Chapter 13 – Requirements Satisfied

  Four months remained until Diyuan advanced to level 9 Foundation.

  Getting the elders who were masters of their craft together was rather difficult. So much so that Diyuan had to wait until the next conference to suggest his proposition. He waited until the seminar was done before bringing up his plan.

  They listened intently. He proposed it first by saying he had a New Years event plan that the Grand Elders approved of—leaving out the “tentatively” part—and wanted to see if the Twelve Seats were willing to assist. However, they weren’t born yesterday. Diyuan’s plan was a bit outrageous in their eyes.

  “The only way the Grand Elders would approve is if they knew the larger ramifications,” said the Hall Master of Consular Envoys.

  Of course he would be the one to notice something. As the diplomatic elder to the other clans, Diyuan’s plan was going to impact the Zhengyi relations with everyone else.

  Knowing that this may come up, Diyuan had thought on how to respond to this without giving any hints towards Yunya’s existence. As of now, everything that had happened was all blamed on him; the pocket world bans, the economic hits, and the general hardships that came with all of that. So his response would use that assumption to his advantage.

  “I was reading some of the older volumes, the past debates and seminars before I had the pleasure of listening to them in person,” Diyuan said. “I found one that was about me, specifically. It was a fun read. I noticed there was an idea of how my gambit against Gu Guoxiong helped with the trade deals during the pocket world ban. Who knows… Maybe a benefit like that will happen again thanks to my plan.”

  Another elder raised their brow. “The ban will be lifted in half a year. We won’t be in a situation where other clans might offer us a better deal for the purpose of good relations.”

  Diyuan let their response linger. He didn’t respond right away. They would wait for him to say something, and he was letting them wait. Once it got awkward, Diyuan finally answered.

  “Not yet there isn’t a problematic situation.” And with that, Diyuan offered a crisp fist-in-palm salute.

  They were smart. They would know that something was happening in the background that they weren’t aware of; something that the Grand Elders knew. A future situation was to come. Diyuan acting now might give weight to the idea that something had happened back in the Administrator’s Archive pocket world, which resulted in the battle at the western plains. The impacts of that day would continue to be felt.

  The Talisman Master elder spoke next. “Even if we all agreed, there’s the time problem. You need this done in four months. No such talisman exists to send the type of…proclamation that you want.”

  “Let’s call it an invitational,” Diyuan said. “Can we make this happen if we had the spirit stones?”

  The Talisman Master huffed. “We’re talking millions of spirit stones. We’ll be burning through a lot of resources to skip the long research process. And the talisman itself would probably be high-grade. Not because it can’t be mid-grade, but because the time needed to make the mid-grade talisman work would put us beyond your deadline.”

  “How many millions?” Diyuan simply asked.

  The elder paused. He probably had expected Diyuan to take a step back at this point. He looked around at the other elders—the Master of Arrays and the Rune Master specifically—who seemed to be engaged in a sound transmission conversation.

  “A rough estimate from us would be around 5 to 8 million,” the Talisman Master finally said. “It could go higher if we’re unlucky. And this is without the guarantee that we’ll even make it in time.”

  Diyuan smiled and held up his storage ring. “I can pay now, if you’d like.”

  Well, he wasn’t going to be rich for much longer.

  ***

  Three months remained.

  Diyuan absorbed the double artes jade tablet of Phoenix Fallen Flight and Pungent Poison Purifier. Both fit into his seventh arte core slot. He still had an open slot for the eighth spot, but he wasn’t sure what to put in there just yet.

  The phoenix skill had an interesting limitation that he noticed now that it was absorbed. Other than the requirement that he had to lay down his life willingly in order to be resurrected, he would only be able to use the arte once. It did come with some passives, though. Before the phoenix rebirth activated, he would have a slight fire resistance; after its activation, it sounded like he would be fully resistant or even would have the ability to absorb fire.

  As for the poison purifier, it was an active effect that he could turn off at will. It was an arte that should have slowly drained his spiritual energy as long as it was active. And because it was a double arte, the purifier interacted with the phoenix arte in some way where it could have its fire burn away stronger poisons. Diyuan had been assured that the Carcass Grotto’s miasma would not be strong enough to require that combined activation.

  That’s how double artes should work, where the interaction between two artes made them stronger than the sum of its parts. Meanwhile, his Emperor’s Rule and Mesmer’s Echo didn’t do that. The teleporting arte had some neat new tricks he hadn’t been aware of originally, like the pressure resistance barrier. But Mesmer’s Echo had done nothing so far. Even when he tried using it on different occasions, or asked advice from different people, nothing worked.

