The majestic sailing ship glides effortlessly along the tranquil river, its sails billowing gently in the light breeze. The deck bustles with activity as young people in vibrant robes congregate in small clusters, their attire a kaleidoscope of colors and patterns that distinguish their affiliations.
At the heart of the vessel, two elderly men stand within a large circle pulsating with rich Qi. The energy emanating from beneath their feet propels the ship forward at an astonishing speed, defying the natural limitations of wind and current.
A group of boisterous youths nearby breaks into raucous laughter, their carefree voices carrying across the deck. Their animated conversation pierces through my focus, drawing my eyes away from the book.
I sigh inwardly, my eyes still fixed on the book in my hands. Their whispers reach my ears with crystal clarity, despite their attempts at discretion. My photographic memory captures every word, every inflection, storing it away for future reference.
"I heard there are 3 elders with us, but why only two are helping to propel the ship?" a girl in blue attire asks, her jade stars glinting in the sunlight.
"Keep quiet," a boy in matching robes hisses. "See the creepy looking guy over there?"
I feel their gazes upon me, a familiar sensation that I've grown accustomed to over the years. The girl's eyes widen, disgust evident in her expression.
"He might not look like it, but he's an elder from the Twin Melon Sect," the boy continues, his voice a mixture of awe and fear.
The group's attention shifts fully to me now, their curiosity palpable. I maintain my calm demeanor, pretending to be engrossed in my book while my mind processes their reactions.
"W-why is his face like that?" one of them stammers.
"Why is he drooling?" another chimes in, their voice tinged with revulsion.
"Are you sure that isn't a demon in disguise?" a third disciple asks, fear evident in their trembling voice.
I resist the urge to wipe my mouth, knowing full well there's no drool. Wait, there might be… Oh well, it doesn't matter anyway.
I don't care about that kind of children banter. Although, some of them are older than me. I stealthily use my green robe to wipe the drool from my face. But I can't help it.
'A Detailed Analysis of Primordial Inscription Techniques.' That is the title of the book I hold.
Managed to grab it at the auction, the main reason I joined this ragtag bunch to begin with. But it was worth it. The knowledge is like a virus, the more I read, the greater my curiosity grows.
"Eww... He really is drooling!" I hear a random voice in the distance. But I don't care. My eyes are fixated on the words on the pages.
The intricate diagrams and complex formulas dance before my eyes, each one a puzzle waiting to be solved. My mind races, connecting dots and drawing parallels to knowledge I've studied long ago.
A particularly fascinating passage catches my attention. It describes a method of layering inscriptions to create a compounding effect, something I've discovered already on my own, but not like this.
A few more moments pass as I try to mix the new knowledge with older ones. Math equations, formulas, and theorems appear randomly, almost materializing before my eyes. The Qi in the vicinity fluctuates and is drawn towards me. I can feel like I'm on the verge of something.
Patterns emerge, intricate and beautiful, weaving together in a tapestry of understanding. The inscriptions in the book come alive, their secrets unraveling before my mind's eye. I see the potential, the limitless possibilities that await those who can master these techniques.
The world around me fades away as I lose myself in the depths of this newfound knowledge. The ship, the river, the chattering disciples - all become distant, inconsequential. In this moment, there is only the pure, unadulterated pursuit of understanding.
"Quill, knock it off!" Elder Rana's voice cuts through my reverie, dragging me back to reality.
I blink, momentarily disoriented as the world comes rushing back into focus. Looking around, I realize the disciples who were enjoying themselves until a few moments ago are now all on the floor. Some kneel, their faces pale and stricken, while others have fainted, drool pooling at the corners of their mouths.
A twinge of satisfaction courses through me. 'Serves you right!'
I close the book, my fingers lingering on its worn cover. Stealing one last glance at its pages, I know there will be enough time to analyze it once I return to the solitude of my workshop.
"Sorry about that, just a momentary lapse in judgment!" I half apologize.
The two elders shake their head but don't say anything else. The disciples slowly regain their composure. There is no more disgust or fear in their eyes, only reverence.
In this world, power is absolute. Those that are strong are revered while the weak are stepped on.
As for me, I'm not weak. Although I'm not strong either. But I don't want to be strong. Just strong enough to pursue my research. Everything else is irrelevant.
