I am motioned to a door.

I sigh as I pull the door open and walk in.

The purple glow is everywhere in this large room.

I walk down its length, my eyes to the gathering at the end of the table.

A single large chair stands in sharp contrast to the rest. A noble-looking man is seated in this large chair at the end of the table.

Several attendants sit in the chairs leading to the man.

Recognizing the severity of the situation, I bow hand over fist to these men and women.

"We've been waiting," comes one of the attendant's voice

I feel the weight of each soul well here. These are some of the heavyweights of Steady Sword.

"Apologies, Your Excellency," I hold my words close to me as I assess the faces of these people.

"Tell us," comes the commanding voice of the man in the large chair. "Which sect were you a part of?"

I measure my words as I say, "Divided Fates."

Several faces look perplexed.

"It's a middle-tier sect," one of the attendants says.

"How did a middle-tier sect cultivate a grand master alchemist? And, more importantly, how could they lose one?"

Several heads nod their agreement with this line of questioning.

"Tell us."

"Your Excellencies, I was only with the Divided Fates sect for a short period.

"They discarded me as a failure before I managed to form my soul stone."

A chuckle rings out from a few of the attendants.

"Tell us," comes the commanding voice. "Did you craft a perfect Dragon's Scream pill?"

I can feel the weight of their scrutiny.

"Yes."

Several nervous laughs escape the throats of the attendants.

"Patriarch, this is preposterous." One of the voices says, "To craft such a pill is in opposition to the heavens themselves. A rogue cultivator couldn't hope to craft perfection."

Several agreements are voiced.

"Tell me," the patriarch says. "Who is your master?"

There is ice in his eyes as he looks me over. I find myself captured by the power of the man's presence—the other people make so much noise.

"I have no master."

His eyes measure me.

"Tell me, which sect do you belong to?"

The attendants silence themselves.

"The Steady Sword sect," I say with resolve.

The patriarch leans forward in his chair.

All at once, my soul shackles release and fall to the floor.

"Go," the patriarch says. "Return to your training, acolyte."

I bow hand over fist.

Then, I pick up my shackles and return to the door I entered the court through.

Renal is waiting for me.

A pleased smile takes his face as I give him my shackles.

"I knew you would succeed, sir."

I nod my head as I rotate my core.

Now that I'm unburdened, I feel my soul well suck down tremendous amounts of chi.

Renald takes a step back, stunned.

"Sir, how did you refine such a terrifying soul?"

I ignore his question and move to leave the palace.

I feel self-conscious about my soul being visible to others.

The soul of a cultivator is a reflection of their dao. It is shaped by the trials and tribulations one experiences. Rest and trauma alike cultivate strong souls.

The time on Fire Island hollowed out much of what had been a part of my soul. Hollowed out and then refilled with a pure dao.

And yet, my dao remains immature.

Despite my timid outlook, I'm making waves everywhere I pass.

For the first time since becoming a cultivator, I am not afraid of the masses of cultivators seeing me.

Here, I can cultivate in a way I didn't allow myself to on Fire Island.

The day is ending. So, I turn to finding a quiet place to watch the stars.

Despite the release from the soul shackles, my warden observes me.

The stars speak to me this night.

I feel closer to the sage than I have in many years.

The sage is a teacher, and my time practicing alchemy with the other acolytes is my favorite time of day. I teach them insights they hadn't contemplated before.

And, despite how close to the sage I may feel, I am more like a student than I've been in many years.

I find myself learning much from the masters who have studied the various schools of alchemy.

The tomes on alchemy are more than just recipes. They teach the theory behind the craft.

In the quiet hours, I absorb new information like a glutton.

Days and weeks pass as I grow to feel content in my role with the Steady Sword sect.

Every sect member was forced to survive the trial of the pit.

Few volunteer to enter. Survival is a fragile thing in that dark abyss.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

And so, the sect abducts recruits the same way Divided Fates does.

But, these are things past.

I give up my qualms about the ethics of my new sect in favor of focussing on my training.

The martial field is a place of discipline and spirit.

As I grow more proficient, I find myself advancing out of the acolytes group.

Without my soul shackles inhibiting my power, my speed and strength put me on another level from the fresh-faced recruits.