  Diyuan hoped he could find out what it did at some point. But no matter how he thought on it, it wasn’t a real ability; teaching “how to dodge” after already knowing how the enemy would attack couldn’t really be called an arte. It baffled Diyuan how Mesmer’s Echo could double up with Emperor’s Rule. What interaction could the two artes possibly have?

  That thinking would have to wait, as Old Man Yifan called for him to test his skills.

  The training grounds he was at was located within one of the martial school grounds. There were plenty of reasons why people would join these schools. Those that didn’t have their own family heritage, or perhaps lacked resources that were otherwise given to the older sibling, might find it better for themselves to attend. Or perhaps they aspired to join some of the special forces, like the Watchers, Vanguards, or Shapers. Plenty of representatives of those groups would drop by for potential recruits. Whatever the reason, martial schools took in people and provided resources to those that performed well.

  Old Man Yifan was someone who would visit the schools often. He would interact with the presumable nobodies, the outcasts or the leftovers, and found ways to bless those students.

  While Diyuan was the opposite of a nobody, Old Man Yifan had decided to reach out to him long ago. Diyuan never attended the martial school—his personal teacher was someone from the Watchers and he found his resources in pocket worlds—but that didn’t stop the Grand Elder. Diyuan understood why students would talk well of the old man; it felt nice to have someone act like they cared about them.

  But as of now, the training grounds were empty and the martial school was out of session, save for two people. He had expected to showcase his capabilities to the Grand Elder, which had improved by leaps and bounds due to both the Reflections Pagoda and the new Foundation core energy control.

  However, he was not expecting to see the person standing next to Old Man Yifan.

  The second person wore an expected multi-layer robe, but he also had a cloak over his back, making him all the more imposing. Black with blue designs swirled the outfit. The face was aged, but not old. A few wrinkles of strength. His hair was long and unrestrained, flowing lightly in the breeze. It was someone Diyuan hasn’t spoken to in years.

  Yuhan Junhao, the patriarch of the Yuhan family. Diyuan’s father.

  Diyuan’s mood dropped instantly. He came with the expectation of showing off and feeling good, but now it was all for nothing. He didn’t care to show off to Junhao. He had long since passed the mood of trying to prove himself. For all considerations, Junhao would simply get the respect that his Hall Master title gave him. There would be no filial piety.

  It seemed like Grand Elder Yifan didn’t notice or didn’t care for Diyuan’s shift in attitude. “Lad, it strikes me that today is a positive day for a demonstration. Possibilities hum in the air, and I’ve a mind to see if your talents are up to par.” His light mood felt more like high-pitched screeches to Diyuan at the moment. “To that end, I thought it best to enlist someone intimately acquainted with your skillset.” A bright smile appeared on his face. “And who knows, perhaps it’ll be a chance to unravel a knot or two?”

  Junhao stepped forward and motioned to the Grand Elder to step back.

  “It is my understanding that you plan to do something idiotic,” Junhao said. He flicked his hand and activated a sound barrier. From this moment on, their conversations would be private.

  “Oh? I wasn’t even aware you gave me any thought at all,” Diyuan spat back. “Nor Ranxi, for that matter. She celebrated her Dharma breakthrough, but where were you? A Hall Master, a patriarch, and a father. Let’s play a game where we guess which title you care for the least.”

  A sword appeared in Junhao’s hand. Diyuan made his own black cold steel sword appear.

  “I do hope not that the only thing you’ve bettered yourself on is your word play,” Junhao said.

  Diyuan resisted the urge to frown. He wouldn’t speak anymore. Junhao didn’t deserve it. He charged forward towards his father, with the only intention of showing Grand Elder Yifan his skillset. But before he reached him, a wave of pressure came upon him.

  He stopped his charge and threw up his Emperor’s Rule barrier, preventing the Dharma-level pressure from collapsing him.

  “Capable of resisting my gravity,” Junhao said. He walked forward casually, showing no intention of attacking. “Yet, you’ve revealed the weakness of it from the onset. You are either incapable of moving under the pressure, or you’re unable to move quickly. Your first mistake.”

  Junhao reached Diyuan and swung his sword. Diyuan used all his knowledge to block it, as if he was prepared to block a charging demonic beast. The power behind Junhao wasn’t the strength of a Dharma cultivator. He held back, at least.

