The Fourth Fall - Chapter 26 preview (Patreon)

**Author Note: Preview chapters are rough/first drafts. These chapters have not been edited, expect that there may be errors - however, feel free to point out consistency issues!*

They met, long after the dawn had risen and departed, offering naught in its passing but a memory and early morning dew. The various government groups had to make a ceremony of their arrival, guards gathering at the front of the buildings, palanquins being carried forth across dried ground as musicians played, attendants threw flower petals and the guards marched in time.

Not to be outdone, the cultivators flew over the group; their backs straight, their demeanours stern and cold.  Even the most light-hearted member of the sects were uncommonly serious, their attention turned to the opposition as they too approached the negotiating venue.

Wu Ying, floating high above the Fourth Prince's palanquin extended his senses towards the incoming group, careful to keep his spiritual aura from intruding but allowing everything else, the winds and the scents and the sights that were unblurred to come to him. Unlike the serious and ostentatious procession of Shen and Wei, the Cai marched forward with laughter on their lips and in an unorganised mess.

"A strange choice," Wu Ying muttered, sending the words to the friendly members of the Sect. The Cai were well known for their warlike behaviour, for their disciplined armies and the eager veterans who fought in war after war. Their scouts, their hunting parties spoke of that same discipline, the regular ranks, the rhythm of their steady progress through the undergrowth as they hunted down any food source in the surroundings.

These soldiers, who came with bottles of wine in hand and laughing and sporting with one another were either a studied insult or... well, Wu Ying knew not what.

"Insult or an attempt to make us lower our guard?" Fa Yuan replied, riding upon the sword she utilized for travel with ease.

Beside and behind her, Yin Xue snorted. "They'd be real fools to think we believe them this disorganised. This is an obvious act."

"Too obvious," Yang Mu disagreed. "I wonder..."

"Yes, sister?" Fa Yuan said.

"I'm too far to tell, but Ying. What are their cultivation levels?"

Once again, Wu Ying wished that she was here. That she could be by his side. Too often, they were apart. Though he would no more tie her to him, than she to him. Still, Yang Mu saw things in ways he could not, sensing interactions beyond the level of the physical. Yet, as resident of neither state, as only an Honored Elder, she could not be here. Not officially, not without drawing herself and her parents into an unwanted altercation.

Taking her request to heart, Wu Ying breathed deep. He lightly brushed his aura against theirs, utilising the wind to press upon them at the same time to hide his probings. What he found nearly tipped him from the skies, and once again he was grateful for the presence of the winds that held him aloft without issue.

"Ah Ying?" Fa Yuan asked, sensing the shift in his demenaour.

"Core cultivators. Every single one of the vanguard." Now it made sense. They did not need to put on a show of strength, not when it was so clear. That crowd, that rabble of soldiers tromping down the hill and up again, all of them holding jugs of wine and skewers of meat in-hand, were all powerful cultivators. Such a force, by themselves, could have crushed almost any army without an equivalent defense.

"Are you sure?" Yin Xue said. "There's two dozen of them!"

"Closer to thirty," Fa Yuan muttered. "I can see the threads dancing between them. Those bonds, they are of long companionship. The give and take of karma is so dense, so complex that it would take a master to unravel them." A slight, tired smile. "Or a Master with a single blade."

Karma Severing Cut. Oh, now that was an attack that would cause fear and excitmeent alike among this group. It would shatter the bonds of friendship, free them of the burden of their blood-soaked past and take away any future boon or debt from their actions. If his Master parted the bonds between them, the damage done to the group and their cultivation bases could be immeasurable.

No wonder he was so feared. No wonder the Dark Sect had once targeted him. No wonder...

"This must be the Beifu Vanguard," Shu Ren interjected into the conversation, making Wu Ying's eyes narrow. He had not included the Sect Head into this conversation, warding it against casual eavesdropping. Obviously, his precautions were insufficient, at least against his own Sect Head. "They are famous, for many reasons. Once, they were a full regiment of a thousand men. Now, that is all that is left, after numerous battles. They have held the line, again and again, and been rewarded for each victory. And the few losses they have suffered have only driven them along."

"Nor do they recruit into the Beifu, normally, do they" Yin Xue said. "I have heard of them. Only a few have enterred since the early years, for it is known to be a death sentence. The bonds of brotherhood forged between these members are sworn on cultivation base and blood alike, to be parted only by death and Grandmother Meng's soup."

"Such a group..." Wu Ying shook his head, trying to imagine how their armies could stop them. He knew the answer to that question. Not at all. This was what the guardians, the Nascent Soul fighters were meant for. This, and the weapons of war that were hidden in the pagoda, in the palace. There were legends of them, like that mirror that Tou He had brought out once before, but more powerful.

A shard of an arrow from the archer Hou Yi, taken from the west and passed through multiple hands. A shard of a weapon that had killed one of the ten suns, so long ago that it's existence was myth itself. Supposedly tucked away in the Verdant Green Water armory.

A painting of the Yellow River, that once opened would tap into the power of the flooded watercourse and spill out gallons upon gallons of water at high pressure. Once used by the Shen to drown an army in a deep valley, near the beginning of its formation.

