The third elder, Shufang, entered the study, brushing the dust off his robe with a sigh of frustration. "What will we do for the third part of the tournament, Sect Master Rodomir?" His expression appeared livid remembering that insufferable body cultivator that humiliated him.
Sect Master Rodomir sat hunched over his desk, attempting to hide his downcast expression. "Indeed. Fighting in the arena for the next portion does not seem possible, let alone beneficial, Elder Shufang." His voice was heavy with the weight of recent failures and mounting financial pressures.
"Where is Elder Nihlo?" Elder Shufang's eyes scanned the room, noting the crumpled scrolls and emptied chests scattered along the edges. The scene spoke volumes about the turmoil they were facing.
"She secluded herself in her cultivation chambers," Rodomir replied lifelessly, his gaze fixed on the chaotic mess around them.
"Oh~! This is great news! She is about to break through to the next layer. Was Olivia's lecture that profound to even impact that old sack of bones? That explains that beam of light I saw from the measurement stage." Elder Shufang started nodding his head, approving his own deduction.
"Tsk!" Sect Master Rodomir's face twisted in frustration, his body tensing as the tension in the room grew palpable.
"Sect Master?" Elder Shufang called out, his head tilted in confusion at Rodomir's reaction.
"What lecture?!" Rodomir slammed his desk, his bloodshot eyes glaring at Shufang. His voice echoed through the study, raw with anger and disbelief.
"She didn't even get a chance to speak! That damn body cultivator spewed some nonsense about lightning, causing everyone to run out of the tower." He clenched his hands in agitation, the memory of the glorious scene from his balcony that glimmered in his eyes, only to find out it was a cripple that caused it.
"That muscle brain caused that illumination of enlightenment?… But you just said it was nonsense." Shufang asked in disbelief, struggling to reconcile the event with Rodomir's explanation.
"I was venting, damn it! The expenses for arranging this event—from gathering merchants, sponsors, spreading rumors of the rewards to grab hold of wandering cultivators—are astronomical." Sect Master Rodomir launched an inkwell at the wall, inadvertently destroying his favorite poem calligraphy. His frustration bubbled over, each word dripping with resentment.
"We lost two rounds because of that insufferable maggot! If we lost a round to the other sects, very well, but a damn mortal that cost us our Earth-grade treasure is unforgivable… insufferable!" Rodomir's deep blue qi surged from his agitation, causing more articles along the walls to deface. His eyes blazed with fury, each breath heavy with unspent anger.
"…Well… Ahem… The purpose of this tournament is to build relations with the other powerful sects and advertise our superiority to the less loyal or unaffiliated rogue cultivators. So we just need to ensure we overwhelm them in the third round with a theatrical victory that overshadows all the others." Shufang quickly moved the conversation away from the topic of the lost treasure. His voice was steady, seeking to redirect Rodomir's focus.
"Hoo~… How? Swift Gale Sect has disciples that are close to the level of elders. To send our people at them for a fight is the same as kicking an iron slab." Rodomir expressed his concern and grief over the seemingly insurmountable challenge. His voice was tinged with ridicule at the idiot elder suggesting such as play.
"If fighting amongst the disciples will not do, just have them fight something else." Shufang offered a simple solution, his smile radiating smugness.
"…That… That could… Indeed! You are right. We will have them fight some beasts instead and say it is for fair play… Yes, we will give our disciples knowledge and effective weapons for the beast we decide upon." The lifeless eyes bloomed with light at the end of the tunnel. Rodomir jolted up from his desk with jolly vigor as he patted Shufang's shoulder in approval.
"Exactly. We can have them finish that mission we haven't yet assigned to our patrol unit. The blood spire drake extermination request. We can tell the merchants that put the commission in that we needed assistance from other sects due to its difficulty." Shufang proudly hit his puffed-out chest, confident in his solution.
"We can then ask for more compensation for the difficulty! That is good work, Elder Shufang." Rodomir wrapped his arm around Shufang's shoulders, a sense of camaraderie forming between them.
"Nothing much, Sect Master. Scribes!" Shufang yelled at the door to summon a disciple. The doors opened with several disciples rushing in, hearing the summons, and kneeling down.
"Yes, Elders!" they yelled in unison, waiting for instructions with the harshest dicipline.
