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Rebirth as a Wind Cultivator - Chapter 64
🕑 Added 2024-11-26 01:03:36 +0000 UTCChapter 64: Lulls Before
Xiulan had studied the assembled cultivators, putting names and Ming’s notes on the ledger to the person. Each one represented a crucial tactical asset for the coming siege.
Wei Kang flexed his scarred arms, earth qi pulsing through the ritual markings. His “Mountain Stands Firm” technique would prove invaluable for blocking siege equipment. Though his disdain showed clearly, his reliability in combat outweighed his attitude.
Liu Shui adjusted her scholarly robes with precise movements. Her water-based healing mists could keep defenders fighting longer. The potential insights gleaned from her Imperial Academy training would help coordinate their defense.
The twin brothers, Li Ren and Li Jan, exchanged knowing looks. Their synchronized fighting style would make them an effective rapid response unit when the walls faced multiple threats.
Zhang Huo’s weathered face betrayed years of military experience. His expertise in empowering archer and crossbow units by channeling fire qi into their projectiles would give their volleys and extra explosive punch.
Yang Mei sat cross-legged on the floor, her earth qi reaching out to sense vibrations. Her ability to detect tunneling operations would prevent underground attacks. Despite her youth, her talent showed promise.
Sun Gai stroked his beard thoughtfully, wooden staff humming with natural energy. His “Living Wood Reinforcement” technique would strengthen their fortifications and repair damage during the siege.
Wu Yan gripped her sword with barely contained intensity. Her fire-enhanced morale charges would rally troops during critical moments. Her passionate nature made her perfect for leading counterattacks.
More cultivators arrived over the next two days. Xiulan directed them toward the Lin Family Manor, fulfilling her promise to protect Mother and Zhang Wei. Ren Chun would coordinate their defense there.
From the second floor of the Treasure Pavilion, Xiulan had spent time observing the cultivators sort themselves into an efficient unit.
The mercenaries weren’t the only ones to drill and prepare. Xiulan let out a breath.
Each morning brought new lessons with Master Qingfeng, his steady guidance helping refine her qi control. Mei Chen sat beside her, making the meditation look effortless.
Midday meant rounds through the city, checking conscription numbers and troop readiness. The city watch grew stronger as Liu Bao transformed civilians into a proper defensive force.
Xiulan and Mei Chen climbed the worn stone steps to Blackmere’s eastern wall. The afternoon sun cast shadows across weathered battlements as crossbowmen lined the crenellations. Steel bowstrings twanged in sequence, launching volleys into the distant fields.
Below, workers scrambled between scattered boulders with buckets of white paint. Each stroke marked ranging distances for the defenders—simple but effective. The smell of fresh paint drifted up on the autumn breeze.
The wooden frames of six magonels creaked as crews adjusted their positions. Scattered stones clattered into the loading baskets. At the signal, the counterweights dropped. Stone shot arced through the air, impact points marked with splashes of red paint against the earth.
Zhang Huo stood behind a line of wide-eyed crossbowmen, his scarred hands weaving patterns of fire qi. The specialized long-bolts in their weapons sparked and ignited. Several men flinched at the flames dancing inches from their faces.
“Steady. Fire as one,” Zhang Huo commanded.
The flaming bolts launched skyward. Where they struck, flames erupted in a cascading inferno that devoured the dry grass. The crossbowmen stared in awe at the devastation their enhanced weapons wrought on the grass.
After inspecting the walls and defensive positions, Xiulan spent evenings sparring with Mei Chen in the pavilion’s training yard. Her wrathful spirit nature made her attacks unpredictable—perfect practice for the chaos of real combat.
On the third day, Xiulan entered the main hall. Ming Lihua stood before the assembled cultivators, marking positions on a city map while explaining patrol rotations. The defenders listened intently, their earlier chaos replaced by disciplined attention.
No word had come from Instructor Han. The silence gnawed at her as she watched the preparations continue.
Yang Mei burst into the hall, her practical training clothes dusty from travel. “The enemy army approaches from the western road—two days’ march, three at most. Any cultivators could arrive sooner if they split from the main force.”
Ming Lihua turned expectantly toward Xiulan.
