Once out of the nearby orbit, Wu Ying took off at speed. Better not to be seen while Elder Cheng extracted the maximum advantage from Elder Mo’s mistake. It was obvious to Wu Ying that Elder Cheng must have been present long enough to hear the entire thing and could have put a stop to the farce. Rubbing his face, Wu Ying made a mental note not to put any trust into any of the Elders. They were all playing their games of politics, and minor sect members like him were nothing.
Chapter 20
Later that night, after a dinner with his only friends in the sect—Liu Tsong, Tou He, and Zhong Shei—Wu Ying stumbled back to his room, slightly inebriated after a joyful celebration. At the room’s entrance, his hand paused as he noted the formerly locked door was now unlocked. Drawing his sword, Wu Ying readied himself to charge in.
“Enter, Wu Ying,” Elder Cheng called from within.
“Elder,” Wu Ying said, sheathing his sword and entering. If Elder Cheng wanted him dead, he did not need to break into his room to do that.
Soon afterward, Wu Ying found himself detailing his adventures while Elder Cheng listened impassively, seated on the only chair in the tiny room.
“So. You survived your journey. Made friends with the nephew. Killed an infamous bandit. Managed to complete your assignment. And helped me gain an important favor from Elder Mo,” Elder Cheng said as he stroked his beard.
“Yes, Elder.”
“Quite a busy half year.” Without another word, Elder Cheng stood and walked toward the door. Wu Ying automatically stepped aside, allowing the man to walk past him. Only when Elder Cheng had turned the corner of the door did he speak again. “Coming?”
“Yes, Elder!”
Wu Ying hurried out of the room, locking his door before following his superior. As he jogged to keep up with the fast-moving Elder, he found his inebriation burning away. To Wu Ying’s surprise, Elder Cheng led him up the mountain, higher than he ever had been, before they entered a private courtyard. By the time Wu Ying stumbled within, Elder Cheng was standing in the center of the carefully manicured location, waiting with one hand behind his back.
“Elder?” Wu Ying asked.
“Show me your cultivation.”
Wu Ying released the seals on his aura, allowing the chi that would naturally leak out to do so.
Elder Cheng watched for a short period before he gestured to Wu Ying’s belt where he carried his sword. “Show me.”
“Where?” Wu Ying said, looking around the courtyard for something to hit. Or did he mean his forms?
“Against me. Hurry up.”
Wu Ying blinked then drew his sword, shaking his head at the whiplash of commands. But as he stared at Elder Cheng, a slight shudder ran through him. Something, a deep instinct, told Wu Ying not to take the demonstration lightly.
Drawing himself to his full height, Wu Ying eyed Elder Cheng one last time then stalked forward. When he was within range, he started with light, quick stabs. Elder Cheng swayed slightly, dodging the attacks. The Elder did not even need to say anything to showcase his disappointment. Eyes narrowing, Wu Ying sped up, giving up on easy, probing attacks and committing to the fight.
Only when he did that did Elder Cheng move his lead hand. Surprisingly, a light glow surrounded it, condensed chi that he wielded like a sword to block Wu Ying’s attacks. Again and again, Wu Ying spun around the Elder, who twisted, blocked, and leaned away from the attacks, never moving from his starting spot. Occasionally, he idly attacked Wu Ying, his attacks carrying a weight that sent Wu Ying staggering back whenever he blocked.
Falling into the rhythm of the sparring match, Wu Ying’s earlier reticence disappeared. He sped up as he utilized everything he had practiced, everything he had learned in his sparring with the wandering cultivator Yuan Rang and the life-and-death struggles he had experienced. His blade grew keener, his attacks sharper as the killing intent behind his strikes evolved.
Wu Ying tried everything, from straight lunges, wrist cuts to feinted blows that became strikes, using the myriad forms of the Long family style. When that failed to move Elder Cheng or land a blow, he shrank the circle and fought closer, adding in kicks from the Shen style to confuse and hamper Elder Cheng. Most of those were casually dodged, others blocked with the light lift of a leg or twist of the arm. No matter what Wu Ying did, he could not make the man move. And still, Wu Ying fought on as he searched for the moment.
