The might of a person can only be known when they are tried.

Lord Offal’ Kest, Great-General of Ochelon

 “My ke.” Sari tapped on Tez’ Mu’s shoulder. “Didn’t you say my lord general asked you to come to him every dawn?”

“That was before all these damn things happened,” Tez’ Mu murmured into his bed sheets. “Father will be so busy now; and it’s not like I want to go.”

Sari sighed theatrically.

“Well, there’s plenty of balm in the House of Mu.”

Tez’ Mu sat up.

“Is he going to punish me if I don’t go? But—” he made an exasperated face, “I am so tired; bad things have happened, and people are pointing fingers at our House of Mu. My brothers have also returned, and they don’t look like they’re leaving anytime soon, so—”

Sari raised his head from the clothes he was folding.

“Are you kidding? My young lords left yesterday.”

“What?!” Tez’ Mu was appalled, “How dare they! With father swamped in work, they still dare to leave? And he didn’t stop them??”

Sari shook his head.

“I think not. In any case, you should go, my ke.”

“Fine,” Tez’ Mu drawled as he stretched, “Give me one of those fur cloaks mother brought back from Darin, Sari. I’m sure it’s freezing outside.”

The Mu Manor was silent in the predawn light. A black flag still flew from the pole atop the tile roof of the main hall. Tez’ Mu’s eyes narrowed at the sight of it. Like everyone else, he had been surprised when his father declared that the Mu Manor would host Dor’ Yan’s funeral.

As the last of his line with no surviving offspring, there was no one to hold the funeral rites for Dor’ Yan. Yet, no one expected the Mu patriarch himself to do it. Granted, Dor’ Yan had almost become his son-in-law, but that was the point—almost.

Tez’ Mu was soon standing outside his father’s study, feeling miffed. He knocked twice, and did not expect a reply. Surely Raq’ Mu should be in bed?

“Enter.”

Damn it.

“Greetings, Father,” Tez’ Mu bowed as he stepped inside. Raq’ Mu barely looked up from the old tome he was poring over. Tez’ Mu raised his head and examined his father. He did not look tired. How long had he been up for? Did he even sleep?

“I—is this a bad time?” Tez’ Mu stammered.

“For?”

Tez’ Mu hesitated, then exhaled. He had been right; Sari had been wrong. This was no time to bother Raq’ Mu about training.

“Forgive me, Father. You said I should—come here every dawn,” he paused, searching Raq’ Mu’s face. There was no reaction. Sighing, he continued, “But I wasn’t too sure I should come today, what with all that happened at the House of Yan and...everything else.”

Raq’ Mu glanced up. “That is all the more reason for you to come. Did your servant tell you about your elder brothers?”

Tez’ Mu chewed the inside of his cheeks. “Yes. He said they’ve left.”

“Imagine that.” Raq’ Mu hissed, “Those two behaved like bastards, with no conscience or care for their family. After clearing things up at the Yan Manor, Riel’ Mu had the gall to tell me—to my face—that he was leaving. Leaving!”

Tez’ Mu smirked as Raq’ Mu hurled insults at his older brothers—names and titles his mother would surely disapprove of should she overhear it. He couldn’t believe it. For once, his father saw him in a favorable light, all because of his brothers’ selfishness. He was now the dependable son—the last hope of the Mu family.

He swallowed hard, a shiver running down his spine. Last hope? He had seen the end of those burdened with that title. No.

He refused to be the last hope.

Riel’ Mu was ultimately the heir of the House of Mu; he, Tez’ Mu, had seen that in the way his brother had shown off the flamboyance of the Mu Manor to his companions. Riel’ was proud of it; he knew he owned it, no matter what. Even if he left Ochelon for a hundred years, the House of Mu would still be his. One day, he could simply return, step into his inheritance, and crush anyone who opposed him.

Tez’ Mu had no desire to stand in his way.

“Come here,” Raq’ Mu said, done with his tirade.

