Their audience with the Clanmaster occurred the next day. Mercion had already met with the man several times already, but this time, he had requested an official meeting that Silomene and Rieren would be able to attend as well.

Her housemate fussed most of the previous night and for much of the morning before their actual meeting. It was getting rather ridiculous.

“Does my hair look okay?” Silomene asked, brushing it for the thousandth time even as she walked all over the manor.

“I think it looks just fine,” Rieren said.

“How about my robes? Can you sot any wrinkles on them?”

“I cannot.”

Silomene opened her mouth wide. “Is there something stuck in my teeth.”

Rieren edged away. “I see nothing.” Though that was mostly because she didn’t want to stare into the chasm of Silomene’s open mouth.

It got worse when Silomene tried to fuss over Rieren too. She hadn’t brought any change of clothes or anything of the kind. For one, she could buy them from the System Shop if needed. For another, Divine Resilience ensured that her apparel was at prefect condition at all times.

“Why are your clothes and shoes so clean and yet so plain?” Silomene asked.

“Clean because of my perk,” Rieren said. “And plain because I haven’t had the time to go shopping for new ones.”

“You have access to the System Shop! Why not purchase something fashionable and live a little? Anyway, what in the world is your perk? Cleaning and pressing clothes?”

Rieren couldn’t help but stare at the other girl as though she was speaking a different language. Then she realized Silomene’s last question actually had made some kind of sense. “It is called Divine Resilience. It heals me and anything in close proximity to me.”

Silomene’s crazed expression gave way to something more thoughtful. “Oh, that sounds rather useful, actually. How does one acquire it?”

“It came with my class. What is your class, by the way?”

“Moonlight Weaver. And that’s awful, now I have no way of acquiring such an incredible perk.”

Silomene almost looked like she wanted to stamp her foot in frustration.

Rieren sighed softly. “Do you not like your perk?”

“It’s serviceable. I can see things in the dark and never get blinded by bright lights, which is actually useful because a few of my skills produce a lot of light.”

“Interesting.”

Silomene suddenly perked up and then dashed away. “Oh, I’ve wasted so much time. I’m going to rebind the straps of my shoes. Rieren, please do something about that hair of yours.”

Before Rieren could ask what in the world she was supposed to do about her hair, the other woman had dashed off. She patted her head self-consciously.

“Do you think it looks odd?” she asked Batcat who was lounging nearby, licking its paws.

Batcat looked up with an unreadable expression, then padded off to the edge of the nearby little lake. Rieren dragged herself over and checked her reflection in the water. It looked fine to her. Silomene just liked to fuss overmuch.

Rieren supposed she could understand it. Much of Silomene’s future prospects rode on her making a good impression upon the Clanmaster, especially if this was her first meeting with the man. Elder Olg often used to tell her that first impressions were key, and that improving a negative first impression was more difficult than ruining a positive first impression.

Silomene didn’t approve of Rieren’s appearance when Mercion finally approached around noon time to take them to the main Ordorian residence. But it was time to get going so she couldn’t do much about it.

The ride on a waywagon up to the Ordorian residence was short and peaceful. They passed well-tended wooded areas and wide fields dotted with sculptures and fountains here and there. A large garden was still in bloom before the main building of the Ordorian manor. The estate itself was enormous, covering several leagues of ground on the mountainside.

“Greetings, young master,” a cultivator said as Mercion got out of the waywagon first at the manor’s gates. “These are your companions, I presume?”

“Yes. You have heard of Silomene. This is Rieren. Please take us to the Clanmaster.”

The cultivator bowed, his long hair swishing like a horse’s tail. “Of course. The Clanmaster does not like to be kept waiting.”

They followed him through a stone-lined path through the garden. There were small lakes on either side of the path. Overall, the ambience was much like the littler manor Rieren and Silomene were staying in. This one just had a greater aura of opulence. Everything was clean and shiny. There wasn’t a single leaf from the overhanging trees on the water.

The Clanmaster’s office within the estate’s main building turned out to be a large room filled with comfortable rugs and burning incense to make it smell pleasant. His table was a low affair so that he could sit cross-legged on the ground and still work upon it.

“What took you so long, Mercion?” was his greeting.

The cultivator who had led them here bowed, then left, sliding the door close behind. Mercion bowed low. Silomene followed his lead, as did Rieren, though she managed to get a quick look at the man they had to show such respect to.

His piercing green eyes were taking them all in critically. Despite the receding hairline, he was young. Of course, Rieren hadn’t expected the scion of the Ordorian clan who had claimed the position of the Clanmaster so early to be old. Rieren placed him somewhere in his early sixties, certainly no older than Elder Saygren had been.

