The Fourth Fall - Chapter 14 preview (Patreon)

On the third day of flight, the pair of spiritual instruments finally arrived at the meeting point arranged by the officials. The pair of flying contraptions had slowed their passage through the second day to ensure that on the morning of the third day, as the dawn was rising they would arrive before the peaking of the constant heat. All through the spring and in the winter too, the lack of moisture from the normally constant eastern winds had parched the land, causing heat waves to rise around them all and leave the surrounding vista of sky empty.

Now, as dawn light broke and the day began to heat, the cultivators and government officials and royalty approached the singular flying spiritual instrument of the Kingdom of Wei. The floating palace dwarfed the pair of floating instruments, the flying palace and mansion situated upon a sloping hill that showcased the massive main building, the stepped gardens and secondary buildings and the multiple walls and courtyards that made up the complex. Green trees and grass - a startling sight in contrast to the brown foliage below on the ground - and tinkling waterfalls were shielded from external effects by the persistent, translucent formation shields that covered the floating palace.

Wu Ying's lips parted a little in surprise at the size and bountiful treasures on casual display, noting the presence of flying fish, prowling foo dogs and rare spiritual deer in the gardens, while the wind brought hints of spiritual herbs and luscious fruit. Casual display of wealth, extragavant use of spirit stones to empower waterfalls and draw moisture from the air to replace that which evaporated. Wasteful, but for fulfilment of its intended purpose.

To impress the viewer.

Honesty forced Wu Ying to admit the truth, that he was impressed. The former farmer might be mildly disgusted by the sheer waste he noticed, but the trained cultivator, the experienced world traveller and the cynical Elder within him could all understand the point. Understand the need.

All this, to impress the kingdom coming to their aid. To ensure that even in the act of forming the alliance, the Kingdom of Shen understood - the Kingdom of Wei was no less than them. Just, unfortunate, in being nearer the Kingdom of Cai. Face had to be saved, the Kingdom of Wei's prestige showcased. So they had brought the foremost spiritual instrument of the kingdom, to showcase their wealth and strength.

"Like strutting peacocks, trying to impress a woman who doesn't care," Yin Xue muttered, leaning against the railing beside Wu Ying.

The wind cultivator tilted his head to the side, wondering why the man had come to him. He would have much preferred Yang Mu's presence, but she was not part of this welcome party. Not officially part of the Verdant Green Waters sect, at least not for this particular scenario. Honored Elder or not, this was an official delegation.

Then again, he understood why Yin Xue was here. Better him, who he at least had some degree of familiarity with, than the other Elders of the Sect. Though they might all be of the same rank, they were not equals. Seniority and strength made a difference, and for Yin Xue, he might borrow a little of Wu Ying's own prestige by leaning upon old acquantince.

Even if neither liked one another much.

"They are here, and they are our allies," Wu Ying said, mildly in reproach.

"They are," Fa Yuan muttered, standing on Wu Ying's other side. "I'm glad some of my lessons on diplomacy and courtesy have made their way through."

"Better the Wei than the Cai on our borders," he said, in reply. Yet, his attention was less on them than the world below, the wind swirling through the surroundings, taking in the farmland below as it had been the last few days. It brought back information, news that he provided to Fa Yuan who updated maps and notes for the kingdom and the sect.

They might be allies now, but there was no reason to set aside such a bounty of information offered to them. Moreso, Wu Ying sensed the surroundings for his own curiosity, understanding the extent of the drought and the effects on the kingdom below. It was not good, the land drier, the rivers lower than in their own nearby domains around the Verdant Green Waters. Occassional sprouts of green, locations of greater prosperity appeared near lakes and well built irragation fields, but in the majority...

The Wei kingdom suffered. And Wu Ying knew, from reports offered by his woman and Fairy Yang; their enemy suffered even greater.

"Look!" Yin Xue said, his voice excited and trepiditious. "Their people are coming out to greet us."

Out to greet them was right, for a parade of individuals were exiting the main gates to head towards the landing dock. Wu Ying knew that the three spiritual instruments would not dock together. While the controllers were precise and as skilled as they could be, these were massive vessels that shifted with the unseen tides of spiritual energy. Even a minor fluctuation in the energy or in the more mundane winds could see the trio crashing into one another.

Just as importantly, the auras and protective formations of the three spirit instruments extended beyond the borders of the physical vessel themselves. It allowed for the flow of air and other immaterial aspects, allowed the formations to stack upon themselves when needed, offering greater protection and could not, easily, be reshaped for something as simple as docking - especially with non-allied vessels.

No, the cultivators would be expected to fly over, exiting their instruments when it had come to a stop nearby and alighting upon the ground themselves. Those few cultivators - servants and attendants in the Energy Storage and Body Cleansing stage - that were required would need to be brought over using spiritual instruments or the control of the elements by the cultivators. The inability to do so in such a case would be a loss of face that would be avoided at all cost, of course. No matter the actual cost in flying talismans or other single-use enchantments might be spent.

