ă€ŠWhispers of the Etherbloomă€‹


 Prologue

    In an age of abundant mana, the One Power flowed freely. But the mages'' relentless pursuit of power and immortality led them to fall prey to the persuasion of the Dark One. They twisted the very power sustaining them, causing the Breaking, a catastrophic shattering of magic.

    Two forces emerged from the fractured One: Saidar, the nurturing light, and Saidin, the corrupted might. Mana dwindled, leaving magic only to those who dared channel these dangerous energies.

    Remorseful, a group of mages sacrificed themselves, weaving a desperate spell to turn back time and bestow an unpredictable blessing upon their younger selves.

    Now, these echoes of their past, armed with newfound gifts, must break free from the curse they themselves wrought. Will they heed whispers of the future and forge a new path, or succumb to the same temptations that led to their downfall?

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    The Wheel of Time turns, and the fate of magic hangs in the balance as these young mages embark on their journeys, guided by the Whispers of the Etherbloom.

    ---------------

    Progression of mages.

    1. Aer Weaver: Raw, uncontrolled manipulation of mana as an ethereal gas.

    2. Wave Weaver: Refined control, directing mana''s flow like liquid.

    3. Stone Weaver: Precise manipulation, placing mana with pinpoint accuracy like a solid.

    4. Crystal Weaver: Condensed mana in crystalline form, powerful and concentrated.

    5. Weaver of Nature: Direct use of ambient mana, bypassing internal conversion. Has 4 stages:

    * Sproutling of Nature

    * Ward of Nature

    * Shaper of Nature

    * Voice of Nature

    6. Weaver of the One: Channels the One Power directly, achieving ultimate unity. Has 4 stages:

    * Listener of the One

    * Student of the One

    * Speaker of the One

    * Chosen of the One

 1. John

    The tranquil valley beside the Cliff of Broken Love hid the dark secrets of the Order of Forbidden Harmony.

    A mountain river wound its way through lush forests, its surface a clear reflection of the shimmering sunlight. Suddenly, a heavy thump echoes from the river bank, breaking the tranquility. The source? A small, two-story wooden house nestled within a fenced enclosure. Fragrant medicinal herbs peek through the fence, their subtle aroma mingling with the earthy scent of the forest.

    On the second floor.

    The world spun as John was slammed into the wall, the impact stealing the air from his lungs. A gasp tore through his throat as a vision in gossamer materialized beside him. Her beauty was undeniable, but the long sword held inches from his throat chilled him to the bone. A searing line of pain erupted across his neck as the blade drew first blood, a crimson bead blooming before tracing a slow path down his chest. In that crimson tide, John saw his own mortality reflected, death a single heartbeat away.

    Unexpected disaster.

    Last night, after tending the garden and just before evening practice, a woman plummeted from the sky, crashing into the tranquility of his solitude.

    She was a breathtaking vision. Yet, her face had a feverish flush, her eyes burned with a wild, unfocused light. An intense aura of heat radiated from her, warping the air around her like a mirage. Despite her captivating beauty, with cascading raven hair and skin like porcelain, her clouded mind betrayed her. Was she ravaged by a potent poison, or perhaps the victim of a perilous breakthrough attempt gone wrong?

    John recoiled, fear clenching his gut, but he couldn''t deny the allure of her presence. Before he could react, she had seized him, her touch searing his skin as she pulled him towards her. Her scent, a heady blend of lotus blossoms and something wilder, filled his senses, overwhelming his thoughts. He tried to resist, but her strength was otherworldly, her grip like iron.

    A wave of confusion washed over him as she pressed against him, her body trembling, a tentalizing combination of timidity and desperate need. Despite his fear, a forbidden thrill sparked within him, fueled by the ragged breath and softness of her skin, the gentle curve fit perfectly against his, a silent invitation for him to explore the uncharted territory of closeness. His heart pounded in his chest as he found himself drawn into the maelstrom of her desire and vulnerability, his own inhibitions swept away by the overwhelming power of the moment.

    It would have been even better, if there wasn''t a murderous glint in her eyes the next morning.

    Jolting awake, she lashed out with her sword. A flicker of hesitation, however, marred the fury in her eyes. John glimpsed a flit of shame - a shadow in the depths of her cold stare - betraying the turmoil within.

    "My lady," John stammered, "might there be some... confusion?"

    "Are you with Forbidden Harmony?" The woman''s eyes narrowed, the sword''s edge pressing a thin line of blood onto his skin.

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    With the sword at his throat, John only dared to speak hoarsely: "yes."

    "Drink it!" The woman brandished a vial, her eyes blazing with icy fury.

    John blurted, "What is -?"

    Boom!

    A long leg whipped out, slamming into John''s stomach. Pain exploded across him, a primal scream ripped from his throat, cut short as the potion flooded into his gaping mouth.

    The woman snatched her discarded clothes, a swirling pink mist erupting around her as she vanished through the window.

    "Fu..." A strangled cry died on John''s lips. In the tense silence that followed, he checked his neck, wincing at the angry red kiss of a forming scar.

    "Accident? Maybe," he muttered, his voice laced with the chill of a near-death experience. "But that murderous intent was real. I almost wasted my only chance of cheating death. This woman... she''s terrifyingly powerful."

    He stepped onto the balcony, his eyes scouring the empty trail for any sign of her. His hand trembled as he gripped the balcony railing, his gaze darting nervously between the shadows of the forest. Even with a stunning beauty, sexual relationship meant very little in the world of dark magic. He remembered the countless tales of innocent mages who had been seduced and then discarded, their lives drained for a fleeting moment of pleasure.

    John was cautious, nineteen years of hardship had a way teaching you that. He was born into a family of tenant farmer, living hand to mouth. His childhood innocence was shattered the day his stepmother, behind his father''s back, sold him into the Order. Without the fortuitous discovery of his latent magical talent during a recruitment drive, he might have become another blood sacrifice, a nameless soul lost in the darkness.

    If he could choose, he''d join a righteous tradition, a place like the legendary Temple of the One- the strongest in the known world; but fate had other plans. All he could do was keep his head down, focus on survival, and try to carve out a meager existence.

    But a flicker of hope emerged. A year ago, strange changes had begun to manifest around him. He started to see shimmering bubbles - ephemeral orbs of energy, visible only to him, that seemed to spawn from everyday activities: planting herbs, plowing the field, or dispatching the monstrous vermin that infested the valley.

    When collected, these bubbles enhanced his connection to the ambient mana, improving his strength, dexterity, and fortitude, as well as granting him experience and insights that honed his ability to channel the elusive energy. He could feel the change within him, the raw, gaseous mana he once struggled to grasp now swirling with a newfound fluidity. The whispers of transformation echoed in his mind, promising a realm of power he had only dreamed of. If he could harness this change, he would ascend to the rank of Wave Weaver, his control over mana becoming as smooth and adaptable as flowing water. His improvement was meteoric, and he was even promoted from an apprentice to a disciple in recognition of his growing potential.

    The promotion landed him the job of the guardian of the botanical garden at the Cliff of Broken Love, and allowed him to explore the Order more freely.

    "Better to rise quickly and risk exposure than to stagnate and become a pawn." John thought. "Survival is truly for the fittest in a dark conclave."

    If you are not careful, you may be killed by your fellow disciples for any silly reasons. Even virginity could be taken. Last night was powerful proof of that.

    "Who was she?" He murmured in his mind. "I hope she''s not from the Order. Otherwise she might have to kill me out of necessity. That would be bad: to be used and killed, the price of walking the forbidden path..."

    His stomach churned, and he squeezed his eyes shut, the memory of her cold eyes and sharp blade flashing before him. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms as he fought back the rising tide of humiliation. The enigmatic potion with its bitter, metallic aftertaste, still lingered in his throat. He pushed these thoughts away with a shudder. He had to focus. He had to survive. He had to improve his mastery of mana. With newfound determination, he hurried toward the botanical garden. He had a realm to reach, a mystery to unravel, and a life to protect.

 2. Rachel

    High atop Forbidden Harmony''s territory, Blossom Lake mirrored the heavens in its serene beauty. A riot of color surrounded its clear, still waters, where hundreds of varieties of flowers bloomed in vibrant profusion. In the center of the lake, an island blossomed with its own floral tapestry, the edges framing a crimson pavilion. Beneath its shade, a woman in red furrowed her brow ever so slightly.

    Whoosh--

    A sudden gust of wind rustled the flowers, carrying a figure clad in white to the pavilion steps. The woman, delicate and breathtakingly beautiful, landed with a surprised bow before the figure in a scarlet dress that accentuated her curves.

    "Headmaster," she addressed the woman in red respectfully, "have you concluded your retreat?"

    The woman in red shifted slightly, her gaze falling upon the newcomer. The beautiful woman in white met those cold eyes and instinctively dipped her head in a gesture of deference.

    "Angelica," the headmaster''s voice, laced with a hint of steel, cut through the air, "has everybody really forgotten Forbidden Harmony these days?"

    A jolt shot through Angelica as she looked up at the headmaster, Rachel Redrain, a name that was a potent brew of reverence and terror.

    Prior to her ascension, the Order was merely a chaotic cabal, plagued by infighting and petty squabbles. Upon becoming headmaster, she immediately launched a campaign of conquest, unifying surrounding factions under her banner. Three decades of relentless warfare followed, solidifying Forbidden Harmony''s dominance. Yet, Rachel''s ambition went beyond mere conquest; she spent the next thirty years consolidating power and resources, earning the moniker "Celestial Witch." After another decade of restructuring, she deemed the Order self-sufficient and retreated into solitary study for sixty years.

    "Please instruct me, Your Eminence," Angelica pleaded, her voice trembling as she knelt before the headmaster.

    Angelica White, one of the Order''s four revered Arch-Protectors, enjoyed the Celestial Witch''s unwavering trust and acted as regent in her absence. If the Order''s reputation, once fearsome, had waned in recent years, it could only be her fault. How could she not panic?

    Rachel Redrain stared at Angelica White with an unnerving stillness. Sixty years of seclusion, meticulously planned for a smooth breakthrough, shattered by a surprise attack at the most crucial moment. Her assailant wasn''t someone from the Order, but a rogue mage wielding the pristine spells of Azure Mountain. To make matters worse, the attacker harbored a hidden toxin within her own body, a vile concoction that erupted upon death, contaminating everything in an inescapable final act. Toxin invasion, loss of control during her breakthrough, burning desire, these were the disparate pieces Rachel was forced to assemble, leading to yesterday''s events.

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    The attack was unlike anything she''d encountered, a self-destructive ploy strictly forbidden to the likes of Azure Mountain mages. Yet, that''s exactly what her assailant had done.

    "Any whispers from those self-righteous guilds?" A regal tilt of Rachel''s chin punctuated the question.

