The sound of cheering swelled around me as I stood in the heart of the Emerald Snow Tower's arena. My eyes, veiled by a dark crimson scarf adorned with golden brocade, scanned the ground for any unusual movements.
I could sense seven heartbeats, each slightly calmer than the last, and I knew they did not belong to the audience. Dust stirred beneath my feet, unsettled and building momentum.
Suddenly, they launched forward from either side, fists slicing through the air. In an instant, I reacted, gauging their positions with a quickness that surprised even me. Grabbing both by their right arms, I spun them around and hurled them at two others.
But it was a diversion; an attack was coming from above. A blade whistled through the air, descending rapidly, and I sensed another presence behind me. Planting my right leg forward, I shifted my weight and spun, unleashing a kick that connected with the jaw of the attacker, sending him sprawling several meters away. A split second later, I turned to face the next opponent, my fist striking his nose with a satisfying thud. Of the seven, five still had the will to fight.
Then the sound of thunder echoed around us, signaling another assault. I reacted instinctively, executing a series of somersaults to evade the oncoming strikes.
But it wasn't enough. Blades sliced through the air toward me, and I leaped, channeling all my strength into my feet. I kicked them back at the senders before landing and facing my adversaries once more.
Two cuts marked the battlefield, leaving five unscathed. They charged at me without hesitation, and I embraced the chaos. I dodged a flurry of punches, countering one with a strike to the abdomen and knocking another out with a blow to the back of his neck.
Two more leaped into the fray, eager to join the melee. I delivered a stopping kick that sent one crashing to the ground. The second caught me off guard; I blocked his attack with my right elbow but still felt the weight of his kick as I threw him aside. He landed deftly, but something shifted in the air, a subtle change that I could feel coursing through my veins.
I had discerned the scents of my other opponents, but his was unfamiliar—a curious absence that made my instincts flare. His movements were different, too light, almost fluid, twisting with each slight shift. I sensed the seven figures circling me, and I realized that one among them had been silently replaced.
The new seventh contender was clearly superior, a challenging presence that intrigued me. It was time for me to launch my attack, and I charged forward with all my might. As I closed in, four of the others advanced, but I quickened my pace, sliding through the tension until I was face to face with the mystery man. He struck at me with a powerful fist.
A smirk crossed my lips as I caught his punch with all my strength, then, using his momentum, I threw him over my shoulder. He flew toward the other four, while two others leaped from behind, each wielding a whip aimed at me.
I soared toward them, grasping the whips in midair. Spinning them around, I flung them to opposite ends of the arena. The cheers of the crowd faded, replaced by hushed gasps of awe.
Before I even landed, the five regrouped, now armed with swords, intent on cutting me down. Yet I was three seconds faster, knocking them out from behind with swift precision.
Then I sensed him again—the mystery man. This time, he conjured an energy spell in his hands. As he released it, I summoned my own powers to shield myself against the onslaught.
Seizing the moment, the others surged forward, not just with weapons but with their energy. I couldn't resist the urge to unleash one of my favorite knockout moves. Instinctively, I formed a series of spinning Vajra mirrors that deflected the energy beams, sending them back to their initiators.
Their painful cries filled the air, mingling with the metallic scent of blood as they coughed, the fatality of my move undeniable. One thing was certain: as they fell, they weren't getting back up.
I levitated in the center of the arena, a silent declaration of victory to the onlookers. After a minute of stillness, with no sign of resistance from the defeated, I removed the blindfold that had cloaked my eyes. I scanned the arena, taking in the sight of my fallen opponents, still reeling from the encounter.
"It wasn't even a full fight on my part; that was only five percent of my power," I muttered, locking eyes with them fiercely. My gaze drifted to the opening at the top of the structure, where sunlight poured in, and I sensed my Master standing atop the cliff of the higher hill, watching intently.
I flew upward, leaving the others behind, and when I reached my Master, he remained still, perhaps waiting for me to notice him. I offered my salutations first.
"You could have knocked them out with just your first move," he pointed out.
"I wanted to test their limits," I replied defensively.
"And how was it?" His tone was demanding.
"You wouldn't want them to say your disciple is a bully," I said, trying to lighten the mood, hoping for a smile.
"Hmmm," he muttered instead.
"Your Body Echolocation has improved significantly," he praised. "You can now read seven movements at once."
I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks. "It's nothing."
