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2.14 - Yan Shirong
🕑 Added 2024-01-20 23:00:06 +0000 UTCYan Shirong picked himself up from the dirt and took a moment to be grateful for the formations woven into his clothes. Without them, every single outfit he’d brought on this “adventure” would have been ruined by now. As he settled back into his stance, he fixed his attention on his sparring opponent.
He Yu. A mere commoner. Sure, he’d managed to advance to middle Qi Gathering after less than a week at the Shrouded Peaks Sect, but anyone could have done that by accident on the outer sect mountain. It had earned him a reward from Elder Wen in the form of a Five Phases Refinement Pill, but Yan Shirong had gotten one of those, too.
It wasn’t the pill that bothered Yan Shirong at all. From what he’d gathered on their month together away from the sect, He Yu had hardly used any pills at all. Now, he’d reached the same level Yan Shirong was on.
Sure, Yan Shirong protested at every opportunity that the Yan family’s art, the Thousand Shadows Play wasn’t suited for direct combat. That wasn’t strictly true. It had combat techniques, and as he mastered his cultivation of the art, it would forge him into a formidable combatant. Still, it was at its best when he could stay back, strike from the shadows he cultivated, and use his the army of constructs he’d eventually control to do the heavy lifting for him.
He knew he wasn’t at his best in a head-to-head confrontation like this, but he was of a comital line. And an old one, at that. The Thousand Shadows Play Art had been refined over the course of generations, and in the world of immortals, generations could be measured in hundreds or thousands of years. All of that accounted for how one-sided this match was, but by Yan Shirong’s reckoning, it should have been in his favor.
Yan Shirong couldn’t lay a damn finger on him. He’d learned somewhat of He Yu’s mysterious art during their trip. That guandao art he used wasn’t anything special. But the Cloud Emperor’s Heavenly Palace, or whatever it was called? As far as Yan Shirong could tell, He Yu only had access to two techniques. The movement technique was bad enough, allowing him to zip around like a gust of wind and change direction in an instant. But it was that weird hybrid of a cultivation and perception technique that was the real problem. Of that he was certain—there was simply no other explanation for it.
With a pulse of his qi, Yan Shirong stepped into shadow. His movement technique—Darkwalker Shroud—was potent but impossible for him to fully use at this low advancement. Eventually, it would allow him to become shadow itself, but now all it could do was cloak him in darkness.
For rapid movement, he had to activate his Umbral Puppetmaster technique. Then he simply used that technique's shadow tendrils to pull himself where he needed to go, using the Darkwalker Shroud more like a smokescreen. It was a creative use of his abilities, and he was proud of himself for coming up with it. It was a good thing he’d come up with it, too. It was the only thing keeping this match from being even more of an embarrassment.
As Yan Shirong sailed through the air, pulled along by his strands of shadowy qi, he manifested a dozen throwing daggers from his storage treasure. He gripped each one with a shadow tendril and allowed a moment to marvel at how far he’d come in the time they’d been with Old Guo. That moment almost cost him the match.
He Yu simply appeared in the path of Yan Shirong’s flight, that damn guandao of his churning with a cloak of wind qi. It was an overhand strike—one He Yu was overly fond of. Shadows curled around Yan Shirong and pulled him out of He Yu’s range. The tip of the guandao passed a mere finger’s width from Yan Shirong’s nose. That had been close. But now it was his turn.
Qi surged down the length of the shadow holding one of his daggers. Then another, and another. It had only taken him a couple of exchanges to realize that if he had any hope of landing an attack with the daggers he needed to space them perfectly. His initial instinct had been to launch them all at once and overwhelm He Yu’s defenses. He Yu had simply slammed the butt of his guandao on the ground and blasted all of them away.
As he’d expected, He Yu still managed to deal with most of the daggers. But twelve was just too many, and several of them managed to connect. Yan Shirong allowed himself a small satisfied smile. That was the most he’d landed so far. Of course that didn’t matter for much. He Yu had—for some reason—stubbornly clung to his cultivation of the White Mountain Body Art even after they’d begun their training with Old Guo’s damnable trees. Yan Shirong saw the shift in the flow of qi around He Yu and recognized that he’d activated the art’s second technique, the Iron Fortress Redoubt.
That was his opportunity. While the technique allowed He Yu to shrug off Yan Shirong’s comparatively weak daggers, it was a heavy art, with aspects of mountain and metal. Yan Shirong had quickly determined that this was He Yu’s biggest weakness—he couldn’t use his movement technique at the same time as either of the White Mountain Body techniques.
