Lone Cultivator In Another World

With that thought in mind, Michael could barely wait for the classes to end. In another school, a bell ring would announce the time, but at EIS bells were seen as stifling to the creative process. As soon as the last lesson ended, Michael waved Anna goodbye and ran to the teachers' living quarters.

It was a vibrant yellowish-orange building with a large park surrounding it. Michael went straight for the intercom on the door when his Awareness prompted him to turn right.

There, on a bench, sat his old Chinese Tai Chi master. Dressed in traditional white attire, with long whiskers and a beard, everything about him seemed pure. His skin had a "healthy wheat" color as he used to say.

"Young…" he halted, catching Michael's movement. Did this child turn towards him before he spoke? That was something only old practitioners were capable of!

"Young man, you came here in vain," the old man continued.

"Sir, do we know each other?"

"Do not fake ignorance. It is beneath you. I saw your spar in the morning. My bones are old, but it brings me joy to see children train. With your experience in the art of Tai Chi, the idea of continuing your study is admirable. However, you will not find what you're looking for here."

"Haven't I already?"

"Yes. But I will not teach you."

Michael was confused. In his past life, this master took him as a student without delay. So far, except for Kamyshov who he didn't know much about, Michael was able to predict everyone's general behavior. Of course, the one to surprise him had to be this man.

"If you saw my Tai Chi, you should have seen my moral character as well, sir. What is it you're unhappy with?"

"I saw everything, yes," began the old man, "Your movements and balance are worthy of praise. Considering your age, you must have started a long time ago. That is good."

"And what isn't good?" Michael began to feel annoyed.

"Every element of your technique is physical. You have no knowledge of acupuncture and pressure points. Flow of energy. Esoteric techniques. More importantly, you have not cultivated a sliver of internal energy. Does your body have a hidden problem?"

A thought came to Michael, 'Sure, you can guess all these things. You refrained from teaching them to me yourself.'

"It's gone now. I'm ready to continue my studies. Please, master," young cultivator bowed ceremoniously, fist in palm, "take me as a student!"

"I already told you no!" the man stood up from the bench and approached. His movements held inner beauty of a leopard, something that took Michael years to notice and superhuman Awareness to appreciate.

"Your teacher is not inferior to me. I cannot interfere with his plans for your studies." The old man grabbed the youth's hand and checked his pulse, "You said it was gone. But I can feel something, an irregularity."

"It will be healed completely in a year or so," Michael pulled his hand back defiantly.

"Keep going by yourself. That shall be your path now. My involvement will leave us both unhappy."

How could Michael explain to his mentor that it was him who taught Michael Tai Chi? Not inferior to you? It was you, old fart!

"Since you took the time to seek me out, let me give you advice, child."

"I wish you could give me more than just advice."

"I wish you were mute. That would save me time," the master retorted, "Listen. Tai Chi relies on the Taiji philosophy, Yin and Yang, black and white, soft and hard. You have balance, but you lack hardness, lack softness. You always stay the same when you should be fluid."

"So, be like water? Like Bruce Lee said?" smirked Michael.

"Sure, why not? But also, be like fire."

"What?"

"What-what. I share my wisdom with you and you quote that Batman person."

"No, sir, that's a different Bruce…"

"Whatever! Be both! Be everything! Only then can you be nothing!" looking at Michael's blank face, old master laughed and added, "But aren't you already nothing?"

The young man flushed. He didn't deserve this drivel! But at the same time, he knew that his teacher would never change his mind. Even if he scoffed at the strange words, he memorized them by heart. Everything, even comments about the weather that the old man had to share, Michael considered wisdom.

He bowed goodbye, sending his old teacher back fist in palm. So far, he meddled in everyone's lives in this world, changing them irreversibly. Perhaps his master's fate wasn't tied to his so that Michael could tie himself to someone else?

Checking the time, Michael turned to one of the two laboratories outfitted for the scientists who worked on the school grounds. EIS was a magnificent place. Writers, physicists, musicians, martial artists, blacksmiths and priests – anyone could find a place for themselves. The only two conditions were to be the best and to be ready to teach.

In the laboratory, Michael found only three people at this time of day. There was a pair of technicians in white coats, softly arguing over messy calculations on a whiteboard, and an old Chinese man dressed in brown pants and a rumpled yellow T-shirt that said, "I'm with stupid".

To Michael's dismay, the arrow on the shirt was pointing in his direction.

Old Zhao's head was bald in the center, leaving a moon-shaped patch of spiked-up hair. Put all that together, and Michael could sympathize with the scientific community's grudge with the man.

"Sir?" he gained his attention, waving his hands, "Are you mister Zhao?"

"Call me Old Zhao. Yes. What do you want? Speak!"

"I have a proposal for you, sir."

Old Zhao deigned Michael with a look.

"I have a friend who loves biology and I think under your care she could blossom into a brilliant young woman."

"Why isn't she here herself?"

"I came to test the waters, sir. She's very shy…"

"Ha!" interrupted Zhao, "Shy won't take you far in my world. It's all cutthroat and backhanded! Shy! Don't disturb me anymore."

Is that how you want to play? Time for Plan B.

"I know your reputation, Old Zhao. Promising talent gone mad, no practical value in your research. Hell, look at the way you're dressed!"

Zhao looked at his clothes confusedly as if noticing them for the first time. Michael circled him around before, and now that "stupid" arrow was aiming at the two men at the whiteboard. If they saw Zhao's goofy grin in that moment, they would surely beat him up.

"The way I see it, you have two ways to redeem yourself. Isn't that what you want?"

"Speak!"

"One option is to produce the results you've been promising your peers for years. But you can never do it here. The funding EIS provides you with – how much is it?"

"You got money?"

"Or," Michael ignored the man, "Raise a successor. One who could clear your reputation just by association. Now, I can't give you either. You have to earn it."

Zhao scowled, "You think the girl is that good?"

"I know she is that good. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here. In addition, in a few months I will provide you with ten million dollars. You interested?"

"Ha! Damn. For that green, I will treat this chick like a princess!"

"Don't!" Michael rubbed his forehead in exasperation. How did Anna tolerate this man for years? "Guide her, show her things, share your experience. Be more tempered, polite. Make sure to put on something that matches," he pointed at the "stupid" shirt.

"Fine. Fine. You bring her here tomorrow and I'll spend some time with her."

"Very well. Oh, one more thing."

"Hmm?"

"The last time a man wronged my family, I swore to cut his balls off," Michael's face turned ghastly. Ten years of constant hatred truly changed a man. Zhao even swallowed involuntarily, stupefied by the shift, "But it was out of my hands. This girl, I consider her my family. You make her cry – you'd best watch your back."