The Third Cut - Chapter 42 preview

Wu Ying woke to the sense of chi rushing inwards, concentrating. Every cell in his body ached, bones and muscles conducting a deep sense of wrongness within. He rolled to the side as a wracking cough took him, forcing blood and phlegm from his mouth and lungs. Bits of pieces, portions of his body that should have stayed within came with it, even as his vision swam and the world rung.

When the cough finally ended, Wu Ying struggled to pull his legs to him. Dizziness swam through his body, and the commands were disjointed, as though he was his body was reacting a fraction of a moment later. The hesitation created a strange sense of unreality, as he struggled to his swaying feet. Instinctively, he sought a weapon, casting around for his jian and not finding it anywhere nearby.

Confusion still warred with pain in his mind, as the wind cultivator sought to understand what had happened. He recalled them losing, the monster beating his friend down, a decision. Then, separation. Being pulled upwards, his body, his sense of self separated and cradled in the arms of the world itself.

He had belonged, in a way that he had never before. A sense of peace, of connection that had stretched his soul and being not just across the clearing or the multiple li his senses allowed but further, to the heavens above and the earth below.

He had been one, and in becoming that one, he had felt himself dissolving. Even now, a sense of unease sat within him, as though the world about was but an illusion, no more real than a paper doll house. Just as fragile to his whims.

Another shudder ran through his body, dampness in his robes enhancing the shivers that prickled his skin. Pain coursed through his body with each movement, each breath. Pain that Wu Ying found himself grateful for, for it anchored him in the present, provided him a prop to lean upon in the tides of unreality that his mind floated upon.

Focus came with that anchoring, and he let his hazy gaze trace across the blasted, twisted ground of burnt grass, blackened earth and melted sand to spot the withered, seared corpse of the corrupted ape. He could sense the flow of heavenly chi that poured into the corpse now, tearing at the edges of corruption that it attempted to exude. At the same time, he saw its effects in the real world, as it stripped away the flesh and bones that kept attempting to regrow, breaking it down even as cancerous mutations bubbled forth.

Wu Ying’s stomach lurched a little at the sight. He turned away, moving too fast and felt his nausea heighten. He emptied his stomach, sinking to his knees near the vomit, his body pulsing with waves of agony that made him further nauseous, sending him in a cycle of pain and nausea.

A hand arrived, pressing upon his back. He felt it stroke his back, helped to ease his pain as calming wood chi entered his body.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe. Just breathe.”

Looking sideways, he spotted a worried looking Yang Mu, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she stroked his back. Wu Ying could not help but notice that her hair was still almost perfectly coifed other than a single lock that fell over her left eye. Not that she was without injury, for a trail of blood ran down her scalp from a crusted wound on the same side. Yet, it was her hazel eyes that were filled with concern that had him mastering himself by sheer will, to shrug off the hurt rather than increase her concern.

“I’m fine. I’m here.” And how close that was, how easily he felt he could have slipped away entirely, he would never say. That he might have joined the winds themselves, not as an immortal but just as another passing spirit, he shuddered to consider.

Or perhaps that was the fried nerves, the arcing pain that ran through him constantly from the tips of his toes to the ends of his hair.

“Idiot. What were you thinking?”

“That we were losing.”

His gaze drifted away, searching. He found his target, the body of his friend who still lay still. He found himself limping over, one foot dragging behind, stumbling over unseen rocks. Eyes narrowed, he tried to spot a moving chest, his spiritual sense buzzing and warping, at times narrowing down to no more than his own skin, at other times flaring outwards across multiple li. Too much and too little information, all at once.

“Tou He… how…”

“He’s alive,” Yang Mu comforted Wu Ying. “The lightning that struck, it was not targeted at him. I think his fire, it helped protect him a little.”

“Is that… smoke?” Wu Ying muttered, squinting. He could feel his lips crack as he spoke, a tooth a little too loose in his mouth. For that matter, now that he stared at the body, that robe was not his usual one, being a little too green and embroidered for the monk.

“He was still struck. I had to cover him because of the damage done.” Without a word, she had taken his arm, helped him limp closer. “It’s surprising your own stayed with you. Along with your armour.”

“Yeah….” Wu Ying had no explanation for that. He vaguely recalled pulling them with him when he had chosen to give up. Instinct that he could not explain, like catching a teacup that fell from a table or breathing. It had been natural, just an extension of his modified Wind Steps. He had done it before, this passing through; but only in short bursts. Now, perhaps, he might be able to do the same, longer.

The pair shuffled over to his friend in silence, the flow of chi thrumming through the clearing. Minh Trac was crouched over on one side, lifting up an exhausted Phuong Vy. Dinh Don was taking a more active part in the proceedings, laboriously loading his crossbow and sending bolts into the twitching mass, each attack sending a spurt of blood anew.

