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Rebirth as a Wind Cultivator - Chapter 63
🕑 Added 2024-11-26 01:02:28 +0000 UTCChapter 63: Conscription Whirl
Xiulan spun Severing Light in a defensive arc, but Mei Chen darted through her guard with supernatural speed. The spear yanked free from her grip, clattering across the training yard’s stones.
Two ornate daggers materialized in Xiulan’s hands. Mei Chen prowled the perimeter of their makeshift arena, frost crystals spreading beneath each silent step.
Ming’s harsh laughter echoed off the courtyard walls. “If you can’t beat her how can you protect her? Mei Chen! Perhaps you should remain here at the pavilion where it’s safe!”
“Stop encouraging her!” Xiulan shifted her stance as Mei Chen’s eyes flashed a deeper shade of blue as she gained predatory focus. “She’s already—”
A feral hiss cut through the air. Mei Chen lunged forward, crystalline claws extending from her fingertips mid-strike. Xiulan barely managed to deflect the attack with crossed daggers. The weapons and claws froze together. Xiulan drew a dart and stabbed Mei Chen in the side. A patch of ice sprouted like frozen armor, making the blow useless.
Her meager training was turning out to be nothing against raw supernatural power. She had learned this lesson painfully through three consecutive defeats. Mei Chen possessed no formal combat training, but her wrathful spirit nature granted her devastating instinctual abilities.
A blur of movement caught Xiulan’s attention. Mei Chen surged forward in an impossible rush. The impact sent vibrations through her arms. Before she could counter, Mei Chen twisted, using the weapons as leverage. A leg swept up and slammed into Xiulan’s ribs.
Pain exploded through her side, but Xiulan maintained her grip on the frozen daggers. She planted her feet and swung hard with both arms, attempting to throw Mei Chen off balance. Mei moved with the momentum instead of fighting it. Her body spun with unnatural grace, applying brutal torque to Xiulan’s wrists. The daggers tore free despite Xiulan’s best efforts.
Fuck!
The daggers thudded into the dirt. Mei Chen pounced with predatory intent, slamming into Xiulan’s chest. They crashed to the ground together, Mei Chen’s weight pinning Xiulan at the waist.
Sharp claws—gently, somehow gently—dug into Xiulan’s shoulders as Mei Chen pinned her against the cold stone. A low, predatory growl rumbled from deep within Mei Chen’s chest.
“You win again.” Xiulan wrapped her arms around Mei Chen’s torso and pulled her into a tight embrace.
Mei Chen yelped in surprise. The crystalline claws dissolved into droplets, pattering against the courtyard stones. Xiulan shifted her weight, dragging Mei Chen into a sitting position without breaking the hug.
“Look at that—the fearsome wrathful spirit’s greatest weakness.” Xiulan’s laughter echoed across the training yard.
A deep crimson flush spread across Mei Chen’s pale features. “Miss, that’s not fair!”
Ming stared at them with an unimpressed expression. “I doubt hugging the enemy into submission will prove an effective battlefield tactic.”
“Let’s hope House Chao hasn’t recruited any wrathful spirits to their cause.” Xiulan brushed dirt from her robes as she and Mei stood.
“The likelihood approaches zero.” Ming crossed her arms.
Xiulan retrieved Severing Light from where it had fallen, then collected her scattered daggers. The ornate blades glinted in the afternoon sun. “I believe we’ve had enough combat practice for today...”
Earlier practice sessions had proven more productive, at least. Xiulan twirled two iron darts between her fingers, recalling the miniature lightning strikes she’d created. The thunderous cracks had echoed through Blackmere, sending startled shouts from the streets outside the Treasure Pavilion’s training grounds.
A simplified version of ‘Thunder God Splits the Sky and Fucks You Up,’ but effective. The darts provided reliable range, and the area effect proved impressive—spanning from two to ten meters depending on how much qi she channeled into the paired weapons.
