Moon Cultivation [Sci-fi Xianxia]

Behind every great scheme lies a very mundane desire. And when that desire surfaces, everything else seems just as mundane…

The same, perhaps, applies to cultivation. People romanticise it, call it the road to ascension; each stage carries some poetic name: Qi Refining, Foundation, Qi Condensation. But beneath all that poetry lurk plain, dull numbers: 1, 2, 3…

It's disappointing.

The epic struggle of good and evil boils down to nothing more than a Viking raid on a Christian monastery.

The demon's words had sunk both Novak and me into thought, and just then, an army of vicious ants marched down my spine once more.

The demon dropped his glass and clutched at his heart. I glanced at Novak, but he was already turning his head towards the door. The malignant aura wasn't coming from him.

The door opened, and in walked a very angry man in a black uniform. His skin was darker still than the uniform, while his short beard and buzz cut were as white as Novak's hair. On his collar gleamed Roman fives; on his epaulettes, five stars and crossed maces.

General or admiral?

Let's call him general for now.

"What the hell possessed you to let this freak out of his cage?" he barked at Novak, jabbing a finger at the thinhorn, whose eyes were bulging from their sockets. The demon's borrowed body slid off the chair and writhed in agony on the floor.

Without asking permission, the stranger dropped into the vacant armchair opposite Novak, shot me a glance, and waved his hand.

"Out!"

I raised an eyebrow and looked at Novak.

"Are you fucking kidding me, lad?!"

Novak smiled and shook his head.

"Now would be the time to remember your manners, unless you'd rather be tossed out the window," he said.

The general arched both brows.

"If you try, there won't be a stone left standing of this building!"

"Which is exactly why I suggest you mind your manners before I'm forced to remind you of your place."

"My place? I—"

"You barged into my home without an invitation," Novak reminded him. "And tone down your aura before this body dies. If he escapes, that'll be on your conscience."

The pressure vanished instantly.

The thinhorn on the floor relaxed.

"You couldn't have hauled him here without a trap," the general said.

My interface, as with Novak, refused to return any data on him.

"It's more a concept than a refined technology. I won't give you any guarantees."

Novak fell silent.

The general too.

They played that stupid game for a few minutes until the demon recovered, picked his glass up from the floor and poured himself more.

"What a fuck, Vaclav?" the general asked again. "What's he doing here?"

"Trying to get plastered to death!" the demon shot back venomously. "I doubt you'd be as hospitable a host as Mr Novak."

The general scowled.

"Your people are interfering with my operations, you invite a demon to drink… What next? You'll sell humanity to the horned ones?"

"Lina," Vatslav called. "Be so kind, check my private archive and find our sparrings with General Kaluya. Post them on the Hall of Diplomacy page with a note that we're pleased to welcome the general back within the school walls."

The general clenched his jaw until his face looked square.

"I'll bet your sorry arse was kicked in those videos," the demon slurred.

"Shut up, imp!"

"Ooh!" the demon made a mock-terrified face and tittered.

The general turned back to Novak.

"I asked you a question."

"And you intentionally insulted me, knowing I'd hesitate to toss you out the window while my disciples are here. Unlike you, I'm not used to using them as cannon fodder."

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Oh, look at you, all noble! From this one," he jabbed a finger at me, "you literally made bait." He pointed at the demon. "You convinced this one that he," he jabbed at me again, "is actually something far greater and thus lured him into a trap."

The demon nodded.

"Rather a decent analysis," he said. "I could never quite work out why he's the plug in every hole for you lot. With Vrhakzun and Thyzreth it made sense, but then the constant fights with other cadets, they hate him, plot against him and lose, he's got odd ties with the Order and the Medics…

"They tried to kill him openly! And it wasn't Thyzreth!"

"How wasn't it Thyzreth?" I couldn't hold back.

"Well, she tried too, but I mean that time you killed the poor girl. Harn."

"Uh… She wasn't trying to kill me. She was trying to stop me from entering the tournament. I just happened to have a shield amulet.

"Pure coincidence."

"Really?" the demon said, unconvinced. "I damn near broke my head back then, trying to figure out what was going on.

"And then you went after Esposito… With those same bugs you could've sent someone more experienced."

"We did," Novak admitted. "My other desciple released his bugs all over the place immediately after Jake's arrival. That's how we tracked the puppet's signal."

"Fuck!" the demon cursed. "Not just bait, but also a decoy!"

He drunkenly clapped his hands together, without letting go of his glass, so bourbon splashed over the rim.

"Take notes!" the demon told the general.

"Shut up, imp!" the general snapped. "In a few hours you and all your flunkies will be under my command."

"Not all," Novak said.

"All," the general insisted.

"Not all," Novak repeated. "We'll be keeping Vhexrith — Fara Rakotoarisoa."

"Ahh!" the demon laughed drunkenly, glancing at Novak's tablet. "I see. Bravo!"

"You think Intelligence will allow—"

"I think you parasites have already had more freebies than you deserve. You want more — do some work for once. And I swear, one more threat and you'll be flying out that window."

