The Fourth Stage - Chapter 2 preview

The red paifang that stood as entrance, gateway and marker for the sect proper loomed before them. Hanging between both columns that made up the corners of the paifang across the beam that connected them was the name plaque of the Verdant Green Waters sect. The words were carved onto the wood with great skill and a deep dao inspiration had been embedded within, such that the meaning of the words were wreathed in an intuitive understanding of the sect and all they stood for.

“Honor. Integrity. Peace.” Yang Mu put words to the feeling, as her gaze trekked over the name plaque. “Enlightenment for the greater good. Grand ideals.”

“They are,” Wu Ying said. His words were absent, for he was staring at the ground beneath the plaque, at the location where a man had once lazed against the columns, smoking his pipe. In one of Wu Ying’s storage rings, he carried packets of tobacco for the missing figure, gifts for a man who had offered what guidance he could within the bound of propriety.

Now, instead of a single Guardian watching over the entrance and departure of sect members, inner sect members checked over documents and sect seals. In a new addition, a small hut lay behind the paifang, additional inner sect members undertaking additional paperwork within. Formations, once hidden beneath careful placement of stones and shrubbery were more prominent now, additional flags set along the boundary marked by the paifang.

It was all different. Wrong, Wu Ying would have said, if pressed.

“I guess we must line up,” Yang Mu said, inclining her head to where a couple of cultivators bearing supplies stood, proffering their sect seals to be inspected.

“I assume so too,” Wu Ying said. Perhaps, being Core Formation cultivators, there might be an exception to their entrance. Or specific guidelines and steps to be followed. But none had told them what they were, if there were any.

Once again, it seemed that he was forced to guess and make his way through the surroundings in the dark.

“Cultivator Long Wu Ying. Inner sect cultivator…?” The last sentence was said hesitantly, the speaker eyeing Wu Ying doubtfully. To facilitate his arrival and passage, Wu Ying had loosened control of his aura a little such that the strength of his cultivation base was clear.

Behind the young speaker, an older cultivator was looking down at his bracelet, noting the swirling characters that spun through them. Wu Ying allowed the passage of earth chi that pulsed from the bracelet to wash over him and return, offering the enchantment similar information – though one less likely to be fooled by simple aura manipulation.

“It has been many years since I’ve been back,” Wu Ying said. “This is my guest, Cultivator Yang Mu of the Twin Sages of the Joyous Platinum Inn. We sent missives informing the sect of our imminent arrival a forthnight ago and then, again, two nights past.”

“I… I apologise Cultivator… Long.” Hesistance at the form of address, the speaker offering a wan smile as Wu Ying took no offense. Elder was an official title that Wu Ying had not earned. Brother would be too familiar, though they might both be of the same titular rank. Senior might have been appropriate, but it spoke of a degree of familiarity and acceptance that the guard looked to deny at the moment. “I cannot allow the entrance of your guest by myself. An Elder at the least must accompany her.”

“Is there not notice?” Wu Ying asked, curiously. At the same time, he extended his senses, beckoning the wind to send notice of the surroundings to him to locate his missing friend.

“I… we will check.” Offering Wu Ying a tight smile, he gestured behind him. His companion scurried off into the room where a hurried conversation broke out. Wu Ying noted the use of a speaking stone, moments before a formation triggered blocking their spiritual sense.

“I’m surprised Guardian Pang had not warned them of our arrival.” Yang Mu did not bother to hide her comment, speaking out loud to Wu Ying as the pair waited.

“You met the Guardian?” the guardsman squeaked. He wiped at the gathered sweat under his lip surreptitiously, striking brown eyes glittering as he watched.

“Just below. I’m surprised the other guards who were below chose not to warn you. In fact, I do not sense them here at all,” Wu Ying said.

“We have roving patrols now. Those cultivators are uhh…” again, the guard looked lost, uncertain of what to say. “Well, they’re around.”

“What is your name, Brother?” Wu Ying asked, curiously. He tried to remember if he had ever been this nervous, over such a small matter. Then again, the ire of a Core Formation cultivator could do much damage to an inner sect cultivator’s future.

As he well knew.

“Feng Han Ying. Of the northern Feng clan, Brother Long,” Han Ying said. He straightened a little at Wu Ying’s use of the familiar term, only to shrink a little when he caught sight of the smile on Yang Mu’s lips. Not a malicious smile, Wu Ying noted, just one that had spoke of a private joke she was laughing at.

From the hut, the bracelet wearing cultivator came out. He whispered to his friend, who grimaced and repeated the news immediately.

