Far above the inner compounds of the Golden Peak sect, and even higher than the lofty, shining palaces inhabited by the core disciples and Elders, stood a single structure.

On the peak of the golden mountain, shrouded by countless arrays, both defensive and concealing, both brand new and positively ancient, was a small hut, crafted out of seemingly mundane wood and with altogether mortal skill.

Its presence stood out like a sore thumb on the hallowed peak, in its extreme unremarkableness.

The stone its rough wooden walls stood upon had drunk deeply from the extremely dense spiritual energy that was trapped on the peak, having naturally reached a state of near divinity, or as close to it as rock and dirt could get.

But the wood seemed to refuse to sup upon the blessed bounty of the heavens, standing in defiance of its divine surrounding in its sheer normalcy, having stood unchanged by the world around it for countless years.

And who else could be inhabiting this structure, the highest point in the northern lands, but the current Patriarch of the Golden Peak sect, Guan Shufen.

There he sat, in that small cabin that could not even be worth calling a home, the only piece of furniture or decoration present, an old frayed rug whose colors had long ago begun to fade away, acting as his seat.

Not that the man himself, despite being arguably the most powerful cultivator of the northern reaches, looked any better than his surroundings.

He sat cross legged and hunched over, a wild mane of overgrown dirty blonde hair falling like a curtain over his middle aged visage, itself covered in a thick untidy beard that had not been tended to in decades upon decades. The only article of clothing he’d bothered to keep on himself was a pair of worn cloth pants, the once brownish article of clothing now looking so faded at it bordered on white, while his thick barrel lick chest laid bare for all the world to admire. Or it would have had there been anybody else around.

His eyes were closed shut as he sat motionlessly, deep into the throes of meditation, having remained in the same position for what now had been more than a century.

Guan Shufen had been feeling something coming for a while now, a certain sensation gaining momentum slowly but inexorably. He was growing closer and closer to a major breakthrough.

It wouldn’t be long now. A few years, or maybe a couple of decades more of uninterrupted cultivation and he would reach another peak on his road to the Heavens.

But alas, it was not meant to be, for despite everything he was still the one and only sect leader of the greatest among the independent sects of the north, and he had some responsibilities that he could not simply leave to his son or wives.

With great reluctance, the Golden King extricated his consciousness from the abyss of meditation and reached for his soul with a practiced ease.

A twin of the cross legged Patriarch rose from his still body, glowing faintly in the worn hut’s shade. But despite being obviously the same person, the difference between the two was stark.

The newly made projection, for one, had close cropped hair and a short and neatly trimmed beard, furthermore, he was donning the traditional crimson robes adorned with gold of the high ranked members of the sect. His eyes were also wide open, two yellow orbs shining with an almost inhuman intensity.

Swiftly, the spiritual construct vacated the small hut by way of phasing through one of the worn walls, leaving the motionless form of the Patriarch all alone once more.

Faster than the mortal eye could track the patriarch’s emanation traveled down the mountain splitting itself into a handful of identical copies which all headed for different parts of the mountain.

It had been almost a year since he’d last left his isolation in any capacity, so it was probably a good idea to spend some time with his family, and also to make sure nobody had forgotten that he was still present on the mountain. And that he was still watching. Always.

While most of his copies headed further down to do just that, the first one, still glowing faintly with an unworldly glow, stopped his descent and instead started circling the face of the golden peak.

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After less than a second of elapsed time and thousands of meters crossed, a faint haze appeared in front of the emanation, which he promptly passed right through with no hesitation, having done so hundreds of times over his long life.

An exquisite pagoda sat in the center of a small pond, the water seeming to unravel on itself after a point, as space simply ceased to be.

This was a peculiar finding of his, found some three hundred years ago or so while he took a trip to the central regions of their continent. An extremely small, yet stable hidden space, no bigger than one of their many halls.

Transporting it all the way to his sect had been a bothersome endeavor, especially when other cultivators had found what a treasure he was taking off with. Most had been wise enough to stay away, having more than likely heard of his lack of care for the lives of his enemies, some had taken the chance to attempt to snatch it away.

