“But if we go against the sect master’s orders, isn’t that treason? What about the rest of the sect?”
“Haven’t you been paying attention? He’s the one who killed the previous sect master. Even if he’s the current leader, he can’t escape punishment.”
To reiterate his ability to deliver on their promise, Nolan withdrew a single golden card at random from the massive stockpile within his primary spatial bag and set about transforming it into a treasure. Drawing out an intermediate meditation circle arrayment but altering it so that the size was limited to the card’s shiny surface, Nolan tossed it at the slim, pale-faced woman that had attempted to reason with Tems earlier on. Her dark gaze was complicated as she caught the card, which was rapidly sucking in energy from the surroundings in a manner that was hard to miss. While its effects were only similar to the benefits seen on the fifth or sixth floors of the Desolate Spirit Tower and while only a single person could make use of the make-shift talisman at a time, it was still an incredibly valuable treasure that was wholly unique unto itself in that it was an item meant for personal use.
“I can create hundreds of those a day,” he said confidently, noticing the narrowing of the merchant lord’s sable eyes as he continued to urge the members of Tems’s faction. “So can most of my friends. If you back off, we will make up for the losses that your moron leader’s made you suffer because of his obsession with us. We’ll more than make up for it.”
Due to the calming effects of the Millennial Ring, Nolan was able to maintain perfect rational thought despite the danger of the situation. Ready to initiate an all-in strike from the lingering spirits down below –which had yet to budge from their initial spots of manifestation—he continued his attempts at persuading a significant portion of the enemy forces to disengage. If the Falling Rain Sect's most elite members decided to step back, then he and his friends would gain a vast advantage over Tems, the ninety-ish remaining members of the Nightshadow Sect, and their CMA allies. In addition to that, the fact that he had offered a specific service rather than a tangible treasure meant that they couldn’t simply take his life if they wanted to enjoy the aforementioned benefits.
As the members of the Falling Rain Sect continued to contemplate, the CMA mercenary army abruptly flew away from the clearing as fast as their flying swords could manage. They were followed by the merchant lord and his immediate bodyguards, the latter casting a calculating look over his shoulder as he quickly fled the scene.
“Kalvin!” yelled Tems, his azure robe flailing around as he lost control of his aura and caused the surrounding winds to stir. “Where do you think you’re—” his eyes flashed with understanding and he quickly flew away.
“They’re doing it!” yelled Nolan, who readied himself to manipulate the formation while dealing with any oncoming attacks. “Let’s move back a kilometre or so, and then go higher up!”
As soon as he finished speaking, the golden, humanoid figures that Merchant Lord Kalvin had summoned suddenly shot downward to compete with the blank-faced lingering spirits that were currently waiting on standby above the open grounds. All forces present pulled back as fast as possible, the air suddenly so heavy with volatile energies that it felt as if they had all been submerged deep beneath the surface of an incredibly dense sea.
A battle between hundreds of Genesis-staged cultivators was about to take place, likely the first that the continent had seen in centuries.
We won’t get far enough to avoid the fallout, he realized as he felt the immense amount of energies that were already beginning to conflict with one another as the lingering spirits and the humanoid figures continued to increase the output of their auras.
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Just as he was drawing out an intermediate barrier arrayment that he likely wouldn’t complete in time to make use of, Nolan’s vision abruptly went black before returning to similar scenery after another blink of the eye. The last thing he saw was a rain of golden projectiles that shot across the sky to intercept the oncoming spirits.
Nyla had decisively unleshed her attack to forestall the artificial combatants. After which, she’d produced the blank, framed canvas that she had plundered from the Vespasian tomb that she and Lyra had been trapped in before he’d reunited with them, and then used it to transport the entire group to another location.
Expanding his spiritual sense to a radius of about eight kilometres, he saw that they had emerged just above the upper canopy of the forest some five kilometres north of the clearing.
“Should we just escape?” came Sean’s immediate question as the man stared over at Esteban with a conflicted gaze. “We’re far enough.”
“Yeah,” said Lyra, who lowered both of her swords with a frown. “They retreated in the opposite direction, so we’ve got a decent head start. Who would want to deal with all that?”
Subconsciously, everyone hurried to fly higher so that they could get a clear view of the clearing. Once they had gained enough altitude, a dizzying display of arrayments and martial skills collided that were so vast and numerous that Nolan had no problem seeing them from such a far distance.
An earth-shaking tremor swept through the forest that toppled even the sturdiest of trees, a tremendous cracking sound following soon after that was similar to the roar of the strongest thunder. Ears ringing, a torrential wave of chaotic winds suddenly assailed the group as if they were ordinary people standing in front of a giant industrial fan.
May expelled a powerful mass of inner essence that quickly covered the group and kept them anchored in place, clearly conscious of the others’ injuries.
“Well,” said Ian from within the protective bubble, “if we leave, what'll happen to those new friends of ours?”
“So what? We’ve got to think about ourselves first.”
Sighing, her brother gave his head a light shake. “If only you never had to leave the village. Being on your own all this time’s made you think this way, but you shouldn’t be so quick to forget your loyalties.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think like that!” Turning her head with a shimmer of golden strands, she proceeded to mutter, “Besides, it’s not like it’s one of you guys.”
“No,” said Nolan, who produced and then dressed himself in a verdant tunic and a pine-coloured vest robe. “If we don’t settle this here, then it’ll just bring us more problems down the road. This is just one of those things that we need to do.”
He began working on the most powerful attack arrayment that he knew, the same one that Nyla had used when the group had been fleeing from the Falling Rain Sect’s manhunt following their stint at the Desolate Spirit Tower. This technique relied on massive amounts of spiritual energy in order to bring about its true effects, though as his ghostly mentor had taught him it was a true ace in the hole when faced with a large number of enemies. The attack arrayment required about a quarter of his spiritual energy to give life to a large number of projectiles that each possessed a certain corrosive characteristic that ate away at the bodies and energies of its victims. Normally, he could only use the technique about three times without worrying about over-exhausting himself, but Nolan had thought of a workaround to this roadblock, albeit an extremely expensive one.
Finishing the arrayment’s schematic, he guided it to float in front of the tip of his longsword, the dark metal glinting lightly beneath the iridescent diagram. Drawing out a second one with which to hold on standby, he noted that each of his friends was silently readying their own strongest attacks.
“Not you, Esteban. Or you two, Alicia, Aine.”
“Why?” said Alicia, whose wide, honest eyes looked a bit hurt. “Grandmaster Grey taught us all the same arrayments as you two. We can help!”
“I think some of us should stay here and hit them from a distance. Esteban, since he’s injured, and you two because you’re more suited for arrayments than fighting up close.” He shifted his gaze to Nyla, continuing to draw out the schematic by relying on the pristine clarity of his spiritual sense. “Here,” he said, willing a divine fruit to float out of his spatial bag. “Eat this, and use the excess energy to keep making arrayments.”
The stress on Esteban’s face increased. “But Welson said that those are worth billions of spirit stones…”
“Well, our lives are worth more.”
Nyla plucked the fruit out of the air and gave him a confident, assuring nod. Ready to face any dangers for the sake of those around her, he knew that he could rely on her at times like these.