"Also, the search party dispatched a couple of weeks ago will be returning tomorrow." A hint of elation touched his voice, yet anxiety gripped me, as it often did. He seemed to read my expression instantly.
He placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "I believe your brother will be found," he said calmly.
"It's been five years already," I admitted, my voice wavering. "I'm worried something may have happened to him. I dread the thought that he could have..." My words faltered as his finger gently pressed against my lips, his eyes locking onto mine.
"Don't say it," he whispered, and for a moment, my heartbeat raced erratically. This had happened often over the years I'd known him. Since the day I learned he had deliberately channeled wounds onto his own body for my sake, I had opened up to him in ways I hadn't with anyone else in the Commune.
To others, he appeared proud, but I saw his humility. They perceived him as cold, while I experienced his warmth. Beneath his tough exterior, I had witnessed his vulnerability during nights when he broke down and cried. It was a side he never spoke of, and I felt privileged to know it.
Unable to contain my emotions any longer, I hugged him tightly. He didn't push me away; instead, he slowly embraced me in return.
"Thank you," I whispered sincerely before he gently pulled back, sensing I had held him long enough.
"Forgive me," I muttered shyly.
"I understand," he replied, perhaps trying to soften his initial reaction. He stepped back a few paces and stood behind me.
"Tomorrow, the Commune Chief will return from his seven-year seclusion. You will be present, along with the Commune Elders and priests, at the Hall of Divine Purity as the Grand Saint," he informed me.
A wave of hesitation washed over me, and I sensed Wiman's awareness of my uncertainty.
"By the time His Excellency entered seclusion, he had hoped I would inherit the Divine Bone Rune of the Goddess of War from the former Grand Saint. Since he was absent for your Sorting and Anointment, he isn't aware of the changes in the Divine Bone Rune succession. It's only right that we inform him first," Wiman explained, and I could relate to his concerns deeply.
"Is there anything more I should do?" I asked, curiosity tinging my voice.
"Given his personality, he might wish to test you then and there. It will likely be your physical skills," Wiman asserted, catching me off guard.
"A Seven Ringed Master? I don't have to worry about that," I replied, a bit overly confident. Though I sensed the unspoken concern in his tone, I believed my recent flawless victory meant I could hold my own—and perhaps even win—so my Master wouldn't lose face.
"You certainly can," he responded, his sincerity evident. "Perhaps I'll get to see you win."
"Sure," I affirmed, hoping to meet his high expectations while my mind lingered on the figure of the Commune Chief.
Later that evening, I returned to my room to find Haesu rushing to my side.
"You were incredible today!" he praised, handing me a flask of liquor.
"Isn't it a bit early for me to drink?" I replied, trying to uphold the image of a diligent disciple amidst a reckless student.
"Come on."
"You definitely want something from me."
"You read my mind! My seniors keep asking for some of your tricks," he confessed, excitement bubbling in his voice. "Your knockout trick, in particular."
"It's teachable, but the requirements for mastery are quite demanding."
"You're not lying to me this time?"
"It's my own invention. I wouldn't share it if it were my Master's technique," I assured him, glancing at the liquor. A thought flickered in my mind, but I pushed it aside.
"You can keep your liquor, but there's something else you can give me." His eyes lit up with excitement.
"Anything, please."
"How much do you know about the Commune Chief?" I asked, noticing the sudden dimming of Haesu's expression.
"I was only thirteen when he went into seclusion," he replied, a hint of disappointment in his voice.
"But unlike me, you're closer to the other martial practitioners in the Commune. I'm sure you've heard stories or legends about him. After all, he is the Commune Chief, so there must be more known about him than any other member of the Red Spear Commune," I insisted.
"He was Wiman's Master, which makes him your Grandmaster. He's also about fifty years younger than Doctor Song."
"Is he really that old?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
"You'd be surprised. He looks much younger than expected, even more beautiful than many women. Despite his appearance, he's a renowned figure in the outside world. It's said that even the Big Four Cardinal Martial Sects are wary of him, though he's believed to be quite passive. Originally a demoted prince of the Tumu Imperial family, there are rumors that past emperors feared him," Haesu narrated, and I felt a thrill of admiration.
"A demoted prince?"
