Tantra is doing burpees.

  It’s a simple motion, get down to do a push up, then position yourself into a squat and jump, repeat ad infinitum. It proves itself a succulent distraction from her thoughts, but it’s not enough on its own, so she’s doing more. As she moves she weaves six Qi threads together into a taut rope, still she isn’t proficient enough in the second exercise to do it in tandem with her workout.

  Still this is not enough.

  She’s pushing her heart, making it beat past her maximum, letting the edges of her vision blur as she risks going fully unconscious. She walks the rope well enough that she doesn’t lose balance, proficiency comes with experience after all, and she’s been doing this for hours.

  Yet she needs more.

  So she’s feeding her heart Qi, not to boost, but to push her roots deeper. It travels through her vasculature, covering every inch of her body, digging her roots deeper as the exhaustion provides convenient openings for the ethereal energy.

  Still…it still isn’t enough

  So she tries something new, much to Uai Ta’s delight. She’s actually been encouraging this tirade, documenting every now and again when she sees some sort of change, Tantra’s confused, shouldn’t she be helping the other immortals instead of whatever this is?

  Well, to be fair, she is doing something apparently unprecedented.

  Uai Ta said that the roots are fusing with her body right? Well, if that’s the case then she must be capable of boosting it, and if she can boost then she can manipulate. It’s had…some measure of success actually, wiggling the roots with just her Qi alone, like worms in her skull, except made with lignin. She doesn’t know what she can do with this new development but it’s something to do, a distraction to indulge in.

  There’s a decent crowd just watching her exercise, a few cultivators even joining her crusade against sanity. Whether it’s out of a desire to compete or jealousy for the undivided attention she’s got from an immortal she doesn’t know, but does it really matter? Tantra can just ignore them and keep on keeping on.

  All of them are well into infusion, so they could kill her easily enough, depending on their daos, yet Tantra finds it difficult to really care. None of this matters, their approval guised as competition, their seething jealousy, not ever the adoration of the surrounding peasants.

  Absolutely none of it.

  What does she care for all this attention when one of her closest friends is…gone?

  Yorin isn’t here, and that is a good thing.

  She’s well aware that she’d do something stupid were she to see his face, which isn’t really fair now is it? Yorin refused to explain himself, giving that duty to some tramp named Yu Mei, and from the sounds of things Kisrin got dealt one of the worst hands life could have given him, and all he could do was his best.

  Even if that meant letting Yorin kill him.

  A mix of rage and sorrow arises at the thought, as though her simple emotions could possibly change the reality of what is, as though any deity were actually listening to their suffering. The world is cruel, that’s just the way it is, but why? In all her life, especially in the last three months, she has been a witness to cruelty, and it doesn’t come as a divine mandate from the heavens.

  It comes as or is produced by actions, those done by people specifically.

  The world is cruel, but only because we make it so.

  Even the demons would have no reason to be here if it weren’t for the meddling of humanity.

  Kisrin was her anchor, always there to stop her from spiralling down into the abyss, does that make it poetic that his death is what will take her there? Poetry can die in a fire for all she cares if that’s the case.

  Synthia’s watching, and Tantra doesn’t really expect her to do anything else, the woman isn’t a very empathetic person, and likely doesn’t really know what could possibly comfort her in this moment. Tantra actually appreciates that, she doesn’t want to be comforted, doesn’t want to feel warm.

  She wants the pain to destroy her, so that she can pick up the pieces and rearrange them into something useful. Isn’t that the entire philosophy of cultivation? Look at her, after so many years she finally understands.

  It was right there, the central tenet of a dogma she’s drowning herself in, refusing to come up for air.

  Cultivators improve with pain.

  Everyone experiences pain, it isn’t something discriminatory, but cultivators take it, and make themselves more from it.

  She has to be more.

  It is not a choice.

  If she ever truly wants to be free from the machinations of fools, if she wants her friends to be safe, then she must be strong, so that she isn’t a pawn in some bastard's game.

  Like Doman.

  She wants to find him, and she wants to explode his fucking heart, she remembers doing that to one of the cultivators she fought. Doesn’t remember how but she’ll figure it out, if only for a new execution method designed specifically for those who are now on a list.

  One that she truly hopes doesn’t grow

  -

  The jian is a simple weapon.

