The Third Realm - Chapter 30 preview (Patreon)

The wind blew him west, till he found himself before a sight he had never imagined. Even the largest lake he had witnessed was nothing like this. The waves were higher, frothing with whitecaps under the insistent hand of the wind, seaweed and kelp and salt staining his lips even as he stared into a blue-green horizon that stretched for as far as the eye could see and still kept going.

The ocean.

An endless body of water, where monsters and mystical creatures lived. Across numerous villages and cities along the coast, fishing fleets braved the waters, casting nets and lines to draw forth the bounty of the sea. Brave members dove deep into the waters, seeking pearls, shellfish, oceanic marine life and other delectable to feed the ravenous population in the west. In shallower basins, villages planted long bamboo poles into the mudflats, kelp and laver grown and harvested beneath the water. Alongside the water, held in simple woven trays and placed near houses, the seaweed was left to dry.

Storage rings, specially crafted to ensure the freshness of the catch aided in the transportation of the catch. Glass and wooden storage containers, filled with water taken from the sea saw to the transportation of live seafood, carefully built formations ensuring stability and durability of the construction.

It was one such caravan, on its way back to a nearby city that Wu Ying had hitched a ride with. During long nights, resting in the warmth of the ocean wind; formations and guards patrolling the perimeter to keep away monsters that preyed upon the caravans, that the intricacies of the commercial network had been explained to Wu Ying.

“Entire families of noblemen have grown in strength from the movement of such goods,” the caravan master, an older gentleman in the upper stages of Energy Storage, explained to Wu Ying. “Those of us in the branch families take on the task of commerce and transportation, while the main families deal with the fishing fleet and the catch. They also, of course, handle the lumber in the nearby forest that dominate the shipbuilding industry.”

“And the numerous guards?” Wu Ying inclined his head to the constant patrols.

“A necessity. Even with the forts and the inns, the demonic beasts and spirits know that there’s an easy meal if we slacken our watch.” The caravan master let out a gusty sigh. “With the Eastern Dragon King’s attitude to dealing with his many progeny, many of the creatures here can trace their descent to one of his children, with the commensurate strength within them too.”

“Is slaying them not… dangerous?” Wu Ying said, carefully. He was remembering his own travels, the beasts he had slain at the edge of his blade. Now, he worried that the beast cores he held within his storage rings might see him in danger from another dragon king.

“Not a concern. Thankfully, that same attitude means that whichever great-grandchild or other fool descendant that attacks us is considered too foolish to live,” the man laughed. “Not as though any proper dragon of the east would even consider anything but a full blooded beast a true member of the family. Even those few that ascend to Nascent Soul level are barely considered more than distant cousins.”

“Are there that many then, out here?” Wu Ying said. He had sensed a few presences, deep in the wilds whilst he travelled. Creatures with an aura that chilled him to the bone and sent him fleeing carefully for safer environs.

The caravan master had nodded then. “Aye. Compared to the central lands, many. Not like the south though, where those immortal beasts live amongst their descendants. But here? Here, we have many. Eventually though, they either go into the sea or are driven away by the king.”

Another gust, a spray of water that carried itself all the way to Wu Ying as he stood on the small cliff overlooking the water. He exhaled, returning to the present moment and stared at the water. Somewhere out there, past the waves, out of sight, an island floated or so it was said. Past the Dragon King of the East’s palace deep under the water, the island of the immortals. Where a storied group of immortals lived and the peaches of immortality – the famous shortcut – grew.

The stories of those who tried to make it to that island was numerous. They were a favourite of passing entertainers, for you could do much with that very plot thread. Comedy - like Ah Roh the Pilgrim who took a raft with his rooster and rat and ended up shipwrecked. Tragedy – the three sisters of Xin who sacrificed their hearts, their limbs and their future. War and drama – when the King of Bu sailed his fleet and loss them, one after another before he sunk with flagship deep into the water.

What all those stories lacked, what all those tales never offered; was the glimpse of hope. Success at actually gaining a peach. And yet, fools tried, one after the other, year after year.

