Yulong Huang Jin, first and only son of the Great Dragon Emperor, was a genius. He Awakened to cultivation at the tender age of nine, the youngest to do so in the history of the Jade Dragon’s esteemed lineage.

  The day after, he received a death sentence.

  “Your dantian will never support the formation of a core,” declared the Royal Physician. He droned on with the particulars, something about a birth defect, which they thought had healed, rearing its head. Under normal circumstances, Huang Jin would sit straight-backed and try to absorb every word.

  This was not a normal circumstance. The Emperor himself sat beside his son for this dire audience. His presence dominated the child’s awareness; to the citizens of the Jade Dragon Empire, the Emperor was more than a man or even a cultivator. He was practically a god, and hardly less so to his own child.

  Yet he had deigned to heed the Physician’s call. The rippling waves of barely-controlled anger emanating from this font of power cowed the prince. He found himself half-listening to the diagnosis, eyes wandering the shelves of the marbled private medical chamber. Could these miracle cures, qi-packed panaceas, and elixirs do nothing for his condition?

  His eyes returned to his father’s face just in time for the doctor’s final pronouncement. “I fear that this soul-scarring cannot be undone. You have no long-term potential for cultivation.”

  The Emperor’s statue-perfect face twisted, for the first time the boy could remember. He looked down at his son, and the sapphire eyes they shared met for the briefest of moments. Then, the Emperor closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he had no son. The prince knew it, could see it in the distant focus, the momentary glisten of unshed tears. Dead, and mourned.

  He shivered and looked back to the Physician. “But, Elder Fu says I’m a genius. I’ve already Awakened, I’m on the Path…”

  The doctor shook his head and shot down the protestations. “You might be able to cultivate up until the end of the Student’s Realm. But there’s a limit to how much qi a body can store without a core, and jing conversion would be out of the question. I’m sorry, child. I fear this is simply the will of the heavens.” The Physician’s expression was gentle, but his words carried no uncertainty. Huang Jin had the education to process the implications.

  A Student Realm cultivator might live decades, even a century longer than a mortal… but that was all. The Emperor had already reigned for over three hundred years, and he was considered young! Elder Fu was more than three thousand years old.

  No cultivation potential meant no access to real strength, real longevity, no avenue to pursue immortality according to the expectations of his lineage. A dead end. Dead.

  The prince bowed his head under the weight, but the oppressive aura in the room lifted as his father left without another word. The reprieve did not comfort him. Pain wrenched his stomach just behind his navel, and he squeezed his eyes shut trying to control and resist it. The doctor could do little but offer an anesthetic; this pain was another sign of his malady.

  It had all gone wrong so fast.

  -

  Huang Jin overslept the next day. He never overslept, if only because his attendants would come and wake him most mornings. Nobody came to wake him, nor to dress him. It wasn’t that he couldn’t manage those things on his own; his cultivation training involved stretches of independent and even ascetic living, at his mother’s insistence. But this departure from the routine worried him.

  A servant did bring him breakfast, however. As he ate, the servant stood observing him, silent and wearing a worried expression he didn’t much like. She looked so sad.

  He had no choice but to shake it off and continue with the day’s tasks. A person of his station couldn’t let their life come to a halt just because of some bad news… he told himself. His lessons could prove to be a vital distraction; he relished learning new things.

  His civics course with Zhong Quanshui came first that day, and Huang Jin just barely made it in time. He settled into the little alcove within the first circle of the Imperial Archives where she liked to teach him, surrounded by civil engineers and secretaries of various ranks darting around like ants. He relaxed in the venerable wooden seat, luxuriating in the scent of paper amid the bustling activity. His tutor hadn’t yet arrived, which gave him plenty of time to lay out the writing utensils and recent study materials. Then, he waited. Fifteen minutes later, a sinking feeling tugged at his stomach.

  After an hour, he finally dropped from his chair and began the search.

  He dodged clerks and tried to stay out of the way while wandering the administrative layers of the Archive. He finally caught a glimpse of Zhong Quanshui in the Hall of Missives, struggling with a bundle of scrolls. Her owlish glasses hung crooked on her nose, and her neat bun of hair lay in disarray.

