If you were to cross the threshold of the conference room—a room steeped in over a century of history, where none but King Konfot and his esteemed council had ever set foot—you would find yourself in the heart of the monarch's dominion. This was the very room from which King Konfot once presided over his town's affairs. Yet, if you were to visit this room today, it would reveal a solitary occupant: Armad.
Armad has appropriated King Konfot's throne for himself, lounging with a casual air as he rests his boot upon the hallowed table, his gaze methodically sweeping over those gathered before him.
Of the assembly present, Kalidu is the only individual who once served on the old king's council. In another section sits Nusi, surrounded by several devas, while their fellow devas remain concealed throughout the various quarters of the palace.
King Konfot himself is held captive in a nearby chamber, with his family similarly detained in a separate room. The soldiers that accompanied Armad on his campaign are now strategically positioned across the town, a precautionary measure should the need for action arise.
The evidence is clear: Armad has assumed control of King Konfot's town. What was once a single-town dominion has now expanded; Armad now commands two towns within his burgeoning empire.
"I can hear you. Tell me, how do you envision this town contributing to the prosperity of my own, Tiriba, as we endeavor to establish a formidable empire in this region?" Armad posed the question to the elderly man before him.
"Your Highness," the old man responded with a deep bow, a gesture of utmost respect and subservience. "This town is rich in natural resources, all of which have already fallen under your dominion. Furthermore, it is home to a thriving academy where the youth are instructed in the arts of cultivation. Many of their mentors, having been casualties of the recent conflict, are no longer among us. I can assure you, however, that the current generation of students will not resist your decree. Any individual who dares to challenge your authority will be swiftly dealt with, to ensure they are not granted the chance to do so again."
Armad, with a gesture of his hand, brought a stillness to the room. "There is no need for assurances regarding obedience. The determination of who will comply with my edicts is mine alone to make. What I demand to know from you is the value your town possesses. Why should I permit its continued existence? If it proves to be of no utility, then as you are well aware, there is no justification for its survival."
The old man's voice had ceased, and a brief interlude of silence followed. With a measured rise of his head, he looked squarely into Armad's eyes, ready to articulate the significance of his town's existence in the grand scheme of Armad's ambitions.
“Your Highness, I believe that the sole path available to us, with the scant strength we have left, is to gather all of our people. This includes the elderly and the young, the children, the women, and the men, to aid you in the conquest of those towns. Your Highness, since you have captured our king and brought him to our town, your forces penetrated our defenses without any opposition. However, there remains a significant likelihood that the other towns will not so easily relinquish their gates to you without a struggle. It may be necessary for us to summon our might to force them open. Your Highness, I am uncertain if there is a method by which you could empower our non-cultivator populace to join your army and contribute to the subjugation of these towns...”
Armad’s expression turned to one of displeasure. It would appear that the tales of his unique ability to enhance non-cultivators to the status of cultivators, through the use of special energy-boosting herbs, had reached even this far-flung town. Yet, why should Armad be surprised at the spread of such news? The neighboring towns were not so distant, and news from his domain was bound to disseminate like wildfire. Even if one were to bury secrets in the earth, word would find a way to surface. The old man, likely with a network of spies spread across the towns, must have had his ways of receiving such intelligence. With a shake of his head, Armad dismissed the thought.
“How many thousands can you muster?” he inquired of the elder.
The old man raised five fingers. “Fifty thousand people,” he replied confidently.
“Fifty thousand!” For the first time, a genuine look of surprise crossed Armad’s features. In all his endeavors to rally a force in Tiriba for his conflict with the wild people, he had struggled to gather a mere 500 allies. And now, unexpectedly, this old man had committed to a number one hundred times greater without any evident effort.
Armad remained silent for a moment, deep in contemplation. Was this the old man’s response to the looming shadow of death? Perhaps he sought to demonstrate their value by presenting a force so large it would surely impress. Yet the figure—fifty thousand—was immense, far beyond Armad’s wildest calculations. With such an army, the practicalities became a pressing concern; he might not have sufficient quantities of the energy-boosting herbs required to elevate so many from non-cultivators to cultivators. Armad’s resources were finite, and the logistics of such an undertaking would be formidable.
