Imperial March

A Thousand Li Short Story

By

Tao Wong

License Notes

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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Imperial March: A Thousand Li short story

Copyright © 2021 Tao Wong. All rights reserved.

A Starlit Publishing Book

Published by Starlit Publishing 69 Teslin Rd

Whitehorse, YT

Y1A 3M5

Canada

www.starlitpublishing.com

ISBN: 9781989994825 

Imperial March

The blow came up high, catching Qu Yuan on the temple. It drove his head sideways, forcing him to lose sight of his opponent. A moment later, a foot sweep took his balance and standing, forcing him to crash into the hard-packed earth. Another merciless blow caught his jaw, the pommel of the sword cracking against his body and forcing him to slump to the ground in defeat.

Long woozy seconds later, Qu Yuan forced himself to his knees. He took the bent knee meditation pose that he had been trained to take, forcing breathing through his nose as he circulated energy to dull the ache. The last blow had been pulled just an iota, enough that his jaw was only cracked, not broken. Enough to allow the Imperial Body Cultivation technique he studied to act upon it, strengthen it.

Not enough to let him stop his training for the day.

“Pitiful. A decade, and you are still just at Peak Energy Storage. An Imperial prince should at least be Core stage at your age.” His trainer, whose slippered feet Qu Yuan stared at, snarled. His voice was filled with anger and disgust. Not that it was ever anything but angry. Then again, Qu Yuan understood his trainer’s bitterness.

“My apologies, uncle.” Of course, his trainer was his uncle. It was death for any but another of the imperial line to strike an imperial personage. Thus, the man before him was a distant uncle. Distant and failed in his contention for the throne, his Core shattered and leaving him in pain.

“Cultivate and heal. We begin again when I am done with my tea.”

Qu Yuan nodded and focused within. His body hummed, his eyes half-lidded. A flash of yellow on the second floor balcony overlooking the training grounds. Qu Yuan’s thoughts narrowed, though he never stopped cultivating and healing himself. Only one person was allowed to wear yellow, and only a few were allowed to view his training without informing him.

So.

It was beginning then.

But it would be better to check.

Later that day, after training was over, standing in his dusty and blood stained training clothing, hands extended as his servants took the outer layers off to replace with others, as they wiped down his bare, muscular but scarred body of the dirt and blood, he asked Qu Feng.

“Was that my Honored Father, long may he reign?”

“It was.” Lips curled up, as the trainer sneered at Qu Yuan. “He saw your pitiful showing. Shamed me, you did. And yourself.”

“I apologise again, gracious uncle. This one will try to do better.”

“Bah!” Stalking away, Qu Feng gestured to the servant who was waiting to the side. The warmed jar of wine was deposited in his hands, and swallowed in three mouthfuls. Another cup was poured as he walked away, to drown himself in drink.

After all, his fate was sealed.

Just like Qu Yuan’s.

***

They came for him in the middle of the night. His guards were killed without a sound, even though he had asked them to be extra careful. It was a pity, and he had a flash of regret, but against his father’s killers, they never stood a chance. And, he had to admit, a part of him had wished that he was wrong. That hope, that mistake, had cost five lives tonight.

At least he had asked the servants to go home. Perhaps they would be spared. He doubted it, not after what he chose to do next.

The shadow detached itself from the ceiling, dropping towards him. Two more shadows, just glints in the dark where loaded crossbows were pointed at his form, waited for him if he managed to dodge the first. More than enough to deal with an Energy Storage cultivator, even a well trained one like the Imperial Prince.

A gesture with a hand gripping the sword. Sword intent projected outwards. There was no need for a better, a more powerful technique. Not against three peak Energy Storage cultivators from the cike. The wave of energy tore the corpse apart, shattered ceiling tiles and blew apart wall and roof. The body parts rained outwards, even as Qu Yuan stood from his bed.

He was fully dressed in his travel clothing. Green and black, with just a small edging of yellow to signify his imperial bloodline. The hanfu robes were belted in the middle, his sword belt and storage pouch on it, containing all that he would need. On the other side, the sword sheath for his weapon that he held in hand. Others were in his storage rings, but this was his favored weapon.

He strode out, even as the assassins flooded in, coming in from the opening in the roof, from the corridor and courtyard outside. They rushed towards him, like fireflies to their doom and he met them with short, sharp attacks.

None of the fumbling, none of the hesitancy that he had showcased earlier in the day. He removed the controls on his cultivation and the power of his Core thrummed through the air. Still, the men rushed forwards, for there was no other choice. Die here and now, or die later at the hand of his father’s torturers for failing to complete their mission.

