Feng Zhiming stood with quiet authority among his fellow Instructors and the Headmistress in the grand hall of the sect. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation; it had been two months since he had taken over Ryes’s body, and only one month remained before the critical evaluation of the disciples. Today marked the awaited return of Grand Elder Claris, along with Orion, Daiyu, and the other disciples who had been dispatched to the Heart.

Seated at the head of the hall was the interim Grand Elder, Haotian, who, like Claris, had reached the peak of the Heavenly Eye Realm. As the heavy doors swung open, the group entered with a solemn demeanor. Claris led the way, his steps deliberate but burdened by unseen injuries that only someone of Haotian’s cultivation could perceive.

“Claris, how was your trip?” Haotian asked, his voice laced with a knowing undertone as his eyes scrutinized the subtle signs of internal damage on Claris.

“Hmph! No need for pleasantries,” Claris retorted, his tone icy as he strode forward, clearly expecting Haotian to vacate the seat of authority. The tension in the hall was palpable.

Haotian’s lips curled into a smirk. “Friend, it seems you’ve suffered some internal injuries. Why don’t you retreat into closed-door cultivation to recover fully?”

The air in the hall thickened with shock at Haotian’s words. It was evident to all present that Haotian sought to solidify his position by removing Claris from the picture. Feng Zhiming’s gaze shifted to the group trailing behind Claris. Daiyu appeared disheveled, a shadow of her usual self, while Orion, in stark contrast, wore a wide grin, his hand resting proudly on the golden sword at his waist, a spiritual weapon that Feng Zhiming had given to him, a relic of Aaron, a Divine Holy Knight. Krimin was unexpectedly absent.

Claris’s fury erupted. “Do you believe I won’t report your insolence to the Sect Leader?” His voice echoed through the hall, reverberating with power.

Haotian’s laughter was cold and dismissive. “Do you believe I would suggest closed-door cultivation if it wasn’t sanctioned by the Sect Leader himself?”

Claris’s hands clenched into fists, the strain visible in the taut muscles of his forearms. “I’ve served this sect for over a century, and because of one failure, you all dismiss me?” His aura flared, an oppressive wave that brought everyone not in the Heavenly Eye Realm to their knees, gasping for breath.

Iyana, always the mediator, stepped forward, her voice calm yet firm. “This is not the time or place for such a discussion. Claris, perhaps you should take your concerns directly to the Sect Leader.”

Claris’s gaze shifted to Iyana, his eyes burning with contempt. “Keep your decorum to yourself, you opportunistic hypocrite. I will settle accounts with you later.” With a final, disdainful wave of his hand, he vanished, leaving the hall in a suffocating silence.

As the tension subsided, Daiyu and Orion approached Haotian, bowing slightly as they cupped their hands in a gesture of respect.

“Greetings to the Grand Elder,” they intoned in unison.

Haotian nodded, his gaze lingering on the golden sword at Orion’s side. “I’ve read your report. The creature was in the Dao Lord Realm?”

Feng Zhiming observed silently, content with this version of events that conveniently omitted his involvement.

“Yes, Grand Elder,” Daiyu replied, her voice steady, though a keen observer like Feng Zhiming could detect the subtle trembling of her hands. “The creature was formidable, beyond our capabilities, even claiming the life of the Sect of the Sacred Sage’s Elder.”

{Hmmm, she won't survive this ailment,} the Scholar of Black mused within Feng Zhiming’s mind, echoing his own observations.

Haotian’s eyes narrowed as they fell upon the golden sword once more. “This… this blade belongs to the Maiden’s enforcers,” he remarked, his tone contemplative as he examined the weapon.

Orion’s expression tightened, but he maintained his composure. “Indeed, Grand Elder. We found it on the corpse when we arrived. It was the only significant gain from the mission.”

Without warning, Haotian extended his hand, and the sword flew from Orion’s waist into his grasp. “Good! I’ll personally return this as a show of goodwill to the Maiden’s followers.”

Orion’s teeth clenched in silent fury, but he offered no resistance. “As you say… Grand Elder,” he forced out, barely concealing his anger at the blatant theft.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

As the two disciples turned to leave, Haotian posed one final question. “And the Heart? It has vanished entirely?”

Daiyu and Orion exchanged a glance before Daiyu answered, “When we were expelled by the creature, the Heart vanished. We have no idea where it could be now.”

“I see… Go and rest. This mission was beyond your capabilities from the start,” Haotian concluded, dismissing the gathering.

As Feng Zhiming made his way back to Ryes’s abode, he noticed Humaira, her face twisted in irritation.

