214. Elders' Lessons

The next day, Alistair picked up two more missions, earning himself another 312 merit points, placing him at 2,977. It felt rewarding that two parts of his cultivation—ghosts and Karma—were now responsible for him getting a leg up compared to his peers.

His routine became set in stone. Red and Alistair would train every morning for an hour, always with just their fists, either in their dorm room or on the open ocean.

He would get lunch with Gu Fuhao and Pristine Evolutionary. Now he could afford the 50 merit point meals. They were not only delicious beyond reckoning, but they aided in clearing away tiny impurities and sped up cultivation a small amount.

Alistair’s first class with Elder Aylesfort took place the day after that. Unlike Elder Fanghorn, the Head of the Contribution Hall scheduled his lesson at dusk in his office.

He wasn’t sure what to expect from “Outer Disciple Practical Combat Lessons,” other than, well, the name.

Would they be sparring a lot? Going on adventures to fight pirates or gang leaders or beast tides?

Or would it be a theoretical class, where they studied great battles in Final Frontier Empire history, or theories of the Dao, like Domain battle outcomes?

Perhaps a combination of all three?

Alistair’s expectations were high from the second most powerful cultivator at the sect, only bested by the Perfect herself.

Fifty outer disciples gathered in the personal office of Elder Aylesfort. A crystalwater ladder had appeared at the back end of the Contribution Hall just for their class—no one else could see it.

The ladder led to a space that defied the physical dimensions of the Contribution Hall below. As a Peak Visionary, such was Verryn Aylesfort’s wont.

The inside of his office was a vast circular chamber formed entirely out of treasury ledgers—thousands of leather-bound tomes stuck together, continuously rotating with many swapping places and flying around.

As far as Alistair knew, the space they now occupied should have been the teleportation room, yet the elder’s office was as large as a university lecture hall.

At the center stood a massive desk of polished coral and platinum, covered in stacks of scrolls, crystals, and jade slips. It floated above a deep pool of water that reflected not the desk nor books above, but impossibly distant star systems, including a mysterious emerald structure that went on for hundreds of light-years, according to its visual size.

As he entered, he immediately recognized the gathering was more significant than he’d anticipated.

Near the front stood Yan Zheng, nephew of Elder Yan Shiwu and the number one-ranked disciple coming into the sect. In fact, he was somehow still above Alistair, ranking 7,998 not a week into his sect life. He had black hair and deep black eyes, a handsome if slightly rat-like man.

In deep conversation with Zheng was Helena Kladen, her bearing as aristocratic as her family’s scholarly reputation. She was a distant, but lineal descendant of Tameruz Kladen, the celebrated historian.

On the opposite end of the room was his dormmate Berengar Sturmklinge, identical twin brother of the celebrated “Future of the Disputed Shard.”

At his side was Riyord Fen, the shy fifteen-year-old prodigy, who looked even more uncomfortable than usual in such distinguished company. Alistair was happy that he seemed friendly with Berengar, as the two discussed something in private at the back.

A woman he recognized from Elder Yan’s mental projection as Ka Zhongting was front and center, sitting as close as possible to the elder’s desk.

Alistair realized with a start that six of the top ten ranked new outer disciples were present. The gathering was practically a who’s who of the most promising new talent in the Clear Water Sect—not to mention the deep auras he felt from the disciples he didn’t know.

Elder Aylesfort appeared from a side chamber that hadn’t been visible a moment before. His sea-green eyes swept over the group with careful assessment, the mathematical equations embroidered on his jade robes flickering in response.

“Welcome, disciples,” he said, his voice carrying perfect clarity despite its gentle tone. “This is my yearly class, Outer Disciple Practical Combat Lessons, the only one I teach except for those wanting to study the greater truths of mathematical evaluation. These lessons are only available to those in their first five years at the sect, and only once. We shall have ten classes, once every week or every other week, and no more. After these ten lessons, I will have imparted to you a portion of the knowledge that I have accumulated over my nearly 900,000 years of existence.”

Elder Aylesfort floated over his desk, his eyes scanning them like he was peering into their very souls. Alistair suddenly felt quite naked, and he was not alone.

“First, a question. Can an Adept realm defeat a Profound realm?”

No one answered for five whole seconds. Obviously, the answer was yes. Norman said it himself, a Peak Adept beating an Early Profound realm was not terribly rare in the grand scheme of things.

