There’s not much to do but weave, read, and think.
She does as little of the third as possible, as it usually goes into a sad little spiral down to the bottom of the hells. So instead she trains, the rope of Qi that she makes can reach all the way up her arm to her fingers, the past week of doubling down truly showing its worth. She feels as though this were too easy, if control could be improved at this rate, why doesn’t everybody do it? She could probably cut down her circulation time by half without the Qi stone. Which is still a considerable amount of time, but that much progress in the span of just six weeks? It seems ridiculous. Cultivation is a thing of slow steps, and while a single year can signify significant improvement to the cultivator, in the grand scheme of things? It would be considered almost nothing. There are immortals, like the Bandit King Zanzibar, who have lived for thousands of years. You’d think after all that time cultivating they could take on armies alone, but no, they still need the hands of lesser men and women if they wish to secure a kingdom. It’s why many immortals don’t take the public stage, piss off enough people and your life could end by the hands of thousands.
Not much to do to distract from her thoughts.
So she reads.
Did you know that Jorik Theokal, the current ruler of the Rikidan empire, started his journey as a shit shoveler? It’s a rather popular tale, a literal rags to riches story. Except it happened. Ruler over the second largest empire in the world, the one that Yormakar owes its fealty to. He didn’t think he would ever cultivate at first, at least according to the story, but when his mother was left to die with no treatment after a plague from long ago, he decided that things had to change, and that he would change it. He hailed from what is now the most prosperous sect of Rikidan, The Jewel In The Dragon's Eye. That wasn’t its original name, that one was lost to time, replaced by something more grandiose befitting its stature. That sect disciples hundreds of thousands of people regularly, and many who leave its halls go on to become something famous in their local communities. Also it's attached to the capitol, so it isn’t isolated like the Serpent's Fang, which is a huge plus in her book. Because of Jorik, the research into medicine and the dao’s related to health and healing have hit multiple breakthroughs, all because of a little boy who missed his mother. Yet not enough to save Karaz, evidently.
No, that’s a bad thought.
We’re not doing bad thoughts right now.
“Master librarian?” She asks.
“Yes girl?” The Librarian answers absently, engrossed in a book about insectoid taxonomy and Qi mutations.
“Why do all the good tales of immortals start with tragedy?” she asks.
The librarian looks up at her with a raised brow, “All that you’ve read perhaps, they used to have more variety back in my day.” He says “But to answer the question, it’s because people can sympathise with someone who has suffered. Injustice, fate, whatever really. Because it makes them seem human, despite how far from it they are.”
Tantra muses on that, it makes some amount of sense. All immortals started as mortals, and being what they’ve become doesn’t preclude what they were.
“Have you ever met an immortal?”
The librarian quiets at that and looks off into the distance.
“Yes,” he said, “Fatham of the flame, met him before I even started cultivating. Burned down my home and roasted my family alive, all for the insult of the dry bread and bland rice offered by the peasant family he deigned to grace with his presence. I lived because he didn’t see the point in wasting his Qi on a toddler.”
Tantra stares at the man as he flips through his book, that’s…that’s incredibly sad.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Don’t look at me like that girl, that was ages ago, I’ve long since moved on from the trauma.”
“How?” she asks.
The librarian shrugs, “time is the healer of all wounds, if you let it be.”
-
Toka examines Tantra's collar bone, taking note of the massive gash that has now become an ugly scar of deep purple, and checking for stability and range of motion in her arm. She hums as they go over basic exercises, moving her arm back and forth, up and down, around and around. The motions make her collar sore, but otherwise she’s fine.
“Good,” Toka says, “your bones seem to have reattached themselves, a quick recovery is always welcome. We can work on taking off the internal cast now without too much worry. You can rejoin your fellows in training, but no weapons or sparring until at least your next check up.”
Tantra bows, “thank you, honourable healer Toka, you have been instrumental to my recovery.”
Toka waves her off, “think nothing of it, I only did what I was trained to do.”
Tantra keeps her bow, “Still you hold my gratitude.”
Toka sighs, “let's just get that cast out and you can go back to all the joys of cultivation.”
-
Yorin is skipping down the field as he heads over to Tantra’s home, he has good news! Very good news, hopefully good enough to make her feel better. He passes by a bemused crowd of disciples as he makes his way down the dirt path to the girls living area, they’re on the opposite side of the…neigh-bor-hood? He’s always just referred to where he lives as a village, but apparently that isn’t the right term. It’s okay, he’s learning! His brain is becoming bigger, or something, he doesn’t know.
He taps his knuckles on the door to her home and waits. It doesn’t take long for the door to open to reveal…a duck. He stares at the duck, it stares back at him. It honks, he honks back. He hears a guffaw and suddenly there is a girl in front of him slapping her knee.
“You must be Sola!” Yorin says with a smile, “is Tantra home?”
“One-” a laugh “one moment big guy, I have to recover from that display. Why did you honk back at Dok?”
“It’s only polite!” Yorin replies, “it said something to me so i’m just saying something back.”
Sola wheezes, “oh you precious soul, come, I’ll get Tantra, you go sit on the couch.”
Yorin beams a smile and heads over to the living area, plopping himself down on the couch stuffed with cotton. Such a luxury! He only used wood furniture before coming to the sect, a few he even made, like the little standing board for his brother. Silly little hyena, just learned how to crawl and already he’s causing havoc in the house.
Ah, memories.
He can’t wait to go back home, once he’s a proper cultivator, then he can spend his days protecting the home he’s known for all his life. Giving back is what it is, and maybe he could train a few young’uns to take his place instead of relying on the sects.
That’s assuming he can secure the resources of course, but all in due time.
He hears a scream and snorts, that must be Tantra.
Sure enough the girl walks into the living area looking frazzled and somewhat annoyed.
“Yorin,” she says as she stops in front of him, “what do you want so late into the evening.”
“Come sit.” he says joyfully, “I have news, won-der-full news.”
He can see how Tantra fights off a smile on her precious mask.
He doesn’t really understand the purpose of it, why not let your emotions show on your face? It’s only natural. The face was made to express not to be set like a sculpture. Ah, sculptures, he didn’t know what those were beyond stories before visiting the sect museum. He doesn’t know what those people did to get giant sized versions of them carved in stone, but it must have been great.
“So? While I enjoy your company I was training.” She says.
Right, daydreaming in a conversation is rude, can’t have that.
“Well,” he says slowly, “you know Silsim, my housemate?”
Tantra nods, “the one with all those tattoos and different coloured eyes, right?”
“Yep!” Yorin replies, “Well he’s rather special, he’s friends with one of the young masters, the older one I think, and he trains personally under master Jorin. Really a prodigy that one!”
“Okay,” Tantra says slowly, “while i’m sure his exploits are many and grandiose, I don’t see why that brought you here.”
“I’m getting there,” he says, “anyway, being so con-ec-ted means that he gets to know things we don’t know, or before we get to know them.”
Yorin pauses dramatically to increase the tension and excitement, to the bemusement of Tantra.
“There’s going to be a tournament!” He blurts out, unable to contain himself, “In one month's time!.”
Tantra stares at him, slaps an arm over her face, and groans.