He focused on the fluctuations in core. His mother had jumpstarted the process, but waves of qi swept outwards, breaking down his foundation, and then sucked it all into his core. Every expansion the energy grew more and more dense. Every contraction more energy was pulled in.

But something was wrong. The energy wasn't restricted to his body and what he pulled in. Energy was going along routes he didn't understand beyond his body, and when it returned to him it hit like a hammer.

The goal for core formation was to achieve a perfect core: a core of even density compressed to the entirety of the dantan. The foundation existed all across the qi channels in the body, and core formation achieved a categorial upgrade in power by compressing all the power that the practitioner had collected into a much smaller space. The resulting power was of much greater density and quality, and the rest of the qi channels went from storing and transmitting power to pure conduits.

The importance of the initial process of core formation was hard to overstate. It could not be redone without losing your cultivation, and improving an uneven or spilt core was challenging without months of supervised training by a nascent soul expert. No wonder most core formation experts across all times and places were stuck at the beginning of core.

The problem as it stood was that there was too much energy. He couldn't fit it into his dantan, and as it rolled and ravaged through his body he couldn't even make it even.

There were people near him. Three. His sight was slightly blurry, and sharp flashes of energy danced across them. His hands and knees were on the ground. Someone put their arm underneath his shoulder and a hand on his back. Ah, Ang. Processing the news that his mother had not lied about Ang's death would have to wait, as would appreciation of the man next to him.

"Thanks." He managed.

He needed to increase the density. He needed to shunt power. Easy to perform option that would probably fail: push the gluttony art to the extreme and hope his body could take it. Nastier option: start throwing attacks into the air. No, that was failure. To not absorb all the power before him? To not make a better core than Vilex? Than Scarlet would inevitably form in a year or two? After how long he had waited?

Unacceptable. What else? How could one take more power? Could he enter mid stage core from the start? Turn the amorphous blob of energy inside him and preemptively rebuild his qi channels around his new core instead of-

"Wrong answer, kiddo. the rest of core formation stage is about remaking your body with the tools your building during core formation. Right now you are painting your house with a bucket with a hole in it. You probably need to pack more violently, but you have a wacky amount of energy. Shunt some in the air above you."

Who had said that? Sev didn't know, but it was sounded correct. Shunting it wasn't an option, so he needed to compress more. Violently more. He needed to smash it together and hope his body didn't turn into a fireball.

The next time the energy expanded, Sev tried to hold on to it. When it contracted, he pulled it all together.

It was the difference between falling on the floor and smashing your head against the wall. He fully lost vision of his surroundings, but he could feel the free energy had started to compress further. It was a rush he had never felt before, life or death in a moment of cultivation entirely his own.

His body was breaking down. He had no sensation in his legs and no sight to speak of but he managed to repeat the process. He grabbed more of the errant power and jammed it together. Everything else melted away in the thrum of power forming in his core, the energy slowly, slowly coalescing.

Time fell away. Flew. Its track was lost. The joy of mastery, in every timeless moment. The rush of so much power coursing through his veins that one mistake meant death. His body stiched itself back together without conscious effort.

And then it was almost over. Panic. He had been so focused on containment that he had forgotten about evenness. Right now it was thickest in the center and less dense at the sides. He let up on the pressure, but before it perfectly evened out he realized he was dry.

His sight returned, and reality rushed in. It was over. He had formed his core.

And he had an audience.

Five nascent souls next to him. Elder Ang at his side, and four of the Martial Alliance in front of him.

"Congratulations on your core." Said a middle aged lady said with a slight grin. From Seaheart, by appearance and accent. As his brain caught up with him, he realized it was most likely Paladis of Seaheart. The de facto leader of the Martial Alliance.

"Thanks." He managed.

Next to her were three other people, two of which he recognized. First was Danit Leoparda one of the strongest cultivators in Jubilee and their current representive to the Martial Alliance. The second was Regirat Rikaran. Kama's father, and leader of the Franarossi cultivators.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The last person looked like a piece of artwork come to life. Not in terms of pure aesthetic beauty: most cultivators had that in spades, and growing up surrounded by it desensitized you to perfect cheekbones and jawlines. It was the poise, pose, attire. She looked like she had stumbled out of some noble court and had been posing for a portrait.

Despite looking like belonged on a battlefield least of all of everyone here, she had a presence that the others did not. And that made Sev wary.

"Now, sir, we have a peace to discuss?" Paladis started.

"Yes. Leave. Take your chance at the dragon and my mother. That's more than worth it for you."

He saw Regirat bristle. He had already come down from the high of the breakthrough, and the messy details of his sect's future and his mother's fate were quickly sending his mood on the path of an asteroid.

From the heavens into a crater.

"Your daughter is alive, and wiser than she was this morning." Sev provided.