Perhaps hope, no matter how faint, had a true siren’s call.

***

The city had walls that rose three times his height, a ringed series of curtain walls for a city sat upon the heights of a cliff, overlooking the peaceful bay and the harbour below. The inlet into the harbour were overlooked by a pair of forts with imposing watchtowers, flat landings nearby where well-worn artillery pieces watched over the approach. Additional walls cut-off the harbour from the fortress, a wide paved road allowing the easy approach and routing of the day’s catch.

Scores of boats moved within the massive harbour itself, jockeying for position at the entrances. Small gusts of wind, water and wood chi blew across the waves, cultivators at the Energy Storage stage guiding the movement of boats. Smaller sampans and tugs darted between the ships docked at the edges of the circular bay, armoured guards standing on the boats and boarding the vessels to check them over.

Wu Ying watched over all this for a while, so long so that a patrol was sent to speak with him. A lone wanderer, bereft of a discernible aura, approaching from the deep wilds by himself off the main roads. It was an anomaly, and the nobleman who ran the city cared little for anomalies.

Anomalies were how you were assaulted by a dragon in disguise, or surprised by a visiting immortal, bored of the heavens.

The patrol that came for him was a large group – more than double the size of their regular number of their squads. It made sense, since the leader who stood before him was a low-grade Core Formation cultivator. The Captain – for who else could he be – stank, his scent a mixture of rotting seaweed and an open wound. Extending his spiritual sense a little, Wu Ying’s breath caught, for the Captain sported a damaged Core, a single rent leaking chi and the agony of an exposed immortal soul; its protective covering broken.

Smoothing out the expression on his face, even as the horror of what had happened to the Captain throbbed within Wu Ying, he waited for the group to reach him. He took in further details as he did so, everything from the shorter legs of the horses that were being ridden, the slight unfamiliarity of the men – especially compared to the experienced horsemen of the north – in their riding. Their cultivation bases, a direct split between those in the upper end of Body Cultivation had the five who were in the middle stages of Energy Storage.

Weapons were interesting, each of them carrying not bows or crossbows but throwing javelins. Considering the rolling hills around, he assumed it was due to the shorter ranges of combat. Their swords were short, double-edged jian that were barely longer than a big knife. Their primary weaponry though was not the sword or javelins but the spears they held, hook bills on the end of each meant to punch through armour or hook and drag their victims behind them.

Armour was missing on the horses themselves, the guards sporting lighter, thinner leather armour that had been made supple with oil rather than hardened. In addition, rather hooked clasps or buckles, the armour itself was tied together by string, the knots hidden beneath the few overlapping plates on the shoulder or around the neck.

Idly, Wu Ying let his senses trace the knots, surprised at the variation among the guards. More than that, he knew not these knots, though he soon gleaned most around the armour plates were friction knots or fast release slip knots.

“The sea’s blessings on you, honored visitor,” the Captain said, when the group was close enough. Much like his soul, the Captain’s voice was frazzled, hoarse and damaged and grated as it spoke. A sharp contrast to the smooth mien, light brown hair and sparkling eyes he bore. “I am Captain of the Guards, Ren Xue of the Ba Province.”

Five of their members split apart, the Energy Storage cultivators riding their horses to place themselves at the points of a pentagram. The start of a combat formation, Wu Ying would assume. The other five were behind the Captain and to the side, each of them with a clear line to toss the javelins they held so idly in their hands, tips pointed down.

“A fair day to you as well, Captain,” Wu Ying replied easily. “This one is Long Wu Ying, a wandering cultivator and spiritual herb gatherer.”

The Captain relaxed a little as Wu Ying announced himself politely, more so when he continued and named his occupation. It was no surprise, his own control over his aura if he was a gatherer. A quick flick of his gaze ran down Wu Ying’s robes. After due consideration, Wu Ying had changed into replicas of the Verdant Green Waters inner sect robes, ones he had others recreate. Sadly, without the special silk to provide additional protection and durability, which was why he wore it only occasionally.