Yan Shirong pulled himself around He Yu, using his Darkwalker Shroud to obscure his movements. Hopefully, He Yu’s perception technique was similarly limited by the body art, something Yan Shirong hadn’t yet been able to determine. Once he’d gotten behind his opponent, Yan Shirong dropped the Darkwalker Shroud and activated both his Umbral Puppetmaster and Myriad Black Thorns techniques.
Shadow rose around He Yu’s feet, twisting around his ankles and rooting him in place. Yan Shirong thrust out his hand and sprayed the Myriad Black Thorns into He Yu’s back. His spiritual perception warned him of his mistake just an instant too late for him to react.
As hundreds of shadow darts buried themselves into He Yu’s back, he drove the metal cap on the end of his guandao into Yan Shirong’s gut. His techniques disrupted, Yan Shirong doubled over and staggered back a few steps. He looked up to see that He Yu had turned around, and now regarded him impassively, a tell that Yan Shirong had come to learn meant he was using that perception technique of his.
“I’ve had enough for now,” Yan Shirong said, holding out one hand in surrender.
He Yu’s demeanor instantly shifted, and the other cultivator broke into an excited grin. “You’ve gotten faster,” he said, vanishing his guandao back into his storage treasure.
Begrudgingly, Yan Shirong accepted the praise. “And you’re still no easier to deal with,” he said. He allowed himself that moment to sulk about another loss before He Yu’s excitement blew it away like smoke on the wind. It was tough to stay mad around him.
The pair walked the short distance from where they’d been sparring together to Old Guo’s hut. He Yu stoked the cookfire that burned eternally out front and set water to boil for tea. It had become their habit to take tea after sparring in these past few days since Old Guo had spirited Li Heng away to wherever they’d disappeared to. Yan Shirong certainly couldn’t say that he minded.
“How long do you think they’ll be gone for?” He Yu asked as they settled in to wait on the water.
Yan Shirong shrugged. “Who knows? I’ll take sparring with you over whatever punishment that old monster has for Li Heng though.”
While he hadn’t made a secret of the fact that he didn’t care for Old Guo’s training, Yan Shirong could easily see the benefit of it. Sure, he’d grumbled when they spent most of their first week chopping trees of all things, but it hadn’t taken long to see the benefit. Maybe there was something to what He Yu had said about pills when they’d first set out after all—by his estimations, it would have taken over a month to see similar benefit if he’d stuck to his old routine.
At the end of that first week Old Guo had told them he was taking Li Heng away to “deal with his shortcomings.” He then told Yan Shirong and He Yu to spend the second half of each day sparring while continuing to cultivate their foundation by chopping trees. He Yu had, of course, been thrilled at this. He was far too enthusiastic about chopping wood, but Yan Shirong had come to learn in the time they’d been alone together that He Yu was simply obsessed with being a cultivator.
Somewhere along the line, his head had been filled with the stories of old, and he wanted nothing more than to be just like those legends. It was a bit silly if Yan Shirong were honest, but he couldn’t deny that it had served to drive He Yu. Or at least cause him to be more tolerant of their current absurdity than he otherwise may have been.
Maybe there was something to it, Yan Shirong thought as he flexed his spirit. It was a hard thing to admit and it stung his pride, but He Yu had come far in his time at the sect. Without pills. That didn’t mean Yan Shirong was going to stop using pills to boost his cultivation. That would be foolish. But how much further could he go if he simply used them as a supplement? He cast a sidelong glance to where He Yu was finishing up preparing their tea.
Whatever his future advancement held, one thing was certain. Just because he’d come to actually like He Yu, it didn’t mean he was about to let some commoner out-pace him.
Once they’d finished their tea, Yan Shirong stood and stretched. The sun was still high enough that they’d time for a bit more training. “Care for another round?” he asked. He wasn’t looking forward to getting beaten yet again, but he wasn’t willing to fall further behind than he already was.
Comments
Henry Johnston
On a scale of My Little Pony to H.P. Lovecraft, I'd say a solid 5/10? Sorry, not entirely sure how to answer. If it isn't clear at this point, there's definitely a sealed evil in a can that we'll have to deal with eventually. We're not taking any turns into cosmic horror, if that's what you're asking.
Rehoboth Okorie
nice to see the mc finally getting ahead. how eldritch will things get? i feel like things will get very eldritch at some point
