Lord Wen had been as good as his word, allowing Wu Ying’s family and the village to leave. What amused Wu Ying, in a cynical and tired manner, was the way the Lord had already filled the empty houses and fields with refugees from the border. It seemed that the constant fighting and the threat of slavery had driven away even the hardy peasants who had lived in those areas. Wu Ying was sure, if asked by magistrates or pursuers from their former landowners, that all of the new residents of his village—his past village—would swear that they had lived there for ages. It would be a good disguise for them. After all, who kept track of and paid attention to peasants?
And if the armies were close to their new homes, at least their army was between them and the enemy.
Wu Ying was thinking those thoughts while staring at the teacup in his hand. The group waited in the very same room they had first been seen in. Only the quiet announcement of the Lord’s presence took his attention away from his cynical thoughts.
“You have it?” Lord Wen said. “Show it to me.”
Wu Ying complied. There was no point in dragging this out. He missed the Sect, his bed, and his home. He wanted to make sure his family had settled in—had made it for that matter. This entire journey had been a long diversion from his goal of becoming an immortal cultivator.
Lord Wen stared at the tablets, infusing them with his chi and humming to himself as he read through the text. He studied the documents for long, long minutes. Much longer than he probably needed to to ascertain their validity. Wu Ying was not sure if it was rudeness or that the Lord was used to making others wait. In either case, eventually Lord Wen looked up.
“Good. And my son? You have a copy?” he asked.
“Yes. I made one while we traveled.” Yin Xue smiled.
Of them all, the nobleman’s son had gained the most from the trip. He had begun training with the new cultivation method, rerouting how his chi moved, how he tapped into the world. At first, his cultivation level had regressed, but in short order, he had cleared his meridians again and even improved his cultivation. He was now in the middle levels of the Energy Storage stage. That left Wu Ying significantly behind all his friends, still stuck at Body Cultivation 12.
“Good. Cultivate well then. Your mother will be happy to hear that.” Lord Wen stared at his son for a moment more before he waved Yin Xue outside. “You should speak with your cousins. Pass on your gathered wisdom. They will be learning this method soon.”
Lord Wen glanced at the others, taking in their disheveled appearance, then clapped his hands. In seconds, servants arrived. He directed them to take the others away to wash up, leaving Wu Ying and himself alone.
“Lord?” Wu Ying asked. He did not fear betrayal, not at this point. It would make little sense. Then again, none of this made sense.
“This transaction is over.” Lord Wen tapped the manual. “But for what you’ve done, what you did to my son, I will not forgive you. You will not show yourself before me again. Hinder my son’s potential again and I will take further action.”
Wu Ying stiffened at the threat. He glared at the nobleman, then he paused as a thought struck him. He regarded the nobleman for a long moment before he said in wonder, “You really believe he could be a true cultivator.”
Noblemen sent their children to the Sect to gain power. Influence. And, eventually, to return to the fold. Not even one in a ten thousand cultivators grew a Nascent Soul. Not even one in a million ascended the heavens. Few nobles, few families, would gamble with those odds. At least, not with first sons.
“He has more talent than anyone in the last three generations. He will either be a powerful cultivator, a strength for our clan, or he will be an immortal. If”—Lord Wen fixed Wu Ying with a glare—“others do not get in his way.”
Wu Ying shook his head and even found himself smiling as he slapped his hand on the table and stood. “The matter between your son and me was put aside long ago. I do not carry him any longer. Nor he, me. Perhaps you too should set the burden down.[16]”
Lord Wen continued to glare at Wu Ying, who bowed to the man.
“If you are done, I will join my friends—my Sect mates—in cleaning up. We will be leaving soon,” Wu Ying said.
Lord Wen hesitated before he waved the cultivator away. Whatever he wanted to say, he’d decided to keep to himself. All the better, in Wu Ying’s opinion. The nobleman had little power over him now.
***
“Did you get what you wanted from your journey?” Elder Lu asked Wu Ying, nearly a month later. He hefted the package of wrapped tobacco leaves, sniffing at the contents and smiling.
“My family and the village have arrived and are settling in,” Wu Ying said.
He had just come from visiting them, wanting to see that they had settled in before anything else. The villagers had all arrived footsore and travel weary which was no surprise. That they had complained and were frustrated about their unnecessary trip, having learned that their village was fine was to be expected.
Some were already talking of returning, of claiming back what was theirs. Others had found Wu Ying to talk to him of their needs and the work that had to be done to ensure their new village would be able to sustain itself. Some sought to use his resources. Others to detach themselves from Wu Ying’s largesse as quickly as possible. Luckily, good soil and strong bodies meant that setting up the village and producing some food was viable in the short-term. Add in the Sect’s never-ending need for supplies and it was likely they would be self-sufficient in a year or two at most.
Still, the underlying resentment was pronounced and affected Wu Ying as he left the villagers, a reminder that even if he thought he had done the right thing, not everyone agreed. Worse, as the village elder droned on and on about what was required, Wu Ying had felt himself grow bored. Not angry or upset, but bored. Because their needs, their wants were so mundane.
So far from who, what he had been. What he was.
“But did you get what you needed?” Elder Lu asked.
Wu Ying drew a breath and considered the question. Truly considered it. Finally, he smiled at the Elder. “Yes. Yes, I did.”
Sometimes, one had to take a long journey, cross many li, and fight a few battles before one could find that what they needed, what was required, was still and had always been where they had started.
Wu Ying was no commoner farmer turned cultivator anymore. He’d had to save his parents, save his village, but not because they were part of his future or even his present. It was because, at the end of the day, he’d had to do so so that he could move forward.
“Good, good. Because Elder Li has been complaining about your absence. You better go see her, after you see your master. She’s got a lot of work for you.”
Having said his part, Elder Lu closed his eyes and leaned back against the pillar. Around him, the group offered the elder, the gate guardian, a deep bow of respect before they hurried in. Already, the bonds that had held the group together were fraying, parting as they returned to their lives. Even if they had grown close over the last few months, they each had their own goals, their own pursuits. Cultivation, at its heart, was a lonely pursuit.
Wu Ying turned to face the track upward, watching as Li Yao scrambled up the mountain path. During one of the quiet nights on the deck of the boat, they’d finally had time for the conversation that had been burgeoning between them. They’d tried, when the stress and the pressure had come off, to return to what they’d had, to find the tranquility and comfort that had been between them. It had worked sometimes, but mostly, it had been strained. Going back seemed impossible.
The talk had been surprisingly painless, as much as such things were. Somehow, in the midst of all of the hectic scrambling and fighting, their relationship had frayed and ended. In truth, looking back at it, Wu Ying was not even sure why they had gotten together in the first place. Physical attraction. Some innate desire for company. But beyond that, they were friends who knew each other, knew the path that they were walking. But not lovers. Not lifelong, soul companions. Not people who made each other stronger or better, but individuals who had walked along the same path for a time.