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

Wei Feng 16 – Teaching moments - Why we don't weaponise tribulations.

====

"…and when I say no active qi techniques for at least three months I mean it. Be grateful you can at least still cultivate in that time. And I mean actual rest. No sparring, no "exchanging pointers', no teaching fights against a bunch of juniors. No high impact sports…"

Wei Feng tuned out the rest of the lecture. He didn't intend to disobey, but Anna was clearly stressed out with other patients and the speech was clearly helping her calm down.

Once again, Wei Feng found himself in the headquarters of the seventh Legion, experiencing the joys of injury leave. He knew many of the doctors by their first names by now. One of them was little Anna Komnene, no longer the apothecary's child whose mother he'd reassured back before the trials but a sixth heaven stage doctor while only just into her sixties, showing a talent that was well above average. Unfortunately, she was also fascinated by his Phoenix Salamander Constitution, and even more interested in his new Phoenix transformation.

It was normal to have his enemies look at him like they wanted to take him apart. It was distinctly less comfortable receiving a similar look from someone you used to sneak sweets to as a child.

"…and if you disobey me and manage to somehow avoid crippling yourself, then I will take great pleasure in advancing my understanding of your unique constitution by seeing just how much I can slow your healing factor the next time you break something."

Long term injuries also meant that he wasn't earning contribution points and, while his last mission had paid handsomely enough, it wasn't fun sitting around getting stared at by every junior who could find an excuse to poke their head into your sickroom.

"Am I understood, Martial Uncle?" The short, redhaired woman asked with dangerous sweetness.

The child from his memories had been completely transformed, although she still looked as if she was barely cresting her twenties. She wore her hair long at the back, but very short at the sides and front, likely to prevent it getting in the way during procedures.

Her relatively pale complexion spoke of her long hours of work and study away from the desert sun and while cultivation had supressed any outward signs of stress from dealing with cultivator patients all day, her severe expression and the agitated speech she'd just delivered still displayed them clearly.

"Yes Anna, I understand." He sighed. "I'm simply recovered enough I hate to sit around."

She examined him critically, assessing if he was telling the truth or simply trying to placate her.

"Mmph." She grunted. "Well, they're always looking for more instructors for the recruits. I could clear you for that. So long as-" She glared at him. "-you only take a lecturing position. No exercises, no qi demonstrations. Understood?"

He nodded. Then gave an exaggerated bow.

"Stop the silly theatrics." Her attempt to sound severe undermined by the upward tug of her lips. "You owe me for this."

"Yes, yes. Once I'm better you can come along on one of my assignments. Make your field notes, see my healing in action. Enough?"

"Thank you martial uncle!" She pressed her fist together and bowed, grinning at him. Suddenly, she looked just like she had when he'd handed her sweets all those years ago.

"Brat." He'd overpaid her for her favour.

--

Salvation, or at least a temporary respite, had indeed come in the form of the recruits. The Legion had a recent intake of qi condensations and were looking for extra hands to act as instructors. While he might not be fighting fit, he was more than fit enough to sit in a room and lecture, and his reputation meant that they'd been more than happy to have him.

On the whole, it was refreshing, teaching the newbies the basics of cultivation, tactics and strategy and it at least got him out of his room for a few hours a day. One of the hazards though, was that sometimes you had to deal with overly enthusiastic juniors who thought they'd found the one weird trick to change the cultivation world forever.

Of course, you couldn't dismiss them. Not only was it bad form, but there was always the infinitesimally small chance they were right.

He was just pretty sure that it wasn't the case this time.

====

Wei Feng did not have a permanent room in the Legion's headquarters, but the teaching post had come with an assigned office. The back and left-hand walls were filled with book and scroll cases. Mostly these had been filled with texts on the basics provided by the legion offices. Wei Feng, like many cultivators who travelled heavily, rarely kept any texts he read long term. To the right of the desk was a paper screen, tastefully decorated with flower patterns. Hidden behind it was a small camp bed, which Anna had insisted upon. 'For when he inevitably overexerted himself.'

He been resentful until, after his second class, all his energy had seemed to vanish at once and he'd practically collapsed on it.

Currently occupying his office was Pyris Idomenus. The young man had very long black hair, and was extremely handsome. Sadly, he'd also tried to grow a moustache to distinguish himself. It had clearly not been going well, small tufts of hair growing in all directions and refusing to join up.

He was also extremely dedicated to the legion's martial training, rarely seen outside of his training armour. Even now he was wearing it. Sweltering despite the relative cool of the room.

"You heard the story about how the honoured Elder Euphrosyne Sarantapechos deliberately summoned their own tribulation and wondered why we don't employ such techniques more often, is that correct?" Wei Feng summarised.

"Well…., umm….yes"

Wei Feng looked at the nervous young boy across from him and let out a long breath.

"Well, for one thing it's generally suicidal."

"-So?!" Pyris interrupts hotly. "We're soldiers. The clan orders it's soldiers to sacrifice themselves all the time. And the trials-"

"Enough" Wei Feng glares, the room heats. Pryis flinches, and Wei Feng suddenly realises he has accidently let out a small fragment of intent. In a second, he controls himself, retracting his will. Anna will have words for him later. Hopefully the training master won't. "Don't talk to me about the trials like they are normal." He snorts out a quick angry breath through his nose, even as he tries to calm himself. "The trials are different, because everyone is in danger. No matter who they are or what their cultivation, the trials cannot be avoided.

The trials are not a normal circumstance, and so the actions taken can be similarly out of the norm."

Finally, he calms himself, sipping from a glass of water on his desk. Looking at the trembling boy before him, he sets himself, falling into a lecturing position.

"As an ideal, soldiers should be willing to take orders even if it means they will all die. But people are people, and not all are so willing to make that sacrifice." His eyes darken. "In battle, there is often little time to think, but even there, some will resist an order that would lead to certain doom…"

He trails off.

"Sir, I-" Pyris looks distinctly uncomfortable.

"No, no. You didn't do anything wrong lad." He waves a hand dismissively. "I simply got a little sensitive about the trials." He tries to give a disarming grin. It doesn't entirely work, but the boy's shoulders relax a fraction.

"But to return to your question. Firstly, as I said it kills you. Suicide techniques aren't necessarily inherently wrong to have, but they're… controversial." He pulls a face, one corner of his mouth stretching. "A lot of people think they're good to have in an emergency. It can be hard to blame them… given what capture by the blood path can entail."