"Go and inform the contestants the tournament will continue tomorrow morning and the content has changed from combat amongst fellow disciples to subjugating the 'Blood Spire Drakes'!"
"We obey!" The scribes blurred away once the order was given, leaving the two elders to pat each other's backs with a sense of accomplishment.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
In the bustling tavern, the noise of disciples yelling for drinks, food, and the occasional duel filled the air. The second floor, reserved for privacy, housed surveillance-dampening inscriptions that kept prying eyes and ears at bay. In the fourth room, a group of three sat around a tabletop grill, enjoying the show infront of them as the strips of meat sizzled.
"…Well?" Illia stood over Soloman with a stern, scolding demeanor, her arms crossed and a heavy judgmental gaze.
"What?" Soloman replied, his tone a mix of confusion and innocence.
"What?! What, you say?! What on Lotusia were you trying to do? Are you trying to start a war over a woman looking down on you for a moment?" Illia placed her foot between Soloman's kneeling legs, her voice rising with each word.
"War…? I was asked to give the lecture so-"
"Which you slept through!" Illia interrupted, her eyes narrowing with frustration.
"-we could win. I got to it eventually. Making those gloves wasn't an easy feat, you know." Soloman's voice was calm, almost nonchalant, as he tried to defend his actions.
"We didn't ask for an item that could cause a war."
"…You still used them," Soloman retorted.
"Besides the point! You destroyed a sect's world-renowned treasure first off, then you started sleeping during the lectures in front of everyone in the most respected building of learning on the continent. Of all the lessons you could give, you chose one that reveals the true nature of the heavens. Explain yourself before I take this to Sect Master Aria." Illia leaned closer, her voice dropping with each word, the intensity of her gaze piercing.
Soloman sighed, feeling the weight of Illia's words. He glanced at Ouro, who was trying to mediate. "Come on, Sis, he had no il-"
"Shut up… you join him too." Illia glared, pointing to the spot next to Soloman.
Ouro sighed and knelt beside Soloman, sharing a look of resignation. "Your sister is quite the tigress," Soloman whispered to his new neighbor.
"Single for it too," Ouro joined in the banter, causing the others at the table to burst into laughter. The laughter continued until Illia's gaze silenced them, her eyes stern and unwavering.
…
"Welcome." Soloman greeted the new arrivals with a humored look, witnessing their downcast expressions.
"Sigh Intended or not, I need to understand your thoughts on this, Soloman. Do you understand the implications of what you've done?" Illia settled her breathing, rubbing her temples with frustration.
"Well…the first test I wanted us to win to stifle that idiot who looked down on us, so like I said before, I made those gloves to win." Soloman shrugged nonchalantly, his tone matter-of-fact.
{Told ya, you went overboard.} Priscilla's voice chimed in Soloman's mind while flipping through manga pages on her bean bag chair.
"Thanks, by the way," The three chimed in to express their thanks.
"No problem. As for the war thing you talked about, if you mean the stone slab, the Elder instructed me to because of my supposed deformity as a way to take part. So that's more on him than us." Soloman explained, trying to clarify his actions.
{True, I can attest to that.} Priscilla backed him up, her tone sincere.
[Priscilla, please don't. They can't hear you or know about you leaving the library. I'm in enough trouble as it is.]
"Uh-huh." Illia cocked her eyebrow in skepticism about the ownership of blame.
"I already told that old guy who stepped in about this, and he seems to understand that our sect holds no responsibility for damages. With that taken care of, what was the problem with my lesson? Was it too difficult to understand?" Soloman asked, genuinely puzzled, as Illia rubbed her temples raw.
"The lectures are supposed to help people understand the world or dao, while yours…*sigh… could turn the world on its head." Illia's strength waned as she sat down at eye level with the others, her fatigue evident.
"…So I did my part right then?" Soloman asked, his confusion deepening. Illia sighed even heavier, the weight of the situation bearing down on her.
{Explaining how the heavens work was a bit excessive.} Priscilla chimed in while viewing more of Soloman's childhood memories on the view screens in the 'Thought Box'.
"Allow me to explain it more clearly. Soloman-" Andre leaned forward to make eye contact.
"Sup."
