The Fourth Fall - Chapter 30 preview (Patreon)

"Will you honour us, with an exchange of pointers?"

Three days. Three interminable days, thankfully broken up finally on this day as the guards were reduced. The initial fear of betrayal had faded, the intention of the Cai seeming to truly be a negotiation in good faith. Oh, it did not stop them from manipulating the discussions such that Shen and Wei delegations spent hours long into the night arguing positions after the official discussions were over, but it was all expected.

Three days, and Wu Ying and the other cultivators were finally mixing. Now, the army generals, the core members of the Cai vanguard were brought out. To amuse them, to pass the time and continue the cultivation of relationships, drinks, games, scholarly pursuits and more were arranged by harried bureaucrats.

Yang Mu, immediately drawn to the side by a group of merchants from Cai, had abandoned him in the early morning. The Silver Merchant was feted, with drinks and delicacies alike, gifts presented to her as the Cai sought to open up new markets. Leaving him, prey, to those who sought him out.

"My apologies, my attention was elsewhere." Wu Ying turned to the group, offering them a small and tightly contained smile. "You were saying, gentlemen?"

"Will you exchange pointers with us? We have heard that the blade of the Verdant Gatherer is particularly puissant." The speaker, the same from the first, was surprisingly not the physically largest of the group. Nor was he the whipcord lean shape of the one on his left, the duellist's build of long limbs and thin body. He was, other than the scar that ran along his chin and that was only partly hidden by the full beard, the most ordinary member of the rough looking Cai vanguard.

That is, if Wu Ying was intent on only seeing the surface. Because beneath the skin, the man pulsed with supressed energy. His aura burned with it, a barely contained flame that was hot enough to scorch the world if it was released. His companions, linked to him, their auras intermingling with long familiarity and openess, fed his. Earth to ground and channel the flame and wood to fuel it, in the larger and thinner of the pair respectively.

A good trio, though a little unbalanced. Then again, perhaps this level of imbalance was desired among the Cai, who only sought conquest rather than growth.

"Ah, that is a pity," Wu Ying said, his face falling as he replied.

"A pity?" Slight irritation in the man's voice.

"Well, it's because Cultivator....?"

"Colonel Lang."

"It's because Colonel Lang, I had hoped we were about to discuss my specialty." Now, Wu Ying gestured around them, at the gardens he had retreated to. These were not the kind he was particularly familiar with, what with the gardens being planted and tended and grown for aesthetics more than practicality. Flowers, climbing vines, hedges and shrubbery that could not be used for cultivation pills nor for eating. This work, in many ways, was the exact opposite of what he did or learnt.

Yet, he was certain he knew more than these three. For though they wore robes rather than scalemail armour today, though they carried not their polearms nor other heavy weapons of war, their aura was unmistakanably stained with the smell of blood, weapon oil and destruction.

"Plants?" the Colonel sneered. "That's for the lessers to manage."

"I am a Gatherer by trade, you know."

"You are a cultivator. A strong one." Colonel Lang jerked his head upwards, showcasing his scar. Then lowered his gaze and fixed it upon Wu Ying's jian. "One who carries a weapon worthy of a real warrior. Yet you say you are not one? Do you dishonour your weapon then?"

"A sword is many things. An object of beauty, a talisman of defense, a tool of war." Wu Ying touched the hilt. Smiled. "As am I. Cultivator. Gatherer. Occasional bad poet."

"Bad poet?" Now the whip thin man behind spoke up. Then, blinked, realising he had been drawn in, before he smiled. "Colonel Teng."

"Another colonel?" Wu Ying said, surprised. "It seems your unit has many of them."

"All survivors, who have achieved the rank of Core Formation, are given the honorary title of Colonel. It simplifies matters when we must deal with other army units."

"Ah. Politics," Wu Ying muttered, in false sympathy.

"Yes, politics. I would think you know it well, for you dance around my question like a bureaucrat," Lang said, irritatedly.

"A poor one, perhaps. As for your question, yes. A bad poet." Wu Ying nodded to Colonel Teng. "My companion, Cultivator Yang, often decries my inability to create anything more than simplistic rhymes. My martial sister, Fairy Yang, has endeavored to teach me better, of course. But I fear, I often repeat my imagery and motifs."

"And what motifs might these be?" Teng asked, curiously. He ignored his friend's glare and the not so subtle jab with an elbow.

