Orion and Fang Mi Shi stood facing each other, neither speaking, yet both wearing subtle smiles as distant explosions echoed from battles around them. Like Zara and Laqua, the duo had moved far from their original positions, and neither showed any sign of eagerness to engage in combat.
Fang Mi Shi stroked his beard thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on the mage before him, seemingly unfazed by the cacophony of explosions and the eerie music resonating in the background. “The techniques your companions wield are quite distinctive,” he remarked, breaking the silence. “Tell me, is everyone from your timeline this gifted?”
Orion simply giggled, tilting his head back as tears of joy streaked down his cheeks. The old cultivator raised an eyebrow, curious. “What’s so funny, my friend? I certainly haven’t said anything amusing,” he muttered, waiting for a response.
But Orion’s laughter only grew more intense, until it was soundless, his body shaking with mirth. Fang Mi Shi remained composed, his gaze steady on the mage, though it occasionally flickered with each distant explosion.
Finally, Orion regained his composure, wiping the tears from his face.
“You’ve had your fun, yes?” the old man asked, his tone lightly amused.
Orion nodded. “I sure did.”
Fang Mi Shi’s brown eyes gleamed with an eerie light, his smile broadening. This is my victory, he thought, stepping forward confidently. But Orion didn’t move, his body seemingly frozen in place.
The elder cultivator approached the mage slowly, stopping just inches from him. He raised a hand toward Orion’s eyes, his fingers curved as if to pluck something from them. Just as his fingers hovered near Orion’s eyeball, the mage suddenly moved. “Boo,” Orion whispered, causing Fang Mi Shi to stumble back, his face a mask of shock, surprise, curiosity, and fear.
How is this possible? Fang Mi Shi muttered to himself, struggling to regain his composure. How is he able to move? His eyes darted to Orion, who was once again laughing.
“You’re wondering why it didn’t work, right?” Orion’s voice cut through the air, an obsessive gleam lighting up his eyes as he locked onto the old man. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he continued, taking a step forward. Fang Mi Shi instinctively retreated. “It’s too bad you only sent a clone here, though.”
Fang Mi Shi’s eyes widened in surprise, but the emotion was fleeting. “You knew?” he asked.
Orion nodded, then opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue. “I also know about the little trick on your tongue,” he declared with a sly grin. “I can’t take credit for discovering it, but I’m fascinated by how it works.”
Orion advanced another step, and Fang Mi Shi stepped back again, his calm facade cracking as fear flickered in his deep-set eyes.
How does he know all this? Fang Mi Shi questioned, his thoughts racing. Not a single one of the other cultivators had detected that he was a substitute, yet this foreigner had not only seen through him but also knew about the unique nature of his tongue and its effects. Silently, Fang Mi Shi began calculating his options, his mind working swiftly.
At that moment, Orion’s voice drifted into his ears once more, cutting through his thoughts. “Sending a clone to test the waters. Unlike the others, you’re quite clever,” Orion began, taking another step forward. “But it’s a shame it’s such an inferior design,” he added, shaking his head in disappointment. “Not entirely your fault. Maybe if you’d had more data, done a bit more research… you would have presented something remotely acceptable.”
Fang Mi Shi frowned, refusing to accept the mage’s condescension. “If you call me an inferior commodity, what is perfection then?” he questioned, his voice firm despite the unease gnawing at him.
Orion grinned; his eyes gleaming with something darker. “Sentience,” he declared.
“Such a thing isn’t possible,” Fang Mi Shi countered, shaking his head. “If it were, it would be no different from creating life,” he reasoned, though there was a note of uncertainty in his voice, his head slightly lowered in thought.
Orion’s smile vanished, replaced by an ominous intensity. Just as he prepared to speak, Fang Mi Shi looked up, a flicker of doubt crossing his features. “Is such a thing possible?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Orion’s tense features relaxed into a thin smile. “You should have started with that. You were so close to…” he paused, the condescension in his tone unmistakable.
