Chapter 162
The Lyre’pyron hovered in the air, the bird looked like it was made of mist and light. Its feathers sparkled, and the air around it seemed to ripple as if alive. The clearing was silent for a moment before gasps broke out among the elves.
“That’s a rare spirit!”
“It’s a miracle!”
Words were whispered in hushed tones around them.
Even Caelith, who had been so against Kai, stood frozen. He would normally throw a crude expression at Kai’s way, but this time, his wide eyes showed shock and even a bit of respect. But Kai didn’t focus on their reactions for long. The ritual wasn’t done yet.
He turned to the young elf standing nearby and nudged him. “You need to form a contract now,” he said.
The elf blinked, snapping out of his daze, and slowly stepped toward the hovering wind spirit. His hand stretched out, trembling slightly as he focused. Kai could tell the elf was trying to communicate with the spirit through his thoughts. He knew that was how it’s done usually, Flossbor had explained it to him before.
The Lyre’pyron tilted its head, watching him closely. It seemed to study him, ignoring the rest of the elves. Finally, after a tense moment, the spirit leaned forward and touched the elf’s fingers.
A wave of mana rippled through the clearing as a faint mark appeared around the elf’s hand—a spirit sigil. It looked like a bracelet almost, but it sealed their contract. The elf stepped back, his face breaking into a wide smile as he held up his hand.
Flossbor stepped forward, his voice warm and proud. “With this, the first binding of the night is complete! Let’s give a round of applause for our young one, Caladhron.”
The announcement was the confirmation that everyone needed. The clearing erupted into cheers and applause.
Flossbor turned to Kai. “Would you be willing to call such rare spirits for the others as well?”
Kai nodded without hesitation. “I said I would, and I’ll see it through.”
Flossbor smiled and gestured for the next elf to step forward. A young girl approached, her hands clenched nervously. Kai looked at her and asked gently, “What kind of spirit are you hoping to summon?”
She hesitated and looked around. Kai’s eyes traced and saw an extremely tall woman giving a warming smile and a nod at the little girl. The little girl in return gave a toothy grin and looked up at Kai.
“So?” Kai nudged her a little.
“Can you summon Terrak, the grade 2 earth spirit?”
He nodded, his mind quickly recalling the summoning circle for Terrak. He crouched down and began drawing convoluted patterns on the ground, carefully shaping the circle to call forth a Terrak. Once it was ready, he stepped back and began chanting.
The circle lit up with a deep green glow, and a huge spirit appeared—a turtle with a rough, rocky shell. The cracks in its shell glowed like lines of molten lava, giving it a powerful and ancient look. Its bright amber eyes studied the girl closely, as if testing her.
Kai glanced at the girl, who took a deep breath and stepped forward, her hand slowly reaching out toward the turtle. But the spirit didn’t react right away. It stayed still, its gaze sharp and piercing. He recalled that unlike Lyre’pyron, Terraks had an aggressive and demanding nature, favouring battles.
The girl stood firm, her hand steady even as the spirit seemed to weigh her resolve. Kai could see the tension in her posture but also the determination in her eyes. She wasn’t going to back down.
Finally, after what felt like forever, the turtle leaned forward. Its massive head moved closer, and its rough, glowing shell seemed to shimmer even brighter. When it touched her hand, a powerful wave of mana rippled through the clearing, sending a warm energy that everyone could feel. A glowing sigil formed around her wrist.
The turtle circled the girl, its movements slow but deliberate, watching her like it was making sure of something. Then, without a sound, the spirit disappeared into thin air, leaving only the glowing mark on her wrist.
The sigil pulsed softly for a moment before fading, but Kai knew the bond was complete. The spirit was now part of her, ready to be summoned whenever she needed it.
The girl’s face broke into a bright smile, her joy clear as she stepped back from the circle.
Her bond with the spirit was sealed, and the pride in her eyes was impossible to miss.
The crowd cheered again, and Kai couldn’t help but smile. Two bindings down—many more to go.
As the night deepened and the glowing summoning circles illuminated the forest clearing, the air grew heavier with respect and curiosity. One by one, as Kai crafted perfect summoning circles and called forth rare spirits, the eyes of the elves began to change.
At first, they regarded him as an unfamiliar human outsider, but now their gazes held something else—respect, intrigue, and even awe. Whispers of a new title drifted through the gathering: Spirit Seer.
He heard more than a few people calling him that after each successful binding.
Kai had no idea what that meant, but he didn’t stop. His focus remained on the circles and the spirits, pouring his energy into each chant.
The young elves approached him with requests for specific types of spirits. Wind and earth spirits were the most common, and he summoned them with relative ease. Mithyxs, Gale Whisker; Aerendyl, the Dancing Lythyp, Terrak, Stoneback Titan; Lythron, the Rooth Watcher. Occasionally, the demands were more unusual—a request for lightning or water spirits, such as Stormflash, the Azure Bolt and Mirenelle.
Each summon brought its own challenges. Not all spirits were willing to form bonds with their summoners, and Kai often found himself chanting again to call another spirit. Some elves left the summoning circles with disappointment clearly written on their faces, but even then, the persistence of Kai and their fellow rite takers ensured that none of these kids were left empty-handed.
Halfway through the summonings, the last of the hostile gazes have changed. Even Caelith who hadn't had a single positive thing to say about him ever since Kai set foot in Sylvastra seemed to soften. Though his lips remained sealed and tight, the hostility in his gaze had dulled to neutrality. It wasn’t much, but it was a step forward.
By the time Kai had worked through most of the gathered elves, the clearing felt alive with energy, buzzing with new bonds and strengthened connections. The once-nervous young elves now stood taller, their spirit sigils glowing faintly as they talked to their family.
Finally, Flossbor called for the last participant, and Kai turned to see Claire stepping forward. She had been watching from the sidelines all evening, observing and familiarizing herself with the process. Now, as she walked toward the centre, murmurs rippled through the gathered elves.
“A human?”
“This rite has always been for elves.”
“Can a human even bond with a spirit?”
Claire’s expression tightened as she heard the whispers, but her steps remained steady. She reached the summoning circle and stood tall, locking eyes with Kai.
Flossbor raised a hand, hushing everyone in the process. “Tonight’s Rite of Binding is unlike any other. Thanks to the Fatebreaker, we have witnessed spirits rarely seen by our kind. Now, we shall witness the birth of something equally unique—a human Spirit Trainer. Let this moment mark the beginning of a new path, not just for Claire, but for all of us.”
The murmurs quieted, though some sceptical glances lingered. Claire glanced back at Kai, who gave her a small nod.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his tone softer than before.
She nodded. “Yes, Lord Arzan. I’m ready.”
A few elves erupted in cheers as Claire inhaled deeply. Kai studied her for a moment before speaking.
"Unlike the elves, Claire, I can’t rely on a single affinity to guide the summoning. Since we don’t know which element resonates with you, I’ll need to create a universal calling circle. This circle will connect to multiple planes, and any spirit that hears and answers your call will come forward. You’ll have the chance to form a contract with it."
She nodded firmly. “I’m ready, Lord Arzan.”
Kai crouched, his fingers brushing the ground as he began inscribing the circle. He used a fine white powder and carefully started drawing patterns and lines into the earth. The circle expanded outward, its design layered with overlapping symbols for wind, lightning, earth, water, fire, and more. At the centre, he added a convergence sigil, ensuring the summoning could draw from any plane.
As he worked, he explained softly, "Each line here represents a connection to a different plane. The intersections guide the spirit, while the sigil at the center acts as a beacon. When it’s complete, the circle will call out to every elemental plane simultaneously. The spirit that resonates with your soul will answer."
Finally, Kai stepped back, brushing the dust off his hands. He turned to Claire and pulled a small knife from his belt.
“When I tell you, drop a single drop of blood into the center. Your essence will serve as the catalyst, anchoring the spirit to you if it chooses to bond."
Claire hesitated briefly, her fingers tightening around the knife as Kai began the chant. His voice was steady and rhythmic, the ancient words flowing like a river through the clearing.
The circle responded, faint lines beginning to glow as the summoning took hold.
“Now,” Kai said and looked at Claire.
She pricked her thumb, letting a drop of blood fall onto the centre of the circle. The glow intensified, the lines simmering as though absorbing her essence.
For a moment, nothing happened. The clearing was silent except for the hum of the circle’s energy. Claire glanced at Kai. Her eyebrows knitted together as she hesitantly asked, “Did it fail?”
Kai shook his head, his gaze fixed on the circle. “It takes time. A being has to hear the call and decide to answer.”
As if on cue, the circle pulsed with power, a low hum growing into a resonating thrum that seemed to shake the air itself. The gathered elves gasped, and Kai’s initial smile faltered as the energy surged far beyond what he had anticipated.
“This... isn’t normal,” he murmured under his breath.
The elders noticed too. Their warnings were drowned out by the rising storm of lightning and wind that began to swirl above the circle. Claire instinctively stepped back as the storm condensed, spiralling downward with a quiet intensity.
From the eye of the storm emerged a figure.
Kai squinted his eyes to take a better look—as the mist from the summoning circle still covered their vision. Finally, he could clearly see the figure—a majestic deer. The stormy clouds wreathed around its body and rolled with every movement as it shook its body. Its horns were long and sharp with wind gathered around them like two small tornados. Across its stormy pelt, lightning danced and it's piercing eyes glimmered with intelligence.
Claire stared in wonder, her breath catching in her throat. The spirit gazed down at her, its eyes studying her intently as though measuring her worth.
Kai heard Elder V’aleirith whisper in awe, “That’s a Grade 3 spirit... and not just any spirit, but a Storm Sovereign. Intelligent, powerful, and willful.”
As if to prove its dominance, the spirit’s piercing gaze locked onto Claire, its storm-filled eyes glowing with an almost tangible intensity. A deep, gravelly voice filled the clearing, seeming to echo from the storm itself.
“Who dares call upon us?” the spirit demanded, its tone dripping with haughtiness. “Foolish mortals, do you not understand the weight of your actions? To summon one such as I—unworthy as you are—you invite wrath upon yourself!”
The air grew heavier with each word, crackling with electric tension. Without warning, a bolt of lightning arced from the spirit, striking the ground mere inches from where Claire stood.
***
Tharnok’s hammer came down once more, igniting sparks in its wake. The strike reverberated like a heartbeat within the stone wall. Just like the one before had, and the one before. The glow of the molten steel before him made his eyebrows sweat. But he continued. He swung his hammer again, his broad arms moving in practiced arcs, the rhythm almost hypnotic.
He narrowed his eyes, focusing intently on the glowing blade taking shape beneath his hands. His lips moved silently, muttering age-old chants that infused the very air with a palpable hum of magic. He turned the blade slightly, inspecting the intricate etchings along its surface, ensuring that each strike of the hammer and stroke of the chisel served its purpose.
The forge, nestled deep within the earth, pulsed with the power of the molten veins running beneath it, an ancient lifeblood fueling the fires. Tharnok's tools gleamed in the fiery glow—hammers, chisels, and tongs of unmatched craftsmanship.
He struck the blade again, sparks flying like tiny stars across the cave. “Closer,” he murmured to himself, his voice raspy from the heavy work. “Closer to perfection—”
He paused, holding the blade aloft. The glow of the steel dimmed slightly as he turned it, his experienced eyes scrutinizing every detail. He reached for a small vial on his workbench, the contents swirling with a silvery, glitter. Carefully, he poured a single drop onto the blade. The liquid sizzled on contact, sinking into the metal as if devoured by a hungry spirit. The entire blade seemed to pulse in response, its glow intensifying.
The dwarf allowed himself a rare smile, his teeth flashing through his bushy beard. “You’ll be my masterpiece,” he whispered to the blade, as if the blade could hear it.
A sudden gust of wind swept through the cave, carrying the light but fast footsteps. Tharnok froze, his sharp ears catching the sound. He straightened, gripping the hilt of the blade firmly.
He scowled, his voice low and steady. “Who dare’ disturb my forge?”
He kept the weapon away as an irritated voice echoed through the cave.
"Oi, hammer-brain! Quit smashing rocks for a second!"
The dwarf spun around, his scowl deepening as he spotted his wife standing at the entrance, her hands on her hips and the usual unimpressed look on her face.
“What do ya want, woman?” he grunted, gripping his hammer like it was a shield against her presence. “I’ll smash your head with Hammy if you keep distractin’ me!”
She rolled her eyes. “Stop givin’ your hammer stupid names, you stinky bastard. You’ve got a letter. Read it. Then, I dunno, maybe go dunk your head in the forge flames for good measure.”
She jabbed a thumb toward the workbench, where a sealed envelope lay conspicuously next to a steaming pie. “Also, I made ya food. Eat it, or I’ll smash your head in your sleep. Your choice.”
With that, she spun on her heel and strode out, muttering something about Tharnok and his lack of appreciation for good cooking.
Tharnok grumbled under his breath, setting his hammer down with a thunk. “Always naggin’. Doesn’t know genius when she sees it,” he muttered, stomping over to the workbench. He snatched up the pie first, taking a hefty bite. His scowl softened briefly at the taste before he grabbed the letter and tore it open with stubby fingers.
As he read, his chewing slowed. His eyes widened slightly, scanning the page again to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. “That damn brute Balen finally remembered me, did he?” he muttered. “What’s this? Took a job in a county? Bah! He really became a human’s slave. A bull’s a bull, no matter how ya dress ‘em up.”
His amusement quickly faded as his gaze landed on the diagrams sketched on the parchment. Detailed, complete, and unlike anything he’d seen in years. He stopped mid-bite, the pie forgotten on the workbench. His hands shook slightly as he read through the letter again, carefully tracing the diagrams with a thick finger.
Tharnok’s gaze flicked to the blade resting on his anvil, then back to the letter. His expression hardened, a rare gleam of excitement sparking in his eyes.
He stormed into the adjacent room, where his wife was cleaning up. She looked up, arching an eyebrow. “Why haven’t you finished the pie yet? It’s not gonna eat itself.”
“Shut yer trap, woman,” Tharnok snapped, holding up the letter. “Pack my bag.”
Her brow furrowed. “Pack your bag? For what? Where’re ya off to now?”
Tharnok glanced at the letter again, then met her gaze with a grin that was equal parts determination and madness. “A place called Veralt. Somethin’ interestin’ just came up.”
His wife snorted, shaking her head. “Fine. But if you’re leavin’, at least take the rest of the pie with ya. Might as well die with a full stomach if ya get ‘self killed.”
Tharnok just chuckled, already moving to gather his tools. “Don’t worry, woman. If I’m right, I won’t be the one dyin’.”
2025-01-08 04:38:47 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 55
Chen Ren dreamt of home.
Not the chaos of Cloud Mist City, not the noise of markets or the sharp clash of blades, but home. The small apartment with peeling wallpaper, the aroma of instant noodles in the air, and the old, secondhand couch where he spent countless hours.
He wasn’t dreaming of the grind this time—the endless string of part-time jobs he juggled to keep the lights on and the rent paid, nor the late nights studying as a struggling business management student. No, this dream wasn’t about the struggle. It was about the moments in between.
Chen Ren saw himself sitting on that lumpy couch, a box of cheap pizza on his lap, the TV flickering with a cricket match. He could almost taste the greasy cheese and hear the roar of the crowd as someone hit a six.
Then the scene shifted. He was standing at the counter of one of his part-time jobs, leaning casually as he chatted with the girl from the next shift. He could hear his own awkward laughter as he tried to work up the courage to ask her out. Her laugh echoed faintly, soft and teasing, before fading into the next memory.
He was back outside his apartment building, crouched on the cold concrete, feeding the stray cats that gathered around him like tiny, furry shadows. One cat—a scruffy tabby with a half-missing ear—pushed closer. He reached out, scratching its head, feeling the soft fur beneath his fingers. He chuckled, a giddy warmth bubbling up inside him.
But something was off.
As Chen Ren scratched the cat, a strange unease crept in. A nagging feeling that something was missing, something important. He wanted to stay in this world, to savour these small joys, but the sensation tugged at him like an unanswered question.
The cat purred beneath his touch, and the streets around him began to shimmer unnaturally. The cars, the lights, the faint chatter of distant pedestrians—they all felt... distant, like echoes from another life.
Chen Ren looked up, and in the sky, he saw something streaking toward him. At first, it seemed like a shooting star, a bright light cutting across the dark canvas of the night. But as he squinted, focusing on the light, his breath caught.
It wasn’t a star.
The figure grew larger, its shape clearer with each passing second. Wings stretched wide, scales shimmering like molten gold, and glowing eyes piercing through the haze of the dream. It was a dragon, descending from the heavens.
Chen Ren stared, his heart racing as the world around him began to crumble. The buildings disintegrated, the ground beneath him cracked and fell away, replaced by a void of endless light.
As the dragon loomed closer, its immense presence pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe. It didn’t roar, didn’t move with fury. Instead, it gazed at him with calm, commanding eyes.
"You have slept a lot, Chosen One," the dragon said.
The words struck Chen Ren like a hammer. In an instant, memories flooded back—the bustling streets of Cloud Mist City, the taste of noodles he sold to its people, Yalan’s purr and attitude, the thunderous applause of the tournament, and the fight against Gu Tian.
The weight of his life came crashing down, vivid and undeniable.
Chen Ren’s knees buckled under the realisation. The world around him broke further, the dream crumbling into nothingness. He looked back down at the tabby cat, his last anchor to this fleeting dream, but it was gone.
All that remained was the dragon and the endless void.
A sudden pull, like an invisible thread yanking him back, jolted Chen Ren awake. His eyes snapped open, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps as he adjusted to the dim light around him. Blinking a few times, he looked up, and a familiar sight greeted him—a wooden ceiling with faint cracks that he had come to know well.
The Tang Clan. My room.
The same place where he had woken up every morning since arriving in this strange, Xianxia world. His heart settled as he took slow, calming breaths, grounding himself in reality. But his hand instinctively moved to his chest, to the spot where Gu Tian’s blade had pierced him. His fingers traced the area, expecting pain, a scar, something.
There was nothing.
The skin was smooth, unblemished, and warm to the touch. He was whole, alive, and no longer on the brink of death. Relief flooded him, but it was quickly followed by confusion.
How am I healed?
Before he could dwell on it further, a soft presence stirred beside him. Turning his head, Chen Ren’s gaze fell on Yalan, curled up on his bed. Her tiny frame looked peaceful, her paws peeking out from under the blanket she had wrapped herself in.
A small smile tugged at his lips. She looked adorable like this, vulnerable in a way that belied her sharp tongue. Almost on instinct, he reached out to pat her head.
But just as his hand was about to make contact, her eyes flicked open.
“It looks like you’ve finally woken up,” Yalan said, her voice calm but sharp as her amber eyes locked onto him.
Chen Ren froze, his hand hovering in mid-air, his smile awkward. “Uh, yeah. I guess I have,” he replied, lowering his arm. “It feels like I’ve been out for a long time. What… what happened after I passed out?”
Yalan stretched lazily, her tail flicking to the side. “After you lost consciousness—”
Before she could finish, the door to his room opened with a faint crack and Lihua, the maid, stepped in. As soon as his eyes matched with her, shock plastered on her face.
“Young Master Chen Ren is awake!” She shouted, her voice ringing out like a bell.
“Wait, no! Don’t—” Chen Ren tried to stop her, but the damage was already done.
Within moments, the room was packed with people. Tang Xiulan was the first to arrive, her usual composed expression softened with concern. Yuqiu followed close behind, barely managing to hide the relief in her eyes. Even Qing He shuffled in, her sharp gaze scanning him from head to toe. The children who helped around his stall also peeked in through the doorway, their wide eyes filled with curiosity and awe.
“Everyone…” Chen Ren started, overwhelmed by the sudden influx of visitors.
Before he could get a word in, Senior Qing He stepped forward, her wrinkled hands reaching for his arm. Her touch was firm yet gentle as she closed her eyes, a faint ripple of qi passing through him.
After a moment, she opened her eyes and gave a small nod. “You should thank the heavens,” she said. “You’ve come out of your ordeal with that demonic cultivator stronger than before. Truly, you have the resilience of a cockroach.”
Chen Ren blinked at her, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to respond. Finally, he let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. “I just woke up, and you’re already calling me a cockroach?”
“I’m praising you, kid,” Qing He said matter-of-factly, crossing her arms.
Chen Ren raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the pillows. “You need to work on your delivery, Senior Qing He.”
Her eyes narrowed, but there was a faint hint of a smile on her lips. “And you need to work on staying out of trouble. But I suppose that’s too much to ask.”
The room erupted into laughter, the tension breaking as Chen Ren shook his head, a smile finally spreading across his face. Despite everything, he was alive. And in this moment, surrounded by friends and allies, he couldn’t help but feel grateful.
Chen Ren shook his head with a wry smile and turned his attention to the others.
“Alright,” he said, his voice still a bit hoarse.
“What exactly happened after I was out?”
Tang Yuqiu stepped forward and gave him worried eyes. “You collapsed. And after that, the city guards took over to bring the situation under control. They moved you to the chambers of the City Lord’s personal healer. At the same time, they burned the body of the demonic cultivator and raided the inn where he had been staying. Everything in his possession was destroyed as a precaution.”
Chen Ren nodded, listening intently as Yuqiu continued.
“It wasn’t a quiet matter,” she added. “It was a public event. The whole city is in an uproar. Rumours are flying everywhere—some say you died valiantly while fighting the demonic cultivator, while others are hell-bent on the fact that you’ve been permanently crippled.”
Chen Ren blinked, his lips twitching.
“Crippled? Really?”
“That’s not even the most outrageous one,”
Tang Xiulan interjected, stepping forward.
“Oh? What’s the top rumour, then?”
“They’re calling you Dragonheart,” Xiulan said from the side. “Everyone in the city saw the golden dragon in the sky. People are saying you’ve been blessed by the fabled dragons themselves. That’s why they’ve given you the title.”
“Dragonheart, huh?” Chen Ren repeated, leaning back into the pillows. The name rolled off his tongue, and for a moment, he considered it. “Well,” he said with a shrug, “it’s a little early for me to have a title, but I’m not complaining. Dragonheart sounds just the right amount of edgy.”
The room chuckled lightly, though Chen Ren’s thoughts turned inward. He couldn’t help but reflect on the dragon that had appeared in his dream. Blessed by dragons? He shook his head. No, that wasn’t it. Even he had no clue what the dragon’s presence meant, let alone why it had appeared.
His musings were interrupted by Senior Qing He’s sharp voice. “So, tell us, boy—are you blessed by dragons?”
Chen Ren glanced at her. “No,” he replied truthfully. “Even I know nothing about the dragon that appeared.” He paused, his gaze dropping to his hands.
The dragon called me a chosen one. Is it some world saving nonsense? He groaned internally. I hope not. That’s way above my pay grade.
Fortunately, no one pressed him further about the dragon. Sensing the shift in the conversation, Chen Ren straightened. “You’ve talked about all this like a lot of time has passed. How long was I out?”
Tang Xiulan exchanged a glance with Yuqiu before answering. “A week.”
Chen Ren’s eyes widened slightly. “A week? That’s… a lot of time!”
Qing He clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “You should be glad it was only a week, boy. With all the heavenly qi that filled your body, it’s a miracle you didn’t break apart. A week of rest is nothing. And it wasn’t wasted—you’ve made another breakthrough.”
Chen Ren blinked, caught off guard. “Breakthrough?”
“Yes,” Qing He confirmed, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. “Check it yourself.”
Chen Ren frowned, closing his eyes as he focused inward. He quickly sat cross-legged on the bed as he moved his qi through his dantian.
He could feel it—his core had changed. He hadn't realised it before but the energy also flowed smoother, and stronger, almost as if the air itself had become a reservoir of power he could tap into. When he opened his eyes, his senses expanded beyond what he had ever known. Qi wasn’t just a subtle force anymore; it was tangible, a current in the air, swirling and flowing with life.
“I broke through,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “Qi refinement realm.”
Qing He nodded approvingly. “Yes, but don’t get ahead of yourself, boy. You still need rest, and I’ll not have you running off to test your newfound strength like some brash fool.”
“I wasn’t planning to.” Chen Ren chuckled at that thought. He didn’t feel like testing his strength right away, not after the fight he’d had.
“Good,” she said, though her tone suggested she didn’t believe him for a second.
Before Chen Ren could respond, Tang Yuqiu spoke up. “You’ll have to wait until you’re summoned anyway.”
Chen Ren tilted his head. “Summoned? For what?”
“The award ceremony. Due to the attack and your… unconscious state, it was delayed. The other participants received their rewards three days after the incident. But the City Lord wanted to personally meet you and reward you for defeating the demonic cultivator.”
Chen Ren frowned slightly. “Personally?”
Tang Yuqiu nodded. “You’ll get the summons any day now. And before you meet him, you’ll need to prepare.”
“Prepare what?” Chen Ren asked, confused.
“An outfit,” Yuqiu replied with a smirk. “You can’t meet the City Lord looking like an ordinary cultivator, can you?”
Chen Ren glanced down at his plain robes. “What’s wrong with this?”
Xiulan almost rolled her eyes. “Everything, young master. You’ll need something formal. Something that makes you look like the hero they’re calling Dragonheart.”
Chen Ren sighed. “I didn’t ask for that name, you know.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Tang Xiulan said. “You’ve got it now, and you’ll have to live up to it.”
***
Chen Ren remained on the bed for three more days under Qing He’s strict supervision. Her sharp gaze left no room for argument, ensuring that he fully recovered before she finally allowed him to move freely. By the end of the third day, when she was convinced his condition had stabilised, a formal summons from the City Lord arrived.
Without delay, Chen Ren prepared himself, donning the new outfit tailored for him. No one accompanied him to the City Lord's estate, uncertain about the nature of the meeting. Even Yalen refused, citing the reason that she would be patrolling around the city, making sure that no other demonic cultivator had made their way in.
The carriage ride through the city was an experience in itself. His recent achievements were still being talked about, raising his stakes in the city significantly.
Even from inside, he could hear whispers of “Dragonheart” and snippets of stories about his supposed feats. The tales had grown with each retelling, painting him as a heroic figure blessed by the dragons.
Chen Ren shook his head, amused yet resigned to the title he hadn’t asked for.
When they arrived at the City Lord’s estate, the grandeur of the place did little to faze him.
What caught his attention, however, were the expressions of the guards and maids
stationed outside. Their eyes literally sparkled with admiration, and some even seemed starstruck, as though they were in the presence of a legend.
He was instructed to wait downstairs until a guard came to escort him. The short wait was filled with curious glances from the staff, some discreet and others outright gawking. Chen Ren ignored most of them, focusing instead on keeping his composure.
Then, he heard footsteps approaching him.
When he turned, he froze momentarily, recognising the man—the same guard captain who had interrogated him. Cai Tao, he remembered the latter’s name correctly. The man’s facial expressions were entirely different this time. He wore a genuine smile and, to Chen Ren’s surprise, bowed before addressing him.
“Young Master Chen Ren,” Cai Tao began, his voice respectful yet tinged with hesitation. “I wanted to apologise for suspecting you as a demonic cultivator and for interrogating you. It was a grievous mistake on my part and the guards. I hope you can accept my apology and my gratitude for ridding the city of Gu Tian.”
Chen Ren took his words with a bit of surprise. He hadn't expected anything like that even with his newfound glory. Still, he was in no mood to accept it.
“Okay, but I don’t think an apology will cut it. You were ready to send me to my death in the Purity Chamber. Don’t act like you don’t know what that means.”
The guard captain flinched slightly, his smile faltering. He looked down for a moment before replying, “You’re right. That’s not something an apology can fix. I understand your anger. I was following orders from my superiors, but I didn’t join the guards to force innocents to their deaths. If it’s any consolation, I deeply regret my actions.”
Chen Ren studied the man, his gaze searching for signs of deceit. Unable to tell if the regret was genuine or simply a show, he finally nodded. “Fine. I won't hold it against you. That's the only thing I can say right now.”
Cai Tao bowed again, his voice steady this time. “That’s more than enough.” The tension eased slightly as the captain straightened up. “Now, if you’ll follow me,” he said, gesturing toward the stairs.
Chen Ren nodded and followed the captain deeper into the City Lord’s estate silently.
He decided not to press the issue with the guard captain. It wasn’t worth burning bridges, not when he still had plans in Cloud Mist City. Maintaining a good relationship with the guards would be far more beneficial.
After today, he was certain they’d owe him a debt for taking down the demonic cultivator—a debt he could call on if needed.
With that thought in mind, he followed the guard captain through the winding halls of the City Lord’s estate.
Eventually, they stopped before a pair of ornate doors flanked by two guards.
“This is it,” the guard captain said, nodding toward the doors. “Please go inside. The City Lord is waiting.”
The guards pushed the doors open, revealing a grand chamber lit by a massive chandelier.
As Chen Ren stepped inside, his gaze immediately landed on City Lord Li Baolong.
He sat on a chair, wearing long white robes with rings donning his fingers. His eyes briefly landed on them before noticing that the City Lord wasn't alone.
Beside him sat an old man with a long, flowing, silver-coloured beard that cascaded down his chest. His wise eyes gleamed with a sharp intelligence that seemed to see through everything. He wore simple but elegant robes that bore the emblem of the Soaring Sword Sect.
Chen Ren recognised him immediately, Yan Xiu—an elder of the sect who had overseen parts of the tournament. Though they hadn’t interacted directly, Chen Ren had seen him back then.
Suppressing any sign of unease, Chen Ren followed the etiquette Yuqiu had drilled into him and bowed deeply.
“Raise your head,” City Lord Li Baolong said.
“There’s no need for formalities today.”
Chen Ren straightened, meeting the City Lord’s gaze.
“I would like to thank you,” he continued, “for the great service you have done to this city by ridding us of that filthy demonic cultivator. To be honest, when the first rounds of the tournament began, and I saw how you moved through without engaging in direct combat, I thought you were nothing more than a schemer. A hack who relied on tricks rather than skill.”
Chen Ren kept his face neutral, though the bluntness of the statement almost made him twitch.
“But,” he added with a small smile, “as the tournament progressed—through the semifinals, the finals, and, of course, your battle with that vile cultivator—you proved me wrong. You showed not only your strength but also your righteousness. You are deserving of the title the people have given you: Dragonheart.”
Hearing the title again, Chen Ren resisted the urge to grimace. It seemed there was no escaping it now.
Before he could respond, the City Lord Li Baolong continued, “For your deeds, I have decided to double the amount of spirit stones you were to receive as the winner of the tournament. Consider it a token of this city’s gratitude.”
Chen Ren blinked, momentarily caught off guard. That was no small reward, especially when spirit stones were a vital resource for cultivation.
“Thank you, City Lord,” Chen Ren said, bowing slightly. He chose his words carefully. “I only did what any cultivator should when faced with such evil.”
The City Lord’s smile widened. “Humble as well. Good. That will serve you well in the future.”
The elder beside him nodded slightly, his wise eyes fixed on Chen Ren as though evaluating him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this meeting was about more than just gratitude.
Chen Ren smiled and bowed politely at the words, but before he could say anything, the City Lord added, “Not only that. Sect Elder Yan Xiu also has a reward for you.”
Chen Ren turned to the elder, unable to keep his gaze away.
The old man chuckled warmly, the sound deep and rich like an ancient bell. “I won’t offer you flowery praise like Baolong,” he said. “I have a feeling you’re the sort who already knows your capabilities and takes pride in your accomplishments.”
The elder’s gaze sharpened slightly, as though testing Chen Ren with his next words. “You know, one of the rewards for winning the tournament is being granted core disciple status in the Soaring Sword Sect. But I would take it a step further. I am Yan Xiu, the Vice Sect Leader of the Soaring Sword Sect, and I offer you the opportunity to become my personal disciple. I will ensure that you are not only an exceptional cultivator but that you will receive every priority and resource the sect can offer.”
Chen Ren blinked, taken aback. He had no idea this man was the Vice Sect Leader. His thoughts raced. This was an incredible offer—one most cultivators would dream of. Core disciple status was prestigious on its own, but being taken under the wing of a the man just below the sect leader? That was on an entirely different level.
The Chen Ren who had first transmigrated to this world would have accepted immediately. Even the previous Chen Ren, desperate to find his footing, would have jumped at the chance.
But now?
He had come to trust his instincts and his chosen path. While the offer was tempting, Chen Ren knew it would tie him to the sect’s rules and politics, constraints he wasn’t prepared to accept.
Making his decision, Chen Ren bowed deeply to the sect elder. “I am deeply honored by your offer, Vice Sect Leader Yan Xiu, but I must decline. I have no intention of joining a sect at this time.”
The City Lord’s eyebrows shot up, his expression one of surprise. “Are you certain? This is a rare opportunity!”
Yan Xiu, however, didn’t look surprised. If anything, he seemed amused. “Very well,” he said with a nod. “So be it. I had a feeling you might refuse.”
Chen Ren straightened, watching as the man’s smile grew.
“But,” the elder continued, “a debt is still a debt, and I cannot let your contribution to the city and the sect go unrewarded. How about this: aside from the rewards for winning the tournament, I will allow you to select one item of your choice from the inner sect treasury. Do you accept that?”
2025-01-08 04:31:46 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 54
City Lord Li Baolong’s breath hitched in his throat as he looked at the sight before him in pure horror. He knew that the chaos below was something that wouldn’t leave his mind anytime soon. The arena stands rumbled with the weight of countless footsteps, the crowd scrambling to escape the nightmare before them. The once-exuberant tournament, a celebration of youthful talent and strength, had devolved into sheer pandemonium.
And it had all happened too quickly, he didn’t even get time to blink twice when Gu Tian turned into a… demonic being.
His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms as he tried to steady his nerves. The whole event had been a series of shocks, but none struck as deeply as this. Even his son, Li Xuan, losing had been a hard truth to face—one that bruised his pride as a father and City Lord. Yet now, knowing the identity of the man who had bested Li Xuan, he felt a strange relief. One he was guilty of.
Chen Ren’s skill had proven formidable, even praiseworthy. But that same young cultivator now hung in chains, bloodied and helpless, his life ebbing away under the demon Gu Tian’s blade. Blood gushed out from the gaping wound in Chen Ren’s stomach, pooling all around him. The sight churned Li Baolong’s stomach, his heart sinking further with every droplet lost.
To make things worse, he couldn’t do anything.
The barrier encasing the platform was thick, its translucent surface unmoved. All the powerful cultivators that were around the premise started attacking, attempting to break the surface with their best techniques but failed miserably. The barrier stood as a cruel mockery to their attempts, separating them from saving Chen Ren, leaving the latter to a grim fate.
Li Baolong turned abruptly to the sect elder standing beside him, the man’s imposing aura as steadfast as ever despite the chaos and the anxiety in the air. “Elder Yan Xiu,” he began, his voice tight, almost desperate. “We need to break that barrier. A promising cultivator like Chen Ren cannot die at the hands of a demon. It would be a disgrace to us all.”
Elder Yan Xiu stroked his long, silvery beard, his sharp eyes narrowing as he regarded the shimmering barrier. His calm demeanour betrayed nothing of the tension in the air. “Lord Li Baolong, it’s not that simple. None of us here—none, I tell you—have the strength to shatter that barrier.”
Li Baolong frowned. “You can’t mean that.”
The elder gestured toward the cultivators scattered across the stands, all of them hurling their mightiest attacks at the barrier. Fire, lightning, and blades of qi crashed against it in vain, leaving not so much as a crack. “Look around you,” Elder Yan Xiu said. “The strongest among us have tried and failed. That demon… somehow, he has created a barrier beyond even the reach of meridian expansion cultivators. Perhaps only a core formation cultivator could break through, but we have none here.”
Li Baolong’s jaw tightened. “So, we’re to stand by and watch him die?”
Elder Yan Xiu sighed, his eyes flickering with a rare glint of regret. “I cannot save him. But the barrier won’t last forever. When it falls, I will ensure that Gu Tian pays for his crimes with his life.”
Li Baolong turned back to the platform, his heart heavy as he watched the futile attempts to breach the barrier. Every strike against it sent faint ripples across its surface, but not a single fracture appeared. His gaze shifted to Chen Ren, his pale face, the blood-soaked chains holding him aloft, and the smirk plastered on Gu Tian’s face as he revelled in his victory.
The implications of it all rang like alarm bells in Li Baolong’s mind. A demonic cultivator infiltrating the tournament, killing its winner, and wreaking havoc—there would be no hiding this disaster. The news would spread like wildfire, reaching even the imperial court. Punishment was inevitable, and the city’s reputation would be in shambles.
Li Baolong’s hands trembled, as his mind chanted one word. Failure.
As his eyes moved once more to the place where Gu Tian’s blade had plunged into Chen Ren, he could only hope—desperately—that some miracle would intervene before it was too late.
Li Baolong’s focus remained fixed on Chen Ren, his mind a whirlwind of regret and self-recrimination. The young cultivator had proved him wrong in the most astonishing of ways, rising above his initial doubts and showing a brilliance few could match. Yet now, chained and bleeding, his life hung by a thread—a thread that frayed with every drop of blood spilling onto the platform.
This was his fault.
The city guards had failed to vet participants thoroughly, and that failure now rested squarely on his shoulders. Chen Ren’s life—no, his death—would be an indelible stain on Li Baolong’s record.
As these thoughts gnawed at him, a ripple of qi brushed against his senses. It wasn’t just any qi—it was primordial, pure, and made him lose track of what he was thinking. He glanced toward Elder Yan Xiu, whose usually composed expression had shifted to one of shock. He hadn't been the only one to sense it.
“What’s going on?” Li Baolong muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Before an answer could form, the world itself seemed to respond.
The skies darkened with unnatural speed as clouds coiled above the arena, their swirling mass deepening to a foreboding shade of black. A low rumble rolled across the sky, growing louder with each passing second until it sounded like the roar of an impending storm. Lightning forked through the clouds, illuminating the ominous scene in brief, blinding flashes.
More ripples of qi radiated outward, stronger and more concentrated. Li Baolong’s gaze snapped to Chen Ren, his instincts screaming that the source of this power was none other than the young cultivator.
“What… is this?” he muttered again, his voice trembling now.
Suddenly, a roar tore through the chaos—a sound so primal and overwhelming it seemed to shake the very air. The platform trembled, cracks spider webbing across its surface as the ground beneath it groaned in protest. Gu Tian, who had stood confidently over his chained prey moments ago, staggered back, his expression betraying the first flicker of unease.
Then, it happened.
A golden light erupted from Chen Ren, flooding the arena so intense that many shielded their eyes. Within the brilliance, something formed, rising higher and higher into the sky.
Li Baolong’s breath caught as the shape solidified—a colossal golden dragon, its scales shimmering like polished gold and its eyes burning with ancient wisdom and fury. Lightning danced along its sinuous body, the flashes framing its silhouette against the roiling clouds. The sheer majesty of the beast stole every ounce of air from Li Baolong’s lungs.
The dragon roared again, and this time the sound carried an unearthly power, shaking the very heavens. The darkened clouds parted in deference to the creature, exposing a brilliant shaft of sunlight that bathed the dragon in a divine glow.
Hovering above the platform, the dragon lowered its gaze to Chen Ren, its massive form exuding both ferocity and reverence. The demonic cultivator Gu Tian stumbled further back, his smug confidence
evaporating like morning dew under the sun.
Li Baolong’s hands trembled as he took in the sight. His lips moved on their own, forming the words he scarcely believed. “A cultivator… blessed by the golden dragon himself. I… I can’t believe it.”
***
The surge of power was overwhelming.
Chen Ren’s entire body felt like it was being pushed to the edge, stretched so thin it might tear apart. It was as if liquid lightning poured through his veins, crackling with power, threatening to rip him open. Each pulse of energy surged like a tidal wave, filling him up until he thought he might explode into nothingness.
Above him, the sky growled with thunder, lightning dancing across the dark clouds like veins of the heavens themselves. Chen Ren raised his head, his breath catching in his throat.
The golden dragon, no longer just flashes in his vision, was there in all its glory. Its enormous form coiled through the stormy skies, its scales glowing with an unearthly brilliance. The air around it shimmered with its power, and even the heavens seemed to tremble in its presence.
Squinting, Chen Ren tried to focus, but the dragon's sheer size and majesty left him in awe. It wasn’t just a creature—it was a force of nature.
Chen Ren glanced down at himself and froze. The blade that had impaled him was sliding out, its edges slick with blood. He gasped softly, but no pain followed.
Instead, he watched as the wound in his stomach began to heal, the torn flesh pulling together, glowing with the same golden light as the dragon above. The pain that had threatened to consume him moments before was gone, replaced by a surging power roaring inside him like a raging storm. His qi wasn’t his own anymore—this was something far greater, far wilder—and it sent a shiver through him.
His golden eyes snapped toward Gu Tian. The man who had once stood so confidently now looked frozen in place. His arrogant sneer had vanished, replaced by wide eyes darting between Chen Ren and the dragon above. For the first time, fear crept into Gu Tian’s face, making him seem smaller, weaker.
“What... what are you?” Gu Tian stammered, his voice trembling with disbelief.
Chen Ren’s lips curved into a faint, almost amused smile. “I don’t know,” he said softly. “But I know one thing—you’re going to die.”
The chains binding Chen Ren glowed with golden cracks, light spilling out like molten gold. A loud crack echoed as the chains shattered, the fragments disintegrating into sparks. Free at last, Chen Ren stepped forward. Each movement hummed with energy, sparks flickering around him. He wasn’t just wielding lightning anymore—he was lightning, his body alive with raw power.
Gu Tian’s face paled, and he took a step back. Then another. Panic filled his eyes as he turned and ran, desperate to escape. But Chen Ren was faster.
With a burst of speed, he closed the distance in an instant, his body a blur. His fist slammed into Gu Tian’s stomach with the force of a boulder, the impact echoing through the arena. Gu Tian’s body flew like a ragdoll, crashing into the barrier with a deafening thud before crumpling to the ground, limp and broken.
Slowly, Chen Ren walked toward him, his footsteps calm and deliberate. Gu Tian groaned, trying to push himself up, but his body wouldn’t respond. He looked up at Chen Ren, his eyes filled with desperation and fear.
“You can’t do anything,” Chen Ren said, his voice cold and steady. “You’ve already lost. You’re already dead.”
Gu Tian opened his mouth to speak, but before a single word could escape, a new voice filled the arena. It was deep and guttural, vibrating with fury and hatred, the kind of sound that made the air itself feel heavy. The arena seemed to darken, the oppressive energy thickening around them.
“No! You can’t hurt my disciple!”
The arena grew even darker, as if all the light was being pulled away. Chen Ren could feel something terrible before he saw it. The demon that had been floating behind Gu Tian began to change. Thick black smoke oozed from its body, and its shape became more monstrous. Its face twisted unnaturally, sharp horns grew from its head, and its eyes burned a fiery red. Its hands turned into claws, crackling with dark flames and surrounded by black energy.
The demon roared, a deep and terrifying sound, and threw itself at Chen Ren. Dark flames followed it like a shadowy trail, and the air around it seemed to grow heavy and foul, like it was alive and full of hatred. Just as the flames were about to reach Chen Ren, the golden dragon sprang to life.
With a roar that shook the ground, the dragon shot down like lightning, glowing brighter than the sun. Its golden energy smashed into the dark flames, sending sparks flying in all directions. Light and darkness collided in a loud explosion, shaking the arena. The demon staggered back, its eyes wide with shock.
The dragon’s voice filled the air, echoing across the battlefield. "You used to have strength," it said, its golden eyes locked on the demon. "But now, you are nothing. Just a broken piece of evil clinging to life. You can’t even touch my power."
Golden lightning surged forward from the dragon, swallowing the dark flames completely. The smell of burning filled the air as the black fire died out. The demon let out a scream, its ghostly form shaking under the dragon’s overwhelming power.
Desperate, the demon turned and darted toward Gu Tian.
Gu Tian screamed, his voice full of panic.
"What are you doing, Master?"
The demon’s cold voice answered, trembling with desperation. "I will take your body. It’s the only way for me to survive."
Gu Tian’s face twisted in horror as the demon’s smoky form rushed into his chest. He gasped, his body stiffening as if it was fighting the demon off. Then he collapsed, shaking violently on the ground. His body twitched and cracked, his bones shifting unnaturally. Black smoke poured from his skin, wrapping around him like a living shadow.
With a sharp, painful crack, horns erupted from Gu Tian's head, twisting upward like those of a beast. His skin darkened, splitting apart, and glowing red light seeped from the cracks like molten lava. His fingers clawed at the ground as razor-sharp talons replaced his nails. His body shuddered violently, sending waves of dark energy rippling outward, scorching and cracking the ground beneath him.
A guttural roar tore from his throat—loud, raw, and filled with a mix of agony and fury. The sound was inhuman, a terrifying blend of the man he had been and the monster he had become. When the transformation ended, Gu Tian’s eyes snapped open, glowing an intense red. Hatred and a consuming thirst for destruction burned within them. He was no longer human or a demon. He was something much worse.
With newfound strength, Gu Tian turned toward the barrier surrounding the arena. With a deafening cry, he unleashed a surge of power, shattering the barrier into fragments that dissolved into the air. Without hesitation, he prepared to flee.
But Chen Ren was already in motion.
Fury ignited within Chen Ren, his golden eyes blazing like fire as he roared, “You won’t escape—not while I’m here!”
He raised his hand toward the stormy heavens, and the dragon above roared in harmony with him. The storm responded to his call, bolts of lightning crashing down to form an electrified cage around Gu Tian. The demonic cultivator flinched, his escape route blocked.
This barrier was similar to the one Li Xuan had used before, but now it was stronger, infused with the full might of his qi and the dragon’s energy.
“Impossible!” Gu Tian snarled, his voice filled with rage and disbelief as Chen Ren closed in.
Chen Ren’s body crackled with lightning, and he surged forward like a streak of light. Gu Tian lunged, desperate to counterattack, but Chen Ren was faster. His palm struck Gu Tian’s chest with the force of a thunderbolt, breaking through every defense the demonic cultivator could muster.
Gu Tian staggered, gasping as terror filled his glowing red eyes. “No! Please, forgive me! I... I don’t want to die! I don’t want to lose my chance at life!”
Chen Ren glared down at him, his golden gaze unwavering. “You would have killed me—twice. You’ve murdered countless others, showing no mercy to anyone. Tell me, why should I show mercy to you? Tell me!”
Gu Tian stammered, but his words were cut short as Chen Ren channeled a final surge of power into his palm, driving it deeper into Gu Tian’s chest. The impact shattered Gu Tian’s dantian, sending a wave of demonic qi spiraling into the air before dissipating entirely. Blood erupted from Gu Tian’s wounds, and his body convulsed violently.
A cry of agony echoed through the air, the last sound Gu Tian made before his lifeless form crumpled to the ground. His eyes, now dim, wept blood as his body lay still.
For a moment, silence hung heavy in the arena. But Chen Ren’s instincts screamed at him that it wasn’t over. His golden eyes scanned Gu Tian’s broken body until they landed on the faint glint of a ring on his finger.
Chen Ren noticed movement as dark mist began to seep from the ring on Gu Tian’s finger. The mist twisted and grew, forming into the shape of the ghostly specter that had been controlling him. The figure thrashed in the air, letting out a terrible scream as it broke free from Gu Tian’s body.
The specter flailed wildly, its shadowy arms reaching out in all directions as it tried to escape. It surged upward, desperate to flee the arena and save itself.
But before it could get far, Chen Ren felt something shift above him. The golden dragon, still floating in the stormy sky, moved. Its massive form glowed with lightning, and its glowing eyes locked onto the fleeing specter.
The dragon opened its huge mouth, lightning crackling around its jaws as it dove toward the ghost.
“No! You can’t!” the specter screamed, its voice filled with fear and panic. It lashed out with dark tendrils, clawing at the air in a desperate attempt to escape.
The dragon roared, the sound like rolling thunder, and with one swift motion, it devoured the spirit. The specter disappeared completely, leaving nothing behind but a ripple of golden sparks.
The dragon lifted its head, its glowing eyes turning to Chen Ren. He stood frozen, watching in awe and confusion.
“It’s finally over,” Chen Ren thought, still catching his breath. He looked up at the dragon’s massive form, but all he could focus on were its glowing, golden eyes.
Gathering his courage, he asked, “Thank you… but who are you? And why are you inside my star space?”
The dragon’s gaze remained calm. Even though the chaos had started to dissipate around him, the dragon was… unnaturally calm. “You are not ready to know. You are still too weak to handle my full presence outside your star space. When the time is right, all will be revealed.”
As it spoke, the dragon’s body began to break apart, turning into shimmering particles of golden light. The glowing fragments rose into the stormy sky before gently descending back toward Chen Ren. The light sank into him, and the faint golden glow around his body grew stronger for a moment before fading.
As the last of the golden light merged with Chen Ren, it flowed through him one final time, filling him with a warm, powerful energy. The golden glow shimmered across his body, lighting up every cut and bruise, making it look like they were healing for a moment.
Slowly, the light began to fade, breaking into tiny streams that drifted away like sparks before disappearing into the air.
The bright aura around him shrank until it was just a faint glow, then sank deep into his core, leaving his body empty and weak. Without the dragon’s energy, his body shook, and his legs buckled. He fell to his knees, crushed by exhaustion that felt like a giant weight pressing down on him.
Above him, the stormy sky began to clear.
The dark clouds parted, revealing a calm blue sky. The golden light that had filled the arena was gone, leaving only silence for a moment.
Then, the crowd’s shouts grew louder, cutting through the fog in Chen Ren’s mind.
He turned toward the noise, but his vision was blurry, and the people in the crowd looked like shadows. His body swayed, and the edges of his sight turned dark. Before he could stop himself, the darkness closed in completely.
Chen Ren collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud, and the arena, which had been so loud moments before, went quiet once again.
2025-01-06 01:07:29 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 161
Kai stood frozen, his eyes locked on Flossbor. They widened in disbelief. His gaze then shifted to Claire, who was giggling softly, her hands outstretched as she played with the wisps of glowing spirits dancing around her. She looked so… carefree.
The spirits flitted and twirled, drawn to her as if she were a magnet for their kind. The words that came from the two elf elders hit him like a bolt of lightning.
Claire could be a Spirit Trainer.
Kai knew a little about them. They were common among the elves, but a rarity among humans. They didn’t follow the structured spell formations or elemental focuses typical of Mages. Their power was solely based on their bonds with spirits and was an entirely different magic system overall.
The strongest Spirit Trainers he could recall had always been elves, their deep connection to nature giving them an unparalleled affinity for such bonds.
Among humans, there had only been few Spirit Trainers and only one among them had gotten famous enough for him to be in the history books—Zephyronh, the man who had been around the second golden era of magic and had bonded with a Grade 6 wind spirit, earning the title of “King of the Wind” for his ability to command the air better than any Wind Mage.
Kai’s mind reeled. Even if Claire’s potential affinity didn’t reach such legendary heights, the very fact that she had an affinity at all meant she could become someone extraordinary.
He thought back to their journey through the Vasper forest. The spirit of the forest itself had chosen her to communicate, and while he’d dismissed it as a coincidence at the time, he now saw it in a new light.
I should’ve known this before, Kai thought to himself.
Taking a deep breath, he turned back to Flossbor. “So, can Claire take part in this rite?” he asked, maintaining a calm exterior. He didn’t want to sound desperate, knowing that it’d get him nowhere.
Flossbor hesitated, his brows knitting together in thought. Behind him, Caelith muttered, “That’s against tradition. Humans don’t—”
“I don’t know,” Flossbor interrupted. “I can’t make such a decision on my own. As Caelith… intended, the ceremony is sacred. Allowing a human to participate might not be... proper.”
Kai sighed, disappointment flickering across his face. “That’s a shame.” He glanced back at Claire, who was now sitting cross-legged, her fingers tracing patterns in the air as the spirits mimicked her movements. He turned back to Flossbor, not wanting to give up the opportunity just yet. “How do you conduct the rite, anyway? It’s a summoning ritual, right? You call forth spirits from other realms to make contracts with them?”
Flossbor nodded and squinted his eyes. “Yes. We call out to specific planes depending on the affinity of the elf taking part. Once the spirit appears, it’s up to the elf to negotiate and form the contract.”
“And how do you determine which type of spirit to summon?” Kai pressed.
Flossbor’s expression turned contemplative as he answered Kai’s question. “We have summoning circles and their corresponding rituals for spirits of each affinity. The choice of circle depends on what the elf wishes to contact. Often, the decision is based on the potential of the elf, but most opt for Grade 1 or 2 spirits as they are far easier to tame for young ones.”
Kai nodded thoughtfully. The rite seemed straightforward, but it also appeared to limit the elves’ ambitions by encouraging safer choices. He decided to press further, a plan forming in his mind. “How about this? I’ll share my knowledge of summoning circles for rarer spirits. I'm well versed in them. In exchange, you allow Claire to take part in the rite and grant her access to basic books on spirit training.”
The room fell silent. Caelith, who had been listening from behind Flossbor, stepped forward.
He pointed his finger at Kai before he spoke. “Fatebreaker or not. You’re a liar and presumptuous!” he snapped. “Summoning circles are our sacred knowledge, not something to be handed out to outsiders. How could someone like you possess such knowledge?”
Kai met his glare evenly, unflinching. “I don’t lie,” he said firmly. “If you doubt me, you’re welcome to consult Elder V’aleirith. She can confirm my claim. I’ve acquired this knowledge from a different source—one that has nothing to do with your people. And before you ask, yes, the summoning circles work, and they work well.”
Flossbor looked conflicted, his hands clasped behind his back as he glanced between Kai and Claire, who remained blissfully unaware of the discussion.
Kai continued, his tone calm but persuasive. “Think about what I’m offering. With this knowledge, your young spirit trainers could grow far stronger than average. I know you will have your own summoning circles, but what I will provide will let them make contracts with rarer spirits. In return, I gain the chance to cultivate a spirit trainer for my troops. If our shared goal is to stop the Elder Tree from dying and to preserve the cycle, then strengthening ourselves is not just an option—it’s a necessity.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough to sound sincere. “This deal benefits us both, Flossbor. Your people gain power, and I gain a fighter. It’s a fair trade.”
Flossbor’s brows furrowed as he mulled over Kai’s words, his silence thick with tension. Caelith seemed ready to object again, but Flossbor threw a sharp look at him.
“Flossbor, we’re already granting him access to druidic magic. How strong can his so-called summoning circles even be? Are we really going to entertain this?”
Flossbor held up a hand to silence him. “That’s Elder V’aleirith’s gift to the Fatebreaker. We have no authority to question or revoke it. As for his summoning circles, we won’t know their strength until we’ve seen them ourselves.”
Turning to Kai, Flossbor’s expression softened slightly. “If you don’t mind, I would like to consult the council before giving you an answer. If the summoning circles you possess are as strong as you claim, then we would certainly consider your offer.”
Kai inclined his head respectfully. “That would be more than enough.” He then turned to Caelith, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I hope my circles will satisfy even you, Elder Caelith.”
The elf huffed in response, crossing his arms and turning away, his silver eyes filled with scepticism—he didn’t trust Kai one bit.
A pang of irritation flared in Kai’s chest, but he forced it down. One elder’s opposition wouldn’t change the generosity of V’aleirith, who had already allowed him access to the elves’ druidic knowledge. By now, Kai had learned enough about diplomacy to know that relationships took time to mend and strengthen. He had no doubt that even Caelith, with his guarded demeanor, could become an ally in time. The elves didn’t know him yet, just as he didn’t fully understand their ways. But time could change everything.
His thoughts drifted back to Claire, still engrossed in her playful interaction with the spirits. The idea of her becoming a spirit trainer was exhilarating, the potential immense. But Kai reminded himself that the decision wasn’t his to make. It was Claire’s life, her path to choose. If she wanted to pursue this rare and powerful path, it would need to come from her own heart, not his ambition.
He glanced at her, his mind already forming a plan.
A talk was necessary—one where he would lay out everything he knew about spirit trainers, their potential, and the challenges they faced. Claire deserved all the information before making a decision. With a deep breath, he resolved to speak with her soon, to make sure she understood both the opportunity and the responsibility it carried.
***
Kai didn’t know if it was V’aleirith’s influence at play, but the council’s decision came surprisingly fast. Permission was granted for Claire to take part in the rite, and while it wasn’t entirely shocking to him—given the extensive summoning knowledge he’d offered—it was a relief. Summoning and rituals had consumed his final days in the Sorcerer’s Tower library, and now that expertise was proving invaluable.
Despite the permission, Kai knew he had to talk to Claire. This wasn’t a decision to be made lightly, and it was ultimately hers to make. As soon as the council delivered their verdict, he sought her out.
He found her under the shade of a sprawling tree, where she was laughing and playing with the spirits that seemed drawn to her. For a moment, he watched her, wondering if she had any idea of the potential that lay within her. Taking a steadying breath, he approached.
“Claire.” She turned to him, curiosity lighting her face. “I need to talk to you about something important.”
She immediately stood up, and let the spirits go somewhere towards the trees that surrounded them.
Then, Kai started talking.
She, in return, listened intently as he explained everything—the rarity of spirit trainers, their power, and her natural affinity for spirits. It took him some time to explain everything to her. Her eyes widened as the realization hit her slowly, her expression shifting from disbelief to awe.
“Are you sure you aren’t jesting, Lord Arzan?” she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
“I’m as serious as I can be,” Kai replied, meeting her gaze. “The elves have confirmed it. You have the talent to become a spirit trainer—to contract spirits as the elves do, and to use them for various purposes, even combat. It’s an entirely different system of magic, separate from what Mages use, but it’s just as powerful. If you decide to take part in the rite, you could gain the ability to wield the elements of the world.”
Claire stared at him, her mind visibly racing to process his words. Kai continued, his tone steady but encouraging. “But… This is your decision. Think about it carefully. If this is the path you want to take, let me know.”
Claire went silent at Kai’s words, her gaze drifting over the scene before her. Kai followed her gaze. The elves bustled about the forest clearing, their treehouses blending seamlessly into the towering woods. Spirits flitted in and out of sight, their ethereal forms weaving through the air like glimmers of light. Claire closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as if to steady herself.
When she opened them again, there was a certainty in them.
She looked up at Kai. “I want to be a spirit trainer.”
Kai studied her for a moment. “Are you sure?” he asked. “You can take your time and let me know. We have time until the rite begins. So think carefully.”
Claire nodded without hesitation. “Yes, Lord Arzan. I’m sure. I’ve been searching for something—some way to contribute more to Veralt, to you, and to feel like I’m more than just a simple maid. I believe the goddess has heard my wishes.”
Kai’s eyes softened. “You aren’t a simple maid, Claire. You know that.”
“Yes, but there’s only so much I can do as a mortal,” she replied, her voice unwavering. “If I can wield powers like you do, I could do so much more.”
Kai nodded thoughtfully, impressed by her thick determination. Before he could respond, a rustling behind them caught his attention. The elders of the council approached, their footsteps quiet but purposeful, followed by the figure of Elder V’aleirith.
“Wise choice,” she said. “Spirits never betray you unless you betray them first. They are the best of companions, and their loyalty will bring you strength and solace.”
Behind the ancient elf, Caelith muttered something under his breath, his expression sour. Kai chose to ignore it, instead shifting his focus to the gathering in the clearing. The scene was alive with activity. Though the night had blanketed the forest in darkness, the area was illuminated by the glowing lights strung from treehouses and floating motes of spirit energy. And all the lanterns just added to the scene.
His gaze settled on the center of the clearing.
There, basic summoning circles had been etched into the ground, their intricate runes glowing faintly with latent energy. Nearby, stacks of food and drink had been laid out, waiting to be enjoyed after the ceremony.
It all seemed exciting, and even the air buzzed with anticipation. He saw how elves of all ages filled the clearing, they’d puddled into groups and started talking in hushed tones. It somehow mingled with the sounds of the forest.
Kai stepped closer to Flossbor, taking in the preparations before speaking. “Are the preparations complete?”
