The Third Realm - Chapter 38 preview (Patreon)

Inside the unchanging darkness of the cave, Wu Ying found his ability to sense the passing of time fading away. Caught up in the contemplation of that long evening, he replayed each moment over and over again in his mind, teasing apart that long evening of discourse, compliments and wind dao’s. He recalled the way his bloodline had reacted, to both the proximity of the dragons and their dominance.

At times, he would stand, breaking away from the stillness required for his usual cross-legged meditation to move through the forms of the Seven Winds manual. The eastern wind forms were powerful and explosive, each twisting blow and motion pouring chi through his limbs and extremities. Areas deep in his bones and his organs that had resisted cleansing and the influence of his wind chi gave way, as Wu Ying felt the deeper understanding he had gained allow him to work around these areas.

It was not just the eastern wind though, for the influence of the other wind on the cyclone had shifted his own understanding further. It was not just a single wind that affected his body it was all seven of them. It was the combination of the winds that influenced the world, even if one might hold dominance at any one time.

With that understanding came further enlightenment and progress, as he worked his way around additional blockages. Shifting from the eastern wind to the western one, to north and south and central forms all contributed as he found his chi flowing through his body, coursing through bone, marrow and arteries; along reinforced flesh and skin and making him lighter and faster than ever.

Once, he had wondered, at the greatest stages of enlightenment and assimilation, would he become a wind itself. No more real than the breeze. Forced to give up his own humanity to become nothing more than just a portion of the world below.

Now, his understanding had clarified.

Exposed to numerous dao’s and conceptions, his bloodline throbbing and thinning, absorbed into his body and amplifying the effects of his own enlightenment. He marveled at the genius of the initial Patriarch of the Seven Winds, the formation and creation of the manual and his own foretelling of the future to include both the winds of heaven and hell.

For it was that inclusion, the grounding aspect of both celestial and base needs that ensured that Wu Ying would become naught but air itself, a moving figment of energy – unless he so chose. Instead, heaven pulled him forth and hell kept him grounded, and in that duality of nature and it was in that inherent conflict and concord that his own mortal form was anchored.

Between heaven above and hell below, mankind existed. Souls made of the firmament of the heavens and bodies born of the wind(15).

Heaven was order and objective understanding, morality and celestial rights; but hell was no burning place of despair; though the punishments of diyu(16) were necessary to cleanse the soul. It was not enough to drink the soup of forgetfulness, for a soul stained by the sins of the past would carry that weight into its next life, marring learning and interactions in the future. Instead, hell was a place of cleansing and a promise of future potential, for what was the cycle of death and rebirth but the cycle of hope itself?

Wu Ying would neither be an aspect of the wind nor a mortal plodding the ground, an avatar of its tempestuousness nature in physical form. His body lightened, flesh, bones and organs soaked deep with wind chi. On the other hand, he felt more tied into the world around himself at this time, for the five winds that he progressed in was of the earth. On the other, he felt torn apart, a wispy creation that could part at the barest hint of a gale.

Only the barest traces of heavenly wind chi floated through his body, mingling with the seeping cloudiness of hell chi. His journey through the kingdoms had given him a sense of the heavenly, the myriad ways the celestial bureaucracy twisted and changed, dictated to the humans below and guided by those above.

More difficult for Wu Ying was locating the winds of hell, of which he had only grasped the barest threads. No more had he noticed it, even as his ability to sense and trace the movements of the heavenly wind had grown.

Somehow, Wu Ying knew that his next trip to the south would see a much deeper, more powerful connection. In the south, Wu Ying believed, he would find the heavenly wind he had sought so far. And if heaven existed, so too did hell.

***

Meditation, movement and body forms and eventually, a tub made of compressed clay filled with the waters from his own World Spirit Ring. A tub where he lay in medicinal baths, leaching impurities and pouring wind chi into his bones, forcing adaptation where his stubborn body refused to yield.

In time, the cave grew cold, the temperature dropped. He was forced to shatter the ice forming on his baths each time he came back towards it, the environment leaching warmth from the shallow cultivation cave. Yet, for all the turning of the seasons above, Wu Ying stayed within, soaking in the depths of his understanding of the storm that had arrived.

