Chapter 23

  To Be a Disciple (II)

  Long Tao eyed his hunched-over Master with a peculiar gleam; the man was using a shovel, though with some Qi infusion, to dig out an area nestled against the mountain and slowly lay down the stones. It truly seemed as though he was readying to construct the thrice-spliced house by his lonesome.

  Interrupting his cultivation momentarily, he left the house and meandered over where he saw hovering Dai Xiu panicking and offering to help, only to nearly break out in tears repeatedly when rejected.

  "What are you doing, Master?" Long Tao asked casually, drawing the man's attention.

  "Catching ants! What do you think I'm doing?!" He was already wheezing, wiping sweat off his forehead.

  It had to be said, even by the standards of this place, his master's body was... khm. There were no words.

  Despite being a Spirit Manifestation Realm cultivator, he had practically no stamina. In the end, this was what false cultivation amounted to--like a pearly vase hiding a thousand cracks beneath its surface.

  "Don't you have enough money to hire the servants?" His master's eyebrows twitched at the question; there seemed to be more to the tale of the gift, and Long Tao didn't probe any further.

  "If you have time to question, you have time to help."

  "I'm busy with cultivating."

  "... then go be busy."

  "I'm taking a break."

  "Then help."

  "If I help, I wouldn't be taking a break, then."

  "Then shut up."

  "I always feel my wisdom increase whenever I chat with Master." Long Tao found his bickering rather... endearing. His Master had a surprisingly quick wit for a supposedly slow-witted hedonist and, more to the point, never lorded his status over anyone.

  It had to be said and noted that there were no more arrogant creatures placed upon the soil of creation than cultivators--the further along the cultivation road one got, the more arrogant they became.

  Long Tao was no exception; his current circumstances notwithstanding, he held no respect for any one person in this entire sect--no, this entire minor realm. He was above them all once before, and he'd soon be above them yet again. It was merely the nature of existence--the strong were meant to lord over the weak, and the latter were to suffer in silence.

  But his Master didn't quite adhere to the principle; it wasn't just with Long Tao either, as he treated Dai Xiu the exact same way.

  "And I always feel my blood pressure increase when I chat with you," the man mumbled, straightening out and rubbing his lower back. "Haah. Dai Xiu, do you mind brewing some tea for Master?"

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "Of course, Master! I will do it immediately!" There was jubilance in the girl's eyes that was difficult to hide as she sprinted toward the house, leaving the Master-Disciple pair standing opposite one another beneath the blazing sun.

  "What?" his master asked, putting away the shovel.

  "The cloaking art--"

  "--I don't have it," he replied curtly. "If you're so desperate for it, reach Foundation Establishment..."

  "Hm?"

  "Nothing, nothing. Come on, join us. It's damn hot out here."

  "It's damn hot inside, too," Long Tao said as the two headed toward the house. "You seem to be in a sour mood. And I mean before you started laboring in the sun."

  "... our sect's disciples have been attacked while on a mission," his Master replied. "By the Fire Sun Sect."

  "Oh?" Though Long Tao couldn't be more disinterested in understanding the woven web of political relationships of this realm, he still picked up on the few most basic ones.

  Such as that the two sects--Spirit Sword and Fire Sun--were like, well, water and fire. Their competition dated back to the establishment of both sects, as they appeared within twenty years of each other, their territories overlapping.

  With such scarce resources, it was a miracle the two had endured thus far, but it was inevitable that they'd reach the boiling point.

  "Did any die?" Long Tao asked.

  "Two or three."

  "May their souls reach Nirvana," Long Tao offered a fleeting prayer; as someone well versed in the Laws of Death, it was a futile set of words that meant nothing. Reincarnation was... well, suffice to say even he would not be able to orchestrate yet another one. "Are you afraid that the conflict will break out and that you'll have to go out and fight?" Ah, that was it.

  Long Tao smiled faintly as he caught his Master's steps fumble a bit; he didn't fault him, far from it. Lu Qi was a weak man--and even if there was something unique about him, it was not his talent or strength. In raging conflicts, it was precisely men and women like him who perished first.

  Unlike most of his peers, Long Tao had never looked down upon the cowardly; to be cowardly was to be a human, whether mortal or otherwise. Most of those unafraid of death ended up dying early, wishing they feared it more.

  "Of course not," he quickly said. "If it comes down to it, I will be the first man on the frontlines!"

  "No, you won't."

  "No, I really won't." The middle-aged man sighed as Long Tao chuckled invisibly. "Conflicts are inevitable; it's unlikely that the sect will declare a war. After all, we've just gotten a new batch of disciples and haven't even harvested this year's yields."

  Though Long Tao mentioned that inside the house was just as hot, he was actually a tad wrong; it was hot, yes, but due to the draft, it was a bit more bearable than on the outside.

  "You should have realized that, if not today, it'll one day happen," Long Tao said, taking a sip of tea; he yearned to reach Foundation Establishment if for nothing else than the ability to control his body's temperature no matter the seasons.

  "Hm," his master nodded faintly. "The fewer resources there are in the surroundings, and the more disciples we both recruit... I don't know. Call it intuition, call it my pessimism, but I feel this wasn't just a simple accident or a byproduct of kids competing for opportunities."

  Long Tao didn't say anything, but he did silently agree. Most conflicts do not occur over the span of a night; at least, he'd never participated in one as such.

  There were mounting tensions that could be felt, the air practically sizzling. Smaller skirmishes escalated into larger and larger ones until the teapot was overrun with water, and all hell broke loose.

  He had no intention of participating in conflict; not only was he a tad too weak to be completely certain of his survival, but there was no point. The only resources he needed were the Spirit Stones, and rather than battling to death with another sect, he could simply take his master away and go rob some tombs.

  Even if this was a backwater, it likely had some deeply hidden legacies--history, after all, ran for innumerable years, and he'd even seen deserts wholly bereft of Qi house secret inheritances. And, as someone quite proficient at finding and robbing them, it wouldn't take long for him to outgrow this corner of the world.

  However, the war was not imminent yet; he'd hoped they would wait until he at least reached the Foundation Establishment Realm. While that wouldn't guarantee his survival, it would make it twice as easy to completely disappear with this sweating skinsuit he called 'Master', never to be found again...