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2.21 - The March of Justice
🕑 Added 2024-02-06 23:01:01 +0000 UTCWhen the He Yu awoke the next morning, Old Guo’s hut was silent, dark—and most importantly— sealed with a powerful formation barrier. If he’d needed a clear signal that there would be no fond farewells to mark the end of his training, that was it. Despite the near-certainty that Old Guo was deep in cultivation, He Yu still offered a salute and a deep bow before they left. Old Guo’s comment about them owing him more than they could possibly pay was as true as the sun was bright.
With nothing else standing in their way, they set off to find King Hao.
Whatever point of contention had bothered Li Heng the previous night had vanished with morning, and he’d returned to his usual good spirits. Yan Shirong was still filled with the same newfound sense of determination that he’d shown when deciding to hold off for better conditions before advancing. He Yu wondered if perhaps the noble had turned a corner, but he admittedly still didn’t know Yan Shirong well enough to tell either way.
The three disciples dashed through the woods, back in the direction they’d first come from when King Hao had chased them all those months previous. Even though they’d journeyed in a mostly northerly direction when they’d left the sect, they were still far enough south that winter had been a mild one. What cold they might have felt had been chased away by a combination of their cultivation and the constant, intense training that Old Guo had subjected them to. Now the signs of spring were beginning to show themselves, and the passing of seasons reminded He Yu of just how much time had passed since he’d joined the Shrouded Peaks Sect.
In the short span of just six months, he’d managed to come further than he’d ever dreamed that he could have when his highest ambition was simply to join Dong Wei’s school back in Shulin. He’d advanced to Foundation in half the time the sect had allotted him, and now he was half a step into Body Refining. Despite his misgivings at her “guidance,” his mentor, Zhang Lifen, was considered to be the sect’s rising star by literally everyone he’d spoken to. Then, her mentor, Elder Cai Weizhe had personally picked two of the three arts that He Yu now cultivated. The third, by some insane stroke of fortune, had come from a fourth-grade spirit he’d met in a ruined temple. That same spirit had also gifted him the enchanted robes he now wore. The past season had been spent training under an old hermit of the Sixth Realm, and now he was on a mission to bring a murderous bandit to justice with his two companions.
It was as if the heavens had conspired to make his dreams of living a legend into reality. For the first time since leaving the sect, He Yu allowed himself to truly get lost in that dream. Sure, he’d had to work—those first months spending every night cultivating towards the Second Realm had been more stressful than he’d realized at the time.
The threat Sha Xiang posed had loomed over him then, but he’d fought her to a standstill. These past three months had been worse in their own way. Old Guo had been a grueling instructor, even more so than Ren Huang, but that training had paid dividends, and had allowed him to take another significant step along his Way—his Way of Legend.
“Do you think they’ll tell stories about us?” He hadn’t meant to ask it aloud. Blood and heat rushed into his cheeks when both Yan Shirong and Li Heng gave him inquisitive looks at the sudden question.
“About disposing of some trash?” Yan Shirong scoffed. “Hardly.” It was He Yu’s turn to raise his eyebrows at that. Yan Shirong’s attitude towards King Hao had certainly evolved since they’d been with Old Guo.
“Every legend has to begin somehow,” Li Heng said a bit more diplomatically, giving He Yu a reassuring grin. The two of them had spoken enough about He Yu’s fixation on the stories of legendary cultivators of old, and his desire to become one of their number someday.
“I suppose,” Yan Shirong allowed. “But what makes you ask? Why would they?”
“Well, I guess I just want to live a life worth telling stories about. Why else would we cultivate, if not to reach for the heavens?”
Yan Shirong hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose I never gave it much consideration. I’d always assumed that I would join the Ministry of Information, like the rest of the ranking members of my family.”
“Even so, I can see the merit in it,” Li Heng said. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you of my family’s situation.” It was a well-known fact that the Li family, young as it was, held a precarious place in imperial politics. Enemies circled them, and it was only the existence of their patriarch, Li Renshu, that kept them from being wiped out by jealous rivals. A cultivator of the Divine Body Attainment level wasn’t an opponent to antagonize lightly.
“Building a legend around oneself is a necessary component of power,” Li Heng continued. “One’s reputation is almost as important as one’s individual prowess.”
“Only so far as one can defend it,” Yan Shirong countered.
“Isn’t that the point, though?” He Yu asked. “Reputation and ability go hand-in-hand.”
