Complain though they did, everyone ended up having a bit of fox meat in the end. Dinner concluded in short order, at which point Nolan looked around and addressed the group with a thoughtful gaze.

“You two,” he said to the others from Earth. “Uncle Grey helped me make these”—he tossed a medicinal pellet to each of them—“which are the same as the other ones that I’ve been giving you but nearly twice as effective.”

“Nice,” Sean said, nudging Esteban with his elbow. “Thanks, kid.”

“Thanks Nolan!”

“Don’t worry about it. Anyway, now that you guys have the first fifty stances down it’s about time we all got back to cultivating.”

They had spent the past month learning different stances, breathing patterns and inner essence circulation routes, during which time Nolan coached them on the countless subtleties that made their core cultivation method so unique. Every time they built up a basic understanding of a new stage in their training he’d had them reiterate the entire sequence of stances that they’d learned up until that point with a few hundred run-throughs. While the others engaged in these seemingly endless sagas of repetition, he’d focused on passively willing three of the largest metallic needles in his arsenal to rotate around him in perpetual motion.

Ian on the other hand had made another minor breakthrough and was now at the late phase of the Integration stage’s second level. These days the short-haired and smooth-faced boy enjoyed a life of leisurely bliss. He was without a doubt the one who had benefitted the most since arriving in their isolated little pocket of this forgotten world. He didn’t leave the Divine Spirit Fountain unless called upon by one of the others, was content to simply enjoy the soothing sensation of cultivating within the serene pool of nourishing waters, which he did for hours, sometimes days at a time.

“It still feels like I’m in a dream.” Ian was relaxing within the fountain after waking up from a particularly long nap of pleasant nature, which was made evident by the dumb, drooling grin that had formed on his face a few hours ago and persisted up until just a few minutes ago. “Just sitting in this fountain for the past four months has increased the range of my spiritual sense by hundreds of paces. Hah! Shain will be so jealous.”

“Ah, about that. Don’t tell Shain and the others about this place, would you?” Nolan had just arrived to take a refreshing dip and had stirred the other boy awake with an unceremonious hop into the fountain. “I know they’re on your mind, especially Shery. You said her name like ten times before I climbed in here.”

Ian gave a reflective grunt. “You couldn’t be more incorrect about the contents of my dream.”

“I’m sure I can guess, you fiend.”

They shared a chuckle.

“I already gave you my word that I wouldn’t reveal your secret to anyone, although one such as this might be hard to keep.”

“We’ll tell the others eventually, I just want to be careful.”

Nolan grabbed the three bony needles that he’d set aside atop the fountain’s ledge just before jumping in, the pencil-sized weapons raising above their heads and then entering into a rapid rotation around the simple stone.

“I envy your spiritual sensitivity. Even though I can sense things from further away after all that training, my spiritual space hasn’t grown at all. I guess I’m just not fit to be an arrayment practitioner.”

“Uncle Grey says that some people’s spiritual spaces begin to expand after reaching the Integration stage, and that some don’t. It’s nothing to be bummed about.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” an aged voice cut in. “Back in my day, if you couldn’t become an arrayment practitioner than you were as good as garbage. Ah, not to say anything against you, my boy. You’ve quite the aptitude for cultivation for someone born on that backwater island.”

The old ghost had floated over unbeknownst to them, since neither of them could detect him with their spiritual senses.

“Truly?” said Ian. “There are only twenty arrayment practitioners in the Three-River Valley—eighteen now, I suppose.”

“Arrayment practitioners are even less common back in the easterly kingdoms, at least from what I could gather from the places that I’ve been to.” Thinking back on it, there had only been a handful of them in Greenwall, which boasted twice as many people as the Three-River Valley.

“I couldn’t help but notice,” Uncle Grey said thoughtfully. “The longer that I observed the world outside the more that I’ve come to suspect that something must have happened on Venara after those scoundrels forced me to flee into this glade.”

“Something like what?”

“I’m not sure, but there is one thing that I have concluded for certain. Only a few people that you’ve met since arriving on Venara are descended from the world’s original inhabitants. Almost all of their ancestors seem to have been Otherworlders, like you.”

Soothing energy from the Millennial Ring calmed Nolan’s nerves and allowed him to digest what the old man had just uttered as if mentioning a stray though of lacking importance.

“Whoa, whoa, hold on. You’re telling me that every person I know—Ian, Nyla, Shain, all my friends—had an ancestor that came from another world, just like me?”

“Actually, Nyla possesses a similar constitution to the people of my time. In fact, I suspect that her ancestors possessed a bloodline of sorts, since she was able to draw upon the contents of her spiritual space despite only being in the middle levels of the Profound Entry stage. That is the only way to make sense of her innate affinity for spiritual energy.”

“What’s a bloodline?”

“A familial trait that either manifests within the dantian or within one’s inner essence channels. In the same way that two blue-eyed parents might have a blue-eyed child, the offspring of a clan that has been ennobled with a bloodline attribute might cultivate twice as fast as a regular person, store twice as much energy within their dantian, or activate martial skills with frightening ease.”

