Gou Mai likes Shin Ren. Shin Ren’s a pretty good guy. Always willing to listen to those who request it, never excessively violent, and even if he’s a bit opinionated on things, he doesn’t tend to push those opinions too harshly onto others.
But of course, such is life in the world that talent surpasses all. It’s difficult to bother with caring about someone knowing they will die when you well might not, and thus, for every friendship between brothers, there is the distance that cultivation can bring. Shin Ren surpassed him, simple as that.
Gou Mai is, if not content, then at least comfortable with his speed of growth. It is not so hard to catch up to someone, especially once they reach the realms where efforts bear fruit in decades and centuries rather than months and years, and he knows he is progressing adequately. For all that the bastard sects of the second ring seem to blossom into Core Formation in their adolescence rather than their adulthood like normal, Gou Mai is comfortably nearing the end of that particular realm, and primed to begin forming his Nascent Soul not long after. It’s a pity that one of the few people he came to actually like in the Academy, the one who agreed to the name of honored brother, had left him behind, but he would prove himself a true friend. He would find his way up to the heights to which his friend would climb, rather than be a chain upon him.
What a surprise it was to see his honored brother once more in the vaunted halls of the Core Formation cultivators, then!
Upon seeing him, Gou Mai’s first instinct was to comfort him. It is a terrible setback, a loss of great and powerful agony to fall backwards in one’s cultivation. The purpose one dedicates their whole life to, crippled, wounded, unmade… many have lost themselves with less. To lose an entire realm? The Nascent Soul realm, no less? Depending on how much one’s Soul had formed, it could be a form of grief all its own to lose it, like losing a part of one’s own body, a partner and taste of transcendent Self all in one.
And yet, Shin Ren smiled at the sight of him. He stood proud! More quiet and reserved, it’s true, but proud and strong nonetheless. Gou Mai expected to find a brother in need, and the relief and joy in his friend’s face at the sight of him was a boon to his ego as well, he admits- but through all of it, Shin Ren was both whole and complete.
And the power he had shown!
Perhaps the rumors were false, and it was no true setback at all, but rather a sacrifice that led to this new confidence and strength! A truly mighty thing it must have been indeed, for his friend to be able and willing to do such a thing, and for it to have paid off so powerfully is a true boon. The new powers he showed at first felt strange, even violent, unlike the noble and almost artistic brother he knew, but by the end of his demonstration / exercise, it became clearer. The Dao of Flame, at Core Formation realm, and with multiple variants or sub-Daos as well!
Once again, Gou Mai was forced to confront feelings he thought satisfied within him. For a sect of the third ring, he is a prodigy, capable of guiding his sect in the future and encouraging others to go to (and hopefully return from) the Academies in the future. Tournaments and competitions and treks into the wilds would be won with his talent, and if he managed to keep growing, he would make it into the same realms as his elders and sect matriarch.
But to see his friend lose so much, return to Gou Mai’s own level, and yet somehow still completely eclipse him? Who could there be that wouldn’t feel frustrated by such a thing?
Or, his better parts whisper, who could there be that would dishonor such strength by not being inspired by it?
In the weeks since his surprisingly now bookish friend returned, Gou Mai has spent at least six hours daily in the cultivation chamber of his quarters, and the same time again fighting in the training halls. He focuses primarily on the sword, though he is no Aspirant towards Sword Law. If he manages to grasp the Dao of Swords rather than the greater Art of Cutting, he will be content with it. It is a tool, not his sole aim, and his blade whirs through the air in arcing loops and violent stings as he dances to his own sounds.
And it is, in greatest truth, a dance. That much, he knows, deep in his core, deep enough that it almost feels foundational. He dances through the steps of his sword arts, weaving his blade across the reinforced flesh of the training hall’s golems, and with each step, he adds a beat of his own making.
Thrum, goes the sound of his blood.
Whoosh, goes the breaths he exhales.
Stomp, go the steps of his feet.
