The Third Realm - Chapter 40 preview (Patreon)

Beggar Soh arrived a good hour later, grumbling about having to change out the water a couple of times. Somehow, even having washed, he still managed to look scruffy and unkempt with traces of dirt having managed to make its way to his face, hands and bare feet. Still, his stench was significantly reduced and the new rags he wore were less malodorous, just stained.

Wu Ying and the Proprietress were hunched over the table, the dishes cleared away with a fresh pot of wine warmed up next to them. On the table were a series of pills, talismans and formation flags that the Proprietress had collected after listening to Wu Ying’s request, her hands moving over the items as she described the items to the cultivator.

“… obscuring formations from the Rainbow Scarf Sect. They’re better known for illusory formations, but they recently had a lower member rank up to Master level and they’ve been expanding their customer base with obscuring formations. It’s why we’re letting it go at a significant discount compared to others.”

“Effectiveness at the same level?” Wu Ying said.

“Of course,” she said. “Is it suitable?” At his nod, she continued. “Now, the pills you’ve asked for are all common.” At Wu Ying’s incredulous look, she continued. “For a Core Formation cultivator. Your Soul Cultivation method is not particularly obtuse, so your requirements are simple enough. However, your Body Cultivation needs…”

Wu Ying smiled a little grimly. “I understand. I could ask.”

“I’m grateful you’re understanding. It’s rare that we don’t have something available for a customer, but in this case, for a Wind Body at your level, well, I would not call it unprecedented but…”

“Close enough that I can barely recall the last time I met one like that,” Beggar Soh supplied as he strolled up, glancing over Wu Ying’s pile of stuff and sniffing disdainfully.

“Is there a problem with my purchases, sir?” Wu Ying asked, curiously. After the battle of wills, he was more than willing to overlook any potential insult the man might be offering in search of a pearl of wisdom. After all, strength came with knowledge all too often.

“A waste of money,” Beggar Soh said, sitting down without prompting and pouring himself a cup of wine. Holding onto the pot, he downed his first cup, poured himself a second, downed that and then poured himself a third before putting the pot in the warming water. “Sleep under the stars. Trust in your instincts to keep the monsters away, or yourself to wake before they arrive. Don’t pollute your body to strengthen your soul, then pollute it further – just in a different way – to cleanse and strengthen your body; only to repeat the cycle again.”

Wu Ying cocked his head to the side. “That is true, but what other choice is there?”

“The only reason there is no choice is because you children are always rushing, rushing, rushing,” Beggar Soh said. “Rushing to cleanse your meridians, to build your Core, to grow your soul. Rushing to gain strength, never spending time to actually learn anything.”

“You’re a heretic then?” Wu Ying said, curiously.

Beggar Soh snorted. “Only someone from the orthodox sects would call those who refuse to follow their constrained rules a heretic.” His gaze flicked over Wu Ying’s robes and body, before he continued. “Though I’m surprised to see someone with your experiences slavishly following their doctrine.”

“My experiences?”

“The wind and earth speak of your past, the travels you’ve been on. The trips you intend to pursue,” the Beggar said. “Inadvisable though that may be.”

“Inadvisable?” Laoban Yang said, coming over to stand by his wife, a hand landing on his wife’s shoulder by reflex.

“He intends to go south,” Beggar Soh said.

“Ah,” the Laoban muttered while the Proprietress lips thinned.

Caught out by the switch in topics, he frowned between the trio. There were two things that had surprised him in what the beggar had said, the first… “You speak to wind and earth?”

“Wind, earth, clouds, sky, rain…” the beggar smirked. “Did you think yourself unique? I walk under the heavens, with the world around me. Why would I not listen to my closest and dearest friends?”

Wu Ying had no answer to that. He knew he was not unique, though few worked with the elements in the same way. Still, to hear a heretic speak of the same, and then accuse him of being too orthodox… it made Wu Ying reflect. He had spent so much time traveling outside the sects, working for them and yet he had been banished himself for defying their orders. Even his own path, being a Body Cultivator, was not the orthodox method of ascension.

Into the silence, the Laoban spoke up in turn. “Heretic or orthodox or wandering, it’s all the same. We walk the path of ascension all, and each path is as unique or similar as the one before it.”

