Lindon Histories Strongest Unsouled

I don't own anything.

Chapter 9

As one of the highest-ranking representatives of the Sandviper sect, though he wasn't a Sandviper at all, Jai Long had the honor of supervising a young man's advancement to Iron.

He'd reluctantly bowed to tradition, on the condition that the ceremony could be conducted in a tent at the entrance to the Ruins. If the Arelius family had continued at their current pace, they'd be arriving sometime tomorrow. He and the Fishers believed they had figured out the last of the script around the final floor, but they wouldn't know until they tried.

It was a delicate time, but tradition wouldn't wait.

The boy's whole family had gathered to see this paragon of their younger generation received his Sandviper body at the tender age of eight years old. It was an impressive sign of dedication for such a young boy. Jai Long himself had reached Iron before that, but he'd had resources the Sandviper sect did not.

Jai Long clutched the sandviper in one hand, his spirit clamping around the creature's powers just as his fist imprisoned its limbs. With the other hand, he delicately squeezed the gland around the serpent's fang.

A drop of venom swelled, and he wicked it off with a needle.

The needle went onto a jade plate prepared for the purpose. He set the plate aside and withdrew a bowl the size of a thimble. With one stray whisk of Stellar Spear madra, he sliced the sacred beast's skin.

A few drops filled the bowl, and Jai Long placed the sandviper back in its cage.

This whole process was supposed to be accompanied by a ceremony as the boy learned the glorious history of the sect and his own place within it, but Jai Long went about his business in cold silence. No one corrected him. They were afraid of him, one and all; afraid of his status within the Jai clan, afraid of the stories that surrounded him when he'd been banished. Afraid if his strength.

Kral stuck his head into the tent, grin blooming. "Bren! You're a man of the Sandvipers today."

The boy -Bren, Jai Long supposed- matched Kral's grin with his own. He seemed only too relieved to look away from the red-masked stranger in his tent.

After a few more compliments for the boy and his family, which instantly put them at ease, Kral walked over to Jai Long. He gave a low whistle at the sight of the blood. "That's not too much, do you think?" he asked, keeping his voice low to avoid spooking the child.

"I'm sure you had more," Jai Long replied, not bothering to lower his tone. The most talented young members of the sect received two or three needled of venom, with an appropriate amount of blood to go along with it.

"Most people don't," Kral pointed out. Then he raised his head to look at Bren, and he raised his volume to match it. "But he'll be the pride of the sect in a few years. I'll do it myself."

The boy practically shone with pride, which made Jai Long wonder why Kral hadn't just done this whole procedure himself.

The young chief gave a few ceremonial words, offered Bren the bowl of blood, and then -when the boy had settled into a cycling trance- pricked him on the wrist with the needle.

Bren's jaw tightened and sweat beaded on his brow, but he only grunted once. His father gave a proud smile.

For Jai Long's Iron body, he'd been forced to undergo a ritual that blistered all the skin on his body, broke most of his bones, and kept him in bed for three months afterwards. For a half-civilized sect that survived in the harsh Desolate Wilds, the Sandvipers were soft.

As Bren cycled in preparation for his transformation, Jai Long pulled Kral aside to give him a report.

"The Fishers have gotten us through most of the doors, he explained, and this time he did speak quietly. This was sensitive information, after all. "We think we have a grasp on the rest of the script, but there's still one door between us and the final chamber. I suspect there may be another way-"

The flap of the tent brushed aside, and a Sandviper charged in with his chest heaving and face bright red. No sacred artist would push himself so fa beyond the bons of his breathing technique without a good reason.

Bren's family frowned in disapproval that someone had interrupted their son's ceremony.

"On the horizon," the messenger said, panting. "Come and see."

Jai Long had a good guess what he'd see, and he dashed from the tent without a word. Kral stayed behind to give a word to the waiting family, but Jai Long dashed up the side of a nearby tower. Its unsteady wooden planks creaked alarmingly, but he reached the top in seconds.

With that vantage point, he could see the hideous Desolate Wilds spread out before him. The Purelake was a glimmering sapphire, the rest of it a black mess.

Except for a small group on the horizon, which his Iron eye picked out immediately. They were a motley bunch, dressed in different colors and styles, but it was the banner they carried that caught his eye.

Deep blue and white, with a black crescent in the center.

The Arelius family had arrived.

He leaped from the top of the tower, landing next to Kral. "We're out of time," he said, ducking into the tent for just long enough to retrieve his spear. Bren was still cycling, oblivious.

He emerged with his weapon, and heard Kral already issuing orders.

"Gather the Fishers," the young chief demanded. "Inform the Jai clan. We're going in now." To Jai Long, he asked, "And...if we can't open the door?"

Jai Long gripped his spear in both hands. Up to this point, they had tried to avoid unnecessary damage to the structure of the Ruins for fear of disrupting the script. They were dealing with an incredibly powerful script-circle they didn't understand; the slightest disruption could change nothing, or it could detonate the Transcendent Ruins with enough force to obliterate the Wilds.

He commanded his teams to avoid even chipping away at the walls, for fear of hidden scripts. Until he gave the order.

It was why they had dueled the Fishers for their aid in getting past the scripts. Jai Long wagered the map he made in exchange. Then Kral fought and won against the Fishers sect leader's disciple forcing their corporation. All to avoid damaging the scripts, but now they were out of time.

"We will make a new one."


Lindon woke to a splash of icy water.

He jerked upright, gasping, hands raised to defend himself from the blow he knew was coming. But the first thing to hit him was the stench -smelled like a dead pig rolled around in rotten eggs.

He rolled blindly away from the stink, but it followed him. His hands were resting in a putrid pool of black sludge and red blood, and more of it caked his skin.

His sister Kelsa had been covered in something similar when she advanced to Iron. Did that mean...all this came from his own body?

The puddle of filth had filled the entire space at the bottom of the stairs two fingers' width deep, and it streamed out the open door. He couldn't believe it all came from, his own body.

Another splash of water landed on him, squirted from the twisted seashell binding in Yerin's hand, and Lindon hurriedly rose to his feet. Chunks of filth-soaked cloth and the remains from his cobbled together splint and cast feel to the ground.

They'd broken off, as if he outgrew them somehow.

He staggered as he stood, his balance shifting strangely. Every step seemed to take him too far, too quickly, and his body felt like it would drift off the ground and float to the ceiling. This was even worse than trying to adjust to the new strength and speed of his Low Class Master body. When that happened, just two weeks ago, he actually felt denser at the same. And for some reason his body felt like a rag that had been squeezed dry.

But it was also completely healthy, if ravenous for substance, and all his wounds have been healed.

This time, even though he feels just as dense and even more solid, he feels lighter than before. Lindon continuously shifts from one foot to the other, flexing his muscles and getting a feel for himself.

"Cut that out," Yerin ordered. She sent another stream of water splashing over him from the binding in her hand. "I'm trying to clean you off, and you're jumping around like a chicken."

"You made it, Eithan exclaimed, in a tone of clear surprise. He watched like Lindon's mother examining a new breed of Remnant. "A flawless transition to Iron...with a shaker transition right to Jade, but still solid. Amazing. All thanks to my extraordinary guidance and aid. It was real touch and go there for a while. How do you feel?"

"Jade?" sputtered in stunned shock. "I thought...how'd I end up as a Jade?" Looking to Eithan for the answer.

But then he felt it as he opened his senses; the swirling mass of different powers swelling all around them. Then he felt the solid power of a sharpened sword pouring from Yerin and a river of blood from the belt around her waist, almost making him gag. From Eithan...it was a steady presence that was strangely blurred. For the first time it was hard to tell whether the power behind that blur was strong or weak. The Ki held within was the only give away that he was powerful.

All these new sensations were amazing, and absolutely nauseating at the same time. Like opening his eyes for the very first time in his life. Eyes that went beyond this room, feeling instead of seeing the abundant of aura in the air, and feeling an uncountable number of dreadbeasts and Remnants all around them.

More than any of that, Lindon realized his Seikuken activated on its own alongside his senses. He can actually tell where everything within his sense is located in relation to him. It rang even larger than just before his advancement. But it wasn't the full range of space that he could quickly respond to and reject/attack. A large portion of it was like a secondary sphere surrounding his internal one.

"Careful Lindon. You should pull back your spiritual awareness until you've got a handle on it. At least during our time spent in the Transcendent Ruins. The sheer amount of conflicting and raging aura can be a tad much for a new Jade's senses." Eithan warned.

Another spray of cold water blasted him, scraping away another layer of black grime.

Lindon took that moment to breathe deeply and cycle his madra I the altered pattern Eithan had taught him and visualized his madra flowing through his body from his two cores that...he gasped a loud at what he felt from his cores. They rotated slowly without his direction, grinding in rhythm with his breathing, and they were deep, filled with madra.

If his cores before were small puddles, they were now deep lakes in comparison. Was that because of his unexpected advancement to Jade. Do all cores at the Jade stage grind themselves deeper like his are right now?

His spirit had a weight to it, a gravity that made it feel like it didn't belong to him. Cycling was so much easier and his madra flowed quicker with a smoothness he wasn't used to. But at the same time, it felt different, like something else was mixed...no, intertwined with his madra. It was his Ki, like when he cycled while fighting these past two weeks but smoother and subconsciously.

And it went to ever cell of his body, empowering it. He could better feel it now. Before, he was at just the bare minimum of the Lowmaster class and now he's at its threshold, on the verge of entering the Mid Class Master stage. That's Truegold and Underlord levels of strength but he immediately felt the cost of this increase of strength: his body was passively drawing on his madra to power it. Fortunately, it was only like a drop leaking out of a lake every second, so it won't suck him dry anytime soon.

But Lindon can't help but wonder what that will mean for him while in battle or training. Will he be unable to fight once his madra runs out? Can he even continue to strengthen his body and Ki like before, now that they are intertwined with his madra. Should he have not made his madra channels so extensive?

Lindon processed this quickly, but the look of shock, awe and panic was clear on his face. Getting him to narrow his focus on Eithan. "What happened to me?"

Yerin just keeps on blasting Lindon with cold water as Eithan explained. "You see, Lindon. You actually did to well a job at burning in those madra channels throughout your body. I was forced to intervene so that your Iron advancement could be completed. In an unexpected side effect of having your Will so thoroughly saturated into your body and having done similarly so with your madra, they fused together with your flesh acting as a medium."

Lindon just nodded along, having already guessed that much for himself.

"This caused the usually fast transformation of Iron to be reduced to a crawl, and with you no longer breathing, you'd have died of brain death," Eithan continued, ignoring Lindon's wince. "But by speeding it along by supplementing your spirit with my own madra, it caused damage to your cores and madra channels. Left unattended to, you'd have ended up stuck at Iron, at best and at worst, a spiritual cripple."