Flossbor turned to him and nodded. “Yes, everything is ready. We’re just about to begin.”
Kai gave a small nod, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd. He noticed a group of young elves standing together, their faces a mixture of excitement and nervousness. The elders began moving towards them and the gathering quieted as Flossbor took center stage.
The elf elder raised a hand, signaling for silence. When the murmurs ceased, he began speaking, his voice carrying easily over the assembled crowd. Raven quickly came to Kai’s side to translate whatever was being said.
“Iladari, ilasth, silwen borial, thrilen en’karil Rithaeth Ilvaris—mianath ratha’il thara hestil lira’dil. Tirerel maerthalin, thrilen thalith thos an’latra, melnara thilith al’lanis. Athalir en’lin, wa’thinoreth daelith thil’ska, syth’altil alael viris.”
“Brothers, sisters, tonight marks the Rite of Binding—a sacred tradition that heralds the journey into adulthood. For generations, this rite has not only been a passage but a promise. Through it, you will call upon the spirits and forge a bond that is both an honor and a responsibility,” she whispered to Kai’s ears.
His gaze softened as it rested on the young elves standing in eager anticipation.
“Thar el’veloth is thil’mareth, alael thaliri hothril varas and al’thalin mae’thivalth. Almarin wa’thalira, thalirnal na rethin, ain’thalir at’maerel virinith. Vi’el thos’helir thyneshin, hithirith vir’inthar athali’lael, vi’morath athal’raem as rethinor.”
“This moment is a turning point, one that will define your path and your connection to the spirits that have watched over our kind since the dawn of time. To bond with a spirit is not a mere act; it is to invite it into your essence, to share your strengths and shoulder your burdens.”
Flossbor raised a hand, gesturing to the summoning circles etched into the forest floor, his voice changing to the common human tongue. “Let your affinity guide you. Step forward and call out to the realm that resonates with your soul. Tonight, you take the first step not just toward adulthood, but toward understanding the true harmony of life and the elements. I would like all of you to talk in common language, so that the… Fatebreaker here could help you with the summoning circle.”
The young elves exchanged glances, their nerves fading into determination as they nodded. The elders from behind gave hopeful eyes at Kai, probably trusting the council members on this decision.
As the elder finished his speech, a hush fell over the clearing. One of the young elves, a male with bright green eyes, stepped forward. His voice was steady as he declared, "My a-affinity is with w-wind,” the boy stuttered but managed to speak in common language.
He moved toward one of the summoning circles, and the crowd watched in silence.
The young elf stepped confidently into the summoning circle. "I would like to contract with a Grade 2 wind spirit," he announced, speaking slowly.
The elders exchanged glances, one of them, Lillian, stepping forward. “Are you certain? Grade 2 spirits, while stronger, are harder to tame and require more discipline.”
The elf nodded firmly. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Their gazes shifted to Kai, who stood a short distance away, observing the proceedings. As the elders silently sought his input, Kai’s eyes dropped to the summoning circle etched into the ground. His expression remained calm, but his mind churned with thoughts.
Taking a step closer, Kai addressed the elf. “Are you looking for anything specific in a spirit? Speed, strength, or something else?”
The elf shook his head and took a moment to reply. “No, I trust in whatever spirit will answer my call.”
Kai crouched down by the circle, his fingers brushing against the etched lines.
“Understood.” He reached into his pouch and retrieved a small vial of fine, white powder. Pouring some into his palm, he began to alter the circle with practiced precision. Lines intersected with curves, and additional runes bloomed in the space around the original diagram.
Plane summoning circles often start simple, Kai mused, his focus unwavering. Their complexity increases depending on the spirit you’re trying to reach. With the right adjustments, it's easy to call forth a creature suited to this elf’s potential.
The elves watched in silence, their curiosity palpable as Kai worked, few of them looking unsure of his capability. Even Caelith, standing to the side, leaned forward ever so slightly. When he finished, the summoning circle glowed faintly with an energy that felt sharper and more refined.
Kai stepped back, brushing the residual powder from his hands. “It’s ready.” His voice was calm, yet it carried a quiet authority that silenced the murmurs around him.
Taking a deep breath, Kai raised his arms and began to chant, his words resonating in the still night air. The altered summoning circle thrummed with power, its glow intensifying with every syllable he spoke. The runes sparked, their brilliance lighting the faces of the gathered elves.
A sudden gust of wind whipped through the clearing, and the energy in the circle coalesced into a vortex. From its center, a form began to emerge—a bird-shaped wind spirit. Its body shimmered like silver mist, its wings feathered with strands of pure, flowing air that glimmered faintly in the moonlight. Its eyes were crystalline, reflecting the surrounding light in an iridescent display.
Gasps erupted from the crowd, and a voice rang out in disbelief. “Isn’t that the rare Lyre’pyron? No one has contracted with it in hundreds of years!”
The clearing fell into stunned silence as the spirit spread its wings. And at that moment, all eyes turned to Kai.
2025-01-05 23:46:13 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 160
Although Kai knew that elves were the authoritative figures on druidic magic, he couldn’t help but gape in awe as Elder V’aleirith led him to the top floor of the library that was shared by the five tribes.
The magnitude of the collection was overwhelming. Shelves stretched high, stacked with countless books. Kai’s eyes darted over the rows, most of them dedicated to druidic magic, with others exploring different types of magic in ways that were entirely foreign to him. Some volumes even explained entire spells, while others focused on spirits, magical creatures, and the mysteries of the natural world.
He couldn’t help but be entranced.
At that moment, standing amidst the towering shelves, Kai wondered if he should just stay in Sylvastra longer, gathering all the knowledge he could. But that was an impossible thought.
His stay in the land of the elves needed to be brief, particularly now that he knew about the prophecy and the cycle of life and death. The weight of the world's impending destruction pressed on him, and the realization that he was the only one who could stop it felt heavy on his shoulders. There was no time to waste.
As much as he wanted to talk further with Elder V’aleirith about what he had seen in the Elder Tree’s vision, the lure of the books was too great. And he knew he had to gain as much knowledge as he could.
Hence, he decided to dive in, hoping to learn something that could aid him in the coming battles against Lucian and Queen Regina. He spent most of the night pouring over the books, seeking to understand more of druidic magic.
What he found fascinated him.
Kai had always thought of druidic Mages as strategic figures, relying on their bonds with beasts to spy or fight, using whatever creatures they could form a connection with. In his mind, they often worked with weaker beasts, since they weren't difficult to bond with. But the books painted a far richer picture.
The texts described how druidic Mages could do much more than simply bond—they could take on the abilities of the beasts they connected with, something Kai had never imagined.
The book he found—The Beast Within, written by El’ris Rainj’er—described in great detail the experience of an elf bonding with a grade 1 ashen bear.
Through the bond, the elf was able to briefly gain the creature's strength, his hands transforming into claws capable of rending stone. The description left Kai breathless. Such an ability would elevate druidic magic far beyond the power of summoners, even though both magics shared the common thread of connecting to creatures.
The thought that druids could harness the very essence of their bonded creatures, borrowing their strength, speed, or senses, sent a shiver of excitement through Kai.
He closed the book with a sense of awe, his mind racing. He knew that if he could learn to tap into such powers, it could be the key to gain even more battle prowess for his territory. But there was so much more to understand, so much more to explore. The previous thought of staying here and learning more nagged at his mind.
He sighed.
Time, however, was not on his side. He couldn’t afford to lose himself in the pages of books, no matter how tempting they were.
The world was waiting.
Therefore, he kept opening and closing books after books, adding it to the growing pile of volumes next to him.
After finishing the twentieth book, he stretched his limbs, feeling the slight ache from hours of sitting and reading. His mind was buzzing with new knowledge, though it was still a bit foggy from the information overload.
A yawn slipped from his lips as sleepiness crept in. To counteract the weariness, he cast another [Refresh] spell, the familiar surge of energy washing over him and clearing the haze in his mind. With his focus restored, he looked around the library, marveling at the structure.
The entire library was built within a massive tree. Its wooden walls curved and twisted like branches outside.
Kai couldn’t help but feel like the library was an extension of nature. It wasn’t just the library if he thought about it, most of Sylvastra was similar.
A lot of the houses were nestled within the massive trees, branches used as chairs, platforms and bridges, connecting the people who lived within these places. It made sense, given how large the trees were, their trunks towering and wide enough to house entire buildings. And every time he inhaled, the strong scent of flowers and herbs filled his nostrils. The atmosphere was energizing in a way that felt deeply rooted in the world around him.
Kai reached for another book, eager to continue his research, but before he could pull it from the shelf, a voice cut through the quiet hum of the library. Two figures entered the room, their eyes locking onto Kai.
He recognized them instantly—they were elders. Flossbor and Caelith.
Caelith, the one who had been vocal in his opposition to Kai before, eyed him warily as they walked closer. His pointy ears twitched in annoyance as soon as he saw him. On the other hand, Flossbor gave him a faint smile.
Kai watched as Caelith's gaze flicked over the table, taking in the piles of books he had read. He squinted his eyes, then picked up one of the books with an almost dismissive gesture. "Not even a day since you arrived," he said in a sharp tone. "And already you're feasting on our knowledge, Fatebreaker. So many books read in a single night. Do you intend to run away soon with the knowledge?"
Flossbor sighed deeply, shaking his head. "Caelith, stop with that. There's no need to be antagonistic toward him," he chided gently.
"I'm not being antagonistic," Caelith retorted. "I just know how humans are. Even Maleficia is full of them. You can't trust him."
Kai took a moment to absorb their words, especially the mention of Maleficia. Elder V’aleirith had spoken of it briefly yesterday, but now, the term seemed more significant. His curiosity piqued, but for now, he focused on the immediate tension in the room.
"You can call me Arzan," Kai said. "And yes, I've learned a lot from your knowledge here. It's certainly very interesting. But no, I don’t intend to run." His gaze shifted, meeting Caelith's eyes. "I have an oath to carry, and the Elder Tree tree has recognized me. But I guess elves have become too gusty and rebellious to go against their god."
Caelith's expression hardened, but Flossbor placed a hand on his arm, calming the elder before he could retort. The air in the library felt thick with unspoken words as Kai stood his ground, silently daring to challenge him in any way.
Caelith, in the end, sneered. "I am not against my god," he said through gritted teeth. "I just think you're incompetent to deal with the cataclysm. Elder V’aleirith kept an eye on you, and what have you done in the last few months? You’ve done nothing but grow that city of yours. That’s not saving the world or the Elder Tree. That’s just improving your people."
Kai’s expression remained unchanged as he met Caelith's glare. "I wasn’t aware of the prophecy before coming here. I knew there was one, but I had no idea about the details. As for growing my people," he continued, "do you really think we won't need an army to deal with the fiends that will rise when the cycle moves forward? I don't think it's just the elves and I will be enough to deal with it."
Before Caelith could fire back, Flossbor stepped forward. "I agree with you, Arzan," he said, nodding in agreement. "I believe getting an army would be the best way to deal with Maleficia." His eyes flicked briefly to Caelith, who scowled but remained silent.
Kai took a deep breath, sensing the tension in the air. He had questions that needed answers. "What exactly is Maleficia?" he asked.
Caelith let out a derisive snort and laughed out loud mockingly. "You don't even know that?" But before he could continue, a sharp glance from the Flossbor silenced him, and he relented, though his irritation was still palpable.
"They are a force," he said, his voice laced with bitterness, "that worship the Dragon of Calamity—Malefic—and they wish for his rise. They’re trying to bring forth the prophecy faster so they can be part of his world. In a way, they are the opposite of us elves, who have been trying to stop the prophecy from coming true." His eyes narrowed as he spoke of them. "A vile group of humans and other creatures. A cult that has forsaken their whole world just for whispers of power, believing that death is the true path to strength. They're willing to destroy everything for it."
Kai listened intently, his mind racing as he processed the information. "So... this cult, Maleficia... they want the prophecy to come true??" he asked, seeking clarification.
"Yes," Flossbor confirmed. "And they are dangerous. They don’t care for the balance of the world or the consequences of their actions. They care only for the power they believe they can gain by serving Malefic."
Kai nodded thoughtfully. But there was something else he wanted to understand. He glanced at Caelith, whose expression was filled with contempt. "That's why you don't trust humans, then?"
Caelith spoke with hatred in his eyes. "That, and the fact that humans often care little for nature," the elder said with a frown. "For growth and advancement, they forge wars, they kill, they destroy; the nature and themselves. Greed and arrogance have consumed so many of them. It's hard to trust a people who will sacrifice everything, including the world itself, for fleeting power."
Kai’s eyes darkened at their words, but he held his tongue. The elves had their reasons, and he could understand their distrust. They had seen the damage humans were capable of—their hunger for power, their willingness to tear apart the natural world in pursuit of their goals. But Kai wasn’t like them. He wasn’t here for power; he was here to stop a disaster.
"Well, I guess that’s something we’ll have to work through," Kai said, more to himself than the two standing before him. His eyes locked with Caelith’s and slowly turned to Flossbor. “You know what, I agree with your words,” he said.
“You do?”
“Yes. But I believe arrogance and greed are something all living creatures have. Even you. A true Mage knows how to keep them in check so they don’t cloud his judgment.”
Flossbor nodded thoughtfully, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Wise words, Arzan,” he said, his eyes drifting back to the book in front of him. After a moment, he spoke again. “I see you’ve been looking into druidic magic, but have you found a way to save the life of the Elder Tree? I know elder V’aleirith spoke to you about it, but in our centuries of living, we’ve not found any permanent solution to save it. Its condition keeps deteriorating.” He paused, his voice becoming softer. “A major reason I wanted you here, Arzan, is because I thought a fresh perspective might help us.”
Kai nodded in understanding. “I did speak to Elder V’aleirith about it, and I’ve looked into books and records on the Elder Tree,” he said, his eyes reflecting a hint of frustration. “But it would need an immense amount of life force to keep it going. The major reason for its decline is that it’s been drained of that life force, and I haven’t—"
Suddenly, a chorus of shouts and laughter echoed from outside the library, cutting Kai off mid-sentence. His head snapped toward the window, and without hesitation, he crossed the room and swung it open. The sounds of joy and excitement filled the air as he peered out at the sight before him.
Sylvastra was a sprawling, vibrant city built entirely within the enormous branches and trunks of towering trees. He thought he’d seen the best yet, but the view from up here was something else. The houses looked much larger and spacious, crafted from wood that seemed to grow naturally into the shape of homes, their walls and roofs covered in moss and vines. Walkways of twisted vines and branches connected the homes, allowing the elves to travel from one house to the next with ease.
In the middle of the city, children’s laughter rang out as they played with spirits. Elves of all ages moved about the city, decorating their homes with delicate flowers and hanging lanterns that swayed gently in the breeze. Others were gathered in small groups, sketching symbols on the ground and setting up what looked like summoning circles. The energy in the air was one of life and vitality, as if the city itself was alive with magic.
Kai’s eyes scanned the scene, taking it all in before they settled on Gorak and the others. They were standing off to the side, looking around with wide eyes as they snacked on fruits. Gorak was clearly fascinated by the world of the elves, his eyes darting from one sight to the next. But what really caught Kai’s attention was Claire.
She was laughing as she chased after a playful spirit, a small, glowing figure darting around her in the air. Her face was bright with a genuine smile, and she looked completely at ease as she interacted with the spirit. Kai watched as she held out her hand, letting the spirit playfully swirl around her fingers before it vanished with a puff of light, only to reappear a moment later. It was a simple moment, but it made Kai pause.
The other elves around her were watching as well, some smiling at the children and the spirits, while others were looking at the humans they haven't seen in years. But Kai's eyes remained fixed on Claire, his gaze lingering a little longer than he intended.
Flossbor, having noticed where Kai's attention lay, moved closer to get a better look. His sharp eyes widened slightly as he observed Claire. “I haven’t seen many humans with such an affinity for spirits,” he murmured, more to himself than to Kai. “She has potential. Is she a Mage?”
Kai turned to him, brow furrowed in curiosity. “She’s not a Mage,” he replied, shaking his head. “She’s my personal maid. But what do you mean by potential? And why is everyone decorating so much?”
Before Flossbor could respond, Caelith’s voice cut in, filled with the same sharpness that always seemed to accompany his words. “It’s not for you,” he said, an air of dismissal in his tone. He sneered, probably at the thought of Kai thinking that they were planning something for him and his retinue. “It’s for the Rite of Binding. It’s when the young ones get the chance to bond with spirits and officially become adults. You came here just in time for it.”
Flossbor nodded in agreement. “Yes, Caelith is right,” he said, a more contemplative tone replacing the previous tension in his voice. “It’s a sacred rite of adulthood for us elves. As for your maid, by ‘potential,’ I mean she could become a spirit trainer.” He paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “To be one, a person needs a natural affinity with spirits. We elves are born with it, but it’s rare to see that kind of connection in humans. She... has it.”
Kai’s eyes widened as he thought about it. “Claire? A spirit trainer?” he asked, almost in disbelief, as his gaze shifted back to her. She was laughing and dancing with the spirit, her joy evident in the way she moved. She joined the children in their play, her face full of life, carefree in a way Kai hadn’t seen before.
And in that moment, it was as if a new possibility had opened up in his mind.
2025-01-03 22:06:20 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 53
Life was unfair, and the heavens even more so. They always tried to shoot down anyone who dared to rise too high, as though they despised those who challenged their fate. Gu Tian had learned this bitter truth long ago, back in his childhood, when his cultivation had been destroyed—not by an enemy, but by his own cousin.
His cousin, the young master of the main branch of the Gu family, had been his equal once. Gu Tian, a rising star from one of the lower branches, had shone brightly, his talents praised by all and had rivalled him. But in one fateful moment, it was all taken away. Crippled and humiliated, he was cast aside like broken pottery, no longer useful or admired.
Instead, he was bullied. The clan sneered at him, his peers mocked him, and even his fiancée publicly broke off their engagement, leaving him in disgrace.
That was his life—broken, unfair, laughable. Until he found the ring.
The old, worn ring he had stumbled upon by chance held his salvation. Inside it dwelled the spirit of a legendary alchemist and demonic cultivator. The master within the ring had shown him that the heavens could be defied, that there were ways to claw back what fate had stolen. Gu Tian, who was mentally exhausted with everything that was ongoing with him, didn’t hesitate to abandon what was called the ‘righteous path’.
And like he’d expected, things changed for him—for good.
His master healed him, painstakingly rebuilding his shattered cultivation. In return, Gu Tian offered his loyalty, embracing the darkness that had given him a second chance. His revenge was swift and brutal.
The cousin who had destroyed him fell to his blade, and with bloodied hands, Gu Tian severed his ties to the Gu family forever, banished but finally free. That was all that mattered, didn’t it?
He soon started wandering the vast lands of the Kalian Empire, and with every challenge that was thrown his way, he grew. Each victory reinforced his belief that he could rise above the heavens themselves, just like his master had told him.
When he joined a demonic sect hell bent on breaking apart the heavens to reach newfound realms, his master approved. Slowly, he had proven his worth in the sect until he had been looked upon as someone promising and had been tasked with finding the medallion that would unlock the Gate of Immortals.
His master had already intended to look for it, so the decision was made quickly.
That quest led him to Cloud Mist City, a place brimming with danger and opportunity. Though obstacles arose, he overcame them, his confidence growing with every success.
Defeating Li Xuan, a prodigy of the Soaring Sword Sect, had been his crowning achievement so far. In that moment, standing over his fallen opponent, he had felt invincible.
The medallion also had been within his grasp with his next opponent Chen Ren being in the possession of it. The heavens trembled before him, and Gu Tian was certain of one thing: he would seize immortality and make the heavens kneel.
But just as he was one step away from claiming the medallion after supposedly killing Chen Ren, everything fell apart. Gu Tian had lost—lost to tricks and deceit, to the careful concealment of power that Chen Ren had used and a lapse of judgment.
And as the official declared Chen Ren the victor, something inside Gu Tian snapped.
He remembered the humiliation of his youth, the day his cousin had shattered his cultivation. Back then, it hadn’t been a head-on fight but a web of schemes and traps. And now, here he was again, standing on the edge of greatness, only to be dragged down by trickery. After becoming a demonic cultivator, Gu Tian had never truly lost. Yes, there were times when he had to flee, but he always called it a strategic retreat, never a defeat.
But now, with Chen Ren basking in the crowd’s cheers, something dark and primal clawed its way to the surface. Gu Tian clenched his fists, his voice low and venomous. “I haven’t lost yet,” he whispered, just loud enough for Chen Ren to hear.
Inside his mind, his master’s voice echoed urgently. By now he knew that his master had a good idea on his personality and quirks; how far his anger could go, and what he could do when he would snap.
“Gu Tian, calm yourself. This is not the time. There are too many cultivators here. Revealing yourself now will be disastrous. Do you hear me? Don’t do anything.”
Gu Tian’s face twisted with fury, his eyes locked onto Chen Ren’s triumphant figure. “I won’t get another chance!” he hissed, saying the words out loud. “You said it yourself—there’s a strong presence around him. If I wait, I’ll never be able to reach him. I’ll kill him now and make him suffer for this disgrace. Then we’ll run.”
“Gu Tian, no!” his master’s voice rang in his mind, loud and clear. “This is reckless—”
But his words fell on deaf ears. Gu Tian unleashed the demonic qi sealed within him, the dark energy radiating outward in waves, big and harmful. His eyes darkened, their colour shifting to crimson.
“I’ve hidden for long enough,” Gu Tian growled. He raised a trembling hand. The air around him grew heavy as he whispered, “Chains of Confinement.”
Dark chains burst from his body, writhing like living tendrils, their sharp edges gleaming in the air. The crowd gasped in shock, their cheers turning to cries of alarm.
A loud laughter escaped Gu Tian’s lips when he saw Chen Ren. The man, caught off guard, could only watch as the chains shot toward him. He tried to call upon his lightning qi, his body crackling with energy, but the chains moved faster. They wrapped around his arms and legs, pulling him down to the ground and pinning him in place.
Gu Tian rose to his feet, his eyes cold and unrelenting. He tilted his head mockingly and grinned.
He walked towards Chen Ren, and with every step, the air grew thicker with his demonic qi, suffocating those nearby. The crowd scrambled back in panic, some shouting in terror, others frozen in fear.
The official who had just declared the match hurriedly fled the arena, abandoning any pretence of maintaining order.
The cultivators in the audience began to stir, their weapons drawn, but Gu Tian didn’t stop. He glared at Chen Ren, his voice low and menacing. “Who the fuck do you think you’re? You thought you could humiliate me? Just like that? You’ll pay for this with your life.”
The stage trembled under the preparations of his unleashed power as he was about to strike, uncaring of the consequences that would follow.
As the demonic qi swirled, a dark silhouette emerged above Gu Tian, growing larger and more defined. His master’s ghostly form materialized—a tall, lean figure with hollow, glowing eyes that radiated a red glow.
The ghostly figure raised a hand and a barrier of shimmering black energy formed around the entire stage. The barrier pulsated with malevolent energy, exuding an impenetrable aura.
Gu Tian laughed again, knowing that his master was strong enough to hold back any cultivator in the arena.
“Nowhere to escape,” he said with a smirk.
From the corner of his eyes, he saw a daring cultivator leapt forward, summoning a blazing spear of fire imbued with spiritual qi, and hurled it toward the barrier. The spear crashed into the dark shield, the collision sending shockwaves through the air, but the barrier held firm. The flames were swallowed whole, leaving no trace of their existence.
His master’s deep, otherworldly voice boomed, echoing across the arena. “I can hold this for five minutes, no more. Do what you must, quickly.”
Gu Tian sneered, his gaze locked onto Chen Ren. “I won’t need more than a minute,” he said coldly, striding toward his immobilized foe.
Chen Ren glared up at him, his body still bound by the dark chains. Gu Tian saw the fear and anxiety in his eyes, but there was something else—something that made his blood boil. It was resilience—defiance that refused to die, even in the face of certain death.
Gu Tian leaned closer, his voice dripping with malice. “Your tricks won’t save you now. The medallion will be mine, and you’ll die here, humiliated, with the whole city watching your execution.”
Chen Ren struggled against the chains, his lightning qi flickering weakly around him. “Get me out of these,” he spat. “If you want a fight, I’ll give you one.”
Gu Tian laughed, the sound echoing like a death knell. “A fight?” he repeated mockingly. “No, that’s the way of the righteous—a path I abandoned long ago. For me, a kill is a kill. It doesn’t matter how it’s done.” He straightened, gripping his sword tightly. “You should close your eyes. That way, you won’t have to see your own body cut in half.”
With those words, Gu Tian raised his sword and plunged it into Chen Ren’s stomach. Blood splattered across the ground as Chen Ren screamed in pain, his body writhing against the chains.
Gu Tian smirked, savoring the moment. Pulling the sword free, he turned his attention to Chen Ren’s belongings. Kneeling, he rummaged through the pouch tied to his waist and withdrew the medallion. It glimmered faintly in his hands.
His master’s voice resonated beside him. “Finally. The medallion. The way to the Gate of Immortals.”
Gu Tian studied the medallion, his brow furrowing. “You’re sure this is the right one? Doesn’t look remarkable.”
“It is,” his master said confidently. “I don’t lie about these things. It matches the descriptions in the old legends. Now, finish him. I’ll propel you into the sky to escape.”
Gu Tian scoffed as his master’s words echoed in his ears. “What do you mean he’s already dead?” he muttered. Turning back to Chen Ren, his eyes narrowed.
Chen Ren lay in a pool of his own blood, the sword still embedded in his stomach, but he was still alive. His chest rose and fell, shallow breaths escaping his lips.
As Gu Tian moved to use his sword to slice his neck off to give him a final rest, something gave him pause. The defiance, the fear, the resilience he had seen earlier—all of it was gone from his eyes. What remained in Chen Ren’s gaze wasn’t the emptiness of death but something entirely different.
Hollow.
No. Not hollow.
It was something completely different. Inside the empty gaze, something seemed to simmer.
It was as if the man before him had become a vessel—an empty shell brimming with something incomprehensible.
Before he could process the thought further, Chen Ren’s body convulsed, and his pupils began to change. The dark irises shimmered, a light spreading outward. In moments, they turned gold.
Gu Tian felt his demonic qi recoil as if struck, the pressure around him shifting violently. The air grew dense, suffocating, as an unfamiliar and overwhelming presence filled the stage.
From Chen Ren’s mouth, a voice unlike his own rang out—deep, resonant, and filled with a power that seemed to shake the heavens themselves.
“You dare harm my chosen, filthy demon.”
***
Yalan’s heart plummeted as her claws scraped against the invisible wall that separated her from the platform. Her amber eyes blazed with fury as she watched Gu Tian loom over Chen Ren’s barely conscious form, his demonic qi spilling forth like a suffocating tide.
The barrier shimmered ominously, a translucent dome of dark energy that repelled every strike she unleashed. Her claws lengthened instinctively, the razor-sharp tips gleaming under the flickering flames of her tail. She snarled, slamming her burning tail against the barrier with all her strength, the impact resounding through the air.
But the barrier held firm.
Her rage only deepened as she pressed her paw against the cold surface, feeling the pulse of powerful energy rippling through it. It didn’t budge, not even a crack or a flicker of weakness.
“How is this possible?” she growled, her voice trembling with frustration. She was in the meridian expansion realm—her strikes should have been enough to destabilize any ordinary barrier.
Yet, this wasn’t ordinary.
It was created for the purpose to ensure that all the cultivators in the arena would be kept out of it. This barrier wasn’t something Gu Tian could have created on his own.
Yalan’s sharp eyes scanned the stage, her breath catching as she saw the faint silhouette forming above Gu Tian.
A ghostly figure hovered in the air, its shape wavering as if struggling to maintain its presence in the physical realm. Despite its ethereal weakness, its aura was unmistakable—formidable, ancient, and suffused with the terrifying power of a nascent soul realm cultivator.
Her claws retracted slightly as shock momentarily overtook her rage. A nascent soul specter? she thought, her mind racing.
Nascent soul cultivators had vanished from the mortal world centuries ago, their power so immense that the heavens themselves seemed to conspire against their existence.
Yet here one stood, or at least its lingering shadow, bolstering Gu Tian with its unholy strength.
How could Gu Tian have aligned himself with such an entity?
There was no time to dwell on the answer. Every second wasted was another second Chen Ren lay bleeding on the stage, bound and vulnerable. Yalan’s gaze snapped back to him, her chest tightening as she saw the blood pooling around his body.
“Chen Ren… hold on,” she whispered, her fury reigniting.
Flames surged down her tail as she struck the barrier again, the inferno roaring with her resolve. She didn’t care if her strikes didn’t break through. She didn’t care if her attacks left her drained.
All she cared about was finding a way to save him, no matter what it cost.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, each pulse driving home a dreadful reality: she was watching it happen again.
The sight of his pale face, blood spilling freely from his wounds, tore through her resolve. Memories flashed unbidden of the previous Chen Ren that she had failed to protect. She clenched her fists, her claws digging into her paws as guilt and despair warred within her. Was she truly this week?
Her hair bristled as her eyes burned with fury. She had always thought herself strong. Yet here she was, standing powerless while the one she swore to defend teetered on the edge of death.
Her head snapped to the side as a familiar presence approached. Qing He appeared, her usually serene face etched with a fury that matched Yalan’s own. The elder’s squinted eyes fixated on the barrier, and the faint wrinkles on her face seemed deeper under the strain of her anger.
“This is no ordinary construct,” Qing He muttered, her voice heavy with frustration.
Yalan let out a howl. “We need to combine forces. Together, we might be able to crack it enough to get through.”
“We should.”
Qing He didn’t hesitate, already preparing to channel her qi. Yalan mirrored her, flames rippling along her tail and claws as the two pooled their strength.
But just as they moved to strike, Yalan froze, her sharp instincts picking up something in the air—something emanating from Chen Ren himself.
Her gaze whipped back to him, and her amber eyes widened.
Golden light began to seep from his eyes, an otherworldly glow that seemed to pierce the demonic qi surrounding him. The light grew stronger, radiating from his battered form with an intensity that made the platform tremble.
Then she felt it.
Her breath caught, and her flames wavered as a sensation long buried resurfaced—a power she hadn’t sensed in years.
Heavenly qi.
Pure, untainted, and overwhelming, it rolled off Chen Ren in waves, clashing with the oppressive darkness of Gu Tian’s demonic energy. Yalan’s heart pounded as she stared at him, her disbelief mingling with a glimmer of hope.
“Heavenly qi,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Qing He paused as well, her attack forgotten as she turned to Yalan. “What did you say?”
Yalan didn’t answer. Her eyes remained fixed on Chen Ren, her lips parting in astonishment as the golden light grew brighter, illuminating the stage.
Perhaps… all was not lost.
***
Chen Ren's consciousness drifted like a leaf caught in a murky current. His thoughts were sluggish, fragmented, and disjointed.
The last thing he could recall was the crushing weight of Gu Tian’s chains binding his limbs, his body sapped of strength. He’d stared up at the demonic cultivator, his heart pounding with defiance and despair, just before the cold bite of a blade plunged into his gut. Pain had exploded through him, and he threw up a lot of blood. It had been bitter, and painful. But then endless darkness had took over him.
Now he stood in a void.
No ground beneath his feet, no walls or sky to confine him. Just an infinite expanse dotted with light, stars twinkling faintly above and around him.
He glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers sluggishly. There were no wounds, no blood soaking through his robes, but the memory of the pain still lingered, sharp and biting.
I’m back in my star space. But why?
The question echoed hollowly in his mind. A bitter taste rose in his throat as fragments of his failure swirled together. He had doubted Gu Tian’s façade of mediocrity, and suspected the man’s techniques weren’t as simple as they seemed. Yet he’d done nothing, ignored the signs, and now here he was—caught between life and death, alone in the star space.
Is this where cultivators come before they die, their star space?
The thought sent a chill down his spine, but there was no one to answer him. He tilted his head upward, scanning the stars above.
It was different.
His star space had always been sparse, a cold expanse with only four stars burning dimly in the void. But now… now the sky was alive, teeming with countless lights. The stars blazed fiercely, their glow raining down over him and filling the void with a warmth he hadn’t felt in what seemed like ages.
A rumble broke through the stillness.
Chen Ren’s heart jumped as the ground—or whatever it was he stood on—shuddered beneath him. The stars seemed to tremble as something massive shifted in the space above. He turned, his body moving sluggishly as though underwater, and froze.
A presence loomed above him.
It was vast, shadowy, and incomprehensibly large. As the rumble grew louder, the shape resolved into something unmistakable. Scales, luminous and shimmering like liquid golden, caught the light of the stars as the creature descended. Its form coiled endlessly, a serpent wreathed in celestial radiance.
The dragon.
The stars seemed to bow to its presence, their light dimming as the dragon’s maw opened. The stars themselves formed the dragon’s fangs, sharp and radiant, and its voice rolled through the space, vibrating through his chest.
The beast’s eyes, glowing like molten gold, bore into him with an intensity that made his legs tremble.
“Chen Ren… I choose you, yet you stumble so quickly toward death.”
Chen Ren swallowed hard, unable to muster a reply, his gaze fixed on the creature’s immense, gleaming fangs. A tornado of questions swirled in his mind and he resisted the urge to prostate himself in front of the entity.
But rather than ask about what was going on, he answered the dragon's question.
“I didn’t expect Gu Tian to be a demonic cultivator. Even then… those chains—” He looked down at his hands, flexing them uselessly. “I couldn’t break through them.”
The dragon’s eyes narrowed, and a sharp exhale escaped its nostrils, like the sigh of a storm. “There’s no excuse for weakness. This is the way of the world. Strength determines survival, and you are far too close to death. My slumber has lasted long enough—I cannot let it be.”
The words struck like a hammer, but Chen Ren barely had time to absorb them. His thoughts churned in frustration and confusion. His fists clenched, trembling. “I know…” he muttered, his voice barely audible. Then louder, more resolute: “But how can I defeat Gu Tian? With his chains and that ghost at his back—it’s too strong.”
The dragon tilted its head, a faint glow rippling across its scales. “I know it is. Hence, we are taking over. Your fight is no longer yours alone.”
Chen Ren’s breath hitched in his throat. “What… what does that mean?”
The dragon didn’t answer. Instead, its form began to shift, its body unraveling into streaks of radiant light. Chen Ren’s eyes widened as the dragon unfurled from the heavens, descending upon him with a terrible grace.
The stars in his space flickered and dimmed, their light snuffed out one by one. Cracks formed in the void beneath him, jagged lines racing outward with every rumble of the dragon’s approach.
“No—” Chen Ren stumbled back, his voice caught in his throat. The dragon surged forward, its golden eyes blazing brighter as it filled his vision.
The last thing he saw was the beast’s maw opening wide, its fangs shimmering like starfire as it swallowed him whole.
The void shattered.
Chen Ren gasped, his eyes snapping open.
The platform stretched beneath him, Gu Tian standing below with a sneer that faltered as he looked up. Chains still bound Chen Ren’s arms, but they felt lighter now, their weight insignificant compared to the power coursing through him.
It was unlike anything he’d felt before—consuming and powerful. Extremely powerful. Heat rushed through his veins, igniting every nerve as golden light spilled from his eyes.
A low rumble escaped his throat, growing louder until it built into a deafening roar that echoed through the arena.
The sound wasn’t his alone.
From within the roar, Chen Ren felt it—something bursting free. His qi surged outward, enveloping the platform in waves of radiant energy. Gu Tian’s eyes widened, and he stumbled back, shielding himself from the force.
Above them, the sky tore apart.
A golden dragon emerged, its massive form coiling and twisting as it rose into the heavens. It roared again, a sound that shook the very ground and sent waves of fear through the onlookers.
Chen Ren looked up, his body trembling from the sheer intensity of the power. It felt alien and unstoppable, yet somehow… It was him.
Or was it?
As he tried to grasp it, the dragon turned its gaze downward, its golden eyes locking onto Gu Tian, whose expression had turned to one of terror.
Chen Ren felt his lips curve into a faint smile, though he wasn’t entirely sure it was his own. The golden light in his eyes flared, and the platform trembled as his qi surged again.
2025-01-03 21:54:49 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 159
As soon as Kai set his hand on the bark, his emotions flared up. It wasn’t just a physical reaction—it was as if his very being was reaching out to something beyond the confines of the world he knew. He could feel his perception expand, not just on a sensory level, but something more primal, more universal.
It was as though his mind had been opened, not just to the tree before him, but to the very essence of the world. It was as though his consciousness was touching every part of existence—every root, every leaf, every pulse of life, every hum of energy.
He felt his connection to the elder tree running deeper; not just mentally, it grew cellular, maybe even astral. The very fibers of his being seemed to intertwine with the tree's, as if he and it were two halves of a whole.
Kai relaxed his previously stiffened hand.
The sudden rush of power was overwhelming at first, but soon it felt natural—like it had always been there, hidden beneath the surface of his awareness. He could feel the tree’s entire body, stretching deep beneath the earth, its roots spreading like veins across the land, seeking the unseen.
He felt its branches reaching out to the sky, its leaves rustling in the distant winds. His mind rang, and in the resonance, he heard the tree’s ancient voice, a voice that was not spoken but felt, as if it had always existed within the rhythms of life itself. And with that connection came visions—images swirling through his mind.
Kai saw the world as it was when the Elder Tree was first born—just a small sprout, barely more than a seed, looking up at the vast unknown. He felt its quiet awe at the world around it, its slow realization that it held power within. He saw how it grew, slowly at first, a sapling sending out tiny roots, feeling its way into the earth. He could feel the mana that had flowed through it, the power it had affected the world with, and how it had grown into a massive, towering tree. He felt its first encounter with a beast—how it had sensed the wild forces of nature and faced them with the quiet strength it had yet to fully understand.
And then came the elves—the first to encounter it when it had truly realized the extent of its power. Kai felt the connection form, the exchange between them—how the elder tree had blessed them, and in return, how they had revered it, connecting their lives with its presence. Since then, their bond grew. The mutual respect, the deep understanding—it had been a symbiotic relationship that had lasted through generations.
Kai saw all of it.
But the tree’s story didn’t end there. He saw how its roots slowly spread beyond the land, reaching into places he could never have imagined, its consciousness growing, learning, and expanding.
He saw the generations come and go, the elves, the beasts, the land itself—each passing and changing with time, while the tree remained steadfast, a living testament to the passage of ages. It had witnessed history unfold, the rise and fall of kingdoms, and had seen the first human Mage—a figure who had approached it, touched it, and unlocked the power of mana. This Mage, Kai saw in vivid clarity, had created the first spell structures and circles in his heart, laying the foundation for all that would come after. The tree had watched as the Mage passed on this knowledge, teaching the world how to harness the raw power of the universe, shaping the course of magic as it was known.
Kai felt everything—the tree’s excitement, its eagerness to share its entire existence. Every branch, every leaf, every inch of berk resonated with memories, both joyful and sorrowful, spanning centuries. The tree had seen so much, learned so much, and as the images flowed through Kai, he could feel its essence beside him, almost like a second presence within his own mind. The bond between them grew stronger, a connection deeper than any he had ever known.
But then, just as suddenly as it had started, the visions ceased. The tree’s presence was still there, and its voice, now softer, asked him a question—not in words, but in thought, a silent exchange of understanding. “What of you, Kai? What of your life?”
For a moment, Kai was still, his mind reeling from the flood of visions. But he didn’t hesitate. He didn’t pull away. In the silence of the moment, he shared.
He shared the story of his birth on the streets of a dying city, surrounded by the ruins of a world that had lost its way. He saw the day he met his master, the one who had seen potential in him and had taken him into the Sorcerer’s Tower. He shared his years of study, of becoming stronger, of facing challenges that had shaped him into the Magus he became and the Mage he was now. And then, he spoke of the desperation he felt—of watching the world crumble around him, of seeing the loss of humanity, of losing the people he cared for, bit by bit, as the ugly darkness spread.
It still felt raw. He still felt the pain as if it was happening in the moment, maybe because his previous life played in his mind that he remembered everything to the very core. But, he didn’t hold back. The Elder Tree, in its infinite patience, listened to his story, and for the first time in his life, he felt truly heard—truly seen.
It pained even more as the memories led him to the moment of his master’s death. He was a young, rash man back then, impulsively searching for a way to combat the ever-encroaching dead mana. His journey had brought him to a ruin, a place rumored to hold the key to battling corruption. But in the end, it had been a trap—a cruel snare from which there was no escape.
His master, the one who had always guided him, had come to his rescue, but it was too late.
The fiends in that forsaken place had already corrupted him. With his dying breath, his master had made Kai swear an oath—to save the world, to stop the curse that was destroying everything.
As the memory settled into Kai's chest like a stone, his soul shook violently.
He could feel it—the grief, the guilt, the loss—all of it threatening to overwhelm him. His breath became shallow, his body tense, and his mind spiraled back into the trauma of that moment. But just as he thought he might be consumed by the weight of it, something unexpected happened. A presence—calm, steady, and warm—wrapped itself around him. The Elder Tree was there, consoling him.
The energy enveloped him like a very well needed soft embrace, as though it understood his pain.
Kai fought to push past the memories, shaking his head, willing himself to focus. He steeled himself, determined to get to the questions he had been carrying with him for so long—the ones that had brought him to this very place.
“What is the prophecy of the cycle of life and death?” he asked, his voice steady, though his heart raced. “How can I defend against it?”
The Elder Tree grew quiet, as if considering his words. Then, a ripple of energy pulsed through the ground, and for a moment, Kai thought the entire world had stilled. The sensation was so clear that it made his soul tremble, and when it passed, the world around him shifted.
He found himself reliving a memory—not his own, but a memory from time’s beginning. He saw a world bathed in an unbearable heat, a world so scorched that no life could survive. It was a world of fire and chaos, the air thick with the intensity of life struggling to take form. And then, slowly, it began to cool. The land began to take shape, the raw elements of nature coalescing into something more—a planet becoming habitable.
Kai watched in awe as life began to materialize in small, fragile forms—bacteria, plant life, and slowly, more complex organisms. From the heat, the world cooled, and from the cooling, life emerged. The elements came together, intertwining, and with them, the gods rose, not one, but many. The energy that had once been raw and untamed began to settle into patterns, and mana itself gave birth to a new age of creation.
The Elder Tree showed him how humans evolved, how they learned magic—how their race, along with others—beasts, elves, and more—had flourished. Kai watched as civilizations rose and fell, as the wheel of life continued to turn. The images came in waves, showing him the origins of life, the rise of magic, the connection between all living things.
And then, just as Kai thought he had seen it all, a voice rang in his mind—a voice that seemed to come from the very depths of the universe. It was godly, powerful, and heavy, like a judgment passed from the cosmos itself.
“What starts always has an end.”
The words settled into Kai’s heart, heavy with meaning. It was a truth he had always known, but hearing it now, from the mouth of some higher power, made it feel all the more real, all the more inescapable. He felt it deep within himself—the weight of life and death, the inevitability of it.
But the tree wasn’t done
.
Kai felt another pull, a deep, insistent tug at his consciousness, and suddenly, the world around him shifted once more.
He was shown a scene—a vision so startling that it made him widen his eyes in disbelief. It was a place, a moment, from far beyond what he had seen before. The image wasn’t just from the past, it wasn’t even from the present—it was from a future he had witnessed and even going beyond it.
A great darkness, vast and consuming, spread across the land. It was as though life was being strangled by the very forces of death. The world was no longer familiar, no longer the vibrant place he had known. It was desolate, cold, and devoid of everything that had once thrived.
Kai’s heart pounded as he stared at the image, the implications of it sinking in with terrifying clarity. This was the end. The cycle that had been set into motion all those years ago was coming to its inevitable conclusion.
And Kai—he was at the center of it.
The vision continued, and Kai’s heart sank as the images unfolded before him. He saw how the world would end, consumed by the very force that had been creeping in from the shadows—the dead mana. It was slow at first, subtle even, but with the Elder Tree at the end of its lifespan, the inevitable unraveling began.
The fiends, twisted and foul, began to rise, led by a monstrous dragon, a creature formed from the very essence of dead mana itself. Mana began to decay—its vitality draining, turning lifeless and cold. Wars broke out, not for conquest, but to hasten the process of destruction, to increase the spread of dead mana.
Kai watched as the cycle of death consumed the world. Humans, elves, minotaurs—nothing would survive. The races that once populated the land would perish, their civilizations reduced to ash. Only the mindless fiends would remain, battling each other for survival, a twisted mirror of the world before.
The Elder Tree spoke again, its voice
resonating deep within Kai’s mind, the weight of its words pressing down on his soul. “The cycle is halfway done. The beginning of life has passed, and now only death remains. It will come with my demise. You know it, Kai. You have seen it. It will destroy everything.”
Kai felt a chill run through him. The end was inevitable, unless...
“The only way to survive,” the elder tree continued, “is to destroy the cycle.”
Kai’s thoughts raced as he stood frozen in the depths of this terrible truth. Destroy the cycle? He had never imagined such a thing could be within his reach. How could he—one man—stand against the force of fate itself?
Desperation and confusion rose within him.
His mind ached with questions, and finally, he spoke in a raw voice, that came out as a croak with all the emotions overwhelming him. "How can I do it? How can I stop this?"
The elder tree’s response came softly, as though it had been waiting for him to ask.
“You are the Fatebreaker,” it said. Kai frowned. “No lines of fate hold you back. You are the only one who can make a difference.
Whatever you do is beyond the cycle, beyond fate itself. You are the one who can decide what happens now. You have already seen your world dying. Now, it is up to you whether you want to save it.”
Kai felt the full force of those words hit him like a tidal wave. He had regressed, had hoped for a second chance, but now the responsibility—the weight of the world—was placed squarely on his shoulders. He was the one who could change it? It seemed impossible, too much to bear. But the tree wasn’t done.
“Whether you save it or not,” the elder tree continued, "I will be there for you.”
And with those final words, Kai felt the tree’s presence envelop him once more, as if it was hugging him, comforting him in his pain and uncertainty. The warmth that spread through him was a reminder that, despite the immense burden, he was not alone in this. The tree would be with him, no matter what.
But as the warmth washed over him, a sharp sense of anxiety pierced his chest.
The world—the fate of all life—rested on his shoulders. He could no longer deny it; he was the key to either salvation or destruction.
Kai stood there, his mind racing. Was everything that had happened since his regression just leading him to this moment? Was this always his purpose, to break the cycle of life and death? He didn’t know. How could he know? Fate was strange, full of twists and turns, and though he had been granted this power, it was a gift he hadn’t asked for and couldn’t deny.
Questions still swirled in his mind—things he had yet to understand. But before he could ask them, before he could seek further answers, the pull of the Elder Tree began to lessen. The connection between them began to fade, the bond growing distant as Kai was gently yanked back to reality.
The world around him shifted once more. The soft whisper of the Elder Tree’s energy faded, leaving only the silence of the present. Kai stood alone, breathing heavily, his mind reeling.
He hadn’t noticed him going down on his knees, putting his entire weight on the tree. But he didn’t care. His mind was still reeling from the overwhelming vision.
Fuck…
“Arzan…”
Kai blinked, letting out a gasp and coming out of the sensations. He found himself staring up at Elder V’aleirith, who was gazing down on him with a knowing expression before his eyes went back to the Elder Tree.
He struggled to comprehend the flood of images, memories, and responsibility that had just been thrust upon him. His mind felt heavy with the weight of what he had seen, but the Elder Tree's presence was in his mind—a warmth that had felt like the embrace of a long-lost father, soothing yet ominous.
V’aleirith broke the silence. "It seems you’ve had quite the experience, just as I thought," she said. "How do you feel?"
Kai's throat tightened, and he exhaled slowly. "Unpleasant," he muttered, struggling to find the right words. "The Elder Tree... it was warm, like the touch of a long-lost father. But whatever I saw, it was... unpleasant. I feel like my responsibilities have just increased."
She nodded slowly, her gaze lingering on him. "I guess that’s true," she said thoughtfully. "But does that mean you’ve accepted your role as a Fatebreaker? Will you carry it forward and save the Elder Tree?"
The way she phrased it made Kai pause. There was hesitation in her voice, a hint of anxiety that seemed to lace her words. But Kai’s decision had already solidified in his heart.
He had always carried the weight of responsibility, from his oath to his desire to protect those he cared about. Being a Fatebreaker didn’t seem all that different from the vow he had made to himself long ago.
The only difference now was the magnitude of the stakes. If he could prevent the cataclysm, if he could save the Elder Tree, then maybe—just maybe—the death cycle wouldn't arrive. After all, the tree's death was the catalyst for it all.
Kai nodded steadily. "Yes," he said. "But are you really sure the Elder Tree is going to die anytime soon? It looks quite healthy to me."
Elder V’aleirith smiled softly, but there was a weariness in her eyes. "I know it looks that way. But it’s not really the case."
She stepped forward, placing her hand on the Elder Tree, her eyes closing as if in silent communication with the ancient being. Kai watched in silence, and then something shifted.
A subtle tremor ran through the earth beneath his feet, and the roots of the Elder Tree began to move. They twisted, curled, and crawled back, revealing patches of dead ground—brown and decaying where life should have been thriving.
Kai’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at the sight before him. The which-should’ve been vibrant roots now appeared withered and lifeless, a complete difference to the lush canopy above. He realized, with a growing sense of dread, that the putrid scent of decay had been hidden beneath the tree’s branches and the fragrant air that surrounded them.
His voice faltered as he turned to Elder
V’aleirith, his eyes wide with shock. "How did this happen?"
She sighed, a sad smile on her lips. "What is birthed must eventually meet its end," she said quietly. "The Elder Tree is no different. Its time is coming, and with it, the cycle of life and death is beginning to shift toward the death part."
Kai stood still, his eyes fixed on the dead roots, the grim reality settling into his bones. He then turned to Elder V’aleirith, the question on his lips, one that had burned in his mind since he saw the destruction that would come with the tree’s death. "Is there a way to save it?"
Elder V’aleirith looked at him and tilted her head sadly. "There are theories. But each one of them is mostly impossible. We've tried—me, the Council of Elders—but none have worked. There are other ways, but I don’t know if they will succeed."
Kai’s gaze narrowed as he processed her words. His instincts told him that there had to be a way, something he could do, and the Elder Tree’s death couldn’t be the end. "Can I take a look at them?"
She nodded. "Yes, you can take a look at the theories," she said softly. "But while you do so, I will gather something for you. Something you may need."
Kai raised an eyebrow. "What will that be?" he asked, not sure what to expect.
The elf’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "Druidic magic books. I know you’re looking for them."
Kai’s brow furrowed, confusion rippling through him. "How do you know that?"
Her eyes sparkled and she gave her hand to lift him up. "You seemed to have forgotten, but I’m a seer. I see more than you might think."
Kai felt a sudden shiver run through him. He couldn’t speak or respond to that knowing she had known his intentions all along, therefore, he nodded slowly.
"Let's go now. There’s a lot for you to do, Fatebreaker."
2025-01-01 20:41:36 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 52
Chen Ren sat cross-legged in the room that was allocated for him. The faraway muffled noise of the crowd in the arena could be heard and felt by him due to the sheer number of people cheering even before the fight had started.
Yet, he managed to ignore all of them. Instead, he focused on his dantian. His steadied his breath, his qi flowing smoothly through his meridians. He inhaled the herbal scent from his pills and slowly deepened his focus. His injuries had already healed, therefore, he had no physical distraction, leaving him powerful.
By now, the idea of losing to a sixth-star body forging realm cultivator would have been laughable. His strength, his techniques, his strategies—they had all carried him through countless battles. But he knew this wasn’t just any opponent.
It was Gu Tian.
The man carried surprises, much like himself.
Chen Ren could sense it—Gu Tian walked a unique path, just like him. His fight against Li Xuan had revealed glimpses of those secrets— Earth-grade techniques, the infamous thousand poison tongue. Regardless, there was something dangerous about him, something that gnawed at his instincts.
He tried to calm his thoughts, to focus on his breathing and to remind himself of his abilities. He had faced danger before—Cang Rui had been an annoying opponent, a formidable one at that, and Chen Ren had outmanoeuvred him with wit and tactics.
But this was different. Against Gu Tian, for the first time in a while, he wasn’t sure of his victory.
The faint sound of rustling broke his focus. His eyes snapped open, and he found Yalan sitting in front of him.
“The fight is going to start soon,” she said.
“Did you find anything more about Gu Tian?”
Yalan shook her head. “No. He kept to himself since the last fight, locked in his room. My senses picked up a conversation, but I couldn’t hear much from outside. He wasn’t alone, though. Whoever he’s talking to… it’s someone important. Right now, my theory is that he belongs to a major clan and that's why, he has Earth grade techniques in his arsenal.”
Chen Ren’s jaw tightened. “You think he’s from a major clan?”
“It’s possible. There’s a Gu Clan on the western side of the empire, but they don’t deal in poisons. And I doubt they’d be generous enough to grant Earth-grade techniques to a wandering member. He might have gotten those techniques from elsewhere.”
“Like a ruin or some legacy from a rogue cultivator?” Chen Ren suggested.
“Maybe,” she admitted. “Young cultivators with inherited legacies do appear from time to time. But knowing his background won’t give you much of an advantage. Focus on what you’ve seen. The man is cunning, and he’s not above using underhanded tactics.”
Chen Ren nodded at Yalan's words. "I know that. He uses poisons and Earth-grade techniques. It’s unfortunate I never practiced any body fortification techniques," he said, his tone tinged with regret.
Yalan gave him a small, encouraging purr. "Just be quick. You’re light on your feet, and unlike Li Xuan, you’re clever enough to keep an eye out for the poison. Use that to your advantage."
"I’ll handle it," Chen Ren replied and pushed himself up from his meditative stance.
Together, they walked to the arena grounds, the echoes of the crowd’s jubilant cheers growing louder with every step. The shouts and clamour swelled like a tidal wave as Chen Ren came into view, the energy of the audience washing over him. His eyes scanned the sea of faces, and he noticed something different this time—more people were cheering for him.
Was it his win against Cang Rui? His resourcefulness? Whatever the reason, he couldn’t let them down now.
As he approached the stage, his gaze locked onto Gu Tian, standing at the opposite end. The man offered a simple nod, calm and unbothered, as though this was just another sparring match.
Chen Ren returned the nod and turned his focus to the official in the center of the stage. The man raised a hand, signaling the crowd to quiet down.
"Before the final match begins, we are honored to hear a few words from our esteemed city lord, Li Baolong," the official announced, his voice booming across the arena.
All eyes turned to the city lord, who rose from his elevated seat. He looked over the crowd and waved at them, calming down the cheers that came his way.
"When this tournament was announced, Cloud Mist City was shrouded in dark clouds," Li Baolong began. "Demonic cultivator attacks had left us shaken. Many advised me to cancel this event, to avoid gathering so many people in one place. But I was stubborn. I believed in the resilience of the people and cultivators of Cloud Mist City and the surrounding regions. I believed that a mere demonic cultivator would not be able to scare us into submission. And all of you—every single one of you—have proved me right."
A thunderous cheer erupted from the crowd, echoing his sentiment.
Li Baolong raised a hand to quiet them once more. "Hundreds of young cultivators gathered here to prove their mettle. We have seen great battles, acts of courage, and strategies that rival even the most experienced warriors. And now, only two remain. Two cultivators who have surprised us all and earned their place here today."
His gaze briefly swept over Chen Ren and Gu Tian.
"Whoever wins today, know this: both of you are talented and determined. I have no doubt that you will rise through the realms and make your names known across the Empire. With that, I leave the stage to you. May the final fight of this tournament be a spectacle that we will remember for years to come."
The city lord’s words hung in the air, the crowd roaring their approval once more. Chen Ren took a deep breath, his focus narrowing as he stepped onto the stage, ready for the battle that would define the tournament.
As the city lord took his seat, the official stepped forward, his voice calm but
authoritative as he addressed the arena.
“The rules for the final round are clear, the same as before! Fatal strikes are allowed. You may cripple or kill your opponent, and any items the fallen cultivator possesses will be yours. Beyond that, the same criterias for disqualification apply: leaving the stage means defeat, surrender means defeat, and, of course, death means defeat. Now, let the final battle of this year's tournament begin!”
The gong rang, a deep, reverberating sound that seemed to shake the ground beneath Chen Ren's feet.
He barely had time to prepare when a wave of killing intent washed over him, freezing him in place for a heartbeat. It wasn’t just pressure; it was suffocating. Unlike anything he’d felt before—not even in Gu Tian’s fight with Li Xuan. The crowd let out a collective gasp, their cheers momentarily silenced.
Chen Ren’s instincts screamed at him as he met Gu Tian’s eyes. In that one second, every thought he had about his opponent changed.
No, this wasn’t some lucky cultivator who’d stumbled upon a legacy. This was someone who had killed—a lot. And now, Gu Tian looked at him with the same gaze a predator reserves for its prey.
That moment of hesitation nearly cost him. A glint of steel flashed in the air as Gu Tian's blade descended. Chen Ren barely managed to leap aside, the sharp edge carving through the spot where he had just stood.
But there was no reprieve. Gu Tian vanished and reappeared beside him in a blur, his Earth-grade movement technique making him impossibly fast. Chen Ren reacted on instinct, activating [Lightning Frenzy], unleashing crackling arcs of electricity in every direction.
Gu Tian jumped back with an almost casual grace, weaving through the chaotic lightning as though it were no more than an inconvenience. The gap he created was gone in an instant as he closed the distance again, his blade coming down in a relentless blur.
Chen Ren gritted his teeth as he narrowed his eyes and tracked the sword’s peculiar, almost hypnotic movements. It wasn’t a simple attack—this was a sword technique, one designed to confuse and overwhelm. He deflected one strike, then another, each one coming closer than the last, until—
A sharp pain shot through his shoulder as the edge of Gu Tian’s blade grazed him, slicing through his robe and leaving a shallow wound. Blood trickled down, but Chen Ren didn’t flinch. Instead, he slammed his palm into his pouch, pulling out several fire talismans.
With a surge of qi, he activated them, channelling the power through his lightning. The air around him exploded in a wave of searing heat as flames erupted, forcing Gu Tian to stumble back.
The flames licked at Gu Tian’s robe, scorching his hand, but he didn’t falter. Instead, his expression darkened as he reached into his robes, pulling out three small blades. With a flick of his wrist, they shot toward Chen Ren, each one whistling through the air with deadly precision.
Chen Ren’s eyes widened, his mind racing. He had no time to dodge all three.
His reflexes kicked in as the daggers shot toward him. Instead of dodging, he reached into his pouch and flung a handful of white powder into the air, chanting quickly under his breath. A translucent barrier shimmered into existence just in time to block the incoming projectiles.
One dagger, however, phased partially through the barrier. The mystical shield slowed it just enough for Chen Ren to sidestep, snatching the weapon midair. His eyes darted to its edge—dripping with a slick, dark liquid. Poison. Fuck!
Before he could react further, Gu Tian closed the distance, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. Chen Ren countered, activating [Thundering Fist] as his fist crackled with lightning, surging forward to meet the attack. His punch landed squarely on Gu Tian’s chest.
But instead of the satisfying impact of flesh and bone, it felt like striking solid stone. Gu Tian didn’t so much as flinch. His grin widened, teeth flashing as he licked his lips like a dog.
"You won't get past my techniques," Gu Tian taunted. "I'll kill you and take the medallion."
Chen Ren’s brow furrowed. "Medallion?" he muttered, but there was no time to process the cryptic statement. Gu Tian's blade was already coming down on him.
Chen Ren darted back, only to feel the cold edge of the platform beneath his heels. Trapped—nowhere to dodge forward without meeting Gu Tian’s blade or throwing himself off the stage.
Gu Tian smirked, lunging for the kill.
Desperate, Chen Ren pulled out another talisman, its glowing edges catching Gu Tian’s attention. The grin on his opponent’s face widened.
"Another fire talisman?" Gu Tian scoffed, sidestepping smoothly. "Your tricks won’t work—"
Before he could finish, Chen Ren burned the talisman with his lightning. "I don’t only carry fire talismans," he muttered.
