Hmmph... this junior is a good seed [Cultivation Management Quest]

Back to stuff that actually advances the plot. Hopefully this omake came out okay.

Tan Huo the Cerulean Blade placed his bowl of soup on the table and kept the spoon at it's side before giving out a satisfied sigh. "This was a good meal, soup chef." He exclaimed, dropping a few spirit stones on the table. "I thank you for it!"

"I thank you as well for the compliment, honored swordsman." The soup chef replied, wiping the sweat off of his brow after an hour of sitting in front of a hot soup pot. He put his own mixing spoon back into his pot and took a seat next to his customer. "Now, swordsman. You promised me your story."

Tan Huo sighed good-naturedly. "I suppose there is no escaping it, is there?" He answered with a smile. "But you must promise me not to spread the word of my presence here."

The chef leaned closer out of interest. "You have my word," He whispered impatiently. "Now please… Don't keep me waiting."

Tan Huo looked around for a moment to make sure that no one was there to hear.It was early morning and the soup shop was nearly empty. He turned back to the man with a nod. "I am here to train," He whispered back. "I hope to master the Bamboo Cutting Technique that one of my ancestors mastered in these very lands."

"Bamboo-cutting..." The man repeats with a frown, the words turning in his head. Then his eyes widened. "Do you mean that technique which is said to be able to cut even spirit bamboo growing out of the ground?"

"Ah, so you know of it." Tan Huo said, giving him a curious look. Most soup chefs wouldn't know of that particular legend. "So you can see why I chose to come here."

"But no one has mastered that technique in a thousand years!" The soup chef replied, his voice rising. He stopped himself and looked around to make sure no one had begun listening before quieting down once more. "To attempt to do so would only result in your death."

"I know the histories very well, soup chef." He said, looking him in the eye. "I know of those who failed. Yet, I must."

The Soup Chef swallowed and nodded back. "What drives you to study that technique?"

Tan Huo's face darkened. "I have a rival," He answered him. "A swordswoman who once bested me. To defeat her I must master this skill to even stand a chance."

The soup chef closed his eyes in thought before opening them again, now filled with determination. "Then allow me to serve you a final meal again tonight before you leave for your training - on the house." He promised solemnly. "It would be my honor to serve one such as you the best I can cook."

Tan Huo smiled then. "I will take that meal," He replied. "But it will not be my final meal. For I have already mastered that technique!" He flared his qi and the soup chef saw the image of a spirit bamboo sprout from the ground like a spear. A blade flashed and the bamboo was cut in half.

The soup bowl split from pure will and it's two halves clattered on the table, no longer able to balance. "I see it," He said, tears flowing freely down his face. "I can see the proof of your mastery. No swordsman in qi condensation will be able to challenge you now."

Tan Huo sighed and shook his head. "Alas, I fear my foe may still be beyond me." He replied, to the soup chef's shock. "The Viridescent Blade is an unmatched talent, perhaps the equal of the one who invented this art."

"A swordswoman equal to that ancient master exists?" The soup chef exclaimed in awe. "To the one who mastered all forms of swordsmanship and then came to the Bountiful Grasslands to farm? To one who knew nothing but the blade and instead of growing something, learned to harvest the growing spirit bamboo with his sword?"

"Yes, it's true." Tan Huo told him. "A swordswoman now exists who could be his equal."

The soup chef took a deep breath and nodded. "Tell me of this woman you hope to fight." He asked with great intensity.

Tan Huo closed his eyes, the image of his defeat still so fresh in his mind. "She is a strong woman with a grey-steel sword and a bamboo walking stick. Her coal-black eyes are piercingly sharp and her hair is held back in a top-knot. She is a creature of unmatched skill and..."

"And?" The soup chef prompted, but Tan Huo ignored him. His eyes were focused on the streets and his mind on memories from long ago…


A girl stands in the midst of a moon-viewing party. Her coal-black eyes flicker from person to person, each with a blade with a hilt as blue as the lake they sit beside. Her own hilt is an emerald green that glitters under the moonlight, as offensive as her confident smirk that dares them to question her presence and then attempt to remove her.

An entire court, dressed not for battle but for a party in cosmetics and fine clothes stare at the interloper with barely restrained hatred. She is a viridescent savage in their eyes, her inappropriately simple clothes still grimy from the road and her hair held back so dully in a top-knot. They shifted in shock at her brazen challenge as her hand moved to rest on her hilt and then began tapping it impatiently.

A man stands in answer. Young, strong. He is the Cerulean Blade, the greatest talent in their new generation. His face is cool but his eyes are hard as he walks up to her. One hand was on an inherited bamboo staff, the sign of his station and the other hand rests on his own blade's cerulean hilt. He plants the staff into the soil and turns towards her as a sign to strike at any moment.

In the court, two drummers rush to set up their instruments. As they prepare, nothing but the wind blows and then the sky crackles in the beginnings of a storm. The court whispers among themselves and many glance up at the sky in surprise at the unexpected weather. The girl looks up and then grins at him, taking it as the favor of the heavens. The young man merely smiles at the possibility of rain.


Tan Huo did not answer. He simply pushed back his chair quickly but carefully and then stepped past the soup chef, his eyes focused upon something on the streets. The soup chef turned to see what had drawn his attention. The swordsman marched at a determined gait, his hand unconsciously reaching for his sword as he made his way towards three warriors of the golden devil clan walking with a woman of the divided kingdoms.

