Power.
That was the foremost thought on Hua Feiyan’s mind as she beheld the Spiritual Art that Sylar Spellsight was in the midst of releasing.
There was far too much for her mind to process at the moment – how had he neutralised her Divine Tempest Technique? What had been that wild discordant burst of yang energy mixed together with Fire, Earth, Water, and Wind? How was it possible for a Spiritual Art to be composed of such an unbridled combination of energies that sought to disrupt each other, without wreaking havoc on the spiritual core of the cultivator using the art?
Before she could even begin to consider that, Sylar Spellsight had performed yet another impossibility. She felt how the energy in their surroundings shifted, and there was a palpable deluge of power that rushed into her opponent that sent tingles down her spine. Somehow, Sylar Spellsight had not only completely dispelled the effect of her Spiritual Art, but had also managed to draw upon the power that constituted it.
And now, that same power was being brought to bear upon herself.
With such a confused mix of thoughts alongside the burst of power that left her temporarily reeling, in her muddled state she devolved to pure instinct as Spellsight unleashed the art that had ended his previous battle. Something was different about the Spiritual Formation, she noted dimly, but there was hardly any capacity left within her to contemplate what any of that meant.
If she did nothing, she would suffer serious injuries. Such was the power that was now being directed toward her from Spellsight’s outstretched palm.
Her natural reaction in the face of such a threat was to stir her qi into motion. She stoked the flames of her dantian, circulating her qi within her meridians, and attuned herself to the nature of the Wind as she harnessed the power of her Third Revelation and willed for the surrounding winds to shield her from harm.
The wind answered her call. She leaned backward, even as the explosive burst of power emerged with a deafening boom. She went with the flow, following the currents of air that were being swept away by the wave of pressure that Spellsight had released, and she felt herself transitioning into that strange state of being both physical and not. This was what she had witnessed in her Third Revelation – by surrendering herself to the will of the winds, she could become part of them, and any attempt to strike at her would be significantly blunted.
Together with the qinggong that she practiced, it made her a formidable cultivator to fight against; a whirling dervish that could strike from any angle as she flitted about the battlefield.
Now, the shockwave of power was leaving her dizzy as she tumbled and drifted in the turbulent winds. When finally the effects of his pressure wave abated, she could feel an odd ringing in her ears, and even her very qi itself was reeling in its aftermath. She still continued to circulate her qi in harmony with her Third Revelation – but it didn’t feel quite as natural, and with the flow of her qi now tumultuous in the aftermath of his Spiritual Art, she wouldn’t be able to manifest its full power.
She allowed her qi to settle, and she plummeted to the ground, thankfully still bearing enough wits about her to land gracefully. She and the wind that she had taken refuge within had been blown over a hundred metres away, and she was now well beyond the confines of the sparring grounds of the training terrace.
She cursed. Just like that? She lost just like that?
She had prided herself over her wits and her ability to outmanoeuvre her opponents, but all she had managed to do was release a single Spiritual Art before Sylar Spellsight had outfoxed her and beaten her at her own game. She had been forced by her own instincts to utilise her Revelations to avoid the brunt of his attack, and all that was left was to accept her defeat with dignity and grace.
She made her way back to the terrace. The disciples were disciplined enough not to comment as she darted back, but she noted the mixed looks of confusion and awe on their faces. Several of them had doubted Sylar Spellsight’s capabilities – but now there were none who thought themselves capable of challenging him. If they had been caught by that final Spiritual Art, there was no guarantee that even those who belonged to the outer circle of Seniors would have survived.
As she neared, she noted that some of that previous fire and determination in his eyes was now replaced with some degree of hesitance. That tone of confidence that had marked his choice comment as he used his last Spiritual Art was gone, and concern took its place.
Heh. Funny. In one moment, he could be as a Warrior that relished in the thrill of battle, and in the next he could be a meek Scholar who worried for the opponent he had beaten.
“Are you alright?” he asked, peering over at her. “Sorry – I was caught in the moment, and I wasn’t sure if –”
She snorted. “Just accept your win,” she said grumpily. “I lost fair and square. I went against the rules of the spar.”
She bowed to him, and then to her master. Grandmaster Mu Siying nodded at her, and began to move toward the side of the sparring square. Part of her was irritated and ashamed that she had lost as a member of the Righteous Heart Sect, but another part of her saw this as a chance to grow. She had been so assured of her advantage in mobility and that she could escape from any trap that her opponent sprung, and that had been her downfall in this battle.
She knew that she would review the events of this battle over and over again once all of this was concluded, until she could perfectly replay the movements of both herself and Sylar Spellsight and rethink how she should have approached the battle.
For now, however, Spellsight had another opponent to face.
“The victory goes to Sylar Spellsight,” Grandmaster Mu said. “Do you wish to take a moment to recuperate?”
