Gently, Wu Ling reached out to wrap his arms around Su Xiang, pulling her into a tender embrace without putting pressure on her wounded ribs. Holding her trembling figure he once again felt that she’d been dipped in a dozen colors of painted-on emotions that didn’t suit her at all. Fear, anxiety, desperation, and the fading aura of fatal determination. She’d pushed well beyond her limits to fight a Soldier, even one that had been weakened by the spores of his Giant Purple Spore Shroom.
“Hey,” he whispered gently into her ear, his uninjured hand stroking her hair gently. “Congratulations on your breakthrough,” he said, hoping the news would snap her out of the cloud of toxic feelings that clung to her like rapidly drying paint.
“Breakthrough? What?” Su Xiang asked, her sapphire eyes blinking at him in confusion.
“At the end, I saw the way you were moving,” he explained. “You used Radiant Flash Steps,” he continued, his voice rich with pride. “I know you’ve been practicing the technique but it’s impossible short of becoming a late-stage Brawler. So, congratulations on your breakthrough. Keep going like this and you’ll be a Soldier by nineteen, much less twenty. Who knows, the Shining Blade Hall might want to turn you into an Inner Disciple,” he praised, even though he would rather the Shining Blade Hall not take a greater interest in her. Still, a nineteen-year-old Soldier was extraordinary enough that the sect would likely go beyond just promoting her, but would shower additional resources on her to further accelerate her cultivation and he could hardly begrudge his sworn sister if she took advantage of those opportunities. He just hoped that she wouldn’t have too many more experiences like the one she had today to get there.
“I don’t care about being an Inner Disciple,” she said, burying her face in Wu Ling’s shoulder and clinging to him for strength. “I just want to keep you safe.”
“Elder sister is always the dependable one,” Wu Ling said with a gentle smile, turning to look toward the wagons when his ears caught the sound of feet approaching over the dusty dirt road. “Alchemist Huang,” he said, his voice still soft and gentle. “Sister Xiang is wounded and could use a bit of medical attention. Are you able to help her?”
Alchemist Huang, Liang Xuanji, and several other women from the caravan gathered to approach the sibling pair in an odd mix of fear and awe. “She was injured fighting to keep us all safe,” the older woman said, trying not to flinch and step back when Hou fluttered over to perch on Wu Ling’s shoulder. Wu Ling had told her that the Silver Snow Rabbit wasn’t her only companion but she’d never imagined that her other Guardian Beast was so terrifyingly powerful. Yet when she approached Wu Ling and Su Xiang, the young Golden Crow only gave her a cheerful sounding ‘caw’, as though the fire bird recognized the alchemy flame that burned within her and welcomed her presence. “Medical care is the least of what we should do,” Huang Yeyan said, pulling her attention from the preening Golden Crow. “Does your Guardian Rabbit also need medical treatment?”
“No, Yue might need a few spirit crystals but more than that, she needs me to repaint the places she was injured,” Wu Ling explained. If he had to choose between losing Su Xiang and losing Yue, there was no doubt in his mind which outcome he’d choose, but he was glad that Su Xiang had been able to protect the little rabbit who took up an ever-growing space in both of their hearts. Thankfully, as long as the damage wasn’t too severe, it was fairly easy to restore Yue’s painting in his inner world. “Was anyone else hurt? I saw rock shards bouncing off the wagons but…” Wu Ling’s voice trailed off as he looked over the gathered women.
“Everyone was safe thanks to your arrangements,” the alchemist said in relief. “Please, bring your sister back to your wagon, I’ll join you to tend her wounds. Yours too,” she said, pointing at the self-inflicted cut on Wu Ling’s hand.
“Of course, I’ll just be a moment. If the others here can help in clearing the road, I’m just going to leave a message for the last group that’s still chasing us,” he explained, walking over to one of the boulders near the bridge and clearing away the moss so he could write a message.
‘Boss Kong,’ the message read. ‘Go home or join Fenglun.’
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“Do you think that will work?” Liang Xuanji asked. “What if he thinks that Fenglun must have softened us up and made it easier for him to defeat us?”
“If you were Boss Kong, would you take the chance?” Wu Ling answered before slumping against the boulder in fatigue.
“Junior Sister Wu!” Liang Xuanji exclaimed. “Let me help you back to the carriage,” she added, placing a hand around Wu Ling’s trim waist and sliding under one arm to offer her shoulders as support. “You’re so delicate,” she marveled. “I can’t believe you just… just…” her voice trailed off at a loss for words at the carnage she’d seen the young Aesthete unleash.