He stares at a point over Pyris' shoulder, trying not to hear again the screams of agony, or the sounds of tearing meat. The fluttering of torture banners in the wind, promising that even in death the agony will not abate.

He shook himself slightly and his student twitched. "However, they can limit people's thinking. People who might have otherwise been able to escape or fight free, or even last until rescue arrives instead choose the tool they know. Not all of them, but it on a widescale it is more of a risk to the clan's future than you might believe."

"Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, triggering a tribulation is hard. It takes a lot of concentration, and in battle that can be in short supply. Even if you can pull it off, you'd better hope your enemy is too distracted to notice what you're doing.

Which leads us into the third point. Tribulations are indiscriminate. What do you think happens if your enemy notices what you're doing and disengages?"

"… The tribulation hits your allies?" Pyris responds slowly, quieting toward the end. Knowing the answer but hating to give it.

"Yes. If you've got comrades 'round you they're probably dead. If you've got a higher realm comrade around who's still strong enough they might seem to be interfering with the tribulation? They're badly wounded at best. Someone still fairly capable of resisting the enemy higher level cultivator? They're down for the count too." He gave a humourless grin and a huff. "So it's a pretty situational tool."

"But still sir, even if it's situational, isn't it worth considering?" Pyris wasn't letting go of his idea easily. Good. Stubbornness was an important trait in any cultivator, but he was also listening to the arguments. Thinking.

Wei Feng shook his head. Frowning to emphasise his seriousness. "Even if every other obstacle was overcome and they succeed, it still costs the clan a cultivator who has reached the end of their realm and might still be able to ascend in time."

"But those who've reached the end of their potential…." Pyris burst out, unable to contain himself.

Wei Feng holds up his hand to signal for his student to pause.

"The end of their potential, eh?" He raises an eyebrow. "And how do you define that?"

"I mean…. surely they know? Or at least the clan… I mean… with the trials. I heard…." His voice got quieter and quieter.

As he descended into mumbling Wei Feng takes pity.

"Do you know how old the Patriarch was when he broke through to Foundation establishment?" He asked, expecting a no. Sure enough, his student shook their head.

"He was over 200. He was lucky enough to find a way to extend his life, but he was still over 200 when he transcended Qi condensation. He went on to become a Nascent Soul."

He saw the surprise in their eyes, wonder and respect bloom anew, then fade into rejection as he processed the conclusion his teacher was obviously pointing to.

"But the Patriarch is-"

"-the Patriarch." He finished the thought for them. "And how can we apply the standards of someone like the patriarch to the rest of the clan?"

He eyes his desk. He'd really like to start pacing, it helps him think. But his injuries are acting up and his energy is flagging. His earlier moment of temper costing him. Instead, he pours himself a cup of water, to buy time to work out how to phrase things.

'Perhaps?...' he thinks, catching his student's eyes and holding them.

"I was once described as 'utterly without talent'. Did you know that?." It's a derailing thought, and he smiles to see the head of steam the student was building up in their head dissipate. Surprise, then suspicion chase across their face.

"Oh yes I was." He fights to keep his face severe. The conversation needs to be serious, even if the disbelief the statement always gathers has become amusing. "I wasn't always 'the Phoenix'. I wasn't born a Golden Devil. I was born half a world away from here and picked up by a wandering cultivator from the Flood Dragon Gang. The clan took me in as a favour since I seemed to have good Qi receptiveness." It's a struggle to keep his tone even, rather than fading into nostalgia, but the next points are less pleasant to remember.

"Almost everyone who can cultivate at all can expect to achieve the second heavenstage of Qi condensation. An average cultivator of the clan could expect to achieve the second heavenstage at twenty-eight. A talented one at twenty-five, or even earlier.

I was taken in as a potential great talent. But while others around me leapt from the first Heavenstage to the fifth, the seventh, or even to the ninth heavenstage in a single step, I struggled to emerge from the first stage."

He looks Pyris dead in the eye. Transmitting the sincerity and weight of his next statement.

"I was thirty-five years old when I broke through to the second heavenstage."

He let that sit for a moment. Allowing Pyris to digest that while he drifted into his own memories.

He was playing things down for the boy to get him to think. Not really conveying what those years had been. He remembered the stares and the whispers. Not from his fellows, but from the ordinary cultivators of the clan 'Weak', 'Useless', 'Outsider', 'Leech'. 'Why does the clan waste resources on such a talentless outsider?'

He remembers the despair. The sobbing uselessness as the pain of the boiling cauldron loomed. Promising so much, yet delivering so little beyond agony.

He remembers the villagers. Torn apart by cannibals and bandit because he was too slow, too late. Too weak.

Then he allows himself to remember the good too. Rebuilding villages. The smiles. The uncomprehending disbelief on the faces of the people who knew they were going to die but have found themselves alive. The gratitude he felt when the clan presented him with the soul filling rasp as a reward for his efforts.

He takes a long breath. In… and out….. Then another. In… and out…..

"You probably know much of the rest of the story. But the point is, you can't so easily judge people. They aren't disposable, and many of them may be capable of more than they know. Jin Muyi wasn't considered particularly talented when I joined either, and look at him." He sighed again. The emotions and memories had drained him further and he just wanted to wrap things up.

"Final reason is simple. The Heavens don't like it when you try to game the system too much. And the clan has enough troubles as it is."

He sinks down slightly in his chair.

"Any questions right now?"

Pyris shakes his head.

"Good. If you do come up with any more, I'll still be here. Ask. We don't get anywhere without asking. Even if sometimes we have to figure out the answer for ourselves, the question is important."

He waits to see the student leave. Then, quietly, he locks the door and collapses on his bed.

He'll be back tomorrow won't he?

And with that thought, he sleeps.

====

As promised like a week ago on discord. At 2658 words it got a lot longer than I expected. It also took a lot longer. Dialogue is hard.

Anna is first mentioned here in omake number 6. I hope to make her more of a recurring character going forward. Pyris may well also appear again.

Feedback is always appreciated.

Edit: Typos. Finding all the typos.

Smoke.

Thick, and black. Heavy on the air until every breath is acrid and foul. Maria coughs. Her eyes are shut.

They're dead.

You're sure?

Yes.



