The Third Realm - Chapter 33 preview

“They arrive in six days,” Viscount Khao said to Wu Ying over breakfast weeks later, eyes gleaming with worry as she stared at him. Even seated, she seemed to vibrate with concern as she continued. “I know you understand how important it is to send the Pearls back to the king but…”

“It will be done. Today,” Wu Ying said, holding a hand up. “If the weather had permitted, we would have done so two days ago. But the storm that came in made it impossible.”

“Not impossible, just much more dangerous,” Captain Ren said, easily. “I would not risk our men to the ocean when it churned like that. Nor would our Master ask that of us.”

The Viscount made a little moue before flopping back against her chair and its cushions, staring at Wu Ying over the edges of her robe that had begun to ride up as she slumped. “And you’re sure you can do it?”

“Nothing in this world is certain,” sensing her rising tension, Wu Ying hurried onward. “However, I expect that it should be viable. It would be best if we knew what it was that happened before…”

“My diviners continue to offer nothing of import.” Viscount Khao’s voice rose, mimicking a stilted way of speaking. “Dark shadows, a turning tail that overshadows the world. It slumbers and wakes, swallowing the light of the heavens… ‘ware the approach. ‘Ware your departure.”

“Serpent?” Wu Ying said. Why did it have to be snakes?

“It’s diviners. It could be a real serpent, it could be poetic language or just a shadow,” Captain Ren pointed out.

“Or betrayal!” Viscount Khao said, her voice rising in an attempt to sound ominous.

“Viscount!” Captain Ren said, scandalized.

Wu Ying chuckled, shaking his head. Over the few months that he had been present, the Viscount had slowly thawed, their initial formality giving way beneath their natural exuberance and familiarity. Waving a hand to calm the Captain down, he leaned forward and whispered.

“Yes, betrayal. By me.”

She gasped, thearatically; then suddenly grew serious, her eyes wide. Her lower lip quivered as emotions threatened her control. “You wouldn’t, would you?”

“He would not.” Captain Ren assured her, pushing his plate aside and crossing his arms. “This is why we do not joke about such matters. It leads to misunderstandings and hurt feelings. Understand?”

Viscount Khao nodded at last, lowering her head. The remainder of breakfast was more subdued and was soon complete, with Wu Ying swallowing the last of the fish congee before standing.

“With your leave, Viscount.”

“Go. The sea’s blessing on you,” Viscount Khao murmured.

Captain Ren stood too, following after Wu Ying. He, three squads of his best men and the same number of divers would all accompany Wu Ying on this last, desperate attempt to retrieve the Lesser Serpent Pearls.

***

The group that gathered at the harbour was large and myriad. Three squads of Captain Ren’s best guard, himself included. Another dozen divers, the best that the province had to offer. Five captains and their vice-captains, all whom represented the junks that they would set forth upon. And, of course, the numerous sailors, many of whom were on the ships themselves making ready.

“The tide is going out, so I shall make this quick,” Captain Ren said. “You’ve all heard this before, but I will emphasize, our mission of greatest import. Without the pearls, the Viscount has no standing in court. Another will be assigned this land, and we all know who wants it.”

Grumbles arose from all around, cut off quickly by Captain Ren’s raised hand. Wu Ying had a vague idea too, though he had paid only a little attention to the matter. He had thrown in his lot with the Viscount, so it mattered not who he angered beyond the most cursory of findings.

Anyway, he was but a contractor doing a job. Surely, no reasonable person would get angry over him over such a thing? Even in his own mind, Wu Ying could not help but smirk at that thought.

“It will take two days to arrive at our destination. In that time, train if you can but do not overexert yourself. None of you are replacable.” Captain Ren turned, meeting each person’s gaze. “When we arrive, the ships will split apart, to begin setting up the sea calming formation and the wider, beast trapping formation. The positioning and safety of the vessels will be the responsibility of the captains,” multiple nods from there in agreement, “while the creation and care of the formations will be the guards.” Feet stamped the ground, along with a low growl from the guards. Captain Ren could not help but smile at his own men.

