The Third Realm - Chapter 10 preview

The formation flags died off late in the day as evening set in the mystic realm. Rather than move onward and to allow Pan Chen to recuperate, the team set-up more stable – if less powerful – formations to guard the camp. The village personnel took turns guarding the recuperating Pan Chen, the child alternating between sleeping and cultivating to process the numerous healing tonics and pills provided to him.

Liu Ping took great joy in carving up the giant snake, working with a pair of short swords as butchering knives, stripping away scales, flesh and muscles to reveal the snake’s spine beneath. The bones she retrieved along with the nervous system, giant earth pots with constant boiling water used to clean the remnants. The water itself was changed regularly, clay pots of the waste product set aside for later use.

The corpse of a Nascent Soul-level beast was of great use, which was why the team took the time to extract the full among of resources possible. In the meantime, a message and messenger had been sent to the village, with help to return eventually.

All of which Wu Ying had little to deal with. He was taking full advantage of the mystic realm, gusting from one location to another, fighting the occasional spirit beast and gathering herbs – many Yin-aspected, though some highly concentrated and strong Yang-aspected items were around – to his heart’s content.

It was only when a Spirit Messenger, the tiny paper spirit floating through the air to him and alighting on his shoulder, found him days later than he made his way back to their encampment. There, to his surprise, he found Pan Shui and Pan Chen seated, meditating while the remainder of the party absent.

A short while later, Pan Chen opened his eyes, his current cycle of meditation complete. He fixed Wu Ying with a considering look, a degree of maturity in his eyes now present in his youthful gaze. That first brush of mortality, days of unrelenting pain and healing had aged the child.

“You are well, I see,” Wu Ying said to fill the silence. He was not, not really. But he would be, which was the important aspect.

“Pan Shui told me tales of you. How do you do it?” Pan Chen said without preamble.

“What do you speak of, Ah Chen?”

“Fighting. Killing. Risking your life,” Pan Chen said the last softer, more hesitant than ever.

Wu Ying rotated the knife he had been caring for around in his hand, working the softer side of his whetstone against its edge to remove minor burrs. A tragedy of his own chi – that he was not able to get the precise cutting edges that a metal blade had. Not yet, at least. Most of the time, it did not matter – but sometimes, with metal chi-infused plants, that extra edge was necessary.

“You ask how, but I ask you, is there a difference?” Wu Ying said. “You speak as though such decisions, such incidents, are unique.”

“Fighting a Nascent Spirit beast is!” Pan Chen said, insistedly.

“Yet, I’ve been fought four… and been in the presence of many more.” Wu Ying held a hand up before the child jumped on his words as though he was admitting truth. “You speak as though the danger is unusual. Yet, your family has at least one Peak Core Formation master’s in its rank. If they wished you dead, would it matter?”

“No. But they wouldn’t do that.”

“Perhaps.” Wu Ying replied. “Right now, even though your family has not attacked or otherwise chosen to act against the kingdom, they might send an army – or assassins – to end the lives of those of you in the village. Destroy the village, end your line.”

“They’re not likely to do so,” Pan Chen said, stubbornly. “We’re just being careful. They wouldn’t dare!”

“Yet they did before. And might again,” Wu Ying said. “A few years ago, when I travelled through the kingdoms of Shen, there was a battle. Between an immortal and a dragon. You heard of it?” Pan Chen nodded. Such news traveled for sure, though details might have been obscured. “I was in the vicinity when the battle began and they reshaped the land.”

He put down his whetstone, picking up a nearby stone. He flicked it into the air and then cut, splitting the stone apart smoothly with his newly sharpened blade. Watching as the rocks split apart as it fell, he continued to speak. “The earth was rent apart as easily as I parted the stone. The town that bisected the path of their battle, destroyed. New channels formed, farmlands made fertile from falling blood and wept tears.”

“A tragedy,” Pan Chen said. “I’m not stupid. You’re trying to say that danger is all around. That choosing or not choosing doesn’t matter, there’s still danger.”

“Oh, choice matters. Decisions matter.” Wu Ying tested the edge of his blade, grimaced as he realized he’d blunted the blade slightly and returned to sharpening it again. “But worrying about the future is a fool’s game. The gravest choices you face will often be the most surprising.”

“I don’t understand!” Pan Chen said, frustrated. “You’re as bad as my father. Why won’t you just tell me what you’re trying to say!”

“I am,” Wu Ying replied. Then, seeing the growing frustration sighed. “You ask me how I keep risking myself and my future. But to me, I am not. What risk there was, is past. What risk that might come, might never arise. In-between, I exist. Living the life I wish to live. And if circumstances arise again, where my life might be at risk… then so be it. I’ll make my choices then.”

“Just be? Don’t worry about the future?” Pan Chen scoffed. “That’d be like cutting without watching the line of your cut.”