A series of formation flags, supposedly created by Mohi himself, that when emplaced would make the defenders almost unassailable, allowing a mere dozen men to hold off an army. Their strength would be increased a hundred fold, their defences even further. Routes around the formation flag would be twisted, leading always to the defenders, such that the attackers were funeled one way. Supposedly, the formation flags were emplaced around the capital of the Wei such that any army would fail at the very last stage.

Weapons of great import and power, but fragile as well. The painting wore away, the colours fading with each use, the dao imbued in its painting disappearing. The arrow shard could kill anything it was fired at, but fragmented with each use and strike and because of it's flight, often disappeared over the horizon. The formation flags melted, the enscribings fading with each use as the material was unable to contain the power within. Pills that were supposed to give an individual strength beyond their cultivation level, but would inadvertently kill them, made of the rarest materials - spirit herbs a thousand years old, alchemical phylactery's heated by Nascent Soul-level beasts.

Weapons of war, strategic class defences. All of which were never to be used unless the kingdom itself would fall or was under assault by a force that could not be stopped. Safeguards against mortal and, sometimes, immortal ire.

"Strong," Sect Head Yan said, simply. "But not impossible to defeat."

"It still is a pity Master Cheng was not here. He would be eminently suited to dealing with them, though perhaps one of his students?" Another voice broke in, the Patriarch of the Eight Stanza's, old and bored.

Again Wu Ying twitched, wondering exactly how much of a sieve his 'private' conversation was. Of course, he hadn't said anything that was insulting, but to have two different individuals listen and slip in without issue? That was almost insulting. Certainly shameful. Even if both were Nascent Soul cultivators.

"Neither of us walk our Master's direct path," Fa Yuan said, softly. "While Wu Ying inherited a portion of my Master's sword style, he too has altered it."

"Mmm... and yourself?" Patriarch Yi Lai asked.

"My skills are less combative." She lowered her head as she talked. "Though I might have some small skill in dealing with them, if necessary."

"It will be," Sect Head Yan said, direly.

Then, there was no more time to talk. For from the fortress came another, a retinue of men and women in more order than the first group, their auras splashing outwards in a show of force such that quiet spirit conversation was impacted. They could speak, if they wished, but it would be under the eye of these others.

At the same time, the eyes of all were drawn towards the group that came so noisily, such that all were forced to focus upon them. Only a half-dozen figures, unlike the three groups of Shen and Wei. Each of these were peak Core Formation cultivators at least, though three might be Nascent Soul cultivators. Those three, Wu Ying eyed.

The first to draw attention was a hooded figure, a large bamboo hat covering its face, long shapeless robes shrouding its form such that its features and sex was indertiminable. Robes of black and brown that glittered a little in the day, that shifted and billowed such that the figure beneath was impossible to discern exactly. Its dao curled around it, speaking of dark places and the damp of caves and the loneliness of night, a memory of hiding beneath the blade as cun ke and jiangshi crept abroad.

Then, Wu Ying's gaze turned away from the hooded figure to another. A woman, clad in silken robes of yellow and gold, a flower amongst the thorns. She moved with uncomfortable, seductive grace such that upon sighting, those inclined strugled to pull their gaze away. A sway of the hips, a raised hand, the snap of the fan as she laughed. To Wu Ying, she smelled of white flowers, vanilla and a lighter musk. Every movement, an artform, every curve of the body, beauty. A woman that rivalled, no, perhaps even exceeded the beauty of his martial sister. Her dao, not beauty. That was too broad, too easy to miss. No, hers was another, related element. Not seduction, though it was close. Glamour, perhaps. That first beat of the heart upon sighting the one you favored, the first breath after climax. Beauty, without restraint, and so cutting and dangerous. The kind that wrecked ships and drove men to leave their family.

And finally, the final member of the trio. That Nascent Soul - peak, perhaps even more - member of the group. A man whose very presence overlaid the valley, unrestrained, demanding. Domineering and insistent, such that it pressed upon Wu Ying's own aura, upon all the cultivators and sought to crush them beneath. That demanded submission or death, its will unyielding.

Cultivators all across the three negotiating groups stumbled, those weaker than Core Formation unable to withstand the sudden pressure. Many of the weaker Core Formation cultivators flinched as well, forced to reinforce their own auras or be swept away or have it crushed into their body. For this man would allow no one to be above him, no land to not be his.

A shift, a twisting of the air around. Before Wu Ying could act, even as he weighed the danger of revealing more, the Sect Head and other Nascent Soul cultivators among the groups flexed their own dao. Clouds gathered high above, the world under Heavens eyes stared down upon them all and the dominion of a single man was called into account.

Another aura unfurled, among the Shen government. This one was simpler, less complex. A guandao cutting downwards, unyielding, unshakable in its attack. Honor and courage and the unyielding backbone of duty that encompassed the Princes, the government workers and attendants and guarded them against all that would harm them.

And among the Wei, the Patriarch of the Six Jade Gates Sect was not to be outdone. A paifang, pale green and made of a single stone appeared above the Wei group. Its presence repelled the King of the Cai's aura, pushing it back with ease as the first gate demarking the Patriarch of the Six Jade Gates marked their territory.

All this, a clash of auras, a statement of intent and the answer by the cultivators happened in less time than a full breath was taken. Attendants, guards and bureaucrats all straightened, calmed their breathing and smoothed out their visages. Their footsteps stopped trembling, their shoulders loosened and the groups continued onward.

The first clash was over, and Wu Ying could not decide if they had loss or won this round.

And they had not even met one another.