Gou Mai’s sect draws their name from the stone towers that occur naturally in their territory, leaving them with access to dizzying heights and great depths at once. The cultivation style born from the geography, now heavily altered and improved through generations and cross-study of others, focuses on the vertigo of it all. His Qi rises up through his body, flowing in a slow and meaningful rush from his feet all the way up towards the top of his head, only to fall with dizzying speed towards his feet once again. The stability of the climb, of purposeful steps, matched with the dizzying, breathless, terrifyingly fast feeling of falling towards something greater than oneself.
It is a simple style of cultivation, and yet, by keeping their minds open to others and accepting the Empire’s teachings, the Falling Mountain Steps sect has found that there is much room to change and grow within it. Some add to themselves the concept of weight and mass, magnifying the climb and the impact of the fall both. Others add in the movements of animals, of cranes and eagles that dance with the air. Water is a popular addition, of course, accumulating up towards the heavens and falling back down as life-giving rain.
Gou Mai has kept his style particularly faithful to the original teachings, which is part of what convinced his sect to sponsor him for the Academies in the first place. But here, now? With his sworn brother showing him the heights that he has yet to climb?
Gou Mai takes each step with care as he weaves his new concept into how he feels the world.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
There is Truth, the conviction of one’s beliefs irregardless of reality. There is Dao, the comprehension and control of reality itself.
And there is cultivation, which is both and neither, and is how the world touches and is touched by the minds of those who imbibe it.
As Gou Mai shapes the blood of his soul and Self to the tune of vertigo and dance and flowing, stinging blades, he begins to weave.
His sect is famous for their comprehension of heights and of spaces, of how much room there is in every point. The Empire has shown him texts and styles and ideas that broaden his horizons by step after step, until now, he’s convinced that the horizons simply go forever. And now, his brother has shown him just how high and wide the path towards the heights can be.
Gou Mai teaches his Qi to climb towards the endless sky, and to fall back through that forever-blue and starry black.
It is not easy. To change never is. His core is already nearly formed, and any addition to it now would simply be a surface layer to compress in the others.
So he does not bother to compress it.
He pulls the Qi from his Core, solid and whole after so many years of crafting, bleeding his own cultivation. He does not bring the Qi out from his core, but instead does something that, to many, would be considered a waste of time when the Nascent Soul realm is in his grasp.
He adds his core, bit by bit, back into the circulation of his meridians and movements, and teaches it new moves to dance to.
The last of the training golems falls to his sword, a series of carved wounds weakening the faux-flesh until a final, dizzying fall of the blade cleaves it entirely in twain, head to hip.
He lands, making sure to properly salute with his blade, enacting a quick chiburi movement to flick imagined blood of its edge. He makes sure his landing is firm, his feet solid, his exhaustion kept rigorously apart from his posture. The performance doesn’t end when the final step is landed, after all- it ends when the dancer decides.
Or, perhaps, when the fall from the heights touches the earth.
He leaves the training hall, well over two hundred faux-corpses lining the ground around him, each of them in well-carved pieces. His robes, despite the enhancements that cultivation brings, are still wet with sweat, a fact he’s proud of. Sure, maybe forcing his body not to sweat as he works is an added bit of challenge, but if it’s between being perfectly presentable and showing signs of his efforts, he’ll take the latter if he must, and he’s working hard enough as it is to rebuild himself.
He watches his admirers do as their name implies as he leaves the chamber. Sure, most of them are waiting to see him slip up and fail, rip apart his own core for nothing, losing everything he’s built in a foolish pursuit. Others are enemies in waiting, looking for weaknesses they might take advantage of in their next duel or ways to take some of what he’s doing for themselves.
Thus they really are admirers, aren’t they? Admiring his force of will, admiring his talents, and measuring themselves against him.
There really is a special something about being part of the Academies.
He almost makes it back to his room before a familiar figure steps in his way.
“Ah! Brother! What a surprise to see you here!”
Shin Ren smiles, a genuine thing that looks good on him. It’s like his old smile, but better, as sure a sign of his growth as the strength he now wields, and Gou Mai smiles right back.
