These Heels Step Heavenward - A Jade Beauty's Isekai Gone Wild

Chapter 18: The Mark of a Cultivator

The marble hall was heedy with the scent of high spirits. They were already on their third round of oaken barrels by Daphne’s count, and Prince Hadrian only served the finest vintages for his masquerade ball—Ambrosia, Grandgrove Gold, Darkland Red, and even strange concoctions of fruits and spirits. Liveried servants patrolled the room, carrying silver trays of morsel-sized art, ensuring that no one would want for food tonight.

Meanwhile, men and women waltzed to a grand, old melody. One pair in particular had captured a crowd by dancing upon the large fountain in the center of the room, their every step heralding an early onset of frost on the water beneath them. Judging by the quality of their clothes and the magic on display, they could only be stoneborn, though not even Daphne with her eyes could tell who was who for certain. Until one formed a dao principle or was born to a bloodline, one’s qi did not take on a unique flavor.

It was this uncertainty over the dancing pair’s identity that made their display acceptable. From what Daphne understood, petty displays of cultivation were frowned upon as wasteful, much like how an old monster wasting his time on a junior disciple was deemed wasteful.

She leaned against the balcony’s railing behind her, staring up at the moon, full and bright on this night. Tracey was off to the side, waiting on her. She was a guest too, but she had little in the way of friends and with her foreign complexion, even a toad in a well could perceive her true identity.

“What are you doing out here?” asked a man half a head taller than herself. His eyes were a striking silver, like the prince’s and so he could only be the prince.

Daphne curtseyed, but Hadrian waved her off. “None of that now. You’re not supposed to know who I am. That’s the whole point of the ball.”

“Your eyes give it away,” Daphne said.

“Of course they do,” Hadrian said, sighing. “The eyes of Synder Starbright always shine through.”

“Is there no way to hide it away?” Daphne asked.

He shrugged. “Not easily. Perhaps if I stole someone else’s face, but that has its own difficulties, Lady Daphne.”

“You’re not supposed to know who I am,” Daphne repeated. “That’s the whole point of the ball.”

“You’re not exactly trying to hide it, are you?” Hadrian said, tipping his head towards Tracey. “Your servant stands out.”

Tracey bowed her head. “My apologies, my lady.”

“It’s done with,” Daphne said. She was a crane in a flock of chickens after all. There could be no hiding her beauty in a crowd like this, for a gem always reveals itself and cannot help but catch the light. “Give us the balcony.”

Tracey bowed again, and left the pair of them alone.

“I’ve heard,” Hadrian said after Tracey had left, “that you’ve entered the tournament.”

Daphne raised a brow at him. “Is that so surprising?”

“It certainly clashed with what I’d heard whispered about you. Would the lady forgive me for believing such things?”

“There’s nothing to forgive. I like gossip,” Daphne said. “I find out so much about myself that I never knew.” There were still quite a few gaps in her recollection, for there were things not written in any book, nor could be shared from hystor to student. Listening in on the maidservants when they thought no one was around was a valuable source of information for example.

Hadrian waved a manservant down, and acquired from him two tall, slim glasses of Grandgrove Gold. He handed one to her, and for a moment, Daphne considered the drink. Was it laced with aphrodisiacs? As they said, nothing could be done once the rice is cooked.

“It was my mother that told me I ought to consider your hand,” Hadrian said.

Princess-Consort Pauline, Daphne recalled from her readings, was a sister to the current Lord Eminent of the Everbloom. That alone might have been enough if he were any other man, but he was aiming to be the Emperor, and as far as she could tell there was no first wife in the Seraglio, what they called their Imperial Harem. When combined with the fact that it was the consorts who raised the children, Hadrian’s ascension would mean there would be no heir the Everbloom could back without reserve among the next generation, hence the need for an Everbloom wife.

His odds of winning were good too. After all, Hadrian was a hero. More than that, the Everbloom had achieved many breakthroughs after centuries of state cultivation, such that the size of its army cores was indisputably the largest among those in the kingdom realm! More than a match for any two kingdoms on its own.

So this is a courtship, Daphne thought, peering at her drink. And what was a courtship without aphrodisiacs?

“Do you want to marry me?” Daphne asked.

“What I want is to be Emperor,” Hadrian said simply.

How cold! He would use her pure yin body to enhance his cultivation and take the Emperorship that way. “How pragmatic.”

“Its politics. If I want to win, I must be practical,” Hadrian said.

“You are not without choices though,” Daphne said. While she was obviously a beauty among beauties, there were others who might compare to her in looks and standing. Victoria came to mind, but even House External Woode could find a branch daughter suitable for the prince if asked.

“I’m not,” Hadrian said with a nod, “but your family is by far the best one. My sister Lydia is my largest rival, and she draws her support from the Heartlands.” It went without saying that House Greenglade was the largest of the Everbloom’s southern houses and charged with defending against any attacks from the Heartlands. “So let me ask you this: do you want to marry me, and why?”

“I do,” Daphne said. “As to why? It’s simple. I wish to live among the clouds and look down on this world. I want to live in the Imperial Palace.”

“How practical,” Hadrian said.

She smiled back at him. “It’s politics.”

“You don’t care that you’d have to give up your inheritance?” Hadrian asked. “There’s no need for you to risk yourself in power struggles if all you wish to do is exercise power. You have the luxury of being an only child, and have no siblings with which to compete with for heirship.”

“My inheritance is a small matter. How can it compare to the ordering of an Empire?” Daphne asked.

“It will be dangerous,” he warned again. “There are many who would prefer one of my siblings. Not that my odds are not good, but it is not certain.”