I tuck the book away in my robes, feeling its weight against my chest. The disciples give me a wide berth as I move across the deck, their whispers now filled with awe and speculation. It's amusing how quickly their tune changes.
Elder Rana catches my eye, a mix of exasperation and curiosity in her gaze. I shrug, offering a sheepish smile. She knows me well enough by now to understand that my pursuit of knowledge often overshadows my awareness of my surroundings.
I stand at the ship's bow, my eyes fixed on the horizon. The familiar silhouette of the Twin Melon Peaks emerges, their majestic forms rising against the sky. A surge of emotion wells up inside me – those mountains are more than just landmarks; they're my home.
But as we draw closer, an unsettling feeling gnaws at my gut. Something's off. I can't pinpoint what exactly, but every instinct screams that something is terribly wrong.
I glance back at the two elders. They've noticed it too. Their faces are grim, bodies tense. The ship lurches forward as they pour more energy into propelling us faster.
It's not fast enough. My heart races, anxiety clawing at my chest. I need to get there now.
"I'm going ahead," I announce, not waiting for a response.
With a deep breath, I leap from the ship's railing. The wind whips past me as I soar through the air, my robes billowing. I land on the shore with a soft thud, my knees bending to absorb the impact.
Without missing a beat, I break into a run. My hands brush against my tunic, activating the inscribed runes. They flare to life, glowing with an ethereal light. Instantly, I feel lighter, faster. The world around me blurs as I sprint forward, my feet barely touching the ground.
The landscape rushes by in a green and brown smear. My lungs burn, but I push harder. Whatever's happening at the Twin Melon Peaks, I need to get there as quickly as possible.
As I run, my mind races through possibilities. What could be wrong? Is it an attack? A natural disaster? The uncertainty only fuels my urgency.
The peaks loom larger with each passing moment. Soon, I'll be able to see what's causing this feeling of dread. But for now, all I can do is run, hoping I'm not too late.
The familiar sight of the Twin Melon Peaks greets me as I approach, but the usual tranquility is shattered by a scene of chaos. Cultivators and mortals alike flee from the sect, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and exasperation. In the distance, the rumble of thunder fills the sky, a testament to the power being unleashed.
I grab the nearest disciple, my fingers digging into his arm. "What is happening?" I demand, my voice laced with urgency.
He stammers for a second, his eyes widening as he recognizes me. "The Grand Elder and the Sect Master are at it again!" he blurts out before wrenching his arm free and running away, his robes flapping in the wind.
"Oh come on!" I bellow to the sky, frustration boiling over. Of all the things I expected to find upon my return, this was not one of them.
As the initial urgency fades, a sense of shame creeps in. I should have known better. This is, after all, something that just happens in this sect.
The Sect Master and the Grand Elder, married for over 2,000 years, are infamous for their marital disputes. Their arguments are the stuff of legends, each one a spectacle that leaves the sect in disarray.
I can't help but wonder what triggered it this time. Did the Sect Master catch the Grand Elder giving a private lesson to one of the other female elders? Or did the Sect Master hide away the Grand Elder's precious booze again?
I sigh, my shoulders sagging under the weight of exasperation. It's always something with those two.
"I told you countless times, that is the only forbidden technique you should never practice," the Sect Master's voice booms, drowning out even the thunder.
I wince, recognizing the fury in her tone.
"Calm down, dear," the Grand Elder replies, his voice barely audible over the tempest. "You know I'm not young anymore. With this, I'll be able to keep you company for so much longer! If only you—"
A resounding smack echoes through the air, cutting off his words.
"Of course that was the reason!" the Sect Master interrupts. "You were afraid of death, ah? Then I might as well send you on your way today so that you won't have to worry about that anymore!"
My eyes widen as understanding dawns. The forbidden technique? Afraid of death? It can't be...
"Once I'm done with you, I'll burn to the stake that vixen who taught you this obscene technique," the Sect Master's voice booms once more. "Dual cultivation to increase lifespan my ass. If that worked, the master of the Netherworld Sect would be immortal."
I wince at her words, knowing full well the implications. The forbidden technique she speaks of is indeed the one and only practice that our Sect Master has expressly prohibited. Yet, as with many rules, few truly heed her warnings.
