“I’m all right.” The islander nodded gratefully, then grimaced in pain. “Just... Avoid cultivating right in the middle of a battle next time, okay?”
“If you’re joking, you’re okay,” Hadjar smiled.
They were in no hurry to collect the tokens and artifacts from the fallen disciples of the ‘Meltwater’ and ‘Quick Dream’ Schools, and neither were the other survivors. There was no need to rush. No matter what personal creeds cultivators lived by, some unwritten laws were obeyed by even the most notorious scoundrels. Self-respect wouldn’t allow them to claim someone else’s loot, especially if it had been obtained in battle. Every true cultivator, including Hadjar and Einen, had their pride. Some had a harmful excess of it, like Tom Dinos, and others were just honorable people through and through, like Price Geran.
“Who are those people?”
Hadjar pointed at the sky. Warriors armed to the teeth and clad in impressive armor were riding on griffons, heading right for them. The huge creatures had the bodies of lions and the heads and forelegs of eagles.
Almost all the beasts exuded the power of the King Stage and the riders wore Heaven level artifacts. Their leader, a young girl who was sitting on the back of the largest, Ancient Stage monster, held an Imperial level, glowing golden spear.
Her thick, brown hair cascaded down over her thin breastplate, which accentuated the allure of her exquisite figure. Surprisingly, her gaudy leather boots were high-heeled. Hadjar had never seen such a thing before. Apparently, her Imperial armor, as well as her weapon, were quite out of the ordinary. The cloak of the leader was fluttering in the wind and Hadjar suddenly glimpsed a familiar sigil…
“Princess!” Hundreds of gulps boomed in unison.
The warriors jumped down from their griffins and hurried to fall to their right knee while saluting.
“Sister,” the brown-haired girl said, spreading her arms to embrace Dora. “We came as soon as we received your distress signal.”
“Enora.” Dora, drenched in her own and other people’s blood, buried her head in her sister’s hair with relief.
She hung limp in Enora’s arms. Her Imperial armor gradually shrank back down, exposing the numerous wounds on the elf girl’s body.
“Heiress of House Marnil,” Tom came forward. Also wounded, he was practically covered head to toe in entrails, blood, and dirt. “Thank you for coming to our rescue.”
“My arrival had nothing to do with you, Junior Dinos,” Enora snorted haughtily. “I would have pitied every one of my griffon’s feathers if I had known it would end up helping you in any way.”
“And yet, I’ll still owe you a debt of honor.” Tom, shocking Hadjar with his behavior, saluted and headed back.
After seeing the troubled look in the young man’s eyes, Hadjar barely resisted the urge to leave as well. If Enora made Tom uneasy, he didn’t want to stick around and potentially offend her.
In the center of the ravine, which was littered with corpses, sat Anise, leaning on her sword. Her armor was completely crumpled and torn apart. The sharp edges dug into her broken body. Her left arm was bent at an unnatural angle, exposing shattered bone. Her back was studded with arrows. Her black hair was matted and drenched in blood and dirt, hanging limp like strips of leather. However, she was still breathing.
So were the 63 cultivators of ‘The Holy Sky’ School who’d survived the battle. The rest of the disciples who’d survived their original fight against the Primeval Giant lay scattered among the bodies of the disciples from other Schools. If this had been a military operation, Hadjar would’ve considered it a good exchange. However, standing in the middle of a road littered with the corpses of young boys and girls, he felt dirty. He was so tainted now that no amount of cleaning his blade and meditation would save him from restless nights.
“They’re the guards of House Marnil,” Einen explained belatedly. “I read about them in the library of Underworld City. They’re famous for their ability to fight in the air. The Emperor often uses them to capture Lascan ships or to escort large merchant caravans.”
There were other Empires besides Lascan and Darnassus, of course. However, only those who could afford to maintain their own aircraft could get to them, and even then, it would take at least six months. All the while, they’d be trying to avoid sky pirates and various flying creatures.
