Immortality or death; I would accept nothing else.

  My dantian was broken. But my spirit was unbreakable.

  I would do what it took to make myself whole again; whole in body, whole in spirit, and whole in honor. Even now my shattered core bled qi into the chill air. Biting wind carried with it a cold that sunk into my bones.

  Wet snow battered my cloak as I tucked it tighter against myself, holding the storm at bay. The veil that hung from the edge of my hat slapped my face in the wind, depositing flakes of snow into my robes.

  Steps ahead of me, the snow turned the world white, choking the horizon. A formation deflected and melted the snow from a road of stone bricks that crossed an unending blizzard; water poured in rivulets around my feet.

  “How long until our arrival?” I asked, shouting to be heard over the gale.

  “Not much farther, now.” Feng Wen, my only remaining attendant and closest friend, replied.

  He had been with me for as long as I could remember. He crossed the storm with arms folded, walking almost leisurely through the cold. High above me in Realm, this much snow wasn’t enough to bring him discomfort. Jealousy burned in my heart.

  I was falling behind my peers. Falling behind my younger brother. Every day that I wasn’t able to cultivate I fell further and further behind.

  It was another hour before we crossed through the storm; just as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone. An hour more and there was no sign before us of the blizzard that had choked the sky; open clouds spilled sunshine over a sea of green, interspersed with hundreds of flowers. The distant horizon, far below the mountains that shielded the valley, was choked by a blanket of dark clouds; a natural formation had been subdued, leashing and controlling the very forces of nature to defend and enhance their valley.

  Plants grew to monstrous proportions here; the roots of monstrous trees crossed in great archways and formed bridges, roads, and even the foundations of buildings. The smell of medicine crafting rolled out of the valley; an acrid tang from dozens of medicinal halls running at once. We sank into the valley and approached the great hall at the center.

  “They’re waiting for us.” I whispered, looking up at a row of guards who greeted us with weapons in hand. We had to walk up a great staircase cultivated of the roots of trees, each step shaped from living bark. When we finally reached the highest step, the guards slammed their weapons into the ground.

  “Snowshadow Hall greets the Young Master Feng.”

  Snowshadow Hall was painted in two massive characters hanging from a canvas banner that hung heavy and still. This valley had no wind. Just perfect sun and the rush of a river of melting snow.

  A dozen cultivators bowed. Adult men and women who had only reached the Second Realm. I restrained the urge to sneer until we were inside the building, crossing through huge, empty halls. Snowshadow Hall was giving us a display of power; rare herbs grew, floating in midair, suspended by formations in the halls. Fragrant medicine scents warred for dominance. Huge windows cut from the living-wood walls gave views of the medicine halls in the distant valley. Despite the entire space barely qualifying as being indoors, the temperature was warm and comfortable.

  “They didn’t send their best to greet us.” I said. It was more bitter than I intended. I was a prince of the Feng, the Young Master of the Iron Mountain. And they left us to navigate their halls alone.

  “Are we worthy of receiving their best today?” Feng Wen said, looking to me.

  My eyes tightened when our gazes met.

  “None of those they sent to greet us were above the Second Realm. Need I remind you? At our last visit, they sent out their Young Master to greet us. Today, she isn’t here.”

  “I heard news she reached the Third Realm in recent months. She is likely consolidating her foundation.”

  “I reached the Third Realm at fourteen.” I said bitterly.

  Our conversation ended early; an attendant greeted us with a smile around a corner, leading us deeper in. It was to my surprise that the doors to a great haul opened to the Elders of Snowshadow Hall.

  They quieted and stared as we walked forward. I stood under their gazes; they were heavy. Even though the Elders controlled their auras, their gazes still felt like a physical weight.

  I clasped my fists, saluted, and bowed deeply. Far deeply than someone of my stature ever should to a subordinate clan.

  “The Young Master of the Iron Mountain greets the Matriarch of Snowshadow Hall.”

  I stayed bowed. But the first response I heard was the sound of the Matriarch taking a long drink of tea.

  I looked up.

  “Snowshadow Hall recognizes you, Young Master of the Iron Mountain. Stand and make your request.”

  My eye almost twitched involuntarily.

  “I have come to plead for the aid of Snowshadow Hall. Elder…” I grit my teeth. “I’ve come to humbly request your aid, Matriarch Snowshadow.”

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  I stayed bowing over clasped fists as the Matriarch stared down at me. Her mind was faster than mine, I knew that. I wondered how many considerations she had to weigh to take seconds to reply.

  “No.” The Matriarch said.

  “What?” I asked, rising from my bow.

  “You hold no sincerity. And no honor.” The Matriarch stood, rising from her seat. She was tall. Very tall. Taller than Feng Wen. She started to descend the steps.

  I closed my eyes, felt them twitching beneath, and then threw myself to the floor. Through gritted teeth, I begged.

  “Please, Matriarch. I am running out of options.”

  “You are in disgrace.” She said. I heard her steps gain closer.

  “Please, Matriarch.” Feng Wen said at my side.

  I heard the beaded necklace he wore click as he leaned forward, and my eyes snapped open in surprise.

  “Oh? And are you asking on behalf of Fang’s Iron Mountain, or as… Lord Wen?”

  “I am asking as a friend.” Wen said. My eyes turned toward him, but I didn’t dare remove my forehead from where I pressed it to the floor.

  I had no idea Wen knew the Matriarch of Snowshadow. The Matriarch made a huff noise, but a moment later, I was hanging from the air, surrounded in a net of law-controlled qi. It glowed green. My eyes widened, but before I could say anything, a needle of qi pierced into me, so thin and well controlled I barely felt it. The soreness in my body left for a moment as a strand of qi quested through my meridians.