My thoughts drift to the history of this controversial practice. Long ago, dual cultivation was a dangerous and often fatal endeavor. It required one participant to become a human cauldron, sacrificing their cultivation, lifespan, and even their very soul to boost their partner's power. The mere thought of it sends a shiver down my spine.
But times have changed. Cultivation techniques have evolved, and the practice has become far less perilous. In fact, many now consider it beneficial. Yet, our Sect Master's stance remains unyielding.
I watch the scene unfold, torn between amusement and concern. The Grand Elder's words hang in the air, a fatal misstep in this verbal sparring match.
"How do you know she isn't immortal?" he counters, his voice carrying a hint of desperation. "Haven't you seen how smooth her skin is?"
The moment the words leave his mouth, I can see the realization dawn on his face. He's walked right into a trap of his own making.
The Sect Master's eyes narrow, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "And you would know that, wouldn't you!"
In a flash, she lunges forward, closing the distance between them. Her fists fly, a blur of movement as she unleashes her fury on the Grand Elder. He's already looking worse for wear, his robes charred and tattered from their earlier exchanges.
I wince as each blow lands, the sound of impact echoing across the peaks. The Grand Elder tries to defend himself, but it's clear he's outmatched. His movements are sluggish, whether from exhaustion or the weight of his guilt, I can't tell.
Nope. He is done for. The Grand Elder is as good as dead. Rest in peace, Grandpa, I will miss you.
I ignore the deadly battle raging above me, my eyes drawn to a small flicker of amber light atop one of the peaks. A knowing smirk tugs at my lips.
'Speaking of the vixen…'
My hands move in a blur, fingers tracing intricate patterns in the air. Three simple arrays spring to life around me. The first, a lightning rod of sorts, conducts the rogue thunder safely into the ground. The second forms an invisible barrier, keeping me dry amidst the chaos. The third, and perhaps most crucial, wraps me in a cloak of concealment.
The last thing I need is for Granny to notice my existence. Becoming collateral damage to her wrath is not on my to-do list today.
With the arrays in place, I take a deep breath, centering myself. Then, in a burst of speed that would make even the fastest cultivators envious, I shoot forward. The world blurs around me as I race towards the flickering light.
The familiar landscape of the Twin Melon Peaks rushes by in a green smear. My feet barely touch the ground, each step propelling me further with enhanced speed. The wind whips at my face, but I barely notice, my focus entirely on my destination.
In less than ten breaths, I cover a distance that would take others hours. The amber light grows stronger, more defined as I approach.
As I near the peak, I slow my pace, caution overtaking speed. The concealment array shimmers around me, ensuring my approach remains undetected. The flickering light is just ahead now, its source hidden behind a outcropping of rocks.
I creep closer, my concealment array still active, but a nagging feeling tells me it's futile. The figure atop the peak comes into clear view, and my breath catches in my throat.
Master of the Nether Sect, third strongest cultivator in the world, most beautiful goddess to have ever lived, the mistress that even the heavens envy. So many titles that few even know them all.
Nine large fluffy golden tails flutter in the wind, a tall figure standing alone against the wrath of the elements. But despite not using an ounce of power, the rain and wind seem to willingly avoid her body as they are unworthy to touch such a perfect being.
Amber eyes pierce the soul together with a perfectly symmetrical face that would make any man ready to gift away their lives just for a chance to see it.
Despite being hidden, I can tell she's already discovered me. The sixth sense of the Nether Race is as legendary as it's terrifying to go against.
'Slap' with a resounding sound my face starts burning. The best way to extricate yourself from her charm is without a doubt a good slap.
As my mind calms down, among other things, I remove my concealment array. Standing side by side with her, I can't contain my wonder at how tall this woman is. Despite being quite above average, I'm still forced to strain my neck just to see her face.
"Brat." her melodious voice sounds in a disgustingly sweet tone that makes my resolve melt once more.
'Slap' and again, with even more strength I hit myself making my other cheek burn as well.
"Bitch." I greet her in the most polite manner I can.
Her eyes narrow, a dangerous glint flashing in those amber depths. For a moment, I wonder if I've gone too far. But then, a smirk tugs at the corner of her lips.
"Such insolence," she purrs, her voice a velvet caress that sends shivers down my spine. "I see your time away hasn't improved your manners."