As for the Colonel…

“Where’s Bich Trang?” Wu Ying asked. Where was Sao Choi for that matter?

“Over there.” A nod of the head guided Wu Ying’s gaze. Through the haze and darkness, the wavering lines of his own vision, he struggled to see what she indicated. Eventually, the figures resolved, though each time he blinked, he found his attention drawn away and a headache building.

“The bird is doing something to the air around them,” Wu Ying said, tearing his gaze away at last.

“It is. A camouflage of some form.” Wu Ying grimaced, recalling how the Nascent Soul creature had snuck up on him multiple times. “I think it’s worried about the Colonel.”

“I’m worried about us,” Tou He said, wrapping the robes around himself like a towel rather than putting the entire thing on. He worked the random sleeves over one shoulder, making a makeshift monk robe and covering himself modestly. As his friend turned to face them fully, Wu Ying spotted scars tracing down one side of his body; lightning scars that played across the top of his skin and reached upwards to cross over one eye and three quarters of his shaved scalp.

“Are you okay?”

Tou He touched his face with the injured hand, wincing as he did so. Eventually, he answered slowly. “I believe so. My flames are subdued, and I ache, but the pain was worth the final blow. More importantly, how are you?” He eyed Wu Ying dubiously. “You look like you’ve spent a year fighting your Master and Elder Koh, getting cut and grappled to death.”

“I…” Wu Ying coughed again, wincing as the gob of darkened blood flew from his lips. “I have been better.” Then he smiled, wryly. “And worst.”

“You really need to learn how to finish a fight without coming out of it half alive.”

“Said the crispy Elder…”

“Commented the bleeding Gatherer.”

“Boys.” Yang Mu let the word out with a huff, drawing their attention to her. “If you’re done, perhaps it’s time to do what we came for?” She tilted her head to the ape, the blackened skin a hedgehog of crossbow bolts and burnt flesh that struggled to reform before bursting apart, leaking fluids staining the earth.

Tou He grunted, gesturing and bringing forth a new staff. This was a familiar weapon, wood rather than the bent metal of his other weapon. That one, he stored away from its place beside him where he had found it. Wu Ying could not help but push his own senses out a little, hoping to find his own weapon.

Using his staff, Tou He stood carefully on his splinted leg, testing it before nodding thanks to Yang Mu. Slowly, the trio limped over to the beating heart.

“I thought when we destroyed the formation, it would be over. Yet, the creature’s heart beats still and the corruption is still in the air,” Tou He commented.

“We had to change our plans,” Phuong Vy said, weakly as she was brought along on her brazier. Minh Trac had joined her on it, looking nearly as exhausted as she was. He had one arm cradled in a sling, the broken limb carefully tucked into his robes. “The formation was anchored by the metal rods, but the actual gate is the beast’s body. To close it, we must drain the creature of all its strength and then kill it.”

“You said stabilize.” Tou He frowned. “What happens when it’s not?”

Phuong Vy gestured at the body that kept attempting to grow and heal, cancerous tumors and cysts forming on various parts of its body, weeping fluids causing vegetation to burst from the ground before they died under the influx of clean chi.

“That.”

“Not pretty,” Wu Ying muttered. “But do we have any indication of who did this?” He nodded idly to Dinh Don who had ambled over to the group, a bolt loaded in the crossbow but the scout no longer releasing them. The man took position a short distance away, just a little behind of Yang Mu and had forced Wu Ying to turn to greet him. Phuong Vy and Minh Trac were both nearly opposite the man, just off a little. “Also, anyone seen my sword?”

“I have it,” Yang Mu muttered, softly.

“Some,” Minh Trac said. “We had to kill it, fast, so we never had a chance to study the metal rods. If someone had stolen a rod rather than stabbing it…” He sighed. “The temple on the other hand might offer further clues.”

Reflexively, Wu Ying turned his blurry gaze to the temple. The abandoned building was mostly rubble now, the battle that had occurred near it had destroyed the walls and taken down the roof, such that only the massive stone blocks lay in the distance. As he squinted, Wu Ying’s spiritual sense flared and narrowed, his sense of the wind and the surroundings expanding in a pulse of uncontrolled energy that left him reeling and Yang Mu steadying him more forcefully.

“You are not looking very well,” Minh Trac said, idly. “That wind form you took, it took a lot out of you, did it?”

When Tou He noticed Wu Ying was too tired and disoriented to answer, the monk did so for him. “It was not easy, facing the beast. It was closer to immortal than Nascent Soul, I would have said. At least in terms of chi concentration.” Turning his head around, he peered about the surroundings. “We were lucky, to win.”