“We are stoneborn,” Daphne said. Every arrogant young master and jade beauty knew that, one day, they might face a hero, a real hero. “We already lead lives of danger as a rule. What is a little more for the prize on offer?” If she succeeded, she would have access to the greatest treasures of this realm. Surely her cultivation could only benefit. Besides, it was the fate of any hero to have enemies, just as it was the fate of antagonists to be ants in agony. Adversity could enhance one’s cultivation.

“There can be no backing away once you are committed,” Hadrian said.

She almost scoffed, but gave him face and kept her expression schooled. “How would you describe Syngian the Sage?” she asked instead.

“Wise,” he replied without hesitation.

“To me, he is arrogant,” Daphne said with great admiration.

For the first time that night, Hadrian looked surprised. “That’s not an answer I’d usually hear. Are you saying he isn’t wise?”

“He is that too,” Daphne said, “but arrogance is the highest virtue, and he embodies it.”

“What a unique perspective,” Hadrian said. “Do go on.”

“We worship him as a god now,” Daphne said. “The Divine Syngian has reached the realm of the heavens, an immortal! Man is man, the gods are gods, but for a man to become an Emperor, a god even … does that not require some ambition? Can a man ascend to such heights without the arrogance to defy his mortal fate and cast off those threads?”

“I suppose not,” Hadrian said slowly.

“Of course not,” Daphne said. “Arrogance is what separates us from the strawborn. It is the mark we bear plainly on our souls. So believe me when I say that I have only the highest respect for the Divine Syngian, and for you.”

“To arrogance then,” Hadrian said, toasting.

They drank. He was even polite enough not to spike her drinks with any aphrodisiacs. Already marriage to him was looking better than to a regular hero.

 

Chapter 19: A Recipe for A Slice of Life​

Classes in the Middle School always came in categorical pairs. There were courses, which were a series of lectures, and the one-off talks, closer to what Daphne was familiar with. She could not imagine an old monster setting aside time each week to actually teach his disciples anything. What of his own cultivation? How could he achieve anything behind closed doors? Surely a hystors first concern should be their cultivation, and teaching a distant secondary one?

What they taught was not even magic necessarily, but could be about the mundane too. They taught things that would have been seen as useless in her old life—literature, history, law. Did they not know that there was only one law, the iron law?

Arrogance was the writ of the best, and courtesy the fate of the rest.

Of the pairs of classes, last and most important was the difference between the rich and the poor. Not the stoneborn and strawborn, as Daphne quickly learned, for there were strawborn who could be wealthier than even the old families. Their parents paid exorbitant fees for their children to attend, having neither the aristocratic right to study, nor being valid recipients of the school’s own patronage system.

They paid it happily anyway, and Daphne, begrudgingly, praised their wisdom. They understood that being wealthy was not the same as being powerful. Fortune, influence, standing—all of these could be stripped away in an instant, a twinkling, without recourse or restitution. Cultivation, magic, power—these could not be taken from you without a fight.

So whatever fees were asked of them was worth it.

Yet, the wisdom their parents showed did not reach the empty space between their children’s ears. Did they understand the iron law of the world?

Not that Daphne could tell. They seemed happier by far attending parties, wining and dining their social superiors to cultivate favor instead of cultivating. This dao did not require much work, but it was a shallow foundation. Whatever fame that might be acquired this way was just some fame, not enough to enter the Emperor’s eyes.

Their poorer classmates were wiser than them. Though they were born to be toil in soil, now they sought to deal with steel. In them, she saw a fire that many of the richer juniors lacked. When one had grown up their whole lives wanting for everything, their hands became greedy and grasping at the first opportunity!

This, Daphne realized, was why the Dao of Disappearance was practiced by the parents of heaven’s favored. Luck, talent, and dedication were all necessary to reach the apex, but paradoxically, those born lucky would be hard pressed to muster the necessary dedication.

How many geniuses among geniuses had she seen wasting their days away on fun and festivities?

That would not be her.

For all the differences between the Middle School and a cultivation sect, both still left it to the individual to learn at their own discretion. Nothing was mandatory, and few things forbidden, so Daphne was going to learn all of it! She was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and if the old monsters of this world wished to invest so heavily in their students, it was only proper to give them face and comply!

Yes, even the mundane topics were not beneath her. Power and potential alone did not impress the old monsters. Strangely, they all had their own quirks, and a soft spot for the dao of culture. Some liked ancient poems on wine and pottery, others their songs, and still more crafted beauty, things of jade and jewelry and stitches.

Many things in the world were mundane and simple, but even the simplest things could be profound.

Now, one might wonder how Daphne found the time to attend all these classes when she refused any seat but the best, and there were no reservations allowed? Would she bully her juniors into surrendering their seats? Challenge them to duels? Promise not to inspect their spatial rings and shopping bags in the future?

Such solutions were crass to her. After all, she’d be trading pointers with them soon enough during the competition, and showing her hand now would only weaken her chances of winning.

The answer was truly simple, something even the most junior sect disciple knew. If you needed something done and didn’t have the time, get someone else to do it!

As Daphne entered the room with Tracey carrying her things, she headed straight for the best seat on the first row. Broken Nose stood as she arrived, relinquishing the two seats he’d held for her. One, of course, was for Daphne, and the other was for her things which Tracey carried.

If anyone thought to question his presence, the Greenglade sigil stitched into his chest would tell them who he worked for, and who they’d be challenging. No one had dared cause her offense quite yet.

“My next class is in an hour,” Daphne said. “The Six Division Model of Magic to be taught by Hystor Saman. See to it.”

Broken Nose bowed. “As you wish, my lady.” The pills he’d ordered would be arriving any day now, but until then this was the best use of him.

