Dragon Heart: Sea of Sand. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 4

by Kirill Klevanski

  The rebellious warrior, without realizing it, began to translate his words. By the time she understood what she was doing, it was too late to stop.

  “I propose a challenge,” Hadjar said, looking into the leader’s eyes. “Your best warrior against me. If I win, you’ll let our caravan pass. If your warrior wins, you’ll get all my possessions.”

  When Ilmena finished translating, the tent became utterly silent. Kharad wanted to object, but he was silenced by an imperious gesture from the Bedouin leader. For a while, he and Hadjar simply looked at one another.

  Suddenly, Hadjar realized that the leader wasn’t as young as he appeared to be. He looked no older than thirty, but his eyes betrayed that he’d spent centuries in this lifeless land.

  The leader approached Hadjar. The aura of a true cultivator emanated from him and pressed down on Hadjar’s shoulders, but Hadjar didn’t stagger. His gaze remained stern and determined.

  “What name you, stranger distant land from?” He spoke in a broken and halting manner, butchering the language.

  “Hadjar Traves.”

  “Hadjar,” the cultivator repeated. “Old name. Older than sand and wind.”

  He turned to Kharad and said something. The chief scout tried to object once again, but was once more stopped. Cursing, he turned to Hadjar.

  “Are you happy, Northerner? You will fight their warrior tomorrow at dawn. By the Great Stars, if you lose, we’ll all be doomed. And your fate will be much worse than simply dying from a lack of food and water.”

  “I’m flattered by your faith in me,” Hadjar smiled predatorily.

  Taking his sword, he saluted the leader, who nodded back to him, and left the tent. Ignoring everyone, Hadjar jumped into the saddle, yanked the reins back, and rushed off on his frog.

  An hour later, he was on the very border of the Dead Mountains. The sun had gotten close to the horizon. This had painted the sky in crimson tones. Compared to the golden sand and huge, white bones, the sky seemed to be on fire.

  Jumping down, Hadjar tried to make a fire. He failed several times. At last, he managed to make something similar to what Ilmena and Shakh had produced. He sat near the flame, wrapped up in a blanket.

  “How long are you going to hide?”

  Einen appeared from the shadows noiselessly and almost imperceptibly.

  “How did you know I was following you, Northerner?”

  Hadjar shrugged.

  “It seemed to me like you had something to say earlier.”

  Einen sat down next to him. He lit his pipe and stared into the flame. Hadjar wondered what he was thinking about, but didn’t ask. The islander rarely answered when he did. He preferred to pretend that he hadn’t heard the question or saying that he had no time to tell a long story. Apparently, all of his stories were long. Perhaps that’s why he’d never shared any.

  “Can any slave in your kingdom become a general?” He asked suddenly.

  Hadjar twitched in surprise, but pulled himself together quickly. His companion was no fool. Moreover, he himself was plagued by demons from his past. Maybe they’d whispered the truth into his ear.

  “Only the most fortunate ones,” Hadjar grinned wryly and rubbed his neck. “I‘m probably one of those lucky few.”

  The logs were crackling, the wind was blowing, and the sun had almost disappeared behind the horizon.

  “Is it hard to live as a slave?”

  Hadjar had never really thought about it before.

  “Well, ‘live’ isn’t the right word for it. ‘Survive’ is more fitting...” Hadjar ran his fingers along the hilt of his blade. “No, it’s not really that bad, most of the time. The only major difference is that everyone sees your chains.”

  Einen nodded thoughtfully.

  “My father was the owner of a slave fleet,” he said slowly and got up. “If you want to fight me, I’ll be waiting for you over there.”

  The islander turned around and took several steps toward the Dead Mountains.

  “We’ve already agreed to spar in a month’s time,” Hadjar answered.

  Einen froze. He stood silently for a while, and then turned around and looked into Hadjar’s eyes.

  “Children aren’t responsible for their fathers’ sins,” Hadjar said quietly. “So, in a month, baldy. Sparring. As we agreed.”