“I apologise, Culitvator Long, but I am unfamiliar with the sect that you hail from.”

Wu Ying wondered if the man was just fishing, or he had truly guessed that he was part of a sect. After all, Wu Ying understood his own accent marked him as a stranger. His own rounded words were a sharp contrast to the clipped, sharp notes of the natives here.

“No offence is taken. I have travelled far and I would not expect such knowledge to have travelled as well,” Wu Ying said. He touched his robes, a half-smile on his lips. “I am currently on leave from the Verdant Green Waters Sect.”

“Based in the Shen kingdom,” Captain Ren supplied before Wu Ying could. “No minor sect, that is. My master would be honoured to host one of such great lineage.”

Wu Ying hid the internal wince at the man’s words. Not that it was that surprising, that the nobleman in charge of the city – and province, it seemed – would want to fete him. Still, it meant a series of dinners, drinks, speeches and carefully worded and polite days.

On the other hand, it also meant, potentially, access to his library and connections, which depending on the makeup of the kingdom, might be of utmost importance. Certain cities and sects restricted access to everyone from apothecarist to martial trainers, forcing Wu Ying to treat with them.

Hopefully, he would not have to decline – yet again – another insistent cultivator that he join their sect or government.

“I would be honoured to meet your master, Master…?”

“Viscount Khao.”

“Honored to meet Viscount Khao,” Wu Ying said, inclining his head.

A small gesture from Captain Ren and the guards relaxed. The Captain then gestured, indicating for Wu Ying to join him, surprise registering very briefly when Wu Ying chose to walk on air, rising to meet the man’s own height on the horse.

In that way, one man walking on air, the other riding his steed at a slow pace, guards surrounding them did the group return to the city. More than a few glances were shot their way, children pointing to the unusual sight while adults, dulled by expectations would jerk around to confirm what they had seen. All this commotion, Wu Ying studiously ignored as did the Captain.

In fact, the Captain seemed intent on relating the history of the kingdom and province to Wu Ying. His voice grating and harsh, the words spoken almost by rote, as though he’d related such information many times before. “Baisha is the capital of the eight province, established by the first Viscount of Ba four hundred and eighteen years old. He built the initial harbour and the first Fang,” a gesture to the tower on the north side of the bay, “while it was the sixth Viscount – Viscount Khao’s own father - who built the second Fang.”

“Impressive forts,” Wu Ying murmured, happy to let the man tell his tale.

“They are. The city has never been taken because of them,” Captain Ren said, his nose wrinkling a little as he continued. “Though many have tried, including the fool Wakoku(12).”

“How about from land?” Wu Ying said, curiously.

“Hah! We are the easternmost province of the Jiang kingdom.” The captain gestured to the west. “All that way lie our people, so who would attack us?” He sniffed. “Any who try to bring an army along the imperial roads would be spotted and dealt with long before. And few dare the deeper wilds.” He glanced at Wu Ying, a slight smile crossing his face. “Except, of course, individuals like yourself.”

Wu Ying inclined his head. “Then, why the many walls?’

Captain Ren looked over at Wu Ying consideringly. Due to the way the walls were set-up, only the large outer wall and a single inner wall could have been seen from their earlier position. Of course, Wu Ying might have managed to spy upon it before – after all, as he amply demonstrated now, he could fly – but it was still an interesting revelation. One that Wu Ying had deliberately let loose.

Over the years – and how many, Wu Ying disliked to consider – the cultivator had learnt that hiding the entirety of one’s abilities was rather self-defeating. As a wandering gatherer, it was presumed he had goods worthy of acquisition. If others presumed him too weak to hold onto his goods, he but invited attack at a later date.

If, however, he revealed the extent of his skills, the degree of attention he received was often distracting. More than once, he had to depart a city or province at speed, losing his watchers in the deep wild. More than once, divination and other forms of remote observation had been unleashed upon him, for concerns about a powerful, sectless, tieless cultivator stoked the paranoia of the ruling class.

