For all that the world changes, as day turns to night and back again, some things stay the same.
The human condition is good about that. Seeing something static and thinking it immune to transformation. Raika, of all people, has become more than familiar with that fact, at how quickly even the most stable-feeling foundations can suddenly be disproven or destroyed.
And yet, the Hungering Roots sect looks the fucking same.
Six hours of running is what it took to get here. That’s all. Months and months and months of living just six hours away from the place she’s lived in the longest out of her entire life. A few good, genuine, meaningful months next to the emptiest fucking place she’s ever been in.
She doesn’t bother with the front door.
There are defenses that she could… kinda see, back when she was a cultivator, but that stand incredibly loud to her newfound senses. Under the effects of synesthesia, the smell of the barrier makes for a visible haze of power in front of her.
It’s not quite a dome. There are layers to it, like pillars or fortifications, hazy outlines in places where the connections feel a bit fainter but an overwhelming flood of power throughout all of it. It eclipses any scent of Qi she’s felt save for that of the Witch, and now, with her senses properly enhanced, she can only imagine just how truly powerful the defenses must have been in Cragend and the Imperial palaces. It’s not just the scent of something powerful, it’s the sight of it, of the screaming, fluctuating and flickering form of that massive array.
She could break it, if she wanted.
She gets the impression that it’s not really made to defend against someone who can visibly see it. Some of the outer runes and anchor-points of the defensive array are at the edge of it, and some of them are flickering very slightly. Not enough to blink in and out, but enough that, to her senses, their strength is hazier. There might be some sort of alarm tied into the breaking of any of the effects, but she might be able to sense that too, find a way around it.
It’s not what she’s here for. But it’s… empowering.
They couldn’t keep her out if they wanted to. Not with this.
But instead, she just reaches a hand through, and breaks the first layer.
It’s kind of weird, actually. Her hand going through doesn’t seem to trigger… anything. It’s only when she waves it around that some other defenses light up, other parts of the array going brighter. The parts that smell most of Qi, like there’s empty spaces between brighter ones, waiting to be filled, they stay quiet as nothing leaks from her to them.
The movement does trigger something though. The alarm seems to flash for a while, a few minutes, but… nothing happens.
She shrugs, and starts walking in deeper through the array.
Only about a third of the defenses seem to recognize her presence. Some of the Qi-based ones seem to light up just a touch when she exhales near them, but not enough to truly wake up all the way, and she starts to hold her breath not long after. Some of the defenses seem clearly tied to just movement, though, or things passing through them. It’s only when she makes it maybe fifty, sixty meters through it that some of the brighter ones begin to light up, and more of the array starts showing signs of activity.
Hmm.
Boring.
She crouches, winds her tendons around hidden joints and pneumatics, and jumps.
The air blurs past, whistling loudly through her ears as a dozen new alarms sound out, these ones brighter, louder. She’s moving fast enough that even with them, the few actual flashes of light and power that begin to form behind her aren’t fast enough to catch her. Even with the speed she’s moving at, only a third of the alarms and defenses seem to even try to light up, the lack of detectable Qi making for a surprisingly effective tool in this case.
She lands on the outer wall of the outer sect, flashes of thunderous orange lightning and bright spots of floating Qi shields flaring in and out of life.
The world ripples impossibly behind her, and she smiles.
The outer sect, where she spent… forever. Most of her life. She sees the fields where they would get farming duties, taking care of spirit herbs. She sees the foundries along the inner wall of the sect, smoke bellowing from their stacks as the sound of distant hammers and scissors and drills echo faintly from them. She sees the space where the outer sect disciples live, hundreds of buildings with their own little gardens and pathways, the tournament building large enough to encompass Wayun village and full even now with the sounds of Foundational realm cultivators sparring, and the servant-city, spaced out across the inner side of the outer wall and with enough living-spaces in the two-storied buildings to have room for thousands of servants.
And she notices how empty it is.
It doesn’t smell of life, not really. Of earth, of roots that crawl through it, of plants and foundries and laundry and cooking… but not in the quantities that would indicate a thriving place. The Hungering Roots sect is old, and it has not weathered the test of that time as strongly as the Empire which allows its continued existence.
She launches herself a second time. She can’t fly or walk on air, so when she lands, it is a heavy, screaming thud against the earth, denting the solid ground with her weight- and immediately leaping again.
She clears the radius of the outer sect in less than a minute. Three massive, world-shaking leaps, and she lands at the feet of the inner sect wall.