She sags onto her knees as the exhaustion takes her. This is self-indulgent. She knows that. The siege isn't over. The battle isn't even over. Any moment now there will be another howl in the distance, and she'll be up to her neck in bloodcrazed cannibals.

She knows this.

She can't make herself care. This moment is too good. The relief of it; of just for once letting herself be still. So she breathes, briefly uninterrupted, and even the smoke tastes good.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

And now this is too much like indulgence.



Maria forces her eyes open. Around her are dead Cannibals. Stab wounds open their chest cavities to the world. Lacerations open their throats. She can't quite tell if she did it or the Red Place did. She supposes it doesn't matter.

Pockets. Packs. They'll have supplies. At last, she urges aching muscles into life, and pushes herself back onto her feet. Staggers over to her victims. Starts to search.

Nothing on the first one. Second one's the same, bar a few coins and a letter. "My daughters, united in hatred-" she reads, but there's not time for anything else. The third has fingers, human, dozens, bound up into little bundles by a thin red gut-string twine. Snacks, she has to assume. Not the first time she's seen it.

She's given up hope of anything useful when she finds it on the sixth. Her hands are listless and mechanical as they search. Then something cold and shivering twitches beneath her fingertips, and Maria's attention suddenly snaps back. She's delicate as she can be, carefully feeling the thing out. Small. Maybe three inches across, four tops. Cool like metal. And moving. She's careful as she catches it, fearing some unknown attack or trap. But it doesn't change. Just wriggles and twitches. Her hand comes away from the corpse's pocket.

She opens her fingers.



They cover things like this at the Dawn Fortress. It's not a very long class, though. There's a lot to cover, not much time to cover it in, and cultivation treasures like this are both rare and varied. Even if that wasn't true, it's been years since she sat in that lecture hall and watched the centurion drone on.

And yet. For all that. She knows this. Knows it the instant she sees it. A grey thing, with a dull sheen. Stubby. Eyeless. Moving like a snake.

It's an Iron Advancement Worm.



Maria's grinning like a lunatic. This is a find and a half. She's already thinking of the contribution points this thing will get her. Techniques. Dozens of tech-

There's a bellow from the walls, and her heart goes cold in her chest. Another assault. Already. The bastards were supposed to be *regrouping*, how the hell can they-

Another bellow. She forces her brain-fogged mind to listen. Old Tongue words. She doesn't know the translation, but Gods she knows the meaning.

Core Formation combatant inbound.

"I'm going to die," she says, shock and exhaustion dulling all feeling from her words.



Then the worm twitches again in her hand, and Maria focuses. The Dog Quarter's been evacuated, by and large. These ones got through over the top of the wall, so there's no hope of reinforcements.

Okay. She has a moment, then.

No idea how long they have until the Core formation enemy gets here. The assault's already started. But. They're not going to hit here. The formations at the top of the wall are already back in place, spears and shields ready, reinforced by dozens of floating units. Suicide to go over the top, Suicide to try for a breach.

They're going to need every legionnaire they can get, in as good condition as can be managed.



Tell me this is insane, she thinks.

The Red Place rumbles.

Everything is insane these days.

As close as she'll get to support. Fuck it. She's probably dead anyway.



Maria clenches her fist closed tight around the worm. It finally starts to struggle, frenzied thrashing running up and down its length as it tries to get free. She almost sympathises.

Presses her fist to her lips. Tastes the worm's dull cool tang on her tongue. Swallows.

She tries to remember her lessons – was it five seconds or ten before she'd feel the effect? Doesn't matter. Twists into an awkward Lotus position, clasps her fists, lets her eyes shut, and starts to cycle her qi.

This is madness. Every sense is cut off when she does this. Enemies could be pouring down on her right now and she-

No. No distractions. Focus.

Breathes. Cycles. Breathes. Cycles. Brea-

The Worm hits her meridian and *fuses*.



Maria's qi goes mad. Her veins are full of burning star light as it goes nova, surging through her in a surge of chaotic power. She feels her cycle start to loose cohesion, all order cast aside in the maelstrom of advancement. The ninth heavenstage follows almost immediately, her body locking up into spasms as impurities are forced out of her flesh.

Grits her teeth. Not. Fucking. Done yet.

Her qi fights her as she drags it back into some semblance of good order, but she doesn't give a fuck, keeps cycling despite the difficulty. This is her body, and she will be damned by heaven and all its little bitch friends before she gives up her mastery of it. Breathes through pain-wracked lungs. In. Out. In. Out.

Her meridians are pouring out power like fountains. She can feel them open one by one, the energy of cultivation burning out the spiritual filth that clogged them. No sign of flagging yet. She keeps going. In. Out. In. Out.

Manages to think, briefly. She could break through, if this keeps up. Push into-

Remembers the ruins of the Dog Quarter around her, the homes destroyed, the bodies of the dead still lying in the streets, pictures Tribulation lightning lancing down around her and ravaging it even more. The thought's like poison. No. Onwards. Submerges her thoughts into the crucible of cultivation.

Cycles. Cycles. Cycles.

At last, the lunatic surge of energy starts to weaken. Just keep going. Breathes. Forces her qi into neat patterns. Breathes.

She feels the very last vestiges of the worm disintegrate and burn up under the intensity of her qi. She's on her own now.

Cycles. Cycles. Cycles.

The change is almost shocking, she realises dimly, as she shifts from managing a tidal wave of foreign power and dragging it out of her own body. But she can't stop. Not yet. She can feel the tenth heavenstage now, the barrier thinning under her onslaught, and that's too valuable a tool to pass up. Keeps going.

Almost there.

Few more seconds.

And it breaks.

This time she can't stop it. The shuddering full-body shakes as even more filth is exiled from her body. She collapses, gasping, on the pavement, and lets herself thrash around.

It's never been this bad before. Then again, she's never jumped two heavenstages at once. Maria debates forcing herself under control, but this is too much. She just waits, and rides it out as best she can.



"Maria?"

She hears the noise of running feet. Sees the gleaming bronze and dark red of Legionnaire uniforms. They crowd around her.

"Maria, are you-"

"Leave her. She's broken through. Give her a moment."

"But-"



The shakes have started to pass, enough at least that she can stand. Underneath them, she feels-

New heavenstages are always an experience. But this is insane. It's as if she's been walking through mud her whole life, and suddenly she's on an open road. Her tiredness has fallen away entirely, too, like she's slept for days. This. This is beyond good. This is magnificent. She's fighting down a smile.

