"The Unsurpassable Sage Kitama Sanja Omniscient told his disciples: 'Disciples, should ye begin upon the meditation of the day, seek out a place of complete solitude and quiet. Why? Because it is in the material code of humankind to be social animals, as this social congregation has kept us alive all this time. Thus why societies and civilizations are born. However, one must remember that it is from civilizations and societies where fantasies and symbol arise. Therefore, break free from the symbol, so that one may touch what is Real. Find groves, alcoves, cathedral sites, ruins, forbidden chapels, dungeon vaults, cemeteries, charnel grounds, and strangler figs. It is there, in the silence of non-humanity, one will find Reality."

From the Three-Worlds Basket Sutra

Mijja had been to Selorong before. Of course she had. She used to study nearby, and it was the place to go to whenever one had a few days to spare. Despite this, she would never truly live in it, and would only go to the popular tourist spots.

The Angel Gate spat them out from another angel gate. Into another pagoda temple. This pagoda temple smelled of sandalwood incense. And its hall was so large that a giant statue of an Omniscient with a sword of wisdom fires burgeoned from it.

The walls were lacquered hardwood. The floor was black diamond. So beautiful and pristine that Mijja was scared her sandals would be cut upon it.

"Welcome to Selorong," said Sutasoma, and she led Mijja out of the pagoda temple. Out of the leering sight of the hundred foot tall statue of yellow diamond. Outside of the pagoda temple was a giant garden of white sand, filled with ascetics practicing sand meditation. They waved their hands to Sutasoma as she passed by. Their hands faltered when they saw the armless Raxri in her arms.

"And welcome to the Selorong Commune of Ultramystics. To the other temples and sects, we are the 'Ultramystic' Sect, but we don't like that term. For reasons we'll explain later."

Two people—a boyish man with ears of a cat, and a beautiful plump woman wearing spectacles—approached them. Mijja's hands quivered when she saw they wore the pure-white and black crescents of High Physickers. Every High Physicker was awarded with the Balance Robes upon achieving licensure. The Balance Robes proved that they could handle at least four forms of medical magick—from surgery to disease to neurosurgery to pure healing to anaesthetics to aesthetics to flesh molding to curse-breaking and more. Mijja had never seen a High Physicker before, not even Myu Fan! Though her skill would have made her eligible for licensure, no doubt.

"Kujoh," said Sutasoma to the woman. "Kexi," said Sutasoma to the cat-man. "Do we have a spot in the hospice?"

"Yes Ultramystic," said Kujoh, nodding. She waved her stave and three medical spirits apparated from the stave's trail. Translucent, human-like spirits. They knew their commands the moment they were conjured—they floated over to Raxri and picked them up, and then carried them.

"We go," said the Ultramystic.

"Are you sure you do not want to rest, first? Your Ardor Furnace seems to be burning awfully... agitatedly," said Kexi.

Sutasoma nodded. "World-shattering fist fights are par for the course for an Ultramystic, ultramystic," she said.

Kexi only smiled, nodded. "Perhaps, tea?"

"Boba, please," she said. "Brown sugar."

"Will do."

***

The spirits laid the unconscious form of Raxri down upon the hospice bed. They looked down with somber melancholy at the emaciated and mangled form of the Heaven Dancer. Not only had their arm been ripped off, they looked so weak and frail atop that.

The hospice room was clean. The smell of sterility. Neutralized germs and neutralized bacteria. Healed wounds. Antiseptic and isopropyl. It was an overpowering scent—one that was comforting to some and horror to others. The room was awash with an emerald glow. The color green, white, and blue were universal colors for healing, remedy, and medicine.

Sutasoma, Mijja, Kexi, and Kujoh entered, the medical spirit attendants standing to one side. Kujoh nodded at the spirits and said: "Thank you for your help, there should be nothing else we might need for now. Please, go on and relax."

The spirits nodded and smiled, but they opted to stay within for now to watch what would happen to the dear Heaven Dancer. How interesting it was to notice that the earth itself would watch the once-hallowed fallen mystic.

"What's the diagnosis?" Kexi asked Kujoh. Mijja locked in—she wanted to know how High Physickers interacted and spoke with each other. How they handled a mortal situation like this.

Kujoh sighed. "Destroyed and devastated right appendage. Staunched bleeding. High chance of infection, high chance of death. Breath flow absolutely spilling out. Ardor Furnace extensively weakened and faltering. Needs a physical rejuvenative to fix, perhaps even a soma, if we still have any."