Novak gave the general a look that said, I dare you. Challenge me.

The general didn't.

He stood, adjusted his uniform.

"I'm taking the imp now!"

Novak waved his hand.

The demon gave a heavy sigh, took a sip, but couldn't finish the bourbon. He set the glass back on the table.

"Pleasure seeing you again, Vaclav!"

"Again?" the general asked, narrowing his eyes.

"He's over five hundred years old," Novak reminded him.

"Yeah," the demon said to the general. "But you, Daniel, I'd rather not see you for another five hundred. I never liked you."

"You…" the general began, then thought better of finishing. "Let's go."

The general and the demon left. Lina came in.

"I've posted the clips," she said with a smile.

"Good, that'll take the wind out of the soldiers' sails," Novak said. "Please, help yourself. I'm exhausted."

Novak leaned back in his chair and relaxed. For the first time since I'd known him he allowed himself to look tired. For the first time he showed he could be tired. If he'd wanted to hide it, he would have sent me after the general and the demon.

So I took a sip and waited while Novak caught his breath and gathered his thoughts.

"Well," he finally asked. "What did you take away from that conversation?"

"Demons are egotistical bastards?" I ventured.

Novak smiled. Despite his fatigue he was in good humour.

"I don't understand why that meeting happened," I shook my head.

Novak took a sip, smiled, and looked me in the eye.

"Our demon was trying to remember you."

"Why?"

"To either say goodbye or to kill you if the chance presented itself. Thyzreth weren't among the catch."

"You're joking!" I couldn't help it. "You cleaned out the whole nest but missed the one that wants me dead?"

"To be fair, they all want you dead. Don't worry, my name comes before yours on their lists. And after Intelligence has its say, your name will be pushed to the very end of a very long list."

"Not for Thyzreth!"

"Not for her," Novak agreed. "More than that, our drunken friend passed her all the information and some resources as an insurance policy before coming to speak with you."

"Brilliant! Just brilliant!" I said. "But you questioned him! You must know who she is!"

Novak grimaced.

"He's been playing these games for centuries and has arranged things so he doesn't know who she is. The only thing we managed to establish is that she's one of the younger generation of thinhorns. Checks are ongoing, but there are no guarantees."

"Looks like I'll have to keep playing the bait," I said bitterly.

"We all sometimes have to do things we don't like. Do you think I'm happy handing all the prisoners over to Intelligence? Damn, they even take the scrap!

"I planned and ran this operation from start to finish; they only provided a blockade for the enemy's potential HQ. And I was lucky they left me Fara! Though we'll still have to fight for her."

"May I ask why her?" I asked, glancing at the tablet.

"Fara worked on formations generally and for consciousness transfer specifically. Here," Novak lifted the tablet, "a Soul Save formation."

"Save as protection, or save as a file?" I clarified.

"Save as energy in a battery," Novak replied. "From what we learned from the demons, the soul is energy that can be separated from the body. But only at the early stages of cultivation."

"Why?"

"Qi is also energy," Novak explained. "Cultivation is a process of constant energy accumulation. Starting from the Fourth Stage, there's so much energy in the body that separating the soul becomes almost impossible.

"If the legends are true, Transcendent cultivators, the Tenth Stage, can freely manipulate matter and energy, converting one into the other. In essence, they must be sentient clusters of energy themselves."

"So all our demons are at most Third Stage because of that limitation?"

"Yes," Novak agreed. "If a cultivator reaches the Fourth Stage, the chances of them working for the enemy are negligible."

Lina finished with the brew and sat opposite me.

"I wouldn't be so categorical," she said. "Almost doesn't mean impossible, and deviant behaviour still exists. There will always be some bastard ready to sell humanity for a handful of crystals."

Novak nodded.

"History confirms that."

"Why do you want this formation?" I asked.

"This information wasn't critical for the demon's survival. And I could obtain it. Of course it still needs verifying, but we have a specialist and a way to motivate her. I want to figure this out before the technology destroys us."

It was my turn to frown.

"How exactly?"

"Our society is split between cultivators and mortals for a reason. Representatives of power don't cultivate; cultivators don't govern…"

"They elevate the leadership to the Second Stage," Lina observed.

"And that general was Fifth Stage," I reminded them.

"In contrast to the army, we have a bunch of non-army cultivators who won't let the uniforms seize power, if only to avoid finding themselves under its boot. Besides, cultivators have little interest in Earth. Their points of interest orbit around it. As for raising officials to the Second Stage, it's mostly so they won't clutch their chests in fear in our presence. There aren't many other advantages," Novak waved his hand. "A bit better health and a few extra decades."

Maybe for him that wasn't much, but I felt a striking difference between the old me and what I'd become.

"Either way, turnover in power is ensured by nature itself," Novak continued. "Now imagine these same politicians gaining the ability to live almost indefinitely and swapping out an old body for a younger one as needed. That's a straight road to dictatorship."