“So says the dual cultivators,” Beggar Soh said. “Many would call your path a perversion too, having stepped off the direct route to raise a family and run an inn.”

“Most of those who said as much have been left far behind or passed away,” Proprietress Yang said. “Dual cultivation might not be accepted by most orthodox sects, but it is just as valid.”

Wu Ying frowned, having recalled a few sects that had pushed for dual cultivation as their mainstay method of ascension. Less common even than sword cultivators – what with the need for finding a suitable partner – it was still considered an orthodox method.

“Don’t frown so, child,” Beggar Soh said. “Just because you learnt things one way does not mean it’s valid all through the kingdoms.”

“But dual cultivation is practiced in multiple kingdoms,” Wu Ying commented. “How can it be not as accepted?”

“It’s an argument among those of us at the highest stages,” Beggar Soh replied, smirking a little. “You see, many of us think that those who espouse dual cultivation do so in a way that cuts off the cultivation path of others.”

Wu Ying glanced over to the pair who just looked on at the conversation with quiet patience.

“It only requires a moment of consideration to see the issues with dual cultivation. You probably were warned of it too when you started. Many forms of dual cultivation require a willing, lifelong partner. How easy is it to find one?

“Then, of course, there’s concerns when said cultivating partner falls behind – or dies, or otherwise leaves. What happens then? Do you raise another child to your level? Or search around for another who had lost as much as you did?” Beggar Soh snorted. “If it is hard – nearly impossible – to ascend to the highest levels of cultivation alone, how much harder is it when you have two souls doing so at once?”

“But is not dual cultivation stronger? Faster?” Wu Ying pointed out. That was the common refrain after all, for the Yin and Yang properties of both cultivators balanced one another out, the cultivation paths and flow of chi with paired partners ensuring that the same amount of time and energy was more efficiently used. The effects were supposed to be more than double that of any normal cultivation method.

“And there we have your orthodox sect’s perspective. Speed! Efficiency! The rush to the top, to fall ever faster to the bottom.”

Wu Ying’s lips pursed tight at the biting words. Looking over to the pair, he could not help but ask. “And what do you think?”

“Beggar Soh is not wrong.” The aforementioned man began to smirk, only to stop when the Laoban continued. “We are not the best example. Dual cultivation was efficient, it was effective for us. It allowed us to grow stronger than our competition… but we have also chosen to stop pursuing ascension with the same fervor.” He grinned then, a little. “Though, sometimes, I think the Mistress who created our style meant for it to be used in this manner.

“To live together, to pursue cultivation as one, in peace and harmony with a family.”

“Dual cultivation is strong, and I could not think I would have ascended this far without my husband.” She leaned into his hand for a second, making Wu Ying blink at the casual display of affection. “Still, it’s not perfect, and it’s not ideal. Dual cultivation is prone to abuse in sects and among others,” the Proprietress said, frowning. “Ah Soh might complain about the orthodox sects, but because they’re so strict; it leads to fewer abuses. Few heretical dual cultivation sects last long due to the opportunities for abuse.”

“Except the more promiscuous ones…” Beggar Soh said, grinning lewdly. He leaned over, fixing Wu Ying with a conspiratory gaze. “Have you visited them? I bet you’d be quite popular. You’ve got good Yang chi and with your fire and wood secondary aspects, you could work well with many of their members.”

“Just be ready to run,” Laoban Yang said, laughing a little. “Sometimes, they get over enthusiastic with their requests. Its fun being tied down at first, but… oof!” He groaned, gripping his stomach where his wife had elbowed him. “Yes dear. I apologize for being rude.” Lowering his voice as he stepped away. “But still, be ready to run.”

“Such places are rarely as difficult as my husband likes to make them out-”

“Only takes one…”

“- and can be quite fun. Why, in my youth…”

“You were quite in demand,” Beggar Soh said, cutting her off. “You had dozens of suitors and regular visitors; your lantern never dimmed. But when you met Old Man Yang, you chose to give it all up.” He snorted. “There’s no reason to bore the child with old history.”

