The Fourth Fall - Chapter 44 preview

Something in the air, something in his instincts had him glance upwards. Throw his hand above him, catching the lightning as it came crashing down. The bolt was so wide, it took up half his body. Sword still pointed at his opponent, Wu Ying channeled the racing energy. Guided it at his opponent, where it slammed into the other half-Immortal.

It arced through him, downwards now as it flowed across his feet, burnt the cloak and connected them to the ground. The scream that ripped itself from Wu Ying’s throat was long and loud, body and soul burnt as the lightning danced through him. At the same time, his sense of the wind stuttered, his body falling a little before it resolved, wind chi roaring back into play.

All around, the Dragon’s Breath kept rotating; pulling in wind chi. No longer dd he hide his efforts to empower himself, the constant churn of clouds and air, moisture and scents from far away mixing.

As quickly as it began, the lightning died, seared muscle and broken skin sizzling in the air, leaving the smell of burnt silk and flesh to linger. His opponent looked better, his enchantments having held off the attack easier. With the barest pressure on the winds, Wu Ying cast him forward, engaging his opponent in a clash of blades that was barely blocked. As they stood, heaving against one another in mid-air in the cross, the expected second lightning bolt fell.

The attack this time was even more strenuous. As with every other heavenly tribulation, the initial lightning bolts were almost a test, to see if the one below had any true grit. It damaged, but it was only a probe. A softening up, if you will, of body and soul. Each lightning bolt afterwards grew in intensity, causing ever greater damage.

Many theorised that the gradual increase in strength was a matter of tempering, the slow heating up and renfinment of souls. Less optimistic individuals noted that this increase in pressure might just be a consequence of the way heavenly chi had to gather, the lightning being slow to increase in strength. Not anything so kind as a conscious effort to aid those attempting to ascend, but a necessary buildup of power.

It mattered little.

The second lightning bolt, when it arrived tore the sky apart. It ripped into Wu Ying’s body, arced by direct contact this time into his opponent. This time around, a portion of the attack was siphoned away by the overlapping auras of both cultivators, by the protective enchantments embedded within the king’s equipment.

It made the second attack significantly easier to survive.

Rather than face and receive the damage, the arrogant ruler attempted to flee. However, the newly empowered wind cultivator was now faster than him. If he had started running the moment he had realised that Wu Ying was coming for him, perhaps he could have fled.

Perhaps he should have.

But arrogance had kept him here, and now it was too late for Meng Dai to run. Perhaps he could not have. A dao of dominance, of conquering did not allow for much flexibility when it came to retreat. Some, of course - good tactics sometimes required one to retire from battle, to conserve strength before pushing forward. Yet, that was only ever a temporary stance, and in a fast-changing atmosphere of a duel, perhaps Meng Dai had not time to reconsider his actions.

It was impossible to tell, foany who were not within his mind. It mattered little, for the results were the same.

He retreated, flying backwards as his cloak burned, forced to block the incoming lightning, to attempt to slow Wu Ying down and defend against his attacks. Even now, the wind cultivator charged forwards, heedless of the lightning raining down upon him. Willing to risk damage and pain, failure and death, to ensure that Meng Dai was caught in the onslaught as well.

Lightning falling, sparks of electricity dancing across metal armour, the pair flew across the battlefield. Below them, the lightning bolt would touch down, connectin heaven to earth and striking down the occassional unlucky group far below.

The innocent destroyed as wannabe gods battled.

***

“Oh, you fool.” Hands clutched tight against one another, fingernails digging into delicate flesh beneath and drawing blood, tears streaming down her face, Yang Mu watched the sparking fireflies that darted across the landscape. In their passing, mere mortal cultivators were tossed around by gale force winds or crushed under the unrelenting pressure of a half-Immortal’s aura. Falling lightning, touching down upon earth highlighted the on-going battle beneath as the forces of the Cai struggled, their leader’s overwhelming presence no longer aiding them.