“Oh,” Daphne said, picking out a few tomes from Tracey’s hands, “bring these back to my room on your way there. I’ve no need for them for the rest of the day.”

Broken Nose made a sound as she dropped the textbooks into his waiting hands suddenly.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Tracey yawning. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, Lady Daphne. It’s just been a tiring few days,” Tracey said.

Was it? Every junior spent many long hours on mind-numbing chores before they could cultivate. This was positively pleasant in comparison. “Stretching helps with sleepiness, I find.”

She’d rather not have to nudge Tracey awake with her elbow. She actually liked this series on the four defects of vows. According to these people, vows were promises sworn to gods, while oaths were merely promises sworn to other mortals to be upheld by the gods. Such a distinction was important apparently, even though breaking either would result in an early tribulation.

As a result of the consequences, it was a subject of great interest what exceptions existed that would render such promises null and void, either to the benefit of the heavens or the earth. So far, they’d covered the defect of sacrifice (such as when the offering was insufficient or with fault), and the defect of will (which covered a huge swathe of reasons including mental incapacity, ignorance, error about the facts, fraud, and countless more).

Today’s lessons would be on the third defect: capacity.

“You attend all these classes, train with me or your cousin in the evenings, and even have the time to keep your skin so lustrous,” Tracey said, half-whining, half-impressed. “How do you do it?”

“Practice,” Daphne said. “As for the last thing, exercise helps. I recommend doing a hundred pushups, a hundred situps, a hundred squats, and a ten kilometer run.”

“Not ‘cultivation’?” Tracey asked.

“That is cultivation,” Daphne said, “or part of it at least. You must strengthen all three aspects of the self—mind, body, and soul. Only then can you reach the apex.”

Tracey hummed. “So these classes are mind. The training is body. What’s soul?”

“Meditation, but that takes a while,” Daphne said. “To help you along, we’ll be using the pills Broken Nose bought.”

She looked scandalized. “Are you sure that’s safe?”

“It’s perfectly safe,” Daphne said, waving her concerns away. “I’ve already used it once, to great effect.”

Strangely enough, that didn’t seem to give Tracey any comfort. Still she nodded. Her fate was in Daphne’s hands now, after she’d staked so much of her face for her benefit. The only path forward open to Tracey was with Daphne, and that meant doing well in the tournament. Not quite winning, expectations weren’t that high, but a solid ranking in the top sixteen would be quite commendable according to Blaise. Any higher and she might invite attention from arrogant young masters wishing to use her yin body to dual cultivate with.

She’d not spent all this time and effort on Tracey only for her to be seduced away with aphrodisiacs.

I’ll have to tell her about those next, Daphne decided.

Oh, class was starting!

 

Chapter 20: Add Fluff…​

On a cool autumn day, the Middle School turned into a field filled with fumes and clangor. One might think the estate under siege, until one realized the smoke and sounds were coming from within the school’s grounds.

To Daphne’s understanding, it was Artificer’s Week. She had previously observed that the people of this world preferred to channel their magic through objects instead of their bodies, but such workings did not always have immediate effects as in their spellcraft. Artificing was a mixed art that seemed to combine array formations with smithing, and its practitioners sought to create objects of power.

That a major school of the Empire dedicated an entire field of study to this endeavor suggested to her that the other great sects had similar ideas. It was strong evidence in favor of the theory that these people sought to raise the realm’s cultivation level through an accumulation of sacred relics.

Who was the mind behind such a scheme? The Emperor? Some wandering master who’d planted the idea within the sects? Difficult to say.

Daphne found herself both admiring that person for his arrogance, and wanting to strangle him for spreading a cultivation method that was aggressively loud. Even the deafening charms around her room failed to keep the noise out! How was she to meditate like this, or even hold a conversation?

If an arrogant young master were to scream “YOU DARE?!” right now she wouldn’t even be able to hear it!

“My lady,” Tracey said, “if the noise is bothering you, you could always withdraw to the library.”

“Would I find refuge from this racket there?” Daphne asked, scowling.

“It has the strongest noise suppression charms on campus. If there’s any refuge to be had, it’ll be there,” Tracey said.

Daphne rose to her feet. “Very well then. Lead the way, junior.”

“Junior?” Tracey repeated, though she got up as well. “You’ve never called me that before.”

“For better or worse, I’ve accepted responsibility for you,” Daphne said. “I have decided to teach you my secrets, so it is only proper I address you as I would any disciple.”

She was quiet for a moment, lips quivering. Tracey swallowed the lump in her throat and mustered the courage to ask, “My lady, does this mean you’ll be patronizing me?”

“For now, yes,” Daphne said. “If you honor me in the tournament with your performance, I will see to making this a long-term arrangement.”

“You’d really do that for me?” Tracey asked. “You’d make me oathsworn?”

Daphne frowned. What was with all these questions? Tracey had been right there when Daphne had discussed this with her cousin. “I am a woman of my word, and I have said what I have said. So long as you keep faith with me, I will keep faith with you.” Unsaid, of course, was that if she ever sought to court death, Daphne would cripple Tracey’s cultivation herself! It would be wasteful, but not more wasteful than throwing away her face.

“I understand, Lady Daphne,” Tracey said with conviction. “I won’t fail you.”

“See that you don’t,” she said as they walked through the academy’s carpeted halls. There were many sights to see on the way to the library. A sculpture moved through the motions of a sword art’s taolu, forms of martial arts sequences taught to disciples to familiarize them with the basics. One of the strawborn was following along its movements—and she knew he was a peasant for he used a stick instead of a training sword.