Once more, during this period of close door cultivation, he felt the tearing tempest above him. Its fury and strength had reduced significantly by the time it had reached his location, yet with Wu Ying’s expanded senses, he felt its swirling movements and faded glory.

To Wu Ying’s surprise, buried beneath the earth as he was, he found himself caught in another moment of enlightenment. The experience, both beneath the ground and amongst those mortals who moved along the earth, sheltering in place and quivering as nature’s fury pounded above them cast a new light upon the experience.

Rain pouring down from high above soaked into the earth, nourishing plant matter and seeping into groundwater. Trickles of water turned into streams, joining together to form rivers on their final trip towards the sea from which they had come.

Winds broke rotten branches and uprooted older trees, opening up the canopy to allow newer, younger and more vibrant plants an opportunity to grow. Plant seeds were thrown many li from their origins, drifting dandelion tendrils and barbed seeds alike spreading across the plains and forests.

And yes, tragedies alike grew. Lightning crashed, starting fires in too dry plots of land, burrows and trees broken to leave their residences exposed, and smaller insects perished by the score as the winds blew through. Humans were no less subject to the vagaries of chance and the fury of the storm, ill-cared for walls blowing down and mortals pinned beneath broken ceiling beams.

Yet, this too was necessary. All things grew old and died, even the immortals that Wu Ying strived to become could perish. Immortality was but a state of never ending youth, of improved healing and the opportunity to live for millennia.

All things died, and in their deaths nourished the young and the growing.

To seek true immortality, an unaging, undying, impossible dream was a perversion of the Dao only the demons and the dark sects would dare consider.

When the storm passed and Wu Ying’s moment of enlightenment ended, he found himself extending his stay in his cultivation cave. Contemplating what he had learnt, feeding the understanding that he had gained to the Nascent Soul within his Core. Using that understanding to progress and combine the flowing body forms of the Seven Winds with his own martial style, as the beginning edges of the third strike were created.

Understanding grew, as did the soul within, and rather than blowing onwards; shut away as he was in his cave, Wu Ying cultivated and drew deep of the wind chi around him. He rebuilt his stores in his dantian, knowing that he required another layer.

Taking the pills he had acquired, Wu Ying sped up the process, shifting away from body Cultivation for a time. Cross-legged, he drew in the world chi and around him, the winds above the hill his cultivation cave existed within growing strange and erratic. Stories grew, of the altered landscape and the outpouring of chi that some sensed, unaspected, fire and metal that benefited those of the correct alignment.

In time, local cultivators arrived, to train above the hill, drawing in the complex energies below. It was of marginal benefit, but for those in the early stages of cultivation; even that marginal benefit was dearly desired.

Battles were fought, body cleansing cultivators struggling against one another, vying for a spot at the top of the hill where the chi grew more numerous. Holding forth till Energy Storage cultivators arrived, throwing those individuals away and relegating them below. It was only good fortune that the energy gathered was too paltry for a Core Formation cultivator to care for.

And all this time, plants drawn by the wind sprouted on the hills and landslides, content to grow in the altered environment. In time, the energy in the atmosphere grew stronger and more focused, metal and earth chi growing abundant, mixing with the water chi from above and the energy that Wu Ying drew and rejected.

Months turned into years and Wu Ying resided within, existing upon the stores in his rings and the pills of nourishment within. Fresh vegetables, ground tofu and beans and handfuls of rice were what sustained him. As his Body Cultivation progressed, his physical needs decreased, allowing him to sustain himself on the paltry meals.

All so that he could continue his growth, chasing the moment of enlightenment and understanding, rebuilding his chi reserves.

Until, finally, another layer for his core had been formed.

***

The earth shook, ground that had long lay covered broke apart. Grass and roots split, with tracts of earth rising, dark loamy soil revealed to the sun. Rocks clattered to the ground soon after, boulders used to keep the entrance covered and hidden rolling down the slope. Clouds of dust drifted through the air, even as a warm wind blew from within the cave, expelling humid and rotten air into the surroundings.

