“Last one. Do you hold any preexisting ill will toward the country of Caldain, or any of its citizens?” The agent’s voice had dulled throughout the long questioning, his energy seeming to wane almost as much as Kevin's.
“Only towards its overly complex forms,” Kevin chuckled, suppressing the urge to cheer now it was finally over.
“I’ll put that as a no, then,” the agent responded without rising to his minor teasing. The man had chilled out a lot since the start; which was a good thing if he was going to keep showing up in the future.
Agent Travis signed the last page with an artful scribble before sliding the stack across the desk. It spun a full hundred and eighty degrees, coming to a top right in front of Kevin’s seat, a pen resting on top of an empty signature box.
“Neat,” Kevin said, perking up at the display. “Was that a technique or something?”
“Just sign the form,” The agent massaged the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “We can talk about cultivation all you want on the way back to headquarters. You can read it, but you’ll only find what we discussed.
“The binding won’t work unless it matches your expectations.”
Kevin glanced up at the other man with a raised eyebrow, then flipped through several random pages. When they matched his memory, he nodded, returned to the signature page, and filled it out.
If the agent had hidden something, he’d done a good job of it; besides, they were the government here. They didn’t need to be subtle about it if they wanted to screw him over.
A chill spread through his chest as he finished the last letter, and for a moment, the clinking of chains rattled through his mind. Then it was over, the strange effects gone as if they’d never existed.
“That’s it then?” He asked. Dear god, he hoped so, he’d waited far too long to get to the good stuff.
Agent Travis was staring at the stack of paper, his eyes unfocused. “Yes, that’s it. The contract is intact, and the binding is secure. Try saying something on the list.”
Kevin nodded, opening his mouth to explain how contracts didn’t have magic effects back home. Before he could form the first word, his thorough caught, spasming as though he’d swallowed an insect.
The experience was unpleasant, but he could push past it if he wanted to; a warning, not a compulsion. “Yep,” he said, half-expecting it to come out as a croak. Instead, his throat returned to normal as soon as he stopped focusing on the forbidden topic.
“That’s a hell of a thing,” he continued, nodding at the agent. “There’s no way I’ll mess up by mistake when that’s in place. Just out of interest, what would happen if I pushed through? Hypothetically speaking, of course.
Agen Travis raised an eyebrow but responded with only a shake of his head. “Lucky for you, failure clauses are restricted these days. Too much room for abuse with immediate negative consequences.”
“If you decide to break the agreement, and it would be a decision, then I will be notified. That would be unfortunate, as we’d have to arrest you for breach of contract.”
“Got it,” Kevin responded. While it was nice to hear he wouldn’t catch fire or something, he wouldn’t be risking those consequences anytime soon. Somehow, he doubted their prison cultivation program was any good.
‘So we’re done then? We can finally move on to the good stuff?” He asked, standing and stretching to crack his spine.
In contrast, Agent Travis stood with liquid grace, appearing unaffected by hours hunched over a desk.
Kevin eyed the man, stifling the first stirrings of jealousy before they could grow. Soon he too would have access to such casual, superhuman condition. And after that, so much more.
He might not know the agent’s story, but it seemed obvious that someone with a government day job would not be pushing the boundaries of advanced cultivation. One day, perhaps soon, he’d have caught up to the man’s early advantage. Then he’d blow right past.
All he needed was help on the first step.
----------------------------------------
Things moved quickly after the signing was complete. Within minutes the swan had folded its wings, retracting the tents and their staggering quantity of furnishings.
The soldiers left for their vehicle, while Travis walked Kevin up through the hatch, and into the belly of the ship. Of the doctor and her helpers, there was no sign; perhaps a good thing given how the testing had ended.
The inside of the swan felt more like a futuristic metal building than a flying machine. Even the internal walls were made of the same white metal as the rest of it.
“How do you get all this up in the air? It doesn’t look like the same method,” Kevin paused, changing what he was going to say as his throat closed up. “That I’m familiar with. This thing has to weigh a few tons.”