  Slicing and stabbing like any sword might, it’s a thing of balance and skill, it can do wonders when placed into the right hands. Xia knows much of the jian, it is the weapon she’s been wielding for little under three decades, her only companion to accompany her journey down, and with it she has taken many lives.

  First she fought in wars.

  Leaving the Dawn Blades to receive enlightenment, and where else could that be found but in the chaos? She was on the frontlines of the Empire’s forever war with the Triumvirate for a decade before she received her first dao, longer than she’d like, but for good reason.

  She was never truly challenged, so her understanding was the only factor that brought her to the dao.

  The dao of the blade is a basic thing for wielders of any weapon, and it was no surprise to her when she received it, it did bring her the insistent need to test it though, see how it interacts with reality. Turns out it can teach her how to be better with the sword…she just needs to focus while she’s sparring and it’ll be there, like a guide. She can also empower her blade of course, and empower her reflexes, but there were a few aspects she did not expect.

  If she wished to waste her Qi, she could make her jian float.

  That intrigued her, so she investigated further and found that if her concentration is solid enough, she can create phantom blades without handles that move as though there are arms to guide them.

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

  But it truly does take a ridiculous amount of Qi, a month for a minute at first, and she’s only managed to double the time by refining her understanding and improving her control. She only used it when her opponents were otherwise a bore, but it did give her a rather interesting title.

  Xia the Asura

  She got that when she started traveling the empire and challenging whoever looked strong to a duel. She was often disappointed, but there were a few that got the adrenaline flowing through her veins, and this was where she earned her second dao.

  The dao of the cut.

  Now what is the difference between these two? While they harmonize quite well, the cut is the action where the blade is the object, so her capabilities with the weapon increased dramatically. She never was one for ranged techniques, but this dao made it almost trivial, so she added some basic ones to her arsenal.

  She also got the general ability to double or even triple her cuts, like she were striking with more than one edge. That proved confusing, but also quite useful.

  But the greatest addition this dao brought was her ability to see.

  It was like the points of severance were laid bare for her.

  Combined with the guidance of the blade it was like her strikes carried the phantom of death, and it was around that time that truly monstrous opponents sought her out for challenge or revenge. Beings that have lived for centuries, stagnating in their cultivation for reasons Xia cannot fathom.

  She almost died plenty of times.

  But she survived.

  Throughout her late twenties she was fighting for her life almost daily, and it was wondrous, her understanding of both daos deepened to a degree she couldn’t have fathomed, aligning her more and more with the great Dao.

  She came to Ralth for a break, just a few months, little did she know it would become the home of her third dao.

  She wipes sap off her blade as she stands above a corpse of bark and metallic leaves. She’s missing most of the muscle of her arms, a good portion of her guts, as well as a chunk of her right lung, but she is alive.

  She is victorious.

  This new dao…she doesn’t know what to make of it.

  She was hoping for something related to her jian, instead she got a dao tied to emotion? Is frenzy an emotion? It’s certainly a product of emotion, but she doesn’t know, she isn’t well studied in the emotional daos. She should be celebrating, she’s completed her arsenal of minor daos, now she just needs to get a greater dao and she can finally look towards integrating.

  Most choose to integrate after only getting one dao.

  Most are fools.

  She’ll settle for nothing less than perfection, even if it takes forever.

  Now to figure out how this new addition could benefit her arsenal.

  But first she needs a break, maybe head back to her sect?

  “Interesting,” a voice says behind her, and Xia turns at blinding speed to point her blade at the throat of a man with glowing scars, how did she not sense his approach?

  “Now now,” says the grinding of bone against blade, “I’m not interested in fighting someone half dead, no matter how impressive you might be.”

  “How did you get behind me?” Xia says with a front of calm,

  “You learn a few things over the centuries.” the man says gleefully,

  “Hiding your Qi signature should be impossible.”

  “Never say impossible deary,” he smiles, “life has a way of disapproving your assumptions, now! Would you mind lowering that blade of yours? I really do just want to chat.”

  “Your friend here didn’t seem all that open for conversation.”

  “Oh, Gersnan was an idiot, also he was my responsibility to kill, so we aren’t really friends.”

  “Okay…” Xia lowers her blade slowly and the man gives her a blinding smile, “This one is Xia, who might this one have the honor of speaking to?”

  “For a new friend? you can call me the DANCING SKELETON.”