She recalled the raiment adorning him. The feathered cloak was the typical uniform chosen by Ordorian Clanmasters as the main symbol of their authority, though the black, gold, and white robe he wore beneath was no less rich.

“Greetings, Clanmaster,” Mercion said. “Allow us to take our seat before you.”

“Dispense with the formalities, brother,” the Clanmaster said. “Let us be done with this business.”

They all took a seat before the low table, Mercion sitting a little ahead of Rieren and Silomene.

“You have heard of Silomene already,” Mercion said, pointing to Silomene first before turning to Rieren. “And this is Rieren. Both of you, please greet Clanmaster Merolk Ordorian.”

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The Clanmaster nodded at Silomene, then peered at Rieren. “Have I… have we met before?”

Rieren bowed her head. “I have not had the pleasure.”

In truth, she couldn’t recall. Rieren had met the Clanmaster of the Ordorian clan in the past timeline, but that had been the old one. He was no longer the Clanmaster in this timeline.

Mercion looked between his brother and Rieren. “They have been helping me and the others in shoring up the defences.”

“Yes, yes,” Merolk said. “They are being paid to perform their duties. I am of course grateful to all who remember their place in this world and act accordingly but let us not pretend it is anything more than that.”

Well. Rieren received flashes of the last Ordorian Clanmaster. Apparently, the current one still held onto the practices of his father.

“I brought them here not receive adulations, brother,” Mercion said, putting some bite in his voice. Perhaps he was using the Clanmaster’s impatience of not sticking to formality and decorum against him. “We came here to discuss the next steps. We cannot go on like this.”

Sighing, the Clanmaster turned back to the litter of books and pages on his table. A deep green register lay open closest to him. He dipped a quill in ink and began noting something down in the large notebook. “Do you have any proposals instead of complaints?”

“Aren’t you the Clanmaster? Shouldn’t you be coming up with the ideas that we are supposed to execute? If we’re the ones doing all the planning, what use is a Clanmaster?”

Rieren kept herself carefully still, while Silomene stared at Mercion’s back, aghast. It was one thing to be forceful in words and tone. It was wholly another to be outright demeaning in such a manner.

“Watch yourself, Mercion,” Merolk said quietly, eyes flashing. “Do not abuse the grace I grant you and force me to kick you out of my manor for wasting my time.”

Mercion took a deep breath. “Apologies, brother. But yes, I do have a proposal. The Abyssals seek to overwhelm us at all locations. Their general levels of strength and their powers are rising even faster than the ones fighting on the frontlines can do so. As such, we are falling behind the monsters in individual levels of strength.”

Rieren could hear the fear in his voice. They wouldn’t be able to carry on like this. What should have happened was that all the monsters they killed should have granted them a great deal of loot they could sell to obtain Credits. These Credits could then be used to purchase an array of resources needed for cultivation.

But even with the aid of various resources, they needed time to cultivate and climb the ranks of power.

After all, even with everything she had purchased, Rieren had needed over a month to get to the Mid-Enlightened realm. It would take just as much time, if not longer, to reach Late-Enlightened, and then to Peak-Enlightened. And this was with all the specific, optimal resources she had known about from the previous timeline.

Most people would neither have access to as many ingredients, nor would they know the best ones they ought to use. She doubted even the Archnoble clans knew all the correct ones.

With the Abyssals combining with the Aetherians and the greater number of higher-Grade monsters appearing everywhere, Mercion’s worries made a great deal of sense. They couldn’t carry on like this. At some point, the monsters would hold the advantage in terms of power and push them deeper into the Shatterlands. That would be disastrous.

“How do you think we ought to fix this?” Merolk asked.

“We must grant everyone the opportunity to strengthen themselves. We need them all to grow so strong, we can not only take care of monster invasions, we can actually push them back. We can take the fight all the way to the dungeons and keep the Abyssals pegged there. Maybe even push inside and destroy the Abyss Rents.”

“Yes, but how? How do we grant anyone any time when we need everyone available at all times?”

“We send out our most powerful cultivators to hold the lines.”

“They are already doing so. Do you think the others have been lazy while you ran around? The Shatterlands isn’t a small corner of the empire. We occupy the entire eastern region of the Elderlands. Everyone has been doing their utmost to not cede any more land to those bastards than we have already.”

“But that is the point. Our goal had been to protect the land. What if we considered giving up the land so that the more powerful of us could do a better job of protecting the Shatterlands just by themselves.”

