6. Providence

"This very body the Buddha,

This very earth the Lotus Land of Purity."

- Shunryu, the Tearless, when asked why he chose not to ascend.

Niva spread her spiritual senses out into the room. The qi tendrils churning out her core intermingled with the sea of blood-tinged essence storming through the chamber with the giant at its eye. At first, she thought it was the mindless flailing of a brute, but there was a rhythm to it. Like waves crashing against a shore, unrestrained, yes, yet in a preset interval. Her mind ebbed and flowed with the motion, her dantian turned, and some of the essence in her vicinity pushed against her pores, trying to enter her body, which she clamped down on immediately. Though the warrior had the spiritual sensitivity of a rat, even he would notice his energy seeping away. Still, she gave the mysterious cultivation technique as much attention as she could spare since it was powerful enough to activate her seat of power without trying.

Although the nature of these beasts wasn't clear to her, she could safely say they were leaps and bounds above anything you could find in the wilds near Crayton. The depths of their arts were mind-blowing, considering their raw cultivation level. If first-realm variants already had skills this profound, then what would practitioners in, say, the fourth realm possess? Perhaps the closer connection with the Heavens around the sect affected more than their constitutions.

Her eyes drifted to the warrior as she tried to grasp the underlying principle beneath his technique. The spiritual world is a vast ocean, Elder Yonyue's words from the introductory lesson on Essence Theory drifted into her ears. Essence itself is not alive, yet it is greedy. It dislikes spaces devoid of it, seeking to fill all empty vessels.

"As a cultivator, you sit at the depths of the ocean, your physicality barring the qi from suffusing your every pore," Elder Yonyue said.

"All gathering arts, then, are, in essence, ways to enhance your awareness of, your connection with, the water around you. When you sense it more clearly, it senses you more clearly, increasing the diffusion of qi into your body."

Attention returning to the present, her senses honed on the cyclone. So, the seemingly uncontrolled trashing made the surrounding 'essence' in the air more aware of the giant, causing it to join his own, which fed his technique, making it absorb even more qi. That was a positive spiral if she'd ever heard of one.

There had to be a limit, no? At some point, the energies would overrun his control— ah, ah. That's why he used the intervals. That way, he could regulate how much qi joined his storm without trying too hard...her brows pressed in on her each other. This was inherited. Had to be. The art relied on a foundation of understanding regarding the constituents of their world that probably rivalled the first two stages of her Sealed Blood Gate gathering art. A legacy from a noble clan.

Niva's breath hitched in her throat as she swallowed a deep exhale together with her merciful mien.

When Dino castigated the sect's rich living conditions on their first day, Niva understood what he was saying on an intellectual level. Still, it hadn't penetrated her bones and sunk into the marrow yet. However, now, sitting between two shelves, hidden in darkness from the sight of the giant, her fingers tightened around her knees, the grip causing her knuckles to whiten. Though the crashes of spiritual waves reflected in her pupils, she saw only a boy in a city at the edge of the world, a border which separated the Corrupted from those still living.

There was an old proverb among spirituals: if there is no enemy within, the enemy outside can do us no harm. Like the other principalities forming the first line of defence, Crayton had decided to put that saying to the test these last few years. There was no war, for saying so accepted the existence of any other state of being. There were none. Cities conscripted anyone above eight years old with martial talent, regardless of background. The few existing schools only taught the bare minimum of subjects needed for fighting, and the government stacked the fields with mortals, all tasked with turning as much crop as possible. They were getting stretched to their limit.

In spite of all the above, they stood alone. The Central Territories did send supplies to nurture much-needed talent, but it was nowhere near enough. No, the borders required the old hegemons who refused to leave their stations. And why would they? Their walls weren't the ones under attack after all. While dozens of children died in droves, they were taking a pleasant stroll through their gardens, where attendants sprinkled even the weeds with Divine Water.

However, Niva didn't blame them. How could she when it made her a hypocrite of epic proportions? She failed Riu just as much as the rest, unable to keep him from a worthless death. Niva imagined his palm on her shoulder, neither warm nor cold. He knew like she did that she was a selfish creature at heart.

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She mentally chuckled.

Despite recognizing the suffering of strangers, she didn't think it was her duty to fix it. Who would take care of her if she went around spreading herself thin? It was a selfless path the world would shower with blossoms of ungratefulness. Instead, she would focus on those close to her, the ones whom she actually cared about. But for that, power was necessary. Resources were necessary. A dragon welp couldn't hoard any treasure or feed any of its brothers and sisters. No, it needed to become an adult first. Only then would the world cower before it, unwilling to risk its wroth.