Proprietress Yang glared at Beggar Soh who refused to look away, eventually forcing her to turn aside to speak to Wu Ying rather than repeat the earlier incident. “In the end, dual cultivation is a matter of fate. If you find one who makes your heart soar, then you’ll not want to ascend and lose them. That is what we feel our progenitors, those who created the methods for dual cultivation, truly sought. A way to ascend with those you love.

“Because without it, what is the point of heaven?”

Before those profound words could soak in, Beggar Soh broke the atmosphere by laughing. The Proprietress sighed, putting the side of her head on one hand as she waited for the man to finish. He cut it off soon enough, before speaking.

“Pretty words.” He paused, then inclined his head. “And for those who do find their true loved ones, perhaps true.” Laoban Yang just nodded, acknowledging the other man’s kind words. “But for most of us, grasping the sliver of the Dao itself is more than enough. We need not have another to fill our lives, for the Dao itself is infinite. My companions are the sun and rain, the moon and stars and the earth that I walk under. I need nothing else.”

“And have nothing else,” Laoban Yang said.

Beggar Soh smirked, downing his cup of wine and pouring himself another. “What I need, the Dao – and fellow friends like you – supply. What more can I ask for?” A beat, then waving the empty wine pot. “Other than more wine!”

Wu Ying watched as the trio fell into what seemed to be a familiar argument, squabbling over the disparate paths even as bottles of plum wine floated out from the kitchen. It was fascinating to listen to, as they discussed the Dao; their own paths forwards and how it had played out. And whilst it brought no flashes of enlightenment nor broke him into another layer; he found himself listening nonetheless. Only occasionally did he interject, not daring to interrupt too often, understanding his own grasp was shallow compared to these seniors.

Yet…

For the first time in a long time, Wu Ying found himself at peace, listening. Learning, at the feet of others who had so much more experience than him.

***

Not surprisingly, talk of daos and philosophies and elements dragged on late into the night, with bottles of warmed wine added in ever increasing amounts. Even though the lights from the inn glowed steadily, long after the inn across the road had closed and the mortal occupants had left, none disturbed their conversation. The subtle pressure of the presence of not one or two but three Nascent Soul cultivators was sufficient to keep even the most obtuse mortal away.

Eventually, the conversation petered towards the end, old ground having been retreaded not once but thrice again. With the fifth pot of the Soul and Memory Destroying Poison Wine having been consumed – very tentatively and mildly by Wu Ying – the trio of Nascent Soul cultivators just sat in silence, enjoying each others presence. The smell of roasted peanuts, deep fried bean curd skin soaked in spirits and spices before being steamed and the remnants of fresh baked buns mixed with the strong scent of the poisoned plum wine, enticing Wu Ying to take another sip.

Resolutely, he pushed the cup away. Already, his head was spinning, his chi churning as it fought against the poison.

“Done already?” Beggar Soh, who was the one who had provided the poisoned wine from his personal stock, smirked at Wu Ying. “You barely touched your third cup.”

“I apologise, Senior. Some of us are not lushes,” Wu Ying slurred. “Your drink is too strong. It burns a hole in the table, never mind my guts.”

“Hah! That’s how you know it’s good wine.”

“Be nice, Ah Soh,” Proprietress Yang chided. “He’s only Core. If he was not a Body Cultivator as well, I would not even let him sip it. This is wine for those of us at our level, not his.”

“If he was a poison cultivator, he would be able to handle this minor drink without a problem.” Hiccupping, Beggar Soh added. “And contribute even better!”

“If he was a poison cultivator, I might not even serve him.” Landlord Yang said with a sniff. “Most of them can’t even control what they exude! The last one we had in here, I had to store the table, his chair and all the utensils. And lock my private room from use for a whole month, while the cleansing formation worked.”

“But he paid for it all with a dozen of those bottles you refuse to share,” Beggar Soh said, a trace of whining in his voice. “Do you know how hard it is to get a proper drink?”

“Not very hard for you, with your Never Empty Wine Gourd!”

Wu Ying jerked a little, surprised at the term used. Then, when he saw Beggar Soh clutching the wine gourd by his side closely, he realized that they were not talking about his cultivation method. Still, his reaction was not unnoticed and he was forced to explain. When he was done, Beggar Soh broke out laughing, pounding the table.

