Zhao Doushi smirked. “Better get ready for some serious kowtowing, Alex.”
And truer words were rarely spoken as Alex found himself falling into Dogeza and apologizing profusely for his failures as a student before not one but three glaring instructors, all wearing the plainest cultivation robes, as if the contrast between their spartan attire and the luxurious silk and felt clothing worn by those well-to-do embracing the Noble’s Path just showcased how far the instructors had transcended earthly displays of ostentatious wealth or the opinions of others, or so Alex inferred, each of his instructors possessing snow white hair and surprisingly unlined faces, for all that they wore their years like cloaks of dignity.
One instructor was responsible for teaching the history of their school with further courses involving the history and politics of the city, principality, kingdom, and ultimately, the empire as a whole. The political landscape and a talented cultivator’s place within it would also be discussed, with additional classes for those cultivators gifted with supreme interest, talent, or potential.
“Opportunities which would not be wasted on a lazy Ruidian who dared think he was too good to even attend the most basic of classes,” Master Fu Shen declared before the class entire.
Alex flushed with embarrassment. His Qi Perception was now so acute that even with his gaze lowered, he could easily sense the other students smirking and grinning at his expense.
Or maybe that was just him projecting. Either way, Alex didn’t dare raise his head until the glaring professor was done castigating him before dismissing Alex to the very back of the open, airy pagoda seating some twenty widely-spaced students at benches and tables much like the ones at the cafeteria.
An acutely embarrassed Alex sat in the back for the remainder of the class, finally learning the very basics of politics and geography that he should have picked up months ago. He already knew the city’s name was Yidushi, which meant, quite literally, ‘one city’ in the old tongue, ruled by Administrator Ruizhi and his clan, and Alex took the title Administrator to be akin to ‘lesser ruler’ as it was an inherited title, and the clan heads had been ruling this city for centuries. Their city was one of ten cities that together covered as much territory as the continental United States, for all that most of it was exotic wilderness dotted by countless walled towns, villages, and farming communities left to rule and fend for themselves, and even forge their own unofficial titles and miniature kingdoms.
So long as they paid the rulers of the nearest major cities trade tariffs and provided a steady supply of produce and livestock, the empire as a whole was happy to be freed of the nightmarish bureaucratic burden of managing tens of thousands of tiny hamlets and towns, a thousand or so years before the advent of computers, or so Alex thought to himself, so no one really cared what they did.
Cui Zhe was the sovereign princess of Cuijing Principality, her palace located in the principality’s capital city of Baidushi. Alex didn’t catch the name of the kingdom their principality was a part of, and it blew Alex’s mind to know it probably covered a landmass greater than all of Earth’s continents put together, and that was just the tiniest fraction of the Golden Empire that was comprised of perhaps a score of kingdoms, having acquired countless cities and territories, thanks to endless centuries of conquest.
Perhaps Alex would have pieced together even more, but Master Fu Shen seemed to take particular delight in regaling the class with the horrors and depredations committed by Ruidian raiders countless centuries ago, assuring that even if some students had been peering at Alex with curious eyes at the beginning of class, everyone was glaring his way by the end, as if holding him personally responsible for what alien invaders he had no relation to had done a millennium ago. Brutally graphic accounts that their instructor had enjoyed telling with such relish, a master storyteller conveying his narration with such visceral intensity, it almost made Alex feel as if he had witnessed those horrors first-hand.
As the instructor had no doubt intended.
“I eagerly look forward to seeing you attend my class regularly, Ruidian. I have no doubt your peers will give you the welcome you so richly deserve.” The cold smile he flashed a couple students made it painfully clear that if a bored Zhao Doushi hadn’t been waiting for him, his sleepy eyes all but daring several agitated students to challenge him right then and there, Alex would have found himself in a fight immediately.
Perception check made! White Crane kung fu skill check made. You keep your balance!
“Next time, Ruidian,” one student hissed, slamming into his back with a grunt before stumbling back, wide surprised eyes making it clear he had thought to send Alex reeling. He blinked, caught sight of Zhao smiling down at him, and immediately fled the scene to a couple parting snickers from other students quickly making themselves scarce.
Alex chuckled ruefully as he and Zhao left the classroom behind. “I don’t think I’m going to get too much out of that class. Master Fu Shen despises me just for existing. And he seemed to be doing his damnedest to rile up the other students to hate me if they didn’t already.”
“Get used to that, Alex,” Zhao said. “You’re carrying the weight of an entire race upon your shoulders.”
Alex winced. “So I gathered.”
His guide shrugged. “So be worthy of that weight.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is, lead by example. Be just, honorable, always keep your word. Be someone worthy of the well-regard of others. It won’t change people’s first impressions, tainted by historical accounts of your people’s crimes…”
“Not my crimes,” Alex muttered.
“No, but your actions will help shape the view others have of your entire race. Should you, unlikely as I think it is, actually blossom into a cultivator worthy of note and manage to avoid bitterness and envy taking you on a twisted path, then your modern tale might serve to temper old hatreds, so that fewer Ruidians are forced to bear your burden in years to come.”
“But in the meantime...”