I force myself to maintain eye contact, ignoring the way my heart races. "And I see your penchant for causing trouble remains intact."
She laughs, the sound like tinkling bells. "Trouble? Me? I'm merely an innocent bystander."
"Innocent?" I scoff, gesturing towards the chaos below. "You call this innocent?"
Her tails swish behind her, a hypnotic dance of gold. "I simply shared some knowledge. How others choose to use it is hardly my responsibility."
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I shake my head, exasperated. "You knew exactly what would happen. The Sect Master will have your head for this."
"Oh?" She leans in close, her breath warm against my ear. "And will you be the one to tell her where I am?"
I narrow my eyes, suspicion creeping into my voice. "The hell are you doing here anyway?" I ask, completely stumped.
"What do you mean?" she tilts her head, feigning innocence. "I just came to spend some..." she pauses, a visible quiver in her tails attracting my attention, "quality time with Dusk."
Dusk Blade... The real name of the Grand Elder. Everyone around here has long, weird names that I just can't get used to. Like this woman before me is called Pure Autumn Song. Such a grandiose name for a bitch.
This is why a long time ago I decided to just give everyone nicknames. It makes life so much simpler. The Grand Elder became Gramps, the Sect Master is Granny, and this fox in front of me? Well, she's just Murmur. Why Murmur? Well… It's a long story involving a few horny monkeys and a snoring dragon.
I can't help but roll my eyes at her explanation. "Quality time? Is that what you're calling it now?"
Murmur's tails swish behind her, a telltale sign of her agitation. "Now, now, little Quill. Don't be so judgmental. What's wrong with two old friends catching up?"
"Oh, I don't know," I drawl, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Maybe the fact that your 'catching up' has led to the near-destruction of our sect?"
She waves a dismissive hand. "Details, details. You young ones are always so dramatic."
"You know," I add with a smirk, "it is said that the master of the Netherworld Sect is the greatest vixen in the world, having stolen the hearts of a million men and almost as many women."
She narrows her eyes, a seductive smile still plastered on her face. The air around us crackles with tension, and I can feel the weight of her gaze boring into me.
"But there is also a rumor," I continue, dropping my voice so low that only she can hear me, "that the master of the Netherworld Sect has actually never shared her warmth with another man…"
At my words, a wave of dreadful pressure comes crashing down, pinning me on the spot and almost forcing me to my knees. The air grows thick and heavy, making it difficult to breathe. My muscles strain against the invisible force, fighting to keep me upright.
I can see the fury in her eyes, a tempest of amber and gold. Her tails lash behind her, no longer playful but deadly. The pressure increases, threatening to crush me where I stand.
But I'm not done yet.
"Until today," I add, ignoring her killing intent.
I watch as the crushing pressure vanishes, along with her killing intent. It's like waking from a nightmare, the relief washing over me in waves.
Murmur's demeanor shifts, her playful mask slipping back into place. Her gaze drifts upward, drawn to the ongoing battle above us. I follow her line of sight, spotting Gramps - now little more than a charred, dodging figure - desperately evading Granny's relentless assault.
For a brief moment, Gramps' eyes lock with hers. The world seems to pause, holding its breath.
"You still have time to get distracted, ah?" Granny's voice cuts through the air, her fury igniting the atmosphere in a shower of sparks. A well-aimed kick sends Gramps tumbling backward, and the fight resumes with renewed vigor.
I turn back to the vixen, startled by the change in her expression. Gone is the seductive smile, replaced by a sadness that seems to age her centuries in an instant. Her head drops, golden tails drooping behind her.
"A long time ago, a stupid girl fell in love with a powerful master," she begins, her voice carrying an air of desolation and despair. I find myself leaning in, drawn by the unexpected vulnerability in her tone.
"But she was so weak and pathetic that she didn't even dare to touch that brilliant sun."
I listen intently as the vixen's tale unfolds, her words painting a picture of a past filled with longing and regret. The raw emotion in her voice catches me off guard, and I find myself drawn into her story despite my better judgment.
"So that foolish girl ran away, in a desperate attempt to reach that sun," she continues, her amber eyes distant. "And against all odds, she succeeded."
I watch as the color drains from her face, her usual vibrant complexion fading to an ashen pallor. "But it was too late," she pauses, the words hanging heavy in the air between us.
