Visitor From Afar

Chapter 58

Visitor From Afar

Lei Feng looked over the winding plains with loathing in his eyes.

What was he doing here? Rather, why was he the one sent here? Purity of Qi was abysmal, and even the air itself felt stuffy. He could have been taking a bath with Luna, having the time of his life, and instead... he was here, in the decrepit nothing of the Lower Ashlands, home of the talentless, worthless, and pointless. Were it up to him, he would have built a massive wall around this entire place and let it die out in pathetic silence.

And yet, here he was, sent out to investigate the supposed appearance of an Immortal here. It was likely just a pretense, however, to kick him out temporarily and lower his cultivation speed. Recently, he'd been slowly catching up to his Seniors and threatening their position, and they likely colluded together to get him out and ensure that didn't happen.

It was frustrating and hateful, but he couldn't say no. He didn't have the power to do so. 

As he believed there was no Immortal here, he didn't plan on doing any actual investigating. It was pointless--if this dry-hole could produce an Immortal, they wouldn't be rotting at the bottom of the barrel in abject irrelevance. Rather, for the next three months that he had to spend here... he decided to just have fun. It didn't matter what he did here, nobody would pass an ounce of judgement. Even if he levelled the entire thing to the ground, there'd be more people praising him than condemning him back home.

His first step was the 'vaunted' Lingshan Kingdom. He'd never heard of the place, but according to a random passerby he'd grabbed and mind-read, they had three Soul Ascendance Realm cultivators in their ranks, none of whom got along together very well. His lips stretched out into a wide smile as he slowly planned ahead--he'd cast this place in chaos, and then sit at the rear and enjoy the flames.

It wouldn't even be hard, he knew. All he had to offer was a few pitiful 'rewards', and they would be dancing in the palm of his hands. They were the lesser, even they knew that, and they'd do anything at even the faintest opportunity to escape their fates. Lei Feng could only laugh at the thought--even if he had the power to help a few break through to the Nascent Soul Realm, he'd sooner kill them than do that. Vermin should only ever be allowed to hope and nothing else, to forever gaze at something they would never be able to obtain.

**

Holy Blade Art, or its full name--Immolation of the Holy Blade Art--had always been a bit of an enigma, not just for Yu Minge, but even his Master, Holy Ancestor. The art itself was only Low-Heaven Grade, but both his Master and Yu Minge always felt that wasn't quite right. With each revolution of Qi through the meridians, or each time they'd execute any of the arts contained therein, it always felt as though something was missing, as if it were incomplete almost.

Whenever he would have some free time, he'd isolate himself and ponder on it, trying to peer into the depths he wasn't even certain were there.

Sighing, he opened his eyes and stood up, walking over to a small pond of water. 

He'd walled himself off on one of the mountains surrounding the Sect and overlooking it, a place he often visited when he needed a moment of peace. With Xiaoling taking his place temporarily, he could focus elsewhere... but his mind drifted still to the place below. There was no way he wouldn't worry, especially now that they'd opened the doors to new Disciples. Once in a while, he'd cast his Divine Sense and examine the newcomers, but it seemed there was nothing truly untoward and that Xiaoling was doing a better job than even he would have. 

Sighing yet again, he sat down and looked up to the sky. 

He'd hit a bottleneck, he had to admit... but it was difficult not to do so. As Xiaoling said, if he wanted to break through to Nascent Soul Realm, he'd need at least twenty to thirty years, and that was if he only cultivated non-stop. He'd hoped to be able to glean a few things from the Holy Blade Art, but even that, it seemed, would take a while.

The time was running low, though; not only would he have to be on the lookout for the True Demons and whatever their next goal was, but also whoever the Central Ashlands sent to investigate. Arrogance was bound to the blood of everyone born there, and chances were that they did not come down voluntarily. It was all one thing after another, and he wished he could have learned a cloning technique when younger so he could split himself in two, three, or even ten people and be everywhere, all at once. 

Alas, he had one body and one mind, and could only dedicate it to one thing at a time. Returning to the small cabin, he sat down cross-legged on a prayer mat and closed his eyes. The scripture of the Holy Blade Art appeared in his mind, long and everlasting, its lettering gilded with golden gleam. Each character seemed to chant itself toward the sky, as though demanding attention for itself over others. 

