A Thousand Li: the Second Expedition: Book 4 Of A Xianxia Cultivation Epic by Tao Wong

Author:Tao Wong [Wong, Tao]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Starlit Publishing
Published: 2020-10-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Light streamed in through the slats of Wu Ying’s room, striking the cultivator in the eyes. He groaned, twisting from side to side as he attempted to get away from the light. A searching hand found the thick silk blanket supplied by the inn, but a pair of futile tugs showed Wu Ying that he was lying upon the bed covering. For long moments, Wu Ying debated moving again and weighed it against his exhaustion.

Memories of the previous night—this morning—flitted through Wu Ying’s mind. After his win, Zhong Shei and their new friends had been brought to a restaurant. Their first bottle had even been paid for by the restaurant owner, as thanks for a “great show.” Behind Wu Ying and Zhong Shei, the other cultivators and audience members had come along, filling the restaurant within seconds.

After the first bottle, another one came as wandering cultivators all made to introduce themselves to Wu Ying. Drinks had flowed without stop, and Zhong Shei’s fattened purse quickly depleted. Faces of merchants and wandering cultivators, all who wished to speak with Wu Ying, blurred together. Food arrived next, as the hostesses plied late night snacks and more alcohol on all those present. And then…

Then.

Wu Ying touched his lips, blinked, and turned sideways. He exhaled in relief, grateful to note he was sleeping alone. And in his own bed. Or the inn’s. It was the same thing.

Relief was short-lived though, as a loud and insistent knocking rose from his bedroom door. He glared at the noise and stayed silent. Rather than going away, the knocking sped up and grew louder. Wu Ying’s head throbbed in time to the pounding and he let out a muffled groan.

“I can hear you in there!” Lei Hui’s voice called. “Open the door!”

Wu Ying forced himself to his feet, gently circulating his chi to help with the nausea and pounding headache. He made his way to the door and threw it open to see Lei Hui outside.

The thin apothecarist thrust a lidded teacup at Wu Ying. “Drink.”

“What?” Wu Ying muttered as he took the teacup.

“Drink!” Lei Hui snapped.

Wu Ying complied, gagging at the sour and oily taste. It was like a group of fermented fish had taken residence and procreated. Gagging, he took the next bottle thrust at him by Lei Hui and washed down the taste with lightly brewed tea. “What was that?”

“Medicinal tonic for drinking and over-eating. Now, Elder Yang wants to speak with us at lunch,” Lei Hui said.

“Lunch?” Wu Ying turned his head to stare at the sun streaming in. It looked much stronger than dawn light, now that he was actually paying attention.

“In half an hour. Best get dressed and washed.” He looked at Wu Ying’s soiled robes and added, “Even your peasant clothing is better off.”

Wu Ying made a face, then thanked Lei Hui for the tonic. Already, he felt it warming his stomach, reducing the nausea and the pounding headache. He shut the door, stumbling only a little as he made his way to the washbasin in his room, trying to piece together his memories of last night.

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