It was that time of month again. The elder of the Chaotic Demon Sect had a very specific schedule that he kept, in order to remain the most powerful member of a society built on the principle of taking power from those stronger than you. Checking himself in the mirror, he looked around at the ‘cultivation room’ he had set up at the peak of sect building. It was bare of almost any personal effects, since he never actually used it.
Being still, dead to the outside world, meditating for hours, in a known location, was a death sentence. He should know, he’d killed plenty of his superiors while they thought they were safe. The sect leader quarters were a trap, and he was certain that any master of the Chaotic Demon Sect who managed to ascend to the ninth level had done so by never being anywhere near where they were supposed to be. When he was ready to cultivate, he told the disciples to lock down the rooms, that he was not to be disturbed, set up the defensive arrays, and placed a dummy in the center of the chamber attached to an alarm token. If anything touched the dummy, he’d be notified of the breach, and could fly up to destroy the entire building.
Usually he just went up to the livestock pens and cultivated with the oxen, pretending to be a lazy apprentice rancher.
Today, his ‘cultivation’ was for a different purpose. He had a friend to visit, one that he had known since he was a mere outer disciple, competing with the other aspirants for spots in the most recently announced training tower opportunity. He’d never been much good at those, which was all the better considering what he knew now. The opportunities were exactly that for someone with half a brain though, as any location with sped up time would be a treasure trove for learning. It didn’t matter if you couldn’t pass the trials, since the environment itself was the true prize.
Slipping out of the sect master robes, he stepped across the woven mats that covered the floor to the wardrobe where he kept both the puppet and his spare clothing. The top half of the cabinet was dominated by a copy of the Demonic Sect’s sigils, over an image of the world passing around the moon. The details on the world itself could be made out if you looked closely enough, but the sect leader hated doing that.
It was especially nausea-inducing when he looked at himself, and saw the mural he was looking at.
Knowing the mindset of most cultivators, they would be lost in the profundity of the design, the inner workings of the universe laid bare, long enough for him to return and find that unwelcome intruders had entered his chambers. Maybe one day there would be an intruder powerful enough for him to have an excuse to destroy the cursed thing. Regardless, a cabinet that one cannot open lest you miss enlightenment was the best place he could think of for hiding how he stayed alive.
He opened the cabinet, feeling a slight vertigo as he swung the entire universe along the hinge. Roughly grabbing the puppet, he tossed it onto the mat, where it landed in a cross-legged meditative pose. Gesturing at the robes he left behind, they obeyed his command and wrapped around the wooden doll, which opened its eyes and melted into a fleshy copy of himself.
Every single part of this process made his skin crawl.
Now the trick was getting out of the sect without alerting anyone at all. Usually he could send the more powerful members on tasks, and fly out of the top windows without anyone being able to sense his presence, but some days, like today, the sect was in an uproar about some stupid thing or other the younger generation was up to.
It was these kinds of days when it was more important than others to get away, if only to keep from people trying to make him do work.
Today was an outer disciple kind of day. His quarters had alarms that would alert him, and him alone. If they were to alert anyone else, they would be able to tell where he was. That was unacceptable. Even the people he had doing things that directly benefited himself he wanted to see as little as possible; if they were talking to him, they weren’t doing whatever he wanted them to do.
Swinging himself out the window, the sect leader slides down the wall diagonally toward the back of the sect. The defenses were the heaviest away from the gate, so the general disciples would be less alert there than any less defended place, in theory. With the natural boundaries between the three sects, and the political boundary of the emperor to consider, any possible avenue for attack was practically impossible, particularly with an inter-sect tournament coming up and imperial interest being at the maximum, which should lead to a low base level of alertness to begin with, but that was the trick. It took hard work to keep a peace going that would leave him free to escape his duties.
While the Grandmist and Divine sects were doing whatever it is they do, he had made sure to convert the majority of his territory into fertile land, and empowered as many of the commoners as he could to work on that land. There was rarely anyone below tier one in the Chaotic Demon Sect’s territory, and those were usually children. With a more powerful workforce, and indefatigable bevy of farmers, he had undercut the other territory’s food crops and driven them out of business. Even with the costs associated with transportation, it was simply cheaper to import grains, meats, dairies, and other foodstuffs from the Demonic Sect than to set aside the infrastructure to grow it locally. Slowly, inexorably, he had gained total control over the food supply of the entire world.