While there are still medicinal farms that remain unvisited by Armad, he holds the conviction that the number 50,000 is excessively large. What he truly requires is a select group of youth from these 50,000 individuals, those who are capable of utilizing the herbs in the same transformative manner as Ai and her assistant, to awaken their latent cultivation abilities. He is cognizant of the fact that not all among the 50,000 are young, which poses a challenge to his plans.
“Yes, Your Highness, the count stands at 50,000,” the old man replied, offering a reverent bow accompanied by a smile. It was evident that he derived a certain pleasure from witnessing the element of surprise that had crept onto Armad’s face.
“Your Highness, this document contains the names and ages of all the individuals,” he continued, presenting the list to Armad.
As Armad perused the list, he noted that of the 50,000 listed, 30,000 were within the youthful age bracket of 15 to 25 years. An additional 10,000 were slightly older, aged from 25 to 30, while the remaining 10,000 were over the age of 30. He also observed that a significant proportion, roughly two-thirds, were female—a demographic detail that might influence his strategy.
The realization dawned upon Armad with a startle. Could it be possible that this town boasted a larger youth population than Tiriba? Or worse yet, had the people of Tiriba deliberately hidden their young during the time of conflict? His thoughts churned with fury as he contemplated the possibility of such deceit. He had been a generous ruler to Tiriba, forgoing the collection of taxes and offering support without seeking much in return. He expected that this largesse would engender loyalty and that the citizens of Tiriba would stand with him in times of crisis, inspired by his past victories and the prosperity they had brought.
And yet, while his town struggled to amass even 10,000 able-bodied individuals, this town had effortlessly gathered a staggering 50,000. Armad shook his head in disbelief and, with a resolute mindset, conveyed his intentions.
“I require the 25,000 most able among these 50,000,” Armad declared with authority. “Today, I want a tournament organized—a test of speed and endurance. The 25,000 who prove their mettle by reaching the finish line first will be chosen. Make it known that valor shown in the battle we are to face will not go unrewarded: those who demonstrate courage will receive a generous gift and be enlisted in my battalion. Even if they should perish in battle, their families will continue to be protected under my rule. On the other hand, those who join my ranks with deceitful schemes or fail to show their worth in combat should be well aware that their days under my command are numbered.”
Armad articulated these words with a gravity that left no room for doubt. He was offering a dual-edged proposition: a promise of glory and protection for the brave and committed, and a stern warning for the treacherous and the weak.
Armad’s distrust toward the inhabitants of the conquered town was rooted in a grim reality; he was the architect of their grief, having slain their loved ones in battle. Despite this, he was confident that with time, they would have no choice but to submit to his rule. He rationalized that the dead could not return to challenge his authority, and the living would eventually have to align with his reign. Armad’s ultimate goal was grandiose: he envisioned transforming the town into a cornerstone of an empire he would build—a dominion marked by his power and vision. To achieve this, he was prepared to first use these people to fortify his town, and once his empire was established, he would ruthlessly dispose of anyone whose loyalty he deemed insincere, keeping only those he trusted.
Armad’s immediate strategy involved leveraging the fear that permeated the hearts of the subdued townspeople to extend his control over adjacent territories. This tactic was designed to preserve his troops—his battalion of elite warriors—whom he was reluctant to engage in further conflict, thereby avoiding the risk of casualties and the loss of his accumulated wealth.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
Armad contemplated the wisdom of entrusting Kalidu. By doing so, he could potentially spare his battalion while accepting that some losses would be inevitable. Yet, these would not diminish his military assets. Armad was confident in his military superiority, particularly because he possessed an unmatched asset: the only cultivators who had attained the deva level in the region, a formidable group that included ten from his ranks.
After careful deliberation, Armad decided to remain within the safety of King Konfot’s town. He assigned the task of expanding his territory to Kalidu, who would be accompanied by a newly formed battalion made up of the local populace, augmented by five of Armad’s deva cultivators, and guided by the strategic insights of Nusi.
While Kalidu and the newly conscripted force embarked on their campaign to subjugate the neighboring towns, Armad planned to tend to another aspect of his burgeoning empire: the medicinal farms. He intended to personally oversee the harvest of these farms, ensuring that the valuable botanicals were procured efficiently and effectively.
