The Magistrate: Chapter 36 (Patreon)

Chapter 36

Cultivator Script

While a blizzard raged outside, Tobias sat propped up in bed, working his way through his new library and recovering from divine body meridian expanding and strengthening pills the Shen family had sent him. The Great Clans had deep pockets, but even they couldn’t supply divine pills on demand, which was why it had taken him so long to receive the first pills he’d been promised.

The divine greater body meridian expanding and strengthening pills were more effective when taken together, so Tobias had to swallow twenty-four pills in quick succession, before the sedative effects knocked him out. When you had less than a minute to swallow that many pills, each half the size of a golf ball, it wasn’t easy. Tobias had even heard the later ones clacking together in his stomach as they entered, before passing out.   

Since then, Tobias had been poked and prodded by Cloud Sect elders and healers from the Lee Clan, each one wanting to see if the pills had been more effective because of his increased muscle mass. They disagreed on the results. Tobias’s greater body meridians had expanded and strengthened to the very limits of what the pills should have allowed without any open energy meridian, but there had been no divine transformations.

Some believed that the extra muscle mass had allowed the pill to be fully utilised, but others felt the lack of a divine transformation and clear signs of his meridians having grown suggested that it had no effect.

Tobias didn’t care for their opinions on the matter. One data point didn’t equal a trend, but the fact that the pills had reached peak effectiveness pleased him.

What didn’t please him was that with each passing hour, his body broke down more of his unnecessary muscle. Increasing the size of his body meridians had increased the flow of chi into his body, making the muscle unnecessary and forcing his body to adapt. Tobias hoped the breakdown would stop before he returned to his unnaturally slim state, only because he didn’t want to completely start over from scratch.

Tobias put down his most recent manual on body cultivation and picked up the small table beside him and placed it on his lap to quickly write a summary of everything that he’d read. Once he was finished, he added his thoughts on what he felt was valuable information and what was useless.

No one built a reference guide, so he had to do it himself. Before receiving the library, everything Tobias knew about cultivation came from conversations he’d shared with cultivators and the Zodiac Cultivation Manual. Tobias had assumed that he was poorly educated on the topic because of this fact. He’d been wrong. Very wrong.

Cultivators were appalling teachers, he’d discovered.

None of the instructions in the manuals were clearly spelt out, and their descriptions all took far too much poetic licence. They gave convoluted answers that sounded profound but meant nothing. They embellished trivial details while glossing over important facts in the most frustrating ways.

Tobias had spent days trying to figure out what stupidity had led to this bizarre form of communication. If it had been one or two manuals, he could have ignored them, but they were all written in a similar manner.

He knew that this had something to do with saving face. It wasn’t related to worrisome elders trying to hide their secrets like Aunty Nang suggested. If it were, then only those with something to protect would have written in this manner, but they all had.

Eventually, he settled on the idea that this was how prodigies wrote their manuals. They had so much divinity that they didn’t need good instructions to progress, so they didn’t believe they needed to give good instructions when trying to explain their thoughts and ideas to others. Something they could barely comprehend offered them enough insights to make unbelievable progress, so when they began writing their own manuals, they didn’t feel the need to go into detail.

Tobias had come to this conclusion only after examining complex cultivation manuals written by prodigies. All of these held much more precise instructions, showing that they had struggled with the concepts, which meant that they assumed others would struggle with the concepts, so they gave more detail.

Somehow, the entire cultivation world had adopted their terrible writing style. It was likely because they believed that it was part of what made prodigies so exceptional, and they didn’t want to appear to be unable to perform up to their standards.

Everyone was trying not to look like a fool. However, in trying not to look like fools, they’d become fools, but because they were all fools, no one looked more foolish than anyone else, so they all managed to keep up the appearance of not being fools.

Tobias found that incredibly frustrating, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it, so he’d decided to just muddle through as best as he could.

Tobias placed his summary on top of the manual, put his desk to the side, and picked up the next manual from the pile. It was called: Iron Mountain Body Cultivation Manual.

Tobias ignored the ridiculous name as he began reading. After a dozen pages, the manual began to intrigue him. From what he’d read, Tobias knew expanding and strengthening body meridians with chi had a natural limit. Going beyond this limit required reinforcing meridians with material in pills and elixirs, or dao concepts. These materials and dao concepts transformed your flesh as a byproduct, making it more receptive to chi.

The manual he was reading was the first one he’d come across that required the cultivator to reach the natural limits of expanding and strengthening body meridians with chi before beginning the body cultivation method. It outlined how this was done, far less clearly than other manuals Tobias had read, but it repeatedly reinforced that this was necessary.

