“Cultivation exercise,” Wu Ying said.
One of the disadvantages of having a mostly empty dantian was the exhaustion it engendered. Wu Ying felt as though he was constantly only a quarter-full, having only finished a single steamed bun every meal. Except this state persisted throughout the day until he woke, when his constant expenditure of chi stopped and his natural regeneration refilled him.
“Ah. Is it going well?” Senior Goh said, cocking his head curiously.
Discussions between cultivators, even those within the same Sect, were always tenuous. Cultivation secrets were common, because knowing what another cultivator did gave you an advantage in battle. On the other hand, members of the same Sect were prone to practice the same cultivation forms and might be able to provide some degree of advice and support. And of course, being cultivators, most of their lives revolved around the progression of their immortality. Avoiding the topic entirely left one with few conversational topics.
“Not really,” Wu Ying said. “It’s… been a struggle.”
Wu Ying had debated if he was trying too many things at the same time and pushing too hard. He could progress the vortex without being nearly empty. It was easier to notice the differences and its disappearance when he was so empty, but it made it harder on Wu Ying. On top of that, because he had blocked out—or was attempting to block out—the flow of chi to his body that was not properly aspected, the total amount of chi he was drawing was lower than normal. It was like supping on soup using a spoon meant for children while one was ravenous. Slow, painful, and frustrating.
“Huh.” His Senior shrugged, having no more to say.
In truth, there wasn’t much to discuss. Not without giving more information. And this was one exercise that Wu Ying decided to keep to himself.
“Well, keep working on it.”
“I will,” Wu Ying said. “What next?”
“For the garden?” When Wu Ying nodded, Ru Ping pursed his lips. “We have more than enough gardeners inside. And the weather sniffers say that there should be no more chills, so…” Ru Ping turned his head, his gaze landing on a series of standing stones in one corner of the expansive gardens.
“Oh no.”
Ru Ping grinned. “Don’t worry. We can move them after lunch. I’ll show you all the map.”
Wu Ying let out another groan and seriously debated letting his dantian fill for this. Elder Li’s gardens were carefully adjusted according to the season. Between the chi gathering formation that surrounded the gardens themselves and the greater formation for the Sect, the chi density in the gardens was extremely high. But seasonal variations meant that the garden had to be constantly adjusted. In some cases, those adjustments were entirely natural—different types of plants that grew, bloomed, or faded during different seasons. But just as often, there were adjustments that had to be done manually—like the alteration of the rock formations, the pagodas, and the benches. It was backbreaking work. While it was done on a weekly—sometimes daily—basis, once a season, the major changes had to be made.
“Look at it this way. At least Elder Li isn’t going to be quizzing you,” Ru Ping said.
“At least.” Wu Ying shuddered at that thought.
Ever since winter had arrived, not only had the Elder decided to make Wu Ying continue his apothecary classes to better understand and use the herbs he gathered, she had begun questioning him whenever they met. She prodded him to finish memorizing the documentation she had gathered and forced Wu Ying to begin his own encyclopedia. One that included locations of where and what he had picked.
Wu Ying saw the value of what she wanted done. Every herbology encyclopedia, every manual on plants and spiritual supplies he had found differed. Some in small areas, some in large amounts. But when you were talking about identifying potentially fatal and toxic plants, even a small difference could be considered dangerous.
It was not even a matter of incompetence, but individual idiosyncrasies. Drawings of plants that might work for one author might be insufficient for another. Regional variations on plants—especially spirit herbs—could be significant. At times, certain plants could be identified by identifying the plants that grew around them, rather than the actual physiology of the plant itself. But that required a knowledge set that might—or might not—be available to other readers. And lastly, there were complications that arose from cultivators who had specific cultivation skills like Thrice-Seeing Chi Sight or Nose of the Porcine.
And so, you created your own encyclopedia. You wrote what you knew, added to it the notes you found, and hoped that it worked out. Eventually, your own document might be added to others. And so, the circle of badly created encyclopedias went on.
“You’re right,” Wu Ying said, flashing his friend and Senior a smile. “But if I’m moving all that, I’m eating first.”
Waving goodbye to his Senior, Wu Ying headed for the outer sect member he spotted carrying trays of food.
Chapter 5
Wu Ying groaned, staring at the slowly darkening sky as he leaned back and stretched the knotted muscles in his lower back. Sunset came fast in the mountains, which was why the gardening team had packed up once the sun started dipping. This time around, they’d managed to get everything finished on time, so Wu Ying found himself on the road down from the gardens, enjoying the smell of clean spring air. As he finished his stretch and continued his walk, the cultivator was surprised to see milling groups of sect members clustered together and chatting along the roadways, especially at the crossroads.
Wu Ying frowned, curiosity rising. Not enough to start a discussion with the others though, since he knew he’d eventually hear of it. The Sect was like his village in many ways. Any good gossip eventually made its way to his ears. And some not great gossip too.
He was nearly to his residence when his friends, Tou Hei, Li Yao, and Chao Kun found him. The pair of martial specialists and the monk were looking all too eager to discuss the latest gossip. Wu Ying stopped as they swarmed him.
“So are you excited?” Chao Kun said, his eyes gleaming.
“I’m not sure Wu Ying would be. Certainly not as much as you,” Tou Hei said, shooting Chao Kun an amused glare.
“He’s not dumb enough to get involved,” said Li Yao.
“Excited about what? Involved in what?” Wu Ying said exasperatedly.
“What? You haven’t heard?” Chao Kun said.
“Not yet.”
“The war,” Chao Kun said.
Wu Ying gave up and continued walking.
“You’re supposed to reply when someone asks you a question,” Li Yao said, rolling her eyes at Chao Kun. She skipped ahead and smiled at Wu Ying, falling in beside him with a welcoming, sweet smile.
“You haven’t answered his question either,” Tou Hei pointed out.
Li Yao pouted. “Neither have you!”
Wu Ying ignored the bickering group, strolling languidly and enjoying the walk in the fast cooling mountain. It would be nice to get home, to wash up. After a day of farming, a hot bath was perfect. And he knew that Ah Yee would have it ready for him. A luxury he felt guilty about sometimes, but one that he still indulged in. Was this the way nobles felt all the time?
“The king sent his envoy to talk to the Sect about the war,” Chao Kun finally explained when the trio’s argument ended. “He’s here to discuss our involvement.”
“They’re going to ask us to send more help,” Tou Hei said.
“The king always does this. He always asks for aid when things worsen. He should learn to wield his staff himself,” Li Yao groused.
“You’d know,” Chao Kun said.
Tou Hei frowned, cocking his head and looking at Wu Ying. Wu Ying mouthed “Lord,” making the ex-monk nod in understanding.
“A king’s envoy is a big thing, isn’t it?” Wu Ying said to head off the argument. “Something like the king himself?”