“This is who you got?”

“ ‘Hello, Gou Mai! Thank you ever so much for acquiring a Nascent Soul cultivator who was free at a moment’s notice! Truly you are a caring and wise friend, who has done ever so much for my abrupt and sudden ideas!’”

Shin Ren sighs, pinching the brow of his nose. “...Thank you, Gou Mai, for acquiring a Nascent Soul cultivator who was free at a moment’s notice. Why, in particular, did you pick this cultivator?”

Gou Mai shrugs. “He said he knew you, and he accepted when I asked. There’s only some three-hundred-ish Nascent Soul cultivators in the Academy right now, the rest are on missions or with their sects. Add to that the number of them in secluded cultivation with the Academy’s resources, and we don’t exactly have a ton of people I could have asked.”

Shin Ren sighs. And looks over at the fourth member of their party.

Ki Hao of the Blessed Clouds glares viciously at him from a ways away.

He looks better than he did splayed out on the courtyard floor from the ass-kicking Shin Ren gave him. There’s still scuff marks on his robes from the fight, though the wounds have vanished. Shin Ren went pretty easy on him, he’s pretty sure, but there’s only so much you can do without perfect skill when using naked steel.

Shin Ren looks around, but he doesn’t see any of the entourage that followed the young master before. The kid (weird to call him that, but he certainly doesn’t seem very mature) frowns at him, baring his teeth.

He sighs.

“Alright. Let’s see what we’re working with.”

Gou Mai grins, following his friend over towards their newest recruit, who Mei Yu is standing silently near. For all that her expression remains as perfectly polite and demure as it always is, Shin Ren notices the subtle quirk of her posture. He’s no courtly expert, but he was a young master of his own sect. Technically still is, even. Politics are a poorly-explored responsibility, not something alien entirely, and while he hasn’t exactly memorized the myriad fan-designs and color codes that someone at court might use to imply and communicate, he’s not ignorant.

Everything besides her face is just screaming annoyance and amusement in equal measure.

…If he were to over-examine the situation, maybe that means that she’s actively telling him that the kid is a little idiot, but nothing worse.

Or she just finds him annoying and he’s picking up on cues she’s not bothering to hide.

He sighs. Whatever it might mean, she doesn’t seem to view him as a threat, or at least not much of one. And he’s already proven he can beat the Blessed Clouds cultivator without much difficulty. And he did say that they only needed a fourth to be able to take the mission, considering the faith he has in himself, Gou Mai and Mei Yu.

Well. Fortune does not stand waiting at one’s door, and he’s on a time-crunch.

Or, in the wise words of great ancestors… fuck it, we got shit to do.

He arrives in front of the young master, a good four inches taller than him and using that weight to loom over him.

“Why is it that you wish to join us?”

Ki Hao of the Blessed Clouds sect growls a bit, back in his throat. “You need a fourth member, and you’re not going to find one ready to leave in an hour. What do you care why I am graciously offering my presence?”

Shin Ren gives him a dead-eyed stare.

“I care because I don’t want an overzealous, inexperienced young talent trying to stab me in the back in the middle of a pitched battle.”

The kid flinches back as if struck.

“How… how dare you! I would never disrespect the Divisions or the Academy with something so… so blatantly a form of sabotage!”

Hmm. Alright, fairly believable.

“You may have bested me in a duel between students, but my sect has been a key part of the military strength and safety of the Empire since the great conquests! I will break you on my strength, mark my words, but to say that I would dishonor myself and my sect by interfering with a mission that’s for the sake of one of the Empire’s own fortress cities… I should demand a duel from you here and now!”

Shin Ren blinks. That… was a bit more passion than he’d been expecting. The kid’s energetic, that’s for certain, but he wasn’t expecting anything so distinctly thought-out. And it basically admits that the kid still wants to kill him, which makes the likelihood of honesty shoot up in Shin Ren’s estimation.

And he really does only have a little bit more time before they need to leave. Anyone could grab the mission, and the time-table that “Wyld” offered him isn’t particularly merciful.

“Understand that when you come with us, you’ll be following our orders. I trust Gou Mai first, Mei Yu second, and you the least, and until you earn my trust, that’s going to stay just the same. If you have a problem with that, leave now.”

“...and if I don’t?”