    Angelica shook her head rapidly. "Nothing substantial. Azure Mountain, the closest to us, has been preoccupied with the Guild Conference. Doubtful they''d have the resources or the audacity for another confrontation, especially considering our past attacks upon them."

    A chilling smile played on Rachel''s lips. "Really?ˇ±

    Angelica didn''t dare to answer. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken questions. Finally, Rachel spoke, her voice cold like ice. "Maintain secrecy about my emergence. You remain in charge, but a purge is necessary. Let''s check out how many vipers have infiltrated our ranks?"

    A sliver of relief washed over Angelica; she had expected something worse. "Yes, headmaster," she stammered. The air crackled with tension, the only sound the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze. Angelica held her breath, waiting for the inevitable storm to break.

    Then, with a sudden shift, Rachel''s voice softened, almost conversational. "Angelica, are you not a spy from another faction?"

    Boom!

    The question struck like a physical blow. Angelica slammed her forehead to the ground, voice trembling. "Your Eminence, how dare and how could I ...?"

    With an imperceptible nod, Rachel cut her off. "You are dismissed."

    As Angelica rose, her body wracked with nervous tremors, Rachel''s voice stopped her once more, a cold edge returning. "Oh, and Angelica? Consolidate the Order''s records. Highlight the key decisions of recent years. I need to understand what''s transpired in my absence."

    "Yes." Angelica''s voice filled with awe and respect.

    After Angelica retreated from the island, Rachel raised a hand to her mouth, a ragged cough tearing from her throat. She doubled over for a moment, her shoulders shaking as she fought to regain control.

    Sixty years ago she trusted Angelica White. Now, after all this time, her faith in Angelica remained... unshaken, yet only Angelica knew the location of her retreat. When the attack happened, her first thought was that Angelica betrayed her. The very thought was unsettling. But so far..., she could continue to use her.

    With a sigh, Rachel closed her eyes, her thoughts drifting to another. John Riversong, she mused, a name she needed to uncover, but should have forgotten. This stranger, this boy who had inadvertently and perhaps reluctantly become her savior, was destined to remain a stranger.

    Under the cloak of night, she sensed a flicker of warmth pulsing from him, timid yet full of passion. A blush crept across her cheeks. Could he tell that she was as inexperienced as he was? She was surprised to find herself wondering about his thoughts on the previous night. Why should she care? They were worlds apart. Only a bizarre twist of destiny had them share one of their most intimate moments. She acted out of necessity. He was not given a choice.

    He wasn''t conventionally handsome, but somehow intriguing. In that desperate scramble, her toxin-fogged mind had sought not attractiveness, but insignificance, someone incapable of exploiting their encounter or posing any threat. That encounter should have been their last. Yet, deep within, she knew it wouldn''t be. With these thoughts, her figure blurred, and in the next instant, she vanished from the lake.

 3. Snow

    This might be the most peculiar alchemy forge in existence. Its strangeness went beyond mere appearance. Unlike traditional furnaces, this athanor defied the limitations of magic. With its assistance, even those unable to manipulate mana could, in theory, refine peerless elixirs - elixirs rivalling the creations of master healers - provided they possessed the necessary knowledge and skill.

    The man sitting before the furnace embodied this very concept. His white hair and beard flowed like a snowy cascade, framing a face embossed with concentration. His entire focus was on the furnace, meticulously controlling the flames as they danced around a bubbling concoction - Balsam of Rejuvenation. A sweet, resinous aroma, hinting at both decay and renewal, wafted from the athanor, filling the chamber with a sense of anticipation.

    The elixir held a peculiar power - it could only mend the frailties of mortals, and only at death''s very doorstep, when age, not violence, claimed its due. The old man, his once-vigorous frame now a map of wrinkles, could feel the relentless tug of time. It was almost... comforting.

    A delicate chime resonated through the room. The final drop of amber liquid fell from the athanor''s spout, landing with a gentle plink into a crystal vial. The Balsam of Rejuvenation was complete, its surface shimmering with a soft, ethereal glow that promised life renewed. With a sigh, the old man''s thoughts turned to his only disciple.

    Walter Skyfall, his lifeˇŻs work, was a testament to his genius. Few believed a mere mortal, armed only with elixirs and medical prowess, could cultivate a disciple of such caliber. Yet, Walter, now known throughout the land as Skyfall the Divine, had ascended to become one of the world''s most formidable mages.

    Now attuned to the One Power, Walter no longer needed his elixirs to improve his abilities. It was time to impart his true legacy. With Walter''s intellect, he could become the most potent healer the world had ever known, defying mortality itself.

    The old man, his heart warmed by his disciple''s success, retrieved a medical tome ¨C a culmination of three millennia of experience, a treasure beyond measure. This would be Walter''s reward, a gift for his ascension.

    Squeak!

    The door swung open and a hulking figure filled the doorway - Skyfall the Divine, the old man''s disciple.

    A faint smile touched the old man''s lips as he reached for the elixir, his movements betraying his age. "Walter, my boy," he croaked, his voice raspy with age. "Come witness your master''s transformation?"

    Skyfall the Divine remained silent, his expression unreadable. A large hand shot out, the fingers closing firmly around the crystal vial before the old man could react.

    "Walter, you are naughty again. Please return the Balsam to your master. Your master is dying." The old man was breathing heavily. His voice hitched, each word a struggle against the suffocating grip of mortality.

    Skyfall remained impassive, his gaze fixed on the vial in his hand. "Three millennia, Master. A long life, would''ve you say... for a mortal?" He paused, his voice laced with a chilling disdain.

    A tremor ran through the old man''s frail body. "What... what are you saying, Walter?" Dread coiled in his gut, a cold serpent squeezing the last vestiges of hope.

    Skyfall''s lips curled into a smirk, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light. "My dear Master," he purred, his voice dripping with false sympathy, "while even I, with all my power from the One, must one day face the inevitable, you... a mere mortal... hold the key to defying death itself. How... ''fortunate'' for you."

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    He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But imagine, Master, the possibilities! If your genius could elevate me to such heights, think of what it could do for others. A legion of Weaver''s of the One, each more powerful than the last... a force that could reshape the very fabric of existence. Wouldn''t that be a legacy worthy of your name?"

    With a swift, almost graceful movement, Skyfall snatched the medical tome from the old man''s trembling hands. "Consider this my humble offering, Master," he said, his smirk widening. "A small token of appreciation for the power you have unwittingly bestowed upon me. Now, rest assured, your name will echo through the ages... but it will be my voice that carries it."

    "Walter..." The old man''s voice was barely a whisper, each syllable a struggle against the rising tide of despair. He stared at his apprentice, his eyes wide with disbelief. "All these years... I thought... you were my son." A bitter laugh escaped his lips, tinged with self-mockery. "How blind I''ve been."

    Skyfall''s voice dripped with cruel amusement. "How about this for a parting gift. I won''t kill you with my own hands. I''ll let nature run its course, just as it does to everyone else." Raising the vial, he swallowed the Balsam of Rejuvenation with a grin, completely cutting off the old man''s hope of living.

    The weight of realization settled on the old man''s chest. The book was his death warrant.

    "Treacherous wretch! Treacherous wretch!" He cried out! But fury was a fleeting luxury. His life force dwindled, a candle flame flickering in a dying breeze. Skyfall watched the light dim in his master''s eyes, a detached observer witnessing the inevitable.

    Boom!

    As the final spark expired, the alchemy room where the old man lived for most of his life, together with his body, was turned into powder under the terrifying pressure of Skyfall the Divine.

    "Treacherous wretch!"

    A guttural roar ripped Snow from his sleep. He bolted upright, a jolt of searing pain lancing through his body. His head throbbed as if his skull might split open. Disoriented, he gasped, "I ain''t dead!" The dream - so vivid, so real - lingered, leaving a chilling uncertainty in its wake. Could it be a premonition?

    Yet in the dream, he wasn''t himself. The old man had no saidin. Plus, everyone knew who Skyfall the Divine was, High Priest of the Temple of the One, the most powerful man of the known world. So, Skyfall betrayed his master? A dangerous secret to possess, considering Skyfall''s position and power.

    A small hand grasped his, concern imprinted on a young face. "Brother? What''s wrong?" Dreamy, his fourteen-year-old sister, pleaded with him to calm down, her voice barely a whisper.

    "Just a bad dream, is all," Snow mumbled, unsure who he was trying to convince, himself or her. Yet, the unease wouldn''t dissipate. Then, a deluge of memories crashed into him - thirty lifetimes worth. Every detail of medical knowledge, every elixir formula, everything the old man had poured into Walter Skyfall - surged through him, crystal clear and undeniable. He felt a melding, a terrifying sense of becoming the old man, inheriting his rage, his sorrow, and a burning desire for vengeance.

    But what ability does he have to avenge this old man? Despite his lineage of mages, Snow lacked exceptional talent. Often ostracized and bullied by other children in the clan, he recently endured another humiliation. Larry Shadoway, the grandson of the Fourth Elder, along with his followers, mocked Snow and his sister. Initially calm, Snow flew into a rage upon hearing Dreamy insulted, only to be severely beaten by Larry''s group. The attack left him with a fractured leg and a damaged saidin network, the delicate pathways crucial for manipulating mana.

    Witnessing her brother''s distress, Dreamy, with a hopeful face, said, "Don''t you worry none, brother. Momma''s with the elders, she''ll get you the Azure Wellspring for sure."

    Snow''s heart plummeted. Their family wasn''t exactly well-liked within the Shadoway clan. Only the Chieftain, currently in seclusion, treated them with a modicum of respect. All family matters rested on the shoulders of the elders.

    Moreover, the Azure Wellspring, a true elixir, was one of the Shadoway clan''s most prized possession. Crafted by the revered Order of Azure Mountain, its power to mend wounds and revitalize the spirit was legendary. Snow knew their family only had a single vial left, a relic passed down through generations. His heart sank as he imagined his mother begging the elders for this precious resource, only to be met with scornful laughter. After all, why would they squander such a treasure on him, the boy they called "Snow the Useless"?

    Suddenly, footsteps sounded outside the house, and Dreamy stood up in excitement. "Momma''s back, she musta got the elixir."

    Snow looked outside and saw a middle-aged woman with a haggard face walked in.

    "Hey Snow, you are up?" Zoe said, her eyes a little dodgy when she saw Snow looking at her.

 4. John

    "Senior John," greeted the two apprentices guarding the entrance to the botanical garden, bowing respectfully. John Riversong, a newly minted disciple, returned the gesture with a curt nod and strode past them.

    The air buzzed with a subtle electric energy as he entered. The garden sprawled before him, a vast expanse of meticulously tended fields. Rows upon rows of vibrant medicinal plants thrived under the gentle hum of carefully channeled mana energy. In the heart of this verdant haven bloomed the Broken Love Flower, its crimson petals like nine tongues of desire reaching for the sky. Its fragrance, usually faint, held a potent allure, capable of weaving fantastical illusions that ensnared the unwary with visions of love and longing.