The first section talked about fitness and strength training, explaining that a cultivator needed to go beyond their physical limits before they could begin building their mountain body. It didn’t outright state it, but the intent was for the cultivator to build muscle. Tobias found this incredibly interesting because there had to be a reason why the method required muscle.

He found part of the answer he was looking for at the end of the second section. The manual explained that meridians supplied muscles with chi, saturating and transforming them to make them stronger. However, this improvement in strength was ineffective because twice as much chi produced significantly less than twice as much strength.

Tobias read that section several times, just to make sure he understood it clearly.

If the manual was correct, the body produced muscle because the muscle wasn’t supplied with enough chi to adapt to the weights it was trying to lift. Without enough chi, the only way for the body to adapt to the demands placed on it from strength training was to produce more muscle. This muscle reduced the chi going to the other muscle. However, because chi density wasn’t an equal exchange for strength, the cultivator still got stronger.

Tobias kept reading and began to understand why they needed muscle.

The body cultivation method put enormous demands on the body’s chi to sustain itself, which was why you needed to fully develop your body meridians before beginning. However, even if you did, the demands were still too high, so you had to reduce the effectiveness of the pills and elixirs by building muscle, which spread the effects across more muscle mass, reducing their potency.

If Tobias’s assumption about muscle mass making body meridian expansion and strengthening easier, and the manual was correct, then the reason muscle improved body meridian expansion and strengthening was because the chi density in a cultivator’s body directly weakened the ability of body meridians to be expanded and strengthened.

Tobias realised that even if he was right about building muscle, it was likely entirely unnecessary to train the way they were training. They might be able to achieve the same results by finding a way to lower the body’s chi density while cultivating.

Either way, he couldn’t do anything about that right now. All he could do was read more manuals that required muscle building to confirm whether or not this manual was correct.

***

Near the end of Winter, Tobias stood in the healing pavilion, writing down the chi density of the last of the disciples participating in his training program. The pair of elders who had been examining them rattled off numbers as they finished their examination. Only the disciples with the lowest divinity and talent had begun to grow muscle. They all looked like bodybuilders, but the rest of the disciples were far behind them, so most of his data was intact.

Tobias wanted to know how much the chi density increased in disciples as they fully utilise their cultivation, and then how much it decreased as their muscles grew. Based on what he’d read, both were equally important for what they were trying to do.

Tobias no longer believed that just reducing the chi density in muscle was the answer. If it were, then cultivators who didn’t utilise their cultivation and force their bodies to adapt and grow stronger would have a clear advantage over those who did. Since his data didn’t show that, Tobias had to assume that fully utilising your meridians was the first step to making progress.

Like muscles, once fully utilised, meridians seemed to want to adapt. However, they couldn’t. They were limited by the divinity and talent of the cultivator who possessed them. It wasn’t until the external pressure placed upon them by their own chi being reduced that they could expand and be strengthened by someone with limited divinity and talent.

Thanks to his library, Tobias was certain that he was on to something.

Whether reducing chi density could be achieved by other means was still up for debate, but he was certain that building muscle helped body meridians expand and strengthen.

Tobias wrote down the last of the results, paid his respects to the elders who had helped him, and made his way outside to where all the disciples were waiting for him.

They stood in rows, without saying a word, offering him the same respect they showed the elders, clasping their fists in their palms before bowing at his appearance. This display was something Tobias had earned. It wasn’t just because he trained beside them. It was because he was doing everything that he could to improve their cultivation, answering any questions they might have as openly and honestly as he could. They felt that it was the act of a teacher and that they should show him the same respect they showed their other teachers.

Tobias inclined his head and took the lead, marching them through the snow to the training grounds. The wind chill barely bothered him as he entered the large open space and motioned for everyone to fall in line.

Tobias folded his arms behind his back, marvelling at how much tougher his body had become through cultivation. Usually in this sort of weather, he would be locked up inside, wrapped up in blankets beside a fire. Instead, he was standing out in the open without any additional layers.

Tobias raised his voice, so everyone could hear him over the wind. “The New Year Festival will begin shortly. For those leaving to visit your family, I have good news.” Tobias reached into his robe and lifted a letter. “Steward Wo has written to confirm that despite his absence from training, he’s retained most of the muscle he’s built. In the time he’s been gone, he thinks he’d only lost a day of growth, so those who wish to depart have my full support.”

Everyone smiled, not just those who were leaving. Many feared they might be left with their enlarged physique if they failed to expand and strengthen their meridians. Tobias had just laid most of those fears to rest.

Tobias let them have their moment before listing off ten names and motioning for them to step forward. The ten men were all cultivators with lower divinity and talent. They were also the ten largest individuals, with bodies that were so large they had grown to grotesque proportions.

Tobias waited for them to fall into line. “Starting today, you have my permission to body cultivate. The use of pills remains prohibited.”

