…..MEANWHILE: At a Huang Clan Secure Facility, Chengdu, PRC…..
Vince was bored. Also guilty, a little angry, scared, and more than a little bit relieved, but mostly bored.
After escaping from the trial, all of the participants had been whisked away, given medical treatment as necessary, and interrogated.
Vince had nothing to hide, and had answered truthfully. They kept asking the same things in different ways, trying to catch him in a lie. It had been infuriating, especially since he didn’t know what had ultimately happened to Hudson, or Cor. Or George for that matter.
It would be best for all of them if George was dead, but he really hoped Hudson and Cor had survived somehow. He didn’t know how they could have, though. If George hadn’t killed them, then the silicates that everyone was scared about certainly would have.
He felt guilty every time he thought about Hudson, fighting George off so he could take Clara back through the portal. And Cor, who had screamed at that poor soldier until he gave him his weapons, then hopped back through the portal.
He was pretty sure Clara was still alive, since no one was asking him how she died… but she had been whisked away by people from the Baring Clan as soon as they made it through the portal, and he hadn’t seen her since.
He was with the Huang Clan, and despite being stuck in the same guarded hotel room for days on end, he recognized that the Huang Clan picking him up was a good thing. They had even allowed him a brief, supervised phone call with his parents. Certainly better than the fate of the others.
He was distantly related to one of the other trial participants – Li A-yi. She had claimed guanxi – a connection, or relationship – with the Huang Clan. They had honored the connection, however tenuous, and also brought him along for the ride as well.
Like Clara, the other the young masters were all picked up by their various clans. But the rabble, the riff-raff that was supposed to have been stepping stones for the clan’s scions – many didn’t have sponsors with the clans. Despite all of their efforts, they weren’t the “victors” from the trial… they were the “spoils.”
Except for A-yi, Vince, and a few others with connections, the rest were claimed by the Adams clan, their possessions – e.g., their maseki – confiscated despite angry protests.
That is until an intense woman by the name of Elder Chiang had descended on the facility to gather all of the unaffiliated participants up and take them with her instead. Vince shivered at the memory of Elder Chiang and the head of the Adams’ Clan facing off against each other.
The sheer power roiling off the two of them… Vince had been convinced he was going to die. Had known it, as a fact, that despite his new cultivation and power, he wouldn’t survive even watching a fight between the two. Not that it would be much of a fight – even to him, it was clear who the stronger party was, and who knew what she would do to, or with, the other participants of the trial that she had claimed as her spoils.
He wordlessly thanked his distant aunt and shook off his memories of the standoff. He pushed away his guilt and worry over Clara, Hudson, and Cor.
The density of qi on Earth was terrible and almost non-existent compared to the richness of the trial planet, but he went back to cultivating anyways. The process was mind-numbingly boring, but that wasn’t going to stop him.
The Huang Clan had let him keep the maseki he had brought back with him from the trial, but he no longer had any desire to use it to set up a business empire for himself on Earth, like his distant relative, A-yi. No, he intended to use it all furthering his own cultivation. To grow stronger. He had seen what real strength was, and what the paths of cultivation could lead to.
He crushed a tiny piece of maseki with a special mortar and pestle provided by the Huang Clan. He sat on his cultivation mat in the closed cultivation room also provided by the Huang Clan. Closing his eyes to focus on his breathing technique, he pulled the qi released into the tiny room through his lungs and circulating through his body, not letting a single, precious drop of it go to waste.
…..MEANWHILE: On Earth, Victoria Peak, Hong Kong SAR…..
Suzume and Qian paused nervously outside the door of the mansion on Victoria Peak, the mountain at the center of Hong Kong island.
Qian gave Suzume’s shoulder a quick squeeze. Suzume raised her hand to knock, and the door opened before her hand touched the door.
“Please enter,” said the butler, a middle-aged man with graying hair, an impeccable suit, and a mild English accent.
Suzume and Qian walked through the doorway and immediately took off their shoes, changing them for the pairs of slippers set out for guests.
“Elder Chiang will see you in the library.”
