Firstly, if you have questions about Good Seeds and the like please read here. If that doesn't answer your question please ping me in thread, or on Discord.
If you write a new Good Seed, or write an omake, please update the spreadsheet if you have access.
If you do not have access, please ping a collaborator (Swordomatic, Alectai, Quest, TehChron, Insane-Not-Crazy, Humbaba, ReaderOfFate, Kaboomatic, no., BungieONI) letting them know what you want and they will update the spreadsheet here. To gain access, you will need a gmail account of some kind. Throwaway emails are fine (I'm using one for the spreadsheet), but to gain access it's as simple as sending me either your email via PM, via DM in Discord, or just in Discord's #spreadsheet-requests channel.
This is mandatory. If a Good Seed does not record their omake by pinging collabs (or just requesting access and editing things themselves - this is the preferred option), I won't give out awards. If a new Good Seed is not recorded here, they won't advance. By doing this it makes the whole thing manageable for me - it's gotten pretty unwieldy!
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Omake Writer Instructions:
There are four fields you need to fill out.
Omake Link, which is just a link to your first omake for the turn. This makes it easier for me to read them as I do the update - without this it's tough to know off the bat which omake were written this turn, and to properly
Requested Bonus, which is your requested bonus for your omake. You can leave it up to me if you like. You can see more info in the Good Seed infopost here.
Cultivation Aims. For those following unorthodox paths - higher than 9th Heavenstage or later than 7th Dao Pillar paths. Please put in what you are aiming for before you break through. I have left it as 'default'. If you do not edit it, I'll go with that.
Turn Notes - Do you want to do something specific? Enter a Secret Realm? Help the Clan out in some way? If you have something specific you want to accomplish on this turn, put it in turn notes so I can adjust your Fate around it.
All other fields are for QM use to record character information to properly run the flow of the game.
Name: Astra
Age: 20
Appearance: tall, pale and pretty, just the slightest metallic sheen to her skin, alongside two pale blue eyes and pitch black hair.
Starlight Spider Bloodline: Her Cool Thing, which allows her to weave extraordinary tough and even sharpened webs of pale blue light and channel her Qi to inject the potent venom of her mother which liquefies a victim's insides with a solid blow
Current Status: Healthy (For Now)
Backstory: Ten years ago, Pale Eyes didn't think it was very strange that she'd never met either of her parents, being raised by her father's sister, it was quite common in the village where she was born, nor did she think it odd that her family weighed her down with good luck charms from Old Lady Pale Hair every winter solstice, they did the same to every other child in town after all, she didn't even find it strange that men and women would go missing every winter, "The woods are dangerous." her aunt would say.
But, over the years her curiosity grew stronger and stronger, fed by the whispers which followed her as she grew and the haunted looks which followed any questions about her parents, finally coming to a head as she confronted her aunt and uncle, and stormed away when they stayed silent, seeking answers from the one person who must know.
Old Lady Pale Hair was similarly unwilling to help, "But." The wise woman said, "Find your father's diary and all shall be revealed." And so, during the next solstice celebration she snuck into her aunt's room and found the sad and dark story of her father's life and death, the story of a young smith with a trace of metal in his blood who caught the eye of the mighty spider-like spirit known only as the Heavenly Starlight Demon, who stole livestock and lives from the village every year on it's coldest nights.
The final page spoke of a weakness he had uncovered, brutally contested by his headstone.
Nonetheless Pale Eyes had found a new propose, to find the secret of the monster's power, to grow in strength, and to one day cast it from these lands forever, she slaved away, seeking and gaining an apprenticeship under Old Lady Pale Hair and poring over ancient scrolls for years as she buried her new suspicions about her mother's identity.
Finally, one day, she was ready, her cultivation had finally broken through, she knew all she could of the beast's weaknesses, and she had found a weapon which could harm her, the fragment of an old blade still stained with her Ichor which even now could carve through could carve through three feet of solid stone.
At last she marched up to the cliff which the monster called home, Old Lady Pale Hair and a few close friends at her side.
Or rather, only Old Lady Pale Hair, for in an instant her friends were dead or maimed and the hand which had held the blade was broken in an instant as age flowed off the wise woman in moments, revealing a woman nearly identical to Pale Eyes, her mother, the Heavenly Starlight Demon.
The demon smiled as she declared just how proud she was of uncovering her silent hints and clever riddles, how amused she was by the plan's dramatic failure, and how happy she was with this meal delivered right to her doorstep.
All of which earned her a choice, to stay here and try once more to overcome her, or to run, to abandon all she'd ever known, possibly never to return.
The Girl made her choice, and as she ran Pale Eyes died, and Astra of the Golden Devils was born.
Omake 1
The girl, Pale Eyes she thought her name was, ran through the freezing fog which surrounded her home, ignoring the burning in her legs, ignoring the bone deep hunger that wriggled and writhed in her stomach, ignoring even the cold numbness that had spread throughout her extremities as her sweat froze on her skin.
The only thing she thought of now was running, of placing one foot in front of the other and praying that the fog would drive off her pursuers before it killed her.
Unfortunately, her pursuers were persistent, the three of them chasing after her with terrifying speed as their eight legs scurried across the icy rocks, their incredible speed still paling before how fast they'd been at the start of the chase.
When their mother had ordered them to begin the hunt they'd been swinging on conjured webbing, but that had tired them out quickly, otherwise Pale Eyes would have been caught and devoured by her arachnid half sisters hours ago.
Of course her escape wasn't exactly a forgone conclusion, every few minutes she stumbled or skidded on the icy ground and every time she caught herself, but it was a near thing, and she was nearing the frothing river equipped with nothing more than a hope to cross it.
But the girl was clever, she remembered that, a few months ago, a huge tree had fallen across the river, Tall had thought it looked really cool.
She hoped Tall had died too quickly realize to realize they'd never had a chance, that his hope of avenging his sister was a fool's errand, that they'd struggled for so long while missing that the monster literally in the same room with them.
But while Pale Eyes had given up her hope of victory, escape was not beyond her, and luck was on her side, for as she came over the ridge she saw the tree was still there and she dashed down the ridge to leap on top of the trunk in a single careful hop before beginning to balance her way across the wet and wobbly wood.
Before her breakthrough she'd never have been able to manage it, especially half dead as she was, but desperation and a lifetime of athleticism paid off as she neared the far side.
Then the spiders came over the ridge and saw what she was doing, and everything fell apart.
Each spider was the size of a horse, each eye burned with starlight and a cold intellect, and worst of all they had not quite exhausted their webbing
The trunk was yanked backwards, knocking Pale Eyes off her feet and forcing her to desperately grasp the trunk to avoid a swift drop into the freezing water below as three tiny strings stole her final hope and brought her back to shore.
Exhausted she rolled off the trunk and landed on the rocks, her skin too numb to feel the impact.
Then there was a spider next to her, chattering in its strange telepathic not-speech, "Don't worry little human, you never had a chance in the first place, the blood of our mother make us stronger than anything else in her domain."
Pale Eyes laughed as she rolled to her feet, her shaking limbs betraying her exhaustion, "You know something funny about that?" She asked as she turned her back to the gloating beast.
"What's that?" It asked, its tone suddenly cold as it realizes it might be the punchline.
She ignored it gathering Qi and letting instinct guide her as she weaved a thread pale blue Qi, it's glow the same color as her eyes.
"She's not just your mother." With that Pale Eyes bursts into motion, casting the threads across the river to snag a branch on the far side and copying her pursuer's movements to bring her over the frothing water, ducking through her half sisters' assault as she sailed through the air to-
The thread snapped, perhaps it was her own inexperience, or fate, or simple exhaustion, but it snapped all the same, sending her into the freezing waters below and carrying her away in moments, carrying her away to her destiny.
@alexthealright Welcome to the thread. As Timewarriors noted we're not very active at the moment, but I have added you to the sheet for turn 17.
Have you chosen your omake reward? (link to the infopost)
For new seeds a lifesaving treasure (LST) is generally reccomended, as it prevents a poor roll from killing your seed out of the gate. Alternatively, some new players prefer cultivation boosts to supercharge themselves right out of the gate, though this comes with the (relatively low) risk of a poor roll ending your character.
@alexthealright Welcome to the thread. As Timewarriors noted we're not very active at the moment, but I have added you to the sheet for turn 17.
Have you chosen your omake reward? (link to the infopost)
For new seeds a lifesaving treasure (LST) is generally reccomended, as it prevents a poor roll from killing your seed out of the gate. Alternatively, some new players prefer cultivation boosts to supercharge themselves right out of the gate, though this comes with the (relatively low) risk of a poor roll ending your character.
Background:
Slow and Heavy. That's what the so-called Righteous Powers say in the face of our legions. The swiftness of action holds primacy in the minds of many Barbaroi. Yet they forget the Slow and Heavy footfall of the Legions once brought them to heel. They are warriors, they don't consider much else than what is in front of them. They don't consider that perhaps the Legions are an immovable obstacle they are meant to dash themselves upon. But when consideration is not what is needed, when the initiative of officers is to be trusted, when speed is of the essence, the Legions Cataphractoi answer the call. - Protostrator Belisarius Isauria
In the Era Konstantinos, the defensive mein of the Clan has turned to a strategy of expansion and blitz offensives. Not for millennia have the Legions moved with alacrity. The purge of the Battle Blood Cannibals and the Conquest of the Jingshen were both wars that ended faster than any outside force thought the Golden Devils could accomplish. While the Clan are still paragons of the infantry and ordered Formations there is a rising prestige in their Legions that can deploy with speed.
With the House on the rise, some wished to invest points in their future. At first, they simply spent points on their rising stars, but as the years went on and the hoped-for results failed to manifest the Duca began to take more drastic measures culminating in a branch family experimenting upon unborn fetuses. When these…things were discovered the branch was dissolved, the members involved in the research executed, and the records censored. After a thorough investigation, it would be discovered that members of that branch had taken [REDACTED] originating from the reviled Noble Knowledge Sect. Of the 100 women subjected to the experiments only 4 survived. Of the 43 births 12 children would survive. Of those 12 only 4 were found to have meridians capable of cultivation.
High Concept: Callistus is a child of the clan inspired by the tales of the ancient Cataphractoi of the Legions and the Lightning offensives of the Scorpion Cavalry. He wishes to be a knight in burnished armor leading a Lance of Heavy Cavalry crushing all enemies under tread. Unfortunately, Callistus was born without anything below his elbows or knees resulting in a need for a puppet limb prosthesis. Though Callistus is a flighty and Fae child his first and most enduring fascination was the Image of a Heavily Armored Warrior charging down [evildoers] upon his Barded Steed. He collects all knowledge he comes across discarding and forgetting those which cannot be incorporated into his ever-changing ideal of the Cataphractoi.
Starting Perk: Noble Madness - [All Knowledge is Noble] A strange phrase resounds in the mind of Callistus encouraging him to pursue every curiosity, every whim, every theory. He has enhanced Comprehension and has implanted the Seed of a Mutable Dao.
Cultivation Goal: Reach 9th Heaven Stage > Unlock all 4 Olympian Keystones and undergo Orthodox Trib > Kill a Core Formation Elder at Qi Condensation
Started: 15, Turn 17 (Current Lifespan: 200 years, Turn 36)
Current Status: Healthy, Age - 15
Cultivation: ___Years, ___Stage of Qi Condensation
Impact: 0 ()
Log -
In a dark and dingy hall, in a manor along the road near Wang Shen Fort. There sat a boy, almost a man really, though many would consider him but a Burnished youth not yet showing the slightest hint of Patina. He had brown hair and a complexion that spoke of years under the desert sun. Color aside the boy was longer than he was wide, plain of features with striking purple eyes dim and unfocused most of the time which could brighten and sharpen should you place anything interesting in front of him. If he were to stand amongst a group of similarly aged youths you might not be able to pick him out of a crowd. Though considering the hardwood prosthesis in place of forearms and lower legs (complete with fully articulated fingers and palm powered by the lowest quality Spirit Stone), that might be a bit harsh on how striking his features were. That was to say, the boy was almost as if you took a bronze ingot, glued sticks onto it for limbs, and dotted one side with two purple marks stuffed it in a Treasure Spirit Awakening array, and presented it to a toddler as a toy.
As you might've gathered from his pigmentation, the boy was a Golden Devil, though he never quite understood why they were called such if they had not even seen a true Gold Devil since…well, since forever ago! Even Old Gold was but barely Bronze for all his cultivation, though that tangent is for another time.
The boy's name was Callistus Duca, and like many Devils his age, he was an Aspirant soon to be subjected to the tender mercies and whims of Destasia Duca. A relative of his and the Master of Disciples of all the Clan. She was madder than a hatter! [whatever that means] Yes! More mad[Noblest of the Devils this century.] than almost all of the house, one famed for some of the strangest and maddest Legionaries ever produced! So here he was, before even taking his first step on the path considering how he might evade the terrible fate that his (5 times Great Aunt) would subject him to.
[Speak the words boy! And all the knowledge undreamt by the corroded pigs shall be yours! Speak them in earnest and I guarantee that the Sect will teach you the wonders denied you by your elders and the heavens! Speak them and I shall free you from the creative/terrible fate that awaits you at the Dawn Fortress!]
Callistus twitches errantly, looking down on one his wooden prosthesis that he had been carving small symbols and script reviled by the heavens. In a moment of weakness he…begins to chant the canticle, one that would see him fall [rise] before he even began his path.
"From the moment I understood the weakness of my flesh…it disgusted me"
[You Dullard those aren't even the words!]
"I craved the strength and certainty of Bronze"
[Ok now you're just messing with me]
"Little Hippo are you talking to yourself again?"
From the ground floor above the voice of his mother, weak but firm, cuts through…what was that thing she called it? (an imaginary friend)[I am no figment! I am the seed planted by—] Oh, yes an imaginary friend!
"Yes, Incubator! I was simply considering my methods of escape from Auntie Destasia should I pique her interest!"
"You know you're not supposed to do that (even if I agree with the sentiment). How will you make friends in your Contubernium Hippo, if you're always occupied with your little friend? And for the last time stop calling me that! I am your mother."
Callistus's mother Diantha Isauria enters his basement room holding carefully to the railings and her cane leading her way. Despite her status as a cripple and retired from legion service, she held herself with a surety and poise one might expect from a Legate or Centurion. Once upon a time, she was a Foundation Establishment Expert touted to be a rising star but when the Blood Craze fell upon the region she was crippled protecting her cohort from a Blood Path Criminal. She then spent her contributions healing her juniors before volunteering as a test subject for an experiment to "mass produce healing items". This would not be the case.
"...Yes (mother)/incubator."
*Smack*
Diantha cane knocks Callistus upside the head with practiced ease born of decades of training, experience in the Legions, and as a mother.
"Inconceivable! No mere mortal can comprehend the depths of my mind! How did you know I called you incubator just now mama (in the privacy of my own head)!?!?!?"
"...Imperator save my remaining sanity. You said it out loud Hippo. And as your mother of course I know what you're thinking. That is immutable a Law as a Gravity."
"But mama don't ya'know Auntie Des made Gravity her bitch? Apparently it's not immutable!"
*Woosh*-*Bang*
(Callistus ducks Mama's first swing before slamming his face straight into her frying pan {where did that come from?}.)[Ah yes. The Mother's Love Tap. A technique nearly impossible to dodge and causes a set amount of damage no matter how much more powerful you are than them. I've dabbled with the concept many times but knowledge of how it functions alludes even the Divination Poison Lord]
"Watch you're language Hippo! The Centurions of the Training Legios will not look favorably on such ill discipline. I've told you time and time again, they will deduct points for the merest infractions."
"...Sorry mama…"
"Don't be sorry Callistus, do better. Now! I know you've probably forgotten but the caravan's to the Dawn Fortress are leaving soon, now take the lunch I packed and get going! The supply caravan won't wait for you!"
"Yes mother!"
Having been thoroughly chastised Callistus took his prepacked furca and went to join the other 'supplies' destined for the main center for Legionary training. To ready himself for service, duty, and honor. [How droll…]
"Where's my hug my Hippo?"
WC: 1006
Omake Reward: Cultivation Boost (hubris I know) @BungieONI
Astra stood atop the hill, going through her morning training as she gazed down on the city below her, it was still as awe inspiring as the first time she'd seen it, although she'd gotten a lot better at hiding her feelings.
It was just so big! Sixty thousand people! An enormous market place filled with items beyond her wildest imaginings and murals with so many different paints and crafted with such skill that they covered nearly every inch of the enormous towers which seemed almost ubiquitous, the tallest of them easily clearing the city's massive walls, snorting in disgust at herself an instant later, it wasn't that large, she'd been told of a dozen cities larger than this, this place was not large, she was simply small, nothing more or less than that.
But she was going to change that, she would be large one day, and the first step along this path sat atop the great hill which overlooked the oasis the city was built around.
The Tournament apparently happened every five years, drawing competitors from the surrounding countryside, lured by a collection of pills promised as a reward, enough to bring a cultivator up several entire Stages.
Finally she was done with her training for the day, in fact she was done training at all, now it was time to act.
With a shout she broke into a run before leaping onto the roof of a small hut. Then leaping onto another, making her way for the tournament grounds as she rushed over the roofs of the many buildings outside the city's walls before landing in front of the gate.
