The withdrawal from the battle pill made Isaac incredibly queasy, as did the depletion of his tiny Qi reserves. He gladly drank a draught of sleep and passed out in the infirmary tent, waking up to find his ear and face bandaged and gradually recovering.
"Brother, you're awake. I can't thank you enough for saving my life." He heard someone whisper. Turning his heavy head, he saw the man he'd saved last evening, his wounded arm sealed in a cast and fragrant with medicine, while his other arm was wrapped around his little girl who slept snuggled against him.
"I'm trying not to wake her, she only fell asleep at dawn." The man explained. Isaac nodded and looked around.
The tent was packed with dozens of people, though none looked like they were in any danger of dying at this point. Isaac sighed, memories of the battle returning.
After splashing cold water on his inflamed face, Isaac stepped out of the tent and found the caravan in good order. He walked past the somber area where the families of the dead or wounded waited, and found the captives still alive when the battlefield was cleaned up arrayed in a long line in the middle of the defensive formation.
While many were stoic and seemingly resigned to their fate, others wailed and wept. Every once in a while, the family members of a wounded or dead caravaneer would arrive, and pick someone to vent their rage on. Even when this went too far and the captive was beaten to death, nobody lifted a finger to help them.
After some deliberation, it was decided that the surviving captives would be formally enslaved and taken along with the caravan. This was legally dubious, given that they were nominally Imperial citizens, but out here, so far from even a regional capital, there was nobody inclined to argue too hard. Isaac was offered two men as servants, but he declined the offer and instead suggested that they be sold and the money given to him, which was unobjectionable enough.
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A week later, they were finally approaching the peripheral villages and towns that surrounded Celestial Tower city, and the elephant had finally run into something in its figurative weight class. Isaac felt the bassy boom of distant explosions and indignant trumpeting from miles away; far overhead, he could barely see tiny fast moving spots, either Cultivators using flying swords or the rare ones able to fly themselves.
A massive cloud formed above the beast and hundreds of bolts of lightning struck in quick succession. The creature raised its trunk and smashed the cloud apart, sending Cultivators flying away, living or dead he couldn't tell.
Above the city, a floating aviary opened its doors, and a flock of tamed Spirit Beasts flew out, some bearing riders. Half of them swooped down and began attacking the elephant from above, picking at its eyes or clawing at its ears. Others fired a variety of missiles, burning or blasting the creature. It harrumphed, and thrust its trunk into a lake adjacent to the city, and drained it to the lake bed with a single puff. It then turned, and sprayed a concentrated jet that blasted its annoying attackers out of the sky, while drenching the city and washing defenders off the walls.
At this point, the massive tower at the center of the city glowed with violet light, before it discharged in a flash that left Isaac's eyes watering. He blinked away the tears and saw that a massive dragon was coiled around the structure, before it opened its jaws and unleashed a torrent of flame that scorched the clouds.
"I was summoned for this piddling little matter? City Lord, I'll see you in my office." The creature spoke, voice thundering and drowning out the cheers of the city's defenders.
The elephant froze, looked at the dragon, and immediately turned around and ran off with a speed it had previously given no signs of possessing.
"Come back here you little shit!" The dragon roared in annoyance and flew off at dazzling speed, till it reached the fleeing beast. It swooped down, and with all four of its claws, grabbed onto the creature deep enough to splash blood all over the surrounding suburbs.
With a grunt, the dragon lifted off again, the elephant struggling in its grasp like a mouse caught by an eagle.
Ignoring the thing's wailing, the dragon flew ever faster and vanished into the distance.
Isaac looked around to see that the rest of the caravan, including the slaves, were all on their knees. Now that the dragon finally disappeared into the distance, they quickly got back up and began cheering themselves, while celebratory fireworks were launched from the city.
"To think I'd be so blessed as to see a grandson of the God Emperor and Dragon Empress with my own eyes. Er, eye." A guard wearing an eyepatch wept with joy.
When they realized that Isaac was a poorly informed Otherworldly Demon, the Caravan Master and his assistants quickly clued him in. This dragon was in fact Lord Long Wei, the Distant Dragon, 324th grandchild of the ruling Emperor and Empress. A being of the upper realms, his appearance was rather unlikely in these parts. Isaac took it to be akin to the Secret Service showing up a domestic violence dispute in Alaska, or Beijing.