“Yet, when you move through your forms, each motion leads to another and a thousand others. Retreat, advance, attack, defend, feint. Some are awkward, some are nearly impossible to complete. Yet, each motion always has myriad options, and you would never say that any such motion is completely out-of-bounds, would you?” At Pan Chen’s hesitation, Wu Ying continued. “Options in the moment, for when the time comes when you need to make them truth. And only when the time comes, facing your opponent’s blade, will you choose.

“And strike true. Without hesitation, with full commitment. Even a feint must be committed to fully, or be considered lacking. So be the form, practice and train. Till you are as supple and changeable as the wind, such that when the time comes, you can choose and choose well.”

Silence filled the camp for a time, as Pan Chen considered Wu Ying’s words, broken only by the noise of whetstone grating on steel. When he had placed the edge on the blade, Wu Ying closed his eyes and turned to meditation even as Pan Shui exited her own cultivation space.

Later, perhaps, he would speak with them. For now, something in what he had said – thoughts and concepts he had known but only now put into words – had sparked a thought, a clarification within. Chasing that unsteady candle of insight deep into his mind, he meditated, seeking enlightenment.

***

They traveled to exit the mystic realm the next morning, their party significantly reduced in size. Aid from the village had arrived at their camp to finish extracting the resources from the snake, leaving the original team – sans the earth elemental elder – to return to the village. Traveling back was faster and significantly less hazardous, as both Core Formation cultivators spread their auras across the surroundings in silent warning to potential predators.

Their return was celebrated with a stupendous feast, the meat of the Nascent Soul snake made into multiple dishes, from stews to steaks. Portions were handed out with only the barest modicum of care, though more than once; Wu Ying noted the presence of heaven’s chi traversing through the gathering as youngsters broke through under the chi-heavy diet of spirit meat.

Small wards were set-up, blocking off the stench of Body Cleansing cultivators clearing their second, third or fourth meridians to save appetites. Large wooden tubs were extracted, set to boil a distance away and where the fortunate and newly empowered cultivators were sent to cleanse themselves more fully.

In the midst of all the revelry and food, songs accompanied by flute and stringed instruments, overturned pots and simple hand drums arose. Pan Shui and Pan Mui were the highlight of those cirlces, signing, dancing and showing off their growing accomplishments with the spear to the delight of the village.

Wu Ying, as guest of honour, sat beside Chief Pan himself, speaking with the man long into the night. He repeated the story of their battle multiple times at different intervals, always ensuring to praise the villagers for their bravery and abilities, while downplaying his own role. In turn, news about this and the Shen kingdom was passed to him.

“The rebels rose up in the Meitan county, killing the administrative commander there and his military advisor. Supposedly, the army major in charge was assassinated at night by his second-in-command.” Chief Pan said, shaking his head. “They evacuated before the army could send reinforcements, disappearing into the wilderness.”

Glancing a little around automatically, Chief Pan continued. “They could not find the ringleaders, so they hung the city leaders who stayed behind and the sub-magistrate who had taken over as an example. Chopped their heads and limbs off, and displayed them on the city walls.”

Wu Ying winced. He did not need Chief Pan’s weighted and knowing glance to tell him how bad a decision that was. It might quell any immediate thought of rebellions but it would engender deep resentment among the populace, especially those who had known the innocent.

“Bad tidings all around. Supposedly there were two more attempts. Failed ones. But those rumors are more…” Chief Pan trailed off, as he searched for a word. “Well, unknown. Information is scarce on that and conflicting.”

Wu Ying nodded in understanding.

“But good news for you! The Wei and Shen kingdoms are to sit down and negotiate a cease-fire. Well, are probably negotiating one right now – for it was to start in spring. I understand an exchange of princesses and some other noble house marriages will be occurring.”

“That is good tidings.” Wu Ying smiled at the news. The only winners in a war were the weapon merchants and crows. “But will the sects be coming to the table too?”

The Chief could only shrug his shoulders at that question. They might get news, but it was slow. The negotiations to have negotiations likely had begun all the way in the fall of the year, perhaps winter if things had progressed quickly.

Still, it was good news. An end to the war would see fewer lives lost and more time to focus on more important things, like immortal ascension.

For a moment, Wu Ying wondered about his friends. His sister. Tou He, Fairy Yang, Liu Tsong, Li Yao, even Yin Xue and the others he had met along the way. He hoped they were well.

Then, another shout, another song and Pan Shui was before him, a hand held out; beckoning him to join their dances. And Wu Ying cast those thoughts aside, to rejoice in being alive after another close fight. Rejoice in being around people who reminded him so much of his own village, if stronger and stranger in some ways.

And all the while, leaving traces of itself, the sweet, sharp, cold smell of the heavens drifted down, touching upon the lucky few, binding the village close.

***

The fires had died down, the music had stopped. The last musician had fallen asleep, still strumming his guizhong and been pulled away from the fire before he fell within by an amused Wu Ying. Pan Shui, by his side, banked the fire, leaving the coals to glow and warm the sleeping villagers who piled around the remaining fire.

