“That peasant dared touch me!”
“And so you broke my rules by speeding up,” Chi Sing said, disdain in his tone. “You there. Change with this idiot. And you, pass me your sect stamp.”
“Why?”
Chi Sing casually slapped Yin Xue’s face at his question. When Yin Xue stared at Chi Sing, he received another slap, making his face grow redder.
“Hurry up.”
“Here!” Yin Xue offered his stamp from within his robes, anger making his entire face and neck flush red.
His disrespectful tone earned him another casual slap. As Yin Xue finally learned his lesson and ducked his head, he glared daggers at Chi Sing from under his brows. Finding Chi Sing entirely ignoring him, Yin Xue turned his ire on Wu Ying, who was openly smiling.
“I am removing twenty of your contribution points. Any objections? No. Good,” Chi Sing said, tossing back the sect stamp. Chi Sing looked around at the group staring at Yin Xue’s punishment. “Go ahead. Please. Break my rules. I do require more contribution points.”
With a rustle, all the watchers turned back to their opponents to continue sparring. Those who had begun to speed up slowed down, some doing so even further than the recommended amount as fear of losing their precious points pervaded the courtyard. Chi Sing smirked before he turned to look at Wu Ying, who still sat on the ground, with disdain.
Wu Ying scrambled to his feet and bowed. “Senior!”
“Useless. Learn to guard better.” Chi Sing turned away, leaving Wu Ying to face his new opponent.
The tubby cultivator who stared at Wu Ying offered him a half-smile, though a little malicious light glinted in his eyes.
Of course the nobles were going to blame him. Forcing himself not to sigh, Wu Ying readied himself for another round.
“Well, that could have gone worse,” Tou He said as he found Wu Ying lying on the ground after class had finally ended.
Thankfully, Chi Sing wasn’t a complete sadist and had allowed everyone to actually sit during this morning’s cultivation. If not, Wu Ying would never have managed to make it through the day. As expected, his next five opponents had taken the opportunity to lay into Wu Ying for his presumptuous behavior of getting beat upon in front of Chi Sing. The only reason he was not further bruised was due to the nobles taking care to only hit him at full strength when they were sure Chi Sing could not see.
“Really?” Wu Ying said as he took the offered hand and stood stiffly. Thankfully, cultivating had the side effect of refreshing his body, reducing the injuries that had accumulated over the last couple of hours.
“You could have lost all your duels,” Tou He said with a chuckle.
“You are not as funny as you think,” Wu Ying said as he limped toward the dining hall. “How did you do?”
“Adequately.”
“Senior monk, will we see you later for training?” another cultivator said, looking at Tou He imploringly.
“Yes, of course. I promised.”
At his words, the cultivator bowed low and hurried off to join his friends.
“Just adequately, eh?” Wu Ying said.
“You could join us,” Tou He offered.
“I need to work on the style I purchased.” Wu Ying rubbed his ribs. “I’ve got a long way to go before it’s useable in sparring practice.”
“Yet you used it,” Tou He said.
“I learn faster that way,” Wu Ying said. Balancing the use of what he knew, what he was trying to apply, and not getting hit had taxed Wu Ying’s mental processes to the maximum. Which obviously meant that he was slower than ever to react to attacks. “At least when I kick their ass in the tournament, they’ll be surprised.”
“Good,” Tou He said, clapping his friend on the shoulder and eliciting a wince. “Perseverance is important for a cultivator.”
“As is a high pain threshold,” Wu Ying added.
That evening, Wu Ying stood in a small clearing halfway down the hill. It was one of many small parks that dotted the mountain, but this one was rarely used due to its location. Between the distance from the residences and the lack of sect-provided lighting, few outer sect members felt the need to visit. For Wu Ying though, the privacy was a boon. It allowed him to practice the Northern Shen martial style without interruption and, as importantly, without embarrassment.
“Four inches.” Wu Ying groaned out loud as he dropped lower. The damn stance with the leg outstretched hurt. That he was meant to be able to lower his body all the way to the ground with one leg extended and the other tucked beneath him before shifting smoothly and twisting was ridiculous.
The footwork in the Northern Shen Kicking Style was both esoteric and angular, requiring him to shift his body with each step to evade attacks. Unlike some styles, the focus was more on evasion than blocking attacks, allowing the fighter to close the distance on evaded strikes before countering. It also meant that, among other things, it required a greater degree of flexibility than any other style that Wu Ying had ever practiced.
“Then… Swallow Greets the Crane.” Transfer weight and kick. As much as Wu Ying would prefer to complete this portion slowly, he had neither the strength, flexibility, nor balance to do so. Yet. The front kick flashed upward before he pivoted and dropped his foot to the side, landing to the side and shifting his body again.
Hours of practice. Each step followed by a movement. Sometimes a block, sometimes a punch. A warding gesture, a gentle plucking motion. Kicks. So many kicks. And interspersed, the locks, throws, and upsets that made up the core of the style.
In truth, Wu Ying knew, at a certain point, his lone study would have to end. Grips, locks, and throws just couldn’t be practiced well without a partner. The question was, who could he work with? Thinking back to his humiliating defeats, Wu Ying knew that he would need to keep at least a portion of his form hidden if he were to have any chance in the upcoming exams.
Deep in thought, Wu Ying spun and turned, the guttering flame of the lanterns he had brought slowly darkening as the night faded.
Chapter 10
A week later, Wu Ying found himself standing before Elder Huang once again, his work done for the day. Wu Ying offered the Elder a tentative smile while he gestured to the sect stamp in his hand.
“Rubbish! You think I’ll spend my time filling your contribution points for you every day? What do you think I am? So free to do this kind of work?” Elder Huang scoffed. “Go see the administrative office and do it yourself, you lazy trash. And run another delivery for me for wasting my time.”
Wu Ying bowed low even as he took Elder Huang’s chiding in good grace. The Elder was not incorrect—he should have known better than to bother the Elder with such a trivial thing. No one in power wanted to be questioned over minor things. Turning around, Wu Ying took off down the mountain, a portion of him daydreaming about the kinds of things he might purchase with his new contribution points.
Hours later, Wu Ying found himself outside a large administrative building that was but a stone’s throw from the library itself. While Wu Ying had seen it before on his—only—visit to the library, he had not paid much attention to it. Now, washed and clean, Wu Ying found himself dreading his visit to the administrative building as he recalled Liu Tsong’s earlier vague comments. Thus far, most of his interactions with others had been less than stellar.
Built on a slope on the hill, the building required one to ascend a series of stone steps to reach the door. The building itself showcased the wealth of the sect, with its intricately decorated columns and carved edging along the sloped, tiled roof. Even the pair of large, double-doored entrances were carefully decorated with mother-of-pearl inlays highlighting memorable acts by the sect’s founder. Within, a series of long counters faced the entrance, where severe-looking attendants worked. Small, discreet plaques indicated the locations that outer, inner, and core members were to line up. Not surprisingly, the line for outer sect members was the longest, with the fewest attendants waiting on them. Seeing the line continue to grow as he looked around, Wu Ying hurried to get into line and wait his turn.