For what must be the hundredth time, Nui tried to feed her qi into the twisty picture in her head. And for the hundredth time, it got about half-way before there were too many leaks, her imagination not strong enough to hold the picture together while moving the qi. It broke up, the qi wobbling in her head for a second, almost confused, before it fell out into the air, gone.
She felt like crying. Why is this so hard? She had known that being a cultivator wasn’t easy, but all the other girls had already learned the first realm movement art days ago. Even Qing Hai, and she was slow. She had only made her dantian three days ago, a whole month after everyone else!
Again she tried to build the form in her head, and again it seemed like she had succeeded – only for it to fall apart half-way.
Her face scrunched up in what was definitely frustration, and not anything else. She wasn’t crying, because she was an adult now, and a cultivator, and cultivators never cried. Am I doing it wrong? Did they make a mistake? She didn’t want to leave the mountain. Even if her parents and brothers weren’t here, the sect was beautiful. They gave her a room for free, bigger than Grandma’s whole house, almost, and the food was better than anything she had ever eaten.
They had even taught her how to punch, something she hadn’t thought she’d like, until she tried it. Instructor Jiendao was strict, but not mean like some of the older women in the village. She had clapped Nui on the shoulder and said “Good job,” when she made Ho Tai’s nose bleed for the first time.
Mienchao is going to make fun of me again. Usually the thought made her angry enough to try harder, but today it was no good. Her dantian, the little crystal in her chest that she could feel when she meditated in the exact right way, must have started running out of qi, because she was getting a bad headache.
Eventually she rubbed her eyes enough that they were dry, and stood up. The late spring blooms dotting the hidden courtyard were as pretty as ever, but she had been staring at them for days now, and Dad always said that even sugar started to taste bad if you ate too much.
She went back to her room, snaking her way through alleys and tree-lined paths until she saw the large building where all that year’s disciples were housed. The outer sect, which was just one part, was already bigger than her little nameless village, and she hadn’t explored even a tenth of it. It was all trees and flowers and bright tile paths and giant painted buildings with glittering roofs; there wasn’t a single muddy ditch, or simple wooden houses that she could see. The insides of the buildings weren’t any different; when she opened the door to her room, she was always a little startled to see how clean everything was.
The furniture was sturdy and treated with wax and varnish, the same as the floor. There was a magic cupboard that was like an icebox, and a different one that was like a stove. There was hot water, and a whole bathtub just for her, with a mirror and everything.
I don’t want to go back. Suddenly, all the feelings she had rubbed away came back. I don’t want to leave. I want to be a cultivator and live here forever.
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She meditated, and ate, and slept, and then it was the next day. Meditation class was mostly boring like always, though today she got to see the instructor spank a boy for pulling Qing Hai’s hair.
Then martial arts, where Instructor Jiendao had them kick things, and the advanced class who were ahead did real fights. All through class, the only thing she could think about was how much she wanted to be over there.
Then was Forms and Spellcraft, and her shoulders went stiff as she passed through the door. Instructor Golden Leaf wasn’t mean, exactly, but when you got a spell wrong he looked at you like you did something bad and he was disappointed. It was really effective, because he looked like a grandpa with his big bushy beard and bald head and wide brown eyes.
He drew a new form on the board, and tapped it with his long stick.
“This is eighth fire, one of the fundamental forms, and one of the most dangerous forms I will teach you in the first realm. Never cast this form except in a spell you’ve memorised.” It sounded scary, but the bite went out of it when the instructor said the same thing for every new form they learned. Never use forms if you don’t know what they do. Never use forms in a weird order. Never cast a spell if the qi doesn’t go all the way to the end. “I will be teaching you this form as part of the spell Fire Touch. Watch closely.”
She snapped to attention. Fire Touch. That sounds like a combat spell! The instructor drew another form, which they had already practised with.
