A Thousand Li Book 11 - Chapter 4 preview (Patreon)

Tou He, staff raised began to stalk forward. The mountain that had appeared while he was fighting Wu Ying had faded at first, the dao formation from sand and earth disappearing as he no longer wielded his staff. However, at his opponent’s words, energy exploded from around him and filled the arena as a new image overlaid the mountain, turning the entire mountain aflame.

“Showoff,” Wu Ying said, eyes glimmering with humor as he raised his sword. Weapon pointed at his friend, the winds roared and surrounded him, lifting him off the sandy arena floor. A swirling tempest sphere surrounded the wind cultivator even as the winds picked up further within the arena itself even as Tou He’s flame warmed the surroundings.

No longer daring to pull chi and cold air from the sky, Wu Ying darted to the side and threw a tentative strike at Wu Ying. The attack was filled with blade intent and his wind dao, backed up with his Heart of the Sword. It tore through the air, so sharp that the sound was clear and concise; as was the clash when it met the flaming mountain projection around Tou He’s technique.

When wind met stone, it did not cut, it did not crash through but it diverted and wore away. The edges of the dao projection faded, the flames guttering for a moment At the same time, the blade strike; so sharp and fell before came apart, scattering across the face of the defensive technique. Where the wind was deflected, other flames perked up, strengthened by the addition of air.

Wu Ying grunted, content that Tou He could weather his attacks. Idly stepping aside from a flung burst of flame, he shifted by a dozen feet and swung his sword again. Each moment, he sped up, flickering from spot to spot around his opponent to send blade strikes in a dazzling display of speed. He moved so fast now that he might as well have been teleporting, shifting from position to position with a minor exertion of will as he displaced his body into the winds and back again.

On the ground, Tou He spun and blocked, his staff swirling with ever greater speed. He shattered the blade strikes with minor projections of his own from his staff or allowed the attacks to crash into the dao impression of the mountain. The fire along the mountain guttered and faded or burned ever hotter, depending on their proximity to the attacks.

Weaving around his friend, Wu Ying set in motion the second part of his plan. Moving ever faster and casting his attacks to create a swirling sphere of cutting blades. The flames around the mystic mountain guttered at fast before Tou He, giving up defending with his own projections grounded his staff and focused. Power poured out of him, enveloping the mountain and the remainder of the arena and the flames roared back into life, bolstered by the chi pouring out of Tou He.

Even so, the wind cultivator could see how the mountain itself was wearing away. Rocks and cliff faces were being torn apart with each moment, grasses and vegetation wearing away even as the flame flickered and burned under the onslaught.

At the same time, he felt the external pressure of Tou He’s dao attack. The flaming mountain was a two fold technique. The first, the mountain itself, defended his friend from attacks. He would have to shatter the dao projection in its entirety to land a proper attack on his friend.

Meanwhile, the flames and the heat that it exuded had permeated the entirety of the arena. Glowing talismans and enchanted runes flickered and gleamed in his peripheral vision, taxed by the ever increasing temperature within the surroundings.

“Area control and defense,” Wu Ying muttered to himself, never stopping his attacks.

He could sense the conversations held by the other Elders, many of them marveling at the showcase of techniques by the pair. This was, of course, not the only techniques they had at use, but the wind cultivator had to admit, his friend’s choice was particularly apt against him.

Trying to strike him would have been difficult, if not near impossible. Wu Ying could move faster than his stodgy friend, his ability to fade through attacks now that he was no longer restraining his dao significantly improved. He was, for all intents and purposes in this battle, the wind.

Rather than utilizing the earth aspect of his technique, Tou He was leaning heavily into his own element of fire. Using the heat and temperature to choke Wu Ying out. Of course, fire could not really burn air – it could only alter it. If the pair were truly wind and flame, neither party could ever be considered to have truly ‘won’ this battle.

Just as Wu Ying had given up the opportunity of becoming one with the wind, his friend was not wielding a simple flame, but the concept of fire, the cleansing and purifying properties of it. All tinged with a little of the Heavens own judgment.

As such, in the extended environment of the arena; a battle of daos and wills was occurring as the pair contested against one another. The fire burnt and twisted and changed the wind, inflicting injury to Wu Ying. Simultaneously, the wind cultivator asserted his own beliefs of an ever-changing wind, disallowing such injury even as he pressed upon the mountain the concept of time and deterioration.

Once again, the pair fought to a standstill. Wu Ying’s own control of the dao and his wind body was at a higher degree than Tou He’s own dao understanding. On the other hand, the fire element had precedence over wind. It should, theoretically, have given Tou He the advantage over him while the addition of heavenly fire within Tou He’s aura increased the leverage he had.