"Sunsets and sunrises. Renewal, of course. Rain and growth, renewal of forests and plains." Wu Ying let out a long sigh. "I fear I grow focused upon my work."

"No flowers, no peonies or lotuses or the moon upon a lake, and the visualization of delicate flowers? The passing of surface beauty, and the layers beneath that truly matter?" Teng said. "It seems to me that is a rich mine of metaphor to dig."

"So say I! But my martial sister disagrees. And I fear, one can only describe a companion as a delicate lotus or to reflect upon the leaping koi in a rice paddy once, before the allure fades."

"Mmmm, I can see that." Teng nodded, somberly. "Well, it is clear that exchanging pointers with you in the written word would be futile. And we are, we must admit, but rough soldiers. More likely to kill, than to grow. It seems then, we must compromise, no?"

Wu Ying had to admit, he had been maneuvered marvelously. The man had wandered with him down the path he'd laid out to distract them, and somehow, easily, guided Wu Ying back to the start. Now, he had placed a hand on his arm to guide him proper, and to shake it off would be the height of discourtesy.

Perfect.

And really, Wu Ying had to admit, there was a part of him that was curious. About their martial styles and their techniques.

***

The group found itself at one of the many fighting rings, the octagonal rings that had been transported and set-up a short distance away from the tent. Multiple formations had been emplaced, between the tent and the rings, between the rings themselves such that no chance of an accident could occur. Each of the fighting rings were raised off the ground by a few feet, such that the boundaries were clearly demarcated. It also allowed the formations that were slowly charging to contain the energies that would be released.

"Powerful fighting rings," Wu Ying said, softly to Yin Xue. The man had found his way here, hands held behind his back to watch the fights. "Do they just carry them around, everywhere they go?"

Yin Xue shrugged. "It seems so. Or they brought them just for this trip. They certainly were well versed at setting the rings up."

"Do you think they'll decide on who is going to fight me to start?" Wu Ying eyed the group of the Cai Vanguard who were in a very heated argument, shielded by a simple chi barrier. It was more of a courtesy privacy screen, one that Wu Ying could have penetrated if he cared to do so. In fact, any other Core Formation cultivator could have done so.

"This is an exchange of pointers, Ah Long." Yin Xue eyes narrowed. "The Sect Head came along to remind me to remind you, that we are here to progress the negotiations."

"So, beat them, but not too badly?"

Yin Xue grunted. "Don't reveal all that we can do."

"We?"

"I've been challenged too."

"By them?"

A nod was his reply.

Wu Ying grinned, then gestured. "Perhaps you should go first."

"That was what we were discussing," Colonel Teng said, finally returning with his companions in tow. "It seemed that there is only a single ring that is rated to deal with Core Formation cultivators. Unfortunately, our companions invited yourself and Cultivator Wen and, well, precedence."

"Well, we've sorted it out, here." Wu Ying gestured at Yin Xue. "Elder Wen will begin."

Yin Xue shot Wu Ying a look, then bent his head in agreement.

"And we have settled the matter on our end." Colonel Teng stepped back and another man stepped forward, a shorter man, who had a smile on his lips and a pair of maces hooked around the back of his neck, perched so that they would not come apart.

"I am Colonel Bai. I was the one who made the first invitation," Bai said. "I look forward to seeing the Demon Fist of the West in action."

"Demon Fist?" Wu Ying coughed and Yin Xue cheeks stained red. Still, it did not stop him from stepping over to the staircase and entrance to the ring.

Colonel Bai smiled even wider, a movement that had Wu Ying narrowing his eyes suspiciously. He had nothing to say, could not do anything but observe as the man ascended the steps after his sect mate. Friend? Companion at least.

They took their positions across from one another. Yin Xue took out his sword, holding the weapon easily in his non-demonic arm. He shifted his stance, letting the red arm lead the way as energy coursed through it. Wu Ying could sense the shift within the flesh, the hardening and the fiery chi that imbued within it. He sensed Yin Xue triggering the Wind Steps qinggong technique, that most common of movement techniques. He knew it was not his companion's preferred method, but like him, they had studied it extensively before moving on. In the small space of the fighting ring, it would be more than sufficient.

