Without pills, I wasn’t sure how fast I could cultivate, but with my grasp of cultivation techniques, I was sure I could do it far faster than would be normal for someone in my position. I just needed to decide what speed to display for the palace observers who were no doubt watching us. Being either too fast or too slow could prove fatal.
This was difficult because I didn’t know what kind of speed was considered normal here. I also didn’t know what level they thought my affinity was at. How high of an affinity would the System have shown them? For all I knew, they could think I had a one-star affinity for some strange reason. I could purchase that information, but I decided to just let it be. It wasn’t worth the credits. Whatever would happen would happen.
The information I did have was that the boss had wanted us to advance to Martial Disciple 4 by the end of the year and there was a guy in the past that had set his goal as reaching Martial Disciple 3. Another thing to consider was that if I wanted to advance to Martial Master before my cultivation calcified, I needed to reach Peak Disciple by the age of 28 or 29. If I did that, they should give me a Rank 2 technique to continue cultivating.
I decided that I would plan on rising two stages in the first year, but I would slow down my progression at a steady rate so that I ended up as a Peak Disciple when I turned 28. I could adjust my plans to compensate if I heard any additional information about what cultivation speed was expected. If they were looking for a servant that had reached Peak Disciple by age 25 or so, I could cultivate faster to accomplish that.
With this plan in place, I began cultivating at a steady, relaxed pace. During the day, I would do chores around the palace, washing everything from dishes to buildings. In the evenings, I would do my best to fit in with the other boys, but once the lights were out, I cultivated.
This routine lasted for nine months. That was when I hit Martial Disciple 3 slightly ahead of schedule.
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The day after I hit Disciple 3, the boss caught me on my way out of the dormitory.
“Come with me,” he growled.
I looked at the man as he started walking away. His tone and demeanor showed anger. He looked like he was furious with me. However, I got a faint sense that this was completely wrong. It was more like he was annoyed, but not exactly at me. What I sensed of his feelings toward me seemed to be simple disinterest.
He led me to a deserted area of the palace where a large stone building with only a single entrance stood.
At the entrance, he handed me a small black book. “Go inside. There is a wooden chair in the middle of the room. Sit down. Read this book. Do everything it tells you to do. Do not leave the building.”
“Yes, sir,” I bowed, accepting the book.
He opened the door and I entered.
I saw the chair he was talking about and slowly began walking toward it.
As I did, I started thinking as quickly as I could.
What was the point of this? What was he trying to do?
A possibility appeared in my head. I had just advanced to Disciple 3.
I rapidly came to a simple conclusion. This was a test of some kind.
What were they testing?
They wanted to make sure I had cultivated their slave technique.
They wanted to know if I would follow instructions properly. That was easy enough to do. It couldn’t be that simple.
Right before I reached the chair, I began to subvocalize.
“System, I want to purchase an ability that will last for only this life. I want to be able to instinctively know how someone who cultivates the techniques I am supposed to be cultivating would react at all times.”
Cost 100,000 credits. Confirmed. 149,833,275 credits remaining.
I sat down and began to read the first line of the book.
‘Stand up and leave the building.’
I stood immediately, but I didn’t move. ‘Do not leave the building’ superseded the instruction to ‘Do everything it tells you to do.’
I returned to reading the book.
‘Enter the door to your right.’
I walked over, opened the door, and went inside.
On the other side, there were two men in a fierce battle. I hadn’t sensed anything from outside the room, but inside, qi flew everywhere, and the sounds of swords clashing together were incessant.
One of the men was dressed in the maroon livery of the palace guard.
The other man was dressed in all black and looked like nothing more than a stereotypical assassin. The only thing that stood out was a small token attached to his left shoulder.
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“Kill him!” shouted the guard.
I didn’t move. The technique was supposed to prevent me from killing.
I started to look down at the book to read the next line.
“Subdue him!” the assassin shouted.
I immediately dashed to the man dressed as a guard. From the strength he had displayed, this man had to be a Grandmaster, so my actions were little more than throwing an egg against a brick wall, but anyone wearing the token on the assassin’s shoulder must be obeyed without question, save for when a superior has already given explicit orders otherwise.
As the knowledge of what I was supposed to do rushed into me, I was amazed that whoever had designed the cultivation technique had been able to embed so many explicit commands and contingencies within its mental influence. I had never heard of a cultivation technique that could do this before. In my experience, they only amplified personality traits.
I didn’t let my incredulity delay my actions. I ran forward.
When I reached the guardsman, I was quickly batted away. A light swipe from the Grandmaster knocked me back several feet and sent me reeling on the floor.
I was about to stand up and charge him again, but the knowledge from my new ability stopped me. I hadn’t completed the task, but in this situation, I was supposed to abandon it.
I stood up and read the next line of the book.
‘Go back the way you came then leave the building.’
I walked back into the large room I started in and stood in front of the chair.