"Wait. Did you just tell me that the Imperial capital is called Beijing?" Isaac asked incredulously.
"Always has been. Why is that surprising to you?" The caravan master asked.
"Well, it's the name of the capital of China for one. What's it doing here?"
"China, like the Chin clan?"
"Uh, like, I keep seeing a lot of stuff from Earth around here, and Chin clan, uh, I dunno, maybe? But it makes no sense that this place would have a ripoff of one of the biggest cities ever!" He claimed, choosing this hill of the millions he'd tumbled down to die on.
"Right.. Well, how old is your "Beijing" huh?"
"Let me think, something like 3000 years or so." Isaac said after counting on both his fingers and toes.
"Yeah, well the real Beijing has been around for 2 entire epochs, so I bet that your Beijing is the cheap knockoff." The Caravan Master retorted while Isaac immediately launched into a pointless argument that lasted till they were all the way to the damaged city walls.
Isaac left his baggage with the caravan since it would remain at the city for a while, and signed the paperwork for the sale and processing of his slaves. He then wandered off into the city, already dying to decompress after almost a month on the road.
Celestial Tower city was massive, laid out such that the towers on the walls acted like the markings of a sundial when the shade cast by the teleportation tower at the center fell upon them. The 1 o'clock tower was a bustling slave market, where the spoils of war from conquests made by the Empire were quickly brought over through the teleportation formation closest to them and then gradually disbursed. Isaac looked on dispassionately as the two slaves in his name were processed, and accepted the down-payment before they were sold so he had a little more discretionary income.
2 o'clock was another market district, yet incredibly bustling compared to the town he'd been in before. The cries of massive beasts resounded from their cages, upper realm Cultivators zoomed about on flying swords of all descriptions, including what Isaac could have sworn was a Segway, and there were Young Masters for days. Isaac had modestly wised up, so he didn't take any of the myriad opportunities to antagonize them that were on offer.
The funniest thing he saw was a dishevelled looking beggar sitting in a plaza with a bowl that was practically overflowing with coins and spirit stones, with almost every passerby throwing in a tidy sum when they passed, which was accepted by the old beggar with a tiny nod. Given that there was a clear "No panhandling allowed" sign yet the guards were studiously ignoring him while even rather arrogant Young Masters hastened to donate alms, Isaac took the opportunity to ask about him at a particularly chatty street vendor's stall.
"Oh, that's 'Hidden' Elder Earnest Migrant Worker Crocodile, he's always been fond of disguising himself as a beggar and then rewarding those who take pity upon him." The lady said, turning a spitroast while Isaac handed her a few coins for a slice.
"Huh. Doesn't everyone clearly know?" Isaac asked.
" 'Course, he's a bit of a LARPer, that old man is, and with age his disguise has gotten a bit less convincing. Don't tell him though, it would break his heart, or worse, give him a heart demon." She whispered back.
Isaac hurriedly walked over and threw in a spirit stone, which the beggar took with thanks and then proceeded to suck on like a gumball.
He'd hardly walked a block away when he felt a lump in his pocket, which he took out and discovered was a tightly rolled up scroll in neat calligraphy covering several paths that Isaac had been interested in.
Despite the city having a Qi density more than suitable for the Spirit Realm, Isaac was surprised to see that many Cultivators were wearing Qi respirators. It turned out that the appearance of Lord Long Wei, a being of such a vastly superior realm, was already sufficient to exhaust much of the ambient Qi, not to the extent that those in the same major realm as Isaac might notice, but certainly enough to inconvenience those of intermediate levels. He watched with interest as giant fans with shimmering blades were lifted into the sky by tamed beasts, with balloons affixed and chains tethering them to the ground. They would serve to forcefully blow Qi from the surrounding regions into the area, and hopefully quell the acute shortage that was being experienced.
Isaac scurried through more packed streets, rubbing elbows with humans, variants, and an unusual number of Xenos to boot. It turned out that it wasn't universally true that aliens couldn't cultivate, there were some species that had their own paths, or those that had been uplifted by Celestial cultivators in the past. (Cultivation OS had gone through several events where we'd tied up with other, more unusual (!) Cultivation settings, so many of the aliens with innate Cultivation abilities were cross-promotions that had gone native)
But what had caught Isaac's eye from all across the city was a floating magical billboard advertising the Dueling Hall. After asking around, he came to learn that this was the Mecca for would-be sect aspirants, since a solid performance was guaranteed to at least catch the eye of the odd recruiter.