Fang Mi Shi instinctively took a step back, an icy chill running down his spine as he sensed the weight behind Orion’s words. There’s no doubting it. He would’ve killed me… he mused.
“To answer your question, yes—such a thing is indeed possible, because I’ve already attained it,” Orion declared, his voice calm but filled with an unsettling certainty.
The cultivator’s mouth fell open in shock, and he stumbled forward, his eyes wide with disbelief. “How?” he barely managed to ask, his fingers trembling with excitement, curiosity burning in his gaze.
Orion chuckled softly; the sound devoid of warmth. “I wasn’t wrong about you,” he began, his tone almost playful. “You almost made a fatal error earlier, but I see we share the same cursed yearning,” he said, casually leaning against a nearby tree. “I don’t mind sharing the details of my research, but what do you have to offer in return?”
Fang Mi Shi halted, his expression deep in thought. Could this be a trick? Could he really have the solution I seek? he pondered, his gaze shifting back to the mage, who now seemed languid, almost indifferent. This is an opportunity that might come only once in my lifetime. Doubts are natural, but succumbing to them is the mark of the weak-willed. I must take this risk, he resolved, his mind made up as he continued to approach Orion.
“You’ve made your decision, huh?” Orion said, smiling once more. “I can smell your determination from here.”
----------------------------------------
A fair distance away from Slim and Shina, Orion and Fang Mi Shi, Zara and Laqua, another pair was locked in a silent confrontation. Scott and the Sword Demon exchanged steely glares, neither bothered by the chaos surrounding them. The voidweaver’s gaze drifted over the cultivator’s status screen, but he quickly lost interest, noting with mild disdain that the crazed-looking man would struggle even against Plume, let alone him.
“Take out your weapon,” the Sword Demon commanded, his voice rough as he pointed his blood-soaked sword toward Scott.
“You’re not powerful enough to make me do that,” Scott replied dryly, his gaze cold and impassive.
Fury distorted the Sword Demon’s visage, but he didn’t act rashly. He’s just standing there—full of openings at that—but why can’t I shake the feeling that I’d die the moment I attack him? Tian Li questioned, taking deep, steady breaths to calm himself.
All his senses, honed through countless battles and hours of meditation, screamed at him to flee from the voidweaver. Yet, his greed whispered that he would never have another opportunity to attain the level of status he would receive if he slew Scott and his companions. Anything worth something never comes easy. I am the fourth disciple of the Mad Demon; I will not succumb to fear, Tian Li psyched himself up, his gaze growing heavier as it landed on Scott.
Stolen story; please report.
“It seems like you’ve made your decision,” Scott observed, noticing the shift in Tian Li’s eyes. “I hope you don’t regret it,” he added, taking a deliberate step forward.
Tian Li roared, firming his resolve as his grip tightened around his sword, which visibly exuded copious amounts of bloody qi and physical blood. The Sword Demon assumed his stance, his laser-focused eyes locked on Scott, silently waiting for the voidweaver to enter the range of his attack. All signs of hesitation vanished, leaving only bone-chilling conviction in the cultivator’s movements.
He drowned out the cacophony surrounding him—Scott’s rhythmic steps, the constant stream of explosions, the crackling of lightning, Wailu’s pitiful cries, and the ominous music that seemed to drain one’s life force. Tian Li focused solely on his breathing, becoming one with his sword. His sword qi, interwoven with formless, bloody qi, created an invisible zone spanning over two hundred feet. It was divided into two distinct layers: a hundred-foot strike zone and a wider hundred-foot detection zone that Scott rapidly approached.
In perfect stillness, Tian Li closed his eyes, merging his senses with nature. He could feel the dirt and leaves within the strike zone, the ants scrambling for safety, and the gentle air currents carrying the scent of ash and blood. Yet, the cultivator frowned. Do my ears deceive me? Why can’t I detect his presence? he wondered, unable to sense Scott within the detection zone. Even the voidweaver’s footsteps had vanished, leaving only a chilling sense of emptiness.