  He didn’t need to say a word; one glance in his direction, and Quanshui snapped her attention onto him.

  “Oh, Young Master!” she started, face lighting up as soon as she caught sight of him- but then she froze. She tightened her grip on her parcel, and her eyes darted from side to side as if she were confused or guilty. Then, she pushed through the throng to join the prince next to the wall.

  “Miss Zhong! I’m glad I found you. I take it that today's lesson has been canceled?” asked Huang Jin. He was short, even for his age, and as the secretary came in close he had to crane his head up to look at her face past her parcel. Still, he clasped his hands behind his back and tried to maintain a smile.

  The nervous energy did not dissipate from her face, though. “Well, you see, Young Master…” She refused to look him in the eye. “I’ve sort of been ordered to return to my regular duties. If I’m not mistaken, we all have, the tutors, I mean…”

  “Oh.” His stomach pulled again; exactly what he had feared. Quanshui’s obvious distress didn’t help. So just like that, his education had been cut off, like a wire being snipped.

  She dared a quick look at his face, and then her own expression wilted. “Erg… Young Master, poor thing, don’t look so sad. All this, after the bad news from the Physician and all…” As if she realized she’d said too much, she clapped a hand over her mouth.

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  Too late.

  Zhong Quanshui knew about the diagnosis, which meant every single person in the palace knew about the diagnosis. The young woman had a condition Huang Jin called ‘eyes, ears, and mouth disease,’ because anything that came in through her eyes or ears would come back out of her mouth within twenty-four hours. She had made for an average teacher at best, but a fantastic source for information.

  The prince took a calming breath, and then forced the edges of his mouth upward in a hollow mimicry of his usual grin. “That’s too bad,” he said. “You were a wonderful teacher, Miss Zhong. Thank you.” He gave her a gentle nod; the Emperor’s son did not bow to servants, no matter his personal feelings.

  She reached out with her free hand, nearly patting his head- but hesitated. Given his station, casual physical contact could not be borne; but he took her hand in both of his. “Thank you,” he repeated. Then, he released her and turned to go. He thought he could hear a furtive sniffing sound behind him… but she had work to do, and he had no choice but to accept the reality and move on.

  With his tutoring sessions cancelled, the prince could think of only one activity with which he could fill the gap. He had no long-term future in cultivation, but it was not a matter he could neglect, either. Thus, he found himself wandering far from the Archives, into the chambers and pavilions reserved for the Sect of the Imperial Household’s use.

  If he couldn’t learn, he would cultivate.

  The Core Disciples, those members of the Imperial family with close blood ties to the throne, spent most of their time abroad. The prince traveled to the Wilding Breath Chamber. Every day, he would meet Elder Fu here in the evenings to practice and meditate. A round hole in the ceiling lit the room with sunlight in the day, while mysterious spiritual herbs from the Wild provided light after sundown.

  He had plenty of time before evening. Morning passed into afternoon as he went over his sword forms and centering exercises. Afternoon passed into evening as he ran through meditation exercises. The time to meet with Elder Fu came, and then passed. Huang Jin had not realized that his heart could sink any lower, but down it went. Not Elder Fu, too, surely. His own great uncle, the Elder of the Sect of the Imperial Household, the bombastic, wise, kind old Fu.

  He had no choice but to search. It took far longer than searching the outer reaches of the Archives; unlike Quanshui, Elder Fu could be anywhere in the palace, a city unto itself. He focused his efforts on the Sect’s personal grounds, the most likely place, but even this was a vast and multilayered area.

  Finally, after more than an hour, fortune came through for him. There! Looking out over an ornate foyer, Huang Jin caught a glimpse of the Elder in a doorway a whole floor below him.

  Of course, a cultivator of such age and power could sense observation. The bearded old face turned and looked up just at the moment the prince prepared to call out. Across the intervening space, their eyes met.

  A wince, a look of pain, loss. Then, his Elder Fu turned away from him.