After navigating the labyrinthine streets and the occasional broad avenue, Isaac arrived at the Hall and paid the two spirit stones needed to sign up, a rather modest price, but it came with bed and board and the hurried ministrations of a Medical Hall Elder (Intern).
As a new joiner, he had to submit all of the equipment he intended to use for appraisal, and Obbie caused a small amount of fuss as nobody had seen a weapon quite like it. People were rather impressed when Isaac glibly told them that the reason that it didn't even scratch the training dummies was because it only responded to him, and demurred on a personal demonstration citing that he wasn't planning to use such a dangerous weapon in non-lethal duels.
His guandao passed without comment, but as a free service the enchantments that had worn thin through use were freshened up for him.
But by far the most appreciated feature were the exceptionally soft pillows in the meditation rooms, which were a sight for sore buttocks after he'd spent a month riding with the caravan. He sighed with relief, paid a pittance for someone to fetch him his stuff from the caravan, and then slept like the dead for the rest of the day.
Next morning, he went and looked at the rosters for upcoming bouts, and gave himself a week of training and preparation before his first. He wandered over to the halls prepared for the larger Paths.
The Body Cultivators had, what else, but a gym. The amount of oil on the floor was a slipping hazard, and there was enough homoerotic grunting to shame a SF bath-house. Isaac felt like a nerd next to some absolute units who could have crushed Schwarzenegger with their thighs, not that he wasn't still a nerd at heart in the first place. He got a few pumps in, and after discreetly asking some of the attendants, a handful of pills, and an injection that came with a complimentary appointment with a doctor for hair fall. Isaac was attached to his hair, so settled for the pills, and was astounded by how well they worked. He noticed that quite a few people were lifting while snoring, and were in fact actually asleep.
The Hatred Hall was adorned in crimson, and filled with bitter looking individuals who glared at Isaac. They had a bunch of dummies that for a fee could take on the appearance of your most hated rival, and Isaac amused himself with punching the face of Li Tian without resorting to desecrating a grave. Isaac deftly mollified a few of the more aggressive individuals who tried to vibe check him by handing them a few pills, and soon enough became a wallflower content to observe the more experienced scream and beat the shit out of each other.
It turned out that the Hall of Lust was over at 9 o'clock, right next to the red light district, and given that Isaac was less than keen on speccing into it, he only visited on the off chance that there were female cultivators down to fuck. Unfortunately, it was a sausage party, so he left post haste.
There were several dozen halls, covering everything from Sword Path to a thickened building with radiation warnings where the Radiation Path weirdos blasted each other. Hordes of tumor-ridden beggars waited outside, willing to be test subjects as long as they got a free dose of radiotherapy in the process. Isaac was mildly interested, but decided that it wasn't worth the risk when he didn't even know where the cancer was.
Isaac collected another two dozen spirit stones from the sale of his slaves, and then threw himself into a mixed regime of working out, getting in touch with his inner Hater, and practising with the guandao. Some nasty bruises and broken fingers later, he was notably more competent than when he started. His previous experience with BJJ came in handy, as he grappled with opponents significantly more swole, albeit he learned with regret that hitting below the belt was not only allowed but encouraged in these parts.
Before he knew it, the week was over, and he found himself standing in queue for his first battle at the main combat arena. It was an open air environment, set up quite similar to the Colosseum in Rome, with plenty of room for paying mortal spectators out to gamble or shoot the shit. They certainly helped pay for the upkeep of the place, because a mere 2 spirit stones would hardly cover all the intensive training and therapy needed.
Isaac joined a cohort of other warriors as they stood blinking in the sun after coming out of the shade. Walls of translucent forcefields surrounded the arena, keeping stray projectiles from killing off half the audience. It was grossly overengineered for the Spirit Realm, but only because higher level cultivators occasionally used the arena for their own fights. Up above, a shaded floating pagoda was packed with dignitaries, be they Sect recruiters or Imperial officers looking for potential army candidates.
Isaac held his guandao with white knuckles, already amped up with combat drugs. Time seemed to crawl achingly slow, before suddenly ramping up when he wasn't paying attention. His ears rang, and he was seriously worried that he had managed to OD before his first battle when the terms where declared.