Chi flowed upwards, bubbling from the ground, enterring Colonel Bai on the other side. He unhooked his maces, lowered them so that as he readied to do battle with Yin Xue. He crouched as he did so, his aura expanding, diffusing into the surroundings. Not pressuring Yin Xue, but diffuse. Similar in a sense to Wu Ying's own wind aura, but more elusive. It concentrated not in the air, but around the cultivator, hovering, seeping within the man.

Water elementalist. Or some variant of it. Even as the pair exchanged ritual greetings, the wind cultivator traced the lines of chi, the play of auras of those watching, between the vanguard. To allow the cultivators outside to watch the battle with their full senses, auras from outside were allowed to enter. In doing so, Wu Ying noted a trace leakage, an inter-mingling of energy between the Vanguard.

Reinforced auras, reinforced cultivation. Wearing down one of the Vanguard would be a foolish endeavour.

The first exchange of blows happened in a flash, Yin Xue flowing through a basic series of strikes with his jian. The first form of the Shivering Reed style of swordsmanship, that utilised the flexible nature of the jian. It was a style that relied on deception and guile, that bent the blade around blocks or worked with swift disengages during an individual's moment of commitment. It required superb timing, quick eyes and quicker fingers to work the blade. A Master's blade style, almost useless at the earlier stages of study because of the complexity and danger of utilising it.

Against his opponent, who Yin Xue must have judged to have a more brutal, more explosive and aggressive form - like most army cultivators, where standing and striking with the dao or heavy jian was the most common - it should have been the perfect foil. Should have, if not for the fact that his opponent was a water style cultivator. Like his style, his blade was evasive, parting and flowing around Yin Xue's attacks without pause.

Not once, in their first exchange did either blade touch the other. Guards were shifted, tips sought flesh and edges sliced through the air, and palms rotated as bodies were twisted and thrown into obtuse angles. The pair finished the first exchange with Yin Xue leaping backwards, dodging a snaking strike from below as his opponent folded over his front leg, head and upper torso twisted nearly completely around.

"A water style cultivator. And a water blade?" Yin Xue said, surprised as he steadied his steps after landing.

"Bai style, Water blade of the Spring Dawn." The Colonel straightened, raising the blade to salute Yin Xue again, his eyes dancing with good humor stille. Why should he not, for that first pass was his, even if neither had managed to land a true strike.

"Fascinating," Yin Xue said, shifting his guard. "I might have to take this seriously." Now, he turned, firming his grip, lowering the blade so that the guard lay on the outside of his forward leg and his left hand, his demon hand stretched outwards. "Be careful."

"And you, Cultivator Wen."

Yin Xue led the way with a thrust this time, the sword moving with full commitment from its position low and behind. The cultivator filled the attack with his chi, extending the reach of his weapon such that it lanced all the way across the arena as he lunged, forcing his opponent to sidestep. Even as Colonel Bai dodged, he cut with his own weapon, utilising his aura and killing intent to extend an attack as well.

The Verdant Green Water cultivator stepped into the attack, passing his back foot forward and retracting his sword at the same time to parry the blade. Now positioned and rebalanced, he threw a punch, the demonic arm exploding into action as flames roared down it. He struck once, then again and again, a dozen afterimages of the fist appearing, each afterimage becoming less and less human, growing scales and gaining a fiery red countenance.

At the same time, Yin Xue's scent altered. It grew muskier, deeper and heavier, like an animal's rather than the clean scent of a human. There was a trace of dry sand, of a desert and drought within the scent that exploded forward, even as it mingled with the searing taste of burnt air. Temperature, even outside of the ring, increased, as though the spectators stood before the bellows of a massive furnace.

Fire met water, aura's clashing before the projected attacks could meet one another. The cloud of watery aura was burnt away, dispersed into the surroundings almost immediately as the soldier was caught by surprise. Next came the fist attacks, the first few dodged, the next three parried by swift moving blade. The final two blows caught Colonel Bai directly, one in the upper shoulder, the second in the center of his chest.

A loud explosion of air, of pain, even as the water cultivator folded in over himself as he sought to roll with the blow. He allowed his chest, his body to cave in, for the momentum of the attack to throw him backward. He flew backward, even as flames caught and licked across his robes, raced outwards from the point of impact. Black and red tendrils of flames wrapped around his chest, moving as though they were conscious in their attempts to constrain the other.