Of course, no mountain could hold forever. Nor could Wu Ying cast blade strikes till the mountain itself had worn itself down. It would have become a battle of endurance and stubbornness, but as though understanding one another; the pair broke apart after a moment.

A battle for endurance might have been the smartest and least risky method. But it was also, rather clearly, quite boring.

Wu Ying grinned at his friend, saluting him with his sword. Unlike many other Elders in the Core formation stage, he had focused his development within, constrained both by injuries and his interest. He had not taken up additional techniques, mixing formations or alchemy or enchanted equipment, into his fighting styles; nor had he explored the full variance of his dao.

In effect, he had deepened the skillsets that he had acquired in the last decade. It allowed him to perfect and combine his existing skills with the jian and the wind into his martial style, allowing him to progress the Wandering Dragon further. But it also meant that, compared to many other Elders, he was limited in his attack methods.

Not to say he hadn’t managed a couple of new techniques, but the majority were useless against another Elder in the Core Formation stage. Such techniques were showy, wasteful in the amount of chi utilized and most importantly, had not the dao heft required to break through an Elder’s own dao understanding.

All those thoughts flickered through Wu Ying’s mind as he regarded his friend before he settled on his next technique. The second form of the Wandering Dragon was deceptively simple. A straight lunge, that utilized the full strength of Wu Ying’s body and dao, aligned against a single axis. He blurred forward, crossing the distance between himself and Tou He in less than a blink of an eye.

Wind chi gathered around Wu Ying’s form, allowing him to cross the distance and also thrusting him forward at the same time. It sharpened itself into a mighty point, wind moving so fast and powerfully thrusting him forward that he could have pounded a piece of straw through a door post, nevermind a sharp length of metal

A piece of metal that was further reinforced and sharpened with the Heart of the Jian, an understanding of the weapon itself and borrowing the weight of history and purpose. Swords, a jian, was meant to do one thing when it thrust – and that was to pierce. To cut and burst through, fast and purposeful and precise; and knowing such things, even the very air and chi before Wu Ying parted.

A simplistic motion, but with the borrowed weight of a thousand years and a million instances; of purpose and energy. It crashed into the simple open palm projection that rose from his opponent, Tou He raising and thrusting his hand forward in a warding gesture.

Like Wu Ying’s own attack, Tou He’s parry carried with it the depth of his enlightenment. The warding gesture came from deep within and borrowed from the same concepts of protection and sanctuary that had so deeply engrained themselves into the ex-monk at a young age, that he carried it with him to this day.

Peace and mercy, redemption from the acts and treacheries of life. The warding hand was warning and dismissal at the same time, a gesture of mercy and deflection. No further, it said; for those that stood behind that door were to be treasured.

A hundred, a thousand, a million such movements had been made over the years. By monks, yes, protecting the worshippers within; but also by guards at walls, mothers before their children. Behind the simple motion, a multitude of histories.

Together, the pair of attacks – as much dao inspiration and enlightenments as physical motions – clashed; projections of chi leading the way before hand and sword met. Tou He, on the defense, staggered first, hand crumpling back as the weight of a half-Immortal wielding the strength of his conviction and element bore down upon him.

At the same time, the energy of the warding rebounded down the weapon and into Wu Ying’s grip. Held firmly in the wind cultivator’s grip, thrust forward by gale force winds, the weapon bent and then broke, shattering into a thousand pieces that were swept forward to crash into Tou He’s projection.

A startled grunt, Wu Ying’s target shifting by inches at the last moment such that he bypassed his friend, reappearing by his side and behind the other. The wind stilled for a fraction of a moment as the wind cultivator turned, broken hilt in one hand as he stared at the thin trail of blood along his friend’s jaw.

A single shard of metal, driven forwards, punctured the mountain drawing blood.

Tou He stood there, eyes unseeing and staring straight ahead, the cracked defense of his projected mountain falling apart. A slight shudder passed over the man, a breath taken, a little too wet for normal.

Wu Ying breathed in, hissing out as the Thousand Miseries technique gave lie to his assumption.

Wait. Not a single wound.

New spots bloomed, all along Tou He’s form as additional cuts showcased themselves. A moment later, as his friend turned to him to speak, his eyes rolled back. Moving quickly, Wu Ying sent his broken weapon into storage before he caught the man. Dark brown eyes, filled normally with good humor, were blank now. Unconscious.

Voices rose all around, even as Wu Ying cursed in sudden understanding.

Fools.

They really were fools.