In an instant, a brilliant flash of blinding light engulfed the battlefield. Gu Tian cried out, staggering as he covered his eyes, momentarily disoriented.
Chen Ren, who had closed his eyes before activating the [Blinding Talisman], claimed the opportunity. He charged forward, his fist crackling with lightning again. This time, his [Thundering Fist] connected squarely with Gu Tian’s jaw, sending him flying back.
Gu Tian crashed heavily onto the platform, the force of the impact sending cracks spidering across the surface. But Chen Ren didn’t hold back. He surged forward and continuously punched his face. Each blow echoed across the arena, drawing gasps from the crowd.
Gu Tian gritted his teeth, forcing himself to regain his footing.
With a swift motion, he threw a flurry of daggers, the deadly blades gleaming as they shot toward Chen Ren.
Seeing the attack, Chen Ren propelled himself into the air. His movements were agile as he dodged the projectiles. Yet, as he hung momentarily in the air, his body twisted mid-flight, he realized the leap had left him wide open to a counterattack.
Gu Tian retrieved his blade, lunging forward to cover the distance between them. His speed was terrifying, but just as he closed in, Chen Ren’s eyes began to glow faintly.
Gu Tian froze mid-charge, his instincts flaring as he sensed an incoming attack. He muttered something
incomprehensible under his breath, stepping back cautiously, his blade poised.
But nothing happened.
Chen Ren smirked. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled the poisoned dagger he’d caught earlier straight at Gu Tian.
"Who said glowing eyes meant an attack?!" Chen Ren quipped.
The dagger flew true, striking Gu Tian square in the chest. For a moment, Chen Ren saw victory on the horizon. Without hesitation, he launched forward, his movement technique propelling him toward his downed opponent. His fist shot out, crackling with lightning, ready to end it.
But just as his first punch landed, Gu Tian’s body convulsed violently. A foul, dark liquid erupted from his mouth, spraying out in a torrent of poison. Chen Ren barely managed to twist away in time, but the poison splattered across his arm, sizzling against his skin.
He quickly jumped back, shaking his arm free of the venom. But Gu Tian wasn’t finished. The man almost seemed to revel in the chaos he created. The poison kept spraying, jetting from his mouth in a continuous stream, and the stage below them began to melt, the once sturdy stone now eating away into
nothingness. Chen Ren’s eyes widened. There was nowhere to run.
Every inch of the arena was being consumed by the toxic spray. The crowd’s collective gasp echoed as the platform began to crack and decay, unable to withstand the powerful venom that Gu Tian expelled with such ease.
Chen Ren looked back at his opponent, and the sight almost froze his blood.
Despite blood dripping out from the wounds he had given him, Gu Tian’s grin only widened—a bloodthirsty, maniacal smile that radiated with a terrifying, almost psychotic rage. It was the kind of grin that made Chen Ren’s instincts flare with unease. Poison dripping down his mouth just added to the effect.
Something was really wrong with this man. Really, fucking wrong.
The air grew heavier as Gu Tian, blood dripping from his wounds, lunged forward again.
His movements flickered like a shadow, impossibly fast and hard to follow. Chen Ren struggled to track him, but he didn’t waver. His mind sharpened, blocking out the pain and the poison that surrounded him.
He thought of a way out of it. There was no way to run with the poison melting the stage and it gave Gu Tian a big advantage. As his mind ran to find a way out, a plan formed.
Chen Ren quickly pulled out a handful of talismans, his fingers moving with precision as he threw them into the air. The paper strips fluttered before igniting with flashes of lightning as their power activated. Energy surged in the air, crackling like a brewing storm. Just as Gu Tian’s blade swept toward him, Chen Ren acted.
He dashed forward, stepping onto the talismans, which solidified into stone under his feet. Without pause, he used the makeshift platforms to launch himself high into the air. The crowd erupted as he soared over Gu Tian, who looked up in surprise.
Chen Ren didn’t waste the opening. From above, he unleashed [Lightning Frenzy], a rapid flurry of electric strikes that rained down on Gu Tian. Lightning crackled as the blows landed. And it left Gu Tian stunned and struggling to defend himself. His hands came to his face, trying to avoid the attacks, but his body convulsed with each hit.
Before the latter could recover, Chen Ren landed in front of him, his fist crackling with raw energy.
With one swift motion, he drove it into Gu Tian’s stomach. The impact sent shockwaves rippling across the platform, hurling Gu Tian through the air.
He crashed past the edge of the arena, falling hard and motionless.
The crowd roared as Chen Ren stood at the center of the stage, breathing heavily but victorious. The poison sizzling on the platform no longer mattered. Gu Tian lay outside the ring, bloodied and defeated.
Chen Ren, though battered, stood tall, a rare sense of calm washing over him.
It had been a difficult fight, but he had won. Yes, he had finally won.
The arena trembled, the ground beneath them shaking as the official's voice rang out. "Gu Tian is out of bounds and disqualified. Chen Ren wins the match and the tournament! Give a loud applause for him!"
The roar of the crowd surged around him again, deafening in its intensity. The applause was overwhelming, each clap like a thunderous wave crashing against the walls of the arena. The stadium was alive with jubilant celebration, the energy of thousands of voices echoing through the air.
But for Chen Ren, it all felt distant. His legs buckled, and he fell to his knees, exhausted beyond belief. The adrenaline that had carried him through the battle was beginning to wear off, leaving him with the weight of his own fatigue. His chest heaved with shallow breaths, the aftershocks of the fight still rippling through his body.
Slowly, his eyes drifted across the arena. The cheers. The people celebrating. The knowledge that he had won. His mind tried to catch up with the reality of it, and a small, disbelieving smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He had done it. He had won the tournament.
But then, a faint whisper reached his ears, something cold and malicious. "No, it can't be like this. I can't lose. Not to you. Not to such trash."
Chen Ren’s heart skipped a beat, and his gaze snapped downward. His eyes locked onto Gu Tian, lying in a pool of blood and poison, the remnants of their fight still hanging heavy in the air. Despite the state he was in, Gu Tian's eyes burned with a hatred so intense it felt like it could consume everything around him.
Chen Ren’s blood ran cold as he watched the man, whose body should have been limp and unconscious, begin to twitch.
A low growl escaped from his throat, and before Chen Ren could react, something inside him snapped.
The man's eyes, once dark and full of malice, shifted—turning a deep crimson. An immediate wave of energy seemed to ripple out from Gu Tian's form, extremely dark and repulsie like an entire storm brewing beneath his skin. The bloodied figure stood, impossibly, his robes simmering as dark chains erupted out of it, wrapping around Chen Ren like tendrils of doom.
Dark energy emanated from Gu Tian, rolling outward in waves, coating everything with an oppressive aura. The entire arena seemed to freeze for a moment, the temperature dropping, and Chen Ren’s skin prickled as though he were standing in the presence of something he shouldn’t.
His eyes widened, his body instinctively tensing. "What... is this?"
Before he could make sense of it, a familiar voice cut through the air. Yalan. "Chen Ren, get back! He's a demonic—!"
2025-01-01 20:29:46 +0000 UTC
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Hello, everyone I recently posted 4 chapters of a novel I worked on months back and you all really seemed to love it. I have actually dropped the book before not knowing if people would enjoy it but it seems like my worry was for naught. Would you want me to continue it?
PS - I won't be taking out time from Magus Reborn or Dao of Money if I work on it. I will only write it if I have free time like on weekends.
2024-12-31 15:09:49 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 158
Kai and the rest of his troupe moved gracefully through the lands of Sylvastra, following the five elf elders who walked alongside him. They were all quiet, leaving past all the hushed whispers. But their eyes spoke a lot—they were fixed on Kai and his group as if they were rare beasts they had never seen before.
That was true—Kai doubted most elves had gone far enough from their ancient forest to see humans in person.
Kai ignored the stares he was getting from the elder elves and continued to walk. He noticed that the ordinary elves who had gathered earlier to watch had already dispersed, probably returning to their homes and tasks. Raven had also left, taking her family with her after asking Kai for permission. Without a pause, he had agreed.
As they walked, his eyes were drawn upward to the towering trees that surrounded them. He felt dwarfed by their sheer size, every single one reached into the sky like the pillars of some vast natural cathedral. Their thick trunks were a deep, rich brown, and their leaves shimmered faintly with colours that seemed to shift in the light—gold, green, and silver blending seamlessly.
He noticed fruits hanging from some branches, glowing faintly. The mana rich environment seemed to have an effect on them and he was sure that they would have special properties.
Kai's eyes brightened as they landed on one particular tree he recognized—Lightwood.
Kai, knowing the importance of lightwood—especially for the creation of armour for the upcoming battles—didn’t hesitate to take a closer look.
There should be more around, he thought to himself as his eyes trailed upward of the tree. Its bark was smooth and pale, almost white, with veins of soft, ethereal golden light running through it. The leaves were small, veiny, and translucent, and they glowed in the shade.
Once he laid eyes on the majestic tree, he found himself unable to look away. It was almost as if the tree were calling to him. Then again, it could simply be the overwhelming abundance of mana saturating the air. He was certain that more than half of these trees were potent sources of mana.
Kai sighed in delight. In a way, Sylvastra was a paradise for Mages and alchemists—a dream come true. If he could spend just a year here, he was confident he could break past the fifth circle.
V'aleirith, who was walking beside him, must have noticed his wandering gaze because she slowed down her steps and finally broke the silence.
Her voice was weary but extremely calm when she spoke. "You look fascinated and it seems like you didn't come here just to learn about the prophecy."
Kai shifted his attention to her, their eyes meeting. "There are a few reasons, but the main one is the prophecy of the cycle of life and death. I’ve found no mention of it anywhere else."
"That’s not surprising. The prophecy is ancient—so old that it predates many of our written records. Prophecies are tricky things, Arzan. Some come true, some don’t, and many are simply forgotten, lost to the flow of time. But this one… we’ve seen signs. Tangible signs of its fulfillment. And because of its nature, we’ve worked hard to keep it hidden from the world. If it were to become widely known, the chaos it could unleash would be immeasurable."
Her eyes shifted to the trees that they were passing, distant in thought. "Parasites always emerge during times of great change, at the ends of cycles. We’ve seen their influence before, and we see it again now."
Kai's eyes darkened at her words. "Is it truly the end of times?"
His mind wandered back to the true end he had once lived through. That had been one hell of a nightmare, and compared to that, the current era seemed peaceful, even though there were totally different challenges for him to face.
V'aleirith looked at him thoughtfully, her silver eyebrows frowning at his words. "Perhaps not the end as you imagine it," she said. "But it is the beginning of an end. If we fail to act, what follows may come sooner than we estimate. And if it does, no one—not elves, not humans, nor any other race—will be ready for what’s to come."
As they continued their conversation, a voice from behind cut through the quiet forest. It was sharp and dripping with disapproval.
“What we are doing is blasphemous,” an elf yelled from behind. Kai turned back to see an extremely tall elf. His facial expressions refrained him from showing any emotions but he stared right at Elder V'aleirith. “We are going against everything Sylvastra has stood for. Not only are we letting an outsider and his companions tread these sacred grounds, but one who clearly has no selfless intentions.”
Elder V'aleirith sighed, letting a huge breath of air through her nose. “You don’t decide who is selfish and who is selfless, Caelith,” she replied. “From what I’ve seen of him, he wishes to stop the prophecy as much as we do. Perhaps even more so.” she gave a silent nod to Kai, as if she understood his intentions. “Anyone who dares to go against fate is selfless, no matter what their reasons might appear to be.”
The elf, Caelith scoffed, his voice rising. “You speak as if you know his heart. But how can you? Letting him in was already a mistake. Bringing him here, during the Rite of Binding—no outsider has ever been part of it! What if something goes wrong because of them?”
Another elder, older, with short hair, turned his gaze on the man. “Enough,” he said. “We’ve already allowed them in. Hostility serves no purpose now.”
“But, Flossbor—” Caelith began, only to be cut off again.
“Be silent,” Elder V'aleirith snapped this time, clearly looking like her patience was thinning. “No one will do anything to disrupt the rite. Keep walking, or leave if you can’t hold your tongue. But don’t open your mouth just to spout foolish assumptions like a senile fool.”
Caelith let out a frustrated huff, muttering under his breath, but he said no more. Kai watched the exchange with quiet curiosity. He filed the term “Rite of Binding” away in his mind, deciding to ask about it later.
But he didn’t think V'aleirith would lose her patience like that. Throughout the interactions they'd had, she'd been extremely calm, and patient. And to stand up for him against a fellow council elder spoke volumes. It made the reason for his presence here and the prophecy much more important in his mind.
No one spoke after that as they moved through a narrow path surrounded by redwoods.
Soon, the forest began to open up.
The trees around them grew sparser. A soft light swept through their enormous trunks. But it wasn’t that made him stop in his tracks.
A slight gasp escaped his lips.
The clearing was right in front of them, and in the centre, stood the Elder Tree. If the other trees of Sylvastra were majestic giants, this one was their god. Its trunk was impossibly thick, rising straight into the sky until its top disappeared into the clouds. Branches spread out like the arms of the sky, and roots twisted and coiled across the ground, glowing faintly with veins of pure mana. The air was heavy with energy, thick enough that Kai felt his skin prickle and his breath catch.
The emerald-green leaves twinkled, speckled with golden light, as though the tree itself held the stars within its canopy. Tiny orbs of light floated lazily around it, moving in different, meandering patterns. At first glance, they looked like glowing fireflies, but as Kai squinted, he realized they weren’t insects. They were spirits, their forms shifting and moving with soft, flickering shapes.
The entire scene was overwhelming, like stepping into a painting too grand and vibrant to be real. The Elder Tree wasn’t just alive—it pulsed with the purest mana Kai had ever felt. It was as if the tree was the heart of the world. The beats echoed through the forest.
His companions were equally stunned.
Claire’s eyes were wide, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… so pretty,” she said, the awe clear in her tone and her eyes.
The rest of the people agreed with her. They all nodded but were too busy taking in the surreal image of the tree to say anything.
Kai’s fingers itched with the urge to reach out at one of the glowing roots, to feel the raw energy coursing through it. But he resisted, knowing better than to disrupt something so sacred.
For a moment, he simply stood there, letting the sight burn itself into his memory. The Elder Tree wasn’t just a marvel—it was a promise, a reminder of the power that flowed through Sylvastra and the importance of the journey that he’d come so far for.
He felt lucky to be able to witness something so… flourishing.
He turned to look at the elders looking at them. Elder V'aleirith's smile was warm as she took in their wide-eyed reactions to the Elder Tree.
She stepped towards Kai.
“I’m glad your companions liked it,” she said. “But from here, we must continue alone. The rest of you will need to stay behind.”
Before Kai could respond, Gareth stepped forward. “I can’t leave Lord Arzan’s side. I’m here to protect him.”
Elder V'aleirith's smile didn't falter. If anything, it grew more patient, almost grandmotherly. “Don’t worry, young knight,” she said. “I won’t hurt him. I must protect him as well.” Her eyes softened, but her voice remained commanding. “We’ve already prepared accommodations with the tribes for all of you. Follow Flossbor and the other elders—they will guide you safely.”
Gareth hesitated, his hand instinctively moving to his sword hilt. His gaze flicked between Kai and the elves, distrust clear in his stance.
Kai stepped forward, placing a hand on Gareth’s shoulder. “It’s fine. Go with the others. I’ll be fine.”
Claire frowned but said nothing, her worry plain on her face. The mercenaries exchanged uneasy glances, but Kai’s expression left no room for argument. Reluctantly, they turned to follow Flossbor and the elders, who waited patiently at the edge of the clearing.
Kai watched them go, his eyes lingering as they disappeared into the dense forest. Only when the last of their figures were gone did he turn back to V'aleirith, who stood watching him with a small, knowing smile.
“This reminds me of our first meeting in the dream. Back then, I couldn’t even speak properly with you. But now, we can talk in peace.”
Kai nodded, his eyes flickering to the towering Elder Tree. “You said the Elder Tree wanted to talk to me. How?”
V'aleirith began walking, her steps light as she guided herself with the stick she carried, and Kai followed her. “The Elder Tree speaks to all of us,” she said. “You just need to listen with an open heart.”
Kai frowned, clearly confused. “Open heart?”
She chuckled softly, turning to him with a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. Let me be clearer. To hear the Elder Tree, you need to touch it. It will communicate with you directly.” She gestured toward the massive trunk. “The experience will be unlike anything you’ve ever known. Unique to you. So, I’d say, open your heart to it. Hear it, see it.”
Kai’s gaze moved upward, tracing the trunk of the Elder Tree as it disappeared into the sky.
“And I’ll get my answers?” he asked.
“Some of them. I’ve already peered into your soul. Forgive me, but it was necessary to understand the Fatebreaker before calling for your help.”
Kai tilted his head and looked back at the elder. Her small smile gave way to so many other questions. “Fatebreaker?”
“A Fatebreaker… is someone who defies their predetermined fate. Most lives follow a thread, a path that is already destined for them. But you... When you chose to jump through time, you severed those threads. You became untethered, free from the constraints of fate. Such acts usually come at a cost—death, madness, or worse. Yet you survived. And in doing so, you became a Fatebreaker, one who can influence the fate of this world.”
Kai absorbed her words in silence. “If you can see fate,” he said slowly, “then what is this world’s fate?”
“You already know it.”
He nodded, his jaw tightening. “Yes, but why?” His voice rose slightly, emotion breaking through his controlled tone. “Why is it doomed to destruction? I always thought it was because of us—humans. Wars, greed, blind conquest with no thought for the innocent. We created forbidden zones, dead mana that spread like poison, suffocating the world. But now, you’re telling me this was always supposed to happen?”
His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his eyes burning with frustration as he looked into hers. “Why?"
Her eyes softened, but there was no answer on her face. The ancient burden of knowledge weighed heavily in her gaze, and for a moment, she said nothing, letting the silence stretch between them.
“I won’t give you that answer,” she said. “The Elder Tree will. You just have to ask for it.”
Kai turned his head to look at her, searching her expression for any sign of deceit. There was none. Just quiet conviction.
“Okay,” he said finally, exhaling softly. “I’ll ask for it.”
He turned toward the Elder Tree, its immense presence looming before him. He took one step after another, moving towards it. And it all felt heavy. His thoughts, the mana—everything.
His breathing slowed as he finally stood in front of the tree, its bark looking like a mosaic of twisting patterns that were faintly pulsing with light. When he placed his hand in the tree, he saw his veins through the bright golden glow of its bark.
And, he waited.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then, a sudden force yanked him forward, as though the tree itself had reached out and pulled him in. The world around him vanished in an instant, leaving only darkness—vast and endless.
***
Amyra sat cross-legged on the rooftop, her fingers absently tracing the grooves in the tiles as she gazed down at the training yard below. Sentinel, her creation, towered over the guards as Knight Killian barked orders left and right. The golem, with its hulking frame and glowing core, moved methodically, swatting away strikes and lurching forward in calculated bursts.
A slight smile played on her lips as she watched her work in action. Though she couldn’t be down there among them, thanks to Knight Killian’s insistence on her recovery, this was enough for now. Watching Sentinel perform filled her with a quiet pride. Every block, every movement, felt like a validation of the hours she’d poured into its creation.
Her smile faltered slightly as her thoughts wandered. When will I get to build another?
From what she’d gathered through hushed conversations with the maids, the forge was a treasure trove of possibilities right now.
Diagrams and blueprints of other golems filled the space, some of them sketched by none other than Lord Arzan himself.
One design in particular intrigued her—a smaller construct resembling a bird, something the maids called “drones.” She didn’t fully understand what they were, but the thought of exploring their design stirred an ache of curiosity in her chest. Yet, for now, the forge was off-limits to her.
Amyra sighed, her gaze returning to Sentinel as it deflected another attack. The core in its chest pulsed faintly.
“Amyra,” a voice called from behind her.
Startled, she turned to see Princess Amara standing a few paces away. A subtle smile on her face as she clutched her hands in front of her and looked at her.
“What are you doing up here?” Princess Amara asked.
Amyra turned back to the training yard. “I was watching the training session, Princess Amara.”
Amara walked towards the railings gracefully and leaned slightly, peering at the scene below. “You can call me Amara,” she said. “Our names are already similar enough.”
Amyra shook her head slightly. “Our statuses aren’t.”
The princess laughed softly, brushing her hair aside. “That doesn’t matter. I heard you’re a Mage being taught by Count Arzan himself. That makes your status higher than a commoner’s, doesn’t it? So, call me Amara. At least when we’re not in public.”
Amyra glanced at her, surprised by the casual offer. She hesitated before finally nodding. “Alright… Amara.”
It felt weird—to call a princess by her name. But Amyra wasn’t the one to disrespect a kind offer.
“Good,” Princess Amara said, a satisfied grin spreading across her face. She sat down beside Amyra, her attention briefly flicking back to the training yard. “So, what’s it like? Seeing something you made standing there like that? The other maids told me that golem was yours.”
“It feels…” Amyra paused, searching for the right words. “It feels fulfilling. Like part of me is out there, helping in some way.”
“I imagine it must be. But I also imagine you want to do more.”
Amyra tilted her head. “Why are you here, Amara?”
The princess turned to her, her grin returning. “I was bored. And I wanted to get to know you better.”
Amyra blinked, taken aback. “Why?”
“Why not?” Amara said simply, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. “You’re fascinating. And if Count Arzan trusts your potential enough to mentor you, then I think you’re worth knowing.”
Amyra didn’t know how to respond to that. She turned her attention back to Sentinel, her mind swirling with questions.
"I heard you played a big role during the beast wave. Your powers even protected Knight Kiliian. That’s incredible. Honestly, I’m just… fascinated by you. I’ve never been in a battle, you know."
Amyra turned to her, studying her expression. “Just that is enough for you to want to get to know me better?” she asked sceptically.
Amara’s blush deepened, and she laughed softly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well, that… and the fact that you’re being taught by Count Arzan,” she admitted. “I heard he rescued you. He helped me out too, so I guess I feel like we have some things in common. That’s why I wanted to get to know you better.”
Amyra raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet, letting Amara continue
“Besides,” the princess added, “I’ve never really had friends. My maid, Anya, is always there for me, but… she doesn’t treat me like a friend. She treats me like someone she serves. Now that I’m here in Veralt, I thought maybe… I could try. Make an effort, you know? So…” She hesitated, glancing at Amyra shyly. “How about it, Amyra? Will you be my friend?”
2024-12-30 23:22:52 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 51
As the pills did their work, Chen Ren moved to the arena stands where his people were sitting for the second round of the semifinals. The matches were all scheduled for the same day, largely due to the mounting tension from recent demonic cultivator attacks and the city wanting to wrap up the tournament quickly.
As Chen Ren moved through the crowd to where Tang Xiulan and others should be, a few spectators recognised him. Not only did they do, but some cheered for him with their fists in the air.
He also noticed a group of kids looking at him with wide, sparkling eyes. Some kids among them had their mouths hung open. Cultivators were revered in Cloud Mist City, thanks to the proximity of the Soaring Sword Sect, and these children undoubtedly dreamed of one day reaching such heights.
Their sparkly eyes filled him with an odd sense of pride and awkwardness as if he were a fabled hero plucked from a storybook. Heavens, he was not.
Still, he offered them a small wave and moved past, scanning the stands for familiar faces.
Fortunately, he didn’t have to search for long. Tang Xiulan stood near an improvised stall, selling ice cream and fried chips alongside Anji. Qing He and Tang Yuqiu sat nearby, with Yalan sprawled lazily on Qing He’s lap.
Despite her relaxed posture, Yalan stirred the moment Chen Ren approached, cracking one eye open. Chen Ren gave a small nod to her and looked around. The kids stood on their seats, craning their necks for a better view of the arena grounds.
Everyone was excited for what was about to come, and so was he. When he got closer, Xiulan approached. Her eyes widened in concern as she looked for any scratch or injury on his face. “Young Master! Are you okay? Congratulations on your victory, but are you really uninjured?”
“Minor scratches,” Chen Ren replied with a faint smile. “I took a pill. I’ll be fine before the next match. Don’t worry about it now. Did you shut off the noodle stall?”
Xiulan nodded. “Yes, young master. The kids were begging me to let them watch the semifinals and finals. They’ve been working hard, so they missed all the earlier rounds. Besides, most people are here to see the end of battles anyway.”
“That’s okay,” Chen Ren said with a shrug. “I’m curious about who I’m going to fight next, too.”
Xiulan smiled, pulling out a scoop of ice cream and holding it out to him. “Then you should sit and watch. Relax for a bit and eat this. The heat’s unbearable.”
He considered brushing it off—the heat didn’t bother him much thanks to his cultivation—but thought better of it. Ice cream is ice cream, it takes a fool to say no to ice cream. Taking the scoop, he moved to sit next to Qing He and Tang Yuqiu.
“Congratulations on your victory,” Yuqiu greeted him, smiling “Thanks to you, I’m going to make a killing in the betting market. Don’t forget to win the finals too.”
“Against Li Xuan?” Chen Ren arched a brow, biting into the ice cream. “Even I’m not sure I can win against him.”
Tang Yuqiu laughed, waving off his doubts with a dismissive hand in the air. “Just do your best and don’t lose within the first five minutes. I’ve got my reputation as a savvy bettor to maintain!”
Qing He leaned back, her eyes never leaving the arena grounds as she spoke in a very pointed tone. “It’s not decided that you’re going to fight him. People who assume things before they happen often find themselves... surprised.”
Chen Ren glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “Are you saying Li Xuan’s going to lose? Or is this just another one of your old lady proverbs?”
Qing He scoffed, her lips tightening to a thin line. “Take it however you want.”
Yalan, still draped lazily on Qing He’s lap, chimed in without opening her eyes fully. “She’s right, though. Even if I think Li Xuan should win, you never know what an opponent might have up their sleeve. You surprised Cang Rui, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, that’s true,” Chen Ren admitted, his gaze drifting toward the arena below.
His thoughts raised questions and possibilities about the way these women looked at the tournament. He couldn’t blame them—there was some truth in their words. No one knew what would come, and every fight seemed to reveal different beasts hidden in these cultivators. However—
A loud clap echoed through the air, drawing their attention. The official stepped into the centre of the arena, his booming announcement silencing the crowd. Chen Ren’s eyes narrowed as he spotted Li Xuan and Gu Tian entering from opposite sides, their auras already clashing as they looked at each other with narrowed gazes.
Soon, the official spoke. “After the first semifinal, only one spot remains to challenge Chen Ren! Will Li Xuan maintain his title as the city’s prodigy, or will Gu Tian, the dark horse of the tournament surprise us all with an upset? Let’s find out!”
After the introduction that got him a lot of cheers, the official launched into an explanation of the rules—the same ones that were announced before he fought, but Chen Ren’s focus remained on the two competitors. Li Xuan stood on one end, his blade glowing faintly. Gu Tian stood on the other end, the man’s face devoid of any emotions, only primal hunger in his eyes.
By the end of the rules, both of them were gripping their weapons tightly, eager to begin the fight.
“Begin!” the official yelled, stepping back.
Gu Tian wasted no time. With a devastating shout, he dashed forward, his sword raised high. “I’ve been waiting to fight the city’s genius! Let’s see how long you last!”
Li Xuan smirked, raising his own sword to block the strike. Sparks danced along his blade as lightning surged to meet the impact.
“You talk too much for someone this weak,” Li Xuan said and smiled. “Credit where it’s due—you’ve made it this far. But this is the end.”
With a sharp twist of his wrist, Li Xuan
deflected the blow and surged forward, his blade crackling with lightning as he countered with blistering speed. The air thrummed as his sword arced toward Gu Tian—but the strike found only empty space.
Chen Ren blinked, his breath catching as Gu Tian’s figure blurred, reappearing a split second later behind Li Xuan. The sharp clang of steel echoed as Li Xuan twisted just in time to intercept the next strike.
“He moved so fast,” Chen Ren muttered under his breath, his eyes fixed on Gu Tian’s fluid movements.
“It’s not an ordinary movement technique,” Qing He explained while squinting her eyes to take a better look at what was happening. “I’ve seen something like it before. Cultivators who specialize in stealth use it. That one’s at least Earth grade.”
Chen Ren frowned. An Earth-grade technique? Where did he get that?
Back in the arena, the battle intensified.
Lightning surged from Li Xuan’s blade—sharp and crackling, making the air thick static as the ground scorched beneath his attacks. But Gu Tian moved between the strikes, his movements seamless, each dodge bringing him closer to his opponent. It was clear that Li Xuan wasn't able to keep up with Gu Tian's movements and was blindly attacking him.
With a sudden burst of speed, Gu Tian finally closed the gap, his sword cutting a clean line through the air and striking Li Xuan’s side. The crowd was suddenly on their feet, and the entire arena erupted into gasps and cheers as the prodigy staggered, his face scrunched up with disbelief.
Chen Ren leaned forward as he tried to analyse the incoming strikes. The fight was far from over, but one thing was clear—this battle was going to be much closer than anyone had expected.
Gu Tian’s blade connected, but instead of tearing flesh, a golden light flared around Li Xuan’s body. The impact reverberated through the arena, and Gu Tian was forced to leap back as sparks scattered from his strike.
Li Xuan sneered, his sword glowing as he stepped forward. “You think brute force is enough to pierce my shield?” His voice was loud, and his confidence flared, making the crowd roar in response.
Without hesitation, he raised his blade high, lightning crackling along its edge. “One Slash Strike!”
The air seemed to split as his sword came down, a blazing arc of energy tearing toward Gu Tian. But just as the strike neared, Gu Tian’s body twisted impossibly. With a burst of acrobatics, he vaulted into the air, flipping over Li Xuan’s head with breathtaking precision.
As he landed, Gu Tian spun and lashed out with a sharp kick, his heel slamming into Li Xuan’s back. The force pushed the prodigy forward several steps, and his eyes burned with fury as lightning began to surge wildly around him.
“You’ll regret that!” Li Xuan roared.
The storm intensified, streaks of lightning shooting out from his body, moving through the ground and forming a shimmering cage around the arena. The electricity crackled menacingly, the energy radiating so fiercely that the ground beneath their feet began to scorch visibly.
Chen Ren leaned forward, his fingers gripping the edge of his seat. “He’s trapping him,” he murmured.
Gu Tian’s movements faltered as the lightning struck him from all directions, crackling against his skin. His eyes narrowed, as if he was surprised for a moment by Li Xuan’s tactic. But instead of collapsing, his body began to change. A dull sheen coated his form, his skin hardening like tempered steel. It glistened all of a sudden, making the man look unnatural.
“Impressive,” Li Xuan said, closing the distance between them in an instant. “But it won’t save you.”
With a shout, he swung his blade in another One Slash Strike, the power radiating from his weapon enough to send visible ripples through the air.
Then, just as the strike was about to land, Gu Tian smirked. In one swift motion, he tilted his head back and spewed a dark, viscous liquid from his mouth.
The crowd gasped as the black substance splattered across Li Xuan’s body. His movements faltered instantly, his limbs trembling as his sword dropped slightly.
“What is this?!” Li Xuan growled, staggering back. His previously fluid movements became sluggish, his breathing labored.
“Out of nowhere, Gu Tian has sprayed what appears to be poison on Li Xuan!” the official shouted, his voice echoing across the stunned arena. “Will the reigning champion recover?”
The lightning cage dissipated, its crackling energy fading as Li Xuan’s control wavered. Gu Tian wasted no time. He lunged forward, his blade a blur as it slashed into Li Xuan’s stomach.
Li Xuan gasped, blood staining his robes as his glare locked onto Gu Tian. Lightning surged from his hand in a desperate strike, but the once-deadly arcs fizzled weakly, lacking their usual precision and force.
Gu Tian sidestepped the attack with ease, his movement technique allowing him to flow like water. He struck again and again, each blow chipping away at Li Xuan’s defenses.
Chen Ren watched in tense silence, his eyes darting between the fighters. “That poison... it’s affecting his qi flow. He can’t channel his energy properly.”
Gu Tian pressed his advantage, raising his blade for the finishing blow. Just as the sword came down, Li Xuan’s head in its path, Gu Tian froze.
For a moment, the arena was silent except for the faint hum of dissipating lightning. Gu Tian’s expression hardened, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. Then, with a growl, he stepped back and drove his foot into Li Xuan’s chest, sending the champion sprawling out of the bloodstained arena floor.
The official, his face a mix of shock and awe, stammered. “Gu Tian... wins! Last year’s champion, Li Xuan, has fallen!” He yelled the last part.
The crowd erupted, their cheers shaking the arena. “It’s been a tournament full of surprises!” the official continued, his voice climbing over the noise. “For the first time in years, two young cultivators will face off in the finals. Who will claim victory?!”
Chen Ren sat back, his heart pounding as he stared at the battered form of Li Xuan being carried off the field. He kept the ice cream bowl away and inhaled deeply. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from the bloodied spot where Li Xuan had been dragged off moments ago. His mind churned with questions as he turned to Qing He and Yalan, his brow furrowed.
"What kind of poison was that? And why didn’t it affect Gu Tian, considering it was in his mouth all this time?"
Qing He crossed her arms. “It’s likely Black Veil Poison. It’s infamous for paralyzing the body and making it nearly impossible to channel qi. It’s hard to defend against, especially when applied like that—directly to the skin.” She paused. “As for why Gu Tian wasn’t affected, it might be because he—”
Yalan cut her off. “Thousand Poison Tongue,” she said, drawing Chen Ren’s attention. “It’s an alchemical technique. Rare, dangerous, and borderline insane to practice. The method is basically exposing your tongue to countless poisons over the years, forcing your body to develop immunity. Eventually, the tongue becomes numb to toxins, allowing the practitioner to handle deadly substances like they’re nothing.” She purred as if this was an interesting topic of conversation. “Mastering it means walking a thin line between life and death countless times. Gu Tian must have gone through hell to achieve that level of immunity.”
Chen Ren’s jaw tightened as he processed her explanation.
Yalan’s voice broke through his thoughts. “You need to be prepared. Li Xuan is strong, but he’s predictable. He fights with overwhelming power, and that works—most of the time. Gu Tian, though… I can’t fathom how he clawed his way to the finals, but he’s not someone to underestimate. Against him, it’ll come down to tricks. Your tricks against his. Whoever has the better surprises will win.”
Chen Ren nodded. He looked back at Gu Tian, who now met his gaze with an unsettling calm, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He soon turned around and waved at the raging crowd with an eerie calmness.
The crowd’s cheers echoed in Chen Ren’s ears, but all he could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat.
***
Gu Tian's gaze followed the city guards as they carried Li Xuan’s paralyzed body from the arena. The defeated champion still managed to glare at him, his eyes burning with anger. But Gu Tian had already stopped caring. Li Xuan was a nuisance, no more. What truly gnawed at him now was the bitter frustration of being denied the kill.
His jaw tightened as he thought, “Why did you stop me from killing him? It’s allowed in these matches. And by the rules, his possessions would’ve been mine. That sword of his… It's a good one.”
A voice echoed in his mind, ancient and rough. “You’re an idiot,” his master spat. “That’s the city lord’s son you just fought. Killing him would’ve brought the entire city down on your head. And don’t forget the Soaring Sword Sect—do you want them hunting you too?”
Gu Tian’s lips curled into a sneer. “Aren’t we already against the righteous sects? What’s one more enemy? Besides, you’ve always said I’m like a cockroach—hard to kill. Let them come. I can always run and grow stronger.”
His master’s voice was cold and cutting. “Cockroach or not, you’re overestimating yourself. Do you truly think you can escape if a group of Foundation Establishment cultivators comes after you? You’re not invincible. Not yet.”
Gu Tian chuckled darkly. “You weren’t saying that when I survived eating all those poisons to master the Thousand Poison Tongue.”
“Surviving doesn’t mean thriving,” his master shot back. “Stay focused. The real target is within your grasp. We’ve finally located the medallion, and I’m not about to let you ruin this opportunity with your arrogance. One mistake, and we’re back to square one or worse.”
Gu Tian’s grin faded as he exhaled deeply, his gaze sweeping over the stands. “It’ll be soon,” he thought to himself.
His mind drifted to the moment of revelation. His master had sensed the medallion during a casual stroll through the arena stands, its faint, unique qi signature unmistakable. Fate, it seemed, had aligned perfectly. It was with the one opponent standing between him and victory: Chen Ren.
Gu Tian’s eyes darkened. He had infiltrated countless clans, risked his life in the shadows, and endured endless failures in his quest to find the medallion. Yet now, it was right in front of him, within reach.
“One battle,” he thought, his fists tightening. “One fight, and I’ll have it. Then the gate to immortality will open for me. I’ll ascend, grow stronger, and claim my place at the apex of all realms. As an immortal.”
He whispered aloud, a smirk tugging at his lips, “Just one battle more.”
2024-12-30 18:00:51 +0000 UTC
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Archmagus Apocalypse -
An idea I worked on a year back. Wanted you all thoughts on it.
Synopsis -
When the System arrived on Earth, an Archmagus stood against it.
Archie “Arc” Jones was a random nobody until he found himself in another world named Ascaris, a ruined magical world with monsters crawling every part of it.
For almost a decade, he worked hard to perfect his magic to find a way to get back to Earth and when he managed to do so, tragedy struck.
He found himself in a ruined version of the Earth and gets flung into a Tutorial to gain powers to come out on top against other similar worlds.
Denied any rest, Arc finds himself battling deadly monsters, killing other races and finding out why the apocalyptic system was so different from the magic system he had been mastering.
***
Chapter 1
“I don't know about other people, but there would only be one thing I would do if I could go back to the past— Smack the delusion of getting Isekaied to a fantasy world out of my teenage self!”
— Archie “Arc” Jones, Tier 5 Core Archmagus.
***
Arc looked over at the dunes of black sand, glancing past the cracked earth to the distant mountain peaks covered in a tar-like substance. Cold winds fluttered his jackmare-skin cloak. The Tier-4 beast had proven harder to kill than expected, and memories of the battle still haunted him.
The air felt damp. Red-tinted clouds obscured the twin suns. Even after living in this hellish place for over a decade, they remained a mystery to him.
He gave another look around the land, confirming once more that he was, in fact, alone, before turning his eyes back to the project he had been working on for over two years.
Two dozen glistening black stones and crimson wooden pillars, each carved with sigils representing different functions of the spell jutted out of the ground, slowly drawing on the leftover mana of the earth. A creation he was proud of.
“It should work this time,” he said. “I have reviewed every sigil, the ground formation, and the amount of mana required over and over. If this doesn't work, I will forever be trapped in Ascaris.”
Arc had never been one to voice his thoughts aloud, but it had become a habit after so long. Loneliness changes people; he had learned that well during his time here. Although there were underground human settlements, he had never been able to make one his home, forever wandering the surface, exploring the ruins of old societies, and studying magic to find a way back.
Today might just be that day.
However, doubts lingered in his mind—not about whether his spell would work, but about the possibility of being interrupted.
It had taken him two years to collect the necessary materials, and the effort had nearly cost him his limbs many times over. He had no talent for healing spells, and while he could mend simple wounds, anything more severe would be a struggle.
The beasts in this world were capable of much worse, and many of them thrived on mana. Since they couldn’t consume mana directly, Mages became their primary prey, and an Archmagus like him was akin to a delicacy.
The worst part was that the [Riftgate] spell was one of the most mana-consuming spells recorded by the Order of Gray, bound to attract a lot of attention. Would he be able to handle it? Arc wasn't sure, but he also knew that he would be wasting time if he didn't start now.
He took a deep breath, memories of his time in Ascaris resurfacing. Every bit of his brutal past had led him to this moment, and he wasn't going to let anyone interfere with him going home. Back to his family.
A gust of wind swept past him, sending sand swirling into the air. The mana in his core simmered as if eager to be unleashed. He raised his hand, crimson threads of arcane energy weaving through his fingers, and began the lengthy incantation required for the spell.
As he spoke the threads intertwined, forming a spell matrix around his right hand. It cast a glow on him as the air crackled with raw power.
A guttural sound echoed in the distance, but he ignored it, unwilling to be distracted at this crucial stage.
Arc willed more threads to emerge from his free palm, encircling the pillars as they came to life and glowed. The brilliant light radiating from them was so intense that it could have blinded him if not for the protection spell he already cast on his eyes.
One by one, the sigils activated, taking on the role of additional Mages that he would have needed to complete the spell. They shot more mana threads into the center of the formation, and soon his threads joined the substitute streams of power.
He accelerated his incantation as another roar echoed through the air. Whatever beast had sensed the surge of mana would be here any moment. He needed to finish the rift before it arrived.
Determined, he poured all his energy into the spell. Sweat trickled down his face, and he could feel his core thumping in rhythm with his heart. More mana than he had ever channeled for a spell surged from him, strengthening the threads that seemed to slice through reality itself.
The air rippled and cracked before him. Darkness seeped out, forming a small opening. He concentrated as a powerful force slammed down on him, emerging from the ruptured reality. Gritting his teeth, he endured.
Dark cracks formed in the air as arcs of crackling, lightning-like energy shot out from them. The swirling vortex of dark energy pushed against Arc, but he planted his foot firmly, his cloak shielding him from the intense heat near the rift.
The magical waves hit him like a blow from a dune troll's fist, but his spell matrix remained intact. He channeled more force into it, using his intent to tear through reality and widen the rift enough for him to enter.
A loud crack echoed across the wasteland, followed by more snaps as the mana crackled. Arc could see that his efforts were paying off, a rare grin forming on his face. The rift expanded, mending and growing larger, burning the sand around it into glass.
Gradually, more and more energy was siphoned from the pillars to keep the rift open. He knew it wouldn't be long before they depleted their mana, but the spell was functioning for now. That was one of his biggest concerns, and he finally allowed himself a moment to breathe.
Another roar thundered across the dunes, causing his concentration to falter. He turned back just in time to see movement rising in the sky. His breath caught in his throat.
Before him, he saw black scales glistening in the light of the twin suns. Four large, leathery wings cast shadows over vast patches of sand, and dark energy swirled around the colossal body. Its claws extended as it drew closer.
Crimson lines split the air before Arc, revealing information about the creature.
**?%$#$ - ???**
**Ascender system version 137.8 is ?$#_$#$. Please &$$#.**
Once again, the information was unusable. Arc dismissed it, accustomed to the broken system he had encountered since his first day in Ascaris.
He didn't need anything like that to identify the creature.
Reaper dracolich—A Tier 6 creature that ruled over the mountains to the east, a being that Arc had never dared to challenge before. The worst kind of mana eater.
The difference in strength was enormous; even his best spells might only scratch its scales. And right now, the dracolich soared over the dunes, hunting him. Its reptilian eyes displayed a familiar emotion—hunger.
“This is why I fucking hate Ascaris!”
Arc turned back. The rift hovered in the air, waves of dark, void, and astral mana swirling at its centre. Beyond it, the boundary between realms called to him; but he wasn’t ready. Not yet.
“I need to enter Earth coordinates; otherwise, I’ll just get stranded in space,” he muttered, glancing back at his spell matrix that held the rift together. His heart thumped in his chest, the roars of the dracolich echoing in the background.
He took out a strand of his hair and placed it into the spell matrix. It burned in seconds, and he hurried through his second set of incantations.
The rift churned with power as he spoke, beginning to spin and sending another wave of energy rushing past him. It emitted a hum. He had no idea whether this was a good sign, but with the dracolich closing in, he couldn’t afford to care.
Taking a quick glance back amidst the lengthy incantation, he saw that the dracolich was almost upon him.
Dread filled his chest as he counted the seconds—half a minute before it reached him. That wasn’t enough time to complete his incantation. Panic raced through his mind, envisioning his imminent death. His nerves screamed as his mana dwindled.
In a brief moment, Arc sought every possible way to gain more time. But all his mana was dedicated to maintaining the spell matrix. Desperate, he looked around, hopelessness crawling up his spine, until his eyes locked onto the pillars. An idea began to bud.
All his magical theory-crafting suggested that tampering with the pillars would disrupt the rift and lead to a fate worse than death. But caution was the least of his concerns at that moment. If he was going to die, he would at least do it inside the rift.
His decision made, Arc created more threads from his left hand while holding the matrix with his right. The threads wrapped around three of the pillars that maintained the rift’s integrity.
Then, he pulled. Waves of mana surged into his body, and the sigils on the pillars lost their glow. The rift crackled and flickered, its energy dimming, making his heart sink for a moment. But it didn’t disappear.
Taking one last look at the rift, he turned back to face the dracolich. It let out another roar, and a blast of energy transformed the sand around it into glass. The beast wouldn’t risk attacking him; it didn’t want to disrupt the rift, which it likely aimed to consume.
But he had no such qualms.
“Soul Breath!” he shouted in his mind, severing the threads that connected him to the three pillars.
His left hand shot up into the air, summoning a ball of energy that came to life in his palm. It grew larger by the second until it took the shape of a golden sphere of swirling mana—a Tier 6 spell, his only one, which required both mana and soul force.
Keeping his eyes fixed on the dracolich, Arc released the sphere. It erupted in a massive explosion, sending streaks of golden light across the air. The force of the wind pushed him back, but he maintained his focus on the dracolich while simultaneously upholding the spell matrix and the incantation.
The dracolich spotted the incoming sphere and dove to the left. Arc waited for the precise moment to let the spell reveal its true power.
It exploded in the sky, casting a golden hue over the entire world. Waves of mana surged across the sky in glowing lines, showering down upon the dracolich's body like a meteor shower.
Perhaps for the first time in its life, it screeched; its voice filled with pain as it plummeted toward the ground. Its wings caught fire, and as the golden light faded, everything returned to normal.
Arc almost allowed a smile to grace his lips, but his expression changed as his eyes widened.
He saw the dracolich picking itself up. The gaps in its wings began to heal as it flapped to extinguish the flames. Cries of anguish and hurt echoed from its mouth, yet it kept moving, its falling form hovering above the dunes.
He almost swore but restrained himself, fearing it would disrupt the incantation.
The glow of the sigils began to fade. He realized he would not be able to cast any more spells, and he was only halfway through the incantation. With the dracolich looming over him, there was no time to finish it.
His heart raced. He glanced at the swirling, sparkling portal, then back at the dracolich, which bared its teeth, ready to devour him whole. At that moment, it was no longer about succeeding; it was about choosing a better death, and Arc had already made his choice.
I’ll be damned if my last moments are spent in the jaws of an overgrown flying lizard!.
Arc fixed his gaze on the rift. He broke his incantation and stepped over the glassy sand. He extended his palm toward the portal, a jolt of lightning coursing through him. But he didn’t give up.
He thrust his other fist into the rift. Energy pushed him back, and he hesitated briefly. But another roar from the dracolich steeled his resolve as he moved closer to the portal that might very well be his deathbed.
Goosebumps prickled his skin. A cold energy surged toward his hands alongside the zapping sensation. A voice in his mind urged him to give up, but he pressed on until the rift enveloped both of his hands.
His muscles trembled as he let out a shaky breath, mere inches from a vortex of mana that could tear him apart. Still, he needed just one more step to escape this godforsaken wasteland.
That thought propelled him to push his right leg forward and enter the rift completely.
As he did, he looked back and froze, struck by the sight of the dracolich. Its eyes throbbed with rage as it opened its mouth, revealing large, pointed teeth bigger than any sword he had ever seen. Dark saliva dripped from its maw as the beast lunged toward him.
But it touched nothing.
The rift enveloped Arc before the dracolich could reach him, causing his ears to pop painfully.
A wave of nothingness enveloped him. Iridescent lights danced around him amidst the void of darkness, and as he concentrated on them, he saw worlds passing by—a man swinging a spear in a forest, giant stone golems stomping over a castle, a burning sea where ships crashed into each other.
He witnessed it all as he fell through the void. A powerful force crushed and shredded his body, but he did not die. He felt something encase him, a sort of barrier.
Then, darkness swallowed him whole. Before losing consciousness, Arc saw crimson lines flickering in his vision.
**Ascender System version 137.8 has been disconnected. You are in the void between realms.**
**Home world Earth has been registered. System name Terra has been assigned.**
**Ascender System version 146.1 has been connected.*”
**An oddity has been detected.**
**Name: Archie Jones has been given the title ‘Oddity.’ Additional titles are being processed. Human Core Tier 5 has been detected. Reset completed.**
**Archie Jones has been—**
***
Chapter 2
Arc blinked open his eyes
A terrible pain washed over his entire body, and he struggled to sit upright. He felt an overwhelming heaviness for some reason, and his lungs begged for air. Mana tingled within him, and he fought to comprehend the fact that he was alive. The cold, hard surface beneath him caused him to groan.
Why is it so familiar, like concrete? Wait, concrete?!
The realization made him look around. It took him a few seconds to push himself up, his legs nearly giving out beneath him. When he looked down, he saw that most of his cloak was burned, and pieces of his leather armor were falling onto the surface beneath him, which seemed to be a rooftop.
In another situation, Arc might have cursed, but right now, all he could do was laugh. He was alive. The dracolich hadn’t gotten him. The rift hadn’t claimed him. But where was he?
That thought prompted him to look up. There, in the middle of the sky, a single sun cast its rays upon the world. No other sun accompanied it. His heartbeat quickened.
He wasn’t on Ascaris.
Before he realized it, he stepped toward the railings, hoping to recognize the city below. Suddenly, a loud, thrumming sound, like sharp wind spells crashing against each other, echoed through the air. He stopped, turning toward the noise.
In the far distance, giant purple clouds wafted across the sky, with green arcs of energy dancing through them. Each movement vibrated the world with its sound.
Arc froze, his voice weak and nasal. “W-what the hell is that? Did global warming really go that fast?”
He momentarily ignored the clouds and leaned against the railings of the rooftop, almost tripping over the step. As he looked down, he froze again.
He was in a human city— though one that had been ravaged and wrecked by something.
The engineering of skyscrapers, roads, and cars lay in ruins. Only a few buildings stood; the rest were broken, with large chunks collapsing onto the abandoned streets. Overturned cars and bikes littered the ground, and in the corner of the next street, he noticed dried blood.
When he shifted for another angle, he spotted a towering beast resembling a piranha. It stood as tall as a truck, devouring what appeared to be the remains of human corpses. A gulp caught in his throat as he began to smell the decay and death in the air.
“Why are there beasts here? Isn't this Earth? Thirteen years is a long time, but it shouldn’t change things this much. Am I in some other world?”
The thought terrified him. As he turned to glance at the purple clouds that were rapidly approaching the city, he wondered if this would truly be his end. He had escaped from the jaws of death in Ascaris to find himself standing on a similar world.
A scream of frustration ripped out from his mouth and he stomped his foot down. Memories flooded through him, each one of them terrible, reminding him of every single thing he had committed just to stay alive and get back. All for nothing.
Arc looked down the railing, then back at the clouds. Wind roared against his face as it drew closer. He took deep breaths, filling as much air as he could.
For some reason, it felt different. Unlike the dry air of Ascaris, this air felt... sweet.
Ignoring that thought, he assessed his situation. Something had gone terribly wrong with the [Riftgate]. He knew that, and although he was alive, it seemed he had been transported to another world— or something terrible had happened to Earth. He recalled seeing lines of text in his vision about it, but the details were hazy now.
His armor had broken, leaving him vulnerable until he found a replacement.
He looked up at the purple clouds that loomed over the broken city. They did not look friendly, reminding him of the mana storms he had faced in Ascaris. If they were even slightly similar, he would need to hide, preferably in a room sealed off from all sides.
Fortunately, he was on top of a building that had survived the worst of whatever cataclysm had befallen this city. He could simply—
A shrill screech shattered his thoughts.
Something wended through the clouds. He squinted, trying to make it out before it revealed itself.
A monstrosity of pockmarked fur and bone emerged from the clouds, surrounded by arcs of green energy similar to the ones that danced around the purple clouds. This creature briefly reminded him of the dracolich he just escaped, but several times larger.
Eyes dotted its face, which lacked a nose and ears, and its mouth split into a sneer that sent chills down his spine. Its aura descended upon him, making him stumble back a step.
In his decade of battling beasts, Arc had never felt fear like this, as if he were facing a creature far beyond his capabilities. He had been able to hurt the dracolich, but against something like this, he could only hope for a swift death.
Crimson lines split his vision, providing information about the beast.
**Terraformer - Level 20 Tier 8 Core.**
His jaw dropped— first in surprise at his system functioning properly for the first time, and then at the core level of the beast. Although he had no idea what “Level 20” meant, he knew there was no one in Ascaris who had reached Tier 8.
Even the Order of Gray had no records beyond Tier 6.
Should I just hide back in the building? No, it had already seen me. It could easily wreck through the entire structure. What should I do?
As he pondered his options, the terraformer descended, its massive, city-sized body becoming visible. Arc noticed spikes running down its length, the green energy sparkling along its surface as its pitch-black eyes locked onto his.
A paralysing grip tightened around his throat. Every fibre of his being urged him to devise an escape plan, to flee from his impending doom, but nothing came to mind.
Summoning sheer willpower, he jumped away from the railing, searching for the stairs, determined not to remain in one place and become a meal for the beast.
He took a step to his right, and just then, another screech tore through the air, projected as an attack. Waves of pure mana slammed into him, flinging him into the air as his body soared over the railings. A sonic spell.
A hand reached out to grab the railing, but he missed. He plummeted.
Despair enveloped him as he fell toward the pavement, his hair whipping around him in the wind. The sinking feeling in his gut intensified as he felt death closing in.
In a last-ditch effort to survive, Arc called upon his mana, desperately wishing that even a thread of energy remained in his empty core to activate a [Featherfall] to cushion his descent. But just before he could do it, he froze, suspended in mid-air just a few feet from the ground.
His eyes widened, wondering if it was the terraformer’s doing, when lines of text filled his vision.
**Ascender System version 146.1 has been connected.**
**Name: Archie Jones has missed the integration. The title “Oddity” has been confirmed.**
**Error! Error! Protocol AK-8008 has been applied.**
**New Integrate has been registered. Starting Integration now.**
Before he could make sense of those words, a woman's voice flowed into his ears, oddly reminiscent of a call centre employee.
**Native of Planet Earth, System name Terra, Code name SK2611, World Rank E has become a part of the Ascender System.**
**Congratulations!**
**Welcome to the multiverse!**
**The Ascender System is pleased to inform you that Planet Earth has connected to worlds far beyond its own universe. As per the Multiverse Integration Pact signed 4,900 years ago, you will have the chance to hone your skills and acclimate to the system during the Tutorial.**
**You will face species from other similar E-ranked worlds in it before returning to the terraformed Earth. If you succeed in the Tutorial, you will be able to control parts of your world, engage in defence against invasions, and participate in them.**
**This is your opportunity to become more than you are in the wider multiverse, to rise as a Sovereign and gain governance over your own planet, provided you succeed. Ascenders wish you the best.**
The voice paused, and just as Arc was processing the information, another series of sentences began to flow.
**Due to Protocol AK-8008, the effect of the Title “Oddity” has been applied.**
**You have been relegated to a Trial of Class to gain more information. The system has been locked until you succeed.**
**You don't have an option to reject.**
**We wish you the best!**
The lines faded as soon as they appeared, but the woman's voice still echoed in his mind. She was speaking directly inside his head, but Arc had no time to dwell on that.
Beneath him, the surface stretched out until a large rift appeared.
He fell right into it as time resumed. Unlike the last one he had experienced, this one acted more like a door than a tunnel. He slammed head-first into a sea of colors, but it didn't hurt.
Red, blue, green, and purple— all sorts of hues floated beneath him. They passed through his hands as he turned to look around.
He stood in a vast expanse, light filling the boundaries that seemed to stretch farther every second. A warm energy flowed through the entire room, and as it touched his body, he felt the pain from the terraformer's attack lessening.
"What is this? A room full of healing engravings?" He frowned at his own words. "Who am I kidding?"
Arc swallowed hard. He walked through the colors, which supported his weight effortlessly. He was not a fool, nor was he dense. The lines of text had provided him with some context for what was happening.
He had come back to Earth, but it had been too late. An upgraded version of the Ascaris system had appeared on his planet, destroying everything in its path. How? Why? When? All those questions swam in his mind, but first, he needed to escape this place.
He walked for a while, searching for any engravings, sigils, or anything else that might control this space, but all he touched were the light and the colours.
"Status!" he muttered, hoping for a response, then recalled that one of the messages had indicated that his system was locked until he completed the trial.
But Arc could see no trial in this expanse.
As that thought crossed his mind, another voice rang out in his head. Unlike the previous voice, this one was a man’s. It spoke in a husky tone, and crimson lines split the air.
**You have missed the Integration. A special Trial of Class has been applied according to Protocol AK-8008.**
**Class guide has been denied due to the Title "Oddity."**
**You have received a copy of the Multiversal Integration Pact. You can access it if you succeed in the trial.**
**You have received a copy of the Basic Tutorial Guide. You can access it if you succeed in the trial.**
**Class Trial Grade has been decided.**
**Grade - Nightmare.**
Arc groaned at the messages.
“I thought my nightmare was over…”
As the system text disappeared, a rattle gripped the entire space, gradually intensifying into a tremor that caused him to flinch.
A violent light assaulted his vision, and he closed his eyes, turning away to shield himself from any pain. He felt warmth flowing through his body, not the painful kind, but a comforting one.
The tremor and warmth faded, and when he opened his eyes, he saw a stone platform rising in the air, occupying half the room. Stairs were carved at its corners for climbing up onto it.
Arc took a step toward the platform, realizing this was where the trial would begin—a battle, if he interpreted the platform correctly. He could feel a warning in the back of his mind, alerting him to danger ahead.
Still, what choice did he have?
Despite searching the entire space, he had no idea how it operated, and whatever this Ascender system was, it controlled everything here.
Arc couldn't back down from this trial. If the system prompted him into a fight, he would fight and emerge victorious. That mentality had ensured his survival in Ascaris, and he needed it more than ever now.
He stood on the platform and immediately noticed a wooden rack to his right, standing out against the otherworldly expanse. He walked towards it and found every type of weapon—sword, spear, shield, rapier, staff, daggers—but he didn't see a mage staff.
Something like that would have made the situation much easier. Perhaps that was the reason it had been omitted from the trial.
**Name: Archie Jones has entered the ring.**
**The species of your opponent has been selected.**
**Species: Goblin has been generated.**
“A goblin? That sounds pretty easy,” Arc said, not realising that those words would come back to haunt him.
**A Goblin Butcher has been selected.**
He didn’t have time to reflect on what that meant, as a violent rift erupted in the center of the platform.
A green, diseased foot marked with rot stepped through. A roar split the air, causing him to jab his fingers into his ears to block out the noise. Arc's eyes widened as another foot slammed down onto the floor, revealing the full body of the butcher.
Bulging muscles covered its chest, and it towered over him at seven feet tall. Crooked teeth flashed in a maniacal grin, with bugs and bits of flesh sticking out of its mouth. It wore only a torn pair of pants, and Arc doubted it needed armor.
In its left hand, it held a cleaver twice the size of his arm, blood dripping from the blade. Its green eyes bore down on him with an inexplicable pressure, as if trying to crush him.
Arc fought against the pressure, trying to gauge the goblin butcher's level while calling forth [Force Armor]. But then he paused, realizing something critical that he had completely overlooked since emerging from the first rift.
His core felt different.
The sea of mana inside it had vanished, regressing back to a small crater. His Tier 5 core had returned to Tier 1.
He felt a surge of cold, hard dread fill his heart. Just then, the butcher took a step forward.
Its grin twisted into something deadly, sending chills down his spine.
**The Trial of Class commences.**
“Motherfu—”
The butcher rushed forward.
***
Chapter 3
The goblin butcher rushed forward, its cleaver held high. Despite all its weight that made the platform rattle and rumble, it was swift. Its grin turned almost psychotic as it aimed to end the fight in three seconds.
Arc didn't give it the opportunity. Despite the shocked state of his mind, his battle instincts pulled over. A slide barely brought him out of the range of the cleaver.