    This potent bloom was the source of three coveted elixirs. The Aetherflux, a relatively simple concoction, accelerated the absorption of ambient mana. The Hearward Steel, far more complex to refine, was said to fortify one''s will against inner demons, a valuable aid during perilous ascensions. Finally, the most challenging elixir, the Paradise World, offered a perilous gamble. It could catapult a mage to new heights if they navigated the trials within the illusory world it created, but failure meant utter annihilation.

    John''s gaze settled on the pavilion nestled at the garden''s center. That''s where he would stay while taking care of the garden.

    Walking through the mana imbued field, John''s eyes caught a cluster of shimmering bubbles - mostly white, with a lone green one hovering above a Broken Love Flower. As he passed, the bubbles dissolved into him, each bringing an instinctive understanding of its gift:

    [Strength]

    [Agility]

    [Strength]

    [Constitution]

    [Aetherflux]

    Each shimmering bubble held a promise, a fragment of power waiting to be claimed. White, the most common, pulsed with raw energy, a promise of superhuman strength, agility, and constitution. John imagined the day a casual flick of his wrist could shatter the defenses of mages twice his size.

    Green bubbles, swirling with emerald hues, held practical rewards - mundane elixirs and basic weaponry. With a flick of his mind, they dissolved into his bag of holdings.

    Blue bubbles, the color of twilight magic, held knowledge. Each one whispered secrets of mana manipulation, improving John''s control and inching him closer to a breakthrough. These were the bubbles that had propelled him from a nervous neophyte, to a capable disciple.

    Finally, there were the rarest - the purple bubbles. These thrummed with an unknown energy, harboring whispers of legendary power. Each bubble contained a fragment of an enchanted item. John had collected four of these enigmatic fragments. Three had already coalesced, granting him the power of Daily Identification. Yet, he didn''t know what this power can do, because casting it required a level of mana control beyond his current grasp. Perhaps, he mused, when he ascended to the realm of the Wave Weaver, he would finally be able to wield this newfound power.

    "I need a way to conceal my improvement." John reminded himself. He worried rapid advancement would paint a target on his back. After all, danger lurked around every corner in the dark cult. Whispers of elders eliminating disciples to claim their fortunes were all too common.

    As John approached, sunlight streamed through the latticework of the pavilion roof, illuminating a waiting figure. Nevaeh, a disciple of the Citadel of Siren Delight, smiled as John entered. Her beauty was arresting, but today, a different kind of allure glistened in her eyes.

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    Forbidden Harmony boasted twelve formidable halls, Citadel of Siren Delight and Cliff of Broken Love were among them.

    Nevaeh embodied the dark arts of the Citadel perfectly. Her form was a masterpiece of curves and angles, each line sculpted to entice and enthrall. But it wasn''t mere physical beauty; an otherworldly allure radiated from her very being, a siren''s call woven into the intricate patterns of her saidar. The energy flowed through her, shimmering beneath her skin, enhancing her every movement, every glance, with a captivating magnetism.

    Her voice, a honeyed melody, seemed to resonate with the hidden currents of desire, each word a subtle manipulation of the senses. It was a power honed by the Citadel''s teachings, a weapon as potent as any weave. In the conservative world of righteous traditions, such a gift would be seen as a curse, a dangerous distraction from the pursuit of pure magic. But here, in the hedonistic halls of Forbidden Harmony, it was a prized asset, a tool wielded with deadly precision.

    John usually found himself battling a pounding headache whenever he interacted with disciples from Citadel of Siren Delight. Yet, today, he felt an unsettling calm. Was it a sign of improved mental fortitude, or something more sinister? A disquieting thought wormed its way into his mind. Could Nevaeh''s allure have lost its potency, or was there anything wrong about him?

    "Senior Nevaeh." John greeted respectfully.

    "John," Nevaeh''s voice was a silken caress, "Rumors whisper you are on the cusp of ascension. A Wave Weaver before twenty is no small feat, truly impressive."

    John offered a polite nod. "Mere luck, I guess." he downplayed.

    Nevaeh smiled and said softly:

    "They say you are a decent man. Integrity and potential..., in a righteous persuasion, you''d be hailed as a prodigy."

    "She thinks I''m a good person?" John was immediately alarmed. Unsure about her motives, he deflected: "Senior Nevaeh, are you here for botanicals this time?"

    "That''s true," Nevaeh admitted, her smile widening. "but mainly to extend my congratulations to you." The enchantress approached John, stopped just a breath away.

    "Thank you, Senior Nevaeh, That''s very kind of you. I will find someone to prepare the herbs right away." After taking the order and making sure there was no problem, John turned and left.

    "She practically radiated at me, yet I remained unfazed. How is that even possible?" he thought to himself.

    A moment later, he handed Nevaeh what she ordered.

    "Thank you, John." Nevaeh purred in a velvet whisper, "I wouldn''t want to impose any further."

    "It was my pleasure, Senior Nevaeh." John smiled back, a silent plea in his mind - please never come back.

    Contrary to his wishes, Nevaeh took a few steps away, then retreated to John''s side. Her soft voice, barely a whisper, her warm breath brushed against his ear.

    "John," she murmured, "if you were given the chance to join a well-respected luminary guild, would you take it?"

    John''s heart hammered against his ribs. He stole a horrified glance at Nevaeh.

    A soft chuckle escaped the siren''s lips. After a moment, her voice took on a more serious tone, the playful lilt replaced by a steely edge. "Look at you, John. So easily frightened. This is a common tactic used by so-called righteous factions. They prey on dark acolytes like us, offering false promises they never intend to keep. Be wary, John. Don''t be fooled." Then she stressed. "Be absolutely clear about it!" Her words carried a subtle weight.

    With that, Nevaeh flitted away, leaving John in a whirlwind of confusion.

    "What did she mean?" he grappled with the thought. "Can I join if I''m ''clear'', or..." A shadow of suspicion fell across his thoughts.

    Perhaps it was just a jest, a siren''s playful dig. Or maybe there was truth hidden beneath the surface, a veiled warning.

    "What if she''s a plant from another faction, testing the waters?" John''s mind raced. "Targeting me for their own agenda?"

    "But then again," he countered, "could the Order itself be suspicious of me, putting me through some twisted test?"

    John considered his options. Nevaeh, an early stage Wave Weaver. If she truly posed a threat, his choices were stark: refuse and face potential death, or agree and risk being caught between two warring factions. Fire and water indeed.

    One thing remained certain: he must accelerate his mastery of mana, pushing it towards the fluidity of the Wave Weaver state.

 5. Snow

    The question gnawed at Snow for days: Who am I? Memory or body? If identity stemmed solely from memories, then he was Elijah Stonekeeper, the old man from the dream whose past now resided within him.

    Snow Shadoway''s sixteen years of life experience were a mere blip compared to the vast ocean of Elijah Stonekeeper''s three millennia. As Elijah''s memories, knowledge, insights, and wisdom took hold, Snow felt his own thoughts and personality morphing to resemble the old Master.

    Resolve hardened into a decision. "You entrusted me with all your memories, Elijah," Snow declared. "I''ll honor you by fulfillinˇŻ both our destinies. Your quest for vengeance becomes mine to claim." He narrowed his eyes and gazed out the window, his stare sharp as a striking bolt of lightning.

    As expected, momma hadn''t returned with the Azure Wellspring. But ruptured saidin? An unbreachable curse for Snow Shadoway, but a trifling inconvenience for Elijah Stonekeeper. He might even owe his attackers a begrudging thanks.

    Snow had always believed his talent was hindered by an unimpressive saidin pattern ¨C the network of mana channels within his body that dictated his magical potential. But now that his saidin was fractured, a silver lining appeared. A unique tempering method devised by Elijah could not only repair broken saidin but reshape them into patterns optimal for mana flow. Elijah had once used this very method to forge an exceptionally strong foundation for the legendary Skyfall, allowing him to cast formidable spells at an early stage of his development. Now, Snow inherited this knowledge, a spark of hope igniting within him. Could this be the key to unlocking his own hidden potential, to surpass even the legendary Skyfall himself?

    Snow considered himself fortunate. Elijah, in his research on this method, had opted for readily available, inexpensive medicinal ingredients.

    Snow meticulously listed the required materials. Though common, the amount was large, total cost was significant. Luckily, his mother had brought back a bone-knitting elixir from the elders. Selling it would be enough to cover everything.

    "Momma," Snow handing her a list, "don''t you worry. SellinˇŻ the elder''s elixir will allow me to obtain the ingredients to heal my injury."

    Seeing Snow diligently record the materials calmed Zoe''s nerves. It was clear he wasn''t simply offering empty comfort; he possessed genuine knowledge. Yet, a question lingered: where had her son acquired this expertise?

    Zoe''s brow furrowed over the list, landing on the iron sheet. "Iron sheet?" she echoed, a hint of confusion in her voice.

    "I need it to build a boiler for refininˇŻ the materials," he explained.

    "HeˇŻs gonna design a special boiler!" Zoe marveled under her breath!

    With hope in her heart, and Dreamy by her side, Zoe set off to procure everything Snow needed, leaving Snow resting at home.

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    ˇ°Third level forger.ˇ± Pathetic. It was a far cry from the power Snow craved. "But not for much longer," he muttered, a steely glint entering his eyes.

    The Shadoway clan defied tradition. Unlike other magic schools that focused solely on channeling mana, they believed in building a strong foundation first. Their children underwent the grueling "Forging Stage," a brutal training regimen that honed their bodies into weapons and strengthened their saidin or saidar network - the pathways for channeling magic. This unique approach allowed them to tap into their innate mana reserves with greater ease and control once they began formal magical studies.

    This demanding process required extensive resources, the most crucial of which was an elixir known as the Ironhard Draught, which helped weaving mana into the very fabric of their muscles and bones. The Shadoway clan''s approach thrived in their region due to the availability of Ironweed, a key ingredient of the Ironhard Draught.

    The children in Shadoway clan received monthly resources: three doses of Ironhard Draughts until adulthood at eighteen. This explained why Larry beat Snow so badly before ¨C it likely had something to do with the elixir.

    The next day, Zoe and Dreamy returned with the supplies. Following Snow''s instructions, they hired a blacksmith to build a peculiar boiler right at home. Its size necessitated on-site construction; transporting it would be an impossible feat.

    The contraption was a marvel of alchemical engineering ¨C a cascading apparatus resembling a dragon with its central pot, the belly, surrounded by several smaller ones like writhing limbs. Each pot bubbled with a concoction of vibrant hues, their hisses and pops a rhythmic counterpoint to the crackling fire licking at their bases. Snow meticulously monitored the process, despite his injuries. Gauges and dials adorned the apparatus, and with practiced ease, he adjusted knobs and valves, ensuring the temperature remained constant, pressure didn''t build to dangerous levels, and the specific ingredients within each pot reached their optimal state.