Kalidu, eager to demonstrate his loyalty and capability, approached Armad with a plan and a support request. “Your Highness, I am ready to carry out your will. With your blessing, I will commence the selection of the most formidable individuals from among the townspeople this very day. By nightfall, our forces will be fully prepared to launch an offensive and secure the first town in your honor. I shall lead the battalion myself, Your Highness. To ensure the success of this mission, I respectfully request that you fortify our numbers with some of your trusted soldiers,” Kalidu stated confidently.
Armad’s face was a tapestry of concern and calculation. He had not divulged to the old man any intention of assigning his men to assist with the mission. The old man, however, with a cunning that matched his years, sought Armad to dispatch a contingent not merely as an escort but as a testament to his supposed fealty. Armad, however, was not deceived. He was acutely aware of the old man’s inability to forget the king Armad had taken captive or the loss of his comrades in their last confrontation. Nevertheless, Armad also recognized the old man’s acute awareness of his bleak prospects, knowing full well that his chances of triumph against Armad were nonexistent and that capitulation was his sole avenue of survival.
Without hesitation, Armad selected Nusi and an entourage of five devas to support Kalidu, who was to head a battalion consisting of 25,000 troops.
After the assembly was adjourned, only Nusi remained in Armad’s presence. He then unveiled a hoard of energy-boosting pills and handed them over to her. Nusi’s expertise in their application was unmatched, and therefore no words were necessary as she acknowledged the responsibility with a mere nod. Confident that the pills were in the most capable hands, Armad watched her store them in her magical bag, exchange farewells, and depart to follow Kalidu.
Back at the palace, two of the devas stood as sentinels at their posts, while the remaining three cast a wide net with their spiritual senses, each ripple and vibration within the town becoming known to them, ensuring that no event, however minor, would escape their notice. Of the 500 soldiers that had accompanied Armad, several were assigned to safeguard the palace while others melted into the urban fabric, their eyes and ears open for intelligence under the guise of the curfew that stifled Haweeba. Any resident found in violation of the curfew would be promptly detained, as the town lay under a veil of enforced stillness.
Despite the bustle of activity and the deployment of his forces, Armad’s mind was elsewhere. He was burdened by the silence from Commander Silaini, from whom no tidings of their pursuit of Commander Kisa had arrived. Only a few days had passed since the mission commenced, and Armad understood the unpredictable nature of such endeavors. It could take several more days before any meaningful progress was made. Though he had the means for instantaneous communication through the Airid, Armad had refrained from using it, preferring to give his commanders the time they needed without undue pressure.
In the quiet of the palace, Armad was left to contemplate his next moves. The lessons of the past battle were not lost on him: the stark reality that strength was paramount in the savage calculus of survival and conquest. Had he not been the preeminent cultivator, the most powerful among his adversaries, his fate would have been to fall, and his enemies would have been the ones to claim his throne and his palace. But fortune favored the mighty, and Armad’s overwhelming power had not only ensured his survival but had also delivered his enemies’ domain into his hands. Now, it was he who resided in their palace, a testament to his conquest and a symbol of his unrivaled dominion.
The lessons of power dynamics were not lost on Armad as he observed how the world functioned. The prevailing truth was stark and simple: the strong seized everything, leaving the weak with no choice but to acquiesce to their dominance. This principle was vividly illustrated in the structure of power within every town, where invariably, the king reigned supreme as the most authoritative figure. If not the king himself, power was held by someone within his inner circle, such as a younger or elder brother, or perhaps the leader of his council. In certain realms, the true might resided with the king’s parents, who had strategically stepped down, allowing their progeny to ascend the throne. These royal elders remained close, offering counsel and guidance to ensure that the art of rulership was passed down, thereby preserving the family’s legacy for generations. To Armad, such observations were more than mere reflections on societal structures; they underscored the critical importance of the prevailing system and emphasized the necessity for him to relentlessly pursue the advancement of his cultivation.
When Armad turned his attention to the world of Nagirinki, he encountered an unexpected challenge. His previous attempts to enter the world had been effortless, facilitated by the conjuration of Nagirinki, which formed a gateway—a portal that he would normally traverse with ease. This time, however, he found himself unable to penetrate the portal, as if it were an impenetrable barrier.
After several unsuccessful attempts, the system eventually revealed the reason for his predicament: the world of Nagirinki no longer could host him. His presence had become too overwhelming for it to contain. As this information dawned on him, Armad could only muster a grim smile in response to the irony of the situation.
