Combat training with Wind-Eyes lasted nearly three hours. Blake didn’t get a chance to spar for the first day. Where the others paired up into small groups to practice—at the command of Wind-Eyes—Blake’s duty was getting caught up.

  Wind-Eyes walked him through a set of basic forms, giving him a defensive and offensive staff technique—or at least, the start of one. It’d take Blake some time to ingrain the movements into his mind. And he wasn’t sure if he’d keep them forever. Those movements were only a foundation to build off of, but reality dictated that he’d modify it to suit his own style as time went on.

  Whenever his feet were in the wrong position, Wind-Eyes kicked his shins back into the right place. Whenever his arms were wrong, Wind-Eyes struck them with his tonfa, repositioning them until he was satisfied.

  At first, Blake had scowled, hating every impact, but he couldn’t deny its effectiveness. The reality was, he didn’t want to mess up anymore, and his limbs found the right spots soon enough.

  In school in his younger days, with the Fate Monks, they were too nice. Their refusal to be strict had let Blake’s mind wander and focus fade. He cared more about going home than doing well.

  Here, all that mattered was not getting hit. Doing well in the moment, surviving to the next.

  He could learn in these conditions.

  After combat training, he sprawled out on the grassy patch, staring up at the sky. Froskur nudged him, then said, “It only gets better after the first day, Junior Brother.”

  Blake didn’t respond. It hadn’t been that bad.

  “Come, eat lunch. Then you’ll have your afternoon all to yourself…though perhaps Elder Ulfreld will have you reading a stack of history manuscripts. Or a copy of the most essential Sagas.”

  Blake pushed himself up, wiped the sweat off his brow with his sleeve, then followed the others to the mess hall. Lunch was some kind of grilled meat he couldn’t name, and wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. It had the texture of shrimp but looked like a chicken breast. They served it with bread and steamed vegetables, though at this rate, anything was good enough for Blake to feast on.

  After lunch, he returned to his quarters. He considered taking a shower now, but since he was going to review his technique slate and try to figure it out, there was no sense in getting clean just yet. He didn’t exactly know what it would entail.

  But when he arrived at his room, a mortal groundskeeper stood outside the door, holding a stack of books—or as the cultivators called them, manuscripts—in his arms. “Good afternoon, honoured hunter. This one’s master, Elder Ulfreld, bids you to read these scripts, hoping to improve your knowledge of the world around you. Elder Ulfreld also implores you to finish them within the next two weeks.” The man tried to bow, but he was holding the stack of books, and he only managed to lean his forehead forward a few inches before it hit the cover of the first manuscript.

  Blake rushed to take them from the man’s arms. Even without an Augmentation technique, he found that he could hold the stack in one hand, where the mortal had been struggling to. Blake said, “Thanks. And you don’t have to be super polite around me and all that.”

  “Yes, honoured hunter.”

  Blake shook his head. “None of that. Don’t need it.”

  “You must realize that this one will be in serious trouble if he is caught not doing so,” the mortal said, sheepishly looking down.

  Blake paused, and his words caught in his throat. “I…alright, yeah. Well, do what you’re comfortable with.”

  “Thank you, honoured hunter.” The man scampered away down the hall.

  Blake shook his head. At first, at the mortal’s unwillingness to try anything to better his position. But not everyone was ambitious. Sure, you could start cultivating, and anyone could become more than a mortal if they really wanted. Some were more skilled at it than others, though, and some were content with what they had.

  Blake pushed open his door and set down the stack on his desk. He could start reading later, even if it would take him a little time. These books wouldn’t be written in English, and he’d have to get used to reading the other languages he barely knew in their written form.

  He sealed the door then bunched up a spare blanket and tucked it into the gap beneath the door, blocking out the sound slightly. Then he reached into his pocket and put on the Honour Ring.

  “Alright, it’s safe,” he said.

  I can see that, Ethbin replied. Or…sense it.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Did you hear that I got the technique slate?”

  Yes. Have you examined it yet?

  “Not really.”

  Don’t bother.

  Blake’s heart almost stopped, and his stomach plummeted. “Why? Did I pick the wrong one?”

  No, in fact, I think you made an excellent choice. But you have one more step. You must open your Vir Meridians, remember. He paused. Alright, alright, look at the slate for a moment.

  Blake retrieved the technique slate and set it down on his bed, facing it upward. A diagram of a man had been carved in the very center, with his arms out to the sides. Instead of organs or anatomy, though, it displayed a multitude of finely carved channels. Blake ran his fingers over it. “All the channels?”

