Immortal Connections - Chapter 15 preview

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!

Chapter 15 – Wu Ying

“A moment, Ascendant Huang,” Wu Ying said, declining the man’s insistence. “I must check myself and my weapon over after that last clash.” He offered a tight smile as he continued. “Being so new to the higher realms, I find myself needing to relearn many things and Ascendant Chao is much stronger than he, perhaps, knows.” 

In fact, that last clash would have been the end of him if he had been a mere Nascent Soul cultivator. Battles between stages – Core Formation to Nascent Soul, Body Cleansing against Energy Storage(3) – in the mortal realm was possible, if difficult. The gap in strength grew as one passed from one realm to the next, though some of that difference could be made up with skill in the martial arts or strength developed through Body Cultivation. It was clear, however, that the gap between Nascent Soul and true Immortal was different to a degree beyond even his own earlier beliefs.

It was, in fact, humbling  to be beaten so easily. Wu Ying had been, for so many years, a balanced three-legged stool of strength in the Middle Kingdom, excelling at martial, Body Cultivation and Soul Cultivation at the same time, he had grown used to his strength. His prowess that allowed him to do battle with illumanries like Cai Meng De, the half-Immortal King and be seen as equals by Yang Mu's own near Immortal parents.

He had grown confident in his strength, and to be reminded that in this realm, all his vaunted progress and strength was but the starting line was painful and humbling. It would take many hours, months or years even before he could hold his head up high once more.

Wu Ying finished his physical and visual check, stretching one last time and feeling his back pop as stuck vertebrae freed themselves after the harsh impact. He bounced on his cloth covered toes once and then again, flexing ankles and testing the edges of his maneuverability. It twinged a touch, left ankle reminding him that he had caught it on the ground as he had been blasted back, injuring it a little.

But he had not lied - this new state was a surprise. Already, his minor injuries had mostly healed, leaving him whole again. The boon - and curse - of immortality was a return to the base state of ascension, whatever that conceptual idealization might be. For some, especially those who had eaten the Peaches of Immortality or drunk the wine made from them, it might include lingering mortal wounds and ailments. Crippled legs or missing limbs. 

For most ascendants, the process of ascension brought them towards a more idealistic version of themselves in accordance with their dao. Sometimes, though, that conceptualization left marks - the pill stains on Xin Heng's fingers, the bulking up of Chao Dong, Wu Ying's own tanned features. 

Nothing that he regretted himself, thought perhaps others might feel different. Even if it was something that they sought, even if the dao was what they had embraced, regret was a sly fox that had learnt to lift the latch to one's emotions. 

Funny, how ascending had not changed the reality of existence, but instead intensified the emotions and sharp edges of it all.

"Well?" Lan Song asked again, impatiently. His gaze drifted away from Wu Ying, to the duels being fought, his longing all too clear. 

"I am ready." Wu Ying bounced one last time, not bothering to sheathe his weapon. From what little glimpses he had caught of his opponent, Lan Song was significantly more dangerous than Chao Dong. No self-imposed limitations would serve him here. Well, beyond those necessary for survival.

"About time." Lan Song immediately flitted away, creating sufficient distance for the pair to begin the battle. Chao Dong retreated, slipping out of the arena himself to find a viewing platform, an act that Wu Ying noted and dismissed as his concentration narrowed further.

He had learnt a little, about his immortal body, about the concentration of dao conceptualisation, the intensification and subsumation of intent into a weapon. Now, it was time to put it all to work.

To try, as best he could, to now shame himself in the upcoming battle. After all, if he was to leave his choices open, he need show himself sufficiently martial for the tigers.

Even if his heart might not lie with them.

***

Xin Heng watched the pair clash, jian against jian, the long swords flying through the air in an intricate and delicate dance. The straight swords came in many forms and Lan Song's was longer and thinner than Wu Ying's own broader, more solid weapon. One was a gentleman's weapon, meant for duels and carried through cities and towns; the second a modified soldier's jian, perfect for the repeated clash of blades and for piercing through layers of leather or cloth or for finding gaps, if poperly targeted.

They spun, higher and higher, a sphere of sword intent forming around them as they flashed through the surroundings, the missed and parried strikes impacting the surroundings, the ground and magical dome and, occassionally, interfering with other battles. No participant in the arena would get caught unaware though, each dodging or blocking the incoming, untargeted attacks with ease - though the necessary movements were as likely to change the flow of their own duels as not.

These displays were a confusing mess, a sludge of herbal remnants whose final properties could not be separated. Perhaps another might find enlightenment and understanding in the press of metal and flesh against another, but like the act of child making itself; none of it held a spark of interest for her. Better the chemical reactions of spiritual herbs co-mingling, better than the ectasy of a well prepared draught than the twinning of bodies.