"You know about the Four Clans. When his father reigned as emperor, he chose a Step Empress from the Sacred Blood Clan after the death of his principal wife, hoping to pacify the imperial relatives and strengthen his bloodline. A year later, she bore a son, but many nobles were concerned, wanting to keep the Sacred Blood Clan out of politics. When the First Prince of the First Empress ascended the throne, His Excellency voluntarily renounced his imperial titles. Still fearing rebellion in his name, the emperor had his status permanently revoked, reducing him to commoner."
The tale unfolded like a tapestry as Haesu continued, "The former prince then roamed the martial world, becoming a disciple of the Blood Spear Commune. A martial prodigy thanks to his lineage, he shattered all Seven Ring levels of the Halo by the age of twenty-five, becoming one of humanity's most formidable warriors against the demon race. Fierce and hard-headed, he became the number one martial practitioner in the world after slaying the Nine-Tailed Fox Spirit King Yan during the Great Slaughter thirty-five years ago, skinning him and forging the Spirit Burning Sword from his solidified bronze tails."
Haesu's narration painted a vivid picture.
"No wonder Wiman shares a similar personality with him."
"He was his first disciple and the only one in hundreds of years, despite not being the best or most powerful among them," Haesu muttered, a trace of reverence in his voice.
"No one ever talks about the Nine-Tailed Fox Spirit King Yan," I remarked, surprised by the omission.
"He is considered to be the most powerful antagonist of mankind in the era of spirits," Haesu replied, his voice steady. "Almost like an appointed mortal guardian of the Demonic Pillars within the realm, he was the overlord of all possessors and puppets. As the commander of all demon troops, he represented humanity's greatest threat. After his death, the demons became disorganized, which allowed us to confront and subdue them more easily over the years. Yet, despite hundreds of attempts, we still haven't succeeded in exorcising them. They are physical manifestations of dark matter from the Demonic Pillars, making them more powerful than otherworldly demons without bodies."
I was impressed; for once, Haesu seemed well-informed, moving beyond his usual playful banter.
"So the Nine-Tailed Fox Spirit King died for good?" I asked, seeking clarity.
"He lived nearly ten thousand years, and he hasn't been seen in the last thirty-five. There's a popular rumor that part of his sealed essence was discovered by a high-ranking member of the Sacred Blood Clan. In an internal clan conflict, when he threatened to rebel, he was killed, and his body was dispersed across the Sado Marshlands. That event consumed the entire area, transforming it into the Lake of Raging Fire, which still burns today with his resentment, devouring the souls of martial practitioners from the Sacred Blood Clan."
I felt a chill run through me, an inexplicable unease settling in my chest. Over the past five years, as I trained to grow stronger, I had been blissfully unaware of these events. Perhaps it was my own reluctance to engage with my Master or the Commune's isolation from the outside world. We rarely welcomed news from beyond our borders, and our focus was primarily on protecting the last primordial essence of the Goddess of War. We were her warriors, devoted entirely to her service, often rejected by the wider world because of our beliefs.
"What is the Commune Chief's character like?" I inquired, seeking more understanding.
"He's mostly quiet but quick-tempered. He believes in strength above all else. After slaying the Nine-Tailed Fox Demon King, he revised the Commune's laws. Everyone must work hard to become stronger or face expulsion. Since then, we've all grown stronger, especially in this generation. For those who have spent their lives here, this place is home. Leaving would feel like losing everything—perhaps even their entire world," Haesu remarked.
As I listened, I began to understand. Perhaps this was why Wiman often appeared uneasy. I could see the situation more clearly now, and without reservation, I felt my resolve solidifying.
Early the next day, most of the Commune members gathered outside the Courtyard of the Seventh Hill, while the leaders and I stepped into the Hall of Divine Purity. I had never been inside before; it was strictly off-limits. Yet, as I took in its appearance, I saw that it was unlike any other structure in the Commune—ancient and solemn, it radiated a sense of history.
Supported by twelve golden pillars entwined with gilded dragons, the hall held an air of reverence. At the far end, directly opposite the door through which we had entered, stood another gilded door emblazoned with the Commune's insignia: a red spear surrounded by a Seven Ringed Halo.
"Aren't we a bit too early?" I whispered to my Master.
"We'll have to wait until noon," he replied.
"Two full hours of standing?"
"Hmmm."
I felt a lack of enthusiasm as I caught sight of the seal on the door, its presence heavy in the air. The Elders and seniors of the Commune formed three semi-concentric rows, quietly awaiting the Chief. I could only hope he would arrive soon.
