Chapter 23 (Patreon)

Asia opened her eyes.

Another morning… in the Underworld.

Another sunny day, the nun thought happily. She glanced at the clear sky brightening beyond the window and sprang out of bed. She always woke quickly. Early to bed, early to rise, and she slept well.

She really did sleep well. Lately, she’d been sleeping so peacefully that it surprised her whenever she thought about it. And living here, in Taro’s house, was… very nice.

In a demon’s house, Asia reminded herself for the umpteenth time. Once again, the thought didn’t bother her at all.

Quick, quick, she urged herself, padding barefoot toward the bathroom and pulling off her nightgown as she went.

Her everyday clothes had been laid out the night before, so all she had to do was take a quick morning shower, get dressed, and pray.

She’d been taught this as a child, and she herself thought it was right to speak with the Lord when her body was clean. She didn’t approve of excess, but she firmly believed that hygiene could hardly be called an ostentatious luxury.

After all, she was a servant of the Lord, and a slovenly appearance would reflect badly on the Church. Asia might not consider herself worthy of setting an example, but looking neat and respectable was still her duty. What could someone do for others, or for the faith, if she couldn’t even take care of herself?

And it was so simple. No need for excessive makeup, elaborate rituals, or a fortune spent on it all. Ordinary soap and decent shampoo were enough. A little washing, drying, and ironing each day took care of her clothes, and modern appliances meant she barely had to do any of it herself. Taro’s house, at least, had an automatic washing machine that both washed and dried clothes. An ironing board and an electric iron that puffed steam like some kind of dragon took care of the rest.

So keeping herself presentable wasn’t hard at all.

And since she had no duties of her own, Asia even had time to help her… maybe… maybe her new… friend… around the house. He certainly kept busy, running around like a hamster on a wheel.

“If someone had told me demons were this busy, I probably wouldn’t have believed them,” Asia said as she stepped under the warm water. She stood still for a few seconds, closing her eyes in bliss.

She hadn’t always had the chance to wash in such comfort every morning. Not that she was complaining. She never would, whatever happened. But failing to appreciate the gift the Lord had sent her through a kind demon… that would be sheer ingratitude.

“It’s… complicated.” Asia paused, staring at the plastic shampoo bottle. Then she squeezed some into her palm and began working it into her hair.

She was confused. Thoroughly confused. Her soul was in turmoil… If she was honest with herself, and the nun couldn’t stand dishonesty, she’d been searching for answers for a long time. But… in vain. Not long ago, her straightforward life as a nun blessed by God, a Holy Maiden, had given way to persecution… as a cursed witch.

For a moment, a lump rose in her throat and her eyes stung. It had nothing to do with the shampoo or the water.

What was she supposed to think? What should she do? Who… who could she share this weight on her heart with? It was… so hard to live without confession.

Asia had often listened to parishioners share their thoughts in ordinary conversation. People didn’t always realize how much it helped to share a burden that made it hard to breathe, that squeezed the chest tight. Just telling someone everything that had built up inside could be a tremendous relief. A blessing. She had always gone gladly to confession herself, sharing her thoughts and doubts. The priests had never turned a deaf ear to her. They offered sympathy, support, guidance. Sometimes she accepted penance with humility. Either way, she could breathe freely again, certain that her beliefs were righteous and her thoughts virtuous.

That encounter with the wounded… nonhuman had been a turning point in her life. That day, Asia had been certain she’d grown closer to the Lord. But sadly, she’d found herself farther from the Church. From everyone she respected and trusted.

Because… surely anyone could understand! No, she was NOT A WITCH. The servants of the Lord knew perfectly well what was inside Asia. They had told her about the Sacred Gears created by God Himself. It was… it was…

If her Sacred Gear could heal those far from God… those farther from Him than any human… then this was her burden, her mission! The Lord Himself had given Asia the power to save lives. The righteous, sinners… demons. Yes, no one else could do what she did. But did they have to brand her an apostate, despise her, cast her out? No!

Biting her lip, the nun rinsed the shampoo from her hair. Hot tears mingled with the soapy water, but Asia wasn’t ashamed of them. Crying was natural. So was feeling hurt. The Lord God had given people both, and she was grateful that her tears let her release the… bad things inside her.