Lindon from concerned to full blown, horrified shock. He'd known he'd taken a risk by letting Eithan inject venom into his body, but not to this extent.

"So, I deemed the only way to avoid those outcomes was to push you straight into Jade. Its advancement remaking your spirit, which proved to be even more needed than I had originally thought. Due to the unique merger of your willpower, spirit and body your spirit was forced to advance to Jade or collapse completely. So, it was close call overall."

Lindon had shivered at the implications of that. He was really grateful that Eithan was here, otherwise...

Eithan continued uninterrupted, "To ensure that your foundation stayed solid I had to use the Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel cycling technique -which I'll be teaching later, once were out of this pyramid- to crate the necessary spiral to your cores while giving them the depth they now have. Honestly, you forced me jump your progression ahead by months, if not an entire year." Giving Lindon a chiding look.

"It's not good to skip through stages like that. It nearly killed you, and even with two full sized Jade cores it will still be a strain to full that body of yours." Eithan than proceed to fane a sway of exhaustion. "And I was forced to work so hard to keep you in one piece. I mean seriously, Lindon, for a magnanimous Underlord like myself to be pushed towards needing a rejuvenating elixir just for his disciple's advancement, its unheard of. Especially for someone not related to said Underlord."

Eithan was starting to turn dramatic as he placed the back of his hand to his forehead. "Oh! The pains I go through to help my beloved disciple. Even my favorite robes were ruined in my generous struggles. Has there ever been a more considerate master in all the world than I?!"

Now that Lindon was paying attention to Eithan's robes, he noticed they were different. He was now wearing a shy blue sacred artists' robe, with a pattern of violet birds spreading their plumage. And hints of a pink set of inner robes beneath them.

Yerin was getting annoyed by Eithan's display, so Lindon decided to give him the response he wanted -and he did deserve it- "Gratitude, elder brother. I'll never be able to repay you for all that you have done for me." Lindon said over bowed fists, his voice genuinely grateful.

Eithan beamed as he waved Lindon's words away, "Oh, think nothing of it my disciple. The end results were worth the efforts." Then he covered his nose with one hand and looked sadly at a set of ruined robes laying to the side. "Just barely."

Yet another stream of water scraped away at the filth on his body.

Eithan rested his hand on Lindon's man-sized backpack, not as stuffed as before -Lindon had gone through a lot of his supplies recently- sitting on the stairs beside him and the smaller brown backpack that once held Gehsa's spider construct, safely away from the pool of sludge. "I suggest you change into your spare set of clothing. There's not much left to what you're wearing now and I...doubt would want to keep wearing them anyways."

Lindon was glad to see that Eithan saved his original pack. His mother had made him that pack, slaving over bits of leather and patches of canvas for weeks as she would have a particularly complicated construct. He was glad to still have that piece of home with him.

Eithan held up the smaller pack, "They're inside here. I also took the time to clean your armor and sword before putting them with your clothes. They're a part of your ensemble, correct?"

He glanced between the pack in Eithan's hand and his own ruined set of bloody rags, considering how to get clean first without exposing himself to Yerin. He doesn't want to put his clean set on while still covered in filth.

"Yerin, if you don't mind," Eithan said, before Lindon could think of something.

Her silver sword-arm flashed, briefly overlaid with what he assumed was sword aura in Lindon's spiritual senses, and his clothes -what little was left of them- were slashed to ribbons. He quickly moved his hands to cover his privates, trying to preserve some level of modesty.

She turned quickly, which surprised him to some degree. He'd thought of her as a Gold first, but she was still a girl his own age. Now that he thought of it, that might have been a blush coloring the back of her neck.

Eithan grabbed the twisted blue seashell from Yerin's hand and activated it, sending a flood of water gushing out. It didn't end until Lindon sputtered at him to stop, minutes later, every inch of his body scrubbed clean by the force.

The pack holding his clothes and gear was tossed to him and reflexively grab the pack. As Eithan said, his arm and shin guards were clean and placed on top of several sets of his Ryozanpaku ensemble. He's glad that he'd commissioned their creation from a Fisher seamstress, costing him just a few halfsilver chips. But he could have sworn that they were supposed to be picked only a couple a days ago. He didn't have them in his pack when he was captured. Did Eithan retrieve them for him?

He shook off the oddness of Eithan picking up his new clothes for him. The Underlord obviously has a thing about fine clothing. His hands moved automatically to dress himself in his Kungfu pants, Gi top -a five tailed snowfox stitched to the back with the word Ryozanpaku written underneath it in the old language, Muay Thai wraps around his hands and feet -the guards going over them- and his hidden weaponry concealed within. The only missing apart is his goldsteel chainmail but seeing that it was destroyed by Jai Long he'll have to make another later.

Maybe it was because they were newly made, but something felt strange.

He stopped after tying the belt to his top closed, considering. The Gi was tight across the shoulders and barely closed, leaving his chest exposed, and the pants -which should end at his ankles- only stretched to just below his calves. He looked back up to Eithan.

"Do I look taller to you?"

Eithan looked him up and down. "Older is the word, I think, more than taller. Your muscles were already fully developed but there's more mass to them, and we need to get some food in you. You had no fat to burn for the transition and if you didn't have a belly full of sandviper meat your body would have already started eating those muscles to sustain itself. You don't look like a child spoiling for a fight anymore, but there's still...what do you think, Yerin?"

Yerin turned back around and considered him. "Like he's ready to tear into someone with his bare hands." Coming from her, that sounded like a compliment.

Eithan moved his hand back and forth. "Eh...I'd say he looks like an evil sect leader's rebellious son." He thought a moment longer and added, "Wearing his little brother's clothes."

Lindon's response was cut off by something flying through the air toward him; his hand blurred as he caught it, his body responding faster than thought -his reflexes trained to automatically respond to such moments.

"I thought you might want that," Eithan said, and Lindon opened his hand to see the wooden badge carved with the symbol for empty.

He stared into it as a tide of joy swelled in his chest.

After a few breaths of silence, he spoke. "It doesn't fit me anymore."

He clenched his fist closed, crushing the badge with no effort at all. He'll need to adjust to his newfound strength. Control is equally important as strength for any real warrior. When power is unleashed not under your control is just has harmful to yourself as others.

The pieces spilled from his palm, landing like so much trash, but he tucked the shadesilk ribbon into his pack. It was still valuable.

Eithan slapped him on the back. "There's nothing quite like advancing, is there? It's like you're reborn."

Lindon couldn't agree more, but he gave a humble bow. "I'm only glad that you were here to save me from ruining it."

"We will have to get you something to eat soon," Eithan reminded him. "Otherwise, your body will devour itself from the inside out."

Lindon replied, "That'd be wise. I'd hate to destroy all the effort put into this body, but I can go a day or so before it actually starts breaking down my body's muscles. I just hope that whatever it is we find to eat it's not more sandvipers. It makes my stomach churn just thinking about forcing anymore their meat down."

Eithan chuckled, "Plenty of time to find something better than venomous scared beasts. More urgently, our break time as ended."

Yerin nodded and drew her sword, running up the stairs.

"The way forward opened up while you were sleeping," Eithan told him. "The only way out is now at the top of the pyramid, which just so happens to be where the Jai clan spear awaits. What fortuitous chance!" He flourished his wide sleeve, gesturing the way forward. "And a small army of dreadbeasts and Remnants stands in our way. What a wonderous opportunity for training!"

Lindon strapped his blade over his shoulder and slid his pack onto his back. Seeing that Eithan had no intention on carrying the second smaller pack, he kicked it up and looped it around his left shoulder by one strap. Hopefully it wouldn't get in the way as they fight their way up.

"I admit, I look forward to finding out what my new Iron body can do," Lindon said. Hoping to use this chance to adjust to the changes he can feel in his body. Madra is constantly flowing throughout it now and being devoured. Will it take more in accordance with the level of activity he's engaged in? Will he have to readjust the breathing technique he learned to work with his fighting style? His spiritual sense seems to have already merged with his Ki sense's. What else overlapped?

He had to know these things as quickly as he could, so he could begin correcting them.

"Fortunately, for you, a perfect test awaits!" Eithan nodded forward, where Yerin stood with white blade bared in front of another doorway. And another set of stairs leading up.

Lindon strained his ears for every sound and his eyes twitched at every movement as they made their way up the stairs. Not wanting another surge of information that hurt his head when he opened his spiritual senses, he's limiting himself towards his natural ones for the meantime. Yerin walked ahead with blade drawn, seemingly unconcerned, and Eithan took up the rear. He was whistling.

These stairs were much longer than the ones where Lindon had set up camp, and wider too. They could have easily walked side by side and had room to swing weapons, but by tacit agreement, they all stayed away from the walls.

There were monsters in those walls.

Each stone block was missing a chunk in the middle, leaving a square tunnel onto darkness, and Lindon could hear things slithering or skittering across stone. He was always able to hears these types of things before, more so when reaching master class, but now it was with much greater clarity. He can actually get a vague since of their size from the sound of their feet/paws/hooves and whatever else they had when the hit the stone. He can also gage how close they are and the speed they are moving at.

That was why Lindon had already turned and drew his Elucidator when Eithan -walking with his eyes closed as he whistled, palms laced behind his neck and elbows in the air- informed, "On your right."

As something bright and red flashed out of the darkness, a Remnant with claws bared, Lindon's dark blade -with a golden sheen speckled with sliver- sliced it in two. Dead matter hissed as motes of essence escaped like smoke from a flame. He'd felt his body draw on more madra when attacked. So, his new Iron body will take more madra with every increased physical action. It was also easier and quicker to cut the Remnant down than he was used to. But it will add up over time, and he's not sure he wants to know what happens when he runs out of madra to full his body.

On the instinct to better see the threats coming, Lindon started to open his Copper sight. A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Try not to stare into the sun," Eithan suggested, then continued whistling.

Lindon immediately understood what he meant. If there was enough vital aura in the air that it made his head hurt from just opening his spiritual senses, then the sight of it would be extraordinarily bright. Like looking into the sun.

Hearing the thumping footsteps of something around the size of his torso moving fairly fast in a tunnel behind him, he spun and drove his blade forward. This time Eithan didn't bother giving him a warning, almost happy to see that Lindon's own senses were good enough to hear the dreadbeasts and Remnants coming. Though, Lindon knew Eithan didn't just hear them farther off, but actually saw them.

The monkey with rotten skin and its lips peeled back in the grin of a fanged skull, practically impaled itself on the tip of Lindon's blade. It was still howling and grabbing at him as his Elucidator buried deeper into its chest. And a pulse of red-streaked force billowed out from the monkey, but Lindon sensed the attack coming and reacted accordingly.