    Dreamy and Zoe took over the physical tasks. Dreamy tended the flames, while Zoe added the medicinal ingredients at precise moments.

    Three days passed. The concoctions in the sub-pots dwindled, transforming into viscous liquids with remarkable synchronicity. Seizing the opportune moment, Snow instructed his mother and Dreamy to carefully transfer the liquids into the central pot, already brimming with clear water. The temperature there, deliberately kept low, rose to the perfect level upon the combined liquids'' touch - a proof of Snow''s meticulous planning.

    With gentle care, Zoe and Dreamy lowered Snow into the central pot, a small fire flickering beneath to maintain the crucial temperature. Agony unlike anything he''d ever known ripped through him. It was a searing inferno, reshaping him from the inside out, laying the foundation for an unyielding strength. Memories of past hardships, etched into his very being from Elijah''s life, surfaced ¨C a torrent of grueling trials that tempered his spirit.  Fueled by their echoes, Snow gritted his teeth and steeled his resolve. He would endure.

    Five days blurred into a whirlwind of anticipation. The once clear liquid in the main pot had transformed into a grotesque mockery of its former self. Dark and fetid, it reeked of expelled impurities, a clear sign of the agonizing ordeal Snow had endured. As the final fumes dissipated, Snow rose from the pot, reborn in a surge of invigorating power. His body, lean and honed, bore the mark of transformation ¨C a testament to his unwavering will. His saidin, fully repaired and optimized, thrummed with a power that resonated through his very being. The foundation was laid, a limitless horizon stretching before him. Hope, like a phoenix from the ashes, ignited in his eyes.

 6. Rachel

    Azure Mountain loomed ahead, its three peaks stark against the moonlit sky. A constant haze hung over the mountainside, obscuring the radiance of a palace coated in blue and white splendor. Rachel''s eyes narrowed, a storm brewing within them. ˇ°Regardless of the assassin''s true origin, Azure Mountain will pay.ˇ± Her wrath wouldn''t be contained, not even by a Guild steeped in thousands of years of history.

    Tonight, however, she had a different mission. Her destination: a small mount some 500 miles distant from Azure Mountain. In front of her was a mana-barren mountainous realm, home only to mortals, devoid of strategic importance or any immediately apparent attraction. Yet, just a few days prior, upon summoning Angelica, a vision flickered ¨C not a clear image, but a tingling sensation in her gut. It was a feeling she had learned to trust, a subconscious whisper of fate guiding her towards hidden potential.

    It was exactly this ability, perceiving future serendipity ˇŞ the fortuitous luck of others, propelled her meteoric rise from disciple to headmaster of the Order. She then launched a thirty-year war, plundering the serendipitous futures of neighboring factions to amass unimaginable resources and advantages for herself and Forbidden Harmony.

    Victory after victory followed, but three decades of leadership dulled the thrill of mere opportunity. Only the rarest elixirs, legendary weaves, or magical relics could pique her interest. For thirty more years, she relentlessly scoured the continent, but the well of fortuitous visions began to sputter. Perhaps her insatiable pursuit had left little for others to find. A decade passed without a single noteworthy vision. Disillusioned, Rachel retreated into solitary study, determined to focus on deepening her own connection with the One.

    Sixty years of seclusion felt like an eternity for mortals. A whole generation might vanish in that blink of time. For the treasures Rachel craved, however, it was mere dust settling. So, when a vision of Angelica''s future unfolded, it felt like a jolt. It mentioned not just some ordinary treasure, but two Etherbloom seeds at this unassuming hill, named Mount Cottonwood.

    Why there, of all places? The absurdity struck Rachel first, but she soon realized this might be a sprout from her own plans. After all, she had already orchestrated events to push Angelica towards a war with Azure Mountain.

    The clues to the assassination attempt were frustratingly thin: just Azure Mountain and the poison. Unraveling the secrets of the deadly toxin had proven a formidable challenge. Azure Mountain became her only option, a daunting first step shrouded in mystery.

    Investigating by herself was tempting, a chance to unleash her own cunning and power. Yet, Azure Mountain was a fortress. Their layered defenses, a labyrinth of arcane wards and illusory traps, made infiltration a near impossible feat. Their inner circle, shrouded in secrecy, living in a domain protected by a powerful guardian elemental, elusive to capture. Forbidden Harmony''s spies, while present, wouldn''t privy to information about the attack. Diplomacy was a foolˇŻs errand. It run counter to the dark philosophy instilled in Rachel''s upbringing, not to mention Azure Mountain''s arrogant disdain for practitioners of forbidden magic.

    War. That was the answer. Shattering the delicate balance of power, forcing Azure Mountain to expose their vulnerabilities, that was her best hope of flushing out these key figures and uncovering the truth. But a nagging question remained: why would war lead Angelica to Mount Cottonwood and the Etherbloom seeds?

    The mystery deepened the allure of the treasure. The Etherbloom was too important to ignore. This legendary treasure promised not only complete detoxification from the insidious poison but also the potential to elevate her connection with the One Power, catapulting her to the coveted rank of Seeker of the One. Such a feat would secure her position as a revered figure across the continent, perhaps rivaled only by the enigmatic Skyfall the Divine, whose true power remained enigmatic.

    Driven by this ambition, Rachel focused her psychic abilities, her mind reaching outward like an invisible web, sensitive enough to detect the flutter of a butterfly''s wing or a worm''s burrow. But such exertion was taxing, draining her mental energy with each pulse of her power. Yet, the allure of the Etherbloom, the key to her ascension, fueled her relentless search.

    "Curious," she mused, her brow furrowing. "No discernible mana signature." Such a powerful treasure as the Etherbloom seeds should radiate with an abundance of magical energy. Undeterred, Rachel delved deeper into the earth with her psychic senses, probing the very bedrock, her mind venturing a hundred miles beneath the surface. There, she detected a powerful, chaotic pulse, a discordant symphony of raw, untamed energy.

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    With a surge of focus, she pierced through the layers of rock and soil, her psychic sight revealing the source: a colossal Earth Elemental, its immense form composed of boulders and hardened clay, shifting and groaning in the subterranean depths. The creature''s aura, a tumultuous symphony of raw mana resonating with the surrounding earth, spoke of a power both immense and unstable, teetering on the brink of collapse.

    "Could this be Azure Mountain''s fabled guardian?" Legends whispered of a primordial being, a manifestation of the mountain''s very essence, bound to protect the guild''s secrets since its inception. This ancient entity, rumored to have existed for millennia, possessed a power that dwarfed even the most accomplished mages within Azure Mountain''s ranks. Its mere presence had been a formidable deterrent during Rachel''s thirty-year war, a force she was hesitant to subdue.

    "Why has the Earth Elemental ventured so far from its mountain home?" Rachel wondered, her brow furrowing in concentration. "Is it nearing its end?" Ancient texts spoke of Earth Elementals seeking mana-depleted locations to disperse their accumulated energy before their inevitable demise, a cataclysmic release that could reshape the landscape. For a being of this magnitude, such a process would flood the area with potent mana, transforming it into a fertile ground for magical growth. Yet, here, there was no such surge of energy emanating from the Earth Elemental, only an ominous thrum of instability and decay that radiated the unmistakable signs of impending dissolution.

    While weakened, such a creature could still pose a formidable threat to Angelica, even with her considerable skills. "But not if she arrives a few months later," Rachel reasoned, a calculating glint in her eyes. "By then, the elemental would have fully dissipated."

    But Rachel couldn''t afford to wait. The Etherbloom seeds held the key to her survival and ascension. Weaves already forming in her mind, she moved her hands fluently, like picking melody on a harp, each thread a different note, building a harmony that would shape reality. Mana surged through her, crackling with energy as she summoned forth a vortex of wind and water.

    The swirling vortex descended upon the weakened Earth Elemental, already crumbling at the edges from its impending dissolution. The creature let out a final, defiant roar, its voice a rumble of dislodged boulders and cracking clay, as it mustered the last vestiges of its earthen power. But its resistance was in vain. The relentless onslaught of wind and water tore at its form, stripping away layers of rock and soil. Pebbles and dust swirled in the vortex, the Elemental''s once-mighty body disintegrating into a chaotic dance of destruction.

    The earth groaned in response. Tremors rippled outward, the Elemental''s dying throes triggering a chain reaction of seismic upheaval. The ground buckled and heaved, the once-stable cavern walls groaning under the immense pressure. Fissures snaked across the earth, unleashing torrents of water that cascaded down the mountainside, carving new paths through the landscape.

    Rachel''s eyes scanned the scattered remnants of the Earth Elemental, her psychic senses probing for any trace of the Etherbloom seeds. A flicker of anticipation sparked within her as she detected a faint resonance, a whisper of ancient magic hidden beneath the rubble. With a practiced gesture, she reached for her astral pouch, its iridescent fabric shimmering with the subtle energies of countless realms. The pouch, a conduit to distant dimensions, held a treasure trove of artifacts collected over centuries of cunning and conquest. Confident that the Etherbloom seeds, no matter their current state, would be secure within its folds, she focused her attention on extracting them from the Elemental''s remains.

    A pulse of psychic energy revealed a curious sight within the debris - two obsidian stones, nestled within a network of glowing roots that had burrowed deep into the Elemental''s core. The stones, smooth and cool to the touch, pulsed with an energy that resonated with the earth''s ancient magic. Carefully, Rachel extracted the stones, their roots still clinging to the remnants of the Elemental''s essence.

    Despite their dark exterior, the stones possessed a mesmerizing clarity, almost transparent. Inside, waves of majestic mana pulsed ¨C a raw power unlike anything Rachel had encountered. A thrill of recognition coursed through herˇŞthese were the Etherbloom seeds, the very source of serendipity she had foreseen for Angelica. The mana that should have dissipated into the earth upon the Earth Elemental''s demise had instead been drawn into these extraordinary seeds, their crystalline hearts brimming with potent energy. Legends whispered of the Etherbloom as a creation born alongside the One Power itself, imbued with unimaginable reserves of mana.

    With a gesture, the astral pouch shimmered, its dimensional aperture widening to engulf both the precious seeds and the remnants of the Earth Elemental. The cavern floor, now devoid of the massive creature, revealed a gaping tunnel, its walls scarred with the marks of the Elemental''s relentless burrowing. A path, Rachel realized, that likely led straight to the heart of Azure Mountain. "An unexpected gift," she mused, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "Azure Mountain has unwittingly opened its doors for me. It would be a shame not to return the courtesy.ˇ±

 7. John

    John scurried back to his quarters, paranoia slithering up his spine like a serpent dipped in ice. Nevaeh''s visit had been a catalyst, triggering a primal fear that churned in his gut like a tempest at sea. He craved power, and fast.

