Thankfully, being in the Body Cleansing stage, Wu Ying was much less likely to harm his future potential by increasing his cultivation so fast. Still, if he could, he would prefer to spend more time reinforcing and cleansing the opened meridians before he attempted the eighth level. If nothing else, it would help him control his aura better.
“Sir cultivator, the lieutenant’s shift will be over soon,” the guard on the other side of the door said when Wu Ying finally opened it. A moment later, the guard’s nose wrinkled slightly. “We do have a wash area as well.”
Wu Ying stared at the guard, who looked uncomfortable, probably belatedly remembering that Wu Ying was actually a cultivator.
“Show me, if you will,” Wu Ying said, keeping his face stern. He had to admit, he was a little miffed but also somewhat amused.
The guard relaxed, quickly guiding Wu Ying toward the back, where a bucket and an urn of fresh water waited. A few minutes later, Wu Ying was clean and refreshed and walked out to see an impatient-looking lieutenant. Zhong Shei’s tight gaze relaxed slightly when he spotted Wu Ying, almost looking approving when he noticed the formerly dusty and dirty peasant had cleaned up. Somewhat.
“Come. My uncle’s house is this way,” Zhong Shei said, gesturing for Wu Ying to follow.
Wu Ying hurried after the man who did not slow down as he strode through the streets. All around, pedestrians moved out of the way of the uniformed and armored soldier, paying the customary respect for authority. What was not customary were the murmured words of praise and admiration coming from the women whose eyes followed Zhong Shei’s figure.
Looking out of the corner of his eyes, Wu Ying mentally compared himself to the soldier. Okay, so Zhong Shei’s hair was a little longer, a darker black, and much glossier. And yes, his skin was fair too, free of any pockmarks, blemishes, and scars, unlike the weather-worn visage Wu Ying held. Even with his improved cultivation, the fact stood that Wu Ying had been running for the last few weeks in the blazing sun. Improved cultivation—at his level—could only do so much. And Zhong Shei might be a touch taller. But Wu Ying’s shoulders were broader, his chest wider, and arms and thighs bigger!
Well, okay. Perhaps too big. Wu Ying knew he was stockier than most of the effete noblemen and merchants’ sons. After all, he had spent his growing years working the fields and not lounging around, reading books and drinking tea. His mood darkening slightly, Wu Ying moved behind Zhong Shei in silence. It seemed that even as a cultivator, he was doomed to stand in the shadow of the nobles and merchants.
“We’re here,” Zhong Shei announced without preamble. He gestured to the doors. “Be mindful of my uncle if you see him. He is touchy and hard to get along with, but remember, it is his wine.”
“Of course. I am already grateful at my fortune to meet someone so well-connected.”
“I am, aren’t I?” Zhong Shei preened as they entered the mansion. They turned to move around the wall that blocked the view into the house before the pair were met by a servant. “Ah, Ah Kong! I’m headed to the cellar with an acquaintance. No need to tell my uncle.”
“Yes, sir,” Ah Kong said, bowing.
“Actually…” Wu Ying said hesitantly before he pulled out the seal provided to him by Elder Xi Qi. “I was also entrusted with this to show to your uncle. Elder Lu said your uncle would recognize it.”
“This…” Zhong Shei’s lips pursed before he let out an exasperated breath. “Fine. Ah Kong, take it to my uncle.”
“Of course.”
The seal was quickly taken by Ah Kong, who left while Zhong Shei stomped along without a word. Wu Ying hurried to catch up, looking at the well-appointed house with wide eyes. The mansion was the largest he had ever been in personally, potentially even larger than the lord’s mansion back in the village, and was built in a U shape. Wu Ying assumed Zhong Shei lived there, since the guard was unlikely to have married yet.
Even if the building was significantly larger, the basic architecture was similar to most other residential buildings, with half-exposed wooden beams interspersed between the doors and white-painted plaster. Of course, in Wu Ying’s house, they’d used packed earth and had not bothered to paint the walls. Nor did they have any of the various scrolls and paintings that hung conspicuously throughout the building.
“Don’t dawdle. I’m not here to show you the house,” Zhong Shei snapped at Wu Ying, who flushed slightly with guilt.
Of course, he was not an actual guest, so taking the time to peruse the works there was not allowed. More the pity too, as the works were all better than anything Wu Ying had seen except in the sect.
“Here we are,” Zhong Shei said. From wall to ceiling, the storeroom was filled with wine jars, so crammed full that the shelves were nearly overflowing. Zhong Shei strode in without a care and looked through the numerous wine jars, reading the scribbled notes hanging off the necks of the jars before he set three aside. “This should be it.”
“Thank you, honored Tung. Here is your snakeskin,” Wu Ying said, offering the skin.
The pair did a quick switch, one that involved a little more juggling than either would have preferred, as the room had no convenient table. But finally, Wu Ying had the jars of wine in his bag, packed with donated rags and hay to increase their survivability.
“Good. Time to go,” Zhong Shei said and waved Wu Ying out.
Wu Ying frowned, wanting to remind Zhong Shei about the Elder’s seal, but a crotchety old voice cut him off.
“Taking from my personal collection again, are you? What did I say about that?” the voice said.
Wu Ying turned, spotting a short, older man who exuded a presence that made Wu Ying’s breath catch. A part of him analyzed this new presence, trying to decide on how it “felt” compared to the Elders in his sect and benefactor Dun. The rest of him was busy bowing low and sweating internally.
“Uncle[22]! I was just finishing a trade,” Zhong Shei said with a wide and innocent smile.
“You brat.” Uncle Tung strode forward and smacked Zhong Shei over the top of his head. “Always taking from my collection. That snakeskin, it’s for that Ong girl, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Uncle. It really suits her eyes, don’t you think?” Zhong Shei’s quick and enthusiastic reply was met with another smack.
“Idiot boy. All of you chasing after one girl.” Uncle Tung then turned to Wu Ying, who had stayed bowed, preferring to keep his head down—literally—than get involved in what sounded like a favorite nephew and uncle bickering. Never get involved in family disputes. Any smart Chinese knew that one. “You’re the one who brought this?”
Straightening, Wu Ying glanced at the seal Uncle Tung was holding up. “Yes, honored Elder.”
“So he’s still alive. And out of wine again. Fine…” Uncle Tung walked inside the room and rooted around the back. Eventually, he came back with a dusty wine jar.
Zhong Shei’s eyes widened as he stared at the jar before looking between it and Wu Ying incredulously. As Wu Ying held out both hands to take it, Uncle Tung pulled his hands back.
“Elder?”
“I have a better idea.” Uncle Tung turned to Zhong Shei, holding the wine bottle in front of him. “You’ll guard and deliver this for me. Along with a letter.”
“Uncle, I have a job.”
“I’ll deal with it,” Uncle Tung said with a casual wave. “This one does not look strong enough to guard this properly. Not alone. And you need tempering. A good trip might open your eyes.”
“But Lady Ong—”
“Will get her armor. When you’re back,” Uncle Tung said sternly. “How long have you been stuck at the eight level?”
“A year.”
“With the amount of spirit pills and meat you ingest, you should already have broken through,” Uncle Tung said. “You need more experiences. More enlightenment. And discipline. This trip will be good for you.”