“Go back to your squad. Think about the matter. If you decide to join us, speak with Little Yang again. I have to leave soon, but she will take you to the sect.” Elder Cheng waved, an obvious dismissal that Wu Ying took with grace, bowing as he left, his head spinning.
Him? A cultivator? The Heaven sure had an amusing sense of humor.
It did not take Wu Ying long to find his squad. It only cost him a few questions to better-oriented soldiers. When he found the squad, his eyes widened to see that many were cleaning and caring for weapons and armor that obviously had recently seen use. Spotting his big friend among the other conscripts was easy.
“What happened?” Wu Ying said to Fa Hui when he managed to make his way over.
“Wu Ying. You’re alive!” Fa Hui exclaimed with good cheer, standing and clapping Wu Ying on the shoulder. “I’m so glad.”
“As am I. But what happened to you all? Were you in the battle?” Wu Ying said.
Well, perhaps he shouldn’t have been that surprised. After all, the entire army had clashed but a day ago. Still, to add untested and untrained conscripts to the fight seemed foolhardy. And certainly not something the army would normally do, if his father’s stories were to be trusted.
“We were!” Fa Hui said with a grin. “At first we were placed with the reserves. But about halfway through the day, a lot of our reserves were sent back to the camp to deal with a disturbance there. Soon after that, the army of Wei pushed our lines hard and even managed to break through!
“Of course, they sent us in then, along with the Elder from the Verdant Green Waters Sect. You should have seen Elder Pang when he fought! One slice of his blade and dozens of soldiers fell. Those cowards from Wei would have run if it wasn’t for the Elder from the Six Jade Gates Sect showing up.”
“Rubbish. It was only a dozen with each strike,” Sun An said, peering closely at Wu Ying with a puzzled look in his eyes.
“Then?” Wu Ying said as he prodded Fa Hui to continue his talk.
“Well, after that, Elder Pang and the Wei Elder fought above us, running along our shoulders and striking at one another with their swords. Not that I had much time to see them fight —we had to push them back ourselves,” Fa Hui said. Fa Hui then proceeded to regale Wu Ying with tales of the fight, of the chaotic scene that accompanied the push of the spears as each army attempted to shove the other back. In the end though, even Fa Hui ran out of ways of saying things were chaotic, bloody and deadly. “I hate to say it, but Yin Xue was actually quite brave. He charged the Wei Elder and managed to exchange a single blow with him. It allowed Elder Pang to launch an attack that the Wei Elder could not block, injuring him. After that, the Wei coward ran off and we pushed the army back.”
Sun An snorted. “Brave or idiotic? If his horse had not balked, he would have lost his head. As it was, he’s lucky all he received was a cut across his chest.”
“That kind of luck, I would take. Elder Pang was so grateful, he even offered Yin Xue a chance to join the sect as an outer discipline!” Fa Hui said.
“Him too?” Wu Ying muttered.
At the exclamation of shock from his friends, Wu Ying found himself having to explain what had happened to him over the past few weeks. Luckily, it did not take long for him to relate his side of the story.
“And you turned the Elder down?” Fa Hui said, shocked.
“I didn’t turn him down,” Wu Ying said defensively. “But my parents—”
“Would understand. You are being offered the chance to become a cultivator! To gain immortality, or at least a long life. And if you become an inner disciple, you could easily pay for extra help for your father,” Fa Hui said. “You cannot be hesitating over them!”
“I can,” Wu Ying said. “They are getting old. And you know my father cannot work that long in the fields. I do most of the work as it stands. And it’s only an offer to be an outer disciple.”
“But you could still afford to send something back to help, could you not?” Sun An said. “I hear that even outer disciples receive three taels of silver a month. On top of not having to feed or house themselves.”
Wu Ying could only nod in agreement. When Fa Hui prodded him, literally, Wu Ying shook his head and stood. “I best report in to the sergeant. I’m sure he has something more to say to me. Perhaps with the fight over, we’ll be sent back?”
“You’re funny,” Sun An said, smirking.
Wu Ying could only offer a wry grin. They all knew that this was but a skirmish. The war had dragged on for years. It was unlikely that it would end over a single fight.
As Wu Ying reported in to the sergeant—and received latrine duty for his lack of participation in the earlier battle as punishment—he found himself wondering what, exactly, had him hesitating. Sure, life as a cultivator was significantly more dangerous. Everyone had heard about the fights between sects, the constant battles between cultivators as they searched for spiritual herbs, for weapons, for cultivation manuals. Of the feuds that grew between individuals.
Was it fear? Wu Ying dug into himself and the latrine, cleaning the sides and moving the refuse to the wheelbarrow, where another unfortunate would take the fertilizer to be deposited elsewhere. No, Wu Ying decided, it was not fear. It was uncertainty and the unknown. All his life, he had known what would happen. Even being conscripted had not been particularly surprising. He knew what to do in the army, or what was expected of him at least. Life as a peasant might have been boring, but it was predictable. The calamities they faced were pedestrian, common.
But a cultivator? That future was more uncertain. What would he do with a hundred, two hundred years of life? With the strength to fight a dozen men? With the respect of others? For the first time, Wu Ying found that his horizons did not end at the back of an ox or behind a plough. Perhaps…
Perhaps that was enough. A chance. An opportunity for something more. Something better. It was not a declaration of wanting to become the number one under heaven. Or gaining immortality like one of the eight immortals of Daoism. But it was all he had. And for a farmer’s son, it was enough.
For now at least.
Chapter 5
The next morning, Yang Fa Yuan was waiting for him at the exit to the camps. After completing all his tasks yesterday, Wu Ying had returned to inform them of his decision. After brief greetings, the pair joined up with the rest of the individuals who had been chosen to join the sect—a sparse four others who waited beside the gates with their horses. Wu Ying had to admit, if nothing else, the look of astonishment and doubt that Yin Xue shot him when he arrived with Fairy Yang made his initial doubts about his choice seem trivial. Already this new life was paying out.
“Come. We will go to Er-cheng, where we will take the boat the rest of the way.” With that said, Fairy Yang led the group to the edge of the camp. At the road, she turned her head toward the group and said simply, “If you fall behind, you fail.”
Having passed on her ultimatum, Fa Yuan mounted her horse and set it to a slow trot. Each step of her horse took her farther from the startled initiates, before Wu Ying woke himself up from his surprise and took off jogging. Immediately, the rest of the group followed, though Wu Ying knew that this was an unfair challenge. As the only one with humble beginnings, he was also the only one on foot.
Once Wu Ying had caught up, he slowed down to keep pace with Fairy Yang while silently marveling at the chi coursing through his body. A significant amount of food and a good night’s sleep seemed to have restored his body to a state that was even better than before. Moreover, Wu Ying knew that he was still not at his peak state either. Given more time and sufficient food, he would be able to reach heights he had never known.
With those thoughts, Wu Ying ran alongside Fairy Yang. Occasionally he glanced over to see the back and side of the young woman escorting them and noted how no matter how far they had gone, neither her clothing nor her physique was stained with sweat or dust. It was partly the visage of the curves of her body, pressed tight by the wind of their passage, that drove him on. Not that he ever had a chance with such an august personage, but he would not be a man if he didn’t admire her form.