Now, the cultivators of the Shen were tearing apart the joined forces of the traitorous Wei and Cai. Her martial sister’s initiative to save and aid the loyal members of the Wei was finally paying off, as the Nascent Soul cultivators took their own battles away. Utilizing her skills and judging the points of balance and loyalty within the Wei; she swiftly cut out or convinced those traitorous Wei to return to the fold. Beside her strode the Right Guardian, their long years of training showcased over and over again as they struck out with the whisper thin, whip-like blade of their jian.

Then, these new - old - allies turned on the traitors, doing battle and reasserting their authority. As it was, the Wei palace had fallen silent for the most part, only the occassional attack that was now aimed at the Cai fortress lancing forth. It was still grounded, though the occassional rumble from within indicated it was trying - and failing - to lift off.

As though seeking to finish off a wounded animal before it turned on them, the Cai fortress was not helping. It had turned its attacks away from the Seven Tier Immortal Pagoda in the air, instead lashing out at the grounded fortress. Beautiful gardens and replesendent temples were on fire, formations knocked askew as they bathed the palace with attacks.

The First Prince of Wei was riding away, fleeing from the fortress now under cover of a massive, spinning handleless metal umbrella. The replica of an ancient artifact was deflecting attacks coming their way, even the occassional aimed strike by the pagoda. Hurrying behind, holding the umbrella and the rear guard was his uncle, Lord Shi collapsed over the horn of his saddle, gripping on to horse and artifact by sheer will alone.

“You damn fool. Why would you do that?” she whispered the sentence, but in her heart - her breaking heart, the shattered pieces like twisting daggers within her chest - she knew why. After all, he had done the same before, he would do the same again in the future.

If he had a future.

She did not bother to wipe at her tears, as she turned her attention away from the flashing light. She regarded the formation before her, the way it bathed the surroundings in that twisting of chi and light. Felt her dao as it strained, and nodded to herself, resolving.

“He’s dying,” Yang Mu said, pitching her voice so that it traveled across the turbulent skies. “He’s dying and he won’t be able to finish this.”

Thunder rumbled, breaking up her words, nearly drowning out the reply.

“Are you sure?” Strained, Sect Head Yan asked.

She could feel their battle, high above. The Patriarch of the Six Jade Gates sect had returned; disgorging flying demons from the south from his gate. These creatures were horrifying to glimpse, all entrails and head and nothing else, though their very presence sucked up vibrant yang chi and left the environment within deathly cold.

Of course, perhaps using a yin chi based series of attackers was a bad choice, for the Nascent Soul general of the Sun from the Shen army was hovering near the jade gate entrance, utilizing his aura of the sun and flames to kill many of the creatures as they emerged. His overlapping aura ensured only the strongest managed to escape; but it did lock him down to a single location.

In the meantime, a giant calligraphy brush hovered in the air, words written and sent forth as attacks as the Patriarch of the Eight Stanzas wielded his own artifact, doing battle with the other cultivators of their stage. The aftershocks of their attacks and battle was twisting the land beneath them, only protective formations around each kingdom helping to contain the damage.

“Yes. The tribulation is half done and the King still lives. He cannot ascend, he will fall before it ends; and the king will finish him off. Then come for us.”

“We cannot just save him, we have our own battles here.”

Yang Mu understood that. Half the problem with fights between Nascent Soul cultivators were that they took so long. When such figures had enough chi to outlast an entire sect, it was rare for such a battle to be over soon. It was also why their battles had a tendency to wreck entire counties by the time they were done.

She understood it, but she also had a solution.

“I can stop one of them. Just tell me which one.”

There was a deep and profound silence after her announcement. It went so long that she wondered if the Sect Head was busy in a fight, injured or dead or just deeply and profoundly shocked. Really, if he was, she would be rather disappointed. The Sect Head knew she had parents of his realm. Her mother was the infamous Merchant of the Platinum Inn. Of course she had a method of dealing with a Nascent Soul cultivator.

Not enough to kill them, but trap them long enough for her to escape? Now that was quite viable.

Silence. And then, voice strained, Sect Head Yang spoke. “What do you need? To make this happen?”