  I dropped to the ground, being caught by the qi manipulating the world around me before I fell, and looked up with hopeful eyes.

  The Snowshadow Matriarch looked at me with pity.

  “Your Dantian is still inside you.” She said.

  “What does that mean?” Feng Wen asked.

  “It means you can’t rebuild your cultivation. Nor can it be repaired.”

  “So there’s nothing to be done?” I asked.

  The Matriarch shook her head.

  “There is nothing we can do for you here. Your core would just absorb any spiritual medicine and leak it away.”

  “There has to be something. Anything. Please.” I begged.

  “There is one thing…” The Matriarch started. “It won’t heal you. But it might be a start. Deep in the river valley in the south of Feng, there grows an herb that can dissipate your cultivation. With the realm you reached… it will have to have grown unperturbed for decades. If you can find it, refine it, and consume it, you may be able to rebuild your base. Good luck, Scion.”

  It took a month to find a suitable flower, even making excessive use of expensive relics to sail through the sky and hiring a team to comb the cliffside.

  Now a snake the size of a horse circled me, looming around the room. It carefully evaluated the pile of goods we amassed for it. It had taken another month to lead the wagons all the way out here, depositing a fortune worth a year of taxes and tithes gathered from a city.

  The snake raised its massive head and talked.

  “Thisss transaction has satisfied me. Take it.”

  I sat in lotus before a monstrous flower whose every petal was the size of my head. It dripped an ichor the red of blood onto the ground, filling the cave with the scent of iron. Red mosses grew in every direction around it like veins, crossing up and over the cave.

  With a knife, I cut the plant exactly as instructed before immediately beginning to cycle my qi through the flower and absorb it. I let out a gasp of pain as my qi flowed back through me; now infused with the corrupted element of the flower, it burned as it crossed my meridians.

  I compressed it down in my Dantian and struggled. I felt sweat cover me. Time faded as I endured against the pain, cycling and compressing, compressing and cycling. But I could feel it. My dantian was bleeding the medicine as surely as my own qi. The pain lessened across hours; I didn’t know if the medicine was growing less potent, if I was growing numb from all the pain, or if, Blood Red Heaven forgiving, I was wearing away my foundation.

  I didn’t find out how long I had sat in the cave until a week later; I had spent almost three days holding myself conscious, grinding away at my dantian.

  But I didn’t get the result I wanted. My foundation had been reinforced instead of worn away. Oh, my Dantian had grown weaker; parts of it chipped away further. I bled qi faster.

  I ate three more of the flowers before giving up on them and chasing another rumor across the continent.

  Waves crashed against the shore as a guide — a Second Realm cultivator, no less — led us to a ruin against the sea. Wet sand crunched under my boots. Here, at the southern tip of Bloodstone, the sky was an ever present gray.

  The guide looked at me nervously when we arrived.

  “The technique carved inside can dissipate a foundation.” He said. “The first Patriarch of the Sinking Mountain rebuilt his foundation here and outlined how. But the technique is dangerous. Forbidden. A single mis-step could kill you instead.”

  “I understand the risks.” I said.

  The guide led us through a cave and into a chamber; the cave widened, stalagmites hanging from the ceiling like monstrous teeth; the caves maw opened over the ocean. Waves rolled against the cliff face, white waters sending seafoam up. Here, the instruction for the technique had been cut into the stone.

  It only took me two weeks to master it.

  Feng Wen stood behind Feng Sai’s back, watching in silence as he cultivated the forbidden technique of the Sinking Mountain. He watched as Feng Sai cultivated it first over seven days. Colliding attributes tried their best to wash away his foundation, to destroy the scarred and shattered remains of his Dantian.

  The first time Feng Sai cycled the technique, he raised his hands into the air, jetting out the qi he had accumulated all at once. The technique was simple, but rather brilliant; an attempt to jettison your entire dantian. Of course, it didn’t work.

  Feng Sai vomitted on the floor of the cave, wretching. Feng Wen wrapped him in a blanket and fed him. It took him two days to recover.

  He cycled the technique in three days, again releasing a stream of power into the sea. Without control of his aura, he couldn’t control qi outside of his body; what Feng Sai was doing was equivalent to screaming out into the void, undirected power lighting up the water.

  By the time Feng Sai gave up on this place, he had mastered the technique to the point of being able to use it in a day. The disciple who had led them there bowed and paid respects as Feng Wen carried Feng Sai away in his arms.

  Feng Wen accompanied him through dangerous jungles, finding rare herbs and poisons. He accompanied him on the search for ancient treasures, hunted for rare techniques rumored to be able to split a Dantian in two.

  None of them worked. And what was worse, every failed attempt seemed to reinforce his foundation deeper.

  Feng Wen followed Feng Sai as he was stripped of his title and position of heir. Feng Sai was already broken; already on the edge of giving up. It pushed him over the edge, having since scoured the whole of the land of the Feng Empire and the treasure halls of the Iron Mountain.

  His brother had caught up to his realm. He had been dethroned.

  And when he gave up, Feng Wen watched him rot. Sai wrapped himself in excess in the heart of the Feng, withering away in alcohol and food, born into the identity of a prince only to have it ripped away. Feng Wen watched him struggle to find a new identity until he could watch no longer.

  At the end of another banquet Feng Sai hosted, Feng Sai asked a question.

  “How do the mortals live, knowing that they will one day die?” Feng Sai asked. His face covered by dark shadows; he was troubled. He had grown all his life believing he would live for hundreds of years, if not rising all the way to immortality.

  “I believe the best way to know that is to walk among them, Young Master. Would you like me to show you?”

  “Yes.”