Like sacred beasts, dreadbeasts were effectively monstrous sacred artists, and every one of them had a level of advancement beyond his. Meaning they had more madra and actual sacred arts' techniques. But even with him suppressing his new spiritual senses, he could feel the rotten beast's madra cycle and Lindon has fought a dozen of these monkeys before. He knew that striker technique was coming before it was launched.

With a flick of his arm, the monkey flew off his blade and smashed to the stone ground. Its technique hitting the wall to the side of him. It writhed in enraged pain before Lindon's heel cave in its skull, silencing it for good.

Throughout the entire exchange, Lindon felt his madra flow through his channels and into his body almost seamlessly in time with each move. Taking only as much madra as force he exerted in each move.

Except the last one that ended the monkey's life.

To test a theory, Lindon held his madra back from that axe kick, and just as he thought, his body didn't take any of his madra that time. When fueled by his madra, his body is faster, stronger and overall, more fluid than before he reached Iron...Jade now. But when he held his madra back, his physical abilities reverted back to what he had before receiving this Iron body.

The problem for Lindon was that it took focus to keep his madra from naturally strengthening his body in every way. Even when he was focusing his hearing and sight, madra was being drawn into his ears and eyes. It's no true Enforcer technique, that's for certain, but it's like his body is passively enforcing itself. That's great in the respect of his increased strength and abilities but could be costly in a fight.

The harder he fights, the more his body will devour his madra to fuel it. If he isn't careful, he could drain himself dry midway through a fight and be struck by spiritual weakness. And considering the stronger bond his body now has with his spirit, it could make him physically weaker in the process.

Lindon was brought out of his thought by some shrieking down one of the tunnels along the walls. Another fight, this one between dreadbeasts, was going on out of view, and dark blood splattered onto the stairs.

"Hm," said Eithan. "They're certainly excited."

Lindon and Yerin broke into a sprint at the same time. He didn't check to see if Eithan was following: he was an Underlord, so he'd survive if was dropped into a pit of Remnants with nothing but his bare hands.

More Remnants and dreadbeasts boiled out of the walls as they continued, and Lindon learned more about his Iron body. Even just sprinting ate away at his madra reserves, giving him a speed boost that had him out pacing Yerin. He'd have to slow so as not to overtake her. Though, when she noticed, she'd start pumping madra to her legs to keep ahead of him.

Depending on how much force he put behind his blows his body would devour anywhere from a trinkle to all the madra he had as a Copper. If Eithan hadn't pushed him to Jade, with two deep cores -each one equal to a regular Jade- one core would be just about empty right now as he tore his way through the monster pouring out of the wall. But now, one core is untouched and the other still over three-fourths full.

The next thing he noticed was how easily he could hold the breathing pattern for cycling madra when compared to how he was before. Madra practically cycled itself as he fought, using his martials arts without worry of dropping the pattern.

Just as he repelled four creatures at once -one with each of his limbs, two of which were dead and the third ran back into one of the tunnels lining the walls- a pale gray Remnant with six arms boiled up from the depths of the tunnel, howling like wind through a forest. It seized his weapon arm in one hand, his empty arm in another, and both his legs -making sure not to touch his halfsilver/goldsteel mixed armor around his forearms and shins as best it could- as its head peeled back to reveal a gaping mouth.

Lindon struggled, but its grip was solid and had captured him while he was vulnerable; it looked insubstantial and blurry, like a weak Remnant, but it still had physical strength of a Lowgold sacred artist. Scrabbling from behind him told him that the fourth dreadbeast was up and moving again, and Yerin was dealing with two enemies of her own.

Eithan was still whistling with his eyes shut as he dodged four creatures, but Lindon couldn't and shouldn't count on him.

The hands squeezed tighter and tighter as Lindon started cycling his madra faster and pouring all he can into his muscles, condensing it tightly as he can. There's this idea he had about applicating the Empty Palm into a full body strike; pulsing his pure madra from every inch of his body at once to repel several enemies at once. The idea came to him during his two weeks of training alone in these Ruins as was repeatedly swarmed by dreadbeasts and Remnants.

He couldn't then for two very important reasons: One, he simply didn't have enough madra to do it. Two, the flow of madra in his body wasn't thorough enough.

But now he had two Jades worth of madra flow through every cell of his body.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, expanding his belly and keeping his shoulders relaxed: a karate breathing technique for focus, though he couldn't go through the entire process right now, but he needs whatever increased focus he can get. His muscles and madra channels are straining with the effort of continuously packing them with madra.

His body starts to shine a light, bluish-white glow.

Then he clenches all the muscles of his body like a closed fist, while simultaneously blasting pure madra out like a gust of wind in every direction.

A full body Empty Palm strikes out all over his body but only travels a few inches from his skin -being stopped completely at the spots his own armor covers. One of his Jade cores empties completely. It's not as explosive as Lindon had imagined in his head, but it still causes the six-armed Remnant's hands that are gripping him to explode into chunks of essence. Freeing Lindon, who lands on his feet in a ready stance.

Not wasting the chance, even though his muscles are sore and his madra channels burn from the strain, he quickly cuts the screeching -and now two handed- Remnant's head off. In that exact moment the dreadbeast from behind leaps at him, its blood maw opens wide.

Lindon continued his swings motion that cut of the Remnant's head to spin him around and confront the next threat. A kunai flies from his left hand at the exact moment he faces the dreadbeast, a fox-like creature, headed towards its head.

But a flick of the fox's tail, shrouded in a flame intercepts the projectile. The kunai is made of halfsilver and goldsteel so it breaks apart the fire madra surrounding the tail but is still knocked aside.

Lindon has already twisted into a right kick that connects with the fox's head, slamming it into the stone wall. There was sickening crack when his kick landed and a crunch when it hit the stone. It's now motionless in a crumpled heap on the stone floor, blood pooling around the pulpy mass that was once its head.

Lindon turned to see Yerin standing around a chunky puddle, her Endless Sword technique having shredded her enemies into thousands of shapeless pieces. No, it wasn't just her enemies she reduced to bloody piles. The four creatures that were chasing Eithan -and failing to touch him- and another Remnant that had been coming up on Lindon were all turned to bloody puddles at the same time.

Eithan quick-stepped forward to avoid the chunks of blood that his own enemies had become. Lindon was feeling embarrassed by having missed the Remnant that'd snuck up on him as he fought the fox dreadbeast. Thus, he was splattered by the Remnant's essence, but that at least is bleeding away already.

He comforts himself by realizing he would have noticed it if he'd had his senses open. But that is overwritten by the fact that both Yerin and Eithan have theirs open, and he only doesn't because they are too new to hand all the aura raging around the Ruins right now.

If only he could open his seikuken without his spiritual sense tagging along for the ride. Another thing about his martial arts that's going to have be retrained or tweaked to work with his sacred arts.

Yerin took a deep breath, restoring her breathing before she spoke, "Everybody stable?"

Lindon nodded wordlessly and she took off.

He followed after her, vaguely ashamed of himself. Just because he could now fight with the strength and speed of a Highgold -theoretically that is- and can out pace Yerin physically, doesn't mean he can stand up to the sheer force of her sacred arts. Of all the weapons in a sacred artists arsenal, physical strength was among the least. With just her Ruler technique, the Endless Sword, she could cut him to pieces.

Ruler techniques were the most troublesome for his masters to deal with in life and will be a weakness of his. He might have the physical ability of a master class martial artist but not the skills. Even his master has said to compete with sacred artists their skill always had to be much higher than theirs.

If push came to shove, with his level three Ryuseikuken he could get through most of Yerin's technique and close the distance to land a blow. But she's very skilled in martial ability -particularly the sword arts- and would now to keep her distance.

She'd eventually win by raining Striker and Ruler techniques down on him from a distance. At least, as he is right now. With time and training he could overcome that with just his martial abilities, but she won't be staying at her current level of power either.

Will he ever be able to bridge the gap of power between them?

To help speed his progress along he opened his spiritual senses, bracing himself for the flood of information. His seikuken encircling him with the largest diameter than he's ever had before. His head already felt an ache at all the sensations he picked up from the swirling aura rushing up, and the countless number of dreadbeasts and Remnants coming after them. And that was just what was withing his spiritual range. How much more is waiting outside it?

All the more reason to get a Path. Just like Yerin did earlier, he could take down a half dozen of them per technique. It was a sobering reminder of how much stronger having sacred arts makes her, but it was also somewhat liberating.

He had something to look forward to.

It wasn't much longer before they reached the end of the spiraling staircase, and by now the constant attacks were taking their toll. He hadn't used any more Empty Palm techniques after that one he used against the six-armed Remnant, but the constant fights kept forcing his body to draw on more of his madra. Leaving him with only one half-full Jade core, and Yerin was noticeably weakened as well. They'd both taken wounds -which his Iron body devoured more of his madra to heal at an amazing rate, in contrast to Eithan, who continued whistling as though his surroundings didn't affect him at all. That was a pill they both could swallow, as Eithan is an Underlord. He should be no more threatened by these Gold creatures than by a stray breeze.

At the end, with the snarling of monsters behind them, they reached a door.

It was a heavy slab of stone, just like the ones before, but this one was carved with an intricate mural. It was divided into four sections, each depicting a different sacred beast: a serpentine dragon on a cloud flashing with lightning, a crowned tiger, a stone warrior with the shell of a tortoise, and a blazing phoenix.

Though Yerin moved forward to place her palm against the door, he froze at the sight.

He'd seen this before.

Yerin removed her hand from the door, readying her sword. "It's some brand of riddle. Script keeps going right on into it, and there's a key buried here somewhere." The howls of Remnants echoed up the stairs from behind, and the edge of her blade gathered force. "Take a step back."

"Wait!" Lindon shouted, then coughed politely. "I mean, ah, please wait, if you don't mind. We've seen this before."

Eithan sat down on a step and began fiddling with his thumbs.

The shrieks from below grew louder, and a Remnant like a giant purple onion squeezed itself out of the wall to Eithan's side. Before it had completely emerged, he kicked it back.

Yerin took a step back and looked at the door. "I do think you're right. That looks more than a little like a picture in the Ancestors Tomb."

"That's a week away on the Thousand-Mile Cloud," Lindon pointed out.

"Well, that's a head-scratcher," she said, and then drew her sword back again. The edge of the blade distorted as though a haze of heat had gathered around the weapon, and she took a step forward.

Lindon could feel the large amount of sword aura she's gathered around her blade, which kept him from stopping her before she smashed her technique into the door's surface.

