The Dao of Magic: Book 3: A Western Cultivation Series

by Andries Louws

  This has a side effect of increasing everyone's qi spell efficiency, she realizes. A spell containing inactivated qi is a spell that needs more control or optimization, after all.

  Selis had earned a substantial amount of points by submitting a report describing a way to force the dungeon to drop only certain items. The concept of probability manipulation that the weird things seem to operate on does not play well with qi-soaked space. Leaving holes big enough in the spiritual sense fields for certain items, forces the dungeon to form these items in the unobserved areas. A steady stream of mana crystals and the occasional order of raw materials is keeping everyone in Tree supplied with raw stock and cultivable energy.

  The qi generating formation adorning Tree’s crown has been slowly growing ever since the steady supply of crystal was started.

  The gardens surrounding Tree have grown from a patchwork herb garden to rolling fields of fast-growing crops. Tests on soil depletion and quality - a mission submitted and highly prioritized by Drew - had Valerius floating on clouds, so happy was he. Production per square kilometre shot up once controlled tests were run. That branch used the difference between qi-soaked soil and powerless moon soil to form further theories that are being tested even now.

  A sub-one-percent production gain translates into a much bigger efficiency difference when performed in qi rich environments. This was one of the many discoveries that had the scientists and braincores chomping at their bits.

  This growing stream of food is transformed into ready-to-eat foodstuffs by a large section of culinary enthusiasts. This is then exported through the capital portal, providing everyone with food at no cost. The management of the distribution of all this sustenance has grown a substantial new branch in Re-Haan’s tree in only a few days. Her tree - previously a sapling - now looks like a proper young tree, no longer at risk of being stepped on and having its trunk snapped.

  However, one thing is worrying Re-Haan. Most of these industries are based in a very limited market, have no growth potential, or are just temporary. No matter how crazy Drew's plans might be, supplying the food of an entire city is bound to get old fast. He's also all about new things, so she fears that parts of her tree will wither when his attention shifts. She makes a mental note to talk about that at a later date.

  Another small economy that she didn't expect popped up. She needed to do very little managing there, as the need for everyday stuff enhanced with qi seems never-ending. Re-Haan only started a communication channel that allows for custom requests and advertisements promoting newly developed items. Self-heating pans, workout equipment with an automatically adjustable weight, clothing that contains self-cleaning or visual effects, quickly built custom buildings. The requests and offers keep flowing endlessly.

  The king was another unexpected source of commerce here, as well as in the weapons department. The royal coffers contain little gold, but the king’s wealth of mana crystals seems large indeed. The few citizens loyal to the crown, further culled by the king’s keen aura senses, all got supplied with enhanced armour and weapons. The bad ones were asked to leave, and were helped to leave when they inevitably protested. Missions to form cadres of royal guards or escort important personnel are providing the students with another source of income and experience.

  The fading influx of new blood was temporarily solved by Drew and her raid on Parduuk. The couple of hundred people Drew kidnapped from that wretched place are all running around Tree now, most of them passing the initial test with ease and starting their own path of cultivation. A few of them got sucked in by that stupid grandmother of Ferah, and Re-Haan glares at the withering branch representing that rotten collection of garbage people.

  Most of the ones taken in are of the same caste as that witch or beastkin of lesser status without much brains. A braincore would undoubtedly fix those mildly retarded individuals, but not forcing people to do anything is one of the few rules Drew himself actually enforces. Any attempts at forceful labour, threats, or even hints of slavery are crushed ruthlessly and with the utmost priority.

  She asked Drew about it a bit, why he tolerates all the other nonsense people are pulling but stands firm on the freedom issue. He talked a bit about how tolerant people can only be intolerant of intolerance, but it honestly didn't really click for the dragoness. She had even studied the section of information in Database about the paradox of intolerance with her conscious mind, but it still didn't really make sense.

  She understood that unlimited tolerance was a self-destructive concept on a mathematical level, but that's it. She had come to the conclusion that this concept must be one of the things that she is unlikely to grasp. That selfless thought she had six days ago must have been something similar. She had shown Drew the image she had branded in her core, the foaming sea coloured by warm sunlight painting vivid contrasts with the menagerie of sea life. He had replied; “Wow, that’s neat.”

  No other altruistic impulse had happened since that one. For the amount of inner turmoil it caused her, it seemed awfully anticlimactic.

  Guiding her own thoughts back into the previous path, she checks on the recruitment rates. Everyone had a few subjects they needed a certain amount of proficiency in before they would be allowed to do anything important, each mission or role having its own skill priority list. Aura reading is high up on the list for any mission going outside Tree.

  The general feeling inside Tree has been consistently happy, positive and warm, probably because Teach was rather selective in his initial recruiting. Each individual was - if not completely warm and welcoming - neutral at worst. Except for that bint of a grandmother.

  This means that new students have only sensed neutral or good people when cultivating. This has a generally positive effect on them, except for their apparent horror when faced with truly bad people. Some of the more sensitive students threw up when meeting rapists and murderers, covering their bodies in a film of puke that slowly seeped through their qi containment field. This is a situation Re-Haan wants to prevent, and not just for the clean-up needed afterwards.

