Chương 32: "You may just be the one to save these peaks"

Ch 32: "You may just be the one to save these peaks" At the mention of the Ordeal of the Ancestors, Jatrix shifted uncomfortably and her tail drooped. Gaarch studied Zhen for another moment, then looked over at Sill.

"Get someone to bring the human to meet me in an hour. South gate."

"Yes, War Leader." With that Gaarch strode off. The formation held position until he disappeared out through the compound gate, then Sill called out once more.

"Dismissed! We're cutting training short. Scout Captain Jatrix, get the human something to eat, then make sure he gets to the south gate on time." Then she lowered her voice so that none of the Stone-Arms could hear.

"Don't mention of the Ordeal to anyone." As the formation broke, a broad-shouldered langren with scarred ears deliberately barged into Zhen as he walked past"Don't get any ideas, human. You're kind's not welcome here." Zhen recognized the voice as the langren who had been heckling him during the fights. Before the langren could step closer, Jatrix's paw shot out, and she gripped his arm. Her eyes were cold.

"Stand down, Borin. Mane-Guard Sill has left this human in my care. He's not your toy." Borin grunted and tried to pull away but Jatrix's grip was firm.

"No. Back off." Borin scowled, then yanked his arm back as Jatrix released him. Jatrix watched him as he stalked away then she turned to Zhen, her expression softening.

"Follow me." The mess hall was filled with tables packed with langren warriors eating and laughing. The smell of roasted beef and root vegetables made Zhen realize quite how hungry he was. Jatrix guided him to an empty bench, fending off the curious questions that came her way with a smile and a shrug. She left him for a few moments before returning with two wooden plates heaped with food and placing one in front of him.

"Enjoy. Never know when you'll eat again." Zhen tore into the meal, taking a moment to appreciate quite how good it was. Between bites, he glanced at Jatrix.

"So what's the Ordeal of the Ancestors?" Jatrix swallowed her mouthful then looked around to make sure that no one could listen in.

"A shortcut to accessing our bloodline techniques. The normal route for us langren is years of steadily developing the techniques one by one." She tapped her chest.

"I'm talented, but after ten years of hard graft, I still can only use the basic versions of each technique. Those who face down the ordeal have one or more of their bloodline powers fully activated over the course of a few hours." Zhen paused, his chopsticks halfway to his mouth.

"Then why doesn't everyone do it?" Jatrix snorted.

"Fools and the ambitious try. That's good. Means the clan doesn't have to deal with them any more." Zhen frowned.

"I don't get it."

"Almost everyone who has tries to pass the Ordeal dies." Jatrix tone was matter-of-fact as she returned to her meal.

"Gaarch is the only living langren who has returned." Zhen set down his chopsticks.

"That doesn't sound good. How is it so hard?"

"No idea. Only those who've actually entered the ordeal know what it involves. Like I said, most of them are dead and Gaarch keeps his mouth shut." Jatrix clapped him on the shoulder.

"I wouldn't overthink it, you'll find out for yourself soon enough." They finished in silence and left. Jatrix led him past the training yards and barracks. The south gate was at the far end of the encampment and, as impassive as ever, Gaarch waited in front of it. Gaarch jerked his head toward the gate as soon as they arrived.

"Come." Jatrix touched Zhen's shoulder briefly before returning to the camp. Zhen followed the War Leader out, and after passing through a few more residential areas, they headed into a tunnel that sloped upward. The air grew cooler as they climbed. It was a clear night when they emerged and Gaarch nodded at the pair of guards who kept watch at the far end. There was still enough light to see by and Zhen looked around at the jagged silhouettes of Thirsting Veins that were outlined against the stars.

Gaarch continued upward. The path they followed became less defined with each step until it vanished entirely and then they needed to climb rather than walk. Zhen had never done anything like this before. He activated the Eye and the rock face revealed the weak points where the rock would crumble as soon as he grabbed it. He reached for an outcropping, saw the fatal crack running through its base, and chose another. This rock held firm beneath his weight as he pulled his body up.

None of this seemed to be an issue for Gaarch. He climbed smoothly despite being larger and having a war hammer strapped across his back. If he was tired he didn't show it. By contrast Zhen's shoulders burned and his fingers cramped around the stone, but his cultivation sustained him as he used qi to refresh his tired muscles. Hours passed, and the peak grew closer until finally Gaarch pulled himself onto a small plateau and offered Zhen a hand up. This story originates from Royal Road.

Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. A cave mouth opened at the plateau's far end, a faint glow coming from the inside. Gaarch walked in and Zhen followed. Dense earth-attuned qi saturated the air inside the cave. It was almost thick enough to taste. Zhen's breath caught as his spirit gates pulled in the ambient energy. The Eye showed him the qi that flowed through the stone walls, then converged on the crude raised altar at the chamber's rear.

On the top step in front of the altar, so still that Zhen missed him, an ancient langren sat cross-legged. His fur was silver with age, and he wore a simple loincloth with a woven woolen shawl over his shoulders. Zhen looked at him with the Eye and immediately squinted. The shaman's meridians were so wide and deep that his physical form seemed secondary to the qi that filled him. His entire body was as much qi as flesh, and the Eye couldn't see where one ended and the other began.

The langren's eyes snapped open and he glared at Zhen.

"Rude. Don't do that again." Zhen's throat tightened. He dropped the Eye immediately. Gaarch's head swiveled between them, confusion flickering across his face. The ancient langren shifted his attention to the War Leader.

"Gaarch, Son of Yarv." His voice was gravelly.

"Why are you here? And why have you brought a human to this sacred place?" Gaarch stepped forward and bowed, the war hammer shifting against his back.