There are… hundreds more. Hundreds more defenses and arrays surrounding the wall itself and a space right around it. They make the ones around the outer sect look like a joke, their current strong and bright, burning with color and vibrancy. These would, at the very least, really hurt to get caught by, and they seem guaranteed to catch even a bird flying through them.
She smiles.
She can hear and smell the heartbeats and Qi of dozens of cultivators sprinting her way. She did set off all those alarms…
Ah well. In for a copper, in for a silver as they say.
She crouches, starts overclocking her calf and thigh muscles and tendon groups, and leaps.
Her spine aches under the force of the pressure, her shoulders forced down violently with the sheer amount of weight she has being thrown at such incredible speeds- and she lands atop the wall.
This time maybe half of the Qi structures of the array light up, though still less than they intended, she’s sure. A wall of force and lightning begins to crackle, centuries old techniques and arrays of incredible potency preparing to strike, waiting for some kind of confirmation-
Confirmation she doesn’t give them time to provide. She soves off the wall and forward, flying through the air. There’s a lot less space in the inner sect, made as it is to provide for inner-sect disciples only, a much smaller number than outer disciples, and this time, she manages to fly far enough and fast enough to land right outside the Core sect’s walls.
And finds herself looking at an old, old man.
Were he a mortal, he might be seventy, maybe eighty, but he still looks incredibly healthy for that age. Well-muscled, physically fit, and standing tall, hands behind his back, a haughty look on his face.
She diverts her movement to fall towards him, landing a few feet in front of him.
He smells strong. Not as strong as some of the folks in the tournament, maybe, but strong nonetheless. Peak Nascent Soul realm, perhaps.
And she recognizes him easily.
“This junior disciple greets Elder Shang Hao,” she says, bowing just short enough to be cheeky. “It’s been some time.”
“So it has, “junior” disciple,” the man replies. His voice is quiet, but it carries with it a weight that surprises her. It doesn’t… it doesn’t quite match the depth of his scent.
A half-second later, the ground cracks under the frame of Hisheng as he arrives in a burst of Qi. His hands are up, his fists ready, his body glowing with strength-
And then he fucking sighs.
“Gods damnit, Raika. You couldn’t just knock on the door.”
She grins. “Got you to curse again.”
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The area of the core disciples is nice. If this is where Hisheng’s been secluded, she can see why he’s grown. There’s a richness to the Qi there that’s absent outside of it, and she can see how the core arrays glow faintly always, holding in and circulating the energy to increase its efficiency and draw it in.
It’s not hard to look at, considering the size of the building they’re in.
Elder Shang Hao, like all elders, has a manor. It’s not massive, it’s no Palace, but it has a solid six stories, a dozen towers, and more than enough space to hold all the apprentices and servants a sect elder could hope for.
Weird, to be on a balcony like this. She hasn’t been a big fan since… well, since Paleblossom city. But the table is nice, and the tea smells pretty good. It’s got some Qi in it, even.
She takes a polite sip, and is pleasantly surprised when it tastes better than she thought it would. Like… something floral, but earthy, rich and sweet. It’s lovely.
Elder Shang Hao watches as she takes a sip. He nods, once, and takes a sip of his own tea.
“Thank you for accepting my invitation. In spite of your… entrance, your presence is still appreciated.”
She nods. “Hisheng trusts you. And it seems you helped him. Between that, and how my… patron has inconvenienced you, it’s only right to accept a genuine invitation.”
“Yes. Your… patron. It is interesting to see a member of the Hungering Roots sect, especially one mistakenly thought dead, rise to such a position so quickly.”
She lets out a little laugh at that, taking another drink of her tea.
Elder Shang Hao tilts his head, looking at her. To her senses, the cloud of Qi that surrounds and envelopes him becoming denser as he pulls from his true self, not just the wisps that escape his control. The scent of wood and bloody mulch fills the room, and she can see his aura, squirming and crawling through reality inside and behind him.
“Did I say something humorous, child?”
She smiles, perfectly calm as she meets his gaze.
“Apologies, elder. I was caught off guard by the joke of an idea that this one might in any way consider herself a part of the Hungering Roots sect.”
The world roils under the weight of Elder Shang Hao’s spirit. His Qi is one thing, but there’s more to it than that. He’s not some brash youth or battle-hungry independent cultivator coming to a tournament, he is an Elder, and he makes her feel it.