“Let’s move this to the strategy room.” Xiulan strode toward the converted chamber, footsteps echoing against polished wood. Ming and Yang Mei followed close behind, with Mei Chen prowling at Xiulan’s shoulder.
The strategic map dominated the room’s center, its detailed rendition of Blackmere city and the surrounding territories spread across a massive table. Tiny markers represented their defensive positions, from the city walls to the distant Lin Family Manor.
Yang Mei wasted no time positioning red enemy counters along the western approach. The markers clustered to the west. They’d have to skirt the city to make their way around to the crossroads that led up to the Lin Family Manor.
Just as I predicted. “Did you discover anything about their cultivator strength and command structure?”
“Lord Chao leads personally, accompanied by two of his sons.” Ming glanced at Yang Mei.
“I detected at least twenty qi signatures through ground contact.” Yang Mei traced the enemy positions. “That number could be higher—I can only sense those who channel qi while touching the earth.”
“So we hope for equal numbers...” Xiulan drummed her fingers against the table. “But prepare for worse, given twenty detected already.”
Ming nodded gravely. “Our best advantage lies in maintaining a defensive posture.”
Yang Mei bowed and strode from the strategy room. Mei Chen tracked her movements with predatory focus, nostrils flaring.
Ming straightened the papers on the strategy table. “The Treasure Pavilion has provided substantial support, but with enemy forces approaching, we must relocate operations to the Lin manor. Our involvement needs to become less... conspicuous.”
Xiulan released a slow breath. The timing made sense—she’d expected this conversation much earlier. The Pavilion’s assistance had proven far more extensive than seemed prudent for maintaining their ‘neutrality.’
Qingfeng needs me alive to collect on that favor. The thought brought a wry smile to her lips. The merchant master played a longer game than most realized.
“Thank you for everything, Miss Ming.” Xiulan traced the manor’s position on the map. “The renovations should finish tomorrow. Five thousand laborers make quick work, especially with the city’s backing. My family’s city manor will serve perfectly as our command center.”
Ming smoothed her purple robes. “One more matter requires attention.”
“Yes?”
“We secured the final cultivator position.”
“Excellent news. Who accepted?”
Ming’s severe expression softened. “I did.”
Xiulan stared at the senior merchandiser. Master Qingfeng must have approved this personally. Ming’s organizational skills and tactical insight had proven invaluable—losing her support would have damaged their preparations. But now...
“Won’t that cause problems with the Pavilion?” Xiulan studied Ming’s composed features in the spirit stone light.
“I’m taking a brief vacation.” Ming adjusted her silver hair pins with practiced precision. “As an independent cultivator during my leave, Master Qingfeng assured me it shouldn’t raise any concerns.”
Of course he did. Xiulan suppressed a knowing smile. The pieces fell neatly into place.
Xiulan glanced at Mei Chen who prowled near the door. “It’s been a long day. I should retire for the night.”
“Rest well.” Ming’s eyes held a hint of warning. “It might be your last chance for proper sleep.”
The corridors stretched quiet and empty as Xiulan walked toward the guest building. She caught Mei Chen watching the direction Yang Mei had departed. “You seemed interested in Yang Mei earlier. Any particular reason?”
Mei Chen’s eyes widened into perfect circles. “She has the same first name as me!”
“And?” Xiulan raised an eyebrow.
“That’s all.” Mei Chen tilted her head like a curious bird. “She smells like fresh earth. Since we share a name, perhaps we could become friends?”
A laugh escaped Xiulan’s lips. “Maybe. We can speak with her later if you’d like.”
“Only if it won’t hinder you, Miss!” Mei Chen bounced on her toes.
As they approached the guest building, movement caught Xiulan’s attention. Above the Treasure Pavilion, white strands materialized in the night air. The threads wove together, forming an intricate dome of spiritual webbing before it turned transparent.
Qingfeng was raising the array defenses.
The start of danger drew ever closer.
**********************
Xiulan leaned against the sun-warmed stone of Blackmere’s outer wall. Below, wagons creaked through the gates, loaded with spears, bolts, and preserved food. The steady flow of supplies had managed to keep the schedule—a small comfort given the approaching army.
