Immortal Connections (Celestial Cataclysms Book 1) - Chapter 1 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 1 - Wu Ying

Dying soon after achieving immortality would be ironic.

Cold wind from the north blew against Wu Ying’s tanned skin, long hair flowing around him and brushing his cheeks. Green and brown silk robes flapped in the gusts as he drifted alongside the massive golden yellow and sky blue dragon that accompanied him in the cumulonimbus clouds.

It was quiet up here, their ascent having taken them above even the fowl that criss-crossed the Middle Kingdom, journeying from pond to pond as the seasons turned. From up here, he could see the rolling hills and the mountain range he had so recently left behind, the distant deserts in the west, and the beginnings of the redolent and green south.

“So, Cousin Long…” Wu Ying noted the amusement in the dragon’s voice. He understood well enough, for it was arrogance itself to name himself a dragon. His only excuse was that he’d inherited that name, rather than having chosen it. “You have never visited the Heavenly Palace before, have you?”

“No, cousin.” Wu Ying hesitated to use the term, uncomfortable at such a degree of familiarity. “I am newly ascended.”

“So we sensed. Though you tried, once before.” Large, wise yellow eyes blinked, considering.

Wu Ying inclined his head. Lightning and fire, grappling a tyrant and bringing weapons to bear, holding one other aloft to be struck down by the heavenly tribulation. “A failed attempt. A foolish one.”

“A ruse.” 

“Yes.”

“Arrogant, to make the Heavens themselves your pawn.” 

What could Wu Ying say to that accusation? Nothing. 

And so the silence lingered till the dragon grinned wide, showing dozens of incisive teeth, each half the size of Wu Ying himself. “You will fit in well in the court then.”

Silent now, the dragon swam on. Leaving Wu Ying to consider if the last statement was a warning or a jest.

***

Travel as an immortal was strange, for they journeyed not just through the physical space of the Middle Kingdom but sideways through a secondary dimension of space. As though they traversed a parallel sky, one larger and more expansive than the one Wu Ying was familiar with.

The winds—his friends, his companions, they of his wind-aligned immortal body—whispered new secrets now, of lands he had never imagined, of vistas that stretched for countless li in directions he had yet to traverse. Of islands filled with succulent immortal peaches that floated on the backs of massive turtles and slow-moving tortoises, carrying entire mountains on their backs. Of mountain ranges where clusters of quiet immortals resided in mountainous cities and abbeys and palatial palaces floating in the sky.

A world of immortals living in a realm that none but the touched and the fortunate could ever find. 

Was it a surprise then, that Wu Ying spent his time and mind focused upon whispered secrets rather than the trip or his silent companion? Though he noted these lands in passing, memorizing landmarks and directions, his attention itself was turned to other things.

Such that when his companion swam to a stop, curling around itself as it formed a twisting spiral, Wu Ying was caught by surprise. He hovered in mid-air, in the center of the turning spiral, twisting along with his companion to catch a glimpse of the creature’s mien.

“Flighty as my other cousins. A dangerous thing, to be so distracted,” the dragon rumbled. “Do you seek to meet the court dressed as you are?”

Wu Ying hesitated, looking down. He had not changed out of his current robes—simple ones that were neither his finest nor most protective. He was not even wearing the scalemail armor beneath, though a part of him wondered how much defense such a thing might offer.

After all, like most of his belongings, they were mortal made. For the second time in a short period, Wu Ying found himself in the unusual circumstance of realizing that he was, once again, poor. It had been many years since such considerations had impacted his mind, but ascending to the immortal realm meant that all his clothing, all his jewelry and equipment that he had not given to his lover and kept for himself were no better than rags to his peers.

“Your position is not uncommon,” the dragon rumbled. “Though most would at least dress themselves in their finest and cleanse themselves.” A slight beckoning of power brought a dense and heavy rain cloud close by. “I would not have you shame us.”

“Thank you, cousin.” Wu Ying tugged on the cloud, pulling it free from his companion and bringing it surround him. 

