“The training of indigenous personnel requires careful planning and execution to ensure skills are imparted effectively while building trust, discipline, and a shared understanding of mission objectives.”

-U.S. Army Field Manual FM 3-05.20

II-37

Nature and Nurture

Disappointment was rapidly becoming an enduring factor in Wei An Wei’s life.

After his little adventure in the Bloodgrounds, he had taken his sect to the market at night. The streets were clenched tight with surging crowds and sights and sounds aplenty to behold. Establishments of all sorts ran from wall to wall, and rather than it being a mere quarter, the bazaar was a complex Wei only skimmed.

During their brief time there, Wei obtained new weapons, essentials, training materials, Skill Shards, and even specialized demons for his sect’s use. More, he bought them libations — dinner at a place called The Long Pork — and countless other baubles they so desired.

Their moods had been high. Morale was radiant. That night, they had all gone to bed with motivation burning in their hearts and ready spirits for the following day.

Or so Wei thought.

It all began with their warm-up.

The fifty-kilometer run was something Wei expected to be completed in two hours. It was not. The run took substantially longer than two hours for most of his disciples. One was even still running—or, more accurately, crawling—on his arms and legs as he made squealing noises every time his heart started to rupture.

Hovering over the mansion at the heart of the Unblossomed upon a whirlwind, Wei shot the orc chef a brief look, using his Omniscience to monitor the disciple carefully. The tracks that the Oathbearers made ran the entire rim of the former consulate’s habitation area. The prior housing had been looted clean and then demolished to make room for further renovations. It was along this rim that the orc suffered two heart attacks. And it was from above the mansion that Wei whipped a bolt of restorative lightning into him from afar.

It wouldn’t do to lose a disciple to his lacking Constitution. Or the fat clogging his vessels.

A loud, high-pitched scream sounded from the northern side of the living quarters. Wei let out a soft sigh and turned his attention to the next disappointment.

With the warm-up run’s conclusion, his sect was to move on to a circuit for Wei to gauge their performance. The circuit was compromised of a station for every Aspect, and it began with the plum blossom poles, a cultivator classic.

The course was a series of poles hammered deep into the earth that one needed to run across. Shaped like a plum, the course was designed to improve agility and balance. To provided added motivation, Wei dug a deep trench below and filled it with approximately five hellhounds.

Five Hellhounds that were currently tearing Garret, the Shadow Archer, apart.

The poor fool had somehow missed his first jump, fell between two poles, and then crashed down into the muck. Then, the dogs came for him. Four Hellhounds buried their teeth into his limbs immediately—and as two forced his legs open, the fifth bit down on his groin.

“Oh gods! Oh! Oh, Radiance! Oh, someone help me!” Garret screamed.

Wei shook his head at the shameful display. He would have been disowned if he lost a fight to a dog. Loudly, he yelled, “Defend, Garrett! Defend!”

“Fuck you!” Garrett shrieked. “How the hell am I supposed to defend? It’s biting it off! Oh gods, it’s coming off—”

Wei shot a beam of celestial flame, mending Garret’s body.

“There,” he said. “A little bit of help.” More than Wei himself could have expected during his days as a cultivator. Truly, he was already too soft a master.

“Kill the dogs! Don’t heal me! Kill the—AGHGUUGUGHH IT’S STILL BITING! FUUUUCCKK! IT’S SINKING IN! IT’S SINKING!”

His shell agreed. “You are coddling them. Failure should be rewarded with pain.”

Wei winced slightly at his Shell’s reprimand, though Garrett’s screams made him wonder.

Anyhow.

The next circuit was a contest of strength. Wei had purchased a training demon—a modified variant Rage Demon called a Practice Brawler. To defeat it, one simply needed to pin it to the ground for three seconds.

So far, the only ones who have managed this are the Oathbearers and Agnesia. Everyone else…

“Stop! Stop! She’s going to die!” The Hivekin’s psionic projections took on a desperate quality as their primary and second limbs clutched their clicking head. They, along with a crowd of other disciples, watched from beyond a cipher-forged barrier. Inside, the Practice Brawler was slamming Mira Nocture’s back on its knee over and over again. Her eyes rolled. Her limbs flopped. She was on the verge of unconsciousness.

However, despite the beating, her spine hadn’t broken. Though her Strength was lacking, her Constitution was not. Perhaps she would find a way to prevail. Perhaps not.

The third circuit focused on mental acuity. Raphael manned a series of desks where a pen and several pieces of paper awaited the disciples. There, questions of basic arithmetic, language, and reasoning skills challenged their minds.

Wei frowned at some questions. They seemed oddly focused on murdering the rich and setting systems ablaze. The content felt vaguely threatening, if he was honest with himself.

The fourth circuit tested perception. Wei had hidden three silver needles inside a mound of hay. So far, no one had found a single needle. A few had given up entirely and were now lounging by the side, smoking and drinking in despair.

Finally, the last circuit tested willpower. Wei had his Oathbearers fashion an electrified cage that one needed to grip onto. It wasn’t enough to kill, but discomfort was certain. The longer one held the cage, the stronger their willpower would prove to be.