Not that it mattered to Wu Ying, beyond his minor tasking to carry a half-dozen cultivators with him on the winds as per the Sect Head's request.

In the distance the line of tiny figures that exited the main doors stretched outwards. The first group glinted and glowed in the morning dawn, internal energies criss-crossing the burnished armour and guandao that they carried, the polearms held at attention with practised ease. Their motions were polished and practised, the line of guards standing in straight lines at either side of the landing space, awaiting their presence.

At the gates, just outside of them, the true reception party awaited. A trio of individuals headed the procession, a black robed magistrate or minister, hands crossed before him and hidden within voluminous sleeves. The zhanchi putuo*FOOTNOTE* that the man wore was a little stylised, the wushamao head covering with its distinct spread-wing design and black colouring was gilded with gold along the edges and stamped in the center with a sigil that was too distant to pick out. Between the gold edging on the man's robes and the colourful brocade, Wu Ying was certain they faced at least a Minister of some import. Perhaps even the Minister of the Exterior himself.

Behind him, attendants clad in similar court dress but less fanciful stood, awaiting their arrival. One carried a large wooden box on his arms, while he waited, though its contents could not be told from this distance, even to Wu Ying's spiritual perceptions. Further behind, additional members of the greeting party stood, mortal - or Body Cleansing - servants in myriad colourful dresses. Most, Wu Ying dismissed, beyond the singular assassin that smelled of poison and death.

***

Wu Ying landed on the decks with ease, controlling the winds to deposit te servants behind him. He stayed still, letting his gaze roam over the armoured guards in their scalemail and wide polearms, the bubble of his spiritual perception limited to the area just outside of his reach. Far enough that he might detect a tensing of muscle before a strike, not far enough to be considered impolite. At the same time, the winds danced all around, bringing further hints of the individuals arrayed before him. Smells of wine and floral bathing pearls, of pressed silk interlaced with light perfumes and mixed dark tea and fried foods on the breath. Sword oil gracing newly shined and cared for weapons, oiled leather and newly applied wax on armour and arm braces. The harsher musk of man and woman, mild sweat from the mortal servants, the trembling of an arm, the acrid taste of poisons on a single, extra long fingernail on the end pinkie.

He made no mention of this while the servants readied themselves, straightening clothing and arraying themselves for the arrival of the other cultivators. A single, swiflty worded communique had already been sent, his own arrival with the servants already agreed upon. Then, the others came.

First were more guards, more administrators and bureaucrats and servants from the royal family. These were ferried across via a slower golden dish, the gently rotating outer shell borne across on conjured winds. Wu Ying felt the enchantments twisting the wind, consuming vast amounts of chi to dictate the movements of the saucer as it arrived, all the while as he waited with arms held behind his back.

After the arrival of the servants and their own arrangements came the cultivators. Faster and more efficient than the royal personages, they landed lightly. The vast differences in their flying methods was a sharp contrast to the herd of spirit mares that bore the royal family, the translucent and ghostly figures landing coming to a stop as cultivators parted to allow the most junior of the royal negotiating team to step aside.

Wu Ying tuned out the various formalities of protocol, knowing his own role had been marked out already. He kept his attention on the other side, Ren resting on his hip in comforting reminder. His role, in the next few hours, was that of added security; a silent and overbearing one but requisite. In case of tragedy, he would act as safeguard for the departure of all that arrived. He would would hold their enemies back, with his blades and his winds.

"Greetings to the Honored Personages of the Kingdom of Shen. We welcome you to the great and illustrious Third Floating Palace of the Wei, created by the seventh Empress, she who foresaw the splitting of the heavens, Wei Wen Shen. This one, who has been given the honour of this first greeting, is the Honored Minister of the Eastern Exterior, Jiang Ai Liu." A deep bow, as the Minister spoke. More flowery words, a torrent of them when a single would have done the same, listing honors and presenting the remainder of the greeting party.

In turn, their own Minister spoke as well, making greetings and introductions. To begin with were all the royal personages, individuals of strength and power in that sense, starting with the most minor of government members and moving upwards. A minor insult, offered to the Ministers as chatisement for the lack of proper, royal greeting.

Games, all of them games, of politics and face. Wu Ying tuned it out, as he explored the surroundings with his own greater sense offered to him by the winds. They blew in this bubble of energy, the split off portion of the world. He sensed the ranks of soldiers kept hidden from sight within buildings, believing themselves safe from detection under talismans and enchantments that blocked spiritual protection. He noted the busy kitchens, the clanging of pots and pans, the plating of dishes by the dozens and the smell of fresh catch and vegetables, supplemented by the opening of long stored pots of wine and soya sauce.

