Druidic Cultivation | Thirty-Nine

Sorry about the absence. I don't really have an excuse outside of the fact that my vacation ended, I started up on third shift (9pm-5am) and got ill on like, day two of work. Didn't have the energy or motivation to write, but that's not really an excuse for dipping out on you guys. In any case, heres the next chapter. 

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Two young children, ages apparently twelve-thirteen and fifteen, stood in the arena as step nine Mortal Awakening stage cultivators.  Although it wasn’t the fastest anybody had ever gotten to peak awakening, it was a speed that was seldom seen outside of a royal family or ancient cultivating clan. Throughout the entire arena, spectators began forcing Qi through their toxitus meridians to fight off the effects of alcohol. Each one discovered that the two children in front of them were, in fact, not drunken hallucinations. 

“I’ve got to admit, Ma Heise, I didn’t expect to find someone equal to my cultivation either. Then again, without your weapons, are you really my equal?” After a brief exchange of words, the Bai Fu rushed forward and engaged with the older boy once again. Just as he’d said, Ma Heise was on the losing end without his two whips.

Peak Awakening. Feng Jiao’s eyes widened after realizing why he’d lost so decisively to Ma Heise. He’d need to take the battle more seriously for his rematch which, at this point, he was sure he would get.

After being disarmed, Ma Heise was consistently beat down by the thin-framed Bai Fu. From where he sat, Jiao could almost visibly see the anger rolling off the older boy’s shoulders as he was beat back in every exchange. As good as Ma Heise with his whips, it was evident that he neglected his unarmed combat skills. 

The farce continued for three minutes before Ma Heise finally shouted his concession, acknowledging his loss long after the rest of the crowd knew he’d lost. Regardless of how frustrated he was, however, Ma Heise showed nothing but respect for the younger boy who defeated him. He bowed, thanked Bai Fu for the pointers. 

“No, just bring him down now. No need to waste time.” Ma Heise stopped the overseer from lighting the incense and stared down Jiao. “No offense, little Jiao, but you are not my match. There isn’t a way for you to overcome our gap in cultivation bases, so just get down here and surrender.” The taller boy picked up his dual whips and dusted himself off.

Under normal circumstances, Ma Heise would be right. Gaps in cultivation stages were usually insurmountable odds for most fighters, especially when the fighters were in the awakening stage. For example, a step one awakened would be able to cycle their Qi through their legs and increase their speed, allowing them to outpace a non-cultivator with ease. Step two would be able to increase their striking power by cycling through their arms as well as their legs, out damaging a step one with ease. The disparity in the first stage of the mortal realm was overwhelming most of the time. 

That being said, the beginning steps of mortal awakening were also the most forgiving due to steps three through six having almost no combat applicability. No amount of poison, toxin, or infection resistance was going to make much of a difference in a sanctioned tournament. A step two awakened, with enough training and practice, could easily defeat a step six as if there wasn’t a gap. It wasn’t until step seven that the exponential benefits kicked in once more.

The seventh step of Mortal Awakening, the step that Jiao had entered just recently, connected the pulmus meridian, or Qi pathway, that ran through the lungs and down the spine. With it brought the ability to efficiently pump oxygen into muscles, decreasing the overall amount of Qi required to amplify the first six meridians as well as staving off fatigue in drawn out fights. Whereas that might not sound like much, it made a massive difference in drawn out tournaments like this one or battlefields. Or, Jiao supposed, if one was trapped in the wilderness with no food or way out. 

Step eight brought with it another loop through the spine and the connection of the heart. Vascus, the meridian was commonly referred to, wasn’t just the heart and spine. Several of the major veins and arteries would also be overlapped by the Qi pathway, allowing blood to flow more freely, or be restrained, with Qi. In addition to the combat implications, the widespread meridian was a watershed when it came to cultivation speed as the arteries lined up with most major acupoints as well. When overlapped with the pulmus, the efficiency of Qi usage was multiplied. 

A step six overcoming a step seven wouldn’t be unheard of but only a genius could leap over two or more of the big three, which is how mortals referred to steps seven, eight, and nine of awakening. In Ma Heise’s eyes, as well as the eyes of everyone present, Feng Jiao did not stand a chance. This was because peak awakening, step nine out of nine, the big kahuna, was just too powerful. 

Conceptium, Qi pathway of the mind. From the dantian, the meridian looped around every segment of the spine, including those occupied by pulmus and vascus, before working its way up into the skull. There, the pathway would thin and trace the synapses in the brain, linking up with the five senses as well as memory and cognitive function. Battle reflexes, sight, memory, and even, to a lesser extent, perception. Feng Jiao had practiced refining his reflexes for his soft fighting style and now, finally, he knew why he’d been out matched by Ma Heise.

“Feng Jiao, if you don’t want to fight, at least come down here and conceded. I’ve had an annoying match and my legs tire, don’t waste my time any more. There is no shame in admitting when you’re inferior, you’re young and have years to catch up.” Heise’s attitude seemed to have flipped an entire 180 degrees after losing a match. Previously, he’d been polite and preached Feng Jiao’s prowess to his opponents but after losing he had nothing but rude words.

A sore winner and a sore loser, it appears. So long as he was undefeated, the boy was fine to keep talking up those he’d defeated. The stronger he made Feng Jiao appear, the stronger Ma Heise was for besting him in battle. After getting humiliated by a younger looking boy, however, Heise felt it was poor form to keep talking Jiao up as if he were almost an equal. 

Feng Jiao didn’t choose to shout from his seat, deciding that he’d act more mature than the larger boy. In truth it was better to Jiao to battle the boy while he was unrested, even if he hadn’t exchanged heavy blows. He stood and slowly walked to the field, keeping his face void of emotions and rolling his shoulders a bit. He’d gotten three free wins that night whereas Ma Heise had been forced to battle every fight allocated to him. 