As an immortal, manipulating the various elements of the world was so much easier—such that rejoining the water vapor to condense into droplets required only a minor output of chi. A good thing too, for his store of immortal chi was still sparse. 

As he washed in the water, forming a simple barrier of wind and water and light to hide his privacy, he took up the conversation with his companion. “May I know how I should name you?” 

“This one has many names. Many titles.” His companion was languidly circling, the motion and position of the massive dragon sensed through Wu Ying’s spiritual perception and wind sense. One was an additional sense that permeated the air through his aura and gave him the feel of soul, shapes, and chi while the other spoke of motion and form, a gift of his wind-attuned body. “So many that it is easy to forget.”

“Then, perhaps, the one you most prefer.” Grimacing at the dirt and blood that came off the cloth he used to wipe himself, Wu Ying took another run at cleaning himself. Trudging through a mystic realm and being tested by the lightning tribulation of heavens had caused some degree of distress to clothing and skin alike.

At least he was not bleeding freely any longer nor exuding the impurities that made up his formerly mortal form. Having risen through the many stages of cultivation to become an immortal via Body Cultivation, he had cleansed his body of such impurities long ago. A long, agonizing process, but that had toughened mind and body alike.

“Call me then Xuan Shui.” 

Literally translated, mysterious water—a fitting name for the dragon that had appeared out of nowhere as Wu Ying had been attempting to consolidate his cultivation after his recent rise to immortality. 

“And is this your role, cousin? To greet newly ascended immortals?” Clean as he could be without taking a proper bath, Wu Ying began the elaborate process of getting dressed. Underclothes for his robes were the start, enchanted silk from Yunnan taken from worms that had fed upon empowered and ancient mulberry trees, trees that themselves were on the verge of ranking up. Each bolt of fabric cost a half dozen spirit stones alone.

“Not at all. I took particular interest in you,” Xuan Shui said. “I am not the only one.”

“That sounds ominous,” Wu Ying said, slipping his hands through the outer layer of robes, then tying off the inner ties. 

Once the inner tie that crossed over was secured on the inside, he pulled the outer robe over, securing that to the external ties and then, finally, adding the belt. Most times, he could get away with only securing one or two ties in daily life, but as a cultivator, the sheer physicality of motion—flying around on the back of the wind for example—dictated the use of as many fasteners as could be reasonably accommodated for modesty’s sake.

He was halfway done belting on his sword when he stopped. His hand gripped the straight long sword, a little thicker than the gentleman’s weapons that were popular in the south, closer to the soldier’s version of the jian than the dueling weapon that was more popular among cultivators. 

“Weapons, cousin?” Wu Ying asked.

“Do not unsheathe them in the court unless you seek to emulate the Heavenly Sage,” Xuan Shui said. “Otherwise, you may carry your jian, though…”

“Though?”

“We should go soon. It would not do to keep them waiting.”

It was obvious the dragon had more to say but had chosen to stop. The question was, why. And what he had meant to hint. Wu Ying ran through the last few minutes as he finished belting his jian, then dismissed the cloud and obscurement, following the dragon at a sedate pace.

Stopping to dress. A hasty summons. Dressing as a peasant…

Ah.

He understood now. He was once more the bottom of the rung, the lowest of the low. A newborn immortal, with neither the strength nor ability to contend against others. What he wore, how he approached the Heavenly Palace and its denizens would dictate his reception. The weapon by his side would mark him as a warrior, the lack of jewelry and other adornments someone poor and certainly one who worked with his hands. His footwear spoke of one who had traversed countless li, and while he did have court shoes, he had no desire to trade them out.

After all, as much as this presentation would be a test of him, he too could judge those he was to see. And truth be told, Long Wu Ying had his own points to pick with the immortals that ran the six Heavens. After multiple years of severe drought, a drought that could have been relieved by those he visited, he too considered what they might be.

Still, such thoughts and recriminations of actions taken—or not taken—fled from his mind when he caught sight of the Heavenly Palace. While he might have glimpsed the numerous palaces of mortal kings in his time, none of them stood as a candle to the glorious, blazing sun of the visage before him.

Among other things, they did not float on dozens of clouds in an embankment in the sky.