The butler guided them down the hallway and into a cozy room with wall to wall bookshelves, recessed lighting, and thick carpet. A couch and a chaise lounge sat in the middle of the room, facing the bay windows showing a breath-taking view of the city below them.
Elder Chiang sat on the couch, wearing formal S.E.C.T. robes, a yellow scroll held in one hand. There was not a hint of her cultivation present in the air.
“Have a seat,” she said, motioning towards the chaise lounge. She tied the scroll closed and carefully, with two hands, set it on a side table next to the couch.
As they sat down on the chaise lounge, Suzume sneaked a peak at the scroll Elder Chiang had been reading. It had a tag hanging from one of the two wooden handles, a long description written in traditional Chinese characters. Oral Inheritance of Unnamed Body Cultivator, pre-Qin Dynasty – 19th Century Copy.
“First, let me extend congratulations on your gains during the First Trial, and condolences on its failure. What happened is a pity, but it speaks well to your future advancements that you persevered through such a trying endeavor.”
“Thank you, Grand Elder.” Both Qian and Suzume bowed slightly from the waist in their seats. Sitting so informally in the presence of an Elder was nerve-racking, but when specifically directed by the Elder, they didn’t have much choice.
“Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of speaking with the future pillars of Clans Huang and Yasunori?” Elder Chiang asked.
Suzume cleared her throat slightly and began her prepared speech. “Thank you for meeting with us, Grand Elder. We wished to ask about efforts to retrieve the participants in the trial who were left behind.”
“I applaud your initiative, but I have already spoken on this matter with your clan heads,” she said reproachfully. “I will not sanction or assist in a retrieval of the Adams’ boy.”
An orange tabby cat wandered into the room, its feet sinking deep into the lush carpet. It jumped up onto the couch next to Elder Chiang and began rubbing its head on her robes.
“Respectfully, Grand Elder, we are not speaking of George Adams. We are asking about two other participants – Hudson Appleseed and Corvinus Landry.”
“Who?” Elder Chiang asked. She reached down and began scratching the tabby under its chin.
Suzume looked slightly flummoxed at her response. “Hudson and Cor were other participants also left behind when the rift closed. I was led to believe that both of them had some kind of relationship with the Grand–”
“Well, then, I am sorry, but you were led wrong,” Elder Chiang interrupted Suzume.
There was an awkward silence. Qian spoke up, breaking the awkward silence by pointing at the cat and asking, “What is your cat’s name?”
Elder Chiang raised an eyebrow at the non sequitur, but replied to his question. “His name is Max. But he is not my cat. I am only keeping him for the time being.”
She gave Max one more stratch under his chin, then stood and motioned to her butler. Their brief audience was over.
“If that is all, you must excuse me. Geoffrey will see the two of you out. I have an important assembly that sadly, I must attend.”
…..
Elenor stepped through the portal and took quick survey of her surroundings. A few reproachful gazes from the gathered elders of S.E.C.T. let her know that yes, she was the last to arrive, and that yes, she was indeed late.
Ignoring the frowns and sideways glances, she walked to the edge of the platform and stared out over the ocean at the breathtaking setting sun, smelling the sea breeze roll in and listening to the distant crash of surf. The elders always met the Disciples where they had first arrived on Earth, here, on a small, hidden island in the Pacific, and Elenor would not need to wait long on the arrival of their overlord, a representative from the Disciples of Grothkyll.
The heads of all of the major clans were present: Adams, Baring, Huang, Abe, Yasunori, Lee, Sachs, Caron, Zhuang, and Gupta. The Elder of the Left chatted softly with the Grand Inner Protector, one of the most powerful Elders within S.E.C.T. and responsible for managing internal discipline, secrecy, and the global AI.
The Patriarch held court with most of the other clan heads, talking animatedly amongst themselves. The position of Patriarch was an elected title from amongst the clans, and as with most elected positions, one of limited power.
The elders loosely circled a large silencing formation carved into a solid dais of stone, glowing faintly with qi. The appointed time was fast approaching, but most of the elders had been on this island for hours already.