Slouching over, the sect leader imitated the outer sect disciples sneaking around the inner sect area he’d had occasion to interact with over the years. Not supposed to be in this area, but definitely here for a purpose. Trying not to draw attention, probably failing because of the body language that simply said that they were not supposed to be here. After holding that pose for a few seconds, he switched to the ‘hurrying back to the outer section’ stance, which was much more relaxed. These outer sect disciples wouldn’t be stopped, because they clearly had finished whatever had brought them to the inner areas to begin with, for good or ill. If their purpose was ill, and that ill was discovered before their escape, then the rage of the inner disciples would most certainly be aroused, but until then the outer disciple was free to escape with their prize, whatever that might be.
Unfortunately, it appeared that whatever annoyance had gotten the sect up into a frenzy was taking place around the gate to the outer section. An outer disciples likely wouldn’t have the ability to simply vault the wall, so he was forced to wait for someone to let him out. It looked like one of the inner sect disciples was having difficulties with something or other. Wang, or something. One of the alchemists, probably behind the disappearance of four other alchemists recently. It was disappointing that he wasn’t showing any kind of improvement, but sometimes that was the way of things. Not every sacrifice would work, not every gamble would pay off.
Eventually one of the earth-associated disciples opened the gate, and he was able to jog out through the sect walls. There was no reason for an outer sect disciple to stick around after getting a mission, and plausibly that would be what he had been doing while inside. Sending a lower ranked disciple to do errands was a time honored tradition.
It was especially wonderful when they were sect elders.
The sect butted against a mysterious forest, where time moved more slowly inside than outside. When near the outskirts, within eyesight of the edge of the woods, the effect was far less pronounced, but once someone made their way deep into the center where time lost meaning, there was an environment almost a fifth as effective as a training tower for practicing techniques. He wasn’t headed into that area, however, as the heavenly energy within the woods wasn’t produced any faster than outside of that time anomaly. All the energy would be absorbed almost as quickly as it was generated, which resulted in a complete inability for cultivators to advance in power while within the woods. Due to this, it was far better as a training ground than as a long term place to stay.
Instead, the sect master was going in the opposite direction. To the right was the livestock, to the left grains and grown food, and straight down the road was the harbor where the entire Chaotic Demon Sect got its fish. Despite his efforts, he hadn’t been able to monopolize the ocean, mainly because it had access from every sect’s territory. Anyone could fish, and so provide for themselves. The Primordial Grandmist Sect invested heavily into their fishing facilities, to counteract his monopolization on the rest of all foodstuffs, and as a result had an unstoppable naval presence. If any sect other than them were to attempt to project their influence without using land, the Grandmist fleet would be a huge point of contention.
With attack by sea always a possibility, the Chaotic Demon Sect was well served, in his opinion, by stationing his old ally as wharfmaster. His friend was one of the few people he could trust to not murder him in his sleep, and probably able to keep from betraying him to the Primordial Grandmist pirates that might come to raid the coast. Far more likely to bribe the pirates into working for him with copious amounts of alcohol, but that was just how he went about life.
Regardless of the methods, the Grandmist Sect was more likely to attempt assault by sea, and his man was enough to dissuade that. The harbor was the only really important piece of infrastructure in their territory accessible by the ocean, which generally rendered the main advantage of the Primordials null and void.
Normally, the leader of the Chaotic Demon Sect would need to focus heavily on the Divine Continent Sect, their constant need for expansion inevitably driving them to invade the other territories. If one were to look at the name, one might be able to guess about the essential nature of the expansionist group. Fortunately, the Continent Sect was heavily reduced by the ascension of their leader into the ranks of the immortals, and the Divines were left with a territory ravaged by the consumption of all the resources it would take to bring a human all the way to the peak of cultivation. They were a non-factor militarily for the time being, and likely would remain as such until long after he had either ascended himself or been murdered.
Considering the nature of the Chaotic Demon Sect and the consolidation of power within it, someone from his sect would be ascending soon, and then the Grandmist Sect would be the primary force on the continent until the world could grow the crop of youth up to powerhouses again.
Before that, he was still the sect leader, and so he had a task to do. He was far away enough from the main compound that he wouldn’t be under scrutiny anymore, so he could forgo the remnants of stealth and travel the remaining distance quickly. Without a motion, he ascends into the sky, and rockets toward the harbor. The sun was starting to head spinward, signifying the midpoint of the day, and he didn’t want to waste time that he could be spending refreshing his heavenly energy stores in peace. Up in the sky, it was peaceful. Unlike moving in any way on the ground, even at night it was exceedingly rare to run into a monster. Flying objects had the distinction of being visible to everything on the ground; if you were flying you were either exceedingly stupid or nigh invulnerable.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
As he descended to touch down on the harbor docks gently, the workers bet on him being exceedingly stupid.