The first person the soup chef noticed was the armored giant with the genial smile. His skin was dark as those who were strong in their bloodline and his hair even seemed forged from threads of bronze. The strangest thing about him was the absolute lack of weapons he carried, the only thing that came close was the fishbone flute tucked into his belt in the manner of a sword.

The next person was the grey-eyed dark-skinned woman he was speaking to. Her grey eyes and beautiful features seemed slightly foreign, as if she didn't quite belong. She wore a simple cuirass with a mesh of seemingly decorative bronze extended down her hands into archer's gloves. A quiver was bound to her back and she carried a bow in her right hand.

Then a shadow shifted against the sun and his eyes went to a girl who walked slightly behind them. She could have been just another girl of Mogui City if not for the slightly darker skin and flakes of bronze in her hair. She wore a simple shirt and trousers, with the only sign of armor the glint of chainmail under her clothes. She had a spear in her hand that she used to walk and a knife by her side in her belt.

Yet it was none of them who drew the Cerulean Blade's attention. His eyes were locked on the woman walking on the other side of the giant with a grin on her face. She wore a bronze cuirass like the devil girl but she didn't have the mesh, leaving her hands free. She had her hair done up into a top-knot and she walked with a bamboo staff… The soup chef's eyes widened as the woman finally noticed and turned her head, revealing coal-black eyes.

"Yahwen," Tan Huo said with a casualness he wasn't feeling, coming to stop in front of her. Both she and her companions all came to a halt, with the golden devil giant turning to her with a questioning look and the two women looking at him in curiosity. He rested his hand on his sword and they all tensed, expecting hostilities.

Yahwen herself seemed taken aback for a moment. He scrutinized her reaction and scanned her, feeling something off about her this close. She scanned him in turn before her eyes finally widened in recognition. Then she sighed and plucked his name out from her memories. "Tan Huo," She replied with a strange sort of resignation.


The battle begins with the rousing roar of thunder. The storm above them rumbles and lightning crackles as if heaven itself bears witness to their battle. As rain begins to trickle down, both swordsman tense awaiting some unseen signal. They stand barely a few metres apart, a distance that has no meaning to one of their levels of power. Their blades still remain in their sheaths but their hands grasp the hilt, ready to draw at any moment.

Lightning strikes.

They move. Before the sound of thunder reaches their ears, they have stepped in, naked blades drawn behind them glinting in the light of heaven's wrath. In the moment before they meet, time seems to stop. Their spirits lash outwards, in the form of blades of will. The golden light of heaven is joined by their vermillion and cerulean flashes.

The vermillion emanates from the woman who holds her blade high over her head with both hands. Though her form is of utmost grace, she herself is dressed in simple traveller's grab and her body has a layer of the earth upon it. Only her blade stands apart, a beautifully crafted tool of grey steel, it belongs in the court of dukes. Yet her skill is such that the blade is the one that seems unworthy.

Her opponent is the opposite, his clothes more suited to a court than a duel and his body lined with the finest of creams and powders. He is a man who has known all the luxuries of nobility and is blessed with the skill to match his noble heart. His polished silver blade points towards the ground, moving to slice the woman before she can bring her weapon down.

Just as their blades clash, there is the beat of a drum. The duel had officially begun. Their movements change and the Vermillion Blade shifts his sword, angling to avoid his opponent's blade and slice through her legs before she can reach him. But the Cerulean Blade has already moved her knee, the sharp edge transforming into the image of a swordpoint when coated with her will.

These weapons clash and in the next drumbeat, the two separate to the same distance with their blades drawn and pointed at the other. For two drum beats, they circle each other, their greeting complete and their measure taken. Then the next drumbeat, they change their gait. They leave behind the arts of orthodoxy and begin the motions of their own personal styles.


"You know this person?" Antonius asked, glancing at the swordsman in front of him. He had a strong aura, ninth heavenstage and it had a sharpness that promised a bit more than that. He could feel Corvina and Xiao Yingzi shield their qi, a sure indicator that they were surprised as well.

Yahwen looked to him with a strange pleading look in her eyes. Was she asking him not to interfere? Or was she asking him to interfere? She took a deep breath and the look disappeared. "He's someone I knew from before." She answered briefly, before turning her eyes to him. "Do you want to do this here?"

The swordsman - Tan Huo - nodded. "Here is fine," He replied but his forehead was creased in some form of worry. "A wager of a day's meals?" The crowd parted at hearing that, likely familiar with Divided Kingdom dueling etiquette. Antonius glanced at Corvina who gave a slight nod and he reluctantly turned to follow them.

Yahwen simply nodded back and held her staff with both of her hands. "To first blood." She declared, leading forward on her front leg so she could engage quickly if she needed to. But Tan Huo did not react, he had finally realised what was bothering him and the knowledge filled him with a strange fury. "Blademaster Tan Huo?"

Tan Huo did not reply, caring not for the breach in dueling etiquette. He schooled his face to prevent his thoughts being read as he realised what she was missing. "Blademaster Yahwen," He asked her, voice carefully steady. "Where is your blade?"