“Yes, you won’t be made to feel any more welcome here than anywhere else.”
“Until I make some friends.”
Zhao smirked. “Good luck with that.”
Alex dreaded his next class, expecting some sort of ritual humiliation or being called out in front of the class. Instead, the slender cultivator who would have looked almost frail, were it not for the power radiating off him in waves that Alex could so clearly sense, actually treated him with a modicum of decency, much to Alex’s surprise.
“Alright, enough,” the instructor known as Master Liang said almost impatiently after Alex prostrated himself, formally apologizing for his many failings as a prospective student. “Elder Panheu has had his fun and is now throwing you amongst the sharks, is he? Very well. Show me whatever cultivation technique has gotten you this far, and perhaps we can correct it before you permanently cripple whatever warped excuse for a meridian configuration a Ruidian half-blood might have.”
Alex kept his face carefully blank as he took slow, steady breaths, feeling his Qi cycle through him and chip away the massive meridian blockage he was still plagued by, using the Cleansing Breath purification technique Liu Jian had first taught him and which Elder Panheu had put such emphasis on him practicing in preparation for better sensing and feeling the flow of Light Qi when practicing White Crane kung fu.
Two months of diligent practice had gotten him up to a quarter of maximum efficiency. Still just a fraction as potent as his Dual Path purification technique, it barely put a dent in cleansing his one remaining clogged meridian, but it pleased Elder Panheu to sense his diligence, and for the moment, learning from his master and staying in his good graces meant more than the couple extra daily hours he would otherwise be cultivating with his own technique.
Surprisingly, the instructor’s eyes widened. “He knows Cleansing Breath? And uses it exceedingly well, for a student. Excellent. You’d be surprised how many village cultivators only learn broken,
simplified techniques incapable of doing more than clearing half their meridian gates, straining their foundation the entire time they’re doing so.”
Alex snuck a glance as some of the other students, surprised to see the wide-eyed looks of awe at hearing the name of the technique he was using.
“How the hell does that Ruidian know a Royal Legion technique?” murmured one student a bit more loudly than the cultivators around him. Much to his chagrin, their instructor heard him, turning to the class.
“How he knows is as trivial as it is irrelevant. No doubt he’s the bastard get of a soldier who took pity on his Ruidian whore. Does it matter? No. All that matters is that the boy is competent in a technique you are all expected to master once you have progressed beyond Steel Bear, the most basic of all school-sanctioned purification techniques, and a damn sight better than the piss poor excuses for breathing exercises most of you fools were taught.”
All this Master Liang said without heat and, save for the flushing student directly addressed who glared hateful daggers at Alex, everyone resumed their cultivation as if there had been no interruption. The cultivator turned to Zhao Doushi. “He clearly doesn’t need me instructing him in the basics, but I will accept him. At least the poor bastard will have a couple hours every day he need not worry about being bullied or beaten. Perhaps he will even grow as a student before he’s sent packing, but I doubt it. Still, you never know.”
Zhao Doushi’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Your faith in my master’s skills is overwhelming. I will see that he knows to come here at the appropriate time. Now if you will excuse us? We must be going.”
Liang shrugged as if it were of no consequence whatsoever, Zhao Doushi quickly leading Alex back to a pagoda just a short walk from the cafeteria, noting a handful of students entering the chamber just ahead of them.
“In here is where assignments can be selected for a listed number of credit-hours, or credits. Have a care and read everything carefully, lest you take an assignment far beyond your means. Best you stick to this board for now.”
Alex was intrigued despite himself, gazing at a number of cork-like display boards with cards pinned to them denoting various tasks. Some assignments involved cleaning school grounds and others involved heavy manual labor such as working at the docks, most only offering one to three credits per half-day of work. In other words, just like day laborer jobs the world over.
Other tasks looked far more interesting and exciting, promising dozens or even hundreds of credits per completion of various tasks. A few even mentioned secured credit hours, but Alex wasn’t sure what that meant.
Of course, those tasks involved hunting down specific, rare alchemical ingredients, Alex’s eyes widening when he caught the word Silverbell blossoms, knowing just how priceless those were, and five hundred secured credits certainly wasn’t something to sneeze at. Hunting down lesser spirit beasts and presenting their cores could net one anywhere from thirty credits or more, depending on the quality of the core.
Alex whistled. “It looks like hunting spirit beasts is profitable!”
“And dangerous, especially for new cultivators who hardly know what they’re doing,” Zhao rebuffed. “Put those back. I’ve pulled a couple for you to choose from that are suitable for helping you get a sense of the college and knowing your limitations.”
Alex frowned at the slips he was handed. “Helping to clean the grounds, work in the kitchen, or port supplies up to the monastery?”
Zhao Doushi nodded. “You’re Ruidian. For all your flaws, I’ve never known a Ruidian who can’t cook. For all that they’re frowned upon, especially in polite society, many of the best restaurants employ at least one.” He sighed at Alex’s deadpan gaze. “Let me guess, the culinary arts aren’t one of your fortes?”