    He could feel the latent magic within him stirring, the wispy tendrils yearning to coalesce into a potent current. The path to becoming a Wave Weaver, an arduous ascent fraught with peril, beckoned. Resourceful mages often turned to Manastream, a potent elixir, to navigate this treacherous transition. But John lacked the funds and time to acquire it.

    Over the past few days, John had made the best preparations he could. He''d spent a significant portion of his savings on a vial of Hearward, an elixir to fortify his will, securing a discount from the sympathetic garden apothecary. He''d hunted vermin in the forest, collecting three gallons of beast blood-a risky substitute for the human blood his colleagues would have used without remorse. He''d also gathered a large supply of Aetherflux, harvested from the green bubbles that shimmered around him, their emerald glow a promise of extra mana.

    With a steely resolve, John sank into a meditative pose, inhaling deeply. He knew the grueling process ahead might lead to his demise, but this was it. The moment of truth.

    Agony ripped through John, a searing pain that started in his eyes and radiated throughout his body. Blood pounded in his veins, a frantic rhythm echoing the relentless surge of mana flooding his saidin. The raw power, a hungry beast, clawed at his veins, his bones, his very essence, stretching and tearing at the fabric of his being.

    Sharp, piercing pain erupted at the nodes of his saidin, a network of channels strained to their limits by the onslaught of energy. It felt as if his blood and mana were locked in a desperate race, each vying for dominance within his body. The pressure built, a relentless force that threatened to shatter him from within.

    But John refused to yield. Drawing upon the dark knowledge of the Forbidden Harmony rite, he channeled the pain, the fear, the very essence of his suffering, into a vortex of raw power. Blood and tissue burned, sacrificed to fuel the maelstrom that churned within him. The mana, once a chaotic storm, began to coalesce into a harmonious whirlwind, condensing under the immense pressure.

    A cool sensation, a stark contrast to the burning pain elsewhere in his body, bloomed within John''s saidin nodes. It was a sign: the misty mana was condensing, a critical step towards transformation. Yet, the toll exerted by Forbidden Harmony on his body was immense, each muscle screaming in protest. With a grimace, John reached for the wooden bucket filled with beast blood, its metallic scent thick in the air. He steeled himself and gulped down the foul liquid, nausea rising in his throat. But almost instantly, warmth spread through his body as the Forbidden Harmony technique ignited the beast''s essence, converting it into raw energy.

    The beast blood, however, proved resistant, its wild energy, hard to control, refusing to fully integrate into the vortex within him. A tremor of fear shook John as the process faltered. Was this gamble a fatal mistake? Had the promise of power slipped through his fingers?

    Suddenly, a low hum resonated through the room, the very air vibrating with power. Shimmering bubbles materialized around him, each a vibrant burst of energy. They swirled and danced, drawn inexorably into the vortex, their essence merging with the struggling beast blood. The fusion sparked a chain reaction, the mana finally bending to his will.

    A sharp crack echoed through John''s body, like ice shattering under immense pressure. His muscles spasmed, his bones groaned, as the transformation intensified. Despite the agony, a wave of relief washed over John. The most dangerous part-forcing the chaotic mana into liquid form-was behind him. Now, it was simply a matter of enduring the reshaping of his body, a painful but necessary step towards his ascension.

    The transformation stretched into the night, a relentless symphony of pain and raw power. As the first rays of dawn peeked through the window, the sounds subsided. The torrent of energy and blood retreated, replaced by a gentle flow of mana coursing through his now-transformed body. A wave of warmth washed over him, his senses heightened as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes. He could feel the energy humming beneath his skin, each breath a symphony of power.

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    With a final pulse of Forbidden Harmony, John snapped his eyes open. The world around him seemed to vibrate with newfound clarity, a symphony of colors and energy. A surge of power coursed through him, a baptism by his newfound liquid mana. He flexed his fingers, feeling the energy crackle at his fingertips like a miniature lightning storm. "Wave Weaver," he breathed, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. "That wasn''t so bad."

    He remembered his seniors'' tales of the ordeal, a crucible that tested not only body and mind but also one''s mastery over the raw, surging mana. Yet, for him, it had been surprisingly manageable.

    "The bubbles," he realized, a wave of gratitude washing over him. "They saved me." The thought filled him with a newfound sense of security and confidence. Then, a spark of curiosity ignited in his eyes. He could sense a new ability thrumming within him, a power unlocked by his transformation. "Daily Identification," he murmured, his voice tinged with excitement. "What exactly does it do?"

    Emerging from his wooden dwelling, John cast Daily Identification on his humble abode. The results materialized instantly in his mind''s eye.

    [John Riversong''s cabin: Built three years ago from sturdy green forest wood, it appears strong. However, hidden dangers lurk within the structure, threatening a potential collapse. Built by John himself.]

    John was speechless. So, it identified objects. Not exactly a world-shattering power.

    "Guess I''ll need to learn a bit about carpentry." he muttered. "Renovations are in order." With a purpose in his stride, he headed towards the botanical garden.

    [Strength]

    [Agility]

    [Mana Affinity]

    [Ordinary Magic Sword]

    John walked all the way into the pavilion, absorbing the surrounding bubbles. After a well-deserved rest, John joined the other caretakers, lending a hand with the herbs.

    Unlike him, most who tended the gardens were ordinary folk. In the past, they lived in fear of the disciple guardian, one mistake away from a deadly punishment. John, however, was a different story. He wouldn''t harm them on a whim, a fact that earned him a... unusual reputation within the dark Order - "decent." Not exactly a badge of honor in Forbidden Harmony, but John had his own code.

    Later that day, John came face-to-face with Nevaeh again. To his surprise, the news of his ascension didn''t cause a stir. It was almost... anticlimactic. Thankfully, no demons descended upon him for immediate exploitation.

    In the following days, Nevaeh''s visits became a regular occurrence. Yet, their conversations remained curiously mundane, centered on trivial matters from back home. Occasionally, a wistful note would color her voice, a longing for a childhood dream of being "good". But with each passing visit, the knot of unease in John''s gut tightened. Something wasn''t right.

    Two weeks flew by. Stepping out of his residence, John squinted at the clear but oddly unwelcoming sky. "Nevaeh hasn''t visited in a few days," he mused. Was her absence a good sign, or a harbinger of something more sinister?

    Deciding not to dwell on the unknown, he headed towards the library, a new mystery weighing on his mind.

    Nevaeh was from the Citadel of Siren Delight, a temptress renowned for her otherworldly allure. Yet, John felt nothing. No fluttering in his stomach, no spark of attraction. Even his deliberate attempts to conjure a reaction had proven futile.

    A disquieting realization settled upon him. While he''d always sought immortality, free from the burdens of love or family, this inability to feel... anything... was a chilling development. And it coincided with that night, the encounter with the woman in red. The only logical conclusion gnawed at him: something was terribly wrong.

    Two days of poring over dusty tomes in the library had yielded nothing. Just as despair began to settle in, a flicker of purple caught his eye.

    [Enchanted Item]

    Unexpected surprise.

    If past experience held true, one more Enchanted Item fragment could awaken a brand new magical power.

    John''s elation quickly faded as he exited the library. A snippet of hushed conversation snagged his attention, a chilling rumor that sent a shiver down his spine. Forbidden Harmony was conducting a headcount, an unusual disruption to the conclave''s typically mundane routine.

    "Seems like they''re looking for someone," a nearby disciple muttered, his voice laced with unease.

    The rumor spread like wildfire, whispers of a traitor dancing on the wind. John''s mind immediately conjured an image - Nevaeh. He''d sensed something brewing in the Order since his humiliation at the hands of the red-clad woman, a storm on the horizon.

    "Nevaeh has been a Wave Weaver for some years," John thought, a cold dread coiling in his gut. "My chances against her..." The thought trailed off, replaced by a fervent hope. "Maybe I''m overthinking this."

 8. Snow

    Elijah''s method was a revelation for Snow. His memories were transformed from mere recollections to vivid experiences, and passionate hope turned into unwavering confidence.

    The method not only reshaped his saidin but also tempered his body, propelling him to the fourth level of Forging. And not just any fourth-level Forger; armed with Elijah''s knowledge and the insights gained from training Skyfall, Snow was confident he could now vanquish sixth-level opponents and even hold his own against formidable seventh-level warriors.

    "Snow, your leg?" Zoe''s voice held a hint of worry. Now that his saidin was fixed, she was fretting over his busted leg. Such injuries usually took months to heal. But Snow stood tall. "Don''t you worry, Momma," he said, soothing her fears. "That liquid didn''t just fix my saidin, it helped my leg too. Ain''t fully healed, but I can move fine now. Should be good as new in a few days."

    Relief washed over Zoe. "That''s wonderful, dear." Curiosity gnawed at her. How could such an ordinary-looking concoction have such miraculous effects? The potential wealth it represented was mind-boggling.

    Though very curious, Zoe didn''t ask Snow. If he were willing to share, he would. It wasn''t uncommon for mages to have their own secret methods of acquiring knowledge and resources.

    In the next few days, a renewed vigor coursed through Snow. Dreamy, her eyes sparkling with joy, remained by his side, a constant source of sunshine in his recovery.

    Suddenly one day, Zoe reminded Snow and Dreamy, "Today''s the day for your Ironhard Draught. Y''all haven''t gotten it yet, have ya?"

    "That''s right," Dreamy agreed, "we ain''t gotten it yet. Let''s go together, brother."

    Dreamy grasped Snow''s hand, her smile brighter than the morning sun, and they set off towards the clan hall where elixirs were distributed.

    The Shadoway Clan, one of the three major forces in the town of Mountain View, occupied a vast area in the town center. Snow''s home, however, resided in a remote corner, hundreds of yards away.

    Snow and Dreamy''s walk became a gauntlet of scorn. Servants of the Shadoway family openly pointed and gossiped. Children, emboldened by a sense of entitlement, hurled insults without a shred of decency. Years of such humiliation had become a bitter routine for Snow.

    "Ain''t that Snow? Heard his saidin was busted, but he looks alright to me. "

    "Well, I''ll be! That loser ain''t dead yet? Thought he was a goner."

    "What a waste of good air!" a voice sneered. "Leech off the family and still got the gall to walk around like he belongs?"

    "Snow, if you had a lick of sense," another jeered, "you''d stop takin'' what ain''t yours!"

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    Snow''s face remained an impassive mask. In his memory, he had endured far worse in Elijah''s life, an orphan with no hope of magic training. These taunts were mere pebbles on his path to vengeance. Soon, they would all be silenced.

    "You..." Dreamy sputtered, her anger flaring. She glared at the jeering crowd, her fists clenching as if to yell, but Snow''s hand on her arm stopped her outburst.

    "Ain''t worth it," Snow said, cool as a cucumber. Dreamy, still fuming, did as her brother said. They kept walking, heads held high.