However, he couldn’t help but come to the conclusion that was not what the elder wanted to hear. As he ruminated, Yan Zheng tried to answer.

“Of course they can, elder,” Zheng said. “They say that an Adept realm who has just broken through can take on a hundred Peak Foundations. They also say that a Profound realm who has just broken through can take on thirty Peak Adepts. Considering that I, as an early Adept, can take on thirty of my peers with lesser foundations, then applying deductive logic, the answer is yes.”

“Elder Yan’s nephew.” Elder Aylesfort sighed. “You are a talented child, but do not test my patience. Trying to tailor your answer to my sensibilities for logic and numbers is a pathetic move.”

Zheng’s highborn face snarled for a split second before returning to normal. “I apologize, elder.”

“You are, however, entirely correct,” the elder said. “Now, can an Adept realm defeat a Visionary?”

No one wanted to speak up after Zheng’s admonishment, despite the obvious answer. Alistair broke the silence. “It is impossible, honored elder.”

“Elaborate.”

“The difference between Visionary and Adept is the difference between Heaven and Earth. Their auras are tens of thousands of times stronger. To measure up their Dao energies would be like comparing the ocean to a pond. Perhaps that is even less important than the difference in understanding of the Dao, that cannot even be explained to an Adept.”

“How should an Adept deal with a Visionary, then?” Elder Aylesfort asked. “What is the correct course of action, Disciple Tan?”

“If it were me, I would grovel at their feet and beg for forgiveness,” Alistair said. “I would never be there in the first place. Angering a Visionary as an Adept is the height of foolishness.”

“Good answer,” Elder Aylesfort said. “The best course of action is to never be in that situation in the first place. You’ve already made your fatal mistake if you have a Visionary as an enemy at that level. However, my intention is not to impose upon you the rigidity of power. Yes, it is true that you are but helpless babes before me or any of my fellow elders. Those are not your ordinary opponents. You will be facing disciples and beasts on your level, some weaker than you in raw strength, and some stronger. When there is at least some relativity, power itself is but one tool of many. I intend to teach you those other tools.”

The elder smiled slightly, procuring a wooden box from nowhere. It was smaller than his palm, with intricate emerald carvings on its surface.

“Your first practical lesson is this,” Elder Aylesfort announced. “I hold in my hand a simple box. Your task is to retrieve it from me within the next hour. I will not leave this office, and I will restrict my movement speed to that of an Early Adept realm cultivator—no faster.”

The disciples exchanged glances, some looking confident, others suspicious.

“You may use any means at your disposal. Any Skills, any items, any strategy. Even if you wish to open your Domain, who am I to judge? I did say any means. You may work alone or together, I care not. The only rule is that you must retrieve the box. And please don’t kill each other, either. I would think that would be obvious, but there have been… incidents in the past.” He twirled the box on his fingertip like it were a basketball. “Anyone who succeeds will receive a reward. Those who fail... well, let us just say you’ll find the experience educational nonetheless. Begin.”

Several disciples immediately sprang into action.

As expected, Elder Yan’s nephew was the first. Even before Elder Aylesfort finished speaking, the young man was dashing toward the elder. His muscles rippled with power as he became a blur of speed.

He’s almost as fast as me, Alistair thought as he watched from the top row of chairs. And I don’t think that’s even his primary Attribute. He’s further along in Early Adept than me, but his stats are still ridiculous. His rank makes total sense.

Zheng outstretched his hand as he prepared to make contact, ready to snatch the box. The elder shook his head, moving the box out of the way, the outer disciple’s fingertips almost grazing its side.

Zheng skidded to a halt, almost crashing into the wall of books. Without hesitation, he took out a black rope dart. A violet fire blossomed around the metal spike. Alistair found himself drawn to the peculiar hue of the flames, which almost felt like UV light.

“Soulfire,” Dev'rox commented internally. “The essence that is a combination of the fire and moon affinities. Innately injurious to the meridians, and while it does not burn the body, it burns the mind, causing intense pain and trauma while forcing aura leakage.”

Elder Yan’s nephew wielded the rope dart with expert ease, attacking the elder with the intent to kill.

The older man dodged every blow, the rope dart striking the ground or his desk, leaving a tiny discoloration where the soulfire landed.

