Chapter 10: Echoes of the Island's Promise
Deep within the dense, untamed forests of Costa Rica, a translucent bluish sphere floated through the thick underbrush, moving at a moderate speed. It glided effortlessly through the towering trees and dense vines, passing through them as though it were made of mist. The trees didn’t bend or break upon contact; instead, they simply phased through the sphere, their presence hardly acknowledged by the strange object.
A closer look revealed a silhouette within the sphere—slender and tall, the figure floated with a sense of purpose. Around the figure's neck, a smaller light source glowed brightly, its spherical form almost like a miniature star supporting the larger orb. The sphere moved through the forest as if drawn by an invisible thread, winding its way toward a small clearing up ahead.
The sphere slowed as it approached a patch of grass devoid of trees, save for a single fallen log that had been long reclaimed by nature. Moss covered its surface, and clusters of mushrooms dotted the edges. The sounds of wildlife filled the air—chirping insects, distant calls of birds, and the rustling of leaves in the breeze.
Sitting atop the log was a woman with a cautious but calm demeanor. A black bandana tied around her short brown hair held back stray strands. A worn iron shoulder pad hung on her left shoulder, strapped on by a harness that wrapped around her gray robe and cinched at her waist with a leather belt. The robe ended at her mid-thighs, revealing black pants that disappeared into a pair of slender iron boots. On her back was a two-meter-long bronze trident with sharp, blackened tips that gleamed menacingly. Her eyes were sharp, watching the approaching blue sphere intently.
The sphere began to dissipate as the smaller light at the silhouette’s neck dimmed, revealing more of the figure inside. As the blue haze faded, a man with blond hair became visible. He wore a glossy silver mask that covered his entire face, save for two eye holes, through which his sharp blue eyes peered. There was a hint of surprise and awe in his gaze as he descended gently to the ground from his floating position.
“Madam Ghastly Trident, a pleasure to see you here,” the man spoke in a clear, steady voice from behind his mask. “I am Masked Mace, seed number nine hundred and forty-one. I will be part of this mission today.” He bowed his head slightly, revealing his seeded number and his purpose.
To the outside world, The Cultivation Island was nothing more than a rumor—a fantastical story passed around among cultivators. But for around a thousand cultivators, it was a stark reality. A few weeks prior, Cultivation Island, the brainchild of a powerful and enigmatic billionaire, had its soft opening. Invitations were sent to select cultivators around the world, enticing them with promises of freedom and unparalleled benefits. Unlike the organizations backed by various governments, Cultivation Island did not shackle its cultivators with rigid rules or political allegiances. These invitations were called seeds, and to be seeded was to be invited to join Cultivation Island.
Many accepted the invitation, intrigued by the prospect of cultivating without the suffocating control of a nation. Upon arrival, they underwent rigorous training and were then assigned missions as part of their initiation. Their rank and position within the organization would be determined solely by their efforts, with no favoritism or bias.
Masked Mace was a cultivator from Sweden who had stepped onto the cultivation path only a few months earlier. Despite his lack of a cultivation book, he had stumbled upon two powerful technique manuals: [Supernova Bash] and [Unmoving Wall of Pantera]. These techniques had allowed him to make a name for himself in Sweden, turning him into a national figure. His silver mask, which concealed his identity, had become his trademark, along with the round silver shield strapped to his back and the hefty mace hanging by his side. His white robe reached his knees, and beneath it, his black pants were almost hidden by iron boots that extended to his shins. Masked Mace stood tall and resolute, waiting for a response from the woman before him.
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Madam Ghastly Trident was not surprised by his formality. She was accustomed to such treatment. Ever since she had made significant progress with her cultivation book, her power had risen sharply, and so had her reputation. She was known as a fearsome and disciplined cultivator, not someone to be trifled with. She regarded Masked Mace with a raised eyebrow, acknowledging his presence but saying nothing. Instead, her gaze shifted to the side as another sphere emerged from the forest, its blue light dissipating to reveal yet another cultivator.
“Man, these necklaces are fantastic! Traveling is so much easier now! I knew joining was a great choice!” A short, tanned man with a wide, bright smile appeared. His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he surveyed the group.
“Greetings, everyone! I am Guru Six Summers. Here for the mission! Let’s do good, huh?” he announced with an infectious energy.
The man’s blue robe extended down to his shins, exposing only his well-worn brown boots. His robe was sleeveless, and vibrant yellow sun patterns were scattered across the fabric, making him a rather eccentric-looking figure. White gloves covered his hands, completing his unique ensemble.
Madam Ghastly Trident gave him a nod but remained silent. She knew there would be eight participants for this mission, and she had no intention of repeating herself for each late arrival. She had been appointed the group leader due to her high rank and superior abilities. She was ranked 93rd among cultivators, while the others were far lower; even the most skilled among them, Withered Sapling Master from Spain, barely reached the 700th mark.
The facilities at Cultivation Island had impressed her. Though many were still under construction, their current capabilities were astonishing. The advanced technology, the well-organized training programs—everything seemed promising. They offered rigorous training in anatomy, physical conditioning, and technological integration, preparing the cultivators to understand the full potential of what the Cultivation Island had to offer.
Minutes passed, and four more people arrived in quick succession. The group now consisted of Withered Sapling Master, Ivory Tower James, Southern Skull Crusher, Old Rotting Knight, and the three previously mentioned. They were all at the Beginning Stage of cultivation, except for Madam Ghastly Trident, who clearly stood above the rest.
As the newcomers settled in, they began to converse, exchanging pleasantries and gauging each other’s strengths. The atmosphere was filled with a mix of excitement and anxiety, as everyone knew they were here to prove themselves.
Madam Ghastly Trident glanced at the sky, her patience wearing thin. She wasn’t particularly annoyed, but she was keenly aware of the time. If the last participant didn’t arrive within the next five minutes, she would proceed without them. Despite the freedom offered by Cultivation Island, there were rules to follow, especially on missions. Punctuality was a matter of team discipline and could determine the success or failure of a mission.
Just as she was about to give the signal to begin, a faint blue light appeared on the horizon, growing brighter as another sphere emerged from the forest. It finally dissipated to reveal a breathless man, clearly apologetic for his tardiness. He was not someone of note, but he bowed his head repeatedly, embarrassed at his mistake.
Madam Ghastly Trident took a deep breath, her expression hardening. “Timing is crucial on a mission,” she began sternly. “Your actions affect the entire team. Holding each other accountable will ensure we succeed together.” Her voice was firm but not unkind; she understood the importance of discipline and teamwork.
With everyone now present, she proceeded to explain the mission in great detail. They were to explore a specific section of the forest, believed to be home to an unidentified beast that had recently shown signs of heightened aggression. The goal was to assess the threat level and, if necessary, eliminate it. In addition, they were tasked to retrieve a special resource in a nearby cave. Each member listened carefully, and their faces were a mix of concentration and determination. This was their first mission together, and no one wanted to be the weak link.
As Madam Ghastly Trident concluded her briefing, the weight of the mission settled in their hearts. Excitement mingled with tension, and they knew that their actions today could very well determine their standing within the Cultivation Island.
The mission was about to begin.