The Fourth Stage - Chapter 3 preview (Patreon)

Hours passed, as the pair wiled the time away. The teapot was exchanged for their own, tea leaves from kingdoms far and wide made their appearance. Snacks – purchased along the myriad towns and villages they had visited and stored away for such time, before greedy hands found them – were extracted from storage rings, to supplement the meager supplies offered to them by the gate guards.

Mortal and cultivators alike passed by, even as the gate guards changed standing. Dozens of other cultivators gathered in the shadows, watching the pair with ever increasing tension. Laughter, bright and high, or loud and boisterous as conversation continued under the veil of privacy, pierced only by the occasional outburst of hilarity.

The wind gusted across mountaintops, gathering mist and fog alike and filling the surroundings. The Cyclone’s Breath pulled upon the gales and gusts of the heights all around them, cloud formations shifting subtly to pour energy down upon the wind cultivator.

Deeper within the ground, roots twisted and turned. Protective formations all along the sect began to glow, sparked by a tiny tendril of energy that seeped into the high alpine trees and brush. These formations began to experience a subtly higher drain, as they were tested again and again.

All the while, the pair spoke. Of a long journey, of enemies and spirit beasts and demonic opponents faced. They spoke of swords to be bought and martial styles, of spirit herbs that could be substituted for compresses and pills and the use of leaves as formation flags when all else failed. They spoke of dinners eaten and desserts consumed, wine and tea and sights galore. They spoke, to let time pass and to revel in one another’s company.

When words ended, the pair fell silent into companionable silence. Hours, days, weeks passing through the deep wilds, where a stray word might draw demon beasts and hungry plants alike had taught the pair to delight in the serenity of silence.

Time passed, the sun set and high above, conversations continued in the halls of power. A pair of cultivators supped on meat and drinks drawn from spirit rings whilst they waited for elders who feared for their ranks and vied for the meanest advantage fought.

***

The night had grow old, the sun having set hours ago and still, the pair sat. It was a dark evening, for over the entire mountain range, the new moon that had crossed the zenith of its path and was in the midst of setting and its companion stars were blocked from sight by massive, revolving cloudbanks. Clouds that threatened rain and lightning alike, but that held off still.

The surroundings around the paifang were fitfully illuminated, a pair of spirit lamps hung on either side of the red columns a flickering flame emerging from an open window and door of the guard station the only illumination near the sect entrance.

Yet, a short distance away, the pair of cultivators sat as though amidst a celebration. A quartet of paper lanterns set at the cardinal points of the compass illuminated the table, its occupants and the feast that been brought from below by well paid mortals.

An entire roast pig, a soy sauce soaked chicken and a pair of whole fish were but the start of the meat portions of the meal. Multiple vegetable dishes, from a claypot filled with bean curds and mushrooms and slow-cooked over a fire to flash fried vegetables and steamed leaf tips were also laid out on the overflowing table, whilst desserts and a pot of rice had to be set upon the additional side table that Yang Mu had conjured.

“More wine?” Wu Ying offered, holding up the pot.

“Hah! I’m not my uncle. No more…” Yang Mu let out a little giggle, holding a hand over her cup to stop Wu Ying from refilling it again. “Where is this one from, anyway? It is quite strong.”

“Oh, I took it from a lord’s residence as payment…” he frowned. “Two? Three years ago. Up north and east of here, in the county of Shenzang in the kingdom of Pei.”

“Took?”

“Yes. He refused to pay, after I provided him the sixty year ginseng he asked for.”

“Sixty year?” Yang Mu sounded scandalized.

“It’s fine. It was a mortal ginseng, that never acquired any elemental aspects.” He shook his head. “Perfect for a mortal.”

“And he chose not to honour the agreement?”

“He did. Lord Kang thought that being friends with the local magistrate and the sect guards was sufficient protection.”

Yang Mu laughed softly. “And so, the honourable Verdant Gatherer stole from him.”

“Just what was owed. And a small fee for my time.”

“And that is why your return was not as simple as we might have hoped.” A new voice, one that cut through with startling clarity had the pair turning their heads in the direction. Sweet, dulcet tones that were refined and trained washed over them. “Always making my job harder.”

