Learning To Live As A Cultivator 30 Chapter Thirty - He Dances About The Glade

He moved with fluid and deadly grace, swinging his sword, slicing the air and imagining his foe dance before him. The familiar movements gave clarity to his mind and body as united they performed the bladeplay that had defined his formative years. Memories flashed behind his eyes of how his father would look down upon him as he practiced under the watchful eye of the Blade Master; his face would be stern, his expression emotionless, but if Jin Li pleased him, there would be a small nod of acknowledgement.

The man performed move after move in swift succession until his arms ached and sweat coated his skin. He cursed inwardly. If the Blade Master and his father saw him now there would a be little more than harsh scoldings. He felt his movement was slightly stiff and his endurance lacking. Surely, his dance had lasted barely an hour and his body was already protesting the exercise as excessive. He ignored his burning muscles for a length of time until his fingers twitched irritably and the blade was little more than dead weight in his grip.

The sword fell to the ground as he lamented his weakness. Whatever had occurred in order to bring him to this accursed middle realm had not only set back his physical abilities but his cultivation as well. Although he still felt that he was better, stronger than of many of his age in this realm, he certainly could no longer compare to his older brothers! He would bring his family shame should they see him now! He had been in a hurry to return to the higher realm, however in his haste he had neglected to understand this, so perhaps it was fate that he was stranded upon this lackl.u.s.tre mountain under the shelter of a weak and moneyless boy.

He sat upon the ground and took the lotus position before turning his eye inward to observe his soul sea. It swirled lazily about his shimmering core. With a soft sigh he stirred the sea with his mind and began to direct the spirit energy along his meridians in a specific pattern, chanting well spoken words beneath his breath. The energy warmed his body as it circled, easing the aches in his muscles, calming the tremors within his hands and legs. He sighed, expelling a small percentage of bodily impurities as he did.

Rising to his feet, he gathered his sword, wiping the sweat and moisture from its blade upon a brush of scrub gra.s.s before sheathing it. Then he returned to the small hut of the boy. He was somewhat in two minds about that boy, for instance, he had his uses; he acquired food and shared it with him, though the fair was simple and lacked meat. Yet he was somewhat of an annoyance, useless and weak and clearly easy to take advantage of. While it was fine, he felt, when he was the one taking advantage of the boy, he felt irritated when he considered others would also do the same. Considering what he knew about the boy's improved pills, he would not be surprised if the break in had something to do with them. For the ancestors sake, he was well aware that the boy had nothing else that would be worth stealing.

Of course it could have been just a malicious attack, but Jin Li felt that this was too simple. The hut was too far removed from what he had gathered when they had left to meet that villager at the Food Hall. Admittedly, jealousy was not a logical emotion, it was still possible that the break in was just a pathetic attempt of bullying.

When he returned to the front of the house, he found that the boy was not there, though interesting aroma's were oozing out of the cooking pot now sitting above a cold fire pit. It was tempting him to taste it, but he refrained for the moment, entering the hut by removing the door from its frame before stepping through. There was a note upon the table, Jin Li realised as he placed his sword and belt upon it.

"Ran out of herbs. Don't eat from the pot, it is not quite cooked yet."

Jin Li grumbled and decided that he would be the judge of that as he took a pair of chopsticks from the work surface and moved to the lidded pot. He used the rag to lift the hot lid and withdrew a small piece of purple root before placing it in his mouth. Dammit, he was right. It wasn't cooked yet.