She hesitated at his question before her eyes hardened. "My staff will suffice," She answered tightly and her eyes flickered to her allies, who still watched her. The boy hesitantly, the woman cautiously and the girl curiously. "Shall we begin?"

Tan Huo found his sword-arm shaking and he wrapped his other hand on his wrist tightly until it stopped and then he took a deep breath. "So be it," He said, his voice dark. "So be it." He drew his sword over his head and moved into his personal stance. "Let us begin."


The woman's steps become as light as a feather and her chaotic will hides her form, as if wreathed in the very storm that rages above them. The man instead plants his feet on the ground like an oak taking root and holds his blade length-wise above his head. Instead of circling each other, it is the woman circling the man now. As they dance to the sound of drums, the heavens rumble to their own beats and rain begins to drop from the sky.

The woman is the first to attack, her strikes light and plentiful like the rain above. She circles him, probing for weakness but the man could see her reflection on his sword even when she moved behind him. The rain that fell only served to feed the great oak as force and will were both drained and then a blow was struck in retaliation with the full weight of an ancient tree.

The woman weaved around it like a gust of wind and her blade flashed like lightning, heaven's hubris-cutting wrath. The oak endured the heavy blow and channeled it into the earth at its feet, discharging the force harmlessly. Then bent, but not broken it returns to its original stance carrying a counterforce with it that was also avoided like the flowing air.

The battle continued, a heavy oak against an unending storm. The oak could not grasp the clouds, too hard to read and too in substantial. The clouds could not hurt the oak, too heavy to move and too well rooted. The pace of the battle shifted. Sometimes lightning turned out to be simply thunder and the rain was just a memory. Sometimes rain hid a lightning strike and lightning hid the drops of rain.

But the oak was too strong and too watchful. It never moved from it's spot. It never committed, ready to bend like the sapling it once was or to endure like the oak it had become. They were too evenly matched in their mastery. As the rain ran down the man's body, drenching his clothes and causing the cosmetics to run down his body, he forced himself to focus.

A moment's lapse and she would win.

Despite his humiliation, Tan Huo did not move first. It was not his way. He observed her to see what she would do. He could read her clearly this time, her attention only half upon him with the rest still on her friends. His eyes flickered to them and he saw them give her smiles of encouragement. She gave them a brief nod and finally, finally turned her full attention upon him.

For a moment, neither of them moved… and then she stepped forward, her staff smashing down from overhead with both hands like a heavy blow from an axe. She remembered his style then and hoped to strike him before she could adjust to her strike. He let it hit his sword, braced with both hands and let his body bend with the force in order to absorb the blow.

In that frozen moment, he knew she realised his next attack as her staff twisted like a dagger in a wound to get past his guard but he was no longer underneath her. He slipped into the space between her outstretched hands, sprouting from the ground like a spirit bamboo shooting from the earth. His blade was angled upwards aimed at her chin. She leaned back to avoid it but couldn't pull back her weapon as he stood between her and it.

Then he angled his blade into her face and she leapt to the side to avoid it, leaving only one hand on her staff which she used to slice it like a spear in the hopes of striking him. He endured the blow and she moved backwards to disengage. They paused for a moment, observing each other. Tan Huo schooled his face once more to prevent his emotions from being shown and then he stepped forward.

He used simple forceful blows from overhead, striking with each breath fast enough and strong enough that she was forced to brace with both hands in order to defend herself. The crowd cheered at the sounds of their clash, only a few like the soup-chef and the woman's friends showing some other emotion. The crowd may know of dueling etiquette, but they knew nothing of battle.

He stepped back and switched into a form he hadn't taken in a very long time. His feet widened just a little more than shoulder length and he shortened his profile towards her by turning his body. His sword was held at his front with his dominant hand with his other hand held to his back.

Yahwen's face hardened as she recognised the twenty fifth form of the thirty sixth school of the orthodoxy. She understood quite well. She changed her strategy, shifting her grip on her staff into one akin to a lance. Then she changed into him, moving with a flash. Tan Huo sighed, shifted his stance and simply countered her with the forty third form of the twenty seventh technique.

She wouldn't get through his guard.

The battle raged on, a clash of storm and oak, of heaven and earth. Their throats dried of thirst only the few moments of battle where they stepped both disengaged allowing for drops of rain to quench their parched necks. Their stomachs rumbled as hunger set in, marking the passage of hours and perhaps even the night turning into morning.

There was no rhythm to the battle. As soon as the man thought he had her measure, her motions shifted nearly throwing him off. It was not skill that left him standing there but a honed body capable of bearing her blows and a blade will that never dulled in the constant volley of her blows.

The storm shroud around her painted her as wild and chaotic, impossible to read but he could feel the art behind her, the rhythm underneath her ever changing volley. He could feel the calculations in her movement, preparing even as the rain stopped and it was clear that the night had ended.

The clouds parted.

The sun rose.

The light struck them, his back was to the sun. He sliced - but his blade passed harmlessly through the storm shroud. A movement at the corner of his eye, a spark of qi at his back. There was no mirrored sword overhead to show what lay at his back.

And so.

He was cut.

A precious, beautiful cut.

But not, because the blade stopped. Yet his mind was entranced by that beautiful cut.

