Xiuying

Forced advancement, the waterfall that many a cultivator has lost their lives chasing.

A phenomenon, born from a moment of great emotion or deep clarity.

An event of such great rarity, that they say that only one in a thousand cultivators are likely to ever experience it.

For the cultivator trapped in a bottleneck, locked by the restrictions of their own lacking talent, forced advancement is the only way through… or at least, the cheapest.

Usually.

See, forced advancement does a lot more than simply push a cultivator up a layer, it expands them.

Suddenly, heights that were unattainable to them, beyond the reach of their talents, become achievable goals.

Arduous goals, true, but achievable nonetheless.

And this is why, to the cultivator without the resources of a king, bottlenecked or not, forced advancement can be a life-changing blessing.

Most often, it happens in battle; faced with overwhelming odds, a cultivator, if they be lucky enough to have the chance of it, can push through and beyond.

Of course, in most such instances, the cultivator dies promptly; since they’re in battle and forced advancement leaves you an exhausted wreck, which is not conducive to survival.

This is generally why the more sensible cultivators who try for forced advancement use meditation instead, hoping for enlightenment.

They sit on mountaintops, or under waterfalls, meditating for years and years, all in the hope that, somehow, they’ll unravel some great mystery about themselves or their cultivation that will give them that needed push.

The particularly desperate have been known to resort to inflicting trauma on themselves, or those in whom they wish to instigate forced advancement.

Torture physical and mental, psychotropic drugs, the real risk of shattering one’s cultivation… all to chase that hope. The hope of pushing past the limitations that heaven has set upon you.

All this and more is why they call it ‘chasing the horizon’. A fruitless task. Virtually impossible. And it came to Xiuying from one conversation in a restaurant while breaking chopsticks.

True, she wasn’t bottlenecked; her cultivation had slowed extensively in recent years, yes, but it had nothing to do with talent.

The Bloody Fang Mountains is a region low in natural qi, it’s why, much like the cultivators, the qi beasts to be found here are rarely ever past the Formation Realm.

The low concentration of natural qi, paired with the lack of means for her to distinguish herself and earn worthwhile supplements for her cultivation from The Empire, meant that her growth had been almost halved in recent years.

Bottlenecked or not though, forced advancement was a boon all the same, and Xian Qigang had given it to her from one conversation in a restaurant while breaking chopsticks.

What could she say to that? How could she repay it? When would she be able to look at a chopstick again without losing herself in the memory of, what is without doubt, the most incredible moment of her life?

Xiuying didn’t know, but she was here today in the hopes of finding out.

She was kept waiting for several minutes.

Of course she was.

Besides the fact that her arrival was probably what roused Qigang out of bed this morning, she knew that that witch manager of his, would go out of her way to waste Xiuying’s time and keep her waiting here like some common servant.

Xiuying’s gut roiled again at what she was here to do, but she stilled it with sheer will.

Debts must be repaid.

And make no mistake, this was a debt. She’d asked Xian Qigang for a favour; to explain to her enlightenment, hoping that she could glean something from his words that would give her even a thousandth of the fortune he’d found, and by heaven he had delivered.

So, yes, she was indebted to him, and she would repay it.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

She only hoped that his apparent changes in personality were more than skin-deep. If they weren’t…

She shook away the thought.

Debts must be repaid.

When Xian Qigang entered the comfortable parlour she’d been waiting in (escorted of course, by his Manager), she noticed immediately that he had undergone some advancement of his own.

It was surprising, but not overly so. His cultivation method was essentially the same as it had been, after all, simply two ranks higher; he could literally do nothing but fuck around for the next five years and still climb back to his previous cultivation level.

It was how rapidly he climbed in cultivation after that would truly show his talent.

“Hey, Vice Commander,” Xian Qigang greeted informally with a small, pleased smile that was not slimy at all to look at.

In fact, it was a rather nice smile, all things considered.

That would take some getting used to.

“You look better,” he added, taking a seat, Meng Yi moving to take a place beside him.