Shin Ren frowns, and lets his Qi stir, speeding up his cultivation and bringing to the fore the weight of his intent and attention. Black, Red, Gold and Purple flame flicker around his body, as something with too many hands like runny wax and an ephemeral presence, bearing a far greater weight, turn their gazes onto the little warrior in front of him.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

Ki Hao, despite the fact that he refuses to look away or be cowed, takes a half-step back before he can stop himself.

Shin Ren watches a singular bead of sweat form on his scalp and crawl down his forehead.

Then he lets the attention of his intent fade away.

“So glad that we understand each other. Gou Mai, you’re in charge of him for now. We need to hurry, before someone else grabs the mission.”

He walks past Ki Hao, smiling quietly as Gou Mai slaps a meaty palm on the smaller man’s shoulder and joins the party. Mei Yu doesn’t even comment, but her posture has shifted slightly, and he takes it as a sign of her being entertained. The idea is both irritating and… mildly funny, in its own way.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

The Academy floors, as always, reflect each other, with the rising grandeur of the upper floors still growing along the lines of similar blueprints to the lower floors. There are several pillars leading up into the Nascent Soul floors, and around the center of the each location, there are the training halls and environmental areas. Further out, the libraries, then classes, then sleeping areas, all interspaced with accommodations, grand views, and decorative features that the young and mighty of the Empire might enjoy. One of the aforementioned accommodations, however, works for a purpose beyond relaxation or luxury.

It isn’t hard to find a booth with a floating board next to it, the crystal interface glowing softly with an always-updating series of symbols and emblems.

Sitting in the booth, a golem perks up as the four of them stride towards it, making an impressive mimicry of an incredibly bored person finally getting to talk to someone. Seeing as it has no face and its hands are only in the vague shape of a palm and fingers, he’s not sure it’ll have much success. Still, he likes the little features that add character to the few helpers that the Academy floors manifest. It might be a bit macabre, but if it can’t experience emotions anyways, there’s something vaguely lighthearted about the golems acting eager and excited to help, rather than mechanical and dully responsive.

“Team of four, under the titled name of Shin Ren of the Purple Flame Burning Lotus sect,” he says as they approach its booth. “Here for the merit mission SOS 316 for Fortress City 180.”

The booth golem nods its head, happily gesturing towards the screen next to it. The hundreds of icons all shrink in size and flow to one side, leaving room for a single one, wrapped in an official Imperial marker and glowing with the number 180 and a red priority mark.

Shin Ren nods. “That’s the one.”

The golem pantomimes clapping its hands, nodding along. The icon expands, filling out with a series of words.

The screen blinks, and an automated voice begins to speak, imitating the cadence of a person ever-so-slightly off.

“SOS 316, relating to Fortress City 1-8-0. Official Imperial Seal confirmed, outgoing distress call. Merits assigned: 600 for chosen team. 4 Cultivators of Nascent Soul level or above required, third-highest Academy request-rank established. Synopsis: breach of foreign entity into arrival-hangar 4, compromise of local biomatter-recycling chamber. Death Toll: 157 Imperial Soldiers, including Platoon Lead Officer, Squad Lead Officer, Infantryman, Sapper. Overall estimated threat level: Low-Grand. Attempts: 1. Currently assigned to: Academic Shin Ren of the Purple Flame Burning Lotus sect.”

He smiles. A rather long-winded approach to information-sharing, but let it not be said that the golems and the Academy’s array-programming aren’t thorough. Said golem bows politely, before extending its hand over the counter of its booth. Qi cycles quickly and incredibly efficiently, tainted with minimal concepts beyond that of Control, and four jade slips manifest from within its flesh.

The crystal board speaks up as they each grab a token for themselves.

“Please proceed to your nearest Academy Nexus to use Transportation Array 72 within an allotted period of 10 minutes. Your window for transportation has been scheduled. The Empire thanks you for your service. If you have any final requests, please inform the assistant-form now.”

“No further requests. Your help is appreciated.”

The golem once again pantomimes clapping its hands before bowing at the waist.

It’s only when they’re a few steps away that Ki Hao opens his mouth to speak again.

“Ugh. No matter how many times I see one of those, they always seem so off-putting. Don’t know why we can’t just use proper servants.”

“In this density of Qi?” Gou Mai laughs. “Unless you think that there are spare servants in the Nascent Soul realm, who could serve here?”

