The Third Cut - Chapter 44 & Epilogue preview (Patreon)

Wu Ying took the lead the day after. As much as the team had wanted to leave, to escape and put further ground between them and their pursuers, they had only stumbled a short distance away from the battle location before slipping into a deep earthen depression created by a sloping hill and a fallen tree.

Their sleep was fitful, the constant use of alchemical pills to restore body and energy reserves filling the surroundings with the stink of alchemical impurities. Only Wu Ying’s returning control of the wind kept the odors drifting upwards and away, leaving them hidden.

Over the course of the next few days, the group swung north and east, seeking to bypass the village and the angered Hanged Demons while also leaving minimal traces for their pursuers. Wu Ying was all too aware that Dinh Don had survived the battle and the scout’s method of tracking them was one that the wind cultivator would struggle to combat.

More often than not, the group waded through streams, trading the discomfort of cold feet and water-logged shoes for the opportunity to throw off the earth cultivator. While other modes of travel would normally be available, the significant drain on their chi through the multiple battles forbade such methods. When the group finally regained a portion of their chi, sufficient enough that Wu Ying believed it worth the risk; they took to the skies as well, flitting from tree branch to tree branch.

Their paranoia increased as knowledge of their enemies was blocked on the first day of travel, the wind no longer able to provide further details. It was no surprise that the other team had methods to hide their presence, not after weeks of travel and study of the wind cultivator’s own abilities.

That they did not know or understand the extent of damage Wu Ying suffered was probably for the best. Even now, the wind cultivator found his control and awareness slipping at the most inopportune of times. His awareness and connection with the winds would grow stronger than ever, allowing the wind cultivator to sense the fall of a leaf or the tremble of a spider’s web over a falling waterfall tens of li away.

At other times, the wind that carried him across the ground, that allowed him to brush pass tree trunks or send aggressive insects away would fail him. He would tumble to the ground or into trunks, hardened skin becoming as soft and pliable as a mortals. Wounds and injuries accumulated, adding to the plethora that he sported and that he suffered in silence.

When night fell, Yang Mu would be by his side, offering cold compresses and rewrapping bandages for the pair. She would often sit by his side, offering silent comfort as fevers and shivers wracked his body before he would fall asleep, only to bolt upright at night as nightmares took him. A sense of fading, a splitting of his consciousness and the memory of pain kept him up.

Long conversations would result, as the moon rose and set, the humid jungle forcing sweat to drip down necks and reminded the pair of all too mortal frailties.

For all their difficulties, the trio traversed the land experiencing few enough encounters. The corrupted Core Formation beasts had scattered. Some travelled outwards, to spread their corruption and destroy and consume other, weaker members of their kind. In their passing, they would spread additional taint, destroy the balance of the Dao and pollute their surroundings before they were finally destroyed and purified.

At the same time, others were drawn to the cleansing formation around the ape’s body. They sought to consume the most potent source of energy that had empowered them. Some might ravage the very land around the heart itself, for the taint still lingered in soil and vegetation.

In such an environment, a trio of weak and injured Core Formation cultivators who sought no trouble and did their best to avoid it were of little consequence. Occasionally, they found themselves forced to do battle with demonic beasts, their minds and bodies twisted by the corruptive forces and dispatched these weakened creatures as quick and mercifully as possible. Most times, they left the cores and bodies behind rather than bring the taint with them.

Days passed, and as they travelled, the number of attacks decreased. The number of tainted creatures grew fewer, the surroundings normalized and the normal flow of life returned.

It was nearly three weeks later, the group having traversed hundreds of li across deep and treacherous rivers and boggy marshes that they began to relax. No sign had been seen of their former allies and erstwhile attackers, and the tense silence bled out of them with each quiet day.

When the trio located a shaded clearing with a pond reflecting the waning moon, by unspoken agreement the group chose to settle in for a longer period. Formation flags – illusion, deception and slaughter – were emplaced and a merry fire was set alight. Yet, for all their preparations, within an hour Tou He had crashed, a forearm long hunk of roasted meat still clutched in his hand as he slept.

By the banked fire, coals still glowing under a bubbling stew pot, Wu Ying and Yang Mu took seats near one another. She leaned against his shoulder, just resting her head on his shoulder in serene silence.

Eventually though, Yang Mu shifted her weight off his arm and turned to the wind cultivator. Sensing the change in atmosphere, Wu Ying met her gaze and raised an eyebrow in enquiry.

“Don’t do that. You have something on your mind, I know it. Is it your injuries?” Yang Mu’s lips thinned in distress. “If it’s worse than we thought, I can ask my parents. They know people.”

