webnovel

Bleach Cultivation Journey

Memories of two different lives fill the mind of Silas Flex a young puritan orphan in the late 1600s. He makes a claim on land distant from his hometown and builds a cultivation cave and soon gathers the attention of a Hallow.

Ultimatedaywriter · Anime und Comics
Zu wenig Bewertungen
35 Chs

CH11: Soifon

Silas, the owner of the homestead and Cletus's boss, left with his overly friendly horse and the gelding with a wagon full of produce. He clutched at the cross around his neck while five former slaves watched the man go. Sprinkles of ice fell on his shoulders while the wagon vanished down a hill. A harsh wind blew as spirits peaked out of the woods, watching the wagon move with what he assumed was covetous greed.

"Hark thee, Cletus, our master has left. Is the plan still on," Jack asked?

God condemned sorcerers in his holy words, and perhaps it was better to die pure than taint their immortal souls with the ways of queer magic. Nevertheless, exercises in focus had changed him with a malignant slowness. In a week of drinking the tainted water farmed from cow urine and mushrooms, he saw things that he couldn't before. The spirits of the dead were visible, along with their tainted chains clinging to the earth.

The mushroom was immaculate, the master had said. A birth linked to Christ's own birth is used to assist them in processing spiritual energy. Cletus knew there was a primal energy source on the property but couldn't find its location. Even after seeing Silas disappear at the entrance, neither Cletus nor his men could enter the cave.

Was the master a sorcerer for practicing mysticism? Did carving symbols in wood and filling them with hog blood make the man a devil-worshipping heretic? He had heard the stories of the invisible monster and seen the tracks himself. Cletus saw the fence break and heard the master fire his flintlock rifle.

The question was, did their master practice devilry, or was this a needed action to defend themselves from demons? He saw the chained ones and their greed for much-needed food, and the worms that controlled him could only be evil. If their master sided with the demon, he would surely have left them to be controlled. Or he could have used freeing them to buy their loyalty.

Shortly after leaving the homestead before the ice storm hit, they were attacked by an invisible force, and the worms entered them. A cold shiver slithered down Cletus's spine from his memory. How could he trust anything he saw?

"Do thy eyes trick thee? Who will protect the good Christians of low Delaware if not us?" Cletus asked.

Benjamin snorted. "I wasn't born under the lash, and thy god isn't mine. Shamans protect the people from evil spirits and help the community. This one has even held to thy values and taught us some of his ways. He promised to bring a schoolmaster to teach letters and already freed us. Will thou believe the words of a book and the assurances of the blind or trust thy own eyes?"

Cletus glared up at the tall African born out of captivity. He didn't understand the glory of god, the wisdom of the saints, or the pleasure of reading the truth. The pity he felt for the non-believer hurt his heart. The man had taken to the master's teachings quicker than the rest. Worse, Cletus could feel the pressure rolling off the man; it made him want to give in.

"Now a man or a woman who is a medium or a spiritism shall surely be put to death. They shall be stoned with stones; their bloodguiltiness is upon them." Cletus said.

Soon he realized that was the wrong thing to say. All the men turned on him immediately, getting the implication. The verse was supposed to inspire solidarity, but the men would surely circle the wagon to protect themselves and possibly the master. They had been possessed. If anyone found out about it, they would die, and their souls weren't guaranteed for heaven.

Chill air blew through his riding clothes as the road quickly changed from snow white to a brown slurry as his faithful horses pulled the wagon. His faithful old nag watched him as much as the road while he settled in to listen to their hooves crush the ice. Silas kept his hand close to his rifle even if the action froze him. There was a current of malignant spirit energy in the air that he couldn't ignore. The feeling made it difficult to pinpoint the energy source driving his nerves up.

He focused back on his faithful mare instead of going crazy about things he couldn't control. Dotty pulled most of the weight, leaving the poor gelding to catch up. It wasn't growing in intelligence like Dotty. He could tell that many animals couldn't grow smarter no matter how much spiritual energy they absorbed. It was an interesting phenomenon. They still grew stronger, but no lights were on behind their eyes like he could see with Dotty.

That made him feel better about permitting his fellows to slaughter and smoke some hogs. While the meat would help a little with cultivation, they were also running low on protein. The deer would hold them for a while, but they needed more. While eggs were good, they didn't have the kick of spirit-infused meat. Once he reached the first stage, anything without spiritual energy in it wouldn't taste right, like drinking a coke without sugar for the first time.