It struck with a rush of power that was deafening in the enclosed space of the stairway, ringing in his ears as though someone had struck a bell over his head. Madra and aura flooded forward with her strike until his view of the action warped like he was watching through murky water.

When it cleared, a single chip of stone was spinning on the floor. Otherwise, the door was completely intact.

Lindon would have taken this moment to stop her from damaging the door any further -it was connected to some unknown script, and might bring the entire roof down on their heads if they interrupted the circle, not to mention its connection to Sacred Valley- but he happened to sense dreadbests behind them.

They scrambled all over each other as they clawed up the stairs, seeming to blend into a multiheaded mass of corrupted flesh.

Yerin braced her feet against the ground, her Goldsign drew back like a snake preparing to strike, and she gripped her sword in both hands. Colorless sword madra rippled around her until it was like he was looking at her through a cage of razors edge-on. As she gathered power, she focused on the door as though she meant to destroy it with the force of her stare.

Without giving himself too much room to think, he held his own sword and pointed it at the oncoming rush of beasts. He bent his knees while putting his left foot forward and his right back, and pulled his sword arm back, holding it straight at the oncoming beasts. Madra pouring into his right arm to Enforce it for the increased power he'd need for his strike.

"The big one," Eithan shouted, but through his ringing ears Lindon heard it as a whisper. The man was standing now, but he was actually leaning his shoulder against one of the wider sections of wall, completely at ease.

Lindon listened, adjusted his aim to point at the biggest of the dreadbeasts: a warped purple creature like a bear with heavily muscled arms with visible blood shot veins running through them.

Just as the dreadbeast hauled itself back on its hind legs, he stepped forward, thrusting his dark, heavy one-handed long sword forward like a spear. It blurred as it moved forward, sending a sharpened point of pressurized air at the bear.

Even though there was several feet of distance between them, the strike shot through the dreadbeast's head. Its roar cut short as blood and brain matter splattered out the back of its head. The bears lifeless corpse fell back into the stairway it came out from, and every other Remnant and dreadbeast fell upon it.

Terrible sounds of flesh tearing, and creature's shrieks echoed out before a bloody, severed limb landed at the top.

An explosion drummed his bones, and he spun with his left arm thrown up over his eyes. Stone fragments flew at him through a cloud of billowing dust, and he batted them away with a combination of his sword and sangu. The remaining half of the door tipped over and slammed to the ground with the speed of a calving glacier.

Yerin's knees buckled as her technique faded, and she fell to the ground panting. Eithan and Lindon ran by her, each grabbing an arm without discussion, pulling her into the room beyond.

It was a broad, featureless hallway with an open doorway at the end. In the very center laya circle of script.

The dreadbeasts wouldn't continue slaughtering each other for long -fighting over the bear's meat, but Lindon spared a moment to admire the advanced script-circle on the floor. There were at least ten layers to the circle, lines of runes and sigils wrapping an empty space in the center.

Lindon and Eithan hurried around the edge, though Yerin regained her feet and ran on her own strength halfway through. Though the circle was much more likely to affect sacred beasts and Remnants, none of the were willing to run through the middle.

The outer circles brushed against the wall, so they were running on runes, and each step sent a little shock through the soles of Lindon's feet. His madra trembled as it cycled, as though drawn down to the floor.

He pushed on, and together the three of them reached the open doorway in seconds. There was, in fact, a door on the other side. this was a more ordinary type of door than the stone slabs from before, made merely of dull gray metal and heavily caked with a series of script-circles. It had been left propped open, and judging by the dust sitting at its base, it had been that way for a long time.

It took both Yerin and Lindon to heave the door shut, its scripts glimmering for a moment as they drew power from the ambient aura. He and Yerin fell to the ground, gulping mouthfuls of dusty air, and generally savoring their survival.

Eithan stood to one side, hands on his hips. "I have to say...this is fairly impressive."

Lindon followed his gaze, taking in the space lit brightly by warm orange lanterns that were surely some kind of rune light. The lights were covered by paper screens to soften their glow, and it was a good thing; some of them shone too bright, uncomfortably bright, while others flickered off and on in a disquieting rhythm. They must have been powered by the vital aura taken in by the Ruins' script, but either the script was broken, or it had been too long since they'd last come to life. The glow was uneven and left half the room bathed in irregular shadows.

The room looked more like a rich clan's library than anything he'd expect to find in an ancient ruin, the colored tiles set with dusty carpets and beautifully carved tables. One of those tables held a collection of jade statuettes, one a cracked dragon with the head of a lion, the others a series of creatures' stranger and more hideous. A glass-covered case displayed some tools of halfsilver and goldsteel, as well as more exotic materials that Lindon didn't recognize, but at least half of the spaces were empty.

Books sat open on stands carved for them, their curling pages painted with arcane diagrams and characters. They had browned from age, and Lindon was certain that if he so much as breathed on a corner, the paper would dissolve.

A row of silver hooks hung from the ceiling, which stood out as he couldn't think of a purpose for them. They varied in size, but none of them held anything beyond empty air.

A long glaive made of Forged madra, with a blood red shaft and a gleaming golden sword blade at the end, sat on a frame halfway up the wall. A circle of script surrounded it, sealing its power and preventing it from dissolving. Beneath the weapon, an image was painted directly on one wall: a circle, blank on one half, the other half complex and twisted with a network of lines.

Lindon stared at the pieces of the room for too long before they fit together into a whole.

This was a Soulsmith's foundry.

When he realized that, he shot to his feet and dashed to a nearby table, rummaging through it. He found nothing likely, despite pulling a few drawers open, so he slid to the next one, frantically shuffling through piles of sealed ebony scrolls with scripts worked in gold filigree on their cases.

Yerin stepped up beside him, giving him a curious glance. "Looking for the spear?"

"Take the other side of the room, if you wouldn't mind," he replied, casting the scrolls and digging in a box on the floor. "A Soulsmith worked here."

"I'm not seeing your point."

A box caught his eye, ornately carved and polished and standing as tall as he did. It was covered in a layer of dust, like most everything else in the room, but otherwise it looked exactly like the sort of wardrobe they would use in the Wei clan. Wider, though. If he stretched his arms out as far as he could, he wouldn't be able to touch both ends with his fingertips.

He shot for the wardrobe before answering Yerin, throwing the doors wide open.

White light erupted from within.

Pain shot through his eyes as blinding light overtook his vison, and his arms moved to protectively cover over his face instantly. He felt Yerin move between him and the potential source of danger. He really should have considered the possibility of there being a defensive construct or trap before throwing the doors open. He knows better, but his excitement took over his commonsense for a moment. He'll need to work on that.

When he could see again, just as he sensed, Yerin was standing in front of him, and the source of the light. It was a shining bar of Forged madra, long enough to stretch from one end of the wardrobe to the other. It was held by a set of carved wooden supports, held just below eye level as though waiting for him to take the weapon.

And it was a weapon. A spear, formed seamlessly from madra by ancient Soulsmiths. It shone with the light of the stars, congealed into a weapon whose power he could feel radiating against his skin. When he ran his spiritual sense over it, his use of it was a bit shaky but he could still feel a ravenous hunger coming from it. Like it wanted to devour him and everything else. Yet, something within him resonated with it, his own hunger for power, for advancement.

Yerin's breath slowly left her, and even Eithan gave a low whistle as he strode over to take a look.

"In my grandfather's day, Soulsmiths valued beauty as much as function." He moved his hand along the shaft of the spear without touching it. "The script flows with the contours of the weapon, guiding it so even the aura is a work of art. Exquisite."

Lindon could just barely pick out a few lines of the script on the shaft, which looked like white paint on white, but the spear had held his attention too long already. He dropped to his knees, searching the drawers at the bottom of the case.

The real treasure should be down here.

After digging through a handful of junk, he withdrew an ivory box wider than both his hands together. It was heavier than he expected, for being only about an inch deep, and the lid was etched with a pattern of interlocking leaves.

Carefully, he lifted the lid. There were no notes and no brightly colored bindings inside, so he almost tossed it aside.

Then he realized what they were, and suddenly he couldn't breathe.

The badges were slightly smaller than the ones from Sacred Valley, but otherwise they were practically identical. Eight badges sat within the box, each marked with a hammer -the symbol of a Forger.

The first row contained a badge each of copper, iron, jade, and gold. That much he expected. But the second row moved from halfsilver to goldsteel to materials he couldn't identify. One of them was a deep, fiery red, and the other a blue so rich it was like a Forged slice of sky.

He reached a shaking hand and lifted the jade badge. It was lighter than a feather in his hands, but he handled it as though it were made of glass. Delicately, he threaded one end of his shadesilk ribbon through the loop at the top.

"Well, look what you found," Eithan commented, and Yerin leaned over his shoulder for a closer look. Lindon paid them no attention.

He hung the jade badge from his neck and closed his eyes. Taking in the fact that he's a Jade now. The Wei Patriarch is only Jade. If he returned home now, he'd be revered as the Wei prodigy and help up as the symbol of his clan's power.

After a moment, Eithan cleared his throat. "This anthill has been well and truly kicked," he informed. "I'm afraid that very soon we will have to share our meal with the...other ants."

Lindon snapped out of his reverie. "Dreadbeasts?" He'd pulled his senses back, the throbbing in his head becoming difficult to ignore. Some rest would hopefully prevent it from becoming a full-blown migraine.

"Worse. Humans."

The Sandvipers must have found their way through the Ruins, though he supposed it didn't matter much if were the Fishers or even all the factions of the Five Factions Alliance. Whoever it was, they would strip this place bare. Unless Eithan stopped them, but Lindon had come to understand that the Underlord has no interest in doing anything other than what he wants. So far, he has never really helped in any of the fights on their way up.

This whole experience is just as Eithan described; training for him and Yerin. He wouldn't put it past the yellow-haired man from seeing them being attacked by the coming sacred artists as just more training. So, Lindon will operate on the assumption that Eithan will not stop them from cleaning this place out.

Lindon slid the ivory box into his new, smaller pack, having enough room with all his spare outfits. Then he dug back into the wardrobe's bottom drawer.

In this one, he finally found what he was looking for.

A script-marked box contained three indents in the silk lining within. One of these holes was empty, but the other two contained a pair of bindings. They were bright white, made of the same arcane material as the spear, and shaped like spiraling drills.

Quickly, he scanned the notes near the bindings. "Generation Fourteen shows all the qualities we'd hoped for," they read. "It demonstrates the capacity to devour and process madra with a high degree of efficiency, though each individual contains only one binding. If a scared artist could cultivate similar techniques, our efficiency may double..."

The next page had been scribbled in haste, judging by the carelessness with which the characters were slapped on paper. "The failed specimens may be the key to success. Their auras alter as they devour one another, growing faster than we'd ever predicted. Theoretically, there is no upper limit on this growth, but the spirit warps the flesh. Further study needed; could lead to achievement of the primary goal."