He wondered, quietly, if they realised how much was revealed to him. The ranks of guards, the hidden rooms that were improperly sealed against the gentle drifting of the wind inside and out. The dozens of cultivators who lined the buildings set aside for them, youngsters impatient and nervous, Elders ready and lounging.

And then, the presence, that singular one that stymied even the wind, its movements sluggish and tired as it neared. As though they dared not even report upon him, not to Wu Ying their friend, their ally, their brother. A woman, long of hair and white of visage and clothing. As though she were a ghost herself, a wraith in mourning. That description, he knew, had truth enough in its history; for the Weeping Widow had seen her soulbound husband betray her, betray their bond to the Dark Sect in the wars.

Funny enough, in doing so, given her the necessary impetus to finish her rise to Nascent Soul.

In tragedy, benefit.

He pulled his attention away from the distance, letting himself explore further. Dalliances and whispered words of comfort, moments of hidden preparation and last minute plans. He had gained much, in his latest step to the heavens, but he had learnt too, to filter out the majority. The winds helped him, caring little for mortal needs.

Now, it was over. The careful words between the groups, the greetings. At some point, he had offered a shallow bow when his own name had been called upon, many names after the Sect Head's. A minor downplay of his own ranking within the sect, a subterfuge that would be carried on through this kingdom to the next.

He breathed in, exhaled. Shook his head a little, as the protocols of the kingdoms were finished. Wished he was back, on their ship with Yang Mu who watched all this with amusement. In the distance, he could sense a tense minister relax, the shared protocols and the ritual completed. Meetings between touchy personages could end with war, if one failed to account for all things.

Wu Ying thought the man might have relaxed all too soon. For now, they walked. The servants parted, the guards stood at attention as the various mortals trooped past the open cordon. Flower petals were tossed onto the ground, greetings murmured and heads lowered as one dignitary after the other passed them by.

And there, the Prince. Stepping across the threshold onto the land proper, coming within feet of the servant who smelled of roses and poisons, whose singular fingernail extended as they crossed the distance in a lightning quick lunge. A single scratch, down a wrist, along the side. A single moment, to turn the fates of nations.

Mere cun from the Prince, a finger extended, the full weight and strength of the body thrown behind the final lunge. A suicide attack, in such company, committed to with full courage by the cun ke.

And failed.

Wu Ying gripped the hand by the wrist, right hand extended palm turned in, edge of the arm pressed against armpit as he stretched the attacker. He had arrived, in less time than it took to blink, allowing himself to cross the distance to block the surprise attack. Except, of course, it had been no surprise.

He met the attacker's dark gaze, an acrid stench of spoiled meat and tar exploding from the other as their cultivation was fully revealed. Strength enough to rip stone from walls was exerted, and Wu Ying was left with the stump of an arm as the cun ke tore themselves free of his unrelenting grip.

The attacker bounced away, trailing blood and poison behind them, their very act of escape unleashing a spray of liquid into the air. This was held and gathered by a gust of wind, drawn away from the Prince and his entourage rather than leave them sickened. A trick, a last minute desperate gambit.

Failed.

"Go." Sect Head Yuen's command, softly spoken from behind.

Wu Ying left behind the arm, the ball of contained poison. He could feel frost rising, containing the evidence and poison before it could affect others even as he chased after the cun ke. The swift, shadowy creature who had stymied the flow of blood already. Not even a dozen seconds had passed, and the man was already falling, approaching the edge of the bubble.

He flickered, moving quickly through the distance to catch the assassin. He utilised his modified Wind Steps technique, shifting towards the slower qinggong method rather than his own techniques. Boosted by his greater cultivation level and the shifting winds, he was more than quick enough to catch the other, even as a shift in chi raced through the formations.

All around, starting from the apex of the sphere, interlocking runes lit-up and the bubble of energy shifted. Shielding formations to safeguard against attack or escape was thrown into activity, even as Wu Ying sensed the accumulation of energy in his opponent's arm. Moments before the interlocking runes created and blocked escape, a bare half-dozen feet from the wind cultivator, the assassin met the shield.

He struck, a dagger held in their hand. Energy gathered at the tip released, striking the shield and releasing itself through the surroundings, cracking open the formation. Large enough for the shadow assassin to squeeze himself through, to exit the shield. Wu Ying, moments behind him reached outwards to grab at the robes and halt them. He gripped clothing tight, felt a burning sensation course through his arms as robes poisoned against touch caused his skin to react. He refused to release the other, but it mattered not.

The formation slammed shut, cutting off Wu Ying from the attacker, leaving him gripping cloth that was torn shut and his hand pressed against the edge of the shimmering gold lattice. Yet, his opponent did not linger, did not seek to gloat at his escape. He fled, even as guards and cultivators on the two spiritual instruments scrambled to approach and were warned away by the sudden glimmering cannons and artillery around the palace.

Even as the assassin disappeared into the shadows of the palace itself as he dropped lower, before finally, he was gone even to Wu Ying's senses.