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2.10 - Old Guo
🕑 Added 2024-01-13 22:45:07 +0000 UTCThe pressure from the old man slammed into He Yu like a physical blow, knocking him back more than a dozen feet, and then weighing down on him like a mountain. It was unlike anything he’d felt before, not even when Zhang Lifen or Ren Huang had unleashed their spirits. The old man radiated vibrant life and deep, ancient power.
He was a tree, towering more than a hundred feet over them all. His branches stretched out to grasp the lake, the surrounding forest, and the bandits alike. His skin was bark, older and harder than stone. He had survived strikes of lightning sent as tribulation from the heavens. He had drank deeply from the rain and the lake, both. He was as ancient as he was powerful. One hand closed into a fist at his side, and an old boar blazing with yet more power emerged from behind the ancient tree’s trunk.
“These young men have shown me the proper respect,” the old man said. “They are under my protection. King? Hardly. Be gone, or shall I, Old Guo, will crush you for your insolence?”
Several of the bandits threw themselves to the ground in kowtow. King Hao was among them. “This one offers his humblest—”
“I said be gone!” Old Guo’s voice was the crack of ancient wood, a massive tree falling in a deep forest.
Without another word, the bandits fled.
When Old Guo withdrew his spirit, He Yu threw himself to the ground along with both Yan Shirong and Li Heng in kowtow. “This one thanks the Honored Elder,” he said. It never hurt to show respect, but he never could have imagined accepting an invitation for soup would turn out like this.
“Bah. The soup is almost ready. Get out of the dirt and go wash up. All three of you. I’ll not wait for supper any longer than I must.” Old Guo said.
It was a short walk to the shore of the lake, taken in silence. Only when the last traces of dirt and sweat from their day-long run were washed away, did He Yu dare to speak.
“I didn’t even think to observe him with the Cloud Emperor’s Peerless Judgment,” he said. “How advanced is he?”
Yan Shirong shook his head. “I don’t know, but it was wise not to use a perception technique on him.”
“Always best not to offend someone of his level,” Li Heng said. “His spirit was similar to my father’s, but stronger if I’d have to guess.” Both He Yu and Yan Shirong said nothing. General Li Bao, Marquis of the Western Passage, was well known to be of the early Sixth Realm—Soul Refining. “I’d wager that we only experienced a portion of Old Guo’s presence,” he added. “I have never stood before my father’s full spiritual presence before. As a mere Foundation, I doubt I would survive the ordeal.”
“The Yan family patriarch is of the late Fifth Realm himself. I’ve never even met him,” Yan Shirong said. “Most of the ranked members of my family are all Golden Core. My uncle, the family’s outer head, is only early Nascent Soul. Even that was too much for me to bear on the times I attended court.”
He Yu was having a difficult time processing all this. Rationally he’d known that both Yan Shirong and Li Heng would have family members far more advanced than he was, but he’d never really grasped what that truly meant in practical terms.
Yan Shirong was from a comital family, the second lowest rank of imperial nobility. And even they were led by a patriarch that had achieved the Nascent Soul stage. The Li family, a single rank higher than the Yan—and a young family by Li Heng’s own admission—had a Sixth Realm cultivator as their outer head. What sorts of monsters would the higher-ranked families have, then?
The three of them returned to Old Guo’s cookfire in sober silence. Several bowls of soup had already been laid out for them. Old Guo regarded the three disciples as they approached, saying nothing. It wasn’t until they’d finished their meal in apprehensive silence that the old cultivator finally deigned to speak.
“Tell me what three Foundation disciples of the Shrouded Peaks Sect are doing so far out here,” Old Guo said, eying each of them in turn.
“We accepted an assignment from the sect to deliver justice to the bandit, Hao Niu,” He Yu said.
Old Guo frowned. “Did the sect not know of his advancement? Why send children to deal with someone like him?”
“My mentor, Zhang Lifen, accepted the job on my behalf,” He Yu admitted. “She said to consider it a training opportunity.”
The old cultivator nodded and stroked his beard. “This Zhang Lifen must think highly of you to send a mere Second Realm against a Third.”
“She expects a great deal from me, Honored Elder, and she did allow for companions.”
“And what good were they?” Old Gou snapped. “I would slap some sense into your mentor were she here.” Turning to Li Heng and Yan Shirong, he asked, “What of you, then? Who might the two of you be?”