The butcher followed it with another chop, grounding its weapon on the stone floor as chipped shards flew. Arc jumped backwards, careful not to get hurt by them, and gazed at his enemy, but he saw no crimson lines splitting his vision.
With the system out, he had no clear way of knowing how strong the butcher was. He knew it was strong, powerful enough to chop him in half and eat his remains in one go. Primal senses rang inside his mind, telling him to run.
Arc looked around the platform, finding it long and wide enough to run for a while, but unlike the vast expanse, it has boundaries. He didn't want to lose the trial even if he could run. Winning the trial seemed paramount to finding the truth about the system and Earth.
He had no time to think further. The butcher charged, stomping through the slabs of stones and bringing its cleaver down in an overhead strike. It whistled past his ears as Arc moved to the side, nearly falling on his side.
Careful not to turn his back against the monster, he pushed out the mana he felt inside his regressed core. Even if he had lost most of his powers and spells, Arc had survived a far harsher climate with Tier 1 spells. He could do it again.
In the next second, his mind went through a long list of spells to find one that would be the most useful here, and in the end, he found it.
The goblin butcher lunged for him again, but for the first time since the battle started, Arc didn't try to run. He let the monster come closer, and it ate the distance between them in three large strides.
His mana crackled in his right palm, crimson threads weaving together to form a spell matrix. Compared to the [Riftgate] spell, this one was simpler and smaller, with just one thread creating a circular pattern.
The butcher's eyes rose in shock. A small cloud of dust wafted through the air, hitting it right in the face. It stumbled back. Its cleaver scratched the surface and let out an irritable sound.
Arc took the opportunity with a stride, disengaging the [Summon Dust] spell and creating another spell matrix on his free palm, a slightly bigger one that hummed with cracking energy.
A sharp stone shot forward out of it, hitting the butcher right in the back. Green blood flowed out of its cheek as a painful roar filled the expanse.
He didn't stay to send out more spells, knowing he needed to preserve his mana and turned back to jump towards the rack of weapons. He picked up a round, metallic shield.
Turning it back, he pushed his hand through the strap and moved it around to check its weight and flexibility. It felt just right.
A roar took his attention, and he saw the butcher looking down at him with tears coming out of its reddened, green eyes. Its sneer twisted to a stone-cold expression, and it jumped in the air, bringing the cleaver down right before him.
He put the shield forward, blocking the shards raining down on him. A low cloud of dust enveloped both of them, and the butcher stepped forward. Out of it
It swung his cleaver, trying to cut him in half, and Arc countered with his shield. A tremble ran down his arm as both metals met in a loud, clinking sound. But only a smile coated his face.
By this point, Arc forgot all the questions and shock running through his mind. Adrenaline surged through him parallel to his mana. He let his instincts take over completely, knowing his strength and his opponent's power very well.
The butcher sent another barrage of strikes his way, but he swiftly put distance between the both of them, using the shield to protect his most vital body parts. And seeing a small opportunity, he pushed out its palm, sending two more its way.
It blocked one with the cleaver, but the second one passed through its bare chest, grazing a wound by the side of its heart. Another line of green blood flowed out of it, skin giving way to the sharpness of the stone.
The butcher stomped on the ground, muscles bulging with sheer anger as it whirled around. Its cleaver rushed through the air at him, and he dodged instead of blocking with his shield.
Landing on the ground on his side, Arc turned just in time to launch another stone towards its legs. It lodged right deep in its knees and a guttural, painful screech escaped its mouth, but rather than falling on the ground or walking lamely, the butcher rushed forth, ignoring the pain altogether.
Arc's eyes widened, putting its shield up to block the strike coming for his head. The pain from the hit made him grit his teeth as his arms buckled, almost giving up. Fortunately, the shield stood and he rolled out of the way of a kick before pulling himself to a stand.
He took exhaustive breaths and looked at the butcher. The shield felt heavier in his swollen arm and even with three lines of blood flowing down its body, the butcher looked as good as new. The pain didn't seem to halt him more than momentarily, but Arc thought differently.
It's not like pain doesn't affect him. It's just not enough pain yet.
Letting out a hiss, he put up his shield, ready for the charge of the butcher and when it came, Arc spun, weaving through the continuous blur of its attacks and running backwards.
They moved through the left, right and the centre, and then back in a circle, both trying to one up each other. Arc took full advantage of the long platform as the attacks kept coming.
His eyes traced each of their pathways, holding back on any spells. He studied the bloodthirsty creature in front of him that moved with a single purpose, to kill him and after five minutes, it finally showed itself.
Patterns.
Another whirlwind of an attack cut through the air, aiming to cleave him through the shoulders. Arc stepped to the side, letting it past his body as his spine chilled. Without wasting a second, he shoved the swirling spell matrix in his palm forward. Another stone blasted forward, straight for the butcher's eyeball.
It tried to put his other arm in between, but Arc slammed his shield right into him. Green blood splashed onto his face as he saw the stone jutting out of its left eye.
It howled in pain, swinging its cleaver in a rageful, uncontrollable motion. Having prepared for it, Arc dodged back, escaping it just in time before launching three more sharp stones at the butcher.
Each one of them seemed to take large chunks of mana out of his core and he felt less powerful every second, but he had no time to wail on his weakened state.
They bolted through the air, one of them skittering off the cleaver while the other two dug right in the centre of the goblin's chest. More blood sputtered out in waves, flowing down its muscles to the ground. It took a step back, another howl nearly popping Arc's ears out.
Repeated stompts of its feet shook the earth as the wounds on its body sent shivers of pain down its spine. It's whole face flushed with green blood, watering his vision.
Arc tried to end it right then, sending another barrage of stones to its skull to end it, but just then, a wave of energy burst forth from the butcher. A ravenous cry filled the air and its skin glowed the colour of red, hands moving to pick out the stones jutting inside its flesh.
As it did so, it seemed to grow an inch, wounds slowly closing with mana coating them. His eyes widened as the flesh of the goblin sealed itself shut. Even the blood coming out of its eye socket stopped, and although it looked like it still couldn't see well, just this display of regeneration sent cold spikes of trepidation in his heart.
Slowly, the rushed and pained movements stopped. Its saliva dripped down on the ground, mixing with the green blood still on its face.
A predatory grin split its face into two.
Arc felt all his planning going to waste. He felt his mana pool having only enough to cast another three or four [Stone Shots], and before he could make another plan, the butcher was upon him.
“Fuck!”
He jumped back, the cold sensation of the cleaver almost touching his neck. With a swiftness that he hadn't seen before, the butcher pushed, swinging it's weapon wildly with a mad charge.
His shield protected him, barely. Each block made him tremble, his arm threatening to break. But Arc didn't lose his face, dodging the attacks he could and blocking the rest.
How long could he go on for? He wasn't sure, but he saw no other option. The only relief seemed to be the fact that its regeneration ability looked to be one-off rather than a constant thing. At least he hoped it was.
Another deadly swing made its way for his head. Arc ducked under it, but the butcher twisted it's wrist, going for another overhead strike. Dread filled him as he jumped back, the iron ripping up a line of hot blood on his shoulder.
His shield fell on the ground and he cursed.
The butcher rushed again as he moved to pick it up, not caring about the pain in his shoulder. He was too slow and in a rapid movement, the goblin stood right in front of him.
One swing and he would be dead. Memories of his time in Ascaris tore through his mind at that thought. He refused to be killed. Not by an ugly, hungry goblin.
An idea struck him.
In a moment of adrenaline and fear, he slid out of the cleaver's range and threw his shield right at its face. It passed by its large hand, hitting it right in the chestback.
The butcher stumbled backwards. Ignoring the rushes of pain going up his arms and shoulders, Arc made a run towards the rack of the weapons.
He reached ten steps away from it when he heard a loud, hissing roar from the back. Blood streamed down the goblin's nose and in its anger, it stomped on the shield, crushing it beneath its large elephant-like foot.
Then, it made for a mad rush.
Arc waited for it with hitched breaths, feeling the last puddle of mana in his core. It simmered with faint energy and he pushed it towards his palm. A spell matrix came to life, illuminating his face.
The goblin could care less about it in its seething rage and didn't wait to see that the spell wasn't projected at him, but on the ground.
Cold water blasted forward, wetting the floor. In its madness, the monster stepped foot on it and slipped, hurling towards the ground. Stone cracked, blood burst out of its head and Arc rushed, spear already in its hand.
It hauled its body forward, turning on its arms to push itself to its feet. Arc stabbed just then, his strike aimed straight for its face.
Its second eyeball burst, blood wheezing out of the wound. The butcher hissed in pain, flailing its arms in an attempt to get him. Arc jumped around it, taking out his spear and aiming it at the butcher's jugular veins.
A large, meaty hand grabbed him as he pierced it. Pain rushed through Arc as his bones crunched, but the oozing green blood was all he cared about.
He gripped the spear tight, twisting the head. His mana crackled and surged as another Matrix formed on his left hand. Stones shot out of it hitting the goblin's hand. It still didn't let go.
“Just die, you green bastardly beast!” He yelled, taking out its spear again. More bones cracked and the butcher turned to his side, pulling Arc down with it.
But he stabbed his spear right in its skull before falling on the ground.
The grip on his leg eased and he quickly crawled backwards, eyes locked at the monstrous body. No red glow came out of it. More and more blood pooled around the stone floor every second and for a moment, he felt the butcher's body twitching.
Tension gripped him before words split the air.
**You have slain a Level 13 Tier 1 Goblin Butcher!**
**Congratulations! You have succeeded in the Trial of Class!**
Instantly, he felt relief washing over him. The goblin butcher lay dead. He had survived. If the messages were anything to go by, it had been a far stronger creature than him with his regressed core. Yet he had won.
His body shook with the happiness of his victory before pain hammered down on his body. He let out a yell, feeling agony from his cracked bones, swollen arm and grazed shoulders. But soon, he felt an energy washing over them.
The same healing mana he had felt in the expanse when he arrived. It hadn't permeated the platform with the trial, but now, he felt it, moving to aid his wounds. He closed his eyes, letting it do the work before another set of notifications arrived.
**Rewards have been given for succeeding in the Trial of Class.**
**The effects of the Title “Oddity” had been applied.**
**You are the first person to defeat an opponent ten levels stronger than you in the Trial of Class.**
**You are in the first hundred people to survive the Nightmare difficulty Trial of Class.**
**You have been given the Title “Nightmare Survivor”.**
**Your system has been unlocked.**
**A unique class has been generated. Your current skills and experience has been taken into account.**
**Class: Archmagus has been given.**
**An Epic Grade lootbox has been given.**
Arc read the lines of sentences one by one, but the class notification stood out the most.
“Archmagus,” he muttered through heaving breaths. “How is it a class? It's supposed to be a rank. A mark of a Tier 5 Mage.”
He looked back at the notifications, wondering if they would display more and as his thoughts turned towards his class, another line of text gave him the information he needed.
**Class: Archmagus (Unique)
Everyone loves a magician and Archmagus are the ones that sit at the very top.
With their ability to manipulate mana and their bundle of spellbooks, they are one of the most feared classes all over the multiverse. With mana manipulation, they could cast all sorts of spells— elemental, conjuration, imbuement, divination. Say the name and they would be able to cast it.
Gains efficiency in every magical spell and discipline with every level.
Gets +3 Mystic, +1 Vitality, +1 Dexterity and +1 free stat point with every level and the stat gains increase every core advancement.**
**Would you like to see your status? Y/N.**
Arc mentally clicked yes and another hovering screen popped up in front of him.
Name/Age: Archie Jones/31
Race: Human
Class: Archmagus
Core Level: Level 1 (Core Tier 1)
Titles: Oddity, Nightmare Survivor
Arcane Crystals: 0
Health: 34%
Mana: 4%
Stamina: 21%
Skills/Spells: Summon Dust (Modified), Stone Shot (Modified), Summon Water (Modified)
Talents: Mana Manipulation, Mana Perception, Survivor's Will
Stats:
Power: 10
Vitality: 12
Dexterity: 10
Will: 14
Perception: 11
Mystic: 15
Free stat point: 0
**You need 30 arcane crystals to level up.**
***
A figure floated in the vast expanse of darkness, her robes fluttering in the gale that swept the room that had been her prison for seven hundred years. A white cloth wrapped around her eyes that saw nothing, but she heard it clearly.
The winds whispered to her, making every report of the wider multiverse, of the new worlds being integrated, of the new adventurers that had shown promise. But out of all those faint whispers, she only stopped to listen to one of them.
The birth of a new oddity. One that gained a unique class.
Her winds confirmed it, making a shiver run down her spine. How many years it had been? Eight hundred maybe. She wasn't sure, but she intended to find more. She needed every information about this new oddity.
An Archmagus. The winds whispered again and she felt her heart swell sign an emotion she had forgotten— Hope.
Every fibre of her being surged with a power she hadn't felt in so long. Her mana roared to life as she extended her hands. White lines split the darkness, illuminating every corner of her sanctuary before a screen popped up in front of her.
The face of a man swam. Bloodied, battered and just finished with his trial. She couldn't see him, but through her magic, she felt him. He was strong, his will forged in hellish landscapes and not suitable for this new integration. Too strong for it.
But maybe. Just maybe that's what this cycle needed. An oddity strong enough to reach the top in a way no one ever had.
She didn't know if she was putting her expectations on the right man, but it didn't matter. She had waited too long, floating in this darkness. This was her chance. A way to finally fulfil her goal.
“Archie Jones,” she spoke, her voice ethereal and ringing in the space. “I will watch over you, son. For you will be my key.”
Her hands moved to pull at the cloth binding her eyes and she removed it. For the first time in centuries.
***
Chapter 4
Arc sat on the stone platform, enjoying the warm energy that healed his wounds slowly. His bones seemed to have mended, and his flesh had sealed shut, not even leaving a scar. He had been looking through his status screen for the last hour, trying to understand it all.
Fortunately, the system seemed to move with his thoughts, and he didn't have to rack his brain over the stats.
**Stat glossary**
**Power - The ability of your body to exert physical power.
Vitality - The ability of your body to resist adverse health outcomes and recover from damage.
Dexterity - The ability of your body to control your motor functions efficiently.
Will - The ability of your mind to keep going in stressful situations and recover from them.
Perception - The ability of your mind to comprehend awareness of the outer environment.
Mystic - The ability of your soul to sense, channel, and use mana.**
The stats had been pretty easy to understand. Almost reminded him of the video games he had played in his childhood, and it hadn't taken him much to get their function, especially with the levels he had started to see since returning to Earth. Or whatever was left of it.
A part of him wondered if he was adjusting to everything at an abnormal rate. But then again, Arc had already experienced a fantasy wasteland with beasts and magic. He had also been aware that a system was a thing. It just hadn't been accessible to him before this.
However, there were still parts he still felt confused about, and even thinking about it in his mind didn't make another screen pop off to quench his curiosity. For example— Why were his spells written as modified?
Things such as Titles, Traits and Arcane Crystals were familiar enough to him, but with modified spells, he had no clue. It could be an effect of his Archmagus class, but Arc doubted that.
With that in mind, he decided to test it out later and stood up, moving over to the body of the goblin butcher that lay dead in the middle of the platform.
If everything he knew about how the crystals worked was the same as Ascaris, it would be a waste to find a way out of here before harvesting its core.
As he scooted closer to it, he observed the sheer brutality with which it had been killed, with both its eyes repeatedly stabbed and wounds all over its face. Still, Arc felt no sympathy for it.
It would have killed him if he hadn't done the same to it. Just like Ascaris, beasts were no man's friends. Druidic or summoning magic could be used to tie them up with bonds, but they were simply outliers, in his opinion.
Carefully, he crouched down, holding a sword that he had picked up from the weapon's rack and held the tip on top of the butcher's chest. He was about to cut his way through its core when a notification rang.
**Do you want to retrieve Arcane Crystals? Y/N**
Arc stared at it in wonder for a second. He hadn't expected such an option, but it looked convenient.
He mentally clicked yes, and a simmering wave of golden energy touched the butcher's dead body before flowing back into him. He stiffened but felt nothing wrong with his body.
Giving another command in his mind, he opened up his status and focused on the Arcane Crystals stat.
**Arcane Crystals - 248**
**You have enough Arcane Crystals to reach the next level. Do you want to level up? Y/N.**
Arc mentally clicked yes again, and another wave of electrical energy flowed into his body, heading straight towards his core. He felt power flooding him and drew a hitched breath.
His back only loosened the next second as the sensation disappeared. A notification blinked right before him.
**Congratulations! You have reached Level 2 (Core Tier 1). Stat points earned: +3 Mystic, +1 Vitality, +1 Dexterity and +1 Free Point.**
Steadying himself, Arc looked at his level and stats.
Name/Age: Archie Jones/31
Race: Human
Class: Archmagus
Core Level: Level 2 (Core Tier 1)
Titles: Oddity, Nightmare Survivor
Arcane Crystals: 218
Health: 100%
Mana: 100%
Stamina: 100%
Skills/Spells: Summon Dust (Modified), Stone Shot (Modified), Summon Water (Modified)
Talents: Mana Manipulation, Mana Perception, Survivor's Will
Stats:
Power: 10
Vitality: 13
Dexterity: 11
Will: 14
Perception: 11
Mystic: 18
Free stat point: 1
**You need 50 arcane crystals to level up.**
As he had expected, his stats went up, and the electrical energy he had felt was probably his core absorbing the crystals to get stronger or, in this case, level up.
It was the same way of growing his core that he practised. The only difference was that back in Ascaris, he had to absorb the broken-down Arcane Crystals from the core, which could take anywhere between a few seconds to hours. It was instantaneous here.
He wondered how the system was streamlining something like this.
“Had my core just gone through changes other than being regressed in strength to absorb the crystals in mere seconds by just a command?” Arc muttered, feeling frustrated over the system having such power over him.
He only felt sure that this Ascender system was far more mysterious and more potent than anything he had encountered.
Shaking his head, he decided to deal with his questions later. He wasn't getting his answers standing in this expanse after all.
He hadn't missed that although he had won the trial, the expanse hadn't just thrown him out, giving him time to recover his strength and even collect the crystals.
“But what now? Am I just trapped here?” He walked through the stone platform, hoping to see some door that might lead outside.
As he reached the platform's edge and was about to descend the stairs, crimson lines split the moving particles.
**Your class selection is over. The grade for your Tutorial has been decided.**
**Tutorial Grade - Nightmare has been selected.**
**You are the 2,000,001st human to gain access to the Nightmare Grade Tutorial.**
**Ascenders wish you the best!**
The same woman's voice he had heard before getting pulled inside here rang inside his mind, and as it faded, a rupture formed in reality right before him.
Faint dark cracks split the expanse as a portal simmering with dark energy appeared, reminiscent of the one he had created back in Ascaris. But a lot weaker and more stable.
It seemed to call for him, but Arc hesitated to approach it. He turned, looking through the expanse, knowing he had no use staying here anymore. It had no food or water, and he couldn't just live off healing energy.
Moreover, Arc wanted to know exactly what had happened to Earth and how. For that, he would have to move to the Tutorial, and if the system notifications were to be believed, there would be humans there.
At the same time, he knew what else would lurk around there.
“Beasts and other races that would want nothing more than to kill me.”
He had briefly looked at the “Multiversal Integration Pact” and “Basic Tutorial Guide”.
The former had been a five thousand three hundred and seven-page document detailing a contract through which the species of a planet could enter the larger multiverse. Arc had skimmed over it, but the latter guide had been of some use.
It hadn't explained everything about what would be needed to do to survive in the Tutorial since, apparently, every one of them was different, but it had confirmed for him that he would have to fight a lot of beasts and other hostile races. Even in that, it had labelled nightmare as the worst difficulty and apparently, its name was “You're Dead” in earlier versions of the system.
If that were the case, then Arc wouldn't be surprised to find himself right before a beast as he stepped out of the portal.
So, before heading to the tutorial, he prepared himself thoroughly.
First thing first, he closed his eyes, feeling the bubbling mana in his core. It had refilled, but his core didn't have too much of it to begin with right now. To solve the issue, he decided to use the rest of his crystals.
**Arcane Crystals - 218**
**You have enough Arcane Crystals to reach the next level. Do you want to level up? Y/N.**
As soon as the message appeared, Arc affirmed it in his mind. Just like before, another rush of energy filled him, expanding his core to store more mana. He stood at Level 3 now but didn't plan to stop there.
Looking back at his status, the crystals required to level up had increased again from 30 to 50 to 80.
He didn't know how the system calculated each level, but at least he knew it would gradually increase, like Ascaris, where he needed stronger beast cores to advance his core.
“At this rate, I might require thousands of crystals to level up as I go,” he said. “Well, it will be a problem for later. Not like I'm doing it for the first time.”
After two levels up, Arc only had 168 crystals left and as he moved to level up again, the requirements increased again to 120 Arcane Crystals.
With only 88 crystals left, he couldn't afford it. But he already felt far stronger than before, and without wasting any time, he cast one of the spells that had saved his skin countless times in Ascaris.
[Lesser Force Armor].
The spell matrix burned to life right in front of his chest. Force mana crackled before enveloping his whole body.
Arc saw an ethereal glow covering him in the form of a magical armor that looked the same as a chain metal plate. But unlike a physical armor, this one protected him from all sorts of attacks— physical and arcane both.
Once that was done and he finally felt a semblance of protection, he opened his mana gauge to notice that the spell had taken 1/4 of it. That wasn't a tiny amount, with the only respite being that the armor would stay intact for the next six hours if another beast didn't try to maul his chest with its claws.
He decided to wait till his mana was full before moving onto the Tutorial zone, and as he waited, he decided to open up the lootbox he had gotten. Apart from the Titles and the crystals, it had been his only reward from the battle.
With a flicker of his thoughts, a screen opened before him.
**Do you want to open up the Epic Grade Lootbox? Y/N**
“I hope whatever is inside of it is worth almost dying to that butcher,” Arc said, mentally clicking yes.
A set of notifications flashed in front of him right away.
**You have received Lightball x 3.**
**You have received Mana recovering potion x 2.**
**You have received Health recovering potion x 3.**
*You have received Firemint berry x 10.**
**You have received a Goblin seamstress cloak.**
**You have received a Random spellbook.**
Unlike what he had expected, the items he received didn't just magically enter his system in some inventory like his crystals had. A heavy wooden box fell on the floor—a chest.
Arc skittered closer, looking down at it, and after seeing no sigils on it, he opened it.
A slew of items sat inside. From glass vials of red and purple that he guessed were potions to three small yellow balls. Next to them was a pouch, and when he picked it up, he found crimson-coloured berries inside.
Arc only gave a cursory glance to them, his attention taken by the green cloak that sat neatly folded on the left and a small blue book on top of it.
He picked up the book and put it beside the chest, deciding to look at it at last and moved to the green cloak. As it unruffled, he saw patches of red around its back with tons of pockets all over it.
**Goblin seamstress cloak (Uncommon)
While most goblins are dirty, sleepy, and bloodthirsty creatures, there are some who are the rotten apple of the family. Goblin seamstress' goes against their blood to offer their life for their love of stitching, and the result of that is this green, patched-up cloak made with the love of an old and horny goblin seamstress.
Gives a slight boost to your overall defence and +1 Vitality. It also has a lot of deep pockets to keep all sorts of weapons and items.**
Arc stared at the description for a while, wondering who had written it before shaking his head and trying it out. Despite the patches and slight dust that was gathered on it, it fit him perfectly over his battered tunic, which was all that he had left after his cloak and leather armour had been destroyed.
He liked his cloaks black, but he could see the efficiency in a green one, particularly if the Tutorial was going to happen in a forest. However, the boost to his vitality was the best part of it.
He moved on to the last item the lootbox had given him and picked up the spellbook. Opening it, he saw blank pages all over it and wondered if the system had scammed him.
Just then, a notification sprang up.
**Do you want to use the Random spellbook (Common)? Y/N.**
Arc selected yes, wanting to see how the system would work with a spellbook.
**You have used a Random spellbook (Common).**
**You have gained the Tier 1 spell Snake Tempest.**
Before he could even read the new notifications, a rush of information flooded his brain. A scene of a Mage aiming snakes made up of devastating wind force played and for the next minute, he just stood there, the spell matrix carving itself in his mind.
Once it was over, Arc took a deep breath, steadying himself.
His mind rang with a strange sensation as if he had suddenly gained knowledge he had never worked for. In a way, that was true.
Back in Ascaris, he had to go through the tomes and notes of Order of Gray over and over again, practicing his spell matrix for each line and curve before he had gotten a mastery in each of his spells. But this was instantaneous.
He shook his head, trying to get over the sensation and moved to inspect and pick up all the other items in the chest. The potions were self explanatory and the lightballs were just that; sources of light he could use in nightfall and caverns. And each of the berries would keep him full for 12 hours.
Giving a one last look at the potions, he realised they were small enough to be put in his pockets. The lightballs were similarly small.
Hence, he put them up in one of his inner pockets before strapping the berry filled pouch on his hip.
Arc moved through the platform to see if the weight of the items and the cloak would cause him manoeuvrability, but thankfully, it wasn't the case.
By now, his mana had returned to normal, so he decided to move towards the portal to the Tutorial. But before that, he looked back at the rack of weapons.
“The shield and spear are already broken and torn,” he said, his eyes scanning between the other weapons before deciding to go with the sword that he had already picked up. “This will do for now. In case, my mana runs out again. I would have liked a sheath to store it, but I can't get everything here.”
With that, he had finished most of his preparations.
Arc took one last look at the expanse before climbing down the stairs and standing right in front of the simmering, crackling portal.
Unlike the Trial, he had a better idea of what was going to come in it, and the basic guide had given him several options— Arena, fight to the death, dungeon exploration, siege and wars etc. But he had no idea what would come in the Tutorial among these.
If his luck stayed the same, he might just find himself underwater or on top of a bursting volcano.
Arc frowned, smacking himself on the side of his head.
I need to think positive. The guide said the Tutorial would be an equal playing ground, so humans most likely won't have an inherent disadvantage.
Even if he found himself in a dangerous habitat, Arc had enough confidence to deal with it. Ascaris hadn't been pleasant either, filled with mana storms and unlivable temperatures. Yet he had persisted and persevered.
He would do the same with this Tutorial.
Arc took one final breath, fingers brushing against the portal. A tinge of electricity flowed through him and something pulled him inside. He resisted for a moment, imagining the horror of the last portal he had been in, but there was no going back.
He plunged into the portal.
His body stretched and squashed. Rectangular and circular shapes flowed across his eyelids in a blend of different colors and he barely held back the bile rising in his throat.
Arc closed his eyes, trying to pass over the worst of it. Reality wrapped all around him and a headache assaulted his head. Seconds turned to minutes and the sensations never ended. Dread filled him, wondering if he was forever going to be trapped in the portal.
Just then, the world opened up.
Wind roared in his ears and the wrapping sensation disappeared. Arc opened his eyes and they widened, taking in the breathtaking view— large forest, mountains, valleys, ruins, lake, desert. Each of them sprawled out over large areas. But they weren't the reasons for his shock.
It was the fact that they were way beneath him and he was falling through the sky.
Right out of the portal, Arc plummeted to his death.
2024-12-28 20:59:28 +0000 UTC
View Post
Chapter 157
As they made their way up the river's current, Raven began to explain more about the river that was called Mistfen river.
For the first hour of the journey, Kai couldn't understand the reasoning behind the name. But as the boat drifted farther, a strange, swirling mist began to envelop them, thick and dense, obscuring everything around. They couldn’t see past what was at an arm’s distance.
Kai looked around, trying to gauge the surroundings, but the atmosphere felt unnatural. The mist seemed alive, constantly shifting, and a peculiar mana current interfered with his senses. It was as though the very air around them was charged with an unseen force, making it difficult to discern anything beyond the haze. He instinctively reached for his magic, but just as he began to weave a spell, Raven placed a gentle hand on his arm.
"You should save your spells, Lord Arzan," she said.
"Why?" Kai asked, his voice filled with confusion. "I believe there’s something mixed in the mist... some sort of magic interfering with my senses."
Raven nodded, her gaze steady as she looked into the dense fog. "It’s just a spell formation, made by the Elders of the Five Tribes. It confuses one's perception and leads travellers astray, guiding them away from our lands."
Kai considered her words for a moment. "Is this how Sylvastra has remained untouched by foreign forces?" It would make sense if that was the case.
"Partly," she replied. "But you’ll see the rest of it soon enough. For now, Jata—my spirit will help us reach our destination. It's better to save your spells."
Before Kai could ask what exactly she meant , a strange croaking sound echoed through the mist, sending a chill down his spine. He turned his head toward Gareth, who was at the bow of the boat, looking around warily.
"Who was that? What’s going on?" Kai asked in just above a whisper.
Gareth's eyes narrowed as he stared into the mist. "Lord Arzan, we heard a croaking noise from somewhere nearby, but the mist is too thick to see anything."
Kai, feeling his curiosity rise, made a quick decision. He conjured a wind spell, [Gust], shaping a gust of air to blow some of the mist away from around them. The fog parted slightly, revealing a large, jagged rock rising out of the water.
On top of the rock sat a group of disproportionate toads, their bulbous bodies covered in slick, poisonous mucus. With the mucus, they shimmered, looking extremely out of place.
Toads? Kai wondered if he could call them that for how big they were. Their skin was mottled, an awful green, with deep, white eyes that gleamed unnaturally. Their long, slimy tongues flicked in and out, tasting the air hungrily. The toads' bodies were swollen as if overfed on something that shouldn't have been consumed. A strange, putrid odour emanated from them, and Kai just knew it was from the thick mucus that coated their bloated forms.
He watched as their tongues lashed out, snapping at the air with unnerving speed.
Raven gave a soft sigh, her voice almost wistful. "Croakclaws—grade 2 beasts. They like to hang around the Mistfen River. They're territorial and venomous."
Kai's eyes never left the toads. He knew better than to underestimate a river beast knowing they were in their territory right now.
"Should we do something about them?" Gareth asked, his hand already resting on the hilt of his sword.
Raven shook her head lightly. "Not unless they attack. They're part of the balance here. We have no need to disturb them. Jata will guide us safely past them."
With that, she called upon her spirit once again. The green spirit twinkled as the mist swirled, and the toads, after a moment of staring at the group, gave a low croak before retreating further into the fog.
Kai, still intrigued by the interaction, returned his attention to the water ahead. The mist seemed to part just a little more as they continued their journey, and with it, his anticipation grew. He kept looking for any more beast that might sprang up, moving onto stand right in the middle of the twins that roared the boat.
“I thought they’d be harmful,” Gareth spoke up, rethinking the toads they left behind.
“Well—” Before Raven could respond, a loud croak came from behind.
They all turned back to see one of the toads leapt up from the rock, its massive, slimy body soaring through the air like a big rock. It swung its thick, muscular tail toward the boat. The strike was wide, missing them entirely but sending a loud crack through the air as it slammed into the side of the boat. The boat groaned under the force, the wood splintering slightly.
So, they gave up on letting us pass by peacefully.
Kai let out a low grunt. "I believe that's enough of a signal to know that they don't like us here. Weapons up. Get ready in case they decide to attack again." His eyes locked on the toads, his hands already beginning to form spell structures. "I’ll deal with them with my spells."
As he finished speaking, more of the toads jumped from their rocky perches, launching themselves at the boat with alarming speed. Kai’s hands moved instinctively, weaving a wind spell to slice through the air, but the toads’ thick mucus-covered skin acted as defence against any attack. His wind blades only managed to create small cuts on their tough hides, not enough to stop them.
"The mucus is both poisonous and a natural defence," Raven called out. "Be cautious. Don’t let them touch you."
Kai nodded. A whip-like tongue flashed through the air in front of him, and he quickly jumped back to avoid it. In that instant, Gareth lunged forward, taking the opportunity to cleave the tongue in two. The toad let out a deafening shriek of pain, thrashing violently as it reeled back.
More toads joined, leaping toward the boat in a chaotic mess. Kai took a deep breath, deciding to go out as he used dual casting. Two complex spell formations began to spin in his palms—one a spiralling tornado of wind, the other a swirling inferno of flames.
Within a few seconds, he finished with the spell structure and released both spells simultaneously. The tornado spun rapidly, sucking the air around them into a tight, furious vortex, while the flames within it blazed with fierce intensity. The swirling crimson vortex swept through the air, its tendrils lashing out at the toads, burning the toxic mucus off their bodies. The wind threw the creatures violently across the river, some crashing into the boat.
Gorak and Gareth were quick to react, their weapons flashing as they defended the boat, cutting down any toads that got too close. Meanwhile, Raven began losing arrows with deadly accuracy. Each one striked down the toads that managed to escape the flames and wind.
As the last of the toads were dispatched, Kai stood, watching the calm that followed the storm. His breathing was steady, and he looked toward Raven, his curiosity piqued.
"Are there any other dangerous beasts in these waters?" he asked.
Raven glanced around, her face unreadable. "There are a few," she replied. "Most of them are no worse than Grade 2, like the croakclaws, and they won’t pose much of a challenge. But there’s one creature you should be aware of: a Grade 5 kraken that resides in the river, somewhere beneath a submerged dungeon."
Kai’s brow furrowed at her words. "A kraken? You’re telling me there’s a kraken living under this river?"
He was more than familiar with the beast, having read about it in the Sorcerer's Tower. From what he recalled, it was written as an extinct beast called the”Reaper of the River”.
Raven nodded. "Yes, but it's been in a slumber for centuries, deep beneath the river. We don’t need to worry about it. It’s not active, and it’s unlikely to surface any time soon."
Kai’s eyes narrowed, rethinking what she had just spoken. "What do you mean by a submerged dungeon? Are you sure of it?"
"Yes," she said. "The elves have records of it, but I don’t know the exact location. No one’s dared to explore it in ages. It’s buried deep below the surface, and unless someone has a powerful water spirit, they wouldn't be able to access it. Those types of spirits are incredibly rare, even among our kind."
Kai nodded, remembering what Raven had mentioned about the elves' connection to wind and earth spirits. Most elves would form contracts with those elemental spirits, and while there might be rare exceptions, spirits of fire or water were unlikely choices. He felt a flicker of curiosity about the submerged dungeon and the kraken, but there wasn’t time to dwell on it. They had a mission to focus on.
The group continued down the river without delay. Raven and Jata led the way, and along their journey, more beasts appeared to challenge them. Some were like the croakclaws, different creatures leaping from the riverbanks, while others were stranger and more dangerous.
First came shocker eels, their sleek, blue bodies winding through the water. Sparks flickered along their jagged fins as they surged toward the boats, but Kai quickly dealt with them. Using a mix of wind and fire spells, he kept the eels at a safe distance, their speed no match for his sharp, and focused attacks.
Then came a school of piranlines, their shimmering scales and whipping tail catching the light as they lunged from below the surface. Their razor-sharp teeth snapped with terrifying speed to chew away at the boat, but before it could get close, Kai unleashed an ice spell, freezing them and Raven's arrow took care of the rest.
These attacks, though dangerous, weren’t enough to slow them down. Kai took care of most of the threats, keeping the group safe and on course.
Soon, the scenery around them began to change—the river deepened, the air grew thicker with mana, and the creatures they encountered became… stranger.
After hours of travel, just as Kai was about to ask how much farther they had to go, he felt something unusual.
A faint wave of mana brushed against him, subtle but distinct, like crossing an invisible threshold. He turned to Raven, curiosity written on his face as he waited for an explanation.
"We've just crossed into the barrier that protects Sylvastra from the outside world," she explained, her voice sounding relieved. "We'll be there in five minutes."
Kai nodded. In his hours of travel, he had gotten a good idea of how the elves had hidden their home from foreign forces. With a mix of the fog, the river beast and the barrier, it was no wonder King Sullivan hadn't been able to conquer Sylvastra. It also gave him a good idea on the power levels of the Elders.
He had already guessed that they were strong. Any seer would be a force to reckon with, but if the Elders of the other tribes were similarly strong, then his decision to come here was feeling more and more right. He could only imagine the amount of mana required to sustain such an enchantment, but it made sense. The elves clearly knew how to maintain their isolation.
They continued forward, the boat cutting through the water until, soon enough, a shoreline began to materialize.
However, calling it a shore didn't seem quite right. What lay before them was a vast, sprawling forest, the trees towering higher than anything Kai had ever seen before. Their trunks were thick, their branches stretching up towards the sky, and the canopy above was alive with movement. Glowing butterflies flitted between the leaves, their soft light illuminating the darkened spaces of the forest. Strange plants with bioluminescent flowers bloomed at the edges of the river— soft, pulsing light covering the water.
For a moment, Kai stood in stunned silence, his gaze sweeping over the alien beauty of the place.
As he took his first step onto the land, he felt an overwhelming surge of mana in the air. It pressed down on him, not with weight, but with a tangible force that seemed to fill every inch of his being. Each breath he took was filled with energy, and his senses seemed heightened, sharper, as if the very air was alive with the power of the land.
His eyes narrowed, absorbing the dense mana, and he knew, without a doubt, that he was stepping into a place unlike any he had ever experienced. Sylvastra was not just a city or a forest—it was a living, breathing entity, one that thrived in ways Kai could barely comprehend.
He briefly recalled the overwhelming sensation he had experienced when he first arrived in this world—the pure mana had been bliss to him after years of limited mana in the air. It had been a shock to his senses, unlike anything he'd ever encountered. But this? This was something different. The mana here seemed alive, flowing through the very air and earth, and Kai could feel it, almost as if it were reaching out to touch him, filling him with an energy he’d never known before.
He could have stayed there, rooted to the spot, basking in the overwhelming mana, but just then, Gareth’s voice broke through his reverie.
"Lord Arzan, see! Elves! So many of them!"
Kai’s attention snapped back to the present, and he turned his gaze toward the group Gareth was pointing at.
Before him, a gathering of elves stood, moving through the forest like wisps of smoke. There were elves of all ages, from children to elders, dressed in clothing that was different from anything Kai had seen before—flowing robes, leaf-stitched patterns, and beautiful, but unique pieces of jewellery that shimmered with the glow of natural materials. Their attire was ethereal, almost as if their very clothing was made from the forest itself.
Their faces were a mixture of curiosity as they whispered amongst themselves in a language that Kai couldn't understand, though the tone of their speech felt soft, melodic, and ancient.
Just as he was about to ask Raven about them, she waved enthusiastically and called out, “I’ve returned!”
With that, she moved forward towards the crowd, her presence clearly recognized and welcomed by the elves, many of them nodding in greeting as she passed.
Kai let her take the lead, noticing a small group moving through the crowd—A man, a woman, and a younger boy, their features unmistakably resembling Raven’s. He watched quietly as the family enveloped her in a warm, tight hug, their faces softening with relief and joy.
"Lira ená tael farín, venar síal nael'vian!" the tallest among the group, the man yelled.
"Elen na, fael,” Raven squealed with a bright smile on her face. That was rare, considering she had been the mostly reserved, silent type. But it made sense.
Home does make one more relaxed.
It was a touching moment, and Kai allowed them their privacy, stepping back and letting them have their time together.
But as Raven reunited with her family, something else caught his attention.
Whispers passed through the crowd, a wave of gasps that stirred the air, and then the large group of elves parted.
From the midst of the gathering emerged five older elves. The air around them seemed to shift as if the forest itself bowed in respect. They moved gracefully and got closer.
From what Raven had told him, Kai guessed that they were the five tribe elders, the rulers of Sylvastra, and the very heart of elven governance. Their eyes, wise and ancient, turned to Kai as they approached. But as their gazes swept over him, it was the woman in the centre who caught his attention most sharply.
V’aleirith, the one who had given him the vision, the one who had seen his past. Kai’s breath caught for a moment as his eyes locked with hers. There was an undeniable recognition, and as she looked at him, her lips curled into a smile that seemed both knowing and pleased.
“You’ve arrived, Fatebreaker,” she said, her small eyes smiling at him. “I’m glad.” She spoke in common language for Kai to understand, and Kai nodded. Before he could respond, with a surprising speed, she stepped forward and took his hands in her own, her gaze sparkling as she held them.
Kai hesitated for a moment, the instinct to break free almost overwhelming, but he held still, intrigued by her sudden closeness. The other elders seemed to stiffen at her actions, their expressions unreadable, but V’aleirith’s eyes never left his, her smile widening ever so slightly.
Kai looked down at her, meeting her gaze, and asked, “You called me here for a reason. I have questions.”
Her smile never faltered as she spoke. “Who doesn’t have questions?” She tilted her head slightly, her eyes glimmering. “But come, I will answer some of them. Others… you will have to ask someone else. Someone who had been waiting to speak to you.”
Kai raised an eyebrow. “Who?”
“The Elder Tree,” she replied simply.
2024-12-28 20:54:57 +0000 UTC
View Post
Chapter 50
As Cang Rui rushed at him, his purple-coloured qi swirled around his legs, moving around like an eye-catching trail. It wasn't just for show—his speed was astonishing.
Chen Ren's eyes struggled to follow the movement. He couldn’t understand why it was happening, Was it because of their difference in cultivation realms? Or was the movement technique itself leagues ahead of his own? Likely both. He barely managed to twist his body, the wind of Cang Rui's attack brushing past his shoulder.
Cang Rui came dangerously close, his nose scrunched up. "You're too slow," he growled, thrusting his hand forward. Purple qi surged around his fingers, forming a pointy claw.
Chen Ren reacted on instinct. Lightning qi surged through his legs, and he pushed off the ground in a blinding leap backward. His feet hit the stone platform with a dull thud, the faint crackle of lightning still dancing around his calves. Fortunately, the arena was wide. He had plenty of space to move around. If there was one thing Chen Ren was good at, it was staying out of reach.
The purple claw slammed into the ground where he had stood moments ago, splintering the stone into small, spiky chunks.
Dust scattered everywhere, but Chen Ren kept moving. The purple claw seemed to have the strength to crush him in one slash. Therefore, his main intention was to not be caught. The claw kept chasing him, tearing through the platform. But he kept moving. Shards of rock flew past his face, but he didn’t stop.
Each dodge brought a faint stirring within his core, a sensation of his qi shifting, growing. It was almost as if a breakthrough was near—he wasn’t exactly sure, but he clung to the feeling. If he could hold out long enough, it might just tip the scales in his favor.
On the other hand, Cang Rui’s frustration was clear. His snarls grew louder with every failed attack and his movements—they were getting reckless.
"Why won’t you stand still?" he shouted, his voice echoing across the arena. The purple claw flickered and vanished. In its place, five violet Jian blades shimmered into existence, hovering in the air, menacingly.
Chen Ren’s heart sank. He had seen this technique before while watching Cang Rui’s previous fights. The blades were sharp enough to slice through iron and fast enough to catch an unprepared opponent. If even one hit him, it was over.
The blades shot forward without warning, streaking through the air. Chen Ren moved, lightning crackling through his legs as he dashed away. The first blade struck the ground behind him, an explosion of energy and stone following. The shockwave sent a wave of heat against his back, but he gritted his teeth and pushed forward.
The second and third blades came in rapid succession, forcing him to zigzag across the platform. Both the explosions sent shards of stone flying, grazing his arms and legs. By the time he dodged the fourth, sweat dripped down his face, his breaths coming in short, sharp bursts.
As the fifth blade closed in, Cang Rui suddenly appeared in front of him, moving faster than Chen Ren could process. His claw, burning with purple void qi, rose high, ready to strike the finishing blow.
Chen Ren didn’t hesitate. "[Lightning Frenzy]!" he yelled, letting his qi explode outward. Bolts of lightning erupted from his body in a storm of crackling, raw energy. The arena lit up with the blinding flashes, forcing Cang Rui to pause for a split second.
One of the bolts struck the claw directly, detonating in a small but powerful blast. The force knocked both of them backwards, Chen Ren skidding across the stone platform while Cang Rui staggered, his eyes lit up in shock.
The crowd roared around them, their cheers echoing through the arena, shaking the ground. The boo’s that had filled the air just some minutes ago were gone, now in its place were loud applause and shouts of excitement, just what the crowd had wanted.
A thrilling fight that was worthy of their bets.
And it was clear now—this wasn’t just a one-sided fight. Cang Rui’s attacks were undeniably stronger, his cultivation and techniques overpowering, but Chen Ren’s ability to endure and fight back showed a skill that couldn’t be ignored.
Even Cang Rui seemed to acknowledge it. A void blade materialized in his hands, its edges shimmering with purple qi. He smirked, his eyes filled with arrogance. "You’ve already exceeded my expectations," he admitted. Then his grin widened. "But I’m not going to hold back anymore."
Chen Ren wiped the sweat from his brow, his lips curling into a smile. "You can try all you want," he said and shrugged. "I’d be damned if I lost to someone like you."
The words, as cliché as they were, seemed to ignite a fire in Cang Rui’s eyes. His smirk twisted into a scowl, and without another word, he launched himself forward. His sword moved so fast that it seemed to multiply, slashing at Chen Ren from every direction at once.
Chen Ren felt the pressure immediately. Lightning qi surged through his veins as he planted his feet firmly on the ground, choosing not to dodge this time. He countered with his fists, the punch crackling with lightning electricity as it met the void blade head-on.
The clash of their techniques sent sparks flying through the air. Chen Ren’s punch connected with the blade mid-swing, but the sheer force behind Cang Rui’s strike was overwhelming. The impact hurled Chen Ren backwards, his body skidding across the rough stone.
Before he could fully recover, Cang Rui was already closing in, his sword raised high for a finishing blow. Chen Ren rolled to the side just as the blade came crashing down, the impact shattering the stone where he had been moments before.
Fuck, that was a close call.
Gritting his teeth, Chen Ren pushed himself up, but another void Jian blade appeared in the air, its purple energy vivid as it shot toward him. He barely had time to react, his movement technique activating in a burst of lightning. His body blurred out of the way just as the blade slammed into the ground, leaving behind a deep, smouldering crater.
Cang Rui gave him no chance to breathe. He rushed forward, his sword moving in a flurry of strikes while his movement technique made him faster than ever. The void qi from his attacks filled the air, making it feel like blades were coming from every direction at once.
Chen Ren was forced on the defensive, dodging frantically. His lightning qi flared with every movement, his body a blur as he avoided strike after strike. But the pressure was immense. Every swing of Cang Rui's blade brought him closer to death.
Then Chen Ren remembered Yalan’s advice: Don’t just watch your opponent—feel the qi in the air. Let it guide you.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment, trusting his instincts. The air around him felt heavy, filled with a murky, destructive qi that carried the essence of the void. It wasn’t random—there was a pattern to it. He shifted his focus, feeling for the direction the qi was flowing.
As another strike came, he moved—not away from the blade, but toward the gap where the qi felt weakest. The void blade missed him by inches, slamming into the ground behind him.
Chen Ren opened his eyes, suddenly feeling twice as confident as he was before. He could feel it now. The destructive qi swirled like a storm, but within the chaos, there were moments of stillness—openings he could use.
Within the next few strikes, he moved with more accuracy, narrowly avoiding Cang Rui’s attacks.
The crowd erupted again, their cheers growing louder as Chen Ren turned what seemed like an impossible situation into one of survival.
But the battle was far from over. Cang Rui’s attacks showed no sign of slowing, and the void qi in the air only grew heavier. Chen Ren clenched his fists, his lightning qi sparking around him as he prepared for the next move.
It would have been far harder to dodge if Cang Rui had used a qi aspect like wind or fire. Those elements mixed too easily with the atmosphere, making their flows harder to detect. But Void qi was different—its destructive, hollow nature stood out sharply against the natural energy around them. Chen Ren used this to his advantage, dodging them.
In hindsight, every missed strike made Cang Rui’s frown deepen.
Veins began to bulge on his forehead, his frustration turning into visible rage. To make it worse, the crowd was having even more fun, watching Chen Ren avoid Cang Rui’s attacks. He would narrowly miss the latter’s attacks, or they would brush past his skin without causing real damage.
Despite the increasing pressure, Cang Rui couldn’t land a single solid hit. His voice finally burst out in anger. "Why the fuck are you moving so much?"
Chen Ren smirked, his breathing steady. "Do you really expect me to just stand here and let you kill me?" he asked in a mocking tone. "It seems like your brain’s stopped working in all that anger."
The jab struck deeper than the blade ever could. Chen Ren’s sharp eyes noticed the void qi surrounding Cang Rui’s weapons and techniques beginning to flicker and lose cohesion. Anji had been right—anger made it harder to control qi, especially one as volatile as void. This was true for all elements to some degree, but void was particularly unforgiving.
Seeing the cracks in Cang Rui’s focus, Chen Ren decided to finally make his move. He relaxed his stance, letting his arms fall to his sides as he took an intentional step backwards. "Alright," he said, his voice carrying clearly over the noise of the arena. "You want me to stand still? Fine. I’ll stay in one place for you."
Cang Rui’s eyes lit up with fury, his lips curling into a vicious smirk. "You’ll regret that," he snarled, void qi surging around him as he dashed forward. His speed was blinding, the oppressive energy of his attacks crashing toward Chen Ren like a tidal wave.
But just as he was about to strike, Chen Ren muttered, "Idiot."
Before Cang Rui could react, he found himself slamming into an invisible wall. The force of the impact made him stagger back, and his gaze shot upward to see a shining barrier trapping him inside. He pressed his hands against the glowing surface, confusion turning into disbelief.
He looked down where he saw a white line surrounding him.
The announcer’s voice boomed across the arena. "Incredible! Chen Ren seems to have created a barrier array while dodging those strikes! Who could have seen this coming? He’s an array learner! But the question remains—can Cang Rui break through it?"
Cang Rui’s shock quickly gave way to anger as he drew his sword and began slashing at the barrier with all his might. He continued his thrashing with powerful attempts, Void qi crashing against the glowing barrier like a hammer on glass. After a few strikes, a thin crack appeared, and a confident smirk spread across his face.
"Do you really think something this flimsy can stop me?" he shouted. "I’m far too powerful to lose to a trick like this!"
Chen Ren stood calmly outside the barrier, his arms crossed as he watched Cang Rui struggle. He tilted his head slightly and frowned. "You’re really stupid," he said flatly.
Cang Rui paused mid-swing, his smirk faltering.
"Why do you think I’m just standing here while you’re busy breaking the barrier?" Chen Ren continued, "Do you really think I created it just to hold you?" He gestured downward with his chin. "Look at your feet."
Cang Rui stared in confusion, his brows furrowing as his gaze shifted downward. His eyes widened in alarm when he spotted multiple fire talismans stuck to his body. They clung to his robes and armour, their dim light throbbing forebodingly.
Panic set in, and he scrambled to rip them off, but before he could, Chen Ren acted.
"Too late," Chen Ren muttered.
He thrust his hand forward, and unleashed his attack, Lighting Frenzy, his most reliable technique, roared to life. Massive arcs of lightning surged from his fingertips, crackling with raw energy as they slammed into the barrier. The lightning travelled through the crack that Cang Rui’s sword had made moments earlier, weaving its way toward one of the talismans. The talisman sparked and ignited instantly, its flame spreading like wildfire.
Cang Rui reacted instinctively, summoning void qi to form a barrier around himself. But his anger and desperation made the energy wild and unstable. The void qi clashed with the igniting talismans, triggering a violent chain reaction.
Boom!
The explosion ripped through the air, shaking the entire arena. Flames and dark, murky void energy swirled together, creating a storm of destruction that made the audience gasp and recoil in shock.
The ground trembled beneath the force, and smoke shot upward, obscuring the centre of the arena
.
The man was hurled into the air, limbs flailing helplessly at his sides. The sound of bones cracking cut through the chaos, and the nasty stench of burning flesh filled the air. Soon, with a sickening thud, Cang Rui’s charred body crashed to the ground. The force of the body rolled lifelessly before coming to a halt.
Chen Ren didn’t hesitate. He moved towards Cang Ruin immediately, his breathing heavy but controlled. The crowd watched in stunned silence as he got closer. Suddenly, it was almost as if everyone had collectively lost their voice.
The man lay sprawled on the ground, his body battered, bloodied and broken. His once-pristine robes and leather armour were nearly gone, reduced to smouldering scraps.
Burn scars covered his face, and his chest rose and fell weakly as he groaned in unconscious pain. He tried to move, but his hands faltered every time he made an attempt.
Chen Ren looked down at him, and stared at the man for a moment. "I won," he whispered.
Straightening up, he turned his attention to the announcer, who stood frozen, mouth slightly agape. Realising the match was over, the announcer quickly snapped out of his daze.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" the announcer’s voice was loud, trembling with excitement. "Cang Rui is out! Chen Ren has won the round and is advancing to the finals! Let’s hear it for this budding array and talisman master who has shocked everyone in the arena today!"
The crowd immediately stood up, cheering for Chen Ren and it was far louder than anything he’d heard before. There were no boos this time, no insults hurled his way, no accusations of cheating. Only pure admiration and excitement filled the air as they chanted his name.
Chen Ren’s eyes swept across the stands, taking in the sea of cheering faces. But he wasn’t looking for his friends or allies. His eyes locked onto the VIP section, where the city lord and other dignitaries sat.
Among them was a man with the shade of purple hair as Cang Rui—his father. Cang Huasheng’s face had gone pale. Yet when their eyes met, Chen Ren gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod.
It was a message: I could’ve killed him, but I didn’t. Consider this a favor.
The latter’s lips tightened, his fists clenched at his sides. But he nodded back, acknowledging the unspoken gesture.
Without another glance, Chen Ren turned and walked away from the arena.
***
Chen Ren trudged back to his assigned room in the arena, his legs heavy with fatigue. The cheers of the crowd still echoed faintly through the hallways, but he barely registered them—his mind was already clouded by exhaustion and the lingering adrenaline of the fight. Pushing open the wooden door, he stepped inside and shut it behind him, finally allowing his shoulders to sag.
The room was small and sparse, with a single chair, a bed, and a basin of water on a stand. He made his way to the chair and sank into it heavily. For a moment, he sat still, staring blankly at the floor, before a sharp twinge of pain reminded him of the toll the battle had taken.
"Hsss!" He let out a painful yelp as he leaned back too quickly, aggravating the wounds he had sustained. Gritting his teeth, Chen Ren reached up to untie his robe. Blood had seeped through the fabric in several places, sticking it to his skin. Peeling it off was excruciating, but he managed, tossing the torn and bloodied garment onto the floor.
His torso was a mess. Cuts crisscrossed his chest and arms, some shallow, others deep enough that fresh blood trickled from them. Bruises had begun to form along his ribs, dark patches that ached with every breath. He grimaced as he touched a particularly deep gash on his shoulder, the edges ragged where Cang Rui’s Void-enhanced blade had grazed him.
Chen Ren rummaged through a pouch at his side, looking down briefly at the medallion he had kept close after getting it from Feng Ming, and pulled out a small vial. Inside were the pills Yalan had given him before the match—healing pills that were designed to accelerate recovery and bolster his body. He popped one into his mouth, grimacing at the bitter taste that spread across his tongue as he bit down.
"Ugh, disgusting," he muttered, swallowing it with a wince. Almost immediately, a warm sensation spread through his chest, dulling the pain and slowing the bleeding. He let out a sigh, leaning back in the chair, though the motion still made him wince.
His mind wandered to the fight. One wrong move, one misstep, and he would’ve been dead. Cang Rui hadn’t held back, and Chen Ren doubted the man would have hesitated to kill him if he’d gotten the chance. But sparing him had been the right call.
Cang Rui’s clan would’ve come for my head if I killed him, Chen Ren thought, his fingers brushing absentmindedly over the gash on his side. But that doesn’t mean I’m safe. He won’t forget this, but with his father owing me a favour, he wouldn't try anything.
He sighed again, running a hand through his sweat-matted hair. His eyes flicked to the remaining pills in the vial. One more fight.
If his assumptions were correct—and they usually were—he’d be facing Li Xuan in the finals. The man had fought with clinical precision in every match so far, barely breaking a sweat. Unlike Cang Rui, who relied on brute strength and fury, Li Xuan was methodical, dismantling his opponents piece by piece.
Chen Ren clenched his fist, bringing it back from the hair, his nails digging into his palm at the thought of what was about to come. It’s going to be hard. Probably the hardest fight of my life—
"I never expected you to win against Cang Rui,"
Chen Ren’s head shot up at the voice, his tired eyes narrowing as they landed on the figure in the doorway. Li Xuan stood there, his arms crossed, his posture relaxed yet exuding confidence.
"Especially after the last time I defeated you."
Chen Ren blinked, surprised. Of all people, Li Xuan was the last he’d expected to see right now. I was just thinking about him, he thought. But it wasn’t just the man’s unexpected appearance that caught him off guard—it was the realiSation that Li Xuan remembered him.
"You… remember me?" Chen Ren asked.
"I remember everyone I foughtt against," Li Xuan replied, his tone matter-of-fact. "It’s just that not many of them show such rapid improvement in a couple of months."
Chen Ren couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. "You yourself have advanced. Reaching the qi refinement realm since the last time we met is no small feat."
Li Xuan’s eyes gleamed with confidence. "You and I aren’t the same," he said dismissively, the air around him practically radiating superiority.
"Yes, I know that," Chen Ren said, leaning back in his chair. "And as you saw, I’ve learned some tricks to make up for my… lack of talent. Trained hard for this." He paused, tilting his head slightly. "But I don’t understand. Why are you here? To remind me of the last time we fought, when I lost?"
Li Xuan shook his head. "No. I’m here to tell you to prepare." He took a step closer, his voice dropping slightly. "My match is next. Once I defeat Gu Tian, we’ll be fighting in just a couple of hours."
Chen Ren raised an eyebrow.
Li Xuan’s gaze sharpened, his tone steady but firm. "I held back a lot the last time we fought. But I won’t be doing the same this time, especially not after seeing how much you’ve improved. I don’t want to end up like Cang Rui." He paused, a small smirk playing on his lips. "So, make sure you’ve got more tricks lined up. Because I’ll be prepared for the ones you’ve already shown."
With that, Li Xuan turned on his heel and walked out, leaving Chen Ren staring after him, his expression caught between amusement and exasperation.
"What’s with him?" Chen Ren muttered, shaking his head. His lips quivered into a hesitant smile. "Is he actually a Xianxia protagonist, spouting those cliché lines?"
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before leaning back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as his smirk grew.
"Bad for you, Li Xuan," he murmured. "I haven’t even shown half the tricks I’ve prepared."
2024-12-28 14:53:08 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 156
New territory didn’t always come with new land and people to rule. It came with responsibilities—burdens that make one feel as if they had boulders pressing their weight down on them. And sometimes, those responsibilities came with problems. Land disputes were one of the more common ones out of them, and today, Francis was facing one of the worst kinds.
The kind where a noble thought he could take what was rightfully someone else’s.
As he listened to the man who had brought the message, Francis was already planning on what to do next. Once the full story was clear, he had made his decision. He could've delegated it to Mina or Siton, but there were some things you didn't leave to subordinates, especially not when it involved a noble.
He would handle this personally. He needed to.
With that decision made, Francis organized his party. Two Enforcers—Bran and Talon, and Khoph, a Mage who had been particularly free and agreed to join them quickly. Lord Arzan had told him of a few Mages he had good hope for and the man was among them.
The three of them were perfect. Strong enough to deal with any conflict, but not overbearing enough that the other party takes it as a sign of war.
As they got on top of their horses and set off toward Greten, a village that was to the left of Veridis, Francis couldn’t help but feel the unease that came with riding at full speed. The horses galloped along the rough paths, the wind whipping at his face, and he almost felt as if he might fall off a few times. But this wasn’t his first time dealing with such matters. He knew the importance of being quick. If Baron Idrin had any designs on delaying things or making trouble, Francis didn’t want to give him the chance.
Baron Idrin, in particular, was no stranger to Francis.
Three winters ago, the previous lord of Veralt and him had come to an agreement. They had needed grain to go through winter, but in exchange Idrin had asked for their iron mine instead of coins. As a result, the deal had been rejected.