Suddenly, fury replaces her sadness, the shift so abrupt it makes me take a step back. "Another temptress had already snatched him away," she spits out, fire dancing around her form. The dreadful pressure descends once more, making the air thick and oppressive.
"It is norm for cultivators to have as many partners as they desire," she states with absolute certainty, her voice laced with bitterness. "But that bitch took my sun and put it into a cage."
Her head drops once more, sadness and regret etched into every line of her face. I find myself feeling an unexpected pang of sympathy for this woman I've always seen as nothing more than a bitch.
"I respected him way too much to attempt anything, so I took a step back and respected his choice," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.
She raises her head, her gaze fixed on the pathetic figure of the Grand Elder above us. "My sun..." her final words seem to extend towards him, carried on the wind.
To my amazement, the Grand Elder's demeanor changes. The battered and beaten man I saw moments ago vanishes, replaced by the Dusk Blade I remember from my youth. He stands tall and strong against the endless downpour, a renewed energy coursing through him.
I listen to the vixen's words, my mind reeling from the revelations. The fierce battle above us fades into the background as I process her story. Another kick from the Sect Master shatters the illusion of strength, sending the Grand Elder into a coughing fit as he struggles to catch his breath.
"But why now then?" I ask, though I suspect I already know the answer. "You've waited for over two thousand years, so why did you decide to act now?"
As I look at her, I see beyond the dreadful pressure she exudes. It's clear she's just a shadow of her former self - a broken body, a shattered core and a weakening soul.
"I tried to ascend," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. "To leave my sorrow behind and go towards a new beginning." She pauses, overwhelming sadness washing over her features. "But the memories of him prevented me from passing the last gate." not that it was possible to pass it to beggin with.
Her voice drops with each word, fear evident in her trembling tone. "I have less than a century left..."
The vixen turns to me, her amber eyes locking with mine. The vulnerability in her gaze is startling. "I'm going to die soon," she states with grim certainty. "But I refuse to go down while my sun is still a prisoner in that dreadful cage."
I can't help but smirk as I watch the vixen's face contort with a mix of emotions. The Grand Elder's predicament just got a whole lot worse.
"Good," I say, drawing her attention back to me. Her amber eyes narrow, curiosity replacing the sadness that was there moments ago.
"It's not like that old man hasn't attempted to escape his cage countless times in the past," I continue, watching as surprise flickers across her features. "And succeeded on many occasions, although only for short periods of time."
The change in her demeanor is instantaneous. The vulnerability vanishes, replaced by a murderous glare that would make lesser men quake in their boots. I, however, find it oddly satisfying.
"He has, hasn't he now?" she asks, her voice dripping with venom as she turns her gaze back to the battered Grand Elder. "It looks like my sun is actually quite an old donkey."
I can't resist twisting the knife a little more. "Oh, you have no idea," I add, gleefully pouring oil on the fire. "I doubt there are many female elders in any sect out there who haven't spent a few nights under his sun."
I watch with a mix of amusement and horror as the vixen's face contorts into a mask of pure rage. Her amber eyes blaze with an infernal light, and I can almost see the steam rising from her ears.
For a moment, I almost feel sorry for the old man. Almost. But then I remember all the times he's caused trouble for the sect, all the messes I've had to clean
"You didn't know?" I ask, feigning ignorance. "At one point he had me install a teleportation array in his cave connecting with the Red Dreams Emporium." I add, watching her face morph into that of a demon.
The Red Dreams Emporium is infamous throughout the cultivation world, known for its... less than savory services. The fact that the Grand Elder had a direct connection to such a place speaks volumes about his extracurricular activities.
"Have you ever heard of White Badger?" I ask, throwing salt at the inferno.
"That pathetic playboy?" she asks, not sure why I would mention someone completely unrelated to the situation.
I can't help but smirk. "That's a soul puppet I forged for him." I add and watch her eyes turn murderous.
The vixen's tails lash violently behind her, each one a whip of golden fury. Her killing intent is so strong it makes the air around us shimmer, like heat rising from scorched earth.
With an enraged scream that could shatter mountains, she lunges towards the sky. The force of her takeoff leaves a crater in the ground where she stood.