He stumbled, defeated but granted mercy. He turned to her but she had no eyes for him. Breathing hard, she grinned in victory at the whole court. Her clothes were drenched as his were but the dirt had been washed off of her body with rain and sweat intermingling. Her hair now open blew in the wind, defiant.

She walked towards the staff he had planted on the ground and grasped it. Then she raised her sword in challenge, her coal-black eyes going from one warrior to another.

But none dared.

She pulls it from the ground - his staff that marked him as a champion of his clan and then turns to leave, using the staff as a walking stick with clack-a-clack across the silent court. She pauses as she walks by him, finally turning her eyes on him for a moment. Then she turns away, already dismissing him.

He is already forgotten.


The powerful forms of a lance. The dextrous motions of a dagger. The indomitable force of an axe. The absolute weight of a hammer. All these showed how much Yahwen had grown in the years since their last clash, but where was her sword? Every shift she made was countered, not through his personal style but the many schools of the orthodoxy.

As the battle went on, her motions came faster, more desperate. There was no calculating cunning, no heaven-defying blade will. She should be better than this. "I finally have eyes to see," Tan Huo whispered, causing Yahwen to falter. But he was in no mood to take the opening. "But where is Mount Tai?"

He struck, honed blade meeting reinforced bamboo. It held. He hit it again and again and again. It creaked. He was in no mood for this. He grasped for the pure Blade Will once attained by the ancient master and once held by the hollow woman who stood before him.

"Bamboo Cutting Blade." One swing, with death-defying strength and speed. Enough to cut a spear sprouting from the ground.

And the staff was cut.

Yahwen fell to the ground and Tan Huo stepped back at a surge of qi around him. He looked to see her allies intercede. The bronze giant had summoned globs of water between them and the bronze mesh on the woman was unravelling into a weapon. The young girl gripped her spear tightly even as her shadow stretched, darkening the ground beneath them.

He felt a surge of blade qi and his eyes fell on Yahwen, her hand instinctively grasping for a part of her staff that had been sharpened to a point by his cut. It was surrounded by blade qi. It was impressive.

But merely that.

"I see old habits die hard," He called to her with a mirth he wasn't feeling. She followed his gaze to the blade in her hand and with a look of alarm, she dropped it as if it was a snake in her hand.

She turned to him. "I -" She swallowed. "I have abandoned the blade."

He paused at that, studying this woman on the ground properly perhaps for the first time he'd met her. "Liar." He replied. "You don't have the resolve."

She flinched at his words and her allies frowned. But they didn't attack. The former blademaster didn't try to stop his words. He took a deep breath, trying to articulate the emotions swirling within him. Then he took a deep breath. "You disappoint me, Yahwen." He stated, no judgement in his tone. It was merely the truth.

Yet she seemed stricken.

There was so much he could say. So many ways this could play out. But it wasn't worth it. Not anymore.

"This duel is over." The bronze giant finally said, stepping in between him and Yahwen. Tan Huo simply looked at him and nodded.

"I know." He replied, before turning away.

He had better things to do.

Why are my side characters so much more epic than Antonius?

Yahwen the Veridescent Blade and her tragic tale requires no introduction. All of us are aware of how her star rose so high, proving the blood and talent of our sword-masters for all of the divided kingdoms to witness but everyone is also aware of her sudden fall at the last leg of her journey and how when she returned home in disgrace, she was banished.

Many of those in our duchy consider that to be an incredibly harsh punishment to levy on a junior regardless of her talent. Especially when the fault of her failure lies squarely on the shoulders of the honor-less Cerulean scum and their blue dragon overlords. After all, wasn't it by the cowardice of the former that left her without anyone to duel against in order to claim her daily meal? Wasn't it by the treachery of the latter that she was left to starve by the side of the road? Why must the blame fall upon our favoured daughter?

This is because this matter and that of her banishment are completely separate issues. Yes, it was not her fault. She will certainly be avenged and we will have our pound of flesh from both of our enemies for every slight we have suffered here. The true reason she was banished and the true maliciousness of the plots that surrounded her… you might even consider her banishment a mercy rather than a punishment once you understand the true nature of what she suffered.

Now, it would be easy to tell you in words what happened. But to understand the true scope of what took place, we must discuss the concept of Blade Will for it is at the center of these events. Yes, dear readers. It is a concept that you are almost certainly familiar with but there may be children reading these articles or outsiders neither of which can be blamed for their ignorance. So in order to ensure that all may understand, let us discuss the details of blade will.

It is distinct from similar concepts such as Sword Intent or Saber Intent. Blade Will that theoretically any other can achieve but it is a phenomenon that only occurs overwhelmingly among our own bloodline. It is not that none other can achieve it but that those that can have no need to. The concept of Blade Will is simple: like sharpening a hunk of metal, you sharpen your soul by stripping away everything until the only thing left is the blade inside our blood.

It is a method of achieving something skin to a true Blade Dao without ever touching the realm of Core Formation. It was a technique developed because until we collectively grow more powerful, we will forever be barred from the greater realms. Few others require the ability achieve such a capability without the proper foundation to support it and even with the need, it has several pre-requisites before it can be performed.

First you must grasp a unique aspect of qi which we get from the Blade Qi we are born with. Then you have to start as a man and then hone your edge, scraping way every part of yourself until all that is left is the blade's edge. Many of our clan can achieve this during moments of life or death and during days when things just click but achieving this consistently is difficult. It is hard to turn a man into a blade.