  A series of mental exercises encourage a person to imagine the worst-case scenario, only letting them pass when Database feels a sufficiently broken and dark thought or image coming through the mental link. This also allows people to more clearly recognise potential assets.

  Back to the recruitment list, Re-Haan sees that the vast majority of people are now being supplied by students in the three largest human cities. Rescued slaves, abandoned kids, or people left behind by their delving teams make up the majority of that group. A trickle of personnel comes from the king inducting his own people as cultivators, while a fifth of all new students is composed of family members being recruited by ex-slaves on long-range missions.

  And then there are the weapons. Re-Haan is not sure whether she feels physically, mentally, or sexually excited when going through the potential behind some of these weapon projects. Ripe fruits, burgeoning with destructive might, fill her mental vision as she inspects the arms part of her personal tree. The largest fruit - the qi powered beam cannon project - has split up into a few smaller fruits while the main one is obviously splitting into two.

  She takes a closer look and instead of being sucked inside the project like she was previously, she now sees images, pieces of video and an overview. Anti-personnel and siege classes. Tasty fruits indeed.

  One fruit shimmers with sharp intent. Another seems filled with explosive might. Okay, Re-Haan has enough self-knowledge to admit that this is getting her totally horny. Ignoring the rest of that beautiful, delicious branch, she opens her eyes and locks her gaze on Drew.

  ⁂

  I’m kind of bored. I’m standing behind the steering wheel again. Rhea sailed us through that semi-circular ring of the way-too-excited sea beasties when we left Parduuk’s ruins, but she hasn’t offered to take the wheel since then. She has been too busy changing into all kinds of freaky forms.

  I keep telling myself that shape does not matter. Ea
ch time I embrace the woman I forcefully steer away from the fact that I saw this lovely lady change into a monstrosity with spider legs with at least a hundred penis-shaped tentacles. Yep, form, shape, and whether or not she has one or many, many penises does not matter.

  I thank all that is holy, right and good in the multiverse for her change in behaviour. I sensed her directly useable powers lessening each time she came back from freaky shape practice and spun her a tale. I told her that potential usage takes energy, the power to use power in many ways takes power, leaving less for direct use. I might have rambled a bit.

  But it seemed to have worked because I have only seen her change into her dragon form for the past few days. I have been cursing my eidetic memory though. Come on Drew, always look on the bright side of life.

  I’ve been trying to overwrite those memories, the one where she was a collection of nothing but tooth-rimmed gaping maws especially, with pictures of her sunbathing. She used to lay just anywhere on the ship, her back slightly melted and shining as she lay there. A beautiful woman with a glowing, melting backside is also not great visual stimulation. Thus, the hastily designed and constructed beach chair.

  So yeah, I leer at her curves once more, observing each slender line and valley of flesh. I burn her half-lidded eyes framed by white, floating hair in my memory. Her bikini - actual cloth instead of textured flesh at my insistence - emphasizes her curves rather nicely. I can feel my sanity points returning slowly.

  It’s just a shame that I need to spend them again. I sit back down, holding my foot on the steering wheel, and resume my chores. The influx of students is great and completely according to my plans. It’s just not great that I failed to understand some of the intricacies of my plans, like the fact that I need to make a couple dozen new spatial rings a day.

  I have the construction line under Tree - ran by Database - making rings by the hundreds. The simpler enchanting work can also be done automatically. That's just a matter of printing the silver in a detailed shape. The critical features need to be done by hand though. Forming a unique small storage sub-dimension, linking it to a corporal form, and shaping the metaphysical connection from the small silver tree and my actual Tree can’t be automated.

  Usually, sects would give out spatial rings only to promising individuals. Making a storage ring was something sect-elders did on occasion when they needed favours from someone or when they were strapped for cash. I - for some dumb reason - decided to give a spatial ring to every single shit that ends up as a student of mine.

  So here I sit. I once again pull a ring from Tree’s storage area. I pour out a bit of my augur and form it into a hollow sphere next to the ring. Imposing my will slowly collapses it into nothingness. I let the air seep out but keep hold of the space. The space around it bends along, forming a singularity, as I press it through reality’s fabric.

  Keeping hold of the newly formed pocket-in-space, I sense it disconnecting from local space. The only link between that newly formed sphere of space and this universe is my mind. Keeping that thread going, I focus on my necklace. Grabbing hold of the blazing connection to Tree’s dimension, I pull a small strand to the ring’s embedded Tree. I will the small silver inlay and Tree to merge slightly, letting the small strand snap into place. I then guide the small pocket to the ring and let it land.

  My very first attempt at spatial rings comes to mind. I somehow formed a portal ring, disappearing the top knuckle of my left pinkie finger into somewhere unknown. My lack of experience and need for scientific understanding had led me to create a one-way portal inside the ring. I never retrieved that piece of my pinkie and had to grow a new one.

  That was a lesson I am still having trouble with. Not everything needs to be understood through dissection of basic principles. Messing with space seems to be one of those principles that works better when done through feeling instead of trying to impose one's own understanding upon it.