I turn my gaze upward, following her meteoric ascent. The Grand Elder, still locked in combat with the Sect Master, notices the new arrival. For a brief moment, relief washes over his battered face. He must think she's coming to his aid, to save him from the Sect Master's wrath.
Oh, how wrong he is.
That fleeting hope vanishes the instant the vixen's fist connects with his face. The impact is so powerful it creates a shockwave, dispersing the clouds around them. I can practically see all his hopes and dreams shattering along with several of his teeth.
As I observe the unfolding drama, I can't help but wonder how this will all play out. Stuck between an unstoppable force fueled by years of regrets and an unmovable boulder that can crack the heavens in half with her power, the Grand Elder's fate seems all but sealed.
I watch as the sky tears itself apart, endless thunder crashing down as the earth beneath our feet cracks and churns. A wave of amber fire blazes across the landscape, incinerating everything in its path. The Grand Elder, once so proud and powerful, now cowers before the two women he's wronged the most - his wife and his mistress. They stand united, an unholy alliance born of shared betrayal and fury.
Tearing my gaze away from the chaos, I glance towards the other peak. Barriers shimmer in the air, erected by the other elders to protect our sect's most precious treasure - the spirit melons. They stand firm against the onslaught raging above, a testament to the power of those that hold them.
"You know," a voice suddenly pipes up behind me, nearly making me jump out of my skin, "if I didn't know better, I could have sworn you are working to destroy our sect."
I turn to face the speaker, my eyes falling on a familiar figure. He's wider than he is tall, with a massive belly that strains against his dirty yellow robe. His skin has an odd orange hue, and he's fanning himself with a jade fan despite the chaos surrounding us.
"Elder Dorito," I say, unable to keep the mocking tone out of my voice, "what a nice surprise to be blessed with your presence."
His face contorts in anger, his cheeks puffing out like a blowfish. "Stop calling me that!" he shrieks, the high-pitched sound threatening to burst my eardrums. "Heavy Soul! That is my name! Use it!" he adds, trying to sound commanding but coming off more like a petulant child.
I can't help but smirk at his outburst. "Well, you definitely are heavy, Elder Dorito," I reply, deliberately ignoring his demand.
I can't help but chuckle at Elder Dorito's reaction. His eyes bulge, threatening to pop out of their sockets. If eyes could kill, I'd be six feet under by now. But even as his face turns an alarming shade of purple, he manages to reign in his anger. When he speaks again, his tone is almost respectful. Almost.
"They are really going at it," he says, gazing up at the tumultuous sky. "If this continues much longer, I'm not sure how many years the sect will need to recover."
I raise an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. "And what do you want someone as weak as myself to do about this?"
"Despite everything, you are still their grandson," Elder Dorito adds. "They will listen to you."
I shake my head, a sardonic smile playing on my lips. "We are too far gone for even that! At this point, only an extinction-level event aimed at the sect could stop those three!" As I speak, I feel an evil grin spreading across my face.
Realization strikes Elder Dorito like a bolt of lightning. He spins in place, his power crashing into me like a tidal wave. "Don't you dare!" he bellows, his voice a mix of fear and rage.
I meet his gaze, my smile never faltering. "Too late," I reply in a playful tone, relishing the look of horror dawning on his face.
I turn away from Elder Dorito, his protests fading into the background as I focus on the task at hand. A golden opportunity has presented itself, and I'd be a fool not to seize it.
With the three strongest cultivators locked in combat high above, their attention is diverted. And now, I've stumbled upon a clue that might lead me to my goal. The pieces are falling into place.
If my plan fails, I trust in their ability to stop me. But if it succeeds... well, today might just be the day for my reckoning with the past.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what's to come. Throwing caution to the wind, I begin my preparations.
Elder Dorito's voice grows more frantic, but I tune him out. There's no turning back now. The air crackles with tension, thick with the promise of something momentous.
As I near the final stages of my preparation, a part of me wonders if I've gone too far. But the thought is fleeting, swept away by the tide of determination that's carried me this far.
Whatever happens next, I know one thing for certain: nothing will ever be the same again.
I close my eyes, drawing upon the vast reserves of power within me. The world around me shifts, reality bending to my will. Layers upon layers of arrays materialize, each one more intricate than the last. They form a complex web of energy, pulsing with life and possibility.
