Stone Will

6

A lot of the disciples raised their hands, wanting to answer the question. Almost half of the two hundred children knew the answer.

“Please, Viscount Vale,” the scholar nodded.

A red-haired boy, about ten years old, stood up. Hadjar himself was only a year and two weeks old.

“At the eighth stage of the Bodily Nodes.”

“That’s right, sit down,” and the boy lowered himself back onto the stool, looking at his companions rather arrogantly. “And this is considered to be a good level. To become a mid-level officer, you need to cross the threshold and reach the level of the Bodily Rivers. The ones who become senior officers in the army are the few who’ve managed to reach its third stage. Our generals are at the fifth stage of the Bodily Rivers.”

The children scribbled with their feathers on the scrolls and listened to the mentor carefully. Now, in their crazy fantasies, they were probably dreaming about becoming the strongest cultivators of the Kingdom. Fortunately, there were no inequalities between the genders here. Hadjar saw a charming lady, wearing armor and with the regalia of a general.

If you can do it, if you know how, if you want to, go ahead—all the roads are open to you. And why shouldn’t you? After all, this lady could not only easily stop a running horse, but also lift said horse with one hand and then throw it a couple of yards away.

“So, you can imagine how difficult it is to reach the required level of cultivation, not only so that ‘The Black Gates’ will be interested in you, but to even be allowed to take part in their entrance exam.”

“You said ‘an outer disciple’. Are there any other types?”

“Of course,” the scholar nodded. “In most sects, disciples are divided into the following groups: the external or ‘outer’—there are a lot of these.”

The children looked at each other. So many young boys and girls were at the 8th step of the Bodily Rivers?! But they hadn’t even started to train, because their bodies were too weak for it. And that was in spite of all the stimulants and drugs which they’d been crammed full of since birth.

“Next are the students of the inner circle, or the ‘inner’. I don’t know about other sects, as they are either too far away or aren’t interested in us at all.”

Hadjar whistled mentally. ‘Too far’ in this world was approximately the distance from Earth to Mars.

“But in ‘The Black Gates’, only those who have reached the Formation stage before the age of twenty are allowed to take part in the inner circle exam. For the sake of comparison, our two strongest fighters—King Haver IV and his brother, Warlord Primus, reached that stage by the age of sixty. And they are considered to be the strongest warriors of their generation and the whole country.”

This time, the wave of sighs turned into a tsunami of whispers, and Hadjar tried to keep his mind from experiencing cognitive dissonance. A year ago, he’d thought his mother was only twenty years old. But, as it turned out later (when, thanks to the help of the neuronet, he’d been able to understand the local language), she was about a hundred. As for his father, he was about three centuries old.

It was scary to think about how old Primus was, considering the gray hair in his beard.

“So, what’s next?” The girl with the beautiful wrists asked.

“Next come the core disciples. These are the ones who deserve personal attention from the teachers in the sect. To get this honor, you need to be an extraordinary person. I know of only one such cultivator. And by the age of twenty-five, he was at the level of the Heaven Soldier.”

This time, the children couldn’t resist asking their questions all at once. Is it true that a Heaven Soldier can fly? That with a wave of their hand, they can create fire? That their sword can cut an enemy from a distance of two hundred steps? That they can send an arrow through the slot on a helmet from a distance of 3 miles? That for a Heaven Soldier to live a hundred years in solitude while meditating is as easy as living for a day is to a simple mortal?

“Silence,” the Scholar slapped his hand down on the pulpit.

And this slap produced a wave of air, which overturned some scrolls and ruffled the hair of even the children in the back rows. The children immediately fell silent.

“That’s right, children,” the Scholar nodded. “After a cultivator passes the Formation and Transformation stages, and manages to break through the second serious barrier between the stages, they will be able to reach the real level of a cultivator. They’ll cease to be an ordinary mortal, and will touch eternity, becoming a Heaven Soldier. And, according to many, only then can a person really be considered a cultivator.”

The kid from before raised his hand again, but he had, probably, been planning to ask a stupid question. Since it was that arrogant Viscount, most likely something about the bedroom prowess of a Heaven Soldier.

Hadjar, forgetting himself, raised his stubby hand and asked, “And what exactly should be formed and transformed? What are these ‘nodes’ and ‘rivers’? What kind of sick fantasies did the creator of all this have?!”

The classroom got very quiet.

Standing on all fours, dressed in silk and velvet, Hajar slowly lowered his hand back down on the floor. He’d forgotten that his questions sounded more like: “Agu-gaga-gu? Aglu am saaaaaa-Maglu? Ha-ha-gagumaaaa-g.”

[The host’s level of speech distortion: 100%. Possibility of correction: 0%]

Some of the smart ones jumped to their feet and, pressing their hands to their chest, bowed. These were the most notable—the children of the dukes. The ordinary nobles collapsed to one knee, and the future ladies sank into deep curtsies.

The Scholar bowed deeply.

“Your Highness,” he said. “How did you…”

The doors of the classroom opened, and the person that even some generals were afraid of appeared on the threshold. The elderly, but very energetic royal Nanny. She was called ‘royal’ because she’d once nursed Haver IV and his brother. There were legends that, before that, she’d been a general in the cavalry. The elite among the elites.

“Your Highness!” She roared with such force that the giant map began to shake. “How have you managed to escape again?!”

Hadjar wanted to answer that, for a week now, he’d been able to use a hole in the door to his chambers, but, most likely, they would guess that on their own later. Also, he couldn’t answer, despite the fact he wanted to.

“I beg your pardon, professor South Wind.” The names were kind of ridiculous around here.

The nanny held Hadjar in her arms. Despite her stern expression, she did it as carefully as if he were not a human, but a fragile vase. She wrapped him in the blanket she’d prepared.