The agent gave the walls a considering look as if he’d given it little thought. “Well I’m not an expert, but from the color, I’d guess they’re using Skysteel. “Air-aspected metal, it lowers the weight,” he continued at Kevin’s raised eyebrow.
“I don’t know the official name, but that’s what most people call it,” Travis finished.
“Neat,” Kevin grinned, both at the explanation and that the agent was finally beginning to open up. “Is that how the solider’s platform worked? Air aspected stone?
Agent Travis snorted, shaking his head. “Of course not, that would be far too expensive. No, I believe that works on a different method. Some form of repulsion effect, if I had to guess.”
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Kevin almost asked why a smaller amount of aspected stone would cost more than the massive steel ship they were in but decided against it. Who knew how long he had before the agent clammed up again? No point in wasting time on random economic questions.
Instead, he focused on something far more important. “Can we talk about cultivation now? We finished your whole interview and contract process, right?”
“Let’s get seated first,” Agent Travis said with a sigh undercut by the hint of amusement in his voice. “Come through here,” he continued, walking along the main hallway.
Doors branched off the corridor, but they ignored them until it led into an open room. A series of round tables with seats gave it the appearance of an indoor cafe, while a stair wound around the right side until it reached a second floor.
The agent waved him off to a table before walking to a cafeteria set into the back wall. Shrugging, Kevin settled into the nearest chair and looked around in wonder.
It was such an odd, expansive area to have in what was, at its core, an airship. The room was dotted with potted plants, many holding vines that curled their way up support pillars.
Why waste so much space on an eating area? A modern commercial aircraft could make do with a tiny kitchen to feed a few hundred people, and yet this setup would manage at most a few dozen.
The legendary decadence of cultivators was the only reason he could think of; that need to show off by filling their surroundings with endless wealth.
Well, given that he was the one who got to enjoy it he couldn’t complain too much. It was clear this was going to blast any flight experience he’d ever had out of the water; incomparable to even a first-class ticket.
A moment later Agent Travis was back, a man in plain, gray clothing following with a silver tray. Dressed in slacks and a long-sleeved shirt, rather than robes, it seemed clear he was a waiter or something similar.
With a small bow, the waiter settled the tray, containing rows of sandwiches and a pitcher of water, onto the table. Then he was gone without a word, hurrying back to his window.
“Please, eat,” Agent Travis said with a wave at the food. “I asked for a range to cover any dietary issues while avoiding meat for the moment.”
“Is that a problem for cultivation?” Kevin said. He would have preferred to avoid such a change, but in the face of what was possible, he wouldn’t hesitate for a moment. Reaching forward, he grabbed the closest sandwich without checking its contents, his stomach reminding him how long it had been since he’d eaten proper food.
“Not for most styles,” the agent said, pouring two glasses of water with a shrug. “But you never know what’s going to be a fit for you. It’s best to keep everything open for now.”
Kevin nodded, suppressing a groan of pleasure as he bit into the sandwich. Egg and cheese, with a hint of watercress. Delicious, god how he’d missed solid food.
For the first few minutes, he let his hunger overtake his need for knowledge. Travis didn’t push the situation, instead eating in delicate bites. Perhaps he too was hungry after their long interview.
“Right then,” Kevin said once he’d satiated his stomach. “Tell me about cultivation.”
----------------------------------------
The agent rubbed his hairless chin, staring off into the distance. “Well,” he said after a long pause. “Cultivation is a massive subject, there’s only so much we can cover. I believe they’re running the ship slower on the way back, but we still have half an hour at most.”
“A lot of the more complex subjects won’t be relevant until we know what style suits you as well.”
Kevin leaned forward, resting on the edge of his seat; almost unable to believe the conversation was happening for real. “When you say style, do you mean different cultivation methods, or something else?
