Pride…
It was something Chang threw away so easily just to get on his knees and beg to join the Golden Devils. There was a chance they would've accepted him even without all that shameless kowtowing, but he needed to show his sincerity. When he was accepted, though he was a true outsider, he was relieved.
He ruminated in the midst of his practice, the sun forcing out his sweat and energy, which drove him to exhaustion. He wasn't alone, as there were other cultivators draining their energy to gain further strength in their path.
However, unlike those determined warriors who were single-mindedly pursuing strength, Chang was distracted in his pursuit. He's reached the Third Heavenstage, something he should be proud of. He's gained strength, fought and killed people for the first time, and he returned fine and healthy with a nice artifact.
Even still, he's dissatisfied for two critical reasons. The first was killing. Now, he clearly understood the rules of the wild: the strong survive and live while the weak are oppressed and die. He's even followed this rule without giving it a second thought. This is more of a guideline because of course something this arbitrary wouldn't be some mandated rule all across the world.
However, maybe Chang should've actually treated it like a guideline. His nature was that of inflexible stubbornness, refusing to be swayed by anyone except himself. Could that be the wrong path though?
His train of thought is escaping.
The redhead sat down and contemplated on the idea of taking a life. He managed to do it, but there was hesitation in his attacks. Because of that, he nearly suffered a wound that would've probably killed him had he not been swift enough to evade it.
Ultimately, he killed those caravanners and decided that his life was worth more than theirs.
And he's completely fine with that. Should he be feeling torn up about killing people? No, that wasn't the issue. The people who live in this harsh land are prepared for anything that can happen to them even if they're unwilling at the events that may befall them.
Chang lived in this desert long enough to know this well even if he wasn't born here. He's adapted to this land. He has been refined and molded by it.
Chang challengingly glared at the sun with his arms crossed and a question on his mind. It imperiously glared straight back down with burning light reflected off his eyes. He sought to gain enlightenment in this conundrum he's facing, but he'll go blind long before that happens.
He'll think about this complicated shit later.
The man looked back down and racked his head over the second critical issue.
His progress wasn't good enough.
To touch upon the threshold of the apex and solidly feel the tangibility of his own wish in the grasp of his hands...Chang can't only be at the pitiful Third Heavenstage after many years. He's heard one of his peers have already left him in the dust, their talent destroying what belief he had in his own.
However, his will won't waver and his spirit won't crumble. At the end of it all, his desire isn't one that concerns others, so there's no need to be concerned over how others are faring in comparison to himself.
But still, he needs to acquire a way to gain more power. And what better way is there than to seek out someone who's been at this longer than he has?
Now, Chang heard stories about some legends among the Golden Devils. Something about 13…? Whatever, he knows there are some really strong individuals that carry themselves with dignity and power.
The hopeless redhead licked his lips in greedy anticipation.
Just how well do they stand up?
There was a question though: who exactly should he go to for advice? He's already throwing away his pride again in seeking help to realize his wish, so throwing away what little remains of it in considering a woman for help is natural, right?
The answer is blatantly obvious.
A resounding 'no' blares through Chang's mind, absolutely denying the notion that he'd ever seek assistance from a lady. Based on his own experience, it's best that a woman just not talk. They're loud, irritating, naggy, and a whole slew of other crap.
Chang clicked his tongue from reminiscing on less than pleasant memories. He shook his head and thought about other seniors who'd favorably return his plea with a positive answer and a secret to getting strong quickly...other than extraordinarily devilish means. That's a low that even he won't sink to, let alone the fact that he'd probably get executed for jumping down that abyss in the first place.
He narrowed his eyes in thought, hand reflexively twitching for something in his robes. An explosive sigh left his mouth after feeling the absence of a simple object in between his index and middle fingers.
He really misses his pipe. Hell, he can kill for a cheap pipe that's able to satisfy his cravings. It's been far too long since he's had a nice whiff of the good stuff and for some reason, he has met with failure at every turn in searching for one. It was almost like he was blind or something, but he knows that people sell them in the clan.
...He's getting off track. So, who should he look for?
"How about the Ninth Prince?" he finds himself questioning. It's an excellent, strong title. Good in the force of royalty that exudes from it; the confidence of going by that label speaks of boisterousness and boldness.
He hasn't heard anything about him recently because he's kinda ignorant about stuff going on in the clan...he might need to improve on that aspect.
Well, first thing's first at least.
He stood up, a destination not in mind, but a person stuck in there.
"Asking around for that guy should be simple enough considering he's famous as hell, right?" He nodded at his exceptional thought process and questioned seniors and peers to hasten his search and get this done as soon as possible.
