“Sorry, Papa. Sorry, Mama.”
Chapter 14
The bandits slowly exited the dense undergrowth, no longer feeling the need to run as they cornered the bleeding cultivator. Wu Ying slowly looked across the group, his chest heaving as he sucked in air and his blood slowly mixed with the water lapping in the river.
“Finished running, have you?” Ji Ang said when he sauntered over. “I told you there was nowhere to go.”
“Leader! He blinded my brother. I ask that you let me kill him,” a particularly tall and gangly bandit snarled, showing the hooked sword that he held. “I’ll kill him slow for making us run.”
“You’re not his match, Ko Yan,” Ji Ang said, shaking his head. “I’ll finish him myself.”
“No! He hurt my brother. I will kill him,” Ko Yan said, moving forward with a snarl.
Ji Ang rolled his eyes and flicked his hands, allowing the other bandit to go forward.
Ko Yan grinned as he stalked forward, leering at Wu Ying. “I’m going to make you hurt and cry.”
“You said that already,” Wu Ying said softly. “At least your brother was better at getting things done. When he could see.”
The goading worked, making Ko Yan rush forward, his sword rising above his head. Wu Ying waited, watching, then moved, his sword speeding forward as he used the Sword’s Truth. The strike took Ko Yan in the throat, tearing through cartilage and bone and nearly decapitating the man. The next moment, as Wu Ying’s weight came fully down on his leg, the cultivator stumbled, nearly falling from a sudden lack of strength. He pushed himself upward with the help of his sword, his head spinning.
“One more,” Wu Ying breathed, offering the group a bloody smile.
“I told him,” Ji Ang said with a roll of his eyes. He raised his jian before he shook his head. “Let’s end this farce. Archers!”
Wu Ying blinked, straightening and trying to gauge the distance between him and the rest of the bandits. Too far. Even as the creak of bows being drawn reached his ears, he desperately considered his options. The dagger. If he pulled and threw it, perhaps…
“Who dares disturb me?” The voice roared through the riverbank, making pebbles dance and leaves shake.
An arrow, newly drawn, accidentally loosed into the ground. The group froze as a suffocating pressure enveloped them.
“What… who is that?” one of the bandits blathered, his hands shaking so badly he could barely hold his spear.
“Senior! I did not see you there. I apologize,” Ji Ang quickly recovered, bowing to the speaker behind Wu Ying.
Taking a gamble, Wu Ying turned his head carefully to look behind him and caught a glimpse of the speaker. A vivid-blue-and-white-robed man with a long, lustrous beard strode out from underneath the waterfall. As he walked lightly on the churning water, steam rose from his body as the water that soaked him evaporated.
“Your killing intent has disturbed my cultivation. How dare you bring your petty squabbles here?” the cultivator snarled.
Even tired as he was, Wu Ying could tell that the presence of this cultivator was far above any of them. He reminded Wu Ying of the senior Elders in his sect, those who had formed their cores. In other words, they were but bugs to the waterfall cultivator.
“We did not know Senior was using this waterfall. We would not have dared follow that cultivator here otherwise,” Ji Ang said, quick to push the blame onto Wu Ying.
“I… I was trying to get away, Senior.” Wu Ying wanted to raise his voice, to speak stronger, but he was finding it hard to even stay standing and conscious.
“Go. All of you. This one is about to die as it stands. And your killing intent is disturbing me,” the Senior said, looking between the group.
“But we have to kill him!”
There was no warning, no indication, just a twitch of a hand, and suddenly a spray of water flung itself at such speed that it tore apart the speaking bandit. The attack left a bloody mess and torn leaves behind, covering those bandits who stood beside the outspoken bandit with blood and viscera.
“Our apologies, Senior. You are correct. We will leave now,” Ji Ang said and bowed, waving his group back. He glared at Wu Ying, who could only offer a bloody smile before Ji Ang turned around.
As they left, Wu Ying slumped to the ground, willpower finally running out.
“I would begin cultivating once you’ve drawn out that dagger and bandaged your wounds. If you survive, that would be your fate,” the core cultivator said, almost disinterestedly.
Wu Ying turned to stare as the man walked back toward the waterfall. “Thank you, Senior.”
Receiving no reply, Wu Ying began the slow process of bandaging his wounds. He started with the ones that were easy to get to, doing his best not to jar the dagger in his stomach. When he was finally ready, having torn apart his clothing for bandages, he gritted his teeth. Gripping the dagger tightly, he pulled it out with a surge of strength then stuffed the cloth around the newly revealed wound. Not daring to disturb the Senior, he had gagged himself beforehand, so his cries were muffled. As he fell over from the pain, Wu Ying blanked out, only coming to minutes later.
Blood. So much blood lost. And his body still bleeding. Worse, Wu Ying knew that he had internal damage—muscles, veins, and innards torn apart from the jostling knife. Only the fact that the knife had been mostly blunt at the edges—more a shiv than a knife—had saved Wu Ying from receiving even more damage. Still, Wu Ying knew from his previous experience that infection would come soon.
There was but one solution. If he could cultivate and cultivate well, he could drive the impurities and the infections out from his body, keeping it clean and clear. To do that though, he would need a lot of chi. Grasping within his robe, Wu Ying levered himself to a sitting position and popped open the pill bottle.
One chance.
Wu Ying was exhausted, in pain from his injuries, and woozy from blood loss. Even with the pill, Wu Ying knew his chances of success were low. There was one way—to overdraft his chi from his dantian. To use it all, not leaving a single ounce in reserve. If it worked, he would break through the next level and heal a significant portion of the damage. If he failed, he would die on the spot.
Wu Ying swallowed the pill and waited in lotus position. In seconds, he felt the warmth from the pill enter his stomach, pulsing through his body as it drew power toward him. The tendrils of chi it sent through him made Wu Ying grit his teeth as it woke up his wounds. For a moment, his concentration wavered, then Wu Ying pushed the pain aside with a surge of will. His entire focus drew down deep into his torso, into his dantian, as he worked to collect the chi surging through his body.
First step, collect the chi, letting it run through his current meridians as needed, but mostly keeping the majority swirling within. Keep drawing the power in, from both the surroundings and the pill. The water, flowing a short distance away, refreshed the chi in the surroundings constantly and improved the flow of chi much the same way his movement-based cultivation did. It was part of the reason why cultivating in such locations was so common.
Wu Ying drew upon this external chi as well as the chi from the Marrow Cleansing pill, letting it swirl around the core of his dantian. He felt his dantian strain as it battled to handle all the new pressure. Pain radiated from Wu Ying’s wounds, nibbling at the edges of his consciousness even as Wu Ying struggled to keep the energy together. Wu Ying knew he was taking part in a careful balancing act—pull in as much chi as he could hold and channel before he lost his concentration entirely, before he lost consciousness. Eyes closed, darkness wreathed his inner world, nibbling at the edges of his mind. Slowly, Wu Ying felt his consciousness fade.
Time.
He set loose the energy, where it thundered down his meridians. The chi forced them open, burning his nerves and deep in his body as chi ran rampant through it. He plunged deep into his dantian and forced the energy out, pushing and shoving at the pool as he emptied it. It felt as if he was inverting the pool of chi within his body, blocking the flow of chi back to it even as he poured out the remaining energy. The pain increased as the energy, unable to move freely, burnt him from within.