Alistair thought that he was just missing because of the elder’s great skill, and that much was true, but after leaving twenty marks, Zheng caught his own weapon with his teeth. With a gruesome lick, he cut his tongue on the metal’s edge, the blood instantly turning black and sizzling to nothingness in the soulfire.

Each discolored spot in the room flared with ultraviolet light for a split second. Then, from every one of them, concentrated streams of soulfire erupted. The flames surged up and in, converging into a single, towering infernal column that was so dense and intense that the elder vanished from [Reality Sense].

The elder rose from the upper row of seats, on the opposite side to Alistair. The flames dispersed, and a paper clone dropped to the floor, unaffected by the spiritual fires.

Seeing Yan Zheng fail lit a fire under everyone. They had refrained from helping him because they wanted to maximize their own chances of getting the box, but that was before they realized—this was an elder of the Clear Water Sect, and the strongest one at that.

They didn’t have the liberty to hold back.

The elder simply smiled slightly and twirled the box again, as if to say, “Come at me if you can.”

Dev'rox chuckled. “You should be paying more attention to that box.”

“Huh?” Alistair asked, focusing his [Reality Sense] but finding nothing odd about it.

“Not like that. You're too powerful for your own good. Remember [The Game of Life] Quest, when we beat William with brains and not brawn? A mortal could figure this one out.”

Dev'rox wasn’t offering any more clues, so Alistair simply watched the events unfold.

Several disciples moved at once.

Ka Zhongting’s hands traced fluid arcs through the air as liquid Mana poured out of her meridians. It was the water of the ocean—salty and restless, carrying the timeless strength of the vast depths. Three waves rose at her command, converging to form a triangular prison around the elder.

Helena Kladen opened doors to nothingness, reminding him of Oliver’s [Otherworld Gates]. Instead of zombies, however, puppets walked out. Sleek, almost invisible threads of pure Mana connected the puppets to Helena’s fingertips. One felt like it was made of pure Sun affinity, the Yang side, a golden humanoid that was brilliant like the sun. The other was pure Moon affinity, the Yin side, a silver woman with no features.

Berengar Sturmklinge unleashed his clan’s famed purple lightning, targeting the water from Zhongting’s attack rather than the elder himself. The lightning arced unpredictably through the seawater, creating a web of electrical discharge.

From another corner, a second-year disciple Alistair didn’t recognize produced what looked like a simple jade ruler. With every careful measurement he made, the space around Elder Aylesfort conformed and restricted the man’s movements.

Other disciples joined with more techniques. Who would get the box would be settled after they managed to separate it from their teacher. Some fired projectiles to cut off escape routes, while others created environmental hazards.

For a brief moment, it looked as if they were going to succeed.

Alistair watched in rapt attention, analyzing every detail of all their movements.

Including Elder Aylesfort, who merely chuckled.

With movements so precise they felt faster than his casual speed, he slipped through every constraint, avoided every attack.

The water prison shattered as he perfectly used his Dao energy to cut through. The lightning grounded itself harmlessly into the floor. The spatial restrictions simply failed to apply to him.

He’s like Red, or rather, Red’s like him, Alistair realized. Even without using boundless heaps of Dao energy, as was in his capacity as a Visionary, simply from having a perfected stride, the elder could piece apart their attacks. It also reminded him of his new finishing Skill, how the shimmering redness of the air adapted and tore apart things based on their composition.

“Good, good,” he nodded. “At this sect, you shall form partnerships that go beyond the grave. I approve of your teamwork. However, your coordination is sorely lacking!”

For the next forty minutes, the cycle repeated with increasing desperation. Alliances formed and dissolved, elaborate plans executed to no avail. The box remained securely within the elder’s hand, who never moved faster than an Early Adept.

Alistair observed from his position, committing every failure to memory. He had joined in once, using his speed with [Mindshift] and the new active of [Monk Motionlessness], replicating Zheng’s initial attempt, but even faster. That had backfired miserably.

“There’s something we’re missing,” he muttered.

Nearby, Riyord Fen had been mum the entire exercise. Even more-so than Alistair, the young prodigy had been watching without moving, his dark eyes narrowed in concentration.

“I’m opening my Domain,” Yan Zheng announced, his voice cutting through the commotion.

Before Zheng could act on his word, Riyord stepped forward quietly. A rotating grimoire of endless pages appeared above his shoulder, emanating with a faint pink energy.

“Binding of the Shade.”