Lindon stuffed those notes in his pack, continuing to read. The labels confirmed what he'd thought: these were the bindings at the heart of the Jai clan's spear. The mechanisms that drained madra from victims.

The Jai clan could have their spear back. Powerful it may have been, but it was just a single weapon.

Learning to make such weapons...that was the real fortune.

Of course, Lindon didn't have such a high estimation of his own abilities. He would learn what he could from the bindings and from the notes, and he may even keep one of the bindings for later examination, but knowledge like this was worth more than a leg to a Soulsmith. Gesha would have sold the entire Fisher sect for something like this.

Tucked away with the bindings were a trio of polished black river stones, each marked with a tiny script-circle that Lindon couldn't identify. He tucked them away, just in case, stuffed the box into the smaller pack with his clothes and the badges, filling it.

Fortunately, his larger pack still had plenty of room left, but before he could decide what else to take, he was interrupted by a deafening crash.

The door at the other end of the room, on the opposite end from where they'd entered, had buckled and fallen inwards. A pair of fur clad Sandvipers filed out to either side of the door, weapons writhing with green madra. Jai clan members followed them, with spears and gleaming hair and meticulous blue sacred artists' robes, and then a couple of wary-looking Fishers.

Jai Long's red-wrapped head emerged next; spear held low with its point towards the ground. The sect heir, Kral, followed him with a roguish smile.

"Fan out," Jai Long ordered. "Spear first, then-"

He didn't get the rest of the command out of his mouth.

Yerin whipped a wave of sword madra at him, her Striker technique thin as a razor but with the fury of a storm. One of the Sandvipers met madra with madra on the edge of his axe, green power eroding her technique. The force still pushed him back a step.

Before he'd come to a stop, Yerin had raised her sword. The white blade rang like a bell.

And every blade in the room answered.

Glass crashed, lights flickered, and air filled with a storm of splintered wood and shredded paper. Lindon's spirit screamed a warning, and he jumped back just as the spear's display case exploded.

The eruption of sword aura from Yerin's Ruler technique might have killed him, crouched as close as he was to a powerful blade. It was only because of the halfsilver mixed into his own blade that it didn't split him in half -though a few tiny cuts appeared along the fabric on his back. He was wondering if it was a good idea to draw his Elucidator or not. If Yerin kept using her Endless Sword, he'd end up losing a hand, or at least a finger.

Honestly, Lindon was wondering what Yerin was thinking, attacking all these Golds. Sure, they Eithan with them, but he's just as likely to just stand by and watch than help. As long as they let them have the spear, they could have just left as they stripped this place bare, fighting over what they could their hands on.

Now, they're going to have to fight two Highgolds that already beat them before, with a half dozen Lowgolds on their side. Unless Eithan decided to reveal himself as an Underlord, Lindon can't see how they could possibly win this fight.

One of the Sandvipers was bleeding and slumped against the wall, struggling to stand, but before Lindon caught sight of the others, a constellation of stars flashed out of the debris, blasting towards Yerin like a flight of arrows.

Her sword gathered a shimmering edge as she wove the weapon in a complex knot, knocking the technique from the air, but her robe still gathered another collection of tears as the lights ripped through her loose sleeves. One gouged the looping ribbon of her red belt, and moted of red essence rose like smoke from the wound before it filled in again, sealing itself.

Lindon had already activated his seikuken once more, the added sensations of his spiritual senses joining it. He could now feel everything happening around the room. That was how he was able to turn in time to deflect an awl aimed at his back with his black, gleaming blade.

There he saw Kral, the Sandviper heir with his midnight pelt hanging like a cloak and a grave expression on his face. Like he was an executioner gazing upon a condemned prisoner.

He hadn't used a technique yet, and his attack was much weaker than a Highgold could deliver, so he must want to talk. Lindon had something he wanted: the location of the spear, along with its foundational binding. That gave him leverage. If he kept Kral from joining Jai Long, maybe Yerin could hold out long enough for Eithan to decide to step in.

Kral raised one of his eyebrows after a shiver passed through Lindon's spirit. "Jade. I thought you were a Copper."

Lindon lowered his weapon and spread the other hand, showing it empty. "Nothing more than a humble Jade, honored Highgold. There's no blood between us, I see no reason why any should be spilled."

Kral nodded along with every word, then flipped his empty hand as though gesturing for a servant to leave his presence. Three liquid drops of green madra appeared in the air in front of him, splashing toward Lindon. He'd anticipated the attack, sensing Kral cycle his madra for an attack, and responded with a Sonic Slash that broke the technique and continued towards Kral's head.

But Kral had disappeared.

The young chief's black cloak was still dropping when the razor-sharp air current cut it in two. But Lindon was already whirling around, having never lost sight of Kral. He's been following faster movements since he was child, and now, with his new Iron body enforced with his Jade madra, he could match the Highgold's speed.

This time it was a Forged spike of venom made he batted away. Kral's eyes widen in shock for just the briefest of moments before glee took over. "You really are a strange Copper...no wait. You've made it Jade. So, congratulations. Let me reward you with an exchange of techniques."

Kral struck out with his awl, three Forged copies forming around it, his echo forger technique. Lindon sliced through two of the echoes, the third echo shattered on his left gauntlet, and he turned his head just enough to only take a cut on his cheek from the awl.

Lindon didn't waste any time, his body was devouring his madra at a ravenous pace to fuel his body enough to keep pace with a Highgold, and went into a leaping knee to Kral's face.

Kral leapt back with ease, a grin spread wide on his face, like this was all just a fun game.

Lindon narrowed his spiritual sense on Kral and brought his seikuken down to a thin layer around his skin, entering the second level: Ryuseikuken. Just as Lindon's sense snapped into place, a second awl slid into Kral's other hand.

In a flash, they collided. A dozen strikes, blocks, counterstrikes, and slashes speed through the air between them. Some narrowly missing flesh and a few tearing into pelt and cloth alike. Sparks flashed out as golden halfsilver gleamed from Lindon's blade and armor intercepting glowing green coated awls and the occasional Forger technique.

Lindon was throwing in the occasional kick and attempting to trip the Sandviper heir, only to be blocked by Forged spikes of venom madra, or harmlessly pass-through empty air. They were dancing around one another, trying to land lethal blows and cut off avenues of escape.

Whenever Lindon would create an opening, Kral would launch a Striker technique that'd force Lindon to dodge instead of attack. And whenever Kral would use a movement technique to overtake the Jade's speed and try to get an attack to land, he'd find Lindon had already moved out the way, as if he'd seen the attack coming.


Kral was having a hard time believing that this was just a Jade. The boy moved with the speed and grace of a Highgold, and his blows made even Kral's bones rattle at the force. And don't even get him started on the Jade's martial skills. It was like he was sparring against Jai Long!

Don't get the heir wrong, he is greatly enjoying himself, he loves battle. But this far beyond what any Jade should be capable of. If he's not careful, Kral could end up being killed.

But Kral's noticed that the Jade's madra is dropping fast, like his core has sprung a leak, and he hasn't used any sacred arts. Not surprising, the Jade boy's madra is pure, but he did use that odd madraless striker technique and he must be using one powerful Enforcer technique to keep up with him.

So, when Kral senses the boy's madra gutter out and his movements slow, he leaps back and rains striker techniques at him. Drops of venom madra shoot into the Jade, his one-handed long sword cutting through several, and flying knives and throwing stars intercept a handful more. But a few still burn through the boy's clothes and down into his flesh. Kral can hear flesh sizzling.

The Jade doesn't scream or even grit his teeth.

Kral's impressed, Sandviper venom is agonizing, but this is all a set up for his Ruler technique. A venomous fog surrounds Lindon, who starts coughing as he swings his sword, using his sonic slash to break apart the cloud of venom. Kral decides to throw in a few more Forged spikes and Striker venom drops into the poison cloud, peppering Lindon as he struggles to breathe.


Lindon's body has eaten up all his madra, it's too high maintenance for even two full sized Jade cores. Maybe if he came into this fight with both full, he could have found a way to win...maybe. He'd been keeping an eye on Kral's Goldsign the whole time, not letting him fall for the same trick Yerin did. But that never proved vital, as his body hungerly devoured his madra with every movement.

Then Kral's occasional movement techniques added in, it took all his concentration to predict it and twice as much madra to dodge it. He honestly wasn't doing too badly, but once his madra ran dry, his body ached, and he could no longer keep up with the Highgold. And Lindon was so close to going into the third level of his Ryuseikuken. He could have overtaken Kral's rhythm and broke his techniques to land a solid blow.

His skills were superior to the Sandviper heir, but Kral was still skilled enough to keep Lindon at bay. Just long enough for Lindon to run out of madra so that he could keep his distance and attack with a combination of Ruler and Striker techniques.

Now his lungs were burning, flesh melting at certain points, and his muscles started spasming. He was swinging his blade as fast and often as he could to break the Ruler technique. Lindon succeeded dispersing the cloud but ended up taking a Forged spike of venom to his right bicep all the way through, that the tip poked his side.

Lindon fell to the ground, just barely keeping his grip on his Elucidator, twitching from the venom.

Kral's boots padded away, leaving Lindon facedown, adding another cloud of Sandviper venom around his head for good measure. The Sandviper had never heard of a Jade that strong...maybe Jai Long was that strong at Jade, or at least skilled. He actually had to work to finish the boy off.

"The Copper's dead," Kral said lazily, keeping up appearances, he can't let anyone think that he struggled with a Jade -no matter how briefly. "Actually, I suppose he reached Jade, didn't he?"

"So, he did," Eithan replied. His voice was pleasant, as though he was chatting with a friend. "If he died, then he has only his lack of ability to blame."

"I...can only agree. You're more reasonable than I expected. You must have dropped a fortune to force him to Jade so quickly."

The voices were hazy through the pain and lack of oxygen, but Lindon listened, nonetheless. Waiting for an opening to exploit. This level of agony was nothing. It was actually familiar.

In fact, it was fading quickly.

"Why don't we come to an arrangement?" Kral continued, his words almost swallowed by a thunderous crash behind him. Yerin and Jai Long no doubt. "I've seen your ability, and I can recommend you directly to my father." He paused as another crash echoed through the room. "In fact, I don't think we've been properly introduced. I am Kral, Highgold of the Sandvipers. My father is Gokren, Truegold and chief."

"My name is Eithan."

The Forged spike in Lindon's right bicep had already dissipated significantly, enough that he could start to move his arm again. The venom cloud around his head becoming nothing more than a few spots of green mist.

