A Peasant’s Guide To Sorcerery: 11

A Peasant’s Guide To Sorcerery: 11

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Commissioned by Ichypa

Wordcount: 2500

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Ying struggled to stay standing, and was thankful when Yuen offered her a hand.

“What… what kind of hellish form of transport is that!?” Ying groaned and palmed her face. The sensation of the odd, solid/liquid within the vessel Zhang made lingered on her. It was gone, vanished away like all magic after a moment, but the sensation made her shiver. “Complete darkness, surrounded by breathable mud, and the sensation of flight all the while… it was horrible!”

“Sorry, I did my best to make it okay, but if I hadn’t done all that we could’ve all died!” Zhang apologized with a bow and a sigh. He waved his hand. A road formed ahead of them that stretched forward into the desert beyond. Trees grew to cast shade and the heat of the high sun was depleted by a frosty wind. Zhang cared not for the dangers of the desert. “We went past the barrier of sound itself many times over! We could’ve turned into jelly ourselves!”

Ying glanced at her fellow, somewhat normal individual at those words.

Yuen swallowed thickly before nodding.

“Just… just how far did we go?” The trip had lasted a few minutes. Far too long to be trapped in darkness, weightless, and moving to nowhere at fantastic speeds. Still, in Ying’s memory, there was no desert close to where she was within her reach even at full speed in a day’s length. “This can’t be the—

“This is the central desert! We fight Strifes here to make sure no one finds out or dies by accident!” Zhang casually proclaimed, turning months of travel for an Aspirant of Immortality into mere minutes. Ying was almost surprised. However, in the end, she just nodded at the proclamation. Whatever confusion and concerns she had died with a glance at her surroundings. Sand and dunes in every direction. There was no other place they could be than the central desert of the continent, hundreds of leagues from the borders of the Empire when it once stood mighty. “My daughter told me all about it. She’s so smart! I was ready to keep fighting her on my farm! By taking me out here, she made sure I couldn’t prepare for her, and keeps everyone else safe!”

Zhang sang his daughter’s praises, while Yuen whispered conspiratorially to Ying.

Ying gave Yuen all the attention she could muster.

“The less questions you ask, the better, because if you’re worried about anything you’re going to find yourself becoming closer to being immortal.” Yuen confided in her. Ying thought about Zhang’s version of hospitality. It involved refining his guest’s body to a point Immortal would kill for the same treatment. Those who pursued the pinnacle of martial might would murder whole cities for the treatment she received as a pleasantry. Thus, the Swordmaster nodded fervently at the self-proclaimed archivist’s words. “Just nod, don’t say a word, and you’ll come out of this like a regular human being.”

Ying barely managed to do just that, as suddenly a massive creature burst from the sands with scything claws that aimed for Zhang’s head.

She barely stopped herself from drawing her sword, as the sands falling off the creature suddenly rushed into it from every angle, and skewered it on the spot. The massive insect composed of fangs, bone-white carapace, and scything claws died in an instant… only to start twitching as a flower bloomed within it and turned into a garden. Zhang took a petal with a smile, before summoning up water, and then creating an oasis where the creature died.

A miracle without so much as a single drop of sweat upon his brow.

“Yeah, don’t say anything. You’ve been lucky so far, honestly.” Yuen disengaged from Ying and approached Zhang. The short-haired Archivist gave the self-proclaimed farmer a wide smile. “Hey, Zhang, I’m feeling a bit hungry! Do you have any food?”

“I have some rice crackers!”

“That’s great! I’ll take a few!”

Rice crackers.

Nice.

Normal.

Mundane.

Ying cleared her throat.

“I’ll take one as well.”

“Ah, it’s a regular rice-cracker party then!”

“Ooh, I’ve never shared my rice crackers with so many people before. This is fun!”

Ying caught on to the situation quickly.

Distract Zhang with the mundane, so that he didn’t cause the world to turn upside down by accident.

It made perfect sense.

…

After almost half-a-hour of walking, Ying looked upon their destination.
It took her breath away.