Thin ribbons of dream affinity Mana spread from his fingers and the grimoire, purple and pink threads of imaginary possibility. The tertiary affinity, comprised of moon, air, and chrome, spread even faster than Alistair could move, shooting toward the elder.

Wherever the ribbons passed, reality seemed to waver slightly, like heat rising from summer pavement. The Dao of Magic—a Nexus that stood near the top of the multiverse, could not be complete without the nue contained within every spell. Alistair could feel it trying to fight against the Dao energy, but the Mana contained in its cage.

Magic in the Adept realm and above seems to be always tripartite, Alistair thought. Maybe mages really are the best.

The elder watched with interest as the dream Mana didn’t target the box directly. Instead, the dreamlike ribbons coalesced on the ground near the elder’s feet.

For a brief moment, the reflection pool across the room rippled violently. Elder Aylesfort’s eyes darted toward the disturbance, then back to Riyord, the slightest hint of a smile on his face.

The box in the elder’s hand flickered, Riyord’s spell gathering on the ground. The young mage reached out his hand, grasping what appeared to be a duplicate of the box, despite being a hundred feet away.

The surrounding air shimmered as if two realities were overlapping, and the young mage’s left hand closed around what appeared to be a duplicate of the box that had materialized from nowhere.

“Clever,” Elder Aylesfort said. “Our best attempt yet. Using a spell of dreams to manifest the true shadow of an object.”

But as Riyord tried to solidify his grip, the dream-box wavered and then dissolved into motes of light. The strain was evident on his young face. Everything had gone right, yet there was something he was missing.

Alistair’s eyes darted between Riyord, the elder, and the pool containing the stars. A connection was forming in his mind.

“Shadows,” Alistair said under his breath. “I think I get it.”

Alistair expanded [Reality Sense] to its limits, sacrificing his perception sphere to become a spear of knowledge. His target—the strange reflection pool at the center of the lecture hall.

The answer crystallized in his mind an instant after he saw Berengar break into a lightning-assisted run toward the pool.

It was too bad that [Mindshift] was faster.

In an instant, he crossed the room in a blur of speed. The nue afterimage blocked Berengar’s path, who arrived just after Alistair.

In one fell swoop, he plunged his hand into the pool, reaching toward the enormous emerald structure. Instead of meeting resistance, his arm sank in up to the shoulder, as if the water extended far deeper than physically possible.

His fingers closed around something solid and wooden.

When he withdrew his arm, he held a small wooden box identical to the one Elder Aylesfort had been toying with throughout the lesson.

The room gradually fell silent as the disciples noticed what had happened. The middle-aged elder turned to him, his box dissolving into motes of light as he smiled.

“Well done, Disciple Tan,” he said. “You’ve completed my task. What did you and Disciple Sturmklinge notice?”

Alistair answered first. “Your box never cast a shadow. Once you’re looking for it, it’s obvious, yet none of us noticed because we were trying all manner of special sensory Skills, brute power, or speed. That’s why Riyord’s spell failed, since that wasn’t the original. He was essentially trying to capture the shadow of a shadow.”

“Excellently put. For your reward, I grant you 2,000 merit points. And for Disciple Sturmklinge, you figured out even faster than Disciple Tan, so I give you 1,000 merit points. Sometimes, it isn’t enough to be first to knowledge, you must also be the fastest. You learned that lesson well today.”

The elder appeared to watch them all simultaneously. “Today, you learned that it is not enough to be powerful. You must use your environment, your intelligence, your understanding of your opponent—a true cultivator is without prejudice. In combat, especially against those stronger than yourselves, victory rarely comes from confronting strength with strength. It comes from understanding the true nature of your objective and finding the path of least resistance.”

He turned to Alistair. “Disciple Tan didn’t try to outmaneuver me; he questioned the premise of the challenge itself. Remember this lesson well. The warrior who knows when not to fight has already won half the battle. And one more piece of wisdom—”

Elder Aylesfort turned his gaze specifically on the nobles of the room. “—The greatest flower can bloom from the lowest dirt. Did you know that the founder of this sect, believed to be the strongest cultivator of the last fifty million years besides the Emperors, was born in the slums of this very world? Back then, it was barely held enough Mana to raise a Foundation to Adept. You are some of the most impressive young talents at this sect, yet you are far too arrogant.”

“I will beat that out of you, if I must. For the remaining ten minutes of the lesson, I will give you a written exam on certain combat scenarios. I do not expect you to finish it now. You are to return the jade slip to me in two weeks at this location for our next class.”

