Classes in the Middle School always came in categorical pairs. There were courses, which were a series of lectures, and the one-off talks, closer to what Daphne was familiar with. She could not imagine an old monster setting aside time each week to actually teach his disciples anything. What of his own cultivation? How could he achieve anything behind closed doors? Surely a hystors first concern should be their cultivation, and teaching a distant secondary one?
What they taught was not even magic necessarily, but could be about the mundane too. They taught things that would have been seen as useless in her old life—literature, history, law. Did they not know that there was only one law, the iron law?
Arrogance was the writ of the best, and courtesy the fate of the rest.
Of the pairs of classes, last and most important was the difference between the rich and the poor. Not the stoneborn and strawborn, as Daphne quickly learned, for there were strawborn who could be wealthier than even the old families. Their parents paid exorbitant fees for their children to attend, having neither the aristocratic right to study, nor being valid recipients of the school’s own patronage system.
They paid it happily anyway, and Daphne, begrudgingly, praised their wisdom. They understood that being wealthy was not the same as being powerful. Fortune, influence, standing—all of these could be stripped away in an instant, a twinkling, without recourse or restitution. Cultivation, magic, power—these could not be taken from you without a fight.
So whatever fees were asked of them was worth it.
Yet, the wisdom their parents showed did not reach the empty space between their children’s ears. Did they understand the iron law of the world?
Not that Daphne could tell. They seemed happier by far attending parties, wining and dining their social superiors to cultivate favor instead of cultivating. This dao did not require much work, but it was a shallow foundation. Whatever fame that might be acquired this way was just some fame, not enough to enter the Emperor’s eyes.
Their poorer classmates were wiser than them. Though they were born to be toil in soil, now they sought to deal with steel. In them, she saw a fire that many of the richer juniors lacked. When one had grown up their whole lives wanting for everything, their hands became greedy and grasping at the first opportunity!
This, Daphne realized, was why the Dao of Disappearance was practiced by the parents of heaven’s favored. Luck, talent, and dedication were all necessary to reach the apex, but paradoxically, those born lucky would be hard pressed to muster the necessary dedication.
How many geniuses among geniuses had she seen wasting their days away on fun and festivities?
That would not be her.
For all the differences between the Middle School and a cultivation sect, both still left it to the individual to learn at their own discretion. Nothing was mandatory, and few things forbidden, so Daphne was going to learn all of it! She was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and if the old monsters of this world wished to invest so heavily in their students, it was only proper to give them face and comply!
Yes, even the mundane topics were not beneath her. Power and potential alone did not impress the old monsters. Strangely, they all had their own quirks, and a soft spot for the dao of culture. Some liked ancient poems on wine and pottery, others their songs, and still more crafted beauty, things of jade and jewelry and stitches.
Many things in the world were mundane and simple, but even the simplest things could be profound.
Now, one might wonder how Daphne found the time to attend all these classes when she refused any seat but the best, and there were no reservations allowed? Would she bully her juniors into surrendering their seats? Challenge them to duels? Promise not to inspect their spatial rings and shopping bags in the future?
Such solutions were crass to her. After all, she’d be trading pointers with them soon enough during the competition, and showing her hand now would only weaken her chances of winning.
The answer was truly simple, something even the most junior sect disciple knew. If you needed something done and didn’t have the time, get someone else to do it!
As Daphne entered the room with Tracey carrying her things, she headed straight for the best seat on the first row. Broken Nose stood as she arrived, relinquishing the two seats he’d held for her. One, of course, was for Daphne, and the other was for her things which Tracey carried.
If anyone thought to question his presence, the Greenglade sigil stitched into his chest would tell them who he worked for, and who they’d be challenging. No one had dared cause her offense quite yet.
“My next class is in an hour,” Daphne said. “The Six Division Model of Magic to be taught by Hystor Saman. See to it.”
Broken Nose bowed. “As you wish, my lady.” The pills he’d ordered would be arriving any day now, but until then this was the best use of him.
“Oh,” Daphne said, picking out a few tomes from Tracey’s hands, “bring these back to my room on your way there. I’ve no need for them for the rest of the day.”
Broken Nose made a sound as she dropped the textbooks into his waiting hands suddenly.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Tracey yawning. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, Lady Daphne. It’s just been a tiring few days,” Tracey said.
Was it? Every junior spent many long hours on mind-numbing chores before they could cultivate. This was positively pleasant in comparison. “Stretching helps with sleepiness, I find.”
She’d rather not have to nudge Tracey awake with her elbow. She actually liked this series on the four defects of vows. According to these people, vows were promises sworn to gods, while oaths were merely promises sworn to other mortals to be upheld by the gods. Such a distinction was important apparently, even though breaking either would result in an early tribulation.
As a result of the consequences, it was a subject of great interest what exceptions existed that would render such promises null and void, either to the benefit of the heavens or the earth. So far, they’d covered the defect of sacrifice (such as when the offering was insufficient or with fault), and the defect of will (which covered a huge swathe of reasons including mental incapacity, ignorance, error about the facts, fraud, and countless more).
Today’s lessons would be on the third defect: capacity.
“You attend all these classes, train with me or your cousin in the evenings, and even have the time to keep your skin so lustrous,” Tracey said, half-whining, half-impressed. “How do you do it?”
“Practice,” Daphne said. “As for the last thing, exercise helps. I recommend doing a hundred pushups, a hundred situps, a hundred squats, and a ten kilometer run.”
“Not ‘cultivation’?” Tracey asked.
“That is cultivation,” Daphne said, “or part of it at least. You must strengthen all three aspects of the self—mind, body, and soul. Only then can you reach the apex.”
Tracey hummed. “So these classes are mind. The training is body. What’s soul?”
“Meditation, but that takes a while,” Daphne said. “To help you along, we’ll be using the pills Broken Nose bought.”
She looked scandalized. “Are you sure that’s safe?”
“It’s perfectly safe,” Daphne said, waving her concerns away. “I’ve already used it once, to great effect.”
Strangely enough, that didn’t seem to give Tracey any comfort. Still she nodded. Her fate was in Daphne’s hands now, after she’d staked so much of her face for her benefit. The only path forward open to Tracey was with Daphne, and that meant doing well in the tournament. Not quite winning, expectations weren’t that high, but a solid ranking in the top sixteen would be quite commendable according to Blaise. Any higher and she might invite attention from arrogant young masters wishing to use her yin body to dual cultivate with.
She’d not spent all this time and effort on Tracey only for her to be seduced away with aphrodisiacs.
I’ll have to tell her about those next, Daphne decided.
Oh, class was starting!
