“Junior Wu Ying greets Elder Hsu,” Wu Ying said, bowing low.
“You are the new sparring partner?” Elder Hsu said, his eyes raking over Wu Ying’s form in a way that made the cultivator shiver. “Very low cultivation.” Wu Ying kept his head bent low, which was why when Elder Hsu raised his voice and barked, he jumped. “Well, hurry up then. Take your shirt off and get ready!”
“My shirt?”
“How else are we to spar? Quickly now. I do not like waiting.”
Wu Ying winced then pushed aside his confusion. He was here to spar, and if it was shirtless and bare knuckles, then so be it. It was strange, but the children in the village had occasionally done it to ensure they didn’t dirty or tear precious clothing. The oil was new though.
When Wu Ying shed his robes and walked in shirtless and weaponless, he was directed to a nearby pail. The cultivator grimaced but reached within, touching the sponge. He rubbed his hands on it before he began to liberally apply the oil to his body.
“Not so much. You’re not cooking yourself,” Elder Hsu rebuked Wu Ying.
“Sorry,” Wu Ying said, grabbing the nearby cloth and wiping off the excess.
In a few seconds, Wu Ying stood before Elder Hsu once more. A part of him found the entire situation amusing, since looked at in a certain way, the pair were of the same kind. Muscles built from physical labor undertaken during the Body Cleansing stage, both of them with tanned skin. Except Elder Hsu looked to be in his late thirties and could easily be double that as a Core Cultivator, and Wu Ying was but a beardless teenager. Also, he was less tanned and about three quarters the size of the Elder.
“Ready?” Elder Hsu said.
“Yes.”
“When you are ready, touch the ground with your hands,” Elder Hsu said, dropping low and putting both his hands on the ground.
Wu Ying hesitated and did the same. What happened next would take Wu Ying long hours of puzzling over to clarify, much like the remainder of the afternoon.
Crouched forward, Elder Hsu dropped even farther as he lowered his right knee toward the ground and dug into the earth the moment Wu Ying’s hands touched the ground. He then exploded forward with his arms outstretched, shoulder connecting with Wu Ying’s shins. Rather than hitting Wu Ying at or above his knee, which would have resulted in maximum impact, the Elder was kind enough to spare Wu Ying’s knees. But the sheer speed and momentum of the attack threw Wu Ying backward even as the outstretched arms closed and gripped his feet tightly, forcing Wu Ying’s body to pivot like a lever, bringing his head to the ground.
Only an instinctively arched back, tucked head, and a pair of hands slamming into the ground before he landed spared Wu Ying from a concussion. Before the cultivator could break away, he found that Elder Hsu was crawling up his body, his entire muscular and oiled form in close contact with Wu Ying’s. The Elder was so close and tight that Wu Ying’s abortive movements offered no escape. Each attempted move to free a hand or thrust a leg to throw Elder Hsu off was defeated by the gripping, squirming northerner.
Attached to Wu Ying, the Elder began the slow process of suffocating the ex-farmer. Even the experience of village wrestling competitions and scuffling with his friends was of little use to Wu Ying. Every single defense was thwarted, every option taken away as the Elder glommed himself to Wu Ying’s body. It was not even “proper” wrestling as the Elder forced a submission not due to a joint or neck lock but a slow, invasive crushing of the chest and body.
When Wu Ying was finally released, he lay on the ground, exhausted. When Elder Hsu walked away, Wu Ying flinched, his newfound claustrophobia acting up. The Sucking Snail indeed.
“Are you done then?” Elder Hsu said as he turned around on his side of the ring.
Wu Ying debated it internally. He had already gained the initial contribution points. He had experienced and learned what the others feared. Not just the loss to Elder Hsu—no inner sect member would expect to beat an Elder. Not without being a prodigy. No. It was the humiliating, half-naked, clingy loss, one bereft of any form of dignity. It was the slow suffocation of resolve, the trickling drain of energy, and the loss of all face. But…
Could you eat dignity?
“No, Elder.” Wu Ying rolled over and pushed himself to his feet as he took a deeper breath.
The bone-deep stubbornness of a farmer rose up, making Wu Ying turn to the Elder. If this was the Sucking Snail, then Wu Ying should see how the Northern Shen Kicking Style worked against it.
An hour later, Wu Ying clambered to his feet, wincing as tortured muscles and exhausted limbs trembled. The answer to the question of how well the Northern Shen worked was, not well. Wu Ying could almost swear that the Sucking Snail was built to fight the Northern Shen, the way it took away the vast majority of his options.
Elder Hsu’s approach was quick and explosive, almost always resulting in a single- or double-leg takedown. Since the Elder’s entire body shifted forward almost perpendicularly to the ground, there was no careless leading head to knee. Even when Wu Ying managed to land a kick to the incoming body, he then lost his balance from the rebounding force. In most such cases, by the time Wu Ying recovered his balance—or finished landing on the ground—Elder Hsu was too close for Wu Ying to dodge or attack again. And then he would find himself in the same position—being squeezed to death.
In the few instances where Wu Ying had managed to dodge Elder Hsu, the Northern Shen Kicking Style would allow him to upset Elder Hsu’s balance. Unfortunately, since the Elder kept his hands relatively close to his body, grabbing and locking his limbs was difficult. At times, the Elder even offered a limb, intent on establishing that initial contact so that he could squirm closer to Wu Ying.
Full body throws were even more dangerous because of the Elder’s ability to use the contact to stick himself to Wu Ying. Brief, momentary contact seemed to succeed, but of course, that made throws harder to pull off. Upsetting Elder Hsu’s balance and sense of timing was more effective, but that tactic only bought more time. It did little to allow Wu Ying to win.
In the end, the only victory Wu Ying could claim through the entire sparring session was that he managed to extend the amount of time it took before Elder Hsu managed to suffocate him. It was a pitiful victory, but one that Wu Ying gripped as tightly as he could as a fig leaf for his dignity.
“That’s enough,” Elder Hsu said as he eyed the weaving Wu Ying.
“But the assignment was for two hours,” Wu Ying said stubbornly.
“You are barely able to stand. Your gains are over for today, and each fight from now on will be finished ever faster. I will learn nothing beating a tired opponent,” Elder Hsu said.
Wu Ying took himself over to the water barrel. He found himself finishing three cups before he slowed down to wipe off his oily and sandy body. Wu Ying grimaced as the towel left much of the oil and sand on his body, even after repeated wiping.
“Use the bath,” Elder Hsu instructed Wu Ying.
When the cultivator turned his head, he saw the Elder pointing toward a cordoned off area.
“Thank you, Elder,” Wu Ying said.
When Wu Ying finally made his way to the bath, he was surprised to find a wooden tub constructed such that it could fit at least four adults within. A short distance away was an outdoor shower, one that Wu Ying used to remove the sand and oil. A laid-out brush and soap helped greatly with that exercise, leaving Wu Ying clean and eyeing the steaming bath. He frowned, considering whether Elder Hsu meant for him to use the bath as well or was he restricted to the shower.
In the end, temptation won over caution. Wu Ying climbed into the tub, underpants growing wet as he slid in. The heat and mineral water leeched the painful soreness from his aching muscles, allowing Wu Ying to relax and close his eyes. Soon, his head rested on the edge of the tub, the sinful warmth making Wu Ying forget his location.