Shortly after, bandit activity in the area had increased particularly against the remaining farmlands, and rumours swirled that Baron Idrin had something to do with it. But at the time, there was little that could be done. The Lord had been powerless to act, and Idrin had known it. But things had changed now.
Under Lord Arzan, the rules were different. Baron Idrin couldn’t throw his might and sway off men as he pleased.
As Francis rode alongside men strong enough to deal with any knights Idrin might throw at him, he felt confident. No more would the Idrin’s kind get away with these underhanded schemes, he thought to himself.
After two hours of swift, scary and risky riding, they finally reached the village. Though he was happy to have finally arrived at the place, the scene before them was tense.
A large group of villagers had gathered just outside the walls, and a sizable contingent of armoured men stood at the front.
In the centre of it all, two men stood. He recognised one of them as Baron Idrin who talked animatedly with his hands flying in the air with every word he spoke. The person he talked to was Chief Norej, an elderly but sharp-witted man who had attended one of the meetings Francis had held some months ago with Zorgar over development of Verdis and its villages.
Francis fixed his gaze on both of them. Baron Idrin screamed as arrogant and demanding as he remembered. A tall, skinny man, draped in a rich purple cloak. His long chin looked down on anyone who stood in front of him. And his eyes bore into Chief Norej’s face as if he was trying to prove a point. He seemed to be deliberately talking loudly, trying to keep the attention of everyone at him and snickering from time to time.
The old man, with a downturned gaze, appeared to be lowering himself, likely trying to placate Idrin, but he was powerless.
It was then that Francis and his group were noticed. Baron Idrin, Chief Norej, and the others turned their heads in unison, their gazes shifting to the approaching party.
The villagers parted, making way as Francis, Bran, Talon and Khoph walked towards the baron confidently.
Idrin’s eyes narrowed, and his posture stiffened. He stopped talking, taking in the newcomers and seemed to recognise Francis by the way he focused on him.
With a quick gesture from his wrist, Francis gestured for his men to dismount. As his foot touched the ground, he immediately made eye contact with Baron Idrin.
"Baron Idrin, what’s going on here?" Francis asked, and without giving any time for Idrin to answer, he continued, "I’ve been informed that you’re attempting to encroach on the lands granted to Count Arzan by the King himself. Don't you know that’s enough of a reason for the crown to punish you?"
Idrin’s lips curled into a snicker, clearly amused by the audacity of the man before him. "Francis," he said with a mocking tone, "you seem to have grown a pair since the last time I saw you. Talking like this to a Baron, when you’re just a commoner."
Francis didn’t flinch. Instead, he put up his hands and stopped Idrin right then and there. "I’ve been tasked by Count Arzan to manage his territories. I have enough power to speak to you like this, especially when you’re trying to push into lands that don’t belong to you."
Idrin threw his head back and let out a big belly laugh as if the idea of Francis having any power was a joke. "Am I?" he retorted, his tone dripping with mockery. "I don’t think you understand. I’ve been in a land dispute with Baron Morcant for years now, over that gold mine right there in between the hills." He gestured grandly toward the hills in the distance, a sharp glint of greed in his eyes. "That’s the real reason I’m here, Francis. This land has been mine for far longer than your precious Count Arzan has even been in the picture."
Francis’s mind whirled as he listened to Idrin’s words, vaguely recalling Zorgar talking about it, but as the baron hadn't made any moves in the last few years, he had expected it to be a matter of the past.
"My lands stretch to those hills too, so I have the right to the mine," Idrin said in a tone that made it seem like he’d been self-reassuring for so long, he fully believed that he was right. Then he pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment from his coat and waved it in front of Francis. "The man who previously lorded over this city, Henderson, even agreed to part with it for a good sum of coins. Not only the mine, but even this village right here. I have the agreement right here."
Francis’s brow furrowed as he took in the document, but he didn’t look impressed. He'd heard nothing of such a thing. "Henderson had no right to make such an agreement," he said. "He was a traitor to the crown, and the crown will agree with me. That piece of paper is worthless."
Idrin’s face reddened with rage. His fingers tightened around the parchment, crumpling it as his glare turned cold. "My claim isn’t worthless," he spat while clutching the piece of paper to his chest. "It would be in the best interest of both of us if I were to take that mine. Otherwise..." He trailed off ominously, his eyes flicking toward the knights behind him.
At that moment, the knights drew their swords in unison. The group of armoured men around Idrin began to shift, weapons raised in readiness. Francis’s own Enforcers, however, were quick to react. They pulled out their blades, the steel clinking as it met the air, prepared to defend their own. Tension thickened like a cloud over the gathering, the villagers, who had been quietly observing the scene, started to back away. A lot of gasps and whispers spreaded.
Francis, however, didn’t flinch. "Otherwise what?" he asked calmly, daring Idrin to make the first move.
He signalled to the Mage they had brought along. Khoph, who stood at the edge of the group, immediately lifted his hands. Mana pulsed in the air as he started creating a spell structure. A yellow light followed the path that his fingers trailed in the air.
The spell structure hung right when he was done, ready to unleash at the opponents.
That made Idrin’s knights halt mid-motion, their weapons now suspended in the air, eyes wide as the force of the spell made them pause. Baron Idrin himself faltered, his confident smirk faltering as he regarded the Mage’s display of power.
Francis inhaled deeply and took a step forward.
"I suggest you rethink your position, Baron," he said. "This is Count Arzan's land, and no amount of empty claims will change that."
Idrin sneered at Francis, his lips curling as he gestured toward Khoph. “You brought a Mage to this when I'm here for a peaceful discussion?” he scoffed. “It seems the rumours of your count’s rise aren't a lie after all. But understand this—just bringing a Mage won’t let you roll over me.”
Francis clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he stood tall against Idrin’s taunts. “All your knights and guards point to something else,” he retorted. “I came here because I heard you were trying to take over Greten. If you were truly here for a peaceful discussion, your men wouldn’t be brandishing swords.”
Idrin’s face tightened at Francis’s words, but he quickly recovered. "Why did you come, then? I expected Count Arzan to come to deal with this himself. I’ve heard so much about him. Unfortunately, I was too sick to attend his ceremony, but I did send him a gift. Did he consider himself too high to come to meet me to discuss the dispute?"
Francis ground his teeth at the mention of the Count. He couldn't reveal anything about Lord Arzan’s situation with his absence in Veralt. The idea of discussing his lord's venture, or anything more about him, wasn’t a conversation he was prepared to have. Instead, he simply responded, “My lord is in secluded meditation right now. He’s tasked me with solving this issue. I have all the powers to make a decision here.”
Idrin looked him over with narrowed eyes, seemingly processing the words before a sly grin returned to his lips. “Is that so? Then okay. Let’s have a negotiation. In three days, let’s meet right here in the village to solve the dispute. I don’t care if your lord comes or not—until I get my hands on that mine.”
“Sure, in three days. But you won’t get the mine,” Francis said with a nod.
Idrin chuckled darkly, clearly amused. “Let’s see about that.”
With a final sneer in Francis’s direction, Idrin turned on his heel, motioning for his men to follow him. They began to march back toward their territory, leaving Francis standing at the edge of the village, his mind turning over the conversation.
The tension in the air remained, thick as ever, but Francis couldn’t shake the unease that churned in his gut. As Idrin’s men disappeared over the horizon, Francis continued to watch them, brow furrowed in thought.
As soon as they saw that Idrin was out of sight, Bran walked forward. "What are we going to do now?" he asked.
“We’ll talk,” Francis replied. “Try to negotiate and keep the land dispute on the back burner for now, but something’s off.”
Bran frowned. “What do you mean?"
Francis sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know Idrin. I’ve met him before. He’s the type to act like a dog to higher nobles, trying to win favor. Lord Arzan is a count with a growing reputation. It doesn’t make sense for him to show such an attitude. Idrin is looking for conflict.”
“But he’s talking about a land dispute. Is it not real?”
“It seems real, but aside from the agreement Hendrerson gave him that I had no idea about, the issue hasn't been mentioned for a long time,” Francis said honestly. "And if there’s no mention of it, why would Idrin bring it up now, after all these years? It feels fishy to me.”
Bra nodded at that. "So, are you going to tell Lord Arzan about it?"
Francis’s gaze turned to the horizon, his heart heavy with the uncertainty of it all. “Yes,” he answered. “I’ll send word to him. I hope he returns soon. Something’s brewing, and I can’t shake the feeling that this is more than just a simple land dispute.”
The Enforcer said nothing more, and soon they all mounted their horses to go back to Veralt. In his heart, Francis wished that the lord would be back soon.
***
Kai left the Blackwood estate with a lot on his mind, having given William plenty to consider. He wasn’t sure if the Duke would ultimately agree to form an alliance, but at least he knew they hadn’t left on bad terms. The tension between them had dissolved somewhat, and Kai was certain that Duke Blackwood would be keeping a close eye on him from now on, for better or worse.
Once they had left the estate behind, Kai and his group began heading west into the Sylvara grove. He knew that while the forest was part of the Lancephil territory, the elven lands connected to it were independent. Due to that, the grove was somewhere in the middle.
Kai had heard rumours of King Sullivan’s repeated attempts to conquer the elven lands, hoping to gain access to the Elder Tree in his youth, but despite his best efforts, he and his forces had never even come close to reaching it. The elves were considered mysterious, and the Elder Tree in Sylvastra was seen as something of a legend.
Curiosity gnawed at Kai as they walked, and he couldn’t resist asking, “What’s the reason Sylvastra is hidden so well? Is it the doing of the Elder Tree itself?”
Raven nodded thoughtfully, her gaze distant as she walked. “In a way, yes,” she said, “but it’s mostly the work of the elders. You’ll understand better as we get closer. I believe you’ll like what you see.”
The conversation faded as they continued deeper into the forest, the sounds of wildlife filling the air. Then, without warning, a rustling from the underbrush caught their attention.
A beast strodded forward, standing at least eight feet tall at the shoulder, with a muscular frame covered in coarse, dark fur that shimmered faintly in the dappled sunlight. Its head resembled a mix between a wolf and a bear, with a pronounced snout, jagged fangs glinting as it bared its teeth, and two curling horns sprouting from its forehead, adding to its menacing appearance.
Gareth instinctively moved to charge, but Raven held up a hand to stop him. “Wait!” she whisper yelled.
“Let me handle it.”
She extended a hand, and from her fingertips, a green light appeared—Raven’s spirit—Jata. It floated forward, silent and graceful, approaching the beast with cautious steps. The animal seemed to pause, its instincts alert but not aggressive. The little wisp of energy pulsed, once, twice, thrice—it was communicating with the large beast.
The beast grunted, huffed and puffed, finally coming to an understanding. Moments later, it snorted in recognition and retreated back into the trees, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.
Kai watched the entire interaction, his gaze fixed on the spirit and the beast. It was a fascinating sight, but his curiosity wasn’t just about the beast—it was about Raven and her spirit. Claire, walking beside him, couldn’t help but glance at the spirit with a twinkle in her eyes.
Turning to Raven, Kai couldn’t hold back his question. “How did you do that?” he asked. “I didn’t sense any magic emanating from Jata.”
Raven smiled slightly. “I just got my spirit to talk to the beast,” she explained. “One of the elders formed a druidic bond with the creature that rules over the Sylvara groves. All the beasts are under it's command. I had my spirit remind it that we are protected by that elder, so it ran off.”
Kai's eyes widened with interest. “That’s… fascinating,” he admitted and gave a smile. “I’ve never looked into druidic magic before. It’s an entirely different kind of power.”
Raven nodded. “It’s not well understood by many outside the elven community. But it’s a deeply rooted magic. The connection between spirit and nature is something that can’t easily be replicated.”
Kai nodded at that.
As they continued their journey through the forest, he found his thoughts consumed with the concept of druidic magic. It was a field of power he had never explored, and the idea of understanding it—maybe even harnessing it—was an exciting possibility. He couldn’t wait to learn more and already decided to ask for some books on it once he reaches Sylvastara.
After walking through the dense forest for some time, the group finally reached an river, its surface smooth like glass, reflecting the sky and the trees surrounding it. Raven didn’t pause to admire the view, however. Instead, she moved swiftly to a nearby bush, lifting aside branches to reveal a long boat hidden beneath them. It was crafted from wood, twigs and vines. Kai noticed engravings all around its surface.
“It’s an elven made boat,” Raven said, gesturing for them to board. “We’ll be travelling by river now.”
Kai and the others exchanged glances before stepping into the boat. It was surprisingly sturdy despite their light, organic appearance, and the board was flawless. Both the twins took the oars as Kai moved to check the Seals that seemed to be powering the boat.
Gareth cleared his throat loudly as he settled into his boat. “Is the river safe?” he asked, looking out at the waters with suspicion.
Raven gave a small, almost amused smile as she took the lead. “Not exactly,” she replied. “There are often river beasts that come out of the depths. But I don’t think it will be any big problem. They’re easy to deal with. And we have Lord Arzan here.” She nodded toward Kai, “Either way, let's not waste time. We need to get to Sylvastra.”
2024-12-26 20:20:58 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 49
Chen Ren kept his eyes fixed on the arena platform, maintaining his focus despite the noise coming from the crowd. The city official, serving as the referee, stepped forward, his voice loud and clear as it echoed across the massive arena.
"After many interesting and exciting battles, where cultivators displayed their strength, and willpower to challenge even the heavens, only four remain!" he announced, his jubilant voice drawing cheers from the audience. He looked around with his hands extending to the four corners where the four participants were being kept. "These four have caught the attention of not just the City Lord but also the esteemed elders of the Soaring Sword Sect. But the question is—can they make it to the finals and win the tournament? Let’s find out!"
The official paused dramatically, letting the crowd's energy build. A lot of people stood up from their seats and cheered for the competitors. "First up, we have Li Xuan! Last year’s champion and an inner disciple of the Soaring Sword Sect, his sword techniques are famous throughout the region. Will he defend his title, or will one of the others take the crown this year?"
All eyes shifted toward a corner of the arena, where Li Xuan stood with a calm and composed stance, his gaze fixed downwards and hands clutched behind. To Chen Ren, Li Xuan seemed indifferent, as if he already believed the victory was his.
Before Chen Ren could dwell further on Li Xuan, the official continued. "Challenging him foremost is the young master of the Cang Clan, Cang Rui! Known for his mastery of the void element, he’s considered the most dangerous contender among the semi-finalists. Rumor has it, he already has some unfinished business with the third contender. Can he dominate the competition? We’ll see soon!"
The crowd erupted in cheers, their excitement growing. Cang Rui, surrounded by a group of other young masters, smirked confidently. He shot a venomous glare at Chen Ren, but he simply ignored it, turning his focus towards the official once again.
"And now," the official said, his voice rising once more, "we have Chen Ren! An unexpected semi-finalist who has already shaken the betting market. Those who placed their faith in him are walking away much richer. We haven’t seen much of his abilities yet, but many are eager to see if he has more surprises up his sleeve. Will he rise to the occasion or falter here? That’s what we’re about to find out!"
At the mention of Chen Ren’s name, the crowd didn’t cheer. Instead, a wave of boos echoed through the arena. While it was true that he had made some people rich with unexpected victories, he had also caused many others to lose money—those who had bet on his opponents, confident that Chen Ren would lose.
He stood tall, unbothered by the noise. He didn’t show any emotions. The jeers didn’t faze him, but beside him, Tang Xiulan and the children from the noodle stall shifted nervously, their worry evident on their faces.
The official didn’t dwell on the crowd’s reaction, quickly moving on to the next name. "And now, the last semi-finalist—someone who has truly surprised us all! Regarded as the dark horse of this tournament, he is Gu Tian, a wandering sword cultivator! Though only at the sixth star of the body forging realm, his deadly techniques have carried him all the way to the top four. Let’s give him a well-deserved round of applause!"
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, their enthusiasm a sharp, bold difference from the reception Chen Ren had received. His eyes followed the official’s gesture to where Gu Tian stood and a flicker of surprise flashed on his face. This was the same man Chen Ren had locked eyes with earlier. The same man who’d given him an eerie feeling with a simple eye contact.
At first glance, Gu Tian didn’t seem particularly impressive, his aura plain and unassuming. Yet, as Chen Ren continued to observe him, he couldn’t fathom how this cultivator had managed to fight his way to the semi-finals.
Gu Tian, seemingly unaware of—or uninterested in—Chen Ren’s scrutiny, raised his hands in acknowledgment of the crowd. Their cheers grew louder, and the entire arena buzzed—no, shook with excitement. Chen Ren hadn’t watched any of Gu Tian’s matches, but judging by the crowd’s adoration, they must have been thrilling. He must’ve given something worthy to watch.
After all, everyone loved an underdog—a dark horse capable of taking down stronger opponents—and Gu Tian had clearly done justice to their expectations.
As Chen Ren continued to study Gu Tian, the official stepped forward again, holding a small bag in one hand while another man stood beside him with an assortment of chits inside. "Now," the official announced, his voice commanding attention, "let’s determine who will face each other in the semi-finals!"
The arena immediately went silent. The tension was palpable as all eyes turned to the official, waiting for the matchups to be revealed. Without another word, he reached into the bag, pulling out two chits.
He unfolded them and called out, "The first match will be between Chen Ren and Cang Rui! That means the second match will pit Li Xuan against Gu Tian. Let’s give a round of applause!"
The crowd soon started cheering, the chaos from before surfacing once again. Chen Ren’s eyes flicked toward Cang Rui, who stood grinning at him. It wasn’t a pleasant smile—it was bloodthirsty, filled with malice and confidence. Chen Ren didn’t react, brushing it off with no expression. This match was inevitable, and it was better to face Cang Rui now rather than later.
Still, Chen Ren couldn’t ignore what he had observed. During the tournament, he had made it a point to study Cang Rui’s matches. The man might have been an arrogant young master, but his strength was undeniable. The void element was incredibly rare, even rarer than Chen Ren’s own lightning element. It was swift, mysterious, destructive, and brutally efficient. Most of Cang Rui’s battles had ended quickly, his opponents became overwhelmed before they had the chance to mount a defense.
Chen Ren’s thoughts were interrupted by a voice behind him. "Thinking about something?"
He turned to see Qing He approaching, her arms crossed and a faint smirk playing on her lips.
"Senior Qing He," Chen Ren greeted, a bit surprised. "I never thought you’d leave your tea shop to come watch my match."
Qing He shrugged. "Eh, I felt trapped in there. Besides, I wanted to see if all that training of yours has paid off, or if you’re just going to eat dirt in this tournament." Her smirk widened as she added, "And it seems you’ve managed to get yourself a strong opponent. The difference in cultivation alone is quite the hurdle. Add the void element to the mix, and you’ve really outdone yourself this time. You have a talent for making your life difficult, kid."
Chen Ren ignored the jab, keeping his focus. "Do you have any advice for me? You must have seen void cultivators before."
Before Qing He could respond, another voice cut in from his left. "The void element may be rare and destructive, but it’s also unstable—especially for someone who’s not fully in control of it. If you can disrupt your opponent’s emotional stability, their element can spiral out of control."
Chen Ren turned toward the speaker and blinked in mild surprise. It was Anji, standing with her arms folded, her sharp gaze fixed on him.
Qing He chuckled. "The kid’s right. That’s your best bet to win this battle."
Chen Ren nodded, filing the information away. He looked back at Anji, curious. "How do you know that?"
Anji tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. "I once served a cultivator who used void as his element. I learned it from him."
Chen Ren mimicked her action and tilted his head in return. "Can you tell me more about it?"
Anji’s face hardened, and she shook her head. "No. I’d rather keep certain things to myself."
Though her answer left him with more questions, Chen Ren respected her decision and gave a nod. As he glanced at Anji, his senses subtly probed to determine if she was a cultivator. Yet, as always, he found nothing. It was as though he was reading too much into her, but that was what unsettled him the most.
Anji’s knowledge of cultivation techniques and elements far surpassed what any commoner should know. Even Yalan, had been unable to provide any insight. When Chen Ren had asked about her, the cat had simply flicked its tail and replied that Anji displayed no signs of cultivation whatsoever.
Yet, here she was, speaking with confidence about the void element as if she had firsthand experience.
The mystery surrounding her tugged at the edges of his mind. Was she telling the truth, or was there more to her than she let on? Chen Ren couldn’t decide, and the unknown made him uneasy.
But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. His gaze shifted back to the arena platform, where the crowd literally moved as one. The match against Cang Rui was ahead, and that was where his focus needed to be.
***
Chen Ren sat quietly, meditating with his legs crossed, his mind focused on the energy stirring within him. His dantian, the center of his qi, felt as though it was bubbling up with power. This surge of qi had started after his recent ice cream and chips sales and only continued to grow from there. The energy felt different, like it had its own movements, but it was growing stronger by the day. Chen Ren knew he had to use this opportunity to grow stronger before the battle with Cang Rui.
As he closed his eyes, he felt himself slip back into his star space. The familiar sight of countless stars above him greeted him once again. He could feel the eyes of the stars watching over him, their light guiding his cultivation. He had unlocked two new stars recently, and now he focused on them, feeling their energy intertwining with his own.
Chen Ren turned his attention inward, observing the qi that was gathering inside his body. The energy, like a liquid, moved through his meridians, filling him with strength. It began to feel like his muscles were tightening, his bones growing stronger, and every part of him becoming more resilient. The sensation was intense, but it felt right—this was the progress he needed.
But as the energy grew inside him, so did the pressure. His dantian felt full, as though it might burst from the force of the qi. Sweat started to bead on his forehead, and his breath became shallow. He could feel his chest tighten, the strain building. It was almost overwhelming, but Chen Ren forced himself to stay calm, to keep his focus sharp.
Seconds soon bled into minutes and the energy only continued to grow, and swirl inside him in circles. It was hard, but he knew it was essential.
He reminded himself that this was part of the process. He reached for the Dao of Money, the connection that had always helped him find balance in his life. Drawing on this, he focused his mind on using the qi properly, making sure it flowed without spilling over or causing damage.
With each breath, he slowly absorbed more and more of the energy, his body growing stronger with every passing moment.
As the pressure built, he fought the urge to stop. His stomach churned, and his body felt as though it might burst, but he pushed through, focusing all his will on keeping the energy contained.
Slowly, gradually, the flow of qi began to settle, the intensity easing as he absorbed the power.
Chen Ren’s breath steadied, his body relaxing as he reached the limit of the energy he could take in for now. He had done it.
I did it! He gasped out aloud.
The qi had settled within him, strengthening his body and mind. All the extra qi he felt were now… much calmer, under control.
I did it… he thought to himself again and slowly opened his eyes, the room around him coming back into focus. He looked down at his sweat-soaked body and clenched his fists. The power that coursed through him felt surreal. Even his fingertips—felt powerful. A quiet mutter escaped his lips.
“Ninth star of the body forging realm. I finally achieved it.”
The moment of win was brief, interrupted by a knock at the door.
“The semi-final is about to begin. They need your presence out there,” came a voice from the other side.
“I’m coming,” Chen Ren replied, and sighed. Relief filled his bones as he stretched his neck. Rising to his feet, he quickly pulled himself together, wiping away the sweat and shrugging off his clothes before stepping out of the room.
As he walked past the official, the muffled sounds of the arena grew louder until they became an overwhelming roar. Cheers and boos mixed together in a chaotic symphony, filling the air with energy.
Chen Ren stepped onto the arena platform, the ground beneath his feet solid and familiar. The crowd erupted with renewed fervor, some voices shouting for his defeat while others cheered him on. He ignored the noise, his focus remaining on what was about to come, and his eyes scanned the stands.
In the lower section, he spotted Yalan sitting calmly, her amber eyes locked on him. Catching her gaze, he gave her a slight nod and a confident smile.
She responded as she got the hint of his breakthrough and raised her paw. Chen Ren smiled at her and turned back to the arena.
He continued to walk, ignoring the slight stage fright as his ears buzzed with the shouts of the crowd. He had felt it before, but it was clearly hard to get used to it.
Chen Ren wondered if this is how performers must feel. Under so many eyes—Wait no, he couldn’t allow himself to get distracted. He pulled his focus back on the task at hand. The cheers and jeers around him soon blurred into the background.
Cang Rui stood in the center of the arena with his trademark arrogance, his eyes gleaming with contempt. When Chen Ren finally reached the platform, the young master's lips curled into a mocking smirk.
“I was wondering if you had already run off,” Cang Rui scoffed loudly. “You made me wait a long time.”
“Obviously not, Young Master Cang,” he replied, his words carrying just the right amount of sarcasm. “I wouldn’t dream of disappointing you—especially after you helped me reach the semi-finals by flexing the might of your family. Not even my own family has been so generous.”
Cang Rui’s smirk faltered, replaced by a flash of pure fury. A low murmur ran through the crowd as some of the onlookers caught the subtle jab, and a few began to cheer. It was clear from the shift in the atmosphere that they understood the implications of Chen Ren’s words.
The young master’s anger ignited when the crowd kept cheering for Chen Ren. His qi flared, swirling in dark, violent tendrils around him. The void element, dangerous and unpredictable, rippled in the air, crackling. He clenched his fists at his sides, and his gaze narrowed, turning icy.
Chen Ren didn’t know why it made him so angry, but was glad that it did his job.
“You dare speak to me like that?” Cang Rui hissed, “I will make you kneel before me and beg for mercy. Then I’ll kill you.”
Chen Ren didn’t flinch, instead he continued to look at him with the same stare. He had expected this—Cang Rui’s anger was his fuel, and it was precisely what he needed. The more enraged his opponent became, the easier it would be to unsettle him during the fight.
Just as Chen Ren thought of replying, the official stepped forward, raising his hand to silence the crowd. His voice rang out.
“Enough! Listen to the rules, both of you!” The official paused, allowing the words to settle in the air. “From this round onward, fatal strikes are allowed. You may cripple your opponent and kill them. If you manage to do so, whatever items the fallen cultivator has will be yours. Other than that, the same rules as before apply: once you’re out of the stage, you lose, once you surrender, you lose and well, once you are killed, you lose. Now, if both of you are ready…”
The official’s eyes moved between the two fighters, gauging their readiness. With a final sweep of his arm, he declared.
“Begin!”
2024-12-26 12:57:43 +0000 UTC
View Post
Chapter 155
Once the game was over, both Duke Blackwood and Leopold didn’t speak much. And the former congratulated him on the win and walked away, leaving the room to the two.
It was as if the old Duke needed time to process whatever Kai had hinted toward. He hadn’t outright proclaimed that he was running for the throne—doing so now would have been hasty and reckless. But he had given the Duke enough of a clue to set the wheels turning.
After seeing the man go, Kai and Leopold felt into an eerie silence which was broken when the latter stood up and said, “follow me,” and then continued to silently lead Kai through the winding halls of the estate to the guest room where he would be staying the night before leaving for Sylvastra.
The younger man’s usual composure was marked by an uncharacteristic solemnity.
At the door, Leopold finally spoke. “Count Arzan, this is your room. There should be everything you need but if there’s anything else, feel free to call for a servant… Make yourself at home, for the night.”
“Thanks,” Kai replied.
And with that, he departed, leaving Kai to his own devices.
The rest of the day passed peacefully. Kai spent the quiet hours speaking with Raven, gathering insights on the elf lands and the passages that led to them. He mulled over the information, putting it into the larger plans forming in his mind. There were too many pieces to fit together, but for now, he had time to think.
The next morning, Kai was summoned early to the estate grounds. The call came before the sun had risen fully, the sky still heavy with thick, grey clouds that hinted at rain.
Following Leopold’s steady gait, Kai walked through the halls and set his feet outside, where things seemed quieter than when he arrived.
But still, there were activities ongoing; the distant cries of guards training on the other side of the grounds, their sharp commands and the clash of faint metal echoes in the stillness. The familiar sounds reminded him of Veralt, and he thought back to the guards who would have already started their morning training.
Kai walked slowly, letting his senses take in every detail around him. The estate’s grounds stretched wide and were very well-maintained, but there was a heaviness to the atmosphere, as though something lingered just beneath the surface.
Soon, the silhouette of William came into view, his figure standing still in the distance. Leopold continued forward, leading Kai closer to the Duke.
Kai’s pace faltered as he noticed what William stood overlooking. His breath hitched slightly as his gaze settled on the object before the Duke—a grave.
As Kai watched, Leopold broke the silence. “I’ll leave you alone now,” he said quietly before stepping away, his boots crunching softly on the gravel path as he retreated.
With no other choice, Kai took a deep breath and moved forward, his steps slow but not faltering. The closer he got to William, the clearer the grave and its surroundings became.
Duke Blackwood stood tall, his hands to his behind and his shoulders rigid.
When Kai finally reached him, he turned, his face somber, but composed. “Count Arzan, you’re here,” he said. “I hope I didn’t ruin your sleep.”
Kai shook his head. “No, you didn’t. I was already up by the time Leopold knocked on my door.”
The Duke gave a faint nod, and Kai’s gaze shifted past him to the grave. His eyes focused on the inscription etched into the stone, the name catching his attention. Degger Blackwood, it read, accompanied by a short epitaph: “A brave soul who stood against the darkness.”
Kai’s brows furrowed as he took in the name and its meaning. He looked back at William, his voice quiet. “This is…”
“Yes,” William interrupted. “This is where my nephew rests. I told you he died to the necromancer, but I never explained how it happened.”
Kai remained silent, sensing it wasn’t his turn to speak. He stood still, allowing the Duke to continue.
“He was a good man,” William began, his voice tinged with grief and pride. “I had plans for him. I intended to give him one of the outer villages to rule so he could gain experience before moving on to something greater. He was young, ambitious, but steady. He would have made an excellent leader.”
The Duke’s eyes drifted toward the grave as he spoke. “But fate had other plans. The necromancer attacked the village he was overseeing. Unlike many men who would have fled, he stood his ground. He fought against the abominations, rallying the villagers to defend themselves. But…” William’s voice tightened. “He was no Mage. Just a mortal. A brave one. And he paid for it.”
Kai’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing as William continued.
“When we found him,” the Duke said, his voice softer now, “there was almost nothing left. He had been reduced to a mere skeleton. The only way we identified him was the bracelet I gave him on his sixteenth birthday. He still wore it.” He exhaled deeply, his gaze hardening. “I buried him myself, ensuring he finally got the rest he deserved. That day solidified my hatred for necromancers and all their foul creations.”
The Duke paused, his expression grim. “This wasn’t my first encounter with necrotic beings—or, as you can call them, creatures of dead mana. During my years in the army, I saw what they could do. They’d corrupt entire regions, leaving the land barren, uninhabitable. They destroy everything they touch.”
His eyes met Kai’s, the weight of his words pressing heavily on the morning air. “When you spoke yesterday, I sensed the same hatred in you. Tell me—am I right?”
It was time for him to speak. The pain in the Duke's voice, eyes and especially the hesitation in his demeanor—it all made Kai think about what he’d gone through. A village worth of pain.
Kai finally broke the silence, his voice steady. “Yes. I’ve had my encounters with them, and none of them have been good. Every meeting with creatures of dead mana has only solidified my resolve. I’ve sworn an oath to fight against them and to ensure that they are in their best possible state—dead.”
William’s gaze sharpened as he studied Kai, his intense eyes probing for any hint of hesitation. “Does that oath require you to fight for the crown?” he asked, his tone testing, almost goading, as if trying to size Kai up.
The tension hung for a moment before William chuckled, his deep voice reverberating across the quiet grounds. “Though I know your decision hasn’t been made yet, no matter what you try to make me believe. I know of the medallion,” he said, leaning back slightly, his arms crossed. “It caused quite an uproar in the court when King Sullivan granted Valkyrie that honor. But its noise has since quieted. And I wonder…” His lips curled into a knowing smile. “Do you have the courage to cause an uproar again?”
Kai met William’s gaze, unmoving, as the Duke continued. “I called you here to get these answers before you leave for whatever reason brought you to my lands.”
The silence that followed was heavy, yet it carried no animosity—only the weight of unspoken truths. William didn’t seem interested in prying into the details of why Kai had ventured into his domain. Instead, his focus was on Kai’s goals and his intentions regarding the throne.
Kai’s thoughts churned. The idea of fighting for the throne had plagued him daily, and each time, he reached the same conclusion. Looking into William’s eyes, he spoke one truth that he knew. “I will do whatever I need to do to fulfill my oath—even if it means taking over the throne. As for causing an uproar, I’m prepared for it. But as you’ve already guessed, I haven’t yet decided to pursue the throne. Nor have I spoken to my retainers about it. I will, though. Soon. The only reason I’ve put it off is that there’s too much left to do. If I’m going to fight for the throne, I need more power than I have now. Far more.”
“And that’s why you sought me out,” he said knowingly.
“I believe it was you who wanted to meet me,” Kai said in a beat.
The Duke shook his head, a faint grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yes, but I wanted to evaluate you. To see what kind of man this rising noble—the one who managed to make himself a count—truly is. I never expected to find a prospective king.”
Kai raised an eyebrow at William’s assessment, but his tone was calm. “Is that a bad thing? You don’t seem interested in the current factions anyway.”
“Maybe it is, maybe it’s not. It’s not easy to evaluate a man in one meeting. What I’ve heard of you so far is honorable—but there’s enough bad mixed in with the good. Your past doesn’t give me assurance, and your present... well, I can’t quite figure it out yet.”
Kai winced inwardly, feeling the thoughts of Arzan’s shadowed past pressing down on him once again. It was a past he couldn’t escape entirely—especially with the ‘useless’ title that previous Arzan had carried, the one to always be in the shadows and never outshine, but one he had worked tirelessly to leave behind. With a slow breath, he looked William in the eye. “My past is something I detest,” he admitted. “It’s not who I am anymore. As for my present… I believe you’ll have plenty of opportunities to evaluate me sooner or later.” His gaze sharpened. “Though I also think it would be in your best interest to choose me, Duke Blackwood.”
William tilted his head slightly, intrigued. “Oh? And why is that?”
Kai’s expression didn’t waver. “With Queen Regina hellbent on seizing the throne and willing to use dead mana to her advantage, and with the other princes lacking in your eyes, I’m the only one you can rely on.”
William studied him for a long moment before replying. “And do you not lack?” His voice carried a faint hint of a challenge.
“If I do,” Kai said without hesitation, “I’ll find someone to fill that lack.”
The Duke huffed. “Trusting others so easily? That’s a dangerous path. You might end up with a knife in your back.”
“I don’t trust just anyone. If I want to be a ruler loved by my people and feared by my enemies, I need to know who to trust—and who not to. A good monarch might not be the strongest or the wisest, but he must have a good eye for people.”
“Wise words,” William remarked, his tone laced with irony. “For someone who hasn’t even decided if he wants to run for the throne yet. Indecisiveness doesn’t make a good ruler. If you can’t even decide your own path, why should I, or anyone else, support you?”
Kai almost grimaced at the pointed observation, but he quickly masked it. He paused, thinking carefully and taking his time. “Let me make it simple.”
He knew that after coming all this way he couldn’t mess this up, especially not with a foul answer and a foul mouth. He needed to know what he was talking about and by considering all he knew about the Duke—he loved action rather than words.
"In not a long time, my brother, Duke Kellius, will march for my lands."
William raised an eyebrow at the claim, and huffed. "A bold statement. And how are you so sure of this?"
Kai exhaled. "You won’t find this information anywhere, not in court whispers or noble rumors. But from what I know of him—and of Regina—he’ll find a way to claim my lands and destroy me. His patience has thinned. It’s only a matter of time before he marches. For what reason? How he’ll justify it? I can’t say. But I’m confident he will."
William folded his arms. "It’s still just an assumption. Even if I entertained the thought, how do you plan to stop him from doing so?"
Kai shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "That’s where you’re mistaken, Duke. I don’t plan to stop him."
The Duke's brow furrowed slightly. "You’re not going to stop him?"
"No," Kai replied. "I’ll protect the lands granted to me by King Sullivan. But I won’t just stop him—I’ll use his actions to make my point. I’ll defend Veralt, and when the dust settles, you’ll see what you’re looking for." His gaze locked onto William's. "Decisiveness."
William regarded him in silence for a long moment, tilting his head slightly as if what Kai said was absolute mockery. "And you believe that will be enough to sway me?"
Kai nodded calmly. "You can make your decision after that. But I’ll show you what kind of man I am, not through promises or assumptions, but through action."
***
Francis leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as he surveyed the group gathered in his office. The room was filled with young, eager faces, each bearing a mix of determination and nervous energy—a lot of it. These were his apprentices, the seven he had personally selected to shoulder the weight of an ever-growing workload.
A lanky boy named Siton stood near the corner, his ink-stained fingers fidgeting with a quill. Next to him, Mina, a red-eyed woman with her hair tied in a no-nonsense braid, clutched a ledger close to her chest. Darran, broad-shouldered and looking like he belonged more on a battlefield than in an administrative office, leaned against the wall, his expression a mixture of boredom and attentiveness. The others—bright, unseasoned minds eager to prove themselves—completed the group.
Francis sighed. Seven apprentices had seemed like enough when he started, but as Veralt and Verdis grew, the weight of administration proved heavier than anticipated. He’d need more people soon. The workload wasn’t just expanding—it was threatening to outpace them.
Breaking the silence, Mina stepped forward. "The work on the roads is underway. We're making decent progress each day. As per your instructions, while the city is our priority, we’ve shifted focus to connecting the villages to each other and to Veralt and Verdis." She hesitated, her eyes briefly darting to her ledger. "But we’re running into financial issues."
She glanced at the others before continuing. "Also, I’ve prepared a contingent to go to the barbarian territory. They’re ready to leave anytime."
Francis leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, fixing her with a steady gaze. "Hold off the merchants until the payments from the mana cannon sales come through. We’re not in a position to stretch our resources further just yet." He let his words sink in before adding, "Talk to Malden. Most of the materials we need are either from him or from merchants he has connections with. He’ll know how to handle it."
Mina nodded, scribbling down his instructions.
Francis sighed again, leaning back in his chair. "As for the contingent, hold it off for now. I’ll handle the barbarians myself once I’ve dealt with more pressing matters here." His voice softened slightly, though his weariness was evident. "What else?"
The group exchanged glances, hesitant but ready to dive into the next set of issues. Francis braced himself, knowing his day was far from over.
Before Francis could utter another word, Siton stepped forward. "It’s about the slums' redevelopment. We’re getting backlash from... certain groups. People who were involved in criminal activities there are stirring up the locals. They’re spreading rumors that we plan to evict everyone instead of improving the area."
Francis closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose. "Parasites," he muttered. "Send Knight Killian and the Enforcers to deal with it. Make it clear there will be no mercy for those who thrive on exploiting others."
Siton nodded, stepping back into the group.
Francis straightened in his chair, ready to move to the next item on the agenda, but before he could speak, the door to his office swung open. A guard entered, his face pale and his hands shaky. Maybe from the run or maybe from whatever the issue was.
"Administrator Francis," the man began, "we’ve got trouble brewing in one of the villages near Verdis. Baron Idrin, who controls the nearby lands, is attempting to halt the road construction. He’s also trying to lay claim to those lands for himself."
Oh, Goddess Lumaris!
Francis sighed loudly, taking a second to comprehend the man's words before shooting out of his seat. “Get whoever is free to take their horses out. We are leaving to deal with it.”
***
Merry Christmas!
2024-12-24 19:11:47 +0000 UTC
View Post
Chapter 48
For a moment, Chen Ren thought the man was glaring directly at him. The intensity of his gaze felt like it could pierce through the crowd, locking him in place. But then, the man’s eyes shifted elsewhere, and he turned, disappearing into the throng of spectators without a second glance.
“What’s wrong?” Yalan asked, her voice laced with curiosity as she perched on the railing.
“Nothing,” Chen Ren replied evenly, though his thoughts were still racing. “Can you see through that man?”
Yalan tilted her head, her small eyes narrowing as she scanned the crowd. “No. He seems to have some sort of detection-blocking artifact. But I don’t think he’s that strong. Probably a bit weaker than you, actually.”
“Is that so?” Chen Ren mused, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Then I’m just being paranoid. He seems like one of the competitors, but if he’s not that strong, he probably won’t do well in the tournament.”
Yalan’s tail flicked once. “Yeah, you should just focus on selling your stuff and your battles. Leave the rest to fate.”
Chen Ren nodded, though a lingering unease remained in his chest. His mind drifted back to that night with the spectral rhinos, when even the shadows felt much more dangerous than they actually were. Since then, paranoia tugged at him every now and then. He supposed it was inevitable, given that the demonic cultivator hadn’t been caught yet.
He could be anywhere, Chen Ren thought grimly. But like Yalan had said, it would take either a fool or someone incredibly reckless to attend a tournament crawling with cultivators.
He exhaled, shaking off the feeling, and was brought back to the present by a shout. “Hey, ice cream man! Over here!”
Chen Ren turned to see a burly man waving him over impatiently. He grabbed a bowl, scooped out a serving of ice cream, and walked over to hand it off. The man grunted his thanks before digging in, leaving Chen Ren to return to his stand.
***
The battle royale round ended quickly, the competitors falling one by one as the arena grew quieter, leaving only the strongest standing. Chen Ren had hoped to spectate the entire event, watching the clashes of cultivators to learn more about his potential threats, but most of his attention was consumed by his stall and the handcart he had set up inside the arena.
Seeing other vendors peddling their goods made it clear that he wasn’t the only one with this idea, many had bribed the guards to set up shop inside the arena. Though, unlike his ice cream and chips, their sales were much slower, their goods not as unique or appealing to the crowds.
Day by day, Chen Ren found himself selling over three hundred bowls of noodles, about one hundred and fifty packs of chips, and around a hundred servings of ice cream. While it seemed like the ice cream wasn’t making as much, its price was higher than the other items, and unlike noodles or chips, it had a dedicated group of recurring customers who returned for it every day in the arena.
At a glance, it was clear Chen Ren was doing well. He was pulling in hundreds of silver wen every day, and his qi was constantly swirling within him, rising as his cultivation slowly increased with each passing moment.
He could feel a breakthrough coming, the pull of his cultivation urging him to step forward. But Chen Ren held back. He didn’t want to use the opportunity just yet—he was saving it for the semi-finals.
A small voice in his mind warned him that he might not even reach the semi-finals, but he chose to ignore it.
Confidence in his abilities was key, especially knowing he had many tricks up his sleeve. If he was honest with himself, he felt he could hold his own against even a qi refinement realm cultivator. But, fortunately, or unfortunately, he never got the chance to test it.
After all, each of his opponent kept surrendering.
“Zichen surrenders! Chen Ren wins the round and secures his place in the semi-finals!” An official announced and was followed by a brief pause, his voice ringing clearly through the arena. “The defeated cultivator Meng Tou will receive the standard rewards for the top 8— five spirit stones, three pills, and one weapon of his choice!”
A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd, though Chen Ren hardly noticed. He allowed himself a small smile at the announcement, but his attention was already on his opponent. The man’s face was twisted into a grimace, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Every fiber of his being radiated frustration and humiliation.
Meng Tou had surrendered without even launching a single attack, a decision influenced by something far beyond his control.
The man’s shoulders shook with barely restrained anger, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. He cast one final glare—at Chen Ren, then at the sky—before stepping off the stage. His movements were stiff, as if each step was an effort to hold himself together.
Chen Ren’s smile faded, replaced by a more somber expression. A pang of sympathy tugged at him. He understood too well how it felt to be powerless, to have no choice but to surrender before even launching one punch.
His thoughts drifted to his previous opponent, the girl he had faced in the top 16. She had looked on the verge of tears as she surrendered, her head bowed in defeat. The memory of her trembling hands and downcast gaze lingered uncomfortably in his mind. He hadn’t known what to say then, and even now, words seemed inadequate.
Instead, he had sent Xiulan to offer her some ice cream after the match. It was a small gesture, hardly enough to erase the sting of defeat, but he hoped it had brought her a sliver of comfort. Watching her accept it with hesitant gratitude had lightened the weight on his chest, if only a little.
Ice cream was, afterall, a good comfort dessert.
The world wasn’t kind, and it was easy to feel sorry for those forced to give up, but in his heart, he knew he would’ve won against both of them regardless of their circumstances. He tried to think of it positively.
The competition wasn’t about fairness; it was about survival. And though he knew it was a bit underhanded, scheming was part of the game. There were no rules barring him from using every trick at his disposal, and the so-called righteous cultivators here were no different than the bloodthirsty murderhobos, all pride and ego, willing to do anything to stay on top.
Still, the boos of the crowd affected him a bit. Their discontent was palpable—jeers and shouts of “coward” and other insults rang through the air. They were disappointed by the lack of a fight, and though he understood why, it didn’t make it any easier to bear. He turned toward them, meeting their eyes for a brief moment, and silently vowed to turn their boos into cheers next time.
The trick might not work in the semi-finals, but he’d make sure they wouldn’t be disappointed again.
Before stepping off the platform, Chen Ren’s gaze shifted upward. He noticed a special area in the arena, elevated above the crowd, reserved for important figures.
It looked like a VIP box at a sports match, and in it sat a few individuals, observing the events below. Among them, his eyes landed on an old man with a large beard, dressed in robes that immediately told Chen Ren he was from the Soaring Sword Sect. Chen Ren vaguely recalled him from the sect entrance examinations. He caught Chen Ren’s eyes with the air of someone who had seen it all, someone who wouldn’t easily be impressed.
His eyes seemed… calculating, observing him from above and taking everything in.
Next to the elder sat a burly man, his intense gaze focused on the arena with a scowl on his face. His expensive robes indicated his high status, and the way he spoke angrily to a man seated to his left confirmed his importance. Chen Ren recognized him immediately—the city lord, Li Baolong. From the way he glared at the proceedings, Chen Ren guessed that the city lord was none too pleased with how things were unfolding.
He probably disapproved of Chen Ren’s unorthodox methods. But as long as he didn’t break any rules, there was nothing the city lord could do to him.
As he took in the scene, Chen Ren couldn’t help but notice the differences between Li Xuan and his father. The city lord and his son clearly didn’t share much in terms of appearance. Chen Ren had expected some resemblance, but Li Xuan didn’t seem to look anything like the older man, suggesting he must have inherited his features from his mother.
After giving a respectful bow toward the distinguished figures in the VIP box, Chen Ren turned away. He wasn’t here to cater to the whims of the powerful. He had his eyes on the prize—preparing for the semi-finals. With his next fight on the horizon, he knew it might not be able to get away with it without fighting.
***
The city lord, Li Baolong, sat in the elevated stands in the arena, his eyes never leaving it. His lips were tightened in frustration as he watched the battle end in surrender. His gaze landed on the young man who had gotten an entry into the semi finals without a single scratch on him and the crowd's harsh words and boos that followed him. Their discontent was palpable.
Li Baolong clenched his jaw, his anger simmering beneath the surface. “Isn’t this a mockery of our city’s tournament?” he muttered under his breath, his words leaving his mouth heavy with disdain. His leg continuously bounced up and down impatiently. “Someone makes it to the semi-finals and hasn’t even bled once in the process? Not a single exchange of blows, no real effort. Why is everyone surrendering like this to this man? What’s his background?”
A steward standing nearby, his posture stiff with unease and the long hours of standing, quickly leaned in to answer. “Lord, he’s a man from Red Peak City. His name is Chen Ren and he has gained some notoriety for two reasons. First, he won a Trial by Might against Bai Shen, the young master of the Bai Hu Trade Association. Second, his businesses, particularly his perfumes, are becoming quite popular among mortal women in the region. However, the real reason behind the surrender is a rumor. It is said that Cang Rui of the Cang Clan has spread word that anyone fighting this man will earn the ire of his clan. According to the rumor, only Cang Rui is allowed to defeat him.”
Li Baolong’s face darkened further, the disbelief etched across his features twisting into a mixture of anger and incredulity. “That’s bullshit!” he snapped, his voice rising. “If that’s the reason, then what does it say about this tournament? A man who doesn’t even break a sweat in his victories, and people surrendering left and right? It’s all because of rumors?” His voice dripped with derision as he leaned forward, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the chair’s armrests. “This is disgraceful! Where’s the honor in this?”
His anger mounting, Li Baolong turned sharply toward the man seated to his right, a figure draped in deep purple robes and adorned with an air of reserved authority. “Lord Cang, is that true?” his voice carried a biting edge, the question less a query and more a demand for an explanation.
The man, Cang Huasheng, maintained his composure despite the pointed accusation. He inclined his head in a show of respect, though his expression betrayed a flicker of discomfort. “I must apologize, Lord Li,” he said. “It is true that my son, Cang Rui, has always been hasty in his words. He was deeply offended by this man, and perhaps his pride got the better of him. It seems he may have spoken out of turn, and for that, I take full responsibility. But rest assured,” he added, “there is no way this man will make it out of the semi-finals. I will personally ensure that whoever fights him doesn't hold back in their match.”
Li Baolong’s anger simmered, his lips pressing into a thin line as he nodded sharply. “Do that,” he said curtly. “And next time, tell your son to keep his mouth shut. Spreading such rumors brings a very bad flavor to the tournament. At this rate, even someone entirely unworthy could make it to the semi-finals.”
Just as the tension in the room seemed to settle, a voice cut through the charged atmosphere. “Unworthy? I doubt that, Lord Li.”
The words came from Elder Yan Xiu of the Soaring Sword Sect, who had been quietly observing the proceedings from his seat. His voice was calm yet carried a weight of authority that commanded attention.
Li Baolong’s gaze snapped toward Yan Xiu, his brow furrowing in confusion and annoyance. “What do you mean?” he asked, his tone laced with skepticism. “Do you think a mere seventh-star body-forging realm cultivator is worthy of making it this far? Greater cultivators have failed long before reaching the semi-finals. Even the man who surrendered just now was at the ninth star.”
Yan Xiu nodded thoughtfully. “You are right, Lord Li, but cultivation realms aren’t everything.” He paused, eyes narrowing at parts of the crowd. “Despite the surrenders, that man’s entire body stance was fitted for battle as if he was prepared for even a fight rather than a surrender. His eyes—there was no fear in them. Moreover, one of his hands was very close to the pockets of his robes. He has planned things in advance. He might not have great cultivation, but I don’t think he’s here just because of circumstances. He might just surprise you.”
Lord Li Baolong opened his mouth to respond, but just then, another figure entered the box, cutting him off.
“I agree with that.”
Everyone turned as Tang Jihao, the esteemed elder from the Tang Clan, walked in. His complexion looked a little better than the last time they had seen him, and even his walk—exuded an air of dignity.
Li Baolong raised an eyebrow, a little surprised. “You look to be having better health now, Tang Jihao.”
Tang Jihao gave a modest smile, nodding respectfully. “My daughter’s success has made my illness much more tolerable,” he said. “I didn’t want to miss watching the tournament, so I came here in person.”
Everyone nodded in acknowledgment, and Tang Jihao settled into a seat beside them. Li Baolong, however, was still deep in thought. He turned toward him. “What do you mean, you agree with elder Yan Xiu?” he asked.
“Chen Ren lives with me.” His eyes were distant as he looked at the arena, seeing how people were mingling with each other. “And I must admit, I’ve been surprised by him every step of the way. I’ve seen him push through situations that would have broken most others. I have confidence in him. His abilities go beyond what others might perceive at first glance.”
Lord Li Baolong studied Tang Jihao closely. “Confidence is good, Tang Jihao,” he replied, “But I don’t think just that will help the young man. After all, soon there will only be four people left, and none of them will be weak enough to surrender. He’ll have to fight—really fight—and then we will see if he’s actually worthy.”
Tang Jihao turned in his seat slightly and looked at Li Baolong in his eyes. He offered a gentle smile and said, “We’ll see, Lord Li. We’ll see if my confidence in him is misplaced.”
The city lord snorted, clearly not convinced. “We shall, indeed! But when the real battle begins, only the strongest will remain. We’ll see how your young friend fares then.”
***
Merry Christmas!
2024-12-24 06:10:36 +0000 UTC
View Post
Chapter 154
“Count Arzan, what do you think a king should strive for?” Duke Blackwood’s deep voice made Kai look up from the board in front of him, meeting his contemplating eyes. The Duke had his chin resting on his fingers. “To be loved? Or to be feared?”
The question echoed in the silent room, filling the quiet four corners. Slowly, Kai's focus shifted back to the board. The game laid out before them was battleboard, a tactical match where two kings waged war through their chosen pieces.
Pieces stood in formation across the polished surface, their carved forms lit up by the golden glow of a nearby chandelier. A diplomat, a knight, a noble, a Mage, pawns—all poised for victory or defeat.
The game had begun shortly after their introductions, with Duke Blackwood insisting it was the best way to “know a man’s mind.” Leopold, the Duke’s son, sat silently on the sofa nearby, his youthful face set with focused intensity as he watched every move.
Fortunately, Kai wasn’t a stranger to the game. Killian had played the game with him on days they had taken a break from the training. For all of Killian’s singular focus on cultivation, battleboard was the one diversion he indulged in, and Kai had sharpened his skills in those games. Whether he could match the Duke, however, was another question entirely.
Kai leaned back, studying the board with a calm intensity that belied the weight of the conversation. “Both,” he said after a moment, “A king needs both.”
The Duke’s lips twitched, caught somewhere between a smile and a smirk. “An easy answer,” he replied, though there was a faint challenge in his voice.
Kai shook his head slightly, his focus remaining on the board as his fingers hovered over a knight. “It’s not.” He moved the piece decisively, eliminating one of the Duke's diplomats. The polished wood made a soft thud as it landed, emphasizing the finality of the move. “I have my reasons.”
Duke Blackwood’s brow arched, curiosity sparking in his dark eyes. “Do tell,” he prompted, leaning forward slightly.
Kai rested his forearms on the edge of the table, his fingers lacing together as he spoke. His gaze shifted from the board to meet the Duke’s. “Being loved and feared each has its own merits—and its own dangers. But a good king must possess both. He must be loved by his people, so they follow him willingly, trust him implicitly. But he must also be feared by his enemies—and by the wicked within his kingdom. Without love, his people might turn on him. Without fear, his enemies will see him as weak.”
Duke Blackwood hummed thoughtfully, considering Kai’s words as he moved a pawn forward on the board—a small piece, but every move in battleboard carried weight. “And if someone does rise against him? Can he not simply crush them, prove his strength that way?”
Kai tilted his head slightly, the shadow of a smile playing at his lips. “Yes, Your Grace. But that wasn’t your question, was it?”
The Duke’s lips twitched again, the lines on his face shifting as if suppressing a laugh. He leaned forward, placing his next piece—a noble—strategically on the board. “So, Count Arzan, tell me, do you think any of the prospective kings can achieve that balance? Both loved and feared?”
Kai’s gaze flicked to the Duke briefly before returning to the board. He reached for one of his pieces, his knight, and moved it with a soft click on the polished wood. His answer was calm but carried a quiet finality. “No. I don’t think so.”
The amusement in Duke Blackwood’s expression deepened, his smile widening as he leaned back in his chair. “You’re decisive,” he remarked, his tone carrying a hint of approval. “I heard you were in the capital recently. Met Prince Eldric. Then not long after, you crossed paths with the nobles backing Princes Thalric and Aldrin. None of them caught your interest?”
As he spoke, the Duke moved another pawn, positioning it directly in front of one of Kai’s Mages. It was a bold move, subtle but with clear intent.
Kai adjusted his posture slightly, his fingers brushing idly over a bishop on his side of the board. “I haven’t met the second and third princes yet,” he admitted. “But from what I’ve learned, they’re extremes.”
“Extremes can be useful,” he said, his tone contemplative. “But dangerous. Tell me, Count—what would you consider the middle ground?”
Kai’s lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He moved another piece—a calculated step that left the Duke’s noble vulnerable. “The middle ground is the most difficult to hold,” he replied. “But it’s where true power lies. A king who stands there is one who understands his people, commands their loyalty, and keeps his enemies at bay—not through brute strength or blind adoration, but through strategy. Balance is not found in extremes, Your Grace. It’s forged in the fire of discipline and the clarity of purpose.”
“Hmm. You might be right about that.” The Duke cleared his throat and leaned forward, making his next move. “You said the other two princes were extremes? How so?”
In return, Kai placed his bishop strategically to defend his king, then spoke. “The third prince,” he began, “is the type who thrives on fear. His supporters are warmongers—nobles with ambitions that stretch far beyond the borders of this kingdom. Greedy men, eager to carve out more land, more wealth, with little regard for the cost. With a prince like that on the throne, the kingdom would be walking a tightrope. One wrong step, and everything would collapse. A ruler who seeks war without caution is no ruler at all.”
Duke Blackwood nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing as he considered the words. “And the second prince?”
Kai exhaled, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the board. “Soft,” he said simply. “From what I’ve heard, he leans toward progressive ideals. His retinue speaks of reform—laws aimed at fostering internal growth, promoting art, education, and trade. Admirable, on paper. But the world isn’t safe. Wars don’t wait for prosperity to take root. A ruler who ignores the dangers outside his borders is doomed to fail when those dangers come knocking.”
The Duke hummed thoughtfully, moving one of his pieces—a Mage this time. “And the first prince?” he asked, his voice casual, though his eyes stayed on the board.
Kai paused, his expression tightening slightly. He frowned as he studied the board, then finally spoke. “He’s dumb,” he said bluntly. “A puppet. Not worth considering.”
To his surprise, the Duke broke into a grin, his eyes sparkling with approval. “Dumb, you say? Hahaha. I must admit, Count, I agree with you. Wholeheartedly, in fact.”
Kai arched a brow, intrigued by the man’s candid response and the belly laugh.
William leaned forward, his fingers now tracing the edge of the table. “I wanted to say as much in court when those princes approached me. But alas, I am a noble. I must talk carefully.” He waved a hand theatrically, as though mocking himself. “I can’t very well call a prince ‘dumb’ to his face, now, can I? No, no. I have to wrap it in flowers and ribbons to not break their fragile little hearts.”
Kai allowed himself a faint smile. He knew the man was wise, but the respect he demanded was uncanny. And with every word that escaped his mouth, Kai seemed to increase the amount of respect he’d. “And what did you say?”
The Duke chuckled, his fingers curling under his chin as he studied the board. “Something about their potential being... untapped,” he said with a sly grin. “A polite way of saying they’re useless without someone to pull the strings.”
Kai smirked at that, moving his queen into a threatening position. “Diplomacy at its finest,” he said dryly.
The Duke moved his rook almost as quickly, his gaze never leaving the board.
“Did you ask that question to find out which prince I support?” Kai asked, breaking the silence. “I thought you already knew my allegiances.”
The Duke smiled faintly, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “A noble’s mind is ever fluid, Count. Allegiances can shift like the wind. Just because you’re unaligned now doesn’t mean you won’t be in the future.” “You’ve grown too much, after all,” the Duke continued, gesturing vaguely as he leaned back in his chair. “From a baron to a count in record time. Introducing new technology, commanding strong forces, wielding significant magical strength—and with ducal blood running in your veins. You’ll find yourself in the close circles of any prince. That doesn’t tempt you? Doesn’t it make you reconsider?”
Kai studied the board, then moved his Mage closer to the Duke’s commander piece, the click of the wooden piece punctuating the air. “I actually did change my mind,” he said finally.
The Duke’s brows arched slightly. “Oh? Then what side have you chosen?”
“Before I answer, let me ask you a question.”
The Duke tilted his head, intrigued. “And what would that be?”
“Why did you let Knight Darian and the guards come to Veralt to die? You knew they wouldn’t survive. You had no idea about the mana cannons or the state of my forces—not enough to believe we could win. So why send them to their deaths?”
For a moment, Duke Blackwood simply stared at Kai, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a small smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “They failed. And people paid the price.”
Kai’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t interrupt.
“Knight Darian is a good man,” the Duke continued. “Competent. Loyal. I like him. But he made me a promise—a bold one. He swore he’d destroy a parasite that took something precious from me. And he failed.”
The Duke’s gaze darkened, his voice growing quieter. The mountain of a man sighed deeply. “When he returned, he came to me asking for punishment. I told him he would die for his failure, and he didn’t flinch. He said his resolve was strong enough to overcome anything. So I sent him to you.”
