Echoing wasn’t a quick process. It was time consuming, laborious, and needed a level of Essence control that was nothing less than monstrous. Unless, of course, you were completely and utterly cheating. Artorian extended his Presence, wrapping Jiivra in it.
With her Center both unprotected and lacking any of the Auric defenses a cultivator normally had, he was able to work with his full ability regardless of being in a body that wasn’t his. Temporarily, her body sort of was his, but only sort of. The reality was far more complicated, as he still required a direct connection to her hands.
It took days. Days of constant direction from Cataphron, coupled with the old man and student being wiped down and fed while they remained rooted to their positions. Non-cultivators had no hope of even staying awake that long.
Students didn’t gripe at needing to clean others as they worked in shifts. They’d been doing that for years, and this time they didn’t hate the people they were taking care of. Plus, as an additional freebie, they learned a great number of cultivation terms long before Artorian had said they were supposed to.
This ‘new student’ had been a cultivator beforehand, but lost it somehow. They found out quickly that you needed additional things just to stay alive, and those ‘things’ were what both of their teachers were currently mending.
Or one of them was, while the other grew ever happier. The weaker Artorian became, and the further his rank dropped, the greater the enjoyment Cataphron was getting out of the situation. Skipping cultivation for a few days was absolutely worth this extended show. Artorian did somehow manage to passively cultivate even as he was building a lesser copy of his cultivation technique into the girl, but it was negligible.
If anything, Cataphron disliked that he could see neither the progress, nor what was going on internally. That blasted Aura hanging around them was completely blocking out any attempts to glean deeper information.
Artorian returned to the life of loop, twist, loop. Since Jiivra barely had any Essence, he was using his own purified Essence to strand-twist a Core technique into being. He tried to make a simple spiral. He had tried four times, in fact. He’d royally flubbed it every single time, and had defaulted to a copy of his own. A significantly lessened version, but apparently you could not Echo a cultivation technique you were not currently in the process of using. He had zero time to figure out why, so he simply kept up the effort.
“Bernoulli, don’t fail me now!” It had been so difficult keeping hold of the Essence inside of her that he’d constructed a honeycomb webway around her Center; just to put a hold on the awful, awful Essence loss he was undergoing. Only after did he successfully form an initial ring, settling on a few more as he talked her through how to spin them when she woke. Luckily for him, she was a clever kitten and learned quickly.
When the task was finally complete, and Jiivra was breathing on her own accord once more, Artorian was down to a pathetic, measly F-rank eight. Alive, but what a setback. Cataphron slurped the juice from a peach as he watched the show. “Aww. Stopping already? Come now, maybe just a little further?”
The men exchanged silent glares, and Artorian didn’t even have the energy for a clever quip. “Can… can you protect the mountain while I recover? This is not… not at all how I was expecting this to go.”
Horrendously wobbly, Artorian needed help from multiple students just to stand up. Cataphron tossed the peach pit into a patch of grass and clapped his hands together. “Your little scheme at the base of the mountain? Yes, it would be a shame to let all those cobras and cultivation tools… I mean, ‘raiders’ go to waste. It was a great idea to let two sources of trouble clean each other up, but if I do things my way down there… they’ll all be far more useful, and more importantly I’ll get more out of it for my cultivation. Raiders are just dead bodies waiting to happen, and those cobras are perfect for my earth and water channels.”
He almost clapped Artorian on the shoulder, but stopped short by several inches. If he touched the old man now, he’d break the oath and be struck down. A C-ranker hitting an F-ranker only ever had one outcome. Even so… Cataphron grinned from ear to ear.
Let the weaklings play in the safety of the mountaintop while he raked in both profit and fame at the base of it. They were expecting a cultivator of great power to be on the mountain? They’d find him if they dared to climb it, and he’d gladly weed out the unwanted chaff. Cataphron went off to play with snakes, as Jiivra started eating to regain strength.
Her voice was doing much better, but she had concerns as she concentrated on spinning a dozen interlocking core-rings. “Why did you do this for me?”
Artorian beamed a bright smile at her, though he was clearly exhausted. “I did what any father would when they find their daughter in such a state.”
Jiivra tried hard not to cry. She failed, covering her mouth with both hands. “I… I can’t cultivate. They stripped me of the songs.”
Artorian made a ‘come along’ motion, helped by the students as he reached into her pocket and flipped open a little pocket book before pressing it into her hand. “It is good then, that someone was clever enough to write them all down.”
He winked at her as the Sugar Glider jumped, hugging Artorian’s shoulder. It was time to rest.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
It took the entire five years of the Headmaster bet for Artorian to recover. Infusing Echo cultivation was no joke, and the permanent drain hit him deep. In return, he felt that the cost had been worth it.
What was a few years of progress measured against the life of a treasured friend? Jiivra made an excellent addition as first official academy instructor. While life had been repetitive, the academy and world around them revolved at an evolutionary pace. Every season Artorian spent lecturing, reading books, cultivating in the sun, and otherwise doing little other than being a mentor and recovering his strength, the academy boomed in size and bloomed in its wealth of knowledge, productivity, and general beauty. The health of the place was easily twentyfold higher than before.