"Doing fine," she says aloud. "Trust me. All's well."

The legionnaires shoot glances at their captain. Not a unit she recognises, but there's a lot of people in Three Frogs these days, and she's memorable. The captain nods.

"They need us on the wall. The assault is-"

He never gets to finish that sentence, because that's when the breach happens.



It starts with a dull boom so loud Maria can feel it in her bones. Then there's a chorus of warcries and screams, and Cannibals come pouring in.

The captain snaps out an order, and the unit falls into formation. The hoplite shimmers into life over them before the oncoming horde can reach. Then their spear's a blur of motion, and their enemies start to die.

Inside, Maria's already poured more power into this construct than she knew she even could. Her power is a steady torrent, smooth and strong, pushing their creation to greater and greater heights. But she knows it doesn't matter. They can't hold against a full incursion alone. The captain must share her opinion, because the Hoplite raises its head and bellows before descending into the fray. Reinforcements. Full breach. Smart move.

They keep fighting. And fighting. And fighting. Most of these bastards are Heavenstage two or three – a hoard of disposable bodies to throw at them. They're not making any impression, but they're not slowing down either. Still, she's not flagging yet, and the formation is letting her support the weaker members of the unit.

More enemies. More spear strikes. Where are the fucking reinforcements? Gods above, this-

One of the others sees it before she does.

"Masks! Masks!"

Maria turns her head. Behind them, the world is engulfed in a thick, sickly pink fog. The smell of rotting meat wafts ahead of it. The Meat Qi Rot poison. Centenius, it seems, has done it again. She grabs hold of a bandana around her neck and pulls it up over her mouth, then turns back to the fight.

The poison's already starting to turn the tide. All around her, Cannibals are screaming in pain and horror as their flesh begins to decay before their eyes. Skin pales, bruises, bubbles up with putrescence and breaks. Eyes fill up with pus. And right in the middle, the Hoplite lays about itself with fresh fury.

Now they start getting somewhere. Deeper into the horde, spear flashing in a lethal ring of liquid steel. Cannibals dying, faster and faster. Giving ground, and giving ground, and giving ground, until at last they're at the breach, and they can hold the bastards back from even getting in.

It's a victory of sorts. But not enough. Because while the hole may be plugged, the horde is still advancing. The captain's voice cracks out again like a whip, and the hoplite shifts it's shield and drops into a defensive position.

Time loses meaning, then. Even exhaustion is gone – for all Maria knows, it's been minutes since they got there. Or days. They stay in place, their spear diving into the mess of screaming Starved Ones with rhythmic efficiency.

It's only when one of the legionnaires starts screaming that she gets any sense of anything.

They're young. She can't make out the gender, but the age is clear. 25 tops. Their hair cut short, in good legion fashion. But she's paying more attention to the rotting sore starting to bloom on their temple.

The masks are good. They slow the poison's effects massively; nine times out of ten, the fight's over before it's an issue. But this is clearly the unlucky tenth time, and this kid's going to die if they stay much longer. They're not the only one, either. Maria can see signs of infection on almost all of the other legionnaires. Barely visible, but certainly present. And the horde is still, *still*, showing no signs of stopping.

She snarls.

"Go," she snaps at the kid. The captain glares back at her, but she doesn't have time for this. "GO. One at a time."

"We don't run," he mutters.

Heaven's wastrel guts, spare her from this idiocy. "So walk slowly," she snarls back. "But go. One at a time, give me a chance to step in."

"Alone?"

"It's a fucking chokepoint! I'm tenth heavenstage! STOP WASTING TIME!"

A flicker of fury, then indecision. The young legionnaire is strangling another scream. That's what does it, she's sure, because the captain's mouth thins, and he nods. The kid bolts out of formation.

That sets the tone for the next few minutes. Maria moves slowly forward, swapping spots with the others as she goes, until she settles at the front, the captain behind her on her right. The others keep pouring qi into the hoplite, but their flows are thinning as the pain sets in. The captain starts calling out names. Legionnaires drop out, and run back into the city, trying for the safety of the field hospital and antidotes. All the while, the Hoplite dwindles. If it weren't for the fog, they'd have been overrun.



At last there's just two of them, her and the Captain. The hoplite's less than a shadow, now, and thinning fast. She can feel his Qi dropping down to a flicker.

"Go," she grits. He shakes his head. "Go! Dying here gets us nothing."

"We. Don't. Run," he gasps. Maria has to stop herself from screaming at him.

It doesn't matter anyway. Moments later, she can feel his qi flow stop. He's run himself dry. The hoplite vanishes into the fog, and then the cannibals are on them.

Later, when she remembers this moment, she'll try and think about how she tried to save him. Pushing back, shouldering him aside, bringing up her shield to cover him and lashing out, over and over, to drive back the assault. But the memory that sticks will be watching him die. The cannibals are wild and frenzied, screaming, howling, catching the Qi Rot full on and still pressing forward. He's dropping into qi exhaustion, still trying to defend himself but barely managing to haul his spear up. A hand gets past his guard, and she doesn't see it – too busy knocking aside a dozen other blows.

It latches on his throat. Pulls him down. She sees his face, dusky skin pale and slicked with sweat, eyes wide and staring, the bones of his skull showing through flesh already breaking down under the poison's assault. And then they're on him, a hungry, vicious mass of arms and claws and teeth and hunger.

He doesn't scream. She'll wonder if this is the last brave flash of that stubborn honour. More likely, it's because he didn't have time.



There is a moment of stillness then, where all the world stops, and she's staring at this frozen tableau of blood path monsters devouring a clansmen who's name she doesn't even know. The noise stops. The heat of battle vanishes, replaced by a strange, numbing chill.

He didn't deserve this.

She becomes aware, somehow, of the empty houses up and down the street behind her. The people who live in them are huddled, afraid, in the legion barracks, and that's if they're lucky. They're probably dead, too, or worse, dying slowly beneath a hungry cannibal's gnashing teeth. They don't deserve it either. And yet here they all are, living and dying and eating and killing.

The stillness stretches out a moment longer. Then time snaps back, and Maria roars.