No real choice.

So he ended them with as much mercy and speed as he could offer. They fell to each of his attacks, until all but the single leader of the team stood before him. His own Core thrummed with energy, his face covered in black cloth, revealing only dark eyes.

“You hid yourself well, but not well enough.” The older man, the assassin said as he stood upon the roof opposite the blood speckled courtyard. In the chilly autumn night, the innards of the slain steamed, their blood soaking the grass and wood.

“So it would seem.” Qu Yuan said. He gestured with his sword around, to the pull and pulse of chi around him, throughout the imperial city. The feel of chi being used and expanded, as other teams took action. “I take it my father has made his choice.”

“You could have been in the running. Yet you chose to hide your strength. Why?” The man spoke, curious.

Qu Yuan shook his head in answer.

“I will just have to extract the answer from you then. It will be painful.”

A raised sword, and then the two flashed across the intervening space. Shadows detached from the assassin’s body, swinging their dark weapons at Qu Yuan as they split and came at him from multiple sides. In turn, Qu Yuan’s movement sped up, his sword meeting each of the shadow weapons before returning to the true line and clashing with the assassin.

Another explosion of energy, so strong that the walls around them exploded. Roof tiles flew away, the closest pulverized. The damaged room behind came falling down. Weapons swung, the blades moving faster than mortal eye could track.

A short few seconds of battle and the assassin staggered back, a hand clutching the stomp of his weapon arm. His sword and arm lay to the side.

“Heart of the Sword combined with the Seven Blades of Heaven. How? Who taught you!”

Incredulous words and exclamations were cut short, as a blade swung and detached head from body. Qu Yuan sighed, swinging his sword again to remove the last of the blood droplets.

This was not time to gloat over successful plans. There was too much at stake. And too much to do this night. For if he was to survive, he had to run. As far and as fast as he could, before his father and his brothers found out about his treachery.

***

The Imperial stables were a dangerous, but unavoidable risk that he had to take. The simple fact was that he needed one of the horses from the stable. Other steeds could carry him, but none were of the Qu bloodline. They could not carry him as far or as fast. And since his pursuers were likely to use such animals themselves, he had to have his own.

Even if need did not drive his decision, he had to admit, he refused to give up his stallion, Hong Ma. He had raised it by hand two dozen years ago himself and now, the creature was in the prime of its extended life. He had spent many good days riding his horse on long afternoons free from the constraints of social life. The occasional guided hunts were part of the happiest moments in his life.

So it was that he went to the stables, where as expected they were waiting for him and any others who could have made it that far. They waited, throats slit, eyes open but unseeing, hands grasping for weapons they could never wield again. In the shadows, a figure moved, and Qu Yuan relaxed.

“Took you long enough,” the voice was acerbic, bitter. Pained and weary. As always.

“It did.” Qu Yuan said. He gestured at the corpses around. “Your doing?”

“Mostly. Some were killed before I got here. Your ninth brother and his entourage made it here, but were not watching for the ambush,” Qu Feng said. “His trainer should have worked on his awareness more.”

A blade flashed and Qu Yuan raised his hand, snatching the thrown knife from the air. He turned it sideways, seeing the dark gleam of poison on the end before he tossed it away.

“Like you did, me?”

“Yes.”

Qu Yuan shook his head, moving quickly inside. Even if Hong Ma was saddled, he checked the saddle and the saddlebags again, briefly. Food, water, cooking and sleeping implements. All the necessities of a long trip. Saddle was tight, the big stallion snorting only a little at being forced to let another touch it. It was smart enough to know though that necessity drove them now.

As it did the pace they set, as they raced for the outer gates. Not surprisingly, it was closed; but the wards set upon them were never meant to hold those within. A concentrated blast of energy tore the gate from its moorings and scattered the guards across the paved stones.

Two more ambushes awaited them, one on the long, narrow street that led out from the side gates they used. Perfect for constricting attackers – or those fleeing – and guaranteed to slow down those who traversed it. Slowed down enough that Qu Yuan and his teacher took to the rooftops, slaying their ambushers as they ran along each side of the mares that escaped until it was time to return to their steeds.

The last ambush was outside the city itself, when their madcap dash through streets had completed, when they had escaped all those who would take them from behind. In the greenery, hidden in the forests of the roadside, that last ambush caught them as they were meant to begin relaxing.

Having escaped.

It was there that Qu Feng died. An arrow, infused with chi, fired in such a manner that it corkscrewed and swerved around to strike Qu Feng in the back. Tearing through chest and lungs, impaling him as he was dealing with the half-dozen attackers before him.