Both bowed over a salute and introduced themselves in turn.
“Li Heng. You look a bit young to be Li Renshu’s son, if memory serves.”
“This one is his grandson, Honored Elder,” Li Heng said. “This one’s father, Li Bao, now serves as Marquis of the Western Passage.”
“That makes more sense, then,” Old Guo muttered. “I’ve had the misfortune of crossing blades with your grandfather. If he’s since secluded himself from public life, then I’ve no desire to do so again.
“You, Yan Shirong? I know of your family’s reputation as spies for the Dragon Emperor. You’re not here to spy on Old Guo, are you?”
Yan Shirong threw himself to the ground. “Of course not, Honored Elder. This one is merely assisting his Sect Brothers.”
Old Guo chuckled to himself. “Bah, get up, all three of you. Show me what you’re made of.”
The three of them looked to one another in stunned disbelief.
“You heard me,” the old cultivator said. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” He jerked his chin in Yan Shirong’s direction. “You first, boy.”
“This one’s arts aren’t exactly suited to direct combat,” Yan Shirong said.
“Good. All the easier to figure out how to make you useful then.”
Yan Shirong grimaced, but he didn’t object a second time. A dagger appeared in each hand, and he launched them at Old Guo. The old cultivator snatched them from the air with a single motion.
“Is that it?” he demanded.
Shadows rose from around Yan Shirong’s feet as he activated the technique He Yu had seen him use several times to obscure his movement. Old Guo reached into the growing shadow and hauled Yan Shirong out by the front of his robes.
“I said show me what you’re made of! Not how fast you can run.”
Yan Shirong manifested three more daggers suspended over his head, and another two in his hands. When he attacked this time, he spaced the projectiles in an attempt to prevent Old Guo from catching them so easily. The old cultivator swatted them out of the air like flies. He looked like he was only half paying attention at this point, stroking his snow-white beard and gazing off into the darkening forest.
Shadows pooled around Old Guo’s feet, and the same tendrils Yan Shirong had used to bind the serpent shot up to wind their way around Old Guo. With barely a flex of his spirit—not even a proper technique—Old Guo blasted the bindings away from him.
“I’ve seen enough,” Old Guo said. “Are those all your techniques? I’d heard the Yan family arts were suited only for spies and sneak thieves.”
“This one apologizes for his inadequacy,” Yan Shirong said, embarrassment palpable in his features and his words. “This one has puppets, but they’re less suited for combat than the feeble techniques you’ve seen so far. This one also cultivates the White Mountain Body Art, but has only been able to make use of its first technique.”
Old Guo waved a dismissive hand. “Subtlety has a power all its own. Your deficiency comes not from your arts, but how you use them—that much is clear.” Turning to Li Heng, he said, “Your turn, scion of the Li family.”
Li Heng’s jian fell into his hand as he took a practiced sword stance before Old Guo. “Apologies, Honored Elder, but this one’s arts work best when he is able to first receive an attack.”
“I told you I fought your grandfather, boy. Do you think he waited for someone to strike him first, boy?”
Li Heng pressed his lips into a thin line and swallowed, but said nothing. Instead, he attacked. In a flash, he crossed the distance to Old Guo and delivered a quick thrust. The old man pushed the blade to the side with one finger and then wheeled on Li Heng with a snap kick. To his credit, Li Heng did manage to bring his jian up in time to deflect the blow. However, once he did so the blade shone even brighter than it had when taking the blow from King Hao. Li Heng grunted as the blade pulled him off balance. The jian fell from his fingers, and the silver light winked out.
“I’ve seen enough,” Old Guo said. Li Heng bowed his head in shame, but He Yu thought he could detect a note of sympathy in the old cultivator’s voice. He didn’t have time to think on it, though. Old Guo finally turned to him and said, “You, boy. I never caught your name.”
“This one is called He Yu, Honored Elder.”
“He family. Can’t say I’ve heard of you.”
“This one is of common birth,” He Yu said, his cheeks heating.
“Good,” Old Guo said, a smile cracking his features. “Young, common-born, and already Foundation. Maybe this mentor of yours wasn’t as brainless as I’d first thought. Show Old Guo what you’re capable of.”
By now it was clear that anything other than an outright attack wouldn’t satisfy the old man—futile as such an attack might prove to be. Regardless, He Yu drew his guandao from within his storage treasure and summoned the wind.