  The prince gripped his stomach as pain threatened to overwhelm him. It was over. With dragging feet, he managed to retrace his steps to the Wilding Breath Chamber. He had nowhere else to go. By the time he arrived, the stabbing feeling wrenching his gut had faded to a dull ache.

  What could he do? What could he do, except meditate? He made his way to the center of the chamber's marble platform and curled into the lotus position.

  He began cycling his qi. Following his exercises, he pictured himself as a tree. It had leaves of shining jade and bark of richest gold; Wood, to grow and flourish, Metal to strengthen and shape.

  The opposing energies flowed within him in perfect harmony. Metal suppressed Wood by nature, but using this method he could overcome the antagonistic reaction of his two affinities. He reminded himself that he was a single, unified whole, and that every disparate part served a distinct purpose.

  The mundane world receded, leaving Huang Jin as the only living thing within a backdrop of endless sky. Thoughts occurred, came and went, and he tried not to grab hold of them, to let them pass. He was a tree, and what was a thought, a feeling, to such a life? But today, he could not help dwelling.

  It had taken the little prince only a few months of practice to master this difficult meditation technique. He had Elder Fu’s guidance on the broader points and his cousin Mantian’s advice on the finer details, but he’d done it. He’d Awakened. So why was this happening?

  He tried to let go, to let the thoughts pass over and through.

  How did trees work, anyways? It was a useful mental image, but he didn’t actually know, and he wanted to. They were alive, but they did not appear to eat or move. His education spent little time on such minutiae, which he always found a bit irritating.

  But his education was over, now. And what about the rest of his family? His mother and sister were still out on vacation, visiting a villa on the eastern shores, and wouldn’t be home for at least two months. He’d remained behind, not wanting to disrupt his training. Would his mother be able to solve this?

  Surely, his younger sister would mock him if he went crying to Mother about it… but she would mock him one way or another. Their mother, the Rosegold Paragon of the Golden Tiger Clans, had indomitable power and would relentlessly seek his benefit. Surely.

  No. Nothing was sure anymore. Elder Fu crossed his mind again, and then his Father. He pictured his mother there, in the Physician’s room in his Father’s place. Clearly in his mind’s eye, he could picture it. His mother, that warm and gentle bastion against the world, looking right through him. Mourning him, for an instant, and then nothing, forever.

  The tree came apart. The technique failed, his body’s qi escaped his control, and Huang Jin found himself hurled back into reality like a tile falling from a roof. He lay on the marble floor gasping and twitching, trying to control his emotions and his energy.

  For an agonizing moment, he failed at both.

  Balance returned slowly. He didn’t risk getting up completely, instead pushing himself to a sitting position. He needed to focus, to think.

  It was utterly ridiculous. His mother loved him. But then again, his Father had been proud of him, too… and the Tiger Clans had deep martial traditions. They valued strength, almost as much as the Jade Dragon Empire. Could even she forgive the sin of weakness?

  He’d narrowly avoided qi deviation just now. If she actually turned away from him, the stress could be fatal… maybe he’d prefer if it were.

  “No, I have to fix this before she gets back,” he decided aloud, the words echoing from the smooth walls of the chamber. But how? The greatest medical mind in the Empire had declared his case hopeless.

  Having reached another wall, the prince put a hand under his chin and got to thinking, not even attempting a meditative state.

  He only had two months. His life probably wouldn’t be in danger during that time… His Father had cut him off from education, but at least he was still being fed. The Imperial Palace was not a safe place for ‘failures,’ but he would not easily be discarded- he still held value as a member of the royal bloodline.

  The royal bloodline. The bloodline!

  One person- one being lived in this place whom even the Emperor could not influence, and who would know more of flesh and qi than even the Physician.

  Beneath the Palace, deep within the heart of the mountain lay the Gate of the Wood Sovereign, Yulong himself, the Great Ancestor of the Imperial family. He was known to accept audiences from his descendants, in times of need. Huang Jin’s blood would be the key, and his cultivation would be the arm that turned it.

  He rose from the floor and bolted from the chamber. It would be no easy task getting to the Gate, and after that there was no guarantee that the Ancestor would even see him.

  But he had a direction. At that moment, it was all he needed.