She's not really an angry person. Grumpy, certainly, and perhaps a little unfair, but not angry. She can't afford to be. The Red Place is angry for her. Yet here, in this charnel house of a battle, suddenly she's filled with a white hot fury beyond anything she's ever felt.

She hates these monsters. Every single one of them. Perversions and monstrosities, evils of the greatest kind. The Red Place is jockeying for control behind her. She pushes it back. Her mind is too full of ways to punish these things. She lunges, still roaring. Her hands move without her direction. Her spear traces patterns of violence on their flesh.

They start to die. It's not fast enough. She pushes herself. Opens them up and bares their hearts and lungs and guts to the world, pulls their blood out of them like thread from a spool, weaves a tapestry of violence across the street.

It's still not fast enough.

She pushes further.

The fury is incandescent, now. The Red Place has gone silent, watching with rapt attention, and then somehow it's there with her, no line between her and it. The cannibals aren't pushing forward any more. A few, she realises, are starting to run.

It doesn't matter. It's still not fast enough.

Further- further- further.

She knows she is still roaring, but she can't hear it. The fury is her whole world.

But there's something else. Something she can't explain. Something…

Transcendent.

She reaches for it-

A lesson.

The Dao encompasses all things.

Thus, even the murderer

Walks the path of Heaven.​

It's later. The sun is beginning its descent into dusk. Maria blinks.

She's still here. The Red Place is back too, inside her mind, quiet and fitful and dreaming. She's on her knees again, in the middle of the street. Not exhausted though. Not exactly. More…

Still.

She blinks again. Takes in her surroundings. The fog is gone. Her body is wounded, but healing; she can see patches of dead skin, marked with rot, but her body is repairing itself already. The tenth heavenstage, it seems, is as impressive as she thought.

Around her are two dozen legionnaires. She can't quite make herself count them, or register their faces. They've manned the breach, though, forming a tight defensive line with spears raised. That's good. They'll keep it safe.

She realises at last her hands are cold. Looks down. Sees the thick red coating of gore standing stark against her white skin. And at last, she sees the dead.

Maria watches her clansmen drag away the bodies of her enemies. They're not gentle, or careful, so she can see the wounds she left. There are-

The stillness departs. In its place is horror. They were monsters. Her enemies. But empty heavens, how – how could she justify doing… that?



She doesn't have long to think about it, though, because the others, she realises, are talking, and at last she's hearing it.

"-can't win."

"It's been six hours-"

"He's core formation, she can't-"

"Still fighting!"

"Did you see that hammer?"

"Did you see her stand?"

Maria drags herself to her feet.

"What are you talking about?"



They go quiet when she speaks. Then one of them bows, and speaks.

"Senior, beyond the walls, the Legate is at war with a Core Formation cultivator of the Blood Cannibals."

Shit. This was worse than she thought. Maria pushed away her weakness.

"Where are we evacuating to? She can't buy us much time," she snapped. "How many-"

"There is no evacuation. Senior, she's- she's holding."



She stared at the legionnaire for a long moment. Then turned to stare at the breach. The defensive line in front of it were facing no resistance, she realised; no-one was coming through. She trudged towards them.

"Senior, what- where are you-"

"Move," she muttered. The defenders looked at her. At each other. And moved.

She walked through the gap, and the breach in the walls. No-one was outside, and the plains outside Three Frogs were littered with cannibals, some dead, some eating, some fleeing.

But she didn't look at them. Instead, she watched the battle in the distance. The Cannibal Elder…

And Rina Callista.

Silhouetted against the red and gold of the sunset, they fought alone. Blows that could shatter the city walls parried. Techniques that could kill soldiers in their hundreds knocked aside. To her shocked and addled mind, it was like watching the gods, duelling for the fate of all mankind.

Maria stared, awed, and watched as Rina Callista fought.

And then, when the butcher fled, she wept.

That, she thought. That is a Golden Devil.

And then, so what does that make me?

---

So. Pretty sure this doesn't line up with the actual events of what happened at Three Frogs. In fact, I think the battles were broken up more, so Maria fighting to hold this breach, and then coming back from her crazy-ass murderzen enlightenment juuuust in time to see Rina kick the shit out of the Cannibal Core Formation dude, is implausible at best. But I think it kind of works, and I've written it now, so, you know, deal. @Alectai @Humbaba @Kaboomatic , may I have a threadmark, please?

Julia Foslia, Legate of the 263rd​ Legion (also known as the Second Scorpions), was not what you'd call a sentimental woman. Not if you cared about accuracy, at least. A good 400 years in the service of the clan, the last 150 of them spent trying to corral the idiot greenhorns that came pouring out of the Dawn Fortress theses days, had burnt out most everything but cynicism, irritation, and a grim sadism that could, from the right angle, pass for a sense of humour.

She wasn't what one would think of as nurturing, essentially. Which is why she hated having to pick new captains. New meat was bad enough. Putting them in command roles? Where she'd have to talk to them? *Know their names?* Heaven's cruelty was clearly infinite.

This decade was proving to be the worst in a long time, too. Marcus, her First Centurion (a man long inured to her… charming… sensibilities) had fought her the whole way. No "do we even need captains?" had swayed him. No "They're all basically the same, just pick the tallest ones and we'll manage!", either. Not even a "Marcus. Marcus. Marcus. I don't care."

No. She was still here, three hours later, in her damned office, hunched over her damned desk, wiling away candidate after candidate. And she'd thought the cannibals were bad.

"He's awful," she growled. Marcus raised an eyebrow. "No. None of that. No sarcasm. I'm right. You know it. He's a godawful little tit who shouldn't have been let near a cultivation manual, let alone the dawn fortress."

"He's a Kalokagathos."

"Branch family. A distant cousin. If Andronikos wants to pick a fight over it, he can form a queue behind you like everyone else. No."

Marcus nodded. She'd worked with him long enough to know what that meant. He'd wanted her to toss the highborn brat. Heaven's guts, she hated her job sometime.

"Well. That leaves only one candidate then," said her Centurion, smiling blandly. "Maria."

She glared.

"Not funny."

"I'm not joking."

Julia shot him an incredulous look.

"Then you've gone mad."

"No."

"Utterly cuckoo. Round the bend. Stark raving bonkers."

"Alright."

"Your skull has cracked open and your sanity at last has fled, winging its way across the desert to safer climes, like the Demonic Altar's chaplaincy service."

