The situation unfolding around Sahau mirrors the past situation that Ai found herself in, drawing undeniable parallels between their experiences.
Ai, entrenched in the throes of battle, is a force to be reckoned with; she wields her might against her foes with a terrifying ferocity that likens her to a demonic presence on the town's ramparts. Her relentless assault has not gone unnoticed by the enemy's elite cultivators, who have made it their mission to thwart her. Despite their efforts, Ai remains undistracted, her attention occasionally drifting to the plight of Sahau. Through vigilant observation, she has all but confirmed her initial theory: the herb, when consumed in substantial amounts, has the power to awaken one's core. This discovery has profound implications, with the potential to upend the established order and transform the very foundations of world economies.
Yet, Ai is beset by a deep-seated trepidation. She ponders whether the powers that be, those who hold sway over the world, would tolerate such a seismic shift. Among these formidable entities is the Association of Seal Makers, a guild whose influence is surpassed only by their mastery in the creation of mystical seals and intricate spells. Their prominence is matched by few, with the notable exception of the Medicine Producers Association and the formidable King's Legion.
The underlying tension between the Association of Seal Makers and the King's Legion is palpable. Ai is acutely aware that should the virtues of these mysterious herbs become widely known—especially to the ears of the Seal Makers—the association would spare no expense or effort in suppressing the knowledge, preferring to keep such power within their exclusive domain.
What strikes Ai with even greater astonishment is the method of production employed by Armad for these herbs. With her own eyes, she has seen Armad procure drums filled with the herbs, ready to be decanted into bottles. This spectacle may have eluded the notice of the other 500 soldiers in her company, but not Ai. The implication is clear: Armad can generate these herbs in masse, a fact that could dramatically shift the scales of power.
As Ai reflects on the potential wealth the herbs could bring, she can't help but think of the Seal Makers Association's condescension towards the Wilberforce tribe, whom they view as inferior since they depend on their seals to awaken their tribesmen’s cultivation abilities. The seals are essential for the youth's cultivation awakening; without them, elite cultivation academies would be rendered obsolete, as their students would lack the means to unlock their latent abilities. Such a predicament begs the question: How could the world persist under these conditions?
The contempt exhibited by the Seal Makers Association and the King's Legion is rooted in their exclusive resources and abilities. The Seal Makers possess not only their coveted products but also an Air of superiority, second only to the indispensability of the Medicine Producers Association. The King's Legion, on the other hand, boasts unique cultivation skills and resources obtained from the Wilberforce tribe, which they guard jealously.
Through these revelations, Ai comes to recognize that Prince Armad has amassed enough power to challenge, or perhaps stand shoulder to shoulder with, these influential associations. The pressing issue now is whether Armad possesses the fortitude and strategic acumen to either confront or align with these powerhouses. Ai surmises that the even King's Legion whom they are in conflict, are not directly attacking them. They are just fighting a few of them that are assigned to protect Armad. Maybe the Legion didn’t even know what some of their members that are assigned to protect Armad were doing. Even if they are doing it with their knowledge, the Legion is unlikely to engage in open hostility, marking a stark contrast to the prospect of an outright attack.
However, the existence of these singular herbs had the potential to incite the Seals Makers Association to launch an assault directly on Prince Armad. With a heavy sigh, she acknowledged the gravity of the information she possessed, information that was her duty to convey to Armad. Her decision to entrust Sahau with the herbs had been a gamble; despite the risks, her urge to validate her suspicions had proved irresistible. It was this compelling need that had led her to test the herbs on Sahau.
However, she resolved that Sahau would be the last to undergo such a trial. She intended to keep the results of this test confidential, sharing them only with Prince Armad when the time was right. While the herbs possessed the power to shift the tides of battle in their favor, a victory would be rendered meaningless if the secret of the herbs’ existence became public knowledge. The implications were dire—how would they justify themselves to Prince Ikenga and face the scrutiny of the Seals Makers Association?
Weighed down by the burden of these thoughts, she withdrew from the frontlines of conflict and approached her assistant. In a hushed tone laced with urgency, she instructed, “Hold fast to the sensations in your heart and the visions you are destined to witness. Let them accompany you to the grave. Speak of them to no one. It is paramount that we survive this battle, for the fallout would be catastrophic for ourselves and those we are connected to, should the truth of these herbs come to light.”