  The Dharma-level pressure was lifted and Diyuan started his swordplay in earnest. He would attack, where his strikes were without wasted movement. Junhao would simply block without effort, his reaction time that of something Diyuan couldn’t match. If a Dharma cultivator wanted to show off their difference in cultivation, then Diyuan would show off his difference in speed.

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  Diyuan warped directly behind him, prepared to cut at Junhao’s neck, but was surprised to see that Junhao had already—no, preemptively—tilted his head to dodge. Before Diyuan’s attack finished, Junhao turned and took him by the neck.

  “Your second mistake,” Junhao said and flung him across the training grounds. The power of the throw was so great that Diyuan had no chance of turning his body to land properly. His back slammed into the wall, cracking the wall.

  Pain flared, but was spread throughout the body with the Bonegrit Dreadflesh arte.

  Before he could get up and position himself, Junhao was already there. He took Diyuan by the arm, lifting him up, and slammed him into the ground again. Then he kicked him in the stomach, causing him to tumble against the ground. He orientated himself just in time to see the hilt of Junhao’s sword smash his nose, causing him to collapse to the ground. Blood leaked on the floor.

  “Have you reflected on your mistakes yet?” Junhao’s voice sounded distant as his head rang.

  Diyuan stood, not answering. He wiped the blood from his nose on his sleeve. He positioned himself to defend. But Junhao had walked away and was now standing at the center of the arena, his sword pointed down.

  He lifted a finger and pointed it at Diyuan. “Wireweave Ensnare.”

  Thin threads appeared out of nowhere. Diyuan was suddenly surrounded by a zone of these wires, where the zone stretched out several feet. None had actually touched him, but he didn’t know if they were sharp or if it was sticky like a web.

  “Use your teleporting arte now,” Junhao commanded.

  Despite not wanting to obey anything Junhao said, Diyuan tried anyway.

  It failed.

  He then tried to carve the tunnel to warp, to see where it failed. It wouldn’t move in any direction due to the wires not leaving enough space; they essentially acted as a solid wall. Annoyed, Diyuan started to cut at the threads. They bent, but would not rip. He took out his Wind’s Edge dagger and cut at it anew, where it would tear and eventually rip free. It took Diyuan a while to make it out of the snare.

  “Your third mistake,” Junhao said as he stood and watched. Once Diyuan was out in the open, the wire field vanished and Junhao leaped forward. Diyuan would throw and call back Wind’s Edge while also teleporting to try and land a hit. But every time he did so, Junhao had already preemptively moved, as if he knew how Diyuan would attack before teleporting.

  “Your second mistake, again.” Junhao backhanding his jaw, causing Diyuan to hit the ground once more.

  Now Diyuan was on the defensive, trying to block as many attacks as he could, but soon found himself seeing half black and blue. Junhao was no longer hiding his strength, using the extreme cultivation level difference to beat Diyuan with the flat of his sword or the hilt of it. He also threw in kicks and punches, a barrage of pain only dulled slightly by the Bonegrit Dreadflesh.

  Junhao finished his assault by landing a kick on the side of Diyuan’s ribs, forcing him to crash on the ground several feet away.

  Diyuan slowly got up. He could taste the blood on his mouth. His body ached everywhere. He wanted to just lay down and rest, to close his eyes and be somewhere else. What were these mistakes that Junhao kept pointing out? The second one had to do with how he was using his Emperor’s Rule arte. How did Junhao know how to dodge before the teleportation was even complete? In everyone’s eyes, it should be instantaneous, even if his eyes glowed.

  Which could only mean he was reading Diyuan.

  When Diyuan had first teleported, it was to make a rear attack. He also began swinging before the teleportation to keep the motion going. That must be what Junhao was reading. In that case, the way to “solve” this mistake would be to…

  Diyuan rushed forward and readied himself to strike, his distance still too far. This should reflect his intent to teleport. But this time, Diyuan teleported in front of Junhao, and completed the swing. Junhao was positioned awkwardly so that he couldn’t use his sword to block. He decided to jump back, but not before part of his robe was cut by Diyuan’s sword.

  Junhao lifted the part of the robe that was torn. He didn’t show if he was pleased or displeased. But, to Diyuan, it was his victory.

  “Your first mistake was making the first move when your opponent was a Dharma cultivator,” Junhao began to explain. He made his sword disappear. “Every Dharma cultivator enjoys forcing people to kneel with their pressure. You must show that it doesn’t affect you while hiding the secret that it does limit your movement in some way. Embarrass them enough so that they won’t try a second time. This will keep your movement intact.”