“They could set it up so the booths have some sort of Qi-dampening array!”

“Seems like an expansive effort to appease the fears of a single cultivator,” Mei Yu says, her sleeve politely covering her mouth as she speaks and hiding the smile beneath.

“It’s not fear! See any recordings of me in the training halls and you’ll see just how many of the damned things I can crush with the slightest effort! It’s simple distaste! In the Blessed Clouds sect, servants who rise up through their own merits are offered the opportunity to better tend to the disciples of the sect, and offered better rewards in turn. Why not institute such a system here, rather than play with these unnatural dolls?”

Shin Ren nods. Despite the attitude, it’s not a bad question. That merits an honest answer, at least.

“Servants are people. They have agendas, desires, connections. It’s easier to ensure that no outside interference damages the Academies impartiality, and doubly ensures that any ‘servant’ who is ever confronted by one without control of their emotions, or seeking an outlet, is an inert doll rather than a person. While it might make sense to use puppets instead, the material to make them withstand constant Nascent Soul level Qi of the upper floors would be expensive, far more so than to simply add functions into the arrays of the Academy floors themselves. Much harder to do, but you can see for yourself how prodigious the crafters of the Empire are to build these institutions in the first place.”

Shin Ren punctuates his statement by stepping up to the nexus at the far end of the room, standing tall in the center of the chamber.

To one side, the booths and merit missions, and to all others, the hallways leading to different parts of this section of the floor. Just as there are grand arrays creating waterfalls and sunlit vistas, or stairs that transcend spatial warping and Qi saturation to allow movement, so too are there areas of more practical use. The central pillar of the room glows softly, their jade slips matching the light.

“Is everyone prepared?” he asks, turning to each of them.

Mei Yu simply nods, her Qi already stirring and making her harder and harder to perceive properly. Gou Mai has a broad grin on his face, though there’s an intensity in his eyes that lets Shin Ren know he’s ready for anything.

Ki Hao is also here.

Shin Ren smiles at the thought, but the young cultivator does seem to have steeled himself.

“Very well. Let’s go.”

He touches his jade slip to the pillar. All four tokens light up at once, and an absolutely dizzying amount of Qi begins to bubble out of them and into the pillar. Like the eyes of some vast, arcane construct have suddenly turned to him, viscous gears and perfectly arranged formations of Qi acting as if sentient, he feels the power of the Soldier’s Academy itself.

He can’t track the number of arrays and transformations that suddenly manifest. At the Nascent Soul level, with not just nine, but twenty seven different layers over his cores, his mind and body are accelerated to the extreme, far eclipsing what a mortal can experience. He can track the beats of a fly’s wings, count blades of grass in a field a mile away, and even still, there’s simply far too many permutations and manifestations of formulae for him to even recognize.

And then, they’ve arrived.

There’s no sense of vertigo. No real sense of movement or kinetics at all, not even a disorienting lurch of a final burst of Qi.

Shin Ren was standing in one spot.

Now he, and all three of his chosen companions, are standing in another.

The first thing that hits him is how dead the air feels. The flows and… “sense” of it remind him of the Academy still, that same hyper-complex order imitating something almost alive that it has, but it’s so much less. The lack of Qi makes it feel like he might suffocate for a moment, and he has to actively stop his own Qi, constantly pushing out to strengthen his Cores and resist the pressures of the Nascent Soul density floors, from exploding out into a field around him.

There’s something there. A thought, maybe, about how his Qi, when left without the constant pressure, expanded out from him into a near-perfect sphere.

The thought goes to the back of his mind due to the second thing that hits him.

The overwhelming, all-consuming stench of blood.

Not the blood of a cut, or a butcher’s shop, but the blood of a battlefield. The sour reek of fear, the stinging ripeness of offal, and the overwhelming taste of iron and copper on one’s tongue with every breath. The space they’re in gives him the distinct impression of a slaughterhouse.

A spark of Flame lights up over his hand, and the room, previously dim, as if lacking the energy to even show what was done to it, becomes visible.

There are no bodies.

But the blood splatter…

They’re in the right place. He sees the tracks for the trains, the hangar-bay sized chamber making it clear that they are where they’re supposed to be.

But there is no one to greet them, and nothing but silence.

And the smell of blood.

And the artful nature of biological death, painting walls fifty feet high with its splatters.