“Just space.” She reached upward, touching her necklace and the pendant within. Pulling at it gently, she retrieved the twisted gold and silver peice of jewelry, the twisted metal trapping a small ball within. She lifted it upwards, taking the pendant off her neck, movement slow and  graceful. “A half dozen steps away from one another. I can do the rest.”

One artifact of the Nascent Soul cultivators unleashing the full extent of their powers, they were like glowing bonfires in their surroundings. She barely needed her aura sense to note where they were for their presence beat upon the air, warping the surroundings with its very existence. None of them could handle such a creature, not alone.

Monsters, all of them.

Unlike some of the others, the Core Formation cultivators and those below, she was not cowering at the sight of them. She felt a thril of fear, on being on the battlefield as these monsters, but it was managed. By two factors. Firstly, of course, by the fact that she was behind the protections of the pagoda. Then, of course, was her upbringing. Living - and sensing - them even from an early age, being trained by a pair of Nascent Soul cultivators had altered the way she felt about them.

Fear, understandable fear, threatened to consume her thoughts, to pull her focus apart and overwhelm her. She clutched tight to her training, to her experiences and knowledge that these creatures might be powerful but were not, in the end, impossible to beat. Most of all, she held onto the threads that connected her in her mind to those that mattered - Fa Yuan, Wu Ying, her parents. Knowing that if she quailed now, it would mean their deaths.

In the distance, she could see the Sect Head push against his opponent. He had not told her who he had intended for her to battle, but it did not matter. She could sense it, the way he kept his focus entirely on the Guerilla General, separating him out from the forces of the Wei and Shen. Dangerous though he might be, he was nothing like the half-Immortal that Wu Ying was still in contact with.

An explosion of power and chi, of win and water threw the Guerilla General away, even as he attempted to duck aside. A dozen feet.

More than enough.

She took action with a surge of power, throwing energy into the pendant. Guiding it through time and space, feeling the spatial dao that was contained within the pendant itself activate to guide her movements. She knew Wu Ying had always envied her ability, though she had yet to tell him the kind of training required to gain it. He could be a little too protective sometimes, especially as the person who had done it to her were her own parents.

Scarring perhaps, but it gave her this ability. To reach outwards, to cross space by understanding that space was linked by the Dao, and so, all space was the same. All she had to do was make it so, with her own spirit and intention and chi. Everything was connected, and if she enforced the right connection...

She could not fight the Guerilla General. They were too strong, too powerful. She had asked for a half-dozen feet, but had underestimated them. Their aura leaked outwards to such a distance, that she needed a full ten before she could find a place with enough gaps in control for her to enforce her control, her connection.

But once it happened, it was a simple matter of snapping the pendant’s own skill into place. It would have been impossible if Cai Meng Dai was not distracted, his domination of the surrounding area would have blocked her pitiful attempts at asserting a different reality. As it stood, it exhausted a large portion of her energy stores, but the effects were worth it.

Twisted threads sprang into existence around the Guerilla General, metal quickly enclosing the man and constricting themselves. In larger form, the multi-layered enchantments and runes that had been carved into the strings of metal that formed the former pendant were visible, glowing with repressed energy as they consumed the tiny core - the ball - to empower themselves.

Not that the man was letting this happen without contesting his entrapment. His aura flared, pushing against the bindings, seeking an escape. He nearly found one, his dao of death and blood in the night and shadows allowed him to flicker forward, cross the open space and thread his way through the gap.

Only to realise that it was a trap. Extended as he was, moving too quickly to assess his choices, he was also more vulnerable as he stretched his physical form.

When the enchantments flared, it trapped him in that ephemeral state, tugging him back into the center of the pendant and slamming shut, man replacing spirit stone. The trap hung there, unmoving in the air, shrinking till it was no more the size than a fist before it plummeted to the ground.

And finally, finally the Nascent Soul cultivators - some of them at least - were free to join Wu Ying.

Not a moment too late, as the lightning and rumbling thunder reached a crescendo.