All of a sudden, the elder seemed to shake. His body glimmered as if he were in ten locations at the same time, similar to [Dharmic Gaze’s] afterimages. A ghostly form of the elder shot out of his body, flying toward…

Himself, it appeared. The elder appeared at the entrance to the class. His old body dropped to the ground, its true form a fleshy white humanoid.

“I did not lie when I said I was at the Early Adept realm,” the elder said with a smile. “Here are your slips.”

-----------

Alistair asked Dev'rox about the weird soul thingy—apparently, Soul Splitters were a common item used among Visionaries and beyond. As the name suggested, it split apart your soul and placed it in a suitable body to be used as a clone.

If the clones were close enough to the main body, they shared one consciousness, and when you recombined your soul back together, their experiences became your experiences.

There was one enormous downside—they slowed down and harmed your cultivation, dealing irreversible damage to your soul that meant reaching Exalted was almost impossible. Naturally, 99% of Visionaries on the frontier didn’t care in the slightest, since they were never going to reach Exalted in the first place. Visionary was the commonly accepted peak of the frontier for a reason.

Those who refused to use them (he remembered a passage in The Makers and Movers: Important Cultivators from the Reigns of the Last Two Fell Emperors about the Perfect swearing them off) were considered naive fools.

As for the written exam, it reminded Alistair of high school. It was essentially hundreds of word problems, which explained why he gave them a whole two weeks to complete it.

The questions came in all shapes and sizes. For example, the first question gave the precise abilities and specifications of an imaginary Middle Adept cultivator facing a beast tide and asked what the correct course of action was. The second was a mathematical optimization problem related to Domain combat.

Alistair spent the night and the next two days pondering those questions. He brought his merit points and rank to 5,600 and 8,421, respectively, through his and Dev'rox’s missions plus the challenges.

Another six straight victories only brought his rank up around 10 each time, showing that the algorithm was less sensitive now that he had more bouts under his belt.

Should I try people in the low 7,000s for rank? Alistair pondered. He couldn’t use Karma since he was saving it for the deep-sea cultivation, so he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to reveal. I’ll try a 7,000th-ranked disciple tomorrow.

The same morning, he had Elder Fanghorn’s remedial lesson.

The harsh Profound’s second session focused on the fundamentals of cultivation and the nature of Skills.

While a concept similar to the Skill, capital-S, was prevalent throughout the multiverse, the Pathfinder AI’s instantiation was an innovation. New in the case meant billions of years old, but that was a blip in the grand history of creation.

Alistair didn’t have to do any work to use most of his Skills. Stuff like [Force Fist] and [Thousand-Armed Dragon Buddha Renewal] came pre-packaged with all the Mana structured for him. This was not the case for everyone in the multiverse—for example, the Republic of Stars lacked a Pathfinder AI, since it wasn’t in the Rainmorrow Cluster.

The Pathfinder AI operated on their meridians at a fundamental level, etching certain patterns into them and their brains, so they could activate Skills at will. That also explained why there was an effectiveness limit for the number of Skills, since their meridians could only hold so much information.

Theoretically, as long as they practiced their freehand shaping as they leveled up, there were only upsides to Pathfinder Skills. They were more efficient and complex than what a non-Pathfinder cultivator could do at the same level.

At the Exalted realm, their freehand shaping would be as efficient as Skills, but that didn’t make them useless in the slightest. The complexity of Exalted-level Skills was such that even with the brainpower of those realms, Skills were the best option for most combat-related techniques.

The Pathfinder AI provided many chances for Skill upgrades and evolutions, but it didn’t cover everything. The path to the peak had to be individual. That was why the crystals at the Technique Hall could be used to upgrade, split apart, and evolve your Skills, provided you had the right inspiration and sufficient understanding.

Elder Fanghorn also addressed the relationship between the Health stat and real injuries. The Pathfinder AI, once again, gave its cultivators a boon by evening out their injuries with “Health.”

Even someone like Alistair, if they got decapitated, would die, regardless of how much Health they had. However, for other things, like getting a limb cut off or bleeding internally from a strong punch, their Health would go down in a way that evened things out. Maybe getting their lung pierced would take 30% of their Health out, but they would still have 70% left. Health created a minor gestalt field that was the equivalent of a sustaining life force.