The assistant, grappling with an acute pain in his chest, managed to lift his gaze to hers. Up close, he was struck by her undeniable allure—her elongated nose, well-proportioned lips, and cascading hair that veiled her features. Her eyes shimmered with a sharpness borne of youth and determination... He hastily cast aside these irrelevant observations. Their conversation was one of life and death, not of fleeting beauty.
Without hesitation, he nodded his understanding. There was no need for her to reiterate the warning; the Air itself seemed like a traitor, ready to carry their whispers to hostile ears. His comprehension of her words was essential—if he had not grasped their significance, he would not deserve the title of a cultivator.
A newfound awareness burgeoned within him, a spaciousness unfurling in his chest where he recognized his core emerging. The skills he had observed Ai employ were now crystal clear to him, and with this knowledge, the path forward was straightforward.
He nodded again, affirming his grasp of the situation, “I understand.”
Ai’s touch on his shoulder was both an affirmation of their understanding and a silent pledge of her support. She was cognizant that the awakening of his core would shield him from harm, yet she was resolved not to abandon him until she had seen him done with awakening.
In the brief moment after she stood, an onslaught of some fifty adversaries descended upon them. In the very next breath, Sahau too stood tall beside her, his hand aloft. Though no skill manifested in a visible form, a palpable power pulsated within his palm. It was evident that Sahau had also experienced the awakening of his core and had engaged the full breadth of his cultivation.
“Have you got a skill? Have you enslaved your demon?” These were the inaugural queries she posed to him. In the world of cultivation, such questions were pivotal; they distinguished between a novice cultivator who had merely awakened their powers and the one who had successfully enslaved their inner demon.
A glimmer of happiness had flashed across Sahau’s face, visible for a mere moment before it retreated into the depths of his stoic expression. Though he had not yet enslaved a demon to acquire a skill, Sahau harbored no doubts about the impending enslavement. It was, in his eyes, an eventuality waiting to unfold.
His heart, once steady at a pace of 80 to 90 beats per minute, now thundered furiously within his chest, reaching an astonishing 197 beats. The vigor he felt surging through his veins had amplified fivefold, obliterating any hint of envy towards her. After all, each cultivator’s journey was marked by their unique strengths and trials. Perhaps, he mused, the extraordinary strength of his demon explained his current inability to enslave it. Common wisdom held that the more formidable the demon, the more arduous the journey to enslave it. Yet, with greater cultivation power came an increased ease in achieving this feat. However, he remained convinced that Ai’s cultivation could not possibly eclipse his own; his certainty was fueled by a combination of masculine pride and the relentless rigor of their shared training.
Unbeknownst to Sahau was the stark contrast between their cultivation levels: his own had recently awakened to a respectable 45, yet Ai’s soared at an impressive 101. If only he knew the vast chasm that lay between their powers, he might have grasped the enormity of their respective capabilities.
Ai scrutinized his core, calculating the extent of his newly awakened cultivation. Her expression remained unreadable, a deliberate choice to preserve his burgeoning confidence. With a nod of affirmation, she proclaimed their readiness to unleash their full might upon the adversaries.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Sahau indulged in one of the few remaining elixirs, a concoction crafted from potent herbs. With three bottles yet untouched, he attempted to return them to Ai. She, however, refused with a shake of her head, insisting he retain them for their potential utility. Ai herself partook of another vial, and as the potent liquid coursed through them, their weariness vanished. They were revitalized, as though the battle had just commenced. They carved a path through their foes, leaving a wake of destruction—bodies strewn about, dead or gravely wounded. Their confidence, like their power, had swelled exponentially.
Yet, for all their efforts and newfound prowess, Ai and Sahau could not alter the course of the conflict. Their abilities, while formidable, did not rival Nusi’s skill, which held the potential to reshape the battlefield’s dynamics and even prompt the King’s Legion’s commander to take direct action. The awakening of their cores was a personal triumph, but not one that could shift the balance in a clash of such magnitude. The sole consolation for Ai and Sahau was the knowledge that they now wielded the power to protect themselves.