The system had more revelations in store during the heat of battle. It explained that the creation of each string was not without cost, as each one sapped a measure of his Nagirinki. This substance was the lifeblood of his domain, and the scale and potency of his world were intrinsically linked to the amount of Nagirinki at his disposal. During the fray, Armad had discovered, much to his dismay, that his attacks had not been bolstered by the anticipated 15% enhancement. In a sobering realization, he understood that his attacks had not been amplified at all—not even by the smallest margin. It was only in the aftermath of the battle, with a moment to reflect and investigate, that Armad could grasp the extent to which his realm had been diminished.
The issue at hand was no longer about aspiring to reach the lofty status of a deva. The stark reality was that Armad’s reserves of Nagirinki were now so depleted that they paled in comparison even to those of a recent initiate at the core formation level.
It’s known that cultivators in the initial levels of Ki condensation and formation establishment did not wield Nagirinki. Instead, they depended on their cultivation to demonstrate their skills. It was only upon attaining the core formation level that a cultivator could harness Nagirinki. This mystical substance was not just a mere enhancer; it was a crucial element that could significantly magnify the might of one’s skills, far surpassing the capabilities of those relying solely on their cultivation.
Every cultivator knows how to utilize Nagirinki in attacks. Nevertheless, it is the individuals born with formidable ancestral power who possess the extraordinary capability to harness Nagirinki not just to showcase their might but to craft entirely new skills. Such is the case with Prince Armad, who bears the prestigious lineage of Emperor Ayrion. The prince is endowed with a rare talent: using the substance of Nagirinki to conjure his world.
From the moment Prince Armad reached the significant milestone of core formation in his cultivation journey, he started to use the Nagirinki to create a word. As he delved deeper into the levels of his cultivation, his connection with the Nagirinki strengthened, causing both his power and the realm he created to grow exponentially. This progress culminated in the expansion of his world to an impressive expanse of 50 kilometers, a tangible sign of his mastery over Nagirinki. The augmentation of his realm had tangible combat applications as well; it augmented his offensive capabilities by up to 15%, while simultaneously reducing the efficacy of his adversaries’ attacks by about 10%
However, this took an unexpected turn when Armad used the Nagirinki to create pol strings. This loss set him back. it stripped his attacks of their enhanced properties and left him vulnerable to enemy forces, unable to weaken their onslaught as he once could.
Yet, for Prince Armad, this loss was not met with regret but accepted as a necessary trade-off. By relinquishing his grip on the Nagirinki in exchange for mastery over the Pol Strings, he made a calculated decision that ultimately spared his life. This strategic sacrifice allowed him not only to survive but to triumph and seize control of the town, capturing King Konfot and imprisonment him. In this grand scheme, Armad’s foresight ensured he did not lose everything but emerged victorious.
Moreover, while the loss of Nagirinki was a significant blow, it was mitigated by Armad’s acquisition of a potent new skill—the Pol Strings. It’s crucial to note that the Nagirinki was not gone forever; it is a resilient force that ebbs and flows with the cultivator’s progress. As Armad continues to dedicate himself to the art of cultivation, there is every expectation that he will once again recover his Nagirinki. This substance is responsive to the cultivator’s growth; the deeper one delves into cultivation, the more potent the Nagirinki becomes.
An additional twist in Armad is that his cultivation years decreased as the system invested a portion of his cultivation years to awaken the Pol String skill, reducing his cultivation age to 8,500 years. This reduction, however, is merely a pause in his journey. As he persists in his cultivation, not only will his years of cultivation recover, but his Nagirinki will also flourish once again.
Armad’s goal now is to reach 10,000 years of cultivation, which would signal his transition from core formation to the revered deva level. He has noted that at the zenith of core formation, while his years of cultivation seemed to stagnate, his Nagirinki continued to advance, hinting at the possibility of regaining its full strength before he even reached the threshold of the pre-deva stage. What Armad requires now are the fabled pills that accelerate cultivation—the key to unlocking his potential and reclaiming his connection to the Nagirinki.
Before, when the cultivation of Armad stopped increasing before that battle, Armad panicked because he couldn’t progress to the next level. However, now he understands that his failure to reach the next level at that time was beneficial because he now recognizes its importance.