The formation flashed brightly for a brief moment. The scattered conversations immediately ceased, and the elders of S.E.C.T. assembled into uniform rows by seniority. Elenor took her place in the second row, behind the Patriarch and the Elders of the Left and Right.
When the formation flashed again, and an inky black rift opened in the void between spacetimes, all of the S.E.C.T. elders had taken a knee and bowed their heads in obeisance.
A tall, graceful man clad in flowing dark robes appeared out of the rift. The governor assigned to Earth was well over seven feet tall, with attenuated limbs, and skin so pale it was almost translucent. His body appeared to be stretched slightly beyond normal human proportions – very long, graceful limbs and fingers extended from an elongated torso. Loose blond hair flowed down his back and covered his pointed ears. A tired expression covered his sharp, aquiline features.
“The Disciple of Grothkyll, Praetecoure, greets the vassals of Earth and its leaders, the Society for the Exploration of Cultivation Techniques,” the tall, elfin figure said with an elegant nod of his head. He spoke in an alien language, but a talisman around his neck glowed with carved sigils, imparting the meaning of his words to those listening.
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The powerful aura of his nascent soul cultivation pressed down on all of the S.E.C.T. elders, a very unsubtle reminder of their relative status.
There were no nascent soul cultivators on Earth. Any who wished to attempt an ascension past the core formation level were exiled from Earth as a condition of S.E.C.T.’s continued rule of Earth, or drafted into the ranks of the Disciples themselves – never to be seen by anyone on Earth again.
“We greet the Disciple Praetecoure,” Patriarch Huang replied. “Welcome to Earth once again. We have prepared refreshments, if –”
“Ours will be a short visit,” Praetecoure interrupted. “Ongoing war efforts weigh on my time.”
The disciple lifted his aura, and the Elders took that as their signal to stand. Praetecoure waved his hand, and a plain, unadorned chair appeared. He set the chair on the ground, and sunk into it slowly.
“Of course,” the S.E.C.T. Patriarch replied. He then proceeded to give a succinct report on Earth’s status. Praetecoure asked detailed questions on the status of maseki reserves, the output of mines and measures taken to replace those that had been overrun by silicates, and the number of cultivators on Earth by level of cultivation.
After an hour of intense back and forth, Praetecoure held up a hand for silence as he sat back in his chair and sighed. The assembled elders shuffled on their feet nervously. The update had not been a good one, and they knew it.
“The annual tithe?” he asked in a tired voice.
The Elder of the Left walked forward and kneeled, using both hands to present a large jade bracelet, circled inside and out with complex inscriptions. “All present and accounted for, sir.”
Praetecoure nodded agreeably and took the jade storage bracelet, a complex artifact that held within its pocket dimensions the massive amount of maseki resources that S.E.C.T. was required to offer every year. He returned a similar bracelet to the Elder, this one empty, to be used in gathering the tithe for the next year.
“And here I thought I would need to encourage a change in leadership,” Praetecoure said softly, showing for the first time in this meeting the harsh and vindictive side of his personality that many of the Elders had seen before and feared.
“You have bought yourself at least another year… We must reward those who persevere on the correct path, even in the midst of their troubles,” the disciple continued. “Yet if we look beyond the physical resources, the number of viable cultivators available for the war effort continues to drop. This cannot continue.”
Silence greeted his proclamation.
“What then of your latest crop of talent?” he continued. “Have you invested in a first trial, as I suggested in our last review?”
The Patriarch hesitated slightly and then nodded. “Yes, we have.”
Praetecoure picked up on the Patriarch’s hesitation and began pulling on it, like a single string unraveling a complex knot.
“And the results of the trial?”
The Patriarch realized his initial error and responded promptly and confidently, with a carefully curated set of facts. “Over twenty participants in the trial returned with both advances in cultivation and gains in their understanding of the Way, including some sigils that we have never seen before.”
“And what of the other participants beyond those twenty? Did they all perish?” Praetecoure asked idly.
“Yes,” the Patriarch replied promptly.
“No,” interrupted George Adams, Sr., stepping forward from the back row of the Elders. There was a collective shock and stiffening amongst the S.E.C.T. leadership as the head of the Adams clan stepped out of line.