I don't mind the change. Every one of my fellows was an enemy in the pit. There is a hatred that we each hold for one another.

I receive lessons from a tutor, rather than advancing into one of the adept groups.

The lessons I learn from my tutor all cultivate the immortal high art of swordplay.

Swordsmanship is more than strikes. It is about routines and sequences. I am drilled on the theory behind sword fighting. The ethos and passion that distinguish the Steady Sword art from the lesser schools.

My tutor is friendly and respectful despite his role.

"I must say, Rook, you are somewhat intimidating to work with."

I puzzle, "Why's that?"

The tutor looks embarrassed.

"Well, the higher-ups have stressed the importance of your training. Only a few people get a tutor all for themselves.

"But, more specifically, your soul well is a terrifying thing."

The man hesitates. "I can't even think of an ascended immortal whose soul well is so..." He loses his words.

I turn my mind inward to examine my soul and body. It mirrors my soul stone.

My soul stone looks more brittle than ever. There don't even appear to be any main fissures. Just countless small cracks that saturate it.

My soul runs deep and seems never to be satiated with the abundant chi.

I compare my soul well to my tutor's. While mine is never satisfied, his overflows.

My thoughts turn to the years I spent consuming the Dragon's Scream. Despite the agony, it empowered me. And made the

suffering worthwhile.

While I can draw out significant energy from the well of my soul, I'm far more restricted than my tutor.

I let the pointless thoughts escape me and look to my tutor.

"We each have our dao. All I can do is hope that mine is true."

The tutor caught my desire to continue the training.

Weeks turn into months as I grow more solidly as a sect member.

Despite the nature of my joining Steady Sword, I feel myself holding faith in the patriarch and the powers that be.

My crafting is fun despite the challenges of learning the various schools. In my free time, I study the books on theory.

In every facet of my life, I grow.

And, whether it be alchemy or swordsmanship, I find myself excelling.

As the months pass, I advance to the adept stage.

"Congratulations, Rook," comes the voice of my steward.

"Thank you, Renald. What's the difference between acolytes and adepts?"

"Well, sir," Renald begins. "There are several missions that the sect engages in. These can be dangerous. And, so, only those cultivators who have formed their soul stone may participate."

I think about how long it's been since I reached the adept phase as an immortal.

"With your role as an alchemist, the sect will not be eager to send you out..."

The sect has many restrictions, and I doubt that the powers that be would find issue with rejecting my request to venture beyond the borders of the Steady Sword village.

"Anything else about the rank that can benefit me?"

"Well, sir, have you ever considered the other crafting arts?"

My ears prick at the question.

"What do you mean?"

Renald smiles, "It's not something restricted to your status. But have you ever considered blacksmithing? It is an art favored by members of Steady Sword.

"The crafting of one's own sword is the aspiration of many adepts.

"It can be an expensive art for acolytes who can't take on the missions. But, your exceptional work in the apothecary will surely reward you with considerable compensation."

His words put me in the mind to learn where my compensation has gone.

I steer my path to the alchemist lab.

"Nigel," I say when I come up behind the man.

He turns from his business.

"Rook, what a pleasure to see you today. Come to craft more of your exceptional pills?"

My gaze is even. "I hear that I should be compensated for my labor."

Nigel looks from me to my steward.

"Rook, you see, acolytes earn nothing for their work." He bites his lip.

My gaze is steady as I look at the man. I let out a sigh. It's just money.

"I trust that I will be compensated for my labor from now on. I'm no longer an acolyte after all."

"Of course, Rook. We would never seek to rip you off for your gifts."

The man is eager to turn his attention to other matters.

I let it drop and find my place among the other master alchemists.

Weeks pass as I accrue a sizeable reward for my work in the apothecary.

Feeling flush with coin, I turn my attention to the forge of Steady Sword.

The facility is a massive building of five stories. Its layout is a large circle.

I see a massive forge where molten metal is poured into molds.

The clinking sound of metal on metal echoes throughout the building.

"What do you want?" comes a gruff man's voice.

I look at the short man. "I want to learn blacksmithing."

The burly man gazes long and hard into my eyes. I find myself wondering what he's looking for.

"Come with me."

I follow this blacksmith through the complex.

"Case got a new trainee for you."

"Another one so soon? Why do they even bother?" The man turned, and I see a middle-aged man with massive arms.