Yes. The bad, angry things. She tipped her face up and let the water wash her tears away.

Sister Argento had no right to judge anyone else. Healing everyone, without exception, was her cross to bear. Her power made no distinction between those who came before her. And that was a good thing. Twilight Healing was a Sacred Gear that embodied forgiveness. The very… the very thing Asia held dearest! Everyone had a chance to repent, and Asia, who had come to the Church from an orphanage, thanked God for the burden He had placed on her. Yes, in every prayer she praised the Lord with all her heart for giving her such a heavy but worthy cross to bear. She had been born to give others a chance. Human, angel, Fallen Angel, or demon, it didn’t matter. God had decided she could bear it, and Asia had gratefully accepted her trial, her calling.

Even if the others can’t see that yet, she thought with a smile.

She gave a quiet chuckle to herself, rinsed her mouth, and picked up her toothbrush.

The tears washed away by the water had eased her heart a little. Yes, she had no right to blame anyone. In His great wisdom, the Lord had let her see much: through the privations Asia had welcomed, through disappointments that only strengthened her spirit, through hardships that helped her see His beautiful world in a different light.

Perhaps pride had taken hold of her. Perhaps wishful thinking clouded her judgment. But without confession or the counsel of wise Holy Fathers, alone except for her guardian angel, Asia could rely only on herself. On her conscience, her compassion, her… own judgments and impressions. On her limited experience and her understanding of the holy texts. On those who, despite everything, were helping her…

And they’re demons.

Asia put her toothbrush back in its cup, then took the soap and washcloth and rubbed them together until she had a thick white lather that smelled of meadow flowers.

Right now, they’re demons.

She sighed as the weight of her doubts settled over her again.

Her doubts had begun to build after she was expelled from the Church.

Not about God or her faith. No. About herself, about others, about the views and convictions of her former brothers and sisters.

“Everything’s changed…”

Now that she had left the Church, seen the world through the eyes of an ordinary wandering nun rather than a revered Holy Maiden, and met the Fallen Angels…

At the time, she had thought she’d found her place. Raynare had seemed so understanding, so considerate, so compassionate. She had welcomed the outcast and given her hope that she could keep doing good. Healing people. Helping them. Even if Asia served under the protection of the Fallen Angels, she could still help others, still bring light into the world…

How wrong she had been.

At the church on the outskirts of Kuoh, which Asia had longed with all her heart to reach, she found ruin and neglect. The church was abandoned, and the people living there bore little resemblance to the servants of the Lord she had known. The Fallen Angels either ignored her or mocked her. Raynare, whom Asia had thought kind and righteous, stopped smiling and barely paid her any attention, speaking to her coldly and giving her a few instructions. The other two Fallen Angel women ignored the nun altogether. Only Dohnaseek, a tall man in a wide-brimmed hat who had helped her settle in, spoke to her for a little while.

He seemed… nervous somehow. He listened distractedly as the newcomer briefly told him about her journey to Kuoh, then, for some reason, began asking detailed questions about the time she had dropped her suitcase and nearly fallen herself. More precisely, Dohnaseek was interested in the young man who had helped her. The Fallen Angel had seized on that incident at once and spent a long time asking what Taro looked like. The more Asia told him, the grimmer he became. Then he stood silent for a while, said a brief goodbye, and left. The nun never saw him again. From conversations she overheard, she gathered that he had disappeared entirely, without explaining himself to anyone.

With each passing day, her earlier joy and hope faded. The church remained nearly deserted. No one made any effort to repair it or put it in order. Asia spent a great deal of time clearing away rubbish, but… she was the only one who cared. Even Father Freed, an exorcist who arrived shortly after her, seemed indifferent to the place where he lived. It was as though the church mattered to no one but Asia.

The nun pressed her lips together as she rinsed the soap from her skin.

How she wished she had been wrong. To Raynare and the other Fallen Angels, and to Father Freed, the church was merely somewhere to stay… and a place to perform a blasphemous ritual. Asia was to have the central role. As the sacrifice. All so they could take her Sacred Gear.