So far, only Agnesia was still holding onto the cage. Her draconic avatar was faintly manifested over her, and she had long exceeded Wei’s expectations. Although, judging by the expression on her face, Wei couldn’t quite tell if she was in genuine pain or simply refusing to let go out of sheer stubbornness.

Suddenly, Wei felt it—a popping of a heart. Pointing his Pale Fang southward without looking, he released another bolt of Divine Lightning, and kept the orc from crossing over.

“Three heart attacks now. Still ten kilometers to go.” the Shell said.

He’ll get there. He just needs to crawl faster.

***

As the initial session of morning training turned to noon whimpering, Wei stood before his disciples and prepared to give them his assessment.

“Well then,” he said, sweeping his gaze across their battered and broken forms. His disciples glared at him, unimpressed. Only Rafael, Agnesia, Ellena, and the Oathbearers stood in the backline, bearing the bulk of the sect’s dignity. Most of the others were without the ability to walk, exchanging back massages bout with the Practice Brawler. Their orc was laying face up and his clothes were soaked through as if he had taken a dip in the sea. A few meters away, Garret sat to the side, holding a solid brick of ice between his legs, muttering a litany of curses.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Wei paused, trying to think of how to speak to his people.

“Be motivational,” Ellena advised. “Focus on what they did well. Make their failures sound hopeful. And meaningful. Blame not the person for the failures of their actions. And… perhaps use a bit of humor.”

“You are all… there is potential here. Great deals of potential.” Wei coughed.

Whispered slurs and groans came as a unified reply.

“Got fucking potential to get my cock mauled off is what I got,” Garret muttered. “I’m not doing this shit every morning. You can kill me, you can throw me out of the sect, but I’m not doing this every morning.” He let out a pathetic whimper. “Fuck me. For the first time in my life, I didn’t like having my balls in a bitch’s mouth.”

The female disciples glared at Garrett.

“Garret,” Wei said, his tone sharp, “I understand you may have had certain habits, but I will not allow my disciples to mate with animals. Especially not dogs.”

Everyone froze. The archer’s eyes widened. “No! No, bitches—as in women! I meant women!”

A few disciples stepped farther away from him, their faces pale with revulsion. Garrett looked around in panic before clenching his eyes shut. “Goddammit. There goes my chances of getting any plough here.”

“I know,” Wei said, awkwardly. “I was trying to make a joke.”

“I—” Garret choked. “Your idea of a joke is to call me a dog-fucker?”

A series of snorts followed. Rafael forced a laugh. The Oathbearers didn’t need to. Agnesia covered her mouth. Ellena hide a wince. The rest of the sect mostly just stared.

Wei shook his head in disapproval. “Right. Right. But respect your fellow disciples. Or I will give you three hundred lashes.”

“Fucking lash me to death, so long as I don’t have to hop those sticks again,” Garret grunted. At this, a series of agreements followed. Agreements and more.

Wei swept his gaze across his disciples again, he took in their demoralized expressions, the vacant stares of trauma, the shudders of exhaustion as they sat trapped by their recent failures. His Shell manifested beside him and let out a sigh.

“We should have expected this,” the Skill said. “They are not cultivators. It is not in their nature to endure such harshness with focus and discipline. Lady Ellena was correct about many things, loathe as I am to accept it.”

Then, what should I do?

“Appeal to them as a person. Do as she recommended the day before.”

And that made Wei’s gut tighten up. Training, fighting, posturing… These things came naturally to him. But the idea that his sect might see him for who he is made him feel some kind of ill.

“Understand that they all truly have potential,” the Shell growled. “But their potential will not be realized if your cowardice cripples you. Look upon them and remembered the glory of your sect. Masters of all techniques, styles, disciplines, and philosophies. Your mother might have been the matriarch, but she was only one among many martial geniuses.”

This made Wei realize another matter. I think we need to start recruiting more people. More masters.

“Indeed. But for now, you give your all to everything that you have.”

Crushing down his discomfort, Wei planted his glaive into the earth. He took a few steps forward, closing the distance between him and disciples. A few flniched. Most held their breath. And so, facing such anxiety, Wei spoke.

“I…” He paused, his tone softening. “I am sorry if this is difficult for all of you. I did not mean for this to be a session of torture.”

Several disciples blinked at him in disbelief. Clearly, they did not trust his sincerity.

“However,” Wei continued, “I understand that you are all from different worlds, each with your own histories. I would like to hear about your experiences, your expertise. Things have changed for all of us. And they will continue changing. Today was unpleasant for some of you.” He caught several glowers. “Practically all of you. But your misery here is not without purpose. It has given me insight into your abilities. And… places where you can improve.”

“Like not getting me cock bitten off by dogs?” Garret asked.

“Preferably.”

The Shadow Archer snorted. “Right. Well.” He looked Wei up and down, then shrugged. “Thanks for hitting me with the light, anyway. Letting me stay alive. Even if you didn’t help me any other way.”

“Yeah,” the orc wheezed. “Thanks… for keeping me alive.’

Finally, Wei grinned at the others, only to catch a scowl from Mira, who was currently enjoying a chiropractic session from the Hivekin. “I’m still bloody mad at you.’