But consider for a moment… is that opposite not possible at all? That a child could be born with the essence of the blade inherent to her and then be carefully nurtured to keep that understanding till adulthood? Yes, now you must have begun to understand. Yahwen was this child - in a very literal sense the Blade of the Duchy. This was the source of her boundless affinity for our clan's arts, her own soul having already learned these movements before she was even born.

She was as sharp as a blade… but she was also a hollow, brittle thing. What do you think must have happened, when she was so harshly introduced to the rest of the world? When she stood at the edge of starvation and what helped her was not the blade but something else?

The little mistress broke.

There are many masters of the sword who have travelled beyond the Divided Kingdoms, taken up something other than the sword and then returned renewed with new refinements to the art. Our hope is that someday she will return in the same manner. That she would take her rightful place as our champion. It is a fool's hope, but it is certainly better than the alternative.

To be surrounded by the sword every single day, knowing that you could never again achieve the same heights as before? To be as a broken tool, to be at best pitied and at worst tossed aside? It would have crushed her, stifled her. Instead, by living out in the greater world she can perhaps one day hope to expel this demon that lives within her heart. And if she cannot, then perhaps she can live out a happy life away from the clan where she would not be able to escape from the sword.

Do you now understand?

Do you now see the heights of injustice?

The depths of depravity that they would fall to?

Remember why the Cerulean is our enemy. The talents they ruined. The arts that they stole. The dishonors that they heaped upon us. Hold it in your hearts, a new boulder in the mountain that is our grudge. Hold it tight till it burns and let it temper your Blade Will.

The day will come when we will use it.

The day when we will teach the lessons they deserve.

You see what I mean about epicness?

The first memory I have is of the Wolf. I was just born or at least that's how I remember it and before I had even taken my first breath, I felt its gaze upon me. Even a grown man can be frightened of a wolf, for me - a new-born baby - its mere presence nearly stopped my heart. I will be eternally grateful to my mother's midwife, who not only carefully restarted it but smacked me enough to make me cry and take my first breath.

The wolf soon lost interest after that. It was still there sometimes, stalking, following, waiting for a moment of weakness but I was no longer it's prey; It couldn't kill me just by scaring me anymore and I wasn't worth the effort of greater measures. I still saw it around, following my parents and nearly every other adult in my family. Some people had more than one, my great-grandmother Wilhelmina had a whole terrifying pack.

She was the first one besides me who saw them and when she noticed me noticing, she gave me a conspiratorial smile. I spent a lot of time with her after that and she turned what should have been a source of fear into a childhood game. She asked me to count the number of wolves that followed people, until I began to guess correctly without even counting the wolves.

Then she asked me to study the wolves and taught me to figure out when they were especially eager, nipping the heels of their target to push them on faster or when they showed that familiar naked hunger that was a clear sign that they'd found a target in a state of particular risk or weakness. They were remarkably like dogs at times, yipping and playful except that they found pleasure in the lack of our own.

Nothing in my studies mentioned anything like the wolves, not in my histories or my study of divination. When I asked my grandmother she simply gave me a smile and asked me what I thought with that particularly annoying smirk that adults do when they want you to figure out something on your own.

It was on my tenth birthday when I was being tested for my proficiencies before being sent to basic training that I figured out what they really were. "We are cursed by heaven," I remember proclaiming as if I had stumbled upon some central truth of existence. As if every legionnaire didn't already know that we had heaven's disfavor.

I had to leave my family's home soon after in order to journey to the Dawn Fortress for my compulsory training. My new understanding coupled with finally seeing the world outside, let me gain a new understanding of the wolf. It held no interest in those without the clan's bloodline and those who weren't cultivators also got only a moment's notice.

The stronger you got, the more wolves nipped at your heels. When I broke through as a cultivator, a wolf turned its attention to me for the first time since I was born. Perhaps I should have been terrified… Instead, I took it as a badge of pride. It was only a single beast for all of it's cunning and it was bound to it's instincts. It's reactions told me what I needed to know about any coming dangers and reading it gave me knowledge of the rest of it's pack.

As my training continued, I met the Fox for the first time.

It was during a visit to a Spirit Mine in order to understand where our clan's resources came from. I saw it flit by just at the edge of my vision but when I turned to look, it wasn't there. I was distracted for the entirety of my time there but it was only on my third visit that I recognised the beast running away with our clan's earnings.

Then, I began to notice them everywhere. They had been there all along, just incredibly hard to see. It was just that in the mines they existed in such numbers that it was harder not to notice them, though they still tried to hide from me. Unlike the wolf who managed a more personal hatred for each of us, the fox's hatred seemed directed at the clan as a concept.

Dealing with the Wolf involved carefully reading him and always being prepared, never showing weakness. The fox didn't care. There was really no method of dissuading it as it stole a share of all our spoils as if a tax levied from on high. Using the fox took a different sort of effort. It was both harder and easier than the wolf.

The fox stole from our lands equally and could lead to riches diminished but so far undiscovered. It would take its share of course, but what did that matter? The difficulty arose in tracking the movements of a thief and a trickster. But I could afford to fail. Unlike the wolf who would go for my throat at the sign of weakness, the fox didn't care.