Kexi nodded. "Fortunately we do. But neither ingestment nor imbibement would be enough."

"We'll hook them up to the tube," said Kujoh, nodding. "First, we should perform the white magick rituals to begin the healing process. This mystic needs a rejuvenation of their Breath to be able to power through."

"Right. Let's get to it."

Mijja's eyes glistened as she watched the High Physickers get to work. Physickers understood that healing the body required both physical and magick action for holistic healing motion. And many Selorong physickers were spiritworkers and shamans before they were physickers. Not only do High Physickers need to pass medicine licensure boards and healing magick rituals, they also need to ace spiritworker licensure boards before they would gain the license to practice professionally.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

This is what happened by the way. To the many Cultivations of the world. They were turned into Professions—in one part because they were meant to become practicable by the proletariat, but the licensure systems slowly perverted into horrible weapons of the bourgeois to gatekeep cultivations. Those with the privilege to focus on studying instead of surviving—that is, those with enough resources and wealth—often topped and became better performers in these licensure exams than those that had to live in squalor, in shanties, in squats, in lower-class neighborhoods or communes or villages or municipalities.

If, during the eras of war chiefs and empires, power was hoarded by cultivation sects and cults, then during the eras of capitalist-barons, international CEOs, and the ultra-merchant power was hoarded by the mercantile lodges, the stock-trading guilds, and the capitalists.

But that is a topic for another time.

The High Physickers Kexi and Kujoh created a perfect circle around Raxri's bed. Then they set about to performing the mantras in a counter-clockwise manner. As they performed their mantras, a third eye—a flowering gem—exploded from their brow. Kujoh's was a bright green, while Kexi's was a floundering fuschia. As their Third Eyes opened, revealing their Inner Ardor, a mandala of light criss-crossed underneath the bed of Raxri. Healing power surged through, granted by medicinal and rejuvenating spirits. Even at the borders of the ritual, Mijja could feel the reinvigoration coursing through her and them. She could feel the healing powers suffusing Kexi and Kujoh as they chanted. And as they chanted, their hands performed the remedial gestures.

But the fact about healing is that, the power to instantly heal wounds is very rare. The power to reinvigorate and make one ignore pain is very common. Popular. It is the most common white magick. Even Mijja knew it: ALMA. But magicks that truly heal, suturing wounds, putting severed arms and flesh together again... that takes far longer, more time, more power, more Ardor. Often, true healing magick is attained only by Adamantines, Omniscients, Benevolents, and Violents.

The burning white light shifted into a soothing lazuli. Or azure. Blossoming from the light were deep blue tendrils of liquid smoke. It by all intents and purposes, looked much too similar to the ultramarine blues of the Healing Pool in the Vault of Souls. It looked too similar to the manifestation of Akazha as Peisajakuru, when she healed Raxri.

The Ultramystic Sutasoma stood behind everyone. She watched Raxri with a certain anxiety, even as she sipped from the large-radius straw of the boba milktea she had been granted (they had their own milktea shop in the commune). She was not scared at all for Raxri, of course. Kexi and Kujoh were some of the best practitioners in the entire business. Born from farmers and a tricycle-driver respectively, they fought through all forms of barriers to be able to get where they were now. Their indomitability was the stone upon which their healing knowledge was tempered.

No, the anxiety was more of... what will they do with Raxri's arm? She did not dance down the path of the Medicine Omniscient. She would not be able to regrow that arm, no matter what psychomagickal accomplishments she has. It was simply not in her repertoire of skills. Even to the High Physickers Kujoh and Kexi, regrowing a broken arm would be impossible. Unless they had the whole arm somewhere, of course, then they could just reattach it. But they had no arm.

We'd need a prosthesis, for sure. She sighed. O, Akazha. What did you see in this one?

Ah, speaking of Akazha. The Ultramystic knew that they would have to go and perform the rituals. She would have to read the death-signs first. The imprint upon the Interstitial. But Sutasoma had a creeping idea she knew what Akazha would want to be done with her corpse.

As the ritual reached its zenith, the tendrils creeping up from the ground converged on a single point over Raxri. Hovering and burgeoning into a glistening indigo lotus. This lotus blossomed into a hundred thousand petals before it exploded. The shower of diamond dust healed the entire room. The final chanted syllables were: "AHOM ALMA ALMA EKPHRASIS AFFLATUS ALMA HOMA."