“Hopefully not an unwelcome one.”
“Never! Come, my room is just around the way and-”
“Actually, if it’s alright with you, I’d like to speak somewhere else.”
Gou Mai raises an eyebrow. An assassination attempt? There are plenty of cultivators who have been tempted away from friendship by the higher call of power. Shin Ren seems to recognize the hesitation for what it is, and clasps his hands together before bowing.
And he bows nearly to his waist, a depth shown only to elders and the most honored of friends.
“I swear to you on my life and my cultivation that I wish you no harm. I merely believe that we might better avoid prying ears in a more discrete location.”
Gou Mai sighs, but nods. “I understand, though I admit, this is a bit abrupt. I shall take your oath and hold you to it.”
Shin Ren nods, and draws away, walking ahead of Gou Mai in a clear attempt to show some respect for his friend’s concern. Gou Mai watches for a moment, waiting until there’s just enough space between them not to be disrespectful, and follows along.
It takes only about a minute of walking before they arrive at an intersection leading off to one of the libraries. Seeming to know exactly where to step, Shin Ren turns a corner and steps into a small alcove, one with the artificial windows that make up much of the pyramid’s decor.
“I will make sure we have no prying eyes about us, brother. Have no alarm.”
Shin Ren raises an arm, and a flurry of obsidian-black slips of wood fly out from what look to be tattoos on his skin. The artifact spirals around them, creating a dome with few gaps between individual slats, each one filled with golden writing and glowing ever so slightly with Qi.
Gou Mai looks around at the artifact in wonder. “You certainly don’t fail to impress, Shin Ren. I hadn’t heard of such a high-quality artifact appearing in the rewards for any tournaments, or offered for merits. It seems you’ve caught the eye of quite a mentor!”
Shin Ren shakes his head lightly. “Not quite. More a… patron, of sorts. One that I’m not entirely comfortable with.”
“Oh?” Gou Mai asks. There are very few individuals that could gift such a potent artifact into the pyramids directly, and all of them rank highly in the Imperial hierarchy. If not a mentor, then perhaps a greater cultivator? A member of the first ring? Perhaps there’s more to Shin Ren’s transformation than he’d thought.
His senses further heightened by the smell of secrets (a scent he’s always found particularly sour, metaphorically speaking) .
“So why is it that you’ve called me here with such a show of force on display?”
Shin Ren smiles, though it’s a bit pained. “I’m afraid, brother, that I’ve brought you here to ask for your help.”
“In anything in particular?”
Shin Ren sighs, then nods. “In assisting me with subverting and possibly betraying the very same patron that’s offered me this and other gifts.”
“Why? And how? Have they demanded something overly cruel of you?”
“Not yet, but I have no way to know if and when they will. I believe that, while it is in my best interest to serve them, and it will not bully my ideals, one should always approach a deal with a stranger with a bit of proper care. This patron is new, and I do not know them clearly, but it is clear that I, and likely others, are being played in a grander game, one with players willing to provide considerable boons. I can only imagine the harm they cause may well be equivalent, even as I imagine they will likely hide it from me, certain that my cultivator’s heart won’t support such things. Because of this, I find myself in significant need of an ally I can trust. Someone who can have my back. Someone who, despite my faith in them, is not known as a close ally.”
Gou Mai blinks.
His sworn brother, who surpassed and inspired him, is asking for his help. Is saying he trusts him enough that in the face of unknown plots and enemies, he is the first ally brought into the fold.
Perhaps the prudent thing to do would be to say no. Perhaps the wise thing to do would be to wait for more information, to pursue his own goals.
But there’s a damn good reason why a cultivator prefers a fortuitous encounter or opportunity than a cave in which to meditate in.
And Gou Mai is not the kind of man who would forsake his own cultivator’s heart for something so banal as peace.
He grins wide, feeling the climb towards the sky weigh on his soul and give him stairs beneath his steps.
“Honorable Shin Ren, I believe you have come to the right person.”