There was only so long that Anton would be able to keep up the ruse. Botros would eventually realize that half of the crates in the warehouse remained the same ones, simply being moved around. And then there was the fact that he would be able to sense natural energy in others soon enough.

Most of the actual business Anton was engaged in involved purchasing food and selling it cheaply. If he purchased locally around Krosburgh then he would most likely only raise prices if he worked in large volume, simply moving money from himself to wily merchants. And while it might be worth it to bring food to the right people, that was not his preferred result.

It was simple enough for him to leave the city, staying out of sight and flying around the planet to somewhere with cheaper food. He was careful to only buy from places that had a true abundance, so as not to deprive some while helping others. Then he returned to Krosburgh, where he would sell to grocers who dealt with refugees.

A rather mundane method of making a change in the world, and he knew he could make larger changes with his power. But if he came at things from the wrong angle, his power wouldn’t necessarily make things better. How many dictators had Anton heard of who thought they knew the right way? And even if Anton would be right about what was best for everyone in theory, forcing people to go along with him would be bad in practice. People didn’t like being told what to do. Instead, he planned for more subtle changes.

Was he technically manipulating people? Certainly. But such went all interactions between people, from the complaining grandchild to the fussy grandparent. People were always trying to get what they wanted from others in ways both subtle and overt. But intentions and actual results made all the difference.

Anton watched as Botros and the young Nasima performed their work, slowly and unconsciously advancing through the first star and the beginning of Body Tempering. He anticipated a strong reaction when they found out he was a cultivator- but they were clearly eager to improve their own situation. Even if they rejected cultivation after the foundational first star, their prospects would be improved.

But Anton’s experience told him that most distaste for cultivators came with jealousy, hinging on how they guarded their secrets. Most would be eager to learn if they got the chance. If Anton had misjudged this small family, he would find another. Either way, he intended to expand his influence through the various refugees throughout the city.

-----

Nasima walked down the street, wary of cultivators. Usually she picked them out by their arrogant swaggers. Their manner of dress was also key, along with the fact that they openly carried weapons. She always made sure to stay out of their way. Now, it was even easier. But the same change that made it easier for her to pick them out seemed to draw attention to her. Instead of being ignored completely, eyes lingered on her for a moment. Most cultivators still turned away from her as if she was refuse, but the fact that they paid attention at all concerned her.

They must be able to feel her, the way she felt them. But they were right to dismiss her. Whatever her meager senses could tell her, all of them were clearly far beyond her. Though she found it difficult to compare many of them.

She wasn’t sure what had happened to her. She didn’t know anything about cultivation, except that it involved natural energy. And refining it, or something. She had heard some speak about luck of the heavens fueling their advancement. Maybe some of that had fallen upon her to spark her initial growth? Cultivators had to have developed their abilities from somewhere, at some point. Or nobody would have been able to write those secret manuals they held so dear. Even torn pages were prized possessions that would take her family years to save up for.

Or rather, years when they had been back home. When her father had still lived. Now she was moving boxes instead of helping her mother with her work as a seamstress… but it paid well. The more she could do, the more Anton paid. And his advice had helped her develop the technique and muscle.

The same with her grandpa… who also felt a little bit like a weak cultivator. Was it something about the warehouse? It seemed fairly normal, except for how many heavy crates it had. Perhaps that simple meditative technique? No, it shouldn’t be that. Nasima would admit she knew nothing about cultivation, but from what she had heard it involved spending vast amounts of time sitting around among the clouds in a trance. Or years devoted to swinging weapons about. Cultivators didn’t move crates.

She did though. For a good wage, too. Enough to pay for their family’s survival, and even to save up for when the job ran dry as the warehouse master always warned. They’d probably have to accept lower paying jobs elsewhere soon enough.

Nasima looked at the crates arrayed in front of her. She recognized some of the markings. They would be heavier. She couldn’t just pick them up as she pleased, but instead would have to take them seriously. She looked at one in particular. It was an old nemesis. She wasn’t sure why they were moving about so many bricks or the like- and especially in such large crates- but she had no basis to complain. It was a job that paid for a reason.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

She took a deep breath as she faced her nemesis. She could feel the fresh air in her lungs, the way it spread through her body. She made sure it went everywhere, especially the tips of her fingers and toes. She had to balance with the latter, and the former were directly used for picking things up.