“You, you, you made my wine gourd into a cultivation method, then made it into a wind technique? Really?”

“I didn’t make it into a cultivation method, it was already one,” Wu Ying said stiffly.

“Show me, show me!”

“I…” Wu Ying hesitated which caused Beggar Soh to glare at him. “I cannot. We do not allow others to see the cultivation slips we acquire.”

“Foolish orthodox and their foolish rules!” Beggar Soh said. “Show me what you recorded. In turn, I’ll improve on it. You can give the improved version to your Sect when – if – you return.”

Still, Wu Ying hesitated.

“It is a good deal,” Proprietress Yang said, placing a hand on his arm. “For all his looks, Ah Soh is a genius among geniuses.” She made a face. “He would be even greater, if he stopped drinking.”

“My genius comes from my drink!” Beggar Soh stated, pounding his fist on the table.

“No, you’re just a drunk.”

“Quickly. Before they get into it,” Landlord Yang implored Wu Ying. “Rebuilding is always such a chore.”

Already, the pressure was growing as the pair conflicted not just with words but with daos. Rather than get caught up in a battle between the two for the ache from their initial greeting still throbbed, Wu Ying pulled out the bamboo scroll he had written the details – and his own alterations – upon.

Immediately, the pressure disappeared, with Beggar Soh grabbing at the scroll. Unrolling the document across the table, the remnants of their meal and drinks being swept up by Landlord Yang just in time, Beggar Soh began to peruse the document. Without asking, Proprietress Yang had stood up and walked over to the other side to read over his shoulder, her lips pursed.

“Oh, that’s ingenious! Using the whirlwind instead of the whirlpool. And there’s indications of turning it instead into a cyclone… Broader area,” she muttered, reading it over. “Less control though, but harder to track. Yes, that might work better; but why is it only focused in one direction?”

“My pot draws in water from the surroundings, tapping into the elemental idea of water and liquor itself,” Beggar Soh said, tracing a dirty – how did it get so dirty, so fast? – finger along the early lines. “This writer never understood that the barrier was the bottle itself and the dao conceptions. Look, here, he makes the aura do all the work.

“Waste of time.”

Within moments, a pair of ink brushes were acquired, the two writing over one another and the document, adding and changing without asking Wu Ying. Sometimes, the pair started a loud argument about which was better, whilst the two bemused men watched.

“Will that… work?” Wu Ying said, never having seen two cultivators argue like that.

“Of course. It’s my wife!” Landlord Yang said, mock offended. Then, after a moment, he shrugged. “It’s fine. She’ll make me test it first, and then refine it further.” At Wu Ying’s look of incredulity, he grinned. “It’s part of my own gift. I can create a… hmmm… clone of myself. A shadow form that can test many things for me, before I commit.”

Wu Ying’s eyes glowed with admiration, watching the trio. He had come so far, and yet, it seemed the journey ahead stretched on, so much further. And though these three were unusual, perhaps the peak itself was not as lonely as it might seem. Nor devoid of kindness.

“Done!” The scroll flapped through the air, tossed towards the Laoban who caught it with deft hands. His eyes skimmed over the words quickly, frowning only at a few parts before he nodded and set it aside. A moment later, he seemed to shift, as though there was a second image of him superimposed over the first, translucent but slightly off-center.

A single breath later, and Wu Ying began to feel the tug and pull of chi. It smoothed out within seconds, disappearing even from his own senses as the flow of environmental chi returned to normal. It was only if he extended his senses further and paid attention that he could feel the slow but powerful flow, where energy streamed towards the laoban from multiple li. Taken from such a wide distance, it slipped past his senses even if the chi flow concentrated upon the man.

However, the flow was not entirely smooth.

At times there were bumps, sudden speedups or slowdowns that made the shift of chi more noticeable. Even more alarming was the blood that had begun to drip from the nose of the shadow form before it ended, and then a few minutes later, a racking, bloody cough.

Eventually the laoban stopped, picking up a brush and sketching his own notes on a new piece of paper, the initial bamboo slip too dense with words to add his own commentary. Beggar Soh ignored all this while the Proprietress watched over the words being written, eventually nodding.