“You should recognise first conjuration, which when cast as a spell results in Dancing Sparks. To cast Fire Touch, simply place the eighth fire form preceding it, so that qi flows through it before first conjuration. Does everyone understand?”
Everyone did. She thought that asking was kind of silly, actually; who would say they didn’t, even if it was true? Then he demonstrated the spell, holding his hand out as a happy yellow flame licked away at the tip of his finger.
“As you can see, when cast properly the flame does not injure your finger. Be careful, the rest of your body is not protected.” His face went stern. “If any of you burn each other, I will have you scrub every floor in the sect. That is your one warning.”
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She practised all through class, but wasn’t able to learn the form all the way before it was over. It was more complicated than the Dancing Sparks form, or the movement form, a looping jagged thing that reminded her of a peony flower in full bloom. Great, now there are two spells I can’t cast.
She sighed, and went to eat lunch in her room. Then, she went out to practise the movement art in her secret courtyard.
Like always, the journey to the secret courtyard was a tiny little adventure where she hid her movements from the other disciples. She didn’t want them to know where she went, because the secret courtyard was just for her!
…It probably wasn’t actually a secret, since someone had to be watering the flowers and trimming them and things. But it was secret from the other first realm disciples, and that was the important part. She shimmied through tight spaces and hid behind trees on her way, and when she got there she was completely certain nobody had followed her.
The courtyard was as beautiful as always, with its purple-red-pink tiles and elegant carved pillars. Vines snaked up the walls, while water fell down from somewhere in the next building over, making a waterfall that always seemed to have a rainbow, no matter where the sun was. It had seemed magical the first time she had seen it, and even a few months later she still figured it was probably at least a little magic.
Her notebook came out from her bag – two more things the sect had given her for free – and she stared at the twisty connecting spiral form for a whole ten minutes, memorising every curve.
It wasn’t as bad as eighth fire or even first conjuration, she didn’t think. So I don’t know why I’m having trouble with the spell. Everyone else got it right away.
She clenched her teeth. I’ll get it. I just have to do it over and over, like Instructor Jiendao says with martial arts.
And so she practiced. She sat in the special way cultivators did, and breathed in and out, and then thought really hard. Casting a spell took imagination more than anything; you needed to make the form real enough in your head that it could hold the qi, and it was really hard.
She pictured the loopy shape, which she thought of as a spoon because it had a wide bit and then a thin handle-looking bit, and it came easy since she did it every day. But it wasn’t enough to just picture it. The voice of Instructor Golden Leaf came to her mind: ‘the difference between casting and mere daydreaming is effort. Mental effort, the thing that spellforms are made of, comes from discipline and steadfastness – just as you must control your body to perform martial arts, you must control your mind to perform magical arts. There are no shortcuts.’
She concentrated, and it was only a minute before she thought that the spellform was real enough to work. It felt bright and clear, like she could reach out and touch it – but now came the hard part. Keeping it in her head while doing something else.
She breathed, and held onto the form, and when her heart wasn’t beating too fast she moved her spiritual sense. It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t hard like making making the form real was either. It felt a little weird, like she had a third arm that wasn’t there unless she paid attention to it, and she needed to concentrate or it just sat there like a ball of goo. Instructor Vivid World said that it would be like moving her real arms eventually, and she really hoped he was right because concentrating on two things at the same time was really, really hard. It can’t be that hard, if Slow Qing did it. And Mienchao. And all the stupid boys.
Her sense grabbed some qi from deep in her chest, and drew it up into her head. She could see it, kind of, a glowy sort of gas that liked to spread out and disappear. When it was in her head and firmly gripped with her sense, she thought extra hard, making the form so real that it could be a solid wall the qi wouldn’t pass through. This is going to work. It’s so bright and clear. She moved her sense again, stuffing the qi through the front end of the form, which was the flatter spoon-bit.
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The qi went in like the form was a hollow straw, flowing through and lighting it up even brighter as her imagination became real for real. After what seemed like hours the qi went all the way through with only a little leaking, and with a triumphant push she activated the spell!