Of course, both cultivators were unsurprised by the speaker’s presence. Nor that of the other two who accompanied the speaker, what with their spiritual senses extended in all directions. Neither did they miss the slight buzzing in environmental chi that spoke of silent chi messages passed onwards and the dispersal of the waiting guards lurking in the undergrowth.

“Sister Yang.” Standing, Wu Ying bowed in the direction of the speaker. He grinned as he spotted Tou He, the bald cultivator clad once more in the robes of an Elder of the Verdant Green Waters, much like his other companions. Black, with green edging, it was a severe set of robes that Wu Ying had always thought more foreboding and unflattering than stern. “Tou He. Liu Tsong.”

The last to be greeted was a taller female, pretty – though one would be hard pressed to notice her next to the spectacular presence of his martial sister – with the ever present aroma of mixed herbs and boiled pills. Even washed and changed, it was impossible for the apothecarist to remove the signifiers of her profession, not after decades of work.

“May I present to you Cultivator Yang Mu, daughter of the Twin Souls of the Joyous Platinum Inn.”

“Oh, you fool boy.” Yang Fa Yuan rolled her eyes, as she stepped by him and took Yang Mu’s hands in her own. “Call me Sister. If you are as close with this fool as Tou He – and Wu Ying’s occasional letters – have hinted, I must insist. It is only proper.”

“I… thank you.” A little flustered by the warm greeting, Yang Mu’s hands clutched tight Fa Yuan’s own. She paused a second, then asked, hesitantly. “Your surname… from the poplar and Imperial line?”

“Yes. And your name, it’s to admire, is it not(2)?” Her eyes swept over Yang Mu’s slightly more voluptuous form, the slim form and muscles that were displayed under the robes she wore. “There certainly is.”

“Nothing to compare to one so famed,” Yang Mu replied immediately. “The beauty, elegance and breeding of Fairy Yang was spoken of even in my parent’s humble abode.”

Tou He, eyes dancing with amusement as the pair tried to out humble one another, strode right past and took a seat at the table, conjuring his own bowl, plate and chopsticks before he began attacking the meal.

“Who invited you?” Wu Ying said, incensed and hands on his hips. “Don’t you have better food in your house?”

“Better for sure. But not free.” Then, the man paused, eyes wrinkling. “Though I guess, I have paid for it already.”

“You surely have after that expedition,” Liu Tsong said, stopping near Wu Ying and offering him a slight nod. “You are looking…” She frowned, eyes narrowing in thought. “Not well. That is strange…” She reached for his hand and he let her take it, as she turned his wrist over and placed fingers on his pulse. Silently, she read his pulse before he felt a slight pulse earth chi run through his body before grounding itself in the soil beneath him. A moment later, the energy surged backwards, running through him once more.

“What did you do to yourself?” Liu Tsong said, disbelievingly.

“I became the wind and then returned,” Wu Ying said. “There’s some… lingering problems.”

All the while, two of the three most important women in his life chattered away. He knew his martial sister was listening in – splitting one’s concentration across multiple conversations and a sense of the world around was the most basic of tasks a Core Formation cultivator could be expected to wield – but nothing he said would be news to her. Not after their letters.

“Fool. You are taking your medicinal baths?” Liu Tsong said. She immediately answered her own question. “Of course you are. But it’s probably not helping as much, because the damage you’ve done is too encompassing. Even some of your meridians are wrong now…” Muttering to herself, she continued. “You’d need to rebuild your body entirely to fix some of the problems. Maybe I could…”

Wu Ying took his wrist out of her grip, the motion waking her from her contemplations. He offered the apothecarist a smile, continuing. “Elder Sister, I will happily be in your and Elder _____’s care later. Later, though. Tonight, let us celebrate my return.”

Now, Fa Yuan looked away from her conversation with Yang Mu. At some point, the pair had subtly woven a formation to block Wu Ying’s sense of them, even the wind unable to bring forth their conversation. But now, the formation dropped as she turned her attention to him, dark eyes probing his guileless smile.

“Yes, we should.” Her eyes swept over the table, the red paper lanterns and then back to his smile. “Though it seems you arranged for one, here?”