None of the participants had ever used meridian expanding or strengthening pills because it would have corrupted his data, but Tobias felt that it was necessary to remind them not to. Some of the disciples were grossly overestimating the effects of the training, and many of them wanted to push the benefits to the extreme after they had heard what happened when Tobias consumed his pill.

Tobias noticed several guilty looks. “You’ll have an opportunity to use pills in the future, but for now you want to test your limits without them.”

Outer Disciple Cho raised his hand near the back.

Tobias motioned for him to speak.

“Why wait, Magistrate Finch?”

“Many pills shorten the length of your natural path when consumed before you reach the end. If you want the most benefit from pills, you have to wait. This hasn’t changed with your training. In fact, it might have made that more relevant, because if it works, you will have extended your natural path rather than shortened it. Now, are there any other questions?”

***

A week later, Patriarch Lee invited Tobias to visit. Tobias had chuckled as he read the invitation, knowing his friend must have somehow heard of the disciples’ progress.

The following morning, Tobias was led to his friend’s favourite garden. The compound’s arrays protected it from the elements, leaving the garden free from snow and chilly wind that would damage the delicate plants. It was far from warm, but it wasn’t cold either.

Tobias had a grin on his face as he joined his friend’s table. “Cloud Sect won’t be happy about you spying on them?”

Patriarch Lee chuckled. “Having a servant watch the comings and goings of those who walk up and down the Cloud Steps is not something they view as spying.”

“Is that how you found out?”

Patriarch Lee nodded. “Several excited muscular cultivators have been seen racing up the steps over the past few days, so I knew something had changed.”

“And you were too impatient to wait for me to bring you the information once I had everything I needed.”

“Your new training method is the most interesting undertaking Cloud City has seen in decades. Of course, I’m impatient. Now tell me what happened.”

Tobias chuckled. “Eight days ago, I allowed ten cultivators who had reached the end of their natural path to begin trying to expand or strengthen their meridian. As of this morning, six have made significant improvements. The other four still remain in seclusion.”

“How significant?”

“You know I can’t share individual disciples’ information. All I can say right now is that it was noticeable enough for the gatekeeper to detect when they approached.”

Patriarch Lee leaned back. “Elder Sho is barely capable of performing his duties, so for him to be able to notice a change there would have to be greater than a 6% increase in the size or 8% increase in the strength of their meridians.”

Tobias frowned. “You consider Elder Sho to be barely capable.”

Patriarch Lee sighed. “My generation was taught by tens of thousands of old monsters, each vying to pass on their knowledge and techniques. The younger generation never had access to their wisdom, which has turned once proud clans and sects into a mere shadow of their former selves.”

Since they were on the topic, Tobias felt comfortable raising his complaints about the older generation. “Those old monsters are the reason you consider the new generation barely capable. They were so desperate to prove they were competent that they made it impossible for the younger generation to progress without them.”

Patriarch Lee lost his casual expression. “As one of those old monsters, you come close to insulting me.”

Tobias refused to back down. “You can continue to feel insulted, or you can listen to why I hold these views and decide whether they have merit.”

Patriarch Lee didn’t relax his expression. “I’ll allow you to explain why I shouldn’t beat your backside like a misbehaving child.”

Tobias realised his friend was deeply insulted, not just putting on a front, but went ahead anyway. “You’ve written your own cultivation manuals, I take it?”

“I have, but I won’t give you access to them to prove your point.”

“I don’t need access to them. I need to know if you used the same writing style as the manuals in my library.”

“You mean cultivator script.”

“Is that what you were talking about in the Capitol?”

“It is. And yes, I use cultivator script.”

“Why?”

“Because while it might be harder to understand, it provides deeper insights and allows you to progress further.”

“Have you ever tested this assumption?”

“It’s common knowledge.”

“You mean, even in your youth, the cultivation world had been using it for so long that they had forgotten why.”

“It’s a foundational part of cultivation.”

“Like looking down on those who build muscle and not being able to tell a cultivator how far they can progress without needing pills.”

Patriarch Lee suddenly looked like he was sucking on a lemon. “You don’t think it’s necessary.”

“I don’t think that it isn’t necessary, I know it isn’t necessary. At least not before the foundation realm. It might be necessary after that, because dao insights makes everything more complicated in ways I don’t fully understand, because I can’t hear dao whispers, but before that it just slows down progress.”

“You’re certain about this?”

“Almost certain.”

“Almost certain isn’t good enough. Not when it could irreparably harm my clan.”

Tobias leaned forward. “Then help me become certain.”

“What do you need?”

“Honest answers.”

“That’s too much.”