Through the windows, Daphne spotted Lady Victoria tending to her personal garden below. The flowers in their pots wiggled, as if dancing to some unheard beat. How they managed to hear anything with all the ruckus outside was beyond her though. It was interesting to see that this realm had spirit plants though. In her old realm, animals could become spirit animals easily enough, and plants like ginseng certainly had spirit roots, but this was the first time she was seeing spirit stems and spirit leaves.

She would have to be warier of Victoria in the future if she practiced such esoteric arts. Who knew what matter of trickery she might employ?

As they arrived at the sturdy mahogany double doors of the library, Daphne recognized the glowing words of Syngian the Sage etched onto the doors: “There is one virtue: knowledge.”

A stoneborn woman with full, red lips entered as they did. Daphne recognized her! She was the junior who had given her face the other day at the picnic. “Lady Daphne,” the woman said, curtseying.

Because she had given Daphne face, it was only proper Daphne return her face. “Good day,” Daphne said, tipping her head slightly in her direction. “I remember you, but I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”

“Ah, my apologise for not introducing myself then,” she said. “I am Lady Millicent of the House Nominal Fields.”

“Well met,” Daphne said. A house nominal was the lowest of the aristocratic houses, but still aristocrats nevertheless. “Are you here to escape the noise as well?”

“It is quite loud outside, isn’t it?” Millicent said. “But no, I’m here to help the librarian apply the new enchantments on the books.”

“New enchantments?” Daphne asked. Enchantments and curses, or katara as Hystor Maria classified them in her new Six Division Model for magical understanding, was different from artificing even though both involved magic and objects. Artificing imbued the object itself with power, while katara merely placed an effect unrelated to the object’s purpose.

“Security enchantments,” Millicent said, gesturing to the book in her hand. “For example.”

Through her awakened eyes, Daphne saw qi flowing into the object, forming an ethereal script invisible to those who could not see Mount Tai.

“Now, if you tried to take this out of the library without checking it out first…” Millicent continued, taking a few steps back, out of the library. The book began screeching like a petulant child who’d been spared the rod, or a young master upon meeting a hero, or both.

“Strange danger!” the book screeched through some unseen mouth, flipping open. “Stranger danger!”

The noise drew some strange looks to them. With another exertion of will, Millicent silenced the book. She slammed the book shut with force, like a hero’s fist slamming into a lackey’s face. “That’s what it does. We’re hoping it’ll stop people from taking books out without registering. We lost quite a few tomes last year, but thankfully nothing irreplaceable.”

Daphne nodded approvingly. “I wish you great success.” Theft, of course, was a most despicable act unless it was done by heaven’s favored children to whom the whole earth belonged. This was only proper stewardship of their things, ensuring piddling non-beings could not escape with treasures and scriptures that rightly belonged to heroes.

And if the hero could not take these treasures for himself and overcome the obstacles, then they were no hero at all.

They entered the library at last, and she took a moment to appreciate the sound of silence. The qi here was not so strong that meditating would be a good use of her time, so Daphne picked out a table in the corner, far away from anyone else and looked Tracey in the eye.

“Today, I will be teaching you one of the most important lessons a jade beauty must learn,” Daphne said solemnly.

Tracey leaned forward, expressing great interest.

“Courtship and aphrodisiacs,” Daphne said.

“What.”

“As a lady connected to me, there will no doubt be some men who wish to court you,” Daphne said. “As a jade beauty to be, it is vital you know how to handle their advances, and how to court those you have an interest in. Be sure that the man you choose is worthy, however. I will not have you rut with some common boy.”

Tracey blinked at her.

“Now, there are different strengths and types of aphrodisiacs, which we can cover at a later time. What’s important is how you react to them,” Daphne said. “If you accept that they are courting, and not courting death, you must repeat this line to them: ‘wu, wu, wu, so itchy, so hot’, while fluttering your lashes.” She demonstrated. “This will let the man know you are reciprocating.”

Her jaw dropped.

“If, on the other hand, someone comes to you asking for advice on how to court a man, you must tell them to slip them an aphrodisiac. As they say, nothing can be done once the rice is cooked.”

“You’re telling me that if I’m interested in someone, I should drug them?”

“There are other considerations regarding status and cultivation level, but yes, essentially,” Daphne said, happy that she understood. “If you’re worried that it is not strictly traditional for women to do the drugging, don’t worry. We live in enlightened times where women can be daddy too.”

Tracey’s jaw opened and closed, not unlike a goldfish. After several heartbeats, she finally answered.

“What.”

 

Chapter 21: To Thicken Plot​

The day arrived at last when Broken Nose came to them bearing pills which would be the pillars of their cultivation.

“You bought a whole bag’s worth?” Daphne asked, counting the number of pills inside.

“You’ve asked for it twice now,” Broken Nose said. “I thought it’d be better if you had a stash on hand. Won’t need to keep ordering a new batch each time that way. I like to be proactive.”

She couldn’t fault his reasoning. “How much did it cost?”

He scratched his neck. “Eight gold crowns and nine silver clouds for twenty-one pills. That’s … uh...”

“Five silver clouds apiece,” Daphne finished for him. All in all, it had cost four hundred and twenty bronze quarters then. She picked one pill out of the pouch and handed the rest to Maid. “Keep this somewhere safe.”

“Yes, Lady Daphne,” she said with a curtsey.

“Just the one pill?” Blaise asked.

“You’ve never taken one before, so it would be better if we start the two of you with a half dose to see how well you take to it,” Daphne said. She had no idea how potent each pill was, but if it was anything like the last one, it was too potent for anyone in the qi condensation stage. She herself had only managed its effects because of her profound understanding of the dao.