Launching a variety of elemental attacks, the longshoremen burst from the various outbuildings around the shore. Nodding with approval, the Divine Realm Sect Master raises his hand, and the heavenly energy powering True Essence level attacks stopped. As soon as they were no longer strengthened by the energy of cultivators, the stone, fire, water, lighting, or whatever type of attack had been flung toward him no longer had the impetus to damage anything stronger than a child. The earth and metal attacks fare the best without a guiding energy, but they break instantly as they come into contact with his robes. It was the barest feat to cycle heavenly energy through clothing to increase its durability to match his own, after all.
Soul Core capabilities should be more than enough for all of them.
Flying forward slightly above the ground, the sect leader goes for the water attuned cultivator first. An outside observer might assume that this choice was driven by elemental affinities and the weaknesses inherent within them, but in truth he just generally found water cultivators to be irritating. They always focused on techniques to hold or otherwise inconvenience their opponents, and dealing with that took time. There was a metal cultivator here anyway, and metal collects water. He could demolish the water longshoreman without having to be too gentle, and as such cause less suffering overall when they surrendered faster.
As expected, the water cultivator was trying to use soft power to deflect his presumed hard strike. Two could know how holding on to something worked though, so the sect leader allowed his right arm to be deflected away from the man’s stomach, and slips his left hand up to the man’s throat. With a firm grip established, he flies up above the growing crowd of workers, and summons forth his own aspect. Lightning wasn’t the easiest of things to gain an affinity for, but it was only one step removed from the mysteries of space itself. Wind was an equally close choice for a secondary element, affinity-wise, but so much more limited. Regardless, the energies of the heavens were his to command, and command he did.
In sympathy with his own gathering of power, the sky began to swirl above him in a gathering storm. The sun, so very present mere moments ago, found itself covered by a sudden influx of clouds, the light replaced by blasts of electricity through the clouds above. From within his lower dantian, the sect master releases the weakest of his energies into a blue, conductive arua.
Turning back toward the ground, he lifts the longshoreman by the throat, and throws him toward the shore. Now was the part where he displayed his hard strength. Leaving a trail of blue aura behind him, the sect master blasts downward, grabs the flailing longshoreman by the leg and spins him around to slam into the ground in the middle of the crowd. From the heavens, a bolt of raw divine power strikes down into the blue streak, coursing down into him as he lands, and the sect master explodes into lightning, striking every longshoreman at once with a bolt of heavenly might.
He could do that at Soul Core as well, so it counted.
“Stop!”
And out comes the harbormaster. A stream of water blasts out from the underside of the dock, and swirls around the sect master. Waves of energy flow through the encircling river, forming a cage around him. This was exactly what he was thinking about. Water cultivators.
“It’s time.”
“I know you bastard, why do you have to be a dramatic production with literally everything you do. I’ve had to spend so much on memory suppressing artifacts over the years, and you keep compounding that with medical expenses.”
“If the memory is dramatic, it’s easy to find when you remove it.”
“Bah, just get in here already.”
Leaving the longshoremen where they fell, the two friends went in to the manager’s office, where the water cultivator lifted a long blade off the weapon hanger behind his desk.
“I still think that the blade should be hidden.”
“And like I tell you, no one thinks that the prominently displayed sword is anything special. I’m a manager, and obviously not powerful. As such, the sword I have displayed is a statement of sophistication and wealth, not a display of strength.”
“It’s a risk, and this is the territory of the Chaotic Demon Sect, where men are killed for treasures like ox are killed for food, with no remorse. If you were to be slaughtered in the night, I wouldn’t be able to get a good drink anywhere, never mind being able to store dangerous artifacts.”
“Shut up, someone might hear you and start to think you care or something.”
As they bickered, the sect master looks around the warfmaster’s chambers. A thin crust of salt covered the books on the bookshelves on either side of the wooden desk in front of the sword’s display case, signifying that the books had been sitting still for some time. They had definitely changed which books were on the shelf. Water attunement had a good deal of utility out of combat, he would give it that. Lightning was probably only good for killing. Granted, it was extremely good at that, and in the Chaotic Demon Sect being able to take power for one’s own was the most important aspect of being able to stay alive.
That was why he had made it to the Divine Realm, and his friend was still two realms behind at the Progenitor Realm. Even now, the difference in their cultivation was showing. He hadn’t visibly aged since the Innate Realm, thanks to his constant progress, whereas the Warfmaster was clearly a well-defined man. Even if he ascended now, he’d never gain back those years of longevity.