The announcer called out that the New Bloods would be engaging in a group battle against a mixture of condemned mortals and low level Spirit Beasts, instead of the 1v1 duels that were the norm. This was at the behest of Imperial recruiters, who were otherwise a rare presence here.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Isaac was both relieved and annoyed, the relief came from the reassurance of having others behind his back and by his side, while he felt annoyed that he'd have to split the limelight. They lined up in the arena, and as colorful Qi lamps spun down to start, he gulped and braced himself.
With a roar from the announcer and the commencement of what could only be described as a nu-metal soundtrack, the gate to the holding pens flung open, and a horde of miserable mortals stumbled out, their way back blocked off by a wall of spikes that prodded the recalcitrant. Isaac was surprised to see that many of them had been among the villagers that were enslaved by the caravan and then sold off, it looked like the primary demand was for cannon fodder in the arenas.
A referee gauged the level of preparation of both sides, and then waved his hand, causing a shower of rusty blades to rain from the sky, as the prisoners scrambled to grab one or the unlucky got skewered.
Then, with no further ado, the barrier between them vanished with a pop, and Isaac found himself charging into battle.
He stopped charging the next second, because his tentative target, a feeble old man shivering in torn pajamas immediately dropped his weapon and fell to his knees, kowtowing to Isaac. He stared at the prisoner, unwilling to slay an unarmed opponent even in his combat haze, but was shoved aside by a burly man who snorted contemptuously and hacked the man's head off with a swift blow.
Isaac stood there for a moment, drenched in spurting arterial blood, feeling as if all the jeers and insults being yelled out by the crowd were meant for him. He felt sick, whether it was the drugs or the slaughter of an unarmed man, he couldn't tell. But before he had time to process his feelings, three prisoners noticed his daze and picked him as an easy target, and attempted to surround him. He quickly recovered, bringing up his guandao to block the first blow, and feeling the sheer disparity in strength between him and the starved opponent, took the chance to force it back and then slice down the length of his forearm. The sharp blade cut through tendons, but Isaac was forced to duck as a screaming teenager bashed at him with a mace.
Isaac didn't have enough room to maneuver, so he simply punched the man in the jaw and was rewarded with a spray of spittle and broken teeth. But then a knife came down and stabbed into his flank, and he screamed, more out of rage than any pain due to the drugs, and headbutted the assailant.
Before he brought his halberd back up, an athletic female Cultivator swooped in and stabbed the British butter knife enthusiast with a spear, and Isaac was free to hack into the two remaining with abandon. He manages to maneuver to the middle of the melee, behind some other neophytes and checked his wound. It had missed anything vital, as far as he could tell, so he rushed right back into the fray.
It was a brutal affair, their enemies had only ferocity to fuel them, while Isaac joined the other implacable Cultivators in mowing them down. He joined the blonde woman, using the superior reach of their polearm and spear to jab and systematically dispatch opponents while covering each other's flanks.
In what simultaneously seemed like an eternity and yet no time at all, the bout was over, and Isaac stood triumphant, only now noticing the many cuts and wounds that covered his body. He wiped off what he thought was sweat but turned out to be blood from a scalp wound, which bled profusely but wasn't much to worry about.
He looked up to see a floating scoreboard:
Isaac Kai, Round 1, Kills 6, Kill Assists 5, Rank 4/15. You have been granted an accolade.
He'd done well, barring his initial hesitance, he'd murdered half a dozen people, and eventually noticed that several members of the audience were cheering for him.
"Go Otherworldly Demon! Little Demon Isaac!" a small child cried out while her mother smiled indulgently. Isaac, trying to be graceful, bowed in her direction. The child cried out with joy and threw a flower his way, which he caught adroitly and put in a pocket.
But the fight was far from over. Only one shameful fighter withdrew, having taken a nasty blow to the head, but the others geared up as more gates opened and a bunch of beasts came out, blinking and snorting in the sunlight.
This was a more serious foe, as Isaac could tell from the responses of the others. The beasts came in all kinds, from several bulls twice the size they ought to be that snorted puffs of flame, to a flamingo that piroutted and tried to fly off, but failed due to its clipped wings. A higher level cultivator flew over on a sword when he saw that the creatures were being skittish, and lashed at them with a whip that crackled with lightning. Incensed, the beasts stampeded forward, except for the flamingo that opened its beak and squawked apologetically- "I'm sorry but there's been a mixup, I believe I'm supposed to be on the side of the Cultivators! I'm an enlightened Spirit Beast after all."
