The Academies are divided, like all things, by one’s cultivation. Mortals can only enter an Academy under the direct protection of a stronger cultivator, only ever able to look upon them from far away for the sheer weight of Qi that each building and their arrays exude. The first two floors of each Academy are suitable for Qi-Gathering realm cultivators, with those just beginning their journey unable to journey past the first floor and those closer to the Foundational realm able to take more advanced lessons and resources from the second floor. The next three floors are suitable for the Foundational realm, again granting better teachers, better resources and greater lessons the higher one might climb. The next five floors are suitable for Core Formation cultivators, and the next seven for those in the Nascent Soul realm, with the last floor of the Academy suitable for any higher.
With each floor, the spatial dilation increases. On the first and second floors, the broadest bases of each pyramid, the space is equivalent to what it should be, three miles across at their base. On the Foundational floors, the space is double what it should be, making them vastly larger than the initial floors, and the pattern continues, with the last floor, it is said, holding enough space for an entire mountain range.
Shin Ren meditates on his own memories more and more as he climbs, each set of the grand spiral staircases that bridge the many floors getting progressively more difficult as he walks. Each floor’s density of Qi magnifies, the arrays trapping higher and higher amounts of pressure on each level. He finds himself actually struggling a bit as he climbs.
He arrived here older than most. A lot of third-ring sects tend to send their candidates in later than second ring sects, either due to pride or… well, inadequacy. His case was the former; no way his uncle would’ve let him come before he’d mastered at least the initial steps of a traditional training in the mysteries of the Purple Flame, the Flame of mystery. A lot of the older traditions and mysteries have been forgotten, his uncle had said, nodding along to it like all his other teachers. There’s something to be said about the old ways being lost, but Shin Ren can’t help but wonder if holding onto their pride is more of a weakness than a strength. Most of the “old ways” are, in fact, old, traditions and mysteries passed down generation after generation without changing to accommodate the changing times. The lack of danger might mean that training can be harsher, or that there’s more time to look deeper into what’s before them, but after Shin Ren found his way to manifesting purple fire through his Qi, the consensus was that, at least for the time, he was just… done. Finished.
The Academies never held the same weakness.
Say what you will about them, but the Academies do not hold to any one tradition. Upheaval is practically a tradition in and of itself, with each new technique or comprehension found in their halls being meticulously recorded before the student can graduate. Once a student has advanced past a certain level, usually viewed as the first steps of Core Formation, they are allowed to study whatever they please, so long as they pass certain tests at different milestones as established by official Imperial metrics. In turn, the results of their studies are recorded for posterity in the form of scrolls, recordings, and even active training manuals with enlightenment arrays prepared to improve a new reader’s comprehension. In this way, both the Academies and their students grow in equal measure.
In theory.
Qu Haolan’s fate weighs heavily on Shin Ren, as did the very official scroll carried by the entirely, mindlessly violent Blade that came with it. Realistically, he has to acknowledge that a rogue Emperor realm cultivator had to be addressed by the Empire, seat of the self-assigned Emperor Above Emperors, the god and ruler of the civilized world. It’s even plausible that sending a Blade was a precaution for any potential violence, and this Blade in particular was simply… overeager. Deep down, he has to acknowledge that there’s even a possibility that his master got away.
But at the end of the day… the people are supposed to trust the Blades. Trust the Empire as a whole, that their institutions can’t be broken by any one bad actor.
But between how the sect was allowed to treat Raika, the cripple he was used as a show-executioner against, and the way the Blade was absolutely eager to try to cut down his master, it paints an ugly picture. There’s more here beneath the surface, gilded to look golden. The Empire didn’t send a Blade and a welcoming committee for his master, no one to negotiate or attempt to convince Qu Haolan to join the Empire, they just sent a Blade. And his master is still alive, of that Shin Ren is absolutely certain.
So either the Blade failed, and no one told the public about a potential rogue Emperor realm master on the loose, or the Blade succeeded, and his master was taken rather than killed.
And if the Blades can be used as tools of something so visibly malicious, so meaninglessly aggressive, what about the Academies?
Both are anchors of the Empire, crucial elements of how the world is supposed to work. If one can’t be trusted to make decisions in favor of peace and progress, doesn’t that throw doubt onto the other?
Shin Ren once again reaffirms his decision to keep both eyes open and find out for himself.
He eventually reaches the floor at the peak of the Core Formation floors, and finds himself struggling to take another step forward. He has the beginnings of a Nascent Soul, it’s true, but it’s not exactly solid. The pressure from above pushes hard against not just his central Core, but the two proto-Cores his former demons are creating. He takes a further step and feels the pressure increase again, like walking into a burning room mixed with falling deep underwater. He goes to take one more step…
And grunts, letting the pressure push him back down to the earlier step.
“Now isn’t that interesting,” says a voice.
Shin Ren turns fast enough that his clothes actively whip against the air, Qi boosting the movement well past superhuman. His guandao, once again sheathed in cloth, spins up into something that’s neither a stance nor a relaxed pose.
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Behind him is the third figure he met down in the pyramid’s courtyard.
It’s pretty safe to say that there are a few hundred people in the pyramid’s “opening” floor at any given time, Qi-Gathering cultivators mingling, Imperial workers maintaining things and ready to answer questions, and those coming in and out of the upper floors. But when it comes to Nascent Soul cultivators, it’s pretty rare to find them just milling about in the lobby, so beyond the two that harassed him, one more stood out.
She is what, traditionally, one might call a jade beauty. Long, beautiful black hair, trailing down her back from where a small knot is bound with fine hairpin sticks, framing a round, pleasantly slim face. Her eyes, a color like navy blue but more alive, flash from behind long lashes that highlight a slim nose above a set of full lips painted a pleasing shade of black.