A few quick attacks, an unleashing of aura and killing intent later, and the chopped apart corpses lay before Qu Yuan.

“This is as far as I go, it seems.”

“I’m sorry,” Qu Yuan said, bowing his head.

“I am not. The pain is fading now. And you, you have escaped. That is my revenge against Ah Er, my brother. My beloved brother, who crippled me and killed his own sons.” A cough, blood dribbling from his mouth. Wry, bitter. “Go. Live a better life, as a commoner even. Better than being a King who must kill his own family to stay safe and secure the throne for his favorite son.”

Qu Feng closed his eyes and Qu Yuan sighed, standing. He considered plunging his blade into Qu Feng’s heart, to ending it now. It was safer, for he knew where he intended to go. What his plans were. Then, catching himself, he shook his head.

No. He had just escaped. He would not bring the morality of the imperial family with him. He would not carry the fear that weighed his father, his brothers down with him.

If they found him, so be it. His uncle deserved to die as he lived. With dignity, on his own terms.

“Be at peace.”

Eyes flew open, and a familiar glare turned on him. A voice, tired and angry shouted. “Idiot-child. Go!”

He went.

***

Qu Yuan spat, staring down at his hated enemy. The rain and cold of a long, winter evening pulled at the warmth of his body, robbing him of strength. It was a minor inconvenience, the strength of his aura more than sufficient to reduce the loss to a negligible loss. Just like the way the rain bounced off his aura, keeping him and his clothing dry. The environment should have been a minor nuisance at most.

But weeks after escape, harried and chased, his pre-packed food stores run down, Qu Yuan was hungry, thirsty and tired. His chi reserves were mostly fine, but a way to cook the meat from the spirit beast that had failed to flee. It would be a comfort, a luxury after long weeks of pain and terror.

Sadly, his hated enemy, the cold and wet sticks that were piled high in the hastily dug fire pit sat, barely even smoldering. Qu Yuan snarled, stabbing at the pile again with the stick. He was Earth element, damn it. If he was a fire element, he could have used his chi to spark it alight.

As it was, he had failed tonight as well as every other night to start the fire. He was an Imperial Prince, a scion of the great and powerful. He had been given the best trainers, the most luxurious meats, the finest clothing and accessories. He had not, however, been trained how to cook or even start a fire. There was never a need for that.

Which was why he was standing, miserable and in the cold, staring at the pile of sticks and leaves in what was supposed to be his fire pit, a whole spirit beast rabbit waiting to be cooked. Except, of course, he could not.

Qu Yuan sighed and reached into his ring, pulling out the hard tack that Qu Feng had insisted he store in there. It was not tasty, even if it had been made by some of the finest chefs in the kingdom. It was, however, nourishing and filled with spiritual herbs and spirit beast meat, enough such that it would take care of his energy needs.

Perhaps he should have spent more time learning some of the ascetic practices espoused by some of the passing teachers. The ability to draw nourishment from dawn’s light and the dew of plants, from the chi of the world, was a useful tool for an ascetic stuck on a lonely mountain top, searching for enlightenment.

Useless for an Imperial Prince, even one planning escape, or so he had thought.

A shift in the wind, a scent coming through the air. Qu Yuan turned his head, narrowing his eyes. He extended his senses, letting his sense of the flow of chi through the world thrum. Out there, nearly two li away, another patrol. The guards were attempting to be quiet, but none of them had learnt to hide their aura. Even if they had, their beasts hadn’t.

A shake of his head, and he walked over to stroke Hong Ma’s neck. The beast had been chewing on the leaves of the nearby branch, but only nickered once in protest before Qu Yuan clambered on him.

He had been here long enough. He would try again, when he reached his destination.

Or his enemies found him.

***

He had almost made it in time. When the fires started, he had started riding faster, making Hong Ma gallop down the ridge and jump the dry barriers between fields. He had almost made it, but the blade plunged into through the farmer’s guard as he was readying his strike, taking care because there were so many civilians in the way. He had to take his time.

Almost. Almost, he made it. But as the farmer, the father, choked to death on blood, then was he free to strike. He rode through the burning village, striking and laying down around him, dealing with the raiders like Lei Kung himself.

The raiders ran soon after, the remaining two attempting to escape. They did not make it far, but he left them alive, their legs crippled, a hand gripping a shirt, a familiar tunic.

“How dare you do this! These are your people. Yours to guard, to serve.” Qu Yuan raged, his fist shaking as he hauled the guard up with one hand. “How dare you!”

“We… we were ordered!”

