Nolan was also shocked. Judging from the look that she’d sent him, he felt as if the woman had killed all of those people just to vent some of her frustration. What kind of person had he added to his group of companions, to do something so drastic even when the situation demanded that they flee as quickly as possible?
Reminding himself to keep a tighter leash on his new servant in the future lest she massacre people against his wishes, Nolan looked at May and yelled, “Let’s get this going!” He was nervous enough at this moment to warrant a response from the Millennial Ring, which immediately lent him a cool state of mind.
The white-haired woman’s attack instigated an immediate response from all of those in the area, as a great barrier blanketed over the entire host of enemy cultivators at the behest of half of their numbers. The remainder of their ranks focused on a collaborative offensive that saw the countryside light up in all directions, causing palpable fluctuations in the Origin Energy of the region.
“I need to make sure I don’t make any mistakes,” snapped May, who also appeared nervous. She glanced at Nyla and reiterated what she had just learned. “So, I just have to picture somewhere I’ve been before, inject my inner energies, and it’ll take us there? Do I have to move the frame myself or will it automatically transport the people I want it to?”
“You need to direct it yourself, but it’s not hard. And it’ll bring you to whatever place you’re thinking of so long as you have enough energy. If you overshoot then we’ll only go as far as your inner energies can take us, in which case the rebound will be pretty severe.”
May activated the painting as soon as she understood how to use it, which coincidently coincided with a massive offensive that the surrounding sect members unleashed upon them. With certain death imminent, the picture frame shot into the air above the group, expanded in size, and then shot down to swallow them up even as their heartbeats rang loud in their ears.
It took Nolan a moment to realize that they had been transported somewhere along the island’s lengthy coastline, for the entire lake was shrouded by a towering wall of strange, energized mist. This gaseous mass was hundreds of metres tall and linked horizons from left to right, as if a gargantuan nimbus cloud had descended to ground level to intimidate the sandy shores. What betrayed their current location was the sound of countless crashing waves from up ahead, along with the great expanse of beach that was currently bereft of its usual scenery. This mist was slowly encroaching inward amidst the gloaming, the oncoming sunrise muffled by the surrounding masses of precipitation.
Uncle Grey, thought Nolan as his spiritual sense failed to sense anything beyond the shoreline, what’s the deal with this mist?
This is no simple formation. I’m actually surprised that such a little sect would have something like this.
Care to elaborate, or?
I don’t suggest that you try to leave the island. This mist seems to seal the cultivation of anyone that it touches, and the effect will likely last for a short while even after you leave its boundaries.
So, if we try to leave then we’ll become as useless as normal people?
What normal people? Do you think it’s normal to have no cultivation?
Where I’m from, it is. By now everyone else had found their feet, at which point May immediately began to explain the same information that Uncle Grey had just told him. Alright, well… Let me know if anything bad’s about to happen. I don’t have time to argue with you.
His friends tried to question him about the white-haired woman’s presence, but he brushed them off and walked up to May with urgent steps. “Hey May, how far are we from where we just were?”
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Looking slightly drained but otherwise okay, May pursed her lips in momentary thought. “We’re nearby a little town called Meadowsview. It’s about five leagues from where we just were, perhaps a bit farther?”
Esteban prodded Nolan’s elbow. “How much is that?”
“Almost thirty kilometres.”
The boy exclaimed something in Spanish, clearly surprised enough to forget to use the Universal Language.
“So…eighteen miles?” muttered Sean. “Wow, lady. To sense that far…just how much energy do you have?”
“Enough to get us here, apparently.”
Nolan couldn’t sense any powerful individuals in the area, just a thousand or so life signals a few kilometres to the north. These were the people of the town that May had mentioned, and all of them were currently relaxing within their homes. It wouldn’t be surprising if they had no idea that the sect was currently in the midst of a large-scale manhunt, let alone the fact that the targets of these efforts had retreated just outside of their quaint little town.
Nolan ran a hand through his short, rain-soaked hair, flicking some water away with his hand. “We don’t have much time before we’ll be surrounded again. Just to clarify, if we try to swim away from the island—”
“We’ll most certainly drown,” assured May. “The waters of this lake can be very violent, especially right after a storm like we just saw.”
“What about other people? Is it the same for people from the sect, or are they somehow immune to this formation’s effects?”
“It’s the same for them. Even if it’s the sect master himself, he’ll still become helpless as soon as he enters the mist.”
Nolan’s mind was racing as he realized that even if they somehow managed to escape from the island, their odds of survival would probably plummet compared to how they were now. As things stood, most of the sect members were weaker than him and his friends, but if all of their cultivations were sealed then it would come down to a competition of physiques and endurance. With tens of thousands of people on the enemy side, no matter how powerful their bodies were the fate of him and his friends could only be imagined.
“There’s a port in that town.”
Hearing Nyla’s voice, May said, “Why do you think I brought us here?”
“Is it safe to use a ship with such stormy weather, though?” asked Nolan, who was intimidated by the turbulent sounds that described the backdrop. He’d also thought of stealing a ship and relying on it to sail away from the island, but even though the rain had stopped and the wind had wound down by a significant degree, the sounds of roaring waves and raging currents were difficult to overlook.
“Probably not. We don’t have much of a choice, though.”
May wasted no time in leading them over to the shoreline of Meadowsview, where a little bay boasted a series of a dozen or so lengthy docks. She kept casting dirty glances in the white-haired woman’s direction, as apparently they had a bitter history that involved the death of May’s family. During this quick stint of sprinting, he filled the others in on how he’d come to enlist the assistance of the person that had been moments away from killing him just hours before.
They found the docks unguarded and well-stocked with all sorts of ships and smaller boats. They opted to take the largest one, which looked similar to a longer and thinner version of the galleons that were common at the end of the Age of Sail. Before they left, they made sure to destroy all of the other vessels in the area, even the little fishing boats that could only accommodate a handful of people. They had to do so from a distance, for all of the ships were shrouded by the gigantic wall of mist, which stole away their cultivation levels and left them unable to rely on any of their inner energies.
“Um,” said Sean as they gathered on the centre of the ship’s deck, near the mainmast. “I’ve never sailed a ship before, especially not something as old school as this.” Looking around at the thick, furled up sails, he put on a hopeless look. “Don’t suppose you were one of those rich boating kids by any chance?”
“What do you think?”
May strode over to the helm, her long legs giving off an alluring appeal that was further accentuated by the long slits on either side of her robes that traced downward from hip to knee. A few moments later, she stood facing an extremely plain steering wheel of carved, varnished wood. Both her and the mechanism were slightly covered by the thickening mist, though Nolan could still see that a pair of large deposit boxes rested on either side of the wheel.
“You’re overthinking things,” she said, opening the boxes and dropping a few thousand spirit stones in each. “The ships of our sect don’t need wind or smooth seas to move, since they’re powered by spirit stones. They’re branded with a specific type of arrayment that operates the sails and rigging and all that, which generates artificial winds behind the sails.”