Daphne scanned the room, before her eyes latched onto a wholesome portrait of a harpist playing as tribulation clouds gathered overhead. Daphne stood up, unhooked it from its mount, and used its wooden edge to smash the pill open, setting free its white powdery content. With great care, she divided it into equal halves, and gestured for Blaise and Tracey to snort it.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Blaise asked, eyeing the white powder warily.

Tracey, on the other hand, needed no further prompting as she inhaled it. She was turning out to be such an obedient disciple.

“You’ll be fine,” Daphne said. “Look at Tracey. Be like Tracey.”

“She’s strawborn, she doesn’t know any better,” Blaise said.

“Maybe, but she trusts that I know best,” Daphne said. “That is the first lesson you must understand. Your master is always right, even when they appear wrong.”

“This sounds like a terrible method of learning,” Blaise grumbled, but he snorted the powder too. “What now?”

“You’ll know when you start feeling it,” Daphne said. “The opening of your meridians can vary from person to person, but it is always unmistakable. I suggest taking a seat.” She held out a hand, and Maid leapt into action, pouring her a cult of tea. In the time that it took her to finish sipping on it, the first effects began showing.

Tracey closed her eyes softly and leaned into her chair. “It’s beautiful.”

“It can be beautiful,” Daphne agreed. “Focus on that sensation. Try to hold it.” She could see beads of sweat forming on Blaise’s forehead. “Relax. Don’t force anything.”

Tracey’s hand reached for invisible butterflies, palms opening and closing like a newborn babe. “I don’t think I can.”

“Do you think you can take over the universe and improve it? I do not believe it can be done,” Daphne quoted. “The universe is sacred. You cannot improve it. If you try to change it, you will ruin it. If you try to hold it, you will lose it.”

Tracey nodded in understanding, a small smile flitting across her face. “I think I get it.”

“Don’t improve things?” Blaise repeated. “Accept the universe as it is?”

“Can you accept that?” Daphne asked him.

He did not answer, but the creases on his face deepened, and that told Daphne all she needed to know.

“The Dao is forever undefined. Small though it is in the unformed state, it cannot be grasped. If kings and lords could harness it, the ten thousand things would naturally obey. Heaven and earth would come together, and gentle rain falls. Men would need no more instruction and all things would take their course.” In between such passages, Daphne would hum a soothing melody. One of her paintings took that as their cue to begin playing their harp, helping to drown out any of the noise from outside.

Artificer’s Week was coming to an end, and the explosions were significantly less frequent now, but it still occurred now and then. Such disruptions could break the meditation of her juniors, and as their senior sister, this could not be tolerated.

The door popped open slightly, and one of her knight’s stuck their face inside. “Lady Daphne, an urgent message from your mother.”

“Make sure they drink plenty of water,” Daphne said to Maid. “Keep them calm. I’ll be back soon.” She stood, then paused. “It may be prudent to close the windows. We don’t want them jumping out of them.”

Maid frowned. “Does that happen often?”

Daphne shrugged. “Sometimes.” When a junior took a pill that their body could not handle, when the excess qi could not be channeled into the dantian, it would course recklessly through the body and make one jittery.

Maid rushed to close the windows, obeying as a servant should. Daphne entrusted Blaise and Tracey to her care. “Keep focusing on the qi, the energy which surrounds anything and everything,” Daphne said to them on her way out. “See how it flows, how it takes the path of least resistance? It is like water, flowing everywhere, both to the right and to the left. The ten thousand things depend upon it; it holds nothing back. It fulfills its purpose silently and makes no claim.”

She stepped out of the room, and was confronted with a half-dozen knights led by Sir Ronald the Red. “What’s this about?” she asked.

“We’re here for your penal servant,” Sir Ronald said, face set in a tight line. “Your mother has demanded he be interrogated further.”

Daphne bristled. A filial daughter she might be, but Broken Nose had proved his worth to her. He was hers, to do with as she pleased, and not even the heavens had the right to take away what was hers. Only a hero had that right. “Broken Nose is my penal servant. He goes where I say he goes.”

“My lady, please, step aside,” Sir Ronald said. “There are … developments you don’t know about.”

“Then enlighten me,” Daphne snapped, crossing her arms and planting her heels firmly into the carpeted floor.

“The bandit hideout was found,” Ronald said.

“What did you find?” Daphne asked, eyes becoming ever more intense. What she was really asking was “Did you find any treasure?” Of course, as her master liked to say, if they were too simple to understand the question within the question, they were not ready to hear the question.

“Four corpses,” Ronald said. “There were six men who stole you away, meaning all of them are dead except for their leader and your servant.”

She frowned at the implication. Peeking back into the room, she gestured for Broken Nose to join her. However, when the knights moved to take him, Daphne placed her body between him and them. “I will ask the questions.”

“My lady, your mother’s orders—”

“She ordered that he serve me too, until his death,” Daphne reminded them. “And so if you truly care about her orders, then only I may interrogate him.”

“This would be highly inappropriate,” Ronald murmured. “You’re a glove.”

“I am whatever I want to be,” Daphne said, narrowing her eyes into slits. The gall of him to say she could not do as she wished! That she’d informed them of her choice was just to give face. This was no democracy where every man had a say, nor would she ever abide by a system where her say was equal to every other person’s. “Broken nose, they say your conspirators are all dead save the leader, who has gone missing.”

“Poisoned,” Ronald added.

Daphne nodded, and pinned Broken Nose with a look. “Anything you’d like to say?”

“They’re dead?” Broken Nose asked, clearly shocked. “I—I mean I knew Jared, we came from the same village. But the leader … never worked with him before. He just recruited us for the job. Never even gave us his name now that I think about it.”