Luckily the guards seemed to have expected stuff like that and she was quickly let inside after she told them she was here for the tournament.
Well, she thought she said she was here for the tournament. Hopefully she understood the language here well enough that there hadn't been some kind of misunderstanding.
Unfortunately she wasn't supposed to run on the roofs inside the city's walls so she was forced to content herself with a brisk walk through the city until she arrived at the arena and got in line, waiting patiently until her turn finally arrived.
…Which was when she realized that this tournament required paperwork. And she still couldn't write anything that wasn't village-tongue, and the Clerk wasn't helpful at all.
Luckily for Astra the cultivator in the line next to her was more able to help. "Are you having trouble?"
"I can't write my name." She mumbled, "Didn't think I'd have to write it down to join the damn thing."
Luckily he was sympathetic, "Oh, I can help with that, can't prove I'm the best when I let someone drop out before it starts after all!" Despite herself Astra found her face cracking in a grin. "I'll do my best to make you regret this."
He smirked at her as he took the paper from the clerk, "I guess we'll see. What's your name?"
"Astra." She answered with confidence she didn't feel. "You're going to be sick of hearing that name by the time this tournament is over."
He nodded along as he finished filling out the form. "Alright then Astra, let's go take a look at the competition."
With the two of them strolled inside and Astra stopped in her tracks, staring at the small crowd of competitors already inside. There were almost three dozen such cultivators and all of them were at least as strong as she was, some were stronger, and even among those there were a few who stood out.
There was a large man armored in stone plate which concealed every part of his body and was holding an enormous hammer made of the same material. She recognized this man, from the stories anyway. He called himself Falling Mountain and was apparently a wandering cultivator with almost unmatched speed and power for a first realm cultivator. He stared up at a Giant of a woman, at least ten feet tall who carried a shield and halberd who was offering him a drinking horn.
Across the courtyard two men in long flowing robes squared up, one was wearing black, the other red. Another man, an older one with a long flowing beard and a simple tunic, was standing between them. His arms spread wide to prevent a fight before the tournament even began.
Last but not least a pair of women stood over in a corner, they both wore long flowing chain mail and held both spear and shield, both of them radiated killing intent and violent power.
Astra stared out at her competition for a moment, marveling at just how small she was.
Then she took a deep breath and took the first step towards becoming something larger.
Excerpts from [Purity of Purpose: A Thesis on Better Methods of Cultivating Goodseeds]
by Dean Fang Yi the Mind Swallowing Poison Lord, 2nd Elder of the Noble Knowledge Sect
Published just after the Ma Emperor surrendered his land to NKS
All Knowledge is Noble. That is the creed of our Sect. This is the truth we hold dear. The foundation on which we have built our monument to progress. However, not all who pursue Knowledge are Noble. How often do wastrels infect our Sect? How often do the uninspired hacks suck up our resources? It is an infection I have long labored to excise from our Sect in my position as Dean of the Outer Sect. How do we separate those who are and those who are not? I believed that there was an empirical way to determine such things, a formula to mold a proper mindset. Some might say talent is all that matters, but such talents take great leaps of logic or make discoveries that are unique to them, unable to be applied by anyone else even with centuries of research. What of those brilliant minds shackled by suppression, petty politics, and blind ideologies? What of our many disciples that have been so easily tempted by the easy power of the Blood Path or convinced of the "Virtues" of Righteousness? What do these failures all share? A weak Dao Heart.
…
The Dao is all, all-encompassing, perfect, the sum total. Our Dao is that which shows the Heavens and Earth that we not only learned but truly understood. It is this, and only this, that the path to True Nobility is revealed. The Golden Devil clan has the right to it. They have proven themselves a formidable force despite the suppression of the Heavens. It took millennia and countless "Heaven-Defying" Talents to confine them to this corner of the Third Sea. The common thread of all their "Legionaries" is the robustness of their will and Dao, should they have one. However, those in the Nascent Soul understand that not all that is accumulated is perfect. To be able to admit that there is room for error, some flaw in our understanding is something only those truly strong, truly Noble can accomplish.
…
It was with this hypothesis in mind that I developed a gamut of Curses, Poisons, and Treasures that induce doubt, aggravate Heart Demons, and amplify a subject's fears. My newest and current experiment involved me dispersing these inheritances into the Great Library. Worry not my colleagues only those with Dao and mindsets compatible with my own will be granted the chance to earn these. While not all of these tools have been looted by the besieging forces, accounted for when I first began, enough have been taken that I will have a wide range in my experimental group, even with expected casualties. With our recent expansion, I expect that many of the forces that have lucked into my treasures will wish a repeat and continue investing in the "Poison Crushing Siege" which will give me the perfect chance to interact with my vestiges and collate data.
Diantha Isauria sighs as she watches her son walk off towards the caravan. He cut a strange figure with his wooden limbs and darker coloring. Even under the desert sun, he resembled a infiltrator puppet more than an actual child. She shook her head reminiscing.
'It would be almost over three centuries ago now' she thought remembering being in a similar situation.
Things had been different. She'd been born soon after Old Gold had taken over Clan. There had been little hope they would survive the next century. Back then the optimoi had been in a far weaker position. Surrounded by enemies all with more resources and Nascent Souls. But then came the slaughter of the council. Then came the fragile hope. She had not been there at Plueron, but she had also survived. She had lauded the Indomitable 13. It had heralded a veritable Golden Age for the Devils. There had been hiccups, there had been some setback. But that fragile kindling of hope had grown into an inferno. She almost resented, the string of genius that had arisen. Of being left behind, of being overtaken. In any other era, she might've been considered a rising star. But with the swelling of the ranks with these Goodseeds, the excellent were rendered average and the average were relegated below average. Though the clan still took care of its own and fairly distributed contribution points, the pressure to perform had been suffocating to some.
"You performed your duty well, my lady."
Diantha turns slowly and looks up, "Thank you, Centurion Duca. I hope our efforts weren't in vain."
The figure who had not been standing there previously glanced down at her before affixing his eyes once more on the slowly shrinking figure of Callistus.
"We shall see. But we have 3 other prospects."
Diantha rolled her eyes, "None of the others have shown such a receptive mind. None of the others have shown affinity to the intended arts."
The Centurion snorts, "Much was sacrificed, but if all it took is a single attempt to wipe away the stain on honor Ikaros *spits* made."
"It's an age of miracles dontcha know Alke?"
The Centurion's face twitches as his cheek slowly forms a slight frown, "You'd be right again Lady Isauria. This isn't the first time my house has faced censor, but with Destasia, the consequences were at least not as severe as we normally have faced."
Diantha's face takes on a more serious mein now.
"It was a reason I agreed to participate in that experiment. Now. I've spent the last 15 years focusing on this task. My salary was even halved to make the mortgage, on top of the reduced pay for being inactive. Do you have it?"
The Centurion's posture stiffens, he had almost forgotten. Centurion Diantha Isauria had been a 5-Pillar Expert before…well before. "Yes."
"Good. Once I recover I begin carving my final pillars."
Almost as if she expected his surprise her cane hooked around the Centurion's neck and dragged him down to her eye level. Obviously, he could have prevented that from happening, but he feared how she'd punish him for his disobedience.
"I know, I know. It's been a while. But remember the other reason I decided to take on this assignment. The Dao exists in all things, and my Dao of Love has many facets after all. Motherhood has done wonders for my Ethos."
This chapter contains implied sexual assault and attempted suicide.
Long and heavy footsteps carried a man across the endless expanse of the deep desert. Up in the sky, the sun passed its zenith, approaching the horizon with the same inevitability as every other day, splashing red and orange hues across the slowly-darkening dunes. Far overhead, the small forms of scavenger birds and desert falcons passed lazily, carried along by a smooth, hot wind to some unknown destination. This same wind pushed a few of the uncountable grains of sand around, creating a rustling sound precisely three-hundred twelve feet to the man's left and forty-five feet behind him. He turned to observe the source of the noise, moving quickly and yet smoothly, his movements betraying no surprise, nor anything approaching fear.
Nothing was there. It was yet more soft, yellow sand, shifting ever so slightly in response to the movement of insects. There were many scorpions and centipedes in this area, as well as miniscule rodents upon which they fed. Perhaps there was some small underground spring which had drawn this much life here, drawing it beneath the desolate ground like some buried treasure.
The man's parched, chapped lips curled upwards in a small smile, granting his large, almost bloated face a strangely innocent look. It had been some weeks since he had found any natural water source. Such things were not strictly necessary, of course - like most desert-dwelling cultivators, he possessed techniques which could conjure water - but where water could be found, so too could life, and where life could be found, so too could men and their works.
He was huge in all dimensions; very tall, broad in the shoulders and, most unusual of all, bearing a noticeable belly despite the desolate conditions in which he lived. Though he was not obese, the fact that he possessed any significant bodyfat at all made him stand out amongst the sort of lean, wiry figures which made the deepest reaches of the desert their home. His face was round, bearing a large mouth, almond-shaped eyes and a small but bulbous nose. His left ear was a flat, swollen lump, smashed by an old injury. He was dressed in robes which might have once been high-quality long ago, and he bore upon his back a large rucksack, many odds and ends rattling quietly with each step.
The man squatted down, bringing an enormous, ape-like hand up to his mouth and sucking on one of his fingers. He withdrew the digit, now gleaming with a thin film of saliva, and plunged it into the ground, then began to circulate his qi. It moved in a slow, controlled manner, wasting not one scrap of unnecessary energy - such is the wisdom of the desert, that efficiency and vigilance learned from true deprivation.
Blood Resonance was a difficult technique to master, but the man knew of no substitute of comparable reliability. Anything with blood could be picked up by this technique, and few practitioners could use it with the same immense range as he. Already, it began to give him valuable information - clusters of tiny presences under the ground, diminutive animals beneath his concern. A few miles to the northeast, the corpse of a larger animal, and several smaller ones surrounding it, likely scavengers. All mortal. Eleven miles to the west, five hundred fifty-three humans; all mortal, not carrying my water in their bodies. Some destitute little shantytown built on a small oasis.
From the south… something. Formless in shape, not contained to a body, a presence which made itself known to his spiritual sense but refused to be held down by the grasping of his mind. The man's smile grew larger, more unhinged, and his round, beady eyes opened wider, gleaming with fascination. "As I thought." He spoke, his voice deep and smooth, only a slight roughness to it despite his parched throat. "It was not the insects or the wind which caught my ear."
"Ya got sharp senses, good sir." Spoke a voice behind him. The man stood up to his full, considerable height, and turned. Standing upon a tall dune was an indistinct figure, tightly wrapped in some queer cloth robe which baffled the senses. The light seemed to subtly warp around the figure, and his spiritual sense slid off it without gleaning much, as if the man were trying to grasp an object coated in oil.
"What can this humble hermit do for you, my fellow traveler?" The man asked, removing his conical straw hat to reveal a bald, weathered scalp. He watched carefully, calmly, giving away very little and ready to accept much. Very few could get so close to him without being noticed, and so it would be unwise to act hastily.
"You mask your killing intent real well, pardner, but your nature is clear to me." The figure said. The voice was most likely male, and the twang of some provincial dialect could be made out, but little else was clear - whatever sorcery hung around the figure rendered its voice indistinct. "So it's true: the Battle Blood Cannibal Sect ain't extinct after all."
"Ah, how long it has been since I heard that name." The man chuckled, digging through one of the many pockets of his ragged robes. It had been blue once, but time in this blasted wasteland turned everything black or brown with time. He retrieved two cigars; huge, hand-rolled mounds of tobacco and spirit herbs, and bit the cap off one. He spat it out, before swiftly biting the cap off the second cigar and tossing it at the figure. "Indeed, the Sect lives, so long as men use one another."
The figure deftly caught the cigar between two fingers and turned it over a few times, inspecting it. "How interesting. You ain't what I expected, not in the slightest."
"And what did you expect? An animal?" The cannibal replied. He placed his hat on the ground, conjured a small flame with his thumb and lit the cigar, then took a deep breath before letting out a torrent of smoke. In each of these actions he took his time, moving languidly so as to send a clear message: 'Whatever you are, I do not fear you.'
"Somethin' of the sort, perhaps." The figure replied, walking toward the cannibal with silent footsteps. "Many of the old cannibals weren't the sort who deserved to be called men. No manners, no reason - lower than dogs."
"Right you are, sir." The cannibal admitted, nodding his head in agreement. "Many of my old comrades were indeed animals. But an animal never could have lived so long as I. Only a human could possess the resilience, the intelligence, and the cruelty to thrive as I have."
"Thrived, have you?" The figure asked, tilting its shapeless, hooded head and pointing a long finger at the cannibal. "Don't seem that way to me. You've got your whole life on your back right there. Don't nobody know your name, or even that you live at all."
The cannibal tilted his head back and let out a bark of laughter. With the sound came a cloud of smoke, billowing dragon-like from between his lips. "Hah! Right you are, sir; no one knows the name I was given at birth, and so it holds no power. And yet for all that I am nameless, I have done quite well for myself, considering the circumstances." His voice took on a predatory quality for a moment, a sliver of killing intent slipping out like the exhalation of some long-held breath. "Shall I show you?"
If the figure was bothered, it did not show - not that it had many features with which to show anything. "Please do. I've come to take yer measure, so If ya got anything worth showin', I'd suggest you do so."
"Take my measure? You can't." The cannibal replied. "My measure exists only by my own design. I am a self-constructed being, an unalterable fact, self-chiseled upon the Ur-Stone which holds the destiny of all men."
"Very confident." Said the figure, an amused lilt in its voice "I like confidence."
"It is not confidence but self-mastery which guides my movements." Said the cannibal, shucking the large pack off his shoulders. It thudded to the ground, and he half the cigar in his teeth as he pulled it open with practiced hands. "The desert gave me wisdom, long ago, and I have become one with this wisdom. It is by this wisdom which I remain human."
The pack was not a jumbled collection of individual items, but a collection of storage pouches. In this single vessel, contents enough to fill a house were stored. Without even needing to look, the cannibal drew out one of its most precious, then turned to present it to the figure. He realized now that at some point, it had gotten very close indeed, and now stood some scant handful of feet away. He suppressed his disquiet, and opened the pouch.
"Behold now, how I have thrived."
The cannibal reached into the pouch and pulled, drawing out a length of blonde, semi-metallic hair, attached to which was a tanned human scalp. This hair was meticulously braided together with the hair of another scalp, and that one in turn with the hair of another, creating a long chain of Golden Devil scalps, a gruesome trophy of his predation. The figure took two steps back upon seeing this chain, ceding some small measure of control for the first time in this change. The cannibal smiled.
"…a gentleman and an artist." The figure spoke after a moment, reaching into its hood to stroke an unseen chin. "How many of those ya got?"
"Nine hundred twenty-two." The cannibal answered, stuffing the chain back into his pouch. "Not all in one chain, of course. I start anew each time one reaches one-hundred eight. This is my ninth, and just over halfway finished."
Silence reigned for a moment, the figure regarding the cannibal with an almost unreadable coldness. But only almost. A sliver of anger could be felt in the curve of its spine, the bend of its elbow, and, when it spoke, the clipped tones of its voice. "I see. You really have done well for yourself, then."
"Shall I show you more, friend?" The cannibal immediately asked, exhaling yet more smoke and spreading his arms. "I wish for you to know the full measure of the Battle Blood Cannibal Sect's last practicing member."
"Practicing?" The figure asked, tilting its head.
"Yes, practicing." Said the cannibal, "There are non-practicing members all over the world."
"And how do ya figure that?" The stranger asked, amused.
"There is no sect which speaks more honestly on the nature of man. All those who prey upon their fellow man are, knowingly or not, living by its tenets. They are thereby members. Child Corpse Gulper understood this, which made him the rightful heir." Said the cannibal, his voice brimming with pride. His explanation given, he turned on his heel and began walking to the west, directly toward the slowly-reddening sunset.
After a split-second that may or may not have been hesitation, the hooded figure followed. "Not just a surviving cannibal, but a supporter of Child Corpse Gulper." It mused. "You truly are unique."
They walked on.
——
The little town's name was Hope's Reach, and it was filled with small people. Not just physically small, but small of dreams; the crippling mediocrity of this place could be smelled on the dry, dusty air. As the pair, robed mystery and jovial giant, entered the settlement, it was only natural that people would turn to behold them.
Their skin, naturally the swarthy color of mixed Golden Devil and Third Sea blood, had been cooked darker still by the oppressive sunlight, which fell like a hammer upon this stretch of flat, wide-open desert. The ground, moistened by the underground wellspring upon Which Hope's Reach was constructed, was fertile enough to grow hardscrabble crops and raise small herds of cattle. Still, these people could not be said to be well-fed. They were lean whip-cords, bodies built for long days of hard work.
As they passed through the homesteads and toward the center of town, the people grew a bit braver. Merchants called out, selling cured meats, clay vessels, embroideries, and other odds and ends. Prostitutes whistled and waved to the pair from the balcony of a three-story establishment - one of the largest in town. No one could be said to be dressed in finery, but in the center of the small town, the clothes grew newer, less dirty, and the people seemed more confident and lively.