“I can barely boil water,” Alex admitted, mind flashing back to a time when he had thought a personal home chef was normal. A lifetime ago, when he had lived a sweet, peaceful life, born with a silver spoon. Until everything had turned to bile with the death of most of his family, his self-destructive efforts to cope with it culminating in despair and a painful road to redemption, and just when he had reforged himself into someone who could look in the mirror with more pride than shame, that final sweet year of high school had ended early for him on the most horrifying of notes, terminal illness and all his dreams turning to ashes for the second and final time in his short life.
Only to wake up a thousand years later to find himself reincarnated in a world reminiscent of the ancient east where mystical martial arts were the most coveted of all disciplines, strength was everything, and cultivators had the chance to ascend to the heavens themselves if they had the talent, discipline, and fortitude to get there.
Yet no matter what universe he found himself in, it didn’t change the fact that he didn’t even know how to use the microwave, let alone cook a proper meal.
Zhao Doushi looked honestly disappointed in him. “Well, that limits our options,” he said.
“Very well, you’ll be a gate porter. Bring in all the supplies the dock workers bring to the gates. Your shift will start just as soon as your last class will end.”
Alex frowned. “Alright, I guess. How many credits will it net me?”
“Two per four-hour shift.”
Alex nodded. “And how many credits do I need each semester?”
“Semester?”
“Each season.”
“One hundred.”
Alex blanched. “So I need to spend more than half the days I’m here doing heavy labor just to earn the credits I need to stay another semester?”
“You have a problem with hard work, supplicant?”
Alex carefully shook his head. “No, Master Zhao, I’m simply concerned about efficient use of my time.”
Zhao, however, had already moved to the front counter. “You, there. The Ruidian will take this assignment.”
The young man blinked and scowled. “A Ruidian? This is highly irregular.”
Zhao just slammed down the chit, not saying the word.
The youth swallowed. “Very well, master cultivator. Just have him sign here… can the Ruidian read?”
Alex carefully glanced at the thick leather tome the youth pulled out, noting the ledger-like format, assigning various tasks by way of marks and dashes under various names. At the very bottom of the ledge was space for a new name, so Alex kept it simple and wrote his given name.
The youth scowled once more at his English spelling. “Odd squiggly symbol, but distinct, I suppose. Very well. We have slots open every other day for the rest of the season.”
“Good. Give the boy slots for this afternoon and two days hence. He can make his own decisions from there.” Zhao Doushi frowned. “And don’t give him any crap. Anyone can see he’s a Ruidian. Just give him credit for the hours worked or I’ll be going over that damn tome myself.”
The youth glared, clearly affronted. “Not even instructors are permitted to examine the work ledgers. Surely you already know this, honored Silver. But you may rest assured, sir, that my ledger is every bit as balanced as your foundation! The Ruidian will get paid what his labor is worth, no matter how personally distasteful I find him.”
Zhao nodded. “Good.”
And without another word, he quickly led Alex to what would be his third daily class and, much to his pleasure, it involved dozens of youths sparring with spears, dao, or barehanded.
Alex couldn’t help grinning in anticipation. No more lectures, veiled insults, or spending hours practicing a cultivation technique inferior to his own.
When the master turned away from his students, however, he met Zhao’s bow with a scowl. “Why are you here, Zhao Doushi? It better not be for the reason I hope you’re not going to say.”
Zhao Doushi flashed a mirthless smile. “It is, in fact, for exactly that reason, Master Pan. Take it up with Elder Panheu if you have a problem with it.”
The powerfully-built cultivator glared daggers at Alex and Zhao
both, clenching his powerful fist. Alex immediately prostrated himself before the cultivator. “This lowly one apologizes for any offense he has wrought and wishes only to be a worthy student of the master before him.”
Master Pan scowled, giving an angry shake of his head. “He’s only here now, for the last third of the season? Why do you bring him before me now?”
“You and I both know the reason hardly matters. All that matters is that the Ruidian willingly accepts all responsibility for your displeasure. So how about you use the pretext of testing his mettle to beat him silly and get it out of your system, so I may drag his broken body to his afternoon job and finally discharge this unpleasant task that has already eaten up most of my day?”
Alex flushed so hotly he felt his ears burn as the entire class snickered at his expense.
Master Pan snorted, his glare turning half-pitying. “Poor sad sap, don’t even know how badly the deck is stacked against you. Even your allies can’t stand you.”
Alex swallowed and lowered his head, keeping the confusing turmoil of confusion and a tinge of despair buried deep, turning his bitter disappointment into a bow. “It is as you say, Master Pan.”
The man snorted. “I already heard stories of your so-called fighting prowess, how you covered yourself in lard and managed to slip out of everyone’s grasp, and that’s how you squeaked your way inside. Sorry to say there are no skins of lard available to you now, lad. I can only hope you won’t make a complete ass of yourself in a real fight.”
More than a few students snickered at those words, and Alex ruefully understood that his secrets were being kept, how he had won those last couple fights, but at the expense of whatever shreds of reputation doing so well in the arena might have otherwise earned him.
Not that he was at all surprised.
“I will do my best not to embarrass myself, sir.”
Silver Fox & The Western Hero: Warrior Forsworn: A LitRPG/Wuxia Novel - Book 3 Page 6