“Oh, I see. Yes, the sixth and eleventh meridian being crossed in such short order to flow the chi can cause problems… Why did we make use of the stomach meridian there? Right, because some stubborn geezer forgets this is not a wine gourd but a body!”

Muttering to herself, she drew forth a new slip and began writing, her words incorporating all the insights generated by the group. Whilst Wu Ying was watching, he felt a finger poke him in his side, with the Beggar Soh staring directly at him. His face was all too close and his breath so powerful, Wu Ying felt his head grow lighter and a light drip of blood begin from his nose as the poisoned, corrosive breath pounded his face.

“Yes, Senior?” Wu Ying said, edging back.

“You’re wondering why, right?”

“I…”

“It’s fine. I would too. For me, I was bored.” He pointed at the two, the couple arguing quietly. “I do what I want, when I want. That is my way, you see?” When Wu Ying nodded, having somewhat recognized that of the man, a man who refused to be chained down even by small things like a roof over his head, personal belongings and hygiene, whim was not an unexpected reason. “Those two, they walk a more generous path.

“A dangerous one, no?”

Wu Ying could not help but nod his head. After all, being generous was well and good but there were those who would take and take without reason. And more who would be angered when generosity ended, demanding ever more.

“Few who reach our stage are as giving. They cannot be, for they let their daos constrain them, narrowing their vision and chaining their souls down with rules and regulations,” Beggar Soh said. “Yet, these two continue to give. Generosity without expectation is its own reward. Yes?”

The last statement was asked with burning intensity, normally bloodshot, red eyes clouded with alcohol suddenly piercing. Wu Ying sensed it then, the unseen weight of judgment, the sharpened edge of an executioner’s blade hovering over him. His mind flashed forwards, intuition speaking of an evening one day when he closed his eyes to sleep and would never wake if he answered wrong.

For a man who had nothing, who craved no material possessions, that man would clutch ever harder on those immaterial things he did own. Like friendship and warm nights spent under another’s roof, wiling away the hours drinking and speaking.

Yet for all the threat that Wu Ying sensed, he felt an inexorable draw from within, a pull in his soul that forced words of truth from him. The words that spilled from his mouth were his own, but not consciously chosen. “Without expectation perhaps, but a debt is still incurred. The threads of karma and courtesy bind all, whether we seek their gift or not. Only those who eschew all such threads might escape such attachments, and in doing so, live as hermits high above.

“Or fail in their goal, compelled by plain human emotion.”

“Hah! Out of the mouth of babes.” Leaning back, Beggar Soh released Wu Ying from the soul spell he had laid upon him, bypassing Wu Ying’s own guards with such ease that he had never even noticed until now. Intuition spoke of deeper contrivances, of a poisoned wine plied upon him that had been the first step pass his safeguards.

Reeling backwards, unconsciously reinforcing his aura and shutting down the pull of energy, Wu Ying’s dao and the wind churned anew around him in protection. Too late of course, the rice having rotted on the stalk but he did so nevertheless.

“Ah Soh! Stop bullying the boy,” Laoban Yang said, looking up from where he was still writing his commentary. Or, now that Wu Ying was watching, actually drawing the flow of chi and the meridian points where energy had to be concentrated. “He’s a good one. Or have you not heard the tales of the Verdant Gatherer?”

“Stories have a tendency to be exaggerated,” Beggar Soh said. “Look how they speak of me.”

“Smelly, uncouth, penniless.” Proprietress Yang paused then smiled. “I see no untruth.”

“Sharp-tongued woman.”

“Smelly beggar.”

“Money hungry wench.”

“Alcoholic fool.”

Wu Ying cried out, the pair turning to see him clutching his head. They paused, wincing in simultaneous guilt again at unleashing their spiritual pressure and both retracted their energy. However, this time, their combined strength, prior injuries and the vast quantities of alcohol – chi-reinforced and poisoned – consumed was enough to drive him unconscious.

Head bouncing off the table before he slipped the rest of the way, shouts of alarm ringing through his damaged ears, Wu Ying fell unconscious at last.