“We cannot rely on those being sufficient, which is why the divers will take to the water and deal with any spirit beasts in the water. Once they have cleared the upper depths, Cultivator Long will dive. He – and he alone – will enter the deep. The divers will hold on the rafts, awaiting his signal if he requires aid.”

This time, there was no growl or nod of approval. The opposite in fact, for the divers were unhappy, arms crossed, some staring at Wu Ying. Though they all had practiced with him, taught him the things that Wu Ying himself was to put to use, none were happy at being relegated to the job of being observers. Yet, none vocally objected, for such discussions had been had over the preceeding weeks.

“Cultivator Long will swim to the depths, acquire the pearls from the oysters – a minimum of seven are necessary to meet our quota – and then, he will return. We will set sail forthwith and return with all due speed, neither dragon nor serpent the wiser.”

“And if they learn of it,” one captain said, smiling grimly. “it will be all the worse for them. Our harpoons are sharpened, our ballistae loaded. The killing formation will shred their scales and dry their gills, and then we will feast on serpent and dragon alike!”

Roars of approval rose up from around the group. Wu Ying met Captain Ren’s more sombre look, though neither contradicted the words spoken. Morale was important, even if such words had likely been spoken and echoed from the two previous expeditions.

Whatever awaited them was likely to be more complicated and dangerous than the others believed.

And if Wu Ying’s heart had sped up a little, a thrill had chased down his spine at the thought and a gleam had entered his eye, well, it was to be expected. He was a wild Gatherer after all. If he did not seek the challenge a little, he would not be who he was.

***

Captain Ren found Wu Ying later that day standing at the prow of the flagship, the wind blowing from shore at an angle to their destination. The sails had been trimmed, allowing the ship to tack into the wind to provide them the greatest speed, even as sailors below stood ready to deploy oar and elemental chi if necessary if the wind died.

“What say the winds, Cultivator Long? Will they aid us, in this journey?” Captain Ren asked, leaning against the railing beside Wu Ying. No surprise, after all this time, that the Captain knew of Wu Ying’s own element. Though perhaps the full details of his cultivation – Body and Soul – were still a puzzle to him. At least, he hoped so.

“They will,” Wu Ying said, tilting his head to the side. “They might even bring us back, rapidly. If we need it.”

“Your element, the way you interact with it…” Ren Fei trailed off.

“Yes?”

“It’s different. From what I have seen others do. The way I do it myself. Others I’ve seen dictate, control, demand or become; they are all just part of it. You, you interact as though they are separate but not of you.”

“Ah…” Wu Ying trailed off, caught out by surprise. “It, the winds… they are part of me. But not. I can’t hope to encompass them, not really.” He turned one hand sideways, gesturing at the world around. “It is all of this. How can one man, one person, be all that?”

“Isn’t that true of any of our dao’s? Thinking like that, is that not a guarantee for us to fail then?” Ren Fei’s looked down, touching his stomach just above where his dantian was and sighed. “Though some of us have stumbled earlier than others.”

Wu Ying lips tightened, his gaze following Ren Fei’s motion. “I’m sorry. About…” He trailed off, uncertain of what to say. His failure? His lack of timing or patience? “About it all.”

“No need,” Ren Fei said. “I knew I could not ascend, but we needed; the family needed another Core Formation cultivator. It was a risk that I took for the province and one I’d do again. Not all of us were meant for the heights of cultivation anyway.” He laughed suddenly, depreciatingly. “What is the point of my criticizing your cultivation methods when I have never had a chance myself.”

Wu Ying shook his head. “No, you’re not wrong to question my methods.” He chuckled, suddenly. “In truth, no matter how many cultivations manuals we read, the treatises and the scrolls and the learned words that we attempt to comprehend, all our ways, all our methods, they’re just attempts at discerning the undiscernible.

“Every cultivation method is unique, every cultivator taking a different path to reach the top, and no matter how much we believe we are in the right, most will fail.”

“Then why try?” Ren Fei said. “If you think you’re wrong, if you are to fail anyway and don’t believe you are pursuing the dao correctly, why go on?”

Wu Ying closed his eyes, hearing the wind whisper, brush its fingers along his hair and his skin, tug at his robes and remind him of its presence. He heard the soft susurration of a Heavenly tune, the murmur of the southern wind and the places he had yet to see. Lands, far and wide; people, strangers and friends; experiences, weird and unique.