    In the distance, a servant spotted Snow. His expression twisted in disbelief. "Wasn''t that cripple hobbled with busted saidin? How''s he movin'' so good?" He looked where Snow was headed - the elixir place. Panic set in. "He can''t get the Ironhard Draught! Master Larry''s gonna be mad! Gotta warn him!" The servant took off like a shot.

    As Snow and Dreamy walked, a figure abruptly jumped in front of them. Snow recognized him - Drew Shadoway, his senior by a generation yet only a year older. The son of the Second Elder, Drew did not enjoy good relationship with Larry, a reflection of the strained relationship between the First and Second Elders.

    "What''s the matter, Drew?" Snow inquired, his voice devoid of emotion. Dreamy beside him pursed her lips, her dislike for Drew radiating like heat.

    Drew Shadoway''s face stayed still as stone. His voice, deep and rough, rumbled, "Snow, heard you got roughed up by Larry. Looks like you''re back on your feet, though."

    "Yep, still kickin''" Snow retorted, a hint of defiance lacing his words. "Sorry to disappoint some folks, though."

    "Well now," Drew drawled. "Since you''re all patched up, maybe you should think on some things. The Shadoway name means somethin'', but even a good family can go downhill if it keeps feedin''...waste."

    Dreamy bristled, her voice sharp as a knife. "Drew, who you callin'' waste?"

    "Sixteen years old," Drew went on, looking Snow dead in the eye, "and you''re stuck at the third level of Forgin''. Ain''t that a waste? If you''re a real Shadoway, shouldn''t you be thinkin'' of the family first? Look at you, your own sister''s done passed you by. Even if givin'' up the Draught is hard, wouldn''t you do it for her?" Drew''s face got serious, sounding like he was preachin'' to a youngster.

    "Drew! You back off!" Dreamy exploded, her eyes blazing with fury. She wasn''t gonna let anyone pick on her brother.

    Snow''s stayed calm, not showing a lick of emotion. Drew, at the top of the ninth level Forging, didn''t need the Draught. Even though he was usually loud and proud, he didn''t want Snow''s share. This "lesson" was just Drew throwing his weight around. Snow didn''t like it, but it didn''t make him hate Drew.

    "My business is my own, Drew. Don''t you worry none," Snow said calmly, taking Dreamy''s arm and walking past him.

    Drew scowled. This good-for-nothin'' Snow seemed different. The old Snow wouldn''t have talked to him like that. But it didn''t matter much. "Hmph, nothin'' but a piece of trash," he muttered, shaking his head and striding away.

    On Snow''s only way to receive elixir, a young man looked sinister, and there were many servants surrounding him.

    "Is it truly him, Snow?" the young man gasped, in a raspy voice, his eyes wide with disbelief.

    "Yessir, he''s on his way. Saw it with my own eyes, ain''t a scratch on him." The servant nodded like a bobblehead. "Master Larry, let''s teach him another lesson!" A mean grin spread across his face.

    Larry furrowed his brow. "First Elder wouldn''t give him the Azure Wellspring. But Snow''s all healed up. They ain''t got the coin for fancy elixirs. Did he steal it?"

    Meanwhile, Snow regaled Dreamy with jokes, eliciting a string of giggles from the little girl. He seemed determined to erase the earlier unpleasantness from her mind.

    As they rounded a corner, a group of figures came into view. Snow''s voice strained as he uttered through gritted teeth, "Larry."

 9. David

    A biting south wind whipped through the Southern Wilderness, transforming the landscape into a frozen wasteland. Yet, amidst the monochrome desolation, an emerald jewel defied winter''s grasp. A vibrant bamboo forest shimmered, leaves like polished jade, dewdrops clinging to the slender blades like tiny crystal spheres.

    Suddenly, a flash of movement shattered the tranquility. A serpentine creature, its body a symphony of scales shimmering with iridescent hues, slithered across the forest floor. In its wake, wisps of an unnatural, shimmering vapor lingered, an eerie residue of its passage.

    Swish!

    A sibilant hiss cut through the air, and fell upon the four-legged snake.

    The air itself seemed to freeze, the temperature plummeting with a crackle that sent shivers down the bamboo stalks. In the blink of an eye, the vibrant green serpent was encased in a crystalline shell, a perfect sculpture where life once pulsed.

    "Finally caught this damn little thief." The bamboo forest moved, and a young man walked out.

    He was quick on his feet, with a figure tall and lean as a pine, regular facial features, but eyes like a clear, bottomless pool. He was wearing a thick cotton-padded jacket and had a look of relief on his face.

    David approached the ice sculpture, his relief morphing into dismay as he hefted the frozen serpent in his hand. "A loss," he muttered repeatedly, a note of frustration creeping into his voice. "A complete loss!"

    "This measly skink is barely worth ten mana shards. Yet, catching it took three days and a blasted Ice Scroll! A neophyte scroll, sure, but that''s half a mana crystal down the drain!" (One mana crystal worth 100 mana shards.) David''s face mirrored the despair in his voice.

    A losing proposition, certainly. But David had no choice. As the guardian of this vibrant bamboo forest, his livelihood depended on its continued health. This "skink" wouldn''t fetch much, but its appetite for the life force of the bamboo could spell disaster for next year''s harvest.

    Although grumbling, he carefully tucked away the skink. It worth ten mana shards after all! His entire net worth is only a few hundred shards!

    The forest, though precious, wasn''t his. Each year, after harvesting his meager allotment of 7 acres, he had to surrender half to the landlord, the Sato family. That left him with barely a 50 bushels of mana-infused rice - worth a measly three hundred mana shards. A year''s backbreaking labor for three crystals.

    "Oh, it''s hard to become immortal, but even harder to survive!" David heaved a sigh as he brushed snowflakes from his threadbare coat, and began to clear the weeds in the bamboo forest.

    These weren''t ordinary weeds. Nourished by the same energy force that sustained the jade bamboo, they grew strong and resilient. Left unchecked, they''d steal vital nutrients, jeopardizing his scanty harvest. It wasn''t just backbreaking labor; being a mana farmer demanded a mastery of minor weaves, such as the Breeze and Rain spell and the Kusanagi Sword for killing bugs.

    Stuck as an early stage Aer Weaver, David was barely a neophyte around here. (Aer Weavers, the lowest rung of mages, manipulated mana in its raw, gaseous form ¨C a less efficient, less accurate, and wasteful method compared to the higher echelons.) In the vibrant Jade Bamboo Mountain, mid-stage Aer Weavers weren''t uncommon, and one might even encounter masters who had surpassed the late stage. The world of independent mages was brutal ¨C the strong preyed on the weak, a law engraved in blood.

    Dark mages, notorious for their ruthless pursuit of power, were said to conduct blood sacrifices spanning a hundred miles. Though David hadn''t witnessed such horrors firsthand, the countless accounts in texts served as a grim reminder of the dangers lurking just beyond the emerald embrace of the bamboo forest.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    The ink-black sky pressed down on David, urging him into a hurried pace towards his meager dwelling. Jade Bamboo Mountain boasted magical protections, but those luxuries were reserved for the grand shops and bustling Main Street. Farming areas like his own were left exposed, vulnerable to the dangers that crept under the cloak of night.

    Despite the Sato family''s patrols, whispers of robberies still reached David''s ears. He wasn''t about to tempt fate - his life was precious, even if his Weaver''s standing wasn''t.

    The mana farmers'' quarters, nestled close to the city walls, benefited from frequent patrols and were relatively safe. David, with a wry twist of his lips, figured it was because looting mages wouldn''t stoop to robbing the likes of him: poor, barely-trained farmers guarding meager crops.

    After a brisk uphill walk, a ramshackle collection of dwellings came into view. Fenced yards, filled with the sounds of squawking chickens and barking dogs, announced his arrival at home. A genuine smile finally broke through the tension carved on David''s face.

    David ambled passed a weathered old man, whose face crinkled like a dried apple and two yellow teeth glinting in a smile.

    "David, " he greeted, his aura was even weaker than David''s. This was Old Barly, David''s neighbor. David didn''t know where he came from, but bumping into each other every now and then, they had become aquaintent.

    "Lookin'' for some fun, are we?" Old Barly winked, a sly grin spreading across his weathered face. David recognized the implication - the ramshackle wooden buildings scattered through the shantytown housed Muses, those who didn''t toil on the farms but enjoyed a comfortable life thanks to their, ahem, "alternative" professions.

    Old Barly, despite years spent hunched besides his crops, was far worse off than David. He''d even borrowed mana shards before - a loan that probably ended up funding a night of "entertainment." David sighed. Some things, it seemed, never changed.

    David shook his head. "Old Barley," he said, "still gotta practice tonight..."

    In fact, shortly after coming of age, he went to the "Whispering Roses" in the market. He spent half of his fortune, had a good night, and draped himself out...

    Let''s just say, those little fairies who specialize in charm can be a real ... pain.

    Since then, David has poured all his energy into farming. He had no other choice - without crystals...

    "How can I have tea with a young lady if I don''t save money? Yesterday''s tea just won''t do..."

    David''s small quarter was divided into sections - a living area, a bedroom, and a training room. Some mages maximized their space by planting mana-infused vegetables and raising elemental poultry in a fenced enclosure.

    David went to the kitchen, retrieved some mana-infused rice mixed with whole grains, and cooked himself a pot of porridge.

    The rice was, of course, jasper bamboo rice. Each grain resembled jade and emanated a delightful fragrance. Even when mixed with ordinary rice and whole grains, it remained remarkably delicious, boasting a sweet and delightful taste.

    A pleasant warmth bloomed in David''s stomach after his meal, accompanied by a subtle surge of energy force. Seizing this prime opportunity, he wasted no time making his way to the practice room. There, in the quiet seclusion, he diligently began his exercises.

    Half an hour later, David cracked open his eyes, a bitter smile twisting his lips. The "Everlasting Spring Practice" was a cruel taskmaster. Five years of relentless exercise, and he hadn''t even glimpsed the peak of the early stage Aer Weaving, let alone breached the barrier into the mid stage. Frustration clawed at him.

    He pricked up his ears, catching the faint sounds of life outside his secluded practice room. Reaching for a talisman, he pressed it against the wooden wall. This neophyte level charm offered little defense, but its true value lays in its soundproofing and ability to mask mana and energy fluctuations.

    Psychic sensing, a danger form those Wave Weaver, wouldn''t be blocked, but the talisman would explode as a warning. A small price to pay for a shred of privacy.

    David finished with a sigh, the frustration of his practice session fading as his fingers snapped. In an instant, the worn wooden walls of his practice room dissolved, replaced by a scene of opulent luxury. Warm light bathed the room, highlighting the vibrant greenery and the delicate wisps of smoke rising from a gold-and-purple incense burner. A plush rosewood chaise beckoned, promising comfort after a long day.

