The Third Realm - Chapter 12 preview

A day and a night later, Wu Ying left the remnants of the sounder behind. His lips were upraised in distaste as he flitted away, piles of bones, innards, flesh and hair left behind. Poisoned and twisted was the flesh of the majority, such that the meat was of little use to Wu Ying to bolster his stores.

Other animals – those immune to the toxins within the creatures flesh – were left to consume the remnants. For Wu Ying, he only took the skin – stripped, cleaned and cured and set aside in his World Spirit Ring –, the demonic cores of all the creatures he had slain and the two tusks of the largest animal.  The remainder were of little use to him – for sale or to enhance his Ring.

Even leaving so much behind, Wu Ying had been thorough. Testing everything that he came across, hoping for potential uses. Even after his initial disappointments, the skinning of the creatures had taken much time, forcing him to leave late that day.

Guided by the Northern wind, Wu Ying reached the abandoned temple a dozen li from the battle. The perimeter walls – for even a temple must have such, in the vicinity of the wilds, where beasts had little respect for places of worship – stretches on all three sides, their grey bricks shattered and gaping holes of green vines and flowering creepers stood.

As for the main building itself, once lofty ceilings had fallen, time and age having taken its toll, along with the ever encroaching pull of nature. There was, perhaps, a lesson there – about the transience of civilization, and the supremacy of nature.

It was a lesson Wu Ying had little mind for as he traced the small of fresh water to the remnants of the temple’s inner well. No guarding wall, no sheltered top, but he could sense the fresh water below. Casting about and manipulating the wood and earth about, he formed a circular bathing area nearby. Then, it was but a matter of hard work – made easier with a cultivators enhanced strength and a bucket and rope from his own stores – to fill the newly made bath.

Water and metal were hardest for him to manipulate. A pity that, for one who had a dao or affinity for the liquid might have guided it forth from the well itself. Instead, Wu Ying substituted strength and hard work for chi, throwing a trio of fire-enscribed heating rocks into the bathtub.

In less than an hour, he lounged within, having scrubbed off the last of the dirt and blood before clambering within. Eyes closed, legs spread, he relaxed, letting the wind dance through the fallen building, bringing with it hints of its past.

Incense, a mixture that he had never smelled before. It was a little more floral than he was used to, many of the flowers picked from the surroundings he could tell. But there was the usual frankincense and makko ingredients in there too, along with the stale air of finely burnt ash.

Books – rotten, waterlogged, slowly crumbling. He was rather surprised to smell any at all, but it was mostly hints, remnants of what had been – scrolls and parchment caught between gaps, only slowly crumbling away.

Metal, rusted and fading. Stone, broken and shattered. The thrum of old chi, enchantments broken but sparking, moving in circles and never released, breaking down as the passing of years and decades wore away at the material.

Too long ago for the secret and mysteries to come haunt him. So, Wu Ying let himself relax further, his aura draped over the hillside as warning to those beasts who might consider trying their luck. Few would, he knew, and he kept the aura contained such that only those passing by would notice it.

No need to offer a beacon for spirits to find them.

Eyes closed, he rested for a long while before his mind turned to the battle today. It had surprised him, in some ways. In the fight against the Nascent Soul snake, he had been careful to control his chi expenditure. The battle had not been one that could have been won fast, and so he had ensured to conserve as much of his chi as he had.

This fight, he had outmatched the creatures by significant margins. He had been improving every step of the way for weeks, but his control over the winds had grown by leaps and bounds that it surprised him. Though perhaps control was not the right word.

The wind was a fickle friend, one which listened to him because he was, in his own way, slowly becoming them. So it was no more an imposition to do what he requested than it would for one’s arm to move.

Yet, he knew, instinctively, if he pushed it too hard, drew too strongly, like an arm bent out of shape, it would break and injure him. The battle had not even stretched his control, the sphere of clean air, his ability to fly and dance through the air…

He still needed experience, training in air battles. He still had to reorient himself constantly, but it was becoming more and more instinctive to know where the sky was, where the ground and where his enemies moved. The sphere of air that he moved within kept him constantly fed with information, scents and movements and changes in pressure.

All this was the results of his progress with the Seven Winds Body Cultivation manual. He was realizing, it was not just transforming the body but also becoming part of the element, making it part of himself. Understanding it, accepting it.

It helped, that his Soul Cultivation technique was the Formless Body. It made sense, now, that it had been part of the works held by the Double Body, Double Soul sect. The Formless Body was a somewhat strange soul cultivation technique, for it did not enforce or attempt to guide the soul into any particular shape or dao.

