Hmm. Not the worst stealth I’ve ever seen. And given that it was from a man in the outer realms, operating a likely self-made art, not the worst was downright impressive. And entirely a mental effect, too. He would have made a good Black Cloak, if we had caught him as a boy.
Unfortunately for him, it was completely useless to indirect observation. Watching through a divination, Long could see every hair on his head as he moved roughly in his direction – which was also the direction of the exit. Luck, or more tempered intuition?
The man ran into a trio of guards just as his qi ran out, and Long nudged his expectations down a notch.
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They weren’t even doing their job, was the galling part. Lu stepped around the corner, towards where his divination indicated a little out-of-the-way nook, and found it already occupied by a man and two women. They were hunkered down under a stairwell – going up; that’s good at least – next to a barrel, drinking. He froze, let out a silent expletive, and then his invisibility broke as the last dregs of his qi drained away.
The trio startled at his sudden appearance, radiating obvious surprise despite their expression-concealing garb. A long awkward moment drew out as they all stared at each other, nobody moving. How are they even drinking with the shrouds on?
Lu opened his mouth. “…I won’t tell if you don’t?”
The first attack – a thrown mug, from the taller woman – hit him in the face, spraying alcohol across the room, and it was soon joined by a fireball from the man.
Lu, doused in a flammable liquid, forced through a panicked Space Ripper a fraction of a second before the explosive would have set him alight like a match. He came out right in the middle of the enemy formation, managed to send a palm into a woman’s nose through sheer muscle memory, and then his side erupted in agony. “Argh-!” Dagger! He tore upwards through space, not even pausing to assess his wound as he started taking stairs three at a time, but the trio used their own movement arts to follow him.
Luckily – and it was truly terrible that he was counting this as luck – the blade in his side had decided to come with him, so the flow of blood was staunched somewhat. And unlike his brush with disembowelment in the desert, he was a full two realms above mortality; he wasn’t going to pass out just from a little stab wound. Ah, it still hurts, though! He sent a pair of Wind Cutters out and prepared a fireball of his own- No, don’t do that, you’re still covered in alcohol! He wrenched his stomach, canceling the technique halfway.
One Wind Cutter was dodged, but the other struck home, right in the centre of the mug-thrower’s neck – and splashed off the thin fabric of her cloak. Fucking Hell, are they all wearing enchanted clothes?! Even the juniors? How much money do these people have to throw around? The shorter woman, the one he had struck in the face, let loose her own blast of wind; concussive, not cutting, filling the stairwell.
Ah, if I had any qi left, I could cast Weight Reduction and just be carried up to the top… He attempted to divert the gale with another Wind Cutter, but it did little to the approaching wall of air. It struck him like a giant’s slap, sending him over the railing.
He started another Space Ripper, but couldn’t complete it before he hit the ground, driving the air from his lungs. His stab wound screamed and he grunted, dazed, then finished the technique. He propelled himself back into the halls – back the way he had come.
The trio pursued him, but he had a slight advantage – Space Ripper could move further than the standard movement art, enough to cancel out his poor running speed, so he was gaining ever so slightly. Not that that’s much help; if I go too far, I’ll hit a real patrol. Then I’ll have at least four to deal with, probably more. For the thousandth time, he lamented that he couldn’t sense the fluctuations of self-targeted spells. A shield would be really useful in this situation. Or Disjointed Image, or any of my other most effective illusions-
Ah, but I do still have some illusions! He had perhaps five metres of leeway, just enough. The next time be turned a corner, he immediately dropped to the ground and put a layer of camouflage over himself. Ah-! Dagger! His side burned as the weapon was driven further into his side, and in a moment of epiphany he added small spots of red down the hall, leading away. His pursuers bounded past the corner a fraction of a second after the illusions sprang up, using the walls as much as the floor, and he prayed. Don’t step on me, don’t step on me, don’t step-!
One passed over his head, then the other two directly behind. The moment the last scrap of black cloth disappeared around the next corner, he bolted for the stairwell. If this ends up being a dead end, I’m going to be very cross.
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An alright mix of arts. Why only first realm, though? While the disciple had been in the first realm when they took him, he should know more than enough spellcraft to cobble together a second realm attack. The formation he recrafted had a number of advanced forms. And that invisibility art was in the third realm at least. Does he have a Path that discourages him from learning combat arts?
No, that couldn’t be it; the man had attacked him furiously during his interrogation. A true Path-bound pacifist would have never responded like that. More likely, he hasn’t figured out how to translate higher realm arts. Or the system he’s using simply won’t allow him to learn otherworldly arts above his own realm, which was first until today. Still not a perfect explanation, but better.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Long watched him hit the top of the stairs, and hesitate. One hallway would lead him to a sealed emergency room, a dead end. The other would lead him past Long’s current position, towards the exit. He was bleeding freely, Black Cloak Jin’s dagger still in his side. No healing arts either? Or is he running low on qi?
Long debated simply letting the man through, and seeing how he would attempt to get around Sen… But no, that would be pushing things a little too far. Him getting out might prove an actual problem. So he got up out of his chair, and made his way out to the hall.
He scaled the wall, hung from the ceiling, and did what came naturally; he waited, invisible, for his prey to walk beneath. People tended not to look up without reason, and cultivators were no exception to this rule. Let’s see if his perception is vision-based.