“For some,” Yan Shirong said. “My family, for example, doesn’t have the best reputation. We’re generally considered sneaks and spies. While not untrue, it doesn’t do our capabilities justice.”
“I’ve noticed,” He Yu said. Yan Shirong had turned into an effective combatant despite his protests to the contrary that he’d maintained since they’d met.
“I guess what I want to know is why?” the comital scion asked. “Why do you want to become someone they spin legends about?”
He realized that he never really considered the why, now that someone had asked him point-blank. Why did he want to become a legend? The threat of Sha Xiang had driven him in his first months at the sect, and the threat of King Hao had kept him going during his time with Old Guo. But what came next? If he didn’t have some danger hanging over him, would he be able to continue? He couldn’t find an answer that he felt with certainty, and that bothered him.
As the silence dragged on, Li Heng thankfully interjected by changing the subject. “We’ll have plenty of time to think about our accomplishments once we join the inner sect. Assuming you’ll both be competing?”
That got He Yu’s attention. He’d nearly forgotten. Come summer, the sect would hold a tournament. The top eight competitors would earn a spot in the inner sect, with their performance determining their rank. Zhang Lifen had made it clear that he was expected to compete and win a place in the inner sect.
“I hadn’t actually given it much thought,” Yan Shirong admitted. “I figured I would simply maintain the necessary advancement to avoid getting expelled from the sect, then possibly compete next year when the competition wouldn't be as stiff. Or maybe just stay in the outer sect until I qualified for a spot in the ministry. Now? I’m not so sure.”
“You shouldn’t sell yourself short, Sect Brother Yan,” Li Heng laughed.
“I’ll be competing,” He Yu said. Li Heng already knew that, of course, so he’d spoken up mostly for Yan Shirong’s benefit. He couldn’t have said why, but he disliked the idea of leaving Yan Shirong behind in the outer sect.
“Obviously,” Yan Shirong scoffed, but it lacked the derision that it would have contained before their trip.
The three continued on for some time, talking of their future plans for their time in the sect as they used movement techniques freely to eat up the distance under their feet. Three months of training and feasting on third-grade fish had dramatically increased their strength, stamina, and qi reserves. He Yu also had the benefit of his new robes, which eased his use of wind-aspected techniques like the Sky Dragon’s Flight.
It was around midday when the smell of burnt wood—and worse—reminded them of the realities of their task. Another village had been burned in the time they’d been with Old Guo. This one was fresh, with embers still glowing in the ruins of the houses, and the corpses of King Hao’s covered in carrion birds. As the disciples approached the ruins great flocks of them rose into the air, borne on black wings. He Yu couldn’t help but shudder at the sight. The enthusiasm he’d allowed to bubble all morning vanished as he was once again confronted with the stark reality of their mission.
“Let’s make this quick,” he said, making no effort to keep his growing anger from his words.
“Agreed,” Li Heng said, his voice somber. He Yu knew well how his friend felt about the duties of the nobility—the sight was as much an affront to Li Heng’s ideals as it was to He Yu’s.
Yan Shirong had already produced a trio of constructs and had sent them off to the north. It was only a few minutes before they returned.
“Two sentries, just past the bend in the road up ahead. There’s a footpath that leads up into the hills. The camp is a short way along the path,” Yan Shirong said, relaying the information from his constructs.
“We should go and issue a challenge,” He Yu said. “We can’t afford to wait any longer than we already have.”
Li Heng crossed his arms and hardened his expression to one He Yu had never seen before. It was a mixture of anger and resolve. When he spoke, He Yu found out why. “Agreed about not waiting,” the noble began, “but we shouldn’t issue a challenge. Sweep in, kill any of the lower realm bandits, and force King Hao to come face us.”
He Yu swallowed. “They won’t stand a chance against us,” he said. From what he’d been able to tell from their first encounter, the most advanced among them had been barely at middle Foundation. Even so, their cultivation bases had been poorly formed, and there’d only been three or four of them, besides. The rest had been First Realm still, with another dozen or so in the early Second Realm.
“Precisely,” Li Heng said. “It’s the tactically sound thing to do. Force King Hao into dealing with us, and frighten his lackeys enough so they don’t interfere.”
“I’m not so sure,” He Yu began.
Before he could continue, Yan Shirong said, “I agree with Li Heng. The last thing we want is to get overwhelmed. We may be stronger than the bandits, but King Hao still has a realm advantage on us.”
Although he didn’t like it, He Yu backed down. There was no sense in making an issue of it, especially right before a battle. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s end this.”