“That’s also a large subject,” Agent Travis said, tapping his fingers on the table’s surface. “To go in depth would require a history lesson we don’t have time for. Suffice it to say that there are traditional eastern styles, adapted local practices, and everything in between.”
“When I say style, I mean the broader category of cultivation that you have chosen. While method refers to a specific set of practices within a category.”
“I see,” Kevin grinned. “Do the traditional styles start with opening the meridians, then?” That kind of thing happened in many books he read, though there were plenty of exceptions.
“For the most part, yes,” the agent responded, nodding. “That is the method they use to progress through the body-cleansing realm. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.”
“How about I go through the basics? Anything else will be useless until we get you tested.”
Kevin winced at the idea of more testing but nodded anyway. This was getting too good to interrupt.
Agent Travis took a few breaths, staring back into the distance as if ordering his thoughts. “I’ll explain the basics how they were first explained to me. You need to understand the rule of nine, three, and six.”
“Nine is the number of cultivation, with nine grades in a stage. Three is the number of truth, there are three grades in a realm. Six is the number of power, there are six realms under the heavens. Nine, three, and six.”
“So if you finish all nine realms, you ascend and become immortal?” Kevin breathed, zeroing in on the most interesting part.
“It never ends with you, does it?” Travis sighed. “Yes, the traditional belief is that those who ascend join the heavens, becoming immortal. Don’t ask me whether it’s true. If anyone’s confirmed it, they’re keeping the knowledge hidden.”
“Right, that’s a long way ahead anyway,” Kevin said, nodding his head. Just knowing people ascended was enough. Perhaps that was the end of the journey or perhaps the beginning of another.
He could worry about that when he was approaching the sixth realm. “Can you list the realms then for me, and are they the same across all styles?”
Travis glanced away, looking embarrassed for the first time since Kevin had met him. “There have been attempts to come up with our own system, either following the same numbers or something else, but we’ve always ended up falling back on the traditional Xi’anian model.”
“In the end, six distinct realms of power seem pretty much universal, and it’s hard to change the momentum of a few thousand years of results. Given that, we’ve fitted our adapted practices into the same model.”
Travis paused, taking a breath as he glanced across the table. Kevin gave him an encouraging grin. It was clear there was some history there, but right now, he didn’t care.
Clearing his throat, the agent continued. “With that understanding, I’ll go through the six realms. They are Body Cleansing, Energy Gathering, Core Formation, Golden Core, Nascent Soul, and Primordial Soul.”
“As I mentioned earlier, it is said that each realm has three stages consisting of nine grades. Meaning you,” he pointed at Kevin with a smirk. “Would, in theory, need to move through a hundred and sixty-two grades of escalating difficulty in order to ascend.”
Agent Travis quirked an eyebrow as he finished; as if asking whether Kevin understood now.
“Well, that doesn’t sound too bad,” Kevin said, grinning at the annoyance that crossed the agent’s face. “Nice, orderly, and you can always tell where you’re up to. Which stage are you at, if that’s not too rude to ask?”
Sinking back with a miffed look on his face, the other man let out a deep sigh. “No, it’s fine. Once you’ve cultivated for a while, you’ll be able to sense a person’s realm and stage, at a minimum.”
“I’m in the third stage of Energy Gathering, Compression,” the agent finished a complicated mix of pride, embarrassment, and regret dancing across his face.
“Nice!” Kevin said, giving the man a thumbs up. “What kind of lifespan improvement do you get out of that?”
Agent Travis straightened back up, his face returning to a light smile; turmoil gone in a flash. “You know, most people ask about how much stronger I’ve gotten from moving through Energy Gathering.”
Kevin waved a hand. “Sure, strength sounds nice and all.” Leaning forward, he locked eyes with the agent. “But let me in on the good stuff first.”
Power would always be of secondary importance; a way of keeping yourself safe or getting access to more resources.
A longer life was where it was at. More time to cultivate which got you more time again; escalating until, one day, your time was endless.