Wu Ying coughed once then again, blood flying from his lips as blood vessels within him broke. Blood dripped from his nose, delicate vessels torn asunder. Wounds that had stopped bleeding broke open again, vicious black and green sludge mixing with his heart’s blood. Pain, so much pain that Wu Ying was in no danger of losing consciousness now, consumed him. But perhaps because it was so great, it stopped mattering.
Now.
He released his grip on his dantian, allowing the chi to flow again. It thundered back into the center of his stomach, pounding the walls of the container, and it was all that Wu Ying could do to hold it together. As more flooded in, Wu Ying worked to guide the chi out, restoring the circulation circuit. Seven meridians now thrummed with power, though even Wu Ying could tell that the seventh’s was barely broken open. Insufficient chi to properly facilitate its use.
But with seven open meridians, his body was healing and fixing itself at a rate that was more than ten times the speed of a non-cultivator. Infection that had threatened to take root was pushed out, burnt away by the chi that soared through his body, while his wounds slowly scabbed over. In the blink of an eye, the Meridian Opening pill was used up and his body’s acupuncture points opened, sucking down chi as fast as they could. Without thinking, Wu Ying let his hand dip into the water nearby and sipped water from a cupped hand to replace his lost fluids. The entire movement was unconscious, driven purely by instinct.
Under the waterfall, where water pounded his body, strengthening it and drawing additional chi toward him, the core cultivator sat. An eye cracked open, staring briefly at Wu Ying’s silent figure before it closed again, and the lightest traces of a crooked smile crossed the cultivator’s face.
Under the pounding thunder of the waterfall, the gurgling brook, and softly swaying leaves, the pair of cultivators sat, drawing in the world’s chi as they grew stronger.
When Wu Ying finally consciously opened his eyes, days had passed. Cultivation, true cultivation, always passed in the blink of an eye. For powerful core cultivators and beyond, cultivation could easily take months or years. At that stage, the cultivator was not only processing additional chi but also the insights, the minor moments of enlightenment that the cultivator had accumulated. For those advanced cultivators, the chi they drew in was more than sufficient to sustain their bodies.
Wu Ying was nowhere close to that stage, and by now, his body had processed all the normal stores of energy. If he continued cultivating, he would seriously hamper his body’s healing as it took even more resources from his body, eating away flesh and nerves. For now at least, his body had patched over the majority of his wounds.
“Thank you, Senior, for your earlier help and for letting me stay,” Wu Ying said as he stood. When he finished speaking, Wu Ying bowed low in the direction of the waterfall.
If the senior cultivator had not intervened, Wu Ying would have died for certain. Even then, he almost did. A part of Wu Ying wondered why, but he dismissed the question. Whether it was completely altruistic or there was another reason, Wu Ying would pay the debt when needed.
Having paid observance to formal courtesy, Wu Ying walked farther down the river. During his flight, Wu Ying had lost his pack. His clothes were torn, tattered, and blood-stained. Not that the peasant tunics he wore were a great loss, but without his sect robes that were in his pack, he had nothing to change into. Rather than walk through the woods with blood-stained robes, Wu Ying decided to move downstream before he attempted to wash himself clean. In that way, he would not be disturbing the senior. Or at least, he hoped so.
There was, of course, a certain amount of hesitation in leaving the vicinity of his erstwhile protector. He had no guarantee Ji Ang was not waiting for him to do that very thing. Then again, Wu Ying also dared not stay too long and potentially anger his benefactor. Better to leave and risk being attacked again. Still, Wu Ying cautiously checked the forest edges and the surroundings before he waded into the water to wash and find a meal.
An hour later, Wu Ying had a fire and just under half a dozen fish roasting on sticks. He was looking at the food impatiently, his stomach growling at even the hint of freshly cooked fish. Thankfully, the fish in this particular river were both trusting and nowhere near fast enough to avoid the cultivator. Even so, the light exercise of catching his meal had informed Wu Ying that his wounds were still in need of healing. At least in this life-and-death battle, he had come out ahead.
As fat sizzled and dropped onto the fire once again, Wu Ying lightly poked the edge of the fish with a whittled stick, watching as the wood slipped into the cooked flesh with ease. Lips pulled wide into a grin, Wu Ying took the fish off the fire and placed them on a washed, flat rock.
“That smells good.”
The words made Wu Ying jump, a hand dropping toward his sword before invoked memory told him who the speaker was.
“Benefactor.” Wu Ying bowed to the senior cultivator, dropping his hand away from his sword. That the cultivator had managed to sneak up on Wu Ying was not surprising, if somewhat ego busting. “I’d be honored if you joined me.”
“I will,” the cultivator said, sitting down and taking the proffered stick of fish.
In silence, the pair ate, Wu Ying’s aching stomach only slightly mollified by the tender white flesh. That he had to give the majority of the fish to his benefactor was painful.
“Thank you for the meal. I am Dun Yuan Rang,” Yuan Rang said finally.
“A pleasure to meet you, Senior Dun. Long Wu Ying at your service,” Wu Ying said with a slight bow of his head.
“You have interesting enemies, Wu Ying,” Yuan Rang said.
As Wu Ying flushed and opened his mouth to protest, his stomach rumbled again. “My apologies!” Wu Ying bowed immediately.
“It seems I have taken your lunch.” Yuan Rang stood then looked at the water before he shook his hand. A sword dropped into it, seeming to appear from nowhere.
Wu Ying’s eyes widened as he realized that Yuan Rang carried a storage ring—an enchanted object that could store objects in a hidden space. Wu Ying had heard of them in tall tales spoken of cultivators, but had never expected to see one in use himself.
As Wu Ying was getting over his surprise, Yuan Rang drew his sword from its scabbard. A gentle flick of his hand made the sword dart out and plunge into the water. Finger held before his face, Yuan Rang swirled it around for a few moments before he jerked the fingers back to himself. Following his gestures, the sword flashed back out of the river to land in Yuan Rang’s hand. On the sword, still wriggling slightly, were seven large and exquisite-looking river carp.
“Here.” Yuan Rang gestured as he dropped the carp onto the stone Wu Ying had used. He also absently tossed a small pack on the ground. “Salt.”
After thanking Yuan Rang, Wu Ying quickly cleaned, gutted, and pierced the fish before setting them around the fire. Yuan Rang stood a short distance away, staring at the flowing water without moving.
“Come,” Yuan Rang called to Wu Ying when he was done and had washed his hands clean of the offal.
“Yes, Senior?” Wu Ying said, trotting over obediently.
“You practice the Long family jian style and are at the seventh layer of Body Cleansing, yes?” Yuan Rang said.
“Yes, Senior.” Wu Ying was not surprised that his secrets were exposed—his attack, his cultivation, it had all been in the presence of this Elder.