He shot her an unamused look. She shrugged.

"Ajax," said Marcus, dragging false calm around himself like armour, "has put her name forward."

"He's mad too," muttered Julia.

"Considering her work in Three Frogs, he's got a pretty good case."

The Legate gave a frustrated growl. "She's a lunatic," she said. "Genuinely unhinged. And unlike you, she can't work around it."

"She held a breach against a cannibal assault."

"After ordering her unit to fuck off and leave her to it! That's suicide!"

She was starting to lose her temper. Under normal circumstances, that would get Marcus to back down, but today seemed to be an exception. Instead, he crossed his arms and stared at her.

"Maria has achieved the tenth heavenstage," he said, voice almost lecturing. "Jumping the ninth altogether. The only reason she's not core formation already is she couldn't risk the tribulation damaging the defences."

"Tenth Heavenstage. That Callista girl has filled our juniors' heads with nonsense," Julia grumbled sullenly. Marcus shrugged. She was losing this argument. Well. Fuck it, time for a last push. "She's never led a unit. Never, Marcus. Temperament's all wrong. She thinks like a skirmisher, not a formation leader. You want me to put her in a spot she's completely unsuited for?"

"Yes," he answered baldly. Julia stared at him. That- was not what she'd expected. "Like it or not, Legate, Maria's got talent. She'll be running her own legion soon enough."

"Heaven's malicious balls, there's a frightening thought."

"More frightening than it needs to be. We can give her command experience now, while the risks are small. Get her feet wet."

"Oh, so my legion's a training-ground for idiot geniuses, is it?"

"It is when the clan needs it."

…Damn it. He was right. Julia snarled, running the problem back and forth in her mind, but there was no way out. A small sacrifice now meant a stronger legion tomorrow, and given that tomorrow was the trials, that was extremely valuable.

Gods. How wonderful it must be to be part of a normal sect, like the Blacksmiths. Then you could just mutiny whenever you wanted and pretend no-one else was as important as you.

"Fucking- Fine," growled Julia. "But if this goes bad – and it will, Marcus – I will blame it on you. You understand?"

The first centurion gave her a thin smile, and didn't reply.

---

@Alectai @TehChron @Kaboomatic , threadmark please! @Siual , I hope you don't mind I mentioned your NPC. Let me know if you'd rather I didn't and I'll edit.

I made Gaius in HeroForge and I'm really proud of how he came out, so instead of an omake, today I'll be posting this.

The only thing I'm not 100% satisfied with is the hat; the brim of Gaius' hat is much wide that that, but this is the widest hat HeroForge had.

For some reason I was on a roll with this program, so I decided to make one for @Humbaba 's Wei Feng too. His appearance hasn't been described in quite a while, so my interpretation is that taking in so much phoenix juice is inevitably gonna make you a bit weird looking.
I hate the tail feathers model, but it was the only one HeroForge had. Other than that I think it came out pretty well.

With the assistance of Heroforge, I have recreated how I think they look.

Archegetes Manuel Konstantinos


For those who don't remember Lady Yao. It's the Nascent Soul who actually likes us.

Lady Yao


Something I created that I didn't think was worth threadmarking on its own.

Nordlending said:

Teatime with the Devil
Altar Lord POV

Spoiler: Altar Lord Pov

He is trying to recruit us into his army.

Click to expand...

Click to shrink...

The Song Empire had seen better days, once standing on the nexus of the great trade routes of the Battlefield, it grew wealthy and mighty off of the flow of Spirit Stones from the Desert through the Colossus Footsteps Pass, and enjoyed peace and prosperity by way of the Strength Purity Sect standing as protectors and champions against the Demonic Path's agents.

"Of course, that was all Before this shitshow of a war kicked off." Xu Zhen thought to himself, as his cane warded off one of Tai Chen's bloodbeasts, his teeth grit as he was forced back as the creature's jaws bit fiercely on his weapon while trying to force its way past his guard. Flows of Qi erupted from the point of impact, as two Chosen of their respective Sects--both within the Late stage of Foundation Establishment locked horns.

"Is that all you've got! Xu Zhen!" The damned warlock gloated, his devilish smirk strong as his other two pets slavered at his sides, held in check only by the Devil-Binding Leash he held in hand. "Some Chosen! Not even fit to feed the dogs!"

"Pretty sure these don't qualify as Dogs" Xu Zhen quipped as he continued to fall back, his qinggong technique doing its job as intended. "Really, they're probably, oh... Say ninety percent innocent blood by volume?" His free hand snapped out, and the bloodbeast whimpered as his fist drove past its eye, grasping against its blood-core. "You know, funny thing about innocent blood and unresolved grudges?" He mused, voice carrying by a twist of his power. "They don't actually want to cooperate with their murderers, you know? Like normal people?"

The diagram he had formed in his hand ignited, and a trace of Tribulation Lightning crackled from his hand--a little souvenir from his own bout of fun oh so many years ago now, kept in check or just little moments like these.

The devil-glyph in the core screamed in protest, and shattered--the Bloodbeast's eyes gaining clarity for a moment--before howling in triumph as it self-detonated.

But not before it let Xu Zhen toss it back towards its former slaver of course. Always could count on the Blood Path to sew the seeds of their own demise after all. The little prick's eyes widened as his unchained Bloodbeast began to swell, and he pulled back on his leash.

Not fast enough though.

The Bloodbeast detonated, the Great Circle of Foundation Establishment cultivation base fueled by the rancor of ten million innocents delivering an attack that could cripple even a Core Formation Elder if they took it entirely on the chin.

So Xu Zhen was entirely unsurprised that when the smoke cleared, a sanguine orb was seen where his target once was--crumbling to fragments as he stood there--entirely unhurt. "Hmph!" Tai Chen huffed in protest, still pale after the near miss. "As expected of a member of the Strength Purity Sect's Legacy Echelon--I suppose it was arrogant of me to think that you would be nothing more than another trivial foe." He released the Leash in his hand, as it crumbled to dust--the Bloodbeasts it controlled sacrificing themselves to manifest a faultless--if temporary--defense. "I suppose I'll have to treat you as a genuine enemy then, and strike you down with my own hands."

Xu Zhen cocked his head to the side, squinting as he tried to make his foe out--while assessing the battlefield in the same motion.

Things looked--to put it lightly--grim.