She smiles softly, meeting his gaze without fear.
“I’m afraid this young master doesn’t recognize you, fair one,” he says with an incline of the head. “However, I am impressed by the capacity for stealth you have shown this unworthy one.”
She giggles, a light sound like tinkling bells. “Ever the flatterer, Shin Ren. And here I thought you’d changed in your time away.”
He frowns, trying to recognize the voice, the face, anything. He’s not above knowing that such a beauty should stand out in his mind, but… nothing.
“You seem to have me at a disadvantage, young mistress. Might this lowly Shin Ren ask your name?”
She inclines her head to him in turn, one hand emerging from long, elegant sleeves to sweep to one side. “This simple cultivator is Mei Yu, honored brother. Please, take no wound from my lack of presence in your memory. I’m afraid it would greatly dishonor this young mistress if that were not the case.”
Immediately, without even thinking, Shin Ren takes one step back. Mental techniques aren’t common, but they’re rightly feared for how hard they are to defend against and the ways in which they can shape a mind. If he can’t remember her-
She titters again, that almost fey-like sound. “This young mistress prides her ability for stealth greatly, junior brother. I’m sorry to say that while your honored self was ever so focused on his own personal growth, I went out of my way to better understand my fellows.”
Shin Ren frowns. “I made sure to memorize the sects and names of every cultivator in the same year as I. I’m afraid I don’t recognize your sect markings, much to my shame, and have no memory of your name either.”
She shrugs softly. “Once, this Mei Yu was your junior, junior brother. I was a Core Formation cultivator when last we met, nearly two years ago now. It would seem, despite the impression you left on our fellows, that our roles have inverted a bit.”
Shin Ren’s eyes flick to the next staircase up, remembers the way the Qi pushed on his meridians and Cores. He knows he could go up… but not without sacrificing both his former demons and their new, more fragile Cores.
He frowns, keeping Mei Yu in his peripheral vision. This… could be an advantage. Losing his cultivation and being pushed to a lower level would be a good cover to keep him from being scrutinized too closely, even as his new mastery of the Dao of Flame opens new doors.
Yes, this is probably for the best.
He smiles a bit sadly, only partially putting on an act. It’s dishonorable to lie, and that fact makes the Smiling Noble send him a laugh and a withering grin, but it’s not… technically a lie. Not if he phrases it right.
“It would seem that may be the case,” Shin Ren says, bowing his head a bit deeper to his ‘senior’. “I’ve made some small gains in my time away, but I’m having a bit of difficulty re-entering the Nascent Soul floors. Perhaps I’ll be a bit more comfortable in the Core Formation realm floors until I’ve recovered a bit more.”
Mei Yu raises a single, perfectly groomed eyebrow. Every part of her is almost distractingly like a painting, a picture of a true jade beauty, and while Shin Ren knows that there’s no shortage of those in the Academies, she is a… rather dramatic example.
The little worry about mental techniques, always a concern in the Academy walls, rears back up, but he keeps it quiet for now. Paranoia is no reason to abandon his civility, or his honor.
“As I said, junior brother, that’s rather interesting. You are certainly still far from the steps of the realm you were at when I first laid eyes on you, but I was nearly certain you had begin that step of the path once more. It must truly have been both a great blow and a great boon, to offer such strength but also such a challenge to your cultivation.”
“A challenge overcome is strength gained,” Shin Ren replies. “I am content enough to remain on this floor for now. Gaining an understanding of Dao has aided me greatly, but arrogance has cost many a young master like me their life, and some time to rebuild my foundation and refresh myself on some of my earlier studies is a good opportunity.”
“So humble! You speak of understanding Dao as if it were some trinket, gained as an… inheritance, rather than an achievement that perhaps one out of every ten cultivators of the upper realms achieve.”
He doesn’t miss how her eyes hover ever so slightly over his guandao at the word inheritance.
“It was hard fought and harder earned,” he admits. “I do not wish to diminish my accomplishment, nor the challenges that led to it. Acquiring an understanding of Flame took… pain. Pain and destruction. But I also do not think that any one accomplishment is enough to rest. Until I climb past the horizon of this pyramid, I shall always have further to walk, and likely well past that.”
She raises a hand to her lips, daintily covering another laugh, this one a bit quieter. “A true cultivator, aren’t you junior brother? This young mistress is humbled by your spirit.”
In spite of his better judgment, he feels his inner selves all reach up to whisper into the air: “I doubt there is much this one could do to humble you, senior sister.”
Her eyes widen a bit, but then crinkle into the first smile she’s shown that doesn’t feel like part of the painting. A wild brushstroke makes a roguish lift of her lips, and for a moment she plays the perfect image of a kitsune, one of the old tricksters.
“I see your humility is untainted by meekness, junior brother.”
He nods politely.
“I’m afraid that, among my many flaws, I have yet to find meekness. It’s lack, perhaps, though now we speak more of my flaws again.”
“Hmm. Perhaps.
“I hope you find the Core Formation heights enlightening, junior brother. Perhaps you might call upon your senior sister if ever you need some assistance returning to the heights.”
He bows, just short of anything subservient.
“Junior brother thanks senior sister Mei Yu.”
It’s only after she’s stepped past him, walking without any visible strain up into the higher floors of the pyramid, that he realizes he never asked her what sect she originated from, or how he might contact her.
He’s waved off the question of how the others knew he was coming (rumors spread faster than the wind, and soldiers like to talk, especially soldiers stuck patrolling the borders), but perhaps…
No. He’s getting paranoid already. No need to suspect those who have yet to show dishonor or subtler dealings.
The Smiling Noble smirks at the thought, knowing that they all know better.
The Corpse Aflame just grumbles, annoyed that she hasn’t turned anyone to charcoal yet.
Shin Ren sighs.
It’s going to be a long semester.