    With a flick of his wrist, a cool breeze filled the air, courtesy of a magical air conditioner. David cast aside his ragged jacket, revealing a rich brocade robe that emphasized his youthful features. He pushed open the balcony doors, and sunlight streamed in, illuminating the sprawling grounds of his magnificent estate.

    In the blink of an eye, it seemed like the world has completely changed. In fact, that was exactly what happened!

    A wry smile touched David''s lips. People can do anything when pushed to the brink, including travel to a parallel universe.

 10. Snow

    "Well, well, well, if it ain''t the infamous Snow!" Larry Shadoway boomed, his voice dripping with malice.

    The Shadoway Clan might rule Mountain View, but resources were limited amongst its many disciples. Larry, forever dissatisfied with his own allocation, targeted Snow. The Snow family lacked influence and talent within the clan, making Snow easy prey. Larry could potentially beat him to a pulp with minimal repercussions - just a slap on the wrist in exchange for Snow''s share of resources. After all, with his grandpa''s backing, he could easily convince the distributor to let him "pick up elixirs for Snow", while Snow was lying on bed. The only annoyance? This worthless Snow just wouldn''t stay down!

    "Larry! The nerve of ya!" Dreamy roared, her eyes blazing with fury. She lunged towards him, claws bared, but Snow reacted swiftly, wrapping his arms around her to restrain her. Against Larry''s superior strength, they were hopelessly outmatched.

    Larry nonchalantly dug his ear with a smirk. "Nerve? Why wouldn''t I show up? Here comes the loser himself, a pathetic excuse for a warrior stuck at the third level of Forgin''. And why wouldn''t I, a master of the eighth level, dare to grace ya with my presence?"

    Like Snow, Larry was only sixeen. Yet, he had already soared to the eighth level of Forging stage, placing him among the geniuses of Shadoway.

    "You''re the real waste, Larry, Humph, my brother is now..."

    Snow clamped a hand over Dreamy''s mouth before she could reveal too much. His hidden abilities and newfound medical prowess were secrets he intended to keep. "We''re here for the elixir. Arguing with ''em ain''t gonna do us no good."

    A loud, exaggerated laugh erupted from the lead servant, River. "Did I hear that right, Snow? You think you deserve the Ironhard Draught?"

    River, Larry''s loyal lackey, was the one who inflicted the most damage during their previous encounter. Though healed, the leg injury remained a cruel reminder of River''s brutality. The fact that a mere servant felt empowered to torment him was a stark reminder of Snow''s lowly standing within the clan.

    Snow''s voice turned icy, eyes narrowing. "A servant knows his place. When did a servant like you get the right to stick your nose in your master''s business?" His cold gaze pierced River, who flinched and instinctively retreated.

    Shame burned on River''s face. He couldn''t believe he was cowed by Snow''s words. Fury simmered within him. Though a servant, his high standing earned him a monthly Ironhard Draught, a privilege he felt elevated him above Snow.

    Dreamy, encouaged by her brother''s words, parroted, "A servant should stay in his place!"

    Larry shot River a cold glance, displeased with his earlier performance. River''s head snapped down, his bravado vanishing in the face of his master''s disapproval.

    A mocking smile twisted Larry''s lips, his eyes filled with disdain. "Master? You call yourself that, Snow? River, a servant at the fifth level of Forgin'', is stornger than you. What makes you think you can act all high and mighty?"

    Eager to redeem himself, River shoved himself between Snow and Larry, spewing venom. "You, Snow, ain''t nothin'' but a worthless piece of trash, even lower than a servant!"

    Snow''s brow furrowed. He gently ushered Dreamy behind him, fearing River''s rage might lash out.

    Seeing Snow''s silence, River misinterpreted it as weakness. His confidence swelled, a grave mistake. "Listen here, Snow. You may be worthless, but your sister is a real looker. Maybe the elders will betroth Dreamy to me one day. You''ll be callin'' me brother-in-law soon enough!"

    SMACK!

    The sharp crack of Snow''s palm against River''s cheek echoed through the courtyard, leaving a red mark on his face. Snow, his patience exhausted, struck River across the face. The blow stunned River, who never imagined Snow would defy him after the previous beating.

    A dark cloud settled on Larry''s face. It wasn''t the violence itself, but the audacity of it. That Snow, the boy he''d always dismissed, dared to strike a servant in his presence. Yet, a cold fury also simmered beneath the surface, directed at River. The servant''s insolent remarks about Dreamy were a blatant overstepping of boundaries. Larry saw Snow as a mere pawn, but River''s ambition was a threat. He would deal with River later. For now, he needed Snow''s Ironhard Draughts.

    "Know your place, servant. A servant coveting a master''s status? A toad dreamin'' of swan meat?" Snow''s voice dripped with ice. He could tolerate their taunts, but daring to belittle Dreamy was a death wish.

    It took a moment for the slap to register on River''s mind. A waste like Snow, a mere third-level Forger, had dared to strike him? Rage surged through him. "Snow, you little runt! You dare hit me?!"

    "And I''ll do it again!" Another stinging slap met River''s face before he could react.

    Dreamy, ecstatic at the tables being turned, clapped her hands and whooped.

    River, seething with fury, dumb-founded as to why he wasn''t able to dodge, clutched his throbbing cheek and turned to Larry. While he didn''t fear Snow, Larry held his life in his hands. To act, he needed permission. He swore vengeance. This time, he''d beat Snow to a pulp, then manipulate Larry into finishing him off. Only death could erase this shame!

    Larry, his voice devoid of emotion, spoke, "This is your squabble, River. A fifth-level Forger like yourself can''t handle a third-level waste?" His words were a subtle green light for River to proceed.

    Empowered by Larry''s tacit approval, River whipped around, a sneer twisting his features. He cracked his knuckles menacingly. "Ready, Snow? Let''s see what a weaklin'' like you can do!"

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    Dreamy, her courage flaring, stepped forward in a defensive stance. "Leave him alone! If you attack, once the Chieftain emerges from seclusion, I''ll tell him everythin''! You''ll all pay the price!"

    Larry scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. "The Chieftain? Who knows how long a powerful feller like the Chieftain will stay in seclusion. By the time he comes out, this will all be water under the bridge." He gestured impatiently for River to act.

    Snow gently pulled a concerned Dreamy back. "Dreamy, don''t you fret none. A mere servant can''t harm me."

    Dreamy hesitated, her brow furrowed with worry. She couldn''t bear the thought of Snow being hurt again.

    "Believe me!" Snow rubbed Dreamy''s head and finally convinced the little girl.

    A cruel smile displayed on River''s face as he murmured, only audible to Snow, "You''re askin'' for it, Snow. I spared you last time, but not this time!"

    "Really now?" A cold glint flickered in Snow''s eyes. In his mind, River''s fate was already sealed.

    "Hey!" River roared, lunging for Snow with a slap aimed at his cheek. Two stinging slaps still burned on his face, and he craved payback.

    SMACK!

    A sharp crack echoed. Not the sound of River''s slap connecting, but Snow returning the favor with a vengeance. This time, the blow was brutal, knocking several of River''s teeth loose.

    "How dare you, a mere dog yappin'' at his master!" Snow''s voice dripped with icy disdain as he unleashed a flurry of strikes on River''s face.

    Stunned silence gripped River. How could this supposed waste, a third-level Forger, overpower him so easily? He was putty in Snow''s hands. This was impossible!

    Click!

    A sickening crack resonated through the air. Snow had mercilessly shattered River''s left leg - the very same leg he injured during their previous encounter.

    "Stop!" Larry bellowed, finally recognizing the surge in Snow''s aura - already levitated to the fourth level! Surprise clouded his features. Not only had Snow healed, but his Forging level had raised. What secrets was he hiding?

    Ignoring Larry''s command, Snow raised his foot, and crippled River''s other leg.

    River''s screams pierced the air, sending shivers down the spines of the nearby servants. They silently thanked their lucky stars they weren''t the one provoked Snow''s wrath.

    Snow''s foot hovered menacingly over River''s head. His intent to kill was undeniable. Belonging to the Shadoway family granted him impunity for eliminating a servant, especially considering the provocation.

    "I told you to stop!" Larry roared, charging at Snow with the ferocity of a tiger. His fist stroke, desperately to save his most cunning and capable servant.

    Sensing the danger, Snow swiftly retreated, shielding himself with his arm.

    BANG!

    A resounding boom filled the air as Larry''s attack connected. Though blocked, the force of the blow sent a jolt through Snow''s body, causing blood to surge up his throat.

    Snow stumbled back, coughing up a mouthful of blood. The disparity in power was undeniable.

    Larry glared at Snow, his voice booming, "Snow, you attacked my servant for no reason, and now you''re tryin'' to kill him!"

    Larry, along with his entourage, surged towards Snow like a pack of ravenous wolves.

    "Wait!" Snow called out, his voice ragged. He knew a head-on confrontation with Larry, a seasoned eighth-level warrior, was a recipe for disaster.

    Dreamy rushed to Snow''s side, her face etched with concern. "Brother, are you alright?"

    "Don''t you worry, Dreamy," Snow reassured her, forcing a smile.

    Larry tilted his head back, a haughty sneer twisting his lips. "Snow, any last words?"

    River''s wails of pain filled the air. Seeing Larry pause, he croaked out, "Master Larry, don''t listen to him! Avenge me!"

    Snow''s gaze remained fixed on Larry, unwavering. "Larry, don''t you act like this just because you want my share of the Ironhard Draught?"

    Larry snorted, refusing to answer. Anyone with a discerning eye could see his motives. But admitting it would be a disgrace.

    "Snow, you are a worthless waste, you ain''t got no right to take those elixirs," a nearby attendant spoke on Larry''s behalf.

    Snow ignored the servant and looked at Larry. "I got an idea that could solve the problem."

    "Oh?" Larry''s expression changed, interest piqued by the unexpected offer. "What''s the proposal?"

    "You and I will have a gamblin'' duel. If I lose, all future resources allocated to me by the family will be yours. The same goes for you, if you lose." A steely glint flickered in Snow''s eyes, betraying a newfound determination.

    Resources were the lifeblood of ascension, the key to unlocking greater power. This gambling duel wouldn''t just settle the dispute with Larry, it could also secure more training resources for himself.

    Before Larry could speak, Dreamy interjected anxiously, "No! " Larry''s Forging is four levels higher. How can Snow possibly win? Isn''t this a suicide bet?

    "Brother, we don''t need to be afraid of them. I''ll tell the Chieftain and they won''t dare bully us again!" Dreamy pleaded, convinced Snow was pressured into the duel.

    After hearing Snow''s words, Larry was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter.

    "Did I hear you correctly, Snow? You want to challenge me in a match?" Larry reached up to scratch his ear, a mocking smile playing on his lips. The servants beside him chuckled along. A mere fourth-level neophyte like Snow daring to challenge Master Larry? It was like a fly challenging an eagle.