The Darnassus Empire was vast, but in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t all that big, which demonstrated just how enormous this world truly was. He remembered the map South Wind had shown him a long time ago, which had had designated areas that, according to the scholar, had denoted organizations that could easily control the Empire and the surrounding territories with their might.
Dora, who was close to fainting, whispered something into her sister’s ear. The older girl turned to the two friends, clearly displeased.
“You two!” She barked, in the same tone she’d used when she had ordered her warriors to collect Dora’s loot. How they distinguished their Princess’ trophies from the rest was a mystery to Hadjar. “My sister says you’re her friends. Are you?”
Everyone, including the Dinos siblings, turned to stare at the two friends.
“Your sister, honorable heiress of House Marnil, was magnificent in battle,” Einen bowed to the elf girl.
Hadjar did the same.
“But the battle was fierce,” he added, since Einen was close to fainting as well. “We were all injured. Your sister might be delirious because of her grievous wounds. Perhaps you should start treating her injuries as soon as possible.”
“I’ll be the one to decide what to do with my sister, bastard,” Enora snarled, and turned to her men. “We’re leaving.”
“Yes, Leader!” The elven warriors roared in unison and leapt onto their griffons.
After a few seconds, they became tiny dots in the sky, and a heartbeat later, they disappeared somewhere over Dahanatan. The elves had taken no one but Dora with them and offered no help. This was another law of the world of martial arts. Everyone fought for themselves, or their family and clan. Very rarely, they fought for their country. Even if half the capital was burning, without a direct order from the Emperor, none of the seven great Houses of Darnassus would help. This, in Hadjar’s opinion, was their greatest strength, since it forced everyone to grow stronger to survive, but also their greatest weakness. After all, most of the world was ruled not by empires or mysterious organizations, but by various monsters, spirits, demons, and other unknown creatures.
“We’ll need a few sacks,’ Hadjar drawled, taking a deep breath and savoring it, “to carry all this stuff back.”
Einen didn’t react, he’d already passed out.
Chapter 481
Wrapped in bandages, constantly writhing in pain, and forced to drink a stinking mixture from a jug, the friends sat in their hut. Sitting atop their hill in the Forest of Knowledge afforded them a beautiful view of... the Forest of Knowledge.
Surprisingly, the death of almost one and a half thousand disciples hadn’t affected the day-to-day routine of ‘The Holy Sky’ School. It was still crowded in the Hall of Fame, with the disciples fighting over tasks. The training grounds and obstacle courses were full of life. In the various classrooms, where the inner circle disciples sat, listening to lectures, the voices of Mentors and Masters filled the air. No one seemed to care about the hundreds of dead cultivators.
Except one of the Mentors, whose name was Markin. That morning, before entering the Hall of Fame, he’d given a rousing speech, something about the deaths of glorious heroes and how those who’d survived had become much stronger, and how he, Mentor Markin, now expected incredible deeds from them, achievements that would help the survivors honor the fallen disciples whose blood had paved their way to glory. His speech had been met with a hum of approval and even a couple of claps. Because of the Mentor, the entrance to the Hall had been closed until now, and everyone was impatient to charge in and find ways to earn Glory points.
“When are w
e going to exchange these?” Einen looked around at the pile of items that had already taken up most of their hut.
During the battle with the disciples of the ‘Meltwater’ and ‘Quick Dream’ Schools, they’d managed to kill a considerable number of people. To be precise, they’d slain more than any other disciples of ‘The Holy Sky’ School. To be even more precise, Hadjar now had 123 tokens from ordinary disciples and two from fully-fledged ones. Einen had even more: 156 tokens from ordinary disciples and four from the fully-fledged ones.
Alas, without a spatial artifact, they hadn’t been able to carry all the weapons and armor of the fallen cultivators back. They’d collected only the most valuable items and, after loading everything up on their Frogohorses, had hobbled back to town.