The Clanmaster placed his quill in the ink bottle and stared at Mercion. “Are you suggesting we surrender all the lands we’ve fought so hard to safeguard just so a fewer number of us need to fight?”

“Exactly. Less lands to protect means less of us are needed to fight all the time, which means more of us can focus on growing stronger instead of fighting all the time.”

Merolk pressed a hand to his forehead. “This is a daring plan. But I cannot simply ask the people to give up the lands they have been fighting to protect. People’s homes are the greatest drivers of their motivation. That’s something as important as tactics.”

“It would be a trade-off, brother. Sacrifice now so that we can not only regain what we surrender, we can reclaim more than we currently have.”

“If it doesn’t fall on our faces in the process.”

Mercion straightened with a cold posture. A cold look too, most likely, but Rieren couldn’t see his face. “I don’t think you’re giving my plan the right amount of consideration.”

“You think plans can be given the go ahead immediately after they’re brought up? Do you understand the concept of the right amount of consideration?”

“Well, so long as you think on it and come to the right decision.”

“Mercion, your wish is not the right decision.”

The younger scion of the Ordorian clan looked like he was about to argue against that assertion, but Rieren cleared her throat. This made both brothers turn to stare at her. Even Silomene looked shocked that she could have the temerity to interrupt those so above her.

“If I may, my lords,” Rieren said. “I have a suggestion that might help us achieve both goals.”

“What is it?” the Clanmaster asked.

“There is something called Deathpulse Confetti. A usable item that can be purchased from the System Shop. With it, one can absorb the Essence of the monster being killed. However, the Deathpulse Confetti ensures that this Essence has no Aspect, so we would not have to worry about drawing in corrupted Essence.”

All of them stared at her for a little while. Eventually, Merolk spoke up.

“Such a thing sounds incredibly convenient,” he said. “But it does seem to exist…”

Ah. So they weren’t staring at her. They were looking into the System Shop to see if there really was something called the Deathpulse Confetti. She felt mildly insulted that they hadn’t taken her at her word, but it couldn’t be helped. Rieren would have done the same thing in their shoes.

“Are you certain it works the way you propose?” Mercion asked.

“And how did you learn about it?” the Clanmaster added.

“I have used it before. Several of us have, back at my Sect. And yes, if you do not believe me, my lord, then I suggest you try it for yourself. It works wonders.”

Mercion looked like he really was intent on giving it a try as soon as he was free. His eyes had a little glazed look about them, as though he was focusing on the System Shop.

“Well, I believe this solves our issues, then.” Merolk went back to poring over his books and notes. “Leave me be, Mercion.”

Mercion pulled himself back into the present. “Well, we have no guarantee it will work fast enough. Rieren, how fast does this Deathpulse Confetti gather Essence.”

“Not as fast as you would like, I am afraid. Especially not when it comes to growing in power after a certain point.

“What point would that be?”

Rieren thought for a moment. “I would suggest that the Deathpulse Confetti is good through the Awakened realm, perhaps even up to Mid-Enlightened realm if one fights and kills constantly. Certainly not after that.”

Mercion whirled around to face his brother as though she had immediately confirmed that his original plan was what they needed. Which, perhaps they really might. Eventually. “You see! We can’t rely on this little trick. We’ll have to—”

The Clanmaster of the Ordorian clan raised a single hand. “For now, brother, I suggest you see to applying this Deathpulse Confetti to the best of your abilities. Many have attained a good number of levels, but their cultivation is lacking. This will help even the odds greatly. We will revisit this issue if need be after an attempt has been made.”

Mercion looked like he’d rather argue some more instead of doing something practical, but he sighed and nodded. A restraint typical of the responsible. “They have been getting too far ahead in their levels. I just don’t want them to become…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to. Rieren had seen first-hand how he had debilitated himself by relying overmuch on his class-based skills instead of his cultivation. How he had raised his stats without thinking of keeping his body in line with them, and how that had led him to suffer.

“Take care of yourself, brother.” There was actually a hint of concern on Merolk’s face for a change. “We cannot afford another major casualty.”

That made Rieren’s ears perk up. Another casualty, was it? She glanced at Silomene, who was resolutely not looking at her. Rieren would have to corner the other woman later.

Their meeting was over for all intents and purposes. Merolk was now trying to focus on his paperwork, and Mercion sighed as he got up. But before Rieren and Silomene joined him, there was an insistent pair of knocks on the screen door. The Clanmaster looked up with a little frown at being interrupted once again.

“Come in,” he said.

The door opened. Rieren froze. The man who had entered surveyed the room quickly before his eyes alighted and got stuck on Rieren.

Gorint Malloh had appeared.