Instead, it provided space for a soul to take on the dao or in his case, the Body Cultivation form, that he used to bolster itself. It was both perfectly suited for a powerful Body Cultivation technique like the Seven Winds, but also left a glaring weakness when a dao was not strong enough to fill up that gap.

It combined well with the Seven Winds, strengthening his soul without forcing him to combine his dao enlightenment. When he did choose to input his own dao thoughts, into the forming Nascent Soul, the Formless Body strengthened the very core within, developing the layers as he grew.

All in all, Wu Ying found himself content with the direction of his growth. For a brief moment, he considered if he should change his current course, travel not to another kingdom, but to his old home. See his parents, see his friends. Partake in wine and drink, soak in their companionship.

Then the wind shifted, and a hint, pure and cold, imperious if a wind could be considered imperious, made him dismiss those thoughts. The Heavenly Wind beckoned, in lands past the horizon. He had glimpsed it at the village. He knew, if he walked this path, he would find it somewhere else.

In the thousands of li he was to travel, the months of cultivation to fill his dantian and then, a series of compressions to build the layers of his Core. Months and years and perhaps even decades, but he would find that wind and grow.

***

His rest was interrupted by the movement of water, the sound of liquid splashing. He opened his eyes, a single eyebrow rising in surprise as he noticed his unexpected guest. She was no willowy beauty, of great fame though perhaps in her youth she might have a shouting chance of being in the same room. Now, she was more likely to be seen in the background, gossiping with the rest of the aunties and plotting the lives of their children and the demise of their husbands and enemies alike.

“Please, join me.” Wu Ying said, only mildly sarcastic.

Hair knotted and held up by a pair of chopsticks, it was only the slight bubbles and mild murkiness of the water along with the dark that hid her modesty. Not that she seemed to mind, as she stretched, the peaks of her shapely body peaking out of the water.

“I have.” She cocked her head a little to the side, half of her lips tugging up on one side as though she found great humor in their situation. “Are you, perhaps, slow?”

“I am not, Auntie,” Wu Ying said, not at all annoyed by her biting comment. “Some might consider slipping into the bath of another rather foolish though.”

“It’s been many years since I’ve been concerned about decency.”

“More the shame. For you are still a rare beauty.”

“I would hope so.” Again that smile, twisting to be half-mocking.

Wu Ying inclined his head in acknowledgment of his point. He drew in a slight breath, the night scents flowing towards him. Metal, wood, earth and grass. Fallen masonry and in the distance, the carcasses of the demonic boars. Howls, yips and other noises echoed in the distance as animals fought over the remains – or died, having over-estimated their ability to handle the poison.

“It has been many years since one has come here. Many more, since there was a proper bath,” she said, breaking the silence.

“Well, I am grateful to provide some minor comfort, Auntie.”

The smile twisted, going from mocking to genuine. The pair soaked longer, Wu Ying allowing his chi to flow through the water to strike the heating stones and recharging them. Neither spoke for a time, as the moon and stars turned in the sky.

Eventually though, all good things must end.

“You are a pleasant young boy. One who is slightly rude, to build in another’s residence.” A hand came up, stopping him before he could continue. “But also cognizant of his place when spoken to.”

“Thank you, Auntie.(3)”

“Would you perhaps be willing to do another minor favour for me.”

And finally, they came to it. He stood up, stepping clear of the bath, using the smoke and the rising steam along with his wind chi to cloak his body and preserve some modesty. By the time he was dressed, wet hair wicking against silk robes, the woman was standing beside him, fully dressed and dry.

“Of course, Auntie. I am yours to command,” Wu Ying said. “Within bounds of propriety, morality and honour.”

“Of course.” Again that mocking smile. “Come with me.”

She turned, moving away from Wu Ying as though she floated across the ground, so graceful was her movement. He floated after her, but even graceful and light as he was on the land, he ruffled the grass unlike her.

They came to the tower in short order, crossing to where once the doors had stood. Now, only the broken stubs of the fallen arc lay before him, the once strong gates rotted away. Before them, covered in ivy and shrubs, piles of masonry stood before him.

“Dig deep. Dig hard. And beneath, you’ll find what you seek. I trust you’ll know what to do, when you find it.”

Wu Ying, regarding the pile of stone that stood multiple times the height of his own head, turned at her words. Yet, swift as he was, by the time he turned, she was gone.

“Typical.”

