Chapter 2: The Climb to Heaven

Chapter 2: The Climb to Heaven

Immediately after Paike’s foot hit the first step, he knew their strategy wouldn’t work. He wasn’t sure if their elder siblings had just been playing with them when they told him about not breathing in or if they fully didn’t understand how the stairs worked. Most likely, they had been making a joke at his expense. It was probably some ancient traditional prank, seeing as his sister was also holding her breath.

After only a dozen steps up the stairs, he started to see the mist shimmer in a way that was clearly not natural. He still hadn’t breathed in, so it wasn’t just some inhaled mild hallucinogen. The almost rhythmic movement made it clear that the mist was some formation, technique, or art. The terms weren’t exactly something he 100 percent understood yet, but he hoped the time at the sect would change that.

Nevertheless, he still held his breath. It wasn’t hurting–yet. Paike pumped his legs fast enough to keep up with his little sister. To think that just because she was small, he would leave her in the dust was a misconception. They had both just awakened, which was far more important than things like height, stride length, age, or anything along those lines.

His little sister could have outrun most fully grown adults. While she was still at a disadvantage against him, it wasn’t as much as it would have been a few weeks ago. Also, he had always been on the stockier side, though he still liked to think he could beat his sister in a flat footrace.

They managed to hold their breath for about thirty seconds of a flat-out sprint before his burning legs and aching lungs finally convinced him to breathe. Eventually, this would vanish as he achieved higher realms of cultivation, and qi itself sustained him. But that was potentially millennia off if he ever got there. He tried to breathe in shallowly through his nose. Still, the amount of effort and pure panic for oxygen forced him to continue breathing in once he’d started.

Next to him, he heard a gasp as his little sister did the same. Liming was stubborn like that, and Paike could only curse himself for losing this little competition. If he had held on, maybe they could have made it farther. Despite feeling the fog seep into his lungs, they didn’t slow down. No, things would get worse, and they wanted to make it up as much as possible before the real challenge started.

They kept putting one foot in front of the other; each leap carried up two to three steps at once. As they went, Paike started to see things out of the corners of his eyes: demonic visages, laughing masks, weeping children, and monsters that he could only begin to describe. Things with too many legs and not enough eyes. Shadows of concepts he couldn’t hope to describe. But nevertheless, they kept going. For now, it was only glimpses, things that were clearly only in their minds.

A quick glance at his sister confirmed that she was still at his side, arms and legs pumping, eyes fixed forward with steely determination. The only sign that she was straining herself was a single bead of sweat running down her temple and the slight muss of her hair blowing in the wind. Her robe and gown were still in place, the sash tied neatly in front of her.

Paike wished he could say the same about himself. Already, the sweat that had just dried after his hours of cultivation attempts in the carriage was back. It wasn’t just on his nose now. It was running down his face and back. He could even feel the sweat on the inside of his elbows as his skin glided against itself.

One piece of advice that wasn’t worthless from his siblings was making sure his boots were broken in. Despite his comfortable footwear, the relentless pounding of the leather soles on hard stone was beginning to take its toll on his feet. They’d been moving at a dead sprint for almost five minutes. It was just not a sustainable pace.

Around them, the mist whirled, and the visual hallucinations started to have voices too. The weeping children made sounds that were more like that of a distressed cat than an upset child. Certain things chittered and chattered, and the clacking of chitin crept up to him and snuck into his ear.

A groan from his sister caught his attention, and he looked over to see her close her eyes and stumble as her toe hit a step that was just a little bit out of place with the rest of them.

Instinctively, he reached out and grabbed her elbow, hauling her back up to her feet before she could finish falling. She didn’t even look at him as they continued going, and he did not expect recognition. They didn’t have the time or energy to waste on that.

Perhaps it was because it was happening so slowly that he almost didn’t notice. But once an insidious tendril of power touched his dantian, it was unmistakable. The mist was infecting him spiritually. It wasn’t just some hallucinogen or some mirage made with qi. The qi was actively invading his body and spirit, but it was moving slowly, even slower than his usual attempt at traditional cultivation—maybe half that sluggish speed. Only just now was it really starting to take effect.

As the qi brushed his dantian, pushing through the thin membrane and spiraling into his core alongside the still slightly grainy bits of the qi he had assimilated earlier this morning, he felt the trail of gentle fingers slowly brush along his back, and he flinched.

This time, it was his sister’s turn to catch him. She put a steadying hand on his shoulder, preventing him from stumbling at all as they continued up the steps.

Nearly an hour into their climb, they ran across the first disciple. It was a young boy somewhere between their ages, lying half on one step, his legs trailing down the other. He was unconscious, his head pressed to the side, a line of drool running down his face. Liming staggered to a halt, and Paike attempted to tug her along, but she looked closely at him.

“He’s still breathing,” she said.

“Of course,” Paike interjected. “The elders aren’t going to let us die on this trial. If we fail, we’ll just be sent home,” Paike said with a certainty he didn’t feel. He knew the sect was a dangerous place, but this was just the entrance, right? Right. Besides, if it took people multiple days to finish this trial, surely many had passed out or had to sleep on the stairs.

The look of the unknown cultivator was rough. He didn’t have the same formal jacket that Paike wore under his robes, nor did his boots look especially nice. His hair was roughly cut, and there was a burn scar on the side of his face.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“It must be one of the scholarship students,” Liming said as Paike pulled her up the steps. Now, they merely walked quickly. Their energy for running was gone, and the poison was already seeping into their minds. He wasn’t sure how Liming was staving off the invasion. If it didn’t move as slowly for her as it did for him, she would have to cycle her qi constantly to keep it out of her dantian. Something he couldn’t do.

They kept walking as Paike nodded in agreement. “Yes.”

It was contentious that scholarship students had been allowed in. It had been happening for all of his life and most of his parents’. Nearly a millennia ago, the Phoenix Emperor had declared that anyone with sufficient talent could get in.

Of course, sufficient talent was a bit vague, and nobility or those from the local sects were jealous of their spot. This meant that only the genuinely talented mortals or peasants could get in. Usually, they became standout stars and, therefore, garnered a lot of jealousy. Further perpetuating the animosity between the two groups.

Without the backing of his family, Paike would never have been allowed in. The scholarship path was harder for sure, but it might have been better to have the talent and take the risk rather than his path. From what he had heard, those notable ones who had managed to make it all the way through to graduation were some real monsters. No one would ever consider him a monster like that.