王子
Hong Weimin is nervous. Despite his outward appearance, trained into him by dozens of tutors in royal etiquette, he’s terrified. For today is his Awakening Day, when his meridians will be opened and his affinities revealed. A celebrated tradition across the empire, it’s the day when a child becomes an adult.
Unfortunately for him, he’s anything but an adult. Like many other wealthy nobles, his meridians will be forcibly opened upon his 14th summer. While this increased the potential of the cultivator, it wasn’t without its risks. Thankfully, he wasn’t alone.
“Brother, aren’t you excited? After today, we can finally explore the whole palace!”
At the abrupt interruption of his thoughts, Weimin sighs. You could leave it to Hong Jin to find the bright side of any situation.
“After today, we’ll be opponents,” he replies, his voice betraying him.
“So what? Just because we’ll be true Contenders, that can’t stop us from sticking together. It hasn’t stopped us before!”
This, at least, was true. The two princes didn’t share a mother, yet they had always stayed together, an island of trust in the cutthroat politics of the royal family. Separated by 10 months, one would have expected Hong Jin to have greater maturity. However, nobles rarely followed expectations beyond being arrogant and egotistical, qualities of which Hong Jin had neither.
But what if it doesn’t work? Weimin’s pessimism was a natural foil to Hong Jin’s unfettered optimism.
“Oh, relax. The last failed royal Awakening Day was over 300 years ago! The odds it happens now are too low to even worry about,” says Hong Jin, as if reading his brother’s thoughts.
Despite his brother’s reassuring words, Weimin is in doubt. Something feels… wrong about today. I’d better be extra careful. He had somewhat of a history of his hunches becoming reality, and having one now was not a good sign.
Their ceremonial robes certainly didn’t help the young prince’s anxiety, making him fidget with discomfort from the fabric and the sweltering heat. What idiot decided to have the ceremony outside?
But for all of his annoyance, he can’t help but admire the gradient of colors he wears. Vibrant reds mix with flames of orange and shining gold trim, the colors so vibrant they appear alive as they dance, reflecting the sun’s rays. They wear masks of porcelain painted with the image of the famous heroes of their kingdom. His is that of the first emperor, designed to call upon his strength from the immortal planes in his time of need. It blends seamlessly into his skin, making him appear an incarnation of the immortal himself.
In order to prepare for the ceremony, the royal progeny that were of age had awoken before dawn, meeting in a courtyard in the southwest corner of the complex. There were dozens of children gathered, some of whom Weimin had never even seen before. Of course, almost all of them were illegitimate children of the king; Weimin, his twin sister Hong Chan, and Hong Jin were the few exceptions to this. Weimin and his sister were the children of the recently deceased queen, while Hong Jin had been the child of the queen before that, who’d been killed on a military expedition.
Queens in the Hong Kingdom had a low life expectancy.
Pulling his attention back to the present, Weimin notes the effects occurring inside of him. The royal tutors had given the children a bitter tasting alchemical potion, one that would ease the opening of their meridians. As he’d been taught by his instructors, the meridians typically had to be cleared manually through months of drawing in ambient qi, pushing the blockages in their meridians through a complete cycle to purify them. Although Weimin didn’t know exactly what the potion had done, some of its effects were clear; the blockages in his meridians had liquefied, becoming a black sludge that slowly oozed through his channels.
As the midday sun reaches its peak in the sky, drums, horns, and several other instruments begin to play.
As the drums continue, a portal opens in the north exit to the courtyard. The children arrange themselves in lines, predetermined and practiced to perfection. In contrast with the meticulously maintained trees and shrubs in the courtyard, the portal to the ceremonial grounds offers an unsettling window to their destination. But still, they go marching one by one, their steps in time with the drums.
Even though they’d practiced it a hundred times, Weimin can’t keep his chest from contracting. It feels like he’s being crushed by a pile of bodies, and he can’t shake the feeling that something unspeakably horrible is about to happen. Finally, he decides to say something to Hong Jin.
“Brother, I have a bad feeling about this. Worse than I’ve ever felt before,” he whispers through the mask.
“You just need to relax. You haven’t even gone through the ceremony, I’m sure it’s nothing.”
After reassuring Weimin, Hong Jin strides through the portal confidently. In that moment, he exudes everything Weimin wants to be; confidence, nobility, elegance and grace.
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And then it is his turn.
He walks forward, the portal only five steps away. It hovers just above the ground, so hesitation risks losing his feet.
Four.
