The Third Cut - Chapter 28 preview (Patreon)

“’Ware, above!” Wu Ying roared, the flicker of a descending shadow catching his attention as the demonic beasts dropped from the tall chimney above. They descended without warning, dropping through the smoke whilst holding their weapons in-hand. A dozen descending figures, but Wu Ying only had eyes for one, the Core Formation cultivator that sought Phuong Vy’s life.

Controlling the building power of the formation as she planted the flags around, the scholar was slow to react and even slower to defend. She barely brought the pair of formation flags held in her hand above her head when the hanged demon arrived, his massive cutting sword leading the way in the attack. It tore through her protective talismans with ease, struck the formation flags and parted the flags and their staves with equal ease before plunging into her chest via her shoulder.

Formed and controlled energies exploded, released after being twisted and held together by the placement of the flags. They tore the first three emplaced out of the ground, sent the remainder of the Ice Jade flags exploding and covering the entire area in a wave of unrestricted cold.

The explosion was what saved Phuong Vy’s life, the released energies reacting faster than even her as she shrunk away and fell back, the blade still cutting deeper into her body with each moment. Thrown into the ground, her entire body covered in fast forming ice, her attacker was cast aside as well by the very same explosion.

Wu Ying, his own sword drawn and releasing a blade strike saw his attack and his own body pushed back, the released energies sending him tumbling through the air like a sapling amongst an avalanche. Frost covered the entire temple innards within moments, the temperature dropping below freezing without effort, demons and cultivators beset by the contained energies.

All but the area near the still-beating heart, which froze for a brief second, the flames around it guttering out before it began beating again, more furiously than ever. The hellish beating caused frost nearby to shatter, bones to thrum as the infernal heart sought to impose a synchronicity to even the cultivators own life beat.

A low cry, from Yang Mu arose. Wu Ying tossed around like a leaf had landed on his knees, his breathing hard and tight as he pushed against the energy that threatened to overtake him. He found his vision fuzzing, his focus wavering and, worst of all, his dao understandings beginning to crumble.

What was wind but moving air, and the air here had already been corrupted? He was nothing, not even as encompassing as the five winds he so desperately sought to understand. Traces of the wind of heaven, that he had sought for so long and that had led him here dissipated as the heart thundered, threatening to take over him.

Surprise then, that a wind, another wind that he had only glimpsed and understood in the barest rose within. A thread of understanding that he had gripped, whilst learning of its counterpart pushed back against this tyrannical understanding. Not heavenly wind but the breath of hell itself.

Hell – the thousand hells – were a place of suffering, a place of punishment and despair. There was never a doubt in that. But it was also a place of due process, of justice and understanding. Of redemption and cleansing before an individuals’ rebirth.

Heaven might judge but hell offered justice.

The infernal heart that beat was anathema to the very understanding of what the hells offered, a place to regain one’s lost humanity, to set right wrongs created in the foolish heat of mortal life. To rob another of their ability to choose, to strip free will and impose ones dictates was not justice.

And the singular thread that Wu Ying had once grasped fought against such an imposition. It blew Wu Ying backwards, freeing himself from the noise, swept upwards to create a barrier of howling wind. It gave the wind cultivator, an opportunity to strengthen his resolve and firm his mind.

Gripping his sword, he levelled it towards the pedestal that the heart had been set upon, only to catch Phuong Vy standing above it, blood dripping from one side. A hand raised and plunged downwards, an obsidian knife in hand, green and black light from glowing enchantments appearing around her hand as she struck.

Blade enterred beating heart, and the heart stuttered. It beat, once, before it stilled. Finally.

Sagging to the side, Phuong Vy slumped senseless. The Core Cultivator hanged demon rose too, its gaze flicking from Wu Ying who was in the midst of finishing off a couple of the still senseless hanged demons near him to the silent heart, the senseless scholar and the slowly recovering Yang Mu.

Wu Ying turned to the hanged demon, which after a moment, turned and bounded away, disappearing out an exit before the sword master could do more than take a few steps closer. The wind cultivator sagged in relief, his own mind and energy still in disarray such that a fight against the demon might have been more risky than he would have preferred.

