Immortal Connections - Chapter 11 preview

Chapter 11 - Wu Ying

Did it surprise him that the Palace of Lesser Harmonies had dueling rings? Not at all. If anything, he would have been surprised if they had none. On the other hand, the size of each dueling ring was somewhat staggering, an arena twice as large as the one that the Verdant Green Waters – his sect, the largest and most powerful in the Shen kingdom – had contained.

The fact that the Palace of Lesser Harmonies had three was rather intimidating. All of them were filled with dueling cultivators, doing battle and testing one another with a variety f weapons. Most were utilizing common instruments of battle, the usual plethora of polearms, swords and maces filled the surroundings, but more esoteric did show up.

There, a rope dart user who swung and twirled his weapon, the rope itself on fire and leaving lines of burning air behind that forced his opponent to contort themselves less they became inflamed. Here, a massive cooking pot was utilized as shield and weapon alike, thrown and swung in equal measure, the pot spinning through the air and rebounding off surfaces and other cultivators as its user followed close after. 

Flying yellow talisman pieces surrounded another fighter, emerging from his hands and robes in a constant stream, conjurations of power that twisted reality. Exploding, freezing, slowing down time or freezing the darts that they struck. His opponent seemed to have a never-ending array of such darts, all of them no larger than a finger but flying forth with such force they could pierce hardened wood with ease.

Ranged fighters utilized handheld crossbows and bows galore, the weapons ranging from ornate, beautifully carved and enchanted weapons to something torn off the side of a tree and strung with vines. Most striking were the ones made of bone, glowing with contained energy of the slain; a few giving Wu Ying an uneasy feeling just to look at.

Variety of all kinds, such that Wu Ying struggled to take it all in.

For some, size mattered. An ascendant wielded a crossbow twice the size of his body, a ballista held in hand and reloaded magically with a twist of the arm and a flicker of chi and dao. Siege shields, meant to cover siege weapons as they approached a city wall were floated in front of another ascendant, dozens of them stacked together to provide protection against any attack, no matter that a half-dozen others whaled upon them, seeking entry.

“Amazing,” Wu Ying said, sincerely. Yet, there was something in the battles that bothered him, even as the wards trembled from the released energy of dozens of immortals sparring, even as the earth warped and twisted and gale force winds whipped around the insides of each arena. 

“Something bothers you.” Lan Song stated that fact easily, his tone almost approving. “You see it, don’t you?”

“Yes. We’re immortals, should there not be…” Wu Ying searched for a diplomatic way to say it, before eventually deciding on the straightforward. “the Dao in the battles? I see little of that in use.” At least, not among the melee fighters, and only vaguely among those who fought with the more esoteric instruments.

The immortal who painted during the midst of the battle, a shifting, changing landscape of the arena manipulated by his brush was obviously using chi and dao to contend against the gouts of pure flame unleashed by his opponent.

Another cultivator had a pair of knitting needles in hand, weaving together streams of chi that impacted the shield around him, peeling off portions of the energy that clung to his aura and knitting together chi-woven animals that launched themselves outwards every once in a while to do battle on his behalf.

Over there, seeds and cutting swirled around another cultivator, blooming into life and blocking attacks before fading soon after. His opponent wielded a series of knives, sending numerous blade strikes outwards, filled with blade intent and dao but mostly failed to penetrate his opponent’s defense. At the same time, he seemed oblivious to the creeping vines, the seeds that landed upon his body until it was too late. The explosion of dao and life wrapped the immortal in roots and branches alike, constricting their movement entirely.

Yet, these were the exceptions and only minor uses of the dao. Even newly ascended like he was, Wu Ying knew that he could call upon deeper reserves, deeper sources of strength; though his own conceptual dao was in many ways less useful for combat.

After all, a dao of wandering growth, of travel and learning was not exactly as transferable as an elemental embodiment of lingering flame, or a sword dao.

“We contain our daos whilst sparring. It would not do to do battle at full strength and harm the palace,” Lao Sing said. “In addition, you’ll find that many have learnt a quieter way of encompassing their daos, of making it their own.”

“Imbuement,” one of the others said. “It is a powerful technique, but not something one newly ascended can be expected to grasp. Just do your best not to shame yourself.”

Wu Ying raised an eyebrow at the taunt, but with the hint, he began to ask the wind questions. His spiritual sense unfolded, grasping at the details of those fighting below, searching for that similar thread that must be in most of them.

“Do you wish to watch further, or will you join us?” Lao Song gestured at one of the arena which had emptied out a little, the combatants exiting looking exhausted. There was a sense of carmaderie between most of the fighters, though not all. Certainly not among all the groupings.

“In time.” Wu Ying let his gaze turn slightly, finding a series of floating balconies that overlooked the fight and continued. “I shall watch for a little first, perhaps have Shu Ren explain what rules there are. There is no rush, is there?”

Lao Song shook his head. “No rush at all. But do make sure to visit with me, I would want to exchange pointers with you today. There is so much to learn, with new acquaintances, do you not think so?”

“Quite.” Another inclination of his head and then Wu Ying took to the balcony, joined moments later by Shu Ren. Lan Song and his group went straight for the emptier arena, spreading out into pairs to take part in duels, some seemingly focused on targeting other fighters within. As they closed, there was a subtle but consistent change in tension among the arenas, as the tigers very presence changed the atmosphere.

“Joining with the winners, are we?” Shu Ren kept his voice neutral, very, very studiedly neutral.

“I’m learning what I can of this world,” Wu Ying said. “No decisions are made, not yet. Only fools rush in to make choices that might be unalterable.” Nor was he going to raise his very real concerns about the heavenly bureaucracy, whether he could serve such an institution without reserve. “Now, what do I need to know about the arenas”

“Similar rules to what you could expect from the Middle Kingdom. No strikes meant to be fatal. Crippling attacks are frowned upon, especially those that are not reversable. Contain your attacks, do not fight at your full strength – for the sake of the arena and the other combatants too.” Shu Ren shrugged. “The rest, well, observe and you’ll pick it up. Mostly, of course, you must be mindful.”

“Like them?” He murmured, eyes drifting to where the Tigers fought now. Or, perhaps, more truthfully, dominated their arena, as they took up more and more space and the few other users of the arena chose to leave or were pushed to the corners. 

Combatants that he would have to meet with his blade all too soon.