213. Training Grounds (II)

Thalen helped him find suitable opponents. The next two duels passed in quick succession. Both were stat-equalized like his previous match, focusing on technique and strategy rather than raw power.

The first, against a disciple ranked 8,793, used a quarterstaff style that initially gave Alistair trouble with its reach. But after weathering the initial assault, his [Adaptive Kinesthesia] allowed him to counter effectively, securing another victory.

The second, against number 8,705, proved more challenging—a female disciple who specialized in a flowing hand-to-hand style that seemed to have no fixed patterns. It was only after taking a bunch of palm strikes to the face that he adapted to her symphonies.

With the conclusion of the spars, he found himself at rank 8,776 and with an extra 195 merit points. Not bad for a single day’s effort.

“You’re on a roll,” Thalen remarked as Alistair exited the second arena. “Care to try one more? Three challenges are the daily limit, after all.”

“Any suggestions?” Alistair asked, glancing around.

“Him,” Selira pointed toward a stocky disciple practicing alone in a corner arena. “Feng Wei, rank 8,655. I’d recommend trying without stat equalization. It gives you more rank and merit points. If you dare.”

She gave him a wry smile.

I see what you’re doing, he thought. It was only a question of how many of his abilities he wanted to reveal. Those in the mid-8000s were mostly in the 105-110 level range, which wouldn’t be a problem with his full power.

“Alright,” he nodded. “Let’s do it.”

As Alistair approached Feng Wei to issue the challenge, he felt Dev'rox's presence stirring within him.

“Perfect timing,” Alistair thought. “Are you ready for it?”

“That technique?” Dev'rox echoed back. “When I use Mana at the Adept realm, they’ll be able to detect me because of their increased sensitivity to spiritual energy. And it takes .01 seconds, as you know.”

“Meaning, we need a distraction.”

The challenge was sent and accepted—the only rule was no Domains, the lesser arenas being unable to handle the projected spaces. Unlike the previous arenas, this one remained clear—no restriction field required. Feng Wei cracked his knuckles as they took up positions.

“So you’re the newcomer causing a stir,” he said, his voice deep and resonant. “Let’s see if your luck holds.”

The countdown began. Three... two... one...

This time, the two opponents were placed a thousand feet apart to start, a field of pure white stone free of blemishes separating them.

The moment the battle began, Feng Wei clapped his hands together, sending an echo through space and through the Dao. The message was clear: “This Earth is Holding Up Your Existence.”

Dozens of columns of earth affinity Mana appeared around Feng Wei, each twenty feet tall and two feet thick. The columns flew at Alistair.

He dodged with grace despite the speed at which they approached, analyzing the patterns within the projectiles. Their collision against the ground created ear-shattering shockwaves, enough to level a town block, yet the floor of the arena held with ease. It was meant to contain Profound realms, after all.

Just when he was getting the hang of things, the Mai Atalan added more earth to his cadre. The previous columns never went away, reforming after splattering on the ground and rotating around Alistair in an orbit of over a thousand feet, forty columns falling at thousands of miles an hour every second.

This was his ultimate web, mud affinity starting to form around the upper vestiges of the columns, connecting them. Dao energy spread like a virus.

“I see,” Alistair said. Though Tune of the Fight was more effective against those who walked the physical path, he could still hear the faint chimes of Feng Wei’s system. Now!

[Mindshift] activated. It should have been enough to breach the gap to the earth-based cultivator in a fraction of a second, but Dao energy arrested his movement. The invisible web became more apparent, but there was one thing Feng Wei had not prepared for.

The psychic shadow of his movement Skill punched the Dao energy away, allowing his [Mindshift] to finish a hundred feet shy of its target.

A rocky skin began to form around Feng Wei’s skin as he realized the danger. [Lightning of Justice] came down from above, filled with a tenth of Alistair’s max nue pool and a portion of the Dao of Justice.

Lightning against Earth. The traditional schema was Heavenly Lightning coming down to the Mortal World, where different interpretations declared different winners. To his credit, Alistair’s opponent realized that this was no Heavenly invocation.

The powerful Dao energy he concentrated around his head merged with the stoneskin, which he rotated to the top of his body near instantaneously. Weathered, ancient rock that felt like it had weathered a thousand lifetimes grew like a tree.