He strode past the few hanged demons around, striking the ones that seemed to be recovering down mercilessly. Yang Mu, on her feet, was doing the same even as the pair approached Phuong Vy’s body.

“Owww…” the tiny scholar let out a long groan.

“You live,” Wu Ying said, surprised.

“Box it…” A twitch of her hand and a massive crate appeared next to her, crashing down to the ground and shaking up dust and bones as it did so. Wu Ying hesitated, but since Yang Mu had arrived with bandages and pills, he chose to following the scholar’s words.

Except, when he turned to the heart, he hesitated. He certainly had no desire to touch it, or use anything of his own to touch it. Eventually, he shoved the crate over and opened its top before using the wreckage to lever the heart over to drop the entire thing into the crate. Listening to the fleshy thud, Wu Ying almost swore he could hear the echo of that infernal heartbeat begin again, the echo making him shudder.

Then the lid closed and it was over, the heart hidden from them.

“Activate it,” Phuong Vy croaked softly.

Turning to look at her, Wu Ying turned back immediately. Yang Mu had stripped her of her outer clothing, leaving only the thin silk underlayer that cover her bossom behind, an underlayer that clung tightly to her now from spilled blood.

“Right. Umm… how?” Wu Ying scanned the surroundings just in case, idly noting his control of the wind was strengthening further.

Phuong Vy rattled off the instructions and, following the intricate motions and flow of chi required, he managed to activate the inscriptions on the box. Immediately, the beast stone set in the top began to glow, imbuing the box with its strength and locking away the heart.

Tension immediately left Wu Ying’s body, the sense of wrongness that had existed beside him all this time disappearing. The sighs of relief from the pair behind him informed him that they too felt similar.

Finally, it was over.

At least, this portion of their infiltration. Now, they just had to leave.

***

Exiting the temple with the box gripped in one hand, Wu Ying eyed the surroundings. He was carrying the box rather than storing it in a ring after Phuong Vy had scolded him for even attempting that. It seemed that certain containment runes on the wooden box required access to the Dao of the Heavens to function, and placing them within a storage ring would cut the box off. Leading to untold disasters.

Of course, the other reason he was carrying the box was because Yang Mu had flatly refused to close on it at all, muttering about them destroying the thing immediately than leave it to fester.

The badly injured scholar was of no use. They were lucky she was on her feet at all, bolstered by a series of apothecary pills she had consumed that stopped her bleeding and increased the production of blood and necessary liquids; and after quaffomg an entire bottle of sweet tea. Now, she was riding along on a moving cauldron, her face pale and strained even as the bandages wrapped around her damaged body stained with old blood.

“The fight is over, it seems.” Wu Ying was surprised that they had missed the ending. He would have thought the formation they had been setting up would have been destructive in its activation, but the ending for the Nascent Soul demon had been missed by the trio during their very own battle.

In the distance, in the direction of his friends, the only sign of the battle that had taken place and the activation of the formation was the extensive destruction to the ancient city. Multiple blocks were destroyed, stone walls and age old pavements that had survived the weathering of time lay broken and scattered, tiles thrown multiple meters away. Fires burned all along the walls, concentrated in where the group had fought but also scattered across the swath of destruction.

Wu Ying relaxed a little, watching the flames, noting the concentration a short distance from where he estimated the fight had really started. A column of flame and wind arose from that concentration, a blaze that burned hot and cleansed the very air that escaped from the top.

“Are you done staring? Because our friends are recovering, if slowly.”

Following Yang Mu’s gesture, Wu Ying eyed the mass of demons that had gathered at the steps of the temple. The strongest and hardiest of the demons were gathering themselves, pushing themselves upwards and shaking their heads and bodies, dark fur rippling as the attack and control exerted by the demonic heart slowly faded. Others – the weakest of mind, of soul – were still senseless, a few Wu Ying sensed entirely expired over the whiplash of effects.