As the Warfmaster stabbed the blade into the center of the room, the sect master sighed.
“It’s been what, eighty years since we settled down here?”
“Thereabouts. And you still act like you’re as young as you look.”
“When you sail off beyond the reach of anyone, when nothing can save the future but your own hands, and no one cares about your life beyond what ending it can give them, it tends to refocus your priorities on what’s actually important. Denying flair for no good reason is not on that list.”
Deciding to ignore the point, the warfmaster attempted to refocus the conversation himself.
“Yes, eighty years. What are you getting at?”
“The world has been declining, ever since histories have started being recorded. Heavenly energy has constantly left our realm as the competent attain immortality and ascend to the next existence, and the overall level of strength of the people has steadily declined. However large our world is, the universe is bigger, and all our energy is nothing before the empty void willing to accept it. Resource-hungry nations and people scrabble for scraps left behind by every person who has already picked out the best of it over the course of countless generations, and we may be past the point where it’s even possible to generate enough energy for another ascension.”
“Yeah we talked about that in middle school.”
“I’m at the very peak of power before immortality, and I still don’t see a solution!”
“It’s not our destiny to solve the inherent problems of the world. That’s why the Heavens have Chosen in the first place.”
“This isn’t just a matter of some king of the dead or powerful demon wreaking havoc across the land. This is a systemic issue of reality itself, and there have been countless Chosen through history. None of them have solved the issue. Unless the imminent threat approaches that of the type of problem they generally are risen to defeat, a Chosen isn’t going to do anything about a slow, insidious decline.”
“Wouldn’t that have an obvious solution of propping up a demon that destroys the world through slow insidious decline through the removal of energy, and essentially tricking the Heavens into setting a Chosen onto the issue?”
“Are you trying to be struck by tribulation lightning? Besides, the Chosen usually only utilize methods similar Chosen have used in the past. They all have powers outside the standard of cultivation, but there are only so many variations on the same idea. Regardless of what the threat ends up being, the Chosen would simply eliminate the problem in front of them, and probably everyone who had the slightest connection with generating that problem in the first place.”
“You have a very low opinion of the Heavens, considering how close to them you are.”
“Sometimes you can only see the faults from up close, my friend.”
“Table the discussion until next month?”
“I’ll allow it.”
On the wooden floor of the office, runes light up as the harbormaster feeds energy into an array carved into the under sides of the boards. They had been carved after the fact through painstaking effort on the water cultivator’s side. It took fine control to care delicate characters into wood from the other side of it, particularly after one was forced to sand the planks to perfect smoothness with heavily salted pressure washing to make sure that no unexpected lumps interrupted the flow of the heavenly energy, and he had been doing it while making sure that no one knew any work was taking place at all.
To the layman, it looked like he was taking a nap in his chair.
In most cases, the layman would be right.
Rarely, though, he was in fact flexing on every other water cultivator in the world with his precise control, allowing this exact artifact to respond to his energy and bring a sliver of the future into the present.
Nihility.
A timeless moment later, the harbormaster lay bleeding on the floor, legs and arms rendered into non existence by the lack of future brought into close proximity to his body. The man gasps for air, missing the bottom half of his right lung, along with a large chunk of his torso.
“I see we were too late this time,” the sect master said, calmly talking in the sight of everything within the confines of the room having been erased for a finger’s length. Meticulously salt encrusted books, rendered into simple unbound sheets of paper near each other, the front of the desk eaten through to reveal the drawers within, and of course the glaring lack of sword. It had been erased first, but nothing was already here.
“It never gets any easier, watching you die. I’ll make it quick.”
Producing a dagger from inside his robes, the sect master kneels down next to the limbless man, and jams the blade straight through the skull into the dantian within. With two more quick strikes, he pierces the middle and lower dantian as well, drawing the water cultivator’s energy out and into himself. It’s not much relative to his own eighth realm base, but it’s the least he could do to bring at least a portion of his friend with him into the future.
“The world ends in less than a month, and I wasn’t fast enough to stop it,” he muses, leaving the bloody corpse where it lay. The sect master opens the door, and uses the technique he made his signature when he ascended to Master Core Realm, activating the lightning energy still present in the longshoreman’s chests to cook their innards. Low level cultivators didn’t have much in terms of cultivable energy, but the world was doomed. He was doomed. Everyone was fated to die anyway.
At this point, it was ascend and leave this plane of existence, or stop existing. He was going to start with the furthest reaches of the Chaotic Demon Sect’s territory, and work his way through the rest of the world.
That was the only path left.