The hovering overseer tapped a sign that said "Spirit Beasts to receive manumission only after a confirmed kill".
The flamingo sighed, and then, faster than Isaac's eyes could follow, pecked and tore out the throat of a neighboring Flaming Demon Bull and left it reeling in the dust.
"Didn't say it was supposed to be a human, did it?"
The referee flew over, and after consulting the rules, escorted the flamingo back inside.
Isaac didn't have long to gawk, as he found himself making a hasty spear wall with the other four or five fighters who had any serious reach. This proved less than ideal when the bull racing ahead of the rest slammed into their lines, and even though Isaac managed to impale it, the impact knocked his halberd out of his hands. A less lucky woman was bent in half by the charging creature, and bent backwards to boot, before being crushed beneath its hooves.
Seeing as its wielder was indisposed, Isaac grabbed her sword, and managed to get a clean swing in, but only chopped off a tail. The bull was stopped when a man almost half its size rushed forward and grabbed it by the horns, twisting its neck, which gave Isaac and the others a chance to go for the throat.
Given that the majority of the the neophytes were Spirit Novices, they lacked any meaningful projectile attacks, albeit a few of them could conjure the kind that dazzled and confused rather than doing real harm. Isaac managed to recover his guandao, and was handed spare strength pills by a few of the support oriented fighters, an act that drew approving nods from the Imperial delegation. With him and the spearwoman working together, they decided to focus on the legs, and after a Mudman managed to fire off a Heaven and Earth Lightning Flashbang that blinded the dumber beasts, they made quick work of the rest.
The match ended in victory, albeit at the cost of the lives of two of the fighters, who were carried away discreetly. Isaac stood panting with the others as the announcer droned on about their battle merits, and managed to walk back to the dining halls with his new comrades while still largely in a daze.
It was a night of revelry and intoxication, and the copious amounts of flowing liquor took the edge off the comedown for Isaac. The victorious fighters got to dine on the finest steaks cut from the bulls they killed, and while as expected, meat from a flaming cow was a bit on the well done side, Isaac wolfed it down with gratitude. It didn't hurt that he caught the blonde Cultivator chick looking at him, whose name he learned was Bai Ling.
The next morning he was all aches and pains, and trudged over to the Medicine Hall for acupuncture and herbal remedies, and left significantly happier. He spent the day the training with some of the other cultivators, they'd been informed that for the next round, they'd be split up into groups and face off with the winners of the next neophyte bout. Isaac had made an impression with his guandao, and ended up alongside Bai Ling in a team of five, with a Body Cultivator, a Sword Path warrior, and a support specialist focused on healing. It was a good team, and Isaac managed to get along quite well with them, regaling the lot with tales about his life back on Earth.
The Body Cultivator, Iron Bull, had been the one who'd wrestled with the Spirit Beast and won. He was affable enough, and had in fact been an Outer Disciple of a distant sect before the Young Master of the sect had offended some higher level Cultivator and had his nine generations wiped out for the offense. With no sect left to speak of, he'd combed through the ashes for what was left, and then set out to remake his life.
Jian Jian was the Swordmaster, a self-taught prodigy from another peripheral village, reputed to be the bastard child of the famous Sword Maniac. Isaac caught him installing pins and needles into his bed in a good approximation of a trick pulled by Indian yogis, and he insisted on eating all his meals with a fork, including soup.
Yang Sheng was the healer, he'd been the apprentice to a wandering doctor till the man had mixed up two similar ingredients in a potion he was brewing while utterly sleep deprived and had accidentally poisoned himself. A quiet, affable guy, he only sighed deeply every time Jian Jian came to him with another set of cuts, and gently put balms and healing ointments on them without further complaint.
As for Bai Ling herself, she was unwilling to talk too much about her past. Her blonde hair and slightly Nordic features marked her as someone not from around these parts, and the other four merrily speculated all they could about her. She was heavily into training, and spent most of her day practising with her spear, and even JJ had to admit he couldn't hold a candle to her with her technique.
Other than Yang Sheng, Isaac was the newest Cultivator there, and he was rather relieved that he'd be able to work with a team motivated to help him train up instead of working solo.