“Ordered! By who.”

A gaze flicked sideways, and he turned towards the still burning village. Memory replayed itself, of a dark coated man wearing Imperial Officer armour. Ah, he had struck him, as he tried to drag one of the women into an unburnt hut.

“How many?”

“Honored sir. What… what do you mean?” The soldier sobbed.

“How many villages have you done this to.”

“I haven’t any sir, please.” The soldier sobbed. “It’s my first time out.”

“Liar!” The other soldier, clutching the stump of his foot shouted. “He’s the worst of the lot. He laughs, when he burns the houses down. He locks them inside, and smiles as they burn.”

“Hun dan!” the soldier twisted, trying to tear himself away from Qu Yuan. When Qu Yuan turned to stare at the man on the ground, he sensed the shift in the soldier’s movements, the way he adjusted his weight. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the hand snaking upwards and the blade plunge towards his chest. Where the mortal blade bent, incapable of even piercing the robes he wore.

Not that he was going to allow the other soldier to live. He turned slightly, throwing him down to the ground hard enough that his impact flattened the earth and shattered bones. A step off the stallion and he was beside the other soldier, who looked about to pass out from blood loss. Hong Ma, temper inflamed, danced upon the broken body, eliciting low groans from below before it quietened.

A pair of fingers, joined together, plunged towards the soldier. Too fast for him to stop. It struck and pressed, a trio of times, and the blood pouring from the wound trickled to a stop. Qu Yuan nodded and stayed squatting, meeting the soldier’s eyes.

“Now, tell me. About your leader and what happened here.” Qu Yuan said, still livid. “Tell me why you have abandoned all honour.”

“Yes, Honored Sire. Yes…”

When he stood up later, he left the soldier to crawl away. Perhaps he would survive, perhaps he would live. He had stopped the bleeding, and that was all that he would do for the other. The rest of his fate, that was up to his karma and his will.

Turning back to the burning village, the ex-Imperial Prince flexed his jaw. This, this was unconscionable. He might no longer be in line for the throne, but the chaos of the fight, the battle they were waging for it, when his father and his Elder Brother had failed to finish their coup was tearing the kingdom apart. Now, there were four sides. His father and Elder Brother, his Second Brother, his Third Sister who had been away on a pilgrimage and the Duke of Li.

Four sides, but none for the peasants, for the commoners being caught between. Even the Sects were doing nothing, only extending their hands far enough to protect those villages directly beneath their own holdings. It was common policy.

Let the kingdom fight their own battles. Do not participate. Stay separate from the cares of the mortal world.

And let the commoners burn.

Qu Yuan found his teeth grinding, his hands clenching around his sword hilt. He sheathed the blade after cleaning it, then he got to work. Aiding the mortals to put out what fires they could, use his limited medical knowledge to provide first aid to those injured. Offer comfort and food – he had a few corpses in his spirit ring left, in the deluded belief that he could cook them at some point – to those who needed it.

All the while, his teeth ground together and his anger smoldered like the fires in the huts. All the while, the injustice of it all burned in him. All the while, he struggled with himself.

For this was not the plan.

But it was what was right.

***

It started small. One village. A few men, who had lost everything to the fires. Then another, saved before it was burnt down too far. A patrol, offered the chance to save their lives, to do what was right. Bandits of circumstances and not choice. Deserters, sickened by the acts they were asked to do. Wandering members of the jianghu who could not step aside, who could not separate themselves from the mortal world. Not like the Sects and their vaunted Dao’s.

It started small.

Her hand found his, squeezing it as he stared down at the sprawling army before them. It was the fifth one they would fight. The fifth they would need to defeat. He turned, seeing the smile on her face, the scar across one side of her face where she had taken a blade meant for him.

Her chi burned bright, her newly formed Core, forged in flame and blood, bursting with the chi and the Dao she had embraced. She was beautiful. More beautiful than any Imperial courtesan, for in her eyes was a life lived and sacrificed.

It had started small. A smile here, a hand brushed there. Long nights, training and meditating, when they were not in the middle of battle or planning. Conversations, in the dark of the night and the dawn of the morning, when the dew of a new day collected like the feelings in his heart.

It had started small, till now it raged like the bonfire of rebellion that thundered at his back. The chant from his army, his peasant army of those disenfranchised, those hurt and seeking vengeance or just justice. The calls grew, a deafening roar that drowned out everything but the beat of his own heart.

As he stared into hers and smiled.

Then, the army below them began to move and there was no more time. Just the press of flesh and clash of blades. The search for other Core level fighters, the battle that they waged high above and between their own armies, as they sought each other’s lives.