Left unsaid was the fact that Spellsight had already faced two Elders of the sect in battle. Spiritual Arts, potent though they may be, could not be used indefinitely due to the burden it placed upon one’s spirit. Sylar had masterfully weaved in arts of varying power to great effect in his previous two duels, but had equally used some truly taxing arts that would have left her staggering if she had to use them herself. If she were in his place, she didn’t think herself capable of repeating an art of similar strength in the next duel.
“No, I’m ready to go right now,” Spellsight said, glancing over at Elder Yang. “No sense in dropping the momentum now, is there?”
Hua Feiyan was surprised. Did he think himself ready to enter the next bout?
Stalled though the Elder may be in bodily cultivation, the state of his spiritual cultivation was not something to scoff at. His progress was slower than might have been expected if he had remained in his prime, but the potency of his Spiritual Arts had still continued to grow despite turning away from his Fourth Tribulation.
Would this confidence be his downfall? Did he think he could overcome Yang Renzhi with his strange arts and bag of tricks as he had herself and Yishi?
Well, if nothing else, she would love to see the look on his face when he realised that Elder Yang was far more devious and crafty than he let on. In terms purely of the Spiritual Arts, Yang Renzhi was probably second only to the Grandmaster himself in the Jinxiang region.
The Elder exchanged a look with Grandmaster Mu, who nodded and waved for him to proceed. He stood from his seat beside her, and strode his way over to the practice square.
“I have known that this day would come ever since we met those weeks ago,” Elder Yang said mildly. “I look forward to having my expectations defied once again, Sylar Spellsight.”
“Show me an art or two I haven’t seen before, won’t you?” Sylar responded in kind, grinning at the Elder. “Let’s have a good match.”
Elder Yang made a sound of acknowledgement, and then moved to his designated location. Spars involving only the Spiritual Arts were uncommon, but the Senior members did engage in similar drills when they first underwent the Second Comprehension and could cast their very first Spiritual Arts.
They bowed toward each other. As he had in his previous match against her, Sylar Spellsight observed his opponent keenly.
A reactionary duelist. It was odd — particularly for one who was yang-dominant — but she had to admit that beneath that approach of watching and countering his opponent, there was an inherent unpredictability to his style that synergised well with the sheer diversity of arts that he knew.
In many ways, he and Elder Yang were alike in their approach to battle, but manifested that through completely different ways.
Just which of the two would triumph over the other here?
Even for her, it was hard to make a prediction. What she knew was this — this battle was sure to be unlike any she had observed before. She had observed the battles of many advanced cultivators — both in spars and matches to the death — but this would be her first time watching two cultivators proficient in the Spiritual Arts employing only those arts in a spar.
Just to her right, Zhou Yishi must have been thinking the same thing, because he was watching both combatants intently, so as to avoid missing even a single detail of what would transpire.
Hua Feiyan leaned forward in her seat, and committed this fight to memory.
-x-x-x-
“Begin.”
Again, neither of them cast a single spell though a dozen seconds had passed. They watched and waited for the other to strike, and Sylar was perfectly content with this turn of events. For all that Sylar was closest to him of the three Elders, he knew little about how Elder Yang actually fared in combat, save that he had a natural proclivity for Water and Fire.
Even what he knew of the Elder’s prowess had been from almost thirty years ago as well, back when he had turned away from his Tribulation. Though he had claimed to have taken a more supervisory role since then, Sylar was under no impression that it would mean completely neglecting the spiritual aspect of cultivation.
“Hmm,” Elder Yang spoke, and though the distance between them was relatively far, the resonant sound of his words were amplified by his qi. “It appears that our guest is too humble to make the first move. Allow me, then.”
Fire-Fire at the core, Sylar saw, and he took in the peripheral constituents at a glance. Elder Yang was fast in his casting — certainly more practiced than the other two cultivators. In the time that Sylar took to recognise what spell he intended to use, the Elder was already close to finishing up his matrix and unleashing his spell.
“Dragon Emerges from its Cave.”
It was an odd and bizarre name for the technique, and Sylar suspected it was far more poetic and succinct in the local tongue, but Sylar knew just what it was supposed to be among Reshamin mages.
Fire Snake. A potent offensive spell whose primary advantage lay in its range, the speed of its travel, and the concentration of the spell’s effects into a narrow line. Opening with a Fourth Level spell would speed things along quicker than the previous matches.
Avoidance was the best tactic here. This was an art that only a Diviner could efficiently perform, as their Diviner’s sight could allow a precise read into their opponent’s spell matrices without having to tease out the more subtle senses that depended on a mage’s passive perception through their soul.