Mei Chen perched on a crenellation, feet swinging in empty air as she hummed an off-key tune. Her newfound contentment provided a stark contrast to Xiulan’s growing frustration with the copied manual page in her hands.
The cryptic text swirled before her eyes:
“When spring winds whisper through summer leaves,
Nature’s dance reveals heaven’s gift.
Seek the pattern where branches meet sky.”
And below it:
“Still waters mirror floating petals,
While roots drink deep of earth’s embrace.
Three paths join where seasons change.”
A third passage detailed meridian alignments:
“The dantian flows through twelve gates,
Each must align with nature’s breath,
Until body, mind, and spirit form one.”
Xiulan recognized the technique offered from countless hours spent gaming—’Tree Sigh Mind’ could expand her dantian significantly at her current cultivation level. If only she could decipher the actual method...
These riddles might be the death of me before the Chao army arrives, she thought, studying the passages again.
A sudden burst of activity erupted at the end of the wagon line. Several carts swerved around the orderly procession, kicking up dust as they rushed forward. Xiulan tucked the manual page into her robe.
“Blood. Fresh and old.” Mei Chen stood atop the crenellation, nose twitching.
“Let’s investigate.” Xiulan stepped off the wall, qi cushioning her descent. Mei Chen landed beside her with supernatural grace.
Two guards intercepted the approaching wagons. The drivers slumped over their reins, clothes torn and stained with soot and grime. Exhaustion etched deep lines across their faces.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Xiulan strode toward the lead wagon.
“Miss Xiulan!” The first driver straightened. “We escaped—we need help!”
“Identify yourselves.”
“Lin family soldiers, Miss. We fled the fire.”
Xiulan studied their approach path. The east? Why come from that direction? That direction should have been safe…
“Instructor Han—” The driver pointed to the first cart’s cargo bed.
Han Shun lay unconscious among bloodied bandages. Angry red burns covered his exposed skin, and fresh wrappings circled his head and torso.
“Get the wounded through first.” Xiulan turned to the nearest guard. “Clear the eastern storage courtyard for triage.”
Missing for so long, only to appear from the wrong direction entirely, on the eve before battle. The timing felt wrong. The location felt wrong. Everything about the situation raised questions she couldn’t yet answer.
Xiulan watched the wagons roll through the gates, wheels creaking against cobblestones. The injured soldiers swayed with each bump, their groans carrying across the street.
Mei Chen tugged at Xiulan’s silk sleeve and pressed close. “Miss...” Her nose twitched. “One of them smells like flowing qi.”
Xiulan’s muscles tensed. A cultivator spy had slipped in among the wounded—clever. Without Mei Chen’s supernatural senses, they might have succeeded in their infiltration. Such fortune to be at the right place when they arrived.
Xiulan turned to the nearest guard. “Take a message to the Treasure Pavilion, for Ming Lihua.” She kept her voice low but clear. “A house sparrow has snuck in and looks to usurp the nest. Eastern storage courtyard.”
The guard snapped a crisp salute. “At once!”
“Let’s follow the wagons, Mei Chen.” Xiulan adjusted her stance to appear casual. “We wouldn’t want our guest to feel neglected.”
“Yes, Miss.” Mei Chen fell into step beside her.
They maintained a careful distance as the procession wound through Blackmere’s streets. The afternoon shadows were perfect for trailing their target.
“Keep your senses sharp.” Xiulan glanced at Mei Chen. “Our enemy must not slip away.”
Almost as if they heard her, a dark shape burst from the wagon ahead, launching toward the nearest rooftop. Xiulan sprang into pursuit without hesitation, qi surging through her legs. The familiar weight of Severing Light bounced against her back as she bounded after the fleeing figure.
Ceramic tiles exploded beneath their feet, scattering fragments across the streets below. The spy darted across the rooftops toward Blackmere’s outer wall, maintaining a frustrating lead. Despite pushing her qi-enhanced muscles to their limit, she wasn’t closing the gap.
Mei Chen shot past in a blur of motion, running on all fours with predatory grace. Her wrathful spirit nature emerged in fluid, bestial movements as she closed the distance. The spy spun to face her final pounce, drawing a blade in a practiced arc.