The tension was thick. The stranger watched the cannibal intently, and the cannibal watched the stranger in turn. Each man studied the other carefully, wishing to learn about the other. Hope's Reach, then, was a canvas; a background through which each man's actions would come to define him in the eyes of the other. A two-man show, for an audience of two.
"You look like you love to eat, big feller!" An old man called out from behind a market stall, his deeply weathered face contorted into a cordial, welcoming smile. "I've got roast pork, cooked fresh this afternoon - for you, I'll give ya three for two electrum!"
"A tempting offer." Said the cannibal. "But… you know, I just can't seem to summon up any hunger at the moment." He smiled, the double meaning obvious to his companion. "Let me whet my tongue first, and perhaps then I shall have an appetite."
"Could go for a drink myself." Said the hooded stranger, his voice carefully neutral. "Which place has the best drinks 'round here?"
The old man quickly pointed them to a two-story building three streets down, caked in faded, flaking green paint. Though it gave off the air of a half-dead, gangrenous body, this inn was nonetheless one of the grandest buildings in this forgotten little town, and it accepted the two men without complaint.
The cannibal's steps were slow and relaxed, an easy confidence exuded by his every movement. He was an ugly man, and yet the confidence which hung about the smiling behemoth drew the eye inevitably toward him. It was the assurance of a man who knew something which you did not, and who would educate you, if only you would ask the right questions. He tried to sit down at a table, only to chuckle good-naturedly as he discovered that his thighs did not fit in the gap between it and the chair. He rubbed the back of his hairless scalp in embarrassment, then pulled the chair back and sank into it.
The stranger's first order was beer, as simple as breathing, and the cannibal matched him. After that came another beer, and then a third, which they drank slowly, discussing idle matters of philosophy, literature and government all the while. Midway through his third drink, the cannibal rooted through his pack and retrieved a yellow-grey pellet. He popped it into his mouth and washed it down with a mouthful of the cheap, frothy alcohol, then continued on with the conversation.
"So you're a pill-refiner as well?" The stranger asked, crossing his legs. "A man of many talents."
"Every part of this world has something of use, in my experience." Said the cannibal. "In understanding the laws of chemistry, one comes to understand the world itself in greater detail. I wish to know everything, and so it only follows that I would study chemistry."
"To know everything? Quite a bold statement." The stranger chuckled, tapping the table twice with his finger to signal the barmaid. "I'll have a cup of wine."
"Make that two cups." Said the cannibal, lazily raising his hand. If the drink was affecting him at all, he did not show it. Not that mortal alcohol would have much effect on a Foundation Building Cultivator without their permission.
The wine was brought out, and the cannibal flicked an extra coin into the barmaid's hair. By now, people had begun to get closer, taking tables near the pair or otherwise pulling their chairs closer. The cannibal glanced about the room, basking in the attention of the onlookers. "Indeed." He announced, raising his voice to a higher decibel so that it would carry out to the small audience. "I wish to understand this world in its entirety, to experience all it has to offer, and in doing so to master it. This is the way in which a virtuous man ought to operate."
"You aim to be enlightened, visitor?" Asked a small woman with a lazy eye. "To be immortal?"
"I am already immortal." Answered the cannibal, his pig-like eyes gleaming in the candlelight. "I have, to the very world itself, insisted upon myself, upon my own being, and in doing so, I have attained everlasting wisdom. Any man can do this, but very few will."
Many of the onlookers scoffed at the man's arrogance, and yet they could not look away from this bizarre display. "And what is this wisdom of yours, visitor?" Asked another of the rabble, laughing quietly to himself and smoking an old ceramic pipe. "Come on, give us a koan or two!"
"And what makes you think you deserve it?" Replied the cannibal, stomping his foot and flaring his nostrils like a bull. "I am no saint or preacher; I have no desire to teach every heathen who comes my way!" He snapped. This anger quickly abated, and he reached into his pack to retrieve another pill, which he swiftly swallowed down. "Instead I offer you that which you can appreciate: drinks for all!"
To punctuate his declaration, the cannibal drew forth a small, jingling satchel and threw it at the barmaid. The woman fumbled with the bag, then tripped trying to catch it, drawing hooting and laughter from the crowd, who soon began to cheer for this strange and jovial visitor.
The festivities carried well into the night, and through it all, the hooded figure kept watching. For each drink he ordered, the enigmatic cannibal ordered another, and many more besides. As the bar's patrons grew drunk and rowdy, a band was brought in to entertain them. These were no trained artisans, but peasant hobbyists, but few people in the establishment had the wits about them to tell good music from bad in their inebriated state.
The people began dancing, and the cannibal danced with them, and flirted with the ladies of the town, and showed off strange little trinkets he had gathered in his travels. In all things was he affable and knowledgeable, and the townsfolk were one and all charmed.
Through it all, the other man watched, three eyes boring into the strange man from beneath his hood. Something about this man just wasn't right; for all the difference in cultivation between them, he could not be read. He gave off the feeling of some bottomless well, a sheer plunge into Stygian darkness awaiting any who peered too deeply.
More and more people entered the bar, and when there was no room to sit, they stood, and when there was no room to stand, they shoved one another out of the way to get inside. All the liquor soon dried up, and more was brought in from the basement. When that too ran out, yet more was hauled in from those scant few other bars in the town, and then private stocks purchased from people's homes, endlessly flowing into thirsty mouths. The cannibal, finally beginning to sway on his size seventeen feet, took another pill.
The music became louder, more discordant, and the dancing more furious, as a great mirth spread throughout Hope's Reach. Fights began to break out here and there as drunken men aired their grievances. The cannibal slunk away into the night with a prostitute slung over each of his muscular shoulders. He did not return for some time, and when he did, he was alone.
Sliding back into the crowd with a grace that should not belong to a man of such great proportions, the cannibal licked his lips with a wet, pink tongue, cleaning them of the last few drops of blood and preparing himself for the next course. Under the watchful gaze of the hooded man, he reached out toward the nearest person and plunged his hand into her chest, the flesh parting as if it were nothing more than soft mud. He broke the ribs, pushed them aside and scooped out her heart, and when he withdrew his hand, the skin was unbroken. He brought the organ to his mouth like an apple and ate it in one bite as the body quietly collapsed to the floor, the surrounding throng of people none the wiser.
The next man had his brain removed, the blood-brain barrier still glistening on the surface. The cannibal split the two hemispheres apart like wedges of an orange and ate them one at a time. He slurped up the fatty liver of a middle-aged man, then abducted a young boy, carried him off into an alleyway with his vocal cords cut, and ate him down to the bones. He preyed playfully upon these people, who could do nothing to stop him even if they knew, and the hooded man could not help but wonder if this was some show for him, intended to provoke a reaction.
The cannibal's tenth victim that night was a girl no older than fifteen, whom he snatched away and carried off for some greater, more elaborate torment. By this time, drops of blood had begun to stain the front of his robes; even a method of killing as fastidious as this man's was not perfect.
"Pill refining, flesh sculpting, blood resonance, body arts, basic elemental sorcery. Man's a jack of all trades." the hooded man muttered as he extricated himself from the uncontrolled revelry. "Guess he'd have to be, to stay on the down-low and survive on his own out here."
He shut the sounds of the cannibal's gruesome work out for a moment, and lit the cigar he had been gifted. It was free of poison - that much he had already verified - but the taste left much to be desired. Each inhalation was deeply bitter, almost acrid, as if the cigar's contents had been grown in some wretched, toxic bog. Still, tobacco was tobacco, and it steadied his nerves.
There was no need to even test the cannibal's mind. He had found no other candidate more suited to the Words of Power than this man, and no confidante he had been more hesitant to gift them to. The chain of Devil scalps flashed through his mind, and he wondered what demented things such a savage would unleash upon the Righteous Powers when not living under such poverty.
The cannibal emerged, and this time he was not alone. The girl was with him, her dress torn and hair matted. An angry red scar crossed her brow where skin and bone had been fused back together by a technique. She followed the cannibal wordlessly, the muscles of her face totally relaxed but an unmistakable terror in her eyes. She twitched here and there, trying to move but unable to command her own body.
"Ah, there you are!" The cannibal called out to him, waving and grinning. "I was worried you had gone to bed already, friend! The night is still young, and there is much enjoyment to be had. Please, continue to observe!"
The hooded man cleared his throat. "Grown peckish, have ya?" He asked, veiling his disgust.
"Hardly. I will eat much more tonight, but this one…" he paused to pet the girl's head as if she were a dog, and a tear ran down her face. "She has more value to be extracted first. One must not pass up good resources in the desert."
"I've seen quite enough." The hooded man sighed, approaching the cannibal. "Why are you still here?"
"Because there is so much more to do in this town before I am on my way to the next."
"No, I mean why are you still in the desert?"
"What hurry is there to leave?" The big man shrugged. "My strength and knowledge continue to grow, and I am a patient man. I do not fear the death of my earthly vessel, but I see no need to run headlong into it."
"What more strength could you have to gain, wanderin' round out in the sticks, ravagin' little towns?" The hooded man pressed, tired of the cannibal's rhetorical games.
"You have seen it all day, have you not?" Asked the cannibal, fishing another yellow-grey pill from his pack and holding it up so it gleamed in the moonlight. "This girl will make a fine pill cauldron. I aim to gather as many suitable ones as I can here. I keep them around as pets, generate as much despair and resentment as I can, until a fierce ghost arises, whereupon I bind it to the flesh, then render it down into one of these pills, which a Blood Oath artist can make use of. A good cauldron can produce several such pills before expiring."
"And in doin' so, ya get far more qi out of a body than just eatin' it." The hooded figure mused, intrigued. "There's a sorta awful brilliance to it, I suppose."
"Why thank you." The cannibal purred. "It means quite a lot, to have the approval of one who shines so brilliantly."
"Why don't you join the Abyssal Devil Bees?" Asked the hooded man. "Is it because you hate the Golden Devils so much?"
The cannibal blinked silently a few times, finally thrown off balance by the sudden shift in conversation. "You spacemen are hardly so important to me." He huffed. "It's Sun Diaxing who I hate."
It was as if he had been punched from two directions at once. "S-spacemen? Wh-"
"Yes, you spacemen!" The cannibal laughed, ruthlessly pouncing upon that moment of weakness. "It seems clear to me that you are a Golden Devil. You reacted not to my scalps, but to the hair upon the scalps. And that you are spacemen… well." He shrugged. "People will say the most fascinating things under the knife."
The hooded man went quiet, his anger surging, smother beneath the thick blanket of smugness which radiated from the jolly brute. "You're an honest feller, if nothin' else. You really don't fear death at all."
"You don't intend to kill me, or if you do, it certainly isn't for reasons of justice or revenge." Said the cannibal, leaving the girl there and strolling back to the in. "You've had ample chances already, and yet you stand and watch as I harm those under your protection." As he spoke, he walked right past the hooded man, as if to demonstrate this self-imposed powerlessness.
Momentarily taken aback by the brazenness of the cannibal, the hooded man let him go, instead looking at the girl he had abducted. She was somewhat comely in appearance, and the lean muscle and firm skin she bore was a telltale sign of a childhood filled with outdoor labor. Faint bruises lined her face, arms and legs from where the cannibal had held her a bit too large, and no doubt she bore other injuries hidden beneath those damaged clothes. Whatever impromptu surgery had been done to the girl's brain, it kept her rooted in place despite the smell of mind-melting terror on her.
"I ought to die." The hooded man muttered under his breath. "I ought to be buried and forgotten like an old shame."
"Ah, what a night!" The cannibal's booming voice called out as he came back into view. He held two young men, alike enough in appearance that they might perhaps be brothers, dragging them along the dusty road by their necks and ignoring their feeble attempts to fight back. Both men tried to scream, but no sound escaped their lips. "Two more fine cauldrons here, a quality which must run in their bloodline. Had I the resources and the patience, I might breed them with the girl to produce one even greater. Alas, I must remain on the move."
This man, this thing, seemed somehow larger and more bloated than he had before, and under the pale light of the moon, his whole body was like a blotch against the backdrop of the desert night. The hooded man watched the cannibal, beads of sweat trickling down his neck beneath his cloak, fingers twitching with outrage.
"I killed three more in the inn, while you stood in contemplation." The cannibal declared. "You seem unhappy with that, and yet you stay your hand. I surmise from this that you need me, and yet, you wish to reject me for reasons of morality." He shook his head at this, as if the very notion was ridiculous. "A vestigial, animal reaction. Do what you know you must, friend."
In a sudden burst of movement, the hooded man extended his fingers and pierced the girl's chest. His spear-hand slipped between the ribs and destroyed the heart in one strike, and she collapsed, dead on the spot. In the next breath, he stood before the cannibal, looking up into his beady eyes and gripping his wrists with an unbreakable grip. The larger man's strength was truly prodigious, but the difference in cultivation won out and his grip failed. The young men fell to the ground, and were each knocked out by a tap on the back of the neck.
The cannibal took a few steps back, grimacing in annoyance. "Perfectly good resources, wasted-"
The hooded man siezed the cannibal by the collar of his robed, pulled him down to his height, and turned to slam him into the wall of a nearby building. "Enough! I'm here to judge you, not the other way 'round! We're done with the games!"
The cannibal licked a drop of blood from his bottom lip, then smirked. "All men play games. It is-"
The hooded man cut him off with a headbutt, rocking back the behemoth's head and bloodying his nose. "No. More. Games. You're strong and sneaky enough to sneak into Devil Bee territory; why waste your time here?"
The cannibal blinked a few times; perhaps he hadn't expected to actually be struck. "I told you, I hate Sun Diaxing. That relic should have ceded to the next generation and let Child Corpse Gulper take charge."
The hooded man's face remained obscured, but the sneer could be heard in his voice. "Child Corpse Gulper is a joke of history, what do you see in him?"
"Purity of purpose. None of Old Cannibal's justifications, but the pure understanding that his way of life was self-evidently the truth of how men ought to act." Said the cannibal.
"And what logic leads ya to that?"
"The Battle Blood Cannibal Sect's way is to take whatever one desires, to pursue one's own agenda without justification. That is not how Sun Diaxing would have put it, but it is the truth which emerged from its conduct. This holds more weight than any words."
"And that's how men oughta act?" The hooded man scoffed. "I thought you said you weren't an animal."
"An animal acts on instinct, it does not choose." The cannibal explained. "A man's duty is to look out upon the world, upon the paths before him, and choose that which glorifies and elevates him the most. Not the empty hedonism of an animal, but the conduct of a conquering King!"
"You don't deserve to say that word!" The hooded man shouted, flinging the cannibal down the road. The big man bounced and rolled some distance, before coming to a stop and sitting up on his haunches. "You're… what a fuckin' conscientious objector? Because the sect ain't degenerate enough for your tastes!?"
This trip was a failure. Any benefit that could be gained from making use of this man was more than undone by the depravity he would wreak upon the world. The depravity he had already wrought. Best to be done with him.
"If you take my life, all the harm I have ever caused will have been for naught!" The cannibal declared, sitting calmly in the middle of the street and looking defiantly into the hood of the man who would have his measure. "If you were on the Blood Path, you could at least make my strength your own, but you are not. Every one of your Clansmen I have slain; their lives, irreparably spent now, would have bought you nothing. The people I have killed today will become innocent blood on your hands, victims of your lack of decisiveness. Make use of me, and it will have been for a cause; one of value to you. The choice is clear, if only you've the strength to make it."
"Shut yer man-eatin' mouth!" The hooded man growled, stalking toward the cannibal. "You ain't nothin! You're a coward, slummin' it out in the deep desert, preyin' on the weak! Don't you talk to me about strength!"
All of a sudden, something seemed to change. The world tilted around him - no, the world was not tilting, he was falling. He stumbled, righted himself, then wobbled on his feet once more. A lance of pain shot through the soft meat of his brain, sending an unpleasant tingle down his spine.
"Too much to drink? Or is it my wisdom that does you harm?" Asked the cannibal. "Come, child, lay your tired head on my lap." He grinned luridly, patting his thigh with a meaty palm.
"There ain't a drop of wisdom… in your rotten brain…" the hooded man retorted, clutching his head and moaning quietly.
"You are in pain because you deny your inner truth; it is a pain I know well." The cannibal loomed large in the moonlight as he stood and approached the dead girl. "What a waste…" he sighed, before wrenching her arm off in one smooth motion he bit straight into the bicep as if it were a chicken leg, chewing noisily.
"It could be said that every man holds in his hand the finest and most delicate of roses. And yet he can neither smell its scent, nor see the gorgeous colors of its petals, nor feel the pain of its piercing thorns." Said the cannibal, his voice taking on an almost rhythmic quality, as if he were delivering a lecture or a sermon. He paused, took another bite, eating in a leisurely fashion. Each word he spoke was like a nail being pounded into the hooded man's skull, the pain only intensifying as he fought against it.
"It is through desire and conquest, through a great roaring challenge to God and Cosmos, that pain and pleasure, beauty and terror, warmth and cold become known to him. You know this!" He cried out, dropping the half-eaten arm to the ground and pointing at the hooded man. His eyes gleamed in the dark like those of a wolf, and his voice boomed with an authority and pressure that should have been impossible for a cultivator of his status.
