"Whew," he said, letting out an exhausted breath. "Look at all that blood. It's basically a murder scene up in here."

  He’d just retired to the corner that Nyla had chosen to occupy after deciding on a long-awaited break. She had respectfully left him to his own devices all throughout his gruelling stint of training, as had the disciple at the centre of the room. At least he stood by his own precedent, thought Nolan as he caught the guy sending him a calculated glance.

  "I don't like watching you cultivate when it's like this." Nyla grabbed his arm and pulled him in, hugging him tightly and resting a head on his shoulder despite all of the blood that stained his clothes. "You don't have to push yourself, you know. Why not go back to the fifth floor and cultivate normally?"

  "I learned something in this tower. This is how I'm supposed to cultivate." He gave her a quick explanation, though didn't go into too much detail. "I'll tell you the rest later, okay?"

  She nodded, lifting her head as she noticed the approach of the only other person in the room.

  "Pardon the intrusion," said the young man, black strands dancing as he gave a slight incline of his head. "I'm aware that this is a bit forward, but do you mind telling me what core cultivation method you practice? I know it's rude to ask, but I can't stop trying to make sense of what I just saw."

  "I can guarantee you've never heard of it."

  "Ah, if you don't want to tell me, then I completely understand." He dipped a large hand into his robes and pulled out a medicinal pellet, which he held between an index finger and thumb. "Your technique looks like it takes quite a toll on you. Please, take this. It'll help you to stabilize your energies while you train."

  Looking at the black markings on the teal pellet, he cocked an eyebrow. "A medium-grade pellet? Can't imagine this was cheap. Why give it to me?"

  Go on, came Uncle Grey's voice, take it. There's nothing wrong with it.

  "Think of it as an apology for my harsh words from before."

  Nolan accepted it with words of thanks. It would definitely come in handy on the next floor, which would probably be the last one that he ascended to.

  "My name is Drasin," said the man. "A direct disciple of Elder Jameson, the fifth elder of our sect. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

  They gave their names and introduced themselves as the direct disciples of Elder Grey of the Earth Sect.

  "I'm surprised that I haven't heard of it. Only the biggest sects have martial skills that mask cultivation levels."

  "We like to keep a pretty low profile."

  Drasin looked around the empty room, his eyes settling on the ascending staircase. "Are you two planning to head to the next floor?"

  "I'll be going," said Nyla. "But I'm not sure about him."

  “Oh, I’ll be going up there one hundred percent."

  "That's quite impressive. You two must have some very high attainments as arrayment practitioners if you’re that confident." He let out a self-criticizing laugh. "Well, of course you’re confident. You've made it this far, haven't you?"

  They chatted for a few more minutes before Drasin politely excused himself and returned to his training. The same went for them, since they didn't want to waste any more time while they were inside the tower.

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  Nolan spent two more days on the sixth floor, a day longer than Nyla. While the torturous experience of cultivating had grown worse than on previous floors, his gains had grown in equal proportions. As his spiritual space began to advance in both size and quality, he became more resistant to the tower's aura.

  This time, Nyla wasn't able to ascend directly to the next level, or at least she didn't seem to want to. He noticed this once he decided to make the move to the next stage, spotting her about a third of the way up the staircase. Her long hair was damp with sweat and beginning to clump together, beads of moisture dripping off of her brows and down her face in a way that would have frustrated most people. Wet as her clothes were, they clung to her body in a form-fitting manner.

  "Nice," mumbled Nolan from the base of the steps. Real nice…

  "I must say," came Drasin's tactful whisper, "you've got some good luck with women, my friend."

  "Luck? This is all me, bud."

  "Of course, of course." He indicated upward with a hand. "Shall I take the lead?"

  "Sure."

  "Good man!" He clapped Nolan on the back with a grin, his eyes studious. "Once you get into the sect, I wouldn't be surprised if you directly entered the higher court. When that time comes, I'll be sure to look after you."

  "I appreciate it, but like I said, I'm already in a sect. I'll come hangout sometime if I'm ever in the area, though."

  "Ah, I nearly forgot,” said the big man, nodding to himself. “Yes, of course."

  With that, Drasin took a handful of weighted steps and then sat down to cultivate. Glancing back, he looked down at Nolan and said in a quiet voice, "Be careful once we reach the top. The seventh floor is different than the sixth. It might not seem like it, but once you get up there, your sense of sight will be sealed."

  "My sight, huh? Thanks for the warning."

  "It's only right that I say so."

  Nolan found a seat on the eighth step and quickly made use of the White Flame Scripture, though he was interrupted by Uncle Grey before he could make much progress.

  That Drasin fellow put something on your back just now.

  What did he put? Nolan stopped a reflexive desire to reach over his shoulder and pat his back down. I don't sense anything.

  It's a talisman that should paralyze whoever it's touching when it's activated.

  What the—that fucking snake. Smiling in my face and pulling some slimy shit like this?

  You need to be more aware. Nyla recognized this man's nature right away.

  He sent a glance up the stairs. She didn't seem any different than usual as she sat there in silence, a calm expression on her pretty face.

  Old ghost, where's the entry point on the arrayment diagram that created this talisman? Is it something I can deal with?

  Yep, but it'll be a bit tricky.

  Look at all the blood on my robes. Do I look like someone who's scared of tricky things?

  Good answer! Uncle Grey cleared his throat in a familiar, shameless way. So, if you want to stop him from activating that talisman, you simply have to kill him before he can do so.

  Having expected a description of how to disable the talisman, Nolan fought off a face-palm. I should have known it'd be something like this. You think I can kill this guy? He's at the peak of Integration! I might’ve reached the seventh level of Profound Entry, but he's still a level or two above what I can handle.

  It’ll be a lot harder to fight him if you're paralyzed, don't you think?

  As his heartbeat descended into chaos, Nolan summoned some calming energy from the Millennial Ring so that Drasin wouldn't notice. How could Uncle Grey be so calm right now? Even if he somehow managed to kill the man, he was a very important person within the Falling Rain Sect. The moment that they left the tower, he and all of his friends would be implicated in the harshest of ways.

  I know what you're thinking, but remember, nobody on the outside can sense what happens in this place. Since you three are all alone here, who could possibly know that it was you that killed him?

  But we're the only other people that went up after him… Eerie as it was, the pieces fell into place within Nolan's mind as his sentence died down, leaving him with a finished puzzle for murder. It was unlikely that Drasin would attack him until he reached the top, since that's where he claimed that the tower would seal his sight. He could raise his strength for a day or two with the White Flame Scripture, and then he could make his move.

  Don't forget, you're not alone.

  I know. Nyla definitely wouldn't sit by and watch. While it might be difficult for him to take on such a powerful person by himself, it was a different story if he had Nyla's help. Although Drasin could take her down without much trouble in a physical fight, the raw power of her spiritual energy wouldn't lose out to his. Nolan would have to make sure that the first strike counted, and he had the perfect plan.