No more time, but for the march towards inevitability.

***

“I never wanted this.” Qu Yuan said, eyes downcast. He saw the gold robes the servants had bedecked him with, the headdress they had placed on his head. They weighed more than the poorest armour ever had, for they carried the weight of the nation on them.

“And that’s why we followed you, my liege.” A big man, portly and bearded rumbled. His brother, in the truest, most important way.

“No. Not now. Not ever. If I insist on it, between you and me. Between those of us in here, then take my head.” Like I did my father’s. “We will not have that, between blood brothers.” A cleared throat, and he turned, smiling at his beautiful, beaming and scarred Empress and her handmaid. “And sisters.”

Qu Yuan looked around, and seeing his blood brothers and sisters who gathered with him here, in the anteroom of the Imperial Court, he could not help but see the missing faces. Those that should have been there. Soft-spoken but steel-hearted Shi Kang, who had fallen to a poisonous arrow as they took the gate of Changma. Sister Ren, who had held the Yang pass so that they could retreat and recover. They had put her head on a spike, and the rumors of what they had done to her corpse…

More, so many more. Members of the jianghu who had come to his aid. Hidden dragons and crouching tigers, rising to aid him. Generals from the army, turning to join him like Chen Yi when the Duke of Li had chosen to bend knee and save his family.

So many lost faces, so many battles.

He had been swept along, the moment he chose to stop running and help. To save one life meant saving another. And the one after that, till the entire nation stood before him.

Not beneath him. Never that.

Yet, there was a hut, a clearing high on a mountain that was waiting for him. A place to hide away from the world, to contemplate the Dao and find immortality. A place to grow, to find strength. A different way, from the one that he had already found. For his Nascent Soul throbbed, reminding him of his path, even as shards of discomfort, of discordant belief tugged at his heart, his soul.

It was not the correct path, not the perfect one that he needed to ascend all the way to the heavens. To become one of the true immortals.

A hand, squeezing his own. He turned, and saw the smile, the depths of understanding in those deep, liquid brown eyes. Understanding and love.

Perhaps it was not the perfection of dao that he had looked for. The quiet solitude that spoke of eternity. He would never sup on the Peaches of Immortality, never stride the Yellow Emperor’s Celestial Hall.

But perhaps he did not need to. Not in this life.

Imperfection, for the greater good. For a life that was mortal and imperfect but filled with love and duty. Till a kingdom was safe. A border secure. A people fed and protected.

Enough, for this life.

And a chance to try again, in the next. When he reincarnated and the burdens of the kingdom were no longer his to carry. When he was not forced to march on the imperial city and take the throne. A chance, in the next life, for perfection for his own soul.

And for now…

“Come. The kingdom awaits.”

###

The End

Author’s Note

Thank you for reading this! I hope you had fun reading this story. Check back on the store to see if we released any additional short stories!

In addition, please check out my other series, the Adventures on Brad (a slice-of-life fantasy LitRPG), the System Apocalypse (a post-apocalyptic LitRPG) and A Thousand Li (a cultivation xanxia series), and Hidden Wishes (an urban fantasy Gamelit). Book one of each series is named:

A Thousand Li: The First Step (Book 1 of the A Thousand Li series)

A Gamer’s Wish (Book 1 of the Hidden Wishes series)

A Healer’s Gift (Book 1 of the Adventures on Brad)

Life in the North (Book 1 of the System Apocalypse)

I also host a Facebook Group for all things wuxia, xanxia, and specifically, cultivation novels. We’d love it if you joined us:

Cultivation Novels

For more great information about LitRPG series, check out the Facebook groups:

LitRPG Society

LitRPG Books

If you’d like to support me directly, I now have a Patreon page where previews of all my new books can be found!

Tao Wong Patreon

About the Author

Tao Wong is an avid fantasy and sci-fi reader who spends his time working and writing in the North of Canada. He’s spent way too many years doing martial arts of many forms, and having broken himself too often, he now spends his time writing about fantasy worlds.

For updates on the series and his other books (and special one-shot stories), please visit the author’s website: http://www.mylifemytao.com

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About the Publisher

Starlit Publishing is wholly owned and operated by Tao Wong. It is a science fiction and fantasy publisher focused on the LitRPG & cultivation genres. Their focus is on promoting new, upcoming authors in the genre whose writing challenges the existing stereotypes while giving a rip-roaring good read.

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Short Stories in the A Thousand Li series

The Favored Son

The Storming White Clouds Sect

On Gods and Demons

Clifftop Crisis and Transformation

Imperial March