Tez’ Mu hesitated before moving to stand next to him behind the table. Over his father’s shoulder, he peered at the old book in his hands. The pages were filled with runes—ancient symbols, the foundation of cultivation itself. Unlike sigils, which were infused with aura to produce effects, these were inert. Pure knowledge.

Raq’ Mu tapped a paragraph with his finger.

Tez’ Mu took a slow breath. “I don’t know what it says, Father.”

“Don’t they teach runes at the Academy anymore? In my day, we learned them.”

“We do, but only matrix sigils and aura manipulation runes. Not the alphabet.”

Raq’ Mu sighed, then read aloud: “’Technique for the absorption of surrounding cultivation essence—for overcoming limits caused by aura-blocking matrices or aura repellents.’”

“Oh,” was all Tez’ Mu could say.

“I reckon it will work for you. Your bottleneck is akin to to an aura restriction, after all.”

Tez’ Mu didn’t respond. Raq’ Mu grabbed a clean sheet of paper, dipped his quill in ink, and transcribed the runes with heavy, bold strokes. When he finished, he handed it over.

“Memorize it first.”

Tez’ Mu looked around for a place to sit. His father’s chair was the only furniture in the room besides the table and bookshelves. Looking down, he settled on the plush rug. Raq’ Mu didn’t comment as he crossed his legs and sat.

Tez’ Mu looked at the paper. Raq’ Mu had written each step as a bullet point.

Dispel all thoughts

Concentrate on your surroundings

Feel the essence

Draw the summon rune

Absorb

Right, easy, very easy.

Tez’ Mu scoffed inwardly. Only a Martial Master could sense the surrounding essence without having to be in cultivation mode. But Raq’ Mu was in a neutral mood, so Tez’ Mu kept his mouth shut. Not that it would matter. Even if he absorbed the essence, he doubted he could use it.

Unless there was some loophole he didn’t know about, all cultivated essence had to flow through an oasis before it could be used. And his oasis was damaged. He doubted Raq’ Mu knew and had no idea what his father would do when he found out.

“Are you done?” Raq’ Mu asked.

Tez’ Mu nodded.

“Then, try to practice what you have learned.”

Tez’ Mu took a deep breath and closed his eyes. What better way to dispel his thoughts than that? Emptying the mind was easier said than done though, what with the constant nagging at the back of his mind that all this was pointless.

Hadn’t Raq’ Mu said that it didn’t take cultivation to lead an army? Why was the first lesson cultivation, then? Tez’ Mu had imagined something else—stamina training, battle techniques, maybe even some strategy. And then, once his father was convinced that he was worth the effort, then he’d tell him about the Breakthrough Matrix Season. Raq’ Mu certainly had the influence to hire a king-tier matrix practitioner, right? With his bottleneck out of the way, he’d hit Martial Master, catch up to his peers, surpass them, and—

“Tez’ Mu! Clear your mind!”

He flinched, eyes snapping open. How…how did Raq’ Mu know? Could he read minds? Was that some hidden Martial Sage ability? He shuddered at the idea.

“I—I’m trying to, Father,” Tez’ Mu mumbled.

Raq’ Mu sneered. Tez’ Mu quickly shut his eyes again. Best not to test his patience this early. There was plenty of balm in the House of Mu….He shivered again.

Clear my mind, clear my mind. Don’t think, don’t think, don’t—

…Wait.

How could he remember the rest of the steps if he wasn’t thinking?

Don’t think.

Feel the surroundings.

Concentrate on the essence?

No, that wasn’t right. Or was it? Damn it, this is hard. Which sot wrote this technique? Did they even test it first?

Breathe.

Don’t think.

Don’t think.

Wait.

What if it meant not thinking about yourself and all your problems...but about the surroundings?

Tez’ Mu focused on his surroundings. Strongly. What did cultivation essence look like? White dots swirling through the air? He knew unabsorbed essence was pure white, changing color upon absorption to match a cultivator’s affinity. Fire affinity mages aura would then be red, like Raq’ Mu’s, water affinity blue like Essa-kest’ Mu’s, purple like who knew what horrible element Chan’ Mu’s affinity was...