Only a little bit less than an hour later and Chang was back sitting down in the same spot that he's made his own for now. There was a frown on his face and it wasn't solely due to him not getting the info he wanted, but because he just realized that he's not exactly well liked around this place.
The latter isn't all that important.
The fact that the Ninth Prince was apparently dead rang a few alarm bells for him. How could someone like him be dead? He's still hearing his name be tossed around the place like he's still alive, but everyone thinks he's dead?
Contradictions...
It doesn't bother him, but it could also mean that fellow cultivators aren't giving him information they know on purpose.
Eh, it's probably paranoia.
If people really were pansy ass bitches that they'd do something petty like this instead of expelling their frustration through their fists, then they aren't fit to be called men.
And that's not the Golden Devils he's joined.
"Yo!" Think of the Golden Devils and one shall come...
Chang laid down and turned his head upwards, spotting a group of three, bronze-skinned guys who all strode toward him with a purpose. The speaker had a smile on his face, but his eyes looked at least slightly serious.
Woah, he's a bit of a giant.
Chang responded lazily. "Yo yourself. What's up?"
He ended his sentence with an obvious yawn, garnering a look of minute irritation from one of the dudes. He should at least stand up if he's gonna have a proper conversation as he knows what manners are.
He dusted off his clothes and at least gave a small bow, though one that seemed mocking even if it wasn't his intention.
"Well…" The man in the center drew out his word and looked at both men beside him. "We've just been hearing about one of our fellow brothers being slightly rude."
Chang nodded. He is a pretty rude guy that doesn't really see anyone in his eyes. Either people are below him or above him. And these guys are solidly being placed in the former position.
The cultivator was puzzled by Chang's easy admission, but then just shrugged his shoulders.
"Look, could you just tone down the arrogance a bit? It'd be nice if everyone in our generation got along nicely."
"What are you gonna do if I decline?"
"We'll exchange pointers with you until you accept." His face was kind, but his words were anything but. He immediately switched tactics to forceful methods in order to make Chang fall in line with his orders.
Of course, it only served as amusement to the redhead as he turned his chin upward at the trio.
"Yeah? You nobody, who the hell do you think you are?" Harsh words also came from smiling lips. This is the type of conversation that Chang is used to. This dialogue resetted his own mental pacing and his mood rose back up.
He doesn't need any of that fake kindness shit. He's not here to get along with anyone or show kindness. He's here to get stronger and rush toward a flashy death.
"My name is—"
"Didn't ask~"
The exchange between the redheaded rebel and the bronze-skinned giant pissed off the one person who hadn't reacted yet.
The tall man's comrade moved faster than his mouth did, telling a story of friendship and loyalty there for Chang's careless eyes to see.
"You're begging for a beating…!"
"Huh? Speak up. You got a sore throat from some devilish activities?" Chang instantly warded off a punch with his palm, the two settling into their own fighting stances. Unfortunately, there was no crowd to see this nice fight between him and...
These people are...uh…
Who were they again? Did he even ask their names? While he contemplated their existences, the leader sighed and reluctantly mustered up some fighting spirit of his own, settling into a strong stance that would use the full advantage of his body.
Fighting two people at once should be good practice.
Chang blinked.
Wait, where did the other one go?
Chang dropped an arm to his side and blocked a hand thrust to his side. He was forced a step back from the strength contained in the unassuming sneak attack.
Shaking his arm, he spoke with cockiness dripping from his lips. "Is that all? How about you all come at me. Maybe you'll actually have a shot at winning and making something of yourselves."
A traitorous thought crossed his mind during the lull: why was he wasting his time doing this? Was he annoyed at the fact that he actually lost a duel against a fellow cultivator here?
That's correct. It's a driving reason for his reckless behavior to put some people in their place. The fact that he was challenged and was demanded to follow a line of directed behavior means that he wasn't being taken seriously at all. The current image that people have of him may be because of that brat who kicked his ass that one time even if he did make up for it.
But still, picking a fight with these people is a waste of time.
Stop, stop. That's enough. Honestly, is he a brat or something? He should have better self control than this.
"Well, this should be good practice. Let's hope there's no grudges after this, yeah?"
Chang didn't have a problem with the taller man's words. It's a simple scrimmage with no malice influencing it. A good time to practice combat techniques.
The fight began and ended.
It was an obnoxiously long fight that took much more time than Chang expected. He spat out liquid the color of his hair by the time he was even halfway through the fight. He eventually won with a roundhouse to the giant's temple, but his body was covered in bruises.
He had a particularly nasty shiner on his cheek and his forearms were bruised the color of grapes.
Walking off, he went to go call a healer for these guys because he can't just leave them unattended.
"Was a pretty good fight. Gotta give those guys props at least...uh what were their names again?" He placed a hand to his chin in thought before snapping his fingers and putting that out of his mind. It's not like it'll be all that important later.