It was exactly the type of improved technique she needed for what was coming.
Ming accepted a wooden tablet from a servant, scanning its contents. “Eleven cultivators have registered for hire.” She glanced up at Xiulan. “Would you prefer to interview them personally, or shall I handle the arrangements?”
Xiulan sheathed her remaining daggers. “Take care of it unless someone noteworthy appears.” She adjusted the weight of Severing Light across her back. “The city defenses need attention, and I should check on the draft preparations.”
Mei Chen smoothed the wrinkles from her emerald robes and fell into step beside Xiulan. The familiar streets of Blackmere opened up before them, now transformed by the organized chaos of military preparations.
The city watch building’s courtyard bustled with activity. Where merchants once haggled over goods, conscripts now formed ragged lines for basic training. The smell of sweat and leather permeated the air as instructors barked commands at their charges.
Xiulan studied the temporary camp taking shape. Her ultimatum to the city officials had produced swift results—either house the conscripts or welcome them into their own homes. The threat of unwashed soldiers sleeping in their private chambers had loosened purse strings with remarkable speed.
A rumbling drew her attention. A convoy of heavily-laden carts approached from the direction of the Lin Family Manor, their wooden wheels clattering against the cobblestones. Xiulan strode toward the lead cart, noting the Lin family crest emblazoned on the canvas covers.
“Report.” Xiulan addressed the cart driver.
“First shipment of weapons from the manor armory, Miss Lin.” The driver handed her a manifest. “Mostly ranged weapons—crossbows and bolts.”
Xiulan pulled back the canvas cover on the nearest cart. Rows of polished crossbows gleamed in the afternoon light. She lifted one, testing its weight and mechanism. The trigger pulled smooth, the construction solid. Perfect for inexperienced troops—simple to learn, deadly on impact.
Xiulan scanned the courtyard for Liu Bao’s broad-shouldered figure. Several sergeants directed groups of conscripts through basic formations, their voices carrying across the packed yard.
“Where’s the Acting Captain?” Xiulan asked a passing sergeant.
“Conscription yard, Miss Lin.” The sergeant pointed toward the eastern section. “Organizing the new recruits.”
The conscription yard was a cordoned off city square. Lines of men waited to register, while scribes recorded names and family details in thick ledgers. Each conscript received a numbered wooden tag and basic equipment—a uniform, a rucksack, and supplies.
Once they were assigned to a unit, training, armor, and weapons would come.
Liu Bao stood at a wooden table surrounded by officers, gesturing at deployment charts. The daily stipend calculations sat in neat rows beside recruitment numbers. Tax relief documents waited for official seals—a gamble that would cut deep into county revenues unless the provincial prefect approved the mobilization.
Not that they had much choice with an enemy army approaching Blackmere. Considering the circumstances it was unlikely to be denied at least.
“Captain Liu.” Xiulan approached the table. “Status report?”
Liu Bao straightened. “Three thousand registered so far, Miss Lin. At this rate, we’ll field ten thousand within three days.”
“Good.” Xiulan studied the recruitment charts.
“Miss Lin.” Liu Bao cleared his throat. “How many should we accept into service?”
Xiulan considered the logistics. The numbers would strain Blackmere’s resources, but with House Chao’s army bearing down on them...
Xiulan studied the recruitment charts while calculating the logistics in her mind. Blackmere’s nearly hundred thousand residents provided a substantial pool of potential defenders, but training and equipping them all would drain their resources. The real concern lay with the cultivators.
She traced her finger along the deployment diagrams. Regular troops would man the walls and siege equipment, providing crucial support. Even basic crossbow volleys could pose a threat to enemy cultivators, especially in Blackmere’s spiritually weak environment.
The county’s thin spiritual energy presented another strategic consideration. While it wouldn’t significantly impact lower-level cultivators like herself, the siege engines would suffer. Spiritual weapons required ambient qi to function at full capacity.
Xiulan drew a deep breath.