That was understandable. But also, something that could be fixed.

“Well. With morning training completed, it is time for more rewards.”

At the mention of rewards, greed and motivation returned to his disciples. From his Inventory, Wei produced a number of items, all of which were recently procured in battle. The first was the doll coat he had taken from the assassin, Jnaegism L’Loc—the lich responsible for killing so many of his disciples.

“Here,” Wei said, holding the coat out to Mira. “Take this.”

Her eyes bulged as she stared at the garish jacket. Small puppets dangled along the tasseled clothing’s length. A few people coughed to hide their chuckles. “What is this thing?”

“This thing will take damage on your behalf,” Wei answered.

Dollmasters Coat (Rare) — Jack will sustain 1 instance of fatal damage for the user per day. Cannot be worn with other Constitution boosting artifacts.

“It will keep you alive when you are struck down,” Wei explained. “It transfers the damage into one of the dolls. It will only work once per day, though. So, don’t be careless. Or allow a demon to slam your back against their knee repeatedly.”

“Fuck you,” Mira laughed.

Wei squinted at her, pulling her jacket back. “Repeat that.”

She froze. Everyone stopped breathing.

Then the young master handed the jacket over slowly as he smirked. “Another joke. Surprise.”

Awkward chuckles followed. The Shell loomed over Wei. “It was not. Her statement genuinely angered you. You lie to them.”

Let me have my pride, damn you.

As the elf took her artifact, she wrinkled her nose and nodded. “Right. Thanks. For, you know, getting me out of the Hearted Realm. And keeping us alive.”

“You are most welcome. Never insult me again, or I will show you how a spine properly breaks.”

She nodded and swallowed deeply thereafter. Ellena leaned into view and shot Wei a disapproving look.

He did his best not to react. “Agnesia. Here!” From his Inventory emerged the Ferro-Weave into the form of a fluid sphere. Though it did aid him in the Bloodgrounds, it was no true match for his System, and the girl was lacking in Speed.

Agnesia stared at sphere for a moment before looking apprehensively at Wei. “Don’t you need it.”

She blinked, her expression torn between confusion and offense.

Wei snorted. “Not as much as you do. You pinned the Practice Brawler. You completed the run ahead of most others. You held onto the electric bars the longest. You did nearly trip over the blossom poles and failed to find the needles, though. Alas, I have nothing that can help with your senses yet, so I must work on your flat-footedness first.”

“That needle test was bullshite, and you know it!”

“Agnesia, language!” Ellena admonished.

The girl pouted. Wei held back a snicker. Ah. But it was a joy to wind her up. And he preferred her this way rather than sad. With that thought, he turned his attention to Ellena. He owed a great deal to the Harbinger. Far more than he could repay right now.

As the Ferro-Weave left his hand, it poured over Agnesia’s arm, fused with her bone-blade, and she spent the next few moments learning how to manipulate it. He would have Roggi and Rafael see if they could craft something like it together. Making it a standard Artifact for his disciples would be most beneficial.

Finally, the wand. As he brought it out of his Inventory, he swept his disciples. “Is there anyone here who is most musically attuned?”

Two elves looked at each other, but it was the Hivekin that lifted a massive bladed arm. “I was to evolve into a hive-compose. My current Specialization is Psycho-Melodicist.”

That gave Wei pause. “Psycho-Melodicist.”

“Yes. Very disturbing. Most of my Skills relate to using mental melodies. A lot of suggestive self-mutilation and suicide.”

The young master nodded. “It wouldn’t be a specialization from the Claimed Hells if it worked otherwise.”

With his most major gifts handed out for now, Wei struck while the iron was hot. “There will be more artifacts in the future. More benefits. I have provided you all you desired from the market, will continue investing in you because I see a realm where you are all masters in your own right, where we are strong, where we are no longer afraid. But that comes with strain. With effort. With pain.”

His disciples shuffled. They still didn’t appear too enthused, but at least they seemed less miserable now. “Good. Fantastic. I am glad you all listened. Now. The first day’s training has gone on longer than expected. I suggest you all clean yourselves. The hard part is done, but we cannot embarrass ourselves in high society later tonight. There is a gala waiting, and we are all guests of honor.”

At the mention of the gala, more than a few people perked up. Oh, how soft the human heart, to love the sweet and never savor the bitter. “You are all dismissed. Be ready before nightfall. Transportation has been arranged.”

With his declaration, strength suddenly flooded back into his disciples as they rose—well, some of them crawled—away toward their temporary abodes. They needed to get started on building a new complex. With much of the Inheritor’s housing demolished, they had more than enough room to develop further. Another thing to speak with the Oathbearers about.

As everyone dispersed, he watched Ellena approach him, her hands folded neatly over her stomach.

“How did I do?” Wei said, smiling.

“There is potential here. Great deals of potential.”

His smile faded. “Ah. I fear speaking does not come as easy to me as fighting does.”

“It just takes—”

“Wei,” Bishop’s voice resounded in the young master’s head. “We need to talk. It’s about the gala—we got an opening for you: the Bastard and his master is going to be in attendance.”