Yong Makiko Nao considered her reflection as she ran a brush through her long hair. A set of feline eyes stared back at her, deep and pensive. Though her face was youthful, unlined by time, those eyes betrayed her. Her hair was raven black in the near twilight of the room, and the bristles of the brush ran through the rich dark locks like fingers through silk.
The action soothed her, though it was largely perfunctory. It had been centuries since her hair was capable of getting tangled. Brushing her hair was one of the few habits she indulged in even after she became the Yong Matriarch. If others knew, it would reflect poorly on her. The Matriarch was too vain, too provincial, not worthy of the honors the imperial dynasty entrusted to her, they would say—never to her face, but, still, the words would seep out like poison, infecting the thoughts of the populace. Even so, she didn’t want to let go of the ritual. It was an indulgence, one of the few she allowed herself. The motion calmed her, and she needed a bit of calm with so many tigers and serpents snapping at her heel.
Makiko was always conscious of how she was perceived. Power was more fickle than she could have imagined. It was as much a façade as true strength. Only a few cultivators in the continent could hope to match her in fighting prowess, but she was not indomitable. The success of her family relied on more than just her. It important to maintain the image of power she had so painstakingly crafted. Now more than ever, she cared about what others thought of her. The reflection in the mirror frowned at the thought.
She let her attendants help her dress. She would follow proper decorum even if letting others dress her took substantially longer. She was born on the outer branches of the Yong family and even after centuries as the Matriarch, the formalities of court still struck her as facile. She was adorned with a red gold-gilded robe with jade accents. Beneath her robes, a sleeve with intricately embroidered gold wings hid the logograms extending up her forearm.
Today, she would meet with the imperial seneschal. There was long awaited news from the Imperial City. She sat in her antechamber, waiting for the messenger’s arrival. She sipped at the golden serpent tea set for two, barely registering their bold flavor and body-enhancing effects. As its name suggests, this pot was worth more than gold. It could buy a village. It was an inconceivable expense, extravagant and wasteful, but she had to keep up appearances. Her mind was preoccupied with the news she’d been anticipating for years.
A small man entered the room with no fanfare. At his entrance, her servants all dropped to their knees. The man was unremarkable in appearance. His face was sharp, almost rat-like in its shrewdness. His clothes were simple and without embroidery.
He inclined his head in greeting, and Makiko stood, reciprocating the gesture. “I hope you are well, Lu Wei,” she said.
Lu Wei smiled softly. “Of course, always well. I must say, you look radiant Makiko. I’d heard that you’d been waylaid by a nasty cough. It seems the rumors are false.”
She managed to keep her teacup from shaking as she sipped her tea. When she calmed herself enough to meet his gaze, his face was pleasant. Was this a warning or a threat? Probably both. Of course, she could never get sick, not at her level of cultivation. The whispers of dissent had reached the Imperial City. Makiko’s mouth tightened in a line, she wanted to make her displeasure known. “Whoever said that is drawing claws on a snake. I assure you, I am well.”
Wei took a seat beside her. He did not settle into the plush seat, instead sitting on the edge of the chair, his back straight as a board. The tea lay untouched in front of him. “Yes, but rumors repeated enough become truth.” His dark eyes glinted meaningfully.
Makiko set down her cup with a hard clink, and turned to face the messenger. “But that’s not what you’re here to tell me.”
“No small talk today? That’s just fine. I’m here to give you this.” Wei reached into his sleeve and pulled out a scroll case carved from deep emerald jade. When Makiko broke the seal, a gust of wind carrying the scent of dried goji berries and jasmine blossoms blew through the antechamber. The room filled with an unmistakable aura that set her nerves on edge. “It’s finally time. The 699th Imperial Examinations have ended. This is a list of the new Imperial Scholiasts. I think congratulations are in order. Only two candidates passed from the Eastern Continent, and one of them bears your name.”
She skimmed the contents of the scroll. The two that passed were no surprise to her, but there were only two. The other continents were sure to have a higher success rate. “And how many others passed?” She tried to keep her tone casual but there was no hiding her feelings from Wei.
“The North and South did as well as expected with four passes in each. The West was a surprise.” Wei paused and picked up his tea cup, but didn’t take a sip. “Twenty-five candidates passed.” Makiko had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from gasping. Twenty-five. The number was astonishing. “But I encourage you not to compare, there would be no point to it. I hear your son equipped himself quite well, so you should feel pride in that. The death toll this cycle was a little high, but still within limits.” She could see the list of deaths from her own territories and wondered how that compared to the others, but she already had an inkling. That was one category she could always count on winning.