The burning venom in his veins had already subsided to nothing more than an uncomfortable warm tingle. Even his stab wound and the tiny holes in his body had closed shut, turning from screaming pain to faint irritations. What little madra remained in his core and channels were devoured completely by his body to heal the wounds at an astonishing rate.

The bloodforged Iron body. Sandvipers used it to combat their own toxins. If he hadn't used up so much madra during the fight, he'd have never fallen to the poison's effect at all.

And Kral didn't know he had it.

The Sandviper heir was standing with his back to Lindon, an awl in both hands. Over his shoulder, Jai Long was pacing toward Yerin, who was leaning on her sword to stay upright.

"If you have no sect, Eithan, a sacred artist of your skill would be welcome among the Sandvipers."

Lindon crouched, his left foot forward and left hand in the middle and right foot back in a runner's start, but with his right arm raised. The point of his blade aimed for Kral's heart as he pushed his muscles for all the power, they could give him. His Ki, all his willpower enforcing them with all he's got. He'll only get once chance at ending Kral.

Lindon didn't want to kill if he could avoid it, but Kral has shown he has no honor, attacking a Jade who offered no resistance and attempted to kill him. Plus, he's seen how vile the Sandvipers can be. Lindon won't pull his punches nor shed even a drop of regret for killing this arrogantly cruel man.

Eithan leaned casually against the wall; his gentle smile fixed on Kral. "I'm here looking for recruits. I don't intend to be recruited myself."

Lindon pulled his blade arm back and leaned forward, tightening his muscles for the full forced thrust of his sword. Coiled like a snake ready to strike. It needs to be as fast as he can manage, he can no longer move at Highgold speeds now that his madra is all used up. His spirit felt like a rag that someone had squeezed too many times, it'd be no more help in this fight.

"Especially not by a sect as weak as yours," Eithan added.

Lindon could practically feel a winter breeze as Kral responded. "I suspect you may have misspoken, my friend."

"I'm afraid not. If I belonged to your sect, which I'm proud to say I do not, I would be painfully ashamed of you. What kind of a Highgold fails to kill a Jade?"

Lindon exploded into motion, uncoiling forward as the stone beneath his feet cracks and breaks as he's launched forward. His sword thrusting forward just has he is about to slam into Kral, the point piercing through the young chief's back, heart and out his chest in one smooth motion.

Eithan had already moved aside to avoid the droplets of blood that shot off his blade's tip, splashing onto the stone wall.

Kral coughed out a mouthful of blood before shakily turning his head to look over his shoulder at Lindon. Shock was clearly evident on his face as blood dribbled down his chin. "W-what? H-how...a J-jade?" His awls slipped from his hands, clattering to the ground as all strength left his body and the light faded from his eyes.

The next second his body slumped forward, Lindon pulling his Elucidator out of Kral's back as he crumpled on the ground. Blood was already pooling around him as the fresh corpse started to cool by the moment and the Sandviper heir's Remnant formed from his spirit.

Lindon staggered back a few steps, taking in deep breaths as he shuddered at how close it had been. If Kral had turned in time from Eithan's warning -which seemed unfair of him- he could have parried the thrust or even dodged. From there it would have been a struggling effort to survive for Lindon. If Kral hadn't been so arrogant and speared Lindon through the head when he'd fallen earlier, then Lindon would be corpse on the ground instead.

Kral had just enough skill that added with his sacred arts' techniques he could have killed him. He really wants a Path. Lindon knows he was only able to even challenge Kral because of the new boost his Iron body gave him by devouring his madra. It was all too close for comfort, and he only won by foolishness on Kral's part, chance, Eithan pushing him straight to Jade and having the Bloodforged Iron body.

But it's not over yet. Kral's Highgold Remnant is rising, and this time he'll have to fight with just Lowgold equivalent physical ability and no more immunity to the Sandviper venom. Without the madra to fuel it, his Iron body won't be able to nullify the poison.

Just as the Remnant fully manifests, a blast of madra destroys its glowing green, snake-like head. The Remnant fell to the ground, leaking essence next to its human corpse. Eithan just standing there, grinning like usual, unaffected by the dead man at his feet. Well, not entirely, he moves around Kral's corpse to avoid blood from getting on his shoes.

Lindon lets out a relieved breath and bows, "Gratitude. I don't think I had enough in me to fight his Remnant too."

Eithan just waved Lindon's thanks off. "It was no trouble at all, disciple. You performed wonderfully. So well in fact, that you deserved a little assistance at the end."

Lindon was having a hard time understanding this yellow-haired Underlord. First, he warns Kral about Lindon still being alive, then saves him from the Sandviper Remnant. Is Eithan trying to kill him, or just push him as hard as possible?

Spear-wielding members of the Jai clan had surrounded them by now, shouting demands, even as a pair of Sandvipers crashed to their knees next to Kral. Some Fishers loomed near Lindon, hooks in hand -hooks Lindon forge himself for the sect, but they didn't look any friendlier. Which didn't make any sense to him; they hated the Sandvipers and he was once one of the Fishers himself. They should be taking his side.

A flash of starlight, and Yerin flew backwards like a ballista bolt. Jai Long stalked toward her, spear readied, but his red-wrapped head turned as though he'd caught a scent of something.

His figure blurred as he vaulted over the members of the Jai clan, landing next to Kral. He shoved the Sandvipers out of the way, placing his palm against the fallen heir's corpse and his shoulders slumped. The heir's Remnant still bleeding essence next to them as Jai Long's body shook with barely contained fury.

The man in the red mask rose like a Remnant, spear clutched in one hand, and his eyes focused on Lindon.

Jai Long levered his weapon at Lindon, the gleaming spearhead glowing with Stellar Spear madra.

"You killed him. Even destroyed his Remnant!"

Every word shook with barely restrained rage.

Lindon held his sword in front of him in a defensive stance, ready to defend himself from yet another Highgold. All his luck must have been used up by Suriel saving his life, because he doesn't seem to be having any lately. "I was just defending myself, a Jade, from a Highgold! Surely you can't hold it against-"

"I will not let you live," Jai Long interrupted, his voice hard, cold and even. "I won't even kill you more quickly. You'll answer for what you've done. You killed my friend." He nodded to some Sandvipers on the side. "Bag him."

Lindon tightened his grip on his Elucidator, gritting his teeth as he took in his situation. He was surrounded by Lowgolds from three sects -one of which he thought was friendly- and Jai Long himself. The Highgold alone could tear Lindon apart himself, even if Lindon was in top condition.

His imagination chewed on everything they could do to him once they had him in the bag, and Yerin still hadn't risen from where she'd fallen. Had she died? Her Remnant hadn't risen, but she wouldn't be in any shape to help him. Nor could he help her with this many sacred artists surrounding them. Maybe he could grab her and escape if it was just the Lowgolds, but Jai Long is too fast and skilled to get past while carrying Yerin. And he won't leave her behind, ever.

They had only one hope left.

Eithan stepped in front of Lindon in a rustle of blue and pink cloth. "Under other circumstances, I'd let you kill him. I'm a firm believer in self-sufficiency. But this seems just a tad unfair."

Jai Long shifted his gaze to Eithan, and even the aura responded to his intensity. Lindon didn't have his copper sight open to see a halo of light surrounding the Highgold, and invisible blades gouged lines from the floor around his feet. "I am Jai Long, Highgold formerly of the Jai clan. I suspect you are Highgold yourself, maybe even Truegold, but know this. If you stand before me now, you will make yourself an enemy of the Sandviper sect and the entire Jai clan."

"They care so much for an exile?" Eithan asked curiously.

Jai Long did not pause a beat. "For me? No. For their reputation? Everything. You will have stood before a clansman for the sake of a Jade, and they will only save face by killing you. Stand aside, or we will water your home with blood and sow the ground with salt."

The worst part was how each of his words was delivered flat and absolute. The Jai clansmen behind Jai Long shifted and looked at each other, but they didn't put down their spears. The Sandvipers looked ready to draw blood with their teeth, and even the Fishers glowered. But Lindon wasn't concerned, seeing as they are threatening an Underlord that happens to be a part of a major family of the Blackflame Empire. All they're doing is consigning themselves to death.

Meanwhile, Eithan rummaged around on the pocket of his outer robe.

"I don't disagree with you on any particular point," he replied, "and certainly I don't wish to impugn the honor of the famous Jai clan." He bowed to the spearman in blue. "Having said that...in truth, this was my fault. I didn't introduce myself properly earlier."

From his outer robe, he withdrew an intricately filigreed golden badge. It was bigger than the badge used in Sacred Valley, and far more ornate. There was no ribbon of silk threaded through it, as though it were meant to be displayed by hand.

Lindon couldn't see what was printed on the front, but it made the Jai clan go pale and throw their weapons aside. Even the Sandvipers backed up a step as though pushed by a heavy wind. It must be a sign of his status as an Underlord.

"My name is Eithan Arelius, heir to the Arelius family, Underlord in service of the Blackflame Empire, and the greatest janitor alive. This young man is an agent of my clan, working under my aegis and my protection, and any action against him will be considered action against me."

Eithan relaxed and tucked the golden badge back into his robe, but not before Lindon caught a glimpse of a black crescent moon on white, set deeply into the badge, with sapphires playing around the edges.

Lindon let out a barely noticeable sigh of relief, sheathing his sword, as obviously, Eithan will stop anyone from further hostile action against him. There would be no bag for him after all.

But Jai Long's spear didn't waver.

"The Arelius family is still a day out," he said, his voice flat as a lake and cold as steel. "No Underlord moves ahead of his clan, and they have no reason to move in secret. The Arelius Underlord would have taken control of the whole Five Factions Alliance and commanded whatever he wanted."

With a clear lack of concern, Eithan strolled over to the wreckage nearby and bent down. He emerged with a gleaming white spear, which shone like condensed starlight in his hands.

"What I want," Eithan stated, "cannot be commanded."

Like a man throwing an undergrown fish back into a lake, he tossed the spear into the debris from which it came.

While every eye followed the arc of the Jai ancestor's spear, Eithan moved to face Jai Long.

And something pressed down on Lindon's soul.

It was like the feeling of having his spirit searched, but ten thousand times stronger. A thousand-pound weight pushed down on his core, weighing his madra down, making him feel as though he were being pressed into the ground. It felt similar, but fundamentally different to a Ki attack by his masters. So, with a flex of his Ki, the weight vanished off his spirit, even though the weight never affected his body. It's so infused with his Ki that it naturally pushed it away.

That's how he knew that it was Eithan's madra fully exposed and focused on everyone around him.