“There is no notice about your arrival, Brother Long. Nor prior acceptance of Cultivator Yang as a guest of the sect.” Han Ying hesitated, before he spoke, slowly. “I fear I must ask that you wait, while we call upon the Guardian.”

“Of course you do.” Yang Mu’s voice was as sweet as honey, but it made the inner sect cultivators freeze. The final outer sect cultivator who was being waved through on the other side shrunk away before immediately finding a second wind, jogging up the incline as he sought to put distance between him and the annoyed Core Formation cultivator.

“Honored Senior Cultivator Yang, I must apologise for the wait. We are but mere gate guards, tasked with enforcing the rules of the sect,” Han Ying said, the sweat on his brow reappearing once more.

Wu Ying reached out sideways, placing a hand on Yang Mu’s arm. He waited for her to turn to him before he offered her the slightest shake of his head. Lips pursed, she returned his look before she finally relaxed, that smile turning a touch more relaxed.

The gate guards relaxed a little, even as pulses of energy roared through the air. Signal stones working overtime, Wu Ying was sure, to inform those above that they had arrived and requesting aid.

Behind the formation, behind themselves, the wind wended its way through branches and across robes, bringing back news. Powerful formation or not, there was little that they could do hide multiple presences, especially when said presences were – in the Wandering Gatherer’s opinion – badly trained. None of them would have lasted a day in the deep wilds, such poor control over their auras did they exhibit.

“Well, if we are to wait, you can at least provide tea, can you not?” Yang Mu said, arching a single eyebrow. “Or do you expect us to wait here, like peasants?”

Wu Ying scratched his nose, tilting his head downwards as though an idea had just struck him. “Speaking of peasants, there are a pair that I wished to present you to. Sooner rather than later, in fact. We could visit there, while this matter is sorted.”

Eyes widened, a hint of panic flashed across Yang Mu’s eyes as Wu Ying kept speaking. She was already shaking her head, patting at her hair and then smoothing out her robes, before she formed a wall of chi for privacy.

“I am not ready to see them. Are you looking to embarrass me, having me present myself in this state? A proper bath, a change of clothes, a review of the presents…” She hissed at him.

Holding a hand up, shifting slightly so now that he blocked direct vision from the gate guards to her, he patted the air placatingly. “No, no. Of course we can wait. There’s also the city below. We could get a room at the inn there…”

“We will not be driven away by simple politics…”

“Of course. But you do know, that my Martial Sister is above too, yes?” Wu Ying said, a devilish portion of his soul flickering to life.

“She… she is a martial cultivator, yes?” Yang Mu raised her chin a little, daring Wu Ying to correct her. When he did not, she continued. “Then, what I wear will be sufficient. I have also prepared the gifts for her.”

“You did, did you?” Wu Ying said, with a little smile. He did not miss, however, how Yang Mu was surreptitiously weaving her wood chi through her clothing, triggering the enchantments in her robes to clean them once again.

Turning to the guards once more who had, with great wisdom turned away to pay particular attention to the formations on the side of the paifang, Wu Ying spoke up. “Cultivator Yang is not wrong. Has the Verdant Green Waters grown so poor that we cannot afford at least some minor refreshments while we wait?”

No surprise that in a minute, the table from within the hut had been hauled out, boiling water and tea and even personal snacks proffered. The entire set-up was placed a short distance away from the paifang, such that the duo were no longer blocking entrance.

“We really should have Tou He handle this,” Wu Ying muttered, as he eyed the teapot.

“The tea or our entrance?” Yang Mu said, blocking his hand as he reached to pour the tea out. “Let it steep longer. This a Pu-erh tea that has been fermented at least eighteen years. You must let it steep properly for a proper flavour.”

“It’s tea,” Wu Ying complained. “It’s fine, we’ll just resteep it on the second time.”

“Barbarian.”

“No, no. Peasant.” He grinned, lightly. “The barbarians drink fermented goat milk.”

“I recall.” She shuddered. Wu Ying had kept a few jars, sealed away and broken one out for the trio’s tasting while on the way back, much to her horror. “You never answered my question.”

“The second. Though, obviously, he’d be best for the first,” Wu Ying said, waving at the tea set before him. “Of course, he might want to use his own gear.”

She shrugged, choosing not to directly contradict him. For all of Tou He’s expertise as a tea specialist, he was never too proud to work with the most base pot, whether on the ship or restaurant. And yet, minor changes still managed to elevate the taste.

Not that Wu Ying ever seemed to notice.

“Where is he?” she asked, curiously. “I would have thought he would have arrived by now.”