“How much time do we have before the next cycle?” She asked.
“A year or two. The testing fields need a complete overhaul before they can be used again. Those children are not easy on their toys.” Wei set down the cup. The cup was still full, the tea now lukewarm. “I hope you’ll excuse me, I have a full day’s travel ahead of me.” Makiko walked her guest to the grand chamber doors. He turned before stepping through. “I know this is not lost on you, but I will say this as an old friend.” Wei rested a hand on her shoulder. Makiko almost cringed at the casual touch, but stopped herself from pulling away. “Much rides on the results of the next cycle.”
Makiko ushered her servants out of the room after the seneschal. Only then did she let her mask slip. She slumped against the seat, staring at the ceiling. The next examination cycle was so soon. The last testing cycle lasted a little over a decade, not as long as she’d hoped. There was no time to prepare a new candidate. She had wanted to give her more time to come to terms with her new power, but time was not a luxury either of them could afford. With a snap of her fingers, a servant rushed back into the room.
“Yes, Mistress Yong?”
“Find my daughter and bring her home.”
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Three weeks passed with little change. Bataa checked the barrier daily, but it had no sign of dissipating. During this time, Koyo and Bataa had only encountered one chaos scorpion hidden a few caverns away. It was already near death, and Koyo dispatched it without ceremony. The only other living things in the caves were rats. So many rats. They scuttled and squeaked throughout the night, their red eyes always watching from above. As Nio’s provisions ran low, Shang didn’t want to think about what they would eventually have to eat.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Bataa had erected a bona fide shelter out of stone. The Vul warrior had a strong affinity for stone. Even so, raising huge stone walls from the ground exhausted him for many hours, but Shang was more than impressed. The walls of the shelter were thick and solid and did a great job at blocking sound. It would have been impossible to build without cultivation. The structure was perfect and seamless like a naturally occurring formation.
Despite the uncomfortable aura of the gorge and the threat of danger, Shang enjoyed the past few weeks. As much as he hated to admit it, he liked the company. Bataa’s good mood was infectious, and Shang's relationship with Nio had easily shifted to one of mutual respect. He learned with fervor, greedily soaking up everything Nio taught. He had grown a deep admiration for the man. Unlike Rue who ignored all his questions, Nio was a patient and fastidious instructor. He took the time to explain every detail. At first, he was clearly put off by Shang’s obvious ignorance, but as Shang proved to be a fast and eager student, his annoyance was replaced by eagerness.
The only problem was Koyo. She would disappear for hours on end and refused to eat with the group, but Shang did not mind. He was perfectly content on leaving her to sulk alone in the corner.
He spent the days cycling and learning artificing. With each passing day Shang had grown more used to the unbalanced aura. Now, cycling here felt much the same as before, which is to say not comfortable in the least. After seeing him struggle, Nio had offered to teach him a new cycling technique, but Rue vehemently rejected the idea.
Rue did approve of the artificing guidebook Nio shared. Shang toiled over the intricate diagrams, asking questions when the book wasn’t clear. It was written by hand by Nio’s father, with many of the etchings smudged with age. Most of the artifacts had mundane applications to help with farming, manufacturing, and even cooking. Some were more interesting. Artifacts were vital in the distilling of alchemical elixirs that could purify the core, increase physical endurance and strength, and even provide momentary control over alien affinities. Shang could finally put a name to some of the elixirs Rue had given him at the beginning of their journey.
Every night, they would finish with Nio’s forms. The Dance of Eternal Storms was created for dual weapon wielders. Without the proper weapons, Shang practiced empty-handed. The forms challenged the flexibility in his non-dominant arm. When they started, he had been clumsy. His muscles were not used to the foreign and dramatic movements. He felt overextended and awkward. Thankfully, his body adapted as the weeks progressed. Now, he could get through the ninth form before collapsing. His usual style flavored flexibility and grace while these katas offered a more solid core. Nio always stopped before the sequence was finished. The latter forms were secret training techniques for the Lightning Bird Sect. He seemed abashed by the secrecy, but he was not allowed to share more without his sect’s approval. Shang was grateful, nonetheless. He was learning more than he could have ever hoped.
After training one night, his master approached him with a serious expression. “Shang, would you consider taking up the dual curved blade? It is one of the weapon specializations on the Path of Lightning Steps. I am a poor teacher compared to the elders of the sect. I think it would benefit you greatly for a better instructor than I.”