Wu Ying stared at the stone, at the night sky, at the empty grounds. He snorted after a moment and walked aside to pitch his tent. It would be a long day tomorrow. An even longer week, probably, even with the might of a Core Formation cultivator.

***

Stone, ivy and dirt. Old masonry, rotten wood and shards of metal. He found it all, as he dug. The wind helped, aiding him as he lifted stone. It scoured the rock clean, tore greenery free and sent loose soil gusting away. Yet, it was the strength of a cultivator and his years building houses alongside the village that gave him what he truly needed to disassemble the crumbled building.

Day and night, he worked from the first dawn till the stars stood high ahead. Never again did he see the lady of the night before, though he bathed each night, pulling new water forth from the well and scouring himself free of sweat and dirt.

Day and night, he worked, clearing the rubble. As though his father and Uncle Liu stood beside him, he set aside the still usable stone, the clean and unrotten logs of wood and the scrapings of metal he found. On occasion, he came across boxes and cupboards, items of furniture and personal belongs that were enchanted with runes of preservation, durability and storage. Six in all, through a week of labour till he had cleared the way.

Those he extracted care, picking at the locks till the lockers sprung open. Often, what he found was of little use – documents speaking of long lost clans and sects, of food and drink stores. Jewelry, precious for reasons of wealth and coin. Herbs, dried out for so long ago that they were of little use to apothecarists.

All these items, Wu Ying stored or set aside. The furniture and cupboards, the boxes were of little use. He could not carry them in his storage rings. The competing dao’s of space that the creators had envisioned would see them compete and be destroyed. Instead, he took what was of value, stored the remainder contents and composted the rest.

Taels of gold were just as common as jewellry, and though out of cfashion for one and minted in another time for another, the gold could be reused. Those too, he took, storing them aside for when he found civilization once more.

Most useful, he found some few pills. He knew not their providence or kind, the smell, the colour, the shape escaping his meager knowledge. Taking care to touch them through a cloth, he reviewed them carefully and ascertained them to be no stronger than that of the pills he already carried. Energy Storage, at best then. A flick of his fingers and they were stored away, into the bottles they had originated from.

A lot of work, for no great gain. The gold was more than sufficient riches for a mortal or a Body Cleanser, ample wealth to purchase multiple fields, to set his children to a time of indolence if they so chose. Sufficient to buy a few pills for an Energy Storage cultivator.

Of all these things, he had found. But most of all, what he had found were bones. Numerous, crushed, shattered, myriad in number.

Bones, bleached and aged, cracked and trapped under broken masonry. Many had been torn aside, limbs and legs torn apart, head shattered, torso and legs split. There was but one more, a single body, mostly untouched in the far corner. Slight of shape and size, compared to the others.

Female.

Deep in the cracked ground, he read the tracks and patterns of an old tragedy. A monstrous creature, moving on four legs had arrived at the temple. It had hungered, and the mortals within the temple had slaked its thirst.

These monks were not like his old friend, trained for battle and peace. These were men of peace and tranquility, individuals who sought to retire from the world. They had tilled their fields, raised their chickens and in the end, died violently and painfully.

A monster, strong and powerful. It came, it killed, it ate. Sometimes, not in that order.

And she, final member – cook, matron, herbalist, refugee? Who knew. Her story had been lost long ago, and the monks were not speaking.

The bones he arranged, digging a single grave for such was the slaughter he could not discern the origins of the bodies. He dug deep and laid them to rest, leaving only the final body. Hers was the only one not savaged, a single lone line along one arm speaking of how she died.

Hers, he laid to rest in its lone grave. He built a cairn of rocks, from the rubble for both. And then, he burnt for them the joss paper, the cooper paper that was for the unknown spirits. He offered what little he carried, reserving only a small amount for future problems.

When he was done, the wind whispered and he turned.

A stone, unturned till now, lay exposed. Within, a jade box. Its contents, he assumed, his payment.

Wu Ying turned, seeking but not finding his benefactor, though he had not expected to. Hopefully, she was content, laid to rest with her and her companions – headstone and joss paper burnt, talismans laid out to ensure the animals would not disturb them.

He took the jade box, breathed deep and closed his eyes. And for a moment, Heaven’s wind blew and his mind opened. All things, in their place. Lives taken, deaths venerated. There was a lesson here, in the doing.

But what it was, eluded him still.

Footnote:

3 - She is, obviously, not his Aunt. The use of uncle or aunt is a title of respect for those older than you and is used widely when someone has not been introduced. Or you’ve forgotten their name or specific familial designation.