A disciple who had a less strained relationship with the Dinos had brokered a deal where Tom would collect their loot for a percentage of it. But even so, after all the cultivators had departed, there’d still been a lot of artifacts left behind on the battlefield. This had immediately been reported to the guards standing at the entrance to Dahanatan, who, in turn, had passed on the news to one of the auction houses, which had then sent some people to collect all the surplus trophies.
“Later.” Hadjar suggested. “When there are fewer people around.”
“That’s reasonable.” The islander agreed after a moment’s thought. “Aren’t you hesitant to part with Ian’s sabers?”
Ian Gorr’s sabers were somewhere in this pile of scrap metal. They were Heaven level artifacts of good quality. If they’d been swords, Hadjar would’ve taken them without hesitation, but no… The sabers were about as useful to him as a spoon was to a herring.
“It’s a pity, of course, but what else can I do?” Hadjar shrugged. “By the way, my friend, I wanted to ask you-”
“Alchemy is my hobby,” Einen interrupted him. His purple eyes looked straight into Hadjar’s blue ones. “And yes, I’ve never mentioned it before, but not because I don’t trust you. I simply don’t want to endanger you.”
Hadjar frowned.
“It occurs to me, Einen, that I can decide for myself what is dangerous for me to know and what isn’t.”
For a while, there was a heavy silence in the hut.
“If you can tell me that you’ve shared all your secrets with me, my barbarian friend, I will immediately apologize to you.”
Hadjar was about to say something, but he stopped himself. Einen was right. Hadjar hadn’t told him everything. Even after they’d spent so many years together, lived through hundreds of battles, and the countless times they’d saved each other’s lives… There were still things about him that he wouldn’t have discussed with him, even if Einen had been his actual brother. He would’ve done it for the same reason, too, to protect the islander from unnecessary danger.
Everyone who followed the path of cultivation had their own burden to bear. One they would’ve loved to part with, or at least share with someone. However, by the High Heavens, it wasn’t possible.
“I’m sorry, my friend,” Hadjar said. “I didn’t think.”
“As expected of a barbarian,” Einen nodded.
Some would’ve thought that he was being rude or sarcastic, but there was a note of laughter in Einen’s voice. He was just joking, without any intention to hurt his friend.
“By the way,” Hadjar said. “Now that I’ve mastered the Weapon in the Heart, I can explain it to you more clearly.”
“You shouldn’t.” Einen said instantly. “During your breakthrough, while I was fighting off all those enemies, I managed to come up with a few ideas regarding that. I don’t want your instructions to lead me astray.”
Hadjar didn’t say anything. Einen was right once again. Cultivation was a very personal pursuit. Even if someone had the best Master, they needed to rely on more than just their instructions. After all, one mistake on the Master’s part could lead to a dead end. And while this dead end might end up higher than your current level or stage, it was nevertheless a dead end. Approaching everything one saw and heard with a certain degree of doubt and skepticism was also one of the paths of cultivation. Given Einen’s philosophical mindset, this was probably what he did.
They discussed the battle until nightfall. Such discussions about battles, Techniques, and energies helped deepen their understanding of the way of cultivation and also allowed them to look at themselves from an alternate point of view. That was why one of the most expensive lessons that ‘The Holy Sky’ School provided was a discussion about the path of cultivation. Only the most experienced and strong Mentors and Masters taught those. Most of them were at the peak stage of the Lord level.
When the stars began to shine in the sky, and there were only a few hours left before the Hall of Fame closed, Hadjar and Einen headed out. They hadn’t even walked several hundred yards from their hut when they came across another group of cultivators. Only this time, there were only three of them. They wore the gold tokens of the fully-fledged disciples.
“Einen and Hadjar?” Their leader asked.
He was a middle-aged man who looked quite formidable, covered in scars and with a long broadsword in his hands. He exuded an air of menace.
“Yes,” Einen said without hesitation. “That’s us.”
There was a tense silence between the five cultivators. After a brief exchange of appraising glances, the one with the broadsword suddenly sheathed his weapon and walked away.