Time stretched on—an hour, then two. As the last minute of the Hourstick approached, unease settled in my chest, mingling with fatigue and anxiety.
Finally, the seal began to fade, transforming into a glimmering essence of dust. A rumble resonated throughout the hall, shaking the very foundation beneath us. While the Elders remained unmoved, Wiman noticed my distress and conjured a stabilizing spell, diminishing the overwhelming energy until it eventually vanished.
Yet, some dust particles continued to dance on the ground as the insignia rotated anticlockwise, halting midway. The door began to open outward, releasing a thick, cold aura accompanied by a rich fragrance—a heady blend of peonies and roses, reminiscent of Wiman but more intense.
A silhouette emerged, taking the form of a person with long hair cascading to their waist. They stood about six feet tall, with an androgynous physique. Beneath loose, flowing sleeves, slender arms were revealed, and their bright, red eyes shone captivatingly.
As they stepped forward, an immense wave of energy washed over us, a force that seemed to topple all present. I felt a tremor within me, weak and helpless for the first time in five years. The pressure was overwhelming, yet it subsided momentarily, followed by a swift gust of air, as if someone had passed through, unseen.
Before Wiman stood a figure who appeared to be around sixteen years old. Their face glowed with an otherworldly luminescence, sharp cheekbones accentuating the most beautiful chiseled visage I had ever seen. It was a beauty that transcended comprehension, drawing attention effortlessly.
In that moment, I believed in the reality of immortality; here was someone who had surpassed the mortal nature of aging, standing merely a few meters away from me.
"Greetings, Your Excellency." The collective salutation echoed through the hall, and I joined in, feeling the weight of the moment.
"It's been seven years," he remarked, his gaze resting on Wiman. "You've grown taller than I remember."
"Yes, Master," Wiman replied.
"You have improved over this time, but I cannot sense the aura of the War Goddess, and Tamna is nowhere to be found."
"It's been over six years, Your Excellency," Grandmaster Yu interjected. "Master Tamna is no longer with us." The Chief looked around, studying the faces of those present.
"Then you must be the Grand Saint," he said, turning his attention to Wiman.
"I'm afraid the Divine Bone Rune of the Goddess of War chose someone else," Wiman quickly denied, stepping aside to allow me to meet his Master's gaze.
I felt the weight of his stare penetrate my very soul as he scrutinized me from head to toe. In an instant, he positioned himself directly before me.
"Indeed, the Goddess' eyes, but a deeply conflicted soul yearning for memories of its past," he observed, and I was taken aback.
"It's always hard to discern dreams from reality. I fear you have yet to grasp the burden of the responsibility you bear," he whispered.
"Yes," I agreed, though uncertainty gnawed at me. I couldn't tell if he read my thoughts, but before I could process it, I felt a punch to my abdomen. Suddenly, everything around us froze, except for him.
The weight of his presence felt like a million boulders pressing down on me, and for an agonizing moment, I thought my insides might boil. Then, as if severed from him, I was propelled through the main door, landing in the courtyard outside.
Time resumed, and the stunned faces of everyone around me reflected a mix of awe and disbelief as the Commune Chief emerged calmly from within.
"Like the Four Cardinal Guardians, the Grand Saint embodies the hope of mankind against the Demonic Pillars. However, as the mortal likeness of the Goddess of War herself, you are a god within this realm. With great power comes even greater responsibility, and I am eager to see how much of that burden you can bear," he declared, levitating into the air. Energy crackled around him, darkening the sky with thick clouds.
A massive illusory sword descended toward me.
"It's the Heaven-Splitting Blade!" I heard the other disciples whisper, and I sprang to my feet, projecting a sixth-grade spiritual shield in defense.
The blade struck with ferocious force, shattering the first five layers of my shield. Overwhelmed, I fell to my knees, struggling to face my opponent.
"Your weakness lies in your self-imposed limits. Defeating low-grade practitioners doesn't make you a genius," he said, clenching his fists and disintegrating the sword, momentarily relieving me.
"Once you hesitate, you become weak. Once you become weak, you lose. Once you lose, you die, and in death, you can no longer protect those you love," he added, looking down at me, and I felt the sting of self-doubt creeping in.
