“So it seems my unexpected student has ascended beyond all expectation,” said the smiling white-robed elder, radiating such benevolence with his smile when Eric found himself in a lotus position, surrounded by young cultivators with exotic tints to their skin, nearly all of them with upswept ears of varying lengths, and some with ears just like his own. All were strikingly beautiful, possessing perfectly symmetrical features without blemish or flaw. And not one of them even acknowledged his existence.

Which made perfect sense. Why should they? At that moment, Eric was nothing more than an elder’s flight of fancy. A vision in someone else’s dream.

Eric smiled. “This lowly aspirant is grateful for the counsel sent his way.”

“The wisdom brought by his own insights and conclusions,” the elder said with a cautionary finger raised. “For the meanderings of an old cultivator reflecting upon life’s lessons is nothing but sheerest serendipity for whoever might be listening in. And who, after all, takes stock in dreams?”

Eric bowed his head reverentially, suddenly certain that even here, he must have exquisite care with what he said. He deliberately sighed. “I can only wonder what dreams or insights would best serve a young cultivator who would dare to pluck sacred fruit from mystical trees.”

Words that earned an odd look from the elder before him. “I would say that said dreamer was most fortunate to cleanse channels in weeks that should have taken multiple seasons to fully rejuvenate and restore, even in the best academies. Years, anywhere else. And after having come so close to utter folly as well.”

Eric winced, still remembering the unexpected surge of pain that had almost presaged his end. “This young cultivator will never forget to counsel his friends and future disciples never to force plaque lodged in the wall of one’s Meridian Channels or gateways… merely counsel as many hours of gentle cultivation as it takes to wear those last stubborn remnants away.”

But the elder’s hard gaze was far from appeased. “Even so, my younger self is a fool to forget that fire itself can scald and burn. It is both plaque and technique that invite deadly peril.”

Eric’s smile grew. “Unless, of course, one is already attuned to the Essence of Flame.”

The elder’s smile froze on his features, gazing at Eric with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine.

Even in his dreams.

“A Fire attuned cultivator whose soul is already infused with Fire’s grace… remarkable. Most remarkable.” The elder gazed at the imaginary youth before him for long moments. “Past visions hold priceless insights in a realm where knowledge is held in tightfisted grips by far too many.” He sighed. “And yet, I would ask for even more than that,” he said, gazing at a dozen youths cultivating with fervent intensity. “So many young disciples lacking the fortune and favor of powerful clans. Castoffs fitting for a broken academy, itself laid low by treachery and malice.”

The elder sighed, flashing Eric a sad, regretful smile. “And we were all too easy to take advantage of, our mastery of horticulture even greater than that of Flame.”

Eric blinked, mouth going dry as swallowed, even in his dreams. A tingle in the back of his mind making it clear what the elder was implying… or at least, what Eric suspected.

Because when he gazed all around the elder’s open air pagoda, he saw a magnificent grove full of glorious mystical fruit trees swaying in the breeze, their boughs heavy with the weight of tens of thousands of golden peaches.

Much like the ones just outside his cultivation cave.

Eric gazed at the elder for long moments as the background vision of a massive temple made of hardwood radiating soothing spiritual energy, every surface covered in lovingly carved runic script that called out to Eric’s soul, became a smoking ruin before his eyes. His ears rang with ancient echoes of screams and shouts replaced by the sight of two dozen emaciated looking cultivators all racing for shelter under smoke-filled skies as death stalked them from behind, not a single tree to be seen near the shattered ruins they had desperately fled to.

The vision of a dream, gone in the blink of an eye.

Eric clenched his fists, not needing the elder’s cautious smile to warn him that there would be a cost, should Eric even think to dare virtue’s path in a universe where power trumps all.

“I was forged in fire, burned to the brink of death in an orc hell pit, before slipping into a pod.”