She didn’t go anywhere, because she hadn’t remembered the part where she had to direct the spell after it started working, but she still jumped up and punched the air. “I did it!” she yelled. I’m a real cultivator! I’m not slow!
Then her celebration cut off, blood rushing to her face, as she noticed the man looking at her from the other side of the courtyard. He was watering the flowers with a big pink elephant-shaped can, an amused look on his face.
She lowered her fists, and tried to lower the heat from her face, but only one of those things happened. “Pardon, sir,” she got out. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.” This must be his secret courtyard. He definitely isn’t a groundskeeper; his robes are too nice.
They really were nice. She got a good look at the bottom half of them as she bowed low; patterned with a dozen different kinds of flowers, the design abstract but obvious. Little birds and fairies seemed to flit through the rainbow foreground as he moved his legs, both he and the pictures going from flower patch to flower patch.
“Oh, no trouble, no trouble. You are young, ah, Nui, yes?”
“Junior sister is pleased that a senior remembers her.” Have I met him before? She hadn’t caught a good look of his face from across the space.
“Ah, I keep an eye on all the promising young disciples. You can raise your head if you wish, by the way.”
She straightened up, her face still radiating heat, and in a burst of forced confidence looked the man right in the eye. You’re a cultivator now, same as him. Don’t grovel!
The first thing that she noticed was that he was clean-shaven, unlike most of the older men in the sect. Not really old, actually. She was having trouble placing his age, but not in the usual way where a cultivator could look young even if they were her Grandma’s age. Instead it was like he was too young for his face; the bones said he was middle-aged, while the smooth skin and luscious hair disagreed. It wasn’t just makeup, either, he really did seem to exude vitality and good health.
“There we go. Pardon, I should introduce myself; Lu, core disciple of the Steadfast Heart Sect.”
A core disciple! Technically she saw core disciples – and even Elders – every day, but they were her instructors. Seeing one in the wild was different. “Nui, outer disciple of the Steadfast Heart Sect. Junior greets senior,” she said with a second, much shorter bow. “Again, I’m very sorry for disturbing you. I didn’t think this courtyard belonged to such an esth- esteemed disciple.”
He waved her off, the simple motions impossibly smooth. She felt almost hypnotised by the colours of his robes, which caught the eye and broke up his silhouette all at once. “As I said, no trouble at all. My garden always has room for young flowers.” He smiled, and Nui felt her face redden even more. “I noticed you practising the most universal of movement arts. It seems that you’ve gotten it down.”
Some of the triumph from before returned, smothering a fraction of her embarrassment. “Yes, sir. It was harder than Dancing Sparks, but I just needed to practise.”
Disciple Lu nodded. “Most things in life are like that. You just have to pluck away at them. Ah, but that isn’t to say one shouldn’t consider their strengths; tell me young disciple, have you given any thought to the sort of cultivator you wish to become?”
She hadn’t. She didn’t know what kind of cultivator she wanted to be at all… Except the moment she heard the question, she knew that she did. “A martial artist.” She put her hands up, and threw a punch under the man’s twinkling eyes. “I want to be like Lady Jiendao.”
Disciple Lu’s smile deepened. “Ah, a noble goal. The Steadfast Heart is and always has been a martial sect, after all.”
She didn’t know what to say to that, so she just nodded.
He stepped to the side, gesturing to the exit. “Please, walk with me for a bit. I think I know a man who can help you.”
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As they walked, Nui could not help but find her eyes drawn to the older man at her side. Everything about him seemed designed to catch one's attention, as if he himself was one of the flowers he tended. And in turn she caught him looking at her as well – at a particular part of her, in fact.
She felt the urge to cover her pendant, and the countering urge to display it proudly. ‘Never forget your heritage,’ said her Grandma’s voice in her head. ‘Our family were some of the first to take to the New Faith, and our loyalty will be rewarded. Never be ashamed, never be cowed or compromising with the faith.’