Nasima hefted the crate, staggering slightly before righting it. Then it nearly fell out of her hands as it bounced back the other way. It took all she had to stop it and wrench it back so it didn’t fall over- and then it flew back the other way. It was like it was full of liquid sloshing about. Maybe even wine, but Nasima was fairly certain no bottles could pack tightly enough for it to be so heavy.

She had no way to stop it from falling back the other way, as her hands were positioned all wrong. And yet, somehow she kept a grip on its. As it sloshed back and forth she managed to balance it as if she was wrapping the whole thing in her arms. But every step she took began the process once more, the crate trying to rip itself out of her arms. She couldn’t afford to drop it though. Whatever was in this was probably worth more than all the money she’d ever held. Even if it was weirdly cheap wine, if she shattered the bottles then the family savings would be ruined.

She took another breath with every step. Her muscles strained as it forced her entire body to work in tandem just to walk. She breathed in and out, each breath in filling her up with something. It filled her muscles and her gut, but she put it out of her mind. She had to be imagining it, right? She breathed out, but while it lowered some of the pressure in her lungs, the rest of her body continued to strain.

Perhaps she should take a break. Set down the crate along the way. But… if her grandfather saw her doing that she didn’t know what she would say. He was here working even harder than her. He was too old to be doing this kind of thing, but it was the kind of job he could find. That was why Nasima was here. If she didn’t do her part, what was the point?

With each step, Nasima thought her body might suddenly explode. She was too busy thinking about that to consider that the crate she was carrying almost didn’t feel heavy anymore, or that the sloshing liquid inside wasn’t throwing off her balance as much.

It was only when she got to the far end that she let herself rest. She felt the aches of her muscles, and only then stopped to wonder why she never hurt in the morning.

-----

Anton nodded slowly as he watched Nasima moving about. Botros had determination, but he was older. His body couldn’t stand up to as much change. Most of his energy ended up going to making up for that gap rather than physical improvements in Body Tempering. What wasn’t wasted, of course. Anton tried to provide subtle guidance, but he would need to go more in depth with them once they completed the foundational phase. Nasima was very close, and Botros would probably reach the first star after another month or two. Perhaps if they were more aware of what they were doing they would have learned faster, but Anton was unsure given various factors including the limited natural energy.

He did his best to make sure they weren’t acting in a way that would injure themselves, of course. And if they only used natural energy instinctively, letting it naturally settle into their body for the most part, it would be better for them in the long run. He intended to push them, not nearly kill them like what he did when he began cultivating. But he hadn’t actually intended to live. It was a large part luck that he actually had success.

The next concern Anton had was the mother Aykorkem. It was possible for her to not become involved in cultivation, but Anton still believed that everyone would benefit. That was why once he could speak openly with the family he would have them direct others to him. Anton had direct experience teaching the weaver Derya, and many others involved in the more traditionally feminine labors over the years. There was much that body tempering could do to increase the agility of hands and fingers for any craft.

Beyond that was how not to draw too much attention from local cultivators. Even if they only ever reached Body Tempering, the hundred or so refugees Anton had his eyes on would stand out to local sects. Perhaps he should distract them with something. He could sell them miraculous new techniques for growing herbs, perhaps. He’d already begun to teach average farmers, but there was only so much they could do without cultivation of their own.

There were many things Anton had to keep him busy from day to day. He needed to get some others officially on board so he could pass off some of the responsibility to them. But he could handle things as they were for a while more- and some of his plans would have to be kept to himself for a long time.

-----

The upper realms were slow to act, as in general there were more cultivators at a higher level. Thus, they were older- and to some extent that meant being more cautious. Those who survived for a long time knew how to preserve their lives, either through strength or avoiding the wrong conflicts.

This was more true of the greater power structures. Sects and planetary governments were generally hesitant to act where things would affect them as a whole. This was not always the case, but spontaneous decisions more often than not resulted in very short term control.

Both the Exalted Quadrant and Trigold Cluster had lengthy histories spanning thousands of years. The accord struck between them after the last war had endured centuries, and even now there was debate internally on both sides about what would be done. The rise of the Harmonious Citadel had been a ploy partially orchestrated by the Exalted Quadrant, but now both sides had to determine how much they were willing to risk for one or two Augmentation cultivators. Or more relevantly, whether they were ready to make moves on the Scarlet Midfields.

Both sides could easily come up with excuses to take over more territory. The accord had simply been a convenience they put in place. A temporary peace agreement while they worked on other schemes. But they also had a long history of conflict, and not everyone was willing to ignore the recent events. But whether it took decades or centuries, it was clear that the fallout would come eventually.