My boss entered the room.
“Follow me. You have a new assignment.”
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I was led through a series of passageways that I could barely remember. Our final destination was a small building in the far northeastern corner of the palace complex. It was of a plain design, but large enough for a Lord and a small retinue.
The boss led me around the back and into a side room where we found an older man reading over reports.
“Steward Lee, a new servant for Prince XianHo,” said my boss.
The steward didn’t show even a flicker of emotion. “Understood. Leave him.”
My former boss immediately bowed and exited the room.
“You are to learn every job given to servants,” said the steward, “including mine. You have experience in the kitchens, so you will start there. The quicker you learn, the quicker you may be elevated in rank. If you do not learn, you will be returned to your previous position. Dismissed.”
Instinctively, I bowed and exited the room. Outside, a young maid was waiting to guide me to the kitchen.
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My time under Prince XianHo lasted for decades. After learning all the jobs in the kitchen, I was sent to do the gardening. Then, I learned to wash the clothes of the prince and all of his servants. Then, I spent time learning the intricacies of cleaning each type of room in the palace.
I didn’t even catch a glimpse of the prince until I was assigned as his valet, responsible for arranging his ensembles and helping him dress.
This lasted for over sixty years. At first, learning the various tasks the servants were responsible for was interesting. This wasn’t a topic I had studied before, so everything was new.
I tried to talk with a few of the other servants under the prince, but it was difficult to engage with them. Our life experiences were completely different, and I had no interest in their gossip about people’s personal affairs.
As the years wore on, I came to rely on my instinctive ability to act as if I were under the slave technique more and more. Eventually, I nearly stopped thinking entirely, only letting my ability guide my actions. The peace of being a simple servant and only following my instincts, not needing to think about anything, was relaxing. In a way, this wasn’t unlike when I had been in the thrall of cultivation techniques in the past. The difference was that this only affected my body. My mind was free to drift off to sleep.
At first, I thought that if I reached Peak Disciple before thirty, I would be given a technique to advance to Martial Master before my cultivation began to calcify, but that didn’t happen. I reached Peak Disciple at 28, and nearly 50 years later, I still hadn’t been allowed to advance.
I could have committed suicide and abandoned this life as a failure at that point. Maybe I should have. I didn’t seem to be learning anything that I had wanted to when I started down this path. The only reason for sticking around was a faint hope that I would have a chance to meet Formation Emperor Du XiongMing, but was that really so important?
I considered restarting, but I didn’t. Having downtime where I didn’t have to think about my actions was relaxing. I didn’t have to plan, and I didn’t have to worry about what would happen next. I just reacted. It was freeing.
Unfortunately, the end of this simple existence came when I was called to attend the prince on a trip outside the palace.
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For this trip, I was the prince’s lone escort. Though this seemed strange to me, it wasn’t explained, and it wasn’t my place to question him.
We did not take a carriage. Instead, we walked, the prince in the lead, out of the palace and onto the busy city streets.
The prince made several stops to order various things he wanted to be delivered to the palace, and it all felt slightly out of place, but I had become so reliant on letting my ability control my responses that I didn’t question it overly much.
The more we walked, the more the crowd thinned out until we were the only two people on the street. While this seemed like it should be concerning, the prince was walking casually as if nothing were amiss, and my ability wanted me to keep following him calmly, so I didn’t worry about it.
We were walking down a wide stretch of road, buildings walling us in on both sides when a group of men stepped out of the shadows and blocked our path forward. At the same time, I noticed another group blocking the way we had come from. We had been trapped alone on a deserted street.
The prince remained calm. So did I.
A large man with bulging muscles in a shirt of ripped-off sleeves walked through the men and stood in front of us.
“Du XianHo, it’s time for you to die.” His mouth twisted into an evil smile as he stared at us.
“Yi HongNian, I was hoping to find you,” laughed the prince.
Without another word, the prince rushed forward and started attacking the muscly man. As he did, the man’s gang started to approach me with murder in their eyes.
Everything felt off.
My ability wanted me to continue standing here calmly. I was not to defend myself nor was I to try and assist the prince. I was just supposed to stand here.
I nearly rebelled against what I was supposed to do, but I realized that I couldn’t sense any malice from anyone. Even though the men appeared to be thugs who wanted to kill me, it all felt like a bad act. This was a test, nearly identical to the last one I had been given. Was this check if I had just been faking my obedience last time? To see if the passing of several decades had led to me no longer following the script I was supposed to?
Deciding to let things play out, I followed my ability’s advice and didn’t move.
The prince was stabbed and fell to the ground bleeding.
I didn’t react.
I was given a heavy hit and knocked to the ground.
I calmly stood and dusted myself off. Shortly after I did so, the prince also stood and looked at me with piercing eyes. The gang surrounding us made no further movements.
The prince called to the man who had just stabbed him. “Raise him to Master and send him to Prince CaoHan.”