“It isn’t about your cultivation methods or techniques. It’s about your personal views and opinions of the world around you.”

“That I can do. What do you want to know?”

“Are you a prodigy?”

“No. I’m merely a genius.”

“How high was your divinity before you reached the nascent soul realm?”

“It was nine when I began cultivating, but fell to eight by the time I reached the nascent soul realm.”

“Would you publicly admit you’re less capable than a prodigy from another family?”

“Never.”

“So, if a truly exceptional prodigy from another family wrote a cultivation manual in a form you barely understood using something like a new cultivation script, your pride would force you to write your own manuals in a similar manner to prove you were on their level.”

Patriarch Lee scowled. “Why would it matter if I did?”

Tobias realised he was going to have to spell it out for him. “It matters because prodigies have so much divinity that they can become core realm cultivators even if they have no talent for cultivation. Cultivation comes so easily to them that they never have to learn how to cultivate properly. This is why most prodigies die from chi deviation.”

Patriarch Lee continued to scowl.

“Let me try to explain another way. You’ve had prodigies in your own family, correct?

“Many.”

“Do you need to train them carefully or point them in the right direction and let them go?”

“You point them in the right direction, more explanation is rarely needed, because they are prodigies.”

“What do you think happens to someone who has only ever needed to be pointed in the right direction when they need to write a cultivation manual? They write a manual that points you in the right direction.”

Patriarch Lee stopped scowling. “And if another family were to steal that manual, a genius cultivator who had studied the fundamentals of cultivation would believe the writing style held deeper meaning and value, because though he wouldn’t admit it, he would assume the prodigy was more talented than he was. They would then mimic this style to prove their own competence to themselves and others, believing that hampering others in the short term from using this method was worth the long-term results.”

“And if they discovered it was unnecessary, their ego might prevent them from telling the truth, beginning an endless cycle of cultivators copying the writing style, thinking that it will improve their chances of attaining immortality.”

Patriarch Lee groaned. “I can almost believe your assumption.”

“You don’t need to believe it. You need to compare simple cultivation methods written by prodigies and complex methods written by the same prodigies. The more complex they are, the more details, advice, and guidance the prodigy offers.”

“Dozens of manuals come to mind. Most of them support what you say.”

“The rest were likely written by more talented prodigies.”

Patriarch Lee slumped into his chair. “If you’re correct, this mistake has been repeated for more than 50,000 years.”

Tobias blinked. “How do you know that?”

“Our clan’s oldest scrolls date back from then, and they all use cultivator script.”

“Your family has scrolls that are 50,000 years old.”

“The emperor has scrolls that are more than 100,000 years old. I’m told they’re on display in the Imperial Archives.”

Tobias tried to process that information, but couldn’t. He knew the emperor was over 15,000 years old when he ascended. However, the thought of a civilisation inventing writing and still being stuck in the medieval era 100,000 years later was too much for him to process. The entire society was completely stagnant.

“I can’t imagine anything surviving that long.”

“The Zodiac Cultivation Manual is said to be three times that old. Though the oldest copy still around is only 250,000 years old.”

Tobias knew that it was the one cultivation manual that was considered sacred. “Has it changed?”

“The language it’s written in has, but the content is still the same, which probably indicates that cultivator script developed after it was created, suggesting that it isn’t necessary.”

“You’re right.”

Patriarch Lee sighed. “What do you need to prove your assumption is correct?”

Tobias hadn’t even considered how he would go about doing that. All he’d wanted to do was complain. However, he wasn’t willing to turn down such an offer.

“I need a highly talented and experienced cultivator to translate the manuals in my library into something that clearly explains the process without flowery language. Then I need a highly experienced, less talented cultivator to create another version of the manuals that contain all the information they are missing.”

“Why recreate the manual twice?”

“Ideally, you would create the manuals at least three times. The more divinity and talent someone has, the less information they need to make progress with a cultivation method, which is good for them, but terrible for everyone else. Actual problems with the manuals or techniques can only be discovered by those with less divinity and talent. They’re also the most likely ones who can create solutions to the problems that arise with the methods or techniques.”

Patriarch Lee paused. “You consider less divinity and talent to be a benefit?”

“Not normally, but for this, it will be essential. Working at the edge of your ability to learn a method or technique is where you have to develop ways to get around your shortcomings. Working far below your ability when learning a method or technique is where you begin to experiment with ways to make the method or technique more powerful, so it provides a challenge. Both have their place, and both are necessary.”

Patriarch Lee groaned and then began to laugh. “You just explained why so many members of my family can’t learn my techniques and provided the solution on how to fix it.”

“You still upset with me?”

“I’m about as far from upset as I can be. Make a list of anything you need to prove your assumption. You’ll have the full support of my clan by sundown.”