Guan Shufen had crushed those foolish enough to try with extreme savagery, making an example of their broken corpses and shattered Worlds.

Safe to say, after the first few idiots ended up dead, nobody else tried to stop him.

Now, if only his son decided to learn this most important lesson before it was too late for him... Ultimately, it was strength that dictated one's place in life. Overwhelming power is what had gotten the Golden King the title of Patriarch, unstoppable might was the reason his Golden Peak sect was the first among the Seven Great sects.

And it was only their combined strength that still kept the Greatest Empire out of their lands, even though it had been decades since the last time the Emperor had sent an expeditionary force into their territories.

A frown twisted the aged patriarch's visage once he set foot inside the pagoda, taking his place upon a circular raised dais, his mood souring as he noticed he'd been the last to arrive at their meeting.

Six ethereal projections stood inside the pagoda, chattering away like old friends, all while subtly posturing and trying to intimidate one another through veiled threats, shows of wealth, or even outright challenges.

Guan Shufen barely held himself back from calling them a bunch of children. Not because he cared for their reactions, but simply because he knew they would do their best to waste his time in revenge for the slight.

Cultivators could be petty just like that sometimes...

"Well, well, well. Took ye' long enough Shufen! I was starting to think you weren't going to show up at all!" A careless voice rang through the hidden realm, immediately putting the brunt of the present cultivators' attention on him.

The owner of the voice was none other than the leader of the Hundred Fangs sect, his overly muscular body sporting even more scars than the last times he'd seen him, barely kept modest by a handful of roughly sewn together furs and some bandoliers of beast bones running over his chest and belt.

His caveman look was further enhanced by a dark mane of unruly graying hair sprouting from his scalp and by a scruffy beard, looking barely more tended to than the rest of his ensemble.

Despite this, he was the closest thing to a friend he had among the six other cultivators, and the only truly neutral party present. After all, the only thing the man cared about was hunting beasts in his valley.

"Now, now." Came a sweet voice next. "I am quite sure that our dear host had some pressing matters he simply could not avoid! Let us not make his tardiness weigh on his mind."

The Golden King snorted, a sound that was mirrored by the wild man at his front, as his eyes settled on a lovely visage.

Long dark hair with a deep purplish tint that shined in the morning's glow fell down in a curtain that reached all the way to a pair of slender ankles. An intricate, perfectly tailored gown of intermixing purples and white covered the sculpted body of the ideal of beauty that stood before them, a pair of light pink eyes inviting the foolish closer like the petals of a poisonous flower.

Another woman stood by a side, looking far more frigid and carrying her years a lot worse than the lovely cultivator, her glaring icy eyes focused on Guan Shufen himself.

The charming lady was the Sect Leader of... he almost sighed out loud as he cringed inwardly, the Heavenly Jade Of Refined Grace And Peerless Beauty sect, or just the Heavenly Jade sect as most people preferred to call it.

The icy woman, as one could easily guess, was the leader of the Frozen Tower sect, the northernmost sect of their seven and one which he had come in conflict with more than once as both of their sects laid claim to part of the enormous mountain range they both called home.

Meanwhile, two old men were busy discussing something between themselves, one holding an abacus and shifting its beads back and forth in an unknowable pattern, while the other was carrying a thick stone tablet around.

The two were respectively an Elder of the Nine Pillars School and the leader of the Vast Canvass sect, the two no doubt deep into another discussion on the art of array creation.

Silent and ignored went the last member of their congregation, just as he or she preferred, having taken the form of a vaguely humanoid mass of smoke and dancing shadows.

This peculiar individual was the leader of the Hidden Dusk sect, and befitting such a position in a clan made up of assassins and spies, there was not much known about their identity or base of operations.

The heads of the seven most powerful institutions of the north had gathered together, ready to discuss most important matters such as the soon to come great tournament hosted by their alliance, the next sanctioned trip towards the central desert of the continent, and the troubling news coming in from the Greatest Empire, and picked up by their local spymaster.

Guan Shufen lamented his broken meditation session, only wishing that time would flow faster so that his consciousness could return to the mountaintop to continue his contemplation of his Inner World.