First, healer for them. Next, the Ninth Prince's grave or whatever. This should be a hard confirmation on his life or death status.
"Is he really actually dead?" Chang asked softly. He possessed the courtesy to talk in a low, quieter tone while people were mourning the dead. He wasn't the only one around these graves after all.
He strolled to a cemetery in search of this dead guy, but he couldn't find his name or title engraved anywhere on a tombstone. So maybe that meant he was still alive?
But everybody is saying he's dead.
Chang shrugged his shoulders and took in the air of this cemetery.
If his family members were to die, would he consider making a grave for them? The normal and accepted standard is for all children to be filial and respect their parents, but Chang just can't subscribe to that notion. Sure, he thinks he loves his parents, but would he waste time going all the way back to them only to pay respects?
…If he's thinking that it's such a bother, then does he really love his family? Emotions can be very complicated.
Chang strolled around the cemetery, a strange mood beginning to take him over. What if he was buried in a grave? That thought makes him giddy, his tremors coming from both excitement and fear. There's something jubilating about theorizing his death and what comes after. If nothing were to come after, and if it was a complete erasure of his existence…then wouldn't that be the most anticipating thing of all?
The somber air of death irritated Chang's soul, so the usual arrogant rudeness flared up. "Damn, people were calling you cool and shit, but you're actually dead? Man I was gonna ask for help, but it seems like you really weren't all that."
He sighed before more figurative shit came out of his mouth.
"Those rumors about you being a ghost must be people just refusing to accept death then. What a pain in the ass. I gotta search for another guy then because of a failure here…" Chang threw his hands up in the air and blurted out condescending words like an unstopping waterfall.
Contrary to his words, he didn't walk away from the cemetery. He instead sat down in front of a random grave, legs crossed, and stared at the name engraved on it. It obviously wasn't the person he was searching for, but he was going to treat it as a stand-in.
"At least make up for wasting a bit of my precious time, will ya Ninth Prince?" He chuckled as an amusing thought crossed his mind. "I'll give you some ghost bread if you show up all transparent-like."
He looked harder at the grave and noticed a minute amount of dust on it, garnering a frown from Chang. The redhead took a hand and brushed away the dust before it got in his nose. He sneezed a little and got even more annoyed.
"Shit, this really was a waste of time. That shitty Ninth Prince…!" He climbed to his feet in an instant and began to march out of the rotten land of graves.
As Chang walked out of the graveyard, the dust he'd wiped away slowly began to gather, following him in his self-absorbed trek.
It whirled around the graves, collecting more and more detritus, the remains of dead flowers, fragments of crumbling stone and granules of sand, shards of bone and bits of bronze. It followed Chang like a black parade of the broken, the beaten and the damned.
The streams of dust and rot and death flowed around other graves, parting in front of mourners and headstones, coalescing into a gravetide, heavy with Qi. Whispers on the wind and the dust of bones, haunting melodies and a darkening sky, all followed Chang during his long journey to the exit of the cemetery.
As the sea of dust and bone grew larger, the very graves responded to its silent call, earth being pulled apart as long dead bones grabbed out. The mourners unlucky enough to be in the path of the tide were faced with a twofold calamity. The first was the tide itself, choking and reeking with death, briefly pulling air from lungs and chilling these unfortunate mortals and Qi Gatherers down to their core.
Then, after the initial shock, the graves of the deceased loved ones of these mourners shifted. Soil was unturned as bones violently threw themselves out of their graves, skeletons desperately grasping for the gravetide, for that surge of Qi to invigorate them.
Eventually however, after minutes of heartache, shock, and grave desecration, these skeletons walked back into their graves, reburied. They had given up hope of reaching the waves of death, and went back to their supposedly eternal rest.
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It was impossible for those abnormal occurrences to go undetected. Even a child would've noticed the production of odd sounds behind him, though they would flee in terror from whispers that came from the dead.
For Chang however, there was a ghost of a smirk on his lips as he turned around.
"This Qi feels like it's on the Yin side of things…" he murmured. From this sight, he could only conclude that someone pulled a prank on him or he disturbed a resting spirit.
Since the Golden Devils are individuals who respect the dead, Chang will assume that this is a spirit. That fact disturbs his emotions greatly.
The dead are meant to rest. Spirits should go undisturbed. This concept is one of the few things the redhead believes in. Once a person leaves their life behind, no matter how they sprinted through the joyful world of mortality, they should rest knowing that their actions contributed toward something.
Ugly lives and beautiful lives. Good lives and bad lives. It all amounts to equality six feet under.
The reason why the man possesses this belief is because he desires to rest once he burns his life out. Needless to say, living is painful for Chang.