And from the opposite side, her mother’s softer words. ‘Granny means well, Nui, but the world is complicated. Some people will treat you poorly if they see your necklace – it’s better not to show it off, to only show it to people once you know them and they know you.’
The contradicting sentiments tugged at her, and to escape them she opened her mouth. “Do you follow the New Faith, senior Lu?” It was a bit of a silly name, since it was older than her Grandma even, but that was what people called it.
The man’s eyes went from her collar to her face. “Ah, pardon, how rude of me.” They walked for a moment, and she felt her face beginning to heat again. “I would say I am conflicted. I was never pious, even before the Second Heavenly Disagreement, and the debate between the various faiths has presented both good and bad points on all fronts.”
She blinked. He’s that old..? It seemed impossible, but why would he lie about something so pointless?
He continued, “The New Faith and the orthodoxy have both pulled at my heart at different times. The Emperor Cults as well, though less strongly.” His face became vacant with thought. “I suppose it’s a bit foolish of me, isn’t it? I should pick a side and stick with it.” His smile returned. “Ah, but I see you wear the symbol of Oldest Bones. May I ask why your soul lies with him?”
She squirmed a bit, touching the little statue of a skeleton caught in a wheel that rested just under her neck. “Oldest Bones? Grandma always calls Him the Wheel-Breaking Skeleton.”
“Ah, I use an older name, but that one is equally valid.”
She nodded and made a small sound. “Okay. I guess I believe because…” It sounded like such a silly reason, in front of this man who must be older than the trees. “Because my family does, senior. Grandma says we’ll all be reborn with our memories if we believe, and she’s never lied.”
She felt like wilting as the core disciple’s face became hard. He looks so familiar, suddenly. Have I met this man before? “That is…” He sighed and his expression softened a touch. “It is not my place to say this, but perhaps that is not such a good reason. I’m sure your grandmother believes wholeheartedly, but it is likely she does so for the same reason as you: because someone she trusts told her when she was young.”
She fidgeted with her symbol a little more. “You think she’s wrong?” I suppose if he’s old enough, he might have encountered people who reincarnated…
“No, she is not wrong. But she is not right either.” He sighed again. “Matters of the soul are complex. While Oldest Bones might allow one to be reborn as themselves, other forces pull the dead their own way. You might find yourself with Stingy-Eye, or One-Man instead. Or even drawn into the Karmic Wheel, and judged by your sins and virtues by the Host.”
He looks so, so familiar when he isn’t smiling. Perhaps… Is he Elder Vivid World’s son? Grandson? Vivid World taught her both World Histories and Ki Studies, one of the most bookish classes, and one of the least. He was a stern and cold man, the very portrait of an Elder with his long white beard and fierce eyes.
If I imagine his hair as white, and give him the beard, then… Yes, I’m certain. This disciple Lu is related to Elder Vivid World!
He looked at her with her uncertain expression, and his face softened back to how it was before. He nudged her on the shoulder with his elbow. “Ah, but that’s a heavy topic. Too heavy for such a nice spring day. Come, this is my friend’s training facility.”
She nearly stumbled as she became aware of her surroundings again. Oh. I was so caught up I… don’t know where this is. None of the buildings around her were familiar – in fact, they were in an entirely different style.
“Come along,” said the core disciple with a beckoning motion. “My friend is a bit intimidating, but he’s not- he’s- well, if you don’t know him-” For a moment the man stumbled over his words, before nodding to himself. “Disregarding his appearance and personality, you’re sure to learn a lot. His name is Bu Guanyin, but he prefers to be called Bull.”
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They watched the young lady limp away down the mountain. She wasn’t injured – just tired.
Bull tossed up an apple, its skin almost supernaturally red, and caught it without looking. “Not going to escort her?”