"Sup?… Anyway, lectures usually are made to clear up or improve upon a specific method or technique like ice, fire, and so on… Yours was… Yours revealed the nature of the world and of the heavens. Though helpful, for most of the people in the world, they are able to understand such things once they are of the 'Nascent Soul' stage, and they very seldom interact with the mundane world." Andre explained patiently, but seeing Soloman's befuddled face, he sighed alongside Illia.
"Simply put, you just carved the path for all those people to become 'Nascent Soul' cultivators, which could cause an imbalance of power. You created 'fire' then passed it over to a caveman expecting him to understand how to respect the power it holds. Get it?" Sophia summed up, the group of four nodding their heads in agreement with her explanation.
"Tsk… I get it… I will withhold from the more advanced materials next time." Soloman nodded his head as well, with the others giving a wry smile at the thought that he could still give even more profound lessons.
"Just don't cause any ruckus from here on. And tell me before you do…well, anything, okay?" Illia gave her last request before the five soon returned to their food and drinks, only to see the door slightly glow, announcing someone's entrance.
"Enter!"
A person with a cloth over their face opened the door and kneeled to give the change of addendum. "Greetings, revered guests. I am a scribe sent to inform you of a change in the tournament due to the discoveries recently made. Most disciples have reached a new level of cultivation from today's lectures, and with their foundations being unstable and levels unverified, for the safety of all parties, the disciple combat portion of the tournament has been replaced." The scribe's voice was respectful and formal, each word meticulously chosen.
"What will the change be exactly?" Illia put down her tray with a look of concern, her mind racing with possibilities.
"Combat will not be between disciples, but a subjugation quest is to be held. Disciples are hereby to exterminate all the 'Blood Spire Drakes' currently nesting near our borders. Scores will be counted by how many cores are gathered back. It will start tomorrow morning." The scribe delivered the message with precision before blurring away, leaving the group to digest the new information.
"Wow. This will be hard." Andre muttered, his mind already calculating the challenges ahead.
"Drakes are easy to kill alone, but a brood is challenging." Sophia added, her voice thoughtful and analytical.
"A perfect time to test our mettle." Ouro's eyes gleamed with excitement, eager for the upcoming challenge.
Illia was mulling over what tactics could be used to win, with one of their members unable to fly or use swords. She looked at Soloman only to see him sharply face away from her.
"…What?" Her voice was sharp, filled with suspicion.
"I…Uhm." Soloman stuttered, his nervousness apparent.
"Spill it." Illia narrowed her eyes, not in the mood for evasions.
"Re-Remember when you pu-punched me earlier today?" Soloman started stuttering nervously.
"Yeah~?"
"Re-Remember those gloves and the peo-people I said who helped?"
"And~?"
"Well~"
"Just say it already!" Ouro yelled, unable to withstand the tension any longer.
"They are made from blood drakes and the people who helped are from the village that I helped." Soloman blurted out, bracing for the inevitable reaction.
…
"Oh, is that it?" Ouro returned to enjoy his meal, seemingly unbothered by the revelation.
…
"WHAT?!" The four exclaimed.
"I don't have my tools here, so I asked for help from the villagers. They were quite happy to do so." Soloman tried to explain there was no forced labor, only to watch as the four grabbed their heads in agitation.
"The other part. Explain how you got the materials. I swear you can be thick in the oddest ways." Sophia groaned, trying to clear up the intended question.
"I needed material for the gloves, so I camouflaged myself to sneak out of the sect to obtain them. I remember Olivia telling us that they already have people fighting them, so I was hoping to find the materials that were left over." Soloman explained, a cold sweat forming as he noticed Illia trembling with frustration.
"Theft is another issue we will go over when we are back at the Sect. With Sect Master Aria there, of course." Illia whispered, her tone laced with a blatant threat. She narrowed her eyes, her patience wearing thin.
"Gulp. When I finally got to the village, the villagers explained no one came to help in weeks. So I offered my services in exchange for the use of their forge. I located their nest, a cave halfway up the jagged mountain slope. The drakes were sleeping inside once I found them."
"How many were there?" Ouro questioned.
"Thirty-seven." Soloman replied nonchalantly, as if the number was insignificant.
"You fought thirty-seven spirit beasts by yourself inside of a cave?!" Sophia stood up from the table in astonishment.
