“You’ve succeeded. It's just your first breakthrough using the Dark Flower cultivation method. That’s all there is to it. Enough dawdling, little monk.” Bing Xin said.

“But how? How did I obtain another five on my Seekers Accord?” Dejiu asked. His eyes nonsensically glazed up and down over the same characters. Half gleeful, half shocked. At least his breakthrough a little past Mid Initiate made sense because he took a Tainted Hell Shard!

[Prana Core: High Initiate]

[Prana: 55/55]

“I’ve already answered. Take it as you wish. ”

“Not even a small explanation? Isn’t this important?” He complained.

But it was useless — he already knew this. Once, Bing Xin was set on something; nothing in the world, heavens, or hells could change her mind other than herself. He’s come to know a little more than he’d like about her over their shared time.

“...Fine. How about the whisper I hear from the Seekers Accord when I break through? You weren’t there the first time I heard it when I advanced to the Mid Initiate Stage.” He shifted topics as he recalled that weird message.

[Your Blood Deepens.]

A shiver crept up his spine. Yep. Weird ominous message to add on top of his weird Class.

“You’ve already gotten your answer — your Class. It’s nothing more than the Seekers Accord’s own way of telling you that you’ve grown stronger in your own way.” Bing Xin answered.

He raised an eyebrow. Anything about his Class was welcome knowledge. He never asked the temple what it meant. Then again, by the quizzical and almost baffled reactions of everyone that day, they didn’t know either. “Care to explain more? You answered that thinking I know what my Class even means.”

“A Class is the confluence of one's innate affinities blended with their circumstances. It’s how the Seekers Accord gives name to your specialization. Obviously your affinity to hell and death prana is a byproduct of this connection to blood, hence the name.”

Dejiu frowned, his thoughts swirling. Hell and death prana? Connection to blood? He hadn’t asked for any of it, but here it was, carved into his very being. The ominous message still hung in his mind.

[Your Blood Deepens.]

“So just a message?” he asked after a nervous pause.

“Yes, take it as you will,” Bing Xin replied cryptically.

Dejiu exhaled sharply, his body tense. His fingers twitched at his side, aching to move, to act. “Fine. That’s all well and good, but more importantly, am I ready to face the guardian?”

“Almost. You need to learn the second technique of the Dark Flower cultivation method.”

“Oh, I’m able to learn it now?” His tone changed. Another technique!

“Not quite, it’s too premature to teach the true technique. I’ll be teaching you a modified version that’s already beyond your means. Once you ascend to the Advanced Stage, that’ll be when you’ll utilize it better.”

He frowned. “What is it? Another reinforcement technique?”

“No. You’ll be learning a striker technique — you won’t be able to kill the guardian otherwise.”

Dejiu nodded. He agreed, he needed something definitive to slay the guardian.

Reinforcer techniques enhance their body for offensive or defensive reasons, but he’s already learned something useful like that.

Striker techniques are as it sounds — to strike, to attack. Typicallly expels your prana from you. Attacks he needs direly after facing the many variants of Hollow Talons and the other daimons he came across over these two days.

Shaper techniques shape stable, physical manifestations or objects made of prana. These differ from striker techniques in that they are able to exist independently from their originator once they are created. That is only possible due to the branch of shaper techniques — instiller techniques. They specialize in instilling a certain method to allow these objects to remain indefinitely if the creator wishes.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

There were more types of technique domains and subdomains under those three, but the few teachings and scriptures Dejiu was permitted access to only went up to general knowledge. Even then he’s still missing gaps. Just look at the situation he’s in! Or rather, the situation he’s down, considering he’s below the world preparing to battle a Pillarshard guardian.

He’s been rucking around the Seventh Hell so much that he almost forgot the worst thing about this excursion — the guardian. Actually, who was he kidding? He’s been scared shitless from the moment Bing Xin said it was a terror among daimons.

“Focus, little monk. It’ll be like the last time I showed the Wilted Stem technique — except this time, I’ll be able to demonstrate it again if you need it.” Bing Xin said, cutting his musings short.

Dejiu nodded. He’s a little apprehensive at the ease of which she can employ her control over him, but hey, what could he do against the almighty? The difference was of heaven and earth.

“Withering Palm. It’s a blend of a striker technique and an instiller. The object? Your foes. You’ll instill condensed bursts of your chaotic prana into them.”

Dejiu sat down, his ass warm from the hell floor. He closed his eyes and awaited her direction. However, he did feel that the first sentence alone was enough to tell this technique is vicious. What more could he expect from a daimon?