It was… terribly hurtful. And frightening.

After Father… no, just Freed told her what they planned to do, spewing vile curses and blasphemies all the while, Asia hadn’t known what to do.

Her last refuge was being prepared for a ritual in which she would be slaughtered like an animal, all so the Fallen Angels could get her Sacred Gear. Raynare meant to take it, killing the trusting nun in the process. Then the church in Kuoh would be abandoned again, and Asia would be left there dead… At best, buried without a headstone, like a murder victim whose killer wanted to hide the body. At worst, dumped in some basement.

The picture her imagination conjured made her sob, but this time she held back her tears. None of it had happened. The nun had been disillusioned and had lost her place again, but she had gained a little experience. And she had found peo… demons who turned out to be nothing like the Church or the Fallen Angels had described.

Freed liked to talk about cleansing the world of filth, an exorcist’s duty, and the purity of humankind, which had rejected the evil of the damned. Only… on the day they met, his words had still sounded like something a priest might say. The more Asia got to know him, the more his talk frightened her. His words were too… too extreme, and the young man seemed too coarse and cruel.

With each day, even each hour, Freed had reminded her more and more of the people who had called her a witch and demanded that she be driven from the shelter of the Church. Cast out. Thrown into the street for daring to heal a nonhuman. Then he had begun to seem even… worse. The people who had expelled her had never said anything close to the things that spewed from the “exorcist’s” mouth.

Asia had been fooling herself. Each time, she told herself the priest was simply very young, and that was why he was so zealous. No, it wasn’t good, but there was room in the world for everyone. It was her duty to help him, to try to soften the rough edges of his character. She tried. She really did. But after every conversation, the exorcist treated her worse. He… spoke to her so rudely that she had to fight back tears. Asia even went to Raynare, who then assigned her to Freed “so the nun could understand the full weight of an exorcist’s duty.”

At first, Asia was encouraged. She imagined helping him, trying to persuade people who had made the wrong choice to return to the right path. Yes, she had let herself picture grateful people accepting her help with relieved smiles, their doubts cast aside. Father Freed would see how hard she was trying, and his manner would soften…

Sadly, reality had been disappointing. Then it had turned horrifying.

Asia bit her lip. At first, she had accepted the order to “just keep the barrier up and stay out of the way.” Well… she was young. Inexperienced. It was only natural that Freed wouldn’t want her present when he spoke to sinners who had made deals with the Underworld. That was what she told herself. Again and again, she lied to herself, inventing absurd excuses as she watched the “priest” leave and return ten or fifteen minutes later. She had been… a fool. A complete fool.

Even her own confessions, back when she had been the Holy Maiden rather than an outcast, had taken far longer. And these were sinners. People who had strayed from the right path and taken the dark road of dealing with the Underworld. Their souls needed saving. That took effort, a struggle. Could ten minutes possibly have been enough?

Now, after Sona had shown her all those newspaper clippings, obituaries, and articles sounding the alarm about a serial killer in Kuoh… now Asia could say that ten minutes was enough to brutally murder a poor student. Or kill an entire family with three children and a terminally ill mother. To torture two old people whose son had gone missing. And… and…

Already dressed after her shower, the nun rested her forehead against the bathroom wall. Sona and the girls had told Asia none of it was her fault. Freed was a deranged killer. A monster who enjoyed committing atrocities. But… but…

Asia sobbed and pressed her fingers against her chest, over her heart. It hurt terribly to remember that she had held the barrier in place while a bloodthirsty madman murdered people. Yes, they had wanted to deal with demons, but why? So the Underworld’s emissaries would find a child? Heal a sick woman? Help a young man who could barely make ends meet? Or… Could Asia blame that girl, Reika Marikawa, for not wanting to be raped?

It’s so… hard…

Strange, frightening questions circled in her mind. Which mattered more, the purity of one’s soul or… She didn’t want to finish the thought. Asia couldn’t bring herself to say what she would have chosen in that girl’s place. Or rather, she knew the answer, and there was no doubt about it. But admitting it to herself would plunge her deeper into the doubts already tearing at her soul…

“Oh…” She shook herself out of her thoughts and left the bathroom. A quick glance at the training ground showed her Taro greeting the dawn there, as always, performing the strange dance he called active meditation. “I need to hurry.”