Xiuying eyed the girl at her boldness; proper etiquette (by which she really meant the ridiculous rules snooty, rich people made up to made themselves feel special) demanded that, as a servant, Meng Yi should be standing in the corner, if not waiting outside the room entirely.

Yet here she was, seated beside Xian Qigang like she was his social equal.

Meng Yi, seeing Xiuying’s look, gave her a cocky smile in return.

Xiuying frowned. The girl had done something similar at the restaurant, been more casual around Qigang than she’d ever dared before his enlightenment.

It would appear that Qigang had changed enough that such breaches of etiquette didn’t bother him anymore, and Meng Yi was taking every advantage to insert herself into his life as something above the servant and bedwarmer that she’d always been.

She must be trying to snag an official position as a concubine, or maybe, if all her stars align, a wife.

Xiuying felt disgust.

What a conniving woman.

“Vice Commander,” Qigang called.

She looked at him, and as their eyes met, the sound of a chopstick hitting a soup bowl rang in her mind and she looked away.

A part of her hated herself for the display of what every fiber of her being told her was weakness, but the rest of her knew that it was unavoidable.

It was too soon. The effect too raw.

In time, sure, but not today.

“I’m fine…” she hesitated before adding “…Young Master. Thanks for your concern.”

“You’re welcome. Oh, yeah, that reminds me—” he turned to Meng Yi “—how’s the Magistrate? With his age and everything, that must have been rough on him.”

“I received an update from Aide Dai this morning; he’s still unconscious, but stable,” Meng Yi said.

Xiuying’s eyes widened. “It’s true then?” she asked, and when those eyes returned to her, she looked away again.

The tiger in her soul, born of her cultivation method, stirred, offended that they treated like a superior predator someone they surpassed so clearly.

She calmed it and her qi settled.

“What is true?” Qigang asked carefully.

“That you pushed Magistrate Qin Zedong into forced advancement too,” Xiuying clarified and the Young Master sighed.

“It was an accident,” he said, like he was desperate for the world to believe it.

“That really doesn’t make it better, Young Master Xian,” Meng Yi pointed out.

She was right.

Having it be a deliberate act is one thing, but if he’d actually accidentally pushed, not one, but two cultivators into forced advancement within hours of each other… she had no words.

Was this the power of a noble rank celestial plum?

How amazing.

Qigang sighed again, and, in a pathetically obvious attempt to change the topic, said; “So, um, Vice Commander, what can we do for you? Meng Yi told me you’ve been wanting to see me for days now.”

Xiuying swallowed, then took an arming breath, and, ignoring the woman who was no doubt enjoying this, kowtowed before Xian Qigang.

“Young Master Xian Qigang, this Xiuying thanks you for the benevolence you have shown her. Please, allow her to repay your kindness in turn.”

Never. Not once in her life had she done something like this. And yet here she was.

The tiger in her soul burned at the act, but then the rest of her remembered the sound of a chopstick hitting a soup bowl.

She had to repay this debt.

“I’ve told you, it wasn’t benevolence,” Qigang said. “It was an accident, and it cost me nothing. But, since I’m pretty sure it will make you feel better to know you don’t owe me anything, then…” he paused for a few moments, thinking.

“Ah! You’re a good fighter, right?” he asked finally.

“It is literally the only thing she’s good at,” the infuriating bitch beside Qigang spoke before she could, and though it took all of Xiuying’s willpower, she said nothing.

“Okay, good,” Qigang said. “Because I want you to train me.”

Xiuying looked at the man in shock.

“What?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I’m not much of a fighter. Don’t think I ever was. Unfortunately, in a world like this, the strength of one’s arm matters; and it’s always better to be a warrior in a garden than a gardener on the battlefield.

“So, I want you to train me. And don’t go easy either; push me to my limits and beyond. Consider your debt repaid the day I beat you in a spar.”

Xiuying looked up at the man with Xian Qigang’s face who was as different from him as the sun was to a shit-filled gutter.

“Understood, Young Master Xian,” she said. “Thank you for your kindness.”

She meant it too.