“What did you call him?”

“He said to call him Dolos,” Broken Nose said.

“An Ilyosi name,” Ronald said. “Not at all common this far south.”

“Yeah,” Broken Nose said, nodding. “That’s why I never thought that was his real name.”

Conspirators poisoning each other, dead ends, a fake name … all of this reeked of something foul and underhanded to Daphne. It was not unlike the prelude of war between great sects with their dagger games. “There’s more to this than meets the eye,” Daphne said.

“Politics,” Ronald said.

“Go tell my mother of what you’ve learned here, and tell her to be careful,” Daphne said. “I will do the same here, and find out what I can from my end.”

“You really won’t surrender him to our care?” Ronald asked.

“And risk his death in transit?” Daphne asked. “No, it’s safer if he is here with me for now. Easier for him to blend in with the other strawborn.” That was his greatest shield at the moment, and it was hardly worth letting so many knights die in his defense. He was no favored son of heaven.

She returned to the room, mood considerably soured. Schemes were afoot, and she didn’t even get a sacred treasure out of this.

 

Chapter 22: Interlude - Roll It Out​

Never in her wildest dreams did she expect Daphne Greenglade to be her patron. She was under no illusions of her own importance, and even the hystors had not wanted to keep her on for another year. Her only hope had been to find service and sponsorship with one of the many aristocrats that attended the Middle School, a knight or a mage-at-arms perhaps.

“Gonna have to give them more next time. Body builds up a, uh, defense against the pill with use,” Broken Nose said. He had the look of a bandit, and Daphne’s maid whispered as much about him.

Give them more? she wondered. After Lady Daphne had given her so much? Did she dare even accept? Her mistress had even styled her with a new name, for she was Tracey now and no one else. Lady Daphne was never one to do anything without reason, and so Tracey suspected, though could not be sure, that it was a calculated move to make Tracey more palatable to the Everbloom aristocracy. After all, many in the school judged her for being closer to a Dunelander than a Bloomling.

“You agree then?” Daphne asked.

“Up to you, innit?” Broken Nose answered. “Doesn’t matter if I agree.”

Though Tracey’s eyes remained shut, she thought she could make out the upturned curve of her lips. “Make a note,” Daphne said, to Maid presumably, “a whole pill the next time, if needed.”

An inexplicable warmth seized her. Lady Daphne had plucked her out of the crowd, from the many, many men and women who would have killed to serve her and her kin. If that were it, Tracey would be grateful, but now she was being taught a signature spell alongside Lord Blaise, and there was talk of making her oathsworn. Her! What had she done to deserve such an outpouring of trust?

Nothing, but Tracey vowed before the Pantheon and the Divine Syngian that she would be worthy one day.

“Is it wise to make a habit out of this, my lady?” Maid asked.

“Never let it be said that I did not meet my junior’s needs,” Daphne said.

“Gonna be honest, this ain’t really a need,” Broken Nose said.

“Let me worry about what is and isn’t a need,” Daphne said. “You—”

You have eyes, but still cannot see. It was her mistress’ common refrain, and Tracey felt she was close to understanding it. There was a … flow, an energy to everything. It rang in her ears like the thrumming of a red string, and she was fairly sure it wasn’t just Lady Daphne’s portrait of Syla Stormsong playing her harp. That melody was closer to purple than red. No, the humming she heard came from elsewhere, nowhere, everywhere. When she listened to it, it felt like … like…

Down was up, and up was right. There was no way else to describe her floating, weightless sensation.

“I don’t like this,” Blaise murmured besides her. She could taste him squirming, the air thickening with salt from his sweat.

“You need to relax,” Daphne said. “Release your distractions. Focus on your breathing.”

Tracey breathed in, feeling the flow drawn in, but as she tried to hold her breathing, the flow escaped her anyways.

Never try to hold it, she remembered. If you try to hold it, you will lose it. It was easier said than done, and went against Tracey’s every instinct, but she had gotten this far by trusting Lady Daphne. Had her advice ever failed her? Sure her mistress phrased things weirdly at times, but she never did or said anything carelessly. Like any divination, it required proper interpretation.

Gonna have to think about it to get it, as her mother used to say.

“Run far and run fast!” would have been the advice of many people Tracey knew if they heard half the things Daphne had said, especially about aphrodisiacs. But many people spoke without thinking, and considering only the surface of things. She still remembered the events of last year.

Around that time, some unspoken tragedy had befallen Lady Daphne. The hystors had clamped down on any talk about it, but that had not stopped the rumors from making their rounds around the school. If even Tracey had heard about it, then everyone had heard about it, and they did not paint a pleasant picture. With how Daphne spoke, it only proved the truth of those tales. She was attacked, assaulted in some way.

And that Lady Daphne had chosen not to hide for the rest of her days in the Green Glade, but returned proud as ever … well, how could Tracey not respect her for that? She’d been kidnapped too just before the school term began. In that light, it only made sense why her mistress had changed so much in so little time. Why she now sought out the iron fist where before she’d been content to play the games of the velvet glove.

Desert and dunes materialized before her eyes. It was a land she’d only heard about, a land many here thought she hailed from. The sands of the Dunelands and the black soil of the Great Kyroh River, which fed into the Great Oasis. It was from this that most of the Everbloom’s vast river network sourced its waters from, and allowed the region its bountiful harvests.

“You.”

Tracey blinked, looked at herself that was not her, dripping with sand.

“Never did I think you would set out on this path,” Not Her said. “Not that you’re awake yet, but it’s the first step in a long journey.”

“Gonna be tough,” Another Her made of marble said, the sands flying off of her as time flowed in reverse.