He opened his eyes and smiled at Ren Fei, holding a hand out to the wind and letting it run through his fingers. “Why ever not? If I have no conviction, the Dao doesn’t require it. If I have no confidence, the Dao does not demand it. It is no taskmaster, no disapproving parent. It makes no claims on our actions, it desires no outcomes. Choose, or choose not, it will be.

“And so, in choosing to do what we desire; when we desire, for the right reasons in the right time; how can we then be wrong? If no path is right, then no path can be wrong either.”

Ren Fei’s lips thinned, as he listened. Then, turning to face Wu Ying fully, he put his hands together and bowed to the man.

“Thank you, Cultivator Long. You have left me much to think about.”

Wu Ying nodded, watching the man retreat before he turned back to face the water. He closed his eyes again, feeling the wind on his face as they cut through the ocean and smiled, for the eastern wind laughed in his ears and his dantian churned, traces of the heavenly chi called forth from the surroundings and spreading through his body. Strengthening it and his connection.

One step, one li at a time. He would find his way. No matter the obstacles or the doubts.

***

The gull came from high above, stooping in a dive from the sunward direction. It’s shadow, small at first increased in size at an alarming rate. Below it, little figures scrambled, alerted all too late in an attempt to run, to hide from the predator. No screech, no scream from the spirit beast arose as it descended, its target shifting a little as the helmsmen threw their weight behind the tiller, edging the junk aside. It was too little, too late, for even as the sailors trimmed and adjusted the sail so as to catch the wind right; the bird was nearly on them.

Then from below, something rose up. Bestial instincts triggered and the gull opened its wing a little, curving aside at the last minute. A glittering twist of light and solid air tore through the space where it was, even as light glittered off the metal talon the figure below, clad in green and white feathers rose from below.

Now, the gull cried, unleashing its anger and frustration into the surroundings. Its positioning had been perfect, it’s prey unaware. No scent, no sight, nothing that should have given it away. It had sensed nothing, none of those leaking, smelly, unsightly pink fleshy things beneath that could challenge it had been noticed below. Not since it had stalked them the morning before, when it first caught sight of them.

Below, the figure seemed to stagger a little, the noise unleashed leaving it wobbly. The gull banked, rolling itself around as it flapped its wings, gaining a little more altitude. If it missed the meal below, another meal had arisen. Even if it carried a metal talon, it only glowed a little; pulsing like the wind that streamed through its feathers.

The wind…

Again, another shriek, this time of understanding as it dove below. It was this one, the one who beckoned the wind to it, that rode it to the sky as though it was its master that had spoilt its plan. Rotting plans, like week old fish; gone too bad even for the gull to eat.

It dove, white wings pressed tight against its body, long beak bent down. Wind cut and spilled apart, as the bird dropped. Below, the little figure stopped rising, seeming to hold still. It swung its blade again, once and then once more, that twisted warping of intent and wind rising to meet the gull.

Futile. It crashed against the gull’s aura, its feathers and though a pair of feathers were lost and minor cut occurred, it was insufficient to penetrate its defences. More importantly, the cuts healed over within moments, the blood clotting as the wood gull’s chi worked overtime.

Then it was its turn, and wings deployed, cutting its speed as it turned a dive into a swoop at the last minute. No beak attack but talons from below were deployed, ready to snatch and grab. Legs rotated forwards, its chest rising a little as claws reached.

Only to meet a shield of hardened wind. It cracked and compressed, slowing the bird even more, making its steep dive alter course a little as another errant wind struck it.

Then pain, as that metal talon entered its chest. It tore upwards and sideways, and the bird watched as the green, pink bug flew away, glittering talon now darkened by its own blood. Pain, as blood beat, once, twice and then the wound began to close and muscles stitched shut.

Another turn, as the bird flapped its wing, chasing after the bug. Now, it had it, for they might be on the same level, but the pink fleshy thing was in its domain! It would show the creature who truly ruled the skies!

***

The captain found Ren Fei staring upwards, watching the pair of aerial duellists. Wu Ying was nearly impossible to spot, so far up were he and the bird; he a fast moving speck, the bird a massive moving creature the size of the captain’s own fist.