Ian kept quiet the entire time, his lips pursed in thought.

“But Nyla was from a huge clan,” said Nolan. “She said there were almost a hundred thousand people in her home city, but only her father had reached the Profound Entry stage…” He trailed off as it dawned upon him that if nobody within her clan had been able to reach her current cultivation level then there was no way of knowing if any of them would have awakened a premature spiritual space as she had done.

“More than that, her father was the patriarch, yes?” The old ghost flew a few circles overhead and then floated down to sit within the fountain between them. “Meaning that her bloodline would have been among the purest of those within her city.”

“Not to sound rude or anything but I don’t think you know how genetics work. It’s been tens of thousands of years at the very least. The chances that Nyla would inherit any traits from ancestors from so far back are practically non-existent.”

“Listen well, my dear disciples, you must never presume to know about something that you’ve only just heard of.” He gave Nolan the stare that an elderly man might give a silly grandchild. “Many bloodlines become passive over time, but no matter if it is one year or a million, there always exists the possibility of awakening them in a descendant so long as they reach a certain level of strength.”

“So Nyla actually had such a secret to her, huh?”

“I just thought that I should make mention of it, seeing as how the two of you are so intent on acquiring the inheritance of her ancestors.”

Nolan held up a hand and neatly summoned the three needles into his grasp. “Thanks for sharing, this might prove useful in the future. For now though, could you show me how to make that hunger pellet that you told me about the other day?”

“Weren’t you going to focus on cultivating?”

“I was, but then I figured that it’d be a lot easier to train if I didn’t have to stop to eat every six hours.”

“Alright then. Go and fetch some fox meat—a handful should do—and then take out all of your purple blood leaves and any fragments of iron salt that you’ve managed to collect.”

“You mean that glassy, dusty mineral that some of the Bloodhand Sect’s members carry around? What does it do, exactly?”

“It helps to assuage cravings of the body.”

“What kind of cravings?”

“All sorts. Be it hunger, lust, or reliance on a particular medicine or herb, a tiny piece of iron salt will lessen such temptations by a slight degree, though the effects don’t increase with higher dosages.”

“Ah, I get it. Alright then, I’ve gotta go water some plants in the forest if you get what I’m saying, and then I’ll meet you on the eastern edge of the glade. See you in ten.”

The old ghost nodded and then promptly floated off toward his other pupils, who he spent the majority of his time with these days.

Nolan reported to the arranged location a short while later, where he quickly summoned his pill cauldron as well as all of the items necessary for the hunger pellet’s creation. Iron salts for their hunger suppressing abilities, bloody meat to serve as the base of each pellet, and purple blood leaves for the characteristics that enabled the self-regeneration of blood within the body.

As he did every time that tutored Nolan in pill concoction, Uncle Grey had him circulate his spiritual sense through the cauldron for half an hour in order to get a fluid and familiar feel for the complexities of operating his energies within its confines. He then gave a quick explanation on how to create the medicine in question.

Each of the ingredients had to be added at specific intervals that corresponded with the measured injections of spiritual energy that Nolan was instructed to project into the cauldron. The substances would remain isolated from one another the moment that they entered the container, all portions enveloped in light films of energy that slowly began to break them down until only small amounts of red, grey, and violet remained.

Unfortunately, Nolan didn’t succeed in making the pellet. Instead of saving time he wound up wasting two whole days attempting to produce the prescription described in the pill recipe that his teacher had bestowed upon him, not to mention that he had used up all of his ingredients.

“Well, it’s not like it was a total waste,” he mumbled to himself as he dropped to the ground with a sigh. He’d just run through the Ancestral Body Technique’s entire sequence of stances over a hundred times, which had taken up the better half of the day. Even though he hadn’t succeeded in creating the pellet, he’d raised his aptitude for isolating, draining and compounding the substances within the cauldron.

Sean and Esteban broke through to the second level of Body Nourishment just a week and a half later, though the former achieved his success a few days prior to the other. Both wore elated smiles as they jumped several metres into the air and then landed with ecstatic laughter, and for a few minutes there was no difference in their temperament regardless of the gap between their ages.

Later that evening while they were sitting around the fire waiting for a fresh batch of fox meat to finish roasting, Nolan told the others that he would help them learn the Emerald Skin skill once they returned to Venara, at which point Ian would lead them through the densely forested mountain valleys that separated their group from the desolate wilderness that made up the majority of the continent’s north face.

“You’re a good friend, Nolan.” Ian flicked a piece of jerky into his mouth to the sound of fox meat sizzling over the fire. “Usually when somebody gets their hands on a martial skill they either keep it to themselves or sell it for a ridiculous price, though it’s usually the former. A lot of powerful families only grow to prominence because of such skills.”

“Really? I’d have thought more people would be willing to sell them.”