Fresh flowers lined the edges of every walkway and miniature garden. Palisades and short stone walls had been built around the mountain’s edges to prevent accidental falls. Beyond the look and feel of the place, the dynamic of the mountain had also significantly altered.
Atop the mountain’s apex, Artorian drew a deep, peaceful breath. His gently swaying cloth robe was simple and clean. It hung about his hips while he balanced atop a bamboo pole, his well-muscled chest exposed to bright sunlight. He drew its radiance in so ferociously that his cultivation alone temperature-controlled the mountaintop. There was no excess light, as he controlled his Essence precisely.
Over the years, Artorian infused his Meridians, body, bones, skin, and Aura. Had he but the requisite energy, he would be fully prepared to step into the C-ranks. His own fault really, as his propensity to get distracted with little side projects never faded. He could have been a C-ranker by now, even with all the setbacks, but had decided against it. He was like a kitten whose curiosity frequently got the better of it.
Artorian stretched on the bamboo shoot, returning his simple robes to his shoulders. The Gi was too big for him, but the slightly baggy outfit did wonders for hiding both his scars and his head-turning physical strength. He still wouldn’t be able to beat Cataphron in a contest of power, but it was an improvement from even before the event that had come to be known as ‘The Echoing’.
The apex of the mountain was Artorian’s personal little cultivation zone. Underneath him tension-spanned tent sheets, with several hookah pipes lined up on a stone table. Baskets of food and bottles of drink strategically littered the tower-shaped ground. Wherever someone went within the confines of the windbreaker screens, they could always find a nutritious snack.
His naked feet tip-tapped down the clean stairs. To his delight, they once again glimmered and shone with even the faintest of light. Artorian didn’t feel the need to check any of the nine layers of the academy. He knew that each was bar
red by a black-meteorite door, and over the years only some had been unlocked.
Gnomish design was infuriatingly clever. It would take more years than he had to figure out how to unlock the remaining five. He’d puzzled out four; the last only with the help of ingenious students. While five floors remained a mystery, the accessible floors held mystical secrets.
The ninth floor contained an observatory, occupied by a massive lensing artifact that somehow perceived all the way to the stars. The sixth floor held strange bits and baubles he couldn’t make heads or tails of. Gnomish toys… or infernal contraptions? No idea. They didn’t function with Essence, something stronger was needed.
A boring lecture hall was all that was found on the fifth floor. That door had been unlocked the whole time and nobody had thought to try the infernal handle! Gah. Finally, the first floor contained the Library, his pride and joy of all the floors uncovered so far. The black door was open as he passed, and his ears picked up the scribbles of pens and rustling of flipped pages. The existing student body had grown, and such progress they had made! Had they been this gifted the entire time, or were they simply hard-working?
His eyes caught many new students as they passed. Faces both young and old donned the robes of flower and leaf. It seemed that the hierarchy thrived, even without him. His original gifting of robes had been passed down from teacher to student. Since Rosewood’s clothing line regrew itself so long as you kept the article well-maintained and spilled food and water on them every once in a while, they functioned as fantastic legacy items. This also ensured that the youngest students always had the best of the robes.
The original class from five years ago had gifted their robes to the new generation. As for them, simple cloth robes were enough; they no longer needed fancy clothing to help them feel special. As additional reinforcement, they had made their new robes themselves. A testament to their self-achieved accomplishments.
The special clothing made the younglings ecstatic, especially some of the girls. Not only did they gain academy admission, but they got to grow into fabulous robes while they were at it? It didn’t matter if the new students were of merchant, Noble, or otherwise well-off backgrounds. They had gotten past Cataphron and successfully climbed the mountain. That was all the test necessary, and none was required further.
Speaking of Cataphron… Artorian decided that he should go see the man. Artorian had not descended the mountain once since ‘The Echoing’, and it was time to officially collect from their bargain, even if he’d carried the title of Headmaster for a while now.
The open access rooms had all become occupied. Either as lodging, or as cultivation locations. An entire system had been developed by the students for signing up who used what, when, and for what purpose. It was a beauty in administrative bookkeeping, and it warmed Artorian’s heart as he passed the massive ledger. The original students made it themselves, and even the paper had been pressed from plants grown right here on the mountain.
Clasping his arms behind the small of his back, he smiled brightly and stepped into the sunlight. “Good day, Headmaster!”
Young students beamed and waved at him as he passed. Age notwithstanding, he was indistinguishable from the other instructors in the youngster’s eyes. How delightful it was to exist around the young, so full of excitement and wonder!
“Grandfather! You look well. We'll bring you some food later!” the veteran students hollered at him, exchanging pleasant waves. He fondly returned them, not pausing his brisk walk.
More minor interactions continued as he was given the space to pass. The old cultivator was a little slower than the children on his stroll. He passed teacher Xi, who was accompanied by a neat line of the youngest generation of students. You could always tell who they were, as they were still learning the most basic of practices.
While Xi performed the palm-to-fist gesture on the way, he didn’t stop his conga line. His class needed to be washed before introductory lessons, and they were already running late. Xi operated on a tight schedule, and the brats had been giving him grief all morning.