“As would I.” The former monk’s disappearance from Wu Ying’s questing winds was a puzzle in itself. He should have followed along more sedately up the road, but the winds found no sign of the other below. Not at the ship, not in town, and not in the wilds either.

Other notices, they did bring. Information of a bustling town, the scars from the attack over a decade ago long gone. New wall had been built, new formations emplaced along the walls that led into the wilderness. A small, but well trained military unit was down below as well, drilling in their own quarters while the local town guards kept the peace. Not that there was much for them to do, for the town was bustling and poverty and hunger low. The harvest had been good the last few years, and the beggars and disabled that often clustered in towns seeking aid were few in number.

Not completely missing, of course, even in a prosperous city like this. But they were well organized, clustering under the bridges and sewer flows, in an abandoned warehouse not so far from the docks whose rotting outer visage hid the sturdy basement below. Something else, down there, though the winds were unable to speak of it, as though their memory was blunted.

“What do your friends tell you?” Yang Mu asked, flexing her own aura to provide a privacy bubble for them. One that created a minor illusionary formation around them, making it seem as though the pair were doing nothing more than waiting in silence.

“Just word of the town below. No indication of our friend…” Wu Ying smiled then. “My parents are fine, though my mother harangues my father to help clean the house further in anticipation of our visit tomorrow.”

Yang Mu nodded. All that had been arranged via simple spirit messengers. That they had received one from Fa Yuan had led them to expect that their arrival should have been arranged as well. That they now faced additional trouble, well, that was unexpected.

Satisfied that the tea had brewed sufficiently, Yang Mu poured the tea out into the waiting cups. No separate pouring teapot – the cha hai – was available for their use. After all, the original drinkers were inner sect cultivators who had been utilizing the tea for regular consumption and not part as a more elaborate tea ceremony.

Partly, of course, why they were drinking pu erh as well, the fermented, dark tea providing more body to not just wake the drinkers but also cleanse away the oily snacks they supped upon.

That more elaborate offerings, a separatee tea set and table and chairs were not available were all minor indications that what the pair were experiencing was unusual. In fact, it was all a calculated insult, one meant to shame the pair and test their patience.

In other words, politics.

“How long, Ah Ying?”

“A while more. Let us see what they reveal, shall we?”

She considered him carefully, searching his face for clues about his true emotions. Wu Ying offered a mostly bemused smile. While he might not have taken such insult in another sect, this was his. Walking away, while an option, was not one he would wield immediately.

Nor did he feel like testing the formation that blocked their way. He could sense the tendrils of spiritual energy that she wielded from across him, testing the formation and the scriptures in place. He had no doubt, given sufficient time, she could break the formation. For all her protestations, Yang Mu had a deep understanding of such things.

“When you said you left in disgrace, I was under the impression it was a minor matter. That, after so many years, your banishment would have been rescinded.”

“I did too.” Wu Ying then smiled, wryly. “Perhaps striking the Prince was more of an issue than I had thought.”

She snorted. “Royal entanglements always are.”

“If only we had the wisdom of the present, to offer to our youthful past.”

“Without the mistakes of the past, how would we have gained the wisdom to pass on?” Yang Mu said, eyes twinkling. “Oh so my parents say. Though they also advised me to be wiser, and learn from their mistakes than make my own.”

“Is that not always what they say? Learn from them, only for us to make new and more interesting blunders.”

She laughed, throwing her head back a little as she did so. When she finally composed herself, she tilted her head to the paifang and the worried guards, many who were now only offering cursory glances at the sect seals proferred by the returning cultivators or the mortal servants carrying their burdens up as they glanced worriedly at the pair.

“How long, do you think they will make us wait?” Yang Mu asked, curiously.

“A few hours, most likely.”

“And how long then, should we wait, like dogs at the gate?”

Wu Ying considered, weighing the question. At what point was courteous patience outweighed by the shame incurred? At which instance was the studied insult leveled against them too great to bear? The sect – and those who held power in the sect – had threads that bound him to them. His family, his friends, his sense of duty and obligation.

At what point was the studied harm too great to bear, when the individual must walk away? No easy answer, when such threads were bound tight by bonds of past experience, debts incurred and feelings of obligation. Like a well worn path, abuse and experience flowed.

Yet the harm that he experienced, the shame he incurred – that only existed if he allowed it purchase. They had no strength here, no leverage in this deliberate offense if he offered them none.

“There are no dogs here.” Wu Ying said softly, reaching for the tea and refilling her cup. “Just a pair of cultivators, sipping tea and enjoying the view. In time, perhaps, we shall depart. Or perhaps we’ll stay here, cultivating.

“Let the wind blow, and we’ll blow with it.”