He gulped down a mouthful of spirit water and slowly cultivated some of the last capillaries that hadn't been converted. If he didn't convert all of his veins before reaching the first stage, there wouldn't be an opportunity to correct the flaw. While he moved fast, he wouldn't ruin himself; if he did that, he might as well die and start again.

Silas saw some blood in the woods and felt some faint spiritual energy rising and dissipating. Before he pulled on Dotty's reins, the mare had already started to slow to a stop. He gripped the ice-cold handle of his musket and looked around.

Ice sickles clung from tall ancient oaks weighed down and, in some cases, nearly touching the ground. The sides of the road were slick with ice and mud, and he saw the bear hollow's tracks. It was a trap, or the childish monster was showing its sloppy immature nature.

He heard a gasp barely under the roar of the wind and shaking of the nearby limbs. Silas turned his head to the side where the malignant energy was at its peak to see a bird. It was a passenger pigeon but wrong. There were red markings across its white feathered body, different from the bird's natural coloration until he focused. The bird appeared normal to his mundane sight but had an altered appearance to his spirit sense.

He picked up a rock, a hunk of ice, and tossed it at the bird. The bird failed to dodge the hurled hunk of ice and died from the impact.

Silas had reached a point where he could be called superhuman. But his feat wasn't impossible for normal humans making the kill well within the range of possibility.

More passenger pigeons fluttered down on various limbs while Silas walked over to pick up the bird. He tossed on his seat while the others stared at him, but the hollow didn't speak through them. Silas reasoned that passenger pigeons couldn't speak, but they made excellent surveillance cameras. After the first snow, they should fly south, but their natural instincts took a back seat under the hollow's control.

"Thou can see me." A woman's voice croaked out.

Silas turned his attention to an oriental girl with short-cut hair and a claw wound across her gut. Two braids wrapped with cloth trailed down, soaked in her blood.

"No, thy eyes and good sense deceives thou. I am a humble farmer traveling to sell my harvest to the good town of low Delaware. I know not what I can do for thee. Methinks the beast tricked thou into separating from the main force." Silas said.

"It was stronger than reported by far. The cowardly native platoon only knows to give soul burials and keep their heads down. Methinks godly hollows bent on benevolence from the free sacrifice of faithful plus souls have stolen their courage and agency. They abandoned me at the hollow's roar; the beast surely hunts them down by my word for sport." The Shinigami woman said.

It was time to use the information given to form a reason for his knowledge going forward.

"Thou called it a hollow. Methinks the hole in its chest tis the reason. Do you require assistance? I don't know if thou will be better off playing dead here or riding with me to town. Can people see thee?" Silas asked.

"Only the spiritual aware like thou can see a spirit. At least I know now why it hunts this land. Hollows are naturally attracted to the spiritually aware. The natives will be more enticing for the moment, but by the four noble clans, I can feel powerful spiritual pressure from thou." The girl said.

That could either be a good thing or the prelude to an attack by soul society. He knew of Reverse London but not of any spiritual area in America.

"Where do hollows come from?" Silas asked.

The soul reaper coughed up a mouthful of blood and spat it on the ground.

"Answers can wait if thou want to be an ally of soul society and the four clans, then assist me." The Shinigami woman said.

Silas gently lifted her and carried her to his wagon. "Methinks thou won't pass through," Silas said.

"There is enough spiritual energy in the wagon to prevent it. Art thou a fullbringer or a wizard thy round eyes art telling?" The woman asked.

Silas sighed and knew he had officially stepped into it. While he could have left her to die in the cold, it would have gone against his nature. He was a man, a protector, and a provider. It was his duty to protect, and hollows were everyone's enemies. Maybe she could help him get a small doorway into the Donghai to siphon some spirit energy. While soul society could fuck him over, he was clearly on the edge of the territory they cared about. They might look the other way and trade with him if he showed himself as a useful local.

He decided to make plans to pack up and head west with Dotty if the worst seemed likely. Dealing with the wild tribes of red Indians would be easier than the soul society. Soifon had been critically injured by a hollow, not a Menos Grande or stronger, but a common hollow. There had to be more to the situation than what he suspected.

By the look of the oriental girl, he was certain she was a young Soifon here to oversee the native Shinigami in handling the new world. Of course, there was a chance dragons could have come over with the colonies and with them witches. But he wouldn't count his chickens before they hatched.

If you want to read the next chapter see it on my Pa Tree On close the spaces and remove and e.

https://www.pa tree on.com/posts/76215203?pr=true

Ultimatedaywritercreators' thoughts