Lately, everything was done with a sense of dread- more than even before. Previously Anton had thought he wanted a tangible sense of when the invasion would come, but now that the skies were constantly reminding him he felt that he would prefer surprise. But that was just his mind being indecisive and worried.

Even visiting friends was an activity that sparked little joy in him. If he didn’t have any other purpose he might enjoy himself more, but there was never an opportunity to justify any sort of travel that didn’t also serve a greater goal. At the very least he would be involved with teaching and guiding people along the way.

As he passed through Veron he took heart that they had at least done a fair job of eradicating slavery in the region. Fields were still filled with workers, but they had at least a bit more joy in their hearts and some manner of choice. It wasn’t perfect, but things were better.

Anton could not help but wonder if the whole world was not locked in some strange form of slavery, working hard only to have the fruits of their labor snatched away from them. But at least slavers provided their workers with tools, food, and shelter. The ascenders were raiders who simply snatched whatever they wanted when the world was prosperous. That didn’t make them any better or worse, just slightly different. And absolutely deserving of death. If Anton had a say in the matter, not a single person would be able to leave, and not a single leaf, shirt, or tool would be taken away. And he had some say, but it was rather arrogant to think that this time they would completely overturn the invasion, when they couldn’t necessarily be said to be stronger than the previous iteration.

The only factors that were different… the particular sects and clans in power, the individuals making them up… and Everheart. Perhaps there had been someone warning for preparing previous groups, but Anton knew Everheart had to be unique. If not in intent, in the methods he used to achieve that goal. Whether or not it would help enough remained to be seen. To the best of his knowledge they had eradicated the Twin Soul Sect and those supporting them, but there could be other traitors in their midst.

Besides, if the Twin Soul Sect had any truth to their teachings, they would be reincarnated elsewhere, able to somehow impart knowledge, and be recognized. Their purpose as spies would be fulfilled, even if they couldn’t take part in the fighting. Their enemies would probably be more prepared too. Hopefully they would fail to take the people of this world seriously. But counting on their enemies to screw up… was a terrible idea.

Anton passed through Ofrurg, taking only a fraction of the time he had first taken to traverse the area. Weeks became days, and if he had been truly pressed he could have gone even faster. But a Life Transformation cultivator running through the countryside was not a picture that would make the world feel safe. Even if they didn’t think Anton was a cause of trouble, they would still wonder what was so bad that he had to rush. Not everyone was fully cognizant of the enormity of the coming invasion, but either way people didn’t need more to worry about.

Eventually he passed through the Mossythorn Timberlands to the Grasping Willows. The guards at the gate recognized him. “Elder Anton!” they bowed their heads. He didn’t directly have any position within their sect, but he would have received proper greetings due to his status as Life Transformation cultivator even if there was nothing else. “The Sect Head has been expecting you.”

“Good,” Anton nodded in return. There wasn’t much else to say. He could have had them go ahead to announce him, but that would be slower than going himself. Besides, Lev should be able to sense him soon enough, if he hadn’t already.

When Anton arrived, Lev was sitting with his back against one of the larger Grasping Willows. It was nothing compared to the grandfather willow. Anton could sense it off in the distance, looming over the valley below. If he wasn’t mistaken, it had even grown somewhat taller, overtopping the height of its valley by a small margin and sticking up from the surrounding forest.

“Good to see you again, Anton,” Lev gestured with his good arm to the ground next to him, and a pot of tea. “Come, sit.”

Lev was no longer the young man Anton had first encountered nearly dead in the forest. He was still young by cultivator standards, but he had matured. He also possessed lengthy hair and a beard that trailed along the ground. They were useful parts of the Grasping Willow’s fighting style, and a sign of prestige. Personally Anton thought they were a bit silly to look at, but that might be a benefit in its own way. A weapon that didn’t look like a weapon was a great advantage.

Anton slumped against the tree, looking up at the sky. “How long, do you think, until everyone feels it?”

“It depends,” Lev shook his head. “A couple years for those in Essence Collection. The last couple years, everyone will. It’s not like people haven’t heard, but knowing is almost worse.”

“What I’m concerned about is whether the process will accelerate, or if they can break through early. Alternatively, they might not come immediately after and leave us waiting.”

Lev smiled, “Perhaps, but you know cultivators. When have they ever waited to get their hands on something? Unless they are organized far more tightly than we can imagine, someone will slip through at the earliest possibility. So it would be earlier rather than later.”

“Not particularly comforting.”

The two of them sat for a while, chatting. Then Lev stood up. “Well, we might as well get going. No point in putting this off. I can’t imagine it will be easy to refine into useful equipment.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“That’s not my specialty, I’ll admit,” Anton nodded. “Though preparing wood is rather simple… usually. Are you sure this is alright? Taking pieces of the grandfather willow?”

“Of course. It’s not as if we’re chopping it down. And every plant needs pruning every now and again.”

-----

Without any weaker cultivators to watch out for- and with Lev’s presence calming the tree- it was easy to retrieve a piece of ‘branch’ and some ‘vine’. The difficult part with the former was carrying it. Anton wanted to have as much as possible for the enchanter to work with, and breaking it up into pieces might sully that. The vine… just barely coiled up to fit into a storage bag all on its own. It was like a great anaconda, thicker than a man’s thigh for its length. Though the real anaconda was taken away by Lev. The creature had made the wrong choice in what it wanted to try to eat- and anything that attempted to eat a human was too dangerous to let live.