Before the art was casted, Sylar preempted his movements. He dashed aside, pushing Space-Space into the first shell, and drew a trickle of Space-Form to shape his intended Flash Step. Though Elder Yang’s rate of casting was fast, it wasn’t yet at Sylar’s level, and he was confident that he could avoid the attack with his chosen spell rather than going for the higher level Blink that traversed a wider distance at near-instantaneous speed.
The moment that the sigil manifested at the tip of the Elder’s pointed finger, Sylar flared his prepared spell. Flash Step was only a Second Level spell of Conjuration that allowed for a short burst of rapid movement toward the intended location. Once he successfully won this exchange in magical efficiency, he would retaliate, and –
Mid-path, the Fire Snake that Elder Yang unleashed curved.
What?
Its trajectory shifted, and it was no longer on course to strike at Sylar’s original location. Now, its arc was corrected, and his eyes widened as the ferocious construct crafted of intense fire grew near enough that he could feel the heat of its flames.
He reacted on pure instinct. When faced with a threat this close, a mage’s first impulse was to feed the constituent Essence pairs of a Blink into a spell matrix. It was a Fourth Level spell, and most mages put serious effort into mastering the art of effectively performing the spell under pressure. More advanced mages and those with some experience in adventuring also took the time to practise adapting its casting on the fly, which allowed them to alter the direction and distance of their jaunt through the Endless Expanse.
The spell was avoided, the Fire Snake passing through where he had been just instants before. It streaked onward, dissipating as it coursed into the distance.
Save for a select few spells, one could not alter the trajectory of a spell once it had already been cast. A Pyromancer – the equivalent of Diviners for those mages whose abilities had been imbued by the aspect of the Fire Essence they used – might have some degree of control over a spell already in motion, but by Elder Yang’s admission he had never achieved a Revelation in his spiritual cultivation.
Had Elder Yang read and anticipated his exact movements; that he would dodge with a Flash Step?
Even so – he hadn’t expected the Elder to be able to perform such a specific adjustment to the spell’s nature. If they lacked the necessary underlying theory, it took much experimentation and a great deal of intuition with the exact positioning of the constituent Essence pairs to be able to cause the spell to bend like that.
Perhaps the cultivators weren’t quite as backward in their spellcasting after all.
Still – it was incomplete. The Elder’s version of the spell might be empowered due to his affinity for the element, but it was still inefficiently shaped and activated.
Sylar would show him what a proper casting of the spell under the rigorous framework of Essence Studies looked like.
He fed in Fire Essence to his matrix, drawing upon more of them from his immediate environment. He shaped the spell, his competitive streak stirring him to perform it more quickly than Elder Yang had. He mirrored the Elder’s movements, pointing the tip of his finger outward, though in truth he only needed a small flicker of somatic movement to manifest the spell. Just a few tweaks, and the spell was ready.
His version of the Fire Snake was built on speed. The Essence pairs of his spell matrix were primed to bolster the energies of Space-Fire and Spirit-Fire that governed the distance and speed of the spell, while compensating for the instability that would otherwise be incurred by loosening the manifestation of the peripheral Fire-Fire pairs which dictated the intensity of the spell.
“It’s called Fire Snake!” he shouted in return, mirroring what the Elder had done.
The spell shot forward, far faster than the Elder’s own. Sylar watched as his eyes widened in surprise – but his reflexes were much faster than any mage who wasn’t empowered by a Haste spell. He moved in a flowing motion, arms sweeping outward in a wide arc as he crouched and retreated, and gathered the energies of his next spell.
It was a fairly potent protective art. Aqueous Carapace would not have been his first choice as a means to guard against a Fire Snake, but the Fourth Level spell sufficed. Following the movements of his arm, a thick barrier of water that paradoxically both flowed smoothly and yet possessed a tough physicality to it appeared before him. The Fire Snake tried to puncture through it, but with the way that Sylar had reduced its offensive power, it could only penetrate the barrier slightly before the spell fizzled out with the hiss of evolved steam.
Some Essence was spat out as the two spells of contradictory nature met, but because they were not well-coupled as opposites in their formation and casting, the quantity that was released was not enough to stably form an Essence Field. Within an instant, the Essence vanished, returning to the Planes Beyond. Elder Yang still maintained his shield before him, and Sylar saw no need to immediately follow up.
There was a look of mutual respect as they stared at each other. The Elder may not have a diverse spell repertoire, and he may not know all the ways that a spell could be modified, but he had clearly devoted himself to practising with the minute variations he knew of. In some ways, he could almost be said to be a master of directing the Fire Snake. Sylar had met fellow Arcanists who were not at his level of competency with that spell.
But what of other spells?
Sylar’s eyes narrowed in challenge. Elder Yang had proven himself decent at Fire and Water. This was going to be more costly than the other spells in this duel, but…
He visualised the matrix of a Cone of Pressure, but didn’t yet prepare it. Would Elder Yang be able to overcome the technique that had successfully taken out his two fellow Elders?