Giant beads of sweat appeared on Tian Li’s face as he snapped his eyes open. He has barely taken a step. Is this an illusion? His visage twisted in horror, realizing that Scott had fully crossed into his detection zone, yet he couldn’t sense his presence.
In a desperate move, Tian Li withdrew a blood-red talisman from his inventory, which combusted as soon as it appeared. Above the ashes, a runic word materialized, and Tian Li’s expression turned to one of dread.
He instantly relaxed his stance, his gaze shifting toward Scott. “I do not wish to forfeit my life here,” he declared, taking a cautious step backward.
Scott remained impassive, observing the cultivator’s growing realization that he was outmatched. Yet, Scott had no intention of letting him leave unscathed. Those who sought trouble would find none of his mercy.
As Scott took another step forward, Tian Li’s voice echoed once more, “Wait,” he begged, lowering his sword. “I realize that I’ve disrespected you, and it’s only right that I face the consequences… but I beseech you for mercy. Give me a chance to make things right,” the cultivator implored, desperation tinging his voice.
Scott’s eyes narrowed; his tone cold as ice. “You expect me to let you go because you’ve now realized that you’ve bitten off more than you can chew?”
“I have no such expectations,” Tian Li declared without delay. “I realize and accept that my greed might cost me my life. I’m merely seeking a chance to leave here with my life. That’s all,” he stated, his voice firm but devoid of hope.
Scott’s brows shot up in mild surprise. Weren’t cultivators supposed to have overbearing pride? he mused.
“You don’t have the posture of someone begging…” Scott barely completed his sentence before Tian Li dropped to the ground, kneeling, and letting go of his sword.
“Isn’t this too cowardly of you?” Scott probed, watching the cultivator’s swift submission with mild curiosity.
“As long as I retain my life, I don’t mind being a coward or suffering even worse humiliation,” Tian Li responded, his tone unwavering.
Scott glanced at the man’s interface once more, pausing as his eyes focused on the Sword Demon’s quests. This is interesting, his brows shot up again, this time with genuine interest, as he took a step forward.
“I’m curious,” Scott began, his voice carrying a subtle edge. “Where is your master?”
“In the stronghold,” Tian Li answered immediately. “It’s a day’s journey away from here.”
“How would he react should he discover this?” Scott asked, shortening the distance between them even further.
“I don’t care,” Tian Li replied without hesitation. “My life is my priority,” he declared, his voice solemn and resolute.
Scott closed the gap even more, his gaze lingering on the kneeling cultivator. “Why haven’t you carried out the mission your master assigned to you?” Scott inquired, stopping just two paces away from the Sword Demon.
Tian Li’s eyes shuddered for a moment, shock twisting his visage. How could he know about that? he wondered, but he quickly took deep breaths to calm his racing heart. He couldn’t afford to displease the figure standing before him—he believed that much.
“I know that regardless of what I do, death awaits me if you wish it,” Tian Li paused, carefully deliberating his next words. “If I’m being honest, I have no intention of being a scapegoat while others prosper from my sacrifice. Should I initiate a transfer between timelines, my master and martial brothers and sisters would know that you’ve bested me, and it will give them ample time to flee. I would much rather we all die together than sacrifice myself for their survival,” Tian Li declared, his voice steady despite the underlying tension.
Scott, seemingly amused, chuckled softly. “Alright, I’ll give you a chance. What can you offer me to spare your life?”
Tian Li, cautiously and slowly, nudged toward his sword, deliberately slowing his actions so as not to be misconstrued by the voidweaver. “Please take my sword—”
“I don’t want it. It’s trash,” Scott declared solemnly.
Scott’s words poured cold water over the flames of hope that had briefly flickered in the cultivator’s mind. Tian Li opened his mouth to speak, but the words died in his throat. His sword was the only thing of value he possessed, but even that failed to catch the voidweaver’s interest.