Yu Minge frowned suddenly--in the midst of blinding gold, he saw a tiny mote of something else. Between the first and the second character of the first mantra, he saw a shimmering shadow, a clasp of darkness that was never there before. He rapidly pulled himself out of the image training, breathing heavily, his eyes full of worry.

"... have I been inflicted?"

**

Mei stared silently at an unassuming face of a young man fidgeting in front of her. 

Elder Xiaoling informed her that she'd be accompanying a newly recruited Disciple who, in reality, was the shadow she was chasing almost all her life--Shen Tao, the Chosen One of the Bloodmoon Sect. Though the Elder didn't go into detail as to why a Chosen of another Sect was joining theirs, Mei could venture a guess or two. 

Almost all her life, she was envious of this man's talent--she worked twice, thrice, five times as hard, she felt, than him and all others like him just to barely keep up. That was why she never felt they were too otherworldly--they coasted on their talents, never working as hard as they could, allowing themselves to stagnate. In small parts of her heart, she even hated him--the man who had everything she ever wanted, yet was swimming in the still waters just like her.

Though she wasn't particularly enthused that she'd have to shadow him, it did afford her the opportunity to see just how exactly was he wasting his talents. Was he like a lot of the Seniors she'd seen over the years, frequently visiting brothels? Or was his vice drinking? Or, perhaps, was he just... lazy? 

"... what?" he asked, breaking the silence. "Why are you staring at me so hard?"

"No reason," Mei replied casually. "Spar with me."

"H-uh? What?" 

"Spar with me," she pointed at the nearby field. "I had some insights recently, and I want to test them out."

"But why me?! Can't you ask one of your friends?" 

"We're friends."

"..."

"..."

"Like hell we are! Who the hell is friends with you?!" 

"Let's go," she shrugged her shoulders and headed over to the field. Despite his protests, audible and bodily, he followed along. "Since I know you can't use your arts in full since it would expose you, let's just fight with basic swords techniques." 

"Ugh, fine," he pulled back his long hair and took out his sword. 

"Here I come!"

She did the same, darting forward in the flash of light. Despite her speed, he--rather nonchalantly, at that--deflected her attack, pushing her back a few steps. She felt a ripple of Qi storm through her, making her still for a moment, but he never followed-up. Rather, he stayed rooted in the same place, his eyes dutifully watching her. 

Gritting her teeth, she poured more Qi into her sword and attacked again, feigning a direct hit and going for his right side. He read her immediately, however, entirely ignoring her feign and easily deflecting her true strike. 

Over and over and over and over--they must have gone for over fifty rounds in the span of ten minutes, and yet... she was unable to land a single hit. He never retaliated, only ever defending. And, unlike her, who was gasping for breath, he seemed as though they hadn't even begun just yet. 

It was back, the frustration. She thought she buried it after experiencing the miracle of the Nameless Forest, having her roots ripped and re-done, and finally beginning to believe she was at the equal level with others. So why... why was it that he still seemed like a mountain looming over her?

"Just because you have more Qi or because it's purer," he seemed to have read her mind, speaking up. "Doesn't mean you can fight better. You always telegraph your attacks. And after I blocked you a few times, you tried compensating by pouring more Qi into them, tiring yourself out more and more while I never had to spend more than just minimal amount of Qi to defend." 

"..." she bit her lower lip, swallowing her pride and accepting the tutelage. "Then... how do I fix it?" she asked. 

"..." he smiled faintly, disappearing suddenly and appearing by her side, his sword just shy of bursting through her throat. "You fight. A lot," he whispered directly into her ear before jumping back to his original position. "Since I was five years old, I fought every day. I fought until my bones were broken and until I was bleeding from practically every inch of my body. I fought when it was cold, when it was hot, when it was snowing, raining, day or night. Unless you tower over someone else in terms of cultivation, you will always lose against people who fight every day. Besides," he added. "Your attacks... are soft. Instead of aiming for my neck, you aim for my shoulder. Instead of going for my head or my heart, you go after my hands or my thighs. You want to wound me, and not kill me."

"--of course!" she exclaimed, somewhat flustered. "I don't know what it was like for you... back there, but here, we are not allowed to severely harm our fellow Disciples."

"Oh?" he arched his eyebrows as his lips stretched out into a strange, mocking smile. "You think you can harm me... severely? Cute." 

"..." I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!