"Of course not, that would be insufficient. I was on a tight timetable, mind you." Soloman scoffed at the implications.
"Then how?" Sophia pressed, her curiosity piqued.
"I told you before that there are other ways to fight. I borrowed blankets from the villagers to cover the entrance and lit a large bonfire inside to burn the oxygen and cause the drakes to inhale the smoke. All but one perished in about… three hours. The alpha of the brood was still moving when I went to check, so I slit his throat." Soloman recounted the events passingly, his tone indifferent.
"So you killed an entire brood in three hours, where it would normally take tens of cultivators days to achieve. That's… I'm going insane." Andre felt dejected when hearing the simple method used.
"…Anyway. I got the tendons, bones, and cores needed to create the gloves. The villagers were very grateful when I returned, and in return, they helped process the materials. So we finished the product, and I left them a pamphlet on ways to improve their crop yield as thanks before sneaking back into the sect." Soloman continued, his tone casual as if he were describing an ordinary day.
"Insane bastard." Ouro muttered, shaking his head in awe.
"Lunatic."
"Unbelievable."
{Charitable.} Priscilla added, her voice soft yet approving.
"…So what exactly did I punch then? You pulled the gloves from your bag." Illia asked, noticing a discrepancy.
"That was the remaining cores. I initially ran out of room in my bag with the remaining bones and tendons. Look." Soloman dumped his satchel on the table, spilling its contents. Black-red oval-shaped orbs scattered across the table, leaving the four disciples in shock.
"There's still about thirty of them left." Ouro quickly counted.
"How many spirit cores did it take to make a single glove?" Illia asked with deep concern, her eyes narrowing.
"Elder Shariz and I found a way to improve the use of spirit cores, so it only took two for each pair. We can sell or experiment with the rest." Soloman answered while sipping on his special blend of tea.
"There's one missing. I see only twenty-eight on the table." Andre started looking under the table, trying to find the missing stone.
"Personal use, don't ask." Soloman's response was curt, his eyes avoiding their questioning gazes.
{Thanksies!} Priscilla chirped while rubbing her stomach.
[Where did you learn that word?]
{From an anime in your memories.}
[Don't pick up strange habits.]
"Soloman… You… will cause… I am very thankful knowing what kind of man you are. I need to warn Master Mùchén to strengthen our defenses once we're home." Illia was apprehensive, knowing there was a man in the world who could fabricate weapons and artifacts that could ruin the world on a whim, along with knowledge that highest stage cultivators sought after. The image of their sect being besieged by the world swirled in her head because of an innocent man without common sense left her frightened.
"So there's none alive, right?" Sophia, being simple but practical-minded, asked Soloman.
"Yes… so~ if the challenge tomorrow is subjugation of drakes… we already won. Cheers." He sipped his tea, ignoring the looks from the others. The four sighed at the situation they found themselves in and returned to their quarters.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Morning came with the Illia's group following behind the party of fifteen led by Elder Shufang. The journey was tense, each member on high alert for any signs of ambushes from rogue cultivators or beasts. The flight took several hours, with their destination being a village near the mountain pass.
The villagers were going about their day until one of them, working in the fields, noticed the group flying overhead. "Immortals are approaching!" The villager warned, causing the others to drop their chores and hastily gather at the village entrance to greet the oncoming entourage. The village chief, upon hearing the news, ran out of his hut towards the entrance, adjusting his clothing and adopting a humble posture in preparation to speak with the patrol team.
"Greetings, immortals, to our humble village!" Chief Gerben lowered his head as he saw the first cultivator land at their gates. The other villagers stood behind him, apprehensive and clutching their children.
"Afternoon, this one and the others are here to attend to the subjugation of the 'Blood Spire Drakes' request made by this village and the others around the spur of the mountain. Tell this one when was the last sighting." Elder Shufang's tone was dignified, his eyes scanning the village for any signs of distress.
"I understand, dear immortal, but I am dumb and don't understand. The problem of the drakes has already been taken care of." Chief Gerben began to sweat, worried that one of the villagers might have offended the immortal, using the drake issue as a pretext to pull more funds or manpower away from them. The sight of twenty well-dressed, battle-ready cultivators landing behind the elder only worsened his conclusion.