That same feeling that the Aspirant of the Cut had made her feel in the arena. That sense of imminent danger, of genuine killing intent manifesting into existence by will alone, is matched by a rising rush of rooted, stone-breaking Qi. Deep, deep beneath both, she even detects a hint of that which the roots crawl from, down in the dark of torn soil.
She takes a sip of her tea, places it back down, and calmly takes out her pipe, beginning to pack its bowl.
“You don’t mind if I smoke in here, do you?”
The stone floor beside her cracks Shang Hao’s intent bears down upon the world.
“Didn’t think so.”
With a flick of her Blacksteel prosthetic and a touch of Qi, she lights up the pipe and draws a long, slow pull on it. At this point, Elder Shang Hao is looking at her with eyes wide, as if stunned by the audacity.
“You were taken in by the Hungering Roots sect,” he says slowly. “You were raised by the sect. Strengthened by the sect. Kept alive and made whole and real through the sect. Your flawed limitations from the illusion that is reality were taken from you here, in this sect. Who are you to spit on such generosity?”
“Well, I haven’t ripped your walls from their foundations and torn your disciples limb from limb. That’s pretty generous, I think.”
Slowly, he leans back, the pressure lifting ever so slightly. “You’re mad,” he whispers. “I knew you as a frivolous, rebellious brute when you were among us, but now-”
“You didn’t know me at all,” she interrupts, the smoke taking some of the edge off of the pressure he’s exerting on her and coiling in light blue tones around her chair as she breathes it back out into the world. “You’re an elder, I was a disappointment, so why would you? You took me because half those buildings I saw on my way in are dead and empty, and it didn’t matter if I fit, if this place could help me, because you wanted more blood to impress your enemies with. I never saw my parents again after you took me in, or my sister, or anyone, and now they’re dead or strangers to me. Oh, maybe I got a few more resources than a mortal, a bit more free time to work on them, but when was that ever for me, hmm?”
The Mask forcefully calms some of their heartbeats, but the Flesh rebels a bit, a note of dissonance entering their cadence as Raika’s voice remains calm, quiet, her face serene- and her flesh begins to heat up in preparation.
“And when I was considered dead? When I was so starved for progress that I went out into the world and was abused and broken, where was the Hungering Roots sect? Maybe you didn’t know. It was a long way away, after all, and the Silver Song family made clear their records. But what about in Cragend?”
The room begins to shake, ever so slightly, as Shang Hao looks ready to interrupt and yell something at her-
She taps Dink, ever so lightly, and the note that plays disrupts the Qi surrounding them ever so slightly. Not enough to harm, but enough that he pulls back, has to take a half-second to readjust, his eyes wide as he looks at the spirit tool-
“When I was starring as the main attraction of my own little circus, where was the Hungering Roots sect then? I received a note from Hisheng. From him alone, not this little sect that I haven’t stepped foot in or thought about in years. So tell me again why I owe you, after you made me into a cheap tool for your own gain and didn’t even look after I fell?
“Tell me now, where is this honor you speak of? Where is the nobility? Where is it in your mind that you think you can find a reason for me to give a single fucking speck of respect to you or anyone here?”
She takes another pull of her pipe, the bone implement glowing with the bluish flame of its components as she leisurely fills her lungs with thick, iron-scented haze.
In the silence, she takes another sip of her tea. The tastes don’t really match up, but they somehow complement each other very well nonetheless.
“I really must compliment your merchants,” she says, her voice pitched through the Mask to be perfectly pleasant. “This tea is quite good indeed. I appreciate the hospitality.”
Elder Shang Hao stands from the table.
The table which is no longer.
There is a flat circle on the ground where it has been crushed into a new feature on the floor, cracks running through the stone of the chamber and the echo of its collapse ringing through the open balcony.
Raika’s pretty sure, at this point, that the whole sect can feel exactly how displeased he is.
Looking him right in the eyes, she very casually lets go of her cup of tea for it to spill and shatter onto the floor.
“I don’t know how you secured your benefactor,” he snarls, “but if you think for an instant that the Empire has bearing on the will of this master, you are sorely mistaken.”
She stays seated right where she is, smoking comfortably as she looks up at him. Shang Hao’s robes, previously pristine, are being moved as if by unseen roots crawling through the air, and the air around him feels charged. Even through her skin, through her lack of “true” Qi senses, through her lack of giving a shit, she can feel the weight of the intent and aura he’s pushing against her.
She feels blood vessels begin to pop.
She feels the blood in her body begin to warp as if under tremendous pressure.
She feels her skin begin to crackle as the curse holds out against the waves of Qi pushing into her.