After one last glance around to ensure none of the children – all too young, all too vulnerable to the nip in the air to be left to sleep outside – were present, she looked consideringly at Wu Ying. Then, eyes glinting with mischief, she beckoned him to follow.

An eyebrow rose, but Wu Ying walked over to the woman who left the circle of fire quickly. They traversed through slumbering individuals and tables set outside for the feast, heading for the houses that dotted the slopes of the hill that the village was set-upon. When he tried to speak, Pan Shui just raised a finger to her lips, eyes glinting with further amusement.

Eventually they ended up before a hut after traversing through small alleys and behind buildings, the drifting noises of sleeping animals and the animal with two backs accompanying their silent trip. The building was similar to so many others within the village, built for guests and those still single but requiring privacy. Not connected to the main family homes, but set aside for the independent or those looking for such independence.

Pan Shui stopped at the door, smiling at Wu Ying. He looked at the building then at her, and began to shake his head.

“Cultivator Pan, I hold you in high regards…”

“Oh gods! No!” Pan Shui visibly shuddered. “That’d be like… like sleeping with Third Uncle.” Again, another, more thearatical shudder. Then, swiftly shaking off the nerves she knocked on the door before skipping away.

Puzzled by her actions, Wu Ying stared after the quickly departing figure, the woman going so far as to trigger a movement skill. By the time he shook off his shock, Pan Shui was too far away to call out to without waking others – at least without using some communication skills.

More importantly, the door that had been knocked upon had been opened, an angry looking Pan Yin glaring out of it, speaking before the door had fully swung open. “Ah Shui, I swear, if this is a prank… Cultivator Long!”

“Cultivator Pan.” Wu Ying bowed automatically. As he finished his greeting and came up, he could not help but let his gaze trek over her body, clad in light sleeping robes and highlighted by the spirit lamp from within her hut. “I’m sorry. I had not known you, this…” He gestured after where Pan Shui had disappeared.

“So it was her voice I heard. I was not mistaken,” Pan Yin said, eyes narrowing. “That damn imp.”

“I’ll leave you to your rest…” Wu Ying said, stepping backwards. “I apologise for the disturbance.”

“It is fine,” Pan Yin said. “A small matter.” She smiled a little, leaning against the door as she watched Wu Ying step.

“Good evening. Again,” Wu Ying said.

“Well, Cultivator Long, since you’re here…” Pan Yin said, suggestively, inching the door open.

“Cultivator Pan…” Wu Ying stopped, hesitating. His gaze flew to her body, highlighted as it was before he yanked it back up to her face. “This is not…”

“Political. At all. I understand you’ll be leaving. As does my father,” Pan Yin said. “Knowing that, and knowing that I seek nothing…”

“Appropriate.” Wu Ying pointed out.

“Perhaps for your kingdom.” She smiled. “But you’re not there. And I am willing.” She took a deeper breath, her body pressing against the thin silks. “I will not ask again.”

Wu Ying hesitated a brief moment more. There were many reasons not to. Midnight assignations – even in as liberal a clan as the Zhuang – always had political and personal entaglements. He was significantly stronger than her, which led to another concern. And, of course, the fact that he would be leaving always precursored such dalliances from growing serious.

Numerous reasons to turn her down. But he was still a man after all.

He took a step forward, crossed the threshold and gripped her waist, laying a passionate kiss on her. Pushing her back indoors, he kicked the door close and forgot about greater concerns. At least for that night.

***

That night was never discussed again by the parties involved. It was a single evening, of passion and energy before the pair slunk off. Yet, as though the evening was a bellwether, Wu Ying could feel that his time with the Zhuang clan was coming to an end. The spring planting season nearly over and what he could extract from the village, nearly done.

Pan Chen, forced to recuperate slowly, could no longer train with him. In the training grounds, Wu Ying moved through the motions of his forms, finding a smoothness and an integrity to the motions that he had missed before.

When enlightenment came, it did not arrive with thundering uproar or the crashing of heavenly chi; but the gentle breaking of power and the crystallization of hours of practice. He did not need to stop, he did not need to ponder further, for he had done the work before. And now the sword sang in his hand, as he heard its true voice, what it wanted.

A sword was a weapon, it was a killing device. A weapon of war and battle and death. It was never designed to be a tool like an axe, it was never meant for hunting to feed a family. It was a weapon to kill monsters and other humans.

He had known that, understood that portion of what a sword. It was a tool and weapon to Wu Ying, always had been. What he had missed though, what had been revealed while here to him that he had forgotten was that the sword was not just that.

A sword had been crafted by a blacksmith. Sometimes tiredly, sometimes angrily, often times for the weapons he wielded – with great care, love and precision. A sword was not just a tool, it could be a work of art, it could be used to create beauty in dance, on the wall, in the forms he moved through.

It might kill, but it could also desire to be more than that. A weapon could take lives, but in the right hands, it could save them too.

In the movement of his blade, Wu Ying found the Heart of the Sword and finally, broke through. A journey he had stepped upon so long ago, and perhaps, the final stage for now.