But suicide is out of the question. He can't die in such a pathetic way. Death is a reward that comes from hard work pushing him forward through the road of strife onto a hill that will surely grant him a nice grave.
Chang shook his head free of introspection—a thing he doesn't like doing really.
There's a restless ghost he needs to greet.
"Now, who the hell are you?" he asked.
As Chang asked that question, the gravetide began whirling around him, howling wind and bone dust, death and the dead. Within it were grotesque spirits, horrific abominations, revenants given terrible form through rage and despair, howling and cackling as they raced around Chang.
Slowly, the dust began to coalesce, tornado shrinking and compacting into a vaguely humanoid form. As this being was given proper form, Chang could make out details, a beard, rippling abs, grains of metal in the skin, serpentine features, fangs and snake pupils, all slowly shaped until it was clear who was standing in front of him.
Nine feet tall, made of bone dust and grave soil, the ghost of the Ninth Prince loomed over Chang, arms crossed and looking for all the world like an avenging specter here to wreak bloody vengeance on him. Slowly, deliberately, the spirit opened his mouth, and spoke.
"So."
"I heard you've been talking shit."
Chang smiled.
He felt a shiver down his spine from staring at what seems to be a manifestation of death itself. His soul reacted immediately and fiercely, pumping energy through his veins and trying to resist the lull of the grave that called to him.
Because of that, Chang's words were carelessly reckless. He covered up a wince by focusing all his irritation on his mouth.
"You got good ears for being grave dust. I'd give you bread, but there was a caveat of you showing up like a real transparent type of ghost instead of a phantom possessing some stuff. Don't you understand the romantic ideal of a spirit that tries to spook people with empty sockets bleeding while they're completely incorporeal?" He shook his head mockingly, showing that indeed, he was the one who was talking shit without stating it directly.
"Anyway, I'm gonna assume you're the Ninth Prince. I honestly have to give you an eight outta ten. The metal really brings out your features. It's nothing compared to my ten outta ten self, but I can't deny the badass look you've got going for you."
The Ninth Prince is almost close to the ideal for him.
He's famous, strong, and did many fantastical things that would've led to death normally. However, this isn't perfectly ideal because he's still in the realm of the living. A spirit he may be, but he's a spirit that can commune with the living and thus hasn't accepted a true death.
"Fuck, I'm really glad I stumbled across you now."
The Ninth Prince's angry tirade was abruptly cut off by Chang's words of praise. "Well. In that case, I suppose I can forget a little bit of insubordination."
He looked down at himself. "I will admit you do have a bit of a point about the dust. It works in the context of the entrance, but right now it does nothing but detract. Still, that's pretty easily fixed." With a snap of his fingers, the dust making up the Ninth Prince's form exploded off of him, returning to the graves that he'd picked it up from.
After the dust from that explosion cleared, the Ninth Prince stood before Chang, slightly translucent but recognizably, well, himself. A tall metal snake-man with an enormous spear. "So! I assume you're here because you want something from me, and judging from the last two kids who tried disturbing my grave, I'm pretty sure you're here for some training/advice."
The Ninth Prince snaked (pun intentional) around Chang, incorporeal body stretching in a spiral. "What's it gonna be? Spear Arts? Body Refining? Poison? Demonic Tunes? Formations? Arrays? Beast Mastery? Romance advice? Something else? I'm an expert in basically everything after all."
He paused for a second. "As long as it isn't blood path anyways. You're going to want Amaranth Castellanos for that. Or just don't do blood path. Either or."
Judging from his boastful words, it can be assumed that the Ninth Prince is an all-rounder type, meaning that Chang could get a reasonably good amount of experience and knowledge on whatever topic he chooses. He looked at the man's weird form while contemplating what exactly he should veer toward.
Well, he's an aggressive fighter who prefers to get up and close with his opponents, so Demonic Tunes is automatically out. Formations should be considered considering he is a part of the Golden Devils, but Chang could care less about team fights, so that's also an out.
Even with his inflated sense of self-importance, he also realized that his sense for arrays is kinda shit, so that has to be crossed out as well. Animals never really liked him and he's peerless with women, so those are out too.
So, there's the way of the spear, refining the body, and playing with poisons. The last is no fun, and the spear doesn't appeal to him all that much, so the redhead decided on what was left.
He looked at the cultivator who lacked a body and asked an ironic question.
"How good are you at body refining?"
The Ninth Prince just. Looked. At Chang. It was one of those looks an asian parent gives their child when that child has said something so
monumentally stupid that the parent in question isn't even able to whip out a lecture, instead just pinning their unruly offspring to the ground with a single glare.
He sighed. "Well, I know your question was supposed to be rhetorical, but... First of all, I'm made of metal and venom. Second, I'm the
Ninth Prince."