What could justice do against the natural world itself?

Alistair didn’t plan to find out, for as Feng Wei was distracted by his lightning, he took a simple [Force Fist] and punched Dev'rox.

Time slowed down to a halt as with Tier 5 [Ghost Whispers], Alistair lent his mental reaction speed to Dev'rox, who waited until the last possible second, until a snap of his fingers would complete right before fist met ectoplasm.

Feng Wei and Dev'rox swapped places. The cultivator never stood a chance, his attention too fixated above.

[Force Fist] smashed into his chest, a reverse fajin keeping him in place with the Dao of the Fist.

The lighting fell, the imp protected by the very earthly shield that Feng Wei had built himself. The creator fared worse, as while his monstrous Constitution allowed him to survive the initial blow, Alistair chained together Tier 4 [Force Fists], a capability that was only possible with the almost non-existent activation time.

His opponent was still an Adept of noble birth—quartz emerged from every part of his body to shield him, but that couldn’t stop the rampage.

[Force Fist], [Force Fist], [Force Fist]. Alistair entered Infinite Arsenal, seeing the paths of blows and finding victory.

Adapt, adapt, adapt. What were the weaknesses of the quartz? Where was it thinnest? Where was Feng Wei’s body at its most vulnerable?

The columns of earth from before raced him as his punches pushed the crystalline man forward at a ridiculous pace. But they were catching up, and the arena was only a mile long.

Here!

A crimson bone shot out of his wrist as fast as he could punch, carrying thick and boiling blood affinity Mana. The spear-like implement pierced through the weakest point of his armor at his groin, blood essence drawing to him like water down a drain.

BOOM! A column of earth shattered against Alistair’s back, cracking his spinal cord and crushing muscle and viscera. He clenched with the ultimate technique of the Steel Body, mitigating as much damage as possible on top of the 30% resistance to all Mana. Dragon’s Blood Mastery knitted his bones and flesh back together.

BOOM! Another column of earth made its mark, this time fully cracking his spine, but it was too late.

Alistair’s blood Mana had reached Feng Wei’s heart, annihilating it and turning into a yummy elixir of blood essence for his bloodline to consume.

Winner:

Alistair Tan

Outer Disciple Rank: 8,776 -> 8,655

(Merit Points: 2,380 -> 2,585)

Loser:

Feng Wei

Outer Disciple Rank: 8,655 -> 8,777

“That’s a solid win,” Dev'rox said with a smile.

Alistair felt the murmurs through the crowd with [Reality Sense]. It was only his third day, and he had almost risen 1,000 spots on the rankings. All without using Karma too.

The arena asked him if he wanted to be teleported out, and he said yes, bringing him in front of his new acquaintances.

“That was a crazy good match!” Thalen exclaimed. “What was that last Skill?”

“Trade secret,” Alistair said, wagging a finger. “I can’t let you see everything just yet.”

Feng, to Alistair’s chagrin, was in a far worse condition. The arena only obviated the final spearhand to the throat, meaning he was still feeling the {Crimson Bone} to the groin.

“Oof.” He looked at the fallen disciple, who lay on the stillwater ground in front of the arena. “Is he going to be okay?”

Right as he said that, a Training Grounds attendant dashed to the fallen man and picked him up.

“That’s what they’re for,” Selina said. “I think his parts will make a full recovery.”

The three men shared an understanding look.

And then came one of the last people Alistair was expecting to see, though he supposed that was just a reflection of his ignorance. How many times had Red Harmonia surprised him?

He walked up to the group as if his leg wasn’t crushed and full of fang holes not even two hours ago. His right hand had completely regrown. It didn’t even look like he had been injured at all.

“There you are,” Red called out casually. “Thought I might find you here.”

“You’re…” Alistair began, “How are you even walking?”

Red shrugged. “I told them. Anti-venom, and Adept Health pill.”

“Bad injury?” Thalen asked.

“Mission complication,” Red said dismissively. “Nothing worth discussing.”

Thalen extended his hand. “Thalen Rulhoi, Eyedancer Duchy of Dragon’s Landing.”

Red nodded but ignored the hand. “I caught your match on the replay arena. You're skilled with those swords.”

“Hmph. You wish to test my blade?”