The earth beneath my feet trembles, while the sky above roils with untamed energy. Light and darkness dance around me, intertwining in a mesmerizing display of cosmic forces. I feel the seven emotions of the spectrum course through my veins - hope, love, desire, hatred, fear, grief, and rage - each one a vibrant thread in the tapestry of existence.
The four seasons manifest in rapid succession. Winter's icy chill gives way to spring's gentle warmth, followed by summer's scorching heat and autumn's crisp breeze. They swirl around me, a constant cycle of rebirth and decay.
Elder Dorito's eyes widen in shock as he's suddenly thrown backward by an invisible force. He flails helplessly through the air, his rotund form reminiscent of a kite caught in a gale. His shrill voice carries over the chaos, a stream of colorful profanities that would make even the most hardened cultivator blush.
"You insufferable brat!" he screeches, tumbling head over heels. "I'll have your head for this!"
I can't help but smirk at his impotent rage. My focus remains unbroken as power surges towards me from all directions. The air crackles with energy, and a shimmering outline begins to take shape around me.
Layer by layer, a magnificent three-tiered pagoda materializes out of thin air. Its golden eaves gleam in the chaotic light, adorned with intricate carvings and tinkling wind chimes. I find myself at its center, the eye of this storm of creation. Yet, even as I bask in my achievement, I can't help but feel a twinge of frustration.
Layered arrays, long dismissed as useless by the cultivation world, have been my obsession for years. The reasons for their abandonment are well-known: the difficulty in surpassing three layers, the exponential increase in power and energy requirements, and the apparent inefficiency compared to multiple single-layer formations.
But I saw potential where others saw futility. My innovations in this field are the sole reason I became an elder despite lacking a core. I've pushed the boundaries of what's possible, yet even I have been stuck at the three-layer limit.
Until now.
With my left hand, I pull out an ancient book from my robes. Its leather cover is cracked and worn, the pages yellowed with age. I open it to the middle, my eyes falling on a particular formation. My heart races as I study it, seeing not just what's there, but what could be.
This formation could be the key to breaking through to four, five, even six layers. The secret lies in using an anchor, a stabilizing force to prevent the arrays from collapsing in on themselves. It's a revolutionary concept, one that could change everything we know about array crafting.
I pull out a silver quill with my right hand, feeling its familiar weight as I begin the intricate dance of creation. Rows upon rows of formulas curse through the air, binding the already established arrays to my body like ethereal chains. The sensation is both exhilarating and terrifying.
Suddenly, the pagoda explodes outwards. My body feels like it's being pulled apart, but the chains keep everything together. I grit my teeth against the pain, focusing on the task at hand.
The fourth layer begins to form - the river that connects life and death. I can almost see it flowing from the east, rising with the sun, and leading towards the west, towards the endless dusk. As the fourth layer solidifies, a surge of power courses through me.
Happiness, excitement, and more than anything, a maddening desire to push even further overwhelms me. I know this is just a template, an universal array, the first of its kind. It still requires instructions, a goal to accomplish. But even in this unfinished state, it's beautiful.
With utmost urgency, I begin forming the fifth layer. This will tie everything together, showing the world my determination. As it takes shape, I feel a presence above me, growing stronger by the second.
The sun, giver of life and destroyer of worlds, master of the heavens, manifests at the top of the newly formed 4-layer pagoda. It's an image of the God that resides above all - small and insignificant in appearance, yet emanating enough power to flatten the entire continent.
As the fifth layer nears completion, I can barely contain my excitement. This is it - the moment that will change everything.
I stand in awe as my creation unfolds, power surging through every fiber of my being. The five-layered array pulses with an energy unlike anything I've ever felt before. It's intoxicating, overwhelming, and utterly terrifying.
Suddenly, three voices crash into me, their fury palpable in the air.
"Don't you dare!"
"Are you insane?"
"Stop this instant!"
The Sect Master, Grand Elder, and even the vixen have ceased their own battle, turning their combined wrath upon me. Their powers blanket the entire mountain, a suffocating force that would crush any lesser cultivator.
Lightning rains down from the heavens, summoned by the Sect Master's will. It strikes at my creation with relentless fury, each bolt carrying enough power to level a city. But my array stands firm, absorbing the onslaught like a sponge soaking up water.