Nine individuals, the majority wandering cultivators, jumped to their feet at the sudden change in the atmosphere. In the past few weeks, the energy that had formed around the hill had peaked and grown stronger, additional amounts of chi billowing forth. Only the acquisition and deployment of a chi containment and enrichment formation had kept the change in energy flows from being noticed by others.

The fortunate nine stared at the dust cloud, gathering together near the peak automatically around the strongest, a female cultivator who wielded a pair of shortened sickles in either hand. She strode forward a little, eyes narrowed as they waited to see what might emerge.

Wu Ying, squinting a little at the light, emerged from the cave, his exit preceded by the wind to keep the dust away from his own figure. He frowned as he exited, his spiritual sense expanding quickly to blanket the surroundings from where it had lay quiescent whilst he had trained, lips tightening as he came across both cultivators and the formation.

Quickly enough, he sensed and ascertained the details of the formation via the flow of energy. His lips compressed further, dissatisfaction flowing across his mien as he realized the effects of his own cultivation. Ignoring the nine cultivators below him, some who were murmuring words of surprise and daring, he kicked into the air to survey the flow of chi.

“Hun dan, I’m a real fool,” Wu Ying said, realizing the effects of his unsheltered, unconstrained cultivation had created. “The stronger I grow, the easier it is to track me. I’m really going to need to buy some proper concealment formations.”

It was just luck that he had found a spot far enough away that no cultivator of sufficient strength had come to check on it. Even more luck that the cultivators that had learnt of the changes he had wrought had been greedy enough to keep the entire matter to themselves, leaving the information to spread locally. And lastly, even more fortune that none of those local had the strength or knowledge to locate the entrance to his cultivation cave.

Below, the cultivators had grown silent. His simple act of leaping and floating in the sky was sufficient to showcase the vast difference in cultivation strength. Even more so, Wu Ying was certain; between the layering in his Core and the improvement in his wind cultivation, he was stronger than ever. Certainly stronger than any normal middling Core Formation cultivator. Perhaps even rivalling those at the peak.

Though, he had to admit, he was not certain of that. Strength was not just a matter of chi reserves and physical ability at these levels but also dao understanding, weapons and martial skills. It would require a contestation of blades to ascertain his true standing.

“I wonder if there’s a tournament about…” Wu Ying said, idly to himself. Then laughed, a little. What kind of kingdom or sect would have the funds to organize a tournament for Core Formation cultivators? What locale could withstand the attacks of a group of Core Formation cultivators battling in unison and determination?

Only a true fool would invite walking calamities like that to their shores. What cultivator with an overweening ego would actually partake in such a tournament?

Dismissing such idle thoughts, Wu Ying cut the flow of chi holding him aloft and let himself fall. It seemed that he owed those below some minor consideration. After all, they had kept the secret of his cultivation cave to themselves, even if it was a matter of self-interest. Some might think that the scales were balanced, but Wu Ying had been raised by Master Cheng. And though he might not have his Master’s or Fairy Yang’s ascertainment of karma, he still had picked up some semblance of understanding.

“You’re the leader?” Wu Ying said, landing below near the group. A bare dozen feet away, far enough to keep the group from feeling crowded and afraid.

“Honored Cultivator…” A glance backwards, the woman’s lips tightening as the group all stepped back, leaving her alone. She bowed low, offering Wu Ying a martial bow that kept her weapons out, even if they laid on the backend of her forearms. “I am so honored. This one is Xia Tung Mei.”

“Winter plums?” Wu Ying had to suppress the smile that crossed his face. It seemed that her parents had a sense of humor.

“So my parents named me,” Tung Mei said, staying bowed and speaking over her clasped hands.

“Rise. I see no point in those formalities,” Wu Ying said.

“Thank you, Honored Cultivator. However, we have benefited greatly-”

“If unknowingly,” one of the other cultivators in the back muttered.

“- from your presence and cultivation. We would name you our benefactor, if you would.”