Then Case looks from my escort to me.

"What rank are you?" his voice is commanding.

"Adept, sir."

"Bullshit," the man spits a seed kernel from his mouth into a bin.

Renald steps forward from the shadows.

"It's true, Case."

The man looks back at me from Renald, his mood severe.

"Got coin?"

I pull out a bag filled with silver.

The man looks through the bag.

"Silver's not going to cut it here. Unless you're planning to spend your weight in it."

I sigh, this is something that acolytes aren't suited for.

Another bag finds its way into Case's hands.

"Good deal," Case says. "I suppose you'll be wanting an orientation."

I nod my head.

"Blacksmithing is a trial of passion. If you don't have a passion for this art, you should leave now.

"Steady Sword sect swords are the best in the land because Steady Sword blacksmiths are the best."

I absorb the doctrine that this man lives by.

"You won't be touching a hammer any time soon. The anvil is closed to you. You will learn the ore that makes the metal and the charcoal that augments the metal's composition. We deal dominantly with steel here. The more exotic metals like Mythril, adamantium, and orichalcum take many years to learn on top of the basics of steel and lesser metals.

"This tome," the man pulls a book from his spatial ring, "will be your holy scripture. It will teach you the basics of ore types."

The man ends his orientation.

"Spend as much or as little time you want here in the forge. You spent the money to have a place here. If you give up, it's no skin off my back."

The man leaves me to attend to his own affairs.

I could stay as an observer. But, then, I have a new book to read. I find a quiet part of the village and absorb myself in learning what I can.

At night, I study the stars. The blacksmith, like the carpenter, is a noble constellation.

He is the one the knight turns to with respect. It is the blacksmith's blade that faces the terror in the shadows.

The blacksmith is not merely a merchant of death. He crafts iron tools that the carpenter uses as well.

My thoughts are consumed with thoughts of the tradesmen of the heavens. The tradesmen are all noble figures.

The light of the alchemist teaching my dao how I may advance.

My dao for the blacksmith still needs to be stronger. But I know it will grow.

I get caught up in my thoughts as I cultivate.

I turn to the martial field at dawn and wait for my tutor.

Months pass by as I hone my skills in all aspects of my life.

With the tutor's help, I grow more proficient with the sword than I thought possible.

I'm so used to the soul weights that, now that I'm free of them, I feel like I'm floating through the air as I train.

My tutor also notes my power.

"How could you become like this? Does your soul well not have a bottom?"

I shrug.

"Whatever you did, it will make your ascension much harder."

His words surprise me, "Why would it make it harder?"

The man looks me over, "Your soul is incredibly damaged. I'm amazed by your ability to maintain your soul stone.

"Ascended immortals seal the cracks in their soul stones. And their internal energies overflow from their soul well.

"To have a bottomless soul well is to reject the path of immortals. It is something..."

The man stops his explanation.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing," the man seems somewhat disconcerted. "You'll want to focus on filling your soul well with chi. I foresee it taking an extensive period. But, eventually, you'll ascend."

I take the man at his word and set myself to sealing my soul stone and healing my soul.

Heavenly Resonance pills become a standard of my consumption. Always superior pills, I alternate between Heavenly Resonance and Heavenly Fortifying pills.

With this regimen, I cultivate a stronger dao. One that doesn't add to the torment of my soul.

I focus on my martial skills, alchemy, blacksmithing, and personal cultivation.

It's a full workload, and I may have too many tasks set before me every day.

As the months become years, I feel my soul fill. The chi of heaven and earth is potent in the village, and I grow every day.

I've begun to use the large cauldron in the apothecary.

It's a tool that requires a team of trained alchemists to maintain.

When training with it, I stand as first assistant to the grand master.

It's something that will take years for me to master. But the cauldron always makes amazing batches of pills.

And my growth in ore comprehension has seen me as a growing presence in the forge.

I observe Case as he stokes the furnace, creating ingots. When he has the pieces prepared, he binds them and takes them to the anvil.

A cultivator blacksmith can wield far greater power than a mortal.

The hammer in his hand is an extension of his soul body. His chi enters the ingots as he folds steel, ever seeking impurities to be hammered out.

I observe for a long time before Case allows me to serve as his assistant.