Asia took a deep breath and turned away from the window. Yes, she needed to say her prayers now if she wanted to get downstairs in time for a quick workout, then make breakfast… Or, if she was lucky, eat something Taro had made. He could make even a sandwich taste amazingly good, so she never argued when the demon who had taken her in offered to make breakfast himself.

“All right, disciple. The physical training, proper diet, and medicines have paid off. Your body now meets the standard for the peak of what’s known as ‘Body Tempering.’”

“Finally!” Tsubasa says, genuinely delighted. “So that means…”

“Yes, it’s time for theory,” I finish for her with satisfaction.

“Huh?!” The Rook blinks rapidly.

“Something wrong?”

“Um… well… no, Master. That’s what I thought,” she lies. Her eyes are practically screaming, Where’s mah badass technique, dattebayo?! “So you’re going to tell me about the next stage?”

“I’ll tell you and show you,” I say with a nod, smiling faintly as I watch her deflate, then perk up again. She wants to get to the powerful stuff already. Something that goes BOOM and turns an entire continent to dust! A perfectly normal wish for any martial artist.

“Well… good! All I ever heard was ‘you’re not ready’ this and ‘you’re not ready’ that! Do you know how curiosity’s been eating me alive?”

“Better that than hurting yourself because you were in a hurry,” I say, letting the disapproval show in my voice. “You have no idea how many young would-be masters have injured themselves trying to reach a stage they weren’t ready for.”

“But I wouldn’t…”

“You think I don’t know you trained on your own when I told you to rest?” I narrow my eyes and look straight into hers.

“That was…”

“Extra effort, all wasted,” I finish for Tsubasa, shaking my head. “I gave you the training load our lessons called for, and the medicines made up for the days without training. You pushed your body too hard and got almost nothing out of it.”

“But why…”

“I kept quiet so you could find out for yourself how little all that extra effort accomplished. And yes, you didn’t actually hurt yourself.”

“Well, you…”

“A wonderful demon? Absolutely. If I’d tried to forbid it, getting you to listen would have taken a tremendous amount of effort. After all, you’re smart, strong, experienced, wonderful, the CHOSEN ONE!!!” I shake my raised hands at the sky.

“Quit making fun of me!” My disciple pouts, planting her hands on her hips in that trademark pose of hers.

“Why?” I ask in mock surprise, then give everyone gathered a broad smile. “Everyone should get what they deserve. You trained diligently and reached the peak of Body Tempering. But you ignored my instructions to rest on the days we didn’t train together, so now you get made fun of. And because of your… insistence on doing things your own way, I haven’t told you much about the stage after Body Tempering: Spirit Awakening.”

“I wouldn’t do anything that could hurt me.”

“That’s not true,” I snort at her indignant look. “Think I was born yesterday? Almost every young martial artist thinks they’re the smartest person alive. ‘This technique is deadly, which is why it’s forbidden. But I… I! MEEE!!! I CAN DOOZ IT! I can master it because I’m ME!!! The Law of the Dao itself gave me its silent blessing, and the Jade Emperor winked at me from the Ninth Heaven in a dream last night.’

“That’s what future corpses and cripples usually think… and, on very rare occasions, someone who really does pull it off. Sadly, those lucky few love boasting about what they achieved in defiance of common sense. So more and more eager youngsters die trying to repeat their dubious feat.”

I nod my thanks to Asia as she sets a cup of tea for Tsubasa and another for me on the little table. She’d asked to watch our training sessions and promised not to interrupt. She kept her word, attending the sessions on my training ground like a silent ghost with big, curious green eyes.