“None of that. I have benefited as well.” His eyes narrowed briefly before he pointed at three of the individuals in the back. “You three. You’ve stepped on the road to Body Cultivation. There is a pool within, that has some dregs remaining. Use it, if it suits the forms that you have chosen. The liquid is potent, even if diminished, so take great care.”

Ignoring the three that he had picked out even as they bowed low, he pointed to another man on the far right. “Your study of the jian might benefit from the sword imprint I’ve left on the walls within. Study it well, though remember, my style is not your own.”

Another deep bow. Five more left to go. Two were Body Cultivators, neither one of them with any real talent, seeing that they were both in their early twenties and had barely broken through their third and fourth Body Cleansing meridians.

He fixed the one with the fourth meridian open first, “Your fourth meridian and dantian are damaged from your latest attempt at a breakthrough. Consume this,” a flicker of his hand sent a small pill bottle flying over, “rest, relax and recuperate. And stop pushing. You might, if you are fortunate, achieve another cleansed meridian, but you have reached your limit.”

“No! That cannot be. Please, Honored Cultivator. I need, I have to, breakthrough,” the man pleaded, putting his hands together. For such a big man, a man whose broad shoulders and tanned skin along with the axe by his side spoke of his occupation, to plead in this manner, his need must be desperate.

“Why?”

“There’s a man… the lord’s cousin. He came by, I…” the big man slowed down, choking on his words.

“Need to avenge someone?” Wu Ying finished for him.

“No!” the forester cried out in surprise. “No. I just need to be worthy of him.”

“Oh.” Wu Ying blinked, the thread of an old story thrown awry. He took a moment to recalibrate, more than a few others glancing at the man, one person muttering about bunny lovers. “I… well. I have nothing to offer than a suggestion that perhaps, if you are not sufficient as you are, that perhaps he might not be the best partner for you.”

The forester frowned at the words, but Wu Ying moved on determinedly. There were some things that he could not fix, not in the brief moments he had here. So.

“As for you.” Wu Ying eyed the last Body Cleanser before he sighed. “Give it up. You’ve left it too long. This path, it is not for you. Not in this life.”

The man gritted his teeth, fuming at the blunt assessment he had been given. Yet, he dared not contradict it, not in public. And perhaps, Wu Ying hoped, deep in his soul he knew that he had been given the truth others had refused to speak.

“As for you three…” Wu Ying flicked his gaze over them, all in the Energy Storage stage. All of them holding weapons in hand with the surety of a martial specialist. “With me. I require a sparring partner, and you three shall do.”

Unspoken was the command that they would need to take what understanding they could from the sparring match. Just like he too had once been the sparring partner of a Core Formation cultivator, oh so long ago.

***

Push down on the jian with the left hand, hand against the flat of the blade, changing angle and direction so that it would miss. Not just his body, but his robes. No reason to damage his clothing. In the other hand, his jian parried in high guard a guan dao coming sweeping down, his extended arm rotated around and nearly fully extended to let the structure of his body take the force of the blow, allowing it to dissipate through his feet. Proper form, even if he could have beaten it aside with pure strength.

Bring back left leg upwards straight ahead before he kicked, extending forwards and pushing with his hips upon contact. It was not a proper blow, for such an attack would kill – or at least, badly injure – his sparring partners; but more a push to send Tung Mei tumbling backwards. She struck out with her other jian as she fell, a movement that almost caught his foot as he retracted it.

Then, the third opponent approached, unleashing a series of blows with his paired maces. The heavy weights on the weapon threatened to damage and chip away at any lesser weapon, crushing paltry defenses beneath the surging might of an earth cultivator.

Wu Ying chose to dodge, for earth might be mighty, but it was slow. Even having lowered his cultivation by significant degrees, his opponents were slow. It was only the factor of three that allowed them to provide the challenge Wu Ying sought, as he worked to finish refining his understanding.

The Wandering Dragon, a progression and adaptation of the Long family style, was a work in progress. He had based the form in the familiar but had over time combined the movement forms of the Seven Winds, the expanded movement set and distance, the almost preternatural ability to shift in space.

