Micro and Feng spent the remainder of the day relaxing over tea and a variety of fresh vegetables from the garden outside. Micro did his best to learn to eat solid food without wasting too many mouthfuls, but Feng was too entertained by the spectacle to mind the occasional piece of carrot flying spectacularly across the small room.

  “So this is what food tastes like,” Micro said through a mouthful of fresh lettuce. “It’s not bad.”

  “I’m glad you approve.” Feng smiled as he enjoyed a carrot of his own. “I was lucky to find some growing wild out here.”

  “It feels like it’s missing something though…”

  “Hmm?”

  “It’s nothing. Thank you for the food.” Micro bowed his head in appreciation for the feast he’d suddenly been provided. “You are very kind, Feng.”

  “It’s no trouble at all, young one,” Feng replied cheerfully. “You’re my first guest in many, many years!”

  “That’s a long time.”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I see.”

  Night fell around the time the two had eaten their fill, and Micro was growing drowsy once again. Feng sat back and looked at the boy for a moment before breaking the silence once more.

  “Young Micro.”

  “Yes, Feng?”

  “You have a long and difficult path before you,” Feng said. “Despite your innate talent, you will face many obstacles.”

  “Sometimes there aren’t even roads,” Micro replied sadly. “And I can’t drive on them anyway…”

  “Sure,” Feng said, not dwelling on the confusing statement before he continued. “And I’m sure you have the potential to become stronger, much stronger. However…”

  “What’s the matter?” Micro asked.

  Feng stroked his beard and narrowed his eyes as he thought deeply about the boy’s potential. Micro didn’t enjoy waiting for him to explain the issue, but Feng eventually continued.

  “There is still one thing that separates you from the cultivators of this world. It is something important, and not having it might hinder you even more than an unstable artificial core…” Feng explained, still deep in thought. “My senses are dull, but there is something I feel you lack.”

  “I am missing a lot of things,” Micro replied. He could feel the weight of Feng’s words.

  “What is driving you?” Feng’s question was simple, but it stung Micro.

  “I…” Micro turned away, his eyes wandering. “My driver isn’t in this world…”

  “I see,” Feng said, nodding as he began to understand what the boy was feeling. “When I looked into your heart earlier, that is the impression I was given. It is only reasonable that you should have no attachment to this world, nor a purpose you feel you must fulfill. But that is a dangerous way for a cultivator to live.”

  “What… what do you mean?” Micro was a little alarmed by the mention of danger.

  “To seek power without resolve is to court death,” Feng stated solemnly. “The path of a cultivator is a constant struggle against nature, and yet we strive to find our place in it. Such a precarious balance must only be sought by those who are sure of their path.”

  “Their path?”

  “Yes. Their path. Many cultivators seek immortality, while others have material ambitions. I once aspired to be the leader of the sect where I…” Feng cleared his throat. “To put in terms you may resonate with, if you don’t have a destination in mind, you will die on the road to power.”

  Micro didn’t need to reply. Feng could clearly see the empty look in his eyes when he understood what he lacked.

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  “I can give you knowledge, and I can help you train…” Feng lamented. “But purpose is something I cannot give you. You must find your own ties to this world, or your journey will not go on much longer.”

  “But without my driver…”

  “You long for your world that much?”

  “I want to go back!” Micro’s shout felt out of place in the peaceful little cabin, and he leaned back apologetically. However, Feng only smiled and shook his head.

  “I’m afraid such a purpose is not without its own set of risks. A desire to traverse the realms between worlds is common among the young.” Feng looked out the window, recalling the many students he’d seen grow. “But there’s an old folk tale some cultivators would tell you. It equates an immortal’s efforts to overcome that boundary between worlds to the efforts of an ant to build a castle of gold.”

  “So it’s difficult for me to go home…?”

  “More difficult than either one of us could ever imagine, I’m afraid,” Feng replied with a wry smile. “Even the deities who do battle over this realm aren’t able to open doorways between worlds so easily. You should know just how wrong a summoning ritual can go, for example.”