This invisible force could be only one thing: Dao Emanations. How? The cannibal's qi did not have the same clean feeling as an Eleventh Heavenstager's would - most likely he had ascended at the Tenth - so how could he possibly produce Dao Emanations at his stage. They were unstable, fluctuating up and down in intensity, but that he produced them at all was a terrifying mystery.
The hooded main straightened up, this blatant challenge to his authority shocking him out of his paralyzing headache and clearing him of doubt. His own emanations burst forth, blowing away the cannibal's like they were nothing more than dust. The big man let out a strangled cry, holding his hands out before him as if that might push back the tide.
"You're right. Challenge, ambition, this is what makes the measure of a man." He declared, doubling the pressure, then doubling it again. The cannibal fell to his knees, crying out in pain. "I can hate you, but I can't reject you. Evil as you are, I can still put you to work."
"I work for no man!" The cannibal snarled, glaring through bloodshot eyes and baring his teeth. "Strike me down if you must, but I will never be a slave!"
"You'll be no slave, human." The Wise Man spat. "You'll act in accordance with your own will - just not here, and not to these people. I'll give you a priceless gift to make it worth your while."
The pressure let up. The cannibal shook, his chubby face soaked with sweat, sucking in great heaving breaths as he beheld the Wise Man with greater wariness. "Very well. What gift do you offer?"
"The real Blood Path. The old power that Heaven buried." The Wise Man announced. "You've made it near the end of Foundation Building, even though you're subsisting on hardly anything. With great talent like that, plus my gift, you'll do damn good."
"And in exchange for that gift, exile and humiliation, enforced by geass, such that I must ply my trade upon your enemies?" The cannibal chuckled. "A most amusing offer. With something like that… hmm, perhaps one day…" His eyes lit up, glittering like black pearls. "I could even bring Sun Diaxing to heel! Take the Abyssal Devil Bee Sect over from within!"
"Be my guest, pal." Said the Wise Man, hauling the cannibal to his feet and drawing forth from his robe a long sheaf of parchment. "Just sign here."
——
As the sun rose the next morning, the bodies were discovered, and wails of sorrow and shouts of anger rang out across Hope's Reach. But for all the pain that had been wrought upon them, the town still stood, not a single person killed or enslaved following the signing of the contract and the granting of the second Word of Power.
The grinning giant made off toward the Abyssal Devil Bee Sect, where he would join them posthaste and begin preying on the Righteous cultivators of the Green Scale Plains. Gaius Antonius went in the opposite direction, a long, winding, roundabout trail toward the Dawn Fortress that would be impossible to track.
He switched intermittently between flying and tunneling, even briefly traveling with a caravan of merchants, from whom he purchased a few pretty baubles for his daughter. Three days into his travel, he stopped, scaling a tall, rocky mesa so that he could look out upon the desert from its top.
Sand and sun, in all directions, occasionally broken up by the clusters of plantlife surrounding an oasis, those stubborn little starbursts of prosperity out in that blasted land. It was a sight of unspeakable beauty, a wide open vista as vast as an ocean. It was one Gaius knew very well.
It did nothing to help. No matter where the King looked, he saw that girl's eyes. Saw the smug, grinning face of the cannibal. Saw the chain of Golden Devil scalps.
'Nine hundred twenty-two.'
"I let him go. He did that to my people and I let him go."
He would terrorize and obliterate Righteous cultivators. Sound losses would turn into near losses, near losses would into near victories, and near victories into sound victories. The comeback of the Righteous Powers would be slowed, giving the Clan more time and leverage to grow strong.
'I keep them around as pets, generate as much despair and resentment as I can, until a fierce ghost arises, whereupon I bind it to the flesh, then render it down into one of these pills, which a Blood Path artist can make use of. A good cauldron can produce several such pills before expiring.'
"He's going to keep doing that because of me."
The Clan. The future. New Devils, yet to be born; did they not deserve a brighter future?
A blade was conjured in Gaius' hand before he could think to ask himself why he was doing so. He turned it upon himself, the tip pricking his chest, just four tantalizing inches from the heart.
"Come on!" He shouted, gritting his teeth. "Just do it, coward! You're an embarrassment! They're all laughing at you anyway!"
The piercing eyes of Ji Shin.
An eternity of lonely wandering.
Millions dead of the Blood Mist.
Gaius let out a wordless scream of frustration, gripping the sword with both hands. It sunk in an inch, then stopped.
'Why did Hong Xuan Fang Tai see visions of you ruining the world?'
His head pounded with a fresh ache. His survival instincts pleaded with him to drop the sword. It sunk in another inch, piercing through the muscle.
"Come on! Come on! They'd hate you if they knew! They'd kill you!"
The blade stopped.
"How many more people... because of me..."
Another half-inch; the steel was in his chest cavity now, so very close. Blood welled up around the intruding object, trickling down his chest and staining his shirt.
"...shit. Get ahold of yourself..."
A proper death for a Golden Devil was either in battle or a workplace accident, or old age if neither came about. If Gaius died this way, he would shame his family. Besides, Aletheia still needed him. Apollo too, even if he didn't realize it yet.
Lipita, Katha, Flavius, he had to keep going for their sake. He had to push the Clan onto the proper path, no matter the cost.
The sword slipped free, and Gaius flung it off the mesa, then fell to his knees. "When will this be over? How long do I have to continue?" He asked the wind, sobbing, weeping from three eyes. The wind did not answer; it simply kept whistling.
——
To clarify, this omake takes place shortly after Gaius' breakthrough to the Fifth Reinforcement and the battle to rescue Wei Feng.
Since the quest is apparently not dead, I needed a warm up to get me back into the swing of things before I finished my current works in progress. I decided to create a Blood Favored that I'd had in the pipeline for quite a while. I'm going to keep throwing these guys out into the world until occi finally acknowledges their existence, because so far nothing about them or their impact has ever been mentioned in a story post, which tells me I'm being too conservative with them.
Anyway… can you tell I read Blood Meridian recently? The Cannibal(who takes whatever fake name he needs to, but has no real one) is an extremely scary guy. In a way, he's sort of got a main character-esque skillset: high-tier body arts, pill refining, and a well-rounded grab bag of other useful techniques for both combat and utility. That said, the threat The Cannibal poses is less because of overwhelming power(though he is quite strong for his cultivation) and more because of his extreme intelligence, great people skills and absolute, ruthless conviction.
When Gaius found him, The Cannibal was well on his way to becoming a natural Dao-Seeker, though he didn't know it. Removing him from this ascetic environment and putting him somewhere where he will seriously work on his cultivation has slowed this evolution, as has tainting his Dao-Heart with a different interpretation of Consumption than his own, but it may still happen someday.
A Poison to break the body, a Curse to untether the mind and soul. Dean Fang Yi, called Mind Swallowing Poison Lord, understood that these two facets of cultivation were intimately connected. For, in truth, they are the same profession with differing methods of delivery. Where one brews a concoction, the other anneals negative energies and qi. Both debilitate, enact suffering and ultimately kill their victims. There was a nuance to those two paths and she understood the differences, being well versed in both. Fang Yi's passion was brewing poisons that acted like curses, forming curses that acted like poisons, and synthesizing both into potent combinations.
As a young scholar, she had made a name as a lethal poison master who would use curses to debilitate and cripple opponents into critical openings. She was not as fast in her cultivation as others but compensated this with deeper foundations than many elite scholars of the Noble Knowledge Sect. As time flew and Fang Yi grew to appreciate the other aspects, growing her repertoire of insidious and slow-acting poisons in addition to the flashy and powerful poisons, so too did her curse arts grow more complex and increasingly more difficult to detect. Fang Yi had even begun to supplement her repertoire with some illusory techniques.
By the time she became a Core Formation Elder, or Professor as some in the Sect might call her, Fang Yi was famed not only for the breadth and depth of her knowledge in all aspects of Arts, both orthodox and demonic, but for her terrifying skill in combat even outside the Insidious Poison Maze. In time she was given responsibilities as a Sect Warden, an Elder responsible for ensuring the proper exposure of the Disciples to sufficiently rigorous combat and experience in practical applications of their knowledge. In time she would, as many teachers do, learn the frustrations that come with those saddled with incompetent and seemingly lazy students, but also the joy of teaching eager and hard-working disciples. It rankled her sensibilities! Only the dedicated, only the fated, and only those truly [Noble] deserve admittance to the Sect. Only those who could contribute would be allowed to prosper in her Sect. Sect doctrine dictated that the spread of Knowledge was itself a [Noble] pursuit, Fang Yi found herself more jaded and disdainful of the forces who regularly refused to be ennobled by their offerings. Worst were the barbaric animals of the Bear Enslavement Sect, unwilling to understand that such trifling matters were for a more Noble purpose and not without reason, and Strength Purity, blinded by inflexible beliefs in their self-righteousness.
Many decades she spent on expanding the borders of the maze, testing tens, hundreds, thousands of concoctions against the Poison Crushing Towers, abducting mortals, disciples, experts, and even the occasional elder for experimentation of her many brews and curses. Until it came to her. A way to inspire the worthy, dispose of the unworthy, and tempt those outside the reach of Sect to their Dao all in the form of one Curse and Poison combination so interconnected, seamlessly melded that even a Nascent Soul would not be able to tell one where one ended and the other begun. Fang Yi conceived of a Heart Curse in a deranged moment of enlightenment.
Poisons typically reside in the body, and curses typically disrupt the mind by disrupting a cultivator's meridians, Heart Curses, however, are simultaneously easier to detect yet harder to deal with taking root and parasitizing a dantian. Once placed, the heart curse festers with every negative emotion—anger, jealousy, fear—causing the victim to experience hallucinations, physical pain, and an erosion of their spiritual energy. The curse may bind the victim's fate to another, forcing them to either destroy or protect that person, depending on the curse's design. Some Heart Curses can only be broken through extreme acts of self-sacrifice, while others may require rare elixirs, or confronting through a battle in the mindscape. These types of curses not only threaten the victim's life but also their Dao, potentially leading them to demonic deviation, crippling, or death if left unchecked.
The more sophisticated curses bind to the cultivator's very essence, entwining with their aura and cultivation. They don't possess power of their own but feed on the victim's life force and qi, much like a malignant tumor. Though they are not without their benefit, these curses enhance the afflicted strength, granting them temporary or permanent surges of power, inspiration, or techniques. Commonly they come at a steep cost, increasing the drain on the host's vitality with each burst of energy, and their cultivation becomes increasingly unstable. Unlike conventional curses, the Heart Curse evolves with its host, growing stronger as it intertwines more deeply with the victim's soul and cultivation, creating a precarious balance. The more power the host channels through the curse, the more of their own essence is siphoned off. If the curse isn't controlled, it can lead to a deadly feedback loop, where the cultivator becomes consumed by their own ambition, warping their body and mind in pursuit of greater strength.
Some Curse users, victims, and the like can circumvent some of these consequences through external means, sacrificing the blood or energy of others to delay the inevitable toll on the host. However, the cost is never truly avoided; the cultivator's very foundation becomes corroded over time, creating a volatile existence where the surge of power is always balanced against the risk of total collapse. Unlike poisons or more simple curses, Heart Curses evolve alongside its bearer, adapting and growing as it feed on both internal and external sources of energy. It corrupts the very foundation of the host's cultivation, turning their inner world into a battlefield where the curse vies for control. The host's thoughts become erratic, plagued by hallucinations, emotional outbursts, and physical manifestations of the curse.
More insidiously some Heart Curses explicitly develop a personality and entwines itself with the host's consciousness, blurring the line between self and curse. It functions like a sentient, ever-hungry entity, whispering in the recesses of the host's mind, seeking dominance and often offering power in exchange for control. As the curse strengthens, it exerts an ever-growing influence, threatening to subsume the host's will entirely. The relationship is symbiotic yet adversarial: the host gains immense strength, but the curse continuously pushes for more—more blood, more sacrifices, more power. In time some of these Cursed Spirits can stabilize, subsuming or synthesizing with the original personality creating a more robust if morally bankrupt cultivator. Most, however, will degrade turning their host and self into little more than ravening beasts.
Only the desperate, foolish, or unlucky willingly implant such things into themselves. Only those powerful, clever, and lucky can survive a Heart Curse long enough to derive any benefits or completely subjugate their alter-ego. In the past Fang Yi had read of how one of the most powerful Cultivators the Sect had ever produced had been implanted with a Heart Curse at Qi Condensation, effectively sealed it at Foundation Establishment, subjuated it at Core-Formation, before finally subsuming it as a Nascent Soul emerging as a Spirit Severing powerhouse before leaving the region to never to be seen again.
Why is this important? For, as the old adage goes, the only difference between a poison and a medicine is the dosage. What Fang Yi hypothesized was if a young Cultivator, or perhaps a robust Mortal could be implanted with a weakened Heart Curse, one unable to fully subsume its host, made to act in a more symbiotic relationship with the host, or tricked into thinking it and the host were one and the same, a continuous cycle of refinement could be induced and create a perfect and truly [Noble] cultivator.
Decades passed, before Fang Yi was successful in the creation of her first trail-ready Prototype Heart Curses.
---------------
'Not my best plan. WHY THE FUCK! Did I not have more contingencies?' asked Fang Yi in the privacy of her own mind. Her passion project, as her fellow Grand Elders might put it, faced a…major setback.
She had been planning on personally implanting one of her more promising specimens, and if she was honest the most promising, into one of her other investments. A recently captured "Expert" from the Broken Arrow lands formed an interesting Dao. He had been someone she'd seen fit to develop. He was so promising once. Xi Tong, he was called. A brilliant spiritual doctor, one with a mind with but the barest hints of [Nobility]. He had become a mainstay at one of the Poisin Curshing Towers catching her attention through his "secret" and "depraved" interrogations of some of the wastrels she would allow the Righteous to cut their teeth on. Xi Tong appeared to be one of those souls who could break free of the blinders the Righteous imposed on themselves, but he had found a "reason" to stay, to become "better". Fang Yi had already prepared a strike force to capture and recruit him but after he became a disappointment she decided that she might as well cash in and use him as a Seedbed for her precious Heart Curses. One of the most crucial to the proper nurturing for her variant Heart Curses was Foundation Pillars. Her little masterpieces were gluttons for these still forming Daos. Now some might suggest that feeding them a Core would be more cost-effective, but Fang Yi would simply laugh at them before either killing them, selling them, or experimenting on them.
There were a few reasons for this reaction. Firstly, abundance. Foundation Establishment Experts were simply more plentiful than Core Formation Elders, and each expert contained up to 7 pillars where as there would only be one core per elder. Secondly, risk. Experts tended to be far easier to kill in droves versus Elders, they also wouldn't provoke such violent reprisals even if the little Expert was the scion of some powerful Clan but those tended to foster many options and the death of even a couple would not be catastrophic. They might have a powerful backer but then Fang Yi simply avoided those little inconveniences. Thirdly, quality. Quality? What does that mean? Simple. In order to keep the Heart Curses weak enough to be implanted into even a mortal without simply imploding/killing/taking over them. Even the slightly calcified Dao of even a liquid core could overwhelm a batch of Curse Seeds ruining their intended mutability. It'd blinker them from the possibilities of the Myriad Daos and the laws of Heaven and Earth.
Anyway, Xi Tong had been taken to her base near the front lines in Chunwang. Captured and prepped to move deeper into Maze things had been going well, before Fang Yi had been recalled to deal with some issues regarding sea-serpent corpses in the North. She had thought she could entrust the defense of the Burst-Teeth, Ironbone, and Ghostface, Core Formation Elders one and all. YET THEY WERE FOILD! She had to spend her valuable time cleaning up their mess. Putting down the remaining rebellions, organizing examples, and ensuring the relocation of populations to refill Chunwang. Many of her masterpieces had been distributed like so much spoils to the participating clans as "wards" but a couple of her precious Seedbeds had been taken by those Golden Devils! Her only silver lining was that she had found out a Duca scion had gained custody of a couple. It might not be by her hand but at least another traveler on the [Noble] path might put them to use and her Impressions could be regained.
WC: 1964
Antonius Emmanuel Eleanora 87 [Turn 16] [Crimson Sands Part 4]
Antonius Emmanuel Eleanora 87
[Turn 16]
[Crimson Sands Part 4]
Antonius watched as Cassius swayed on his feet, the power he had gorged himself on before the battle putting him in a state close to a drunken stupor. That he'd trained himself in a style that took advantage of that state suggested a dangerous level of preparation. It was more than just a sword-based variation of the drunken fist; there was some type of soul resonance mixed in that inflicted his own mental state on others.
But that wasn't what interested Antonius.
"That technique that you used to absorb your comrade's power, it wasn't an ordinary blood path technique, was it? Where did you get that?" Antonius asked, his tone casual as he studied the bandit. He was buying time to a certain extent, hoping to make a new plan to deal with the bandit lord now that he had left the limits of the town and the defenses he maintained on it.
Cassius hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering with a hint of something—pride, perhaps, or arrogance. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he sneered. "Do you think I would simply tell you about my techniques if you ask? I am not a fool, Bronze King."
