silvery shield stuck to his feet, keeping him floating.

Caught and off-balance, he was pulled along as the other two elders readied their own attacks. Only for Ogdai to finally make his move. An arrow from high above came arcing down, hidden in the clouds and dropping almost directly downwards.

Then, the arrow blossomed, one becoming a dozen, becoming hundreds. A rain of arrows that would have made an army proud slammed into the earth targeted at Mahah and the other archer. Mahah shifted insubstantial, but unlike before she let out a hiss of pain, the arrows leaving a trail of wispy mist out of her body as they exited.

“Interesting…” Wu Ying muttered, the wind continuing to whisper their impressions to him. Her mist defense, while powerful was obviously not all encompassing. A part of him wondered why Ogdai had managed to hurt her and not Danginaa.

On the other end, the Mongolian archer had ripped out a pair of arrows from his shoulder and leg that had managed to pierce his hide. His own horse had fallen to the attacks, peppered with a couple of arrows including one lucky blow that had entered the top of its head.

Jumping off the dying horse, the archer drew and fired into the sky rapidly. He started running along the ground, arrows forming in the air as he touched bow body and down to the string as he drew. Chi formed arrows, arced through the sky even as more arrows fell. Less numerous in number, only a score hitting the ground at a time near the running attacker.

“I wonder why they do not attack the other riders?” Wu Ying frowned. That shower of arrows could have wiped out one entire wing of the Borjigin. Then, after a moment, he answered the question for himself. “Because then the other Core Formation cultivators would attack their own people, and it would be a slaughter.”

This, this entire fight was unlike the wars of his home. There was a ritual here, unspoken rules. Unlike the battles of his kingdom, where tens of thousands struggled against another equally vast army of faceless mortals. Where Core Formation cultivators were rare and sect members tore into the ranks of the opposition when left unopposed; coating the ground with blood and guts and battlefields rang with screams of the dying.

Here the battle was less focused on ensuring a complete and final victory for one side. Neither side was attempting to crush all opposition, for that just begged retaliatory attacks of similar form. Even now, in the distance, Wu Ying noted how the weaker members, bereft of their horses from the missile exchange or injured had turned aside from the clash and were left unmolested.

“Battle as a ritual?” Wu Ying shook his head, lips turned up in slight disgust. He could not help it, for he sensed the few unmoving bodies on the turf. It was their way, perhaps; but he could not agree with it. Even if, perhaps, it was the way they progressed. After all, he too had benefitted from battle, from the pressure of life and death.

Then, his attention was drawn back to the fight among his peers. It seemed to be reaching the next step, as Daginaa having managed to regain his footing had managed to tear himself free. Now, the pair dashed at one another, one on a horse, the other on his flying shield. The whip sparked and hummed as it struck at Daginaa, blocked by raised arm and cutting sabre while coiled energy from blade strikes erupted in waves of formless energy.

On the other end, the archers fired at one another, explosive arrows disappearing into the high horizon. So far away was Ogdai that even Wu Ying found it hard to keep track of him with his own perceptions, leaving only the wind to whisper of his location. Accompanying the dropping arrows from above were spirits, each of them seeming to have melded with the arrows now as they helped guide the falling projectiles.

It seemed, at least for now, those two were balanced.

Leaving the third and final attacker to ride free upon her misty horse.