“There is no honor in fighting the wounded,” he boomed. “When you are well, we’ll meet again. Please don’t leave the School until then. I don’t want to ask House Tarez to help me hunt down two dogs. I’d prefer to inform them that two worthy warriors died by my hand. I’m Guevar.”
Hadjar stared at the departing Guevar. It was good to know that, even though thousands of dishonest cultivators polluted this world, there were still those like Price and Guevar, who didn’t treat words like ‘honor’ and ‘dignity’ as mere sounds. That was why it was both dignified and sad to defeat such people. He wouldn’t enjoy ending the life of a person he would’ve liked to become friends with.
“We’ll be waiting.” Hadjar said, saluting the trio as they walked away. “But if you don’t want to part with your lives, don’t come looking for us.”
There was no response from the forest. Picking up their bags full of artifacts, the friends resumed their journey to the Hall of Fame.
Chapter 482
“For these tokens and artifacts,” the same Master whom Hadjar had traded with previously mumbled, “you can have 4397 Glory points. I don’t bargain, as you already know.”
“I agree.” Hadjar saluted and bowed gratefully.
Without a word, the Master waved his hand and transferred the amount to Hadjar’s token. Now he had a total of 7532 Glory points, which was enough to let him take the exam to become a fully-fledged disciple.
Thanking the Master again, Hadjar went out into the street. It was getting cold. Sitting down on the edge of the curb that bordered the stone-paved street, Hadjar filled his pipe with tobacco and stared at the distant stars. They responded with cold indifference. Einen was taking a while. Maybe the cunning heir of a smuggler family had decided to take a chance and bargain with one of the Masters? He also had to get enough Glory points to take the exam, after all.
“What a wonderful evening, isn’t it?”
Hadjar almost jumped in surprise. By the High Heavens, after his many years spent fighting endless battles, even a Spirit Knight couldn’t sneak up on him. The islander liked to jokingly say that Hadjar’s sense of danger was even better than his hearing, his sense of smell, and his eyesight combined. And yet he hadn’t been able to detect the stranger’s approach.
“Don’t worry, young man, I’m not going to kill you right now.”
“Come out into the light then.” Hadjar squinted, ready to use his Call and summon the Black Blade into the physical world at any moment.
“Oh, of course. I sometimes forget how limited Heaven Soldiers are.�
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A man whom Hadjar had seen twice before came forward and stood under the light of the magic lantern. Hadjar had seen him at the entrance exam, and when the man had read that speech about glory and honor that had clearly not been written by him.
“Mentor Markin!” Wincing at the sudden flash of pain as he did so, Hadjar sprang to his feet and saluted in the Imperial manner. “Forgive my tactlessness! I didn’t know it was you.”
“Oh, no need for that!” The white-haired man waved his hand dismissively.
He might’ve been forty, or four hundred. Hadjar himself, despite being about thirty, only looked twenty at the most. It was one of the peculiarities of becoming a true cultivator — a person stopped aging when they reached their ‘ideal’ age. Of course, stagnation in one’s cultivation and other factors could force the issue.
“I like taking a walk along these paths in the evenings sometimes. It reminds me of the time when I was a disciple myself.”
Mentor Markin sat down next to Hadjar. He didn’t care that his expensive clothes were resting on dusty stones. Unimpressive legs peeked out from beneath the hem of his robes. Judging by his physique and overall soft look, Markin wasn’t one of those Lords whose power favored internal energy. Of course, only those who’d been able to combine the two different energies — internal and external — could even become Lords, but they usually favored one over the other. This meant that a Lord who’d relied on their spells all their life could never match the physical might of a Lord who’d wielded a weapon. And vice versa.
Of all the people Hadjar had ever spoken to, Markin was the most likely to be a mage. Except, of course, the Shadow of the last mage of Mage City.
“I heard you were among the ones who returned from that little adventure in the Valley of Swamps.”
Land of Magic Page 28