Rather than speak further, the bandit lord lunged at him, his blade a blur as it sliced through the air. Ordinarily, Antonius would have flooded the area or summoned an army of ghosts, but he didn't have the luxury of his usual reserves of power. However every motion was a struggle, every technique like a bubble of air lost while drowning.
Antonius stepped back to avoid the attack, searching furiously for any source of inspiration. Cassius did not hesitate, his lunge turning into a controlled stumble as his blade extended, but it was caught bare-handed by a spectral copy of the King. Immediately, the bandit lord retreated, his expression alert, the drunken stupor evaporating as he studied the conjured entity warily.
Then Antonius grabbed him from the back.
His hands snaked between the bandit's, then came back together behind his neck to lock his hands and push his head down. His sword went clattering to the ground as his spectral copy approached, cracking his knuckles. Antonius channeled qi through his body, activating his new variation of the Body-Building Bronze Smith to hold the bandit in place.
"W-what!?"
That was as far as he got, before the spectral ghost slammed a fist into the bandit lord's gut. This close, Antonius was able to sense Cassius' response before it happened and he picked him up and then slammed him to the ground, trying to stop it. When that didn't work, he moved away, releasing him before he could get caught in the radius of the technique.
Crimson sorcery flows,
Darkness touches every heart,
Arteries entwine.
A crimson circle formed underneath the bandit and Antonius just escaped it, leaving the ghost to tackle Cassius and stop him from moving. A red light extended from the circle, coloring everything inside with the same hue. The ghost dissolved into pure qi, then flowed directly into the bandit lord as the circle disappeared. The man watched him warily, touching his sword with a foot and then kicking it back into his hand.
"You used a strange technique again." Antonius noted. "It certainly has a touch of the dao to it."
"Is that - the girl's technique?" Cassius asked, narrowing his eyes and glancing at Livia, who was scowling at him from the town. "No, it doesn't fade as quickly, and the entity you conjured looks very different from you. The ghost of a relative?"
"My father," Antonius answered calmly. Those he was closest to were the easiest individuals to conjure for him. "I don't know the centurion's specific technique, but I can replicate it tactically. Did you think it would be easy to hunt a King?"
Cassius grimaced, then forced a smile. "Oh yes, your father. I heard the legends. Such a tragic way to go." The bandit said conversationally as he lifted his blade above his head. "So, how does it feel to be the last of your House?"
Antonius's eyes narrowed slightly, the words striking deeper than he let on but he forced his feelings down, refusing to show weakness. "About how you feel after losing your brother," he answered in the same tone. "Wait, that was your brother that I killed, right? I thought I recognized your ugly mug."
Blade reaps crimson seeds,
Silent harvest of lost souls,
Moonlight weeps red blood.
In lieu of answering, Cassius brought down his blade, and an arc of red energy shot towards Antonius, containing the echoes of the same strange power he had sensed before. The bandit lacked any form of enlightenment, yet the technique he had used was edging on dao sorcery. Where had he learned such a technique?
The Bronze King stepped to the side, summoning his father's spirit to replace him once more. He was certain he could survive the technique, but he didn't want to lose energy to it, not when he was already low and defending the village at the same time. He winced when the arc cleaved through his father's spirit like he wasn't there, growing stronger as it consumed his qi.
Then like a bloodhound, it turned towards him.
This wasn't working. He decided, as the world pulsed with crimson power. Cassias hadn't stayed still, sended out another arc of energy, this time angled to where Antonius was going. In response, ghostly energy wrapped around him until it took the form of a woman. She balanced on his shoulders, drawing back a bow of jade.
Three iron arrows flew from her in the time of a breath, two countering the bandit's attacks and one aimed towards Cassius directly. The bandit lord cut the arrow from the air, causing Antonius to frown. The archer was as strong as an Expert, but the skill she had in life fell short of the speeds of those who pushed the conventional limits of the peak.
The bandit lord raced towards Antonius in a stumbling stride, his hands wide, blade held aloft. He seemed completely open, but the Bronze King knew this was just a feint. He summoned his father's ghost once more, and the warrior leapt forward, putting his entire weight behind a lariat.
Antonius winced as the Expert easily cut the specter down once more. "You truly are weak, aren't you?" Cassius asked, grinning wildly.
Antonius met him head-on, his movements almost languid in their precision. His ghosts weren't working and he couldn't afford to make a mistake—not now, not with his reserves so dangerously low. As Cassius's sword struck, Antonius reacted instinctively by summoning water.
Almost summoning a torrent, he immediately throttled the power and managed to deflect Cassius' strike with the slightest bit of summoned water. This could work. For a split second, a flicker of surprise crossed the bandit's eyes as Antonius redirected his strike.
Then Cassius sneered, his voice a taunt. 'What's wrong, Bronze King? Why aren't you using those ghosts of yours? Feeling weak? Or unwilling to feed them to me? You might claim to command the dead, but today, I am the reaper and I have come for you!"
Antonius remained silent, ignoring the bandit's provocations. The ghost on his shoulder, crafted in the image of his mother, pulled out three more arrows. This close, Cassius could not block them and retreated once more, dodging them erratically.
Antonius narrowed his eyes.
This close, he could see it.
Threads of power intertwined with the bandit's movements. The dark energy flowed from his men into Cassius's veins - from those who lived and the corpses of those who had died. This was definitely a dao technique, one that exalted the blood path and Antonius could sense the twisted promise that lay at its heart.
I consume your soul,
Soon, I too shall be consumed,
To the victor, the spoils.
Though it seemed to accept the cycle of consumption, there was a nuance to it. It rang with deception and defiance, embodying the corrupting nature of power. Yes, the bearer of those words would accept their death, but they would resist, perpetuating the endless cycle of exploitation. And Cassius would ever be the victor, blinded by his own ambition.
It was a selfish dao that held no respect for what it plundered. It wasn't merely the bandit's dao, but one he had inherited and passed on in turn. Did he even understand the true nature of the dao? No, that didn't matter. As soon as he grasped the underlying philosophy, Antonius knew that such a technique could have but one source.
"Blood Cannibal." Antonius accused, staring into the bandit lord's eyes.
Cassius blinked and then grinned. "How did you know?"
"One of your kind murdered my parents." Antonius answered coolly, tightening his fists.
The Bronze King's blood ran cold. His vision narrowed, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Images of his parents flashed through his mind—their smiles, their voices, the warmth of their embrace—but above all of that, was the helplessness born of decades of watching their comatose bodies until they finally passed away.
He struggled with those words, trying to calm himself. Not now, Antonius. He told himself. There was a battle to win. Hunger roiled within his body, so similar to the feeling of his body consuming itself. It was an insidious part of his own cultivation—an urge that demanded to consume, to grow stronger by any means. Feed him to me. The hunger said. He deserves it.
In the haze of his fury, Antonius's vision began to shift, and for a brief, terrifying moment, the face of Cassius seemed to change—morphing into the face of a bronze-skinned man with eyes glinted with malice, colder than ice and crueler than poison. The smirk, the nose—all of it overlapped with Cassius's face, causing the hunger within Antonius to grow deeper.
The features of Nicomedes, the man who had killed his parents.
His hands clenched into fists, rage boiling beneath the surface. He wanted to strike, to end this once and for all.
But Cassius stuck first.
He lunged forward, his blade a blur. Antonius blinked in surprise, as pain exploded through him. The bandit lord's blade had pierced his gut, stabbing through. The shock almost forced Antonius to lose control—he could feel the hunger slipping free, clawing its way to the forefront.
Cassius's grin widened, his eyes glinting with cruel satisfaction. "What's the matter, Bronze King? Did I touch a nerve?"
Consume. Cassias' power pulsed, beginning to absorb Antonius' power.
Feed me. The hunger roared, louder this time, drowning out all rational thought.
Suddenly, Antonius's mind was somewhere else.
The vision of a dark cavern filled his mind, so large as to be a world unto itself. Five rivers flowed through the plains, encircling a black stone throne looming amidst swirling mists, upon an ashen field filled with broken graves. Specters flew through the field, the same white as the mist, as they tried to fix the graves again.
Upon the throne sat a man in bronze armor, his eyes burning embers under a shadowed helm. He stared back at Antonius, and the Bronze King felt his own rage reflected within this titan. Together, they raised his hands towards the rivers and one in particular called to him—the burning river, reflecting the rage and grief within him, promising vengeance and destruction.
Without hesitation, Antonius reached for it, the heat searing his senses.
He felt his body burning hot. The air around him shimmered with heat, the sand beneath his feet scorching black from the intensity. The oppressive heat seemed to devour everything it touched, and his qi surged through him like fire. He knew, distantly, that he was the fuel for this power but he couldn't stop—not now.
Cassius's victorious grin twisted into shock as Antonius' hands rose up, ignoring the blade stabbed into his body. The heat was unbearable, and the sand beneath them seemed to hiss in response as Antonius grasped the bandit's hands. Cassius struggled to move as Antonius's burning grip caught his wrists, the sheer force of his anger pinning the bandit in place.
"People like you... you deserve to burn," Antonius said, his voice seeming distant somehow like someone else was speaking through him. The words were delivered like a proclamation, each syllable seething with cold fury. The heat from Antonius's body was overwhelming, the burning power coursing through his veins tangible even to his opponent.
Cassius's eyes widened, his face a grimace of pain. With a wild, desperate movement, he twisted sharply and there was a crack as he severed his own arms at the elbows. The scent of burning flesh filled the air, and the bandit lord staggered back, his eyes filled with a mix of agony and determination.
But Cassius wasn't done.
He gave Antonius a manic laugh, his severed arms dripping blood. "You think you can stop me like this, Bronze King? You think you can just will me to die?!" He shouted, his voice cracking with both pain and madness. His eyes darted to the village, a cruel glint returning. "Let's see how much your wards serve, now that your full focus is on me."
Antonius followed his gaze, eyes widening even through rage and hunger. The shadows that had once deepened in protection around the village were now retreating and alongside them, the cold air dissipated, replaced by the harsh, oppressive heat of the desert.
Even as Antonius himself seemed to shine brighter with his burning power, it was clear that the powerful web of his influence had vanished entirely. The protective wards he had set up were failing, his defenses gone. He could see Livia prepare herself, her eyes darting between him and the bandit.
Before Antonius could react, Cassius turned abruptly and rushed towards the village, no longer erratic, but moving at a determined pace. Antonius's eyes narrowed, and he moved to intercept, but his body hesitated—the hunger roared within, demanding more, and he could feel the edges of his strength already slipping away.
"No!" Livia shouted, gritting her teeth and she lunged at Cassius. However, her body was still sluggish from her previous injuries and her sword met empty air as Cassius twisted away. Before she could recover, his shoulder slammed into her, sending her sprawling to the ground.
"Out of my way, girl!" Cassius snarled, his eyes wide with madness. He threw her aside, his focus entirely on drawing Antonius out. He knew the Bronze King wouldn't let the village fall—not if he could help it.
Antonius's thoughts churned, the hunger roaring louder. He could feel himself slipping but held on, reminding himself of what was at stake. The faces of the Pallas and Marcus, his parents, and even Livia flashed in his mind. This was his mistake - if he had to destroy himself to protect them, then so be it.
He felt the hunger surge, mixing with the desire to destroy Cassius consuming him entirely. He took a step forward, and then another, the world narrowing down to a singular purpose—ending this threat once and for all. He noted Cassius's men, seeing their leader charging towards the village, began to rally, moving in to support him.
But Antonius was done holding back.
He raised his hands, his qi blazing like an inferno. Ghostly figures began to appear—specters wreathed in flames, their forms twisting and shimmering like a mirage.
"You want to see power, Cassius?" Antonius's voice was calm, almost eerily so as it echoed through the desert. "Then face the power of a King."
With a sweep of his hand, the army of burning ghosts surged forward, crashing into Cassius's bandits like a wave of fire. The bandits screamed, their bodies consumed, the ghosts relentless in their fury. Others went to guard Livia, while the strongest spirits slowed Cassius himself.
Cassius looked back at him, his expression one of both manic glee as he cut down a burning specter with a blade of blood. Even in death, the vengeful spirits roared their defiance and let loose their power in powerful explosions, their heat searing the earth itself. However, even if he wasn't able to trap their power, the bandit lord moved through them unscathed.
But Antonius could feel it—the cost of this power. His body was weakening, the heat now unbearable, even to himself. He was burning through his own life force, and the hunger within him roared louder, demanding more, always more.
The bandit lord was pushing himself as well. Cassius was driven by the belief that he could prove himself by claiming power, no matter the cost. There was no fear, no hesitation—only a hunger for power pushing him beyond pain, beyond any sense of restraint.
Cassius, seeing Antonius falter, let out a crazed laugh. "You're burning yourself out, Bronze King! You can't keep this up! You'll turn to ash before you stop me!"
Antonius knew he was right. His vision was blurring, the edges darkening, but he pushed on, the ghosts continuing their assault. Antonius summoned the last of his strength, his body trembling as he raised his hands.
But it wasn't enough.
Antonius felt his body give out, the flames consumed entirely, leaving only the hunger. With a final, searing flash, the ghosts flickered, their forms dissipating into the night as the source of their power was lost. Once more, Antonius found himself once more in the dark plains, the vast emptiness stretching endlessly before him.
The black stone throne loomed in the distance, a silhouette against the cavern ceiling above them. He could see the burning river, still raging and violent, but now beyond it, he saw something else. The source of his hunger - an endless pit that would never be filled, not until it consumed everything - even the Bronze King himself.
He couldn't take it.
He needed it to stop. The flames, the hunger.
As he staggered back, he heard a splash as he stumbled into another river—this one calm and shimmering, with a milky hue. Its waters moved gently, invitingly, their surface reflecting glimpses of forgotten memories, moments of peace, and sanctuary. Antonius felt the pull, a soothing whisper that promised rest, an end to the struggle. He took a step forward, the coolness of the water beckoning him closer, its gentle flow offering a release from pain, from anger, from the hunger that gnawed at him.
His hand hovered above the surface, the promise of peace almost within reach. But then, images of his family flashed before him—his parents, his friends, of the people he still had to protect. The thought of them anchored him, holding him back from the alluring current. He clenched his jaw, his resolve hardening.
Not yet.
With a deep breath, Antonius drew his hand away from the water and instead of drawing him in, he drew the water out, wrapping the cool liquid around himself like a cloak. It settled on his skin, a protective layer, soothing the burns and the hunger and the pain.
Cassius stood amidst the remnants of the battle, chest heaving as he stared at Antonius. For a moment, disbelief colored his features and he turned away, his eyes scanning the battlefield. It was littered with the charred remains of the bandits, the village still standing, but barely. Around them was only the scorched sand, the lingering heat, and the faint scent of burnt earth.
The bandit lord laughed, the sound hollow and strained. "The Bronze King... is no more."
Antonius' eyes widened as he heard that and he turned towards Livia, her body bruised and battered, her face filled with resolve and despair as she stared towards Antonius, no, rather at the ash-covered earth where he should have been.
"The Bronze King is no more!" Cassius shouted, his voice dripping with mockery as he turned towards Livia. "Behold your great protector, turned to dust! Where are your ghosts now, Antonius? Where is your power?"
Slowly, a manic smile crept across Cassius's face, growing wider until it twisted into a grin of pure triumph. He threw his head back and let out a laugh that echoed across the desert, filled with derision. He held up the stumps of his arms and Antonius' eyes widened as he realized that the power of the fallen bandits was flowing into him, his limbs healing.
The bandit lord took that moment to step forward, his grin widening. "This is what happens to those who defy me!" he declared, raising his arms in victory, his freshly regenerated limbs flexing as he relished the power coursing through him. "Your so-called protector is gone, and now you are mine!"
Livia gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stand and drew her blade. Cassius's eyes flicked to her, amusement dancing in his gaze as he watched her struggle. "Still trying to fight, are you?" he mocked, laughing again as his bandits slowly began to join. "There is no one left to save you."
But in the next breath, the laughter faltered. A chill swept across the battlefield, a cold wind that seemed to come from nowhere. Cassius frowned, his eyes darting around, searching for the source. The bandits, too, looked around, confusion flickering across their faces as the air shifted, the oppressive heat lifting, replaced by something else—something far colder.
As he had spoken, Antonius had been testing his newly discovered powers. His body was wrapped in the cool, shimmering water of the river that allowed him to forget. It clung to him like a cloak, concealing his presence, soothing the burns that covered his skin. The hunger within him still roared, but the water helped to distance it, helping him regain focus.
Antonius was there, invisible to all, as he moved across the battlefield. He could hear Cassius's voice, the gloating, the taunts, Livia's despair. His hands clenched, his resolve hardening. He would not allow Cassius to harm them—not while he still drew breath. With a determined gaze, he stepped forward, his presence beginning to manifest, a ghost in the moonlight.
"I am not finished yet," Antonius's voice rang out, calm and resolute, cutting through the silence like a blade. His presence grew stronger, and slowly, Antonius reappeared, his form taking shape, the water cloak glistening in the moonlight, his eyes fixed on Cassius.
Cassius turned, his eyes widening in shock as he saw the Bronze King, very much alive, standing before him once more. "Impossible," he breathed, his voice filled with disbelief. "You should be dead! I saw you disappear!"