  -

  Sora isn’t an idiot.

  He just has a tendency to do stupid things, but he isn’t an idiot, there’s a difference you see. Though you’d be forgiven if you were shallow in your thinking, he’s been accused of dumbassery more times than he can count, it’s funny what noble mortals are willing to say when there’s the Emperor who retains a mandate of peace, even the elders of his sect have a tendency to complain about his…unique style of thinking.

  But at least there’s respect behind their words, the others are just rude, all under the misguided assumption that what he does is without purpose, if only they could see the world as he does, then everything would make so much more sense.

  The Warriors That Bleed is an interesting name to give to a sect, but it captures his philosophy quite neatly. So many fools think that the essence of combat is to survive unscathed, as though avoiding injury were some sort of accomplishment. No, he teaches his precious disciples that to accomplish anything there must be sacrifice, he teaches them how to do as much damage as possible rather than all that fancy bullshit the sects teach.

  It made his disciples quite prone to death.

  It also made his sect the most feared of Rikidan.

  Which is why he didn’t bring any of his students to die a pointless death.

  He can see the emperor’s play, might be the only one who can, if only the others could see the world through his lens, then perhaps they wouldn’t be made into pawns. It isn’t a master plan, far from it, it’s rather rudimentary really, but Sora is impressed that softy was willing to go so far.

  So, out of admiration, he’s taken it upon himself to…help.

  In front of him stand dozens of disciples, all led by a burgundy lady in sapphire robes, all of them well into integration. He smiles with teeth of blinding steel, there’s so many ready for the grave, all lined up like ducklings in a row. He grips the chains attached to his wrists, and starts to swing two gigantic balls of titanium in circles.

  “Well, aren't I just a lucky little goose?” The impact of shattering steel says “look at all the lovely little ducklings who’ve decided to grace my eyes today, truly, I can feel the jealousy of the gods on my shoulders.”

  “Don’t be a fool Sora,” the flowing stream of clay says, “you can’t take us on, not without help, turn around.”

  “How generous,” Sora smiles, “but that would just be no fun now wouldn’t it? C’mon Ker, we’ve sparred plenty, but we’ve never truly fought, don’t you wanna see who’d come out on top.”

  “No,” she rejects instantly, “I’d rather not hurt a friend.”

  “Oh, is that the issue? C’mon, don’t you want to enjoy yourself a little?”

  “Please Sora,” she whispers, “turn around.”

  Sora’s smile widens, “no.”

  Then he stomps his foot to the ground, creating a small crater as he whips the balls towards the woman, the chains connected to his arms extend as he infuses a years worth of soul Qi into the strike.

  Ker isn’t fazed by the sudden escalation into violence, extending both her arms and catching both balls so that they don’t harm her disciples, she was always sentimental like that, one of the reasons Sora likes her. Bones crush as both of her forearms are crushed under the weight of so much metal and Qi, and Sora rushes forward, shortening the chains and bringing the balls back into his grasp.

  Before he reaches her she’s remolded her forearms into warhammers and brings them down onto Sora’s skull. He pays them no mind, letting them dent his skull as he punches a ball of titanium onto her stomach, sending her flying. He brings the other into a grand arc down, extending the chains and intercepting her as she flies, infusing the blow with IMPACT.

  It slams into her, and the noise is deafening as she craters into the ground, he goes to charge her-

  A sword slashes at him, and Sora frowns as he reinforces his skin with steel, letting the blade clang off his neck; that strike seemingly opens the floodgates as so many core disciples rush at him to protect their master.

  “STOP,” molding clay reverberates through the air, and everyone goes still.

  “This is my fight,” Ker growls, “none of you are to be involved.”

  “But master-”

  “There's no arguing this,” Ker says, “do as I say and move aside.”

  The disciples hesitate, but they do as they’re told, and Sora feels kind of…bad?

  It’s clear she doesn’t want any of them to die, maybe she came under the impression that they were actually here to bring peace, but he still has to kill her. Maybe even die himself after, who knows.

  “Is there no reasoning with you Sora?” Ker says.

  “No,” he shrugs, “just the fighting.”

  “Fine,” Ker sighs.

  Pieces of her body separate from her, and small pieces of clay grow and form themselves into golems.

  “Finally,” Sora smiles, “we can get serious.”

  Ker doesn’t respond as half a dozen golems charge.