“Martial skills can determine who lives and who dies in battle. Would you want knowledge of your techniques floating around, copied and continuously reproduced?”

“I mean, I guess not.”

“Of course not. There would be a chance that people might find ways to counter you. That’s about as un-Nolan as it gets, don’t you think?”

He’d taken out the training manual for the Emerald Skin skill so that the others could give it a quick inspection, even if they didn’t understand what was recorded inside. Now that it had been set aside out of lack of interest, he returned it into his spatial bag with a thought, but paused as he noticed a tiny object idling around the area where his needles were stored.

I should move that, he thought as he relied on his spiritual sense to observe the golden hairpin that Hala had gifted him. I don’t want to accidently bring that out in a pinch. Haha, just imagine.

He summoned the hairpin and let it sit in his hand, a wash of warm memories flooding through his mind as his heartrate picked up and his face began to flush. Man, that girl was a rocket. I wonder when I’ll get to see her—

Ian abruptly spat an entire mouthful of Divine Spirit Fountain water on Sean, who sat there for a moment with blinking eyes before standing up with confusion written into his features. “Mind telling me what was that about, kid?”

“W—why do you have that?”

Taken aback, Nolan glanced at the ornate accessory and then carefully asked, “This hairpin? I got it from Hala. Why, am I not supposed to have it?”

“S—she gave it to you?”

“That’s what I just said. Take a breath man, Jesus.”

“You don’t understand! This is bad, Nolan. Worse than bad.”

“Would you hurry up and tell me why already? You’re giving me anxiety.”

The ears of everyone present perked up in the momentary silence that followed. Ian wasn’t the sort of person to lose his cool so easily, so they could only wonder at the source of his concern.

“There’s a tradition among the five clans that dates back to the days when our valley was first settled. Unlike how it is in the lower kingdoms it is the woman that proposes marriage to the man. If she chooses to wed him then she will present him with her finest hairpin. Hairpins serve as a symbol—”

“Oh, fuck me. And I took it, so we’re engaged, right?”

“Nolan.” Ian grabbed his shoulders and gave him one of the most sobering stares that his golden eyes had ever mustered. “I know you had no way of knowing this, but once a man says yes to marriage, it’s for life! To call off the marriage would be to sully the woman’s reputation, and it’s considered an ill omen to receive a hairpin from a woman of poor reputation.”

“So if I duck out then she’ll never be able to get married?” Nolan regarded the hairpin with an empty stare, his mind as blank as the featureless sky above. A few moments passed before he was hit by a sudden thought, and then he looked up at the bewildered Ian who now held his head in both of his hands. “Hold on. Hala’s brother is…”

“The current heir to the Varai clan. If something were to happen to him then Hala would take his place as the principal heir, and since our clan is a patriarchy the seat of rule would be transferred to her husband.”

No one spoke up for a while, the only sound in their ears that of Esteban jumping into the Divine Spirit Fountain and splashing around with careless indifference.

“Wow,” Sean chuckled. “That beats any hookup story I’ve got.”

“Now’s not the time, man.”

“There’s more. Ever since the affair between the patriarch and Lyra’s mother surfaced within the public sphere, my clan no longer allows outsiders to marry in, much less into the main family.”

“Wait, what the hell is this? If I decline then I screw Hala over, and if I accept—”

“You can’t accept, Nolan. Everyone from the clan aside, Hala’s mother wouldn’t tolerate it. When it comes to her daughter that woman can be a monster.”

Soothing energy setting his body at ease, Nolan stood up and carved a hefty slab of roasted meat from the spit, which he took a hearty bite of. “Yeah, well I deal with a lot of monsters these days.”

“Um,” Esteban said tentatively as he climbed from the fountain and returned to his place by the fire. “You guys said that if I train and become strong then I won’t have to worry about anything. I don’t really get it, but can’t Nolan just get stronger?”

Everyone was quiet for a moment before Nolan let out a light laugh. “I like the way you think, buddy. Hear that, guys? I just have to hold off on going back to the valley until I’m strong enough to waltz on in there and take me a wife.”

“So you intend to have her as your bride?”

“Well, I’m not sure about that, but you get the gist of what I’m saying. Whatever I do, they’ll have to sit there and smile. Sorry, I know we’re talking about your family but they’ve kind of got my balls in a vice here.”

“I could care less about that lot, at least most of them. I’m more worried about you.”

They decided to celebrate everybody’s recent progress with a healthy helping of Nolan’s ever dwindling supply of powerful, flavourful wine, though Esteban had to make due with a glass of water and another parcel of cookies. Rather than drink their drunken states away with sobering water from the Divine Spirit Fountain, they decided to let their inebriation lull them into a dizzy, soothing sleep.

Nolan had chosen a spot just outside of the large cabin within the courtyard. His last thought before he slipped into a dreamless slumber was that he felt oddly flattered that Hala had chosen to stake both her happiness and her entire future on him and no one else.