  Diyuan wanted to argue that this wasn’t how he would act against his enemies in the Carcass Grotto, but he knew that excuse wouldn’t fly here. He put away his weapons and took out a healing pill. Just as he was about to put it in his mouth, it got knocked away remotely by Junhao’s power. Apparently, he wanted Diyuan to just stand there in pain.

  “Your second mistake,” Junhao continued, “was thinking that your teleportation skill had no counters. Your gambit against Gu Guoxiong was a surprise to everyone. That should have tipped you off that word would spread. I did not use my Dharma reaction speed to counter your teleportation, but my own combat experience. This is something that Dharma cultivators will retain even after the miasma weakens them in the Carcass Grotto. They will expect you to be inexperienced, to be easily baited and read, and they will be right.”

  Diyuan said nothing. He admitted that part was true.

  “Your third mistake is owning a spirit artifact and not using it to its potential. If I’ve thought of ways to counter you, then your enemies will as well. My Wireweave Ensnare was evolved from Stunlock Bind to crowd control a large group of enemies, but it works as a wall to stop your teleportation. A spirit artifact can trade its inherent ability for sharpness if you pour your spirit energy into it with that intent.” Junhao lifted his hand and created the zone of wires again. “Throw and teleport.”

  Diyuan hesitated for a moment, but then did as he was told. He poured energy into Wind’s Edge and threw it out, watching it cut through the wires with ease. He couldn’t call it back to his hand as he normally would have. This was a function of spirit artifacts that he hadn’t been aware of.

  Now that a hole was made through the zone, Diyuan teleported out, breaking free of the constraints that had taken him significantly longer before.

  “Your biggest mistake, however,” Junhao started again, “was taking a second internal arte without consulting anyone. Fortunately, you were blessed with energy control due to your new Foundation core, so things aren’t as bad as it could be.”

  Diyuan frowned. How Junhao knew about his second internal arte, he did not know. Besides, the Bonegrit Dreadflesh was an arte that better suited his style and had played its part more than enough. Yet its supposedly “not as bad as it could be”?

  Junhao, who had noticed his confusion, went on to explain. “I ensured that your body was struck evenly throughout. Your limbs, your torso, and your face. If your arte spreads damage evenly, then you should feel an equal amount of damage evenly. Do you?”

  To Diyuan’s surprise, he realized the damage did not feel even. His face and scalp had the least amount of pain, where other areas had more. Even on his torso, the pain was irregularly distributed. Around his heart there was effectively no pain, but his shoulders carried the bulk of it.

  “What am I doing wrong?” Diyuan finally asked.

  Junhao nodded, as if he approved of Diyuan’s willingness to learn. “Your first internal arte was our Benediction Balm. No matter if you have great control over your energy cycle, habits aren’t so easily broken. Your second internal arte will mimic some of the flow unintentionally. Where the healing would normally give focus—such as your head, your heart—so too will your second internal arte. This may sound good in theory, but it weakens the overall defensive aspect. Like a formation barrier, the power throughout must be even. It would normally be impossible to correct at this stage, but fortunately, you have a loving father willing to beat you senseless just to show you where your flow is bad. Meditate and correct it.”

  “Ha! A loving father?” Diyuan focused on that part. “Do you think you have the right to say that? You think teaching me now will somehow earn forgiveness for the treatment I was given? You’re teaching me now, despite refusing to give me any other family resource?”

  Junhao exhaled slowly from his nose. He didn’t appear disturbed by Diyuan’s outburst in the slightest. “To talk about forgiveness before you’re even a century old is how mortals think. Ask those questions again in a thousand years.”

  “When you’re dead, you mean. Must be nice to avoid responsibility.” Diyuan couldn’t help but feel the resentment boiling over now. His aching body probably helped push his attitude. “And Ranxi’s over a century and she thinks how you’re treating me is garbage, too.”

  “And yet, did she disobey me and give you any resources in secret?” Junhao asked calmly.

  Diyuan glowered, but said nothing.

  Junhao held his arms behind his back. “As for me teaching you now, the original restriction to make you wait until you were level 3 Spiritweave is no longer needed. The purpose for that ended much sooner than planned. We expected you to be half a century old by time you reached it, but then you somehow became a prodigy even without our resources. And now, you appear to be free of the burden we worried you would carry with you.”

  “Burden? We? Do you mean Mother and you?” Diyuan asked.

  Junhao paused to think for a moment. “There were three. Your mother. Me.” A moment went by. Then Junhao said the third name. “And Zhiheng.”

  That name was the cold water to Diyuan’s face. He hadn’t said or thought the name in years. Maybe even a decade now.

