"Truly astonishing," said May, who clasped her hands in front of her and bowed out of respect. "This disciple greets her master for the first time."
As the others began to fawn over their teacher's awe-inspiring skill, Nolan put on an awkward smile and brushed them off with a wave of his hand. "It's me again."
"Tell Mister Grey that that was incredible," said Sean, who had recovered from his pale, frightened state and was now full of life and colour.
"I can't. The old man used up too much energy just now, so I won't be able to contact him for a while."
"Can't he use the rest of the dew to replenish his energy?" asked Nyla, who nodded at the pool with a thoughtful, sable gaze.
"If he were still in control of my body, then maybe. Now, though? We probably won't hear from him until we head back to Nia."
"Nia..." said May, pursing her full, glossed lips in thought. "Is that the place you all went to back in the tower? The one where time moves slower, apparently?"
"Wait 'til you see," said Esteban with excitement, rocking back and forth on the soles of his small feet. "It'll blow your mind!"
"I'm sure it'll be very interesting. I've always wanted to see what an independent space looks like."
"Independent space? More like—"
Nolan waved the kid down. "She'll know when she sees it."
"Now I really want to know."
"What we need to do right now is leave this place."
Nolan couldn't help but worry about Uncle Grey. Even with the help from the heavenly dew, there was no doubt that the old man's most recent exertion had been his most taxing to date when it came to taking action while possessing Nolan's body.
"Did Master say anything before you lost contact?"
In response to Nyla’s question, he told them about the old ghost's instructions, at which point he took out the divine fruit and considered it with a curious gaze. While he did so, Nyla began drawing out more basic construction arrayments to create barrels with which to stow away the rest of the heavenly dew, though she was quickly interrupted by Lyra.
"Wait," she said, her golden eyes considering those around her as if they were oblivious to some obvious fact. "Why don't we just cultivate here for a bit? This is the last place anyone from that sect would ever think to go, right? Not to mention all these little waterfalls of energized water, and we can all just sit in the pond to cultivate."
"That's actually a pretty good idea."
"What was that, Sean? You think I can't have good ideas?"
"No, it's just..."
"And what can you even say? That monster was the size of an island, and you threw a bomb at its eye."
"At a ship that was stuck on a corner of its eye." He waded into the knee-deep liquid, the pond now looking like an empty in-ground pool after a heavy rainfall. "And you know what? Now that the situation's over with, that's probably the coolest thing I've ever done. Throwing a bomb at some giant monster’s face? I feel like I'm right out of a myth, like Hercules or something."
Lyra followed after him, irritated enough to not pay the others any mind. "Who was he, some absentminded meathead that almost got all of his friends killed?"
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
"You really gotta relax more. You'll scare off all the guys you meet if you keep being so sensitive."
"You're one to talk. I don't see any of your bastards running around."
The oblivious pair seemed to come to a subconscious, unanimous decision on the group's behalf.
"Doesn't mean they aren't," said Nolan, who joined them alongside the others. He went on in a joking voice, "And they all thought back to that pretty girl from the festival in Ridgerock…"
Ian leaned over and whispered to the girls, filling them in on what had happened back then. He ended with, "And I agree with old Sean here. I'll never get a niece or nephew if you keep going down the 'sharp tongue and cold shoulder' route. Nobody wants that."
“Old?”
"That's just how I am. If I asked you to stop being a meathead like that Mercules fellow, would it happen just because I asked?"
The others were keeping to themselves while enjoying the amazing effects of the heavenly dew, which left the body feeling extremely comfortable and incredibly at ease. Like phones with supercharged cords, their dantians and spiritual spaces were rapidly filling up with energy without the slightest hint of a negative reaction.
“So Sean was that type of person.” Nyla faked a sigh and shook her head in disapproval. “Just when you think you know somebody…”
“Are you kidding? After what we all had to listen to in that tower, you’re really telling me that? Seriously?”
“I’m only teasing.”
Sean pretended to sniffle. “Words hurt.”
His friends joked around for a bit before everyone subsided into a quiet circle of sound meditation. It was during this time that Nolan saw that the heavenly dew’s namesake was entirely justified, since its properties were almost unrealistically potent. The energies within were purer than any that Nolan had ever experienced, and were so condensed that a single drop of the miraculous liquid turned out to be many times more effective than an ordinary spirit stone. After just ten minutes of cultivating the White Flame Scripture, Nolan was already nearing a minor breakthrough to the late phase of the Integration stage’s first level. From what he could tell, it would only take a day or two for him to reach the peak phase, and then another to ascend to the second level.
Now that his inner essence channels had widened and his dantian had become much stronger and more vigorous than ever before, his speed of energy intake had also increased by leaps and bounds. Just as he was wondering how strong the group would become after all of the remaining heavenly dew had been expended, he was struck by a sudden, heart-hollowing thought.
He stood up so abruptly that he disturbed the others’ meditations. “I’ll be right back. Uh, bathroom.” Without another word, he ran toward the entrance to the cave and dove right through the wall of cascading waters, landing atop his flying sword with an explosion of water droplets and shooting off at a rapid pace. Analyzing the entire island with his spiritual sense, he maintained a height of around two hundred metres above the ground as he began looking for Delia, or any sign of her presence.
How could he have forgotten about her so easily? The fact that the spirit of the lake had shown up meant that it must have caught up to her at some point, because Nolan had ordered her to retreat to this region and then to meet up with them north of the island. Even if she had been moments away from death, she wouldn’t have been able to alter her course in a bid for escape no matter how much she might have wanted to.
Leaving behind the mountain that concealed the cave where his friends were, Nolan soared above the lush expanse of healthy trees, noting that every single creature that he saw—from singsong birds to unseen insects—had demonized. Luckily, none were above the Profound Entry stage, so he was able to travel around without risk of an animal’s sudden ambush.
All things considered, the island was well-populated with lively plants and untouched forests, which covered most of its breadth. Open meadows of local flowers dotted the landscape, mostly defined by pink petals and thick stems, usually frequented by solitary ponds and meandering streams.
He didn’t have to look around for long, since he almost immediately noticed an odd section of flattened forest. In a rough circle that was about a hundred metres across lay a graveyard of massacred trees, or rather, an army of abandoned stumps. It was as if their trunks and leafy heads had all been erased from existence, leaving behind an open expanse of land that was filled in all areas with mulched wood and tree stumps so finely cut that their surfaces seemed polished to a shine.
In the middle of this peculiar example of devastation lay Delia’s body, which was twisted and contorted in an extremely uncomfortable manner, as if she were a limp ragdoll that had been discarded by a careless child.
Heart skipping a beat, he flew over to the centre of the destroyed section of forest and then stowed away his flying sword, hitting the ground at a run as he rushed over to the unconscious woman. Even he was surprised at the unease he felt as he covered the last few steps toward her unmoving form, an odd notion considering that she was somebody that had killed thousands of people in this week alone, someone that had tried to kill him and his friends.
He gently grasped one of her hands and slid a thumb up against her wrist, spirits sinking further when he learned that she had no pulse. Delia was dead.