Hago had a wife and three children. His wife was not a cultivator. She had a core and could channel, of course, all children of the Land could do that much unless they had been born with a tragic deviation. Such children were not unheard of, but they were hidden away, or else left to expire in the wilderness when they were young. Still, merely having the capacity to interact with the mana of the world soul did not mean one had a talent for it, and most citizens of the Middle Kingdom never found their dao or became cultivators.

The nine star ratings of pure artists could be visualized as a pyramid. The peak was only a tiny point, the handful of godlike individuals who had attained the true secrets of the universe and become immortals. Each rank below was an order of magnitude more common at least, so that for every nine-star artist there were ten eight-stars, a million three-stars, and a billion who had no stars at all.

These were the kind of numbers that Hago had trouble imagining, and he was not sure if they were a completely accurate representation of the world, but it was what he had been taught as a boy setting out to learn the pure arts. Everyone understood that the Blessed Lands were larger than one man could know in a lifetime, unless, of course, that lifetime was extended by superior channeling and the consumption of elixirs made from the purest of spiritual energy.

He did not begrudge his wife her lack of ambition. In fact, it was a part of what had attracted him to her in the beginning, because it meant that she was able to be ambitious on his behalf, to be proud of him and his accomplishments instead of being envious or competitive. Cultivators rarely married other cultivators, as such unions led to mutual strife more often than mutual advancement.

When he had been a young man winning duels and making a name for himself in their little corner of the world the union had been a joyful one. They had both gotten what they wanted from the relationship, and their children had had futures as bright as his own.

Then came the injury, the botched healing, a life of pain and the security of a position in the clan that no one else wanted. His job was the sort of thing that a promising young artist would see as a stepping stone, but for him it was the end of the road.

Or it had seemed to be the end until he met a strange young master in the Kicking Dragon who had done what the healers could not.

It still felt like a dream, and he pushed himself on the road as much to test the truth of his recovery as to revel in his reclaimed mobility. When this was over with, and Lady Makoto was satisfied, he would begin training again, and become a duelist once more.

In a matter of a few years, less even, if he cut into his savings to purchase the necessary elixirs, he could attain his mana body. He would never have to worry about his back after that.

Janna Jin was slowing him down, but he would not allow her to rest. He had grabbed a few provisions from the barracks storerooms on his way out after telling the initiates about their guest in the spider cell. They had water to keep them going, and the girl could channel as well as a one-star.

Mana would sustain them as long as they needed to reach the border guardian’s grave. Time was of the essence, because even if the burial site had been concealed from passers by, being dug off of the yellow brick road would make it fair game for scavengers.

If a sacred beast had made a meal of the old cultivator’s body, he might have nothing to show Lady Makoto for his efforts. That was an unacceptable outcome.

********

Janna did not know what to think, or else she was exhausted beyond thought. Hago was pushing her like a drill instructor from one of the heavenly schools, with little enough to drink, and no real rest.

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She truly did not understand Sunwhisper.

Why had he come for her, when the choice to go on alone would have been so obvious had she been in his place? From a very young age, she had been taught that there was little room for sentimentality in this world. Resenting that fact was a waste of energy and time better spent on training.

And why would he, a demon with iron for his bones and a cubby where his heart should have been, be sentimental? It made no sense.

There had to be a strategy behind it, some use he intended for her that she had yet not guessed. She had no illusions that she was such a good guide that she could not be replaced. He could find someone better, more cultured, in the next village. Someone who could tell him about the Middle Kingdom from actual experience instead of rumors and half remembered scrolls from the libraries of the elders.

In any case, it had seemed clear that he had wanted her to lead Hago to the site of their duel with Makoto, and she would do what he wanted. Not that she had much of a choice. Even without the thief mark on her arm, Hago could have demanded anything he wanted from her, and as a starless girl far from the protection of her family, she was powerless to refuse him.

Not entirely powerless, though. Janna imagined she could still taste the spirit fruit that Sunwhisper had shared with her on their journey toward Silk Flower Town. She knew an elemental technique, The First Buyo of the Bending Earth, and she had used it in battle. Nothing in her life before had ever been a source of greater pride.

She did not want to be a servant, and even as her body weakened and her legs threatened to turn to water beneath her the resolve in her heart only hardened. Janna would be a cultivator, a true one, not like her father and her brothers. The people of Fringe Town considered two-stars to be great masters, making an ending out of what should have been a beginning.

Even if she was only a young girl from a small village on the edge of the world; even if she had shamed herself, and been marked by that shame, this would not be the end for her. In her most secret heart she swore it would not be the end. Sunwhisper or no Sunwhisper.

The journey out of Fringe Village had been in haste,but it had been leisurely compared to the pace Hago set for them. It was more trying than any Reaping she could remember, and in less than twenty-four hours from when she had been taken out of that dark cell and its darker watchers she found herself collapsing on a familiar stretch of yellow bricks.

The bricks themselves were uniform, that was the wonder of the road, one stretch was as good as another for a thousand miles. She recognized the tree under which she had waited with Makoto, it was blooming out of season, as was the stretch of earth that she had softened with her power in an attempt to thwart the border guardian at the height of his duel.

The grave was just beyond the tree. Hago lifted her by her arm as if she were a toy and demanded she go on.

"Show me." He was not a pitiless man, but he had pushed himself as hard as he had pushed her, and he was ready for his reward.

He let her sit under the tree once she showed him where they had laid the border guardian to rest. Then he called upon his ascendancy technique. Green mana suffused his flesh and poured from his eyes.

“It has been so long,” he said, “I had forgotten this joy.” He grinned at Janna. “I hope that one day you know what it means to have this kind of power. You have ambition, that I know, and it makes you foolish. For so long, I have held myself back for fear of worsening my injury. But I have not felt the pain once since we started running. Not even a twinge. Your brother has a secret skill. He could be a genius. You are young, and you may not have ruined your life yet. Don’t give up hope.”

Janna had no idea what he was talking about. What had Sunwhisper done for him? His Emerald Ascendancy technique made moving earth and stone effortless, even with only his hands. In a matter of minutes, he had unearthed enough of the body to pull Makoto out of the dirt.

Makoto had not been three-star, but he had advanced a sufficient number of his steps down that road that his remains would not have decayed for many months after burial, nor would he be subject to the feasting of insects or the caprice of mortal worms.

Luck was on their side, as the grave had not been disturbed by scavengers. Hago laid the border guardian on the ground and took a long look. His eyes widened when he saw what Starscream had done. The theft of the old man’s core, harvested as if he had been a sacred beast taken in a lawful hunt.

"You will be avenged," he promised, kneeling beside the remains. "This desecration will not go unanswered."

Janna heard a familiar cry. Glancing above, she saw the six winged raven circling overhead.