  Yuhan Zhiheng, the dead and executed brother.

  “Wait, Zhiheng was…part of this plan?” Diyuan’s mind was reeling. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.

  Junhao started pacing back and forth, while still keeping his eye trained on Diyuan. “Did you think you were the only one who knew Zhiheng asked you to execute him? He asked for our permission first.”

  Diyuan’s mouth hung open. His longstanding belief was starting to unravel.

  Junhao continued. “He was a cultivator and knew the road he wanted to walk. But his willingness to sacrifice himself did not mean he was allowed to sacrifice you. We knew your life would irrevocably change if you decided to go through with the execution. The choice would impact things more important than your youth and your emotions: your Dharma path. How could we, your parents, ensure you don’t deviate into something unnatural? How could we safeguard your long-term success?”

  Diyuan stood still, but he wasn’t seeing anything. He was replaying the events of his life before now, trying to reinterpret it. He blinked and came to, now realizing that his father was standing before him.

  [Whether you decide to forgive me or not is something I may not live long enough to know,] Junhao said, the sternness of his tone gone with the sound transmission. [That is something only you can decide after you’ve walked your path to the end. It is my desire for you to find a way to walk it continuously—without end.] A faint tug of a smile appeared on Father’s face, but quickly vanished into his emotionless state.

  No, not emotionless. It was strange to see Father look like that. It reminded Diyuan of the older days. Now he was seeing Father again for the first time. It wasn’t an emotionless face, but an exhausted one. It was the look of someone who labored.

  Father walked away, waving his hand and making the sound barrier disappear. Diyuan had forgotten that Old Man Yifan was off to the side, watching the entire thing.

  “As for me not being there for Ranxi’s celebration,” Junhao called out. “Blame yourself. Your Nether Mark is a powerful magnet. If you feel safe in the Zhengyi territory, then I’m doing my job well.”

  Diyuan, whose emotions were in a bit of a turmoil, decided to offer a fist-in-palm salute to his father. If nothing else, he would be able to strengthen his Bonegrit Dreadflesh.

  Junhao lifted his torn robe as he reached Old Man Yifan. “If this doesn’t satisfy your requirements for Diyuan, then you should step down as the Grand Elder. I trust my son in this matter.”

  Old Man Yifan smiled and stroked his red bushy eyebrow. “It appears he may satisfy my requirements, after all.” The way he said it made it sound like the entire event wasn’t to showcase his abilities at all, but to ask Diyuan’s father for permission to go through with the plan.

  Junhao turned to leave, but looked at Diyuan one last time. “Final piece of advice, Diyuan. You owe the Zhengyi clan nothing. Any arte or guidance given to you by the Grand Elders is not a favor to you, but what you were due in the first place. Find and walk your own path, untethered. No one else is capable of what you are capable of.”

  And with that, Junhao leaped away.

  Old Man Yifan hummed to himself as he turned to leave himself. “I have the sudden urge to find myself a disciple I can treat as my own child. Do let me know if you find anyone prone to the fiery artes.”

  With that, he left.

  Diyuan was alone on the training grounds. He let himself lay on his back, arms and legs splayed out. He wanted to take a healing pill, but knew the aches he felt were a map to show him how to fix his circulation. He closed his eyes and began, but not before he felt gentle hands massaging his arm. Too tired to flinch or react quickly, he opened his eyes to see who it was.

  His mother knelt beside him with a kind smile. He noticed first the black vein lines she applied on her cheek, as usual. It had more meaning to him now. Zhiheng’s vein. His brother had planned for his journey to be rough after the execution. He couldn’t say he fully understood the wisdom of centuries old cultivators, but he trusted his brother if nothing else. If the heavens allowed it, he would like to find out what had really happened on that day when all those non-cultivators died because of Zhiheng. But that might be a mystery that would never be solved.

  She saw him looking at her cheek, and her eyes filled with love. “A massage can feel good, and help you feel where you need to fix your circulation,” Mother said.

  Diyuan closed his eyes and exhaled. Part of him wanted to ask her to stop kneeling so she didn’t get her robes dirty. “So, in this plot of yours, did you guys decide ahead of time that you would be the good parent and Father would be the bad parent?”

  “No, that part we disagreed on,” she caressed his upper arm. “But he was worried you would find a way to blame yourself if all of us acted as if nothing had happened, like we were one big happy family ignoring the empty space that was once Zhiheng.”

  He let his circulation correction begin, guided by how his aches reacted to her massaging touch. The weight of today’s events would need time to settle, but there was also a liberation to it.