Forty-five minutes later, Wu Ying came across the next pair of nobles. This time around, Wu Ying found no reason to stop, no desire to speak with them. A glance toward the setting sun informed him that he might have another couple of hours left before it set. Floating in that languid place of movement and cultivation, it took a long time for Wu Ying to realize why his initial estimation was wrong. In the mountains, sunsets happened much faster. There was no slow lingering on the horizon.
Discontent rushed through him, forcing Wu Ying to stagger and grip the rock wall for a second as his concentration broke and his chi rampaged. Wu Ying breathed hard, trying to calm down the pain that shot through his body. He coughed slightly, tasting blood from burst blood vessels in his chest and throat before he wiped his mouth. No. No time for this.
Focus.
His legs ached from overuse, his lower back throbbed with each motion, and his shoulders, his shoulders were on fire. He could barely feel his arms anymore. Even circulating his chi had only helped so much. And still, he had to carry all of this. For a moment, Wu Ying considered discarding the extra rice, but he shook it aside. No. Leaving the rice bags on the trail would be even worse than leaving them at the docks—who knew what would happen to the bags? Animals and other creatures could easily break the bags open.
And pain. Well, when wasn’t life painful? Working the fields every day, planting and caring for the rice stalks, digging and reinforcing the canals that flooded the rice paddies, harvesting the grain and starting all over again. Life was pain. But if you chose only that to focus on, then you forgot to enjoy the rest of your existence. A fresh breeze blowing by, carrying the smell of cooked lunch and fresh water. The lanterns that covered the village during the festival in early spring. His first kiss, stolen just before they had to go to class.
Small things, all the sweeter because of the pain. Perhaps for the nobles, this was excruciating. A true test of character. But it was no harder than working in a thunderstorm, trying to save as much of the harvest as possible. Or the times he had tilled the soil by pulling the tiller himself because the ox had been lent out to someone more in need.
Pain was a constant companion if you were a peasant. And this? This was just another Tuesday.
A step, then another. In time, he found his rhythm again. Then he picked it up further. At some point, he stopped cultivating consciously. A thread of chi rolled through his body, flooding his meridians and empowering him. But never did he stop.
“Is this it?” Wu Ying said, blinking slightly at the small gatekeeper’s hut. Beside it, the paifang, the traditional three-arched structure that denoted the entrance to the sect, stood before him. The paifang was washed in lush green paint, the circular pillars decorated with jade and gold. And at the top was the banner that named the sect.
“Don’t leave your bags there. Take it to the storeroom behind the kitchen,” the gatekeeper growled when Wu Ying looked as though he wanted to collapse.
“Where…?”
“Straight up the hill. Third road on the right, go to the back of the building.”
Groaning, his legs trembling uncontrollably, Wu Ying struggled forward. A part of him noted that he hadn’t seen Yin Xue since the docks. As much as he disliked the other, Wu Ying had to admit Yin Xue’s cultivation at Body Cleansing 4 had been well reinforced with both herbs and practice. In either case, Wu Ying would not let his failure to be the first up the mountain stop him.
“Just a little more,” Wu Ying muttered as he staggered up the hill. He swiped at the sweat that collected on his brow, reaching for the water pouch at his side and finding it empty. After all, he had not expected to climb a mountain. “Why are the roads so far apart?”
The paved roadway before him was wide, so wide that it almost felt as if he was back in town. The shrubbery and trees beside the pathway were carefully managed and trimmed, while the pathway itself was swept clean by hard-working sect members in simple, dark green clothing with verdant green stripes. But the roadway stretched on and on, the incline gentler but seemingly never-ending. Ten minutes of staggering and he finally found the second road that branched to the right.
“Just one more,” Wu Ying panted. He flexed his fingers, trying to force blood flow through his dead arms as he staggered forward.
Various sect members who were on their way back, now that night was falling, stared at the weaving boy, muttering among themselves at the insanity. After all, his bag bulged with rice bags, some strapped to the sides and top.
The corner. Finally. Wu Ying staggered to the right, almost bowling over a young lady as she came walking out. He twisted his body desperately, attempting to dodge her and stay balanced. He partially succeeded, leaving the young lady unmolested but himself on the ground, facing the sky. A wave of exhaustion ran through him as he watched the last rays of sunshine fade.
Fade.
Why was that important?
“Are you okay? Do you need help?” the woman asked.
“Fine. I am fine,” Wu Ying said. Except when he tried to stand, he could not do so.
“Lying down on the job,” Yin Xue said mockingly as he strolled up. “How typical of a lazy peasant.”
Wu Ying groaned as he tilted his head backward and sideways, spotting Yin Xue strolling forward. Even the normally kempt noble looked slightly bedraggled after the long walk, though Wu Ying knew he likely neither smelled nor looked as bad as Wu Ying. Yin Xue’s words were enough to ignite what little passion was left within his body and forced Wu Ying to roll sideways and struggle to his feet, his head going light as he reached halfway. As he began to fall, a hand gripped his arm and pulled gently but firmly, supporting his weight and the bag’s with ease.
“You?” Wu Ying said, blinking as he stared up the slender arm to spot the woman.
She smiled at Wu Ying demurely. “Lee Liu Tsong. You should take care better care of yourself.”
“Thank you, Senior Lee,” Wu Ying said.
It was no stretch to imagine that she was his senior in the sect. Liu Tsong had a beautiful, heart-shaped face and long hair that had been collected in the back in a simple bun, held together by a jade comb piece. As a Body Cleanser, she had extremely fair skin with nary a spot, but the strength she exhibited obviously indicated she was higher than Body Cleansing 4—at least 5, if not 6.
“Go. You should deposit that soon, otherwise Elder Huang will be upset,” Liu Tsong said.
“Thank you.” Wu Ying bowed his head then stumbled forward.
Yin Xue shifted his foot slightly, almost as if he would trip the other, but stilled his body when Liu Tsong turned her attention to him. The noble forced a smile before letting it widen as darkness overtook the mountain. Even Wu Ying in his exhaustion noted the change in lighting.
“Nooo…” Wu Ying whimpered. But he could not change the heavens. Not yet.
As Wu Ying staggered to the back of the building, he finally saw the end of the journey. Standing at the kitchen, lips pursed, was a middle-aged man in dark robes and a simple headdress of the Elders. This must be Elder Huang that Liu Tsong had mentioned.
“Elder,” Wu Ying greeted cordially.
“Put the bags there. And what kind of foolishness is this, carrying nine bags?” Elder Huang said. “What cultivation level are you at?”
“Body Cleansing 5,” Wu Ying answered as he dumped the bags aside.
Kitchen workers quickly moved to help the exhausted Wu Ying, who slumped to the ground, his body burning. When he realized what he was doing in front of the Elder, Wu Ying attempted to stand.
“Do not bother. It is obvious you have overdrawn your ability,” Elder Huang said with a sniff. “So you are one of Elder Cheng’s, are you?”
“Yes, Elder. I am Long Wu Ying,” Wu Ying said as he bowed. A part of him trembled, wondering if it was Elder Huang who would inform Elder Cheng of his failure. After all, he had not reached the building in time. Or would Fairy Yang speak with him directly?