“You dare!”
The referee was vibrating in anger before Wu Ying shook his head, turning aside and looking around. He spotted Elder Shin staring at him, his lips compressed tightly, but the Elder made no move to stop the altercation. Wu Ying turned away from him, searching for and finding Elder Khoo. Meeting the Elder’s gaze, Wu Ying swept his gaze back to the referee continuing to harangue him, sending a silent plea. Elder Khoo looked between the pair before he turned to Elder Shin, raising a single eyebrow.
“Enough. Long Wu Ying has won the match.” Elder Shin’s lips curled up in disdain. “Both matches. With little grace or nobility, but what can you expect from a peasant?”
Wu Ying exhaled in relief, shaking out his sword and pulling another cloth from his robe to begin the laborious process of cleaning off the blood. He managed to make it mostly off the stage before the adrenaline rush finally ended, his control over his cultivation and his body crashing. He groaned as his chi ran rampant through his body, making Wu Ying stumble and fall.
“Rest, friend. You did well.” Tou He’s strong arms caught the exhausted cultivator, helping his friend down as the nobles and Elders watched the pair. Marking them in their minds.
Chapter 24
Days later, Wu Ying was sat cross-legged in the courtyard of his new villa. His new sanctum was the smallest, meanest, and least desired accommodation offered to a member of the inner sect. It was also three times the size of the home Wu Ying had resided in with his parents in the village and at least ten times as luxurious. Mother-of-pearl furniture, marble flooring, and beautiful scrollwork filled the building, set there as if each piece was not worth more than the entire contents of his parents’ house.
For this reason, Wu Ying found the inner courtyard the most comfortable location in his new residence. After he had moved aside the few stone benches, the center of the courtyard was empty of everything but training dummies, scattered pebbles, and soft grass. Even his well-appointed bedroom was too rich to allow Wu Ying to rest easily.
As he cultivated, memories of the last few days passed through Wu Ying’s mind. The days of rest in bed, aided via the lowest-grade recovery pills in the sect. Zhong Shei arriving to congratulate him about his winnings, then bidding farewell as he returned home, a new gleam of motivation in his eyes. The fights in the tournament had set the fire of ambition burning in the guard, giving Zhong Shei direction and a standard to aim for.
Liu Tsong and Tou Hei had both spent time with the invalid Wu Ying, one to chastise him for pushing himself so hard, the other to bemoan his new status in the sect. Just a day ago, Tou Hei had taken leave too—forced to join a sect expedition by his sponsoring Elder to “make him take things more seriously.” The ex-monk had only brightened at the prospect of getting to eat some of the spirit meat they were likely to acquire during the expedition.
Liu Tsong was also busy, working on her own areas of improvement. The female cultivator was an alchemist, researching the combination of alchemical potions with normal cooking. Her ultimate goal was to improve the taste of potions, making it possible for cultivation resources to be eaten as part of a daily meal, allowing the slow and careful build-up of an individual’s cultivation. It was because of this interest that Liu Tsong had been at the kitchen on the day they first met. Since Wu Ying had been injured, Liu Tsong had used the invalid cultivator as a test subject for her latest recipes, an act that had helped Wu Ying’s damaged meridians heal all the way.
Chi from the surroundings drew into him, the cleaner and higher air, along with the minor chi-gathering formations in the villa, making cultivating significantly faster. In fact, Wu Ying felt that he was nearing a breakthrough to the next level already.
A knock on his front door interrupted Wu Ying’s meditative cultivation, causing the cultivator to open his eyes. A thready exhalation sent out turbid air filled with the corruption and poison of the material world. Standing swiftly, Wu Ying took hold of the laid-out towels and dried himself, cleaning off the majority of the foul-smelling sweat that had accumulated on his body. A glance down showed that black blood had seeped out from his wounds, marring the whiteness of his bandages again.
Wu Ying’s servant appeared at the courtyard’s entrance, treading around the barrier that hid it. “Senior Long, Elder Cheng and Elder Yang are here.”
The servant was another addition, an old woman who few wanted but whose presence Wu Ying found great gratitude for. Without her, he would have to clean and visit the communal dining halls for meals, inconveniences that would have taken even more time from his cultivation.
“Thank you. Let them know I’ll be a few minutes.”
As the servant bowed and moved to relay his words, Elder Cheng strode in, ignoring proper manners. Behind him, Elder Yang—the newly promoted Fairy Yang—followed docilely. The recently promoted Elder looked resplendent in her new robes, her newly formed Core exerting a subtle pressure on Wu Ying even as he bowed to the pair.
“Elder Cheng. Elder Yang.”
Only at Elder Cheng’s gesture did Wu Ying dare raise his head. Unlike outer sect members, the rules and formalities binding those in the inner sect were more rigid.
“I thought I sent word for you to rest and not cultivate. Why did you ignore the warning?”
“I… I… I was bored, Elder. And I did not want to waste time.”
“There is no waste if you spent the time studying your manuals normally. Pushing yourself is good. Pushing until you injure yourself from your stubbornness is foolish. Learn the difference.”
“Yes, Elder.”
“Good,” Elder Cheng said, walking forward. “I wanted to congratulate you in person. Your victory was unexpected and unusual in its methods.”
“Thank you, Elder.”
“But you understand what you did, right? You are the peasant who not only beat your noble peers, but did so in an unsightly, undignified manner. You showcased once again that those with discipline, talent, and will can progress. To those diehard nobles, your presence is an insult, a reminder that they are indulgent children,” Elder Cheng said, his heavy gaze boring into Wu Ying. “They will not let you go. Not you, or those you are close with.” Wu Ying grimaced, and seeing his reaction, Elder Cheng said, “Speak freely.”
“Why does the sect let them? It’s obvious that if they do not take their studies seriously, they won’t progress further. If they push us down—”
“Us being the commoners?” Elder Cheng shook his head. “Politics hampers everything. There are factions that believe that commoners should be treated equally, given equal chances. Then there are nobles who consider themselves above all. It matters not. Those who are fated to ascend in this life will do so.”
Wu Ying stared at Elder Cheng, his eyes narrowing. Of course. Elder Cheng was one of those who believed in karma and fate. Absurdly so, it seemed, especially to those who did not believe as strongly. Even if karma and the threads of fate that bound each soul in the cycle of reincarnation were known facts, those who held so strongly to the beliefs and allowed them to influence their everyday lives were rare.
“I came here to offer my congratulations and my warnings. Your time in the inner sect will be more difficult. Especially as I must leave soon to advance my own training. Elder Yuan will be staying behind. She may provide you additional assistance at her discretion.”
Wu Ying sighed slightly. In truth, he was uncertain how much more difficult life could get—it was not as if the Elder had provided any significant help in the beginning. But Wu Ying could not help but admit that the man had aided him in his training. Without the intensive hours of training over the last few months, Wu Ying would have never won the fights.