“Why not?” Red’s voice remained as neutral as ever. “I think I’d be good at swords. Hey, Alistair? Could you make me a sword out of one of your bones?”

Alistair thought he understood what his friend was getting at. He pushed out a {Crimson Bone} from one of his palms. He condensed blood affinity Mana through it, his meridians almost fully healed from the fight against the Beast Ruler.

Carefully reinforcing the bone for a minute, he compressed his Mana in a way that would not be possible in a combat setting. To finish it off, he carved the edge down into a blade and then used the full force of his 1,268 Strength to chop off the bone at the base, which he hadn’t fortified at all.

Alistair tossed the makeshift sword to Red.

“Thanks,” Red said, examining the blood-bone sword with mild interest.

Severus whistled. “Now, that’s just cool.”

Thalen stepped into the arena with an easy confidence, keeping both hands on the hilts of his swords. He took his stance—knees slightly bent, weight perfectly balanced.

The rules were the same as before, listed on the arena screen.

No use of Mana, nue, or Dao energy allowed externally. Flows of reality usage are restricted. Relatively equalized stats.

Red, on the other hand, held the crimson bone sword at an awkward angle that made even non-sword cultivators wince.

The stillwater walls shimmered to life, enveloping them in that familiar blue glow as the arena’s systems detected and restricted their quintessence and flows of reality. Alistair couldn’t see any threads of Fate or timelines inside the arena with [Dharmic Gaze].

The countdown began. Three... two... one...

Rather than taking any recognizable stance, Red began swinging the sword around wildly, testing its weight with exaggerated movements. He flipped it from hand to hand, spun it like a baton, and even tossed it a few feet in the air before catching it again. The display was so unorthodox and unprofessional that several onlookers began to laugh.

“Are you... taking this seriously?” Thalen asked, his formal stance never wavering.

“Just getting a feel for it,” Red replied, now holding the sword backwards.

Growing impatient, Thalen made the first move, dashing forward. He launched a probing attack—a simple thrust meant to test Red’s defenses. To the onlookers' surprise, Red parried it, but with a completely unorthodox motion that looked more like he was swatting away a fly than blocking with a sword.

Thalen frowned and launched a more complex attack. Alistair wasn’t sure how the sword cultivator viewed combat, but he chose a different approach than the quickdraw style he had used before, still focused on precise killing. It was a three-strike combination with both swords that should have overwhelmed Red’s amateurish defenses.

Yet he somehow held on.

Through what appeared to be pure luck, Red managed to avoid all three strikes, ducking under one, sidestepping another, and deflecting the third with an awkward swing that nearly made him lose his balance.

“This is ridiculous,” Thalen muttered, now genuinely annoyed. Seeing that Red was just looking down at his sword rather than paying attention, he sheathed both his swords and squatted low, preparing to end the duel with a single, impossibly swift strike.

Hand on the hilt of the black sword, he readied a quickdraw slash that touched upon the Dao itself.

Red caught the sword mid-blow by clapping his hands together.

It was an impossibility. An utter fiction that should never have happened.

Reality was sometimes stranger than fiction.

Thalen retracted his sword instantly, taking two large steps back as he studied Red with increased concern.

As for Red, a peculiar expression crossed his face. Not concentration or concern, but a sort of detached curiosity.

“Ah, so that’s how it works,” he said flatly.

What happened next defied explanation. In an instant, Red’s entire demeanor transformed. His awkward grip became perfect, his stance shifted into textbook form, and his dull eyes became sharp.

Thalen brought forth the same double-edged technique, dual-wielding the silver sword with momentum and the black sword with speed.

But Red wasn’t where any of the blades were aimed. He sidestepped with speed and precision, the crimson bone sword tracing a perfect arc that intercepted Thalen’s black sword.

The clash of weapons produced a sound like breaking glass. Thalen’s eyes narrowed further.

Thalen Rulhoi was born with a sword in his hands, almost literally. His father was the renowned Swordmaster of Eyedancer, a duelist who had lost less than five times as a Visionary.

When a technique, a strategy, a Skill, did not work, he shed them loose. In that moment, he reached back to the deepest of his memories. The first techniques his father had taught him as a toddler over thirty years ago.

“A sword must always be direct,” Daredin Rulhoi had said. “Some like fancy arcs and all that nonsense, but not your pa. Always take the shortest path.”