The Grand Elder, his strength seemingly restored, forms a massive blade of shimmering light. It's a sight to behold, a weapon that could cleave mountains in two. He brings it down upon me with all his might, but it shatters against the barrier of my array, dissipating into motes of light.
Even the vixen joins the fray, her flames lunging forward to engulf my pagoda. The inferno rages, hot enough to melt stone, yet my creation remains untouched.
I can't help but marvel at the futility of their efforts. At three layers, my array might have faltered against their combined assault. At four, they might have stood a chance if they truly united their powers.
But at five layers? There's no hope for them now. This is uncharted territory, a realm of power never before witnessed in our world.
A brazen thought flashes through my mind: 'I wonder if the gods above could contend against me now.'
As if in response to my hubris, the array erupts with power. The miniature sun hovering above the river of life begins to grow, swelling to hundreds of times its original size. Time itself seems to grind to a halt as the celestial orb expands, only to shrink back down in the blink of an eye.
And then, it explodes.
I watch in awe as my creation unfolds before me. The four seasons coalesce into a massive funnel, each distinct yet harmoniously intertwined.
Light from the north and darkness from the south provide the foundation, supporting this monumental construct. As the miniature sun explodes, the funnel contains its immense power, channeling it upward in a brilliant pillar of celestial fire that threatens to shatter the very heavens.
A pressure unlike anything I've ever felt before engulfs the world. I can sense it reaching far beyond our sect, touching every corner of the cultivation realm. In my mind's eye, I see cultivators from all sects gazing up in awe and terror at this unprecedented phenomenon.
Laughter bubbles up from deep within me, starting as a low chuckle before erupting into full-blown, maniacal cackles. "Ha ha ha ha!" The sound of my own voice surprises me for a moment.
'Oh, that's me isn't it,' I realize, but the thought only fuels my mirth. I continue to laugh, reveling in the sheer magnitude of what I've accomplished. The world trembles before my creation, and I find myself not caring about the consequences.
Time seems to crawl forward at an agonizingly slow pace. Gradually, the exploding sun begins to exhaust its power, cooling down from its initial fury. The pillar of celestial fire that had reached towards the heavens starts to fade, dissipating into the night sky.
I watch as my magnificent four-layered pagoda, now ruined and cracked from the immense energies it channeled, begins to crumble. It falls apart in a shower of golden flakes.
As the last remnants of my creation settle around me, I tilt my head back, gazing up at the night sky. For the first time, I see beyond the barrier that has always confined cultivators to this world. The stars seem clearer, closer, as if inviting me to reach out and touch them.
I stand in awe as the world around me transforms. A moment of silence descends, heavy and pregnant with possibility. Then, chaos erupts.
A thousand pillars of light burst forth from all corners of the world. Hidden powerhouses, dying elders, those who've longed for a chance to escape this cursed realm - they all emerge, rushing towards the sky with newfound hope.
Some ascend alone, while others carry their families, clans, and even entire sects with them. The sight is breathtaking, a mass exodus unlike anything I've ever witnessed.
As they depart, a chorus of voices floods my ears. A million voices, all resonating with the same two words: "Thank you."
The enormity of what I've accomplished hits me like a tidal wave. I've known ever since I fell here that this world is no heaven. It's a prison, with the heavens above acting as our jailer, holding the keys to our freedom.
Everyone could attempt to escape - or ascend, as many call it. But no one ever succeeded. Not a single soul had broken free from this cosmic cage.
So I devised a method to burst open this prison. Everyone called me an insane fool, dismissing my theories and mocking my efforts.
But today, I've proved them all wrong.
I shake off the feeling, focusing instead on the magnitude of this moment. The world is changing, and I'm at the epicenter of it all.
I stand amidst the chaos, my body trembling from the exertion of what I've just accomplished. My legs wobble, threatening to give out at any moment.
My eyes are heavy. Energy is low. I succumb to my weakness and fall.
As I plummet towards the ground, I brace myself for impact. But it never comes. At the last moment I can feel Granny's embrace. She doesn't say a word but I can tell she is smiling. Her arms wrap around me, warm and comforting, just as they've always been.
As my consciousness fades, I can't resist attempting to laught once more, though my voice fails me. Still, I'm certain the monster responsible for throwing me into this deceptive heaven never anticipated the heights I'd reach.