Unlike most others, heaven's attention is not supposed to be a good thing for my people. As such we have developed countless methods to ensure that it overlooks us, from speaking the new tongue instead of our own to taking local names. Many of those who are aware of these things such as seers or diviners practise this as a matter of course.

For my family who have many diviners, we have a practise of naming children in the new tongue in the hopes of appeasing heaven. But when a child finishes basic training and joins the legion they have the choice to choose their own names. New tongue. Old tongue. It didn't matter. We are acknowledged as adults and deemed capable of making our choice.

Some retain the names of the new tongue out of fondness or simply pick a new name that fit them better. Others took a name of Old Tongue, perhaps out of love for their history or in defiance of heaven. I picked Corvina from the old tongue, after the birds of prophecy and ill luck that have long served as dark omens sent by heaven in the world that we left behind. It was both a challenge and a promise - I would wrench a part of Heaven's Dao for my own ascension.

Ah, the pride of youth.

My family was familiar with seers even if my own abilities manifested far earlier than any other. I had studied the ways and habits of heaven. I had studied conventional arts of divination with the clan and in my own time I deciphered the notes of clan seers born in the past, each of whom perceived the curse in their own unique form of synesthesia.

From my own tiny perspective of the vast machine of heaven, I had learnt to feel it's greater motions in the same manner a master fighter might predict an attack just by seeing an opponent's feet shift. I hoped to further turne what was to be my downfall into my new strength and push upwards, reaching heights that none of my peers could keep up with.

Both the wolf and the fox were both just beasts after all. Despite their numbers and cunning, they were still bound to their instinct. I decided that they could be used by a human who could out-think them. Hubris? Perhaps, but using the very curses of heaven to advance myself appealed to me greatly. Even the tribulations of our clan were cursed, I reasoned. Which to me meant I could use them as I had used the others.

Then I met the Hunter.

His coming was heralded by a loud ringing in my blood, as if my heart beat with all it's might to run from someone but was simultaneously frozen in fear. In the underground bunker with many others of her clan, she could see that they could hear it too. There was no subtlety in his arrival, no cunning in his work. So loud, tried to cover her ears but it was to no avail.

Then came the second ring. The first was a warning, the signal for a game, a sport. The second ring indicated the first participants could begin their work. These were hunters - equals, betters, peers all coming for her head. There was a bounty for her blood and they would be coming to collect it. I might have screamed if great-grandmother wasn't there to calm me down and guide me past the visions of bloody bronze.

A week later came the third ring. Foundation Establishment. My Dao-heart held strong. There was no difference between this one and the last, save one. This time, they did not come for me. I was as overlooked as I was by the Wolf as a child. It was a distant, impersonal relation. I could make it through.

The third ring brought with it a hunter. My heart beat with fear as great-grandmother left to protect us from them… and she didn't return. All we could do was quietly wait and hope no one noticed that they were there. We had too many of those who were injured. The protection of the bunker was judged to be enough for now, not worth the risk of moving into the open for everyone to see.

Then it happened.

I knew bare moments before it did. The fox fled our lands for a moment, in fear of the Great Hunters. The wolves perked up their ears and wagged their tails, more akin to loyal dogs than wild wolves. I sensed the strange feeling in the air.

Then the fourth bell rang… and the wolves fled.

No, they were hunting hounds summoned by their master. We all looked at one another in fear, few knowing what it really meant at first but the pattern obvious for any who could think. We left the bunker, unsure of how to react to these new developments and we all feared what it meant. But only I realised the full scope of what had occurred.

The wolves were gone.

The wolves were gone.

The wolves were completely and utterly gone.

When I heard of the death of great grand-mother and so many other legates, my mind conjured images of them dying to slay all the wolves that had stalked the clan for so long and a Great Hunter fighting the Archigetes for months. I felt the scales tip, dipping ever so slightly in our favor before heaven quickly corrected it.

I'd lost the tools I used for divination.

I'd lost part of my family.

But I felt the scales tip.


Imagine being surrounded by darkness. Not the darkness where you are afraid of bumping something that you didn't see but a cloying, writhing thing that blinded your sight, twisted your sounds and made every taste like ash. That hid from your vision, lying in wait on the edge of your senses waiting for the moment your attention wanders. And then when it does, it pounces.

But then a light flashed and banished the darkness.

Despite the death and carnage, I was filled with joy.

But reality hit quickly after those first few days. I grieved for the lost. My great-grandmother. Friends and family. I even grieved for the loss of heaven's curse, so intertwined it was with my life that I had never imagined that it might leave. I tried not to think that way, but frustration mounted.

Without the wolves, I had no idea how to See the world.

A Heart Demon, it was called.

Such a well made pair of words.

It was frustrating to be able to see the path one day and then to be robbed of the light that guided me the next. Then to feel the guilt of that feeling because of what those events mean for the ones I care for.

I couldn't stop. I couldn't afford to. I needed to understand the fourth face of heaven, the wrath that falls from heaven in order to ascend and make my great-grandmother proud.

And then I there was her who somehow threw all of my understanding into disarray - that young legionnaire barely out of training who asked to join me and two others at the edge of their ascension to take her with them to the Qiguai Secret Realm. She was an experiment by someone who just wanted to see what happened. Irresponsible and dangerous, but it wasn't the girl's fault. She was skilled and competent. And there was something else about her….