  I sigh as I check the ring’s intricately written coding one more time. I test the containment field and feel its principles cover me. The tracker spell is also functional. The size-limiting function will keep the spatial pocket in check, not allowing it to grow beyond a certain size. All the other features also check out, and I put it back into Tree’s storage area.

  One done, a couple hundred to go.

  What feels like hours later, my mind is numb and my augur is largely spent. It’s great training but it feels like I just ran a hundred marathons with my mind. I check the storage area inside the moon and see that a few more drones are ready for launch. Happy to do something less soul-draining, I start programming the little flying wonders.

  I have launched the last drone, waving it goodbye as it slowly climbs upwards while going in an as of yet unexplored direction, when I sense Rhea stirring. I sensed her communicating with Database at a rather impressive pace, and that just stopped. I double check the directions my newly launched pretties are flying when I feel a chill going up my spine.

  I spin around and grab my sword, only to see Rhea smiling at me while licking her lips. I look up and make eye contact with Lola. The bunny shakes her head once and retreats into the little crow's nest. I always knew I couldn't rely on that yellow-bellied dumbass when shit got real. I take a deep breath and start pleading.

  “Loo-” I am pounced before I can get a single word out of my mouth. A flushed and heavily breathing Rhea starts touching me all over with her hands that were rotating, slimy, multi legged… She starts doing stuff to me as I try to suppress certain memories. Good thing I reinforced this ship during our travels.

  chapter thirty-four

  Digest

  “Honey, shouldn't we maybe slow down a bit? Our guests are looking a bit uncomfortable.” Looking over his shoulder with worry clear on his face, Bassik clenches his reins with pale, slender hands and deceptive strength. His voice is rather loud, having to overcome the loud background noise.

  “For the last time, Bas… NO! I’ve run the numbers two times now. That’s one more time than I’d usually run them, and they will be fine.” Sternly looking forward, Rityn’s pale purple face is unflinching, not even glancing back once. “There are better things to discuss than people that are perfectly fine.”

  “Okay, I’m calling it. We slow down now. This is outside the house, you know.” Bassik shows an unusual amount of forcefulness as he grabs his wife’s reins. The mounts they are on - a pair of herbivore mutants that were tamed by a student initiative - slow down, which causes the entire caravan behind them to slow as well.

  Rityn fumes and sulks for a bit, but is forced to give in. “I,” the woman starts speaking haltingly, “I’m just afraid we’ll sink. That’s all.”

  Bassik smiles. “My fearless wife is afraid of something after all. Who knew that water would get you in the end?” A single glare is enough for Bassik to hold his tongue.

  The couple is riding on two near-identical beasts, fat torsos supported by four long legs that end in wide paws. The upper part of both beasts is covered in feathers so fine it might as well be fur. Their long necks are covered in downy feathers and support stumpy heads, flat beaks, beady little eyes, and small horns. Teach would compare them to dumb, fat, and smooth ostriches with too many legs.

  The beasts’ legs are a blur as they desperately try to keep from falling in the water. A fine spray shoots up behind the running duo as they move across the wide-open waters. The riding couple is followed by a small procession, spreading out to either side in a flat V-shape. Larger animals of different shapes, but with largely the same fat-bodied and thin-legged structure, are carrying a colourful collection of humans tied to their backs while running across the seas.

  To the east of the Shi-Eit kingdom are mountains. Further east are the beastkin plains, stretching grasslands with the occasional hill or patch of forest. Still further east is a small ridge of mountains bordering a large inlet, dividing the beastkin plains and the savage cliffs where the tribal humans live on a stretch of sea. Following the inlet
further south is the beastkin capital, located over a large river delta.

  Bassik and Rityn are returning from a sanctioned mission to the savage human tribes in order to retrieve some new students. They knew that taking a boat would take too long, so they went looking for amphibious animals.

  Selecting a few candidates from the dozen or so flocks being tended to, they tested them out, leading them to conclude that only the specimens they are currently riding have the leg speed necessary to travel across water. Rityn refuses to admit this, but she had severely underestimated the difference between a practice run on a lake and traversing a major piece of water.

  The fact that this is the second time travelling across the water is doing little to soothe her worries. The lower speed has her nearly biting her fingernails, until Bass says, “Honey, look at my parents.”

  Glancing over at the, in her opinion, horrible people, she smiles softly. Seeing the most irritating entities in her life green and puking does something to her heart that she can't quite explain rationally. Deciding to distract herself from the fact that the waves seem to be getting taller, she looks over their baggage.

  A little less than two dozen people are looking at her with terrified eyes. Their mouths seem to be moving, but none of the desperately voiced complaints reach her ears. Nostalgic memories of growing up in a village based on a tall coastal cliff emerge as she observes their catch.

  One not present is their village leader. The old bastard had pawned Bassik and Rityn - the two elements most vocal against him - off to the pirates when they came looking for slaves. The village usually retracted all ladders and ropes, but that ship was accompanied by a mage. He could have wiped out the entire village and everyone inside it with ease.