“I’m sure they do.” Wu Ying smiled a little in amusement at her easy declaration before he continued. “But it’s not that. I can feel myself healing, slowly. The dizziness grows less, the disorientation. I feel more mortal, more constrained each day.”

“And that is good?”

“When you were the wind, all across the land, yes.” Wu Ying shook his head. “I don’t know if I can explain it, but even now…” He trailed off, looking into the distance. Sensing the fingertip brushes of breezes, the exhalation of a thousand creatures, both big and small. The flutter of insect wings, the ruffling of air through leaves and grass, the mixing of aromas as they arose from night-wakened flowers. How the air hung, different over the river or the marsh they had journeyed through compared to the soil and rock of other locations. Rising and falling, in slow ponderous nature. The play of sunlight and individuals and a memory of mountains worn away and rivers turned… “It’s everything, the past and the present and the future. The wind is everywhere and yet, I am nothing in it. A mortal amongst immortal forces.

“It’s too much.”

A hand reached out, gripping his own and squeezing tight. He traced the back of her hand, the smooth pale skin that covered tendons and veins, the subtle strength contained within them and the warmth of a human body. He felt her aura push against his own, not in conflict but in reassurance. The vitality of her presence, the pressing need of it; the exploration of new sensations and new experiences required for healthy growth…

It anchored him, once more, in the here and now. The pain of his body, the coldness of the stone he sat upon, the warmth radiating from the coals; all a reminder of his own mortality. A mortality that he had discarded in its entirety.

“Then, what is the problem?” Her voice was low, insistent without being intruding. Empathetic enquiry, that left him with the option of answering or not.

“When I was the wind, when the Heavens passed on their decree and wielded their strength directly. I sensed them, sensed what they saw….” Wu Ying trailed off. “Their actions, sometimes, I thought was a mistake. But I can see it now, oh so clearly…”

Silence greeted his words, even as he trailed off. She took his left hand with both of hers, squeezing it gently in encouragement as she waited, fingers running across scabbed flesh.

“The Heavens care not for us.” Then before she could object, he continued. “Not individually.” He gestured with his right hand, waving at the tree. “How can they? A farmer does not weep for the branch he must trim, the stalk of rice he must extract. He cannot mourn the weeds that must be pulled for the greater good of the crop.

“And we, we are no more important than a blade of grass. The Heavens must watch and care for all, from the mosquito that lands on our skin, seeking sustenance, to the mighty dragon that soars above, bringing rain.”

She inclined her head a little as he spoke, her voice coming softly now. “And that has left a shadow in your heart?”

“A shadow, yes. Because to progress further, to become one with the Seven Winds… to join with it all, I must accept the Heavens.” Wu Ying laughed, softly. “It’s funny. I know, I have an inkling of the Hells winds. They burn, they punish, they renew. That is the role of our hells, to see the refinement and betterment of souls. And that… that I can accept.”

“But you rail against a heaven, that sees not the individual but only the greater.”

“Yes. A heaven that would flood a valley to drown a demon, that allows the fall of storms in one region and drought in another; all to ensure a balance that only they can – barely – understand.” Wu Ying’s voice grew wry, aggrieved. “And barely it is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Perhaps the Jade Emperor is different, but the others… from what I sensed. They’re like us, except stronger a little and a little wiser. But they are embodiments of a sliver of the Dao. They cannot encompass it, perhaps it’s not even viable to be everything in a sliver of the Dao. I couldn’t handle being the wind, not really.” Wu Ying exhaled, threadedly. “Immortals cannot be the Dao, for the Dao is endless. To be the Dao, we too would have to be everything. But when you are everything, you are also nothing.”

“Yet, to be so close to the Dao…” It was her turn now to trail off. It was not a path she had taken, not a path she could walk. Yet, the cultivator could not help but imagine what that might be like, the strength, the power, the wisdom that might encompass one. “What wonder.”

He looked down at his hand, gripped in hers and then offered Yang Mu a little half-smile. “Wonder, yes. But I think there is wisdom too, in finding that wonder in the smaller, mortal things. To marvel at the fortune one might gain in the present, if one is willing to accept it.”

Now it was Yang Mu’s turned to look surprised. She began to retract her hand, only for him to squeeze them shut, trapping her. She stilled, eyes searching his as he spoke.

“I do not remember much, of my time as the wind. Of the rejection of the heavens, though a part of me fears that the path I walk might be the wrong one. But what I do remember is that when I was the wind, when all that was mortal in me began to fray and come apart… I had a rock to stand upon, and a smile to remember.”