Perhaps the heart had done them some good, for if the massed army had launched their attack whilst Wu Ying and the other cultivators were still in battle with the Core Formation demon within, the danger would have escalated.

Funny, how some circumstances, upon first blush considered to be a disaster might instead be a blessing.

Though perhaps Phuong Vy might disagree with that thought.

“Lead the way,” Wu Ying answered her, gesturing with his sword. “My winds are still hampered, even if Tou He is doing well to cleanse the air.”

Yang Mu nodded, turning to move down the stairs at an angle so that they would not have to meet the majority of the gathered demons. Even in the short period they had been speaking, the demons were recovering, though none chose to act against them.

Not yet, at least.

Phuong Vy, on the floating cauldron she was utilizing, perched precariously took the middle of the group. She had her legs crossed, the central handle of the top of the cauldron poking upwards from the center of her legs as she meditated, attempting to extract the full strength of the pills she had consumed as quickly as possible. Additional protective talismans floated around her, replacing the ones shattered by the Core Formation demon.

They took the stairs down at speed, moving as quickly as they could to cover the ground to their friends. Wu Ying kept an eye on the column on flame as he brought up the rear, noting that it was moving towards them too, if slowly.

Concerning, that their speed was so low. A thread of worry that had disappeared upon seeing the end of the battle reappeared, worming its way into Wu Ying’s gut once more. Was Tou He injured? Was another of the group, such that they could not approach quickly?

He moved easily enough, himself and Yang Mu for the most part uninjured. Some bruises, a few minor cuts, but their spirit robes had covered them well enough. Considering the number of enemies they had faced, he considered their entire fight to have gone well; even if his own stores of energy were significantly lower than he had expected.

Enforcing his control over the winds in the way that he had done so recently was taxing, an almost polar opposite to his normal methods of utilizing the wind. It drew greatly from his stores to impose his will like this, along with having to cut his body’s natural connection to the wind. After all, while his body might – usually – draw in ambient wind chi, the corrupted energy around him was not something he desired to inflict upon himself.

If nothing else, it would intensify the painful cleansing baths he had to take to progress.

Further south, the massive tornado that had formed from the interaction between Wu Ying’s own cultivation techniques, the twisted air of the city itself and the howling anger of the winds, denied their supremacy raged. It tore through the city, causing further destruction and hampering any travel in that direction.

Tension ratcheted up as they traversed the city, casting around for potential enemies and opponents. The further the group put between them and the temple, the lower the effects of the beating heart it seemed, and the greater the number of hanged demons Wu Ying spotted.

Yet, outside of the occasional overly ambitious singular demon, the group found the majority of the Ma Than Vong concealing themselves in their homes, some going so far as to descend into damp basements or scurry away through backdoors.

A demonic female, a toddler hanging onto her chest and latched onto one ponderous breast gripped the hands of two other children, driving them out of their building in anticipation of their arrival froze at the low howl of violent winds that kicked up as Wu Ying approached, hunkering low as she realised she’d left it too long. The child sobbed low, crying out in fear, even as the mother attempted to shush him, gripping him tight.

Yang Mu was well on the way, ignoring the woman, having discarded her as a potential threat. Instead, her fans swung to catch a hunkering archer high above, sending a spray of blood and the collapsing body further down the street.

Meeting the gaze of the mother, Wu Ying offered the most minor of nods before moving on. She was thin as were her children, as were the majority of the tribe. Whatever meat that might have been cleansed, it was insufficient for the needs of such a large village. For a moment, his sense of self and place lurched, a recollection of himself as a child, worried about raiders tore through him.

Who here, was the monster?

He had come into their home, murdered their leaders, tore apart their most sacred place and stole what they required to survive. Now, he escaped with his people, unharmed and leaving wounds within their minds.

Yet…

He could find little to regret, upon recalling the temple and its innards. Perhaps, sometimes, certain races and individuals could not co-exist in peace.

Time enough for such thoughts later.

They turned the corner and found their friends, moving slowly through the streets. Upon sighting them, the reason for their sluggish arrival was revealed. And once more, Wu Ying found tension return, all too strong.