When a nasty uppercut caught Wu Ying by surprise, he staggered backward and rubbed his chin, looking at the smirking Zhong Shei.
Once the pair had regulated their breathing, Wu Ying smiled. “Your turn.”
“I hate you,” Zhong Shei complained even as he got into stance.
This time, Wu Ying would get a chance to work some combinations to hit Zhong Shei. Lightly, of course, but his job was to learn movement patterns, to understand angles and how to mix up his attacks.
The pair traded off three more times before they proceeded to a moving evasion pattern, one that was “encouraged” through the use of a sharp sword. Not extremely sharp, but sharp enough to make them bleed.
Evasion. One of the first skills he had been given to improve.
The spear flew toward his face, stopped only by a wrist-driven block. Jian held in front of him, his body turned toward Tou He, Wu Ying watched as the spear was retracted swiftly before being stabbed forward again, the spearhead dipping at the last moment in a feint attempt. Wu Ying blocked the attack, but this time, the spear did not withdraw all the way, and it cut forward and upward, leaving a thin slice of blood along Wu Ying’s blocking arm.
“Damn it,” Wu Ying snarled.
“You always turn your wrist too much when you block,” Tou He said.
“I know. I told you to watch for that,” Wu Ying groused, flexing his hand. Already, the chi in his body had collected around the wound, helping it clot.
“Ready?”
“Go.”
The spear came shooting forward again, this time as an overhand chop. Wu Ying moved to block with the lightest touch possible.
Defensive practice. Another skill to work on.
“You need to catch me when I’m moving back,” Liu Tsong said, grinning as she held the rice bowl perpendicular to her body.
“I’m. Trying,” Wu Ying said as he thrust with his back leg into a lunge then recovered forward and spun his back leg into a kick. After that, he dropped his body onto the outstretched leg to chase after the dodging Liu Tsong.
“No, you’re just charging me. Remember, this is timing training,” Liu Tsong said.
“There is no such training!” Wu Ying howled as his stomach grumbled.
“Well, there should be.”
Laughing, Liu Tsong continued to tease him, forcing Wu Ying to try to catch her as she taunted him with his meal. The other two laughed, watching. It was an entirely unfair matchup, considering the inner sect member was both an entire cultivation level higher and more skilled. But then, good training always meant pitting yourself against your betters. And Liu Tsong was purposely pausing at times, giving Wu Ying the opportunity to catch her when she came to a rest—if he could judge and use those breaks properly.
Another night and Wu Ying stood before Elder Cheng. The cultivator slowly pivoted on one foot into a drop lunge before a cross-body block and recovery followed by a pair of wrist cuts. Also known as dragon catches the rainbow. The moment he had finished the cuts, Wu Ying pivoted on his foot and repeated, moving in a slow circle.
“Focus on those cuts. They should originate from the wrist only. Do not move your elbow!”
“Drop. Drop. Let the earth take you. Do not push.”
“Faster! Your back leg must recover immediately.”
“Lower your weight. Bend your knees and relax your stomach. Remember, keep your weight centered around your dantian.”
Again and again. Each iteration an improvement, building on the last. Sometimes, Elder Cheng would spar with him. Other times, it was form work or drills that focused on a single area of improvement. Over and over again.
Days passed like that, the last dregs of summer fading, turning over with the cold winds of autumn. As much as Wu Ying trained, so did his friends. It seemed as though the sect itself had caught a training fever. Every day, the courtyards filled with sect members, each of them practicing their martial styles or cultivating in a desperate bid to increase their standing. It was not just the newcomers; even those who had been around for a while worked hard. After all, those sect members who showed no improvement from year to year were in danger too—if in nothing but a decrease in the resources the sect would dedicate to them.
The library grew busier as sect members browsed the books in search of a solution or a quick fix. A magic pill that would give them an edge over the competition. The assignment hall grew busy as well, since a few sect members had given up on winning a decent position at the tournament and were looking to bolster their standing via contributions. Demon subjugation assignments were quickly snatched up, the experiential training and additional funds from such activity highly popular.
For the second time in his life in the sect, Wu Ying found himself indulging in the routine of training and cultivating. In the blink of an eye, the leaves on the trees had turned color and dropped, signaling the start of a longer, colder season. Only the occasional letter from home, finding its way to him via merchants, broke the monotony of his life.
That, and his friends. Surprisingly, Zhong Shei stayed, spending the months in training and cultivation. Whether it was the atmosphere or his newfound determination after their fight with Ji Ang, Zhong Shei’s cultivation and martial prowess soared, breaking through two meridians. Of course, even with his newfound discipline, Zhong Shei would still pay regular visits to the brothels and inns at the base of the mountain.
Two days from the start of the sect tournament, Wu Ying’s eyes opened in his room as he exhaled a turbid breath. His nose wrinkled as he stood, grateful for his forethought of stocking up on clean cloth and buckets of water. A few minutes later, Wu Ying had cleansed his body of the filth and grey impurities that had coated his body.
Body Cleansing 8. Four more meridians to go before he was ready to progress to the next stage. It was remarkable growth for someone who had been at Body Cleansing 2 a bare eight months ago. Of course, Wu Ying knew that it was as much due to a few fortunate encounters and the support of his friends. While it was possible to grow and be enlightened by doing nothing more than staying in a single place all one’s life, most people—and perhaps most importantly, him—needed stimulus. Impetus. Experience.
Rubbing his chin, Wu Ying grimaced and reached for his knife. Better to clean himself up while he pondered if, perhaps, he had found the beginning of his dao. The Dao of the Restless Feet? The Dao of Unfortunate Circumstances? The Dao of the Uncultured Wandering Farmer?
Laughing, Wu Ying nicked his chin and had to stop and dab at the wound until the blood stopped running. Still, he couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle once in a while as he dressed. A glance out the open window allowed Wu Ying to check on the angle of the sun. Time to get moving if he did not want to be late.
A part of Wu Ying wondered how Yin Xue had done. The nobleman’s son had been at Body Cleansing 4 before they arrived. The last time they’d met, he had progressed to Body Cleansing 6. Could he have progressed further? Easily—with the support of his father and the sect.
Body Cleansing 8. Wu Ying let out a tired breath. It was not enough to achieve a place in the inner sect. Most of those who entered the inner sect were in the 10s, if not at Energy Gathering stage, when they finally achieved that honor. Now that the tournament was days away, Wu Ying faced the truth of his ambition. As much as Wu Ying desired otherwise, he could only hope to stay in the sect for another year.