Crafting a sword is not simply work for an immortal. It is a spiritual experience.

Years pass as days as I develop. The stars are my refuge from the training that I participate in.

I've never missed a session for years and am becoming an integral part of the Steady Sword sect.

As I pass the acolytes learning the arts, I catch them whispering about me.

I've taught lessons to many of them in my time here.

The alchemy students are always open to some new insight. The blacksmith acolytes observe me as I work for Case.

I've never particularly wanted to be renowned. But, I do feel proud to be viewed as an important figure.

Life as an immortal is a weird thing. When you find a routine as an immortal, you begin to view life as something to observe rather than being a part of.

I watch myself go through the routine of training. Observing it as the immortal in the sky. Despondent.

The river of time passes me by, and I watch the moments of my life pass as leaves on a river. There for but a moment.

I watch as the young become the old. Acolytes fail to achieve immortality and fade like wilting flowers.

The immortals can age if they remain stagnant and fail to cultivate.

Some pass away in meditation. Gently letting their candle blow out.

Case has, in recent years, allowed me to practice the craft independently.

The younger immortals vie for the position of my assistant.

Like me, they're eager to learn from a more senior blacksmith.

These are satisfying days as I learn from the different schools.

I find myself drawn to the literature on theory. The thoughts in my mind are of why we do what we do.

"The Calamity was the advent of the modern era."

I'm attending a seminar at the university of Steady Sword's village.

"Before the Calamity, the world was one. Whole and beautiful. But, the Creator could not stand by as his creation rose to a higher state.

"The gods of that era were like the immortals of the present era.

"The Creator was jealous and devastated the world. Shattering it into sixteen pieces. There are four elemental planes. And, our own, Gaia."

"Gaia stands apart from the other realms. Each realm took on aspects of the world when it was sundered.

"Gaia is one of two realms blessed with the chi of heaven and earth.

"Today, we live in a broken world. Were the Creator to devastate our world again, what could we do?

"Ascended immortals are the only ones capable of traveling through the firmament.

"The Convergence has been preached of since the Calamity.

"The world cannot remain as it is, and we must prepare ourselves for war.

"I call on all of you to ascend. Thank you."

I am figuring out what to make of the speech. Many years ago, I heard talk of this creator and the Calamity. But the Convergence sounds new to me.

Several attendants wait in line to ask the presenter questions.

"Sir, what is the Convergence?"

"Yes, well, the Convergence is the reunion of the realms into a single world. And, with it, the old war will be as new."

This is heavy content, and I doubt that this man will alleviate my concern over the changes that the world is experiencing.

I duck out of the seminar. I'm still far from ascending, so I can wait to learn about the coming apocalypse.

My focus is on my training.

After my time on Fire Island, I feel hollowed out. The fleeting emotions and memories are cut out by the agony of the Dragon's Scream.

I find myself having trouble remembering the life of my youth.

Truly, I brought ruin on myself. But, sad as it is to lose who I was, I am now a sponge for the wisdom on offer.

I am a far better immortal for my time in the ascended immortal's service.

Days, months, and years are transient things. They are all like leaves on a stream. They are only there long enough to be observed briefly before passing away.

Renald is faithful despite the years that pass. I wonder.

"Why do you still follow me, Renald? Think I'm going to run off?"

Renald picks his words carefully.

"Sir, perhaps you don't realize the importance the patriarch has found in you.

"Only the grand master surpasses you in the art of Alchemy. And he is training you to be his successor.

"The patriarch has assigned me to be your steward. And that has stayed the same regardless of how many years have passed.

"I feel my dao grow as I observe you daily."

I can feel the man's respect. Somehow, my world has changed.

I think to the wanderer in the sky. It is like him that I've most wanted to be, and here I am, bound by the expectations of others.

I let out a sigh before returning to my work.

My insights grow with time, and so too does my soul well.

I send my consciousness into my soul well. It is cavernous, a reflection of my soul stone.

I begin by hunting out the perimeter of the soul construct. It is like standing on a level plane and looking to the horizon. It goes on seemingly forever.

Then, I turn my attention to its depths. Time passes relentlessly as I chase after the ocean of chi from which I draw my energy.

I swallow a lump in my throat as I realize this cavern must be filled before I ascend.

I settle in for the long haul.