Chapter 43. I am insolent

The Patriarch's new appearance and the following exchange of 'greetings' to Yee Rhys pleased him. The process went easily and smoothly, without subconscious resistance.

But the elder frowned, sensing something amiss. And he repeated the questioning, listening attentively to each word, to the semitones and intonations, to the emotional subtext.

- What have you done? - The patriarch frowned at the boy.

- Nothing. - The boy shrugged.

- You are lying. - The old man shrugged.

- I just want to keep my identity. - Calmly acknowledged Yee Rhys. - Personality, heart and potential.

The old patriarch frowned. There was logic in the boy's words. Without potential, this brat lost all value. And potential, unfortunately, was tied to personality. Breakthroughs into a new Sphere required character, a will. This is why slaves never became good practitioners. And that is why the elder abandoned the idea of the slave seal that day. Though he really wanted to.

- You are impertinent. - The Patriarch glared angrily.

The young man was thrown into the air.

- I am insolent. - He would have preferred to avoid conflict, but the old man had to admit his right to an identity. Otherwise the whole plan was meaningless.

- Too insolent. - The patriarch stretched out his hand and squeezed his fingers a little. The young man's body arched, bones crunching.

Yee Rhys laughed happily.

The elder frowned. Was the boy still suffering from masochism? How should he be punished now?

- Patriarch, - Yee Rhys' voice was hoarse but audible, - you want me? I am yours. But identity comes along with the whole package.

With a muffled growl, the elder clenched his fingers into a fist. The young man's bones cracked and shattered into a thousand pieces.

Yee Rhys spat out a gulp of blood and smiled contentedly, looking directly into the Patriarch's eyes. To suffer from masochism? No. Masochism can only be enjoyed.

The old man's hands trembled, wanting to wring the neck of the arrogant youth. No. You can't. Gritting his teeth, the Patriarch left the room. He tossed him onto the bed so that he was blinded from the pain. The door slammed.

***

Leaving the room of this... beast, the elder slammed the door and immediately opened a portal to his personal range, where he gave way out to his raging emotions. The defensive arrays were barely able to cope. Echoes of the Patriarch's rampage swept through the sect.

Relieving the initial anger, the panting elder froze in the midst of the devastation he had wrought. The most frustrating thing is that the young man is right. Personality cannot be touched. To correct it is possible and necessary. To break it is not.

And also, even after his unknowing corrections, the youngster remained perfectly honest. He even stated bluntly that he was insolent!

The boy was too self-willed.

And for some reason that made elder to want to get him even more. It was a complex puzzle. A challenge.

Panting, the Patriarch roared and went on his second rampage.

***

Yee Rhys lay on the bed, breathing hoarsely. Every bone was broken. His whole body was one ocean of pain. He couldn't move even a finger on his own.

The young man smiled contentedly. The pain was just right. And compared to the seizures, just a tickle. His body still remembered the other pain, the one that made every cell of his being quiver and every nerve flare up like white-hot lightning.

It's all right. It's all right. Pain and helplessness are temporary. So are the echoes of the Patriarch's rage that break through the seal.

The main thing is to smile at the old man more often.

Stomach rumbles in displeasure. Yeah. That grumpy didn't even feed us. But that too is temporary.

Life is good.

***

After letting off some steam, the Patriarch calmed down a little and checked the young man's condition. He was admiring the ceiling, smiling like a cat in March after a few drops of valerian.

The old man was simply devastated by the sight of this masochistic wonder. What to do with him? How to get what he wanted into this bruised head? He seems smart and obedient, but when he does something, you are just confused what to do.

Kitchen comes with cockroaches, it's called.

All right, we got time. With his body, the kid'll last a couple days without food or water.

***

When the Patriarch finally reappeared at the doorway of the room, Yee Rhys squinted a cloudy look at him and smiled.

- More. - He asked hoarsely.

- More what? - The older man asked with a frown.

- Break something else. - The insolent youth clarified his wish.

The old man clenched his fists and resisted the urge to break anything.

He managed to keep his temper under control as he glanced up at the younger man and then crossed his enthusiastic, expectant face. No. He had no intention of encouraging masochism. With a wave of his hand, the Patriarch cast a healing spell. The broken bones began to shift, falling into place and melding back together into a whole skeleton.

Yee Rhys laughed happily.

A moment later the healing was over, leaving the young man completely intact and healthy. The young man sighed disappointedly.

- Patriarch, shall we do it again? - Yee Rhys suggested hopefully, lifting himself up on the bed.

The older man's eye twitched.

- Sit down. - He ordered sternly.

He sat down, looking at the Patriarch pleadingly.

The elder habitually moved the table and obtained a bowl of cereal.

- Eat.

Yee Rhys looked pitifully at the Patriarch. Then he looked sadly at the cereal. And began to eat. When the plate was empty, the elder took out a second one without question. When he was certain the young man was full, the old man put the plates away and put a jug of water on the table.

- Drink.

The young man was surprised but obediently drank.

After making sure the subject was all right, the elder pushed the table back into place.

- Get up.

Yee Rhys stood up. Looks like something new is about to happen.

- Follow me.

The old man moved steadily out of the room. The young man hurried after him. After a couple of corridors they arrived at the door of a room. They went inside. Inside there was a small hall, the walls inscribed with golden symbols. Yee Rhys squinted slightly. Formation gathering Qi.

- Take a seat. - The old man pointed to the centre of the room.

The young man sat down in the indicated place.

The patriarch sat down a few meters away from him.

- Cultivate. - Another order followed.

Yee Rhys closed his eyes and began to cultivate, carefully listening to himself and the outside world. What was the old man up to?

The patriarch regarded the young man thoughtfully for a while, and then began the cultivation as well.

The young man almost interrupted cultivating in mid-cycle wondering. Was he just tired of cultivating alone?

***

The cultivation, interrupted only by feedings with accompanying questioning, lasted for about three days. And then Yee Rhys safely formed a third wisp of Qi.

After the breakthrough, the young man decided to take a break and just think. The main question at the moment was: would he get out of here before the hunt? Yee Rhys had a strong suspicion that the Patriarch himself didn't know how long it would take to 'feed'. And he had no idea when to consider a target as being 'fed'.

He should be strengthening his foundations now. He should train his body. And his mind will be back in working order soon enough. It's been two weeks at the Puppet Coliseum that he skipped. He also had plans for the Library. To claim the prize. Buy some weapons, finally. Get ready for the hunt.

Instead, you just sit here and act like an obedient beast. At this rate, he'll be covered in fur and growing a tail.

Eh, third wisp is good. But the first four are just the beginning. Only from five wisps onwards would he be able to do anything serious.

In his recollection, before the Beginner's Ranking Tournament, the Outer Sect had about a thousand students out of seven thousand in the fourth wisp and below. The fifth wisp had about a thousand and a half. The sixth reached two thousand disciples. And about two and a half thousand were young practitioners with seven wisps. Plus a couple of people who had reached the eighth wisp.

Simply put, all three elite districts were staffed with geniuses with seven wisps, as well as having the equivalent combat power.