Once I got to know her better, the wielder of Twilight Healing turned out to be an exceptionally gentle, endearing, inquisitive girl. Sister Argento loved having people to talk to, too. It was clear how much she’d missed ordinary human company. So once she’d gotten over the shock of discovering Freed’s true nature, then the fright of realizing she was surrounded by actual demons, and then the fear of learning she’d been sheltered in the Underworld rather than some remote corner of Japan…

In short, Asia had been through a lot. Yeah. Though she got past her fears fairly quickly. Most of the credit for helping her settle in went to her… well, let’s be honest, naive trust in people, and to the efforts of the girls in our peerage. By her second day here, Sister Argento was chatting away with Momo and Tomoe, laughing freely at our resident giggler’s jokes. She got on surprisingly well with Rei, too, despite Rei not being much of a talker. They’d whisper about something… girly, probably. Asia talked with Sona-san every time she came to visit, and, horror of horrors, my Mistress asked her to drop the honorifics. I nearly had a heart attack and a stroke in whatever organ Japanese people and cultivators use to keep track of rank. Jokes aside, the nun was slowly thawing, to everyone’s delight.

The girls liked her. I like her too, why lie? She’s such a pure, kind soul that even I can’t help finding her endearing. Being around Asia feels warm and comfortable. If she didn’t mention the God of the Bible so often, making the demons around her feel singed, the girls would be glued to her twenty-four seven. I’m exaggerating a little. And Genshirou? The blond kid seems to be praying himself that the wielder of Twilight Healing will join our peerage.

There was some disappointment, though. As far as my plans were concerned, anyway. Sacred Gears are… pretty damn cool. They aren’t all game-breaking, but every one of them is useful somehow. I’d had a small, selfish motive for letting Asia onto the training grounds: I wanted to save a little on healing medicines by using her power instead.

But once I saw what her healing did, I had to throw that plan in the trash and explain to her that her power made training less effective. So now Asia just beams encouragement at Tsubasa and Issei while they train, and I still have to dip into my limited stock of healing medicines at the end of each session.

Really, I should have skipped the pills and elixirs and called it “tempering their spirits.” But then the two high schoolers would have been much less effective as servants of Sitri-san and Gremory-senpai. So, given a choice between greed dressed up in pretty words and spending what I had to, I chose to spend. I did make sure to mention how generous and kind I was being, though. It isn’t cheap. But it ought to pay off.

With Issei, it’s simply a matter of staying on good terms with the Sacred Gear wielder in the Gremory peerage. Tsubasa, on the other hand, has called herself my disciple. Someday she’ll repay my investment.

It’s a scheme as old as the cultivation worlds. Once a disciple has “gobbled up” a certain “sum” in medicines and starts becoming a bit of a big shot, they have to bring back ingredients worth ten times as much. Naturally.

“But here’s the thing, Tsubasa-chan. Those rare freaks who pushed through and survived did it largely because they had no way out, often thanks to their own rash decisions. It was literally a choice between death, if not something worse, and either mastering a deadly technique or risking a breakthrough without being ready. When a thoughtless novice bites off more than they can chew without that kind of pressure behind them… it usually ends very badly. Even something as simple as reaching the peak of Spirit Awakening carries a risk of death. One mistake, disciple… and you’ve made a mistake!”

Asia, sitting quietly with us at the table, can’t help giggling. Tsubasa gives an offended snort, then takes a sip of tea with an air of indifference. Hyoudou isn’t with us today. I’d chosen a day when he wasn’t training for the theory lesson, so I wouldn’t give the kid any unnecessary food for thought.

“All right, jokes aside.” I take a sip of the hot tea myself, narrowing my eyes in bliss. “Tsubasa-chan, don’t be upset. And don’t rush. Once I see that you’ve truly taken my warning about rushing to heart, I’ll show you the full training plan I’ve drawn up to bring you to the peak of Spirit Awakening.”

“All right.” She sighs heavily. “I’m sorry, Master. I didn’t think training more would be a problem.”

“Everything has its proper time. When I said you weren’t ready, I wasn’t trying to act like a martial arts master from a movie or cartoon, shrouding everything in mystery. I meant you weren’t mentally ready. You might rush ahead of the training plan and try things too soon, hurting your progress or even your health.”

“Got it.” Tsubasa’s face falls.

“Don’t be sad. This is part of your training too. A teacher’s job isn’t just to make a disciple stronger. It’s also to improve their mind. Right now, you’re learning the truth of the saying ‘patience is a virtue.’ That’s every bit as important as advancing to the next stage. So chin up! Have another sip of this wonderful tea and listen to your teacher’s wisdom.”