Sylar ran forward. He weaved a Fogscreen to both cover his approach and force a reaction out of Elder Yang.
Gust was the first response, and that blew away the mundane variant of the concealing veil. There was no masking his advance now, but still it was enough to pressure Elder Yang into dropping his shield of water.
All this time, Sylar didn’t stand idle. He ran forward, keeping his intended spell chain in mind. An empowered Blink once he was in range to put himself into the Elder’s blind spot, and then…
Once more, he slammed the required matrix in place. This newest Cone of Pressure was perhaps not the most well-constructed, since casting speed had been his top priority without bothering too much about the specifics, but he should still be able to land a solid hit on Elder Yang.
That should have been how things proceeded. Instead, Elder Yang fully predicted his Blink, and though it took a moment for him to adjust to where Sylar had transported himself to, he was already preparing an appropriate barrier to block Sylar’s spell. Cone of Pressure was the first to be cast, but during the time it took for the shockwave to propagate toward the Elder…
Earth-Form. Earth-Earth.
Seven shells.
“Pangu Holds the Heavens!”
Elder Yang quickly readied a Diamondform that increased his physical toughness and durability, and also dramatically magnified his weight. He sank into the ground, as though an Immovable Object enchantment had been placed upon him, and the wave of pressure parted against him as though a breeze of wind brushing against the face of a mountain.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
It was a Sixth Level art, the same as what Sylar’s current maximum tier of spells was. Sylar was aware of the spell, but he hadn’t much taken to practising with it. It was not the best casting that he’d witnessed, but he was impressed by the fact that he was able to perform spells of such a level at all. It wasn’t the most efficient counter, but damn if it wasn’t impressive.
It was hard to gauge just where Elder Yang stood relative to himself. There wasn’t an obvious gap between their Soulburn capacity compared to the one between himself and Grandmaster Mu. When reduced to mere statistics, ignoring all else, which of them was the better mage?
“Please don’t feel the need to hold back, Sylar,” Elder Yang chuckled, turning to face him. Each thunderous step he took while the hybrid self-Transmutation was still active caused the ground to shake underfoot. “I do wish to see what other arts you possess.”
“Is that so?” Sylar smiled. “My apologies for underestimating you, then.”
A series of Flash Steps widened the distance between them once more. He considered his options – the Elder’s mobility would be greatly reduced while the Transmutation still held active, but equally even the most powerful offensive spell he had at the moment wouldn’t do enough lasting harm to make it worth the cost.
He could wait. For now, though no agreement had actually passed between them, they began to engage in a back and forth rally of low level spells to see what the other still had in store.
-x-x-x-
Grandmaster Mu Siying had to admit – Sylar Spellsight knew a wider variety of Spiritual Arts than even himself.
Yang Renzhi worked his way through the basic Spiritual Arts detailed in the Seven Fundamentals Scripture, and yet Sylar always had a way to completely negate Renzhi’s techniques. The Daybreak Emergence Technique that Renzhi used was immediately blocked by a barrier of earth and stone that shielded him from the intense heat and light released. Sylar Spellsight had even fully anticipated the Spiritual Art while Renzhi had still been preparing it, and had diverted his gaze before the art manifested.
From there, Sylar had somehow used an art that moulded the same stone barriers that he had just constructed, and then immediately followed that up with a second art that sent them launching toward Renzhi as though thrown by the force of one who was already long past the First Revelation of bodily cultivation. Renzhi had dodged easily – the projectiles moved too slow for a cultivator of his standing – but then Sylar had smoothly transitioned to his next art, creating a surge of lightning that bore a mix of yang and wind energies that coalesced around Renzhi.
The Stone Tortoise Defense was Renzhi’s answer. It was enough to prevent him from accruing any harm from Sylar’s art, and Renzhi then began the exchange once more.
It was almost poetic, watching them exchange art after art like this. They still aimed to win, that was sure – but now, it felt more like each was simply enjoying what the other could accomplish, while still keeping their opponent on the tips of their toes and poking and prodding to create any opening that they could use to their advantage.
Renzhi hadn’t yet utilised his most powerful technique that was documented in the most sacred scrolls of their sect – out of fear of causing harm to their guest, most likely – but privately Mu Siying wondered whether Sylar might somehow be able to muster up a defense against even that technique.
He took a moment to turn away from the battle and inspect his disciples. The unruly ones and the doubtful who had looked down upon their guest before the duels had started were now utterly silent, staring slack-jawed as he comfortably traded art after art with the sect’s most senior Elder. For those who had already crossed paths with Sylar Spellsight, he could see how their respect for him had grown beyond what it already was. If he agreed to the proposed arrangement, his disciples would likely take Sylar Spellsight’s words to heart.
