Twinned Destinies: A Cultivation Progression Fantasy

The Blood Showers, as the Post had taken to calling them, didn’t stop. Mother’s stay at the Li Clan was extended from a week, to weeks, to months. The Li Clan simply didn’t have members to cover all of Dragonspire Province. Some Shards, nestled in some remote region of the Mountains, worsened to infestations; Mother described how one had landed in a nest of Thunder Eagles. That had led to the birth of a fleet of Feral demons, with a Core leader; she’d had to go put that one down herself.

Ruyi split her time between her cave and the manor. Both were starting to resemble those dumps she’d seen in the Lower City. Bottles lay strewn about, some half-drunk, newspapers making a new carpet over the old one, which had already been crusted over with food stains. As you walked you had to make sure not to step a nasty surprise—an unwashed plate hidden under the papers, empty vials here and there, the occasional sweaty robe.

Her hair was starting to resemble a bird’s nest. She was starting to smell. She knew she should probably do something about all this, but what was the point?

Nobody came to visit her. There was no-one to look good for. And her new rock friends wouldn’t judge her. She felt they were the only ones who really understood her.

She felt her loneliness like a slow poison. She felt it most painfully when she was alone in the dark. She hoped it would go away on its own. Or maybe the Heavens would drop someone on her doorstep? She had this recurring dream that Sen would show up, flowers in hand. Or maybe Jin, or Mother, or Tingting? Someone. But no one came. Any day now, she hoped.

***

One morning on her way back from the lab, she saw the main road clogged with soldiers. They stretched across all the road she could see, so many they were getting in their own way. It was slow going. She saw a dazzle of speartips, slung over hundreds of shoulders. The oil-shined pommels of swords glinting in their sheaths. Dust-clouds trailed a chain of wagons pulled by a herd of horses and mules. On each wagon, flapping in the wind, was a gold sun on a white field—the Emperor’s insignia.

She had a bad feeling all afternoon. When the day’s edition of the Post came, she saw she was right.

The headline—“DEMON WARLORD CROSSES DESOLATE WASTES! EMPEROR DECLARES EMERGENCY”

Overnight, the Warlord Octavius and at least three other Warlords had crossed the Desolate Mountains.

She tore through the article, scanning for mentions of Father. There was nothing about his being taken, thank Heavens. He appeared in a quote the bottom, urging solidarity, saying something about how the army was standing firm, and how the citizens need not worry.

The next letter she got was from Mother.

It was brief. It told Ruyi to prepare to leave at a moment’s notice. If Jade Dragon City were ever threatened, she’d gotten special permission to bring Ruyi to Li Clan Headquarters.

***

On her next visit to the Lower City she saw huge banners flying over nearly every street, promising a silver for every man who enlisted.

There were stations registering folk for the Imperial Guard—‘stamp out the demon threat!’ read loud posters plastered to the booths’ sides. There were stations registering folk for the army (defend country and crown!). Though whoever had made these posters had clearly never been to the Lower City. They’d made the fatal blunder of including a portrait of the Emperor’s smiling face. The folk of the Lower City gave him evil eyebrows and giant hook-noses, but the most common was the tried-and-true genitals-in-mouth.

It felt like when the Guard had first cracked down on the Lower City, back when the Cult had still been active, but there wasn’t that constant simmering threat of violence. The city felt beaten and sullen. Folk wouldn’t look at one another; they glared if they did. But there were so many Guard now they had troop for every back alley. It felt like a quarter of those she saw wore the Guard’s white.

At least she still got smiles. Mei’s Wards had served tens of thousands by now. If you weren’t ill you had a friend or a relative who was. Even if you didn’t you saw her face around; it was the new logo. She saw blinks of recognition wherever she went, and as she passed heads turned to stare at her. A dust-smeared little girl ran out of an alleyway to give her a flower. Two men carrying a doorframe gave her a cheer as they passed. Then she made her rounds of her wards, smiling and laughing and asking folk about their lives, had a delightful chat with Matron Chao over tea. She was still glowing on her way back home, thinking she really ought to visit more often, when the rotten fish hit her in the face.

“Witch!” A boyish scream. She caught a flash of red before it vanished down the alleyway, chased by a flurry of white cloaks. For a breath she just gaped, touching a hand to her face, to the cold slime slithering off her cheek. She was too shocked to give chase.

Then heat rose to her face.

She thought about that fish all night. She couldn’t understand—why did that boy hate her? She wished she’d had the wherewithal in the moment to run after, pin the boy down and wring an answer out of him. She’d been doing her best, hadn’t she? Why her? She was on their side, she swore she was! But he was gone.

She was used to people hating her, like Father used to, but this time she felt she didn’t even deserve it—that was what bothered her most.

On the one day she’d gotten all washed and dressed up, too.

***

Grandmaster Yin cleared his throat. “You are all here because Grandmaster Yang has come to me with a proposal, a proposal deserving of an emergency meeting of the Alchemist Guild’s Board. She has requested an open meeting.”

They seemed to Ruyi eight snowy pines lined up around the wood table, some fatter, some thinner, some taller, some men, some women, all old—so old their publishing primes were long past them.

The Guild was conservative by nature. It took years of review for a publication to enter the Encyclopaedia; before Ruyi, it had been twenty since the last Board member changed. The Alchemists’ Guild seemed to her a huge slow-moving beast.

Which was why she had requested this take place in the Auditorium. The Board sat onstage, while behind them hundreds of practicing Alchemists were ranged in the stands. With the stage lights on her she couldn’t make them out—they seemed a line of bobbing shadows.