Only a surge of water chi blocked and dispersed the growing net. Watery aura magnified itself, and chi from the surrounding watchers twitched and flowed into the gaps created as the vanguard members aided their friend. It was an almost unconscious action on their part, and Wu Ying could not help but wonder if they even sensed it themselves.

Twisting in mid-air, Colonel Bai managed to get his legs beneath him as he impacted the side of the glowing energy formation walls that blocked off the ring. He tucked his feet beneath him, compressed and took in the energy of the attack and exploded back at his waiting opponent.

Even after being struck, the man's grin had not faded. If anything, it had grown, a manic light enterring his eyes, in his movements as he raced back to Yin Xue The wind shifted, droplets of water in the air outside the ring pulled inward. At the same time, the heat within the ring dropped, steam escaping upwards as water and demonic fire chi clashed. From the ground, that wellspring of water chi bubbled upwards, cooling the surroundings.

"Now they begin," Teng muttered under his breath, leaning forwards.

The wind cultivator could not help but agree. The first clash was barebones technique against technique. The second, what Energy Storage cultivators might showcase, the power of their chi and the extension of their blades. A battle of martial techniques still, with the addition of energy. Now, though, the pair were shifting to a Core Formation battle. Here, they were fighting not just with energy, but with concepts, with the nascent dao's and the full weight of the elements of their cultivation.

Water and fire met, steam rising in ever increasing volumes. Some of it was true water, drawn from the dry surroundings, pulled from the grass and plants around to feed the attack. Wu Ying could sense the vegetation dying, the ground drying up even further as Cultivator Bai fought for control. In these conditions though, he was severely disadvantaged, especially as the demonic chi that Yin Xue used seemed inexhaustible.

In fact, the more he utilised it, the hotter the arm grew, the more inhuman it became. Gone was the sleeve that had covered the arm, burnt away into ashes. His eyes gleamed, brown pupils turned black and red and slit-pupiled. A lizard, a cat, a demon. They clashed, not just with arm and blade, not just with attacks, but with the overpowering pressure of their elements.

The octagonal fighting ring's formations were fully lit-up now. Spirit stones, embedded in the base of the ring glowed, hovering bands of energy containing the fierce battle within. They strained, as referees and attendants watched and adjusted the flow of energy, even as the pair flickered across the tiny battleground.

A water dragon, clashing and twining around a demon in human form. Yin Xue's aura coalesced, his features twisting and altering as the demonic arm took greater control, shaping his attacks and strategies. His style was brutal, overpowering, the jian utilised to corral his opponent with strikes and threats, the fist the finisher. Each time he managed to corner the slippery water cultivator, the punch that struck would blow his opponent multiple feet back, flames licking outwards in binding chains.

Each time, Colonel Bai's aura would pulse, shattering the flames. Slower though, even as the replacement of energy continued, it was outstripped. The heat sapped the flow of energy, the Cai soldier's vibrancy. The water dragon that twined and flowed, dodging upwards, downwards, sideways and always jabbing and biting with the blade grew sluggish.

And was, finally, caught.

A last blow, overhead coming down, fist clenched. A flat-bladed parry, one hand reinforcing the other. But it was not enough, for flames split downwards, pushing his opponent into the earth, wrapping around arms and torso and legs. It chained him to the floor, even the bubbling spring of chi dispersed.

Yin Xue retracted his hand, twisted his torso and his blade darted forward. It stopped, mere cun from the other's throat. A savage grin on the demonic apparation of aura, bloodlust and hunger and desire. Dominance displayed.

"Yield. I yield." Bai coughed out, throat dry.

A small smile, then. Yin Xue sheathed his sword, relaxed clenched fist. For a moment more, heat beat upon the surroundings. And then, the cultivator exhaled and with it, the pressure on his arm disappeared, his eye dimmed. Slowly, ever so slowly, the demonic mien disappeared, leaving a cultivator behind.

"Demonic Fist of the West indeed..." Wu Ying breathed, shaking his head in admiration. Even as the other vanguard rushed to break their friend free of the searing flames, as they clapped Yin Xue on the back and thanked him, as Colonel Lang nodded in consideration, assessment completed.

For Wu Ying knew one thing they did not. That Yin Xue might have wielded his demonic fist and the demon's flames, but that was not his only element.

And then, congratulations over, it was his turn. His turn to strut their prowess, and yet, hold back. For the time when they would, eventually, do battle.

This year, or in a century. It was all the same.