Antonius's gaze was cold, unyielding. "No, Cassius. I am the King of the Dead."
Cassius's shock quickly twisted into anger, and he lunged at Antonius, his blade aimed to strike true. But Antonius, in his current state, found himself moving with an eerie calmness. The flames of the River of Fire flowed through him, their heat under his control, dancing at his fingertips. As Cassius's blade neared, Antonius merely raised his hand, the shimmering water still wrapped around him acting as a conduit.
In an instant, the flames erupted, engulfing the blade, burning along its length until they reached Cassius's hands. The bandit lord's eyes widened in pain and horror as the flames spread up his arms, their heat excruciating. He pushed his hand forward, and the flames surged, wrapping themselves around Cassius's body.
Antonius's calm gaze never wavered, his voice low and commanding. "This is the fate of those who wield power without understanding its price." He said, speaking not at Cassius but at the bandits around him, at Livia and at heaven itself. "You take and you take and you take, until your body is built from our corpses. Is it such a surprise that it so easily burns?"
Faces, twisted in anguish, began to manifest within the fire consuming the bandit lord, their voices crying out in unison. Cassius screamed, his body convulsing as the flames tore through him, not just burning his flesh but attacking the very essence of his power.
Then Cassius's screams faded, his form collapsing to the ground. Antonius's eyes remained locked on the bandit lord, his expression unyielding. "I did not give you permission to die."
He held out his hand and then made a grasping motion at the flames that still burned upon the bandit lord's corpse. He quenched them with the River of Ice, and then he gestured with his fingers. "Rise." He demanded, his voice unyielding. This power was from the River of Law. A wrong was done to him and though he had taken his vengeance, the Bronze King still claimed what was left of him by right.
Spectral mist rose from the corpse, before taking on a form reminiscent of the late bandit lord. Cassius took a step towards Antonius, his face cool and emotionless and then he knelt before the Bronze King. Antonius turned his gaze towards the remaining bandits. His voice was cold, commanding. "Do you want to die standing, or do you want to die fighting?"
The bandits hesitated, fear in their eyes as they looked between the specter of their leader and the Bronze King, now wreathed in both water and fire. But desperation drove them forward, and with a collective shout, they rushed towards Antonius, their weapons raised.
Antonius did not flinch. He raised his hands, flames leaping forth, wrapping around each of the attackers. The heat was searing, merciless. The bandits fell one by one, their bodies drained of both power and water, left parched and brittle upon the scorched earth. The flames consumed them, leaving nothing but husks, their faces frozen in expressions of terror and agony.
The battlefield grew silent once more, the only sound the crackling of the dying flames. Antonius stood amidst the fallen, his gaze sweeping over the desolation. The water still clung to him, its cool presence a stark contrast to the raging inferno he had unleashed. He took a deep breath, his eyes turning toward Livia, who stared at him with a mix of awe and fear.
"I think we're safe now," Antonius said, his voice carrying across the quiet village. "Anyway, I'm going to collapse any moment so please take care of me."
I don't know how to say this but uh, hi? I'm still mostly catching up on this quest, but I've noticed quite a bit about everyone's character sheet. It's not bad, just that I've noticed it isn't really standardized. So I thought I might as well edit and bring in a character sheet template from a different quest so that people who want it can use it. This is the spreadsheet of the character sheet template:
Name: Sample Textman Cultivator Name (If the true name is hidden for whatever reason): Default Gender: Male Origin: Golden Devil Starting Age: 25
Current Objective: Rise above his generic nature.
Special Thing Summary: Mob Aura
Mechanical Info:
Great Realm: Qi Condensation Current Status: 25th Year, 1st Heavenstage
Backstory:
Sample Textman's full backstory has been lost, as nobody cared enough to remember it.
Tired of being forgotten, he decided to get in on the mercenary game, to see if getting enough murder done would finally be enough to earn him the fame and/or infamy he craved.
It hasn't so far, but hey, you never know.
Special Thing:
Mob Aura: Mr Textman is so incredibly generic, that people have a hard time considering him worth paying attenton to no matter what he's doing. It's not perfect, but Sample has found it helpful when he needs to stab someone in the face.
Dao:
Dao of the Template: A highly inspirational Dao, made to be an example to the characters that will be created in the future.
Great Realm: Qi Condensation Current Status: 25th Year, 1st Heavenstage Lifespan Enhancement: 0 Years
Health Status: Healthy Additional Impacts: 6 Cultivation Aims: 9th Heavestage
Blank rows will not be included in the final output by the way.
Have fun!
Turn 2 Fates
Sample text for turn 2.
-Legion
A Proud Legionnaire of the Example Legion, Sample Textman will never stop fighting
Sample Textman is not intended as an actual submission.
Credit to kfrar for making the original version of this sheet and for helping with some further addition to this sheet
Extras tab will not show when posted on SV if there is no information on it
If anyone wants to use this template, they simply need to open the spreadsheet linked, select "Make a copy", and then insert your character's details in the sheet. After, just copy/paste the output cell from the Output tab over to your post on SV.
If there's a caveat about this though, it isn't likely for me to update this sheet, and if I do, you will need to make an entirely new copy of the spreadsheet and fill it in again. But well, that's the point of the Extra tab? Hope everyone have fun with this! I won't be posting a Good Seed of my own yet cuz I'm still catching up.
The defense of the Yuan Clan was a Bare Success, Second Elder. That is not to say that we were at risk of losing anything important, but rather the raiding strategies undertaken by our enemies were stymied for the most part, and no cities of meaningful size were devoured. The steam the Blood Path had garnered during their invasion has been exhausted, and without a new strategy they are likely to simply pivot to the Qiguai Clan to pursue their invasion there.
Ajax Tripedes
Fate: Ajax Tripedes was assigned to the peculiar raids around Twinbone Undercity. He was given to protecting a small orchard that yielded Star Apples, a key fruit for beast cultivation for the mounts of the Yuan Clan. It was here that he found himself fighting not the Blood Path, but simple, ordinary thieves trying to steal the Apples. Three Foundation Experts faced him, and Ajax would've been direly wounded but for the use of a treasure, and so he kept the apples intact.
Impact: 4 (0)
Cultivation: Foundation Establishment 1-Pillar
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 111 (+11)
Health: Healthy --> Wounded --> Healthy (LST)
Apalos
Fate: Apalos fought under the command of Marcus, who gathered a small group of raiders fighting at what they called Fort Legion. Not that there was much of a Legion there, for the fort was far out of the way, and drastically undermanned. Apalos fought alongside Marcus during a mercy raid into the Blood Path camp - some prisoners could not be rescued and only killed, in order to deny their blood and Qi to the enemy. Despite his low cultivation he managed to seize a Comprehension Pear (+10 CY) from the enemy's loot while doing so, and rapidly cultivated all the way to the 9th Heavenstage.
Impact: 3 (3)
Cultivation: 9th Heavenstage
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 88 (+67)
Health: Healthy --> Healthy
Artorius Philocrates
Fate: Artorius Philocrates fought much like a few others under Marcus. The man had gathered a raid, having discovered that several Experts were due to be arriving in the area. With the defensive arrays and formations they could hold off such Experts, but could not prevent them from assailing the nearby city. So it was that they launched a nearly-disastrous raid into the Blood Path camp, finding a diverse range of cultivators from almost all the northern Blood Path powers there. Artorius helped in the grisly work of destroying the Blood Path prisoners, and managed to luckily slay a Blood Path cultivator in battle with Marcus, seizing the first part of the dead man's loot - a Blood Compass (+4 Impact). The ability to detect all blood along with its size and composition for nearly twenty li around made Artorius practically impossible to ambush, but unfortunately the Compass needed feeding with blood. With sufficient enemies this would be no issue, but without them his use would need to be sparing indeed. While a vile artifact, its use was not prohibited by Clan law as it was not cultivation, and so Artorius managed to keep his find.
Impact: 4 (4)
Cultivation: 9th Heavenstage
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 61 (+40)
Health: Healthy --> Healthy
Demetrius Ceres
Fate: Demetrius Ceres leapt rapidly into action upon finding out that a number of Corpsetree Walkers had been released in the region to wreak havoc. A rather potent formulation purchased from the Noble Knowledge Sect, they were built to rampage through hundreds of Experts and tens of thousands of Qi Condensation Disciples before being stopped. With an abiding hatred for plant-life, Demetrius managed to stop them at the mere cost of a Light Wound.
Impact: 5 (0)
Cultivation: Core Formation Misty Core (Early)
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 400 (+0)
Health: Healthy --> Lightly Wounded -- Healthy (End of Turn)
Ferenike
Fate: Ferenike lead a caravan carrying desperately-needed carved arrays, though this was a trap. She hid herself, and waited for the ambushers that had plagued the region to arrive. Seizing several of them when they attempted to attack the convoy, she found herself struck by the reality that these cultivators were only acting under threats to their loved ones. She managed to follow them back to their local handler, killing the fellow Expert and seizing his rather delightful artifact, the Nature Command (+3 Impact). With this vines entangle, trees drop branches, grasses ensnare and all plant-life acts in little ways to hinder ones opponents. Using practically no Qi and with a range measured in nearly ten li, the fact that it could only target ten people at at time still meant that ten of her enemies would find themselves under ceaseless, minor assault no matter how they fought her.
Impact: 29 (3)
Cultivation: Foundation Establishment 7 Pillar (Great Circle)
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 491 (+13)
Health: Healthy --> Healthy
Kakos Alexikeravno
Fate: Kakos Alexikeravno - a man much-maligned by his peers. He attempted to join a raid on a Blood Path camp, but got caught in a field of Memory-Warping Walrus Flowers, peculiar flowers often used to form rather powerful healing pills. However, if the raw pollen was inhaled, one would temporarily lose their short-term memory, and so Kakos found himself moved away from the raid he was supposed to go on, and instead ended up fighting - and killing - sixty-two blood path mounts that had been left in a nearby stable, thinking them potential Foundation cultivators. His unfortunate series of events meant that he had to bear some mockery for a number of years after this.
Impact: 6 (0)
Cultivation: 13th Heavenstage (0/160)
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 326 (+51)
Health: Healthy --> Healthy
Lipp Galanis
Fate: Lipp Galanis was one of the few left to defend the fort as Marcus went on his raid against the enemy. He was terrifyingly attacked by an enemy Foundation Expert, barely managing to get to the defensive array and activate the second-line defenses with the strategic use of a treasure. Even so he was lightly wounded, and spent much of his time recovering.
Impact: 16 (0)
Cultivation: 10th Heavenstage
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 163 (+14)
Health: Healthy --> Badly Wounded --> Lightly Wounded (LST) --> Healthy (EoT)
Marcus Quinctius
Fate: Marcus fought in the long-lauded defense of Clearfell Fort. Despite being assigned to a minor post a number of li away, the actions of the Clan here were certainly noted. While others completed complicated tasks and clever schemes, Marcus fought. He arrived somewhat late, having been ambushed by some Blood Path cultivators along the way, but made it in time to fight in one of the several assaults on the minor fort. It was no important position, but the fort did overlook the defense of a nearby city. If it fell, the city would be besieged and taken, and three hundred thousand souls lost. Marcus joined several other cultivators in a raid on a Blood Path camp, retrieving a rare Golden Hare Herb (+20 CY), and lowering the tempo of enemy operations so their fort could hold.
Impact: 8 (0)
Cultivation: 10th Heavenstage
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 151 (+53)
Health: Healthy --> Healthy
Matthaias Outi
Fate: Matthaias was sent to the the raiding around Twinbone Undercity, and was the first to discover the unhappy truth: the 'raiders' and 'bandits' everyone was plagued by were in fact from the Qiguai who had been forced into assaulting the Yuan by means of hostages or threats. Facing off against many who sought to steal the magnificent Walrusbone Harp - the centrepiece of a local defensive and musical array, he slew several and managed to recover much of his strength from his previous endeavours by using a Walrus Fortifying Walrus Meridian-Cleansing Walrus Pill (+2 Impact). The pill contained no walrus ingredients whatsoever.
Impact: 4 (2)
Cultivation: Foundation Establishment True 1-Pillar (Fortified Pillar)
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 122 (+15)
Health: Lightly Wounded --> Healthy
Sisyphus Constantinus
Fate: Where everyone else joined in a desperate frontal raid, Sisyphus Constantinus was sent to the rear of the enemy camp. Here he was given the worst task of all after the Blood Path had been drawn away - killing some of the tortured cultivators and mortals their enemies had taken as Qi reserves. For such people death was perhaps a mercy, and while doing so he found himself almost unable to continue. As he agonized over his task, a Blood Path cultivator nearly slew him by surprise. He managed to avoid them and killed the woman. Amidst the dead and dying he found a single feather of mysterious provenance that burst into flame as he touched it. Absorbing the Firebird Feather (+40 CY), he leapt into the 9th Heavenstage near-instantaneously.
Impact: 0 (0)
Cultivation: 9th Heavenstage (0/40 Years)
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 93 (+72)
Health: Healthy --> Healthy
Wei Feng
Fate: Wei Feng fought. Oh, others fought more intelligently, more strategically. Wei Feng, on the other, simply went to wherever the fighting was thickest, wherever there were Core Formation enemies to challenge, and weighed them down. Unable to kill them, they were equally unable to kill him, and so he relentlessly hunted down and forced back the most powerful elements of the enemy raiding parties. Naturally, he was badly wounded in this time. Nothing he couldn't regenerate, of course. Awful, deadly wound on crippling injury meant nothing to the man, and it was only when he at last faced a Late Core Formation elder that he was slowed, and lured into a cunning trap. The elder seemed wounded and weak, and Wei Feng thought of a method to ignite not only his bloodline but his very soul to slay the man. Unfortunately his vaunted invincibility did not work here, and only the use of a treasure prevented him from permanently crippling his cultivation.
Naturally this prevented him from advancing his cultivation further.
Anastasia Outi
Fate: Anastasia is not an exceptional Expert. She is above-average in combat ability, but still just one Centurion among many; the Outi have always produced such products. This is how she has always been known, but such labels may no longer apply.
In the Qiguai Realm, Anastadia encountered danger after danger, failure after failure, each one taking a greater toll on her body, yet still she preserved(Dead->Badly Wounded(LST)->Wounded). At the end of it all, the Devil found herself in a peaceful forest glade, with no idea of how she arrived. 'Rest a while.' It seemed to say. 'Lay your weary head; you have earned it.'
Anastasia knew better; she had experience with man-eating plants. Instead of resting, Anastasia sat down and cultivated. In a grueling battle of wills that took eight months, she took in every scrap of qi the glade had to offer; a mind-boggling bounty(+120 Cultivation Years). By the time she was finished, she had fully formed her fifth and sixth pillars, and her seventh was well underway. In truth, the entire place was one interconnected organism, and she had tamed it.
Anastasia is now the master of the Harmonious Wood Body. It grants her an exceptional, instinctual comprehension of Wood Qi, be it for healing, growing plants of all kinds, or creating poisons. Her Spirit Elk, a creature of the forest, is now more obedient, and her Man-Eating Plant has grown more powerful, as Anastasia's body is more suitable soil for it than before. As a minor drawback, her affinity towards other elements has modestly decreased. Though no one aspect of the Harmonious Wood Body is exceptional, it is so broadly useful as to be an asset in any situation(+3 Impact).
Not exceptional, but always useful. There could be no better weapon for an Outi.
Impact: 8 (3)
Cultivation: Foundation Establishment 6-Pillar
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 302 (+120)
Health: Healthy --> Dead --> Badly Wounded (LST) --> Wounded (EoT)
Flavius Eirenikos
Fate: When Flavius entered the Qiguai Realm, his first goal was the reach the castle in the sky, but before he could make much progress there, he was stopped by a young prodigy of the Qiguai Clan. Going by the name of Li Liqiu, this woman asked Flavius to assist her and her small group of friends in gathering cultivation materials to fuel her ascension. With the war against the Blood Path raging on, Li Liqiu needed to ascend as soon as possible in order to contribute, and as she had heard there was a Single Pillar King on the enemy's side, she needed to ascend from the Twelfth Heavenstage.
This was no mere begging for charity, of course. As a granddaughter of the Qiguai Grand Elder, Li Liqiu possessed knowledge of many secret pathways and safe routes through the realm. Though not without danger, these routes brought the group major and consistent results at lessened risk. Li Liqiu took the lion's share, promising to let the others coast on her power and earn far more once she ascended. Even so, the 12% Flavius negotiated for added up substantially(+20 Cultivation Years).
These months of companionship and success were, perhaps, too good to be true. Despite all of the Qiguai Clan's security measures, agents of the Blood Path had already slipped into the Secret Realm, seeking only to rob and consume the many promising talents visiting it. As Li Liqiu was her group's leader and their most powerful member, it only made sense to strike during her tribulation. A delayed-action poison slipped into her food took effect shortly after the lightning began falling, and as the Dao Protectors moved in to help, they were ambushed in the confusion.
Horror and pain ensued. The battle was fast and brutal, with death coming quickly on both sides. With her companions killed and no hope of escape in sight, Li Liqiu sought to save Flavius by charging into the fray and calling down the lightning with as much force as possible. She died, as did the remaining assassins, but Li Liqiu had made an error: the wrath of Heaven would seek out a Devil with just as much aggression as it would a cannibal.