“Will the Cultivator be okay?” the captain murmured.

“He will be,” Ren Fei said, though his voice was uncertain.

“I told him not to. You heard me, yes?” the captain said, looking at Ren Fei with a fixed, almost desperate gaze. “He should not have gone up. If we had lost a man or two, it would not be worth his death.”

“I will tell the Viscount you tried to stop him, if it comes to that,” Ren Fei said.  “But it will not come to that.”

“That is the Fisherman’s Tragedy up there,” the captain said. “It has preyed on our people for decades. Even the old Viscount could not kill it.”

“Nor did the old Viscount fall to it,” Ren Fei clutched at the spear in his hand. He looked longingly upwards, to that space where he was forever barred to because of his cracked Core. “Cultivator Long is a powerful fighter.”

“Your words to the sea goddess ears,” the captain muttered the blessing, before he moved away. He had gained what reassurance he had looked for, and now he chivied the sailors to load the ballista and ready them. Just in case the cultivator did fail.

Dismissing the captain from his mind, Ren Fei continued to watch, hand gripping his own enchanted spear. It was nearly an hour, the pair moving further and closer, swooping at times nearly to skim the waves before rising again, duelling in the air before the fight ended.

Wu Ying landed on the junk, stumbling a little as exhaustion threatened to take away his balance. He righted himself a little, controlling his movements as the junk rolled with the waves and nodded once to Ren Fei and the captain, both of whom rushed over to him.

In the distance, the similarly exhausted massive spirit beast winged away, flapping its wings itinerantly as it glided back to its nest. It was bloody and tired, feathers scattered across myriad li during their battle, patches of sword torn skin showcased over its body.

“Cultivator Long!” Ren Fei said, coming up to Wu Ying. As Wu Ying straightened and conjured a flask of water to drink deeply from, he scanned over the other for injuries. There were a few, scrapes along the arms, along one side of his body. They leaked a little blood, the metallic taste of blood mixing with salt air as the other man stood.

“I am fine,” Wu Ying said, putting his flask down after he had finished drinking. “Tired, but alive. I could not slay it. It’s wood aspect is too strong. It kept healing its wounds, no matter the times I struck it. I apologise.”

“The Fisherman’s Tragedy is an old, a very old, problem,” the captain said, making a face. “It’s mother was a powerful dragon, it’s blood grown stronger on the blood of our people. None have managed to slay it.” Then he snorted. “Obviously.”

“The captain is right,” Ren Fei murmured. “You owe us no apology. The old monster is old. We are but lucky that it has not managed to ascend, or else it would be a true terror.”

All around, sailors hawked and spat over their shoulder. More than a few made additional warding signs, and all glared at the guard captain for daring to name such an ill omen. The man looked abashed, repeating the gesture himself.

Wu Ying kept from reacting, though he found the entire process a little disgusting himself. Once they were done, he gestured to the front of the junk. “I understand there is a bath, here?” The captain nodded. “I’ll require it’s use. You may use seawater for its contents, but I shall need it.” Touching his wounds, Wu Ying could not help but wince. “If I am not to go into the water bleeding, much needs to be done.”

Both captains could not help but wince, the ship’s captain shouting orders and sending his men to scurry. In the meantime, Ren Fei stepped a little closer, dropping his voice.

“Can you go down? You look… tired.”

Wu Ying nodded tightly. “What must be done, must be done. Now, I should begin cultivating.”

Ren Fei lips tightened but he nodded. Wu Ying moved aside, taking a cross-legged seat on the ground and sat down, the minor pull of environmental chi that was always around him increasing that even the Guard Captain could sense it now. Beforehand, the tug was so gentle that it could have been but the shift of ethereal winds. And now, it was typhoon, focused upon the cultivator with his legs crossed and blood slowly leaking out of his wounds.

Staring at the other man, Ren Fei could only lower his head in acknowledgement. Perhaps this was what it truly was needed to ascend to immortality. A nature so uncompromising, no matter the uncertainties of the future or the pain in the present that it continued on.

If so, he understood why, he had never ascended. Or would ever ascend.

Perhaps in the next life.