As close as he is, he can see the different aspects of qi clashing along the perimeter. The black and blue qi of space coalesces into flares the size of his hand, reacting to the ambient energy passing through the portal.
Three.
His eyes finally pierce through the haze obscuring his vision, revealing the enormity of the ceremony grounds. On the other side are the other children, their backs to him as they face the Council of Elders.
Two.
Finally, the odor hits him. The atmosphere through the portal smells like blood and charred flesh. Even with the mask over his face, the air enters his mouth, leaving behind unpleasant flavors of ash and death.
One.
He steps over the boundary, hesitating for a heartbeat before he commits himself.
And then he’s through.
He walks to his designated spot near the southern corner of the triangular formation. Though the stone platform they stand upon is square in shape, the northern half is occupied by boulders.
Beyond the platform is the Council of Elders. Their seats are arrayed in a quarter circle spanning from northwest to northeast. Among their ranks are the current Queen, the Minister of the Treasury, and his uncle the Grand Elder. Unlike the children, the elders are dressed identically, gold trim outlining their loose robes of crimson.
Strangely, his father is nowhere to be seen.
After everyone has passed through the portal, it closes, and the ceremony begins with fanfare.
Massive jets of flame spring forth from the perimeter of the platform, doused moments later by a torrent of rain that appears out of thin air. Next, a forest grows from the remains, shoots of bamboo emerging only to be cut down by spinning blades that are swallowed whole by the earth. With the cycle of wuxia finally complete, the first child steps forth to the half of the platform where the ceremony itself will be performed.
From the Council of Elders steps forth a hooded figure. , but the nameless illegitimate child of the king neither quivers nor quakes as he prepares to accept his fate.
Then, the hooded figure reveals themselves to be… Hong Shufen, the most senior Contender, and first Princess of the kingdom. Her face is instantly recognizable; her high cheekbones and full lips are most certainly inherited from her mother, while constant battle has tanned her complexion. Like any sufficiently advanced cultivator, her skin is almost flawless, razor thin scars along her bare arms the only evidence of her profession.
Rather than speaking, she summons thick bands of qi around her hands. They remind Weimin of molten steel, but before he can ponder further, she plunges her fists directly into the child’s chest.
He had known this was coming, but it still sickens him. The squelches of the boy’s flesh alternate with the sounds of sizzling skin, but through it all, he doesn’t make a sound. Thank the ancestors for the painkillers they put in the potions, Weimin thinks to himself.
Moments pass, the princess rummaging around in the boy’s body until… something clicks.
Just then, the child begins to move again, loosening his muscles as a wide smile appears on his face.
Without warning, he lets loose a pillar of flame that reaches the clouds. It mainly burns red, but there is something… artificial about it, marking it distinctly as Qi.
Thanks to the alchemical draught the king’s progeny had consumed, they skipped the meridian clearing stage, as well as most of Qi condensation. Instead, their cultivation settled at mid to peak Qi Condensation, depending on the talent of the individual. Clearly, this new cultivator had more talent than most, proceeding directly to half-step Foundation Establishment.
“Congratulations, young Contender. Walk forth with the ancestors behind you,” says the princess.
And then it is time for the next child. This time, rather than sizzling flesh, what emanates from the girl in question is a dense fog, culminating in her manifesting a massive sheet of ice from thin air. She is lucky, and so she smiles. She is a dual element water-wind affinity cultivator, wind being one of the rare higher affinities.
And so the ceremony progresses.
After several bells have passed, it is time for Hong Jin. He turns to Weimin as he prepares himself, his lackadaisical attitude evident to any who know him.
The princess summons the bands of molten qi once more before plunging them into Hong Jin’s chest. Her movements are rigid and abrupt as she searches for… something. Even Weimin doesn’t know exactly what she is doing, but… It must have something to do with putting stress on the meridians, causing them to expel their contents. Weimin was many things, but stupid was not one of them.
After an incense time, the other children begin to grow restless. No other child has needed so much time to manifest their affinity; even the longest took only a few dozen heartbeats.
Finally, Hong Shufen pulls her hands out from her half brother’s chest.
“I’m sorry, little one,” she says, hanging her head in solemnity.
Weimin had been told before that death happened slowly, time itself screeching to a halt to capture the final moments of its victim. Death… wasn’t like that. Just a moment ago, Weimin had been staring at his brother. Now, nothing remains. A dozen cycles gone, just like that, only a pile of ash to bear witness to his life.
And then, the king’s voice rings out, both quiet and yet resounding throughout his entire body.
“Cripples and Mortals are no children of mine.”