Confused by their instructor providing respect to only one person on the entire trip, whispered realization passed between them. They looked upon the old man with awe. That was the Headmaster. The Headmaster, and they needed to show no fealty whatsoever?
Even though he was the highest in the hierarchy, he just walked along like he was one of them? It blew their minds that he would lower himself to their status. Rumors from adults were one thing, seeing it was another. The newest students were so used to needing to bow to their superiors or be punished, that this entire journey was akin to an unbelievable fantasy.
The rules here vastly differed from their preconceptions. There were no beatings because someone disliked an action you took, or took offense to something you said. Instead, the offender was taken by the shoulder and asked if they knew what had just upset the others. If the child failed to understand what they’d done wrong, the adults around them explained it.
While the lessons weren’t always concise, they ended only when the child indicated they had understood. Some of the older kids remained suspicious, waiting for the other shoe to drop… but it never did. They were welcomed here. They were wanted.
The spacious academy front was open and clean, and served as a major crossroad. It had been kept as such on purpose, due to the consistently heavy traffic. Once Artorian passed the academy gates, he paused in what had once been the royal gardens. It had been converted to something more useful; such a convenient, flat, fertile patch of land was better served used to cultivate food.
The gardens doubled as an easy outdoor place to lecture while students snacked on apples, pears, raspberries, and more. Even some exotic fruit had successfully been planted. The ‘dates’ had to go up on the mountaintop with him, something about heat and sunlight. He left the botany project to the enthusiastic students, letting them plant as needed. His Wood Elf family would have been proud.
Traveling down a brand-new path leading to the Inner Pagoda, he grumbled quietly about the length of the trip. Sure, the structure had been splendidly rebuilt; but the new path spiraled, snaking around the mountain rather than messily zig-zagging. It was a bigger detour than he wanted, and he quietly plotted shortcuts.
Inner space that had once been the old paths had been cleared and overhauled. Now they were used as additional planting grounds for tubers, mushrooms, and sturdy variants of grasses that made for great baskets and paper. The students couldn’t be blamed, the tunnels were optimal for the growth of those vegetable types; some plants required an absence of light to grow and be properly nurtured.
A beautiful building painted in an earthy shade of metallic greens that reflected as jade met his gaze when he reached the Inner Pagoda. The color was chosen in memorial to the fallen who had once laid here; doubling as symbol of shining beauty for the lives to come.
All Inner Pagoda space was dedicated entirely to lodging, housing, and sleeping quarters. It also had the largest kitchens. For a moment, the Headmaster considered sneaking in, but word had already made the rounds that he was nearby. Wary cooks stormed out of seclusion with rolling pins in hand, and looks signifying a hunt scanned the area.
“*Hmm*! Best not do it.” He’d stolen plenty of crunchy oven-baked bread rolls over the last week anyway. It wasn’t his fault the butter they churned in the Pagoda cellar was so celestially good! Secretly still wanting a bun, he passed right by the leery chefs. Nabbing a handful of berries from the side of the path to satiate himself, Artorian strolled through significantly widened, now-illuminated mountain tunnels.
Mosses and other variants of mushrooms grew in spades. A few students had decided to nurture grubs and other mealworm type insects. He didn’t chide them for their passions, some people just loved getting their hands dirty. Silkworms were a fantastic accidental find, though he had a suspicion that the mealworms were specifically bred for the now horse-sized Sugar Glider.
How big was that critte
r going to get? Sure, it was a nearly C-ranked Beast at this point, but still! The enthusiastic, lovable blanket flapped right into Artorian’s face the moment Artorian left the cave pass. It knocked him right to the ground, and the Sugar Glider chittered with excitement. It snatched up a grub that had fallen on the old man’s shoulder, and clung in place to eat it.
Artorian hadn't even noticed the worm, though clearly Blanket—the Sugar Glider’s name—certainly had! The name ‘Blanket’ was something of a running joke between the students of how it clung to people. He rubbed the clever beast’s head and gave it an under-the-cheek scritch. “Alright, alright, Blanket. You can come with me.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Blanket chittered, draping around Artorian’s back and shoulders like a fancy, fluffy cape. The D-rank seven critter was just happy to be along for the ride as the old man waltzed through the brand-new overhanging wind chimes.
Air Essence students practiced by harmonizing the musical instruments. He had to pause to enjoy the orchestra. More rehearsal was… necessary, but the short performance was lovely. A few more deft steps, and he greeted the instructor guarding the red gates of the Outer Pagoda. In contrast to the higher layers of the mountain academy, this place wasn’t restful at all.
People flew across the arenas using elaborate martial arts. Outbursts of Essence rocked the general area as control and choreography were practiced under the watchful guidance of at least a dozen teachers. The Outer Pagoda had become the combat training level. Here, cultivation was practiced as a group, while instruction was handled by the individual.
Waiting on standby to patch injured juniors, herbalists meditated under parasols. They grew Aloe and Kratom on the edges of the Pagoda after they had learned how annoyingly often they needed it. The reaction Artorian received here was much different than the more studious upper sections he’d just passed through.
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