19. Elevation

  “So the Sect master asks Little Bug, ‘what is the secret to enlightenment?’ Little Bug replies ‘Patience.’ The sect master grows angry and says ‘I’ve waited for centuries for this answer!’ Little Bug shrugs and says ‘a little more patience, then,’” Farun said, delivering the punchline with a deadpan voice.

  The courtiers laughed, and Lahri handed him a drink. He kissed her on the cheek and fed her a skewered sweet-meat while Arjun sat on her other side, his arm around her.

  “Okay, I have one,” Arjun said. “Why does nobody gossip about the Dao?”

  “We gossip about our Dao all of the time,” one of the courtiers explained.

  “Okay, why don’t the masters gossip about the Dao?” he amended, and the group broke into laughter.

  “Why?” a young woman asked once the laughter had died down.

  “Nobody wants second-hand enlightenment,” he answered, and the group laughed once more.

  In the lavish ballroom of one of Prince Yema’s many vassals, they gossiped and joked with their peers. Cultivators of the golden path who had drawn their master’s eyes, like the companions.

  Arjun could tell that none of these young cultivators would advance much further than they had already. Their daos were hollow and shallow. Already he could see that their paths, which had gotten them this far, were largely guided by their parents and their guardians. When it came time for them to step out of the shadows of their elders, they would wilt in the sunlight.

  But he laughed and joked with the rest of the group, because it wasn’t his path to guide these souls.

  His path was to make certain that he and his beloved ones didn’t fall victim to the same trap that they had.

  The music started up again, and the mortal acrobats came out to entertain. The fact that they were mortals and not cultivators was part of the act, for their antics wouldn’t have been impressive for even a bronze path junior. But for a mortal?

  Farun wondered what it was that drove them to practice so hard when they could simply cultivate. In Prince Yema’s world, the Qi was thick enough that one needed only to reach out and take it into themselves to ignite the dantian and begin their path. These mortals must have been imported from offworld, he realized.

  “Say, how long are these mortals expected to serve before they are permitted to cultivate,” he asked the other watchers.

  The courtiers frowned at each other. “I don’t know that anyone has ever asked that before. I know that they are retired when they can no longer perform, but I never thought about whether they would be permitted to cultivate.”

  “Are they returned to their home world or permitted to stay?” Lahri inquired.

  The others exchanged looks, but nobody had an answer.

  “We can find out if you’re really curious,” one of the courtiers suggested.

  “No need,” Farun said. “I’ll simply ask Prince Yema at our next visit. It will be nice to discuss the treatment of mortals in his realm, so that I will be able to share his advice to our lord Little Bug once we return.”

  The others exchanged nervous looks, for the wise among them realized that there was a subtle barb in the comment, as well as a subtle flex of the companions position as emissaries. They moved past it in conversation, however, and on to the next topic.

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  The companions continued to thrive, even as they pushed themselves to new heights in the unfamiliar but dense Qi of Prince Yema’s core world.

  Honestly, Lahri thought to herself, this was nothing compared to the political games that Farun’s sect played within itself. But navigating these waters as a unit was challenging and rewarding.

  Soon they would reach the Diamond Path, and then they would return home, victorious.

  ~~~~~~~

  The tower that I was given, I quickly learned, was one of thousands on the core world of Duke Doe. And they were each a crucible.

  Every child, at the age of five, is taken from their parents and brought to the base of the tower, where they are given an education of how to read, write, and cultivate. Their only way to reunite with their parents is to advance through the tower. Advancement was not simple, however.

  In order to reach the tenth floor, a child must win the tournament that takes place every week on the ninth.

  In order to reach the twentieth floor, the child must reach the bronze path.

  In order to reach the thirtieth floor, the child must win another tournament.

  Those who stagnate and did not advance were permitted to stay on their current floor, but they were allotted fewer resources. Less food, less access to cultivation resources and less time in the Qi dense cultivation rooms.

  Competition was fierce, as everyone wished to live in the penthouse sweets, the floors which had been vacated for my personal use at a moments notice. There was intense jealousy among those who had been evicted, and after my encounter with the roc, they felt justified in challenging me to a duel.

  The duel itself was not worth speaking of, as the highest among the cultivators on this tower were only of the golden path, while I strode the diamond. None of them lasted more than a few minutes before me, although I was gentle in putting down their complaints. I had, after all, caused their untimely eviction, so I couldn’t be too upset with them.

  Once the hierarchy was established, I asked them what the next stage of their advancement would be, and was told that after reaching the penthouse, they were expected to wait until every room was filled, and then, when they had a full team, they would make the journey to the court and present themselves to the duke.

  On average, one in five survived this journey, but those who did were given resources to advance further yet.

  The ultimate dream of every child was to be able to walk the wilderness of their birthplace without fear, which would require the strength of at least the diamond path.

  I was horrified at the systemic brutality that these young cultivators endured. However, as I explored the tower, I came to realize that while many had given in to apathy and simply stagnated in their environment, many more were driven to constant advancement.

  While I disagreed with his methods, I couldn’t argue with the results that Duke Doe’s system had produced. The current cohort of golden path cultivators was fifty strong, and the oldest was twenty-five years old. The last expedition had set out two years ago.

  The rate at which he was producing powerful young warriors was impressive, and it had me wondering what he needed them for.

  When a servant arrived on one of the flying cars to present me with the official invitation to attend a session of court, I was given an option that was an obvious challenge to my personal might and pride.

  I could either accept a ride on one of the warded flying conveyances, or I could make the journey on foot.

  I set out immediately, for the trip would take one week, and I had exactly that amount of time before my expected arrival.

  I arrived three days early, having ruined my robes. I was shirtless, scratched with wounds that would not heal, and covered in blood that was both mine and from a dozen different beasts. But I was triumphant, and those who saw me arrive cheered my approach, heralding me with wreathes of flowers and escorting me to my new rooms at the base of the tower.

  I had misconstrued my invitation, it seems.

  I was expected to climb this tower floor by floor in order to speak with the Duke, who lived at the top.

  I took the time to bathe and change into the uniform of one of the many young adults who lived in this tower, a golden gi with black pants.

  And then I set about challenging the tower.

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