Dao of the World Walker (Xianxia) Book 2

Yang stood eating meat buns, chewing slowly as he watched the spectacle unfold. The rush of people around him pressed forward excitedly, craning their necks to see the huge fleet of ships and other kinds of flying vessels flowing overhead. They descended further inside the city, heading toward the central plaza where the recruitment would take place.

Yang remained relaxed despite the crowd’s energy. Taking measured bites. Observing rather than being swept up in the excitement.

He thought back to the past three months as he started making his way toward where the ships had landed, moving along with the swarm of citizens.

Three months ago, he’d arrived in this city exhausted and directionless. After spending the whole night sleeping through the fatigue of sitting for three days straight on that ship journey, Yang had woken disoriented. Unsure of what came next.

He’d made his way outside the inn that first morning. Had a simple breakfast. Steamed buns and tea that tasted unremarkable. Then ventured into the city to learn about this place his instincts had led him to.

He’d asked around. Questioned merchants and guards and innkeepers. What he’d discovered was both disappointing and intriguing.

There was no major or minor sect situated in Canglong City itself.

This was just a simple mortal city of a mortal empire. No cultivators in charge of governing it. There were some sects near the kingdom’s borders, yes. But none strong enough to absorb the kingdom without earning the ire of other bordering 0sects. So the Canglong Kingdom was pretty much left alone. A neutral zone maintained by the balance of power around it.

Yang’s time here had been pleasant enough, though the first month was the most difficult. He’d desperately missed Li San. Kept turning to share an observation only to find empty space where his brother should have been. Kept starting conversations in his head that had no one to voice them to.

But gradually, he’d gotten back into the flow of living alone. At least this time he had the advantage of civilization and all the distractions that came with it. Restaurants to try. Markets to explore. People to observe. It wasn’t the same as having a companion, but it helped fill the hours.

It took a few days before he’d gotten the hint of what he thinks might have caused his inner instincts to led him here.

Since Canglong Kingdom was sectless, various sects made it a point to come here to recruit. From the major top ten sects to other sects of any rank that could afford to run a recruitment drive for disciples. Only the minor and small sects were bound by their geographical location, unable to spare resources for distant recruiting.

Yang had learned that there was soon an expectation of a large number of sects coming into the city. They would make their way through the kingdom to recruit new disciples. An event, held every couple of years apparently. One that drew hopefuls from across the region.

Right then, Yang had known. Was ninety percent sure. That’s what had led his inner instincts to urge him to this city.

He’d decided to reside in the same inn where he’d spent that first night. To wait until the sects arrived. Better than visiting the city of each sect individually trying to see which suited him best. More efficient to let them come to him.

With many sects coming in so soon, there was a chance he might come across one he was ”fated” with. As Senior Cheng Mo had mentioned. That mysterious connection that determined whether a cultivator and a path were suited to each other.

Yang had spent the past three months enjoying the city. And he’d also gotten a mortal scholar as a tutor.

That had been an interesting challenge. Yang wasn’t truly illiterate, thanks to his previous life. He could read and write in the language of his old world. But that did him no good here. He needed to learn a completely new language that used a completely new script.

The characters were beautiful. Elegant. Each one a small piece of art. But there were thousands of them. And the grammar was different from anything Yang had known before. Tones mattered. Context mattered. A single character could mean five different things depending on how it was used.

But Yang had thrown himself into learning with determination. His tutor, a retired scholar named Master Feng, had been patient and thorough. Drilling Yang on characters and pronunciation and meaning until Yang’s head ached.

After three months, Yang could read basic texts and write simple messages. Not fluent, but functional. Better than the illiteracy that had hampered him in Sun and then Tianlu City.

He must be grateful to Senior Cheng Mo for this too. The painter had given Yang a small fortune in spirit stones. Even when divided in half and given to Li San, Yang had more than enough to spend these months relaxing and studying. Paying for tutors. Eating well. Living in comfort.

Yang thought back to those days in Sun City when he and Li San had to work so hard just to earn money to stay there. Counting each copper coin. Valuing silver more than anything. Yang had worked as a laborer, his enhanced strength making the work easy but tedious. Li San had worked hard as a night guard for a wealthy merchant’s warehouse, learning sword basics from the other guards.

The contrast was stark. Then they’d been struggling. Now Yang had resources. Freedom. Time to pursue knowledge instead of just survival.

The crowd around Yang thickened as they approached the central plaza. He walked along with them, letting the current carry him forward. Then the crowd began to separate. Sorting themselves into groups.

Young men and women. Children barely old enough to leave their parents. All here to try their luck at becoming a cultivator. All hoping this would be the day that changed their lives forever.

The sects had set up different tables at distances from each other. Creating distinct zones within the plaza. Each table had sect members sitting behind it. Elders in fine robes. Disciples assisting. 

People were forming lines. Trying their luck at their sects of choice. The good thing, Yang noticed, was that if rejected from the first choice, candidates were allowed to try their luck with the next sect. And the next. Until they either found acceptance or exhausted all options.

Yang took a look around. Getting his bearings.

He saw the table where elders of Azure Sword Sect sat. Their azure robes pristine. Their bearing proud. The line in front of them was massive. Easily the longest in the plaza. Everyone wanted to join the strongest sect. Everyone dreamed of attaining a sword cultivator’s glory.

Yang felt a pang looking at that line. Remembering his own failed attempt at their trial. Wondering if Li San was thinking of him today. If his brother was training hard. Learning well. Making the most of the opportunity Yang couldn’t have.

He moved on. Walking through the plaza. Observing the various sects and their setups.