  Einen didn’t answer. He just disappeared into the shadows. Maybe those had been the words he’d wanted to hear. Maybe they’d been words that Hadjar had needed to say. For some reason, the wallet on his belt that held the two bracelets became much lighter.

  “Well,” Hadjar sighed.

  He assumed the lotus position, closed his eyes, and began to sink into the depths of the World River. The boundaries of reality became thinner, and at the same time, everything became a little more distinct, sharper, and clearer.

  It didn’t last long. Soon, Hadjar collapsed into the tall, green grass. The sun was shining over his head. It wasn’t the sun of the Sea of Sand.

  A cool west wind was blowing. It ruffled the azure robes of the man standing on a large stone. He had long black hair, eyes with slit pupils, and horns.

  “Honorable Traves,” Hadjar bowed. “A long time has passed since our last meeting.”

  “I see you’ve grown since then. You weren’t so courteous before.”

  Over the years, Hadjar had realized how difficult it was to cultivate in this world. So, the dragon who had given his heart to him was now someone whom Hadjar respected immensely.

  “Have you come to tell me about your request?”

  “No, my young disciple. It’s not time for that yet. I’m here because your heart and spirit are ready to learn more from me. I’ve come to teach you.”

  Hadjar frowned slightly. He was used to doing this on his own.

  “You’ve mastered the first three stances of the ‘Light Breeze’ Technique perfectly. You took a bit more time than I’d expected you to, but still. However, the fourth stance is too complicated for you to learn on your own.”

  A branch appeared in Traves’ hands. However, Hadjar could’ve sworn it was a blood-soaked blade, the most dangerous weapon he’d ever seen.

  “Are you ready, my disciple, to learn the secrets of the ‘Falling Leaf’ stance?”

  Another amusingly benign name... Hadjar couldn’t say he was surprised.

  Chapter 283

  “As I’ve told you before, my disciple,” Traves’ voice sounded like the rustling of the tall grass. Sometimes it even merged with the surrounding noises, becoming almost otherworldly. “My knowledge of the Way of the Sword is very limited. Nevertheless, compared to yours, it’s an unattainable horizon.”

  Hadjar didn’t protest. Moreover, the words hadn’t undermined his self-confidence or hurt his pride. One glance at the simple branch in the dragon’s hands was enough to illustrate the difference in their power and knowledge.

  If they really had been standing face to face, Traves merely wishing it would’ve been enough to stop Hadjar’s heart. The dragon wasn’t just at a higher level of cultivation, but in a different dimension of power altogether, regardless of his current human form.

  “When you use the ‘Strong Wind’,” Traves swung his sword-stick and Hadjar was almost lifted into the air. The roaring gale of cutting wind summoned by the dragon didn’t resemble Hadjar’s Technique at all. “You concentrate your energy into different points in space in order to create tension in the air flows and suborn them to your will.”

  The attack created by Traves struck a nearby huge boulder. Not even pebbles were left behind, and only dust could be seen in the sunlight.

  “Calm wind,” the dragon said, and the world seemed to freeze. Hadjar couldn’t move. “This stance creates pressure around you. The wind becomes denser, like granite. An invisible but powerful defense.”

  The pressure disappeared and Hadjar eagerly breathed in the fresh air. He’d never imagined that the ‘Calm Wind’ was capable of this. He’d only been able to create a tornado around himself o
r a short-term wall of wind.

  Hadjar realized why the ‘Light Breeze’ Technique was intended to be used up to the level of Spirit Knight. Hadjar had previously believed that he’d completely mastered the first three stances, but was now struck by the realization that he merely stood at the beginning of the path. This didn’t deter him. No matter how winding and impassable the road in front of him was, he would walk it with his head held high and his sword in his hand.

  “The ‘Spring Wind’ stance,” Traves continued. Another wave of his stick-sword followed and Hadjar’s heart stopped for a moment. Traves hadn’t just created the illusion of cutting through the air, but had actually slashed through it for a brief moment, as if parting reality itself. “The world energy that you channel through the blade reacts with the wind energy. They begin their dance, then your energy absorbs the wind and returns to the blade, making your attack much stronger and faster.”