“Each palm or fist you pelt them with will weaken them. The first few blows will reduce their integrity, even if they have an active defensive reinforcement technique. Eventually, this will be broken, and their flesh will be more susceptible to damage until it withers.”

Dejiu’s emotions and face turned fickle. At first, he smiled. Of course he did, it sounded powerful! But then he frowned after he considered the repercussions of being seen using such a technique — no, even simply possessing it! He’d be peltered with questions. If he says he devised it himself, that’ll only prove the old geezers’ misgivings of him!

“Wait, isn’t this kind of… vile? I’m a monk of the Heavenly Snowy Temple! What if I’m seen using this malevolent technique? I can’t imagine it won’t be excruciating as you progressively decay.”

“What do you imagine the striker techniques of your temple’s Path are? What was the intention behind their creation? To tickle them into submission?”

“...I see. Sorry, I should’ve thought about it more.”

“Think no more of it. I’ll control your flow again.”

Dejiu nodded. But then a deep frown tugged at his lips. He remembered what happened the last time she took the reins from him.

A dry chuckle left his lips. “Miss Bing Xin? Is this going to hurt—”

And there it was — the excruciating pain that came with it. From just below his navel, his prana core felt like a vicious pit of flames that ignited every meridian. His mind tried to study this spread as though he wanted this burning pain to sear itself into memory so he wouldn’t have to experience it again.

—

“No. Not like that. You’re being too reserved. Bursts. Condensed. You’re delivering debilitating strikes with the intent to pick them apart.” Bing Xin said.

“I know, I know! But I could handle the strain on my body for about six or so palms, but rather than the physical strain… I’m struggling with more of the mental. I mean, just look at its head.” Dejiu’s face darkened. Although he wasn’t so much a proper monk, his nose stuck to temple scriptures for as long as he could remember. The kinds that speak of benevolence and virtue.

“Hmph. In due time little monk.” Bing Xin scoffed.

[You have slain an Impure Daimon: Red Maw]

He swallowed hard. This Red Maw was small and rabid — a good test to see how skilled he’d be in adaptability with a fast foe. For once he hunted the beast rather than held his ground. But seeing the effect of just three Withering Palms was enough to make him vomit.

The mixed scent of scorched flesh and decay.

The warped maw of his doing. Even if it was a daimon, he couldn’t help but feel distasteful of the method.

“Such is your Path. Death, blood and hell element prana is quite the mix.”

Dejiu sighed. The technique was difficult. Ideally, he’d concentrate dense amounts of those three prana elements onto his palm, but they proved unwieldy. Turns out, ice prana wouldn’t be that applicable.

Bah, where was he going with this? He couldn’t even differentiate the different prana elements he’s gathered inside him, much less pick them apart to use. That’s why she said the technique was modified in the first place to accommodate this.

More than that was the fact his prana control still needed work.

Another factor is that he hasn’t used the Wilted Stem reinforcement technique enough to strengthen his body. It’s only been a few days since he’s even been learning despite Bing Xin providing him all he needs to heighten his strength quickly.

The last factor that was hindering him was the striker technique itself. Albeit modified, it’s still too advanced for him to learn.

He clawed open the bloody mess for its Hell Shard. “And my body is supposed to handle using this striker technique in every blow in the future?”

[You have obtained a Hell Shard (Impure)]

[Prana: 22/55]

Satisfied with the influx of hell prana, he looked up. It was hard to keep track of time — pretty much impossible without the help of Bing Xin. The constant orange sky obscured time. Endless fighting and cultivating did too. Unfortunately, the lack of sleep as well.

He’s tired. He’s hurt. He doesn’t want to think. Sometimes the thought of leaving this alone springs in his mind.

“How much longer until the Pillarshard descends to the Sixth Hell?” He groaned tiredly.

“About nine days. After that, the guardian advances to the next stage. You’ll have no hope by then. Expect a vicious onslaught to rise too — daimons from the Sixth Hell climbing the Pillarshard. Daimons other than the old bird’s spawn.” She coaxed him.

He scoffed. She knew exactly how to induce a guilty conscience. Just had to mention the what-ifs.

“Nine… huh,” Dejiu muttered as he wiped away daimon ichor from his hand. By now, his kasaya robes once white and blue have been stained in this same ichor, the original colors nowhere to be found.

He got to his feet and headed for the daimon.

Already cycling his prana, he grits his teeth. “Again.”