The words were no more than a whisper, more thought than spoken, but the elder’s brilliant blue-eyed gaze made it clear he was measuring every word. “Now Fire is one of three essences that define me. And the Fire Qi I feel flowing through my veins fills me with nothing but strength.” Eric flashed a fierce smile. “It doesn’t strain my channels. Far from it. They’ve never felt stronger. The scar of my folly is now no more than a memory, a mistake I never plan on repeating, for I’ll never allow plaque to form again.”

The elder gave a sad shake of his head. “Easier said than done.”

Eric shrugged, keeping his own counsel even as the elder solemnly bowed his head.

“I am beyond grateful for the hope and inspiration my dreaming self recalls. If only I could give my earlier self a boon equal to that which was given.”

Eric grinned, sensing how this game was played. “Perhaps your younger self would love to recall more clearly how to best make use of the spirit fruit if he has only one chance to secure the most powerful cultivation foundation that he can… and how useful a gift it might be… if a peach is freely given to a fellow disciple.”

The elder gazed at Eric for long moments, before flashing a bitter smile. “So many oaths, binding those who have fallen to treachery, as if they were the ones who had committed grievous sin.”

His gaze grew thoughtful as Eric felt a growing sense of pressure.

As if both of them risked the cold regard of forces that would happily crush the pair of them under a ruthless tyrant’s feet.

The elder’s eyes glittered with something strikingly like furious rebellion… before fading to a bemused twinkle, that was all it could ever have been.

“Of course you don’t need memory to tell you that all superior fruit must be saved for one’s betters. That the likes of you and I deserve nothing but the smallest. All that is needed to cleanse clogged meridian channels, not that any lowly cultivator could afford to eat their master’s fruit, even just one every few months.” He cleared his throat, his words a mere whisper. “Yet for those who dare to think themselves possessing meridian channels as purified as their master’s, they may take comfort in consuming even the least of Spirit Fruit. Perfectly matched in potency and size means less strain between meridians that will light up forevermore as miniature suns. A miniature ascension, solace for the brilliant core the unworthy will never be worthy of igniting. And for those who claim that a full set of ignited meridians assures the strongest of future golden cores… those are thoughts unworthy of any slave.”

Eric gazed at the elder for long moments before he sensed the connection slipping away, desperate to ask his final questions. “How quickly can one eat the fruit… to strengthen meridians and thus better serve one’s masters?”

This earned a bemused smile. “The point is balance. With a single fruit eaten, the tiny handful of remaining meridians an unworthy slave like you or I might posses will strain against the ascendant meridian trying to elevate itself. That strain will take weeks, even months of cultivation, to heal. Yet one more reason why the unworthy must never dare more than the smallest fruit. And why no slave would ever be permitted to take more than one every few months… or years. Of course, consuming multiple peaches at once would be a blasphemy worthy of instant expulsion. Or death, should the fool not know exactly what they were doing.”

Intent blue eyes blazed into Eric’s own. “But above all else, you must remember the most sacred lesson of all, as you dare to trespass in lands reserved for our betters. Even as folly guides you ever deeper into the grove, past fearsome spirit beasts far beyond even a gifted novice’s abilities, you must not even think of daring to claim the Divine spirit peaches guarded by the avatar of our realm. Peaches reserved exclusively for the young master who will one day claim your world as his birthright.”

The elder’s smile was all teeth.

“Do you understand, supplicant?”

Eric bowed his head as the vision faded to blackness and the screams of dying cultivators in the dark.

Before waking up with a jolt, heart racing, at the start of a brand new day. For the first time since he got here feeling a terrible sense of foreboding far beyond any distant sentinel, his worst fears regarding the stakes involved finally realized.

Yet still, for all that, his fists clenched with excitement, remembering his dream, or perhaps his vision, with a crystalline clarity that was almost surreal.

He now knew that he hadn’t been imagining it, when he had thought that select peaches were glowing brighter. There really were different grades and variations of Spirit fruit, and that the beasts really were getting stronger, as what had once been effortless matches now required intent focus and concentration as he cleared ever more of the nearby area of spirit boar, and strode ever deeper into the groves, despite his steady growth.

Now it was time to push himself like never before.

But not before giving his young friend at least a taste of the hunt.