The Ninth Prince let off with the glare. "So I'd say I'm pretty damn good at body refining."
"Now, what exactly do you want your body to
do? Because there's a myriad of ways to refine the body. Of that million, there's maybe a thousand or so ways to refine the body that are
good, and all of them are specialized for slightly different things. So, before I can actually help you out, I want to know two things."
"The first of course is what you want your body to improve in. The second is
why you want your body to improve."
The Ninth Prince paused for a moment, before snapping his fingers as he remembered something. "Oh, also, don't lie to me. I'll know. It won't be good for you."
Lie? Hah! There's no reason for something like that.
"For starters, I want to strengthen the hardness of my skin and improve the flexibility of my bones along with the hardness of that. Muscles are unnecessary because I've never had troubles with my own strength."
He contemplated to himself, wondering if he should honestly tell him the reason for this or not. He mentally shrugged and decided he had nothing to lose if this was going to further his path.
"I just wanna get stronger, so I can fight riskier battles and become more famous. You know, the shallow stuff like that. If you're curious on why I want to chase that, then I guess I could tell ya. I just wanna die a flashy death...probably akin to taking down a Nascent Soul and being known throughout the world for it. Might aim higher if I get strong enough."
That's why he needs this more than anything else. He can't do it on his own. It's been made painfully clear to him over the course of his journey through the desert before he even joined the Golden Devils that he alone was insufficient.
He couldn't stand that, so he ignored that and continued along his lonesome path. After losing in a duel to someone, that's when he could no longer accept his own weakness and began seeking out someone else.
Since the Ninth Prince seems like a swell guy and he's a senior, then Chang can at least show some sincerity. "Please. I need your help because I'm falling behind on what I want to do."
The Ninth Prince said nothing for what felt like hours. The silence stretched on and on, as the sun slowly dipped lower in the sky. It was a cloying silence, the sort that has a noise of its own, an altogether unpleasant sound that seemed determined not to be broken.
Eventually however, Chang, deciding that enough was enough, broke it. "Hey, Prince, are y-"
"-And done." The Ninth Prince said, interrupting Chang's own interruption.
"Now before you ask what I'm done with," he said, before Chang could ask what he was done with, "I'm going to say something. I know I've talked a lot, but this is important. Just bear with me."
"Ever since I joined the Devils, I haven't really…
struggled in getting stronger. It's always just been a side effect of doing what I naturally already do. I've never actually been the one catching up to other people, I've never actually been in your position."
"But that doesn't mean I don't sympathize with you. Just because I can't imagine what feeling like you can't reach your goals is like doesn't mean it's not bad. So I'll help you, if that wasn't obvious already."
"And besides," he said, smiling slightly smugly, "What kind of senior would I be if I didn't help a junior with getting strong enough to achieve their goals?"
"You'd be a normal senior if you asked me." And here's another talented person, someone far above Chang, that didn't struggle in acquiring strength. Well, it's not that big of a deal. If he puts in more effort, he'll be able to catch up. He's that confident in himself.
The redhead should be grateful to the man at least. He's taking the time out of his day to give Chang some assistance, which he had little hopes for in the first place. He can ignore the stung pride from committing to an action in the first place as long as the results are satisfactory.
However, there's still one thing that's niggling him. "What are you done with?" Because he's a ghost, he could be done with preparations for dragging him to the great beyond.
Oh, how scary!
"Oh." The Ninth Prince said, clicking his tongue. "Yeah, thanks for reminding me, I got a bit too into that speech to actually remember to tell you."
He clapped his hands. "So! In the twenty minutes of silence we experienced, I created a comprehensive training regimen that should theoretically stimulate specific acupoints, toughen your skin, and make your bones both strong and flexible. And the best part is that it doesn't lock you into any single affinity, meaning that you're still free to practice whatever techniques you want!"
Before Chang could say anything, the Ninth Prince pressed on, with a slight wince. "That being said… there
is a catch."
"Just a minor one though!" He hastened to add. "Nothing too bad at all!
Power always comes at a price, huh. Chang closed his eyes and sighed, ruminating on when he eavesdropped on previous talks his father had with cultivators in the past. The old fart always had a lot of buddies he could have esoteric chats with to improve his strength, but he became lost in his own Dao even further.
If it's something similar to that, then he'll be fine.
"A catch though… I don't have any issues with the risks, but people who add stuff like that in the end are suspect." Chang can't say he doesn't like the snake oil salesmen type, but he'd prefer it if this man was selling some really good stuff.
"Come on," the Ninth Prince said, smiling disarmingly, "Don't you trust me?"
Chang thought for a moment, remembering the stories of the Ninth Prince that he'd heard. He opened his mouth…
...And then closed it, as he remembered the stories about the Ninth Prince that he'd heard.