Shang was taken aback by his serious tone. He did not know enough to answer.
No chance, why would you pick a futureless Path like that? Have you ever heard of a famous cultivator on the Path of Lightning Toes? No, because they don’t exist.
Shang looked away sheepishly. “I don’t think I’m suited for it, Master. I’m rather attached to the single blade. Besides, I think you are a wonderful instructor. The best I’ve ever had.”
Hey! I take offense to that! You simply are too puny to learn from a great master like me.
“Suited for it? Bah!” Nio’s serious expression deepened into a frown, and he turned away muttering. “Ridiculous boy...what a waste…”
“I think you’ve broken his spirit,” Bataa chuckled.
“I didn’t mean to offend him. It’s just, I don’t know what I want to do yet. I don’t know enough to decide on my Path.”
“Most people don’t get a choice. If you’re like me, or even like Nio over there, you would be born into a path. Nio is from the territory of the Lighting Bird Sect. The only Paths available to him were those founded by the sect. If he’s lucky enough to get one at all. For you, since you were born in Shadow Tiger territory, you would have chosen one of their Paths,” Bataa said. “But, I can tell from your expression that you would rather bite off your own leg.”
“Choosing an outside Path makes things more difficult,” Koyo cut in. “The sects and Principal Families hold the Path manuals for the strongest Paths. Without them, your chances of advancement in the higher realms are virtually nonexistent.”
“So, you think I should accept Master Nio’s offer?”
“No, it’s too early to tie yourself down to a Path. But then again, what do I know,” Koyo grumbled. She was struggling with the confinement the most. Unlike Bataa who spent much of his time sleeping, Koyo paced around endlessly, unable to settle down. With each passing day, her mood and aura grew darker. When she returned from scouting, she studied Shang from the corner of her eye like a predator waiting to strike. When Shang asked her for advice on his forms, she refused to provide any guidance.
“More importantly young friend, why have you not advanced to the Nascent Realm? From what I see, you are more than ready. A Path you can decide on later. The strength and power you would gain from advancing would greatly increase your chances of making it out of here alive.”
Shang knew Bataa was right. He had never felt stronger. He was ready. His injuries had healed up days ago, and Master Nio constantly urged him to advance. Shang had made every excuse he could think of. The aura was not right. He was still healing. He wanted to wait until it was less dangerous. They were all lies. The reason he could not advance was simple. Advancement involved using their blood and whatever strange elixirs and contraptions Rue had brought with them. In this confined space, there was no way to do that secretly.
“What about you two? From what I learned, the beast cores we collected could help with your advancement. Why haven’t you absorbed them yet?” Shang asked, shifting the attention away from him. Advancement through the lower realms was largely a matter of collecting and condensing concentrated qi. Only once your core reached a certain density and purity, were you able to advance. The beast cores contained already condensed qi of specific attributes. When directly cycled into one’s core, it could save on years of cycling especially if the attributes matched. The chimera core was equivalent to a couple of years of ambient cycling for a fire and shadow artist. Even if it was not enough to push them to the next realm, a denser core would improve their fighting capabilities.
“They aren’t that helpful for me. My advancement works a different way,” Bataa said. “And as you heard. The Mistress has a complicated relationship with her Path. I guess we could give it to Nio, but it would be kind of a waste.”
“I can hear you, you know,” Nio said. “But, I agree, the chances of me breaking past the Mind Realm are small. It’s best for one of you to take it instead. Plus, I didn’t help take down the beast. It’s your prize.”
Koyo tapped her foot impatiently as she studied Shang. “Another reason to advance. If you do, I’ll give the chimeric core to you,” she said, eyeing Shang meaningfully. Bataa gave a low whistle, and Nio choked on water.
“U-Uhh, I’m honored elder sister, but do you think that’s a good idea?” Shang was itching to suggest that he take it, but it seemed a bit too fanciful to mention. Shang could see a maelstrom of thoughts whirling inside her head. With only a slight hesitation, she nodded. “Thank you Koyo-sa. I’m eternally grateful.” Shang groveled in thanks, pulse quickening in excitement.
Oh, my heavens. You sure worked your magic kid, you conniving weasel. How’d you do it huh? How’d you woo her? I didn’t think you were particularly charming, but maybe it’s just not to my taste.
Stop it! I haven’t wooed her at all. She’s planning something. No way she would give the core to me expecting nothing in return.
Shang was grateful, but he was also realistic. Koyo was starting to give him the creeps. If it wasn’t apparent that she had plans for him before, it was undeniable now.