After several pints of beer, he'd even shared the notes left for him by AA Pangolin, which were suitably praised by JJ and the others.
With better facilities at hand, Isaac began practising what he could from the notes, albeit Pangolin had last been a novice almost a millennia ago, and much of what he took as elementary was difficult to grok for Isaac.
After some debate, Isaac was convinced to spend the spirit stones needed to infuse his guandao with a blade aura, a peculiar burst of energy that could reach out several meters from the actual blade of the weapon and greatly increased its range in combat. Isaac struggled to master it, the technique requiring solid Qi reserves, but he eventually became serviceable at engaging opponents who weren't kind enough to walk into reach.
This, along with the manual from the ill concealed beggar LARPer, were also great aids to body Cultivation, and Isaac rapidly put on muscle, to the point that Iron Bull took 3 seconds to crush him at arm wrestling rather than a mere instant.
As the other short range melee specialist, he and Bai Ling spent many hours practising together, and the team eventually developed a good formation, with the polearms at the flanks, Jiang Jiang holding the center with bristling blades, while Iron Bull stood ready at the center, guarding Yang Sheng as he readied his healing methods.
Per the rules of the Dueling Hall, the team had to participate in one hour every month to retain membership, but they opted for a more intense regimen, as did most people. Every week, Isaac joined them in the arena, where a weird array of monsters and ne'er do wells were dragged kicking and screaming to be dispatched. The highlight of his first month was when the prisoners included several captured Demonic Cultivators, including several from higher realms who had had their Cultivation crippled to be a fair fight for beginners.
The next major bout saw Isaac and his team, now marketed in the arena as the Jue Ming, or Fatal Five, squaring up against five captured enemy Cultivators, who were grimly ready to fight to the death for a chance of freedom. Isaac was notably taller and more muscular, and by now there had a niche but passionate following. He bowed at the child, who was back in attendance, and once again took a small flower and put it in his pocket as a talisman.
Their opponents included two sword path enemies, a Water Cultivator who smelled like wet dog, and a man in grey robes who looked distinctly bored with the whole affair, busy examining his fingernails as the referee went on about the rules of the bout.
As the bell rang and the walls dissipated, Isaac and the others took up a defensive stance. After all, they only had to wait out the timer to win, while the enemy were fighting to kill or be killed when the bout ended. They immediately advanced, weapons held at the ready, while the Water Path man conjured balls of steaming water in his palms. The grey man walked along leisurely behind them, seemingly more interested in looking at the audience than his opponents.
With a cry, a Sword Path warrior swung at them with his sabre, large enough to cut down a charging horse. Isaac immediately manifested his blade aura and deflected the blow, while Bai Ling jabbed and managed to get a good hit on his unarmored flank. However, a blast of steam hit her in the face, scalding her, while the second sword cultivator attempted to get a blow in while she was discombobulated. However, Jiang Jiang was in position and swiftly engaged in a flurry of blows that left both enemies too busy to exploit the opening. Isaac nearly lost his footing as a splash of water turned the soil they were on into mud, while giving the enemies firm ground to fight from. Iron Bull rushed forward, taking a hit from the sabre but still managing to close the gap before swinging at the water path man, who desperately dodged out of the way and let the man in the grey stand in his path.
The man had still been appraising the dias with the dignitaries, but he calmly turned around and raised a hand. Iron Bull's headlong charge ended with him hitting an invisible wall and tumbling to the side. Isaac dashed forward and swung his guandao at the man while the others pushed out of the mud and engaged the two blade path enemies, but his attempt at slicing the opponent in twain with his blade aura left it sizzling in the air, once again stuck against an invisible barrier. He tried to stab with the blade, but found it blocked once again, and he was forced to duck under a swing from the sabre.
To his relief, the man in grey seemed uninterested in actually fighting, and remained standing with his arms behind his back, watching Isaac with keen interest. Seeing no way to hurt him, Isaac turned his attention to the enemy being steadily pushed back by Jiang Jiang, and raked his blade across his calf, crippling him. As the foe staggered, Bai Ling stabbed her spear through his neck, and left him a gurgling corpse.