Ever since the Vice-Sect Master took the field to repulse the assault of the Noble Devil Alliance's Nascent Souls, accompanied by a cadre of other Righteous Masters, the battle had devolved to the stage of the new generation's best and brightest--Core Formation fought Core Formation--a balance tenuously held as each feared to extend too deeply into enemy lines to make full advantage of their unmatched strength and endurance. Which left the heavy lifting to the Foundation Establishment of each side.

"What Great Era" Xu Zhen thought, raising his cane once more as his eyes flashed to the side. Leafsplitter had seen better days--surviving the extermination of his Sect by something as trivial as being part of their contribution to the Fearless Line's defense, and pledged nothing less than to see the Noble Devil Alliance broken as a member of the newly formed Broken Arrow Bandits--his badge long since replaced by a red scarf tied about his forearm--flashing in the wind even as he drove his Bowstave into the Baleful Wind Vortex protecting Yun Shen from assault--the Holy Son of the Noble Knowledge Sect's smirk long since worn off after nearly being slain by Leafsplitter's Holy Blossom Arrow technique--unable to press the attack while his defense was in place--but also keeping the Righteous Genius from supporting one of the other fronts

On the other side, there was Bright Iron, his silver warhammer gleaming even in spite of the clouds of ash and smoke that blocked the sun in these dark days. He had good luck in the Sacred Palace not too long ago, gaining a fragment of the Heavenly Hammer Lord's legacy, and his master of metal and earth alike made him a fearsome foe. But in spite of his strength and talents, he was covered in wounds--his match found by Gao Ken--Fist Prince of the Gao Clan, who's Hundred-Toxin Wraps made even a glancing blow something that would fester and erupt in moments. Bright Iron had adapted well, but still found himself suppressed, able to do little more than pin the foe in one place and prevent him from running rampant in the battle lines.

Battle lines that had largely drawn back at this point, as the battle of Geniuses reached its crescendo--any one of which was worth a hundred men on the battlefield. In the end, victory and defeat would be drawn from whichever of the group could achieve victory.

Xu Zhen sighed, and focused on his own battle. Tai Chen drawing a blackened sword from his side--it positively stunk of blood--probably quenched in the blood of newborn babies if he was any judge--why did the Blood Path need to be so edgy all the time? What did that even gain them?

"That's cute, you still think you can win this battle." Tai Chen laughed. "Here? Backed into a corner, in a place not of your choosing? You may be Scarletglyph's Personal Disciple--but you're not on that witch's level either!" He slashed outward, a wave of Sword Qi splitting the clouds of ash and soot above, bathing the sky in a crimson radiance. "For someone like you, I'll only need ten exchanges to claim victory!"

"Nah" Xu Zhen grinned. "Should only need one to be honest." He tapped his cane on the ground below--and the Qi sizzled in the air.

"What? When?!" Tai Chen gasped, looking from side to side--a five pointed star? When did he have time to...

He noticed it then--arrows! Each with a formation sign inscribed within! Channels dug in the ground--when did he have time to... Bright Iron! His failed blows! Not so failed at all!

"Ah, you just noticed, huh?" Xu Zhen's cane began to burn as he introduced the spark that would ignite a conflagaration. "Five Elements Killing Array".

The spark flew through the channels--Five, Water, Earth, Metal, Wood--the Five Elements roused to battle at the cardinal points of the formation. "See, there's a little thing I've noticed--a habit for experts like us--we just tend to get locked onto our opposite numbers and forget that there's ways to help each other out don't require us to let one of the other guys do their thing." He raises a hand, and points a thumb down. "Remember that teamwork is the best work when you're trying to suck up to Lord Yama in Hell."

"DAMN YOU XU ZHEN!!!" Tai Chen screamed as the Killing Array ignited its full power, five dragons being formed from the Elements--their exultant roars shaking Heaven and Earth as they converged on Tai Chen, an attack that exceeded Foundation Establishment--as sure a kill as any other, in compensation for the difficulty of preparing it in a combat scenario.

And then the world went grey.

Xu Zhen couldn't move--couldn't blink--only his thoughts remained, and even they felt like they were walking through a deep mire. The sounds of heavy boots on ground rendered so hardy that they may as well have been marble.

"Tai Chen, Tai Chen... For all that your Sect is the most powerful--you still forget that you're not an Elder yet." The voice spoke. "You knew he was Scarletglyph's Disciple, and you thought it would be that easy to seal off his Arrays."

White hair, red eyes, a tall and lanky figure, clad in heavy garments of leather and silk. A pendulum absently dangling from a string from one hand.

"Your Sect'll owe mine a favor for this, just to be clear." He said, and the Pendulum suddenly snapped taut, a flash that quickly lashed through the immobilized dragons.

"Break for me, won't you please?" He said--and reality returned to its normal state--the five elemental dragons bursting in waves of static, their patterns of Qi terminally disrupted in a moment between moments. Xu Zhen's organs roiled as the backlash impacted him--absorbed only by the incredible tempering his body had undergone--but it was still enough to spit blood from as his Cultivation Base rebelled, and he fell to a knee.

"Shit." He cursed, stabilizing his injuries as he raised his head--it wasn't just him that was struck by that attack in the frozen time--Leafsplitter fell back, his bow splintered in his hands--Bright Iron flat on his back after his hammer was forced into his chest in the aftermath of a blow.

And all around, reality quaked and shivered, portions fizzing from stark relief into a churning void as the fabric of creation frayed.

"Ohoh?" The voice speaking in the Frozen Time mused. "Still awake?" Xu Zhen forced his gaze up, to look upon the new arrival in earnest--presently perched upon a great boulder torn up in the chaos, his face in a book. "No. No need to worry about this Wei An" He wiggled one hand back. "You all have much, greater concerns at the moment, don't you?"

Xu Zhen had heard that name before.

Wei An, Young Master of the Heavenly Time Shatter Sect--son of that Demonic organization's patriarch, with all of the investment and resources of a Great Power poured into his cultivation. The greatest Talent of his age--or so captured disciples of his Sect claimed--the one who would one day lead them to victory in the Great Battlefield--who would seize the Blood Altar and bend it to submission beneath the Dao of Time.

None had engaged him--and lived to tell the tale. Truthfully, there were no examples of him taking the field, making the Strength Purity Sect's Enforcement Hall believe he was propaganda--a myth to encourage disciples of that forbidden Dao to take greater risks in the name of an inevitable victory.

