Demonic Tribulations - Chapter 88 preview (Patreon)

Chapter 88 – Wu Ying

Traversing the city, Wu Ying could not help but marvel at the ingenuity of the demons. Besieged by demonic beasts that could tunnel, fly or plow through walls, the city instead built a series of concentric defenses, so that some small portion of it could survive an attack. The city was laid out in long winding streets that made no sense in terms of economy of movement or traffic, but when taking impediment of line of sights, sieges and the series of formations that the roads were built upon, made perfect sense.

In fact, depending on the strength of the attacking beast or demon; it might have even repelled them entirely from a single neighborhood, as each formation built upon the next, absorbing and spreading out the damage while also containing overt energies.

The neighborhoods were further distributed in an interesting manner because of this. Rather than having concentrated quarters where any single variation of the same service might be offered – blacksmithing, or wholesaling or the fish mongers – the city was instead split into tiny zones, each of which replicated the same services as another, just with their own flavor.

“No, no, don’t bother going to the brown quarter. I tell you, we have the best armour you can buy right here!” A loud merchant was proclaiming to a guardsman who was hefting a decently built spear. “They’ll just charge you more for the same quality, I tell you.”

“Restaurants? Of course you could go to the yellow quarters. I suggest you do, if you like dishes with too much cumin and turmeric, and not enough true taste. Here, we cook our meat right. Marinate it for a full twenty six hours, in a mixture of goruj spit and milk.”

“You don’t want to get clothing from the purple quarters. They get the pick of colors last, I tell you. We get ours first, so the dyes we use last. You want your clothing to run? Go there.”

Words swirled all around him, as he traversed the city. Many of the demons eyed him, the lone human, with some curiosity. Not enough for them to come over, not even the beggar children who ran around, asking for change or the pickpockets amongst them.

Wu Ying had no intentions in his wanderings, no plan. His mind was exhausted, his momentary impulse to be foolish having cost him even more energy. Walking through the city, utilizing the Cyclones Breath, drawing in demonic chi and filtering it through his body, he wondered about his future.

In his previous escapade, he had begun to utilize and earn back some of the strength of the wind he had lost as a mortal. Chosen, purposely, to leave behind rather than become the wind itself and achieve immortality in that manner. His ability to disperse his body into the component portions of the air had come from that reclamation. In time, he might even be able to undertake movement across multiple li utilizing that technique, though instinctively he knew that progress was many years away. Centuries, likely.

He could continue to try to explore down that avenue, grow more attuned to the wind. Instinctively, though, Wu Ying balked at the idea. It was boring, and whatever gains he might acquire by doggedly pursuing benefits would come slowly.

Hoping for inspiration, and too tired to think further, Wu Ying wandered the city. He listened in to conversations and observed the comings and goings of those around, making his way to locations where the winds whispered secrets might showcase itself. Most mattered little to him, for many of the secrets were petty - adultery, forbidden marriages and theft – were of little interest. Let the demons play out their lives, for he was but an observer.

There, a group of thieves broke out of a shop, shoving an older woman out of their way. She hit the ground, managing to avoid major damage but crying out in pain. They made it a half-dozen feet before a potter, working their wheel at the front of their shop to draw attention to it scooped up the wet clay and tossed it. The clay enlarged as it spun through the air, striking one of the robber’s by surprise and engulfing his lower body.

Instinctively, the demon attempted to pull away, but the clay had kept growing. The moment one end touched the ground, it sucked additional earth towards it, hardening and trapping the robber. His pals had cast one look at their friend and kept running, the pair dashing down a side street; ignored by the others.

Ineffectually stabbing at the hardened earth, the robber attempted to free himself until the closest guard – a deputy – arrived. Chaining the trapped miscreant’s hands together, he wandered over to the master potter who had begun work on another piece already. Her pair of apprentices were behind her, making practice pieces deeper inside the store, while finished pieces – unpainted and finished – were displayed on shelves out of the sight, leading inwards into the store itself.

“I can keep this one contained, till you catch the other two,” the woman said without looking up. She was shaping the clay upwards now, having expertly centered a new square in moments. Though each piece of clay might look simple, Wu Ying could sense the covert demonic chi embedded in each block, the power that hummed in the woman. Drawn to it, he drifted closer as he listened to their conversation.

“Better to finish this one off than chase those other two. They’re long gone anyway, but this one will have their whereabouts.”

“You sure about that? They abandoned him quickly enough.”

There was a shrug from the deputy, but seeing that he was not inclined to pursue the others, the potter raised their other foot off the ground and tapped it. Immediately, an arrow of chi raced through the earth and struck the entombed robber, causing the earth and clay to break. The criminal was not slow in rushing away, but the guard utilized a movement technique, shaping the earth beneath him to give him a launchpad to fling him over and capture the other before they could get away.

The little drama was ignored by the potter whose attention had fully returned to the vase that she was shaping. One hand on the inside, the other using a wooden shaping tool, she was pulling the clay upwards to gain the height that she desired, having expanded the bottom opening at the start.

“You looking to buy something?” she called out.

“My companion might wish to acquire some of your better pieces. We arrived recently-”

“On the peng. Blowing dust all around. I know. I had to calm down the earth in the district, before the grit got into my work.” No anger in her voice, not even mild admonishment which made Wu Ying feel all the guiltier.

“Apologies. I hadn’t though the wind would cause that much ruckus.”

“That’s the wind for you.” A deep shrug. “Flighty and not prone to listening. Why I prefer working with earth myself.” Even as she spoke, her hands kept moving. She took her eyes off her work for a moment, meeting Wu Ying’s gaze with eyes the colour of red clay. They were softer, more muted than the fiery pupils of others, a deep steadiness in her gaze that gave him a sense of surety. Then, she turned back to her wheel. “Why I prefer the earth myself.”

“I have some small connection to it. Just not this kind.” Wandering gatherer, farmer, gardener. He had worked rich soil and compost all his life, mixing and tasting it, turning earth over and plowing it down for a new harvest, season after season.

“So I sensed.” She jerked her head down to a nearby empty wheel beside her apprentices. “Maybe you should try it.”

“I…”

“Unless you have something better to do. More trouble to cause?”

Something in her voice told him her offer was less request and more an order. Almost, he refused still. But something within him – perhaps the casual mastery she displayed of her element, perhaps just the sheer volume of demonic chi she exuded – made him stay. He took a seat beside her, a small smile dancing on his lips as instructions – not from her, but the apprentice beside him, began to ensue forth.

How many other cultivators, how many vaunted immortals would ever get their hands dirty in this manner? Certainly there were few stories of them casting pots and mugs. Then again, even Lord Wen had learnt about the Dao from a butcher[1].

What a contrast, between the simple ideals showcased by the parables and high-minded, lofty perception of immortals that were publicly showcased. There was, perhaps, something there; a point that had to be made, but it drifted from Wu Ying as he learnt how to cut clay into blocks to work, to toss it at the wheel and center it.

It would come to him, he was sure.

These things did.

[1] This is in reference to the parable of Butcher Ding who carved the ox before Lord Wen, managing to slice through it so effortlessly he never had to sharpen his knife. He did so by following the flow of the body, finding the gaps and points in the body, moving effortlessly through it. It’s about effortless action (zhuangzi) and becoming one with the Dao.