Everyone else seemed to have it worse. Several of the Golds around him fell to their knees, some of them screamed, still others gasped as though trying to breathe underwater. The Jai clansmen gripped their gleaming iron hair as though it pained them, and the miniature Remnants attached to each Sandviper's arm went insane. They hissed and twisted into the flesh of their host as though trying to burrow their way inside.

Jai Long's spear wobbled as though it suddenly weighed a thousand pounds, then it crashed into the floor. It came within a hair's breadth of slicing open Lindon's shoe.

A red-wrapped head slowly lifted, pushing against a heavy weight, until Jai Long looked Eithan in the eye.

"You know, you've insulted me more than once now. Some other Underlords of my acquaintance would have you pulled apart, piece by piece, over a month's time. Others would simply obliterate you."

The pressure vanished suddenly, and everyone -besides Lindon, he'd never lost his breath in the first place- took a gasp of breath at once.

"But I'm famous for my good humor and forgiving temper," Eithan continued, clapping Jai Long on the shoulder. "You've lost a friend, so I think you've more than earned a few lapses in judgement. And, of course, you've earned a campaign of vengeance against Lindon here."

Every eye turned to Eithan, disbelieving. Including Lindon's.

"He's a part of your family," Jai Long replied warily.

"A flower in the greenhouse is never half so beautiful as one in the wild. Don't you find that to be true? I like to think it's the added edge of danger. Nothing reaches its full potential unless it's threatened." He placed his finger along the edge of his chin, considering. "Give me one year with him. After a year of my instruction, if he's not your match, then he has only himself to blame. Does that sound fair to you?"

"He's Jade," Jai Long answered. "I may as well kill him now."

"Then you are waiting a year in respect for my wishes. In compensation, I won't strip this place to the bones and then break it looking for marrow. Everyone will receive the treasures that they have earned, in order of their contribution to the excavation effort."

The sacred artists behind Jai Long brightened at that, especially the Fishers, who almost as one packed away their hooks and bowed to Eithan.

"As the first to arrive," Eithan said, "the new members of my family will select their rewards." He glanced over to the side. "As Yerin can't join us at the moment, I will choose for her." He reached onto the nearby table and grabbed a bag seemingly at random. It clinked as he lifted it.

"Now, Lindon." Eithan gestured around the room, away from the Jai spear and his eyes flickering to Lindon's pack.

Lindon immediately understood what Eithan was silently telling him. For whatever reason, Eithan didn't want him to take the spear, and would out his other stolen gains if he tried. So, reluctantly, Lindon walked over to the ruined display case and dug around the wreckage until he pulled out the long glaive made of Forged madra, with a blood-red shaft and golden sword blade at the end he saw earlier. "I'm not so proud as to try and take the spear from the experts of the honored Jai clan," he announced. "I will settle for this lesser glaive instead."

Jai Long might already hate him, but that didn't mean he couldn't build up some goodwill. Especially, seeing as Eithan kept him from just taking the spear for himself.

"Wise choice," Eithan commented with a nod. Though, Lindon was certain that the wise choice had less to do with the glaive than replying to his unspoken command.

Lindon moved to his two packs, slipping them on before anyone could try looking into them. They didn't need to know about the badges, scripted stones and the bindings with the research notes.

Eithan turned to Jai Long. "I have no need of anything for myself. I already achieved what I came for. Jai Long, as the leader of the other party to reach the summit of the Transcendent Ruins, what treasure do you claim?"

"Hold a moment, honored Underlord," an old woman piped up, and Fisher Gesha drifted in on her spider's legs. An old man who looked as though he lived on the streets followed her, with a rusty iron hook on his waist hanging almost all the way down to his bare feet. Beside them walked a man in a blue sacred artist's robe, with steel in the wings of his gleaming iron hair: a Jai clan member, surely, and one who carried himself with a steady and commanding grace.

Jai Long ground his spear into the floor, knuckles white around the weapon's hilt. Lindon slid over towards Yerin and dug out what little bandages he had left to staunch her bleeding leg. Eithan seemed to have the situation well in hand, and he was worried about her condition after losing to Jai Long.

Fisher Gesha's wrinkled face folded into a smile as she drifted up to Eithan. "It isn't appropriate for juniors to eat before their elders have a taste, is it? Hm?"

The man from the Jai clan inclined his head to Eithan. "Jai Long has served our clan's allies well, but he is not in favor. The Underlord should rest assured that we will reward him appropriately, once we have cataloged the contents of the Ruins and distributed them according to the will of the clan."

The ragged-looking old Fisher said nothing.

Gesha stabbed a gnarled finger in Lindon's direction without looking at him. "Besides, that boy and the Lowgold accompanying him belong to the Fishers. They were soon to take their oaths, and it would be such a shame to have invested so much in their futures, only to have someone else reap the rewards. That deserves some compensation, don't you think? Hm?"

Eithan chuckled good-naturedly, bowing in return. "Honored leaders of the Five Factions Alliance, it's a pleasure to meet you. I was born Eithan Arelius, and thanks to the good fortune of the heavens, I reached the stage of Underlord at quite a young age."

Without warning, all three elders collapsed.

Gesha's spider-legs snapped as her drudge broke beneath her, and she shrieked as she fell to the floor. She barely caught herself with her hands, trembling as she tried to support her own weight. Hair flew free from her gray bun.

The old Fisher had gotten his hook out before he fell to his knees, and he braced himself against the ground with his rusty iron weapon, but his breath came heavily through clenched teeth. The man from the Jai clan remained standing, but only barely.

Eithan walked up to him and rubbed his hands in the metallic hair, running his thumb along the edge of a rigid peak. "I've always wondered about the Goldsign for the Path of the Stellar Spear. Frozen hair? It's astonishing. Does it hurt?"

The Jai elder grunted out something that might of been a response.

"Does it hurt?" Eithan repeated softly, rapping his knuckles lightly on the man's frozen hair. Metal rang like a muffled bell.

"No...Underlord..." the Jai elder managed to force out.

"Oh, really? How does it feel, then?"

"...helmet..."

That was the only word Lindon understood, but Eithan nodded. "I see, I see. Thank you for indulging my curiosity." He moved on to the old Fisher man, taking a knee in front of him. "Fisher Ragahn, I assume. It's polite to introduce yourself when you're meeting a superior, you know, but I know who you are regardless. It must have been hard on you, reaching Truegold, but you did what you had to. Anything you had to. A kind person couldn't inherit the Fishers, could he? And if he did, he wouldn't remain kind for long."

Eithan lowered his head, making sure that his eyes were even with the Fisher's. "I can respect that, Ragahn. But there are things you should and should not say to your superiors."

He moved over to Gesha, who looked as though she was suffering more than the others under Eithan's spiritual pressure. She was Highgold, Lindon remembered, and the others must be a stage higher.

Eithan crouched next to her; fingers laced together thoughtfully. No one else dared to disturb his silence by moving.

"I've dealt with people like you all my life," Eithan said at last. "You earned everything at the edge of a spear, so you've picked up some unfortunate habits. Oh, but you're a Soulsmith, aren't you? You earned it making the spears." He picked up a severed edge of her drudge's cracked leg. "I can deal with you like human beings if I take the time to get to know you, to slide into the walls you've built, to slip through the cracks in your pride. But I don't have the patience for that today."

He tapped her forehead with the edge of the spider's limb. "I am picking up the pair that you discarded. Do you have any objection?"

Slowly, Gesha's head shook once.

"Splendid. And the rest of you. You take what you can keep, isn't that the law of the Wilds? Do you have any doubt that I own everything and everyone inside the Ruins right now?"

The Jai elder choked out a few words, "The...clan...head branch..."

"Do I dare offend the head branch of the legendary Jai clan?" He paused for a moment as though thinking. "Why wouldn't I dare? If I cut off your legs and threw you from the top of the Ruins, I'd have to spend an hour writing a letter of apology to your clan's Underlord. Do you think I would back down from such a threat?"

The man just shook.

Suddenly all three trembled with obvious relief as the pressure vanished. They sat, panting, on the floor.

Eithan stood all smiles, arms spread generously. "But that's so morbid, isn't it? We're all friends here." He ignored the elders, turning to the young man in the red mask. "Jai Long, I believe it's your turn to make your selection. And choose well; I'll want you to pose a healthy threat to my pawn. I mean, ah, the valued young member of my family."

Lindon's eyes seemed to be stuck on Eithan. The man had never lost his smiling, pleasant demeanor. Ever. If he had driven the spider's leg through Gesha's forehead, would he still be smiling?

And what about when he watched Jai Long tear Lindon to pieces in a year? Would he be smiling then?

Jai Long reached over and lifted the shining white spear from the debris.


After the whole mess at the top of the pyramid, the Fishers bent themselves backward to appeal to everyone of Eithan's whims. Which thankfully included taking care of Yerin's injures. Lindon didn't want to leave her, but they had to change her clothes to better treat her, so he left them to take her to her old cottage.

He was given enough food and water to make his stomach burst, that mercifully satisfied his body's hunger. With that and the rejuvenating elixirs that the Fishers could come up with, his cores are almost full again.

Lindon was also snuck up on by Eithan in surprising ways that got a reaction out of him, several times already. Somehow, Eithan had quickly learned how to hide his Ki on top of his spirit and has taken every opportunity to surprise him. Most likely getting back at him for ruining the first few attempts the Underlord made at popping out of nowhere to shock him.

Lindon decided to speed up his madra's recovery by cycling in a small cabin the Fishers quickly gave him when he asked for somewhere to privately cycle. He breathed evenly in the modified pattern Eithan had taught him, and he changed to work with his martial arts. His parasite ring on to increase the benefits of cycling at the expense of becoming twice as hard.

After an hour, he slowly opened his eyes.

...to see Eithan peeking in through a crack in his door.

"What can I do to serve the Arelius Underlord?" Lindon asked, rising from his horse stance. Eithan had done so much for him already, the least he could do in return was ignore the Underlord's...quirks. Though, the yellow-haired man has pushed him into a death match against Jai Long in a year. So, he's still a little angry at the man.

Eithan kicked the door open and grinned like a child playing a prank. "Congratulations, Lindon! You've survived the Transcendent Ruins and came out two stages of advancement stronger. Plus, a bag full of goodies and a shiny new glaive."

Lindon bowed over his fists to Eithan, "Yes. I am very fortunate for all the gains I made in the Ruins. All of which wouldn't have happened without your honored help. My new Iron body, Jade spirit, the badges, bindings, notes on the Jai ancestral spear, my new glaive and future fight to the death with Jai Long. I'd have none of those things without your help. Gratitude." His voice tight by the end.