"Honored Shaman. We come so that this human may attempt the Ordeal of the Ancestors." The shaman's eyes narrowed. He rose from the altar with a limberness that belied his ancient appearance, but there was also an intense weariness to him.

"The ancestors reject enough langren candidates already. The chances of them allowing one who is not our own to succeed are negligible." He made a dismissive gesture.

"Why should I send a human child to his doom?" Gaarch's jaw tightened.

"Lady Zie has tasked us with training the human as a scout. He must enter the Veinwalker tribe's territory in two days." Gaarch's amber eyes flicked to Zhen.

"But the human has no techniques. In the time we have, the Ordeal is the only choice." The shaman turned his attention to Zhen, and Zhen forced himself not to take a step back as the shaman's eyes bore into him.

"There's always a choice. The Ordeal is deadly for most. I'll only allow those who seek it willingly to enter." The shaman stepped closer, his feet silent on the stone.

"Do you really want to do this? You don't have to. If Ruo-Chen has a problem with that, she knows where to find me." His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"I care nothing for the squabbles between the tribes. She may be the guardian of the Thirsting Veins, but even weakened, there are powers here greater than even her." A vast, ancient presence unfurled from the shaman's core. The weight of mountains pressed against Zhen's chest, stealing his breath. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the pressure vanished. Zhen bent over, his hands braced against his thighs. The shaman gave him a moment to recover before speaking again.

"Well? Do you come willingly? Don't worry about the consequences. Answer true. I'll know if you don't." Zhen straightened slowly, forcing air back into his lungs as he thought about it properly. The risk of facing the Ordeal was enormous. But the reward was techniques. Real cultivator powers of the sort that he had dreamed of as a child. His thoughts turned to Shuo. The old man had protected him and his family from the shadows for years.

He had given Zhen the ability to cultivate, something he never thought he would have. Zhen was genuinely grateful for all of that. But beneath his gratitude lay the certainty that Shuo was playing a game. The fact he hadn't taught Zhen any techniques was just one example of that. He had molded Zhen into a cultivator, but he had curated every step. Whether it was his parents, or the Folded Shadows, or its Patriarch, pieces were being moved across a board that Zhen couldn't see.

The whole time Shuo kept his real motives hidden behind sarcasm and cryptic half-answers. That was Shuo's prerogative. But Zhen refused to be anyone's pawn and right now too many people from Shuo, to Ruo-Chen, to this Patriarch were trying to manipulate him. The Ordeal offered him an alternative. Gaarch may well be right in that he would have no hope of surviving the Veinwalker's lands without any techniques, but it was more than that.

The Ordeal would give him strength and knowledge that didn't come filtered through Shuo's agenda. If he survived, he would have power that was entirely his own. Whatever games Shuo and others were playing, Zhen would have an edge that they couldn't predict. The risk was worth it. He met the shaman's gaze.

"I'll face the Ordeal, and I do it willingly." The shaman studied him for another moment, then nodded once without betraying any emotion.

"And that is your truth. If you emerge from this, you may just be the one to save these peaks. If not then, well, it's your death." The shaman turned to Gaarch.

"I will trust that Ruo-Chen has good reason for this so I will proceed. But, if the boy is to awaken the langren bloodline powers, he requires langren blood." Gaarch drew a dagger from his belt, the blade's edge gleaming.

"I expected that. He can have mine."

"That will be acceptable." The shaman took a crystal bowl from a stone nook at the side of the cave and began carefully plucking dried herbs from the bundles hanging overhead. Zhen activated the Eye briefly and it revealed distinct qi signatures within each herb. But those signatures were unfamiliar and didn't match any attribute he recognized. After several minutes, the shaman held the bowl out toward Gaarch. Without hesitation, Gaarch slashed his palm open.

Blood welled from the cut and flowed into the bowl, mixing with the herbs. The War Leader's expression didn't change, even as the blood streamed down his wrist. The shaman stirred the mixture with a long eagle's feather, and the blood and herbs combined into a thick, muddy liquid that gave off a pungent, acrid smell. The shaman held the bowl out to Zhen.

"Drink it all." Zhen took the bowl. The smell was worse up close, and it made his stomach turn. But he hadn't come this far to give up at an unpleasant smell. He took a deep breath, then tipped the bowl back and drank. The liquid went down smoothly and it wasn't a unpleasant as it smelled. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, as it reached his stomach, it started to heat up. The warmth was gentle at first and then it spread rapidly, moving up his torso and down his limbs.

It wrapped around his meridians, flowing parallel to his qi but very much distinct and ignoring his dantian entirely. The heat reached his head, and Zhen gasped as his senses exploded outward. His hearing sharpened until Gaarch's heartbeat and the hiss of a brazier filled his ears. The tang of old blood and damp earth flooded his nose. Around him it was as if a dozen lanterns had suddenly been uncovered. Everything from the scratches on the stone floor to the texture of the shaman's woollen shawl became clear.

Zhen blinked, overwhelmed by the onslaught. The shaman nodded with understanding.

"Now you see what it means to be langren." The shaman walked up the steps and stood behind the altar. His silver fur seemed almost translucent in the light of the brazier that sat on top of it. The flame sent shadows dancing across his features. He gestured down toward the stairs.

"To complete the ordeal, all you have to do is walk up these steps and touch the altar." His lips curved with amusement.

"What could be easier?" Zhen stared at the crude stone steps. There were just five of them and the altar was at the top, the symbols carved into it puling with earth-attuned qi. Gaarch stood silently next to him, having bound his bleeding palm. It was clear that the next step was all down to Zhen. Zhen let out a slow breath, then stepped toward the altar.