“A rock?” Yang Mu said.

“Is that what you heard, through all that?” Now, Wu Ying was amused, though neither party let go of the other’s hand.

“Well, maybe I don’t like to share.”

“He has my friendship. You have my heart.” Wu Ying cocked one shoulder upwards. “Is that not enough?”

Now she smiled, leaning forward. She crossed the space between them, lips inches from his as she answered him.

“Yes.”

Neither party knew who closed the final distance. Perhaps they both did. Lips met lips and for a time, the aches of battle and the fears of the future faded away, as arms released only to wrap around one another. One around the waist, another to cradle head and body. Breath mingled and for a time, there was no fear of the future or debate over the dao.

For a time, there was just two mortals, hanging onto one another in a turbulent, changing world. And that was enough.

###

The End

Epilogue

They came by boat, traversing churning river water. It was no massive merchant vessel that they rode, but a sleek nobleman’s craft that took them up river, its sails filled with a wind that carried them – and them alone – forth.

The crew of other vessels had stared at the ship enviously, eyeing the beautiful female passenger who lounged on the foredeck as they passed or watched with awe at the pair of battling cultivating masters that danced across the deck and on the water itself in an on-going test of martial ability.

Yet, now, today, neither party fought. Over a year and a half had passed since one of the passengers had left on a mission. Over a decade, when the other had been banished. Yet, similar feelings arose in the breast of the pair as they watched the looming mountain range approach and the massive waterfall that earmarked the end of the river. Beside the waterfall stood the city harbor, filled to bursting with merchants plying their trade and the city behind that.

“That path, over there?” Wu Ying said, gesturing with his right hand, his left gripped in Yang Mu’s. His left hand no longer bled, though a white scar marked the skin that had been lost to a purifying flame and on occasion, a deep ache would arise within, making his hand tremble without stop. Perhaps one day, it would disappear, along with the other wounds – most unseen – that dotted his body.

“I see it.” Yang Mu smiled a little. “Is that the one you used to climb?”

“A few times a day, as an outer sect member,” Wu Ying confirmed. “Bags of rice on my back as training  and for contribution points.”

“And there’s an inner and outer sect, right?” Yang Mu said, to clarify.

“Inner, outer and core,” Tou He was not far from the pair, leaning on his old wooden staff. His right hand was bandaged tight, the missing stubs of his bottom two fingers healed over. “Though the core members are rarely seen by the general populace. They are busy training or consuming their pills.”

“Talking of that…” Yang Mu cocked her head to the side. “You finished all of yours?”

“Two nights ago. I pray I never have to consume something as disgusting in my life. Why anyone would think to make the original Wolf Heart, Dog Kidney pill – and make it more effective even – I cannot understand. I couldn’t even eat properly for days,” Tou He said.

“But it refilled your energy levels, did it not?” Wu Ying smirked. “You even managed to add another layer to your core.” Something dark flickered across his face, as he added. “It’s not as though we were lacking in experience and enlightenment at least.”

Both his friends shared a glance with one another, one that they perhaps thought Wu Ying missed.  Or perhaps not. Their concern over his health and state of mind had grown more noticeable, as he attempted to shake the experience of becoming the wind.

Changing the subject, Yang Mu pointed to the waterfalls. “Your Elder Sister climbed those, early on, did she not?”

“She did,” Wu Ying confirmed  as they slid closer to the docks. He turned his hand sideways, gently and the wind stopped blowing, the sail flapping at the sudden lack of force “Were you planning to ascend that way?”

“It seems appropriate, do you not think so?” Yang Mu said. “After all, you come back not as a mere Energy Storage cultivator. Let them know, that their exiled son has returned. Let them understand, you are no mere Gatherer. And that the child that left has returned a man.”

Wu Ying shook his head, his natural aversion to making a scene warring with his desire to showoff for her. Even as he debated internally, the wind arose once more and shifted direction, pushing the boat towards the waterfall. A startled yelp from the steersmen and the snap of sails being filled were the only signs of the suddenly straining sail.

“It seems we’re not the only one who thinks you should approach with some pride, old friend.” Tou He smiled a little as he listened to the flapping sail. “Go. I’ll be up, the normal way.”

“It seems not.” Wu Ying gazed upon the distant, cloud covered peak, shrouded by the spray of mist and fog and smiled. “Let’s go then.” Lifting Yang Mu’s hand, he gave it one more squeeze.

“Back home to the Verdant Green Waters sect.”