Lu, his best and most exasperating friend, shook his head. “No, I’ve arranged a lucky encounter for her. With her head lowered with fatigue, there’s no way she’ll miss a spirit stone lodged between cobblestones – and, similarly tired, she won’t be able to dislodge it by hand. The situation will force her to use a spell, growing her confidence.” He crossed his arms, a smug look growing on his face.
“Ugh,” Bull replied. “So cliche. If you’re going to seduce young women, you could at least do it in an interesting way.” He continued to juggle the apple lazily as his friends face screwed up.
“Bull, don’t even joke about that. I’m happily married.”
“So you say.”
As always, the moment he became even a little frustrated Lu’s wise demeanour gave way to childishness. “Oh, don’t start with that again!”
Bull raised his brows. “I’m just saying,” he drawled with a grin, “That I, your best friend, have never met this woman.”
“Because you refuse to come visit her with me!” He pointed an accusatory finger. “It’s been centuries! At this point, you have to be doing it on purpose!” His face was marked by an adorable pout, which matched his youthful features perfectly.
Bull tossed him the apple, with he caught with an aggrieved sound. “Don’t be ridiculous. I simply have no reason to go down south; I’m still banned from the Jade Sea Kingdom, don’t you know?”
The man – who might have been either a core disciple or an Elder, depending on which angle you observed him from – seemed ready to reply, when a soft ringing came from his wrist. He brought up the offending body part, scrutinising the ticking contraption strapped to it with narrowed eyes. “Damn, I don’t have time to banter. My meeting with the Emperor is due shortly; I need to prepare my presentation.”
Before Bull’s eyes, his friend transformed. His hair grew, turning white as snow, until it extended down both his front and back nearly to the floor. His eyes went from a warm black to an icy blue, and his robes similarly turned from spring blossoms to winter chill, rainbow colours giving way to a repeating blue-on-white pattern reminiscent of frost spreading across glass.
“How do I look?”
His voice had changed as well, becoming deeper and sterner. His expression was the haughty thing of an arrogant Elder, one who glared down at everything that crossed his path, be they man or dragon or God.
“As I said before, so cliche. Why even bother with a disguise? The Emperor saw through it before you even entered his presence for the first time.”
Sniffing, Lu – or rather, Vivid World – took a bite of the apple. “Appearances are important, you barbarian; how could a man who looks young and dashing command respect for his wisdom? Things should look like what they are, and I am a mysterious expert amongst mysterious experts.” The speech was somewhat undercut by the way he took bites of the fruit in between words, though to his credit it never once interrupted his voice.
“Well, I suppose I can’t argue with that.” Bull stretched, muscles rippling under his skin. “A diplomat, an engineer, a teacher… next you’ll be telling me you’ve taken up farming.”
“Well, I do have a garden,” the seemingly-ancient man said with a twinkle in his eye.
Bull was tempted to throw another apple at him, and this time actually try. “Say hello to that so-called wife of yours on the way back for me, would you?”
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The world turned. A man in his eighth century travelled east to the capital, while a young girl slumped home, tired to her very bones but glowing with satisfaction. Soon a rumour would spread about an Elder having a secret grandson, followed by him having a secret lover, even further followed by that lover being any number of other Elders.
Merchants went about their business in mighty cities and small villages, traversing the land in carriages that belched steam. Farmers tended their fields, their sons and daughters keeping watch for monsters, tubes of metal and wood gripped loosely in preparation, satchels of explosive secured to their sides. Soldiers trained with those same weapons, drilling in neat formations, armoured in steel and magic and faith.
And of course, cultivators of all shapes and sizes operated in their own circles, sometimes touching the mortal world and sometimes not. Gathering the threads of fate around themselves, until the future was too murky to see.
Compest looked down at the Earth, with its people and their tiny, intimate struggles and their grand, world-changing movements, and smiled.
Now, if only for a moment, things were peaceful.