"The Martial Alliance has an obligation secure the continent for humanity." Regirat responded. "We can't trust snakes that make deals with dragons."

The rest of them gave him a look. The person he didn't know looked with distaste, Paladis with a glare, and Danit with open disgust.

None of them were surprised. None of them directly contradicted him.

"I propose a counter offer: surrender your disciples to us, and your lands to the Franarossa. We will ensure your safety and treat you as our own disciples. They will taken care of, given at least as many resources as they are now, and enjoy equal privileges as long as they follow the strictures of the Martial Alliance."

"You will treat snakes as well as people? How kind." Sev replied without thinking. Ang squeezed his shoulder, and he winced. That was uncalled for. Well, it was definitely called for. It was unhelpful.

"Look at this brat." Regirat drawled. "We offer mercy, and he spits in our hand. The apple does not fall far from the tree."

"Mercy?" Another squeeze on his shoulder. He stopped. He was a leader now. The hope for the survival of the Kraitchild sect.

"My father has yet to take the stage. My mother, Glutton, and the dragon have your hands full. If we all turned on you we could make this bloody. You are oathbound to spare my disciples, where they are suffer no such limitations."

Paladis shook her head. "I know it is hard to hear, but we can't in good conscience let the Kraitchild clan continue sending children to war. This event has forced our hand, but the Kraitchild clan cannot exist as it stands."

"When did you all last fight a vampire lord or a dragon? We defeated a thrall kingdom ourselves. Freed humans from their subjugation. It is a cause worth fighting for."

"When last could the Martial Alliance say the same. What do you even fight for? The two largest battles the Martial Alliance has fought in the past fifty years have both been against other humans, haven't they?"

"One was caused by your mother. Our present situation was called by your father. I do not believe their crimes pertain to you, but I wish to be clear."

"Caused?"

Paladis's face had thusfar been peaceful. Calm. Now it scrunched into the face of one whose stomach has regurgitated acid back into their mouth. "Do you know what your mother and her parents did? They started sacrificing their own people. Researching terrible weapons like the one she now carries. Weapons which should not exist."

"I'm not my mother."

"But you do not understand we had no choice but to stop her. She caused the war, whatever you believe. And your father threatened to start another continental war. Undo centuries of progress by upsetting the balance of power in favor of the dragons. Monsters just as inhuman to their masters as vampires."

"And you do not attack them. You attack us."

"Unfortunately, you are a much easier target. The dragons will unify over nothing save for us coming together to invade one of their kingdoms."

The regret seemed to be real. He hated that more, somehow. He breathed in, and out. In the background, he saw his mother and her dagger, a grin on her face and an arm dangling limp on one side. Almost half the people fighting her had fallen to the ground blood draining from their corpses.

"No." He said. "You are asking me to betray my mother and my sect. I've already done the former, but I won't continue to throw her to the wolves for nothing. Let Elder Ang rule the sect, and swear to only take my mother and father."

Paladis frowned. "Ah. A shame. Just so you know, we do not require your cooperation. Ampharadan - the dragon - retreated when he heard what you said earlier. Had you been the type to put your disciples before your pride, we would have allowed you to lead them to a new future. As it stands, you bring too much of a threat of civil war. You will come to Seaheart, and train directly under our elders."

He turned to Ang. No words were needed between them. He bolted. The four of them fighting him would constitute a war crime in the Martial Alliance, and he needed to escape before every free core formation cultivator descended upon him.

He heard the last bits of the conversation behind him. "Regi, Danit and I will finally capture Sanguina. Send some people after the boy, and deal with the snake. Don't kill him, but do what you will with the snake."

He had no qi after advancing. He tried. Way too much energy went through his channels, channels from which the power had been stripped. He needed to escape, and figure out any plan for his rapidly changing future.

Despite his lack of qi, he was moving fast. His atypical core formation process had apparently strengthened his body. There were further improvements he could make through both standard and dedicated body cultivation, but life was good.

He was currently running along the periphery of the sect, along the bases of the six mountains at the edge. He would run and leave out of the back. His enemies would have trouble following him into the thrall kingdoms without starting a war, and as an individual he could escape and chart his path forward.

He had a plan. And immediately ran into a giant problem.

Regirat landed in front of him, leaving small craters around his feet. He was a giant of a man, seven feet tall and thick as a tree. Clad in solid metal plate, with a hammer in his hands and two swords at his belt.

Sev tried to dodge the attack he knew was coming, but it was no use. With a stomp, a semisphere of stone rose up from the earth and closed around his neck like a collar. His hands were free but of little use.

"The little thorns fall not far from the tree. You will not scheme your way out of this, snake. Hurting or killing you would be a war crime, but keeping you here while core formation cultivators come to deal with you? Not a problem."

For the second time that day, Sev was stuck without hope of escape. And he did not think he could argue his way out of this one.