It takes approximately thirty minutes for the first fool to try him.
Frankly, he’s impressed it took that long.
Shin Ren has been having a rather strange time being back. Everything is the same, but it all feels different.
The Academies are split into three divisions, each one reflecting a different path in Imperial society that those with power and will can step onto. The Scholar’s Academy, Soldier’s Academy, and Builder’s Academy all stand as a three-part structure deep in the heart of the second ring, close enough to the plateau of the first that nearly half of every day is spent in shadows. The structure of the academies are like three pyramids, each standing at an acute angle from the other to make the top and two bottom points of a larger triangle. Spatial distortion arrays ensure that from far away, each pyramid is like a vast, dramatic spire over the skyline of the surrounding city, while up close, the tops of the each structure move further and further up into the clouds.
Like any red-blooded (so to speak, there’s lots of blood colors out there) young cultivator, Shin Ren applied for the Soldier’s Academy. It’s an institution dedicated to strengthening and training the greatest fighters in the Empire. Two of the five Blades have come from this academy, and it’s most often those trained here who distinguish themselves against rogue cultivators, Imperial traitors, or the hordes of the 4th ring. Any and every prodigy of any and every sect in the civilized world seeks the Soldier’s Academy, if only for long enough to test themselves against their supposed peers. In all of the Academies, there’s nothing forcing people to remain: one can leave at any time, if they can handle the stresses of perceived failure or disappointment from the sects that sponsored them.
The Scholar’s and Builder’s Academies both are more of a mystery to him, seeing as he’s never actually been on their grounds. For those who want to plumb the secret depths of the world, the Scholar’s Academy calls, and for those pushed that way by their sects or master (and the rare few genuinely passionate), the Builder’s Academy allows the resources to grow one’s cultivation and knowledge of mechanics, physiks and arrays that they might best contribute to the Empire.
The Soldier’s Academy, of course, is much more direct. Both in its contributions to the Empire and in its teaching methods. It is a place to raise the strongest of the strong, and just as has always been true, in every version of every empire, steel sharpens steel.
Which means that when one particular piece of steel shows up after the official start of the academic year, bedraggled from the road, after a series of minor catastrophes struck his sect in Paleblossom city, sometimes other pieces of steel look to sharpen themselves.
It’s been interesting being back.
Mostly because so many people seem so… small.
For the sake of keeping everyone’s growth at useful levels, every year and section of the pyramid is separated by cultivation level. Go up enough stairs, and the pressure of the Qi around you can literally begin to break bones and stop a weaker cultivator’s heart, limiting the range at which one can roam, while leaving the lower levels feeling dry and stale to those stronger up above. This means that, luckily enough, most of the people in the room are in his own range, just entering the Nascent Soul realm (again, after his near-death by Qi deviation). Most of them are within a decade of his own age, most of them older than he by a few years, but they all stand, in theory, close to where he should be in strength.
And many of them emulate sharks as he walks into the main lobby of the pyramid, surrounding the smell of blood in the water.
He recognizes one of the sect robes that begin to circle him, standing a bit further away. Should something go wrong, the figure draped in grey and vibrant purple highlights can claim that he was merely watching, or perhaps stand in to help. Plausible deniability and all that. The other two who come up to him, casually wielding their own entourages of servants dressed in their sect colors (something one can petition their supporting sect for), quickly stand in his way as he crosses a few steps past the threshold of the main entrance.
“Truly it is a marvel to see one such as you returned to such a fine institution,” says one of the young masters. By the coloration of his robes, he’s from… Crawling Dragons sect, out in the third. The other one has a simpler beige coloration, highlighted by patterns of rushing winds and woven nets. Rushing Flights Sect, has a bunch of sub-sects if he recalls correctly.
The Smiling Noble sneers, squirming in his soul with derision, and for once, Shin Ren can’t help but agree.
“I am still a member of this Academy,” Shin Ren says, his voice tired but firm. “I have as much right to be here as any, which you well now. The paths of cultivation can lead one in many directions, some which require a bit more time to walk.”
“Oh? Is this what we’re calling it now, to lose strength? A path of cultivation?” asks the Crawling Dragon disciple. Seems like the ringleader, a few attractive women behind him giggling at his words and two individuals that could be guards, could be clerks mutely sharing looks. “It’s rare that a member of these Academies dares to show his face after being so thoroughly reduced.”
Shin Ren frowns. His cultivation has dropped, it’s true, no longer is he on the verge of forming his Soul, but he’s fairly certain that in sheer quantity of Qi, he’s much stronger than he was before. Sure, a lot of it is hidden in his new, lesser cores, the whirlpools that were once his heart demons, but-
Wait, it’s hidden?
The Smiling Noble grins and nods, while the Corpse Aflame gives him a withering look through half-boiled eyes. As if she would waste the fuel of her eventual blaze on posturing, letting it float about.
And… admittedly, his control is much finer. Three minds joined to his meridians make for a much more intuitive grip on his circulation, even if two are sort of semi-sentient for now. Maybe they just can’t tell?