Wu Ling said nothing, walking slowly back to the carriage with the help of his Senior Sister. Truthfully, he felt nervous with such close contact but at the rate he’d been consuming energy, it was a wonder he hadn’t fallen asleep on his feet already. As long as they reached the carriage quickly enough, he was sure he could disengage before she noticed anything she shouldn’t.
Inside the carriage, Tan Hehei had given up her place for Alchemist Huang Yeyan to treat Su Xiang. The young swordswoman had stripped to her waist, leaving only the wide band that bound her chest to protect her modesty in the confines of the small carriage. While it didn’t bother her for the alchemist treating her injuries to see her like this, when the door opened and Wu Ling entered, she reached almost reflexively for her robes to cover up.
“It’s just us,” Wu Ling said softly, hoping that Su Xiang’s reflex would be interpreted as protecting her modesty from strangers rather than a reaction to him. Thankfully, her mind quickly caught up to the situation and she forced herself to relax as though it were no big deal to be nearly topless in front of her sworn brother. Wu Ling’s brow furrowed in worry as his eyes swept over Su Xiang’s compact frame. Her smooth pale skin gleamed with a faint sheen of sweat as it rippled over faintly discernible muscles giving her the feeling of a fearsome tiger or mountain lion wrapped in soft pale silk. The presence of several green and purple bruises scattered across her porcelain-like skin along with the dabs of medical paste that had been applied to half a dozen small cuts, however, ruined any sensuality such a view might normally have possessed.
“Your sister will be fine Aesthete Wu,” Huang Yeyan reassured, helping the younger woman back into her white and yellow robes. “I’ve already given her a dose of Heaven’s Dew Drops to speed the healing of her cracked ribs and it will fade the bruises and the minor cuts by this time tomorrow morning. Within three days, she’ll be good as new.”
“That’s good,” Wu Ling said, slumping into a seat next to Su Xiang in relief. Everything would be fine, at least for a while. As soon as that became clear, fatigue pulled at him like gentle waves, threatening to carry him off to sleep.
“Do you mind a question,” Alchemist Huang asked, reaching out and taking Wu Ling’s delicate injured hand and beginning to clean the wound. “I’ve never seen an Artist of any sort fight like you did, but the way you fought reminded me of experienced Soldiers and war leaders. From the moment you told me about our attackers last night you’ve been moving from one stratagem to the next, laying your plans and drawing our attackers into your traps. Where does an Artist learn to do that? Was it something you learned from your father?” The elder Scholar was genuinely curious. If she hadn’t watched the young woman paint the birds and odd mushrooms herself along with the careful calligraphy she’d practiced to prepare her talismans, Huang Yeyan would have suspected that Wu Ling was some kind of sorceress who cultivated a powerful word like ‘Warfare.’
“I’m just an Artist,” Wu Ling insisted. “Right now, I practice five arts,” he explained, fatigue loosening his tongue more than he might normally have wished. At the moment, however, he just couldn’t manage the will to try to keep secrets when a direct answer might result in fewer questions. “You’ve seen my painting and my calligraphy. It shouldn’t be a surprise that I also practice the remainder of the Four Classic Arts, zither, and chess. My final art isn’t anything impressive, I serve tea,” he continued, his tone becoming somewhat rambling. “I told Sister Xiang once that tea is tea, it doesn’t care who makes it and it doesn’t have to be about anything complicated to be enjoyed for its pure flavors. But chess is never just about chess. Chess is about planning, chasing your own desires, and denying your opponent their own. It’s about seeing the bigger picture and understanding how to best use what you have available to you in the position you’re in. Chess a lot of things. Compared to a good game of chess, today’s strategy was nothing much.”
“Nothing much you say,” Huang Yeyan said softly, finishing her work bandaging Wu Ling’s soft hand. “It seems I’ve greatly underestimated the power of the Arts and the Artists who practice them at a high level. Thank you Aesthete Wu for the lesson,” she said, cupping her hands and giving a slight nod of respect.
Wu Ling, however, completely missed the gesture. As soon as Huang Yeyan had released his hand, he’d fallen asleep on the spot, no longer able to keep the exhaustion of battle from pulling him under as he slumped against Su Xiang and allowed darkness to claim him.