He came across an alchemy sect table. According to the information Yang had gathered over the past months, this was the Heavenly Pill Sect. One of the top ten sects. Renowned for their alchemical achievements.

Yang was tempted. He believed becoming an alchemist would be far more suited to him than being a sword cultivator. Alchemy involved precision. Study. Understanding materials and reactions. Things that appealed to his methodical mind. And alchemists tended to be wealthy, respected and influential.

But he felt no urge from his instincts to approach their table. No pull. No certainty that this was right.

Yang trusted his instincts by now. Since they’d led him to this city specifically, there was surely something more suitable for him than even a top alchemy sect.

Still, he felt a pang of regret as he walked away from the people making a queue to try their luck there. Alchemy seemed like such a good path. Safe. Profitable. Intellectually engaging.

But apparently not his path.

Yang kept walking. Taking in the variety of sects present.

One of the most interesting displays was from the Beast Master Sect. They’d arrived on a giant bird that still perched near their table. Massive. With feathers that shimmered iridescent blue and green. And they had various other beasts of wonderful kinds standing and sitting around their area.

A tiger with purple stripes. A monkey with golden fur. A snake wrapped around a perch that was easily twenty feet long. Each beast radiated power. Intelligence. They weren’t mere animals but cultivated companions.

Children clustered around that table. Eyes wide with wonder. Reaching out tentatively to touch the beasts under the watchful supervision of sect disciples.

Some sects like the Azure Sword Sect and the Heavenly Pill Sect had huge lines. Due to sword and alchemy paths being most desired. Not because most people were actually suited to those paths, Yang suspected. But because most people either dreamed of being a valiant sword cultivator hero or an alchemist making grand pills and forming formulas to generate immeasurable wealth.

Popular dreams. Common ambitions.

But neither, it seemed, was the sect for Yang.

He kept walking. Observing. Waiting for his instincts to guide him.

Then he felt it. A tug. Sharp and unmistakable.

Yang slowed. Paying attention to where the pull was leading him.

He neared a line for a sect that was relatively smaller compared to the rest. Maybe forty people waiting. Modest compared to the hundreds at Azure Sword Sect or Heavenly Pill Sect.

Yang studied the table. There didn’t seem to be anything special about the sect. He saw no specialty equipment. No swords to denote a sword sect. No pills or cauldrons for alchemy. No beasts for a beast sect. No tools to denote a tool refining sect.

Just three people in white robes sitting behind a simple table. Examining candidates with careful attention.

Yang joined the back of the line. Tapped the boy in front of him on the shoulder.

”Excuse me,” Yang said politely. ”Which sect is this?”

The boy turned. He looked perhaps sixteen. Wearing neat but simple clothes. His expression was friendly. ”White Cloud Sect,” he said. ”It’s mainly a normal energy cultivation sect. They teach everything. A bit of sword work. Some alchemy basics. Formation craft. Various techniques. Jack of all trades, master of none, as they say.”

The boy smiled slightly. ”But it’s one of the top ten sects. Even if it comes rather later in the ranking than most.”

Yang was shocked. ”Why is the line so small if it’s one of the major sects?”

The boy’s face grew a bit red. He shifted uncomfortably. ”Well... it doesn’t have the best reputation in the cultivation world.”

Yang’s alarm bells went off. ”It’s not an orthodox sect?” he asked carefully. Orthodox sects followed proper cultivation methods. Unorthodox sects sometimes used demonic techniques or sacrificed others for power.

”No, no!” the boy said quickly. ”It’s a proper orthodox sect. Otherwise the other sects would have already attacked and wiped them out. The cultivation world doesn’t tolerate demonic practices.”

He paused. Then added reluctantly, ”It’s a fine sect. Really.”

Then he turned back to face the front. Not giving Yang a chance to ask more questions.

Yang stood there, slightly freaked out. His mind racing. The boy’s evasiveness was concerning. What kind of reputation did White Cloud Sect have that made people uncomfortable discussing it?

He almost left the line. Almost walked away to try his luck with another sect. Something safer. More straightforward.

But his inner instincts urged him to stay. Insistent. Certain.

Yang sighed. He realized he was stuck. His instincts had led him here for a reason. They’d proven reliable before. Leading him to Cheng Mo. To the painting. To Tianlu City. To this very city.

His instincts led him to the best conclusions. But not necessarily through the best paths. Sometimes the journey was painful even if the destination was right.

Yang firmed his resolve. Straightened his shoulders. He would stay in this line. Would see it through.

But he promised himself to be wary and careful. To keep his guard up. To watch for whatever trouble might be hidden in this sect.

Who knew what he was walking into? What reputation White Cloud Sect had earned? What made people hesitant to discuss them openly?

Yang supposed he was about to find out.

The line moved forward slowly. Each candidate spending several minutes at the table being examined. Some left looking disappointed. Others excited. The acceptance rate seemed about one in ten.

Yang watched. Studied the sect members conducting the tests. Tried to glean what they were looking for.

The elder in the center was an old woman. White hair pulled back severely. Face lined with age but eyes sharp and assessing. She radiated power. 

The two assistants flanking her were younger. Mid-twenties perhaps. Both in the white robes that seemed to be the sect’s uniform. One man, one woman. Both watching candidates with careful attention.

As Yang got closer, he could hear fragments of the testing. Questions about why the candidate wanted to cultivate. What they hoped to achieve.

But Yang couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more going on beneath the surface. Something the boy ahead of him had been too uncomfortable to explain.

Finally, it was Yang’s turn.

He stepped forward to the table. Met the old woman’s eyes. And wondered what exactly he’d gotten himself into.

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