“What was that talisman you used earlier?” Scott suddenly asked, his tone neutral but his eyes sharp.
“P-Pardon?” Tian Li stuttered, meeting Scott’s frown. Realizing his mistake, the cultivator quickly explained, “It’s a fate talisman,” he said. “Once lit, one can determine their odds of surviving an imminent battle.”
“How reliable is it?” Scott questioned, suspecting there had to be some deficiencies in the talisman. Tian Li, however, wore a strange expression.
“Pardon me, but I don’t understand what you mean by that. A fate talisman is always reliable. I’ve never heard of, let alone seen, an instance where it failed to give an accurate prophecy,” Tian Li replied, his voice tinged with confusion.
The man’s words piqued Scott’s interest, and the voidweaver laid bare his demand. “I want all the fate talismans in your possession.”
Tian Li raised his gaze to meet Scott’s. He only wants that and not my sword? He couldn’t make sense of it, but he wasn’t going to argue. Without delay, the cultivator relinquished all ten fate talismans in his inventory, carefully explaining the method of activation to the voidweaver. The kneeling man watched as the items disappeared into Scott’s inventory, and a heavy silence settled between them—a silence that would determine his fate.
“I’ll let you live,” Scott suddenly declared.
Tian Li could barely contain his excitement, readying himself to thank the voidweaver and swear never to cross paths with him again. But before he could speak, Scott’s voice echoed once more. “However, you must make the transfer,” he declared.
Tian Li’s visage turned ugly. While some champions didn’t mind hopping between timelines, most refrained from doing so since the process arbitrarily sent people to random timelines. Surviving in their original timelines was already challenging—surviving in a foreign one, with unknown power systems and challenges, was an even more daunting prospect.
“Well?” Scott asked, his voice carrying a note of impatience.
Tian Li closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’ll do it,” he said, opening his eyes to meet Scott’s gaze. Instantly, a golden system notification appeared in front of him. At the same moment, the jade ring on his finger trembled, and an aged voice echoed from within. “What are you doing, Tian Li!” the voice bellowed, unable to hide its anxiety.
Tian Li ignored the voice, his focus unwavering as he finalized the transfer process. He was under no illusions—he knew Scott would end his life if he showed the slightest hint of hesitation.
Scott watched as the sword cultivator confirmed his intent to proceed with the transfer. “I hope you’ll temper that greed of yours,” Scott said. “Whether you live from now on is entirely up to you,” he added, turning away from the kneeling man.
Tian Li stared at Scott’s back, but there wasn’t the slightest intention to attack. Master and the others will try to kill me as soon as we arrive in the new timeline, he realized. The fate talisman was right after all… begging was the only way to survive this encounter. He took a deep breath, his visage turning serious. No matter what happens from here on, I will survive, he vowed, reaching for his sword. But as his hand touched the hilt, a myriad of timelines flashed before his eyes. A moment later, the portal opened, sucking in the cultivator and leaving no trace of his presence.
Scott, on the other hand, noticed Orion approaching from the side. “Are you done on your end?”
The mage nodded, wearing a thin smile. “We had a fruitful talk, but we have a problem.”
Scott frowned. “What’s the matter?”
“I think we might have underestimated the lengths to which the gods will go,” Orion began. Suddenly, a thunderous roar echoed, followed by a soul-churning scream that reverberated across the area.
Scott and Orion turned toward the origin of the scream, watching as Big Bao and Wailu’s charred bodies plummeted to the ground.
“You were saying?” Scott asked, averting his gaze back to the mage.
“Through their various sanctuaries and sponsored candidates, the gods are temporarily conferring titles on champions across the timelines,” Orion explained.
“What are you trying to say?” Scott asked, though he could already predict the mage’s next words.
“When that process is complete, the level of opponents chasing after us might just become a bit overwhelming,” Orion declared. “And that’s not all,” he continued. “Apparently, there are rumors that the gods intend to physically manifest the bridge between timelines.”