All the stories.
For a second time, Chang opened his mouth, and gave his answer. "No way in hell."
The Ninth Prince laughed. "Ha! That's probably for the best, to be honest. I wouldn't trust me either."
"But I suppose I have nothing to do but tell you." He said, sighing melodramatically. "So, the training methods I'm going to put you through…"
"Well, there's no real way to sugarcoat it. They're going to be painful. Also irritating. Potentially embarrassing. Definitely annoying. It's generally just going to be a bad time all around."
"But!" The Ninth Prince exclaimed, raising a finger, "They
will be effective, and they'll get you the power and training you need to achieve your goals."
"Ultimately though, it's up to you." The Ninth Prince said, uncharacteristically serious. "Remember though, no matter what you say, after this, there's no turning back. You decline this training regimen, the story ends, you wake up in your barracks and do whatever you want to do."
"You accept, you stay in the desert and I show you how deep your potential really is. Remember, all I'm offering is power. Nothing more."
"What's it going to be?"
The price for power is pain. It's a simple exchange that seems pretty equivalent. The more pain one goes through, the greater power they receive in return. For all that Chang was born in a rich household, pain isn't really much to him anymore.
He was the crazy child who was the nightmare of parents everywhere. Playing with knives, getting up on high places, taunting dangerous beasts, and the usual. He's done a lot, so he's naturally curious about the pain and irritation that awaits him.
The redhead naturally smirked at the offer. "Of course I'll take you up on your offer." He might regret this later, but all that matters is the present. And currently, he doesn't feel any regret at this choice.
His fist clenched with resolve. "Let's get to it now."
The Ninth Prince clapped his hands, smiling. "Perfect! Now, if we do this the normal way, it's going to take too long and be way too clunky for any of us. So, to make this easier on everyone involved, I'm going to use a forbidden technique from a different sea, the ultimate time-based art."
"Are you ready?" He asked, much more ominously than was necessary.
Okay, Chang was both confused and morbidly curious. "...Ready for what?"
The Ninth Prince grabbed Chang, sweeping his arm out in an arc. "Ready for the
MONTAGE of course!"
To that, Chang had only one thing he could say. "What the
fuck is a M-"
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MONTAGE TIME
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Chang races through a specially prepared field of brambles, screaming obscenities as he goes. Some portions of the thicket are sparse enough that he can dodge the thorns, contorting in all manner of ways as he does. Other parts of the field can only be bulled through by Chang, and he has no choice but to endure the thousand nicks and scrapes, along with the light poison that they inject.
The Ninth Prince hollers encouragement from a floating lounge chair, even as he drops balls of gas and thorns at predetermined points, to explode when Chang runs over them.
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Chang is suspended by a rope over a hive of buzzing bees, with orders to retrieve the honey from their hive. Every time he sticks his hands out into the hive, he's assaulted by bees. He dodges some of the stings, twisting and turning even as the rope spins and swings above him. He's not so lucky for others though, and quite a few bees jab into him, sticking to his skin even as he goes in for more honey.
The Ninth Prince munches on ghost popcorn while watching this, every so often tossing a rock at the hive to agitate it further.
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Chang is locked in a cage with dozens of rabid squirrels, imported from the Mountains. He's not allowed to injure them in any way, so all he can do is dodge their attacks. He sort of manages that dodging, twisting and flipping and turning as foamy mouthed rodents lunge at him. However, the box is very small, and there's a lot of squirrels, so quite a few do gouge into his skin with teeth and claws.
The Ninth Prince watches from outside the box, and occasionally, whenever Chang seems to be having too easy of a time, opens a hatch and releases another squirrel into the cage.
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Chang stands on the top of a cliff, staring down at the mind-bogglingly long drop down. Rings float in the air, each ring just a bit narrower than the previous one. Chang has to go through each ring on his freefall down the cliffside and into the oasis below. A single missed ring means that he'll have to do the whole thing over again, and the rings are far enough apart that for Chang to make it to each of them, he'll have to twist and dive in ways that are nearly impossible.
The Ninth Prince, tired of waiting, kicks Chang off the cliff, laughing at his screams.
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Chang squirms through an underground maze, the tunnels barely big enough for him to fit while lying down. He makes sharp right angle turns with zero room to move, forcibly twisting his body in ways he would never have been able to manage earlier. The walls are rough and jagged cutting into his skin with every motion he makes, scraping away at his shirtless body.
The Ninth Prince floats above the maze, using Qi Sense to monitor Chang's progress. Every so often, he notices Chang beginning to make good headway, and in response, the Ninth Prince molds the earth, making the walls rougher, the tunnels narrower, and the turns sharper.