Better to showcase allegiance and his strength – at least, some portions of it. Flight, without the use of a sword, spoke of high degrees of mobility. A powerful spiritual sense or other forms of perception that were missed by those in charge spoke of a degree of paranoia and wariness. His flawless aura control that evaded even the most vigorous of probings, a mark of his skill as a gatherer.

All of which led one to presume that any action against him would result in, at the least, his successful escape.

And if the Verdant Green Waters had an issue with his use of the sect robes, they should have expelled him entirely from the sect roles. They could, also, come and find him and discuss the matter directly. Until then, better to act and ask forgiveness later.

Or not at all.

“Imperial edict,” Captain Ren explained, stiffly. “No city is allowed to have more than a few licensed buildings built outside the wall.” He gestured to the scattering of small stalls and inns set outside, many of which looked rather ramshackle and prone to being torn down. “These are illegal. In a day, a few at most, they will be torn down. You see, all buildings within the city are taxed. Those outside are not, and as such; two hundred and eighteen years ago, to combat further tax evasion, an imperial edict was passed.”

Nearby, one of the men working an impromptu inn spat to the side. He made sure not to do so on the road itself or anywhere near the group; but his distaste was obvious. It must be a strange life, to have your business ripped apart every few days at the whims of the guards within. Yet, they’d pick up the slack and continue.

“Is there a lot of business then, to make it worthwhile?” Wu Ying said, curiously. Surely waiting a little longer to enter the city was no major concern, no matter how long the travel. Even now, in the height of the day, the wait to enter the city was only a dozen or so wagons long.

Of course, the guard captain and himself did not bother waiting, cutting right pass the line and heading for the massive gates, the gates themselves being pulled upon to widen the entrance further for them.

“Of the distasteful kind, yes.” Captain Ren’s nose wrinkled. “Some have no desire to pay the entrance tax. Others bring restricted goods, or pass on such restricted goods to those with the proper licenses outside.” He lowered his voice, as he continued. “Then, there’s the clansmen. We still get them from the north or the marshes, and those we don’t allow into the city. So they do business out there.”

Wu Ying nodded, waiting as they passed through the city. Once inside, the Captain became significantly less loquacious. No wonder, since the volume from the throng of individuals was enough to drown out any but the loudest voices. On top of that, the man watched him as Wu Ying took in the sights and sounds, floating the occasional coin to a vendor or food stall.

“Hungry?” Captain Ren asked, when Wu Ying picked up the eight snack of their short trip, this one a leaf-wrapped roll of deep-fried beancurds stuffed with minced tenderloin and bamboo shoots. Wu Ying gobbled down the pair of pieces, wiping at his mouth with a thumb.

“I find myself missing food cooked by others after spending much time in the wilds,” Wu Ying explained. Then, gesturing down the main road they traversed, their horses picking their way sedately upwards to the massive fort and nobleman’s house above, he continued. “I also find that food and entertainment are the hallmarks of many kingdoms.”

Captain Ren smiled then. “Yes, the kingdom is justly proud of our chefs. We emphasize highly the freshness of our ingredients, the speed at which food must be cooked and the lightness of touch when cooking so as not to mar the ingredients.” Gesturing back to the harbour, he continued. “More so, we’re fortunate to have access to some of the best locations for such ingredients.”

Wu Ying nodded, eyeing Captain Ren sideways. He had to ask. “A connosieur yourself, then?”

Captain Ren laughed, a little. “One must, in my master’s employ.”

“Ah…”

And wasn’t that an interesting tidbit. Suddenly, Wu Ying was interested in meeting this redoubtable Viscount. What kind of man hired a broken Core Formation cultivator and yet, engendered loyalty from a man who seemed dour otherwise.

Footnote

12 - Very old, slightly offensive name for Japan. Obviously, not actually Japan since this is not actually China; but the transliteration and offensive use is on purpose for this character.