“Magnificent.”

“It sure is pretty!”

“Mhmm, not bad!”

Ying took in the sights. In the midst of rolling, golden sands, there was a city made of silk and dyes surrounding a large oasis. Animals, from horses and strange ones with two humps, drank from troughs and ate bales of hay. Merchants in throngs gathered together in groups, mixing, speaking, and casting their gazes on their wagons beneath colorful tarps. The oasis was a clear and crystal blue, with smatterings of green and gray from foliage born in its presence, but it paled in comparison to the blinding colors of the tent city around it.

Red a deeper shade than rubies, a green brighter than jade, and blue as deep as the sea at dusk. Tarps and tents both blew lightly amongst the golden sands, like jewels of so many differing sizes amidst a hoard of gold dust.

“Heh, careful there, Ying. You might catch a fly with your jaw so low.” Yuen teased her and Ying blushed. Still, after recomposing herself and closing her mouth, the Swordmaster levelled her gaze on the tent city as they walked unnoticed towards it. “These people come from across the desert. Over there, they don’t have a deluge of immortals. They have a ruling class, a stable economy, and even sail and trade with other nations. Unlike our own, little piece of heaven, that’s been shattered.”

Ying nodded at those words.

The death of the Emperor led to the fracturing of the Empire. Luxuries and food were costly, beyond the reach of most, because the immortals and the aspirants fought and lusted over them. Cities and towns existed to serve the immortals as servants. They warred against one another at the bidding of their masters, who saw even the pettiest slight as worth the deaths of hundreds or thousands of those they deemed unimportant.

The people wore simple clothes bereft of color, ate porridge with scraps of smoked meat years old, and did their utmost to simply eke out a living from paltry lands. Only the most fertile of the regions had militaries or police that could tame their surroundings, as they were meant to protect the cherished lands and crops of immortals and their ilk. If there were no such crops, and the land only able to grow wheat, barley, and rice, then there would be no possible threat to the reign of immortals arising.

For the longest time, the Beggar’s Sect fought for the people under the belief that the strong should protect the weak.

However, until she witnessed what others had compared to the people she met her entire life, Ying hadn’t understood what she was fighting.

The immortals and their Sects were doing more than ruling over mortals.

They were slowly crushing them in a vice composed of power and influence, until only what they desired was in excess.

These thoughts filled Ying, as they walked into the merchant camp in the middle of the desert.

…

“They don’t see us?” Ying whispered to Yuen, making sure that Zhang did not overhear.

“Zhang can affect the perception of others. He says its bending light, but I think it's more than that. No one’s bumping into us. I don’t want to ask.” Yuen answered her with a forced grin, while Ying shuddered. The casual use of illusions on a whole town was frightening enough. Some practitioners of more esoteric arts can, with preparation, cause panic by summoning great winds and storms through sorcery. The ability to completely conceal three powerful people in a crowd with none the wiser, in an instant, was far more terrifying. “Whenever he tells me, he scratches his chin. That’s his tell for lying.”

“Ah, I know.” Zhang was a poor liar. Ying was sure that she’d be able to know everything he could do if she just kept asking insistently. However, for the sake of her own sanity, she refrained. There were always things better left unknown. “I don’t say a word when he does.”

“Smart.” Yuen’s words were normally grating, but Ying detected a wistfulness to the short-haired woman’s voice. The excitable young woman’s shoulders slumping alarmed the Swordmaster. “I wish I figured that out earlier than I did.”

Ying elected not to ask and followed Zhang as he entered a tent.

She barely managed to stop herself from stopping and staring in surprise.

The inside of the tent was like a palace from legend. Scrolls, books, and paintings lined the walls in shelves or stands. The desert sands were covered in a single, large carpet that would cost a fortune to transport, let alone fashion. The largeness of the tent made itself more apparent when she took in the sight of spiraling, wooden stairs at the center of a three-story platform that fit within the massive tent. Servants bustled amidst tables, giving water to accountants poring over records, and cooks were preparing meals near an opening of the tent. Calls for accounts were made, received, and reports were drawn in mere moments, like a center of a whole city in the middle of a desert.