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Chang races through the desert, screaming as he's pursued by an entire pack of sand sharks. The terrestrial fish comes at him from all angles, forcing the unlucky cultivator to dodge dozens of hungry bites, twisting out of the way of their lunges. Each bite that hit home shears through his qi, scraping skin from flesh and leaving him wounded. Of course, thanks to a special elixir mainlined straight into his veins, none of these attacks are fatal, but damn do they hurt.
The Ninth Prince, ghostly wooden fin strapped to his back, wearing a spiritual snorkel, swims through the desert, humming an unusual song as he prepares to strike.
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Chang stands in the middle of a horrific bronze machine, jumping and twisting and dodging as various tiny blades and stones fly at him. The contraption, built by the Ninth Prince specifically for this purpose because of course it was, is perfectly calibrated to his every move, slowly ramping up in difficulty as he grows more and more skilled. The rocks fly out faster, the blades come down harder, and through all of it, Chang has two options. Dodge the constant hail of tiny attacks, or endure them. Unfortunately, he's forced to do both.
The Ninth Prince stands in front of the machine's control panels, slowly ripping out power restrainers and off switches and other such safety features. He won't be needing those.
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Chang swims through a lake, searching for a specific snake shaped rock that the Ninth Prince has hidden at its bottom. Every so often, he's attacked by schools of slavering fish, drawn to the bait tied to his body. Some he's able to dodge out of the way until they give up, darting this way and that in the water. Others are more persistent, and all Chang can do is hunker down and endure the thousands of nipping bites.
The Ninth Prince floats above the lake, idly tossing a snake shaped stone up and down, catching it before it can hit the water. He'll drop it somewhere eventually. Probably.
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Chang balances precariously on a platform as the Ninth Prince tosses spiked balls at him, dodging and twisting out of the way of every ball he can. Of course, he can't exactly dodge out of the way of all of them, and the ones that hit Chang bite into his skin, injecting a mild poison that does nothing other than cause a potent itching sensation.
The barrage of projectiles is unrelenting, set after set after set of sea urchins finding their mark as Chang becomes a single enormous red rash. As Chang adapts, the Ninth Prince picks up his pace, shooting these urchins out with the force of a cannonball.
Eventually, even the ghost needs a break, and the Ninth Prince stops for a brief second, to judge how his shots panned out. To his surprise, he finds Chang fully unscathed, having managed to dodge all but the last sea urchin, which even now is embedded in his arm.
The two of them watch as that sea urchin slowly detaches from Chang's skin, its toughness and elasticity flinging the urchin away. That final urchin hadn't even left a mark on Chang's skin.
The Ninth Prince smiles.
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Chang bursts through the bramble field, easily slipping through the miniscule gaps in the thorn bushes. Where the vines are too thick to dodge, he simply pushes through, thorns finding no purchase in his skin.
When he exits the field, he's fully unscathed.
The Ninth Prince claps from his lounge chair.
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Chang grabs great globfuls of honey from the beehive, expertly avoiding most of the swarm's stings even as others simply bounce off him. The rope is no obstacle, his newfound flexibility letting him master moving on it.
He drops to the ground and presents the honey to the Ninth Prince, who finishes his ghost popcorn and gives Chang a hearty thumbs up.
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Chang stands in the middle of a cage filled with hundreds of rabid squirrels, easily dodging and twisting around their attacks. The few squirrels that do manage to bite down find their teeth harmlessly pinging off.
Eventually, the door to the cage opens, revealing hundreds of squirrels too exhausted to move, and Chang, unscathed.
The Ninth Prince smiles.
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Chang does a perfect swan dive off of the cliff, perfectly angling his trajectory to pass through the first ring. He then kicks off the sandpaper-like ring and aims for the second, slipping perfectly through. This repeats for the third ring and the fourth ring and the fifth ring and every other ring after that, until Chang lands in the oasis, sending up an enormous splash.
From his position at the top of the cliff, the Ninth Prince nods proudly.
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Chang wriggles through the underground tunnel maze like the snakes it was made by, taking severely angled turns like he's walking down the street. The roughened and scratchy walls slide off of his skin, not harming in the slightest.
Eventually, he bursts out of the maze end, where the Ninth Prince stands smiling, ready to pull him up.
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Chang runs through the desert, laughing as he easily dodges the bites of the multiple sand shark packs trying to eat him. Out of sheer pride and hubris, he even lets some sharks bite him. Of course, those sharks are unable to find purchase on his skin, and slide off.
The sand erupts and Chang barely moves out of the way of the Ninth Prince's lunge, the two so close that Chang can feel the wind the ghost displaces.
The Ninth Prince smiles.
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Chang stands in the middle of a mechanical death trap, weaving through the hail of blades and stones, dodging most of the attacks while the few that remain bounce off his body, even as the Ninth Prince straps every limiter and safety feature from the machine.