“Well, yes.” Wu Ying smiled. “It is a beautiful night.” Blatantly ignoring the heavy clouds above that shrouded the surroundings in darkness, he continued. “Celebrating it here, before my sect, seemed appropriate.”

Liu Tsong eyed the meal, noting the lack of chi that emanated from the dishes. Delicious though they might smell, the dishes were mundane food and emanated none of the chi that arose from spirit and demonic beast dishes or chi-enriched spiritual herbs. It was, to put plainly, food fit for a mortal king.

“Well, our servants are already preparing a proper feast,” Liu Tsong said. “And those who know you would be interested in meeting you once again.”

“Even Yin Xue.” Tou He added, waving his chopstick and the drumstick held in it around. “He was quite excited to show you his fist.”

“So you’ve told me,” Wu Ying said, rolling his eyes. Then, turning to Fa Yuan, he asked a question. “Is our entrance then dealt with? We may enter at any time?’

“You may. As may Sister Yang.” Fa Yuan  opened her hand where a new seal sat, one that was made of red jade. She handed the jade over to Yang Mu who took it, eyeing the sect seal imprinted on the top with a raised eyebrow. “Your guest seal, as an Honored Elder.”

“Elder?” Yang Mu said. “And what would be expected, for this honour?”

“It is customary for Honored Guests to provide some minor instruction. A public lecture once a month is customary, though private tuition for prodigies of other Elders is also an option.”

“Oh!” Yang Mu said, excitedly. “I remember now. Mother used to offer private lessons when she traded with the nearby sects and families. She was well paid for that.”

“It is customary for a gift or some small honorarium be offered for the Elder’s time, yes.” Fa Yuan was eyeing the visibly excited woman with some amusement.

“Is Ah Ying getting new robes then?” Yang Mu said, curiously. “If so, I have some suggestions on the cut.” She dropped her voice a little, though it did little to hide her words from the other cultivators. “He’s taken to some foreign fashions, and I admit, they do suit him.”

“No new robes.” Tou He replied, placing the bowl he’d been spooning rice from down. “Why would he? He’s still an inner sect cultivator. And while the colour is not right – nor the cut – that is but minor matter for one who has been away so long.”

“But is he not an Elder now?” Yang Mu frowned. “If I am one…”

Dissatisfaction appeared on Fa Yuan’s face now as she replied to Yang Mu. “Your case was simple. As an Honorary Elder, the only requirement was an appropriate cultivation stage. And, of course, knowledge that would benefit the Sect to acquire.

“Wu Ying’s case is different. All Elders must show that they are suitable for the elevation. There are… trials… that one must undertake.”

Now the wind cultivator’s eyes narrowed. He had never heard of such trials before. Not from Tou He, not from his Master, not even from his martial sister.

“Trials.” He stated, flatly.

“Yes. They are traditional.” Now, there was no doubt about the scorn that she held for the idea of the trials. Obviously, there was a deeper discussion to be had. But for now…

“Well, it matters not,” Wu Ying said, firmly. “Not for tonight. We have a feast to finish, then Yang Mu and I shall retire below.”

“Below?” Liu Tsong sounded surprised. Tou He on the other hand looked entirely unshaken, having already parcelled even more of the rice into separate bowls. It was Fa Yuan who Wu Ying watched, his Elder Sister regarding him in thoughtful silence.

“It’s that way, is it?”

“It is.” Wu Ying inclined his head to the table. “If Elder Sister will join us?”

A moment’s more hesitation. Insult for insult. Refusing to enter now, when they were offered the opportunity. Choosing to sleep in mortal quarters, to treat further with the peasants rather than the sect. In so choosing this course of action, Wu Ying was mocking the Elders who had acted against. Mocked the sect itself, some might say.

Joining him would be the same. All these thoughts, he could see his Fairy Yang weigh. His teacher, not only in martial matters but the first one in politics and higher forms of courtesy. She weighed his words, his actions and the sect.

And then she smiled and stepped forward, pulling a seat out.

“Of course, Ah Ying. We have much to speak about.”


Footnote:
2 - Reminder that Chinese characters all have meanings, so names all have meanings. Often picked for a reason. In this case, Yang Mu is ‘to admire’ translated, the Yǎng  - 仰 being different than the one that Yáng (杨) Fa Yuan has.