“Oh?” Praetecoure grinned widely, but the smile did not reach his suddenly sharp eyes. “Yes or no? Which is it?”
“Yes, they perished, or as good as–” the Patriarch stubbornly continued.
“Silence,” Praetecoure spoke calmly, infusing his will and understanding of the Way into the command. The Patriarch’s mouth moved, but no words came out.
“You, in the back. Speak,” Praetecoure continued.
“The trial was overrun by silicates, Disciple,” George said. “Most escaped. My great-grandson and heir, the only Foundation Building cultivator amongst the trial participants, did not make it through the portal. His Soul Flame Lamp still burns.”
While everything George said was technically true, it left out the real story. The head of the Baring clan, Catherine Baring, began to step forward in protest. She had heard first hand from descendent, Clara, what had transpired on the other side of the portal. Elenor put out a hand to stop her, shaking her head slightly. Not yet, she thought to herself, willing the strong-headed woman beside her to wait and not get involved.
“A Foundation Building cultivator, and of the age allowed within a First Trial… Would this not be a preeminent talent for a backwater planet such as yours? And yet you have not mounted a rescue operation for such a valuable young scion?” Praetecoure asked.
“I have not the resources or the backing within S.E.C.T. to gather those resources,” George replied, then proceeded to prostrate himself on the ground.
What the head of the Adams clan was not saying was that he had spent most of his maseki reserves opening the trial, and then lost the remainder in his bet to Elder Chiang when the trial had ended early and his son had not returned. He had needed to give up the resources, or face a backlash to his cultivation on account of the oath he had taken.
It went without saying that Elder Chiang would not help him… and since most of the remaining S.E.C.T. clans and Elders had known from first hand accounts of other participants that the Adams young master had most likely been responsible for the silicates’ invasion… No one was willing to help him. Some had wanted to purge the Adams clan entirely, as a pre-emptive action prior to the meeting with Disciple Praetecoure, but surprisingly, Elder Chiang had come out against the idea, and without her support, the plan had died quickly.
“You have not the resources… nor will your fellow Earth cultivators assist you with theirs… Most likely any spare maseki was already spoken for in the annual tithe. It appears your path is a lonely one…” Praetecoure said.
“As the Disciple says,” George replied, prostrating himself further.
“You wish to ask me for something. Ask it,” Praetecoure said.
Clan Head Baring almost pushed forward again, but Elenor again held the woman back. Their motions had not gone unnoticed by the Disciple, but he made no visible acknowledgment.
“If you devote the resources to rescue my great-grandson and return him to Earth, I will serve you and the Disciples, where you wish and in whatever fashion you wish.”
Praetecoure sighed lightly. “The sacrifices we make for our children, no?”
He turned back to the Patriarch and said, “If silicates overran the trial, then the trial facility is almost certainly lost. Who will bear the burden of that cost? You may speak.”
The Patriarch, now able to speak, clearly did not wish to. “We do not know the cost for such a thing. It was damage caused by the silicates.”
“Now now, don’t try to wiggle out of it,” Praetecoure said with a warning note in his voice. “Someone needs to pay this cost, and it is not light. As your planet was using the trial at the time, it is only fair that this is your planet’s cost to bear.”
The Patriarch glumly nodded.
Praetecoure stood and whisked his hand over his chair, which disappeared into a spatial storage ring on his hand, similar to the enchanted bracelet that the S.E.C.T. Elder of the Left had returned to the Disciple earlier.
“Clan Head Adams will follow me to the First Trial world to ascertain the fate of his scion and the fate of the trial facility. A swift counterattack may help staunch the latest silicates advances. I will detach a strike team to assist. In return, Clan Head Adams will be exiled from Earth, and will join a strike team of my choosing. Earning sufficient merit in the war will reward him with an opportunity to form a Nascent Soul.”
George Adams appeared to sag in relief on the ground, before stiffening at the next words from Praetecoure.
“His descendant and scion will also join his ancestor in the war effort for a minimum contribution of ten Earth years before he is allowed to return.