Their transformation had not gone unnoticed. High above, locked in an aerial duel with one of the enemy’s devas, the captain kept a vigilant eye on Ai. From the onset of the enemy’s assault on the town’s defenses, Ai had been under his protective watch—a directive from Armad himself, ensuring that, amid the bedlam of war, she would emerge unscathed.
The captain, versed in the intricacies of warfare and the underlying strategies, was acutely aware of Armad's intentions to leverage Ai as a beacon to rally the common people. The creation of a new battalion hinged upon the hope and confidence the masses placed in Ai's survival and success. Should Ai meet her demise, it could spell a collapse in morale and a sharp decline in enlistment. Conversely, the observable progress and advantages that come with being part of the battalion could serve as a powerful incentive, drawing more to the cause. The captain, understanding the stakes, was resolute in his decision to protect Ai at all costs.
His vigilance had been constant, tracing the trajectory of events from the moment Ai assumed command. With resolute determination, Ai had faced the enemy alone when her forces were outmatched and devoid of the necessary might to mount an effective resistance. The only option was a strategic withdrawal toward Armad's stronghold—a bastion of safety in times of overwhelming adversity. But such a maneuver was fraught with peril; the moment they turned, they would be vulnerable to a relentless onslaught of enemy arrows. Recognizing the dire circumstances, Ai had stepped forth to confront the enemy single-handedly, offering her troops the precious moments needed to retreat.
The captain’s watchful eyes had seen it all, from Ai's first stirrings of her core's power to the instance she imparted energy-boosting herbs to Sahau, facilitating his awakening. When Ai stood defiantly against the adversaries on her own, the captain was caught in a maelstrom of duty and compassion. To leave his post would be to imperil his fellow captains, leaving them exposed to the reinforced might of the enemy. Yet, the notion of allowing Ai to fall in battle was unconscionable.
At the climax of the confrontation, when Ai had positioned a blade at her own throat, the captain stood ready to leap into action. But before he could descend into the fray, Ai unveiled a skill with such abruptness and mastery that it stunned all onlookers. Sahau, an ordinary man devoid of the captain’s centuries of cultivation experience, might have been astounded by such a display, but for the captain, it was a clear testament to Ai's latent potential—she had not only awakened her core but had also enslave a formidable demon to her will, a feat that granted her an impressive 101 years of cultivation.
In the esteemed city of Wilberforce, to awaken to such a degree of cultivation prowess was to etch one's name in the annals of history as a prodigious young cultivator. Ai's origins from the world's remote seaside—a region scant regarded by those in the central civilizations—made her achievement all the more remarkable and significant. Yet, beyond the awe of her rapid ascent, the captain’s attention was ensnared by the enigmatic substance Ai wielded. It radiated a heat more intense than any infernal flame he had previously encountered. The substance's true nature remained a mystery to him; while it was clear that it was a liquid, its boiling ferocity was unlike anything he had seen. What was this substance that defied conventional understanding, and how did it come to be in Ai's possession?
The unfolding of these events suggested the emergence of a new star in their midst—a prospect that brought a measure of solace to the captain. Nonetheless, he was beset by a lingering curiosity about the mechanism that triggered Ai's sudden awakening. The hardships of battle alone could not account for it, for countless had faced the crucible of combat without experiencing an awakening of such magnitude. Ai was neither the first nor the hundredth, and certainly not the millionth to endure the rigors of war.
In the realm of cultivation and amidst times of battle, though peace ostensibly reigns, the larger tribes perpetually harbor designs to assail the Wilberforce tribe. At times, glimpses reveal cultivators locked in combat, often in pursuit of precious cultivation artifacts. Ultimately, the victor claims the spoils, while the vanquished meet their demise. None have ever unlocked their cultivation potential without using a seal.
For over a millennium, since the era of King Aldaima, the necessity of a seal before awakening one’s abilities has been acknowledged. Did she clandestinely procure one of these seals without their awareness?