The remaining sword master, desperate to score a kill since it might still grant him his freedom, dodged around the defenders who were struggling to move in the mud, and tried to get to their healer. Iron Bull blocked him, and took a rapier blow to the chest, but only let the blade impale him while he grabbed his enemy's hand on the hilt and pulled him in for a blow that shattered his jaw. Isaac used the remainder of his Qi to cut the man's head off, and then pushed for the Water Path warrior, who was covered in wounds from Jiang Jiang's attention. Before he could intervene, JJ cut off his hand, and then swung the blade in an arc that culminated in it biting into his face, before contemptuously kicking him aside.
The man screamed in agony. "Lord Jun, save me!", he begged of the aloof man calmly waiting in the midst of the battle.
"Shen Jiang, I will honor your memory.", was all he replied, and he let Isaac and Bai Ling slaughter the man without interfering.
The Fatal Five surrounded him, the other opponents dead or dying, but he hardly seemed to care, only looking up towards the dignitaries, who had dispelled the shade keeping them in anonymity.
A broad-chested and muscular man with a sword by his side stood up, his sash and military cape blowing in the wind.
"Lord Jun, so they failed to neuter you like the dog you are." He spoke, his voice amplified throughout the arena.
"Hah. You'd wish so, wouldn't you? There are perks to dual cultivating and developing secondary meridians." The man in gray spoke nonchalantly, uncaring of Isaac and JJ sneaking up behind him while he was talking. With a quick head nod, Isaac dashed forward and tried to cut the man, now revealed to be Lord Jun, in two with his blade.
But even as he faced away, with his hands clasped behind his back, he still clicked his fingers, and Isaac froze mid step, an invisible force freezing him like a fly in amber. His muscles spasmed, and even the sweat that fell of his brow froze, unable to fall to the ground. Jiang Jiang yelled and tried to make his move, but he was also halted, his sword vibrating in place as its cutting aura ground against whatever was holding them in place.
Isaac turned on his Qi vision, and saw nothing, whatever force was acting upon them was so far above him in terms of power that it manifested as a sheer absence of Qi.
"Major Xi, Your trainees fought well, if all the Imperial army was of this caliber, you wouldn't have needed to stoop to dirt tricks to bring me down." Lord Jun observed, skewering the Imperial officer and other dignitaries with his sharp gaze, and even shackled as he was, half of them were startled.
Seeing Isaac and JJ indisposed, the others leapt into action, but with another wave of his hands, were swept away or frozen still. Iron Bull was sent flying, and smacked into the high walls with a painful bang.
"Don't bother with any tricks. At half your strength, I'll put you down for good myself." The officer said, drawing his blade, the aura bedazzling in Isaac's sight.
"Save the bother. You there, you're an Otherworldly Demon aren't you?" He turned to ask Isaac.
Isaac found that he could move his head, if not open his jaws to speak. He nodded in response.
"Good. I swore on the fresh graves of my mother and sons that when I return, I'd slay the nine generations of whoever tried to kill me. You for one, lack any, so I no longer need to feel any qualms about slaughtering the poor fools wrangled into trying to kill me. Do it. Free me."
Isaac found that the force was dissipated, and that he could move freely. Even then, he hesitated, looking up at the dais, where the officer, Major Xi, stood with a thunderous expression, but seemed unwilling to actually come down and face the untroubled enemy. In the distance, Isaac could see the lights of alarms blaring, and dozens of armed men rushing over with weapons ready.
"Try not to make a mess." Lord Jun told him, and he felt another implacable force take over, forcing him to heft the guandao and hold it to Lord Jun's bared throat.
Blood drenches the earth,
my family is no more,
I vowed to make them pay,
today I reach for that shore.
Heaven's wheel will spin,
my spirit will not rest,
My killer has no kin to slay,
Leaving one less quest.
One cut one thrust,
this life is done and dusted,
Welcome this death,
It lets me return and bring justice.
Isaac's blade traced a thin red moon beneath his chin, and without other options, Isaac pulled hard, sending a spurt of arterial blood splashing onto the damp soil.
Lord Yun toppled to his knees, staring at a perspiring Major Xin, who now roared and descended in a flash of lightning, and swung his sword, the blade cleaving head from shoulder and the aftershock of the aura jumping across Isaac's halberd and half electrocuting him.
The body hit the floor, and the head rolled on the sands to lie face up, still staring accusingly.
In Isaac's Qi vision, he half saw a blinding flash, more like a fleeting glimpse of something escaping into the sky, and then quiet, before all present began gasping in the sudden deficiency of ambient Qi.
Lord Jun's head finally closed its eyes.