“How modest of you,” Tsubasa says, trying to hide a smile. She does take another sip, though.

“Now. Body Tempering.” I get up from the table and activate the illusion array I prepared some time ago with a wave of my hand. A blue haze shimmers in the air. I could have made the same thing with demonic magic, but I’m still shaky on demonic illusions, and I have no desire to make a fool of myself in front of my disciple and Asia. “Literally every school of martial arts has this stage, whatever principles it follows. The names vary: ‘Body Tempering,’ ‘Foundation Building,’ ‘Laying the Groundwork,’ and so on. Whatever you call it, this is the stage where a practitioner works on their physical body, preparing it for the awakening of the lower dantian. You know this already, but I think it’s worth going over it again so you understand it properly.”

Without moving a muscle, I start the first “slide.” A small cloud of blue light takes the shape of a sexless human silhouette.

“In a typical apprenticeship, a master starts with an ordinary mortal. Maybe someone talented and promising, but sometimes the disciple is an unremarkable person with nothing special about them. There could be any number of reasons to take them on: a friend asks you to teach his son, for example, or you do it on a whim, or you’re convinced your meeting with the prospective disciple was fate. None of that matters much to us. The point is that a young practitioner doesn’t have to be a prodigy or some cheesy Chosen One. So, for this example, we’ll take an ordinary mortal. At the very beginning, he can’t yet be a practitioner walking the path of cultivation. He can think of himself as one, sure, but thinking it and being it are two different things.”

Asia, listening closely, starts to fidget. I stoically ignore her. She said she wouldn’t interrupt, so she can keep her word a little longer. After this lecture of sorts, I’ll let her satisfy her curiosity.

“The first obstacle, the barrier at the very start of the path, a kind of gateway to cultivation, is the imperfection of the physical body. Reaching the ideal form a mortal can achieve, what we call the ‘peak of Body Tempering,’ lays the foundation for the FIRST STEP. Without it, awakening the lower dantian—or the ‘life center,’ as many people, myself included, sometimes mistakenly call it—is dangerous. Sometimes fatally so. The body may not withstand the strain of breaking through to Spirit Awakening and suffer extensive internal damage. That can lead to a drawn-out, agonizing, and thoroughly unpleasant death.

“I want to stress this so you don’t assume what applies to you applies to other people, and especially so you don’t start giving anyone advice. Your case is incredibly rare, practically unique. You’re a natural. I don’t know whether your dantian awakened before you were born, at birth, or as you grew up, but right now you’re effectively at the Spirit Awakening stage. That’s both good and bad. Bad because, until recently, your body lagged behind your energy. That’s why you had trouble in fights. It’s like… hmm… trying to fight in clothes that restrict your movement. Or, to use a modern example, playing online games with high ping. Your body can’t keep up with your mind, so you feel uncomfortable and focus too much on controlling it, checking whether it’s actually done what you intended.”

“That bit about ping was pure gold!” Tsubasa grins. “I didn’t know you played video games.”

“Nothing human is alien to me.” With great solemnity, I fold my hands over my stomach inside the wide sleeves of my pao. “But back to your situation. There are advantages as well, and substantial ones. The first and most important is that you’re alive. Your spontaneous awakening, whenever it happened, didn’t kill you.

“The second is rather nice too. Your awakened lower dantian produces qi like some generator out of a fairy tale. That qi keeps you healthy and strong. If you hadn’t been reincarnated, you’d have been exceptionally long-lived. With a healthy lifestyle, you could have reached a hundred and twenty years without much trouble, perhaps more. Since you became a demon, aging is no longer a concern. And the body of a more advanced being has greatly reduced the drawback I mentioned earlier.

“Finally, your awakened dantian and partially opened meridian system let us… hmm… catch you up on your coursework in no time. In other words, your body now meets every requirement for awakening the dantian.”