A Shadow in my Sight.

Like the Fox hiding at the edge of my vision, but something far bigger and harder to find. Something important. Something I felt could change my very understanding of the nature of heaven and how it interacted with our clan.

I needed to find it.

Gaius Antonius Omake # 27: Starry Nights, Smoky Days, Part 1

It was an ordinary night, same as any other. The cold, pale moonlight cut through the darkness like a knife, setting the streets alight in a dull glow. The wind had stilled and there was hardly any sound. There were people of course; Golden Devil Cultivators could be found in this city at any time of day or night, what with the reduced need for sleep. But, without even realizing, a sort of reverent quietness had come over them, as if the Yin energy of the night itself had settled into their bones. I walked through the worn, dusty streets of Emporikipolis as I returned home from a boring mission. My head was empty and I was exhausted, my consciousness descending into entropy. All I could think of was collecting my points and melting into my bed, but then I saw her.

Bright blue eyes, a red dress, long legs - well, not that long really, but long for a normal-height person I guess - silky hair that ran down her back like water, and a pair of bright red ruby earrings. Those are the things I remembered. She bumped into me; 'must be in a hurry' was what I thought. Little did I know of the devilish intent behing those pretty little eyes. I forgot the woman the moment I couldn't see her, pushing my aching body onward with nothing but the will to return to my personal sanctuary.

I got home, cold and worn through to the bone, and collapsed as soon as I reached my bed. Didn't take anything off or wash up at all, just out like a light. Before I knew it, I was awake, feeling somewhat refreshed. My hands and feet only seemed to weigh one ton instead of ten, and my own eyelids no longer wanted to swallow me whole, so I considered it a victory. Perhaps I would treat myself to a public bath at the ___ Spring to celebrate a job well done? No, I was too dirty - a simple, utilitarian washing would do.

I returned from the bath, feeling somewhat refreshed, but out of clean water, and made a mental note to get more. The clothes from that mission probably still had some poisonous blood on them. I cringed at my own foolishness, realizing I would need to burn both them and the sheets I had slept on. Oh well, best to get everything in order first; I had woken up an hour prior, so I had only one hour of free time left before my next eight hour cultivation session, followed by a second two hour reprieve, then eight more hours of cultivation, then sleep. A rough schedule, but I needed to make up for the hours I'd lost on the last mission; I could go down to a more forgiving fourteen and a half hours in a week. Some people might call cultivation unimaginably dull, but without it I don't know how I would ever carry on. It was the most enriching thing in my life; a path with seemingly no end, on which to Seek forever.

I searched through every pocket and compartment of the nice-looking number I'd tried on. I preferred utilitarian reinforced leather armor, but it was nice to experiment sometimes. It was made of interlocking armored plates with a dull silver color, somewhat fancy shoulderpads, and a simple beige mantle to keep out sand. Underneath were an understated white and grey tunic. Gallant but not overly showy; it was pretty good. Too bad the cloth parts were ruined beyond repair, I thought as I laid out all of my possessions on my desk. It had been a fun change of pace. Soon enough everything was in its proper place, time to finish the disposal and get back to my daily routine.

However, that was the moment everything took a turn for the worse. My eyes bulged open in shock, and the universe itself felt like it was falling upon my shoulders, driving me into infinite depths. If someone were to look me in the eye in that moment, perhaps my pupils would be bouncing around in my eyes like rubber balls, so great was my shock.

"The dirt."

That fucking dirt, the treasure I Sook for months, risked my life for, hurt my friend for, was gone. I checked my belongings again. Then I did it again. Then I did it six more times. The Soul-Binding Sediment was still gone. My lifeline to this mortal coil, an object so obscenely valuable that you couldn't buy it because no one who owns one would ever sell it, was missing. It was around this time that the part of my brain covering human rationality began to give way to something raw and libidinal. It is moments like these when I truly embody The Seeker, and while this is a blessed state, it can be pretty hard to handle.

I cleaned out everything: the bed, the dresser, every single box in the storage room, the entire contents of the pantry. No dirt. I threw on any clothes within arms reach and stormed outside, dulling my touch and taste into nonexistence and removing all color from my sight to enhance my sense of smell. Somewhere, last night, something in the Dawn fortress had swallowed up my fortune, and I would crawl into its mouth to take it back.

I got a whiff of my own scent along the path I took last night but it wasn't enough; this district was alight with the smells of hundreds of people. I cleaved away most of my hearing; if someone needed my attention enough they could shout for it. Now my nose was as sharp as a spirit hound's, and my path was easily distinguished. I retraced my steps in slow-motion, flitting my gaze about trying to pick out that vial, trying to jog any relevant memories. After twelve hours of this granular, mind-numbing search I found myself back in Emporikipolis, and a memory struck me like a bolt of lightning, sent from heaven to torment a Devil.

"The girl with the ruby earrings."

I had only a few clues, some cigarettes, and I seemed to have pushed my senses too hard, because my vision was stuck in black and white. It was time to get to work.

I literally forgot that I wrote... whatever these couple of omake are. A noir parody? Wild. I'm not particularly proud of these, I wrote them when I was just starting out with my backlog, just to throw some words out there. I might as well post them to buy time for some better stuff I'm finishing.