This conundrum occupies his thoughts as he extends his spiritual sense into the depths of his magical bag, meticulously counting each seal. To his relief, they are all accounted for; not one is missing. If theft is not the explanation, then what mysterious force could have possibly awakened her cultivation abilities?
His mind casts back to the pivotal moment before her awakening. She had ingested not one, but five bottles of a peculiar herbal concoction. These were no ordinary herbs; they were infused with a diluted form of an energy-boosting pill. Armad had assured them that even drinking three bottles concurrently should pose no risk. However, Armad’s omission was critical — he had neglected to warn them of the dangers of exceeding this amount, save for a cautionary note about using them when injured. Overconsumption, Armad had warned, could have deleterious effects, incapacitating the individual to an extent where standing could become an impossibility.
Moreover, Armad had issued a stern directive to his deva battalion: commoners were never to exceed the three-bottle threshold. Yet, before this captain, who is also of the deva rank, could fully comprehend the gravity of the situation, Ai had already consumed the herbs. With the battle imminent and his hands tied, his concern for her well-being was overshadowed by the hope that Armad might have a means to cure her post-conflict. Thus, he did not permit himself to be consumed by worry.
His knowledge affirmed that nothing out of the ordinary had accompanied her awakening, aside from the consumption of the herbs. Yet, it seemed inconceivable to him that mere herbs could initiate the awakening of a core in someone who had not undergone cultivation. If such a thing were possible, it should be common knowledge among the captains, or at the very least, Commander Sulaini should be privy to it. Nonetheless, it appeared that even Sulaini was unfamiliar with such a dramatic effect of the energy-boosting pills, suggesting that their application as a catalyst for awakening was unknown to them.
As he continued to ponder the matter, he saw Ai hand the same herbs to Sahau, her assistant, who subsequently managed to awaken his core. The truth was undeniable now, even to the most skeptical. It was the herbs that had facilitated the awakening of Ai’s cultivation abilities and core. And with this realization, he understood the magnitude of the discovery.
These herbs were more than a mere concoction; they were a paradigm-shifting substance with the potential to redefine the foundations of the cultivation world and alter the established economic hierarchy. The Seal Makers Association, the authoritative body governing the awakening of cultivation abilities among the people, had always been in control. But now, with the revelation of these herbs’ capabilities, a profound question arises: how will the Seal Makers Association react when the existence and the power of these herbs become widely known?
The maelstrom of thoughts swirling in Ai’s consciousness before now seems to have seeped into his psyche. His anxiety is palpable and perhaps justifiably so, as he hails from the influential city of Wilberforce—the very heart where the association’s headquarters stands imposingly. His intimate knowledge of the association’s inner workings gives him insight into the formidable array of powerful cultivators within its ranks. He is well-versed in their exceptional strength, their strategic cunning, and the breadth of their influence, which extends its tendrils even into the esteemed council of King Ayrion. Whispered speculations suggest that the association’s presence in the council is not limited to a single delegate; instead, they have managed to secure two influential seats. One can only speculate about the actions they might take should they catch wind of these mysterious herbs and their potential.
In an impulsive bid to maintain the element of surprise, he quickly diverts his attention away from the scene where the incident is unfolding, attempting to behave as if nothing is amiss. He aims to prevent his adversary from becoming curious and subsequently shifting focus to the spectacle that has caught the captain’s eye. Alas, his efforts are in vain; he realizes with a sinking feeling that he has reacted too late. His opponent, no longer on the offensive, has adopted a look of confusion, mirroring the captain’s concerned expression as he gazes toward the source of the disturbance.
The captain cannot help but wonder about the opponent’s thoughts at this critical juncture. Has he discerned the nature of the event that has captured their attention, or is his concern triggered by a separate and unrelated occurrence? The uncertainty does little to sway the captain’s resolve; his decision is firm and clear-cut. He refuses to let this unexpected turn of events spiral into chaos. With a swift motion, he unsheathes his weapon, its gleam reflecting his determination. The captain lunges forward, delivering a barrage of precise and aggressive strikes, thrusts, and stabs at his opponent. Each movement is fueled by a sense of urgency and the primal instinct of survival—it is as though he is not merely engaging in a duel but rather fighting for his life against a foe who harbors intentions of lethal consequence.