The final topic of discussion for the day was talent and cultivation plateaus.

The most obvious reason for a plateau was a lack of resources. You needed a region with sufficient ambient Mana density to progress for your realm. You needed to find good Focal Point Treasures for the Profound realm. Elixirs, baths, and acupuncture could improve your body significantly.

The real question was talent. What did that even mean?

Elder Fanghorn put it thusly: There were three major kinds of talent.

First was talent in understanding the Dao. This was something that Alistair understood well. The sects of the Holy Ravine would be examples of deep understanding of the Dao of the Fist for their realm. More importantly, they had the potential to see even deeper. Red Harmonia’s perfect stride was another example.

It could also be boiled down more concretely. Did one have the talent to imagine a First Law? A Second Law? How about a Third Law, which took the most inspiration of all? Could they transform their Dao Nodes into Dao Focuses?

Then, there was the talent of the body, talent of the soulcore. Riyord Fen or Oliver back from Earth were good examples of such. They understood at an innate level how to rotate their Mana to expand their soulcore most efficiently.

However, that wasn’t all. Elder Fanghorn explained that the bodily aspect of cultivation would grow more complicated as they leveled up. The Pathfinder AI had its variations on human bodies. That was why when he encountered Kadeus, it called him a Pure Essence Form Human, and why his current Spectral Superhuman I was known as a Qi Condensation Vessel.

If you needed inspiration to form a First Law, you also needed the skill to compress your Mana into liquid and then solid form. That was another bottleneck of talent.

Finally, there was the talent of temperament. Willpower and the desire to grow stronger. You could improve those things, but the majority of your adult temperament was set in stone from childhood.

Alistair considered a fourth kind of talent, one that he had in spades—luck. The literal start of the initiation had him win a fight with a lucky punch, one that led him down the path of the fist. What if he had never gotten the mark of the Sage of Eternal Mercy, or never met Dev'rox?

Luck was the greatest talent of all, in his opinion.

So as to his previous question of why Peak Visionaries like the Perfect were unable to breach the Exalted realm, Elder Fanghorn had the answer.

A Peak Visionary needed to complete their Spiritual Body, expanding their soul throughout every cell. Doing this was no easy task.

A Peak Visionary needed to possess a Dao Manifest. The details of which neither the elder nor Alistair was privy to, but it was the stage after a Dao Focus. A Visionary could possess a Dao Manifest, like how an Adept could possess a Dao Focus, but it was difficult beyond belief.

And finally, and easily the most difficult, was a Visionary needed to turn their Tapestry into Autonomy. From what Alistair had gathered, Profound realms used their Focal Point Treasures to craft a Tapestry, and then a Visionary would finalize their Tapestry into Autonomy, at which point they broke through to Exalted.

All three were necessary to reach the fifth realm of cultivation. All three were absurdly difficult on their own, but impossible in concert.

This was why Exalted was the great watershed of cultivation. If Adept was the first realm you could truly call yourself a cultivator, Exalted was the first realm you could call yourself an immortal.

Alistair had to admit, while Elder Fanghorn was a severe and angry man, his lessons were quite interesting. He genuinely looked forward to their next meeting.

And so, his routine began anew the next day. Sparring with Red. His daily mission, then lunch with Fuhao and Pristine. Three challenges to issue.

And finally, at the end of his first eight days at the sect, was his duel with Xiao Zhenyu.

Alistair showed up at the Training Grounds at the allotted time. He had studied Zhenyu’s matches, understood his cultivation. Zhenyu fought with poisoned daggers, relying on an Endurance bolstered by a snake bloodline that allowed him to shed his body upon receiving fatal damage.

Their match was supposed to take place at the fifth arena, where ten spectators had shown up. Word had gotten around about their little duel.

Alistair was the first to show up. He waited at the arena’s edge, tapping his foot. He wasn’t nervous, but jitters before a fight were natural.

His thoughts returned to today’s lunch. Red tagged along, meeting Fuhao and Pristine for the first time. If he didn’t know any better, he would have said Red was partial to the Trexian woman.

Alistair had brought up Red to Fuhao during the Cosmic Blood trial, so she was interested to meet the man. He wondered what she thought of his roommate randomly asking him to make a crimson bone blade for permanent use right in the dining hall.

He was so lost in his thoughts that the shout of one of the spectators shocked him.

“Xiao Zhenyu is dead!”