Duke's Blackwood eyes locked onto Kai’s, his tone grave. “And it seems his resolve wasn’t misplaced after all.”
Kai glanced briefly at Leopold, who sat stiffly on the sofa, his hands clasped together tightly as though holding himself steady. Then, as if connecting fragmented thoughts into a clear picture, Kai frowned. “The necromancer,” he said softly.
Leopold’s head tilted slightly, a somber nod confirming Kai’s suspicion. The Duke exhaled deeply, leaning back in his chair. His expression darkened, the lines on his face deepening as he spoke. “Yes. My nephew.”
Kai’s gaze flicked back to the Duke, who looked away momentarily, his eyes drifting to the far side of the room.
“My younger brother died years ago. I raised his son as if he were my own. He was… close to me.” he paused, the memory weighing heavy in his voice. His gaze sharpened, and Kai recognized the simmering anger behind it. “And that monster stole him from me.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Kai said, his voice steady but sincere. “No one deserves to die like that.”
The Duke grunted, his nod curt but genuine. “Thank you… You took him down. For that, I am thankful.”
Leopold shifted slightly, his gaze flicking between the two men before settling on Kai. His expression carried unspoken gratitude, a reflection of the Duke’s sentiments.
Kai held the Duke’s gaze for a moment longer before letting his focus return to the board.
“Now,” the Duke said, his voice quieter but no less firm, “tell me about this side you’ve chosen.”
Kai inclined his head, giving the tension in the room a moment to dissipate. His focus returned to the board, where the game had reached an intricate balance—a stalemate of sorts. Every piece on the polished wood seemed to hover on the brink of danger, waiting for the first mistake to shift the tide.
“I’m sorry,” Kai said. “But you’d be disappointed to know that the necromancer was just a pawn.”
The Duke froze, his thoughts visibly halting midstream. His eyes widened in surprise, and even Leopold straightened in his seat, his brows furrowed deeply.
“What do you mean?” Leopold asked.
Kai looked at him, then back to the Duke, his expression unyielding. “The side I’ve chosen… is against necromancers, mana fiends, blood drinkers, weavers, and anything else tied to dead mana. But I fear what I’m fighting against has already rooted itself deep inside the royal court.”
The Duke’s jaw clenched, the anger in his eyes now tempered by a cautious intensity. He didn’t interrupt, waiting for Kai to continue.
“Especially Queen Regina,” Kai added.
That name was enough for the air to grow thick—almost suffocating. Even the sounds that came from outside the door seemed to fade. Kai looked at Leopold, his lips were pressed into a thin line and his hands gripped his knees in a white-knuckled grip.
Kai looked back at the Duke.
The latter leaned back slightly, exhaling a breath he’d been holding through his nose.
“Is that true?” he asked, almost hesitant. “Regina is bad news—I’ve never trusted her ambitions. But conspiring with dark forces? Dead mana? That’s the lowest a human can stoop to.”
Kai sighed. “I wish I were wrong. I didn’t agree to meet you just for a game of battleboard. After the beast wave, I discovered something troubling—a dark mana parasite inside the body of the Vermorga that led the wave.”
The Duke’s eyebrows rose again.
“Before I could collect it, the parasite killed itself. But I’m certain it was controlling the Vermorga, inciting the beast wave against Veralt. And more than that, I believe it was brought by the necromancer. After all, I killed him in the Vasper Forest. A peculiar coincidence, don’t you think?”
Duke Blackwood frowned, his fingers curling into a loose fist. “How does that lead to Regina?”
“She would have stood to gain the most if my city and I were razed to the ground.”
“I don’t know what you’re saying,” he replied, shaking his head. “You haven’t even met her, have you?”
“No, I haven’t,” Kai admitted.
The Duke leaned forward to make the next move on the board. With their conversation growing deep and serious, one would think that they’d forgotten about the game, but he didn't seem to have any intention to leave it hanging.
The faint clack of the piece striking the wood reverberated in the room.
Kai continued, bringing his thoughts back to the conversation. “But I don’t need to. The reasons she’d want me dead are clear enough. And the biggest one?” He paused, his lips curving into a faint, cryptic smile. “It’s simple. The side I stand on isn’t aligned with any prince—because I don’t need them. I can make my own side”
The Duke’s eyes narrowed as he studied Kai, searching for the meaning behind his words. Then, something shifted in his gaze, an understanding dawning as his pupils dilated with realization. His lips parted slightly, and he muttered under his breath, “The medallion given to Valkyrie… You plan to contest for the throne. To build your own side.”
Kai said nothing, his smile deepening ever so slightly.
Leopold, who had been silent until now, went pale. His mouth opened as if to speak, but no words came. His eyes sought Kai’s, questioning, almost pleading for confirmation. But Kai ignored him, his focus returning to the board.
Deciding to end the game, he slid his Mage forward, the unmistakable sound of wood against wood punctuating the moment. His Mage struck true, toppling the enemy king.
“I win,” he said simply.
2024-12-22 15:48:12 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 47
Chen Ren had planned to reach the main rounds of the tournament without much trouble, counting on the influence and recklessness of Cang Rui to clear his path. But he wasn’t naive. He knew that while the Cang Clan had power in Cloud Mist City, it didn’t hold much sway beyond its borders.
With cultivators from all over gathered for the competition, Chen Ren prepared himself for more than just local troublemakers.
So, when Mi Fung leapt toward him, shouting his name like a budding Xianxia hero, Chen Ren didn’t even flinch. With a simple sidestep, he dodged the boy’s palm strike, causing the over-eager opponent to stumble dangerously close to the edge of the stage. If he were to jump out of the stage, he’d have been disqualified without another word.
The boy spun around, glaring at Chen Ren, his face red with embarrassment and anger.
“You dare move out of my way? I’ll make you kneel once I defeat you!” Mi Fung shouted. His hands were balled into fists in his sides, and the boy seemed to shake. Anger radiated from every inch of his body, and Chen Ren barely stopped himself from laughing.
Instead, he smirked and said, “Get in line, kid. Also, who even talks like that? You’re some village kid with inherent spirit roots, not the prince of the empire.”
The boy’s face darkened with rage. He inhaled deeply and lunged again, yelling the name of his move like it would make it stronger.
“[Heavenly Trusted Strike!]”
Chen Ren sighed, shaking his head as he effortlessly dodged the punch. The boy swung with his other fist, but this time, Chen Ren caught it mid-air and held it firmly. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the struggling cultivator.
“You don’t even seem to be at the fifth star of the body forging realm. What makes you so confident?” Chen Ren asked and raised his eyebrows in question.
But before the boy could reply, Chen Ren’s fist crackled with lightning. I don’t need to know the answer! With a quick motion, he struck the boy square in the chest, sending him flying off the stage. The unlucky cultivator crashed into another participant, knocking both of them out cold.
Chen Ren crossed his arms and waited, half-expecting the boy to jump up, stronger and more determined, like one of those "hidden protagonist" types who only grew tougher the more they struggle. Instead, there was just silence as the crowd murmured in surprise.
Just in case, he stood there for a moment, watching as the boy lay sprawled on the ground, completely unconscious.
Finally, he let out a quiet sigh of relief. “Not a hidden protagonist after all,” he muttered, shaking his head and turning his attention to the rest of the arena.
The battles around him were brutal, and it didn’t take long for the arena to clear out. Over half the cultivators were either lying on the ground or being dragged out by the attendants. Blood splattered the floor in various places, even though killing wasn’t allowed at this stage of the competition. The sight made Chen Ren feel a little nauseous, but he suppressed it. He had seen enough bloodshed by now to keep himself in check.
Eventually, the chaos began to subside, and only two people remained in the arena: Chen Ren and one other man.
As he glanced at his final opponent, recognition flashed in his eyes. It was the man in leather armour, the one Yalan had analysed back in the city lord office. She’d mentioned a lingering injury in his left leg—a weakness Chen Ren had tucked away in his mind just in case—especially if a situation as the moment right now arose.
The man noticed Chen Ren as well, the fear in his eyes shifting as conflicting emotions flickered across his face. Chen Ren guessed what was going through his mind. He had probably heard about Cang Rui’s threats and was now weighing whether to give face to the Cang Clan or fight for his own chance at the rewards and the opportunity to enter a sect.
Finally, he seemed to reach a decision. He gave a slight bow and said, “I, Yeng Wi, don’t want to surrender. I’ve sacrificed a lot to stand here and would prefer to leave only after a proper fight.”
Chen Ren smirked at that. “That’s understandable. Come at me, then.”
Yeng Wi didn’t hesitate. He charged forward, gripping a halberd tightly in his hands. As he closed the distance, a gust of wind seemed to swirl around him, boosting his speed and sharpening the blade of his weapon. Chen Ren noted the enhancement but didn’t let it rattle him. With his movement technique, he darted around the halberd, narrowly avoiding its sweeping arc.
Lightning crackled around Chen Ren’s palm as he aimed a punch at Yeng Wi’s side. But the man dodged, stepping back just in time.
Chen Ren smirked. Using the feint to his advantage, he shifted his weight and launched a sharp kick at Yeng Wi’s left leg, the one Yalan had pointed out as injured.
The strike connected. Yeng Wi’s face twisted in pain as he staggered, his footing faltering. Chen Ren took a step back, watching carefully to see if his opponent could recover.
Just as Chen Ren had expected, Yeng Wi collapsed to the ground, clutching his injured leg and crying out in pain. Despite his obvious disadvantage, the man gritted his teeth and swung his halberd at Chen Ren in a desperate attempt to land a hit. But Chen Ren was ready. With a flick of his wrist, lightning crackled to life, surging around him for everyone around him to feel.
The force knocked the halberd from Yeng Wi’s hands, sending it clattering to the ground. Chen Ren stepped closer, narrowing his eyes and looked down at the fallen man.
“You have a lingering injury on your left leg,” Chen Ren said and gestured at the leg. “You can’t win this fight, no matter what. Just give up, or you’ll only make things harder for yourself.”
Yeng Wi’s eyes widened in shock at the statement, and he opened his mouth to respond. But before he could say a word, Chen Ren cut him off. “If ‘I surrender’ isn’t the next thing you say,” he added, “I’ll hit your injury again.”
Fear flashed across Yeng Wi’s face, and he quickly shouted, “I surrender!”
The official overseeing the match stepped forward and raised his voice. “The winner is Chen Ren of Red Peak City!”
With that, cheers erupted from the crowd, and Chen Ren’s name echoed through the arena. He raised his fists in acknowledgment, a small smile tugging at his lips. His gaze naturally drifted toward Tang Xiulan and the others in the stands. They were clapping and smiling, their support warming him more than the cheers of strangers ever could.
But as he turned to leave the arena, his ears caught faint murmurs from the crowd—boos and accusations of cheating.
“Of course he won. No one dared to attack him because of the Cang Rui.”
“Typical. A victory handed to him.”
Chen Ren let the words roll off him. He’d known this was coming the moment he agreed to let Cang Rui’s influence clear his path. He smirked faintly to himself and kept walking, head held high. The tournament wasn’t over yet, and he still had much to prove.
***
After his battle royale round, Chen Ren wasted no time and returned to his business. The familiar routine of selling things was a comfort—much better than being in the middle of blood and gore, and with every transaction, he felt his qi swirl more intensely within his dantian.
Although the noodles were now offering diminishing returns in terms of qi generation, his newer creations—chips and ice cream—were proving to be a hit. Ice cream, in particular, seemed to have a much stronger effect on his qi than the chips, though Chen Ren wasn’t sure why.
Maybe it was because it was more expensive, or perhaps there was something special about it. Either way, he enjoyed the results, the steady stream of customers and the exciting look on their faces after trying ice cream.
As he moved through the arena, peddling his wares, he couldn’t help but overhear snippets of conversation about himself. Some of it was positive, praising his skill or his victory in the arena. But there were just as many whispers calling him a cheater. Those voices seemed to have grown louder since the battle royale, with more people learning about how the Cang Clan’s influence had likely played a role in his advancement.
Chen Ren didn’t let it bother him much. He figured most of the negativity came from people who had lost money betting against him. After all, they probably saw him as nothing more than a weak upstart who’d gotten lucky.
That perception didn’t worry him; he was confident it would change with time. Until it affected his business, he cared little for his reputation. Besides, the quality and uniqueness of his products kept people coming back. For now, the attention was focused on his goods, not him, and that was exactly how he liked it.
Still, amidst the whispers, he picked up valuable information about the competition. There was talk of the other prominent cultivators who had entered, and one name stood out to Chen Ren: Li Xuan.
Li Xuan was the man who had defeated and killed Chen Ren’s predecessor. Though Chen Ren had briefly heard of him before, it hadn’t been confirmed that Li Xuan would participate in the tournament. After all, he had already moved on to the prestigious Soaring Sword Sect. But now it was certain—Li Xuan was here, and from what Chen Ren gathered, he was last year’s champion.
Many cultivators had joined the competition this year just for a chance to face Li Xuan. Perhaps that was the reason Li Xuan had entered, too. Chen Ren wouldn’t be surprised if the City Lord had convinced his son to participate to elevate the tournament’s prestige even further.
Rather than dwelling on the implications of Li Xuan’s presence, Chen Ren was more curious about the man’s strength. From his inherited memories, he recalled that Li Xuan had been at the peak of the body forging realm during their last battle. It was almost certain that he had since broken through to higher realms.
The thought of seeing Li Xuan’s current capabilities intrigued him, so Chen Ren decided to watch his battle royale match from the spectator stands. After all, what better way to know your competitor than on the field?
As he leaned forward, his eyes scanning the arena below, a voice interrupted his focus.
“So, you’re the one selling this ice cream I’ve been hearing so much about?”
Chen Ren turned to see a middle-aged man standing nearby, his face glistening with sweat. The afternoon sun blazed overhead, and the oppressive heat had everyone seeking some form of relief. It was no surprise that his ice cream had become a breakout hit under these conditions.
With his best salesman’s smile, Chen Ren straightened and said, “That’s right. Do you want to try some? It’s only 10 copper wen per scoop.”
The man’s hopeful eyes faltered. “That’s too expensive! None of the food stalls here are charging that much.”
Chen Ren tilted his head and sighed. The heat clearly seemed to have gotten into his head. “That’s because none of them are selling ice cream,” he replied smoothly. “It’s not easy to make, you know. I even need cultivators to use frost arrays on my containers just to preserve them. Honestly, I’m barely making a profit here.”
The man hesitated, glancing around at the arena stands before looking up at the sun hanging in the sky and brushing sweat off his forehead. Finally, he grumbled, “Fine, give me one scoop. It better be worth it.”
“You bet.”
Without wasting time, Chen Ren grabbed a wooden bowl and scooped out a portion of the chilled dessert. Handing it over, he said, "Enjoy, but make sure to return the bowl once you're done."
The man muttered a distracted "Sure, sure," already focused on the ice cream. He took an extremely small bite from the ice cream, and soon his eyes widened. He licked his lips deliciously and looked inside the bowl.
“Oh my! Oh my!” He began devouring the rest of the ice cream without a pause, some of it dripping from the corners of his mouth, but soon, he collected them and didn’t allow a drop to go to waste.
Chen Ren allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction at the man's expression and the swirling qi in his dantian before a loud roar from the arena below pulled his attention.
He leaned forward, scanning the arena just as the announcer declared the start of the match. The crowd erupted in cheers, and the sound of clashing weapons echoed from the combatants below. Chen Ren’s focus sharpened, his eyes searching for a familiar face.
A voice suddenly called out from behind him—inside his mind. "Assessing your competition, are we?"
Chen Ren turned to see Yalan perched on the railing of the stand, her amber eyes gleaming with mischief. Without responding aloud, he nodded slightly before gesturing toward the arena. “That’s him.”
Yalan followed his gaze to where a young man wielding a sword was cutting through his opponents effortlessly. “The one who killed the person I was supposed to protect,” she said in a dead tone, her eyes squinting at the man.
Li Xuan was a tall man— taller than most people in the city. He was at least a foot taller than Chen Ren, standing at seven feet and had long hair that was braided to the middle of his back. It was a shiny blonde colour that stood out from most, giving him the look of a protagonist from one of the Xianxia books he had read back in his previous life.
With extreme focus, he showed off his sword skills, gracefully moving through the dozens of cultivators in the arena and striking them down with precise strikes. A faint crackle of lightning danced along his sword, but unlike Chen Ren’s volatile energy, Li Xuan’s control was impeccable.
“He’s good,” Yalan remarked. “Much better than the last time I saw him.”
Chen Ren’s brow furrowed. “How strong is he? Can you see his soul?”
Yalan shook her head. “No, I can’t. I believe he’s using an artifact to conceal his aura. But if I had to guess, he’s in the first star of qi refinement. That said, he could easily defeat someone a star or two above him. His techniques are clearly practiced daily. I don’t see anyone in this tournament beating him.”
Chen Ren raised an eyebrow. “Not even me?”
Yalan turned to him, her expression serious. “You’ve been scheming your way into the top sixteen, relying on tricks and strategies. But that kid fights like a veteran. He won’t be easy to deal with.”
Chen Ren’s gaze didn’t waver as he watched Li Xuan dispatch another opponent. “The demonic cultivator also used a sword,” he said after a moment, “and had a way to hide detection, didn’t he?”
Yalan gave him a sharp look. “Yes, you’re right. Do you think he’s—”
Chen Ren didn’t answer immediately, his mind racing as he considered the possibility. But it seemed too far-fetched.
“No, I don’t think so… I’m just thinking about how hard it’s going to be to find the demonic cultivator until he shows himself. A third of the cultivators here use swords, and it makes sense for someone to have a technique or artifact to hide themselves, especially with this many strong individuals around. If the demonic cultivator is here, he can easily slip past us.”
Yalan purred. “Yes, I’ve been doing patrols around the area, keeping an eye out for anyone suspicious. But so far, I haven’t seen anyone who fits the profile.”
She paused, glancing toward the arena’s stands, where waves of cultivators watched the battle royale, their eyes fixed on Li Xuan. “Still,” she added, “only a rash individual—even among demonic cultivators—would come to a tournament with so many cultivators around. The risk of exposure is far too high.”
“You’re not wrong… But desperation does strange things to people. If he’s here, he’s either exceptionally bold or has a very specific reason for taking the risk. Either way, we can’t afford to let our guard down.”
Chen Ren’s grip on the railing tightened as he watched Li Xuan strike down his final opponent with a flourish.
His opponent crumbled to the ground, his weapon shattered, and the announcer’s voice boomed over the noise, declaring him the victor. Li Xuan stood tall in the centre of the arena, his blade resting casually on his shoulder.
Cheers erupted all around. The entire fight felt like Li Xuan practising instead of actually putting in the effort to fight. He inclined his head in a polite bow toward the roaring crowd, his composure unshaken by the attention. As he straightened, his gaze swept across the stands, lingering briefly on Chen Ren.
For a moment, their eyes met.
Chen Ren tensed, he felt his knuckles turning white, but Li Xuan’s eyes betrayed no recognition. He looked away without a second thought, striding confidently toward the exit.
Yalan snickered, her amber eyes gleaming with amusement. “He doesn’t even recognize you.”
Chen Ren exhaled softly and nodded. “Not yet. But I think I’ll just have to make our next meeting memorable enough that he never forgets me.”
As the words left his mouth, a chill ran down his spine. His instincts flared, and he turned his head toward the opposite side of the arena. There, amidst the sea of spectators, stood a man whose eyes locked up with his.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, draped in a dark cloak. His features were rugged and sharp while his skin was pale, almost sickly, which was the polar opposite of the dark lines of scars and tattoos that crawled up his neck and disappeared beneath his collar.
Chen Ren’s fingers twitched instinctively as the man kept his gaze on him.
2024-12-22 04:30:54 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 153
The world blurred into chaos the moment Amyra opened her eyes. Everything moved so fast it felt like she was trying to catch up with a story already halfway told. One moment, there was silence—her body heavy, her thoughts swimming through fog—and the next, the princess and her maid was standing over her, summoning Knight Killian and a group of maids with a voice sharp enough to give her another slight headache. Everything was too loud—and too messy for Amyra to relax, especially with the churning questions in her head.
The maids ran in first, their hands and feet quick as they pulled her into her room and arranged it, pulling curtains open and letting sunlight flood in like an uninvited guest. Knight Killian strode in soon after, his armour clinking with every step. Before Amyra could speak—before she could even process what was happening—Killian’s strong hands gently but firmly guided her back into bed.
“Stay,” he commanded.
She wanted to protest, to ask questions, but the swirl of activity left no room for her words. A healer was called, his name tossed into the air before she could even see his face, and a tray of food appeared at her side like magic.
She hadn’t realized it before, but hunger struck her like a bolt. It wasn’t a soft, polite kind of hunger—it was a gaping void, a black hole demanding to be filled. Before she knew it, her hands were moving, scooping up bread and fruit, her body acting on instinct. Relief flooded her entire body with every bite. And a small reprieve from the emptiness she hadn’t noticed until right now, began to fade.
All the while, Knight Killian stood nearby, arms crossed. But his eyes never left hers. The princess stayed too, her expression curious but unreadable—mainly because she hadn’t seen her before, ever. Amyra didn’t know what the lady was thinking, or even assuming. Even the maids stayed back, their eyes flickering toward her now and then as if they couldn’t believe she was awake.
She propped the final piece of bread inside her mouth and gulped down the tumbler of water.
Soon, the healer arrived.
He was no Mage, no wielder of glowing runes or chanting spells, but his knowledge of the human body was evident in his sure movements. His hands pressed lightly against her arms, her wrists, her temples. He asked her questions she answered automatically, his tone was proof that he’d done this at least a hundred times before.
When he finally straightened, the verdict was delivered without hesitation. “You’re fine. No signs of lingering damage. But...” He frowned, his brows knitting together. “You need to be monitored in case you relapse. Falling into a coma again would be...”
“I won’t,” Amyra cut in. The dead world lingered at the edges of her mind, a hollow, lifeless void she had no intention of revisiting. “I’m done with that.”
The healer seemed unconvinced but didn’t argue. He just packed his tools, gave a few final instructions to Knight Killian and the princess, and then left the room with a swish of his cloak.
Finally, the whirlwind settled. The maids stepped back, lingering at the room’s edges, while the princess took a seat nearby, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Knight Killian remained where he was.
Amyra looked at him and noticed the usual scowl masking his face. She drew in a slow breath. “Well… What happened?” she asked at last. “What happened to Veralt? The beast wave? The Vermorga?”
Killian’s expression softened—just barely. He glanced briefly at the princess and maids and then back to Amyra. His eyes met hers with a kind smile.
“We won,” he said simply. “After you... passed out, things moved quickly. Lord Arzan killed the Vermorga. The rest of the beast wave was already thinning by then. The frays and the guards swept the streets, clearing out the scattered beasts. It’s over now.”
Amyra’s chest tightened. Relief mingled with disbelief, but then she realised something. “Does that mean... a lot of time has passed?”
Killian shook his head slowly, his armour catching the light with the movement. “Not too long. Nearly two months. You’ve been out for that long.”
He exhaled deeply, as if a weight he had carried for weeks was finally lifting. Amyra watched him carefully, noting the slight droop in his shoulders, the way his gaze lingered on her.
Two months. The words echoed in her mind. The world had kept moving while she lay trapped in stillness, and now that she was awake, she would have to find her place in it once again. But for two months, she’d lost a part of her life.
“I’m sorry,” Killian’s voice came in a low whisper. He cleared his throat and sighed. “I wasn’t able to protect you then. You were the one who ended up saving me... saving all of us. As a knight, I failed.”
Amyra blinked, caught off guard. His words tugged at a memory she wished she could bury—the moment in the beast wave when the mana fiends had swarmed her, when she’d felt death clawing at her heels. Knight Killian had been there, standing between her and the monsters. If it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t even have a conscience to come back—she’d have been dead.
She shook her head firmly.
“No. You did your best to protect me. It was me who was weak... the one who had to hide behind you. Don’t be sorry, Knight Killian. I’m very thankful to you. Truly… I’d feel awful if you kept burdening yourself with this.”
Killian’s jaw tightened, and he gave a small nod, but his eyes didn’t meet hers.
Amyra could see the storm of regret and questions flickering behind them. Questions… He wasn’t ready to ask—maybe he didn’t know how to—but the question that couldn’t be asked out loud hung heavy in the air. She knew what it was.
She hadn’t lost her memories; she remembered everything from the battle, from the surge of power that had poured out of her in those final moments to the way it had turned the tide. It was only natural they’d want answers. But before Killian could find the words, Amyra decided to redirect.
“Where is Lord Arzan?” she asked, her voice cutting through his hesitation.
Killian’s head lifted slightly, and he answered almost immediately. “Lord Arzan is out of the city. He had some business to attend to and left a few days ago. He should return in about a week. Or maybe two. Otherwise, he’d already be here. When you were in a coma, he visited you every other day. Checked on you constantly.”
Amyra couldn’t help the small smile that spread across her face. “I’m glad to hear that. And even more glad he didn’t get injured in the beast wave.”
“Nothing serious. If anything, he seems stronger than ever. You know how he is.”
Amyra chuckled softly, but Killian’s expression grew more serious. His sharp look rested on her again, and for a moment, he hesitated. Finally, he spoke. “Can I ask you something?”
Her smile faded, and she straightened. He seemed ready to ask about it. But was she ready to tell? “About what happened back then, right?” she asked, cutting to the heart of it without hesitation.
Killian’s brow furrowed as he nodded slowly. “Even Lord Arzan didn’t know what it was. He said he’d never seen or heard of anything like it before.”
Amyra sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I’d be surprised if anyone did,” she admitted. Her hands twisted in her lap, fingers fidgeting with the blanket as she lowered her gaze. The memory of that moment—the searing light, the overwhelming energy—rose unbidden in her mind. It had felt like something beyond her, something she couldn’t quite explain.
But how could she admit that when she knew what she had done.
Vivid memories rushed through Amyra's mind. Her first steps into the life she hadn’t chosen. The reality of what she was meant to be. Her purpose. She clenched her fists, forcing the memories down, burying them where they couldn’t reach her—not now, not when Knight Killian’s eyes rested on her, waiting for answers.
She opened her mouth to speak, but the words refused to come, caught in her throat like a jagged stone. A lump formed instead, and she had to swallow hard before trying again. Her voice, when it came, was quiet and strained. “I’m sorry, but... can I talk about it when Lord Arzan is back?”
Killian didn’t interrupt, though his brow furrowed slightly, concern etched across his face. Amyra forced herself to continue. “Everyone here has been so kind to me. I don’t want to hide anything from you all—especially not when you’ve saved my life. But...” Her hands tightened into the blanket on her lap. “It’s painful for me. Too painful. If I can, I’d really like to talk about it just once. All at once. If that’s okay.”
Killian’s expression softened, and he gave her a small nod. “I understand,” he said gently. “You don’t have to worry about it. Lord Arzan will be back soon, anyway. If I’m right, he should be around Blackwood Duchy by now.”
“Blackwood Duchy?”
“Yeah,” Knight Killian replied with a nod. “The land of the blackwood trees.”
***
Blackwood trees lined both sides of the well-maintained road, their dark, gnarled trunks rising high into the sky. The distinctive black bark seemed to absorb the light, giving the forest an almost mystical air.
Kai’s gaze swept over them, unable to look away. He’d heard of their reputation—a specialty of the region, their strength and durability made them a cornerstone of Blackwood’s trade. Although not imbued with the properties of lightwood, blackwood timber was prized for its resilience, used to construct everything from homes to fortifications throughout the duchy.
The chaotic clatter of hooves on cobblestones punctuated the air as their carriage drew closer to Blackwood City. The sturdy walls came into view first, towering, built almost entirely from the same timber the region was known for. Beyond them, a steady stream of merchants, farmers, and craftsmen were rushing toward the city gates.
Kai shifted slightly in his seat, his eyes scanning the crowd and the walls with interest. “Efficient,” he murmured, noting how smoothly the guards directed traffic.
“They don’t waste a minute here,” Claire replied. She, too, stared at the bustling activity that was happening outside. Her fascination mirrored his. The duchy’s prosperity was evident even before they passed through its gates.
The Blackwood crest on their carriage and the presence of Knight Darian at the helm were enough to part the sea of travellers. The guards straightened and waved them through without hesitation, their deference clear. Within moments, they were inside, their carriage rolling smoothly along the wide, cobblestone main road.
Blackwood City was alive. Stalls lined the streets, offering everything from finely carved wooden furniture to barrels of dark, glossy honey that Claire guessed came from the famed blackwood bees. The sweet scent of roasting nuts and freshly baked bread mixed with the sharper smell of leather from nearby tanneries. Workers carried bundles of timber on their backs with ease, while children darted between them, running towards their own businesses. The people looked strong, industrious, and content—quite the contrast to the chaos Kai had seen in the capital.
“This city is... something else,” Claire murmured, leaning out slightly to get a better view.
Kai nodded. “It feels alive. Even the capital didn’t have this much energy.”
They continued down the main road, the castle looming closer with every turn. Built of polished blackwood timber reinforced with stone, the castle looked… magnificent.
As the carriage pulled into the castle courtyard, Kai spotted a group of people waiting at the front steps. Servants in crisp uniforms stood at attention alongside a tall man. The moment the carriage came to a stop, one of the servants hurried forward to open the door.
Kai stepped out, his boots crunching lightly on the gravel as he straightened to his full height. His gaze immediately landed on the man waiting for him—Leopold Blackwood. The blonde, young man with a friendly aura that he had befriended back in Hermil.
“Baron Arzan,” Leopold said, a smile playing on his lips. “Or should I say Count Arzan now?” He shook his head, a hint of admiration in his voice. “I’ve never seen someone rise through the ranks so quickly, but for what you accomplished, it’s well deserved.”
Kai smiled back, stepping forward to clasp Leopold’s hand. “Your forces helped make it possible,” he replied. “And you can call me whatever you like, Leopold. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
Leopold chuckled. “That we are, Count Arzan. That we are.”
Leopold's sharp eyes flicked to Knight Darian and the others as they dismounted from their horses and moved to join Kai. With a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips, Leopold said, “I see you’ve brought them back alive.”
Kai chuckled softly, glancing over his shoulder at the knight and his companions. “I did my best to keep them intact,” he replied. “They’ve earned some rest after all they’ve been through.”
Leopold nodded. “Good to hear. You always seem to take care of your own—something not all nobles bother with. I respect that.” He gestured toward the castle’s grand entrance. “Come. I hear you’re not staying long, so let’s not waste time. My father is in his study, eagerly waiting to meet you. I can’t remember the last time he showed this much interest in another noble.”
Kai raised an eyebrow as they began walking. “Is there a particular reason for that?”
Leopold gave a knowing smile, his hands clasped behind his back as they moved to enter. “Let’s just say you’ve exceeded his expectations—and mine. House Blackwood doesn’t align itself with any faction. We pride ourselves on staying neutral, watching, and assessing. But when a noble rises as quickly as you have, we pay attention. My father has been keeping an eye on you for some time now.”
Kai nodded silently, signalling his agreement, and followed Leopold deeper into the castle. Behind them, the servants began unloading the carriage while Knight Darian and the others peeled off to handle their respective tasks. The quiet bustle of activity faded as they moved through the corridors, Kai’s sharp eyes wandering to the details around him.
The walls were filled with tapestries showing battles against the beasts they’d fought over the years. The details of them were immaculate, vivid and striking. Between them hung portraits of House Blackwood ancestors, their gaze felt eerie, calculating and judgemental. Kai also noted the torches that stood along the hallway.
Soon, they reached the third floor where the Duke's study was situated.
“Just right there,” Leopold said while walking towards a large door that had a craving of blackwood trees and wolves snarling at unseen prey.
Leopold rapped his knuckles against the door twice. From within came a deep, gravelly voice: “Come in.”
Kai hesitated as Leopold opened the door. The moment stretched as he reminded himself to breathe. He needed to make a good impression here—more than good, flawless. The Blackwoods were famously neutral, but gaining their respect could sway the balance of his future dealings.
He straightened his robes, took a steadying breath, and stepped inside behind Leopold.
The room was a testament to a lifetime of triumphs. Mounted heads of ferocious beasts lined the far wall—massive tusks, snarling jaws frozen in eternal defiance, and piercing eyes of taxidermied predators that seemed to track his movements. Below them, medals and parchments gleamed under the sunlight streaming through a tall window, chronicling the Duke’s achievements in extreme detail by how long they seemed to be.
But Kai’s attention didn’t linger long on the trophies. It was immediately drawn to the man sitting at the heavy desk in the centre of the room.
Duke William Blackwood was nothing like Kai had envisioned. His burly frame filled the chair, muscles rippling beneath his garments, which were—unexpectedly—bright crimson, it stood out due to the muted tones of the room. A thick black beard framed his weathered face, with streaks of silver threading through, and his long hair was tied loosely at the nape of his neck.
The Duke’s piercing, silver eyes landed on Kai, narrowing slightly as wrinkles etched deeper into his forehead. His expression was unreadable—neither welcoming nor hostile but weighed with expectation.
Finally, he leaned forward slightly. “So, you are here. Arzan Kellius. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
2024-12-20 12:36:59 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 46
The narrow gaze twisted into one of the ugliest glares Chen Ren had ever seen. The young master’s nose flared, but he tried to lighten the mood by saying whatever useless thing he had to say and laughing it off with his lackeys. A group of five men, two as tall as the Tang manor’s ceilings and three of the same height as Cang Rui. All of them were well-groomed men who screamed wealth.
Cang Rui’s lips curled into a sneer as he leaned towards the men surrounding him and made them laugh. His voice loud enough to prick the attention of the gathering crowd.
They smirked at those who glanced their way, enjoying the whispers that had started to stir due to their presence. Clearly, they enjoyed the attention. Chen Ren remained passive, with his eyes locked onto Cang Rui without betraying any emotion he felt for the troupe.
They continued to walk towards him, and as they did, the crowd in the area shifted like wheat in the wind. People nudged one another, started whispering, and began to part, clearing a path for the approaching group. Some pointed toward Cang Rui, their eyes lighting up with recognition, while others simply stepped aside with wary glances. All the while, their murmurs grew louder and louder.
Not only Chen Ren’s face but also his stance didn’t change one bit. He stood calmly behind the stall, his gaze steady as it followed Cang Rui’s approach. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. His hands rested lightly on the counter, the faint aroma of freshly cooked noodles wafting from the steaming bowls beside him.
Cang Rui came to a stop a few paces away, his chest heaving as if the walk had fueled his anger further. But the previous laughter he’d feigned was nowhere to be seen. Without wasting a second, he jabbed a finger at Chen Ren.
“Chen Ren! There you are, you coward!”
The crowd stilled. Even the clinking of coins and the sizzling of nearby food stalls seemed to pause, leaving only the echo of his words hanging in the air. Chen Ren knew it wasn’t true, and most of the things except for maybe the twenty people surrounding them continued with their tasks as usual. But the feeling, nonetheless, was there.
He tilted his head slightly.
“How exactly am I a coward?” he asked, his voice calm as if he were asking about the weather.
“You ran away from my challenge back at the city lord’s office!” Cang Rui snapped, his finger shaking with fury. “Only a coward would do that! You insulted me and now you fear my wrath!”
Chen Ren’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but he suppressed it. How dramatic. These young masters would make excellent actors, he thought, his mind briefly amused by the theatrics before returning to the present.
He straightened slightly and met Cang Rui’s furious glare. “Now, let’s not twist the story,” Chen Ren said evenly. “All I did was ask you to respect some boundaries and wait your turn. You, on the other hand, couldn’t handle not getting your way and decided to lash out. Then you attacked me. You should count yourself lucky I didn’t take that personally.”
Chen Ren motioned toward his stall with a small shrug. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m busy here. Go yell at someone else.”
With that, Chen Ren pretended to turn, but he couldn’t help but wait for his response. The crowd, however, started whispering once again. Their attention was now fully locked on the exchange. Some chuckled under their breath, while others looked more invested than even the tournament which was about to begin. A man holding a bowl of noodles slurped loudly beside Chen Ren, the sound somehow adding even more… dramatic cue to the tension.
Cang Rui’s face darkened further, his hand clenching into a ball at his side. He opened his mouth, but no words came out at first. His eyes swept over the gathered crowd, their curious and entertained faces fueling the fire in his chest.
“You—!” He began again, his voice trembling with fury, but his words faltered as the crowd continued to watch, some even grinning as if they were watching a street play.
Finally, Cang Rui’s sneer sharpened. “Your words are as cloutless as your businesses, Chen Ren. You aren’t even in the qi refinement realm, yet you keep courting trouble as if you belong among us.”
Chen Ren met his glare without flinching. “Funny, considering you’re the one who came looking for me.”
For a moment, a flicker of energy danced on Cang Rui’s palm, the faint glow of a cultivator’s intent shimmering in the air between them. Chen Ren’s sharp gaze caught it, his body instinctively tensing for a split second. But before the energy could manifest into an attack, one of Cang Rui’s companions stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Young Master Cang,” the man said smoothly, “there’s no need to waste your energy on a battle of words with this fool. Everyone knows that you’ll hand over his ass back to him by the end of the tournament.”
The words that were said aloud replaced the fury on his face with a cruel smile. He nodded, seemingly placated by the words. Then, with a sharp glance back at Chen Ren, he spoke again, his voice raised to command the crowd’s attention.
“You heard him, Chen Ren. I’m here to publicly challenge you in the tournament. There will be no running, no excuses, and no backing down. I’ll show everyone my strength and make you kowtow before me an apology!”
The declaration was enough to send a ripple through the crowd. Murmurs buzzed like an unsettled hive as people exchanged glances and whispered among themselves. Some pointed at Chen Ren, while others glanced nervously at Cang Rui.
Chen Ren took a moment to scan the faces in the crowd. Old Man Tian stood a few paces away, his mouth hanging open as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Other stall owners mirrored his stunned expression, their eyes darting between Chen Ren and Cang Rui.
The children, who had paused their work at the stall, looked equally shaken. Their eyes betrayed worry, though none of them dared to speak. Tang Xiulan, however, stood with her arms crossed, her eyes calm, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. She knew this was all part of the plan.
Finally, Chen Ren’s gaze landed on the beggar girl, Anji. Unlike everyone else, she seemed entirely unaffected by the tension crackling in the air. She stirred a pot of noodles, her back partially turned to the unfolding drama. She didn’t even glance at him or Cang Rui, her focus fixed entirely on her task.
“Alright, I accept your challenge. Let’s see who makes who kowtow,” Chen Ren said with his hands waving dismissively in the air.
Cang Rui laughed maniacally. “You’re confident now, Chen Ren, but you won’t be once I’m done with you.”
He turned to leave, his companions following close behind, their smug chuckles cutting through the crowd. But just as Cang Rui was about to step away, a voice rang out from the throng, cutting through every other whisper that had started to spread.
“What if he gets defeated before he even faces you in the tournament?”
The crowd stilled, heads swivelling toward the source of the voice. “Wait, who was it?” someone asked loudly. And that was the same question that rang in everyone’s minds.
At the sudden interruption, Cang Rui snapped his head toward the crowd, his sharp gaze scanning for the voice that had dared to speak. Yet, no matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t locate the source. Frustration flickered across his face before one of his young master companions stepped forward with a smug grin.
“Yeah, that’s true,” the companion said, loudly enough for the surrounding crowd to hear. “What if this so-called lowly cultivator can’t even make it through the battle royale? It’d be a waste of your time, Young Master Cang.”
Another chimed in, his tone dripping with mockery. “Exactly. That man isn’t a cultivator; he’s just a glorified merchant pretending to be one. I doubt he’ll even last a minute in the tournament. Most likely, he’ll run off before it even ends.”
A third added, his laugh cutting through the murmurs. “I heard he lost to Li Xuan in less than a minute during the Soaring Sword Sect entrance exams. A talentless hack like him wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Cang Rui’s confident smirk faltered as he processed their words. His expression shifted through a kaleidoscope of emotions—anger, doubt, and then a calculating gleam in his eyes as he glanced at Chen Ren.
“You’re right. This bastard is too weak to make it to the sparring rounds where I can face him properly.” He turned toward the crowd, lifting his chin high. “Hence, I declare here and now: I, Cang Rui, will make him kowtow before me in the tournament!” His declaration silenced the crowd, all ears hanging on his next words. “And if anyone dares touch him before I’ve had my chance, they will be my enemy. Spread the word—Chen Ren is my prey, and no one else has the right to interfere!”
As he finished, he turned to glare at Chen Ren. Yet Chen Ren remained unmoved, his expression blank save for the faintest curve of a smile. It was a subtle gesture, but one that made Cang Rui’s frown deepen.
With a final, pointed finger, Cang Rui spat, “Know this, Chen Ren: I’ll teach you a lesson in the tournament, and there will be no excuse for you to run away this time!”
Without waiting for a response, he spun on his heel and stalked away, his entourage following close behind. Some were bumping fists at what had happened, while others simply followed. Chen Ren saw how the crowd parted for him once more, but this time—whispers twice as much as before spreaded throughout the gathered crowd. Many turned their gazes back to Chen Ren, their expressions ranging from pity to outright dismissal, as though he were already a dead man walking.
Chen Ren, however, paid them no mind. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction, his plan working exactly as he’d hoped. He allowed himself a moment to savour the win before a small voice tugged at his attention.
From the edge of the crowd, one of the street kids emerged. It was Chun, his eyes squinted up as the glaring sun bowed upon them, but he had a big smile on his face. “I did well, right?”
Chen Ren smiled back, pulling a small copper wen from his pouch and flicking it to the boy. The child caught it mid-air, grinning ear to ear.
“You did great,” Chen Ren said, watching as the boy scurried off, pocketing his reward.
The faintest chuckle escaped his lips as he turned back toward his stall.
Now, let’s see how the rest of this plan unfolds.
As the crowd slowly dispersed, Tang Xiulan stepped closer. She had a sly smile on her face. “Young Master Chen, you’re really quite the schemer, aren’t you?”
Chen Ren shrugged. “Not my fault these young masters are so sheltered they don’t even recognize obvious schemes. Cang Rui’s arrogance makes him an easy target.” He glanced in the direction the young master had stormed off. “Thankfully, his proclamation will spread like wildfire. Most participants won’t risk crossing him, so I should have a safer path through the tournament.”
Xiulan chuckled softly, folding her arms. “You make it sound so simple.”
Outwardly, Chen Ren smiled with confidence, but internally, his thoughts weren’t so assured. The plan worked for now, but it’s riddled with holes, he admitted to himself. If Cang Rui and I end up in the same bracket during the battle royale, things could go south quickly. And then there’s always the chance that someone from outside the city won’t care about Cang Rui’s threat and decide to attack me anyway.
Still, he allowed himself a small moment of relief. At least for now, I have some measure of protection. It might be just enough to conserve my strength for the later stages of the tournament.
He looked around, seeing the amount of people that had gathered. His first plan had worked, but if he wanted to win the tournament and get all those sweet rewards and the money from the betting markets, he would have to make sure none of his plans falter.
***
As the day progressed, Chen Ren’s noodle stall flourished, with an increasing number of customers eager to sample their wares. Tang Xiulan and the children bustled around, serving bowls of steaming noodles to the growing crowd.
Although when they tried to move inside the arena with their handcarts bearing ice cream and chips, they faced a challenge. A challenge in the form of stubborn guards.
They blocked them from entering the arena, talking about some laws that obviously didn't exist.
However, Tang Xiulan took care of the “situation”. She slipped the guard a discreet bribe and soon enough, the handcarts were allowed through, and they began peddling ice cream and snacks to the hungry spectators inside. The extra income from this arrangement made Xiulan grin with satisfaction, and Chen Ren decided to leave her in charge of managing the logistics.
His focus shifted to the tournament.
Chen Ren slipped away from the marketplace and into one of the corridors that led into the heart of the arena. The stone walls echoed with murmurs and cheers from the crowd above, growing louder as he approached the open grounds.
His round was scheduled earlier than expected, a fact that initially made him uneasy. As he stepped onto the packed soil of the arena floor, he scanned the gathered competitors. Roughly fifty participants stood in clusters. To his relief, there was no sign of Cang Rui among them. He let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders loosening ever so slightly.
The arena itself was a spectacle. Surrounding the open field, rows of tiered seats overflowed with spectators, many pointing excitedly at the competitors below. Voices called out names, some cheering for their favourites, others placing bets on potential winners. It was… a lot. He’d never experienced one of these arenas, and it starkly reminded him of the Gladiator movie that he had loved.
His eyes scanned across the competitors, searching for familiar faces, but none appeared. He adjusted the hem of his robe, reminding himself to stay focused.
He had come here to win, not to be distracted by what he couldn’t control.
The announcer’s booming voice interrupted his thoughts, calling for the competitors to assemble near the central platform. Chen Ren joined the group, blending into the sea of cultivators.
As Chen Ren moved through the crowd toward the competitor’s platform, his eyes caught a glimpse of Tang Xiulan and one of the street kids, a boy named Jian, selling chips and ice cream to a bunch of girls who were seated. Xiulan handed a bag of chips to a man while the little guy offered a scoop to one of the girls. The sight made Chen Ren smile faintly. They were thriving out there—at least something was going smoothly today.
His attention snapped back to the arena as a tall official, clad in dark green robes embroidered with the city emblem, stepped onto a raised platform. His voice immediately drew all the eyes onto him.
“You all know the basic rules! This is the first round, so no killing is allowed. If you are thrown off the platform, you are disqualified. If you cannot fight any longer, you are disqualified. No pills, no demonic techniques, and no outside interference. You will begin when I give the signal.” He swept his hand toward the massive stone stage. “Now, get on the platform.”
One by one, the competitors climbed onto the raised battlefield. Chen Ren waited until the crowd thinned before stepping up. As he ascended, he kept his eyes on the other participants, studying their movements. Many returned his gaze, their expressions ranging from curiosity to disdain.
A few even pointed at him and whispered. Chen Ren didn’t need to hear the words to know the content—Cang Rui’s declaration had undoubtedly spread like wildfire. He could almost feel the weight of their assumptions. Good, he thought, the more they stay away from me, the better.
The official raised a hand, signalling for silence, and the murmurs in the stands faded. His voice boomed across the arena as he addressed the audience.
“Honored spectators, today marks the beginning of this year’s tournament, hosted graciously by the City Lord’s Estate and with the blessing of the Soaring Sword Sect!” He paused, allowing the crowd to erupt in cheers. “Let this battle royale showcase the strength, determination, and skill of our participants. May the best rise above all others! Competitors begin!”
The moment the words left his mouth, chaos erupted.
Chen Ren stood still as the arena turned into a frenzy. Fighters charged at each other, fists, swords, and techniques flying as alliances crumbled and rivalries ignited. The crowd roared with excitement as competitors clashed, some thrown off the platform within moments.
He watched everything happen while standing steps away from the corner, a smile threatening to break on his face, the wild melee reminding him of the wrestling matches he’d watched as a kid. Adults, fighting as if their life depended on it. Some more desperate than others.
Just as he had hoped, no one made a move toward him. Cang Rui’s warning had done its job, and his unassuming behaviour worked in his favour. As the number of competitors dwindled, Chen Ren allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.
But his moment of calm didn’t last.
A loud voice rang out from his left. “I don’t care who Cang Rui thinks he is! He doesn’t decide what I can or can’t do!”
Chen Ren turned to see a hot-blooded youth, his face flushed with righteous fury, pointing directly at him.
“I, Mi Fung from Red Willow Village, will defeat you and him! I’ll win this tournament and prove my strength to everyone!”
Before Chen Ren could react, the youth charged toward him. So much for flying under the radar, Chen Ren thought, his smile vanishing as he shifted his stance, readying himself for the fight.
2024-12-20 04:25:07 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 152
Kai’s stay with the barbarians was curt. Though he had won the Duel of Blood and earned their respect, he knew that the hard part was only beginning. Yafgar, the chieftain, seemed to see his vision—at least on the surface—but creating an alliance (a trusted one at that) of the magnitude he needed would take more than spilt blood and shared words.
They would need to hold necessary future meetings to discuss the details and negotiate their relationship for mutual gain before the barbarians could come under his flag. That would take time, and for now, the only thing left was for Kai to task Francis on it, and trust his sharp tongue and knack for negotiation.
Once Kai returned to the camp to head towards the Blackwood territory, he sent a guard to inform him about the latest events.
He knew Francis wasn't the happiest about Kai going away, but he was sure that he’d be satisfied with the new alliances—especially when it was the barbarians, seasoned warriors who would come in handy in the future.
Among several good things, the best part was that no one would ever suspect the barbarians of siding with him. Their reputation as a fiercely independent and tight-knit community made them unapproachable to outsiders.
Barbarians rarely, if ever, extended trust beyond their own ranks, let alone entertained the idea of forming alliances. The thought of such a group joining hands with anyone outside their own was almost laughable to most.
This perception worked in Kai’s favour, making their involvement in his plans an unexpected advantage. To maintain their secrecy, Kai had taken every precaution to hide Ragnar and Brugnar within his territory.
He insisted they pose as ordinary mercenaries, blending into the background to avoid drawing any attention. He knew that even a hint of their true identities could ruin his plans. And it worked well in the end.
Though, there were still concerns.
Barbarians were still considered enemies in the kingdom and siding with them could raise questions on him too, and Kai knew that he would have to deal with them in the future.
Fortunately, he did have plans on how to handle that.
With the brief conversation with the barbarians concluded Kai shifted his attention to his journey and rising his power.
He settled into a steady routine and got himself to the process of creating his next mana circle. This time, he wanted it to be perfect—and that required both focus and stability.
The sway of the carriage and the noise of the wheels became a backdrop for his concentration quite easily, and he tuned out from the world outside.
Fortunately, the group rarely stopped for breaks. They wanted to reach their destination as soon as possible and since Kai wasn't journeying with them publicly, he mostly stayed in the carriage, working on his circle.
The mercenaries alongside Knight Darian and his guards proved more than capable of handling any threat; be it beasts, bandits or any other form of trouble.
The roads beyond the Sylvan Enclave were a surprising contrast to what they’d left behind.
They were well-maintained and busy with the activities of merchants. Due to the smoothness, they were able to fasten their journey—and once they got close to
Blackwood territory, he shifted his attention from establishing his next mana circle and studying more into ice spells to learning the current political state of the kingdom.
Kai knew he needed to get better with politics, as much as he detested it.
Ansel and the Watchers had been tireless, using Malden’s wide network to gather information that could shift the balance. They had already collected a lot of information, filled with everything from updated maps of the kingdom to rumors from merchants and nobles. And every piece of information uncovered more about hidden political relationships, prominent merchants that were rising up to nobles, their alliances—and practically anything that would affect the succession even a little bit.
A big part of the reports was about Duke William Blackwood. With their meeting coming up, Kai needed to know more about the man—and thankfully, Ansel had dug up some pretty interesting details.
The fact that stood out the most was that Duke Blackwood hadn’t backed any prince for the throne. That neutrality made him someone other nobles saw as unpredictable and at the same time, the princes kept trying to gain his favour since having more than one Duke in their factions would guarantee their victory.
Kai’s lips curled into a faint smirk as he read Ansel’s latest report.
Beside him, Claire sat with her legs crossed, idly flipping through a small notebook. She tilted her head to glance at him, “What are you reading, Lord Arzan?” she asked, breaking the comfortable silence.
Kai looked up, and folded the parchment in his hands. “Reports on Duke Blackwood,” he replied simply, setting the letter down amidst a pile of maps and scribbled notes.
Claire raised her eyebrows. “We’re meeting him soon, aren’t we?” She leaned forward and let her eyes scan the papers sprawled across the seat next to him in the carriage. “Is all this preparation to use… against him?”
Kai nodded. “You’re not wrong,” he admitted, leaning back in his seat. “But if Ansel’s information is accurate, I don’t think the meeting itself will be the hard part.”
“Then what will be?”
“Convincing him to support me,” Kai said in a very matter-of-fact tone. “Duke Blackwood has rejected every prince’s overtures so far. They all want him in their corner, but he’s stayed neutral. I could just imagine the amount of persuasion tactics he dealt with.”
Claire tilted her head slightly and leaned forward, seemingly looking very interested now. “Is there a reason behind why he doesn't want to support a prince?”
Kai looked up from the letter in his hands, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. He didn’t immediately respond, choosing instead to tap the letter against his fingers in thought. “From the intel Ansel gathered,” he began slowly, “there’s a few reasons why Duke Blackwood has stayed so adamantly neutral.
“First off, William Blackwood is a man of very strong principles. He’s righteous, in his own way. He has a set of values that he adheres to, almost fanatically.” Kai’s gaze grew distant as he spoke, his voice turning more contemplative. “All the princes—every one of them—are tainted in some way. They’re all filled with corruption, ambition, and dirty secrets. And for someone like Duke Blackwood, who stands by his ideals, that’s a huge problem. He needs someone he can actually believe in. Someone who will stand for something beyond just power and personal gain.”
Kai’s fingers ran along the edge of the letter, the paper crinkling slightly as his eyes drifted to the next one. He didn’t speak for a moment, absorbed in the details of the history Ansel had provided. Claire, sensing his pause, waited patiently.
Finally, Kai continued, his voice taking on a more analytical tone as he turned through another page of the report.
“I believe a major part of his reluctance to side with any prince has to do with the history of his house. House Blackwood wasn’t always this powerful, this influential. In fact, almost a century ago, they were on the brink of collapse. They were losing their grip, and no one stepped forward to help them. Not the other noble houses, not even the factions they once had ties with. In fact, they were mocked—laughed at, even—as they fell deeper into ruin.”
Claire’s brow furrowed slightly, taking in the details. She stayed silent, absorbing his words as he paused, his fingers tracing the map.
“The turning point came when the current head of House Blackwood, Duke William Blackwood, took control. His house was barely holding on by threads when he ascended to power. But William Blackwood did what no one else could. He didn’t just sit back and wait for favor to come. He fought in wars, made strategic alliances, and even reformed the economy of his land. The most important of these moves was when he invested in a port city—a critical trade route that connected his land to different islands. It took years of hard work, and a significant amount of resources, but it turned his fortunes around.”
He paused, looking at Claire for a moment before continuing. “That’s why he married late, too. He didn’t want to be distracted by alliances through marriage until he had restored his house’s glory. He couldn’t afford to settle for anything less than complete control over his own fate. That’s something the other princes will never understand. They have it handed to them on a silver platter.”
"So, an idealistic, experienced man of zeal who doesn’t trust the other nobles, yet has no reason to actively support Veralt," she said while tapping her chin. "Sounds like a hard man to sway, unless you can give him something more than just your usual political promises."
Kai shifted slightly, looking down at the letters spread out before him. He could almost feel the stress of the upcoming encounter with Duke Blackwood hanging in the air. "Well, I do think he sees me in a positive light, but some things don't make sense. He probably sent Knight Darian and the other men to fight for Veralt, fully expecting they wouldn't return alive. I don’t know why he sent Darian to an early grave, but that was his way of paying back the debt of killing the necromancer. A heavy price for that, but in his eyes, it was necessary."
Claire nodded at his words. She squinted her eyes before throwing an assumption at him. "So, do you think Knight Darian and his men were punished for something?"
Kai nodded. "When we won against the beast wave, and many of his men survived, it probably made Duke Blackwood take a renewed interest in me. I’m not sure if it’s the victory or the fact that his people fought and survived under my command, but he wants to know me better. Understand where I stand. And Leopold— I believe his son also put a good word for me after our time in the capital. That gives me a solid base to work with. But even without Leopold, I’m confident I can win the duke over."
“Can I know why you are sure about that, Lord Arzan?” Claire asked.
Kai’s smile widened. "It’s simple, really. Duke Blackwood and I have something in common—we both despise necrotic creatures and dead mana. He has a deep hatred for them, and so do I. It’s something we don’t need to speak too much about, but it’s a bond I can build on. When you hate something with the same intensity, it tends to bring people together."
***
Amyra felt like she was seeing a nightmare, but unlike a regular one, there was no sudden shift from dream to waking. Instead, she was stuck in an endless limbo, where every moment was indistinguishable and relentless.
She tried to push her eyes open, but whatever it was—didn’t allow her. It wasn’t a dream; it was her reality. And it was suffocating.
Her gaze swept across the land before her, and a chill ran through her. Cracked roads, littered with bodies everywhere. The lifeless bodies were twisted in every way one could think possible. Her stomach churned at the sight.
She looked at her feet—dry, brittle–and every step felt wrong. The earth itself was rotting beneath her.
Amyra turned her gaze at the horizon—the darkened clouds but deserted lands, with sands that had turned tar. She pushed aside the unease in the pit of her stomach and kept walking. Her eyes scanned the area, half-expecting the haunting figures to appear—but no, everything was still, so dead, so lifeless, so eerie.
And then, the ocean—the ocean that was not blue but a deep, unnatural red, thick and cloying, as though the waters themselves were tainted with blood.
The scent of decay and rot filled her nostrils, making every breath she took feel like she was suffocating, the stench crawling into her lungs and lodging there. It was unbearable, and yet, she couldn’t escape it. There was no relief.
She needed to escape this—whatever this was, but she couldn’t.
Amyra took a step, then another, feeling her legs strain with each movement, but she couldn't stop. There was no choice but to keep walking.
Every time she faltered, every time she paused, the ground trembled beneath her, and a beast would emerge—a shifting form, fluid, monstrous, a nightmare of claws and rotted teeth. It was as if the very darkness around her had given birth to it. She tried to move faster, but it always found her. It always clawed at her, leaving deep raking marks across her skin, as though it was trying to drag her back into the abyss.
Tears fell one after another, and her steps quickened.
She ran, stumbling over rocks and twisted roots, never daring to look back, knowing the beast was always there, watching, waiting for her to falter.
When she stopped, it would close in, drawing nearer with every second.
She could hear her own voice as she called out for help, again and again, the names of those she cared for slipping from her lips.
"Lord Arzan! Claire! Knight Killian! Rhea!"
But the wind swallowed her words, and the only answer was the rustle of dead leaves and the echo of her own cries.
No one came.
She was alone. Again.
But then, as her chest heaved with each desperate breath, a strange, nagging thought broke through the haze of panic.
This isn’t real. None of this is real.
The beast. The endless land. The unrelenting stench. All of it was a cruel illusion. Her mind had trapped her in this place, this nightmare. But how? Why?
She stopped, her breath ragged, but this time, the thought stayed.
How could she escape? What had she done to find herself here, in this prison of her own mind? What path could she take to break free? Every instinct told her to keep running, to flee, but the question clouded her mind: How to get out?
She didn’t know how long she walked. The world around her remained the same—tainted, blackened, a wasteland of despair. She felt herself drifting further, deeper into a kind of numbness, until she found herself standing at the edge of the ocean again. The same cursed ocean, its blood-red waters, lapping against the jagged cliffs below. The cold wind howled around her, biting at her skin. She turned her face towards the horizon, the sense of finality growing stronger.
It had all led to this moment.
The beast would come. It always came. And she had no more strength to run. No more will to fight. Let it take me, she thought. Let it end.
And then, as if summoned by her thoughts, it appeared. The beast. It’s here! Or maybe it never left.
Amyra’s eyes widened.
No matter how many times she’d seen it, the image still scared her—scarred her. Spiked skin, inhuman limbs, almost everywhere on its shifting body. Shiny, black eyes—oozing blood. One moment, it was a shadowy mass of fur and claws, and next, it was skeletal and unnaturally long.
The roar it let out shook the very ground.
Amyra didn't flinch. She turned slowly, fixing her gaze upon the creature as it moved closer. Its claws reached out for her, the air thick with the scent of decay and death. It struck, the claws raking toward her chest, but she didn't move. She didn’t even flinch.
The strike landed. But there was no pain. No blood.
Nothing.
She stared at the beast, her gaze unwavering as its form shimmered, flickering like a broken image, before it vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.
Amyra blinked, confused, the world around her suddenly feeling... wrong. Not like the usual wrong, but extremely… Wrong.