And, on the topmost floor having tea, there was a creature straight of legend in the guise of a young girl.

On the surface, she saw Zhang’s features imposed upon a young woman’s face. Close enough that it made her heart ache for a moment. White hair in two braids. Sharp scarlet eyes. A sharp nose, but dainty lips, as well as fair skin. If she only glanced at the creature, she’d have thought that the young girl was Zhang’s child… until she peered closer and say the slitted irises, like a reptile’s, that the child had.

And, with that simple reminder, Ying peered with her spirit at the child… and struggled to keep standing.

“By the heavens!” Ying barely managed to let the words loose out of her throat. Despite all the fantastical changes to her mortal form, she could barely stay standing. Her hands and shoulders shook. Breathing took effort. In the presence of the girl, without even directly glancing and gauging her power, Ying could barely survive. “Is that—

Every instinct of Ying told her to run away, to take Zhang, and flee.

Zhang, naturally, cared little for mortal instincts.

“Zi, I’m here to visit you today!” Zhang smiled with wild abandon and opened his arms towards the creature of immense power and might. He strode through the efficient workplace with hardly a care in the world. Every step he took attracted attention, until he was holding his arms open at the bottom of the three-story platform, which Ying recognized as some sort of massive carriage that opened outward with a few glances. She hardly managed to discern how it was made when Zhang made his latest proclamation thought. “Give me a hug! I want a hug from my very cute and very smart daughter.”

Ying blushed at the second-hand embarrassment she felt at the words, while Yuen just sighed with a smile.

“Father… I told you to inform me when you’re coming! And, as for the rest of you, back to work!” Zi groaned and leapt over the side of the floor that she stood upon. Ying suppressed the instinct to catch her. She looked like a little girl still, after all. However, the Swordmaster took note of how her fall suddenly slowed midway until she landed like a feather on the carpeted floor and crossed her arms. “I would have prepared a banquet for you!”

“Aww, that’s fine. A hug is good enough!” Zhang laughed and embraced his daughter, who pouted before accepting it. The familial affection made Ying jealous. It was something she never had. The Beggar Sect Swordmaster took note of Yuen nodding at the sight. She wondered what the woman’s circumstances were. “Ha-ha! I’m so happy to see you! I don’t get how this all works, but I hope everything is well. If it’s not, I can help!”

Ying took note of many workers suddenly shuffling to close their work by blowing on ink, or using bread crumbs to damped fresh lines composed of lead. Zhang’s offered help, as usual, was a double-edged sword. A few froze at the words, and some started to tear up, but they all tried their best to not attract any undue attention.

Thankfully, Zi Long took charge of the matter.

“No. We’re making record profits and sales. We have no need of help, of which I would ask you if it was necessary.” Zi Long casually made Zhang beam and return to hugging her. Ying marveled at the sight. She casually refused Zhang without him insisting. It was miraculous and inspiring. “Now, father, can you introduce me to your new friend? I see that Yuen is here, as usual.”

“Ouch! You make it sound like I’m sort of parasite!”

“Until you begin actually acting in a filial manner to my father, you most certainly are.”

“Ack!”

Ying laughed lightly at the familiar interaction, but stood tall as she prepared to be introduced—

“This is Ying, she’s a great friend. I’m lucky to have met her. She’s helped me make more money, get an education, and even led me to make friends with the Fei’Yens.”

“Ah, I see, you’ve found a good wife, father. Congratulations.”

Ying felt like her heart was suddenly going to explode after a mere exchange between Zhang and his daughter.

Literally, because the moment she decided to interrupt, she felt the full force of a Dragon’s glare searing into her from over Zhang’s shoulder.

In her mind, a voice boomed.

“You have thoroughly entranced my father. If you are without deceit, I welcome you. If you have any ill intentions towards him, I will rip from the world all memory of you by force.”

With those words ringing in her mind, Ying swallowed thickly and gave a bow in greeting.

Just what was she dealing with right now?