“And apparently he’s come back dumb as well,” says the beige-robed cultivator. His entourage is mostly two other, weaker members of his own sect, bringing the total crowd standing against Shin Ren to a solid ten people all told. “Are you looking down on this young master? Speak when you’re spoken to!”
The beige-colored cultivator of the Rushing Flights sect flares his cultivation, his aura pressing in against Shin Ren. He’s not particularly far along the journey of the Nascent Soul ream, truth be told, and the wave of his Qi rings faintly… hollow. Incomplete.
As Shin Ren reflects on the feeling of his master’s Qi, like an entire world of stone and water and life and space were turning to look down upon him, it feels pretty lackluster by comparison.
The beige disciple blinks, as if surprised. He’s a good few steps further into the realm than Shin Ren is, but his Qi hits a wall against the “lesser” cultivators defenses, as if they suddenly hit an area of high density. To Shin Ren’s senses, his fellow academics Qi comes off as if its attempting to be a powerful wind… but is coming across as a strong breeze instead.
For a moment the Smiling Noble’s grin grows past the edges of his face as he reaches up, pulling on old habits and ideals-
And Shin Ren sighs, refusing to rise to the bait.
“It is impossible to look down on a fellow atop the same peak as I,” he says. “Let it be known that my journey was long, and I seek only to rest and resume my studies. Please, allow this Shin Ren to pass by, that we might meet at a more proper place and time.”
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
The Crawling Dragon disciple snorts even as the Rushing Flights fellow colors a slight red. Shin Ren frowns. That’s… he wasn’t trying to make the guy blush. It seems a pretty small thing to get angry about. Did he use to be like this? So little time ago?
The Crawling Dragon disciple laughs, a haughty thing. “And to think, we would bully this junior brother into giving us face!” he laughs. “Surely he has misunderstood us, brother Xin Xi! We are simply worried for his well-being, are we not? Surely such a weak cultivation will only harm him as he ascends the pyramid!”
Considering the fact that he’s in the same realm as both of them (and used to be higher), Shin Ren highly doubts that.
“I think it’s simply best if you leave, junior brother,” the one apparently named Xin Xi says. “It would be best if you return after your cultivation has healed, especially as the year has already begun. Perhaps you will be in time in only another decade?”
The Smiling Noble crawls forward up his throat. My, how brazen these two are being. Please, oh please won’t Shin Ren let him out to play?
Shin Ren’s first instinct is to say no. To hold himself as if the sins of his old self are flaws, to be held or controlled… but he did swear by them that he would accept their existence. And frankly, besides a knee-jerk reaction, he… kind of just can’t see why not.
Qi from his third and smallest pool begins to rise, eliciting looks of surprise and amusement from his would-be bullies at how it’s even less than expected- before they both stop being able to breathe.
Just for a second. Just long enough for them to stagger back a bit in surprise as the air around them heats so quickly that it warps the gases in front of their eyes and wicks away any oxygen to inhale.
Shin Ren’s eyes glow a dangerous yellow-orange color as he smiles, the very image of a polite little shit- but magnified.
“I’m afraid you must be mistaken, junior brothers,” he says, a smirk fighting its way onto his face. “This senior has far better things to do and far wiser teachers than you to be listening to words without wisdom. Perhaps we can take this up again later for a quick spar, where you might be more thoroughly educated… but for now, this young master intends to get a good night’s sleep after a long, hot bath, and you two are in the way.”
The Smiling Noble acquiesces enough, at least, to give them this one last chance.
Joyously, gloriously, delightfully, they do not take it.
“You dare disrespect this young master?!” Yells the whoever-the-fuck from the Crawling Dragon sect. “Oh, you could slam your face into the ground and kiss my heels a thousand times and I still wouldn’t bear such an insult. My pride is-”
“Worthless,” Shin Ren interrupts. “A meaningless little thing that has faced no pain, no trials, and no real awakening, leading to you wasting time in the lobby of the academy waiting for me. All it took was for someone to spread the rumor I was back, and here you came crawling just like your sect, on the dirt, to find a way to disrespect yourself and worse, me. But that’s alright. If I need to educate my juniors, then so be it.”
He keeps the cloth wrapped up as an improvised sheath around the blade of his Quandao, making it look like a staff with a bag at the top, but points it imperiously at the two in front of him.
“If you are so confident in my weakness, so sure you’re worthy to judge who is allowed into these halls, then please, allow me to grant you enlightenment.”
Both young masters meet each others eyes, turn to face him, and flare their Qi.
Gods, was it really always so easy? So intuitive to just… know what buttons to push? One step outside old habits and how suddenly do they lie exposed.
Shin Ren doesn’t bother pulling from all his cores. The Corpse Aflame is, to put it mildly, overkill for this situation, and he himself really doesn’t care all that much about this confrontation save for annoyance at what’s happening. It’s ridiculous that they’re all wasting time like this, but sect politics and social hierarchy demand that bottom feeders try to find easy prey, lest they be consumed whole.
And a twisted parody of sect politics and faux-nobility lives in Shin Ren, grinning like a demon should.