“Good morning, esteemed colleagues,” said Ruyi. It was always a little startling speaking in here, hearing the sounds spread so clear, so far—like you were speaking with someone else’s voice. “I’ve requested this meeting be open because it concerns all of you. I’ve finished my Qi Elixir reformulation. It is nearly thrice the potency at a quarter the cost. It has passed one round of peer review. I’m very proud of it.”

She held her smile, waiting for the applause to die down, and then for the echoes of the applause to die down.

“This Elixir, henceforth the Ruyi Elixir, comes at an opportune time. Our country is at war, and the Emperor has begun the largest draft in the Dynasty’s history. But he has a dire problem. He’s running out of soldiers. He can only draft from the Lower City, and most Lower City folk are still in Qi Condensation! Weapons and training can help, but they’re costly, and they take far too much time. Easier, and more effective, would be to simply raise their power levels.”

She could tell the room was catching on—the bobbing heads had gone quite still.

“Imagine if we could mass-produce a cost-effective Qi Elixir, take advantage of scale, and shore up our powers at a time the Dynasty needs us most!”

She could hear breaths quickening in the gloom, but the faces she could see, the wizened ones at the table, still wore wrinkly frowns or mildly queasy expressions.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” Ruyi continued. “To get it to work on the scale I’m imagining, we’d need most of you to agree to set aside your personal projects for a while and commit to brewing just this. The bigger hurdle still is the cost. Who’ll fund all this? Which is why I stand before you today.”

Whoever had done the lighting today was starting to annoy her more and more. She wished she could make eye contact with the audience members as she spoke. She wasn’t so sure she could get the Board members to agree—only about a third of them liked her, the rest thought she was some arrogant upstart. She was hoping she had enough popular support she could make them act.

“I’d like to have to Guild petition the Emperor to fund this program, and your time, at a price agreeable to all of us. For the good of the dynasty and the Guild! So… shall we put it to a vote?”

***

She got shot down.

Six to three on the Board, and about half the audience cheered, half boo’ed. She’d never been boo’ed by so many people before. She thought they’d loved her—apparently, not that much.

She was still stinging when she left the auditorium, and glimpsed the back of a familiar head—princess tresses. She had a sudden mad idea. It wouldn’t work, she knew it wouldn’t work, but still she dashed down a curving flight of stairs, calling out.

“Tingting!”

The princess wore silks dyed deep blue and matching white gloves monogrammed with the character Song. A pearl necklace swooped around her neck. On her finger was a steel wedding ring. It looked to Ruyi like a tiny handcuff. Her heart-shaped face was framed by dark brown curls, and she was so lovely it hurt Ruyi to see her like this, here. She must’ve been in the audience too. She must’ve witnessed this humiliation.

“Oh,” said the Princess. She looked a little panicked. “Ruyi.”

Two swordsmen in Imperial White blocked her path, but the Princess waved them off. “She’s a friend.”

It hurt even worse to hear her say it.

For a moment neither of them seemed to know what to say to each other.

“How’s your betrothed?” Ruyi got out. This was the kind of thing people said to one another, right? Small talk?

“He’s well,” said Tingting. Yet another disappointment. “And how is Sen? Your girlfriend?”

“She’s… not my girlfriend anymore.”

“Oh,” said Tingting. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah…” A small crowd was gathering around them, whispering and pointing. She chafed under their gazes; this felt personal. “Say—could we talk backstage? Please? I have a room—it’s quieter there. It’ll just be a moment.”

Tingting hesitated, and for a moment Ruyi was afraid she’d say no. She expected it. Tingting had made her feelings very clear.

Then, to her surprise—“Okay.”

Her guards were posted outside her wardrobe room, and they were alone. It was meant for one person; underneath hanging lanterns there was a mirror, a tiny wood table, and one couch. There was enough room for the two of them.

“So… what did you think?”

“I thought you were great,” breathed Tingting. “Like always.”

“Thanks,” said Ruyi, blinking. “I meant about my proposal.”

“Oh.” Tingting reddened. She was fidgeting, almost sitting on her hands. She took a while to find her voice again.

“I supported it,” she whispered. “I think it’s a really good idea. I think… maybe it’ll be necessary.”

“Really?”

Ruyi realized she was so eager she was leaning forward a little, and Tingting’s breaths grew tighter. She forgot how anxious the Princess could get; only now did Ruyi realize how much pressure she was putting Tingting under; she eased back, guilty.

“Father’s getting nervous,” mumbled Tingting. She still couldn’t bring herself to look at Ruyi. “The demons… they’ve brought several Praetorian Tribes’ worth… Father says if our army doesn’t get stronger fast…things could get… bad…”

This was great news. “So can you bring this up to him? Please? If he sends out an edict, the Guild has to act.”

Tingting bit her lip. “He doesn’t listen to me.”

“Then make him.”

“I don’t know how…”

“Can’t you at least try?”

Tingting was quiet; she was trembling.

“Please?”

Tingting said nothing, but her breathing quickened.

Ruyi wasn’t sure why, but she was getting annoyed. “You can’t just keep letting him shove you over.”

Silence.

“Um,” said Tingting. Ruyi knew she should probably back off, but she was annoyed beyond caring.

“You’ll be Empress one day! You’ve got to learn how to stand up for what you really want—”

Tingting leaned in and kissed her.

Ruyi was so unprepared for it she just sat there in shock. It wasn’t a very good kiss; it certainly wasn’t how she’d imagined kissing Tingting again. There was something desperate about the way the Princess kissed her, her breathing as she pulled away.

“Uh,” said Ruyi.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Tingting mumbled, flushed. She was back to staring at the ground. “I’m sorry. That was unprofessional. Um. Excuse me.”

“Wait!” cried Ruyi. But she’d already ran out the door.