Perhaps Tou He was right, Wu Ying sighed. Perhaps all this struggle was in vain. But if man did not endeavor to better himself, then what use was he? Even the farmer wanted a better harvest every year, or a larger field. Ambition was intrinsic to the human condition—but tempering that ambition was the course of the wise.
Shaking off the morose thoughts, Wu Ying closed the door of his room. Better get going if he did not want to be late for training. If he could only ensure he stayed, then that was all he could do.
Chapter 21
Once a year, the sect’s main bell was used. Once a year, to mark the time for the outer sect members to gather and again to mark the start of the Verdant Green Waters Sect’s annual tournament. The tournament was always held at the end of autumn, as the weather turned toward winter but before the snow fell. It was the perfect time to test what the students had learned during the busy period of the year—or so the sect said. In truth, Wu Ying believed it was to save the sect the cost of winter’s rations—but that was, perhaps, the cynical farmer within him. After all, you always had to think about the harvest and winter stores.
In either case, the members of the sect were gathered in a courtyard higher on the mountain, one so large that it was easily three times Wu Ying’s family’s fields. Even then, the crowd was gathered like sheep, with barely enough space for all the outer sect members. Thankfully, the inner sect members were scattered on the slope and buildings around, watching the proceedings. For now, the outer sect members would do the fighting. Most were gathered for a good show and a chance to see the rising stars of the sect, those who would replace the members who had fallen out of favor or left.
Of course, the number of inner sect members naturally decreased each year. Being a cultivator was a dangerous job, and the various external assignments took their toll with death, injury, and missing members a fact of sect life. Sometimes inner sect members left on multi-year assignments or for experiential training, freeing up space in the sect compound. It was up to the Inner Hall Master to decide how many spots he had that year—taking into account loss of sect members, those away for experiential training or secluded cultivation, and the gifted—or wealthy—few who would be elevated directly.
In the crowd, Wu Ying craned his neck, desperately searching for Tou He. He knew that Lou Tsing and Zhong Shei were above, watching the proceedings in comfort. That, of course, left Wu Ying with only Tou He—but neither had thought to arrange to meet up earlier. Threading through the crowd with occasional pushes and apologies, Wu Ying growled in exasperation and considered giving up on his fruitless quest.
“Well, look who has survived,” a familiar mocking voice rang out.
Wu Ying turned to meet the voice and spotted Yin Xue and his usual entourage. The entourage itself consisted of five individuals, two of which were commoners like him. Wu Ying was slightly ashamed of them, by how quickly they felt the need to grab onto the coattails of another. Of course, flanking Yin Xue were a pair of noblemen’s sons who were part of the entourage, the “main players.” From what Wu Ying recalled of the pair, neither had the talent or discipline to elevate themselves from the outer sect. Which, as much as Wu Ying hated to admit it, Yin Xue did.
“Yin Xue,” Wu Ying greeted, mostly politely.
“You dare use the Lord Wen’s name directly. How dare you!” One of Yin Xue’s barking dogs stepped forward, snarling.
Wu Ying looked at him, extending the sense he had worked on, and sighed. Probably no better than Body Cleansing 4. Maybe a poor 5. His actions once again reminded Wu Ying of one of his more recent frustrations. All that time spent learning how to judge other people’s cultivation by their presence, only to learn that it was a skill Tou He and the rest of the outer sect members had been taught by the sect during his absence. It was frustrating at best, though his own exploration of the skill had given him a better “feel” than most. Few of the outer sect members could judge beyond “low, mid, and high” levels in each stage.
“What. Have nothing to say?” the dog snarled, and Wu Ying rolled his eyes.
“Not to a dog like you.” Wu Ying turned to Yin Xue and nodded before he turned to go back to looking for his friend.
“Don’t bother with the peasant. We’ll take care of him later,” Yin Xue said a little too loudly behind Wu Ying.
Wu Ying shook his head as he pushed away. Damn idiot. After all this time, he still seemed to have it out for Wu Ying. Which really puzzled Wu Ying in a way. Was Yin Xue’s ego so small that he felt the need to stomp on Wu Ying even now? Was he that insecure in his place in the sect, insecure in who he was, that the existence of a peasant that he knew was considered an insult to his ego?
Perhaps. But in either case, Wu Ying could not fix him. All he could do was look for his friend and do his best in this exam. Yet a fruitless half hour of searching for Tou He later, Wu Ying found himself lost in the crowd with nothing to show for it but a slightly sweaty back. Exhaling a tired breath, Wu Ying looked up as the sect’s main bell rang once more.
Too late for anything else now. The crowd fell silent, all the outer sect members turning to face the main landing, where the Outer Hall sect master had walked forward. This was the first time Wu Ying had seen the august personage, Elder Khoo Yang Min.
“Sect members, we welcome you to the annual tournament. Here, you will vie with your fellow cultivators to ascertain your standing in the sect. While martial prowess is only one of the factors that decides your continued presence in our sect, the Verdant Green Waters Sect has always stood firm in its obligations to the state of Shen. We are its guardians against other sects, the sharp jian and the unbowing dao of their defense. As such, your standing in this tournament will greatly influence your overall standing in the sect.” Elder Khoo’s voice carried across the courtyard with ease, empowered by chi so that everyone within the courtyard and those watching could hear him.
Hands behind his back, the long-haired, white-bearded Elder stared at everyone with piercing eyes over his long, hooked nose. “For all that, we have little reason to judge you individually. Your sect trainers have all assessed you over the course of the year. If you look at your sect seal now, your current standing in the sect will be displayed. Those of you content with your standing may leave the courtyard. Those of you who are unhappy should stay.”
Wu Ying nodded slowly and pulled the sect stamp from within his robes. With just over two thousand outer sect members, the bottom ten percent would be sent home. More than two hundred members. Wu Ying pulled out the sect stamp and stared at the glowing lines of information, illuminated via the chi contained within.
“One thousand, nine hundred, three!” Wu Ying exclaimed, anger flashing upward and flushing his face. “What in the thousand hells?”
“What kind of trash are you to get so low?” a nearby cultivator scoffed, looking at Wu Ying. The man stood with his feet akimbo, arms bulging out of a set of robes that had somehow lost its sleeves.
“I’m no trash.”
“That’s what they all say.” The cultivator smirked at Wu Ying, who growled back.
However, while the pair were facing off, various sect members within the courtyard were moving. Some decided to leave the courtyard, content with their placing. Others stayed—preferring to risk the tournament than to be ejected immediately.
“Not leaving, trash? You think you can do well?”
“Better than this false ranking,” Wu Ying said.
He looked up, twisting his head to the side, and spotted Elder Mo standing nearby the Outer Sect Master, staring directly at Wu Ying and smirking. Wu Ying’s teeth pulled into a snarl before he looked down, not wanting to confront the Elder. Not yet at least. Anything he could do to the Elder would be like a toddler complaining about an adult—all sound and fury but without any real effect.