Niva was one of the lucky ones in that regard. The Sangara patriarch was the rod and staff of their clan, mighty enough that the Emperor himself had granted their entire line the status of nobility aeons ago. That gave her access to materials she would otherwise have no right to. And yet she was still too weak. The road to divinity was one of many turns and twists; it would take decades before she reached a comfortable perch that would act as a base for the strength she needed. But time was of the essence. The borders were a taut string growing ever more strained by the day, and the last protections would soon fade.

Which is why she took nothing for granted. Every foot of ground had to be fought for, every scrap of metal must be earned with blood, every insight acquired at the end of a thousand follies.

"But," she murmured under her breath.

Here, on the other side of the realm, where Solune's gentle rays stroked the earth in a gesture befitting of a doting mother, random beasts inside a low-rung cave possessed arts equivalent to a distinguished clan and partook of the blessings of the heavens like a leech, growing bloated with pure prosperity.

They didn't deserve his wish, Niva thought, thinking back to when she entered the room. A nerve burst through the skin on her forehead.

Brushing against her neck, the faint breath of a ghost brushed attempted to calm her. With the certainty of Mother Luneil reigning during the hours of Dusk, she knew Riu sat next to her in this bleakest of voids.

Some are born lucky. Others are not. That's all there is to it.

She didn't turn— if she saw the no doubt untroubled look on his face right now, she would let loose a hoarse scream before impaling the sickness of a vermin in front of her. Instead, she let the rivers of qi sweep her away, closing her eyes. Books began rattling on the shelves as the whirlwind grew in intensity. The giant's body stirred.

He was breaking through.

The storm imploded, the eye no longer an undisturbed centre but a swirling sphere of potential. Ten breaths. Twenty breaths. A hundred breaths. Until, finally, the world paused. Inhaling, all the excess energy in the air entered the giant's lungs, and he opened his eyes a second realm.

Niva tightened her stance. Though the difference between a first-realm and a second-realm human cultivator mainly was raw power, their natural senses improved ever so slightly. This wasn't a human. There was no guarantee she could still hide from him.

However, before anything else could happen, a second presence descended the stairs. The door opened, revealing one of the giant's kin. Late stage Gron. She was a lot shorter but still towered over Niva by a head. Her white robe was loose, draping over the floor and covering her feet, save at the middle where a thick, leather tome hung from her belt. The staff in her right hand was a length of wood adorned with a horned skull at the top, two blobs of blood rotating between them constantly.

The priestess' ears twitched, and the giant stared at her in incomprehension for a second.

Whatever was spoken between them, Niva had no idea: their language came close to indecipherable slurs rolling off the tongue of a drunk. Eventually, the giant lifted his buttocks from the floor, moving to the exit, and the priestess followed him. Niva trailed her target again, but not before quickly filling two empty bottles from her spatial ring with the liquid inside the fountain. The door which had led her down was no longer sealed, its gate open for all the world to see. More of the creatures passed them by on the stairs, giving both the giant and his companion nods of respect.

Her steps faltered when she walked outside. Strung up against the wall with nails made of the bloodstones were the same patrols she had been avoiding. She knew because she recognized a few particularly hideous faces from when she ran away.

The massive warrior grunted when one of its brethren approached, bringing him a helmet with a strip of red feathers running down from the top to the back and a greatsword befitting his size. It was a monstrosity of a weapon, curved and serrated with wicked teeth ready to rip through flesh.

Wherever they went, beasts parted for them, some even going on their knees. In no time, they were out of the crowd and sauntering along snaking paths in the cavern.

Niva's pensive mood returned as the two reached what Niva could only describe as a desolated hole in the tunnels. The sides were ribbed as if a great beast with scales had wormed its way through. Moreover, rouge columns of calcite illuminated the territory. Niva smiled.

However, Riu, if it is simply their fortune for being born here, then isn't it also just their misfortune for meeting me at this place and time?

The ghost she didn't remember following her stopped in his tracks, but she continued into the hollowed space underneath the earth. Her armour was already donned when the priestess shot a concentrated ball of blood at her throat without turning. She sidestepped with contemptuous ease.

"I'm glad," Niva said, meeting the gazes of the two cockroaches in front of her. "I would've had a hard time justifying myself if you hadn't struck first and tried to assassinate me."

The faint, lost mountain breeze in the tunnels caressed her back, carrying with it a cold hinting at reproach. "Don't worry, Riu." Her chest cavity expanded as she drank deep of the emotion passing her nostrils.

"I'll bear the sin for us both"—her spear reformed as the runes on her plate flared to life—"and when I reach the end of my road, your burial mound I will visit, showering the grounds in riches far beyond gold."

Five tendrils of qi protruded from her shoulder, rising to shape wicked stakes of blood whose sole purpose was annihilation.

"So that in your next reincarnation, your providence, too, may be saturated."

And dranga containing hatred made manifest roiled over the battlefield.