The wonderful smell of eggs and sausage trickled into Anton Krantz’ nose. He could hear the sizzling of a frying pan and the warmth of the fire. However, that very warmth reminded him of something. Now that he was not freezing, he felt his aching legs and raw throat as well as his terrible hunger. At least it seemed one of those might be solved, but remembering that he wasn’t home with his family- and indeed couldn’t possibly be home with his family- brought more pain than his physical maladies.

Vincent’s voice came from nearby. “Good. You’re awake.” Anton wasn’t sure how he knew that since he hadn’t even moved or opened his eyes. “Breakfast is just about ready. I’m sure you need it.”

“Why didn’t you just let me die in the snow?” Anton slowly opened his eyes, letting them settle on the younger man next to him.

“Because that’s something I can’t take back.” Vincent shrugged, “If you really want to die, you just have to not eat. Then you’ll never kill a bandit or save any of your family.”

Anton’s brow furrowed, wrinkling his forehead even more than its standard cragginess. “How can I save anyone that’s dead?”

“You can’t,” Vincent said, “But not all of them are dead. However, their fate might not be much better. These bandits are slavers, and while that means that most of the young folk in Dungannon will still be alive… things might not be much better. Likely they will be sold in Ofrurg, which cares little for where slaves come from. From there, they might be sold anywhere.”

Anton had managed to crawl out of the tent he woke up in. He pulled himself to a sitting position and took the plate of food Vincent handed him, shakily grabbing a fork and bringing food into his mouth. He chewed in silence for a while before speaking. “What use is that information to an old man such as me? I’ll likely die before I even reach the border, and have no way to retrieve them from the hands of cultivator bandits or a slaveholding nation.”

“You are correct,” Vincent ate casually but seemed to disregard the heat of the food, making no attempts to blow on his food. “There is nothing you can do. Even if you have the utmost determination in the world, it is likely impossible. The leader of the bandits has likely surpassed the body tempering stage and moved on to the next level of cultivation. If you only care about your own family… you might as well give up your life. However…” there was a long pause. “If you have the determination to stop more evils, perhaps there is a small chance you might yet do something. I already have sworn to kill these bandits, and I will do my best to see any they captured free from slavery. I can’t promise to accomplish any of those feats in the next year… but I won’t be giving up on taking them down.” Vincent shook his head, “Old as you are, you can do nothing, but I at least have a way you can speed along your death without giving up.” He pulled out a scroll from a bag by his side- a scroll that didn’t seem as if it could have fit inside. He let the scroll roll out on its own, and Anton saw a myriad of sparkling lights. “This is the core cultivation technique of The Order of Ninety-Nine Stars. I am sure you know we are headquartered in the southwestern portion of Graotan. If you are able to practice it to the third level, then you can join the order.”

Anton looked at him. “Can I…. cultivate? Even as an old man?”

Vincent grimaced. “I won’t lie to you. It will likely be excruciatingly difficult. You will need natural talent to even successfully cultivate the first layer in… a short amount of time.”

“Before I die, you mean.” Anton nodded, “Cultivation takes many years, and currently, I have… very few left in me.” Anton placed his hand on his chest. He could even now feel his heart straining, overworked by his recent events. It had lasted him so long already, but it might not hold out for just the bit more that he needed.

“That’s correct. And there’s no real chance of you actually being able to compete with the bandits who killed your family. Perhaps… you might become strong enough to journey to find those who were enslaved, but that’s the work of a lifetime.” Vincent sighed, “It won’t be easy for you to even try, but if you truly have the determination to get revenge, you can make the attempt.”

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

Anton reached out for the scroll, his hands still shaking even without the deep hunger. He looked at it, seeing the writing hidden behind the field of stars. It was too dense to read at the moment, but fortunately his eyes worked up close for the most part. Anton looked around him, at the remains of the bandit camp they were staying in. “Will they come back here?”

“I don’t think so…” Vincent said, “But I searched around for their trail from the city and couldn’t find it. More than just the snow was at play covering their tracks. So the best I can hope is that there is something they want here.” Vincent gestured to the campfire which wasn’t emitting any smoke. “They shouldn’t be able to notice me here until they get close, but they might have given up because the formation collapsed. And there’s nothing of value here… just food and tents.”

“Food has value.”

“Not to those who steal it. Not when they can just take more.” Vincent shook his head. “You should rest. Think carefully on that. It’s… dangerous. Especially with a weak constitution.”

Anton took his advice, though only because he could barely drag himself back into a tent. Rest… might help. But likely not.

-----

Anton’s dreams were filled with nightmares. He wasn’t just seeing the faces of his dead family. Somehow, he was witnessing the bandits kill them. His wife was there too, but young. She was carried away by the bandits. When Anton awoke, he knew it was a nightmare, that he hadn’t seen any of that, that Janina had been old and dead for years… but that didn’t make the impact less.

Even though it was the middle of the night, Vincent was still awake. Did the man ever sleep? Did he have to sleep? He was a cultivator, after all. Anton wasn’t sure what they could do… but they were certainly far beyond the capabilities of normal humans.

His thoughts drifted back to the nightmare and he shook his head. He wanted none of it. Perhaps it was better to just die, but if he was going to die anyway… he pulled out the scroll. It glowed in the night, the stars on its surface flickering and moving. He read the words hidden in the stars.

The scroll explained many things about cultivation. The beginning was body tempering. During that stage, the cultivator would lay the foundation for body tempering by guiding energy from the cultivation technique all throughout their body. Once that was complete, that was the first level. Then the cultivator had a choice to make. Throughout body tempering, they would refine their skin, bones, marrow, muscles, internal organs in the head and torso separately, their tendons, and perhaps most importantly their meridians. Then there would be one final refinement of the entire body to complete the stage. That was the tenth of ninety-nine stars.

The full body was first and last, but in between any choices could be made. After each refinement it grew more difficult… but the cultivator would also likely grow more skilled with the technique. However, the specifics… didn’t matter to Anton yet. He wasn’t even sure if he could gather energy from the world. He read through the breathing technique that described how it was supposed to be done.

His lungs were barely up to the task of breathing deeply, so expelling the impurities inside of him was clearly not going to be easier. He wasn’t even sure if he had any success at that as he inhaled, attempting to gather the energy of the world. Out and in. In and out. Anton didn’t notice Vincent turn towards him, his eyes closed in concentration. Then, he felt it. Just a little strand of something. He was supposed to guide that throughout his body. Through his meridians… but he couldn’t even really sense them. He followed the description as much as he could, but as the energy entered his stomach it burned. It felt like he was on fire, and like he might die. However, he pulled it into him anyway. If he truly exploded… at least everything would be over. Once it settled inside him the pain decreased, but he didn’t stop. He encouraged the energy to flow through his body, and it seemed to naturally find the meridians, whatever they were, as it flowed in a set path. His insides were on fire, and the energy quickly ran out… but he grit his teeth and started the whole process again. Either he would succeed sooner or die sooner… and he didn’t really care which. If nothing else, the physical pain kept his mind away from the rest.