"Taken care of? Surely you mean, there has not been a recent sighting in your area. No patrol has reported fighting the drakes yet to our sect that is in charge of your protection, so tell me when was the last time any of you have seen one." Elder Shufang doubted the lesser being in front of him.
No disciple was sent out strong enough to kill an entire brood, let alone achieve such a feat and not ask for a reward. He looked back at the group that followed, specifically at Olivia, to determine if one of theirs left early to gain an upper hand in the tournament, only to see her subtly shaking her head.
"Forgive me, grand immortal, I misspoke. We have indeed seen a drake two days ago." Chief Gerben corrected himself, believing the elder was asking to identify the disciple who helped them but refused a reward for their efforts. He closely scanned the group behind the elder, finally spotting Soloman in the back, pouring tea from his strange cup.
{That chief saw you Sully. What are you gonna do?} Priscilla informed the distracted Soloman of the oncoming problem.
[Only my sister calls me that to annoy me. I told you not to pick up strange habits.] Heeding Priscilla's warning, Soloman looked at the chief, with whom he had built quite a rapport while processing the drake parts. Not wanting to be exposed for leaving the sect without permission, Soloman placed his finger over his lips, signaling the chief to keep silent. The gesture was mimicked by the rest of the villagers, baffling the other cultivators.
"Very good, where did the drake fly off to?" Elder Shufang, still looking towards the mountain pass, failed to notice the villagers' strange gestures.
"Well…the drake was already killed by a passerby and we haven't seen any more since then. He left in a hurry and only left the meat. See?" The chief directed the elder's attention to the plates and strips of meat hanging over a smoking fire for preservation.
"A passerby?…Looking at the quantity of meat here, it appears only one was killed, the rest of the thirty-sized brood must have remained in the mountain torrent or summit. We are leaving, be ready!" Elder Shufang, sure of himself, instructed the group to disembark. The group of cultivators returned to their mounts. Upon takeoff, they noticed the village waving them off—or more accurately, it appeared to be waving one person off. Hibiki and Ashan, following the direction of the wave, saw the group from the Swift Gale Sect at the rear. The gesture left them both confused, as a sect with no affiliation to the village would not normally receive such treatment.
The group traveled for several hours through the pass, examining the cliffs and slopes for any signs of nests or prowling drakes hunting in the trees. Their search yielded only traces of marks that were days or weeks old. Growing increasingly annoyed, Elder Shufang ordered the group to spread out and hunt separately, hoping someone would find the drakes' hunting ground or the cultivator who had slain the drake back at the village. Hibiki and Ashan's groups went in separate directions, leaving Olivia's group to travel further towards the torrent, while Illia's group checked the saddles and fingers of the mountain.
The two guest representatives though they were traversing in seperate directions were a near identical conversation about the unusual situation they found themselves in during this competition.
"What do you think about that village, Azamai?"
"What do you think about that village, Ardin?"
"They seemed acquainted with Soloman's group."
"They appeared to be happy to see Illia's group."
"Indeed, they seemed to have met before. Do you think the passerby the chief referred to was one of them?"
"Right?! My instincts are telling me that one of them is the Drake killer."
"Most likely, the faces and strange gestures they made seemed a bit stiff for it to be a normal occurrence for them."
"There was a lingering smell that they shared. Smell of sharing common prey."
"This one agrees with the elder about the size of the village and the portions of meat left. Only one drake was left in that village, not the reported thirty."
"The old guy was right about the meat…none of it was spoiled or put aside to sell to the other villages."
"I agree with you, Sect Sister. But, if one is killed the rest would be enraged and hunt the one who spilled blood…there is no body or signs of fighting anywhere."
"There were no traces of wagon tracks on the road to the other villages. So the other thirty drakes are still hunting the man who killed their kin still, but I do not sense any fights or corpses here."
The two groups stopped in their tracks as they saw a series of red flares shoot into the sky, indicating distress or a target found. They started running in the direction of the flares, only to stop in fear at the sight of a golden seal of the Iron Tortoise in the sky, calling for full support of the entire sect. Such flares were meant only for times when the sect's very existence was at stake, the last being during the 'Great Spirit Beast and Fallen War' over ten thousand years ago.