Then he saw it. No, he felt it. He was not in cultivation mode, but he could feel the essence around him. And it was strong. He could also faintly feel a pressurizing aura from Raq’ Mu’s direction. It was like a resting volcano about to erupt at the slightest notice. Tez’ Mu feebly cowered at it and focused on the swirling white masses instead.

What now?

How would he absorb it? Was it like cultivating? Tentatively he started to make his oasis accommodating...

Gahh!!

Tez’ Mu gasped, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. His chest burned, and his breathing was erratic.

Raq’ Mu was already crouched beside him. “What happened?”

“I can’t—” Tez’ Mu clutched his chest, rubbing furiously in vain to get rid of the pain. “I can’t—absorb it. My oasis—is burning—”

Raq’ Mu pursed his lips. “Did you clear your mind?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Were you able to sense the essence?”

“Yes,” Tez’ Mu nodded, suddenly feeling proud of himself. He had done what only a Martial Master was capable of!

“Did you draw the summon sigil?”

Oh?

“Ah—I forgot.”

Raq’ Mu knocked him upside his head. Tez’ Mu rubbed it, feeling aggrieved.

“Start again!”

Tez’ Mu groaned inwardly but obeyed. At least he knew what to do now. In three minutes, his mind was clear. He concentrated on the surroundings and before long was ’seeing’ the swirling white masses again. Summon sigil! He didn’t bother drawing it in the air—his sigil work was too precise for that. That was what he spent his time honing while his peers cultivated during the General Classes.

Whoosh!

The white masses of cultivation essence suddenly rushed at him. But they didn’t rush into his oasis. They stopped on the surface of his body and moved at the slightest tilt. He realized that he could channel them wherever he wanted. He imagined landing an essence-imbued punch. How satisfying that would be.

Tez’ Mu’s eyes snapped open. Raq’ Mu had gone back to his seat to his relief. He was still poring over the book and did not seem to realize that his son had succeeded. Tez’ Mu wondered how he should call his attention.

He raised his fist and shot the accumulated essence into the air. It exploded into a shower of sparks.

Raq’ Mu raised his head. “I know that you have done it,” he sneered at Tez’ Mu’s childish display, but his eyes betrayed him. They crinkled at the edges in what was clearly a smile, “You are not without talent. Well done.”

The tiny smile at the corner of Raq’ Mu’s eye was quite enough for Tez’ Mu but the praise stunned him. He blinked. Did...did his father just compliment him?

Raq’ Mu rose.

“Come,” he said, crossing the room, “Let’s put your new strength to use.”

Tez’ Mu knew he wasn’t going to get off easy, but this still felt excessive. And to make matters worse, he was hungry. The earlier mistake still had his oasis burning, and he doubted his father would let him eat until this was over. Nonetheless, he rose and followed Raq’ Mu out of the study and into the main hall. His father did not speak as they crossed the rugged floor, the silence only broken by the soft haunting chimes of hanging brass bells—remnants of the rites of Dor’ Yan’s funeral.

Raq’ Mu opened a door on the west side and they stepped into his private drill arena. The wind hit Tez’ Mu in the face and he was glad for the fur coat. The training grounds of the Mu Manor were sacred, built in the old tradition—open to the elements, bound by a high fence of iron and pine. Over in the east, beyond the treetops, a faint red hue brushed the sky. Dawn had begun to break.

At the center of the arena, Raq’ Mu stood with his sword, Nightshaft, planted in the ground. The weapon was forged from the heartmetal of the Mu bloodline and rumored to hold the echoes of every battle it had seen. Even standing still, it seemed to hum faintly, as if anticipating bloodshed.

“What are you standing there for?” Raq’ Mu himself was no less intimidating. At six-five, he was a mountain of a man, broad-shouldered and solid as a war monument. His stance was easy, but Tez’ Mu knew better—every Mu servant grew up hearing how their lord could break a man’s ribs with a casual backhand.

Tez’ Mu gulped. This was not good!

“Don’t be afraid,” Raq’ Mu said, noting his expression. He flexed his arms, “I will fight you at your level.”

That was not exactly comforting.