“In recompense for the loss of a trial facility, the annual tithe of maseki due from Earth will double for the next ten years. Trial privileges are revoked until the additional tithe is paid in full.
“Should the representatives of the Society for the Exploration of Cultivation Techniques be unable to meet its obligations as the head of a vassal state…” Praetecoure paused and smiled widely, “a mandatory conscription of 2,000 cultivators and 1,000,000 mortals will suffice to bridge the gap.”
A rift cracked open behind Disciple Praetecoure, and he disappeared within it. George Adams, Sr., hastily followed him through before the portal closed.
The Elders of S.E.C.T. erupted in chaos after the Disciple left. The head of clan Baring turned to Elenor and hissed in anger. “Why did you hold me back? If I had explained what really happened–”
“Nothing would have changed,” Elenor interrupted her calmly, leading her by the elbow away from the other elders, who were now arguing and pointing fingers at each other vehemently. “He already knew. This was a theater production.”
“What do you mean, he already knew?” Catherine Baring asked, then realized. “You told him. You went behind our backs!”
“Not directly,” Elenor replied. “But I made sure my contacts knew the full story, and they took it from there.”
“Why?”
“You have heard me say that the Disciples are losing the war against the silicates,” Elenor said softly, staring out at the ocean. “They don’t tell us anything, not through the official channels or in these pointless charades of obeisance. But you don’t know how badly they’re losing. They don’t want the vassal states to know, because they might rebel if they did.”
“Other worlds are facing mandatory conscriptions right now. How would you feel about millions of people from Earth, billions even, thrown in front of a silicate army as fodder? It’s already happening elsewhere.
“I bought us another year at most,” Elenor said. “And by bought, I mean, literally bought.”
Catherine startled at the implications.
“You think that all of that maseki I won in a stupid bet off the Adams’ Clan wasn’t without a purpose? I might as well be as poor as a shriven monk, with nothing to my name at all. All my maseki, all of my war contribution points, all of everything I own, has been spent or promised in one way or another. Bribes to grease the right palms in the right ways.”
She turned away from the setting sun to stare with contempt at the other Elders squabbling amongst themselves.
“Whether we like it or not, the greater war is finally coming to Earth. I’ve protected all of us for as long as I could, but there are going to be some changes. I’m telling you this first, as I think you’ll be receptive to words.”
Catherine stared pensively at the other Elders of S.E.C.T. and nodded. “I think I understand.”
“Good,” Elenor said. “Because if the rest don’t respond to words…”
She paused to bring her hands together, clenching her fingers tight.
“They will react to violence.”
…..MEANWHILE: High Above the Planet Grothkyll…..
The Sage floated above his native planet in a loose lotus position, eyes closed and senses spread out to their limit.
All of the young talents from vassal worlds had returned back to their trial planets. The First, Second, and Third Trials plucked the best and brightest from across the galaxy in the Qi Gathering, Foundation Building, and Core Formation stages. The Trials brought them here, to be challenged and nurtured; fed the necessary catalysts for growth; and, as necessary, pruned into more beautiful shapes.
A cultivation of cultivators.
The Sage opened his eyes and sighed deeply.
“A mediocre crop. A few stand-outs, but too many greenhouse flowers…isn’t that right, old friend? Heh. But the changes in the war should take care of that.
“But you had a bit of fun, didn’t you? What was the young sprout’s name? Ah yes, Hudson Appleseed… a peculiar name. A peculiar cultivation. Quite the shame he has started down a heretical path… Hmpf. Body cultivation. Hopefully the small effort we made will bring him back on course.
“If not,” the Sage shrugged, “It will not be the first time a promising sapling cut their own path short.”
Out of a fold in his robes he took a large cracked crystal in his hand. It was the silicate core he used with the First Trial participants. Small currents of yellow lightning played over his fingers until they coalesced at a single point on the crystal, shattering a tiny flake off of the core.
“Finally. Time for my dinner.”
The Sage placed the tiny flake into his mouth and began to meditate, absorbing the mysteries of the Way contained within.