Eithan beamed, acting like the last bit was a good thing. "Oh, think nothing of it my beloved disciple. And on that cherry note, I've got a gift for you," and he proceeded to pull a blue and white outer sacred artist's robe seemingly out of thin air. "Welcome the Arelius family. I hereby accept you as an Outer disciple of the family, Wei Shi Lindon Arelius."

Lindon just stared at the robe, in what he assumed was the Arelius colors, with hesitation. Uncertain if it'd be wise to join up with a man that has repeatedly stood by and nearly watched die. And had arrange for him to fight Jai Long -who Eithan practically gave the spear to, that'll allow him to advance at remarkable speeds- to the death.

"You don't have to accept my invitation and go off on your own. It's not like there is a whole sect out there looking to kill you, right?" Eithan never lost his grin.

And Lindon immediately grabbed the outer robe and put it on over his own outfit. His face red in embarrassment. His best chance at surviving was with Eithan's help, and besides, he'd be giving up the fastest way to advance. An Underlord at the head of a powerful family will have a lot of resources at their disposal, and as a disciple they'll pour those to him.

"Gratitude. It'll be an honor to join the Arelius family."

"Good, good. Now, cycle!"

Lindon reasoned that even though Eithan has pushed him into a death match the Underlord had also earned a measure of trust by saving him from his Iron advancement and pushed him to Jade. So, even though he was just cycling, Lindon returned to his horse stance to continue cycling at Eithan's request.

"Not in that position. What I have in mind will take up all your concentration. No need to make it unnecessarily harder." Eithan said. "That includes taking that off," he points at the halfsilver ring on Lindon's finger.

Lindon decided to just move things along by removing the parasite ring and dropped to his knees, hands in his lap in the traditional cycling stance. Then cycled just like he was before Eithan interrupted him.

At first, every breath using this cycling technique had felt like trying to inhale water. But he'd grown so used to it over the weeks that he rarely had to consciously think his way through the technique anymore.

Eithan tapped his fingers together as he waited for Lindon to settle into a cycling rhythm. When Lindon's breathing evened out, Eithan's grin broadened.

"Now," he said, "close your eyes. I'm going to teach you a trick."

I should trust him, Lindon reminded himself. I owe him.

Once he'd returned to an even rhythm and closed his eyes, Eithan's voice cut in. "Madra is very responsive to your imagination. It's part of you, just like your thoughts. So, as you study more advanced techniques, you'll find holding a clear mental picture is just as important as moving your madra in certain patterns."

That fit Lindon's experience. As he advanced, his madra was easier to visualize, and he was better able to get the power to do what he wanted without forcing it into a pattern.

"I'm going to teach you the cycling technique I used on your cores to ready them for Jade and gave them their depth. Once you master it, this method will take you to Lowgold and beyond."

Lindon leaned forward eagerly, eyes squeezed shut, suddenly afraid to miss a word.

"This is a technique for processing your madra, not for battle," Eithan went on. "If you try to fight while cycling like this, you might as well tie your ankles together."

Lindon wondered if he should be taking notes.

"In your mind, focus on your core. Ah, I mean one core. Pick one."

Both cores are equally bright and powerful, so he just chose the right one for no particular reason, letting the bright blue-white ball fill his vison as the other one fell behind into irrelevance.

As he breathed, his madra cycled, spinning out from his core to run out to the rest of his body and then swirling back.

"Your core is made of stone. Picture it as a huge, stone wheel. It's all you can see. It's like a wall of heavy, solid stone."

Lindon focused on that image, superimposing it over the blue-white sun.

"Now, as you exhale and cycle madra through your body, the stone grinds away at the edges of your core. It's heavy, and it rolls slowly, pushing you core outward."

That was harder to hold. Madra usually flew out from his core freely, but he had to slow it down, forcing his core to rotate and running power through it a scant inch at a time.

He felt like he was pushing that stone wheel up a hill with all his strength, all while trying to keep madra from slithering through his grip. If he lost concentration for one second, the strings of madra would escape and the wheel would fall back down, crushing him.

The effort of moving his madra in such an unnatural pattern caused his channels to strain, as his spirit groaned under the effort. Sweat started to form on his forehead as he concentrated, and each exhalation was agonizingly slow.

"Now, when the madra comes back in, spiraling from your limbs to your core, the stone wheel shifts. It slowly rolls back the other way, grinding your core again."

It was like letting the wheel roll downhill, only to haul it to a stop and pull it back up again. He poured all his madra into the effort, controlling his spirit with every ounce of his concentration.

There was an instant in the middle where he felt like he was manually stopping his own lungs. An act not to unfamiliar to him, having mastered his own body. Though it still felt like the stone wheel sat on his own chest, before he got it moving the other way.

Eithan reminded him that he still had to hold his previous cycling pattern. It took Lindon a half hour to match the old timing, and by that time his soul felt like he'd pounded it flat. Only minutes of cycling, and he felt as exhausted after one of his morning runs.

But Eithan wasn't finished.

"Once you have a grip on that, you want your wheel to spin as slowly as possible without stopping. Breathing in the same pattern, I want to see how slowly you can move your madra, how heavily that wheel turns, how that huge stone wheel is almost stopped and your madra is just crawling along.

"Then you exhale, and it goes back the other way."

This cycling technique takes up all his focus and concentration, just like what it takes to hold the Ryusekuken. If not for having the prior experience Lindon wouldn't have been able to withstand this technique for more than a few minutes at a time. The difficulty it put on his breathing was extreme, but nothing he hasn't made himself familiar with before.

"This technique is called the Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel," Eithan explained. "It has a long and fascinating history."

Lindon settled himself for a long and difficult session of cycling.

"I'll spare you the details." Lindon almost let out a sigh of relief. "But to reach Jade, you needed to form a spiral in your core. The spinning motion condenses the quality of madra, increasing receptivity to spiritual forces, speed up madra recovery, help control...all sorts of benefits that you've most likely noticed. Normally you'd have spent months, possibly a year cycling the Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel to reach Jade, but circumstances forced me to speed it along myself, at great personal expense I might add."

Eithan had raised his hand over his heart before continuing. "Even though I was just raising you to Jade, the tiniest fraction of my own madra, it took almost all of it. There's a reason sects and clans don't just force their young to advance the way I did to you...aside from the risk of death and crippling one's spirit."

Lindon almost gulped at how close he came.

"There's so much waste as your core resists direct influence by someone else's madra, even compatible one without a bond. Like one's made with contracted sacred beasts. Well, there is more to it but they're not important right now. The only thing you need to know is that it should never be attempted again. Far too much risk involved, and it only worked in you case because I was the one to it. Most other Underlord either couldn't have, or simply would have refused out of pure ego and pride."

Lindon gave a small nod in understanding as he continued cycling.

"Good, now. Eventually, the suction force from this cycling technique will become strong enough to contain a Remnant. Which is the level you'll need to take at least one of cores to if you want to reach Lowgold."

Though he itched to take notes, Lindon would lose the breathing technique if he tried. It might hold the same level of difficulty as the Ryuseikuken -which he fights while using- but he is nowhere as practiced and familiar with the Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel as he is with it. And stopping to taking notes would be disrespectful to the Underlord who had gone through the trouble of teaching him a technique.

If only he would leave.

"Every Path as their own Jade cycling technique, and it emphasizes certain aspects of the spirit. Some are particularly good at processing aura efficiently, others help you recover your madra in minutes, and so on. It's a deep and varied field. But I selected this technique just for you!"

Lindon grunted out, "Gratitude."

"The Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel slowly grinds away at your core's borders, focused entirely on improving your capacity to contain madra. It does what you tried to do by Forging and swallowing your own scales: it uses temporary power to push at the bonds of your core, expanding your ability to permanently store power. But while swallowing scales loses some energy in the Forging process, this keeps the entire cycling contained, so there's no loss. It's how I deepened your cores, rather painfully I might add. It's also slow, difficult to practice, and you will feel like you're choking and dying."

Lindon nodded and almost choked.

"But it works with any madra, including pure. If you fill your second core with another Path, this technique will work for that too. And your Path of Twin Stars breaks one normal-sized core into two smaller cores, so without special elixirs or a technique specifically focused on capacity, you'd have never gotten even one of your cores up to its normal size. You're welcome by the way, but you'll need to keep it up, so they don't fall behind to others as you advance."

Lindon finally lost the technique. His madra slipped out of his control, he gasped as though he were coming up for air, and the power he'd been damming up in his core surged through his body. His eyes snapped open, and he jerked to his feet like a puppet with strings pulled.

Eithan nodded. "That can happen. All cycling methods have tradeoffs, so if after a few days you have objections, I can recommend a different technique. But control can be learned, quality can be improved with elixirs, collecting aura only takes patience, and as for recovery...why would you need to recover madra quickly when you have more than you could ever use?"

Lindon had recovered his breath, swiping the sweat off his forehead and bowed slightly. "I won't give up, Underlord. I trust your wisdom." At least when it came to the sacred arts. Not so much to his survival.

"Underlord isn't my name," Eithan said, before pointing to Lindon's pocket. "You might want to avoid wearing that ring of yours for the time being. This technique is hard enough without hobbling yourself." He touched his forehead and nodded. "Well then. A good night to you."

"Wait!" Lindon reached out before correcting himself. "Um, pardon. But could you tell me how Yerin is doing."

Eithan smiled as he replied, "She is doing just fine. The Fishers are seeing to her recovery, and you can visit whenever you wish. But I've arranged for you to continue your Soulsmithing lessons from Gesha in a few hours. Don't be late."

He bowed deeply this time, "Thank you...Eithan. And I won't."

"Think nothing of it, Lindon." And he turned and left.

The door shut behind him.

And then immediately opened again. Eithan poked his head back in. "You're going to keep cycling, aren't you? You're not going to slack off while my back is turned?"

"Your back is never turned," Lindon said, voice dry.

"And don't you forget it." Eithan widened his eyes, staring at Lindon intently as he slowly shut the door.

Lindon took a few moments to breathe before sitting down. He had started to picture the stone wheel before he slipped his hand into his pocket and ran into the cold circle of halfsilver.

Eithan had said not to use the parasite ring, but Lindon was trying to push himself beyond his limits. Then again, the thought of trying that cycling technique with the additional burden of the ring physically made him shudder. It was like wrapping his lungs in bands of iron. Maybe once he has the technique down and well-practiced first.

He was pulling his hand out of the pocket, leaving the ring behind, when he brushed past another small object: a slightly warm ball of smooth glass.

Lindon gripped it in his fist, picturing the steady blue candle flame. Lowgold wasn't his goal. Jai Long wasn't his goal. Even Underlord wasn't his goal.

If Eithan could have saved Sacred Valley, the Suriel would have shown him a vison of Eithan. He had to reach further than Eithan thought possible.

He settled into a cycling position and slipped on his ring.