“Make you wanna kill yourself,” Not Her said.

“You sure you wanna to do this?” Another Her asked. At Tracey’s nod, the two of them spoke as one.

“Cry me a river, but there’s no going back now. Final chance to turn back.”

“Never,” Tracey said with a conviction she’d never felt before. The sun dimmed, the stars fell. The humming came back, faint, yet furious.

“Gonna need more of those pills,” Not Her said, as the wind howled and took large bites out of her sand form.

“Say, if you ever get the chance, protect her will you?” Another Her said as she melted into a black pool.

Goodbye. The word was stuck in her throat, and they were gone before she could say it. Still, they were her, so were they ever really gone?

Tracey blinked, finding her eyes wide open and her throat dry. She blinked a few more times as the hum became fainter and fainter.

“Have some water,” Daphne said as Maid stepped forward to hand her a glass. With an exertion of will from Maid, little ice cubes formed in the water. “How was it?”

“Odd,” Tracey murmured.

“That means it worked right,” Daphne said.

“I don’t feel any different right now,” Tracey admitted.

Daphne laughed, and what a pleasant sound that was. “Of course not. Did you think it would really be so easy?” she asked, evidently amused. “Everything in the universe is simple, but even the simplest things are hard. This trip was to get you used to the sensations, but I never expected you to awaken from one half-dose.”

“You mean we’re going to have to do that again?” Blaise’s dry voice cracked up besides her.

“Many times most likely, unless you’re a genius among geniuses,” Daphne said. “My knowledge of cultivation was already very deep when I attempted this, but your foundations aren’t quite so solid yet.”

“Is there a trick to it?” Blaise asked.

Daphne pondered on his question for a long while. “If I had to put it into words … you have to let go of distractions without concentrating. You must grasp the flow without grasping.”

Blaise frowned at her.

Not for the first time, Tracey found herself wondering how Lady Daphne had stumbled onto this knowledge, or if she’s simply invented it all. If she had, she’d be a genius on the level of the Divine Syngian. Athenaeum graduates spent their whole lives trying to come up with new spells, and many of them failed. Somehow, her mistress had succeeded after applying herself for a few short months.

As she opened her mouth, Tracey frowned, staring at what she assumed was a cat sitting outside the window’s ledge. Only it was green and covered with short, hair-like barbs that made it about as huggable as an uncut pineapple. Maybe the drugs hadn’t quite left her system entirely?

“Is that cat green?” Daphne asked, following Tracey’s eyes and peering at the creature outside.

So it wasn’t just her. The cat really was green.

“Never seen a catcus before?” Blaise asked. “It’s a cat, and like all other cats, a bit of a prick.”

“Gonna be honest,” Broken Nose said, “that thing is kinda freaky.”

“Tell that to Lord Eminent Morgan,” Blaise said with a snort. “He’s quite fond of the creatures.”

“A thing like that? Really?” Broken Nose said.

“Lie down,” Daphne ordered, as if expecting the creature to understand her through the glass. Strangely enough, it did as she said. “This spirit animal stumbling upon us is fortuitous.”

“...and that means what?” Blaise asked as she opened the window. “You’re going to keep it? Daphne, look at the thing. It’ll hurt you with a touch.” The catcus meowed, and retracted its spines into its body.

“Hurt me?” Daphne asked. “This cute thing? You must be joking. You said our lord keeps them as pets, so surely they can be tamed.”

“You really are going to keep it,” Blaise said, more to himself than anyone else. The groan that followed was audible and politely ignored as Daphne scooped the catcus into her arms.

AN: There’s a hidden scripture in the text. Can you find it?

Catcus isn’t my invention. FluffyFloof had a neat concept painting of it, and I liked it so much I included it in my story. It’s canon now.

Also apparently this story managed to breakthrough to the rank top 200 stage on the RoyalRoad realm, before I was hit by a one-star tribulation. Not to worry my juniors, for this tribulation will surely deepen my foundations. These Heels Step Heavenward!

 

Chapter 23: Familiar Issues​

Daphne stroked the catcus’ back with gentle strokes, eliciting a purr from the spirit animal. Alice, Daphne decided, would be her name.

“Do you even know the first thing about raising familiars?” Blaise asked.

She had heard tales from her old monster of a master about cultivators that tamed beasts and waged war with spirit animals by their sides, but such arts were beyond her grasp. Her master never allowed his disciples any pets. Said it created too many earthly attachments and deviated one’s cultivation, preventing them from reaching the apex. There had even been tales of those spirit animals whose own cultivation had grown to a point where they could take on human form.

“Animals are still animals, no matter how profound their cultivation!” her master had declared with a confidence that only came with advanced age.

Because of that, any animal that strayed near the sect too long would have been killed and cooked for dinner. Not that they’d ever had the misfortune of coming across a spirit animal with such deep roots.

“How hard can it be?” Daphne said. She tried to hand her over to Maid, but the catcus hissed, letting barbed thorns sprout out of its dry fur whenever Maid’s hand neared her. Alice only relaxed when Daphne’s hand returned to stroking. Clearly her new path friend was of some intelligence, and having recognized Daphne’s own impeccable status, would not allow someone lesser to pet her.

“It’s more about the risks involved,” Blaise said. “Investing in a familiar is not lightly done. If the creature is ever caught by your enemies—”

“Caught? I’d be surprised if they could even touch her,” Daphne said. “Alice is more than capable of defending herself.”

Blaise groaned. “You’ve already named her?”

“A path friend deserves a name,” Daphne said simply.