“Cap conscription at twelve thousand.” Xiulan traced her finger along the deployment chart. “That gives us enough numbers without breaking our supply lines.”
Liu Bao nodded and made a notation. “And the existing garrison?”
“Integrate the conscripts with our two thousand regular guards. Use the veterans to train the new recruits—they already know our protocols and formations.”
“What about the civil defense?”
“Keep five thousand in reserve for firefighting and damage control. We’ll need them when the siege starts.” Xiulan straightened from the table. “Has there been any word from my family’s city manor guards? Or House Manager Han Shun?”
Liu Bao’s shoulders tensed. “Only rumors. The guards reportedly fled while being pursued by the enemy cultivators. They split into smaller groups—” He hesitated. “One group was cut down. The others vanished. No confirmation if they found sanctuary or...”
The memory of discovering her mother’s butchered platoon flashed through Xiulan’s mind. The stench of death, the flies, the vacant eyes staring skyward. She pressed her palm against the rough wood of the table, steadying herself.
“Or if they’re lying dead in a ditch somewhere,” Xiulan finished quietly.
Liu Bao straightened his leather armor. “I can send scouts to search for Han Shun and the others. We have a few riders to spare—”
“No.” Xiulan shook her head. “We need every person focused on the defense. Just ensure the regular scouts know to watch for them during their patrols.”
“Understood, Miss Lin.” Liu Bao made a note in his ledger.
Xiulan rubbed her temples. The nagging sensation of a critical oversight gnawed at her thoughts. The cultivators. She’d left their recruitment entirely to Ming Lihua. That might have been a mistake.
It was by far the most important point of the defense.
Ming possessed years of experience evaluating people and negotiating contracts. The senior disciple knew how to spot deception, how to gauge character. Still, delegating such a crucial task...
Xiulan glanced over her shoulder. Mei Chen stood perfectly still, hands folded, the very picture of an attentive servant. Beneath that demure exterior lurked supernatural power and unwavering loyalty. True friends were rare.
So…
Trust Ming’s choices but observe and adjust if necessary. It was a plan.
“Captain Liu.” Xiulan straightened from the table. “Keep me informed of any developments with the defense preparations.”
Liu Bao snapped to attention and saluted. “Yes, Miss Lin!”
Xiulan turned back toward the Treasure Pavilion’s towering silhouette. “Come, Mei Chen. Let’s see what cultivators have answered our call.”
A short while later they pushed open the doors to the Treasure Pavilion’s meeting hall. Ten cultivators sat in a semicircle before Ming, who stood at a polished wooden podium. Weren’t there supposed to be eleven?
“—expect full compliance with defensive protocols.” Ming gestured to a map of Blackmere spread across the wall. “The county faces an imminent attack from House Chao forces.”
The assembled cultivators presented a stark contrast in appearances and cultivation styles. A burly man with ritual scars traced across his arms sat next to a willowy woman in scholarly robes. Twin brothers in matching green tunics flanked a weathered veteran whose qi rippled with barely contained fire. The remaining cultivators ranged from a teenage girl with wind-tousled hair to a elderly man whose wooden staff thrummed with earth energy.
Several heads turned as Xiulan entered. Their gazes lingered on Mei Chen, who radiated yin despite the safety seal at her throat. A few hands drifted toward weapon hilts.
Ming stepped away from the podium. “Allow me to introduce Lin Xiulan, who commissioned this defensive force.”
“This slip of a girl?” The scarred cultivator spat on the floor. “We’re supposed to take orders from someone barely into Body Refinement?”
“The Treasure Pavilion guarantees our payment.” The scholarly woman adjusted her spectacles. “That’s what matters.”
Xiulan suppressed a sigh. She should have anticipated the reaction from mercenary cultivators. Their disdain rolled off them in waves of hostile qi.
Comments
JHD
Thanks for the chapter. Do they have some garentee that the other cultivators will remain 'neutral'?