It was that ability that he made most use now, exploding from stillness to motion, crossing space so that it seemed that he had appeared at his objective. The movement techniques crossed intervening space in ways that seemed to defy normal physics, like now.

A swinging mace came down from the right. Wu Ying shifted, seeming to move through the swinging mace itself to emerge on the other side, pass the mace wielder to stand before the polearm owner. A palm lifted, lowered to touch the chest and then pushed downwards. The guan dao wielder flew backwards and into the ground, bouncing off the earth even as Wu Ying stepped back again, once more shifting through the mace wielder’s attack, blowing through him to emerge behind.

Then, another strike with the same raised palm, hammering between shoulder blades to send opponent sprawling forwards. To the cultivators watching above, Wu Ying might have been the breeze; to Wu Ying himself, he continued to fail.

For the steps between the shifts, the act of passing through another was but a trick. He could not become the wind – that way was barred to him, for now. Perhaps forever. All he did was move so swiftly, bending and contorting limbs and body parts to dodge attacks by the barest margins that it seemed that he had passed through the attack.

The three cultivators struggled to their feet once again, breathing pouring out of labored and painful lungs. Standing alone, Wu Ying glanced to the sky once more. Judging the time, the season, the moment. Then, he lowered his weapon and sheathed it by his side.

“One last form. Watch carefully. And guard well,” Wu Ying murmured softly, and yet his voice was pitched that they all heard it.

The third form, still in its nascent stages. He would not use the blade itself, instead intent on the motions. Hand down by his side, he took a step to the right, opening his hips with the motion as his foot landed sideways. His right hand came flashing upwards, robes flickering in the wind as he followed the motion of his foot, turning the rest of the way. Foot, hip, shoulder, arm, other foot touching down not just once but three times in quick succession, each time pushing him to spin faster.

The Dragon Turns.

Wind, beckoned by the barest application of dao and chi came rushing in to fulfil his commands. Air surged forwards, a looping wind that caught the trio as they braced. The attack, rather than hitting straight on as expected threw themselves sideways, causing the trio to tumble into one another.

Wu Ying knew he could keep turning, spinning and alternating his footsteps, the movement of his arm. Combining his arm movements with a leaping attack, staying still to form the cutting winds that chewed into ground and flesh alone.

Instead, he stopped moving after the first rotation, letting the wind die down. He felt his breathing burn, his skin churn even as the heavenly chi within him throbbed.

No, no further movement.

Another incomplete form, his understanding shallow. The damage he sought to contain escaping, the placement of his feet, the location of his attack precarious. The world turned on the smallest moment, and yet; was infinitely adaptive.

Nature cared not for heaven’s designs, for the orderly dictates it demanded for the way the world should exist. Nature was but part of the Dao itself, and that was silent and immutable, infinite and all encompassing. It could not be changed, and yet, encompassing all, change was ever present. Nature cared not if one attempted to dominate it, for nature was forever out of control(17).

In the conflicting dictates between heaven and the Dao, Wu Ying’s style had to traverse. Seeking a guiding path that would escape heavenly tribulation and nature’s whims.

Exhaling slowly, Wu Ying came back to the present. Around him, cultivators clambered to their feet, some with awe and worship on their face, others with fear and respect etched deep in their hearts. His head rose, turning towards the east, where a lonely, heartbroken fisherman had been abandoned.

And felt the tug of another wind, one more insistent than ever. It called to him, demanding his attention, his presence. It blew from the north, but its heart belonged to the south. The final direction that he had not explored.

He cast one last glance towards the east, letting go of the tendrils of desires in his heart. Some things were not fated to be.

Then, before the children could ask more of him, he leapt into the sky and let the wind take him. To the south.

Footnotes:
15 - Chinese creation myths are myriad. You have the esoteric like the Taoist, where everything forms from the Tao and then splits apart into two, three’s and ‘they myriad things’. You have Nuwa’s creation myth and her use of clay to create men. And the one I refer to here, is the one based off Pangu who, during his death became the world and then, we the mites of his body are touched by the wind and made into people.
16 - Chinese word for hell
17 - Paraphrasing verses 29 and 30 of the Tao Teh Ching