“But it’s already awakened…”

“Wait, wait. I remember perfectly well what I said ten seconds ago. What I mean is, when you reached the peak of Body Tempering, you also broke through to the first level of Spirit Awakening. By the book, with all the proper steps, so to speak. There are still a couple of drawbacks, though. First, you can’t consciously control your qi. That’s easy enough to fix, and it’s exactly what you’ll work on today.

“Second, your meridian system opened in a haphazard pattern, which will make accumulating qi much harder. That’s a more serious problem, and fixing it the usual way would be very difficult. Fortunately, I know a few methods that will let us solve it fairly quickly without putting you through too much hardship.”

“Pills and elixirs?”

“Acupuncture. Not the mostly useless needle poking that would-be doctors and outright frauds offer at all those trendy salons, going on about ancient miracle techniques. I mean a real branch of cultivator medicine. Once you can feel the qi inside you, find your lower dantian, and gain at least some control over the flow of energy through your meridians, I’ll help you open the whole system of major energy channels and minor loops. Look…”

A diagram starts to form inside the sexless silhouette: a web of gently curving lines that spread through the entire body, much like a circulatory system, and three small spheres. The first and smallest, no bigger than a pinky fingernail, is in the center of the skull. The second, about the size of Asia’s fist, sits in the chest at heart level. The third is less clearly defined, not quite spherical and visibly pulsing, a couple of finger widths below the navel. All three “spheres” lie precisely along the centerline of the human body.

“The system that looks like blood vessels is called the meridian lines, or energy channels, if you prefer. One main meridian runs down the center of the body and connects all three dantians: the upper, or ‘mind center’; the middle, called ‘true essence’; and the lower, the ‘life center.’

“Each is critically important, but we won’t spend long on the first two today. The upper dantian, the smallest one you can see, contains the pure yin of the mind. First, it supplies the yin energy the body needs to keep yin and yang in balance. Second, it lets a practitioner master a separate discipline that sits somewhat apart from the ‘classical’ path of cultivation. Let’s call it sorcery. Without getting into the details, which we won’t, it’s a bit like those Jedi mind tricks. ‘These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.’” I wave a hand. To my surprise, both girls nod in recognition. I hadn’t expected Asia to have seen Star Wars. “Naturally, the more time a cultivator spends developing their sorcery, the more they can do with it. Anything from simple illusions to seduction techniques and outright brainwashing.”

“Ahem.” Tsubasa raises her hand a little. “Demonic magic can do that too.”

“True, though the traditions differ somewhat. That’s why we’ll spend next to no time on sorcery. I’m not especially good at it myself. It’s a very… hmm… unfair path for men. Take a guy and a girl, equally lacking in talent, and give them, say, fifty years to develop their sorcery. They’ll get very different results. The guy might mess with a mortal’s head or hinder a weak-willed opponent in a fight. But against a woman with the same talent who’s spent the same fifty years on it, he’d hardly be able to hold his own in a contest of sorcery.

“Besides, sorcery… how do I put this… has a lot of limitations and is extremely awkward to use on its own. Often, a punch in the face is a much more effective way to win. There may well be better ways to develop this path. There probably are. I just don’t know them.”

My disciple merely shrugs. From what I know of Tsubasa-chan, that sort of thing doesn’t interest her anyway. Hitting harder, or learning a “badass technique that could turn a cliff to dust”? Now that gets her excited.

“The last thing I’ll say about the ‘mind center’ today is that serious damage to it causes madness. Often incurable madness. So, disciple, at this stage I STRONGLY advise you not even to try sensing it, let alone interacting with it. Practitioners at your level don’t have much control, and damaging the upper dantian is all too easy.”

“Understood.” Tsubasa meets my gaze and nods solemnly.

“Very good. Next is the middle dantian, also called ‘true essence.’ It got that name because it was discovered late. Otherwise, as most of the theorists I know agree, it would have been called the ‘life center’ instead of the lower dantian. There are an awful lot of names for all these things, but these are the ones I’m used to, so this is how you need to remember them.”

She nods again, and I feel a little rush of satisfaction. I like teaching normal people, not insufferable “know-it-alls.” You know the sort: always pompously starting in with “It would be more logical to…”

Usually they get a smack upside the head and an explanation. They can invent a whole new language for their own disciples if they want. I’m an old man, and this is how I like it.