Some of what the young cultivator was displaying were known techniques of the sect, only twisted in some creative way or another, and though they already knew of some ways in which Spiritual Formations could be adjusted to give specific effects, what Sylar was showing to them exceeded what they thought possible. If this was the knowledge of his homeland, and if there were others like him around, he could only imagine what the top cultivators there would be like. They may lack in bodily cultivation, but more than made up for it with their insights into the spiritual.
He returned to observing the battle. Renzhi had used the Pecking Blades Technique, and there were shouts of cheer as swords and blades from the audience observing from the sidelines flew toward him. In response, Sylar Spellsight circulated the elemental powers of Earth into his core, and mixed it together with some strange esoteric energy that Mu Siying thought might be reminiscent of one of the cultivation forms of the unorthodox Moonlight Crescent Sect in the neighbouring province of Jianqiao.
Three humanoid forms emerged from the ground next to him. At first, they behaved almost like mud with a sludge-like consistency, but in the next moment they solidified and looked akin to bulky clay figurines the size of a human. They lumbered forward, and threw themselves at the blades making their way towards Sylar, and then began to tussle and grapple at the weapons given life by the Pecking Blades Technique.
Cries of shock emerged from the more excitable onlookers. The strange Spiritual Art from before that mimicked a qinggong lightness technique had already caused much surprise among them, but this one was completely unfamiliar to the sect.
What was this? Mu Siying took a step closer, feeling for the energies at work. They resembled the training dolls and guardians created by the artisan Celestial Chisel Sect, except this involved a completely different type of energy. These creations that Sylar had made possessed a life to them that the training dolls lacked, and he hadn’t painstakingly crafted the dolls with his own hands prior to using his Spiritual Art.
But what was most profoundly striking was that this energy felt somewhat related to the foundation of that earlier art that appeared so much like qinggong. How could they feel so similar, and yet manifest in such completely different ways?
“Muddy!”
Heads turned toward the young mistress of the Lu family who had come with Magistrate Lu up the mountain. She flushed, stammering an apology at her excited outburst, but then continued cheering for her teacher and the strange creatures he had created.
His curiosity at the man before him grew. Before, he had been concerned about whether Sylar Spellsight could truly hold his own in a fight, but it seemed that as long as he remained alert and prepared, and didn’t put his spirit under too much strain from repeated usage of the Spiritual Arts, he just might be able to stand toe to toe against a practiced cultivator. What would he be like, if he progressed his training in bodily cultivation even further?
It was a pity that Sylar Spellsight seemed to have no desire to be chained under the hierarchy of a sect. Mu Siying would have loved to see what he might achieve if he were part of the Righteous Heart Sect. He was creating his own one, that was true, but from what he heard of his relationship with his young disciple, it was fair to conclude that he eschewed some of the more rigid aspects of societal norms. He doubted the Nimbrian Academy of Essence Studies would be like any sect in the region.
And therein lay another problem. Sylar Spellsight was gifted with knowledge and power dramatically different from the sects of the Immortal Lands. Should word of this begin to spread, he knew that some of the less well-intentioned sects, cults, and independent cultivators may come knocking on Jinxiang’s door, believing the potential rewards to be worth incurring the wrath of Mu Siying of the Righteous Heart.
He needed more proof that Sylar could defend not just himself, but also the secrets of the Righteous Heart Sect if they chose to impart some of their fundamentals to him and his students. At present, he had no qualms about Sylar’s character, although he did privately wonder whether the man had the resolve to kill another if the time came that the deed was necessary.
And so, though he was satisfied that Sylar had already displayed more than enough to convince him that the Righteous Heart would benefit greatly from tips and pointers that he might provide them, he continued to watch the match unfold. Yang Renzhi was now gathering his yin energy and mixing it with the element of water, and preparing a Spiritual Art that worked well with his natural affinity with the element.
Winter Punishes the Unjust was an art restricted only to Elders, and even then required one to have a powerful affinity for the element. Right now, only Renzhi and Mu Siying himself were able to perform it.
Sylar’s eyes widened in surprise, recognising the formation even though it was still in its nascency. It would be disrespectful to hold back in a battle like this, however, and so Yang Renzhi focused only on unleashing the Spiritual Art.
It was then that Sylar Spellsight smiled.
A hailstorm of frost and icicles rained down from overhead. A torrential rush of power flooded through Sylar Spellsight – but this was unlike any other art he had used before. There was no obvious outward manifestation; no formation that appeared in the air.
He simply raised his hand toward the approaching blizzard.
And suddenly, with just a snap of his fingers – it was snuffed out.