“We were,” Dinh Don confirmed. “As it stood…” His gaze tracked over to where Thien Giang had fallen, her body already stored away and it grew heavy with grief.

Yang Mu frowned. She tilted her head up, her voice growing a little light as she spoke. “What happened to Saoi Choi?”

“Probably out scouting, now that the Colonel’s awake.” As he spoke, the scout played with the crossbow, a flickering at the edge of his aura making Wu Ying’s vision swim as energy pulsed back and forth.

“You think the formation is enough? To finish the ape?” Tou He asked.

“It should be,” Yang Mu said, eyeing Minh Trac as though waiting for him to confirm her words.

The man offered a sharp nod, even as he cocked his head to the side to where the Colonel had propped herself up on one arm.

“We couldn’t have done this, without you three,” Minh Trac said suddenly, turning back to them and pacing a little to the side. “So, you know, thank you.”

Wu Ying, his head clearing a little as his senses were drawn inwards, muttered. “There’s a formation inside there. A circle, with words scribbled on the ground. It feels familiar but…” He shook his head, trying to remove the clouds that sat within him. “I can’t remember where.”

“It’s okay. Just relax. You’ll remember soon enough,” Yang Mu murmured.

“Cultivator Yang,” Dinh Don said, softly. “Thank you for using the scroll. If you had not, I believe that worm would have survived all our efforts.”

“That’s what equipment is for, is it not?” Yang Mu replied, offering the man a half-smile. “To be used. But all this gratitude, it is making me blush.”

“I did not want to leave it unsaid,” the scout said.

Minh Trac was still pacing, his chi compass out. He was staring at the group, at the formation, at the flow of chi, frowning so much so that a deep line had creased the area between his eyebrows.

Wu Ying blinked again, touching his head. He felt the dampness from a cut, wiped it away, frowned at his fingers that felt numb. Something was going on here, something that his friends and those surrounding them understood. His thoughts were muddy, every moment a struggle. His mind struggled to understand relevance, for there was an ant over there, that had survived the storm of battle. Now, it had found a beetle corpse, one that had elevated itself. Bringing the tiny core back to its nest would see their fate change.

Over there, a branch threatened to break. Leaves on it would spill, and somehow, Wu Ying knew, depending on where it fell and how, lives thousands of li away would change. A storm would form, or not, from a single branch.

The sun shone, baking the earth, drying it out. The rotting smell was slowly giving way, as the purifying chi from the heavens, pure Yang energy burnt away at the edges. The wind stirred, dispersing it further and all around them, slowly, the true world reasserted itself.

All so important. But here, now, there was something happening. Yet, thinking was like wading through heavy mud after a hard rainfall. It should have been obvious, he knew it should have been. After all, Tou He got it.

“No,” Tou He said, head rising a little. “I didn’t think you would want to do so. Bad fortune, leaving such karma behind. Worst karma, of course, in other actions.” His hand twitched by his side, then he raised his arm and frowned. A bracelet that had been given to him was missing. For that matter, the one Wu Ying had worn was gone too. Obviously, not everything had transferred when the wind cultivator had transformed.

For a moment, the wind cultivator panicked. He looked at his fingers, only relaxing when he noticed his World Spirit Ring was still there. He relaxed, almost laughing at his own actions, the others all eyeing him carefully.

“Problem?” Phuong Vy said, carefully.

“No. It’s nothing.”

Yang Mu sighed, pulled Wu Ying a step closer to his friend. She cocked her head to the side, eyeing the surroundings before she placed a hand on Tou He’s arm too. She turned his wrist over, the monk looking bemused as she took his pulse.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Phuong Vy said, suspiciously. “You’re no physician.”

“No. And your trap isn’t very good.” Yang Mu said. “It’s a good thing we planned for betrayal anyway.”

Wu Ying felt the energy pulling at him, the twisting of power as Yang Mu activated the charm on her hand, expanding the escape formation she had laid across each of their campsites they had used on the way back. At the same time, Wu Ying felt the sudden spike of killing intent; masked until now as the raptor dove, blurring across intervening distance in an attempt to finish them before they could escape.

Simultaneously, Dinh Don raised and released the crossbow bolt whilst the formation that Minh Trac had been marking with his aura snapped into plac, glowing. Phuong Vy’s brazier opened, the cauldron effluence expelling poisonous mixture towards them.

All too late. All but the stooping raptor.

Sao Choi, having contained its strength now poured it into its movement. It crossed intervening space, claws extended in a blink of an eye. As the energy from the escape formation swept over the group and tore them from the clearing, Wu Ying felt a deep impact that shook him to the core as chi wrapped itself around them all and blasted them clear.