20. Challenge

  “Father, what is your other self doing right now?” Atla asked, leaning back into me and looking up at me with his starry eyes. Literally, there were stars in them if you looked close enough.

  “I don’t know. I won’t know until I come back and he rejoins into me,” I answered, shifting his weight slightly so that I could write easier. He had insisted upon sitting on my lap as I worked at my desk in the office Di Ram had given me.

  “What if he doesn’t come back? What if he decides that he likes Prince Doe’s world better than me?” Atla asked.

  “If he doesn’t come back, the more likely explanation is that he died,” I pointed out. “Especially since I would never choose to abandon you. It was with a very heavy heart that my avatar severed the bond between us, and—”

  “He’s going to die, isn’t he?” Atla asked. “I know he probably is, that’s why you didn’t send any of your friends. Because if an avatar dies, all you lose is a bit of Qi. But if your friends die, then you lose a friend.”

  I was silent for a moment. “I lose more than a bit of Qi if an avatar dies, Atla. At least, if the one that I sent to Duke Doe dies I will. The avatars that you interact with are all linked to me very closely and I’m able to reclaim what I invest in them when they vanish. The one I sent to Duke Dao, it is almost like a second me. If it dies, then I lose a part of myself that I can never get back.”

  “Never?”

  “Not unless I go to Duke Doe’s world and reclaim it myself,” I explained. “But if I had to guess, I’d have to fight him for it, since even a fragment of me would be something that he would try to claim for himself. At least, if my visions of the potential futures are accurate and he is the man I think he is.”

  “And what sort of man do you think he is?”

  I paused to consider. “Hungry,” I answered eventually.

  “The monkey and the boar are fighting again.”

  “As long as they leave the tea plantation alone they can do whatever they want.”

  “Okay.”

  ~~~~~~

  The private audience was, as always, not exactly private. There were scribes there to capture the words of the prince and the guests, though those records might never be revealed to the rest of the cosmos. They would be recorded nonetheless. There were servants to refill the wine and serve the sweetmeats. There was a harpist in the corner, carefully plucking away at her instrument with the skill that only a cultivator could manage.

  “Before you ask, I want to assure you that the mortals brought to this world for their performances, such as the acrobats you saw the other day, are volunteers who are treated humanely. Being in this Qi dense environment, their dantians ignite naturally whether they try to cultivate or not, so their careers in entertainment are relatively quick, but the pay is very good. When they leave, they are referred to a number of opportunities beyond anything that they could have achieved on their home worlds,” Prince Yema said as soon as the introductions were made.

  The Dao companions exchanged looks. “Is that so?”

  “Indeed. I do not exactly keep track of them once they leave my employ, so I don’t know the full details. But it is my understanding, after a brief investigation, that they typically reach the silver path within ten years of leaving my service. As you know, having made the transition from silver to gold yourselves, advancing to gold is as much a personal journey as one of seeking power, and it is where most cultivators fail. It is for that reason that me and others like me consider the golden path to be the true start of cultivation.”

  “And thus, you call us infants,” Farun said, sipping on his tea.

  “Nothing of the sort. That distinction is for worlds like mine. Xian worlds with powerful cores and environments full of Qi. That you were born in a Qi starved environment such as one of the worlds governed by Duke Loshi and managed to reach the golden path on your own, or at least as part of a cohort, makes you exceptional. I am eager to see what you achieve in the future as you continue to follow your dao.”

  The companions exchanged looks, then nodded.

  “You’ve noticed it too. The courtiers, they’re shallow,” Arjun said.

  “If they were a puddle, I could step in them in sandals without wetting my toes,” Yema agreed. “The sort that flock to my court are very interesting conversationalists, but they hold very little real power. They cling to illusions and allusions, while the ones who hold actual sway do so from a distance.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “Why do you play with them such?” Farun asked.

  Yema shrugged and swirled her wine. “It passes the time. I expect to live a hundred thousand years or more. Watching the peacocks is a hobby that keeps me from growing idle and indolent. Ennui is the greatest enemy of the Xian lords, and it is one that we have dedicated entire worlds like this one to battling.”

  She downed her wine and motioned for another glass, which was promptly placed in her hand.

  “Be thankful that you were not sent to Duke Doe, for his entertainment is rather more competitive than mine.”

  ~~~~~~

  The punch to my sternum was backed by the opponent’s – Piotr, his name was Piotr – entire path. Every step, every practice punch, every strike that he had ever made against an opponent was embodied in that blow, just as it had been in the strike that had one his last duel and the one before that.

  I saw his path, growing linearly stronger with each defeated opponent. He was on the cusp of the platinum path, yet he stood guardian of floor fifty-one. It’s sole occupant, for those who could defeat him did not stay long, and those who could not were sent down to floor forty to make the climb again.

  My ribs cracked, and I coughed up blood. He grinned, confident in his victory. I grabbed his wrist and shook my head.

  “Shallow,” I said.

  I struck him on the side of the head with my knee, and he went flying into the wall. I fell to one knee, he crumpled to the ground. I coughed up more blood, then stood.

  Piotr did not.

  The holographic screens across the battlefield showed our witnesses cheering or jeering the outcome of the battle. It was unusual for two diamond path cultivators to come to physical blows, but once they did, the outcome was usually devastating.

  Piotr still did not stand.

  I worried for a moment over his health, going so far as to check the strands of his fate.

  I saw only glory in front of him. I had not seen that going into the battle. I had changed his path without intending to, but such was the way of things. Limping, I made my way to the elevator and pressed my bloody hand against the scanner. It flashed green, and I rose to floor fifty-two.

  Behind me, Piotr finally stirred, pulling himself to his knees.

  “Thank you, elder brother, for correcting my path,” he whispered, drowned out by the continuing cheering of the crowds from the hovering holograms.

  I heard his words despite the interference, but the doors closed behind me before I could offer him any further encouragement.

  On the next floor, I showered and allowed my ribs to be bound by ‘mortal’ servants of the silver path. I ate, drank, and examined the rules of this floor.

  In order to advance, I needed to challenge two competitors and defeat them in combat. Each of them, however, were combatants on the level of Piotr, who had been serving as gatekeeper for this floor for ten years. He could have advanced at any stage, but had deliberately caused a bottleneck.

  I nodded, examining the names of the competitors, along with the score card next to them. Reading their scores was misleading, for many of them had advanced only to have been knocked back down by the rules of the floors above them.

  I checked my own score.

  Five hundred twenty-one wins. Mostly by forfeit or default, as the early challenges in the tower were against golden path cultivators who had withdrawn once I’d shown my power. Two losses. Humbling defeats that I had learned from, despite the setbacks they had caused me.

  I had missed the cutoff to receive an audience with Duke Doe by the date of my invitation, but I hadn’t really been expected to take on the tower in three days. The next audience with the highest ranked competitor was in six weeks.

  I had until then to reach the penthouse.

  I closed my eyes and cycled my Qi, as acutely aware as ever that this world was not Atla, and I willed my body to heal.

  Twenty minutes later, the lingering effects of Piotr’s dao left my body and I was whole again.

  I picked a name at random from the card and issued a challenge.

  When they declined, I promptly issued another, and another, and another.

  On the tenth challenge, I was issued a super challenge, one that could not be declined.

  I blinked, for I hadn’t been informed of that rule. I reviewed the rules and found that I was able to carry the super challenges to higher floors.

  Grinning, I continued to challenge until I had only two names left on the list.

  ?