“Instructor Humaira, it seems the council didn’t take well to your suggestions,” Feng Zhiming observed casually.

She shot him a scowl. “Are you gloating now?”

Feng Zhiming shook his head. “What’s there to gloat about? War is brutal. People like us, who cherish life, should stay as far away from it as possible.”

Humaira turned away, her expression hardening. “Those old fogies have forgotten the value of life. They see disciples as disposable tools, mere pawns in their pursuit of power. They’ve lost their humanity.”

“Indeed,” Feng Zhiming agreed softly. “Cultivation demands sacrifices. To gain power, one must relinquish all other attachments.”

Humaira quickened her pace, her parting words tinged with bitterness. “Cultivation should be a blessing for humanity, a means to protect, not to trample on those deemed lesser. We’ve lost our way.”

Feng Zhiming watched her retreating figure, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “In this world, it’s people like you who perish the quickest,” he mused to himself.

As Feng Zhiming reached the threshold of Ryes’s abode, his thoughts lingered on Humaira’s words. Her conviction, though admirable, was naive in the brutal reality of this world. He knew that power came at a cost, often a price too steep for those who clung to ideals. Yet, despite his rationalizations, a small part of him respected her for daring to voice what so many others dared not.

...

Kura sensed the disturbance long before it manifested, a faint ripple in the fabric of the Heart that drew her attention away from her meditations. With a fluid grace, she ascended into the sky, her presence commanding the very air around her.

“Reveal yourself,” she commanded, her voice devoid of emotion, echoing through the vast expanse.

In response, a low chuckle reverberated through the surroundings, dark and mocking. An old woman materialized from the shadows, her appearance sudden yet deliberate, as if she had been there all along, hidden within the folds of reality.

“Maiden favored by the Abyssal of Truth and Veracity,” the old woman intoned, her voice carrying the weight of ages as she settled into the sky with an air of casual defiance.

Kura’s eyes narrowed as the ancient knowledge bestowed by her Lord surged within her, revealing the woman’s identity. “Herald of the Beast Will,” she responded, her words cutting through the tension like a blade. The title alone carried the weight of countless battles, a harbinger of ancient enmity.

For a moment, the two powerful entities simply stared at one another, the silence between them heavy with unspoken threats. The air crackled with the raw energy of their opposing forces, one steeped in the inescapable truth of the abyss, the other infused with the primal vigor of the Beastial Origin.

“Do not speak my Lord’s name in vain,” Kura finally said, her tone still flat but laced with a subtle warning. “What brings you here?”

The old woman’s eyes glinted with a dangerous light as she met Kura’s gaze. “You know why I’m here. Why was it that you spared another Throne candidate?” The question was laced with accusation, the old woman’s gaze piercing as she sought the truth behind Kura’s actions.

“Leave,” Kura replied, her voice as cold as the void. “It is not my place to explain the will of my Lord.” The dismissal was clear, final.

The old woman’s lips curled into a sardonic smile. “Oh, you think you can command me to leave and I’ll simply obey? What gives you such confidence, you upstart unborn? You dare to dismiss me?”

Kura’s eyes flashed with disdain as she scoffed at the woman’s bravado. “In this world, you are more powerless than a mere mortal. I’m already granting your Monarch face by not casting you out myself.”

The old woman chuckled again, the sound resonating with dark amusement.

Their auras clashed in an instant, the very air around them thickening with the oppressive weight of their power. Kura’s presence exuded a profound darkness, an aspect of the abyss. In contrast, the old woman radiated an unyielding vigor, the raw, untamed force of the Beastial Origin, primal and unstoppable.

“Do not think that this gesture of goodwill will ever be reciprocated,” the old woman said, her voice dripping with annoyance. “Nor will your plans with Krimin come to fruition. This cycle belongs to the Beasts, it has been decreed by my Monarch.”

With that final proclamation, the old woman vanished, her departure as sudden as her arrival, leaving behind only the faint echo of her words.

Kura remained in the sky for a moment, her eyes narrowed in anger. “Beasts should remain in their place, as the witless livestock they were born to be. The fact that they ever held the Throne is already a disgrace to every other epoch,” she spat, her voice tinged with disdain.

With a final, disdainful glance at the empty space where the old woman had stood, Kura descended back to her cave. Her gaze fell upon Feng Zhiming’s lifeless body, still and silent as it lay before her. Though his body remained in stasis, Kura knew that the real battle was just beginning, and the stakes were higher than ever before.

The previous cycle had come to an end, but the true war was just beginning.