But here he was--and with power like that? What was that anyway?

"Bastard" Tai Chen spat. "Don't think this means you're better than me!" He claimed. "If you had to clash with the other Chosen~~"

"I would have still excelled" Wei An interrupted. "Because I am strong, I can certainly kill you right now though if you think your life isn't important though?"

Tai Chen paled, but turned away--focusing on Xu Zhen. "Feh, this isn't over." He brought his sword up. "But I'll deal with him first."

"Hah, even allied, you folks just cannot get along can you?" Xu Zhen laughed--suppressing the twinges of pain in his guts as he brought his cane back up. "So, Plan B didn't quite work, let's see how Plan C shakes out then."

"You're a lamp without oil!" Tai Chen accused. "Your allies are beaten, and you are outnumbered!" Yun Shen and Gao Ken--hearing the discussion, become beams of light and flank Tai Chen, preparing their own attacks. "No matter how cunning you are, no matter what tricks you play--they will crumble before greater power!"

"There's no such thing as a dead end" Xu Zhen quipped, and began to dig deep. "Just a question of where the way out is... If it's just a matter of fighting free..."

"A-a-ah" Wei An waved his finger. "If you think you'll be allowed to run away, you have another thing coming--this place may be rattled, but I can certainly strike you down before whatever forbidden technique you're winding up can engage." He closed his books, red eyes flashing. "After all, how often is it we get a chance to just gather a bunch of Chosen together in a party like this, and then have a decisive victory. No, you fight and die or you just die--there's no other options for you here."

"Ecliptic Gate!"

"What in the..." Wei An said--head snapping in the direction of the voice along with the other Demonic Chosen--his eyes widened--and a fizzing noise was all that was heard as he suddenly vanished, reappearing a ways back.

The other three Demonic Experts weren't so lucky--standing in the center of the shining glyph on the ground, as the radiance of the celestial sphere rained down on them.

"That technique..." Yun Shen whispered, and his eyes went red from rage. "Nu Shi! You Traitorous Bitch!"

"Ahahahaha!" A peppy female voice cackled. "Isn't that on you all for pushing me to that? You're all right on schedule!" The radiance intensified--and burned down on the contained Chosen. "Demon Girls Squad! Go!"

"There's only two of us though." Another voice--soft spoken but with a gravity that let it carry beyond its point of origin. "Does that really count as a squad?"

"Shut up! You only get to make an entrance like this once in a Lifetime! A LIFETME! It's got to be done properly!"

"Alright, alright." The second voice started--and a streak of light rose from the edge of the encirclement--resolving into a golden haired woman, skin of bronze, eyes shining like the heart of the sun--clasped between both hands was a blade carved from rock quarried from the edge of Turtlebone Mountain, her expression directed at the bound group of Demonic Experts. "Avalanche!"

Life Saving Treasures activated, chained barriers erupting over the trio of Demonic Experts--but Rina Callista's blade could not be stopped so easily--it struck with the force of a collapsing mountain--three layers of defenses crumbling before it as it struck the ground at center--discharging the previous spell's binding into their spirits even as the blade crushed their bodies.

The three Demonic Geniuses were launched away in all directions in a rain of blood--more dead than alive. Rina's blade shattered to dust afterwards.

But that was okay.

She gestured with one hand, and a replacement was extracted from her Spatial Ring. "Now, hasn't this fight gone on long enough?" She asked, her bespectacled vision surveying the forces aligned here with the disdain of a ruler looking upon their subjects. "I think it's time everyone took a break, here and now."

"Hmph, interesting." Wei An mused, arms crossed before him as he looked at the two new arrivals with a trace of interest--Millet dropping in from above and posing for the audience--right before she began to go tend to Leafsplitter and Bright Iron. "Does this mean your Golden Devil Clan plans to offend my Noble Devil Alliance?"

"Who's offending who?" Rina asked, her second granite blade raised and rested on her shoulder. "We're just here to protect our trade interests--you do know that this little war has nearly taken over the Colossus Footsteps Pass, right?"

"I could never have guessed." Wei An snorted in amusement. "Regardless, you did not seriously think you could present yourself before this Wei An and think you could simply take my prey from me, do you?"

"Careful" Xu Zhen warned. "He's got a weird trick--took us all out in an instant, wait until Millet gets back and we'll fight him together."

"Ah, no." Wei An shook his head. "Even if it would help you--no, I think I'll just take care of you right this moment."

The world greyed out a second time--Wei An's pendulum shuddering with the power fed into it.

"No, I don't think so"

Color returned to the world, with Rina as the center--the Pendulum lashed out--and Rina's free hand caught it at the beginning of its journey. "You'll find that I don't tolerate damaging the World like this." She muses--the barrier between the frozen time and Rina's presence cracking with power. "Fighting is one thing, competition is another. Even Killing is something that happens from time to time--but there's no point to any of it if you're going to break the land you stand upon for victory."

Wei An's eyes widened--and Rina's gaze weighed down on him. "Against me, your [Empire of Moments] is powerless."

Her fist clenched, the pendulum broke--and Wei An spat blood, stumbling in place as color returned to the rest of the world. "Hah.. Amazing!" He laughed. "Incredible! A worthy opponent at last!" He looked to the sky and raised his hands. "Oh Heavens, you've finally delivered me a suitable whetstone!" He looked back to Rina, extending his arms. "Haha! Amazing! To think, two in one generation!"

His figure distorted, greying out--Rina brandished her blade. "Hah! None of that yet, I'll admit, your [World-Lord] is something I can't take lightly. This is me quitting the field, out of recognition for your achievement." He looked forward, a gaze filled with both longing and bloodlust in his eyes. "We will meet again, at He Jian City. Try not to disappoint me!"

"Hey!" Millet's voice rang out. "We already beat those guys! Don't go taking it from us!" Rina glanced to the fallen Demonic Chosen--who were phasing out just like Wei An.

"Ah, right, it'd be inconvenient if I let these three die here--I'll have to take them off of your hands." Wei An smirked--then gave a two fingered salute. "Until next time..."

A sound of glass shattering, and they were gone.

"Stingy!" Millet shouted, one of her shoes flying in the air where Wei An once was. "You could have left us with one!"