Sometimes, the shortest path was not a straight line, Thalen realized, reaching a new apex of the sword that he would soon realize was a Fourth Deepening.

A Fourth Deepening wasn’t enough.

Red met the outer disciple’s geometric strikes with perfect counters, the bone sword moving as if it were an extension of his arm.

With a movement impossible fast yet visibly slow, he suddenly stepped inside Thalen’s guard and executed a disarming technique so precise it seemed impossible for someone who had been flailing around with a sword moments before.

Thalen’s black blade spun into the air, and before it could even hit the ground, the crimson tip of a sharpened bone was at his throat.

Winner:

Red Harmonia

Outer Disciple Rank: 9,655 -> 9,200

Loser:

Thalen Rulhoi

Outer Disciple Rank: 6,399 -> 6,578

When the two duelists left the arena, everything was silent.

Severus was the first to speak. “Looks like we might have a sword prodigy on our hands.”

Alistair, knowing the truth, kept his mouth shut.

Thalen, turned to Red aggressively. His friends almost held him back, but when they saw what he was doing, they stopped.

The tall ginger man bowed deeply.

“Thank you. I have reached a new level with the sword thanks to your tutelage. Your mastery of the blade is unrivaled for your level.”

“Thanks?” Red said. “I just saw you guys having some fun, so I wanted to try it out. See you for tomorrow’s sparring, Alistair. And let’s discuss that other thing later.”

With that, he tossed the bone back to Alistair and walked out, his gray eyes returning to their shallow form.

--------------

The Eyedancer Duchy crew left, deciding on the Cultivation Chambers as Thalen wanted to meditate on his new discovery, while Alistair stayed at the Training Grounds for a couple more hours.

He was out of challenges, but got challenged twice, once by someone lower ranked than him and once by someone higher ranked. He defeated both of them easily, bringing his rank to 8,621. After that, no one tried him. The risk someone in the 7,000s took by facing him was too far.

Unfortunately, most of the beast tide simulations and holographic cultivator scenarios cost merit points he wasn’t willing to spend. Alistair chose the free option, which only had level 100 Beast Rulers.

By limiting his abilities to only his fists, and even then waiting until the last second to dodge or strike, he honed his perception and reflexes even more.

Then, he had an idea. He dove into the water, swimming as deep as he could until it became unbearable.

He began to cultivate.

The concentration of Mana was almost as high as the sixth ring of the cultivation chamber. It was less efficient because his soulcore had to convert the liquid Mana into his four affinities, but it was still better than the normal ambient environment and likely even better than the seventh ring.

The pressure was painful and hurt his concentration, but after two hours, his mastery of Threefold Breath Cultivation reached the point of unconscious control.

Holy shit, Alistair thought as he started the journey to level 103. Have I discovered a cheat code?

The presence of a Beast Ruler stronger than the Old Man of the Lighthouse crushed those dreams. He darted back to the surface as fast as he could.

“Okay,” Alistair said out loud. “It looks like if I go too deep, the great beasts of the depths don’t like that. What if I just go to the point at which the ambient Mana is triple that of the surface?”

That was around halfway to the point where he had gotten chased away by a five-hundred-foot-long shark. He swam back and began breathing and cycling again. This time, no beasts bothered him.

Alistair had a sudden thought—My Charisma. Reaching level 102 brought his Charisma over 2,000, so his max Karma was now 345. This was a perfect opportunity for his Karma in a non-combat setting.

It took 28.75 hours to fully replenish his Karma. If he avoided using [Dharmic Gaze] in fights and practice, every 28.75 hours, he could dive into even deeper depths than before and cultivate while spending 4-8 hours slowly burning his Karma to increase his luck.

His plan was genius. With this, his goal of making inner disciple in a year seemed realistic. He would probably only be able to do a cultivation dive every two days and not 28.75 hours because of other obligations, but that was a minor setback. In general, he wouldn’t have to use any merit points on chambers.

Alistair spent almost half a day in the middle zone, lost in meditation. Before he could implement his plan, he wanted the Spiritual Dragon Cycling. If he was going to turbocharge his soulcore growth, he had to do it the right way.

Next up on his list—his first class with Elder Aylesfort.