I experimented with first-person narration since it's noir, which also is why the prose is so weird. I mean, Gaius is a weird guy but he doesn't think of shit like 'devilish intent'.

Bleh, all these words just to say that I'm sorry the omake is bad.

This is the first of three informational updates I want to get out this turn.

The first is just new lands and the state of the world, the second will be me doing some very boring in-depth Clan numbers so people can figure out Clan numbers and growth, etc, more. The third will be a brief rundown on the Nascent Souls we know about and what we know about them.

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Elder Zimisce, the report is as follows.

Firstly, on our own territories.

The new map is here.

Broadly speaking, there are five new territories of ours, and one other territorial change within our lands.

Firstly, much of the Burnished Crags have been ceded to the Hong Xuan, as per our treaty with them. There is some debate over folding the region into another and renaming it, but I doubt this debate will be settled amongst the Cartographers Guild in the next century, as we wait to see how the economic output of the region fares.

The Longevity Stork Clan has taken up the northernmost east lands, having won the lands in a bidding contest between the varied Stork Clans to determine who got the choicest territory. An auspicious choice, as Longevity Stork have offered several methods of lifespan extension unknown to us, though I doubt we will be able to find any White Imperial Stork liver any time soon. Their mines are many, and the resources in that region are one-and-a-half times those of the others.

Fortune Stork Clan took the second-most choice lands, gaining several decent mines and two fonts of elemental Qi, and have bartered away some luck, though not luck methods. As requested, the luck tributes are being held in the Dawn Fortress. Luck methods are rare and precious, especially as they are able to oppose Heaven's Will quite adroitly. Estimates on the luck tributes see it being usable once every thousand years at a Nascent level, though we could likely use it more often for less effect. Standing orders are of course to build up and preserve strategic stockpiles of luck for as long as possible, with deployment only allowable with the Grand Elder's authorisation.

Fecundity Stork Clan had little to offer, and preferred not to trade fecundity methods with us, betting their growth would allow them to outpace the weakness of their lands. The attitude of a Plains cultivator made clear here. While we did not gain much from them, they possess comparatively few mines, and are of no major consequence relative to the other two.

For the Clan itself, two new regions emerge.

The Blighted Lands are the result of Blood Path depredation. While colonisation is inevitable, we are unlikely to need to forcibly move any Third Sea natives in the area. The numbers of the mortals in this region number around eight hundred thousand. The cities and farms we see here should have once hosted nearly thirty million - the strains of the war on the Cannibal Sect were immense, and borne almost entirely by the native population. This population is still falling - the Cannibal Sect still retains Core Formation elders and Foundation experts, and their main strength was hosted here. With the strength of a Nascent Soul able to crush any true opposition, we will be able to grind them down fairly quickly, but I do not anticipate a major population boom among the remaining natives for some time as desperate raids will continue to decrease populations. Of course, those remaining Blood Path cultivators will largely be cannibalizing one another for sustenance, so the fire should burn itself out before too long. With a variety of strong resources, this former core region of the Cannibal Sect will eventually become a mainstay of Clan territory.

The Ten Thousand Pits are an excellent source of wealth, greater than almost any in Clan territory. They are some of the richest Spirit Mines we have ever encountered, and are only made into a problem by their deadly nature. Stretching deep into the Earth, these are the veins and organs of the Turtle Child, in greater concentration than we have found before. Incredibly rich, and filled with equally incredibly deadly beasts, the wealth to be gleaned here is incredible. Of course, Spirit Stones and Beast Cores being mostly useless to the Cannibals, they were never properly developed, and so the effort that will need to be put in to turn them into the economic engine they could be will take centuries.

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Also of note is the situation in the world at large.

Here is a map of the situation. The borders remain as they were, though additional lines have been added to show the shape of the warfronts.

Strength Purity have been driven back after an assault on the Demonic Altar itself, and what is now coming into shape as the Noble Devil Alliance rose to push them back.

Every single Demonic power in the Plains inexplicably united, and a trap by the Heavenly Time Shatter Sect allowed the Nascents of the Devil Alliance to run rampant. The end of the Thousand Arrow and Flower Sect has left them without any Nascent Souls, and most of their mortals are dead. The surviving Core Formation cultivators and their juniors of all people in the region have formed the Broken Arrow Bandits, swearing to fight the Devil Alliance wherever they can. Gemstone Justice lost many of its core territories, but activated some sort of great silver shield over the Thrice-Faceted Citadel, capable of holding against even eight enemy Nascent Souls working in unity.

From there, the Ma Clan lost most of its territory, but is mobile enough to hold out without being forced to engage, their Grand Elder able to quit unfavorable engagements and make it difficult for the Devil Alliance to seize his lands. Lastly, the Great Mountain Bell Sect used the selfsame Bell, and held all of its core territory easily enough, though the outlying areas have all fallen to the Blood Path.

The Song Empire in the north of Strength Purity Lands is once again a major front, as are parts of the Bear Enslavement Sect. There was a major push towards the Colossus Footstep Pass, and six Demonic Nascent Souls engaged there against the Strength Purity Sect. They lost handily, and have retreated into the north, licking their wounds as the juniors once again do the fighting.