The Corpse Aflame’s explosive movement or his own constant flow are absent as the Smiling Noble’s Qi rises ascendant, making for small, subtle shifts in movement. As Xin Xi and the Crawling Dragon disciple strike at him, he moves only exactly as much as is needed, swaying out of the way of thrown punches like a heat haze in motion. Neither one of them is weak or untalented- far from it, especially if they’ve lasted at the Academy at all.
The Rushing Flights disciple and the Crawling Dragon disciple (he’ll have to learn names later, it’s… Xin Xi and the other one, sure) both strike at once, clearly well-trained together. Xin Xi leaps into the air and arcs back down with a spiraling kick, one heavy enough to break steel rods if the sheer velocity is any indication, while the… other guy comes in a straight rush, his knees low and fists raised in a boxer’s stance, but with elbows a bit wider.
Shin Ren is simply not there where they strike.
Two blows he parries on his staff, one with his arm, but the next two, three, four, he simply shifts away from. Subtle changes to his center of gravity are enough to have him sway out of the way of a half-dozen blows until both cultivators clearly get angry. He can’t blame them, this is pretty embarrassing, and the Smiling Noble’s grin is slowly spreading on his face.
And then, at the last moment, the disciple of the Crawling Dragon sect overreaches. Xin Xi has to abort a strike ever so slightly, looping what would have been a kick into a further spin to launch an elbow. In that slight hiccup the green and black of the Crawling Dragon launches himself forward into an uppercut that glows with Qi, enough to potentially take this from an attempted humiliation to a genuine spar.
Shin Ren and the Smiling Noble don’t let it go that way. Fair fights aren’t the style of his former heart demon, after all.
A subtle weave of heat pulls in air all around, making slight winds circle around Shin Ren and adding to his movement here and there. He leans back from the blow, the wind adding to his momentum and sending him into a perfect spin for a crescent kick to his opponent’s temple. A burst of Qi adds to it, leaving a singed mark in the shape of the impact that burns away a chunk of the guy’s hair.
He has to duck and block a follow-up combo from “young master” Xin Xi, both strikes strong enough to rattle him. Shin Ren is exhausted, hasn’t had a chance to stop and meditate for days, and only just got to the Academy, but none of that means that even at his best the hit wouldn’t have bruised him. His forearm is going to swell for at least a few hours, most likely.
That’s fine. A good trade, considering how artfully he and the Smiling Noble mask the pain and spin his Guandao into smacking its hilt into Xin Xi’s chin.
The Crawling Dragon disciple roars as he launches himself back into the fight, forgetting where they are and what the consequences for such a fight might be… but that’s fine. As the sound leaves him, the Smiling Noble’s heat haze once more wraps around his mouth and nose, singing the fine hairs of a well-groomed upper lip and eating away the oxygen there. The disciple staggers as he tries to intake a breath and fails utterly, leaving him open and exposed in Shin Ren’s range.
An axe-kick to the back of his head, cracking the stone floor beneath his chin, is enough to knock him out of the fight.
At the sight of his ally (and friend?) lying wounded by such a strong blow, the man’s head half-buried in the stone of a foot-deep crater Shin Ren has made for him, his eyes burn.
Instantly his Qi rises again, high enough that Shin Ren raises an eyebrow that no one’s come to interrupt yet. Sure, he isn’t burning his Core (probably) but it’s still damn dramatic to say the least-
The Corpse Aflame singes the both of them and reminds them to pay attention.
The Smiling Noble just doesn’t have the Qi to truly block or neutralize a technique, not when he’s so good at misdirection, but that just means Shin Ren has to show off his own cultivation now.
As a series of vaguely net or web-like runes begin to flare around the wrists of Xin Xi, some sort of array technique forming, Shin Ren reaches deep into his being, towards the center of who he knows himself to be…
And finds Flame.
The Dao of Flame manifests into the world around him, wrapping about his shoulders, around his waist, framing him in a halo of fire and gold. It is a pure fire, nearing the realms of True Flame, its colors tinged with gold even as blue and yellow cooperate for a pure and high-burn fire around him. It arcs past his hands, down into his guandao, lighting the bag covering it aflame and turning it to ash near instantaneously, revealing the razor-sharp head of the weapon, glimmering in the light of his Qi.
And then, before this Xin Xi can so much as cancel his technique, the Flame has reached out, burnt through it, scarred his hands, and propelled Shin Ren forward approximately three feet- just far enough forward to put the naked edge of his guandao to the man’s throat.
“No need to make this too serious,” Shin Ren says, the Smiling Noble’s influence still coloring his voice just a tad. “I’m not sure you can afford what it would cost you to learn this particular lesson, junior brother.”
Shin Ren can almost smell the fear on his opponent as he backs off, hands spread wide in surrender.
“Good. Now, if neither of you wish for more enlightenment, this Shin Ren of the Purple Flame Burning Lotus Sect will be on his way.”
And, cringing just a bit at the name, he finds himself doing exactly that, even as whispers of “a dao wielder” and “young master of the purple-” “all the way from the third ring…” echo out behind him.
Coming back has been… interesting.