  “There has to be a way!” Micro whimpered, desperate to hear some way for him to return to his life on his driver’s farm.

  “Of course, a true cultivator would never use the word impossible…” Feng spoke slowly. “But if you really were to make that your purpose for seeking power…”

  Feng paused, his expression darkening slightly. Micro couldn’t bear to wait any longer for an answer, his impatience showing on his face.

  “Your path would be as long as it is lonely…” Feng relented. “You would need to overcome the limitations of every known path to power. In theory, you’d need to master a daunting number of arts, a feat not dreamt of even by the most powerful cultivators known to have lived.”

  “I need to learn every art?” Micro asked with a fiery enthusiasm. “That’s okay! I already have some! Look!”

  He pulled out the Core Cards he was storing in his pocket and slammed them on the old wood table. He pushed them to the centre of the table hurriedly.

  “How do I use these? How many are there? How long will it take?”

  Feng’s eyes widened as he inspected the cards displayed before him.

  “Four amber Core Cards… And two sapphire…” He picked up the Moon Art card and looked closely, then looked back up at Micro and carefully examined the clothes and armour he was wearing with a quiet smile. “My eyes didn’t deceive me…”

  Micro looked down at his worn clothes and rusty armour and replied.

  “We found a dead person under a tree last night,” he explained. “I know recycling is a virtue, but—”

  “Speak nothing of it.” Feng raised his hand and chuckled. “You were right to make use of it. The only thing a cultivator takes with them to the next life is karma.”

  “Karma…” Micro tilted his head. “As in, ‘what goes around, comes around’, right?”

  “That’s a good way of putting it,” Feng replied, smiling warmly. “One’s soul cannot escape the scales of karma, and whether in this life or the next, balance will be achieved. But to think…”

  Feng leaned across the table and grabbed a gentle hold of the metal plate on Micro’s chest, rubbing the surface with his thumb until some of the shiny metal beneath was visible.

  “How about that…” Feng smiled even wider. “I never thought I’d see this armour again.”

  “You’ve seen this armour before?”

  “The cultivator whose attire now adorns you was my master.” Feng returned to a comfortably seated position, still smiling nostalgically. “We escaped together back when… well… You don’t need to worry about that. I’m sure my master would be happy to see his armour moving again. He always hated to see things stagnate.”

  The tension in the cabin eased a little, and Feng gathered up the Core Cards. Looking at them with fondness, he continued.

  “Moving sounds good,” Micro stated in agreement.

  “Indeed… You must keep moving.”

  “At a safe speed,” Micro added.

  “A wise policy, Micro.” Feng seemed more relaxed after learning more about the mysterious boy in front of him. He continued with a refreshed expression. “Karma really doesn’t forget a single thing in this world… Yes, I will not discourage you from whatever path you choose, but you must understand. These cards here represent lifetimes of effort. Mastery of a single card can take more time than some cultivators have in this life, and only those who attain some measure of immortality are able to continue to collect these skills, arts, and traits…”

  “How many are there though?” Micro pressed eagerly. “If I can find them all, I can eat them, and then I’ll be able to return home?”

  “Eat them?” Feng laughed. “That’s not quite right, but yes. In theory, if you achieved mastery of every card, it is conceivable that your power would then be comparable to the old gods. Even the barrier between worlds would be nothing but a doorway to such a being, perhaps.”

  “So I’ll find them, master them, and then return home!” Micro celebrated. “I can find them in dungeons, right? I’ll go look for those first.”

  “Micro…” Feng waved his hands at the boy to calm him. “There are untold thousands of Core Cards, and dungeons are not to be taken lightly…”

  “Thousands…?”

  “Yes, to master every one of these…”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Do you truly have the resolve?”

  “If that’s the road home, then that’s the road I’ll take.”

  “It’s a long road, Micro.” Feng didn’t mean to discourage Micro, but he wondered if the naive boy really understood the nature of his chosen path. His concerns went unanswered, however, and Micro looked at him with a steely resolve.

  “I was built for the road.”