Six months ago, she would’ve had no choice but to back down.
Now?
She exhales, enjoying the taste of the haze as it drifts from her.
“I’m not in any way sorry to say that I’m not mistaken at all, actually,” she says. “Sure, Honored Researcher Boriah would most certainly have something dreadful in mind for you if I died here. Maybe even for this whole damn sect.
“But I can tell you true that I have seen and survived worse than you. You could probably still kill me. I can smell the depth of your power from here, and there’s no one more familiar with my ignorance or limitations than I.
“But I can guarantee I’ll hurt on the way down. Even if you make it out intact, I can promise I won’t die alone.
“So why don’t you sit down, accept my generosity for coming here, and tell me what you called me for.”
Elder Shang Hao says nothing.
She refuses to break eye contact.
She can actually smell the strain on his blood pressure as he forces his Qi back under control and takes a seat.
“You’ve become dangerous,” he whispers, eyes locked onto hers.
She smiles. “At last, you’re right about something.”
A tense few moments pass. She senses his Qi flex subtly out towards the door, and a few moments later six men come in carrying between them a stone table just as big as the first. Even as she watches, their Qi circulates and enters the air, repairing the stonework and setting the table down right over where the old one sat, before it violently became acquainted with the floor.
About a minute after that, three young women arrive, each wearing surprisingly modest jade and white robes, each carrying different parts to a tea set. Water heated by Qi is poured into well-mixed and powdered ingredients, and in moments, there are two new cups of tea before them, and a kettle left on the table, as the young women retreat.
All of them smelled of stress and fear, and none of them dared to look at Raika or Shang Hao.
Sheng Hao waits for them to leave before he takes another, quiet sip of his tea.
She leaves her own cup untouched this time.
He takes a long, deep breath, and she can feel the subtle edges of deeper things as he breathes. It’s not just Qi that he has, not just the properties of cultivation. This is a man that has endured centuries, and while he may not hold a true Soul within him, the killing intent he showed and techniques he’s likely to possess keep him out of her league, nevermind his potential Truths or Dao.
Sort of beyond her league, anyways.
She’s pretty sure she could uncage her Reactor and give him a fine surprise.
He sets down the cup quietly, much calmer, and turns back to face her.
“Senior Researcher Boriah, in our communications, thanked me preemptively for my services in verifying your growth and tracking your movements. And… in turn, I had hoped that you would have the self-awareness and base respect to consider your allegiance to those who raised you, rather than a total embrace of your Imperial masters.”
“Mmh. What a gift it would’ve been, to be a tool for the Hungering Roots sect and the Empire at once. You have my gratitude for the aid you’ve given Hisheng, and for what I would consider good from our past history. No more.”
Elder Shang Hao nods, taking another drink of tea. He remains quiet a while longer.
She enjoys the view of her old sect from over the edge of the balcony, and another few breaths of smoke.
“You’ll leave within the week.”
She nods. “Works for me. Tell Boriah for me, would you? Tell him I’m heading out east.”
“Hmph. And what, pray tell, should I tell your lost little lover?”
She smiles, low and slow, with far more teeth than any regular human mouth can hold.
“Well for one thing, you can tell him that you’ll grant him all the resources he could want. That he’ll remain a core disciple for as long as he pleases, and that if he ever needs anything at all, that I will be there to repay my debt to him. And then, you’ll tell him nothing at all that isn’t entirely useful to his cultivation.”
“You are not in a position to dictate terms, Raika the Bloody. The fact it might cost me something to kill you doesn’t grant you the right to command one that is centuries your senior.”
“You’re right, it doesn’t. But the fact is, the Hungering Roots sect is weak. The Patriarch has been on some Imperial command or other since before I ever got here, and your barracks have been half-empty since I was a child. The Empire bleeds us all dry to feed itself, to feed the first ring and the fortresses of the fourth, and this far out, this small of a sect? There’s nothing you have to offer beyond manpower and taxes to feed it with. I’m far more useful as a begrudging ally than as an enemy. And so long as you’re taking care of Hisheng properly, I can see that being the case. He’s a big boy. He can handle a little bit of politics, and I can stomach dealing with you and your fucking sect if it means he gets the resources he deserves.”
Raika smiles thinly as she smells the fury rolling off the sect elder… as he grimaces, hard, and nods.
“Pleasure doing business with you, elder. It is my hope that your work with the Justicars of the sect, and its overall fortunes, improve tremendously under your wise leadership.”