Again, there was a chaotic burst of power that came as both arts clashed. Mu Siying was no stranger to the phenomenon, though he still felt a rattling in his very spirit as the waves of energy coursed past him. Over his many years of cultivation, he had both observed and been part of many duels, and knew that the fury of the elements could be made manifest when neither art yielded to the other.
Yet this was the second time that Sylar Spellsight managed this. Somehow, he was able to masterfully control when this phenomenon occurred.
But that was not all.
What Sylar next performed should have been an impossibility.
He drew in the energy that had burst forth from the cataclysmic collision of arts. Water, Fire, yang…
…and yin.
Sylar Spellsight was a yang cultivator. He should not have been able to wield yin energies.
And yet – here he was – going against what he and his predecessors had assumed to be true across all the years of their sect’s existence.
Ten-thousand things, backed by yin and embraced by yang,
Are nourished with the qi to achieve truest unity.
Unbidden, the old teachings of the Daodejing came to the fore of his mind. He didn’t know why that was the case – qi did not directly pertain to the Spiritual Arts. Still, that was his very first thought.
The Grandmaster stepped forward, entering the square itself.
He would not want to miss what happened next.
-x-x-x-
Sylar had been waiting for this.
They had exchanged spell after spell, but none of what Elder Yang threw at him had been composed of Essences he wanted for himself. Elder Hua had been surprised when he had used a Negate Elements and turned her own power against her, and knowing that Elder Yang was one whose Core Essence was Order, he reasoned that sooner or later he would reveal some hybrid spell that drew upon Order Essence.
Shardstorm was the answer. It was a Sixth Level spell built upon the element of Ice that came with Water-Order – and even the strongest Negate Elements Sylar could muster right now wouldn’t be sufficient to counter it.
Luckily for Sylar, he knew the true counter of Shardstorm; the inverse and opposite of the spell’s matrix. This was an offensive spell commonly deployed by Arcanists in Resham, after all, and Sylar had long memorised the repertoire of common spell counters. He would have to expend another Sixth Level spell and take a significant hit to his available Soulburn capacity, but the results would be well worth it.
The moment the Essence Field formed, he had greedily drawn it into himself, and now a healthy amount of Order Essence was part of his Essence stock. When mixed together as Chaos-Order pairs, the effects of the resultant spell incorporating these pairs were often amplified to at least one tier higher than what it should have been capable of.
He didn’t often have the chance to shape something as potent as this, and his mastery of these spells that were hybrids of the Cores was lacking in comparison to the rest of his repertoire, but still he prepared the strongest one he could safely manage. It was a Fifth Level Spell, but in terms of its true potency, it was probably somewhere between a Sixth and Seventh.
Primordial Blast was an orb of condensed energy; a mix of the four Primals drawn together in mutual opposition and that discordance then further amplified by the duality of the Cores. Within that dissonant mess was born a creation of raw energy that was a perfect blend of its constituents. It was force given form, a living embodiment of the elements converging together.
Sylar hurled it toward Elder Yang.
He must have felt the immense waves of power coming from it, because he immediately went on guard. Once again, he forced a Diamondform – but that protection was inadequate. The blast slammed against him, and despite the increased durability and weight he now possessed, diamond dust was chipped and shaved away from him the moment the blast made contact. The Elder was sent barreling backward.
There was a deafening screech and thunderous burst of sound as force met against force. The flash of light that emerged as the Primordial Blast finally destabilised and imploded left even Sylar temporarily blinded.
When finally he could once again see, the Elder was hunched slightly, a hand pressed against his rib. A silvery sheen that marked the Diamondform was still present in his flesh, but where the blow had struck, the skin beneath was raw and reddened with traces of blood, and notably devoid of the transmutation of diamond that marked the rest of his body. That had to be a broken rib at the very least, right?
Stil, his respect for Elder Yang and the other cultivators grew. Already, the Elder had cast – what, three Sixth Level spells? Surely he had to be drawing close to his limit by now?
Sylar didn’t want the fight to end. He wanted to see more. Were there any spells that the Elder still knew of that Sylar didn’t yet know from his readings back in Resham?
Throughout this fight, there had been something nagging at him. The Elder was clearly capable of Sixth Level spells, and there had been just a trace of hesitation before he utilised the Shardstorm. It was a spell meant more for battlefield control or to take out large numbers of foes in a wide area, and the way he deployed it didn’t seem the most fit for the situation at the time.
He saw Mu Siying taking a step from the sidelines, and an impulsive desire to see more of what the Elder could pull off overcame him.
“Elder Yang!” Sylar hurriedly shouted, and the Grandmaster paused before he could intervene in the match. “I need to know. Just how much do you have left in you?”
He drew his hand back. His garments were bloodied, but it didn’t look too serious an injury. Zhou Yishi would likely be able to heal him easily.