As Jiao mounted the stage, Heise glared at him. The look of derision communicated to Jiao that the boy had never respected him or his battle prowess, which he found to be confusing. Regardless of whether or not he’d lost his battle with Ma Heise had been a close one. Watching his match with Bai Fu, Jiao was able to tell that the boy hadn’t held back. Ma Heise had beat Jiao, but it wasn’t as cut and dry as he was pretending it was. With him unrested and anger clouding his senses, Jiao figured he’d be able to eke out a win from Ma Heise. 

The crowd got loud when they realized that Jiao hadn’t mounted the stage to forfeit, that they’d get another brutal match. With the exception of the top bracket finals, the most intense fight that night had been Feng vs Ma, round one. Now that they were meeting again, and in the bottom bracket finals no less, spectators couldn’t help getting hyped up. Regardless of the fact that Ma Heise had forfeited his wait time, the Overseer didn’t start the match immediately.

Behind Jiao, he could see the bookies going up and down the aisle as they took bets on the results of the fight, with Ma Heise slightly favored even though he’d just come out of a fight. Time ticked by slowly as peddlers sold their food, drunks purchased their beers, and gamblers placed their winnings on new bets, and the more unfortunate gamblers placed their safety net down in a new bet, desperate to make something back.

Feng Jiao managed to find his father and uncle in the now large crowd and, to his surprise, even managed to spot Feng Lou, whom he thought went to sleep long ago. He made eye contact with his antagonistic cousin and, for the first time in his memory, saw nothing but respect. Gone was the hate, antagonism, and derision. Lou looked like somebody who was genuinely proud of his cousin, proud of Jiao. With his eyes, he signaled to his left.

Jiao spotted his uncle, Feng Yaobei, staring down at him far more soberly than he had any right to be. In his hands he clenched his betting tickets, now an offshade color due to dampness from his sweaty fists, as he shook slightly. He didn’t speak, but his eyes spoke volumes just like his son’s. 

‘So emotive’, Jiao though to himself. The father-son duo could have their tongues chopped out that night and wouldn’t be any worse off, as far as he was concerned, considering their ability to communicate with just their eyes. Jiao gave his uncle a slight nod, almost imperceptible to anyone not watching him closely. Yaobei shot to his feet right away, flagging down a bookie and placing all of his winnings from the night on his nephew once more. The trust was moving, Jiao thought to himself.

About five minutes later, the hub-bub calmed down and most of the spectators returned to their seats. People nursed ales, smoked herb, and snacked on kebabs as they stared down. The lead bookie shot a thumbs up to the Overseer in charge of their fight, and the man turned back to the two competitors. The younger there was standing calmly, his face a picture of zen, and the older boy seemed ready to blow the stage to pieces. 

“Are you two ready?” He asked the competitors.

“I was ready when I told the boy to come down. Are the thirty minutes really for competitors to recharge themselves or is it just an excuse for your gambling ring?” Ma Heise was fuming in anger, glaring a hole in the Overseer in stark contrast with his behavior so far that day.

The Overseer, several years senior to the boy, didn’t even respond. With a smile, he turned to Feng Jiao and affirmed that he was ready. Ma Heise might have been the one who just finished fighting but his challenge was also depriving the young boy of his rest time as well, not that he really needed it after fighting one in his last three matches.

“One moment please, senior.” Jiao had one thing he needed to do first. “Ma Heise, I want you to know that I appreciated our last battle. You are acting as if you didn’t put forth your best and, if we are being honest, neither did I.” The other boy’s pupils constricted. “I was going to do this discreetly, but since you feel the need to bad mouth myself and the esteemed judges here, I felt like this was proper.” Jiao walked toward the edge of the stage.

The crowd watched on as the young boy seemed to concede from the match, slowing walking off the stage. Nufang Mudan frowned as her star selection seemed to give up, doubting his fighting spirit for the first time since meeting him. Feng Lou squeezed his father’s shoulder as they both mourned the miscommunication with Jiao, their savings and winnings were both riding on the match. Yaobei personally cringed as he though about the beating that his mother was sure to give him, she’d derided him for his gambling habit several times in the past. 

Jiao’s father, Feng Zhipei, furrowed his brow. Although he and his son weren’t super close due to Jiao’s communication issues as a child, he was sure that he was going to be duking it out with this kid. Jiao had spent his entire time in the bottom bracket sitting next to his father and glaring at the taller boy, after all. Jiao stopped walking at the edge of the stage and raised his hand over the edge and Zhipei’s eyes went wide at the implication.

“You are at the peak of mortal awakening, yes, but you are wrong if you think that means you’ve already won this battle. You could barely even beat me earlier when I’d hadicapped myself.” With that, Feng Jiao raised his right hand out over the stage and sent his Qi into his inventory ring, willing it to empty itself.

The ring purged his contents at the cost of Qi, bringing them from the pocket space out into the overworld for all to see. First a pebble, then a rock, then several rocks. Various stones of different colors poured forth from the void within his treasure ring, smoothing and shining from countless years sitting at the bottom of the river on Crouching Grass Mountain. Rocks that Feng Jiao had collected and carried with him, filling the entirety of his storage space as he took very little with him when he left home. Within his ring, afterwords, was only his coinage, two sets of clothing, and the staff that he was borrowing. 

Standing beside the mountain of smooth stones, almost as tall as he was, Jiao rolled his shoulders as the weight was shed for the first time in a long time. He looked back to Ma Heise and smirked as the older boy began to sweat.

“Feng Jiao, please advise me once more.” 

A gong sounded out.