Yet, even for someone as uninterested in the actualact as her, some truths were clear. 

"He is improving again," Xin Heng muttered. "And faster."

"Initial improvement during one's first month in the heavenly realms is not uncommon," Shu Ren offered in rebuttal. There was no conviction in his tone however.

"Not this fast. Not this visibly." Lan Song, never one to hold back for the sake of another, was speeding up still. Strikes growing heavier, harder than ever with each moment. His dao was beginning to shine through, his body growing brighter, more refined, the very air bending towards him as he further drew upon the Dao to aid him, immortal energies pulsing with each attack. 

"A bad matchup, for the ex-farmer," Chao Dong said, joining the pair without asking. He ignored the looks they shot him as he stood by the balcony, arms crossed behind his back. "Lan Song's dao of natural order, of imperial subjects that place him at the top of the hierarchy is one that forces any who have not his status to submit."

“And yet, he holds on,”  Shu Ren countered.

“Yes. If he was truly of the wind, it would make sense,” Chao Dong said. “No element bows to mere mortal hierarchies. Yet, I did not sense that from him.”

“Nor is he a martial cultivator,” Xin Heng offered, fingers crossing over one another as she rubbed them together. “That would make sense too. He but needs to empower his dao to gain strength.”

“He is a sword prodigy though.” Chao Dong twisted his hand, making his pick appear. He ran a finger along the edges of the wood which had been nicked, the small burrs in the pick head which had been caused by parrying his opponent’s weapon. As he held it in hand, Xin Heng felt his dao flow into the weapon, empowering it and smoothing out the flaws and reverting the weapon to its original form. “And a decently skilled one at that.”

“Not highly?” Shu Ren asked.

“No.” Chao Dong turned to the first of the arenas, where the true ascendants of the martial way fought. The battles within made Xin Heng’s head hurt to even glimpse, so she did not follow his gaze. Those members of the realm were on another level, their ability and subsummation of their weapon placing them at heights of martial excellence none of them could match.

Many of those were members of the tiger faction, though it was often said that the most talented the dragon and snake factions. After all, you sent a dragon to hunt a tiger or a snake to sting him whilst he was asleep. Justice required strength to be true justice for all, and taxes were never willingly relinquished.

The battling in these other arenas were more pedestrian, the attacks chosen and the strength wielded of a lesser variety. Still dangerous, and Xin Heng had no illusions she would survive an incense stick’s worth of time against any of the duelists.

Wu Ying on the other hand…

“Did you see that?” Chao Dong said, admiringly. “He turned the blade with his wrist and riposted with a false edge, borrowing Lan Song’s momentum. Pity he is not faster, or else that would have landed.” 

“Very much a pity,” Shu Ren said, drily.

“Oooh, that must hurt,” Chatty Chao said as Lan Song landed a kick to Wu Ying’s side. The crack of a breaking rib resounded through the arena and into the stands, but neither party even paused, the new ascendant skidding backward and cutting upwards with his false edge to deflect a lunge and threaten Lan Song’s charge. It was enough time for him to recover, though he was moving slower now.

“He’s running out of energy,” Xin Heng murmured. She might lack knowledge of the martial side, but energy flows she could sense. The new ascendant might have been able to shake aside Lan Song’s domineering dao, he might have learnt how to concentrate and wield his own more effectively to give his attacks weight and his body speed and flexibility, to shake the bindings of mortal and dao suppression but he was, in the end, new.

His reserves of immortal energy, his ability to push his body and borrow the elements for his battle had a limit One much below his opponent’s, who continued to overwhelm him. Blow after blow landed, the thud of landing weapon, the crack of broken bone and the spray of fresh blood filled the arena.

And still, the man persisted, refusing to yield or call for a break. Till, fed-up with the stubborn persistence of his opponent, Lan Song spun and stepped, reappearing behind Wu Ying a moment later. His sword was flipped sideways, the flat of the blade crashing into his unprotected neck, dropping the ascendant in a single motion.

“The Nobleman’s Mercy. To think he’d use that against a new ascendant,” Chao Dong murmured, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Xin Heng could not help but wonder if Wu Ying really had meant to make an enemy of the other, to shame him to make use of one of his named moves. Or if the boy just had gotten that caught up in the battle. After all, battle freaks like those below were always like that.

Nothing at all like level-headed apothecarists like her.

Now, she could only hope he kept his senses and would be willing to work with her when he woke. After all, she had quite the list of herbs that needed to be gathered for her experiments.

Footnote:

5 - For those who didn’t read the first series, A Thousand Li, mortals progress through four stages of soul refinement – Body Cleansing, Energy Storage, Core Formation and Nascent Soul – to become immortal. Alternately, they can refine their body, starting with tiny veins and capillaries to eventually, bone and mind before merging mortal soul with immortal body.