While the group chatted about the problem of the second Wei army, Wu Ying looked farther south and spotted the marker of a fourth token from their kingdom. This one was across the border, heading deeper into the state of Wei, having already sacked one town on the border crossing, it seemed. An arrow pointing north east of the marker indicated its route of progress, direct toward the Wei city of Guitong. As Wu Ying peered at the maps, he noted the numerous mountains that dotted the region next to the city and the Li River that flowed right past Guitong. He frowned, trying to remember why the name seemed so familiar—beyond the rice grown in the region that was known to be nearly as good as their village’s.
“They are attacking Guitong?” Yin Xue said, having spotted Wu Ying’s perusal and turning to his father. His voice held a strange tone, one that set Wu Ying’s senses on alert.
“Yes.”
“You don’t mean for us to…” Yin Xue stopped himself. “Of course you do.”
Realization struck Wu Ying while Yin Xue talked to his father. Old lessons about their liege lord’s upbringing. The Lord Wen and his family were not “true” members of the state of Shen, but branch members from a noble peerage in the state of Wei. The passing of some crucial information and an action during one of their intermittent wars—what action, Wu Ying could not recall—had seen to the grandfather of Lord Wen receiving his peerage in the state of Shen. It was why Lord Wen had such a small land allotment and why Lord Wen spent so much of his time currying favor in the court.
“You want us to take part in the army, don’t you?” Wu Ying summarized.
“Not exactly.” Lord Wen stopped talking to his son and turned fully to Wu Ying. “I want you to acquire something for me from the city.”
“What?”
“The cultivation method for my family.”
Wu Ying frowned. He had wondered why Yin Xue focused on the Yellow Emperor’s method of cultivation just like the rest of them. After all, most nobles, like Li Yao, had their own cultivation methods. Most of those methods were developed specifically for their bloodline, suiting them better than something more generic. Or at least, the nobles insisted it was better.
“And this information is in the city?” Wu Ying asked.
“Yes. The Wen family estate is located in Guitong. While the main family spends most of its time in the capital, the family memorial is still located in the city. By tradition, the family cultivation style and the lineage tablet must be kept in the city. Relocating it and the ancestors would bring bad luck.” The last sentence was said with a sneer.
Wu Ying frowned, tapping his fingers on the side of his leg. “Even if we agree to do this, I don’t know what your style is. Unless it’s clearly marked, I could be easily led astray.”
“Then it’s a good thing you have my son. He will know what the true style looks like.” Lord Wen chuckled. “And there is no if. If you want my agreement for your village to leave, you will take on this task.”
Wu Ying stared at the marker for the fourth army. He had no desire to join the fight. He had no idea how the appearance of himself and his friends would even be taken. They might be powerful cultivators, but armies had a chain of command. Randomly adding in new people would be tricky. After all, spies were always trying to join armies.
Even so…
“Very well,” Wu Ying said. “But I will have your oath to allow my village to leave. You will even guarantee their safety.”
“If you promise to complete this task.” Lord Wen stared at Wu Ying, daring him to turn away or look aside.
Wu Ying returned the gaze and offered a single nod, agreeing to the task. It was a simple thing after all. Join the army, lay siege to a city, break into the city, and steal a cultivation manual from the nobleman’s home or burial grounds. All the while, not dying or losing any of his friends.
Simple.
Chapter 11
Of course, it wasn’t that simple. There was more to discuss. Wu Ying received, as best as he could, the information that Lord Wen had about the main family’s residence, the mausoleum, their numbers, and their security, as well as a map of the city itself. All of which was dated and liable to be inaccurate to some degree. Wu Ying was told where he should expect the documentation to be kept, and even given some brief overview of the cultivation style. Once all that was done, Lord Wen dismissed Wu Ying and his friends to the visiting hall they had come from. Only Yin Xue was left behind, to have a longer talk with his father in private.
It was nearly an hour later when Yin Xue came out. He refused to say anything about what had transpired behind closed doors, but he stared daggers at Wu Ying at every chance he could.
Their objective complete, Wu Ying took his friends over to his village. It would be a chance for him to show off to his friends where he came from, have the village thank them for their aid, and most of all, for him to see his parents.
In truth, Wu Ying felt an indescribable level of excitement and dread at the upcoming talk. He missed his parents, the village, the rice fields. But… he also dreaded introducing them to Li Yao. He dreaded what his mother might say. He dreaded what Li Yao might say. It was one thing to know he was a peasant. It was another to see it in all its mundane drabness.
In this mixed state of mind, Wu Ying led his friends to the village. The first signs of it were the terraced paddy fields, the gentle slope of the surroundings carved into flat fields to allow for production of rice. Next was the small cluster of buildings that denoted the village proper. Some families, like his, had their residences situated farther afield from the center of town. That offered them some privacy and space to grow their own vegetables in their gardens, but the longer-standing members of the village had their houses in the village square itself. They were the original inhabitants, the ones who had grouped together to begin the cultivation of rice here. And of course, the schoolhouse, the tavern, and the blacksmith were all located in the center of the town.
As it was approaching evening by the time the group arrived in the village, few people were in the fields, the last few stragglers in the process of putting away the equipment they had used over the day.
The sight of a group of cultivators on horses made the villagers tense. That was no surprise to Wu Ying. Groups of men on horses were never good news for the village. After all, only nobles or the army came in large numbers, astride horses. Or bandits.
Luckily, the Sect robes the group wore allayed some of those fears. Still, Wu Ying noticed that a small number of villagers had clustered around Elder Ko. Among them was his father, who was just arriving, a sword belted to his side. Even with the slight hitch in his stride, Long Yu Ri was an intimidating sight. There was a hardness to his father that Wu Ying could not replicate. It came from his time in the army, from his time working the fields, from pain and hardship, a life hard lived.
It was Elder Ko who first realized what the group meant. The elder was still sharp eyed, even at his age. Immediately, the elder barked out orders to the villagers. His father, hearing the cries, slowed down his approach, losing some of the intimidating air he had projected, but he did not stop, only turning to call out behind him.
Wu Ying watched all of this with a half smile. He had forgotten the kind of commotion his visit would likely cause. Or maybe had not forgotten but not considered it, since it was not as if he had ever been gone. In fact… when was the last time the village had had a cultivator return? Wu Ying had vague recollections of talk of a similar celebration a few generations ago? A long time at least.