  Hadjar unsheathed his sword and peered at his reflection in its blade. Would he be able to imitate these feats within the next decade? Maybe not, but at least he knew what to strive for. Even if the dragon didn’t reveal the secret of the fourth stance in the end, Hadjar would still be grateful for the lesson.

  Traves hadn’t just shattered his preconceptions about the Way of the Sword. With three attacks, he’d made Hadjar think of Heaven Soldiers as no more than beginners, like himself. What were all of them in comparison to the dragon? Little men, blindly wandering in the dark. Even the Governor, a Spirit Knight, could’ve done nothing to the dragon, only tried to escape with his life, and he most likely would have failed to do so.

  “But the next stance,” Traves lowered his stick, “requires more than just swordsmanship from you. An understanding of the essence of things is needed. I realized the power of the ‘Falling Leaf’ after contemplating the tree of the Eternal Autumn for one hundred and forty years. You don’t have that much time, so open your mind, my disciple, and let me lead you through the shadow of my memory.”

  Hadjar hadn’t noticed Traves move closer to him. A moment ago, the dragon had been standing a dozen yards away, but now he was right next to him. He hadn’t used Ilmena’s or Einen’s Techniques. It was something altogether different that showed just how little Hadjar knew about this vast world.

  Traves put his hand on Hadjar’s forehead and closed his eyes.

  “Calm your breathing, my disciple. Let your spirit run free with each breath. Grant it the freedom it desires so much. Tear your thoughts away from the earth, sky, and time. Let your spirit enter the World River and stay there. Touch the beginning and the end.”

  Hadjar didn’t understand the meaning of Traves’ words. All he could do was breathe evenly, trying to calm his mind and heart. Gradually, he managed to do it. Soon, despite being in this illusory world, he felt himself plunging into unknown depths.

  He didn’t fall or fly. He swam through a myriad of fragments depicting distant and gray images. He tried to concentrate on them, but each time, the flow became faster, carrying Hadjar farther and deeper.

  There were less and less of the web-covered fragments. Suddenly, a bright fragment emerged from the darkness. Hadjar had to close his eyes for a moment. When he looked again, he realized that he was sitting on a stone atop a huge mountain.

  Hadjar... or rather, Traves, sat in a lotus position, looking at the peak of the opposite mountain. A small, crooked tree grew there. It was dry and as old as the mountains around it. Every second, leaves fell from the tree and flew away on a stream of never-ending wind.

  The constantly falling leaves created the illusion of an endless orange plume stretching out from the tree to the horizon, a kind of golden bridge connecting the sun and rocks.

  TravesHadjar looked at the tree and thought about how long he’d traveled all across this vast world, trying to find something that called to him. He’d tried to calm the ceaseless itch inside his chest, where the Lord of Heaven’s heart beat steadily. He indulged in memories which were hidden from Hadjar. While Traves was reminiscing, Hadjar also plunged into his memories. He looked at the leaves and saw the shadows of past days in them.

  He was probably, to some extent, like this tree. He angled his face toward the wind of the future, allowing it to carry past events back to the past. Did a ‘past’ and ‘future’ even exist?

  Hadjar saw the long plume of leaves in front of him. Among them were both new and old ones. However, did the fact that they’d fallen off the tree long ago make them strangers to the tree?

  The tree remembered every leaf because it had nourished them with its juices, extracted from the mountain with great difficulty using its mighty roots. How much time had passed since the moment the leaf fell made no difference to it. To the tree, that time didn’t exist. No matter how far away any leaf was, it was always here, on the tree. Memories were not constrained by time or space. By letting them go, you lost nothing. You only got the chance to ‘grow’ new memories... to subsequently release them as well.

  Just like the tree was doing...

  Hadjar opened his eyes.

  He and Traves stood opposite each other amid the tall grass. A calm wind made the grass sway gently.

  “Whatever happens in your life, my disciple,” Hadjar didn’t understand who or what was speaking to him: the wind, the grass, or the dragon. “The most important thing is that you don’t forget to breathe. Just breathe.”

  Hadjar nodded.