He threw his hands up in the air. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you of the dangers. If you’ve named her, you’re already on the first step of forming a familiar bond.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Daphne said. Maid finally stumbled upon a solution, and approached Alice while carrying a cushion. The catcus seemed to find this acceptable, and allowed herself to be deposited onto Daphne’s silk sofa cushions stuffed with geese feathers. “Now let us return to the matter at hand. The tournament is less than a month away, which means to awaken the two of you, we must use an accelerated program.”

“There’s a way to speed it up?” Tracey asked, eyes brightening.

Daphne smiled at her. “Of course. There are two ways to do this—either drug early, or drug often.”

“Drug early?” Blaise asked. “Cousin, just how young were you when you started taking these pills?”

Daphne considered the question seriously. She had begun honing her cultivation at the tender age of four, but she’d been born to a village that few cultivators paid mind to. It was only when her master had sensed her primordial yin energy while flying over her village that things changed and she’d been initiated into the Elegant Swan Sect. “My first time was when I was eight,” Daphne said at last.

Jaws dropped at her proclamation. Really, it wasn’t so strange. Some masters even considered eight too old to begin stepping heavenward with the aid of refining pills, though they were hardly in the majority.

“Eight years old … you’d just started fostering with the House Principal Parkins then,” Blaise muttered. “Are you saying they drugged you just as you entered their household?”

“Don’t be silly,” Daphne said, scoffing. “I sought them out myself.” Whether in this world, or the next, nothing was ever given freely. Like in any decent society, which the Elegant Swan Sect most certainly was, the acquisition of materials to help one cultivate had to be bartered for with service or spirit stones. Some fools resorted to theft, and they paid for that with the severance of choice parts.

It was Tracey that broke the silence next. “Will we really be able to see as you do before the tournament begins?”

“It is within the realm of possibility,” Daphne said. “I will need you to describe to me what you saw if I’m to accurately gauge your progression, however.”

Her disciple closed her eyes softly, hands reaching out for something unseen and half-heard. “I … I felt it, for a moment, I think. The energy, the flow. It was everywhere and nowhere.”

Daphne hummed, and bobbed her crown of golden hair. “The endless dao. You’ve caught a glimpse of it.”

Blaise frowned. “I have no idea what either of you are talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” Daphne said. “You were too busy fighting the drug, letting yourself be distracted by worldly things. How can one grasp the immaterial when still tethered to the material?” She turned back to Tracey. “When we do this next, focus on that feeling, but do not try to grasp it. When seeing becomes second nature, you will be able to witness it without aid.”

“Is that really it?” Blaise asked. “That’s all there is to the trick?”

She sighed. “Everything in the universe is simple, but even the simplest things are hard. I have told you the secret, yet there is a difference between knowing it and knowing it.”

“Cryptic as ever,” Blaise said dryly. “Unfortunately, there might be a slight problem with your plan of drugging us daily.”

“Broken Nose can acquire more pills if we should begin to run out, nor are we lacking for funds,” Daphne said. Broken Nose nodded his head in confirmation, confident that in his ability to acquire more pills to fuel their nascent cultivation.

“Are you forgetting the promise you made to Archystor Archibald when you first arrived?” Blaise said. “You mentioned it to me in passing not a few days ago.”

Daphne thought for a moment. “He asked that one of the hystors supervise me whenever I experiment with magic.”

“Exactly,” Blaise said. “If we are to meet everyday like this, he will grow wise to our activities, and the archystor is not someone we should make an enemy out of. Why you’ve chosen to keep this from him is beyond me, but I can only advise you not to raise his suspicions against you.”

“I understood the terms to mean I would be supervised while experimenting,” Daphne said. “This is no experiment. I am sure of what I’m doing.”

“You are playing with magic unheard of. It’s arrogant to think that way,” Blaise said.

Daphne beamed at him. “Thank you.”

He blinked at her, and sighed. “And the archystor isn’t likely to see things the way you do. Developing a signature spell, nevermind teaching other people said spell, would surely be considered experimenting by him and the hystors.”

“You really think he would take offense?” Daphne asked with a hint of worry coloring her voice. Like her cousin said, it was best not to raise the ire of an old monster or to wake sleeping dragons. It was said that each star that hung in the sky was a reminder of an empire toppled or a sect exterminated by angered cultivators!

“He might not show it,” Blaise said. “He wouldn’t have lasted so long as archystor without some tact, but it would do our standing with him no favors.”

“Are you counselling me to tell him of my cultivation then?” Daphne asked.

“Either that, or we keep to our current training schedule,” Blaise said. “Allowing the hystors to witness the crafting of your spell has its own dangers. A signature spell cannot be a signature spell if it isn’t secret.”

It really was strange that this realm had not uncovered the basics of qi sensing yet, but their own style of cultivation could accomplish things beyond Daphne’s imaginations. She dared not think of their methods as lesser, just different. “The archystor did promise the witness would be sworn to an oath of secrecy and promised to keep my cultivation a secret.”

“That might suffice, if you hide the nature of the pills from them too,” Blaise acquiesced.

As their session for the day came to an end, Daphne found herself reaching out to Archystor Archibald. He had a representative picked out already as it turned out—Filip. A known character, according to Blaise, who had risen high in the Archystor’s esteem as of late and was raised to the rank of Polihystor—one wise about many things.

He was a bastard, as it turned out, but one born to upper nobility on both sides. It was even whispered by some that he had turned down a lordly inheritance to pursue his studies with the Middle School.

As Daphne learned more about the man, she could only extend respect to him. Many cultivators deviated from their path once tempted by worldly power, failing to realize that the only true power was one that could not be stripped from you. Titles and estates were all of the material world, and of little good beyond easing one’s steps heavenward.