“Now, the middle dantian contains nothing less than a mortal’s life itself. Life energy, yes. In an ordinary person, the ‘true essence’ is rather like a balloon, and life drains away fairly quickly. Reaching a hundred years is already remarkable for the average mortal.

“Once a martial artist takes up cultivation, they can increase the life energy stored in the middle dantian. Cross a certain threshold, and a qualitative change takes place. After passing the stage called ‘Peak Mastery,’ the ‘true essence’ changes. Figuratively speaking, it stops being a balloon filled with ‘gas’ and becomes a jug filled with ‘liquid.’ At that point, an ordinary mortal can live for hundreds or even thousands of years, depending on the further levels and stages they attain, because the ‘drops’ of life are used up far more slowly than the ‘gas.’

“The next change turns the middle dantian from a ‘jug of liquid’ into a container of crystals, again speaking figuratively. That stage is often called ‘False Immortality.’ A cultivator’s lifespan is so long by then that spending a millennium in meditation is perfectly normal. Nobody would even blink.”

“I can imagine how mind-numbing that must be,” Tsubasa mutters, making me smile.

“Not at all.” I shake my head and draw my teacup off the table with a touch of qi. “By the time you reach the level we’re talking about, you’ll understand how valuable meditation is. The very idea of boredom will have disappeared from your life. In fact, when you need to meditate and cultivate, mundane things that pull you away from it will start to irritate you.

“That’s why many practitioners in the middle stages of cultivation enter what’s called seclusion. Voluntary solitary confinement. They shut out the world with barriers and forbid their disciples to disturb them.”

The disbelief in the girls’ eyes is plain to see, but that’s normal. Young people with so much energy, in such a hurry to live, find it hard to imagine how much their attitude toward life, and especially toward time, will change. Things they once thought important slip to second or even third place. Things they’d never given a thought to rise to the top of their priorities.

Self-improvement and cultivation change people. So much so that even Netflix, with its passion for changing characters’ “skins” and using screenwriting sorcery to rewrite their sexual orientations in any franchise it gets its greedy hands on, is left in the dust.

“But back to the middle dantian. At every stage I’ve described, a cultivator can use their life force much as they use ordinary qi produced by the lower dantian or absorbed from outside. The difference is that its power and effectiveness are staggering. Sounds wonderful, but… every time a cultivator spends life force, they bring themselves closer to death.

“Techniques that draw on the energy of the middle dantian aren’t considered forbidden. They’re considered suicidal. Once life starts draining from the ‘true essence,’ stopping it is incredibly difficult. Nearly impossible. That means most cultivators can’t practice such techniques, and their first attempt is often their last. Worse, the technique itself rarely works, so the cultivator who resorts to it usually just dies without ever managing to use their ‘last resort.’

“I’m telling you this to help you understand, not to frighten you. As I’ve already found out, a demon’s middle dantian has a unique structure that makes it impossible to draw life force from it at all.”

I fall silent for a moment, thinking. It’s still unclear which is the cause and which the effect. Has a demon’s eternal life changed the “true essence,” or does the middle dantian, with its structure so different from a human’s, grant immortality? I’ll find out eventually. My Mistress has promised to let me observe someone else’s transformation into a demon when the opportunity arises, so I have a chance to understand it. My own transformation, unfortunately, was too complex a process. I saw a great deal, but never gained a truly deep understanding of it.

“And now…” I quickly finish my tea, set the cup back on the little table, and give Asia a grateful nod when she immediately refills it. “The thing we’ll be talking about at length, the thing you’ll be working with for years and years: the lower dantian, or ‘life center’…”

Author’s Note:

I’ll cover the rest of the meridians and dantians in later chapters. I think we’ve had more than enough of that for now.

To any True Cultivators reading this: please don’t take my made-up stuff too seriously or cast the “Dragon Stranglehold” technique on me in the comments. And please don’t complain about my “inaccurate description of cultivation” by citing authoritative treatises by true Immortals like Martial Peak, Soul Land, and so on and so forth. (Please, venerable ones, don’t strangle me with nitpicking.)