She took a step back, her feet catching the edge of the cliff, but she didn’t fall. Instead, she felt the ground beneath her feet shudder. The sky above her seemed to tilt, the ocean boiling as it churned violently, splashing the cliffs with waves of dark, red water. The earth cracked, fissures splitting open, swallowing the land whole.
And then, before she could react, the world collapsed.
She tumbled, falling, her body weightless, spiraling down toward the bloodied ocean, the dark abyss opening wide beneath her. Her body screamed for release, her heart pounding, but she couldn’t make herself open her eyes. She was too scared.
Too terrified of what awaited her in the depths.
And then—
She woke up.
Her eyes flew open, heart racing.
Her chest rose and fell erratically as she gasped for air, her body trembling with the remnants of the nightmare.
She blinked, her vision blurry, as she tried to piece together the fragments of what had just happened. The familiar sight of her room greeted her—plain, simple, but real.
I'm in my room in Veralt, she realized with a slow breath, relief washing over her. She was alive. The weight on her chest began to ease, but a fog lingered in her mind, clouding her thoughts.
She lifted her shaky, sweaty hand, staring at it as though seeing it for the first time. The warmth of her skin, the softness of her clothes—this was real. She wasn’t in that nightmare anymore.
She was alive. But the lingering dread, the weakness in her limbs, and the haze clouding her mind told her that something was off.
She slowly pushed herself out of bed, her legs buckling beneath her as she tried to stand. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to remain upright, taking slow, weak steps toward the door. Her body protested, but she ignored it, pushing through the weakness.
She opened the door, the empty corridor stretching before her, eerily silent.
“Where is everyone?” Her voice whispered the question to the still air, but there was no answer. She stumbled down the hallway, hoping to find someone, anyone, who could tell her what had happened after the battle.
If the castle stood, then she knew that they had survived. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.
As she moved, the murmur of voices reached her ears. They were unfamiliar, distorted, floating through the halls like echoes. She paused, straining to make out the words, but they were muffled and unclear.
Her heart raced as she followed the voices, bringing her closer to something—someone—who could answer her questions.
But as she neared the source of the voices, she felt the same uneasy feeling once again. Something wasn’t right.
As Amyra walked cautiously through the corridors, the unfamiliar voices began to grow clearer. They were coming from around the corner, muffled by the stone walls but still distinct enough to make her pause. She could make out the soft tones of a woman’s voice, tinged with gentle authority, and a deeper, steadier voice in reply.
"You should rest more, Princess," the first voice advised, filled with concern. "It’s too early to be roaming the estate."
Amyra’s brow furrowed. The term "Princess" caught her attention, a sliver of confusion piercing through the fog in her mind. Princess? Her thoughts raced. Was there someone of importance here? She shook her head, refusing to be distracted by the oddity, though her curiosity pushed her to move closer.
"I’m not sick anymore," came the firm response. "I’m healed. I’m just too tired of staying in bed. I’ve been doing it all my life."
The words hung in the air, almost as if the speaker was trying to convince herself as much as the other person. Amyra, still unsure of the situation, cautiously rounded the corner, her legs still shaky from the ordeal of her awakening.
And then, she saw them.
Two figures stood before her in the hallway, just as she had expected. The first one stood straight, head held high—was a young woman, young but with an aura of nobility that radiated from her.
Her long hair was pinned up, and her eyes met Amyra with a quiet intensity. She was dressed in silks, a gown of deep crimson.
The other figure was a petite woman—a maid. Her hands were clasped behind her back, and her gaze was focused on Amyra, though not in a way that felt threatening. It was a look of observation—of quiet assessment.
Amyra blinked as the silence stretched.
Before she could ask anything, the woman—who Amyra now assumed was the princess—spoke up first, her voice cutting through the quiet.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
Amyra hesitated, taking a slow breath as she gathered her thoughts. She expected to find someone familiar to get her answers, but only these two stood before her with no signs of any other maids she knew.
Her voice, when she finally spoke, was hoarse, still thick with the haze of her earlier confusion. "My name is Amyra," she said, her golden eyes flickering between the two strangers, trying to read their reactions. "Where can I find Lord Arzan?"
2024-12-18 06:58:08 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 45
Chen Ren kept himself busy, splitting his time between training, learning new techniques, and working on the food he planned to sell during the tournament. Similarly, the city was too lively with activity. Merchants, cultivators, and spectators were eager for the upcoming grand event. He had already secured permission to set up a temporary noodle stall outside the arena, but he wanted to do more. He wanted to get his food inside the arena too.
The problem was noodles. They were best eaten fresh and hot, and he couldn’t guarantee that in the chaos of the tournament.
So, he had turned his thoughts to other kinds of food—something portable, quick to eat, and still delicious, addictive even. And after days of thinking and experimenting, he came up with a few ideas. Now, he was working on one of them.
The kitchen of the Tang Clan compound was quiet except for the soft scrape of a knife against potato skins. Chen Ren sat on a low stool, peeling potatoes and tossing the smooth tubers into a nearby bowl of water. Beside him, Lihua, one of the maids, helped him. Her hands moved a little slower than his as she tried to keep up, but she worked with determination.
Chen Ren’s thoughts wandered as he peeled, planning his next steps. His schedule was packed tight, and he started feeling the strain. With Xiulan managing the noodle stall, the extra work of preparing the new food items for the tournament fell on him. "I really need more help," he muttered under his breath.
Lihua looked up at him, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Did you say something, Young Master Chen?"
"Just talking to myself," he replied with a small smile, focusing back on his task.
Their eyes met briefly before Lihua quickly glanced away, her face turning redder as she returned to peeling. Chen Ren couldn’t help but feel a little awkward.
He understood why she acted that way, and it wasn’t his fault. Like with most of his problems, it was the fault of his predecessor who had been a hedonistic bastard with no self- control and a habit of saying sweet things to women without meaning them. Lihua had taken those words to heart, and now he was left to deal with the very awkward aftermath.
Still, her help was appreciated.
As the pile of peeled potatoes grew, he planned to dry these and then fry them into crisp, golden chips and season them with spices. If everything pans out as he expected, he’d have the perfect snack for the tournament—easy to carry, quick to eat and tasty even after sitting for a while.
The work was simple but time-consuming, and Chen Ren couldn’t stop thinking about how much he needed to expand his team. Lihua’s occasional glances and shy smiles were a distraction he didn’t need, but he let it slide.
For now, he set his thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand. He picked up a peeled potato, slicing it into thin, even strips. Lihua followed his lead, her knife moving with a bit more hesitation but improving with every slice. Once they had a decent pile of slices, they placed them into a large bowl of cold water. The water became cloudy from the starch, but it was all part of the process.
They worked in silence for a while. Finally, Lihua broke the quiet. “Young Master Chen Ren, what exactly are we making?”
Chen Ren glanced up from his work, meeting her wide-eyed gaze. “Chips,” he said simply. “It’s a dish I used to eat when I was a child. They’re easy to make, and since potatoes are cheap, we can prepare a lot of them. I’m trying to make these for the tournament.”
Lihua tilted her head, confused. “Chips? I’ve never heard of them. What do they taste like?”
“Crunchy,” Chen Ren replied with a small smile. “And if we do this right, they’ll be perfectly salty and addictive.”
Lihua nodded, her curiosity still evident, but she didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, they went back to work, slicing more potatoes and soaking the slices in the cold water. The pile of peeled potatoes steadily shrank, while the bowl of soaking slices grew.
Once the last batch of slices was submerged in the water, Chen Ren stood, stretching his stiff shoulders. It was time for the next step.
He moved over to the outdoor cooking area he had set up in the Tang Clan courtyard, the same spot where he had perfected his noodles. The large pot of oil was already heated, the surface shimmering with a faint haze from the fire beneath.
As he carefully lowered the first batch of potato slices into the hot oil, the area filled with the sharp sizzle of frying. Chen Ren watched the bubbling oil, his thoughts drifting for a moment.
This spot held so many memories—his first noodle experiments, the crowd of servants lining up for bowls of his food, and even Xiulan’s very sceptical gaze when he first started this journey. From that small beginning, he had come a long way. He now had multiple businesses and had made significant progress in his cultivation. It was hard to believe how much had changed in such a short time.
But it still feels like I'm just at the starting line, Chen Ren couldn’t help but think.
The golden potato slices floated to the surface, their edges curling slightly as they fried. Slowly, they began to crisp and brown, the rich aroma of fried potatoes filling the air.
Lihua watched the entire process with wide eyes, her knife forgotten in her hand. “So this is how they’re made,” she murmured in wonder, leaning slightly closer to get a better look.
Chen Ren nodded, using a slotted spoon to stir the slices gently. “This is just the first batch. Once they’re done, we’ll sprinkle some salt on them and let them cool. After that, you can taste them for yourself.”
Lihua’s eyes lit up with excitement, and Chen Ren chuckled softly at her enthusiasm. From there, the seconds flew quickly.
After a few minutes of frying, Chen Ren nodded toward the sizzling pot. “Alright, Lihua, take them out.”
Lihua quickly stepped forward, using a slotted spoon to scoop up the golden chips. She placed them carefully on a plate lined with large leaves to drain the excess oil. The crisp slices glistened under the sunlight streaming into the courtyard.
Chen Ren crouched down to inspect them. The chips were a mix of light and golden brown, their edges slightly curled and their surfaces freckled with tiny bubbles from the frying. Then, he picked up one and held it in his hand, admiring the texture. “I think they’re ready,” he said after a moment. Then he glanced at Lihua, offering her a small smile. “Do you want to try one?”
Her eyes lit up as she nodded. “Yes, Young Master!”
Chen Ren handed her one of the chips before taking one for himself. As he bit into it, the loud crunch filled his ears, and he took a moment to savour the taste. The flavour was simple—just the natural starchiness of the potato, lightly enhanced by the frying and the salt. He couldn’t help but think about the chips he used to eat back in his old life, mass-produced and coated with seasonings. These were nowhere near that level of flavor. But then again, those comparisons were unfair.
On the other hand, Lihua seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself. Her expression brightened as she munched, a satisfied hum escaping her lips. Once she finished, she instinctively reached out for another one but froze when she noticed Chen Ren watching her. Her hand hovered awkwardly mid-air, and she quickly pulled it back, her cheeks turning red. “S-Sorry, Young Master! I didn’t mean to—”
Chen Ren chuckled lightly and waved her off. “Go ahead, you can eat more.”
Her face lit up with gratitude. “Thank you!” she said, popping another chip into her mouth with an excited crunch. After finishing that one, she looked up at him, her eyes sparkling. “These are so good! I’ve never eaten anything so crunchy before.” She paused thoughtfully, then added, “Though, I think they might taste even better with a bit of salt.”
Chen Ren nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’ll sprinkle some on the final batch before serving them. That’ll bring out the flavour more.”
Lihua smiled at his response and glanced back at the plate of chips. “I believe these will sell even better than the noodles! But, Young Master, there’s one thing I don’t understand. Why did you ask Xiulan to bring so much milk two days ago? I don’t see how milk is used for chips.”
“It’s not for the chips,” he opened his mouth, about to explain that the milk wasn’t for the chips, but the sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention. He turned around just as Tang Yuqiu entered the area where they were preparing the food.
Her eyes swept across the space, taking in the peeled onions and other scattered ingredients before landing on the plate of golden chips resting on the table.
“What are those?”
“Chips,” Chen Ren replied, motioning toward the plate. “I’m making them to sell at the tournament. Do you want to try one?” he asked. The more opinions, the better.
Yuqiu nodded, and so did Lihua, her appetite still not quenched. Chen Ren offered each of them a chip, and they both bit into their pieces at the same time.
The courtyard was soon filled with the sound of satisfying crunches.
“These are so crunchy!” Yuqiu exclaimed, her eyes widening. “It’s simple, but it’s good.”
Lihua, still nibbling on her third chip, chimed in, “I told the young master that they’d taste even better with a little salt. What do you think, Young Miss Yuqiu?”
Tang Yuqiu nodded thoughtfully. “Salt would definitely enhance the flavor. These could be really popular during the tournament.”
As they enjoyed the chips, Chen Ren glanced at Yuqiu. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
She leaned against the wall, brushing a strand of hair from her damp forehead. “I heard you were working on something in the kitchen, so I came to check it out. Honestly, I’ve been cooped up in the perfume shop for days now, and I needed a break.” She sighed, wiping her brow again. “Ah, it’s so hot outside. We’re at the end of summer, but it just doesn’t want to leave. I’ve been sweating like crazy these days.”
She looked up at the sky and Chen Ren followed her gaze. Only a few clouds dotted the sky and the heat of the sun bore down on them. Even if he was a cultivator with a body more resistant to elements, he still sweated. Not to mention about mortals who had it much worse.
Hence, he had also planned something to alleviate the heat.
Chen Ren smiled as he decided to test out the other item on the menu he was going to unveil at the tournament. Turning to Tang Yuqiu, he said, “I think I might have something that will help with the heat.”
Yuqiu looked down at the chips in her hand, her brows furrowing. “You mean from these chips? They’re crunchy, sure, but you’re right. They’re also hot, and they’re making me sweat even more.”
Chen Ren shook his head, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Not the chips. Come with me.”
He grabbed a bowl and a spoon from the table, gesturing for them to follow him. Lihua, still curious, trailed behind alongside Yuqiu as they moved through the Tang Clan compound to another room.
When Chen Ren opened the door, a rush of icy air spilled out, making all three of them shiver. Yuqiu instinctively rubbed her arms. “Why is it so cold in here?” she asked, her voice almost trembling.
“I set up [Frost Arrays] in this room,” Chen Ren explained. “With some help from Senior Qing, I modified them to keep the temperature extremely low—around minus 18 degrees celsius. It’s the perfect temperature for storing what I’m about to show you.”
Tang Yuqiu blinked, confused. “Celsius? What’s that?”
“Just think of it as very cold,” Chen Ren replied, laughing.
Yuqiu glanced at the frosty air swirling in the room. “If your grand solution to beat the heat is to sit in here, let me tell you—I’ll freeze to death instead. It’s going from one extreme to the other!”
Chen Ren shook his head again, stepping inside. “Not quite. Take a look.”
Both women hesitated for a moment, then followed him in, curiosity outweighing their discomfort. The temperature dropped further as they entered the room, their breaths turning visible in the chilled air. Chen Ren walked over to a table in the corner, where several containers were carefully arranged.
“Now,” he said, holding it up for them to see, “this is what I wanted to show you.”
Chen Ren gestured toward a large container nestled in the corner of the frosty room. He carefully opened the lid, revealing a smooth, creamy mixture inside. Using the bowl and spoon, he scooped out a generous serving of a substance and handed it to Yuqiu.
“It's called an ice cream,” he explained, looking at the replication of his childhood's favourite snack.
The ice cream glistened faintly in the cold air, but it wasn't the plain white or cream colour he had expected. It was a vibrant orange. The result had came due to the fruit pulp he had added from a common forest fruit called flameberry, known for its bright color and intense sweetness.
Tang Yuqiu frowned slightly as she examined the ice cream. “What is this?”
“Ice cream, I told you,” Chen Ren said.
“Ice cream?” she echoed, tilting her head. “I’ve never heard of it.”
Chen Ren smirked. “You’d never heard of noodles or chips before either, but you tried them and liked them. Go on, take a bite.”
Hesitating for only a moment, Yuqiu took a small spoonful. The moment the cold treat touched her tongue, her eyes widened in pure surprise. “It’s so cold!” she exclaimed, then paused, savouring the sweetness and refreshing sensation. “But it’s so sweet and smooth. It’s… It’s… It’s… amazing!”
Without waiting for further encouragement, she eagerly dug in, as though the ice cream might disappear if she didn’t eat fast enough. Lihua watched her with growing curiosity, her hunger plain on her face.
Noticing the maid’s expression, Chen Ren smiled and scooped out another serving for her. Lihua accepted it with a grateful bow and tasted it. Her reaction mirrored Yuqiu’s, eyes lighting up with delight. “It’s incredible, young master! So refreshing. I’ve never tasted anything like this before.”
Chen Ren nodded, pleased with their reactions. “I thought so too. With the heat as bad as it is, this would sell incredibly well. But…” He frowned slightly, considering the logistics. “It’s not easy to make. Milk, sugar, and the fruit pulp all cost quite a bit. While the results are great, I’d need to target wealthier customers to make a profit. Plus, producing it on a large scale would be tricky, even with the [Frost Arrays] doing half the work for free.”
Yuqiu, still savoring her ice cream, looked at him with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I believe you’ll make a killing at the tournament. In fact, I’m almost starting to regret not investing in this sooner.” She paused, then grinned. “Can I still invest? Please?” She gave him her best puppy-dog eyes, leaning closer in mock pleading.
Chen Ren laughed and shook his head. “No, you should stick to the perfume business. That’s where your talent lies.”
“But if you want to make some quick money,” he added with a teasing smirk, “I have a way for you.”
Intrigued, Yuqiu leaned forward. “What’s that?”
Chen Ren leaned in slightly, lowering his voice for dramatic effect. “The betting markets open tomorrow. Bet on me in the tournament. Just close your eyes, take the risk, and I promise you’ll walk away with a nice profit.”
“You’re awfully confident, aren’t you?”
Chen Ren shrugged. “Let’s just say I know my odds. And I have enough plans up my sleeve.”
***
The sun hung high in the sky, its rays beating down on the arena grounds where the tournament was set to take place in just a few hours.
A massive crowd had already gathered, buzzing with excitement and anticipation. Naturally, most of them gravitated toward the numerous stalls lining the streets outside the arena, each offering a variety of enticing goods.
Among the chaos, Chen Ren stood by his own noodle stall, his arms crossed as he observed the scene. The air was filled with the tantalizing aroma of freshly cooked noodles, drawing long lines of eager customers. Beside him, Xiulan worked efficiently, managing the orders with the same sharpness she had when she first started helping him. The street kids, who had become an essential part of the stall’s operation, darted about with bowls of steaming noodles, handing them out to customers and collecting coins in return.
Chen Ren's gaze roamed over the crowd, taking in the energy and the faces—both familiar and new. His eyes briefly stopped at Old Man Tian, whose stall was right next to theirs. The old vendor seemed to be doing brisk business, his gruff demeanor softened just slightly as he barked at the customers, urging them to try his skewers.
But then, Chen Ren's attention shifted, catching sight of someone unexpected in the sea of people. It was her—the unusual beggar girl.
The girl who had once been nothing more than a shadow in the streets. She moved with surprising grace, between the kids, handing out bowls of noodles and collecting payments like she'd been part of the team for years. Her clothes were still plain but noticeably cleaner, and her face—though still thin—had a certain light that wasn’t there before.
Chen Ren's thoughts briefly wandered back to their first meeting, when he’d handed her food out of pity and later seen her courage in the fight with the blood snakes. It was hard to reconcile that girl with the one now working confidently among the children, with a deep focus, even though the entire area was buzzing with activity.
As he continued to watch the girl, Tang Xiulan approached him, her hands carefully balancing at least five to ten bowls. She placed them on the table beside them and followed his trail.
“She’s diligent,” she said, folding her arms. “Her name’s Anji. She asked to help out because she didn’t want to keep taking free noodles. She’s been doing bits and pieces here and there since then. And knowing we’d need more hands with the tournament, I asked if she’d work for three meals a day. She agreed without hesitation.”
Chen Ren nodded approvingly. “That’s good,” he said.
His gaze drifted back to Anji. She was quick on her feet, balancing a tray with ease as she delivered bowls of noodles. At one point, she turned back toward him, just for a fleeting second, and their eyes met.
A strange sensation coursed through Chen Ren, like a faint shiver running up his spine. He felt it through his backbone and towards where the hairs behind his neck rose. What on Earth was that? Chen Ren squinted his eyes and kept staring at her.
There was something about her—a quiet intensity in her gaze that felt out of place, almost too sharp for someone her age. It left him unsettled, though he couldn’t say why.
Before he could dwell on it, Tang Xiulan tugged his attention back to her. “By the way,” she said casually, “I put all my money on you, Young Master Chen. Just like you said. The odds are twenty times more.”
Chen Ren smiled, the unease fading as quickly as it had come. “Good. That’ll be a nice pile of silver once I win.”
“You sound confident.”
“I have to be,” Chen Ren replied. “Did you send one of the kids to find Cang Rui?”
She nodded. “Yes. I got one of them to quietly slip word to his servants about where you are. But are you sure about this? From what you’ve told me, he feels insulted by you. If he shows up, it won’t be for tea and conversation.”
“That’s what I want. This isn’t just about noodles and bets. I need a spectacle. Something that’ll make people talk. Don’t worry—just watch and follow the plan.”
Xiulan gave him a long look, then nodded. “Alright. But if this goes sideways, I will go call the guards. They would stop any fight from breaking out.”
Chen Ren chuckled softly, but before he could respond, movement at the edge of the crowd caught his attention. Not just his—but also garnered the attention of everyone who was in the vicinity. A group of people pushed their way toward the stalls. At the centre of it all was the purple haired young master—Cang Rui.
He walked as if he owned the roads with large strides. His fine robes swayed with every step and people made space for him. His face was lit with amusement, even his eyes were wrinkled up with the feigned smile he put up. Flanking him were his servants, and behind them were a few other rich-looking young masters.
They all carried an annoying smirk that seemed to be plastered to their faces.
Chen Ren straightened, a slow grin spreading across his face. “My plan begins,” he murmured to himself.
Finally, Cang Rui’s gaze swept over the stalls, his eyes narrowing slightly as they landed on Chen Ren. He whispered something to one of the young masters at his side, and they all laughed.
Xiulan stiffened beside him. “He brought an audience,” she muttered.
Chen Ren nodded. “The more, the better. Let the spectacle unfold.”
***
A/N - After the tournament round, there would be a lot more businesses and sect building in volume 2. Even economic wars with sects. I have gotten comments about fights in a slice of life book, but as it's xianxia, I do believe fights will be a common part of the world. Even Beware of Chicken has them if you remember.
2024-12-17 21:58:19 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 151
For a minute, it felt like even the world was holding its breath. Yafgar’s face muscles tightened and made his eyes twitch. His brows furrowed and finally, an extremely sharp glare that could have cut air pointed at Kai.
Brugnar, who was next to the chieftain had his hand clutched-white-knuckled around the hilt of his dagger. He spat tobacco remains on the ground with venom in his eyes. Ragnar's face went white as he looked between Kai and his father.
Although Kai had explained his thoughts to them, they hadn't been prepared for his bluntness.
His thoughts soon vanished to thin air as he saw the barbarians around him exchanged glances of suspicion and alarm, several already retrieving their weapons with sharp, swift motions.
On Kai’s side and without his commands, Gareth and the mercenaries mirrored the tension. Shields shifted into place, weapons slid from sheaths, and a subtle shift in formation signaled their readiness to defend. The atmosphere was heavy, a coiled spring on the verge of snapping. If this continued for a few more seconds—
Yafgar raised his hand sharply, his voice cutting through the burgeoning chaos. “Is that a threat?”
It was a simple question. Kai shook his head, knowing the depth behind those four words.
“No, it’s not, I’m not here to threaten you, but to offer you a path forward. I have already said so. You’re in foreign lands, cut off from your home. If you want to survive and thrive, you need more than these mountains. You need backing—a place to grow. And I’m not just offering you refuge; I’m offering you something no one else in this world can.” He gestured subtly toward Gareth. “You’ve seen the proof for yourself. If you doubt me, ask your son.”
The rest of the barbarians seemed to pick up on the formal tone of the conversation, prompting them to lower their weapons to where they belonged. All eyes, including the chieftain’s, turned toward Ragnar.
“Is it true?” he asked.
Ragnar nodded solemnly. He stepped forward and placed his hand on his chest.
“I’ve seen it myself, Father,” he said. “He’s telling the truth. Lord Arzan can bless warriors without the gift of magic. It’s a power similar to that of Mages but different... and just as destructive.”
Yafgar’s hand relaxed, but his expression remained guarded. Kai knew one slip of a word could end up shedding blood and tears, painting the mountain ground with wet, fresh, crimson life-fluid. He steadied himself, eyeing the chieftain's next words.
“Your kingdom hates us,” Yafgar said coldly. “To your crown, we are raiders—barbarians in name and deed. Warmongers. Cavemen. They’ll never accept us. Never!”
Kai sat straighter from where he was and looked at him squarely. “That’s my responsibility to deal with, not yours,” he said. “I give you my word that I will make it work. You know I’m honorable. You’ve seen it that day or you wouldn't send your son to fight in the beast wave.”
The chieftain sighed, that one breath felt like it held centuries worth of pain. “I do know,” he admitted. “But this isn’t about you. This is about my people—their survival, their future. I can’t make such a decision lightly.”
He paused, his eyes locked on Kai but his mind running miles.
“You spoke of a duel of blood,” he said slowly. “Can you truly prove yourself in such a sacred trial? If you fail, it will cost your life.”
Kai’s lips curled into a confident smile. He inclined his head and placed his hand on his chest, mimicking what Ragnar had done before, showing his respect. “I’m prepared,” he said. “But I won’t fight you myself. I’m a Mage—it would be an unfair fight. I’ll use a proxy instead.”
Yafgar’s brows lifted in surprise. “A proxy? Who would fight in your place?”
Kai’s hand extended, pointing toward Gorak, who stood quietly among the mercenaries, his presence radiating raw strength. “Him.”
Yafgar looked at Gorak and looked at Kai back again. “Are you sure? If you’re so confident, why not use this blessed warrior?” He gestured toward Gareth, whose display of power still lingered fresh in the minds of the gathered crowd. The split boulder laid broken behind him.
Kai shook his head, appearing calm and collected. “Gareth is an experienced Enforcer—or as you call him, a blessed warrior. He’s… very experienced. Pardon me, I’m not underestimating your ability if it appears so, but his powers might not provide the clarity we need to see the right outcome.
“And… Gorak has recently become an Enforcer. He can’t yet wield most of his powers or affinities, but his body is already far stronger than that of a normal warrior. He’s the best suited for this clash. And it seems to be the best fit in my eyes.”
The chieftain’s sharp eyes moved to Gorak, sizing him up. A moment of silence passed, the tension thick in the air. Finally, Yafgar let out a deep breath and nodded. “Very well. He will do it. But understand this—if he loses, it will be clear that your conviction isn’t strong enough to guide us.”
Kai smiled once again, not once losing his calm exterior.
“I believe it is. You don’t have to worry.”
With a nod, Yafgar barked an order. “Clear out the space! We’ll settle this properly.”
The crowd quickly sprang into action, clearing an open area near the edge of the camp. The spot chosen for the duel was rugged, with uneven ground and jagged rocks scattered across the periphery, lending an almost primal aura to the setting. Barbarians and Kai’s retinue alike formed a tight circle around the makeshift arena, their heavy boots crunching against the gravel.
The low murmur of voices faded, replaced by a tense, expectant silence as the crowd settled into place. Suddenly, the nervous energy was replaced by the excitement in the air. He saw a lot of barbarians talking in hushed voices among themselves while pointing at both him and Gorak.
His eyes moved away from the arena towards the approaching mercenary leader.
Gorak's face stood stoic as ever, no tension visible in his shoulders—almost as if he didn't have any battle with a barbarian chieftain.
“I’ll do my best,” he said, as soon as he stepped closer.
Kai nodded and looked at him. “Don’t hold back. The chieftain is a seasoned warrior. He’d gone through as twice as things that we’d collectively gone through so, the victory isn’t guaranteed.”
Despite Kai’s not-so-very motivational thoughts, Gorak’s lips twitched into a small grin. “I will win. I wanted to test my newfound strength without holding back anyway.”
As you should, Kai thought to himself and stepped backwards. He saw Gorak turn around and step into the dueling ground.
For the fight, neither combatant wore anything more than the usual leather and hide armor. Both wielded axes—the chieftain gripping his own well-worn weapon, and Gorak trading his heavy club for an even larger, weightier axe.
Brugnar stepped forward, taking the role of referee. His voice cut through everyone’s thoughts.
“The rules are simple!” he started, “This fight will end when one of the combatants is dead or surrenders," he announced, his eyes scanning both warriors, ensuring they understood the gravity of his words. "There is no time limit. There will be no interference. Fight with the elements in mind, and fight honorably.” He paused for a moment, his gaze flicking over the assembled crowd, making sure his instructions were being absorbed. "No tricks, no dishonor. If any is witnessed, you’ll have to face the consequences and offer the win to the opposite party." Brugnar added, his gaze settling on the warriors. "You know the rules. Let the battle begin when the call is made.”
The warriors nodded in unison, their grips tightening on their weapons. A hush fell over the crowd as the two combatants faced each other. Every pair of eyes watched intently, waiting for the clash to begin.
“Begin!” Brugnar yelled and the duel began.
Yafgar stood still, his body relaxed but his eyes sharp, observing Gorak with the focus of a predator studying its prey. He didn't raise his axe right away, instead allowing it to hang loosely in his grip as he subtly shifted his weight, always ready to respond to any move that might come his way.
In contrast, Gorak surged forward with the force of a boulder, his heavy axe raised high. The sound of his boots crunching on the packed dirt echoed through the stillness, breaking the silence as he charged. With a powerful swing, his weapon descended in a mighty arc, filled with raw strength. The chieftain met the blow with his own axe, the clash of steel ringing out like thunder.
The force behind Gorak’s strike pushed the chieftain back a full step, his feet digging into the earth to keep his balance. For a brief moment, Yafgar’s eyes widened, the realization of Gorak’s power clear in his expression.
Gorak grinned, teeth flashing, and pressed on with another attack, more aggressive now that he’d found an opening.
This time, Yafgar ducked low, rolling to the side and coming up behind Gorak. His axe was ready, but he didn’t strike. Instead, he circled, carefully observing. Gorak, unwilling to give an inch, immediately pivoted to face him, closing the distance with another series of brutal attacks. Each swing of his axe was thunderous, and the barbarians around the ring gasped in awe at the power of each blow.
Yafgar danced away from most of them, his movements fluid and agile for his size. When he couldn’t avoid the strike, he blocked with his axe, the clang of steel ringing out. Every time, a flicker of discomfort passed across his face before it was quickly masked by steely determination.
Kai stood on the edge of the ring, his arms folded as his sharp gaze followed the fight. He’s quicker than I expected, he thought, eyes narrowing as he watched the chieftain’s movements. Yafgar wasn’t just skilled—he was calculating, manipulating the fight. He wasn’t wasting energy with unnecessary counterattacks, letting Gorak wear himself down with relentless offense while also learning his weak points.
Yafgar wasn’t just battling Gorak with strength. He was playing a mental game, trying to keep Gorak from predicting his next move by not revealing his fighting style or attack patterns.
Despite his usual confidence, Kai couldn’t ignore the growing doubt for Gorak. The mercenary had proven himself in countless battles, but this was different. The chieftain’s experience wasn’t just in fighting—it was in strategy and endurance. Kai noticed the small signs: the slight hesitation in Gorak’s strikes, the tightening of his grip on the axe, the winces when the chieftain blocked his blows.
Though, he still felt confident in an Enforcers' endurance and strength.
The battle pressed on, each clash louder and more frenzied than the last. Gorak’s breath became heavier, sweat glistening on his skin beneath the rising sun. His strikes were still strong, but Kai saw it—the cracks were starting to show. Gorak’s swings were slowing, his precision fading.
It’s only a matter of time, Kai thought, holding his breath as the fight wore on.
The sounds of clashing axes and the labored breathing of the warriors filled the air, the duel stretching past the twenty-minute mark.
Neither Gorak nor the chieftain showed any visible injuries, but the tension in the air was thick, charged with each narrowly avoided strike and perfectly timed block.
Gorak stood firm, his chest rising and falling steadily, his eyes still burning with the same intensity as when the fight began. His stamina hadn’t faltered, and the crowd—along with the chieftain—began to realize this wasn’t normal.
Yafgar, though still sharp, was finally starting to show signs of fatigue. His shoulders sagged slightly with each dodge, and the tightness in his jaw betrayed his growing frustration.
Gorak swung again, heavy and precise. The chieftain dodged with fluid ease, stepping aside and retaliating with a vicious cleave aimed at Gorak’s side. But Gorak’s eyes flashed with anticipation. He twisted his torso and, with surprising agility, lifted his foot to deliver a powerful kick that landed squarely in the chieftain’s chest.
The impact shook the ground, and Yafgar was sent crashing to the dirt, his weapon skidding out of reach. Gasps rippled through the crowd, several barbarians instinctively stepping forward before pausing, unsure.
He struggled to push himself up, but Gorak was already upon him. With the speed of a predator, he raised his axe high, bringing it down in a deadly arc. The crowd held its breath as the weapon descended like a hammer.
At the last second, Yafgar managed to grab his axe, raising it just in time to block the blow. The clash echoed through the camp, and though he stopped the strike, the sheer power behind it made him cry out in pain.
Gorak continued his assault, each blow coming faster than the last, battering the chieftain’s axe like a storm against a tree. The weapon groaned under the repeated impacts, dents forming in its surface with every strike.
Kai watched closely, his sharp eyes catching every detail. Yafgar’s teeth were clenched in effort, his muscles trembling under the strain. The chieftain’s weapon, once sturdy, began to show signs of breaking under the pressure, until, with a final snap, the head of the axe broke clean off.
Yafgar’s instincts kicked in.
As Gorak brought his axe down for the final blow, he twisted and rolled, narrowly escaping the attack. The ground cracked where the blow landed, sending shockwaves through the camp. Dust and debris rose into the air, and for a moment, the entire crowd stood in stunned silence, staring at the broken earth and the figure at its center.
The chieftain rose unsteadily, his chest heaving.
His eyes locked onto Gorak, who stood calm and composed, his weapon resting on his shoulder, ready for the next move. There was no doubt now— Gorak had already won.
For a long moment, the camp was silent except for the crackle of the campfires. Then, Yafgar dropped what remained of his weapon, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. His voice, when it came, was heavy with reluctant respect.
“I concede,” he said and bowed before raising up. “You win the fight. You are honorable in your conviction.”
The crowd erupted in murmurs and gasps, some cheering for the unexpected victory, others stunned into silence. Kai allowed a small, satisfied smile to curl at the corner of his lips. This was the moment he had been waiting for.
More gasps rippled through the gathered barbarians, followed by murmurs of disbelief. It wasn’t long before the tension in the crowd escalated.
“Chieftain, they must have cheated!” a voice rang out from the crowd.
Others quickly joined in, their cries fueled by disbelief. “There’s no way you would lose without trickery!”
“The duel isn't honourable, chieftain! We need another fight!”
Kai’s eyes flicked toward the outbursts, his expression calm, though his hand subtly rested on the shaft of his spear. The crowd’s accusations grew louder, swelling into a cacophony of outrage.
“Enough!” Yafgar yelled.
The barbarians fell silent almost immediately, their gazes dropping as their leader stepped forward, his tone laced with unyielding authority. “Who do you think I am?” His sharp glare swept over the dissenters, making even the boldest among them avert their eyes. “Huh? Would I allow any trickery in my own arena?! That’s right! I won’t. I lost because my opponent was stronger. There was no trickery, no dishonor. It was a fair battle, and I will hear no more of this nonsense!”
The crowd murmured their reluctant acquiescence as the chieftain turned toward Kai. Despite his disheveled appearance and the fatigue in his limbs, his stride was steady, his pride unbroken. “You have strong warriors under you,” he said, his voice quieter but no less commanding.
Kai inclined his head respectfully, a faint smile playing on his lips. “They do well, but it would be wrong of me to claim their strength is purely their own. Much of it comes from their abilities as Enforcers, or as you might call them, blessed warriors. Gorak has always been strong, but becoming an Enforcer made him a different kind of beast. It gave him power and stamina beyond what he ever thought possible.”
The chieftain nodded slowly, his gaze flicking to Gorak, who stood silently nearby, still holding his battered axe. “Is it true that each of us could gain such power?”
Kai shook his head and smiled apologetically. “Not everyone, no. But I can send Mages from my retinue here to test your people. They’ll determine who among you has the potential to become Enforcers. I’m certain there will be quite a few.”
Yafgar’s brow furrowed in thought. “A force of Enforcers would be formidable indeed,” he admitted. After a pause, his voice once again rang. “But how do you know we won’t use these powers against you?”
Kai’s smile widened slightly, tinged with confidence. “I believe in your honor,” he said simply. “Without trust, there can be no partnership. Although we haven’t worked out all the details, I know this much— Trust is the foundation of success. And so, I offer you mine first.”
The chieftain regarded Kai carefully, then looked around at his people. His gaze lingered on Ragnar, whose piercing stare was fixed intently on him, silently urging him to make the right choice. After a long moment, Yafgar turned back to Kai, his expression resolute.
“Very well,” he said, his voice steady. “If all you’ve said proves true, and we can come to terms, the Lombards will consider standing under your banner. If it means giving us a new lease on life, we will accept it.”
Kai’s smile broadened. “You won’t regret it. I’ll send my delegates and Mages here as soon as possible. I believe more Enforcers will be the need of the hour.”
Yafgar raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Why do you say that?”
Kai’s gaze turned distant for a moment, as if he were looking beyond the horizon. “Because,” he said, his voice quiet but heavy with meaning, “we have a lot of battles ahead of us. And I intend for us to win them all.”
2024-12-16 07:51:53 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 44
The registration process was quick and easy. Once Chen Ren was done, he turned around and headed straight to meet Tang Xiulan. He wanted to talk about their plans for the upcoming tournament.
She had been single-handedly managing the noodle stall during his recent busy days. To his pleasant surprise, she had not only maintained their regular customer base but also managed to increase it significantly. It was mainly due to the influx of travellers in the city who’d created a rush, and she had smartly capitalised on it.
On the other hand, their partnership had grown stronger. She continued to give him daily records every night once he was free, and she even suggested ideas regarding the business.
One idea she brought up stood out to him. She had proposed that they actually hire the street kids that had been helping them around.
That was an interesting proposition, and initially, Chen Ren hesitated, unsure of the idea of formalising their roles. But after giving it some thought, he realised that it made sense. The kids were already involved in the business, and giving them proper jobs would keep them away from dangerous paths like theft and banditry. Even though he didn’t like to admit it, the kids gave him a sense of responsibility.
Regardless, beyond that, with the tournament drawing closer and the crowds expected to swell, he would need every available hand to maximise profits and not get overwhelmed in the process.
Therefore, after considering the logistics, he set their wages at three silver wen a month. It was a modest sum but would suffice for their needs. And, alongside the salary, they would receive free meals.
Chen Ren smiled at the thought. It was a fair deal for now, though he planned to increase their pay once the business expanded further. The kids would become an important part of the business's operations, just like Xiulan, whose contributions since the beginning had proven invaluable.
While Xiulan handled the stall and prepared for the tournament rush, Chen Ren focused his attention on his cultivation. He knew that if he wanted to make an impact in the tournament, his skills would need to be razor-sharp. His lightning techniques remained his ace, but he wasn’t content to rely solely on them. So, he threw himself into learning talismans and array formations.
Tournament rules forbade the use of pills, but talismans and arrays were permitted—but only if the competitors themselves created them. That stipulation worked in his favour, as it allowed him to lean into his growing expertise in the disciplines. Even so, the speed with which he was learning them wasn't enough to satisfy him.
According to Qing He, he was making decent progress and might even be talented in the disciplines, but until he learnt to apply arrays and talismans into battles, he wouldn't be able to make full use of them.
To circumvent that, he decided to intensify his training.
On a crisp morning just days before the competition, Chen Ren went deep into the forest. Yalan walked behind him, keeping track of his steps. The forest was alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, and the eerie feeling of the beasts who roamed inside it. But the location was perfect, no prying eyes, no one to disturb—he could simply practise his combat techniques, test the limits of his talismans and sharpen his arrays.
Chen Ren inhaled deeply and felt the pulse of his qi as he centred himself. He was crouched low in the undergrowth while his heart thudded in his chest. He turned his head slightly as he looked at the cat behind him.
“Do you really think this is a good idea? We could just find something else, you know?”
Yalan flicked her tail lazily in a nearby branch. “If you can’t handle a Tier 1 duskwolf, you’re not going to defeat anyone in the tournament.”
Chen Ren sighed, his gaze shifting back to the clearing ahead.
Just beyond the underbrush, a wolf stood over a torn unrecognised carcass, its sharp fangs tearing brutally through flesh. Its dark, mottled grey coat was streaked with blood, which dripped from the raw meat it savoured. It was the sheer size of the creature—twice that of a normal wolf, with the girth of a full-grown cattle—that sent a chill down his spine, combined with the feral glint in its eyes and the blood-stained maw.
Why does she always find the scariest ones? Chen Ren wondered, his jaw tightening. This may be Yalan's way of toughening his mental state, forcing him to confront his fears head-on. If that was her goal, it wasn’t helping.
Turning back to Yalan, he conversed through his mind, “You know very well that a Tier 1 beast just means it’s in the body forging realm. That thing looks like it’s at the peak of it.”
Yalan yawned, unbothered. “It’s around your level,” she replied, her voice sounding as if it was almost mocking his fears. “You’ve got your tricks. Try not to act so scared every time. We both know you have the confidence to beat it—especially after that rhino.”
Chen Ren winced at the mention of the rhino. The memory of the terrifying beast was still a fresh wound, but Yalan’s words struck a chord. Compared to that monstrous creature, this wolf seemed... manageable. Probably.
But staying here, hidden, wouldn’t do any of them any favours. He had to move forward to fight it.
He let out a long breath, pushing the fear aside. “Yeah, I know.”
He shifted his focus, replaying the lessons he’d learned from the rhino fight in his mind. Then, steeling himself, he rose from his hiding spot and stepped out into the clearing.
The duskwolf immediately snapped its head up, blood dripping from the sides of its mouth as it locked eyes with him. Its lips curled into what could only be described as a cruel smirk, as though it had just found its next meal. It leaned backwards and aimed at Chen Ren without hesitation, and leapt towards him. The snarly thing clawed the air, wanting to catch Chen Ren.
Just then, his hand shot into his pocket, pulling out a Tier 1 fire talisman. He infused it with a spark of his lightning qi. The talisman burned with an intense black smoke, and for a fleeting moment, he felt as if his own hand was on fire—a surge of energy washed through him.
Then, nothing.
The energy disappeared into the air without a trace. His eyes widened in horror as he realised what had just happened. “Fuck!” he cursed, leaping to the side using [Lightning Step] just as the duskwolf’s claws raked the spot where he’d stood.
Chen Ren saw the long nails scraping the dirty soil and leaving marks in its wake.
Landing in a crouch, Chen Ren turned to see the duskwolf pivoting, its glowing eyes locked on him as it prepared for another attack. Its speed was relentless, and it was already on him before he could fully regain his footing.
He sidestepped its swipe at the last moment, his fist snapping out in retaliation. His strike connected with the beast’s flank, sending it tumbling away. The impact left a slight scorch mark on its fur from Chen Ren’s lightning qi.
The duskwolf rose again, growling, its fur now singed but the monster didn’t seem to care. Chen Ren straightened, his breathing steadying as he met its gaze. “Alright, you mangy mutt,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Although he knew the brainless beast didn’t understand his words, the duskwolf’s actions spoke otherwise. It charged toward him, its claws slicing through the air and blood that was previously on its face, splattering everywhere.
Chen Ren’s pulse quickened but he didn’t hesitate.
He pulled the small pouch from his belt and sprinkled a fine white powder onto the ground in front of him, forming a circle. His hands moved quickly, reaching for the two talismans he’d created earlier.
As the duskwolf neared, he began chanting softly under his breath. His heartbeat thudded in his ears as he concentrated, praying that everything would go as planned this time. The powder on the ground turned orange as it began to burn. The scent of it rose in the air like incense.
He looked up from the circle and saw that the angry duskwolf almost had him. But before it could reach him, it slammed into an invisible wall with a loud thud. The transparent barrier shimmered before it, crackling faintly from the impact, holding the wolf back.
Chen Ren’s face lit up with a satisfied grin. The array had worked.
Quickly, he held one of the talismans and activated it. This time, the talisman ignited correctly, forming a fireball. He did the same with the second talisman, and two fireballs materialised in the air, their flames roaring and flickering as they hurtled toward the wolf.
The duskwolf howled in pain as the fireballs struck its side, scorching its fur and skin. The beast stumbled back, trying desperately to retreat, but its movements were sluggish, weighed down by all the burnt marks. It could only stagger for a few moments before collapsing, its body twitching as it lay motionless in the dirt, a charred carcass.
Chen Ren stood there, his breath coming in heavy gasps, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He watched the remains of the duskwolf, the fireballs having done their work. As he slowly relaxed, he glanced down at the array’s barrier, now cracking and fading.
He let out a long breath. “Well, that’s not as good as I expected."
Yalan emerged from the underbrush, her tail swaying in the air. She glanced at the shattered duskwolf carcass and then at the barrier’s cracks. “At least, unlike last time, you didn’t trap yourself in the barrier and have to break it to get out.”
Chen Ren gave a wry smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, my chant was wrong, then. This time, I messed up with the first talisman too. I’m not sure if I did something wrong while burning it, or if the rune was just messed up. Probably the latter.” He shook his head in frustration. “I need more practice with these before I can use them in the tournament.”
“Do you really think it’ll work against cultivators?” she asked. “You were able to kill the wolf because it was distracted by the barrier, but cultivators would have movement techniques, and your fireballs are still pretty slow.”
Chen Ren exhaled through his mouth as he thought about her words. It was true. Cultivators could move at incredible speeds, and his fireballs, while effective against a distracted, brainless beast, would be likely easy to dodge in a real fight. But this was just the beginning. He still had a lot to learn and refine before he could stand toe-to-toe with skilled cultivators in the tournament.
“I’ll figure something out.. I have to. I’m not going to let something like speed stop me from winning this.”
Chen Ren stood silently for a moment, his mind racing as he stared at the remnants of the duskwolf’s carcass. His eyes drifted from the deceased beast towards Yalan who was laid next to it. Slowly, he began to form an idea in his mind, a strategy that didn’t rely solely on brute force. He turned to Yalan, speaking as though he had come to a realisation.
“Actually,” he started by saying, a small smile already forming in his lips. “I’m not going to use arrays or talismans necessarily for direct attacks. They’ll be more like distractions.”
“Distractions?”
Chen Ren nodded, glancing down at the white powder that was still scattered on the ground. He gathered the remaining powder into a small pouch. Unlike talismans, which could be prepared ahead of time, arrays required specific materials, precise placements, and proper chants to activate. They were more like rituals, complicated and needing extra caution.
The tier-1 arrays, at least, were straightforward. They only needed the powder, a bit of qi from the air, and a chant. But even that was tricky. He had to position the powder just right for the array to function, and even the slightest disturbance could ruin everything. Chen Ren didn’t fully understand how they worked, but that didn’t bother him much. What mattered to him were the results.
Till now, he’d only been able to study barrier arrays.
Although he had made progress in talismans, he knew he needed to learn more about how to use them… creatively.
Yalan had talked about it a lot, but battles weren’t really time-consuming. He also had experiences in the fights he’d taken part in. A well-paced strike or a clever use of resources could decide the outcome in just a few moves. Especially against weak cultivators. And that’s why he needed to focus on innovation.
He had to find a way to break through any challenge that he might face during the tournament using more than just the expected techniques.
As Chen Ren continued to ponder his strategies, his gaze shifted to Yalan, who was casually swiping at the air with her claws to kill a bug that had been bothering her. She did it fluidly and effortlessly, her eyes momentarily gleaming before returning to their usual calm. It was a sight that momentarily distracted him, but then something clicked in his mind.
"Hey, Yalan," he asked, his eyes squinted as his curiosity got the best of him. "Don't you know a lot of techniques?"
Yalan tilted her head slightly, her gaze meeting his as she replied nonchalantly, "Yes, but I don't know any lightning techniques. As you know, the element I mostly deal with is fire."
Chen Ren nodded, already knowing about her fire affinity, but a thought sparked in his mind. "But don't you have other techniques that don't require a fire affinity?"
Yalan paused for a moment, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. She fluttered her tail irritatedly. "I do, but they aren't easy to learn, nor would you be able to master them in such a short time before the tournament. Most of the techniques I know are quite advanced."
Chen Ren smiled, the excitement in his eyes clear. "That's okay. I can take it easy with the martial techniques, but I would like you to teach me a small trick before the tournament."
***
Li Xuan's sword cut through the air, the blade loudly striking the massive, ancient tree. Each hit sent splinters of lightning into the branches, yet the tree stood firm, barely even dented. Sweat beaded on his brow, but he didn't stop, swinging his blade again and again.
With every strike, his mind focused inward, tracing the steps of his martial dao, the path of the sword.
Every cut had to be precise, every movement had to have exact intent. If there was no reason behind the strike, then it was nothing but aimless flailing, a waste of energy. The strikes needed purpose. They needed to be driven by the desire to cut through everything in their path. This was the essence of the first art of the Seven Sword Arts— One Slash Strike!
He had been working tirelessly toward mastering it, trying to use every movement with clarity. To know and face anyone or anything that’d come across him and his sword. It wasn’t easy, but he pushed himself forward.
His sword rang out as it struck the bark again. The tree’s wood cracked slightly, but it did not give. Li Xuan's jaw tightened, frustration bubbling up.
He had to push past this barrier. He had to make this tree fall.
Then, a shout interrupted his rhythm, cutting through the tension of the moment.
"Senior Li Xuan, you have been called by master!"
Li Xuan’s blade froze mid-swing. With a deep breath, he stepped back, sheath in hand, and turned to see one of his fellow disciples standing a few feet away. He nodded and placed the sword across his back, straightening his posture.
"Alright," Li Xuan said, his voice steady, though his mind still lingered on the challenge of his sword technique.
He moved through the familiar corridors of the Soaring Sword Sect's training grounds. The path to his master’s room felt heavy, knowing there was always something behind his words—an intent, a goal, a lesson, and most of the time, a sense of superiority. His master’s presence always made the disciples feel small, not only because of his vast knowledge and experience but also because of the high expectations he set for his favourite disciples.
Though, he prided himself in overcoming each one of his expectations.
When he reached his master’s chambers, he paused to bow, lowering his head in deference. “Master Xiaosheng, you called for me.”
Master Xiaosheng, one of the core elders of the sect, sat in a chair, his robes flowing elegantly around him. His eyes were sharp as he looked at Li Xuan, trailing his eyes down the tall frame. His presence was as commanding as ever, his cultivation level firmly rooted in the core formation stage. His long, silvery beard swayed slightly as he breathed deeply.
“Ah, Li Xuan, you are here. I’ve heard of your request to go back to Cloud Mist City to participate in the city tournament. I’m allowing you to go, but I want you to promise me something.”
Li Xuan straightened, concerned, flickering in his eyes, but he kept his voice steady. “What is it, master?”
Master Xiaosheng's gaze hardened, his eyes narrowing as he stroked his beard, slowly. “Win it. You are a core disciple of mine, Li Xuan. If you lose, it will bring shame to both me and the sect. I am only allowing you to interact with the mortal world because you have shown great progress in your cultivation. Otherwise, you would have remained isolated until you entered the foundation establishment realm. You know that we cultivators must remind the mortal population that we are above them.”
Li Xuan winced, the weight of his master’s words sinking in. The sect’s disdain for the mortal world and their belief in their superiority was something he had grown accustomed to, though it still stung. He lowered his head respectfully. “I understand, master. I will make sure to win.”
Master Xiaosheng nodded approvingly, but his expression remained stern. “Good. Also, there is something else.”
“Yes, master?”
“A demonic cultivator has recently been on the rise in the city. While it is unlikely you will cross paths with him, if you do, I want you to kill him and bring his head back here. A mere demonic cultivator should be easy for you to handle, and it will curry favor with the sect leader.”
Li Xuan’s eyes hardened, a cold flicker of recognition crossing his gaze. The idea of dealing with a demonic cultivator wasn’t a new one. Such threats were often dealt swiftly within the sect, but he understood that this wasn’t just a matter of duty—it was an opportunity to show his worth.
Although his master had talked about it casually, he knew that he only did so because he wanted Li Xuan to kill the demonic cultivator. Speaking straight to the point wasn't his master's way of doing things and he had gotten used to it during his time in the sect.
But, some questions arose in his mind when he thought about the demonic cultivator.
Li Xuan hesitated for a moment, then looked up at his master.
"How will I find him, master?"
Master Xiaosheng scoffed, his expression hardening. The corner of his lips turned upwards as his hands flew into the air. "You can figure that out yourself," he said with disdain. "Do I have to tell you everything? You have a brain of your own, so use it."
Li Xuan immediately nodded, and bowed again. “Will do, master. I will find that demonic cultivator and bring the head back here.”
When he lifted his head up, Master Xiaosheng waved his hand dismissively, signalling the end of the conversation. "Now go. It will take time for you to reach the city.” Li Xuan nodded, but the next part of his words made him wince. “And remember to stay away from mortals... Even if your mother is one.”
Li Xuan barely held back a frown from covering his face. He couldn’t help but let the bitter feeling of those words sting his throat. He flinched at the tone and the intent, his grip tightening around the hem of his robes.
His mother, a mortal. That reminder never failed to sting. To him, it was not a big deal, but for his master, it only meant that half of his blood was dirty, having barely any worth.
His heart felt heavy. He wanted to talk against his master and reveal his true feelings about the matter, but he simply nodded obediently.
“Yes, master,” Li Xuan said, his voice quieter than before, his words laced with both respect and an underlying bitterness he dared not show.
With that, he turned and exited the room, the weight of the conversation settling on his shoulders. His footsteps were heavy as he moved through the familiar halls of the sect. The path ahead was clear but difficult. He had to participate in the tournament, face whatever challenges it brought, and, in the meantime, figure out the whereabouts of the demonic cultivator his master wanted him to eliminate.
But that didn’t stop the last words of his master from bothering him. Instead of heading straight for the exit, Li Xuan found himself walking back toward the tree where he had been practising earlier.
The ancient tree still stood, its bark unharmed by his previous attempts.
“My mother being a mortal doesn't mean she's lowly or dirty,” he muttered, picking up his sword and continuing his spar with the tree. “I will prove you wrong. I will prove everyone wrong.”
Training always made his head weigh less and his thoughts numb—which was exactly what he needed after talking to Master Xiaosheng.
2024-12-15 21:26:19 +0000 UTC
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Chapter 150
Kai hadn't been idle when it came to the barbarians. Their first encounter was tense, a powder keg waiting for a spark.
The chieftain's deep-set scowl and the warriors' intimidating stares had made it clear that a single wrong word could lead to bloodshed. For a brief, charged moment, Kai had considered unleashing his arrows over them. But the moment passed, replaced by something unexpected: a willingness to work together.
That single thread of cooperation had been enough to pique Kai’s interest.
He tasked Francis and started gathering intel about them. The reports had been enlightening and out of all of them, one thing had taken his interest—barbarians held a tradition called the “Duel of Blood” in almost sacred regard. Decisions of great importance were not made through debate or negotiation but through raw displays of strength. Ragnar and Brugnar, who’d probably seen a lifetime of such duels, confirmed as much.
Kai had found it crude. Strength, while valuable, wasn’t always the marker of sound decision-making. It needed logic, but well, he wasn’t in a position to impose his ideals.
After all, duels for resolving disputes were not uncommon in Mage circles. Those often occurred over petty grievances or wounded pride, yet no one questioned their validity. If participating in a Duel of Blood was the price for influencing the chieftain, Kai was more than willing to pay it.
Confidence coursed through him—confidence in his power and the capabilities of his Enforcers.
It was some hours before sunrise when Kai assembled his group. The predawn chill clung to the air. He’d called up Gareth and the mercenaries, and told them to be ready early in the morning.
“We’re heading to the barbarian territory. It’ll be just us for now. Stick together, and stay sharp,” had been his exact words.
And since the territory was nearby, he’d decided that they’d just walk. Soon, after a little amount of sleep, they’d woken up and started moving.
The road was eerily quiet, the world around them bathed in shades of grey. Their footsteps were the only noise that kept them company. Wind rustled past them and there were no signs of any beast around.
After a time, Gareth broke the silence.
“Lord Arzan, you said we’re meeting the barbarians. Yet you also told me to bring my weapon. Do you think I’ll need to fight? I thought our relationship with them wasn’t bad.”
Kai glanced at Gareth, without breaking his pace. “You’re right; our relationship isn’t bad. But I’d like you to display your strength once we get there. Not just you, but Gorak and the others as well,” he said and looked at the rest of the mercenary team.
Gareth frowned but nodded. “That’s simple enough. But walking like this… It will take a while to get there, isn’t it?”
Kai’s lips quivered faintly. “Perhaps, but I believe our rides will be arriving soon.”
As soon as Kai said it, the loud noise of hooves broke through their thoughts. Two massive beasts came from the haze.
Their bodies were of a bull with two large curved horns jutting out of their heads. They had no tails and their snorts sent clouds of mist in the cold air. Bulldrakes. Strength of bulls and the speed of horses, they were extremely interesting creatures and one of the rare ones that could be tamed.
On their backs sat two barbarians, covered with thick fur and armed heavily. They slowed down when they noticed them before stopping right in front of them.
“Halt!” one of the riders barked, his piercing gaze sweeping over the group before landing on Ragnar and Brugnar. His expression softened briefly, though suspicion lingered as his eyes flicked to Kai. “Ragnar, Brugnar… and the Blessed One. What are you doing here?”
Kai saw the man having the same tribal tattoo synonymous with the barbarians on his shaved head.
Ragnar stepped forward and cleared his throat. “I’m returning home after fighting the beast wave,” he declared, gesturing toward Brugnar. “As you can see, my uncle and I have been successful. As for him—” he nodded toward Kai. “—he wishes to speak with my father.”
The riders exchanged uneasy glances, the lead one shaking his head. “Outsiders are not permitted in the camp. You know the rules, Ragnar.”
Brugnar stepped forward, his deep voice cutting through the tension like an axe. “It’s fine. I permit it. I hold enough sway to make this exception. Let’s not waste time here—we need to reach the camp.”
The riders hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Very well,” one of them said reluctantly. “But if anything goes wrong…”
“It won’t,” Brugnar said firmly, leaving no room for argument.
The group mounted the bulldrakes one by one, their powerful frames shifting slightly under the added weight but showing no sign of strain. Kai ran his hand along the beast’s thick skin before getting behind the rider.
Kai had never encountered beasts like these in his previous life. The way they moved—steadily, confidently—over rocky paths and uneven terrain was nothing short of remarkable. As they climbed higher into the mountain range, Kai’s analytical mind buzzed with possibilities. These beasts could serve as the foundation for an elite cavalry unit, he thought to himself. Their resilience and speed would give any army a significant edge.
Maybe once he had the barbarians working for him, he could make the plan a reality. But for now, he focused on first objective as the bulldrakes continued to climb the mountain.
***
The morning light seeped through the clouds, colouring the entire mountain in a golden hue. The path wound through narrow cliffs and jagged outcroppings, the chill air biting against their skin. Despite the rough terrain, the bulldrakes moved with an unyielding grace, their heavy hooves gripping the stone with precision.
At last, they emerged into a clearing. Nestled against the mountainside was the barbarian camp, its position was strategic. A towering cliff shielded it on three sides, while a sturdy wooden wall enclosed the rest. The scent of smoke and roasted meat wafted through the air, mingling with the aroma of pine.
As the group approached the gate, the barbarians stationed there straightened.
One of them stepped forward, his face breaking into a grin at the sight of Ragnar. “Ragnar, you’re back!”
Ragnar leapt down from his mount easily, with the practice of doing it a thousand times before. “Open the gates,” he said brusquely. “We have guests, and I need to speak with my father. Where is he?”
“By his tent, as usual,” the guard replied, moving to open the gate.
The heavy wooden gates creaked open, and the party rode into the camp. The presence of the bulldrakes, coupled with the arrival of Ragnar and Brugnar, drew immediate attention.