Flavius was struck by tribulation lightning that his body and Dao-Heart had not yet been tempered for; a trial meant for the Twelfth Heavenstage, if only a fragment of it. It scorched him to the core, and so Flavius, with no other options, cycled the lightning through his channels to survive. If not for his protective treasure, an agonizing death would have befallen him, or at the very least a decisive end to his cultivation career(Badly Wounded->Lightly Wounded(LST)->Healthy(Turn End)). With its help, he managed to eventually tame the celestial force, which violently scoured his meridians of almost all remaining impurity(+50 Cultivation Years).
When the ordeal was over, Flavius stood alone, having attained the Dragon Spring Dantian(+6 Impact). His dantian now naturally produces lightning, lacing it into his qi. Of course, lightning does not mix well with the Blood of Bronze, and so Flavius' Dantian must be contained by a coating of Earth Qi to remove the lightning from his qi as he draws it. By undoing the Earth coating and instead coating his meridians in Water Qi to channel the lightning efficiently, he can imbue his reinforcement and his techniques with it. In this state, Flavius' physical capabilities are elevated to a higher level, and all of his techniques hit harder and carry electrical properties. However, the longer he channels the lightning, the more internal damage he takes.
Nothing much else of note happened to Flavius in the Qiguai Realm, and soon enough it was time to return home.
Impact: 12 (6)
Cultivation: 10th Heavenstage
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 181 (+70)
Health: Healthy --> Badly Wounded --> Lightly Wounded (LST) -- Healthy (EoT)
Xiao Yingzi
Fate: Xiao Yingzi and her companions entered the Core Formation section of the Qiguai Realm. As three Experts at the top of their game, working together with well-practiced teamwork, they smashed through all opposition they encountered. Before long, they had reached the center of the realm, the Time-Twisting Plains. Here, the spirits within Yingzi's banner-spear resonated with this place, connecting with their own past selves.
A well of energy, belonging not to one person but to the collective consciousness of the Golden Devil Clan, and the Sea-Conquering army before them, flowed through the spear and into the three Elders(+80 Cultivation Years). With it came thoughts and emotions: a desire for revenge, a desire to go home, disdain for this place where they found themselves, and the mutual hatred held between them and Heaven, between Man and Beast. An ancient war with neither past nor future in sight, driven by resources, by the laws of nature, and by primordial loathing. Beast strikes Man. Man Strikes Beast.
As she came to understand this two-way relationship, Xiao Yingzi's Gathering Storm Clouds evolved, gaining a sub-technique called Holy Grounding(+2 Impact). By performing the infamously difficult maneuver of Technique Reversal, Yingzi can invert the technique, making it absorb lightning instead of emitting it. This grants her resistance to heat, electric shocks and Heavenly influence, as well as other forms of Law, and any lightning she absorbs is converted into strength. By performing the technique normally, then reversing it, she can even absorb her own lightning, surpassing the normal limits of her physical reinforcement. The only problem is actually performing Technique Reversal, which is much easier said than done.
As Yingzi and her companions cultivated, a more individual consciousness emerged from that temporal soup: Jovi Callista. When he looked at this woman, he saw a foreigner, a barbarian who had willingly cast off their Clan's bloodline. Even worse, he saw possible futures in which this barbarian ruled the Clan. Unacceptable.
With a single blow across time and space, her core was shattered, and Jovi returned to his own time, this window into the future closing. The lives of thousands were spent to partially reverse this fatal injury(Dead -> Badly Wounded(LST) -> Wounded). Even so, the Elder has many years of agonizing recovery ahead of her before her core fully recovers. She returned home to heal, and to ruminate on these new insights.
Impact: 53 (2)
Cultivation: Core Formation Solid Core (Late)
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 669 (+87)
Health: Lightly Wounded --> Dead --> Badly Wounded (LST) --> Wounded (EoT)
Aliki Floros
Fate: Aliki went to Yuan not seeking personal strength, but to apprehend a great enemy. Following hot on the trail of Elder Brain-Taker and his followers, who had amassed a stash of stolen Yuan tokens, her Legion sought to interrupt the thieves at the gates of the Secret Realm. However, they were a bit too late, and while over one thousand of his followers were killed or captured, the rest had dispersed and entered the realm.
Aliki entered, pulling double-duty hunting down Foundatuon-level Noble Knowledge cultivators and trying her hand at the Secret Realm's trials. Her gains were plentiful - in a place like this, teeming with powerful life, she could advance at an amazing pace by simply leaving her tendrils behind as she traveled and sucking dry anything nearby(+70 Cultivation Years).
This string of successes was not to continue, however. Soon enough, she came into contact with a mighty young genius of the Noble Knowledge Sect, Vicious Fang. Brain-Taker's second-strongest student, the Expert was a formidable opponent, engaging Aliki in a brutal battle that took several days. Her deadly venoms, physical prowess and confusing illusions allowed her to tear through the regenerating Aliki, even as she was worn down in turn. In the end, the two exchanged lethal blows, destroying each other's protective treasures(Dead -> Badly Wounded(LST)).
Before the battle could continue, Brain-Taker's #1 student, Bright-Eyes ambushed them both. Exhausted as they were, both were quickly defeated with the aid of an incredibly powerful spear that he had obtained in the Secret Realm(Dead-> Badly Wounded(LST). Finishing his so-called comrade off, Bright-Eyes stole Vicious Fang's equipment, treasures and cultivation materials, then turned to do the same with Aliki… only to find her gone. By drawing in all of her discarded tendrils, she had gained just enough strength back to disperse her body into small chunks and slither away.
Impact: 14 (0)
Cultivation: Foundation Establishment 6-Pillar
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 299 (+70)
Health: Healthy --> Dead -> Badly Wounded(LST) --> Dead -> Badly Wounded(LST) --> Wounded (EoT)
Amaranth Castellanos
Fate: Amaranth visited the Yuan Realm to challenge the ancient Two Hundred Critics Test, a massive test-array in which one would have to choose to cook to satisfy two hundred critics with a dizzying range of tastes, but with one single meal. From here, however, he satisfied the minimum one hundred to pass the trial, being given a bowl of Qi-Infusion Ramen (+10 CY). Again he tried, knowing failure to improve to one-twenty five would have consequences. He passed, however, being given the Grand Stirring Gravity Technique (+2 Impact). With this he could perfectly stir soups and the innards of his opponents alike.
A third time he tried, passing the more profound one-seventy five mark. Here he was given the Admixture Technique (+4 Impact), a technique used to fuse things together, from ingredients to improve one's cooking, to life itself with nonliving or living objects. A chair might be combined with a horse, or a bird with a man, or a sword with the aforementioned chair, each combination taking on unusual unique characteristics of both progenitors. If Amaranth could break a thing, he could likely fuse it with another thing.
Lastly, he tried to satisfy all two hundred.
Here, he failed. The penalty was severe, and the poisons spat by the critics ought to have killed him, yet he survived with the use of a treasure.
Impact: 12 (7)
Cultivation: Single Pillar 3 (Earth Below)
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 450 (+22)
Health: Healthy --> Dead --> Badly Wounded (LST) --> Wounded (EoT)
Aretaphila Myia
Fate: Aretaphilia sought much in her adventures in the Yuan Realm, with a puzzle set for seemingly her alone. The great hammer of the Myia, Grond, had been hidden there from ages past, a hammer fit for a Spirit Severing cultivator. A true relic. She believed she knew where to find it. Ignoring the traditional traps and puzzles, she delved deeply into the grounds underneath the Yuan Realm, delving perhaps too deep. In those benighted caves she found many strange creatures, almost-men who scrabbled in the dark with green skins and pointed ears, all of them desiring to eat the flesh of human beings. Far stronger than they should be, she threaded and fought her way through them until she reached a gate. Behind that gate lay the hammer of the Myia. She opened it easily, and it closed behind her. There she found the hammer rose easily into her hand, but the gate itself was barred shut, with many skeletons lying in the room aroudn her.
The next step was obvious. To prove her worth, she needed to force her way out through the gate. The greathammer sung dark songs to her as she held it, and its head was shaped in the likeness of a ravening wolf. A thousand thousand arrays were shaped there, all turned to ruin. Grond it had been named, in memory of a greater Hammer held by the Myia in a world before this one.
Yet such a weapon was not easily mastered. The first stroke turned back at her, the ruin it sought being her own. She was nearly crippled entirely, only the clever use of a treasure saving her to mere terrible wounds (Crippled --> Wounded due to LST). Her next three strokes were better. From the first, she understood the Ruinstroke (+1 Impact), the hammer allowing her to shatter anything material it touched, from armor to flesh. However, the Ruinstroke was easily parried with a lesser blade, or dodged entirely. So it was the gate shifted and rippled to avoid her strikes, and so she was forced to comprehend the Inevitable Stroke (+2 impact), a strike with the hammer that permitted her to strike anything with utter precision, though it lacked the power of the Ruinstroke.
Yet she had merely the barest use of these techniques. It was her comprehension of the two at once that allowed her to escape with the barest mastery over the malevolent weapon. The Inevitable Stroke of Ruin (+3 Impact) was more difficult to use and burnt more Qi, but in melee combat very little was its greater. With this she left, for at every moment Grond sought to overwhelm her and she had no time or energy for other pursuits.
Impact: 12 (6)
Cultivation: Single Pillar 4 (Human Between)
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 572 (+0)
Health: Healthy --> Crippled --> Wounded (LST) --> LW (EoT)
Cao Wei
Fate: It is often said of the Goatmen of the Southern Desert are a uniquely hobbled, cursed, perhaps even blasphemous existence. Indeed, how else would you define such an eclecticly born hybridization of Man and Beast in a world where snakes and fish and even bears freely intermingle with humanity without even a fraction of the physical deformities endemic to the Goatmen themselves? A sign from Heaven that such things are unnatural. Cursed.
Forever stunted.
So it was inevitable that upon entering the Qiguai Secret Realm - the purest bastion of the Sea-That-Was in the Region - that the impossibility that Cao Wei represented seemed to strike the Secret Realm dumb, as if in collective raw shock at his own very presence. A Goatmen of the Foundation Establishment level, a truly blasphemous existence, if one that had done no harm. The Man-Beast Reunion Art had done its work: Cao Wei retained his unique properties as both a Man and Beast, and thus the Blasphemy-Punishing subroutines embedded within the very Qi of the Secret Realm did not - COULD not - punish a Beast as going against Heaven. Yet Cao Wei was a Man as well, and thus he wandered for many years, watching others be swept up and swarmed by creatures which seemed to ignore his very presence. Interact with brilliantly shining arrays that appeared to grow dim at his approach.
Frustrated, he eventually left, and took his complaints to the Qiguai Administrators themselves, complaining about the Realm CLEARLY running out of energy - an accusation which scared a Peak Expert Assistance Representative into offering a humble bribe of cultivation materials to try and appease the enraged Goatman (+10 CY). However, Cao Wei cared little for his own direct advancement. The years lost here were ones he could have spent preparing a treatise for Breakthroughs to Expert level! Thus he escalated his complaints to an Early Core Shift Elder, who haughtily reviewed the hidden observation arrays to disprove the clear fraud. But inevitably, the evidence supported Cao Wei's own accusations, and in a panic he offered an additional bribe on top of the first! (+10 CY) But Cai Wei was not deterred, a mere refund for time lost in Qiguai?! Absurd! He escalated once again, this time to a Peak Core Supervising Elder, who looked upon the Beastman with a scoff, and threw another pittance at the Expert (+10 CY) before telling him to leave those lands if he valued his life.
In a huff, Cao Wei departed, but not before spreading rumors (with evidence taken unawares from the Shift Elder) of the failing systems of the Qiguai Secret Realm. But the Qiguai Patriarch heard of these stories as they caught on, and in a rush to preserve the value of the Secret Realm even as he negotiated to try and receive aid from any power willing to hear his plea he spent moments of precious time with the Goatman Expert, offering him an additional pittance of resources and his sincere apologies for his experience (+10 CY).
Face restored, Cao Wei thanked the Patriarch for his time, and continued on his way back home.
Impact: 0 (0)
Cultivation: Foundation Establishment 4-Pillar
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 196 (+60)
Health: Healthy --> Healthy
Gabriel Pompeius
Fate: Gabriel and Iskander ventured deep into the Yuan Realm together, seeking not the structured trials on the outer edges, but an ominous zone deeper in where secrets of enlightenment were rumored to lie. There, Gabriel was ensnared by an ancient chamber, one which killed most entrants, but promised true understanding at the other side of its torment.
Gabriel was ensnared by chains and torn to pieces, his soul stripped of the flesh it inhabited and laid held within a vessel of glass and white jade(Crippled->Wounded(LST)->Dead->Badly Wounded(LST)->Wounded). The vessel was placed before an ancient skull with an inexplicably intact left eye. It observed, and it spoke, and even though Gabriel has no ears to hear its words with, nor brain to think with, nor eyes to see, a vision played out before the Devil.
He saw a vision of a grassy plain on the bank of a river. People came together to drink of the water, and soon began to build things. First farmland, then a town hall, a dozen homes, a granary and a palisade. Steadily, it grew. A typhoon came. The village stayed. An army came. The village stayed. A famine came. The village stayed. It became a town. A city. A kingdom. Within it, a castle was constructed, tall spires reaching towards the heavens. He blinked. The castle was his body.
Now emblazoned within Gabriel's mind are seven letters — M A L K U T H, a word, a Truth, that reinforces the state of his existence, having reforged and purified his body to receive the Light of Heaven, and in turn, release it into this False Heaven's Creation(+7 Impact). Gabriel's inner, mental world is easier to emanate into the outer, physical world. Techniques are more qi-efficient and easier to perform, enchanted items are easier to construct, and, though this is of no use to him yet, one day the same will be true of any abilities which use Dao or Law. All mystical things flow more elegantly - for Gabriel's draws them from a better Foundation than this or any Sea.
Near the end of the year, Gabriel awoke in a padded chair, naked as the day he was born. His body was segmented into pieces by scar tissue, but he otherwise felt normal. No, better than normal, his cultivation felt further along(+30 Cultivation Years). With the year coming to a close, he met back up with Iskander and the two went on their way.
Impact: 7 (7)
Cultivation: 10th Heavenstage
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 182 (+56)
Health: Healthy --> Crippled --> Wounded (LST) --> Dead --> Badly Wounded (LST) --> Wounded (Eo)T
Gaius Antonius
Fate: Gaius went to the Yuan Realm, finding himself briefly on the tail of one of the Favored. This was when he discovered something that others were discovering the same year: the Yuan Realm was not named such simply because it was a series of interesting puzzles fed by a stream of sky-Qi that eventually allowed them to function.
As it was fed by more and more Qi, it became a truly liminal space, phasing in and out of existence and becoming ever-harder to enter across much of it, and Gaius was at the centre of it all. No doubt this did not strike him as strange - for when had it ever been otherwise? Yet while young Hector had adventures many, Gaius was swept into a place in which he was a mere plaything for a being from the past, a Silver-Blooded Centurion by the name of Herakles. One of the strongest men who was fighting in the invasion of the Turtle World, he saw the fault-line in time itself, and followed it down, thinking it an attack from an enemy. Instead, he was struck as time shattered, the deep fault-lines created throughout all of history leaving him dying with but a few minutes to spare - from his perspective.
It was at this point he saw Gaius, far in the future. Isolated from the past for what remained of his life, Herakles was able to learn a little of the future from Gaius.
Noting him as a descendent of the Sea-Conquering Army, he spat out a droplet of his refined heartsblood, purest silver. The power it bore was enough to raise Gaius's own power up, purifying his blood and beginning to forge the Blood of Silver in his veins (+11 Impact). It contained enough Qi to push him to the next stage of the Single-Pillar Kings (+70 CY), the Breath of the Dao.
It was here that the space collapsed, and Gaius found there had been no true provision for his escape. Had it not been for his newfound level of power, he surely would've died, but as it stood he escaped into the time he belonged, merely Badly Wounded.
While relating no unspeakable deep truths, he talked to Gaius for a short time. In his dying breath he asked Gaius to avenge the Army 'completely, to the last wretched native of this benighted world'.
Impact: 41 (11)
Cultivation: Single Pillar 5 (Breath of the Dao)
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 655 (+72)
Health: Healthy --> Badly Wounded --> Wounded (EoT)
Hector Vatatzes
Fate: Hector Vatatzes stood in the middle of a great plain, gazing into the swirling mists of the Yuan Realm. Where everyone else had a simple experience, Hector had followed a man - Fei Xian, who claimed to be Favored by Heaven itself. While Hector had prepared, Fei Xian had done more. Maps, ancient artifacts, enchanted weapons, and protective talismans. Fei Xian was prepared for a challenge well beyond his abilities.
Slipping through a hidden portal concealed within an ancient puzzle, Fei Xian made sure he wasn't followed. Yet Hector was weak enough to slip by the many magical pieces of equipment he had - pieces of equipment that seemed only to detect true threats to Xian.