  Nine different points—carved circles—dotted the body. The technique didn’t use all the twelve meridians, interestingly enough, but it used more than he’d thought. He’d thought most mana gathering techniques required more cycling close by his gut, using only a few different meridians.

  That is true for the most basic techniques, Ethbin said. The good news for you is that you can skip right past those ones. The bad news is that you’ll need to open more meridians. You see why?

  “Yeah,” Blake said. “Can’t finish the technique without them.”

  Likewise, you will have to do this without my guidance, now. The sect will expect you to open the rest of your meridians in their dedicated rooms.

  “Can I just open the three I need?”

  No. You will need the Root Meridian, which is the last meridian to open, and cannot be opened without all the others. Do you see the little circle marked above the man’s head on the slate?

  “Yeah.”

  That indicates the Root Meridian. Include it in a cycling technique, and include it properly, and you will gather Honour of a certain aspect. The aspect depends on your nature—which is exactly what the Root defines.

  “Is it more difficult?”

  Perhaps. The Vir meridians tend to be less difficult but more…intense of an experience. It is normal to open two of them in quick succession.

  “Well, I kinda already did that,” Blake said. “With the Aes ones, I mean. You think I can do three in quick succession?”

  I think it’s possible. Prepare yourself for a few hours, then tell your Elder—or any of your Senior Brothers, really, that you wish to use an isolation chamber to open a meridian. We’ll aim for the first three Vir meridians: Stomach, Intestine, and Blood.

  “What do those do for me?”

  Stomach Meridian? Strengthen it, and your ability to process breads and other grains will improve. Intestine, your ability to process proteins and the rest of your foods. It doesn’t sound important, but it will let you live longer with less nutrients, and better than that, it will help you intake the materials needed to begin tempering your body later.

  “And Blood?”

  It will help your body’s strength and endurance, and simply, your ability to live. You will feel wholly different after opening these meridians, and that is not a bad thing.

  Afterward, Ethbin quickly glossed over a few tips and tricks, and a bit of information on how to open the meridians, which Blake did his best to pay attention to.

  Once he was ready, he tucked Ethbin back into his pocket, then put away his technique slate and left the room. By now, it was mid-afternoon, and though he couldn’t find Ulfreld, he tracked down one of the high-ranking Senior Brothers with ease—a Foundation Establishment hunter who was responsible for looking after the isolation chambers. Or, as they called them here, the seclusion chambers.

  They cost two contribution points to use, so Blake took that into consideration. Now, he only had four left.

  He didn’t understand why an isolated room would cost contribution points, until he got inside. Runes covered the walls. Each was a delicate etching into the wood, with perfect edges and impeccable angles. There wasn’t a single curve, and Blake didn’t know what was more impressive: the carvings or that the wood hadn’t warped at all.

  Even he could feel a tingle on his skin when he entered the room. The runes were funnelling a powerful aura of ambient mana toward the center of the room and concentrating it. It would’ve been perfect for a regular cultivator to draw in mana and advance with, and that was probably why the sect had so many powerful members.

  The room must’ve cost a fortune to build, and it had a few mortal attendants watching over it. Blake was about to step inside, but one of the attendants said, “Wait! Honoured hunter, are you certain you wish to…bring your clothes in with you?”

  Blake stared at her and blinked. He was pretty sure his face went red.

  “The hunter is opening his meridians, isn’t he? Does he wish to make a mess of his clothes and spend contribution points on another set?”

  Blake cleared his throat, then said, “Oh, uh, no. Is there…”

  “If the hunter places them in the bin, they will be washed while he uses his allotted hour.”

  “Thanks.”

  A few minutes later, Blake settled down in the middle of the room, feeling awfully cold and exposed. There were only a few candles to light the room, but every so often, the runes glowed turquoise, indicating the conduction of mana.

  As Ethbin had explained, he couldn’t just open his next meridians wherever or whenever within the pavilion. A regular mana cultivator couldn’t do that. They wouldn’t find enough mana to do it as quickly as Blake could with Honour, and so it’d be suspicious if Blake just managed to open a meridian wherever, especially with how old he was. He had to keep up the charade and use the seclusion rooms.

  The process of opening the Vir meridians was much like the Aes meridians—find the blocked channels, form a delicate needle, and pierce through them. But this time, they needed a gentler, but more concentrated push. Instead of pushing a needle through them with sheer strength, he needed to think of it like a natural wind, trying to pull the needle of Honour in.

  It was going to take time, but at least he had a few hours.