There.
A moment’s gap, an opening in the way Elder Cheng blocked a kick then leaned back from a subsequent cut, leaving him slightly off balance. Wu Ying threw himself forward, taking full advantage. The Sword’s Truth—that deceptively simple lunge that was not simple at all. It streaked toward Elder Cheng’s throat at an angle to his body, intent on tearing out the side of it. For the first time, the Elder moved, taking a single step back. His hand came down almost lazily, slapping down the blade as it reached the end of its momentum, the attack sending tremors of power through Wu Ying’s hand.
“Decent.” Elder Cheng lowered his hand, the chi sword disappearing as he allowed the energy to disperse. Wu Ying slowly lowered his sword, breathing hard. “We can work with this.”
“Work with…?” Wu Ying’s eyes widened as understanding dawned. “Are you going to train me?” Unsaid was the “at last” that he desperately wanted to add.
“Yes. I do need to repay your help. That will balance our karma. You’ll also need it, if you are to survive Elder Mo’s ire.”
Wu Ying winced, knowing what Elder Cheng said was true. Elder Mo might not be able to do much to Elder Cheng, but Wu Ying was the perfect target.
“Do not concern yourself yet. Until the sect examinations are over, you are safe. Sending an outer sect member on an external assignment was already unusual. Sending him out twice would be too much for the sect to ignore.” Elder Cheng assessed Wu Ying’s condition then gestured for him to raise the sword. “Now. Try again. And this time, minimize your motions more. You are wasting time with too many movements.”
Wu Ying hid a groan, raising his sword as instructed. Somehow, he knew that this training session was going to last a while.
Hours later, Wu Ying shuffled home, exhausted and aching. Even with the boost his increased cultivation had provided and the release of his chi from his dantian, Wu Ying’s body hurt. And unlike his training session with Yuan Rang, not once did Elder Cheng lay a hand on him directly. But, Wu Ying thought as he raised his right hand and watched as his fingers trembled uncontrollably, that did not mean the Elder did not feel free to attack his weapon.
Even so, Elder Cheng’s training was as good as Yuan Rang’s. Better in some ways. More guided, for Wu Ying realized that the Elder had constrained his defenses to a certain number and types of forms. Once Wu Ying became aware of the fact and worked a solution to Elder Cheng’s defenses, the Elder changed the pattern, forcing Wu Ying to start again. It was exhausting, both physically and mentally, since Elder Cheng still forced Wu Ying to constantly move at full speed. But the training also lacked a certain “edge,” a bite that Yuan Rang’s brutal methods had used.
Training was going to be hell, Wu Ying knew. Every third night, Elder Cheng intended for Wu Ying to return and train again. Over the next four months—the time before the end of autumn, when the sect festival would be held—he would be trained by Elder Cheng. When Fairy Yuan returned, she would take over the classes.
In the meantime, Wu Ying had been provided specific pointers for his martial arts training. He would need to enlist the help of others, since the majority of it involved evasion, timing, and movement drills—none of which the constant repetition of forms could help.
Luckily, Wu Ying smiled to himself, there were a few people he could call on.
Legs apart, body lowered slightly. Hands by his sides, though a slight amount of tension was still carried within them. Wu Ying stood, focused on Zhong Shei’s body. The punch came from the left this time, a looping overhand cross. Wu Ying shifted and twisted without moving his feet, even as another punch moved immediately after. For the next couple of minutes, Wu Ying ducked, bobbed, and weaved as best he could, patching together forms, perception, and intuition as he dodged. There was an art and a science to evasion—duck under an arm that punched at you and the next attack could only come from a few angles. The forms he studied taught the next motion, the best angle to shift to to reduce the chance of being hit. But they only reduced it—and that was where perception and intuition came in.