  “Now let’s see what you’ve learned.”

  Traves waved his hand and a long line of stone pillars rose up from the ground in front of them.

  Chapter 284

  Hadjar unsheathed his sword. Knowledge about the ‘Falling Leaf’ stance appeared in his head by itself. He knew exactly how he needed to use the world energy accumulated in his body, where to direct it, and how to combine it with the wind energy. However, just as Traves had said, if he hadn’t had his memory and the understanding that followed it, Hadjar would never have been able to use this stance.

  “I connected my thoughts to yours, my disciple,” the dragon explained. “I allowed you to experience the inspiration that I had been accumulating for a century and a half. The result of that experience may seem to you like in-depth knowledge, but in reality, it’s just a glance at the circles rippling along the lake surface after a stone was thrown inside. Don’t feel proud, my disciple, as a long road is still before you. You are not yet worthy to find out the price for the heart given to you. Now show me, Hadjar, show me why I chose you. Prove that I didn’t give up on my semblance of a life for nothing.”

  Hadjar brought his sword up and looked at the flat of the blade. He saw his reflection in it. Over the years, his face hadn’t changed much, only a few scars had appeared on his right cheekbone, almost imperceptible marks. However, his eyes had changed greatly. They looked... different, livelier, but at the same time, as motionless as the surface of a lake. This sword reflected Hadjar’s essence better than any mirror. It had always been with him, even in his childhood. The only thing Hadjar could rely on was his sword. It made no difference where his sword was — in his hand or heart.

  Was he really holding this sword in his hands? After all, Hadjar was actually sitting among the endless sands of the desert at the moment. All of this was happening in his mind and was nothing more than a vision conjured up by magic.

  Hadjar understood that his epiphany was no less valid for it. Carrying an unnecessary burden and refusing to shed the memories that plagued him only weakened his blade and wasn’t the way forward. He would never simply abandon them, but like the tree, he would let them go, make room for new memories, and grow as a result. Just like with the tree, his memories would always be a part of him, just as its leaves were a part of it, but they would not rule him.

  Hadjar looked at the row of twenty stone pillars in front of him. They stood ten paces apart. None, even the legendary heroes who’d reached the level of ‘Wielder of the Sword’ could have sent an attack farther than one hundred steps.

&n
bsp; Hadjar, who hadn’t reached this stage yet, could hit a target at a distance of 63 steps. But two hundred steps was...

  He remembered the leaves. No matter how far any single leaf was, the tree could always reach it because it would always be a part of it.

  Hadjar raised his sword. A whirlwind of power sprang up around him, inside which a ghostly dragon danced. A look of pride could be seen in Traves’ eyes. By the Heavens and the Earth, there was more dragon in this man than in some Lords of the Heavens. His blue eyes amazed him with the sheer strength and indomitable will contained within them.

  Even if the gods themselves had stood in front this small, weak, mortal man at that moment, they wouldn’t have been able to stop his sword. Traves had never told his disciple the true reason why he’d given his heart to him. Perhaps he never would. If Hadjar hadn’t had such a strong will, one that could dominate the Heavens themselves, the dragon’s heart would’ve simply crushed him faster than a mountain falling on him.

  The fact that a human had lived with a dragon’s heart in his chest for so many years made him worthy all on its own. However, he would most likely never know that. As Traves’ own teacher had once said: “It’s better to scold your disciple ten times than to praise them once.”

  Hadjar saw the ghostly ‘Falling Leaf’ in front of him. Descending on a cushion of wind, it landed on the seventh pillar. The moment the illusion touched the stone, Hadjar launched a sharp, direct attack.

  A stream of wind exploded behind him. It turned into a misty crescent of energy flying over the grass. The attack easily passed through the first three pillars, slightly slowed down at the fourth, cut through the fifth, rolled along the sixth, and left a small cut on the seventh.

  “You’re still hesitant, my disciple,” Traves shook his head. “You have already considered this attack many times. You’ve launched it in your imagination countless times. Your mind and spirit have already relentlessly practiced hundreds of the best attacks your body is capable of. All that remains is for you to remember them.”