Hector trailed the Favored for many days, sneaking after him as they went through a peculiar liminal space made of light and shadow, where the light threatened to burn Hector and the shadow seemed to nurture and heal him. A swarm of ghostly guardians attacked, and Fei Xian used treasure after treasure to ward them off - Hector did not know much of what happened, yet he could not even follow the battle with his eyes.
He used Xian's own solutions time after time, before finding a peculiar portal made out of pure light. Xian stepped through, and the portal disappeared, leaving Hector in the realm alone. A few minutes later, a shadowy version of the original portal opened, teleporting Hector to where Xian was.
Xian was fighting a beast that moved with speed beyond what Hector could see, and he was forced into lying amidst some rocks, his bones creaking as the two cultivators fought. Xian with his treasures, the beast slowly weakening. Treasure after treasure was used, and eventually Xian was victorious.
Weakened and bleeding, the other man limped over the corpse of the beast, a creature seemingly formed from pure shadows that flickered and changed as you looked at it, and behind it found a small orb. Instilling it with a burst of Qi, it opened, and a tremendous array of Heavenly Treasures flew out.
It was at this moment Hector, himself battered by the battle, hacked off Xian's head. The other man despite his higher cultivation had used his treasures and was weak beyond measure. In his moment of victory he found it replaced with bitter defeat.
Hector claimed the treasures Heaven itself seemed to give to the Chosen. An Elixir of Turtleblood (+40 XY), rocketing his cultivation instantaneously. Next was a ball of pure light, which the shadow that had followed him corroded and corrupted into one of flickering shade, transforming into a Shadow-Blessed Pearl (+40 CY), the Qi not even needing proper alignment to push his cultivation forward. There were also an array of pills and herbs (+20 CY), and finally a banner.
The banner was half-unfurled, with Tiāntáng written upon it. The characters flared and faded, becoming unreadable, and it burst into dark flame. A great rush of Qi fled from it, enough to overwhelm someone stages above him in cultivation, yet the tiniest stream of it entered his meridians and condensed in his dantian, pushing his cultivation further ahead than he could've even imagined (+110 CY).
Impact: 0 (0)
Cultivation: 12th Heavenstage
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 284 (+263)
Health: Healthy --> Healthy
Iskander Pallikari
Fate: Iskander's venture in the Yuan Realm was a foolish one at first. He travelled into a dangerous region, a place where enlightement was rumored to lie. There he found what others had been calling the Cycle of Reincarnation. He was reborn as a mere mortal woman, trying time and time again to preserve that woman's family against grievous odds. Each time Iskander failed, his memories of who he had been faded a little more, and he failed many times. Yet in the end, she became that woman from many millennia ago failing, but the method by which the puzzle aimed to destroy his memories was vulnerable to a life-saving treasure, keeping his personality somewhat intact as he remembered being a peasant woman and a cultivator of the Clan in equal measure. While he was not wounded in body, his spirit was sorely tested. His combat skills were badly weakened, and his emotions and desires were constantly in flux (Dead --> Badly Wounded (LST used)
Yet from here he turned to easier options, finding a simple puzzle: to properly honor an ancient beetle-god within some ruins. His mortal memories came in use, and he was able to propitiate the god. From it came a single piece of shell arrayed in runes, the Reversion Carapace (+4 Impact). It would allow him to revert injuries and the like provided they were inflicted within the last few seconds... but it would make him vulnerable, rewinding time on him at one second per second while it worked.
Secondly came a trap of fire and gas, this he navigated with ease. From it he obtained the Imbued Gloves of Grandfather Volcano (+3 Impact), powerful gloves that would impart the very essence of boiling lava onto his enemies either through his fists, or even melee or ranged weapons - though the further from his hands the strike, the weaker it would be.
Lastly was a rather clever puzzle, requiring one to figure out which accountant was corrupt. From it he gained the Good-Faith Candle (+2 Impact), a candle that could be lit, and the two nearest its light would be struck powerfully each time they told a lie. It could be fooled, but for one below the user's cultivation this would be exceedingly difficult.
Impact: 9 (9)
Cultivation: 10th Heavenstage
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 135 (+27)
Health: Healthy --> Dead --> Badly Wounded (LST) --> Wounded (EoT)
Janus
Fate: Janus found himself at the heart of a library-labyrinth, and upon him came a massive beetle-grub. Exhausted and frustrated, it struck at him but failed, and then offered to barter with him in return for his aid in repairing the library. Three creatures who were used to power the formation had broken free due to a foolish act of one his fellows, and required re-imprisoning. Even a weak cultivator could do it, and indeed, too powerful a cultivator would awaken them prematurely and prevent them from being resealed.
With but a thought the creature taught him the Time-Slowing Net (+6 Impact), one of the core pieces he would need to reseal the beasts at the heart of this formation-library. The Net was a rather difficult technique, but would slow down both the space encased non-uniformly, the heart of the space encased moving not at all while the edges moved nearly at normal time. Somehow this had no negative effects on the creatures held within, but the Net would be required to repair the first broken prison. It was difficult to use and lasted only a minute or two in the external world at best, but it would somehow fuse with the formation and all would be well.
Janus faced down the Lord of Moles, a False Nascent sleeper who's prison had been broken. His dreams were visible in the very world, such was his power. This way and that the dreams moved, and the creatures that sprung from his nightmares nearly slew Janus a handful of times, but he made it close enough to The Time-Slowing Net was cast, and with it the formation could be repaired, keeping the creature in a moment of near-frozen time to be drawn upon when it was necessary.
Janus returned, and the grub rewarded him with a shower of vomit containing a piece of jade. Sealed within the jade was the Edge of Madness (+6 Impact), a dagger capable of reshaping itself to any edged weapon the wielder desired. Upon drawing blood, it would taint the blood of the wounded, sending the victim into a killing frenzy for nearly an hour if the user and victim were of equal cultivation. A double-edged weapon, but used correctly could turn an enemy's power against their own allies.
Janus was then sent into the library depths, and there faced the guardians of the Worm of Thoughts. Another imprisoned False Nascent used to power the Yuan Realm, he was forced to turn the guardian creatures against one another in order to bypass them and use the Time-Slowing Net to repair the second prison.
On his return the grub rewarded him once more, with the Pipe of Domination (+7 Impact). The brother-weapon to the Edge of Madness, the Instrument was a small vial set as a crossbar to a peculiar flute-like instrument, fashioned from raw wood. The flute itself when played would permit anyone who's blood sat in the vial to be controlled by the player to be dominated, as though they were merely a prisoner in their own body.
With this, Janus found his way to the prison of the False Nascent Fiendlord, a half-man who had long since fused himself with bizarre creatures to attempt to prolong his life. Apparently when all had failed he had agreed to be imprisoned in the Yuan Realm, hoping for time to find him a cure for his malady. Here Janus was cautious, and forced to dominate one of the jailors, a fat, short little creature who was well-loved by the Fiendlord. For while the others slept, Janus was forced to talk the madman back into his cage before sealing it.
Having done so, he returned to the grub, which rewarded him with another shower of vomit rich with Qi. Bottling it to consume (or perhaps forge into a pill before consuming), Janus found himself eventually pushed forward in his cultivation (+40 CY).
Impact: 31 (19)
Cultivation: Foundation Establishment 4-Pillar
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 193 (+53)
Health: Healthy --> Healthy
Kainos Yuan
Fate: Kainos entered the Yuan Secret Realm seeking rare and volatile ingredients for his alchemical brewing. Specifically, he was looking for the types of plants that can only grow in large quantities under the extreme qi density of the Yuan Man-As-Mountain array.
First, he found a bushel of Five-Leaf Clover, a plant which senses perception itself and sinks into the ground to avoid notice. It is said that only those with truly blessed luck can catch a glimpse and know to dig it up. This was a key ingredient in brewing the World-Seducing Draught(+5 Impact). This drink realigns the body's internal organs and accupoints to achieve perfect internal Feng Shui, making the world treat one mercifully and thus granting resistance to misfortune and curses. The effects are not flashy, or even visible, but it reduces the chance of things going wrong no matter the situation; most cultivators would kill a whole town for such a thing.
This power saved him almost immediately when he entered his next Trial Chamber, alerting him to a punji pit that would have skewered him. Passing through a dozen devious traps, Kainos discovered something many might find underwhelming, but which he found incredible: the Infinite Barrel(+4 Impact). So long as it was supplied with qi, this barrel would endlessly produce spiritually-dense barley, allowing the one who owned it to brew an unending supply of Spirit Beer. A vast array of body-enhancing concoctions can now be mass-produced for Kainos' use, letting him brew whatever supplements he may need for the task at hand.
Near the end of the year, Kainos snuck around a horde of reanimated corpses and found a vineyard full of eternally frozen grapes, tended to by a ghost. Eating just one of these grapes raw can kill a Fifth Heavenstage from hypothermia, so after leaving the Secret Realm, he spent six years brewing them into a wine that was safe to drink. This produced the Eternal Winter Ice Wine(+2 Impact), which induced in his body an unnatural chill. His baseline body temperature is now 50 degrees Fahrenheit, he is resistant to heat, and cold-based techniques are more powerful in his hands. On the flipside, fire and heat-based techniques Kainos uses will be weakened.
All in all, a truly auspicious year.
Impact: 11 (11)
Cultivation: 9th Heavenstage
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 88 (+67)
Health: Healthy --> Healthy
Katha Theodoros
Fate: Katha re-entered the Yuan Realm, having reached Foundation Establishment. Here, things did not quite go as they have done previously. Where previously she had simply swung through and gained everything she wanted and more, this time the realm seemed to abhor her very existence.
Katha found herself meeting with her Beetle mentor again - a meeting that left her nearly dead. It attempted to teach her a concept with a massive and powerful attack, which she could not comprehend. The attack failed to convey the lesson and merely resulted in her being Badly Wounded.
She continued deeper into the Yuan Realm, where she would face off against a peculiar dream—a trap made of the memories of those long dead. To gain their powers, she needed to carefully outwit these departed souls. However, she failed entirely, becoming even more wounded. She should have died, but she used her treasure to escape from the trap of the dream (LST used. Dead --> Badly Wounded)
After encountering failure after failure, she moved deeper into the Yuan Realm, seeking a rather unusual puzzle made of rust, seemingly designed to kill her. Despite facing death at every turn, she managed to navigate through it. In this realm, there was a concept of refinement: making what was once weak stronger by cutting away the extraneous. By the end of this ordeal, she successfully made her way through the rust trap and rust puzzle, massively advancing her own cultivation (+80 CY)
At the last, she found a most peculiar puzzle, in a part of the Yuan Realm that had never been explored before - at least not in living memory. She was forced to open a path for others to follow, but being the first would no doubt yield greater prizes in any case.
As Qi came from the skies, spacetime itself twisted, and Katha found herself in a realm in which she would live the same day over and over again as a mere mortal woman, trying time and time again to preserve that woman's family against grievous odds. Each time she failed, her memories of who she had been faded a little more, and she failed many times. Yet in the end, as she almost became that woman from many millennia ago, she succeeded, saving her family to live but one more day. Her memories returned to her, along with a burst of Qi so perfectly delivered that her cultivation sped forward in leaps and bounds (+50 CY)
Lihua Kokkinos
Fate: Lihua Kokkinos fought her way into the Yuan Realm, and found herself within a great library-labyrinth. There she was pursued without end by a vastly powerful Core Formation larva for reasons beyond her. Once it badly wounded her, and only a treasure saved her life. Seeking to flee the Yuan Realm it nearly slew her, and a second treasure saved her life. Yet as she fled she found an ancient scroll on the wall, written by apparently a scholar who lived thousands of lives. At each life he wrote upon the scroll a Will was formed there, and upon her theft of the scroll the Will slipped into her dantian, forcing her cultivation forward massively (+80 CY).
Mostly exhausted, it taught her the Librarian's Eye (+1 Impact), a technique allowing her to peruse and learn from books at a great distance without even seeing them, allowing her to multitask her paperwork - or become a superb spy.
Impact: 17 (1)
Cultivation: Core Formation Misty Core (Early)
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 480 (+80)
Health: Healthy --> Lightly Wounded
Xiuying Ten Jiang
Fate: Xiuying came to the land of Yuan looking to test her luck, and so she headed right to the place that, to her veteran instincts, seemed the most dangerous. She came upon a great mountain, and felt a tremendous presence within. As she knew not where the entrance lay, Xiuying simply cut her way in.
Within, she found a giant beetle, a Nascent Soul beast that was the greatest secret of the Yuan Realm. Disappointed as it was with the failure of another student, the beetle decided to humor this promising Junior, asking if she might like a sword chipped off from its horn - a perfect implement for a swordswoman like her. Xiuying replied that a true professional does not need the fanciest tools around to succeed, and that she wanted not a weapon, but greater understanding.
Finding her response immensely amusing, the beetle took Xiuying in. Through the whole year, it stuffed her body full of qi and her mind full of knowledge. The sword was not its specialty, but it could speak to no end about the secrets of the Dao. How to purify it, how to channel it, how to hone it, how to project and shape it. It was relieved that this time, it had a student who could somewhat comprehend the lesson.
The energies stirred up by the Yuan Man-As-Mountain Array were funneled into Xiuying's core, increasing its density throughout the year (+70 Cultivation Years). The beetle took its time across almost the entire year, wanting to ensure that this student was ready for its lesson. On the 363rd day of the Secret Realm's activation, Xiuying faced her final exam.
The beetle struck Xiuying with a massive, invisible attack. Most would be unable to comprehend it, but Xiuying had grown aware enough to defend herself. It was not a perfect defense, but a protective treasure she had on her person was able to ward off the traces she missed(Wounded->Healthy(LST)). In fending off this danger, she gleaned some of the understanding she had asked for: the Blade Of Self(+2 Impact)
Representing the division between Xiuying and the rest of the universe, the Blade of Self is a series of short-range Dao Emanations that can be wrapped around any blade, or swung by themself as an invisible sword whose shape can change at its master's whim. With this power active, all Sword Arts used by Xiuying become more qi-efficient and gain additional cutting power.
With the year up, Xiuying went home, much stronger than before.
Impact: 25 (2)
Cultivation: Core Formation Liquid Core(Mid)
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 506 (+79)
Health: Healthy --> Wounded --> Healthy (LST)
yan
Fate: Yan's passage into the Yuan Realm was not without its perils. He sought great treasure, but found only a library-labyrinth of shadowed valleys and hidden threats. Deep within, he encountered the Mocking Grail an artifact that promised power and wisdom but came with a steep price—Yan was reborn into the form of an elderly blind scholar to navigate the labyrinth, trapped in the endless cycle of his pursuit for knowledge. Each time Yan's efforts to traverse the labyrinth faltered, his memory of his former self dimmed, becoming more and more the elderly mortal. He failed often, haunted by the memoriesof forgotten friends and the burden of his new mortal age.
At the last, he died of old age, having forgotten who he truly was (Dead --> Badly Wounded (LST)). Yet a charm he carried warded him against such peculiar effects only once, and so he remembered just the tiniest piece of who he was. It was enough for him to find his way to the exit, and thereby conquer the test. The damage to his body and spirit was severe, for the test did not regenerate the damage taken in this way.
For his victory he gained the Silvered Memory (+6 Impact), a thin strand forged from potent blood. When he carried the Memory attacks on his mind would simply fail, for within it was carried all the arrogance of a Clan Silver-Blood from ages past at their height. When Yan used it activately, it would form an intimidating aura capable of forcing even Core Formation elders to stagger briefly, and those beneath Core Formation would be forced into whimpering terror unless their wills were great indeed.
The Library offered another puzzle, but Yan poured his Qi into the Memory and it yielded before it. Another treasure arose, as did a powerful Core Formation guardian to slay the interloper for using the Memory against it. The first was the Guiding Silvered Needle (+3 Impact), an artifact designed to be used with the Memory, allowing its force to be briefly concentrated against a single enemy. Qi Condensation enemies would die with a glance, and Foundation Experts would find themselves struggling to fight at all while his will remained upon them. Even Core Formation enemies could be persistently slowed, though the cost in Qi was not small.
The weakness of the Memory and Needle of course was that the strongest-willed would find it little challenge.
Lastly, Yan used the Needle to strike at the great Core Formation larva chasing him, and chipped off a tiny piece of its grublike flesh. Eating it gave him the Porcelain Beetle-Flesh (+2 Impact), making him far more resistant to blows from hands, feet, clubs, and other bludgeoning weapons.
Impact: 13 (11)
Cultivation: Single Pillar 3 (Earth Below)
Cultivation Year-Equivalent: 403 (+12)
Health: Healthy --> Dead --> BW (LST) --> Wounded (EoT)
I'm not sure how getting confused by the pollen, slaughtering mounts, and becoming a laughingstock resulted in +53 cultivation years, but I suppose I'm not complaining.
I'm not sure how getting confused by the pollen, slaughtering mounts, and becoming a laughingstock resulted in +53 cultivation years, but I suppose I'm not complaining.
I'm not sure how getting confused by the pollen, slaughtering mounts, and becoming a laughingstock resulted in +53 cultivation years, but I suppose I'm not complaining.
My first thought is those stories where the main character is growing arrogant and a powerful god/fairy/sage comes in disguise to humiliate them and teach them humility. Basically that, but with xianxia enlightenment.