So Anton carried the branch, a rather ‘skinny’ one more like a tree trunk, twenty meters in length. It took a significant expenditure of energy to hold it up and keep himself from being shoved neck deep into the ground from the weight compressing all into the points of his feet. It was a rate that Anton could maintain, but only because he was a Life Transformation expert. Even then, he had to consciously and continuously control his breathing and replenish his energy from the world around him. At least the quality and quantity of energy was much higher everywhere he went.

Along the road, he was met with a myriad of strange looks. Any cultivator could recognize his power, which was why most did little more than look. Some cultivators didn’t like being spoken to by those they considered ‘lessers’. Ofrurg had greatly improved the effective rights of people, but the intimidation factor was still there, whether or not they would actually be in danger.

But some people recognized Anton. He knew he was only familiar with a tiny proportion of the world, but the distance that he could be sensed at was significant. Some people went out of their way to come greet him.

“What’s that for?” Asked a carpenter Anton had taught the very beginnings of cultivation. “Planning to build a house?”

“Not currently, Bob. It’s for a bow.”

“... a bow for who? It’s rather… large.”

“The choicest parts will be used for the weapon. The rest will find other uses, but I am not a grand crafter or enchanter. I’ve put together a few hunting bows for everyday use, but I didn’t ever truly learn the craft.”

“Really? You seemed to have a pretty good sense of wood to me,” Bob said as he strode alongside Anton.

“I’ll admit I can manage pretty much anything to the standards of a mundane craftsman, or an earlier stage cultivator learning the ropes, but I’d rather leave the work to someone who spent centuries honing their craft.” Technically she hadn’t done much of anything for many centuries, but two hundred years was still quite a bit longer than Anton had been alive. While he’d been quite capable of all of the work he did on and around the farm, after becoming a cultivator he had learned there were greater depths to things he couldn’t have imagined.

“Well, good luck with that then,” Bob waved. “I’ve got some more moderately sized wood to go work with.”

-----

Anton was glad that he didn’t have to go through a teleport formation to reach his destination. He was fairly certain he would not have been able to bring the branch with him. Fortunately Ella made her home in Droca. The Master Bowyer was said to be the best, and having seen some of her work Anton had to agree. Especially if they were going to be working with wood.

She was an old woman with wrinkled skin, but her hand remained clear of defects, and she still had the strength of a cultivator. “Well, let’s see the rest,” she gestured after Anton put down the giant log he had been carrying. “The string.”

“I hope it’s suited,” Anton said. “But they are from the same tree, so they should at least have affinity.” He reached into the storage bag and began to unwind the hanging vine, technically more of a dangling branch that grew further from the trunk.

“Excellent,” Ella nodded. “I can work with this. Good potential with both here.” She wrapped her hands around the vine-branch. “This needs to be condensed.”

Anton watched with rapt attention as she began to run her energy through it. The process was slow, but she pulled and twisted the material with her hands while her energy worked from within. Very gradually the size began to decrease. Some portion of that was from material being removed, leaving a fine dust on the floor, but Anton was certain that the rest was increasing in density. He was quiet, not daring to interrupt. Several hours later, Ella pulled out a knife, slicing a several meter length of string from the rest of the vine. As bowstrings went, its over a millimeter thickness was quite hefty, but Anton trusted her judgment.

After that, the Master Bowyer took some time to inspect the branch he had brought, eventually cutting out a length of wood. Like the string, parts of it were whittled away while others were condensed, until she had a rounded rod that could serve as the basis for a bow.

Over the process of several days the process continued, both materials crafted and treated in various ways. The bow took shape slowly, but even once it was finished her work wasn’t done. Ella unhooked the string and began to work on a different bench laden with formations. Various powdered gemstones, vials of beast blood, and numerous other things that Anton didn’t recognize were involved in the enchanting process, ultimately resulting in a bow that looked simple on the surface, with few ornate designs.

“It is done,” Ella declared. “Payment has already been received.”

“Thank you,” Anton inclined his head. “Though don’t hesitate to ask for favors in the future, should you need them.”

“I will remember.”

“So…” Anton asked. “Is it safe to shoot it?”

She nodded. “Outside.”

Anton didn’t doubt he could shoot through an open window, or possibly a small crack in a structure, but it seemed rather rude to try. And as it was a new bow, it was possible his aim would be slightly off. He could always dissolve his Spirit Arrow, but it would be embarrassing.

The bow was… perfect. It wasn’t laden with special qualities or odd features like the one made out of swords. Instead, it was made out of flexible-yet-springy materials, firm where they needed to be. It had power to it, and more importantly it matched Anton. Not only was it made specifically for his grip, but the materials were gathered by himself- and from something he had a history with, even if it was only incidental. When she explained those factors being important he had believed her… but now he was able to experience it. If only he could have a dozen more… but he doubted he would be able to maintain the firing of multiple bows of such power even if he had them.