“I… did not expect such a powerful art,” Elder Yang said, and there was a catch in his breath that marked his exertion. “This… is your victo –”
“Did you have a more powerful offensive art you were still holding back?”
The Elder seemed surprised by his interruption. He glanced over at the Grandmaster, who nodded at his student.
“Yes,” Elder Yang admitted. “I meant no disrespect, Sylar Spellsight. But this is the technique I am most proud of, and many consider it to be our sect’s greatest Spiritual Art. I don’t think it to be an exaggeration to say that there are few in Jinxiang able to withstand it.”
“Can you still use it?” Sylar urged.
The Elder closed his eyes, breathing heavily. Soulburn capacity could be difficult to gauge at times, especially when one was about to use a high level spell when a chunk of Soulburn had already been accumulated.
Finally, he nodded. “I can perform it once, I think.”
Planes. He could cast another Sixth Level spell? Just what absurd Soulburn capacity was this? Or was he able to vent what had been accumulated faster than Sylar could? He had thought Elder Yang crippled because of his stunted bodily cultivation, but this duel had proven that completely wrong. His casting was slightly flawed and his repertoire limited, but he was certainly not lacking in his ability to endure and hold Soulburn.
Sylar only had one Sixth Level spell left in him – and he knew the perfect way to end this day.
“Let’s have it. A clash,” he suggested, the anticipation growing within him. “Your most powerful offensive Spiritual Art, against my best defensive spell.”
He ignored the murmurs coming from the spectators all around. They must have known just what technique the Elder possessed, because Xingling surprisingly broke decorum, and stood from her seat. Beside her, the other friends he had made were likewise stunned. He saw them glancing toward the Grandmaster, unsure of whether to continue adhering to the social niceties expected of them.
He paid them no mind.
“Are you sure?” Elder Yang questioned. “I cannot guarantee your safety. Many of our sect’s enemies have met their ends to this technique; all of them cultivators more advanced than yourself.”
But Sylar was resolute. This wasn’t simply a matter of pride or curiosity. He had faced his fair share of dangers in his life of adventuring, and experience was often the best teacher. If he couldn’t withstand this mysterious technique of Elder Yang’s, then when the next cultivator came knocking to try and pry the secrets of Resham from Sylar’s hands, there was no guarantee that Sylar could make it out alive. Better to have his capabilities tested here and now than suffer in the future.
“You have faith in the teachings of your sect,” Sylar said. “And I have faith in mine.”
He turned his back on Elder Yang, and returned to the far end of the square. Elder Yang hadn’t yet moved from his spot and looked toward his Grandmaster for confirmation. Even Mu Siying deliberated for a moment, and Sylar met his piercing look evenly.
Finally, Mu Siying nodded, satisfied. “Show our guest Hou Yi Shoots the Sun, Renzhi.”
Elder Yang still looked conflicted, but acquiesced to the words of his master. He returned to his end of the square – and once more, just as it had been at the start of the battle, a long pause passed between them.
This time, however, they made no attempt to try and counter the other. Sylar had his Dispersion primed and at the ready, every single Essence pair in its perfect position according to the latest matrix he had theorised. On the other end of the square, Elder Yang was drawing and arranging Fire Essence together with a sizeable amount of Form.
One, two, three… Eight shells of Essence pairs marked the matrix, and Sylar stiffened.
A Seventh Level spell.
Though Sylar was close to achieving that feat, he still couldn’t yet support that amount of Soulburn. He could spread out three separate castings of Sixth Level spells while allowing time in between to vent Soulburn, but could not hold that many Pyrans of Soulburn in a single burst. After using three Sixth Level spells, Elder Yang still had it in him to cast one of the Seventh Level?
It was – frankly speaking – amazing. He knew now why the Elder was so respected within the sect, and why the enemies of their sect were as fearful to cause trouble in Jinxiang as they were.
He did not recognise the spell, and that alone was enough to send shivers down his spine. Was that excitement, or just some primal sense of fear at beholding so much power?
This was a spell that was meant to end a duel. It would be a single powerful burst stronger than even the Primordial Blast he had unleashed. The spell was still inefficiently performed, and just at a cursory glance Sylar could think of some ways that it could be improved by providing minor modifications to where the Essence pairs sat, but he had no doubt this was going to be far stronger than anything Sylar could throw out.
It was a complex art. Spells of the Seventh Level had a whopping 255 Essence pairs. Accordingly, it took a longer time to ensure that everything was perfectly in place in the array before Elder Yang was ready to cast it. Even the slightest inaccuracy could alter the spellform entirely.
Sylar waited patiently. He felt the moment drag on, and his qi was now perfectly in tune with his intentions. Under the influence of his qi, it was almost as though the world was passing in slow motion as he awaited the single instant when Elder Yang finally released his spell, and Sylar could in turn react with his own.