The diamond dust filled even Mijja with such rejuvenation and healing winds that she felt truly happy for the first time in a while.

Raxri calmed down upon the bed. Mijja did not realize that they looked so tense even in their unonsciousness.

As the diamond dust faded, and the tendrils and liquid glass petals of the indigo lotus faded into pure-light, the room fell into darkness. A few beats of silence. Kujoh gathered the incenses and candles they had set up before hand.

Kexi said: "The ritual is finished. We will be feeding Raxri with some of our soma stores to quicken their healing. And then they will have to perform the rest of the healing on their own terms."

Sutasoma nodded. "Thank you, Kexi. Kujoh."

"Anytime, Ultramystic," replied Kujoh. "It was auspicious timing, really. You caught us at a time where we did not have to do medical rounds in the Selorongian National Hospice."

"Ah, then it must be merit, then." Sutasoma put her hands together and muttered: "I dedicate all merit from this meeting and this ritual to all sentient beings. Until all beings are free."

Everyone else in the room refrained: "Until all beings are free." Mijja said it slightly later than the others, but not so late that it felt like a mistake.

"I will not hold you any longer," said Sutasoma. "But, if I could ask... do you know of any good prothesticians in the city? The ones I know are in... Hokou."

"Ah, Shennin prothesticians are pretty good." Kexi looked at Kujoh. "Well, we do know someone. But she's pretty heavily booked right now. By the Gozons, I believe. Here's her business card." Kexi reached into his Balance Raiments and produced a black card with silver writing. It was flecked with stardust. Upon it, the name "RIMARA SANAZE" written in both Selorongi script, Ratenese script, and Simplified Shennin script.

"Hm. She writes to cover all her bases. That's a good sign," muttered Sutasoma as she read the business card. "Thank you again, High Physickers. I shan't keep you any longer."

They both performed heart reverence to each other. Kexi and Kujoh performed a mouth reverence to Sutasoma, to showcase her higher position. Sutasoma looked slightly irked at that, but did not correct them.

Before Kexi and Kujoh could leave, Mijja squirmed her way before them. "Um, excuse me."

Kexi and Kujoh paused. They were both not taller than Mijja, so it was not like Mijja was someone they could not see. "You are High Physickers, right?"

Kujoh blinked. "Well, yes. And you are?"

"Someone roped in by Akazha's Death Vow," said Sutasoma. "Someone to kill..." Sutasoma bit her lip. The Gozons. Mijja had just said about how the Death Vow was to kill the Patriarch of the Gozons. It was not yet time to disclose that information. "Someone. Information for another time."

"I see," said Kexi. "What do you need of us?"

"Well, I'm an almost licensed Physicker. I was hoping if you could give me pointers or reviewers or any tips for the licensure exam?" In case Doctor Myu Fan was not true on her word and she would not grant me licensure when I finish this task for her.

"That's going to take more than just a short conversation, uhm...?"

"Mijja. Mijja Tomoe Saoze."

"Right. Miss Saoze. Maybe... over coffee or lunch?" asked Kujoh.

Mijja smiled demurely. "Oh, miss High Physicker. Are you asking me out?"

Kexi laughed at that. Kujoh waved her hands frantically. "N-no, no! I am already married. I just meant it would be easier if we allotted time for it." She looked at Kexi and said: "I'll bring Kujoh along if we can find the time."

Mijja grinned at that. "I would like that a lot, Miss Kujoh, Sir Kexi!"

Kexi smiled as well. "You're a little cutie, aren't you? We'll reach out to Sutasoma to let you know when we'll be free. Okay?"

"Yes, of course. Thank you again!" And Mijja performed the Mouth Reverence and bowed deeply by the waist.

When they had left, Sutasoma laughed. "Your hunger for the medical field is truly commendable. Fiercely, you chase after Cultivation!"

"I must," said Mijja. Though she did not know why anymore, at this point.

Sutasoma could feel the air shifting around Mijja as she said those words. She knew she did not truly know, and so Sutasoma did not ask why. Instead, she turned to Raxri, who slumbered now peacefully upon the hospice bed. Upon linens that smelled of isopropyl and antiseptic.

Sutasoma inhaled deeply. Then she said: "It will take some time before Raxri will awaken from slumber. Come, Mijja Tomoe Saoze, nascent Physicker. I will guide you to your quarters."

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