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Lu had a sneaking suspicion that his dagger wound was a little more serious than he wanted it to be; it had been a long while since he had studied medicine, but once you knew where all your organs were it was hard to unlearn that information. Kidney. Definitely kidney. That’s… Fine. I have two, after all. He would be fine.
The clothes Bull put me in are completely ruined. The robe was more red than green at this point – and he wasn’t even sure when, but he had lost the hat. Probably when I fell off the staircase? Or had he not had it at all when he woke up, the bag over his head, his stomach rioting against the gathering formation? Ah, my head is fuzzy. That’s a bad sign.
But he couldn’t stop now; any second the group of black cloaks could realise they’d been tricked, and pick his trail back up. He could only keep going forward, and hope he could draw in enough qi to heal himself before he bled out.
The top of the stairway branched off in two directions, and after a second’s thought Lu chose the path that led further away from the prison. It’s been working out for me so far. The hallway extended in curved sections, like the coils of a snake. It was anxiety-inducing; an enemy could be around every bend, and he wouldn’t know it until he was nearly bumping into them. He blinked. Wait, I can just use my spiritual sense. Oh dear, I’m really starting to feel the blood loss.
He followed the curving tunnel for a ways, casting out with his sense. There was nothing for a minute, but then, branching off, a doorway. Lu eyed it, and sent his sense in to check for inhabitants. I’m running low on ki. I could use Space Ripper all day, but those combat arts aren’t aligned to my consumption at all. If someone found him, he was essentially defenseless – but luckily, the room was empty.
Actually, no. There was something in the centre that felt… Familiar.
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Long watched the disciple turn and enter his room, passing less than a metre from where he hung. The young man must be in truly dire straits; he was casting out with his spiritual sense, and would have alerted every person in the room if there had been any. It was somewhat concerning; if the man died, it was likely most of the secrets contained in his mind and body would die with him.
He’s leaving quite the blood trail. And so, reluctantly, Long set himself back on the floor and followed the man rather than wait to spook him. Better to apprehend him now. I’ll have fun later.
The man was inspecting the array that the benefactor had sent, the one that allowed traversal between the worlds. Ah, perhaps I shouldn’t have left it unguarded. No matter; even if the little prodigy knew enough to tell what it did, it needed to be activated from both sides. Just turning the thing on would be useless, and he hadn’t even done that.
He reached for the man’s shoulder-
And his hand passed through empty air.
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Whatever the machine was, Lu couldn’t make heads or tails of it – besides noting that some bits were obviously from the Sixth Reality. I recognise some of this from Sulphur’s machine. Are they trading with the Junk Dog Clan?
…No, no, don’t be silly. There would obviously be overlap of technology between clans; Horrible Swamp had hovercrafts, after all. But this definitely proves that this group is being supplied by an alien faction. There were some blocky cube-shaped bits that looked like things he had seen on the Mechanicals’ floor, and…
…That yellow bit, right in the centre, have I seen it somewhere? He had the strangest sense of déjà vu, like he was smelling some long-forgotten favourite meal from his childhood. Oh, I am definitely dying of blood loss. I should sit down in the corner and heal myself; even if I’m captured again, it’s better than collapsing with a blade in my guts ten seconds after I reach the front door.
But the tiny sliver of yellow, thinner than a hair, was mesmerising. He reached out- Don’t touch it, Lu. It’s an unknown artefact in an unorthodox dungeon. It’s probably going to suck your soul out and bottle it. Absolutely do not touch the strangely compelling shiny thing.
But Lu, even after the Sun debacle, remained a creature of indulgence, and so he tentatively prodded the splinter of bright material.
Something unfolded in his mind, a constellation of bright points amidst a sea of blue-black gradients. There were about a dozen stars – no, there were more, but they were too far away for him to see, beyond the scope of his vision. The one in the centre, that one that was his star, sat on the leftmost edge of a bluer splotch, with a cluster of other stars. Wait… The shape, I recognise that blob. That’s the Greengrass Continent. Is this another teleportation array?
It was. He didn’t know how he knew, but he did – those points of light were other splinters, parts of a whole. So if I’m here, near the west coast… There were three nearby, and another two nearer the interior. The rest were scattered in the ocean. The interior. That brighter blue bit – if this is an elevation map, then that’s Steadfast Heart Mountain! There’s a teleport point right there!
His pulse thundered in his ears. For him to find this, completely unguarded, was nothing short of a miracle. Thank you, Heaven! He reached for the star, pouring mental effort into the splinter.
He had just enough time to think wait, why does the secret unorthodox kidnapper group have a teleportation array leading into my sect?
Then space opened up, and he was gone.
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In a mid-sized room at the very top of a mountain, a containment formation shattered, and a young man suddenly appeared. Despite the formation flying to pieces where it intersected his body, he appeared without making any ripples in the air, as though he had always been there, kneeling, touching a finger to the floor. A tiny shard of yellow metal flew through the room, imbedding itself in the wall. Pieces of what had been a sturdy stone sphere, the remains of the formation, joined the shard a moment later. The modest decorations hanging from the walls were utterly destroyed.
The two old men looked down at their shattered teacups.
“Oh my,” said Patriarch Steadfast Heart. “This is unexpected. Knuckle, please go fetch young Winding Wind back from wherever he is; I believe one of our missing disciples has found his way back on his own.”