Crystalline claws sprouted from Mei Chen’s fingers as she caught the weapon mid-swing. She vaulted over the spy’s head in a graceful flip, lashing out with an ice-armored leg. The spy’s sword plunged into the roof tiles, blocking her kick. Ice spread from Mei Chen’s shin armor, crawling along the blade. She kicked hard, sending the frozen weapon spinning away into the afternoon shadows.
“Take him alive!” Xiulan drew Severing Light. “We need answers!”
Mei Chen dropped into a feral crouch, frost crackling around her hands. A guttural hiss escaped through bared teeth as she stalked toward their prey.
Twin daggers flashed in the spy’s hands as he met Mei Chen’s assault. The crystalline claws sparked against steel as he blocked her relentless barrage, each swipe forcing him back another step across the rooftop.
Xiulan reached the fight and swept Severing Light in a horizontal arc at his head. The spy dropped low, the blade whistling overhead as he sidestepped to keep them in a line. Mei Chen pressed forward, her kicks connecting with devastating precision. Each impact left chunks of spreading ice across his arms and chest.
A deep, inhuman sound rumbled from Mei Chen’s throat. The temperature plummeted around them as moisture condensed from the air. Swirling winds picked up loose snow in a spiraling vortex around the fight.
Xiulan stepped back, watching Mei Chen work. The spy’s daggers remained frozen to his hands, now encased in solid ice. Mei Chen struck with brutal efficiency, targeting his joints. A swift sweep took his legs out from under him.
The spy crashed onto his back. Ice crackled and grew around his body, forming a crystalline prison that left only his head exposed. Mei Chen settled onto his chest with predatory satisfaction, fog spreading into the air from where she perched.
“Well, looks like you handled it yourselves.”
Xiulan spun at Ming Lihua’s voice. The merchandiser stood atop the roof’s peak, purple robes rippling in the wind. How did she move so silently?
A sharp hiss of escaping air drew Xiulan’s attention. The spy expelled a cloud of sickly green mist directly at Mei Chen’s face. Crystalline claws flashed as Mei Chen slashed through the poison fog. The qi-infused vapor clung to her ice-formed weapons as if they were magnets. The clear ice stained an eerie emerald green. She drove the contaminated claws into the tiles beside the spy’s head with enough force to crack the ceramic.
“We need to bind his qi abilities.” Xiulan kept her spear ready.
“Indeed.” Ming pulled a golden cord from her sleeve. The sight of the restraint sent a phantom ache through Xiulan’s wrists—identical to the bindings used during her arrest in Fershere.
“Mei Chen, come here.” Xiulan softened her tone. “You can relax now.”
Mei Chen bounded over with supernatural grace. “Did I do good, miss?”
“The best.” Xiulan squeezed her shoulder.
Ming struck the ice prison with her palm. The crystalline structure shattered into glittering shards. The spy attempted to roll away but Ming’s second qi-enhanced strike caught him square in the chest. A resonant gong echoed across the rooftops. She flipped his dazed form onto his stomach and bound his wrists and ankles with practiced efficiency.
She hoisted him over her shoulder like a sack of grain.
“We need to question him about—”
A deep horn blast cut through the afternoon air from the western walls. Xiulan’s blood ran cold as she turned toward the sound.
Through the shimmer on the horizon, a dark line stretched across the plains, dust clouds rising in its wake. The Chao army had arrived a day ahead of schedule.
Comments
Cha0sniper
You're right, but in ancient China all catapult-type siege engines were mangonels until the introduction of the counterweight trebuchet. Maybe here they kept the name even when the design changed. This is ignoring the fact that "mangonel" is an English corruption of a French word that absolutely doesn't exist in the setting, because the story is in English and we all just agree to politely ignore terminology that doesn't technically belong in the setting xD
JHD
Thanks for the chapter.
CringeWorthyStudios
“The wooden frames of six magonels creaked as crews adjusted their positions. Scattered stones clattered into the loading baskets. At the signal, the counterweights dropped.” > As far as I’m aware, mangonels don’t use counterweights. They’re a traction type design. Contrasting with an Onager which uses torsion and a trebuchet which uses counterweights. Thanks for the chapter!