Barbarians began to gather, their conversations a mix of curiosity and excitement. Some of them pointed at him. But Kai kept his head forward, not wanting to seem interested in their conversations. Though, his ears picked up on their very loud voices.
“That’s him. The one who called down a rain of fire upon us. We barely made it out alive thanks to the chieftain.”
“I heard he rules the parts around here and slaughters anyone who goes against him,” another said.
“He’s the Blessed One, isn’t he? Why has Ragnar brought him and his people here?”
Kai kept his expression neutral, but inwardly, he was intrigued.
It seems like there's enough rumours about me going on. It would make my work easy.
For the rest of the small ride, Kai chose to ignore all of those conversations and focused on the small tents they passed. They only went for around a hundred meters before Ragnar motioned for everyone to dismount.
“Come. My father will want to meet you.”
He looked at Kai, who simply nodded. The whispers around them grew louder. The gathered crowd parted as they neared the largest tent in the camp, its size and placement marking it unmistakably as the chieftain's domain.
Just as they reached the entrance, the heavy curtain flapped open, revealing a large figure with broad shoulders and a presence that demanded attention. Yafgar swirled his tongue over his teeth and clacked them loudly as his sharp eyes landed on Ragnar.
A flick of expression passed by his eyes for a brief moment. Kai noticed it.
He looks… relieved.
"I heard a commotion outside but didn’t realize you’d be back so soon," Yafgar said, his deep voice carrying easily over the murmuring crowd that gathered around them. His gaze swept over Ragnar’s form, taking in the smaller scars that dotted his son’s arms and face, souvenirs from the beast wave. “It seems like you’ve fought valiantly, as I instructed. You didn’t lose any parts of you, I see.”
Ragnar straightened, pride and respect evident in his stance. “No, Father. I came close to losing them,” he admitted, “but I was able to survive and give back to the beasts as you instructed.”
“Good,” Yafgar grunted, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His eyes shifted to Kai and his companions, his expression growing unreadable. “And I see you’ve brought guests.”
Before Ragnar could respond, Kai stepped forward calmly.
If he was going to put himself as more than an equal to Yafgar, he needed to take control of the situation. The attention of the gathering barbarians snapped to him, their stares pressed against him like a tide.
“Yes, chieftain,” Kai said, his voice firm but respectful. “I’ve come here because I have a proposition for you and your tribe—one I believe is worth your consideration. I wish to discuss it with you personally.”
Yafgar tilted his head slightly, his eyes searching for Kai’s. “What kind of proposition?”
Kai didn’t flinch under the scrutiny. “Your future.”
For a moment, Yafgar didn’t respond. His gaze drifted to the tribe members gathering nearby, their curious eyes fixed on the exchange. He grunted, the sound deep and thoughtful.
“If that’s the case,” Yafgar finally said. “Then we should discuss it properly. It is our tradition to talk of important matters over food.”
Kai inclined his head. “Of course.”
The chieftain gestured for them to follow, leading the group to one of the campfires where a bubbling cauldron of stew rested on a bed of fire. The savoury aroma of spices and slow-cooked meat filled the air, making Kai’s stomach rumble.
Barbarians sat around the fire, eating from simple wooden bowls, their conversations quieting as the chieftain approached. A space cleared out for them in the centre of it.
Kai followed Yafgar’s steps and sat around the bonfire.
Soon, the chieftain’s hand swept across the air, a silent command to his warriors. Without hesitation, one of the nearby barbarians stood and began distributing bowls to the group. As the stew was handed over, the aroma wafted up to Kai’s nose, rich and earthy with a hint of smoke. He took the bowl, cupping it in his hands for a moment, the warmth radiating against his skin.
Bringing it to his lips, he took a cautious sip. The taste was bold, with layers of flavour that danced across his tongue—gamey, savoury, and surprisingly rich, with just a hint of spice. Even the food screamed their no-nonsense way of life in a weird way.
The nearby barbarians nodded at him, their approval clear. He guessed that eating their food was a sign of being allies rather than enemies.
Kai’s gaze flickered to Yafgar, who had taken a similar gulp from his bowl, his eyes sharp as ever.
“So,” the chieftain said, looking at Kai with an almost expectant calm, “what do you want to talk about? You say it’s about our future, so it must be something serious. I hope you won’t disappoint me.”
“I don’t think I will.” He set his bowl down, the words he'd prepared coming to him naturally. “Moreover, this is something I’ve already discussed with Ragnar and Brugnar, and they both seem to be on the same page.”
Yafgar's eyes flicked to his son and his second-in-command, a brief flicker of curiosity crossing his weathered face. “Is that so?” he muttered, looking back at Kai. “But I am the one who decides here.” He grunted, his gaze hardening. “I’ve been tasked by the elements to do so.”
Kai nodded. “I know. That’s exactly why I came here to meet you. I want to ask you something first.”
“Alright, then, go ahead.”
Kai gulped but quickly composed himself.
“What do you think is in the future of the barbarians?”
Yafgar grunted as soon as the words left Kai’s mouth.
A silence spread between them as he kept his eyes on Yafgar. Just when he thought he’d be served with a fat bowl of no response, the chieftain spoke, “I’m not a seer.”
“You don’t have to be,” Kai replied and inhaled deeply. What he was about to say next, wouldn’t be the easiest thing to hear as a leader of a tribe, but he knew he had to let it out if he wanted to get his way. He looked around at the people who were silently waiting for him to continue and his eyes met with Yafgar’s once again.
“But you can see the direction your tribe is heading. You understand what’s going on. You sent Ragnar to fight for me for a reason. You don’t want your young generation to fall into banditry and fade from warriorhood. Even though you know you can’t live in Sylvan Enclave forever. Trouble is coming. Nobles, mercenaries, they’ll be hired to hunt you down, and you’ll be running away yet again.”
The chieftain’s face darkened, his fists tightening around the edges of his bowl. “Are you here to threaten us out of our new home?” he asked, his voice hardening with suspicion.
Kai shook his head slowly, meeting the chieftain’s glare with a quiet confidence. “No, I’m not here to threaten you. I’m here to offer you a new home.” His voice grew stronger, his words cutting through the tension in the air. “Your tribe’s future is bleak, Yafgar. I know you don’t want an outsider to say it, but that’s the truth. And I’m here to offer you a solution.”
The chieftain’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze narrowing. “And that is… by coming under you?” His words were sharp, cutting through the air with the challenge they held.
Kai’s eyes didn’t waver. “I will take the reins, yes. But I’ll give you enough independence to allow your people to thrive, to grow once more as warriors.” He leaned back slightly, letting his words sink in. “You would have the freedom to build a future for your people—under my protection, under my banner—but still with the autonomy you need.”
Yafgar remained silent for a long moment, his thoughts clearly turning over Kai’s proposal. Finally, he grunted, a bitter edge to his voice. “No. We are not sellswords.”
Kai’s expression softened slightly, though his resolve remained unshaken. “I won’t use you like one,” he said simply. “And I’m not just asking you to join me for nothing. If you do, I can give you something your tribe has never had access to before.” He looked around at the gathered barbarians, making sure they all heard him, loud and clear. “I can offer you the blessings of the elements. Power unlike anything you’ve known, something that will ensure the survival of your people for generations to come.”
The chieftain’s gaze fixed on Kai with a sharp, incredulous look, as if the very suggestion was preposterous. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, growing louder with each passing second, some barbarians exchanging looks, whispering harshly among themselves. Words like blasphemy and outsider’s trickery floated through the air, tinged with disbelief. The whispers continued to get louder, noticing Kai’s silence.
But Kai remained unshaken, his posture steady and his voice unwavering. “Ragnar and Brugnar have already experienced this power firsthand,” he said, his voice cutting through the chatter. “And I can give you a living example, right here. I’m not speaking without results.”
The chieftain’s sceptical expression hardened, and just as his eyes narrowed, Kai turned to Gareth. “You’re up.”
Gareth, who had been quietly observing the exchange, quickly finished the last of his soup and set the bowl aside.
Yafgar’s brow furrowed. “What are you trying to do?”
“Just watch,” Kai replied calmly.
With a focused breath, Gareth walked up to a large boulder by the side and raised his sword, the blade crackling with purple energy. A deep hum resonated with everyone, including Kai as the weapon glowed.
With a swift and powerful swing, Gareth cleaved through the giant boulder. The ground trembled as the massive rock split in half, sending pieces flying in every direction.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, their eyes wide with shock. Whispers filled the air, and then came the words that Kai had been waiting for: “A Blessed One! He’s a Blessed One!”
Kai remained unaffected by the flurry of exclamations around him. He turned back to Yafgar, his expression composed, though his words carried the weight of what he had just proven. “As you can see, this man isn’t a Mage like me, but he can still wield the elements. This power, this blessing, would be available to your people.” He let the words sink in for a moment before adding, “And if you still have any doubts, I’ll gladly challenge you to a Duel of Blood. I will prove, with the elements as our witness, that I am offering nothing but a hand of friendship.”
Yafgar’s gaze was fixed on Gareth, his expression hardening as the realization began to settle in.
“What if I still don’t accept?” Yafgar finally asked, his voice a low growl, as though challenging Kai.
Kai didn’t flinch. Instead, he smiled, the expression a little colder than before, but still full of quiet confidence. “Then, unfortunately, I don’t think the Lombards will have much of a future.”
Kai saw the tick of Yafgar’s jaw, clearly affected by his words.
“I’m offering you a choice,” Kai added, his tone softening just enough to be heard over the murmurs, “but if you choose to reject it, don’t say I didn’t warn you about what’s coming.”
2024-12-14 05:06:17 +0000 UTC
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Over the next few days, Chen Ren’s body healed with a speed that defied his expectations. The ache in his muscles faded, the faint stings of pain in his ribs dissipated, and soon, he felt stronger than he had before the battle. It was as if the ordeal had tempered his flesh, sharpening him like a blade pulled from the forge. He wasn't surprised knowing pills were a miraculous cure in this world, but knowing and seeing it firsthand was a different experience altogether.
The city, too, began to find its usual liveliness once again. The chaos of the demonic rhino attack—so named by the people for the monstrosities that had trampled through the streets—had subsided, leaving an uneasy atmosphere in its wake. Despite that, the sound of hammers striking wood and labourers’ voices filled the city as the wounds started to patch.
Rumours were as abundant as the dust kicked up by the repairs. Whispers of arrests carried on the wind, names of those dragged to the city guard station for interrogation multiplying with each passing day. Chen Ren learned that over half of these individuals were sent to the sect, destined to sit in the Purity Camber. A grimace tugged at his lips each time he thought of the chamber—a device designed to crush both body and spirit under its relentless pressure.
He could only offer a silent prayer for the poor souls subjected to it.
Despite the arrests, no news of the demonic cultivator’s capture emerged. The lack of resolution hung over the city like a storm that refused to break. Some proclaimed that the culprit had already been caught. Others speculated that he had fled, vanishing into the night like a shadow.
“Fools,” Qing He had scoffed over tea one afternoon. “If he’d been caught, the City Lord would’ve paraded him in the square by now, perhaps even staged a grand execution to reassure the masses. He might have just fled the city after the commotion he caused.”
Chen Ren nodded, though he disagreed with the notion that the demonic cultivator had fled.
Demonic cultivators were notorious for their madness, but their actions often carried a sinister purpose. Both he and Yalan believed that the perpetrator still lurked within the city, biding his time to complete whatever vile quest he pursued. It was scary—especially the feeling of uncertainty.
It clawed his insides, over and over—whenever he thought of the demonic cultivator, but he refused to let it unbalance him.
He got back into his routine, changing his training time to morning due to being wary of the demonic cultivator and focused on pushing his body and gaining mastery over his techniques every day.
His goals remained steadfast: wealth, stability, and a future unmarred by poverty. Whatever chaos lingered in the city, Chen Ren resolved that his ambitions would not fall victim to it.
He’d rather think about his businesses and how to grow them.
During all this, the City Lord's office rolled out the announcements and registration for the long-awaited tournament. Chen Ren guessed that Li Baolong was using the tournament as a way to distract the city from the gloom of the demonic cultivator attack. From the conversations he heard on every street, Chen Ren knew it was working.
The rewards of the tournament were displayed prominently—glistening spirit stones, gleaming weapons, rare herbs, and ancient technique manuals. The promises of fortune and fame worked their magic, sparking excitement among cultivators and commoners alike.
People spoke in animated tones about the tournament, their words filled with excitement. As he predicted, the city gates were busier than ever, welcoming travellers from nearby villages and towns, all eager to participate or watch the spectacle.
The influx of visitors brought more customers to his noodle stall, and Tang Xiulan had to work tirelessly to keep up with the demand. Even the perfume shop, now under Tang Yuqiu’s eye, saw a surge in business. It seemed young village women were particularly drawn to its offerings. And he wasn’t the one to complain.
“Do you know why the perfumes are selling so well lately?” Tang Yuqiu asked one afternoon, her lips curving in a knowing smile.
“Enlighten me,” Chen Ren replied, counting the day’s earnings.
“This time of year is considered auspicious for marriages. A nascent realm cultivator couple married at the end of summer centuries ago, and ever since, it’s become a tradition for weddings,” she explained. “The women are buying perfumes to stand out more, hoping to attract their destined partners.”
Chen Ren sighed, regret flashing in his eyes. “If I’d known, I could’ve started a clothing or jewelry business. The profit margins would’ve been massive.”
“You’re already doing well with the stall and the perfume shop,” Tang Yuqiu reminded him.
“Well, I’m not stopping there,” he said, though his mind raced, thinking about all the opportunities that lay ahead. He only needed to extend his hand to seize them. Especially with his new plan related to the upcoming tournament, which had been impossible to ignore with how loud people were getting about it.
Moreover, after spending a few solid minutes staring at the prize list, he made a decision—to enter it himself.
After all, what could go wrong, really?
***
“Are you sure you want to enter the tournament?” Yalan asked, trailing behind Chen Ren as he followed the crowd in front of him. “Once your name is registered, there’s no turning back.”
Chen Ren adjusted the sack on his shoulder, pausing to meet her gaze. “Yes, I’ve already told you why I’m entering.”
She nodded slowly. “For the plot of land and the spirit stones?”
“Not just that,” he replied and looked at her. “They’re offering weapons, technique manuals, herbs, and more. I don’t know if I’ll take first place—there will be plenty of strong competitors—but I’m confident I can make it to the top four. That’s all I need to secure the spirit stones for an official sect status.”
Yalan wiggled her tail aimlessly and continued her walk beside him. “And you think you can come in the top four?”
“I’ve thought this through. By the time the tournament ends, I’ll either be on the verge of breaking through to the qi refinement realm or maybe I’m already there. Besides, I have a few ideas I plan to test during the matches. If they work out, I’ll have an edge over the others.”
Yalan studied him for a moment, then sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing. Just don’t get yourself killed for spirit stones.”
Chen Ren chuckled, his grip tightening on the sack. “Don’t worry. I’m not planning on dying anytime soon. I’ve got too much left to do.”
Chen Ren adjusted the sack on his shoulder once again while his eyes moved towards the crowd that had gathered in the streets. The city had become a melting pot of humanity, alive with travellers drawn by the promise of the tournament.
He noted their clothes, a mix of sturdy village garb and modestly refined attire, with an occasional flash of more affluent silks. Their expressions varied—some wide-eyed with wonder, others brimming with anticipation, and a few carrying the jaded look of seasoned wanderers.
Among the throng, he caught snippets of conversations, some laced with accents unfamiliar to his ears. It was clear the tournament had cast its net far and wide, drawing people from distant regions. The sheer size of the crowd made manoeuvering through the streets a challenge, and Chen Ren had to carefully sidestep a group of travellers gawking at a nearby herbal stall.
As he walked, his thoughts shifted to the implications of the crowd. This is bigger than I thought. The City Lord’s office really knows how to put on a show.
Soon, the imposing structure of the City Lord’s office stood right ahead of him. Unlike the streets, which were filled with commoners, the area around the office teemed with cultivators. Chen Ren’s sharp senses picked up on the subtle aura fluctuations in the air and the resolute gazes on display.
Most of them were body-forging realm cultivators, their cultivation levels no lower than the fifth star. Sprinkled among them were qi-refinement realm cultivators, though none seemed to have surpassed the second star. What caught Chen Ren’s attention most, however, was how young some of them looked. Many of them looked barely adult, some even appearing to have only recently stepped into their teenage years.
I didn't expect so many teenagers here. Although the tournament is only for early realm cultivators, I had no idea so many of them were there around Cloud Mist City, he thought to himself.
Chen Ren knew the unspoken rules of such events. While the tournament was open to body-forging and lower qi-refinement realm cultivators, those who had already climbed higher in the latter realm wouldn’t bother. Competing at this level would only tarnish their reputation, and most high-star qi-refinement cultivators were already members of sects. For those gathered here, the tournament was an opportunity.
Many of them are likely hoping to catch the eye of sect recruiters, especially those from the Soaring Sword Sect, Chen Ren thought, his lips curving into a faint smirk.
A good performance here could serve as a backdoor into a sect, bypassing the gruelling entrance examinations. Though, he was sure there were also quite a lot of people who were only after glory and rewards. Like him.
Lost in thought, he made his way through the crowd, eventually reaching the upper floors where the registration desks were set up. The air here buzzed with excitement but also quite… nervousness. Lines stretched long with eager and too-happy-to-be-here participants.
Chen Ren scanned the faces at the desks and immediately spotted a familiar figure.
Liu Wen, flanked by his usual colleagues, sat at the head of one of the lines. He looked as bored as ever, casually tossing a wooden token between his fingers as he processed registrations.
Chen Ren joined the line, his gaze sweeping over the cultivators around him. He couldn’t help but size them up, noting their postures, weapons, and subtle giveaways of their strength. Some exuded confidence, others carried the nervous energy of their first competition, and a few kept their expressions guarded, their intentions unreadable.
As he waited, he glanced again at Liu Wen. The man hadn’t noticed him yet, too engrossed in talking to the cultivators.
Let’s see how many of these people are real competition, he thought, sending a signal to Yalan while he bided his time.
Chen Ren stood casually in line, his sack of potatoes resting against his shoulder. Yalan perched on his other shoulder, her amber eyes gleaming with mischief. Despite her playful demeanour, she was quietly doing what she did best—analysing the crowd.
"That one," she whispered, her tail flicking toward a tall young man clad in leather armour. "Seventh star of body forging, but look at his stance. He favors his right side. Probably a lingering injury in his left leg."
Chen Ren nodded slightly, letting her observations sink in. "And the one with the spear?"
Yalan squinted, her sharp gaze scanning the young woman gripping the polished weapon. "First star of qi refinement. Decent aura control, but she’s gripping the spear too tightly. I don't think she has a lot of practice with it."
Her ability to gauge someone's strengths and weaknesses at a glance was uncanny, and Chen Ren felt a small swell of gratitude for her presence. Without her, he wouldn't know for sure who he needed to be at guard against.
He smirked, passing the time with her commentary until the line finally shuffled forward enough for him to step up to the counter. Liu Wen, seated behind the desk, looked up and immediately broke into a grin.
"Ah, Chen Ren! Didn’t think I’d see you here," Liu Wen said, his tone both friendly and surprised. His gaze drifted to Yalan for a moment before turning towards the sack on his shoulder. "And... what’s that?"
Chen Ren shifted the sack slightly. "Potatoes.”
Liu Wen blinked. "Potatoes? What for?" He asked. “And are you really entering the tournament?”
"I decided to enter after seeing the rewards for the tournament," Chen Ren said, setting the sack down with a soft thud. "As for these, I plan to do something with them and sell them during the event."
"Potatoes?" Liu Wen repeated, his brows furrowing. "You think people will buy them? I mean, your noodles are already a hit. Those would probably sell better."
Chen Ren chuckled, knowing where he was coming from. "I’m not just selling potatoes. You’ll see once you’re there. I don’t think it’ll disappoint you."
Liu Wen leaned back in his chair, grinning. "Yeah, I’m sure of it. I’m already a big fan of your noodles. Whatever dish you make out of those potatoes, I’ll be first in line."
With that, he reached under the counter and pulled out a registration form, sliding it across the table toward Chen Ren. "Here you go. Fill this out. The prizes and entry fees are listed at the bottom. Make sure to double-check everything."
Chen Ren picked up the form, his gaze flicking over the details. The structure was straightforward, with a steep entry fee of a hundred silver wen, which fortunately, he could pay without issue. Participants recommended by the Soaring Sword Sect or the City Lord's Office were exempt from the fee.
His mind worked quickly, already calculating the cost-benefit ratio of the entry fee compared to the rewards.
He skimmed through the tournament rules, noting that the event would consist of five rounds, starting with a chaotic battle royale, followed by increasingly intense one-on-one duels. The schedule was gruelling, with matches running sixteen hours a day so it could finish within the allocated time. The venue—a grand arena in the upper streets.
Then his eyes fell on the rewards, neatly outlined in a bold, eye-catching box:
—
The Grand Cloud Mist City Tournament: Tournament Rewards!
Top 8:
FIVE spirit stones
THREE pills
ONE weapon
Top 4:
TEN spirit stones
FIVE pills
Rare herbs for Alchemy
ONE weapon of choice (crafted by the Soaring Sword Sect’s blacksmith)
Runner up:
TWENTY-FIVE Spirit Stones
TEN Pills
Rare Herbs for Alchemy
ONE Cultivation Manual of Choice (from the Soaring Sword Sect)
Inner Disciple Status in Soaring Sword Sect
Winner:
FIFTY Spirit Stones
TWENTY Pills
Rare Herbs and Beast Essence
ONE Cultivation Manual of Choice
ONE Weapon of Choice (crafted by the Soaring Sword Sect’s blacksmith)
A Large Plot of Land (near a nearby village)
Core Elder Discipleship in Soaring Sword Sect
Chen Ren's lips curled into a small smile as he read the list. He sent a mental message to Yalan. “See? If I won, there’d be plenty of benefits.”
Yalan’s voice chimed back in his mind, dripping with doubt. “Do you really think you can win? There are lots of people stronger than you here.”
Chen Ren’s smile didn’t falter. “Maybe. But I’ve got plans. Reaching the top eight should be easy enough. Once I’m there, I can fight my way to the semifinals—maybe even the finals. And even if I don’t get the plot, those spirit stones will be more than enough to buy it.”
The feline spirit hummed thoughtfully. “You’re ambitious, I’ll give you that. But ambition without strength is just a fool’s dream.”
Chen Ren chuckled. “Good thing I plan on having both.”
Chen Ren moved to the counter, picked up the form, and began writing down his details. As he wrote, the hum of the crowd behind him suddenly quieted, replaced by a loud, arrogant voice.
"Hey! Get out of the way! The young master of the Cang Clan is here to register! Clear the path, or face the consequences!"
Chen Ren turned his head, his quill pausing mid-stroke. A scrawny man stood pointing a trembling finger at him, his expression twisted with self-importance. Behind him stood the supposed "young master"—a cultivator whose aura screamed peak body forging realm. His tailored outfit exuded wealth, and his long, flowing purple hair stood out from everyone within the vicinity.
Chen Ren’s brows arched slightly. Dye? Or some weird cultivation technique?
He knew that martial techniques could have those side effects and as a reason, cultivators often had a variety of coloured hair.
"Sorry," Chen Ren said calmly, turning back to his form. "I’m registering right now. If you want to register, you’ll need to wait at the back of the line like everyone else."
The atmosphere grew tense immediately.
Chen Ren saw Liu Wen’s gaze drop nervously to the desk as whispers rippled through the room. He looked back. The scrawny man looked stunned, his finger frozen mid-point. Then, his face turned beet red.
"Didn’t you hear me? The young master Cang Rui is here!" the servant barked. "Give him face, or you’ll regret it!"
Chen Ren, shifting his focus back on his form, replied evenly, "What can he do?"
Before the servant could respond, the young master strode forward. Hearing the loud thuds of footwork, Chen Ren looked up. Seems like the form will have to wait a little.
Cang Rui's eyes glinted dangerously as he sized Chen Ren up. His hands placed on his hips as if he was ready to launch into an attack.
"Are you doubting my ability to do something to you?" he asked, his voice reverberating through the room. "Who are you, even?"
"Chen Ren," he replied without any hesitation.
Cang Rui's narrowed eyes lit up with recognition in an instant. The young master's lips curled into a sneer. "Ah, Chen Ren. The one working with Tang Yuqiu in that little perfume business." His voice carried a dismissive tone. "I’ve heard of you—briefly. I never expected you’d be so brazen. If you’re trying to run a business, you should know better than to go against the interests of the major clans."
Chen Ren’s expression remained neutral as he straightened, folding his arms. "I’m not going against the Cang Clan. Or even you. I’m just pointing out that you simply need to wait in line for your turn to register, and if you can’t even understand such a common sense, I doubt you’ll amount to anything."
The words hit like a slap, the room falling deathly silent as every gaze locked on the young master. His aura flared, his face twisting in rage.
"You dare insult me?!" he snarled, his voice echoing through the chamber. "You won’t get out of here alive!"
Without warning, he lashed out, his fist surging forward with a burst of wind, the pressure sharp enough to rustle the papers on Liu Wen’s desk. The sheer force of the strike made the weaker cultivators in the room step back instinctively.
But Chen Ren didn’t flinch. His eyes locked onto the incoming punch, calmly stepping aside as the strike barely grazed his robes. The young master’s power wavered, the energy dissipating mid-strike as his overzealous attack faltered.
The room erupted in murmurs, astonishment flashing across the onlookers’ faces. Chen Ren’s calm composure contrasted sharply with the young master’s now-frustrated expression.
"Is that it? You’ll have to do better than that if you plan to keep your threats."
Cang Rui stared at his fist in disbelief, then glanced around the room. His entire face twisted into an ugly angry face as he barked, "What just happened? Why didn't my attack work?"
Chen Ren shook his head and looked around."There are arrays around here," he explained calmly. "This is the city lord’s office. They block any technique that uses even a bit of qi. You won't be able to fight here, no matter how hard you try."
That earned him another life-threatening glare from Cang Rui, his jaw tightening. "I don’t need qi to deal with someone like you!" he spat, taking a step forward.
Chen Ren raised an eyebrow, as he ‘tsked’ disappointedly.
"You really are an idiot, aren’t you? Do you realize where we are?" He gestured subtly around the room, the faint insignia of the city lord visible above the registration desk. "If you try anything here, it means you're openly disrespecting the city lord’s authority. The guards will come, and they won’t care who your clan is. They’ll drag you away in front of everyone. And with this audience..." Chen Ren tilted his head slightly toward the room full of amused onlookers. "Why sully your clan’s name for nothing?"
The young master froze, his gaze darting around. For the first time, he seemed to truly notice the growing crowd of spectators. Many of them were openly smirking or suppressing laughter. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and he clenched his fists tightly. Finally, he jabbed a finger at Chen Ren.
"Fine," he snapped. "Meet me outside when you’re done. Let’s settle this properly!"
Chen Ren snickered, shaking his head. "No. Once again, you fail to grasp the situation. The city is crawling with guards due to the demonic cultivator attacks and the influx of travelers for the tournament. If you try anything outside, they'll intervene, and trust me, the consequences will be far worse than just a scolding here. You’ll be dragged away like a common thug."
He paused, letting his words sink in, then added with a touch of finality, "Don’t be so stupid. Go to the back of the line and wait your turn. Let me finish my registration in peace."
Without waiting for a response, Chen Ren turned back to his form, his quill gliding across the parchment as if the entire exchange had already been forgotten. From the corner of his eye, he saw the young master huff angrily and stomp to the back of the line, his servant trailing behind him. Cang Rui’s eyes, however, never left Chen Ren, glaring daggers at him the entire way.
Chen Ren smirked to himself, the corner of his lips curling.
Liu Wen leaned in slightly, whispering, "Do you really have to antagonize him? He’s not just some nobody. The Cang Clan is influential, and he’s rumored to be one of the prospective semi finalists this year. Unlike Bai Shen, he’s well-trained and has proper backing."
Chen Ren finished the last stroke of his name and set the quill down, his smirk widening. "I didn’t do anything. He got angry all on his own," he shrugged. "Besides, I don’t care about angering him. In fact, I’d say it’s better this way."
"Better?" Liu Wen blinked, confused. "Why?"
Chen Ren leaned slightly against the counter, his expression turning sly. "Because I needed someone like him for my plans," he said, his voice low but confident. "Influential, hot-blooded, dumb, and easy to manipulate. He’s perfect."
Liu Wen’s confusion deepened. "What kind of plans?"
Chen Ren chuckled, picking up his form and handing it over. "Let’s just say it’ll all make sense during the tournament. Like the potatoes—" he patted the sack slung over his shoulder—"you’ll see soon enough. I promise it won’t disappoint."
Liu Wen could only shake his head, muttering, "You’re either a genius or a madman."
Chen Ren grinned. "Why not both?"
2024-12-13 20:12:59 +0000 UTC
View Post
Chapter 149
Shakran’s eyes raked over the darkened marks marring the barely conscious man sprawled on the floor. The grey discolouration was spreading, slowly creeping across his body. He could feel the oppressive, ugly aura overtaking the man’s usual human essence.
Their gazes met. The man’s sclera was bloodshot, but Shakran knew it wasn’t just that—blood trickled from the corners of his eyes, where tears should have been.
Even so, the man looked up. It shouldn’t have been possible for him to muster the strength, to channel every last shred of his energy into glaring at Shakran, yet he did.
Shakran didn’t flinch. His piercing stare remained unwavering.
The man’s glare faltered, his fear giving way to desperation. His eyebrows knit together as he began to plead, tears mingling with the blood streaming down his face.
The man knew—death was coming for him. It wasn’t an easy pill to swallow, knowing that every second ticked closer to his final breath.
Shakran knelt down beside him, a slow, sinister smile curling on his lips, exposing his sharp fangs. He coughed lightly and spat saliva next to the man’s face.
“I don’t know whether to call you lucky or unlucky,” Shakran mused, his voice dripping with mockery. “Your body’s far more resistant to the plague, sure, but it’s just dragging out your death—making it all the more painful. Let me tell you a little secret, you're going to die either way. But I think you already know it.”
Leaning closer, Shakran inhaled deeply, the metallic scent of the man’s blood filling his senses. “Despite how I look,” he continued, his voice almost conversational, “I don’t particularly enjoy torture. But… you gave me this.” He gestured to his palm, displaying a dried cut left by the man’s [Tornado Lances], a third-circle wind spell. Though the blood had clotted, the scar still throbbed.
“I had to return the favor,” Shakran added with a smirk.
The man tried to sneer but failed miserably. His lips quivered as he attempted to form words, but nothing came out. The sight amused Shakran. He tilted his head, studying the pathetic figure before him.
“F-f-filthy blood drinker,” the man finally rasped.
Shakran’s smile widened. “Filthy blood drinker, you say? Oh no, I’d only be filthy if I drank your blood. But I haven’t. Look at you—you spineless fool. Those marks all over your body? Dead mana will devour you soon enough. And you… you’re the filthy one here.”
The man’s lifeless gaze briefly sparked with offence. He lifted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes in anger, his mouth moving as if to retort.
But before another sound escaped his lips, Shakran flipped the dagger in his hand and slit the man’s throat in one swift motion. The blade glided through effortlessly, blood spurting from the man’s mouth and throat in equal measure.
His head lolled back, lifeless at last.
Shakran rose slowly, muttering under his breath.
He hated being called that—not the words themselves, but the intent behind them. Filthy blood drinker. The way they spat it, dripping with fear and contempt, as if it defined him. As if it diminished him. He clenched his fists briefly before exhaling. They were fools, all of them. Humans clinging to their fragile morality and brittle pride.
“I am far superior than these human Mages,” he said aloud, as if to reaffirm it. “They just haven’t accepted it yet.”
His gaze drifted across the ruins of the once-thriving farming city. This had been one of the larger settlements in Vandefall, a hub of grain and trade that fed the kingdom. Now, it was a silent wasteland. Corpses littered the streets—knights in gleaming armor now dulled with blood and grime, Mages who had failed to cast their last desperate spell, villagers clutching loved ones in frozen despair. Even children, their tiny forms sprawled in the dirt.
It was the plague’s work, the masterpiece Shakran had unleashed. Slow, creeping, unstoppable. Vandefall had sent their best to combat it: holy men from the church, Mages armed with purification spells, and legions of soldiers. They had all fallen, either to the plague itself or to Shakran’s blood drinkers.
The man at his feet was one of their champions—a third-circle Mage. He had been formidable, killing several of Shakran’s followers with the precision of his wind spells. But in the end, he was just another corpse among the many. Shakran glanced at the scar on his palm again and smirked.
His eyes turned to the horizon, scanning the desolate landscape. The city, or what was left of it, had nothing more to offer him. It was time to move on, to bring his plague to the next unsuspecting settlement. But just as he turned to leave, movement caught his attention.
Three figures glided through the sky, their blackened wings spread wide, veins pulsing with the telltale signs of dead mana. Blood drinkers. They moved swiftly, their forms cutting through the twilight, before diving toward the ground. They landed near the city gates and approached him.
The three knelt before him, heads bowed low.
“Report,” Shakran commanded.
Shakran’s sharp grin widened as one of the blood drinkers stepped forward, his wings folding neatly behind him.
“Lord Shakran, three cities and countless villages have already fallen to us. We’re ready to move westward and breach the borders of Lancephil. As we expected, the Vandefall royal family remains clueless, and the king’s support is crumbling by the day.”
Shakran chuckled, his fangs glinting in the fading light. “Of course it is. That’s what he gets for rejecting our offer. Arrogance always comes at a price.” His tone turned icy as he issued his next command. “Have Duke Zoran prepare to lead the coup. The time is right to uproot what’s left of this kingdom. But more importantly, we must move toward Lancephil. There’s a matter Mistress Regina has tasked me with handling personally.”
The blood drinker raised his head slightly. Shakran saw the curiosity behind those masked faces. “Are we to unleash the plague on Lancephil as well, my lord?”
“Yes,” Shakran confirmed, his voice low but brimming with menace. “But the task Mistress Regina entrusted me with is… different. It involves someone who has foolishly managed to get on her nerves. I will take a small group to handle it myself. You, however, will remain here and ensure the plague spreads unchecked. It must become a calamity greater than the Crimson Plague that wiped out three kingdoms a century ago… You get me? I trust you understand the weight of this responsibility.”
The blood drinker bowed deeply. “I understand, my lord.” Without another word, he rose and took to the skies to carry out the orders with the other two lowly servants.
Shakran lingered, his gaze returning to the lifeless body of the Mage at his feet. For a moment, he simply stared, as if the corpse could hear his musings.
“Arzan,” Shakran said softly, the name rolling off his tongue. It was a foreign name to him. “I’ve only heard whispers of you, but I’m hoping you’ll put up a better fight than this one.” He nudged the dead Mage with his boot, almost amused. “Though in the end, your fate will be the same—a body without a head.”
His smile widened, his bloodied fangs gleaming in the dim light as he turned away, the ruins of the city behind him and the promise of more devastation ahead.
***
The carriage was still—too still, just like he wanted. Kai sat cross-legged on the padded bench, his hands resting on his knees as he focused inward.
He inhaled and exhaled slowly.
For weeks now, Kai had been painstakingly working to heal his damaged Mana heart. The backlash from his previous overextension could have been severe, threatening to shatter his ability to channel mana altogether. He’d gotten lucky—it could have killed him outright—but the path to recovery hadn’t been easy.
If not for his knowledge of mana surgeries, the techniques to repair magical pathways and hearts, he wouldn’t have stood a chance. Not even a little. If things had gone the way he feared, he would have wished for death over the torment of staying alive.
Now, after countless days of grueling focus and patchwork repairs, he was at the final stage. The last fragment of his Mana heart needed careful correction, and if he knew anything at all, that’d be the fact that it needed his entire focus.
Kai steadied his breathing further, diving deep into his core. The fractured edges of his Mana heart gleamed faintly in his mind’s eye, tiny cracks spidering along its once-seamless surface. He visualized his mana as threads of light, weaving them carefully around the damage. Slowly, painstakingly, he aligned the jagged pieces, reinforcing the heart’s structure with meticulous precision.
Minutes stretched into an hour as he worked, his mind sharp despite the mental strain. Each fragment slid into place, the cracks fusing into a smooth, whole surface. Every time he completed placing one fragment carefully, his entire body shuddered. It took him everything to do so, but he pushed himself further and further.
And when he completed the final connection, a gentle pulse reverberated through his body—a sign that his Mana heart was finally whole again.
Kai opened his eyes and let out a slow breath, a genuine smile filled with fatigue spreading across his face. For the first time in weeks, he felt complete. His mana flowed freely, unrestrained and balanced, as if a dam had been lifted.
Finally, he thought, flexing his fingers and feeling the hum of energy coursing through him. I can begin working on the next circle. The thought of advancing filled him with anticipation.
The upcoming battles demanded more strength, and before getting his Enforcer status, he would have to rely heavily on his Mage abilities. But now, with his Mana heart restored, he was ready to push forward.
A sharp knock on the carriage door pulled him from his thoughts. He turned his head toward the sound, his brow arching slightly.
“Come in,” he said.
The door creaked open slightly, and Claire peeked her head inside. Her brown hair shimmered faintly in the campfire light. She looked at him with a polite expression that was tinged with a bit of urgency.
“Lord Arzan, Ragnar and Brugnar are here and they want to talk to you.”
Kai nodded, setting his feet back on the floor and brushing off his robes. “Alright.”
Through the slightly open door, he caught a glimpse of the camp they had set up for the night. The flicker of campfires illuminated the tents, and the rest of the area was quite busy with activity. After a full day of traveling, they were close—dangerously close—to the barbarian territory.
Due to that, he had already expected both the barbarians to come meet him.
“Have them come in,” he instructed Claire.
She nodded and stepped back to relay the message.
A minute later, the door to the carriage opened wider, and Ragnar and Brugnar stepped inside. Their large, imposing frames seemed to fill the small space as they sat down opposite Kai, shaking the carriage in the process. Both men dipped their heads in a slight bow before glancing at one another, a silent exchange passing between them.
It was Ragnar who spoke first. “Lord Arzan.”
“Yes, what is it?”
He inched forward on the seat and clutched his hands in front of him. Why is he looking all nervous? Kai couldn’t tell. But he was about to find out.
“We’re nearing the Lombard tribe’s territory. We’d like permission to move ahead from here. We understand you wouldn’t want anyone to know of your... association with us.”
Kai leaned back slightly. He nodded. “I understand. You’ve fought valiantly in the battle, and your efforts won’t be forgotten. Rest assured, I’ll extend my generosity to your tribe when the time comes.”
Hearing this, Ragnar’s features softened slightly. He rubbed the back of his neck while hesitating for a moment before speaking again. “If that’s the case, my lord... may I request something of you?”
Kai’s gaze didn’t waver as he responded, “Speak.”
Ragnar bowed again, this time deeply. His head touched his knees and he kept it there while talking, “I wanted to apologize for my earlier conduct. For what I did... raiding your tents when we first crossed paths. I forgot the code of the valiant Lombards and became nothing more than a cheap bandit.”
He straightened, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. “For weeks now, since the beast wave, I’ve thought long and hard about my actions. If I continue on that path, I’ll be no better than the raiders and mercenaries who sully our name. That’s not who I want to be—not who I should be. I seek your forgiveness and your guidance, my lord.”
Kai’s gaze lingered on Ragnar, weighing the sincerity in his words. The man’s transformation wasn’t surprising; many warriors found clarity after witnessing the devastation of a beast wave and the barbarian was young. Still, it was rare for someone like Ragnar to admit fault, let alone seek absolution.
Therefore, he nodded slowly, not expecting such a heartfelt apology from someone like Ragnar. He studied the man for some more time.
Ragnar had matured, and if his father had sent him on this journey with the hope of fostering that growth, then it seemed the effort had paid off.
“I understand why you had to turn to banditry,” Kai said after a pause. “You were chased out of your homes, stripped of your lands, and left with no other path. Survival does not leave much room for honor.”
Ragnar lowered his head, his voice steady but heavy. “Yes, I was weak. We all were. That’s why I need to ask something of you—something that I’ve thought long and hard about. Lord Arzan, please... allow me to take you as my master. I want to be like Knight Killian and the others who follow your command. This is my most earnest request.”
Kai raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the sudden plea. His gaze flicked to Brugnar, who stood beside Ragnar without any sign of surprise. They must have discussed this beforehand.
Turning his attention back to Ragnar, Kai spoke with measured clarity.
“You need to understand something,” Kai said. “You’re not a Mage or a Blessed one as your people call them. I can’t take you as an apprentice, not in the way you’re imagining. As for becoming an Enforcer... not everyone has the aptitude. It takes more than willpower; there’s only a slim chance you’d even have the potential.”
Ragnar hesitated, his fists clenched at his sides, before speaking with gritted teeth as if something was holding him back. “Even if there’s only a slim chance, I’m ready to do whatever it takes. Anything.”
Kai shook his head immediately and sighed. “Don’t say words like that lightly, Ragnar. They carry weight, especially when spoken by someone like you—the son of your tribe’s leader. Your actions ripple further than you might realize.”
Kai observed Ragnar closely, his mind already turning over the implications of the conversation. Originally, he had planned to move slowly in bringing the Lombards into his fold, respecting their independence and their established way of life. The barbarians had their own system, one that could not be easily dismantled or controlled. But Ragnar’s words, his earnest request to follow Kai as a master, sparked something in his mind—a potential opportunity that could bring the entire Lombard tribe under his influence faster than he had expected.
The idea formed quickly, and Kai made a decision. He couldn’t just walk into their territory and force his will upon them. No, this required more subtlety, more finesse.
Ragnar’s plea was the opening he needed, but it would require careful execution.
Kai’s lips curled into a slight smile as he looked at the two men before him.
“The path to becoming an Enforcer is a secret I’ve guarded carefully. It’s not something I can simply hand over, especially not when it’s one of my trump cards. So, Ragnar, you’ll have to understand that this isn’t something I can just give to you.”
Ragnar’s expression faltered at those words, disappointment flickering in his eyes, but Kai wasn’t finished.
“However,” Kai continued, leaning forward slightly, “there might be a way to make this happen. But for that, I would need to speak with your father, not you. I don’t think you hold the power to make such a decision on your own.”
Ragnar’s face shifted, confusion and uncertainty clouding his features, but he remained silent. Brugnar, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. His voice was deep with a hint of curiosity in his tone.
“So, are you saying you’ll follow us to our tribe and speak to our chieftain, Yafgar?”
Kai shook his head. “No, I won’t just speak to him,” he replied, “I will challenge him to a duel.”
2024-12-12 05:23:26 +0000 UTC
View Post
Chapter 42
Cai Tao’s mention of Red Peak City caught Chen Ren off guard, but he was no stranger to adapting in the face of uncertainty.
The pure surprise in his eyes lasted barely a heartbeat before it vanished beneath his usual smile. It was a well-practiced buisness smile that came to him naturally. It wasn't genuine, but no one had caught it yet.
In a setting such as this, he knew every little detail was a giveaway.
His lips curled slightly with the hint of a smirk tinged with self-deprecation, as he spoke with deliberate calm.
“Captain, it seems your research wasn’t thorough enough,” Chen Ren said in a mocking tone, lowering his gaze as his smile faded into a downcast expression. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly.
“What do you mean?” Cai Tao’s brow arched, suspicion laced through his voice. He leaned forward slightly, eyes squinting.
Chen Ren let the silence stretch, just long enough for tension to build, before speaking again, his voice tinged with resignation. “I’ve been exiled by my clan,” he murmured, each word measured, as though admitting it took effort. “The Chen Clan may hold sway in Red Peak City, but for someone like me? A failure cast out? They wouldn’t lift a finger. And as for the artifact...” He allowed a bitter chuckle to escape, shaking his head. “An exile, holding something as rare as a spirit artifact? Impossible. All I managed to leave with were a few personal belongings before they cast me out.”
He lifted his gaze, locking eyes with Cai Tao. “If you doubt me, you’re welcome to confirm it with Tang Jihao, head of the Tang Clan. He knows my story.”
The shift in Cai Tao’s expression was subtle but telling. His sharp face expression softened, replaced by a flicker of hesitation. Chen Ren could see the wheels turning in the guard captain’s mind, the weight of the Tang Clan’s name and him being exiled pressing against his doubts. Even so, Cai Tao’s posture remained firm, his eyes narrowing as he seized on a new angle.
“You claimed those injuries came from fighting the spectral rhinos,” Cai Tao pressed, his eyes once again moving towards his shoulder. “Yet you’re still only in the body forging realm. Those rhinos were in the qi refinement realm, far beyond what someone of your cultivation should manage. How did you survive?”
Chen Ren’s stature remained unruffled as he raised the teacup to his lip. After a pause, he lowered it and met Cai Tao’s gaze calmly.
“I was chased by one of the rhinos into the mist… Stronger than me, yes—but not clever. The creature couldn’t navigate the haze, and I used that to my advantage. I struck from the shadows, again and again, until it fell.” He glanced briefly at the faint scars on his shoulder before continuing. “It wasn’t without cost. My injuries were severe, and I wouldn’t be sitting here now without the pills I’d saved up for emergencies.”
Cai Tao gave a short nod, his eyes flicking briefly to the runes embedded in the walls of the room. His gaze returned to Chen Ren. “I see,” he murmured, but the edge in his tone signaled that the questioning was far from over.
What followed was a relentless barrage of inquiries.
“Where were you during the recent demonic cultivator attacks?”
“Why did you suddenly decided to become a merchant?”
“What’s your connection to the Blood Snakes? I heard you met with their leader Yu Kuang.”
Chen Ren answered slowly, but without a hesitation, never offering more than what was necessary. He had mostly been staying at the Tang Clan compund at night, so there would be witnesses. The servants could easily confirm that, and fortunately, there had been no attacks on the nights he had been out training in the forest.
As the questions turned to his businesses, he spoke of his debts and how he had decided to take a plunge into it due to them, also adding the story he had told to Tang Jihao to give more weight to his decisions.
When pressed about his confrontation with the Blood Snakes, he described it in broad strokes—an unfortunate clash due to Bai Shen pulling the strings from the back, nothing more. Cai Tao tried his best to form a connection there, but Chen Ren stood firm. There were already rumours about the Trial by Might and why it came to happen, so he doubted the guard captain was going to get anything.
Still, the questions continued.
Through it all, Chen Ren carefully guarded his secrets. His dao remained hidden behind layers of mundane explanations. And as for Yalan... Not even the hint of her existence slipped through his words.
Cai Tao’s probing gaze lingered after each response, but Chen Ren sat still, his fingers lightly gripping the rim of his teacup. His thoughts wandered as the guard captain’s scrutiny seemed to finally dull, as if the last thread of suspicion had been weighed and found wanting. He had expected Cai Tao to address his rapid cultivation progress, particularly after the sect entrance examinations, but the captain had avoided it entirely.
He guessed that it was because Cai Tao had concluded that his progress had been mostly due to pills.
Rich cultivators often relied on such means, and with the money Chen Ren had accumulated from his Trial by Might and his perfume shop, it was no surprise that he could afford to hasten his growth in this way. The guard captain, in his pragmatic way, likely saw no need to press further.
Eventually, the room grew quiet as Cai Tao leaned back in his chair, a faint sigh escaping his lips.
His sharp gaze met Chen Ren’s. “Most of my questions are over, and up to this point, I believe you’ve been honest with me. You’ve even revealed the situation with your clan, something few would so freely admit.”
Chen Ren nodded. But he didn’t relax—he knew well that a change in tone often preceded a shift in intention.
Cai Tao’s eyes narrowed as he continued, his words heavy with finality. “But despite that, I can’t let you go just yet. You’re not giving off any demonic qi, but we know too well that demonic cultivators have ways of hiding their aura. If we let you go now, there’s always the chance you might slip through our fingers. So…” His gaze hardened. “I’m afraid we’ll have to put you in the Purity chamber.”
Chen Ren raised an eyebrow. “Purity chamber?”
Cai Tao’s lips curled into a grim smile with no warmth in it. “It’s a property of the Soaring Sword Sect. A chamber specifically designed to expose demonic cultivators. If you harbor even a hint of demonic qi within your dantian, it will kill you. We’ve been given permission to use it,” Cai Tao continued. “All the suspects will be transferred there once the investigations are finished. It's not easy to find a demonic cultivator, so the chamber is our last hope.”
Chen Ren’s mind raced. A chamber that could kill him in an instant, should he carry even the smallest trace of demonic qi. The risks were immense, but it wasn’t his first time facing danger. Rather than that, he dreaded sitting in the room alone for more time.
He managed to keep his expression neutral, though the frown on his face deepened as he spoke. “How much time will it take?”
Cai Tao seemed to consider this for a moment. “Few days. We’re completing the other investigations and rounding up the remaining suspects. Once we have everyone, we’ll move them to the Purity chamber.”
Before Chen Ren could respond, a sharp knock on the door echoed through the room, breaking the tension. Both men turned toward the sound, the moment of confrontation put on hold.
As another knock echoed through the chamber, Cai Tao rose from his seat with a frown, his steps brisk as he moved to the door. He cracked it open just enough to step out, leaving Chen Ren sitting alone. Through the narrow gap, he caught a glimpse of another man standing outside—one of Cai Tao’s subordinates, judging by his uniform.
He had an anxious expression and made some hurried gestures before he door shut firmly, leaving Chen Ren in solitude.
He leaned back, casually tapping his finger on the edge of the desk. Finishing the last sip of his tea, he set the cup down, his gaze wandering over the runes glowing faintly on the walls. He couldn’t shake the sense that something had shifted, though what it was remained unclear.
Moments later, the door opened again, and Cai Tao returned, his face bearing an entirely different expression. There was no trace of suspicion, no lingering doubt—only an air of resignation.
“Forget what I said about the Purity Chamber,” Cai Tao said abruptly, his tone flat and decisive. “You can go now.”
Chen Ren blinked, genuinely taken aback. “I can... go?” he repeated cautiously, his mind racing to decipher the sudden change. But years of navigating treacherous waters had taught him a valuable lesson: never argue with good fortune.
He rose quickly, bowing his head slightly to Cai Tao, masking his relief with a veneer of calm. “Thank you, Captain. I’ll take my leave.”
With that, he stepped out of the room and into the dimly lit corridors. His strides were brisk but steady, his senses heightened as he glanced over his shoulder every few moments. The halls stretched endlessly ahead, but his mind was elsewhere, racing through questions. What had changed so suddenly? Could Tang Yuqiu have intervened? It seemed fast, even for her.
Just as he approached the final stretch before the exit, he froze. Standing there, her figure unmistakable even in the sparse light, was Qing He. The old woman radiated her usual unyielding aura, though her posture seemed firmer, her grip steady on a plain wooden stick she held in her hand. Beside her stood Yalan—flickering her tail dismissively as always.
Chen Ren walked forward, his confusion mounting. “Senior Qing He? Why are you here?” His gaze flickered to the stick, and then to Yalan, who gave him a knowing look but said nothing. “What’s going on?”
Qing He’s lips curved into a sly smile, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “So many questions from someone I just bailed out of trouble.”
Chen Ren’s eyes widened as her words sank in. “You did that?” he asked, incredulous. “How?”
Her laughter echoed through the corridor, rich and knowing. “Kid, you underestimate me. My connections go far, and I mean far—right up to the city lord’s personal chambers.” She tapped the stick against the ground for emphasis. “Honestly, I was content to let them sort this out on their own. They’d have released you sooner or later. But then Yalan came running to me, saying they were suspecting you of being a demonic cultivator. I knew those fools would drag out that Purity chamber nonsense, so I stepped in.”
Chen Ren’s expression shifted from shock to something closer to gratitude. “Thank you,” he said earnestly, though a thousand questions still swirled in his mind.
“That Purity chamber?” Chen Ren raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a bad thing?”
“For anyone who values their sanity? Yes.” Qing He leaned on her stick, her sharp eyes glinting with humor. “The Purity chamber doesn’t just test for demonic qi. It crushes your dantian, shakes your soul, and grinds down your mind. Originally, it was called the Force chamber—a training tool from the olden days. Back then, it wasn’t advised to stay in for more than an hour unless you wanted to come out drooling. Now? They’ve modified it, but not for the better. Ocassionly, they find people suspected of being demonic cultivators and put them there till they lose their mind.”
Chen Ren’s eyes widened, a chill running down his spine. “So they were just going to shove me into a death trap, wait for me to lose my mind, and hope that if I was a demonic cultivator, I’d unleash my qi to escape?”
“Precisely,” Qing He said, her tone almost casual. “Demonic qi is volatile, more so than you can imagine. Under that much pressure, it would flare uncontrollably, revealing your true nature. Of course, that doesn’t mean the chamber isn’t lethal to regular cultivators too. And while your reckless ideas might get you killed someday, I’d rather it not be this soon.” Her smirk deepened as she said the last part.
Chen Ren clenched his fists, his mind flashing to Cai Tao’s unnervingly calm demeanor. That smug, smiling face suddenly seemed like the perfect target for a slap or two. He couldn't imagine how the man had been so casual while talking about the Purity chamber. There was no way he didn't know it would make him go insane, but he simply didn't care enough to tell him.
Part of it could have been because he didn't wanted Chen Ren to try to escape, but it didn't change the fact that he had nearly died just because he had been a suspect.
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to calm down before stepping forward and bowing deeply toward Qing He. “Senior Qing He, thank you. I truly owe you for saving me from this.”
Qing He’s smile didn’t waver. “Oh, you’re grateful now. But I don’t expect that to last.”
Chen Ren straightened, his brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Yalan, silent until now, finally spoke, her voice carrying a touch of amusement. “I think she’s referring to the deal you made, remember? She agreed to teach cultivation disciplines to you.”
Chen Ren’s face froze for a moment before turning toward Qing He, whose grin only grew wider, a dangerous glint in her eyes.
“That’s right, kid,” she shrugged and turned around. “I hope you’re ready for hard training because I don’t believe in holding back. And we are already late for our first session. Purity chamber might have made you insane, but if you don't focus, my training might have the same effect.”
Chen Ren suppressed a groan, already imagining the grueling days ahead, but then he looked back at the guard station and thought about the fate he had just escaped.
Compared to that, he doubted her training could be that hard. Right?
***
Growing up, Chen Ren had written a ridiculous amount of homework. Since middle school, he’d turned his neat handwriting and quick mind into a part-time job, charging the younger kids in the neighborhood to write their assignments. By high school, he’d been a one-man essay factory, churning out essays on everything from ancient poetry to biology experiments.
Back then, it had been a hustle—a way to earn some pocket money. But when Qing He announced she would be training him, he hadn’t expected those endless days of scribbling to come back to haunt him.
He stared down at the sheet of paper in front of him, frustration bubbling beneath his calm facade. For the five hundred and seventy ninth time, he inscribed the same basic symbol with painstaking care, the brush gliding over the paper in smooth strokes.
It was a simple pattern, deceptively easy to learn but maddeningly difficult to perfect. One slight wobble in the line, one stroke too thick or thin, and it was all worthless.
Chen Ren sighed, his grip tightening around the brush as he spotted yet another mistake. The lines were uneven—again. He crumpled the paper in frustration, tossing it onto the growing pile of rejects before pulling out a fresh sheet to start over.
Beside him, Qing He sat with infuriating serenity, sipping tea as if she had all the time in the world. “Careful now,” she said without looking at him. “The talisman doesn’t care about your impatience. The symbols must be precise. A single flawed stroke can make the entire inscription useless—or worse, unstable. I’m sure you don’t want it blowing up in your hand.”
Chen Ren glared at her for a moment, though he quickly schooled his expression back to neutrality. “I think I’ve got that part figured out, thanks.”
Qing He’s lips twitched into a knowing smirk, but she said nothing, simply lifting her cup for another sip.
She had dragged him here right after he’d informed Tang Xiulan that he was safe and that she didn’t need to worry.
When he had thought about learning the disciplines, he hadn’t expected to be thrust into hours of grueling practice, learning the basic inscription symbols used in talisman crafting. It sounded straightforward and easy in theory, but in practice, it was maddening. Even the tiniest deviation—a millimeter off, an unsteady hand, or ink that dried too quickly—meant failure.
And failure was all he had to show for the last few hours.
He set his jaw, determined to get it right this time. The brush moved across the paper, his focus being his prime goal. Sweat beaded on his brow, his concentration razor-sharp. As he worked, he caught Qing He watching him from the corner of his eye, her expression calm but expectant, as if she were waiting for him to crack under the pressure. He almost groaned loudly for her to hear.
“Do you have to sit there and watch me?” he asked, his voice strained as he finished another line.
“Of course,” she said smoothly. “I wouldn’t want you to feel neglected.”
A moment passed, and another. Chen Ren just stared at her not knowing if he should give up right away or if he should—
“What are you staring at? Why aren’t you inscribing?”
Chen Ren put down the brush and flexed his aching wrist, the stiffness beginning to creep up to his forearm. “I’m just tired. My wrist is killing me.”
Qing He scoffed, setting her teacup down with a faint clink. “Tired? Wrist hurting? That’s nothing. You inscribe until your wrist can’t move, and then you push past that. That’s the way of a talisman master. What I’ve given you are the basic Tier 1 runic symbols. You should consider yourself lucky I didn’t start you off with alchemy. Then you’d be learning the names of ten thousand herbs and their uses.”
She chuckled, her laugh somehow both light and ominous. “Actually, why don’t we make that your next lesson—after you’ve completed a thousand inscriptions, of course.”
Chen Ren groaned inwardly, dropping his gaze back to the paper. “A thousand,” he muttered, picking up the brush and dipping it back into the ink. “Why not make it ten thousand while you’re at it?”
“Don’t tempt me,” Qing He replied.
Chen Ren sighed heavily and refocused, the tip of his brush hovering over the paper as he prepared to start again. Just as he was about to inscribe the first line, the murmur of conversation drifted over from the other side of the tea shop.
Two girls, familiar faces from the marketplace skirmish, were seated a few tables away— Yin Qiao and Mei Lian. Since their initial fight, they had apparently gotten closer. Their voices carried just enough for him to catch snippets of their talk.
“The city tournament is starting soon,” Yin Qiao said, excitement evident in her tone. “Are you going to take part?”
Mei Lian shook her head, her expression nonchalant. “No, I’m better off cheering from the sidelines this time. But didn’t it get canceled because of the demonic cultivator attack?”
“Nope,” Yin Qiao wiggled her eyebrows. “It’s still on. I heard they’re making changes to keep everything secure. Extra guards and all that. Apparently, City Lord Li got angry at the guards on the security of the city and they had been working hard to ensure the tournament goes right now.”
“Really? Then I wonder if Li Xuan is going to participate?”
“I have heard he will. Lots of cultivators are going to participate just to have a shot at challenging him.”
Mei Lian eyes widened. “Really? Then maybe I will go watch.”
Chen Ren couldn’t help but smile as he listened. The idea of a city tournament brought a spark of interest to his otherwise grueling day. He had heard about it before, but with everything he had went through recently, the thought of it had completely left his mind.
He turned slightly, his eyes meeting Qing He’s piercing gaze.
“What’s that grin about? Are you planning to enter the tournament? Or are you just daydreaming again?”
Chen Ren shook his head, though his smile didn’t fade. “I’m not sure if I’ll enter. I haven’t decided yet. I can't enter without seeing if there's any prize I want.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully, his mind already spinning. “But I do see it as an opportunity.”
Qing He raised a brow. “What kind of opportunity?”
“For business, of course. A tournament means crowds. Crowds mean travelers from nearby villages and towns. It’s the perfect chance to attract customers—and I’ve got so many ideas running through my head.”
Qing He leaned back, studying him with an amused expression. “You’re more of a merchant than a cultivator, aren’t you?”
Chen Ren shrugged. “Why not both?” He picked up the brush again, his focus sharp. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to finish this before my next big venture.”
Qing He scoffed. “Well, just don’t let your wrist fall off before you reach those thousand inscriptions.”
2024-12-11 20:56:44 +0000 UTC
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