"I can't give up now," I whispered to myself. Gathering my resolve, I stood once more, waving my hands to conjure the first of my ten most powerful moves. I drew in the air swirling around me, condensing it into thick, elongated icicles—five hundred in total—before I released them toward him.
He smirked, and a flicker of worry danced in my gut as he took a few steps toward me. An invisible shield seemed to envelop him, and in an instant, he stood directly in front of me once more.
"Still weak," he whispered, and before I could react, he punched me again, sending me hurtling up a nearby hill. I landed hard, feeling the sharp pang of potential fractures echo through my bones.
"Eat this!" he shouted, gathering a tremendous amount of energy. A fiery, colossal fist surged toward me, and I barely had time to prepare for the impact. The force of the collision sent me sprawling further away.
I landed roughly on my right knee and left leg, struggling to regain my stamina, but numbness spread through my body, dulling my senses.
"You will face monsters and forces beyond your comprehension. This will no longer be a test of perseverance, but a measure of your strength and will to survive." He moved closer, craning his neck to meet my gaze.
"Break your weakness," he murmured, lifting my chin. In that moment, I noticed a faint red glow in his eyes, creating ripples that spread outward. The world began to spin, clouds dissolving to reveal a brilliant tapestry of stars. I realized then that I was kneeling atop an endless sea of consciousness.
I found myself unable to move.
"All it takes is a single fatal blow to your consciousness. I could kill you here, and to everyone outside, it would appear as if you simply collapsed," he said, lifting me effortlessly and twisting my bones. I couldn't whimper or cry; I was a puppet, devoid of control.
"Like any animal, it is in our mortal nature to thrive only when cornered," he continued, tightening his grip. My breath quickened, heart racing out of sync, blood rushing with intensity. "When threatened, we instinctively reach for whatever power we have to survive." His voice took on a rhythmic chant, and despite the pain, I began to resist, feeling a flicker of defiance.
"Don't you hate yourself for not saving your family? Your brother?" he shouted, igniting a spark of anger within me.
"Stop," I finally managed to say, my voice steady amidst the turmoil.
"Or what?" he taunted.
"Enough." A strange energy surged through me, washing away his restrictions. I pushed him from my mind and found myself back in the courtyard, levitating, yet fully aware of him—the man who had thrown me from the cliff, the man who had killed my mother.
Grief overwhelmed me, quickly morphing into a fierce anger. Consumed by a surge of energy, I charged toward him, my right fist clenched, determined to give it my all.
He held my gaze firmly, lightning crackling around him, surging through my arm. I resisted, pushing the energy back toward him, breaking our contact. I turned, aiming a side kick with my left leg, attempting to force him down.
He remained unmoved, blocking my strike before retaliating, sending me hurtling into the next peak. Clenching my fists, fury ignited within me as I searched for a weakness. I began levitating boulders, hurling them at him with all my might.
He dodged easily, charging toward me with what seemed to be his full force. In that moment, I closed my eyes, sinking into deep meditation. I projected my Halo, releasing all four rings. A loud cry erupted from my lips, and I was enveloped by an overwhelming beam of energy, a sensation unlike anything I had ever experienced.
My acceleration intensified, and before I knew it, my fist plunged through his chest. He halted, his body dissolving into dust. I was taken aback, witnessing the shattering of the world around me as it spun wildly. When the chaos settled, I found myself standing in the Hall of Divine Purity, face to face with the Commune Chief, surrounded by the gazes of everyone present.
"Wait?" I murmured, confusion clouding my mind.
"I see you're quite formidable," he remarked, a smile gracing his lips.
"Was it all an illusion?"
"That's the power of a Spiritual Master. What you experienced was but a fraction of what I could unleash upon you," he explained. Suddenly, I dropped to my knees, coughing up blood onto the floor.
Wiman appeared beside me, concern etched on his face. "He's a fine student you have, Wiman, but I'm afraid he's learned too little. He expended half of his energy on a reckless move."
"He can be quite heroic," Wiman defended.
"But heroes must live," the Commune Chief replied, his smile unwavering. "Fortunately, he won."
It sounded like the biggest joke. I had perhaps taken a blow bigger than my own ego, it was a remark that I found rather shameful. A charity, very fake, cunning. I tried to hold myself together, I couldn't help but feel sorry for my pathetic look. Winners I knew looked way to different from me at that very moment.
Just then, a strong headache struck me, and darkness enveloped my vision.