Eventually, the abominable contraption breaks down, wheezing puffs of smoke, and Chang walks out, completely unharmed.
From his position at the controls, the Ninth Prince gives Chang a hearty thumbs up.
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Chang darts through the lake, the schools of fish always missing him by bare inches as he twists out of their way. Eventually, he's surrounded by all the fish in the lake working in concert, and they go in for the kill. Their bites find no purchase on Chang's skin, and eventually, they give up.
Without looking up, Chang grabs the snake shaped stone that would've landed on his head.
From his position above the lake, the Ninth Prince smiles.
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The Ninth Prince raises Chang's hand up like a fighting champion. He's done it.
His training is complete.
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MONTAGE ENDS
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Time lost meaning in the strenuous exercise that threatened to push Chang's body over the border of life and death. He fell to the ground, legs criss-crossed, and hair fallen over his face due to the sweat matting it down. He was panting like a dog.
Throughout all the different types of training in the montage, Chang felt his life flash before his eyes multiple times. In those short moments in time, the contradictory urge to leap over the border to reach a true death was at war with the natural instinct to survive. It was a stalemate of two different ideals murdering each other until one of them got the edge from a different, foreign emotion.
Chang's desire for power supported the desire to live. He survived the training and he earned greater power. A smile pulled the edges of his cheeks taut when he realized the side of himself that hungered for power just as much as he hungered for fame.
Is Chang rapacious and worldly? Naturally he is. Indulging in pleasures is what makes life worth living. Death is what makes life worth living.
Achieving greater power to realize one's dream is what makes life worth living. The arrogant redhead cultivator would've probably been stuck in a slow-paced cultivation had he not sought out a senior.
If he decided to wallow in arrogance and allowed his pride to consume him, he doesn't know where that would take him. He doesn't regret his choice, but there is a certain amount of curiosity directed to the other path.
He squeezed his fist and allowed the pain to pull his mind from that direction. There's only the current path in front of him and the person who helped him on this path was the Ninth Prince.
Chang didn't have the will to stand up right now, so he merely turned toward his senior with a dim smile. He's not good at heartfelt thanks…how does one do this again?
"Thanks…for the guidance," he faltered and exhaled.
The metal reptile man-thing quirked a brow before snorting. "No big deal. It's a senior's duty to look after his juniors. The rest is up to you."
Chang nodded. This isn't even the first step yet. He's still a measly man in the Qi Condensation realm. He paused for a moment before standing up and giving a bow at the neck to the Ninth Prince.
That is the most he can do for showing respect. The senior then had his body come apart at the seams as what was dwelling within vanished. The particles of metal and sand faded into the air.
Can he be considered dead or not? He lost his body, but his spirit still remains and he still retains consciousness and sapience. In short, the Ninth Prince still counts as a living being, or at least that's what Chang chooses to believe. To lose the body and remain as a spirit…how ironic that he's great at cultivating the body.
The redhead chuckled to himself. That's not the kind of death he's looking for, but at least it's a step in the right direction. How enviable.
Chang took the moment to stretch his body and let out a large breath before falling to the ground again, limbs splayed like a cat on its back. He'll take the time to rest here for a bit before doing some more training later.
Finally, the comfortable and still ground. There's no need to worry about ambushes or hostile creatures or sharp objects, or…hm. He'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't like the training sessions.
Staring up at the sky, Chang did a little cloud watching and found a slight peace of mind. He wore a real smile as he thought about what he should do to gain more power.
"If I'm to really go all in, then I should visit that secret realm. The Qiguai Clan Doorway, was it?" It'll be dangerous, but the reward definitely matches the risk. And if he does die, well then it'll be disappointing, but he'll reach his goal in a boring manner.
He should get up already and prepare.
Kaboomatic: Well. This was a long time coming, that's for sure. Fully my fault tho, I had a bevy of college apps and stuff kept coming up and… Well, let's just say I kept on delaying and Fungus was way too nice about it. But it's done now, all 8ish thousand words, and I'm proud of what we did here. For one, I finally got to sneak a matrix reference into an omake, and that's something I've been wanting to do for a long time.
Huge thanks to Fungus for bearing with my… Well, with my everything really, and I think we did something great here. I hope you all enjoy the omake.
Fungus: I don't remember when this collab started, but this omake has been in the works for a while. Maybe at least two months? It wasn't all that bad though because it's not like I was in a hurry or anything. It was also pretty interesting to write a collab with somebody who has a senior character, so I guess I learned some stuff. I also really needed that training juniors bonus.
Though it took much longer than expected, I hope the quality reflects that. By the way, toss me a Life Saving Treasure please.
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