When the Elder finally manifested the spell, waves of power emanated from him. He held a dazzling bow in his hands, that looked to be constructed of sacred fire drawn from the Elemental Plane of Fire itself. He did not flinch as his fingers curled around the bow. The actual arrow was a single large concentrated piece of the very essence of Fire given form, and even looking at it was enough to dazzle the eyes.
Time stretched on, his senses pushed to their extreme limits. Every one of Sylar’s heartbeats; every drop of sweat coursing down his face; every twitch of Elder Yang’s muscles he could discern from where he stood – they all made themselves apparent to him. When the moment came, he would not miss it.
Elder Yang released the bowstring.
The dazzling arrow shot forth, far faster than even Sylar’s variant of the Fire Snake from earlier. But under the guidance of Fate-Fate, he managed to react in time. Dispersion slammed into place, and he felt the strangest sensation of existing in three Planes at once. He stood there, accepting the incoming arrow, as he felt the very substance that composed him shifting and flowing between the material world, the Endless Expanse, and the Hollow Reality.
It struck.
-x-x-x-
This was an impossibility.
Hou Yi Shoots the Sun was the most powerful technique held in the records of the sect. Few ever managed to learn it, and fewer still could pull it off with the same degree of expertise as her father. Crippled though his bodily cultivation may be, he still ranked in the region as just beneath the leaders of each of the three sects of the Penshan Alliance.
Xingling had been ready to enter the sparring square and make sure that Sylar Spellsight knew what he was getting into, and she knew that she was not the only one. Quanhao, who had thoroughly enjoyed the battle so far, laughing and cheering with each art that Sylar executed, had risen from his seat, and only a piercing look from Elder Hua had cowed him back in place.
Her father hadn’t lied – this technique was dangerous. After witnessing what he was capable of, no matter what her opinions toward him were, Xingling was eager to see what tips Spellsight had to offer them in order to improve their own techniques. If he died here because of his own stupidity, it would all be so horribly ironic.
She had thought that his confidence was born of arrogance, that perhaps after winning his previous bouts and matching her father evenly he now thought himself superior to them. She would certainly admit that he was far more versed in the Spiritual Arts than herself and Elders Hua and Zhou, but her father was not in the same league as them. Over the past twenty-five years, though his training had dwindled, he still kept up in practice of the Spiritual Arts. He may not know as many of them as Spellsight did, but the power he possessed could still rival Spellsight’s own.
But then came the reply from Sylar Spellsight.
It was confidence, yes; but it was not born of arrogance. All who heard his words knew that. There was a determined conviction there. It was not guided by ignorance, and instead tempered by experience of the entire cultivator community of his homeland. Spells, he had let slip the term they used to refer to the Spiritual Arts. That certainly gave much more meaning to the name of Spellsight, and Xingling now wondered if it was some kind of auspicious sign for parents to name their child in that manner in his homeland.
His confidence came because he knew that his defense would hold. He knew – and perhaps had even personally experienced or witnessed – Spiritual Arts of equal calibre to this that were used by the cultivators of his homeland. Even if Hou Yi Shoots the Sun may be unfamiliar to him, he could gauge just what kind of power the art might be able to invoke.
Now, all was silent. They stared at the two combatants, unblinking.
It happened so swiftly that she had almost missed it. The legendary arrow of mythology that had supposedly brought down nine of the ten suns to leave only one in the sky slammed into Sylar Spellsight.
But in the briefest of moments before that, a wave of unfamiliar energy came from Spellsight. His body flickered, and for an instant, she thought that the power coming from both combatants had addled her mind. He seemed to lengthen and contract, and his body looked almost to turn into smoke, but each time that she focused on that sensation, it was as though nothing was out of the ordinary.
A massive conflagration of purest white enveloped Spellsight. She was forced to turn her eyes away, as waves of heat and rushing air coursed past all those who were observing the final moments of the battle.
Time stretched on. Two seconds. Five. Ten. Only then did the white-hot flames begin to abate, and did the brilliant waves of dazzling light slowly begin to dim.
Sylar Spellsight was there. He hadn’t moved from his spot in the slightest. And now, she knew what she had observed earlier was no trick of the light.
His entire being seemed almost to flutter and quiver, and it was as though there were multiple shadows of him that existed in the same place. Part of him was ethereal and transparent, flickering in place, and streams of a dense, dark smoke trailed wispy vapours all over his body.
Slowly, the effect of his Spiritual Art began to fade. Sylar Spellsight slumped over, part of his clothing ripped and tattered, breathing heavily. He staggered, looking dazed and groggy. He must have hit his limit, but he had done what Xingling thought to be impossible.
There was not even a scratch on his body.