    "You heard me right!" Snow said, then leaned in to whisper to Dreamy, "Trust me, if I wasn''t sure, I wouldn''t risk it."

    Seeing Snow''s confident demeanor, Dreamy held back from arguing further, choosing to believe in him. But a seed of doubt lingered in her heart. How could a fourth-level Forger possibly defeat an eighth-level one?

    Hearing Snow''s confirmation, Larry''s laughter intensified. "Snow, Snow, I don''t know what kind of luck you''ve stumbled upon to heal your injuries and improve your Forgin'' so quickly. But you think a measly fourth level like yourself can fight me?"

    River, still sprawled on the ground, croaked, "Master Larry, ignore this arrogant bastard and beat him to death, the resources are yours anyway! "

    "Shut up!" Larry''s voice snapped, his face hardening. While he desired Snow''s resources, killing him would cut off the supply. The clan won''t provide for a dead person. His plan was to beat Snow into submission, but a duel was even better.

    "Why, don''t you dare?" Snow taunted with a hint of sarcasm.

    "Haha! What have I, Larry Shadoway, ever feared?" Larry declared, a confident smile plastered on his face. "You asked for it, Snow. Don''t come cryin'' to me later if you can''t handle it. But of course, we need to set a time and place. A few years from now wouldn''t do us much good, would it?"

    "There''s no need to wait that long," Snow countered. "One month. On the day the elixirs are distributed, we''ll meet at the training field." One month was enough time for Snow to improve his strength. Any longer, and Larry might back out.

    "Excellent!" Larry clapped his hands, excitement crackling in his voice. A ferocious grin twisted his features as he leaned forward. "There will be moments in the duel where holdin'' back won''t be an option, Snow. Don''t come cryin'' about mercy later if it comes to that." His gaze narrowed, and an invisible pressure slammed into Snow.

    Snow met Larry''s stare head-on, his jaw clenching. This man clearly aimed to ruin him. Mercy shouldn''t be his consideration.

    "Agreed," Snow said, his voice firm. Refusing wasn''t an option. In fact, this might be his chance to eliminate Larry... definitively.

    Dreamy kept tugging on Snow''s sleeves, her eyes wide with silent pleas. But Snow seemed oblivious, his resolve solidifying with each passing moment.

    "Enjoy your last handout, Snow," Larry scoffed, his smile wide and arrogant. With a final, contemptuous glance at Snow, he turned and strode away, his entourage following in his wake.

 11. David

    A satisfied smile curved David''s lips. He stood on the continent of the Three Kingdoms, a world vastly different from his own. Here, magic was a forgotten relic, its whispers only carried by the wind. Time flowed at a familiar rhythm, yet the sun and moon waltzed to a different melody. When darkness cloaked his world, the Three Kingdoms basked in sunlight, and vice versa.

    Mortal emperors ruled here, not mages. Yet, lurking in the wild were creatures called "Carniphages." Prudent as ever, David opted for a stealthier approach. He bypassed monster hunting for the bustling metropolis of Black Rock City, vanishing into its throngs.

    Unlike his homeworld, where mana crystals were the currency of mages, here in the Three Kingdoms, mortal gold and silver held sway. These precious metals, mere curiosities in the world of magic, proved surprisingly influential here.

    David, with his mage''s resources, quickly carved out a place for himself amongst Black Rock City''s elite. Not long after, he established a wealthy residence in Black Rock City''s affluent district, even claiming the powerful surname, Dragonheart.

    A lilting voice, as sweet as an oriole''s song, announced, "Mastah awakens. Welcome bahk from your seclusion, Mastah Dragonheart."

    A wave of fragrance preceded a flurry of color as a dozen maids, led by a girl in sunshine yellow, swept into the room. They dipped into elegant curtsies, their silk skirts whispering against the marble floor.

    David inhaled the intoxicating scent, a hint of jasmine and something strangely exotic. He''d spared no expense acquiring this opulent mansion and its extensive staff. Yue Gui, the lead maid with flawless, impossibly delicate skin, stood before him, leading twelve strikingly beautiful women in a welcoming gesture.

    "Prepare the banquet," David instructed, his voice smooth as polished obsidian. The admiring gazes of the women - genuine or otherwise - impervious to him.

    Half an hour later, in the side hall of Dragonheart Mansion, David lounged on a plush armchair. A feast fit for a king awaited him - Caviar, Truffles, Fois Gras, Lobster, succulent duck..., and an array of other delicacies, each meticulously prepared and artfully presented. The life of a wealthy lord had its perks, David mused, indulging in a sip of his ruby-red drink.

    He reclined leisurely, a mere glance summoning a maid to offer him another delicate bite.

    He motioned Wan''er to come forward, lie down in Yue Gui''s broad and deep chest, and let Mei put another piece of venison into his mouth.

    It was a life of ease, bordering on... inconvenience. After all, these alluring women were relentless in their pursuit to climb his bed, a delightful problem, yet a problem nonetheless.

    The meal lasted for two hours. David pushed himself away from the table, his appetite sated despite the lack of the mana-infused ingredients he was accustomed to back home. This opulent indulgence was a rare treat, a respite from the usual austerity of a mage''s life, one he allowed himself every ten days.

    As the servants cleared the table, David settled into the living room, savoring the fragrant tea brewed by Yueji. Butler Fu entered, his white beard a wisp of air around his weathered face. "Mastah," he began, "regarding Carniphage flesh, they are strictly controlled by the government. However, there are unofficial channels - martial arts schools, for example."

    David, intrigued, stroked his chin. This world held its own brand of extraordinary power - martial arts. Unlike mages, these warriors honed only their bodies, yet capable of feats that defied logic, feats that piqued David''s interest.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Even within Black Rock City, these warriors were a common sight. David had observed them training in parks and squares, their movements a blur of speed and power. A spark of curiosity flickered within him. Perhaps, this world had more to offer than mere indulgence.

    David, captivated by the prospect of this "martial arts," recognized a potential solution to his limitations. While mana in this world was scarce, insufficient for magic weaving, this martial path held promise.

    A wry smile tugged at his lips. Who wouldn''t choose advanced weaves over basic physical training? But David didn''t have those options. His current magic training, the Aer Weaver''s Meditation, was but a rudimentary technique, and only effective for the Aer stage.

    The Aer Weavers operated mana as a gas, leaky, wispy, difficult to control and in short supply. They could only cast rudimentary spells. Low-level mages in this realm were forced to rely on their physical prowess, their weaves mere sparks flickering in the face of true sorcery. David recalled a time when he struggled to conjure a simple flame spell, resorting to a dagger to fend off a wild bear.

    "The martial warriors here," David mused, "rival the destructive power of Aer Weavers, despite the absence of mana manipulation." David had heard of a training method in his home world known as forging, focused solely on fortifying the body. It was a resource-intensive method shunned by most mages.

    Resource limitations were a non-issue for David in the Three Kingdoms. He had both worlds at his disposal. Besides, he had no other choice. Low-level training technique for Aer Weavers cost 5 mana crystals back home, a year and half income for him, luxuries he couldn''t afford.

    "Here," he thought, a smile playing on his lips, "martial arts exercising techniques are readily available. And I was hoping to acquire some Carniphage flesh anyway..." The confluence of these two goals fueled his interest.

    "Tell me more about these martial arts schools," David demanded, his voice sharp with urgency.

    Fu continued, his voice had a noble tune to it. "Each martial arts school offers a lineage of exercising techniques. Rumors claim advanced mastahs require more than just regular food to sustain themselves. They turn to rare plants, heavenly treasures, or even... Carniphage flesh. Consequently, every martial arts school establishes its own channels to acquire such materials."

    "I heard that Black Rock City has two main factions besides the usual martial arts schools: Yuanhe Mountain and the Martial Arts Alliance." David''s eyes narrowed at the mention of Yuanhe Mountain.

    "Indeed," Fu replied, his voice lowering with respect. "Yuanhe Mountain is one of the most prestigious traditions within a hundred miles. Even the gah-vernment shows them deference."

    The weight of Fu''s words confirmed David''s suspicions. "Their martial arts must be superior," he concluded.

    "How strict is their recruitment? Can money pave the way?" David inquired. Reliance on wealth had become his modus operandi in Black Rock City. Naturally, he was treated like a milking cow and regarded like a easy target, however, as a mage armed with some basic spells, and with the scrolls acquired with a hefty investment of shards, he possessed the means to ensure his own safety.

    Fu stroked his beard thoughtfully. "They typically recruit children of noble families," he explained, "but wealth might be an option."

    A slow smile spread across David''s face. "Then there''s no time to waste," he declared with newfound determination.

    Yuanhe Mountain.

    The legendary sect, headquartered in Dingzhou, boasted only one branch in Black Rock City. Yet, even this branch exuded grandeur, a sprawl of buildings that spoke volumes of their power. Deep within, a hidden gem - a tranquil lake dotted with lotus blooms. A lone boat drifted amidst the flowers, a solitary figure reclining within.

    The serenity shattered as the boat nudged the shore. A woman in pristine white approached, her voice respectful. "Greetings, Uncle Mastah."

    The figure stirred, a youthful face emerging with a yawn. "What is it?" he drawled, impatience lacing his tone.

    "A wealthy family in the city offers two hundred taels of silvah to recommend a new disciple - David Dragonheart."

    The young man scoffed, his eyes scanning a document. "A foreigner with dubious origin? Does this Dragonheart think Yuanhe Mountain is a mere mercenary school, accepting anyone with coin?"

    Yuanhe Mountain, the undisputed overlord of the region, wielded immense power. While they did accept disciples, wealth held little sway. Talent was paramount. In the past, they''d recruited children of noble families to forge connections. But David... all he possessed was wealth.

    "Is he gifted?" the young man demanded.

    "Mediocre at best," the woman replied, her usual apathy replaced by a flicker of advocacy. "But..."

    He cut her off, a dismissive flick of his hand. "Reject him."

    The boat glided away, leaving the woman in white to bow silently. No further argument would be made.

 12. Snow

    "Did ya hear? Snow done made a bet with Larry!"

    "He''s courtin'' death with this. There ain''t no way he can match Larry''s strength.ˇ±

    "Death might even be a blessin'' - a way to rid the family of a burden.ˇ±

    News of Snow''s reckless gamble with Larry had become wildfire by the time he and Dreamy stepped through the front door. The usual warmth of home was replaced by a scene of frantic activity. Packages piled high on the table, and Zoe, her face etched with raw fear, stuffed clothes into a bulging bag.

    "Momma, what''s happeninˇŻ?" Snow''s voice cracked with concern.

    Zoe met his gaze, her eyes filled with terror. "We''re leavinˇŻ the Shadoway Clan, Snow. Larry''s a monster. He''ll kill ya in that duel. We can''t stay. We need to get out - now! We''ll slip out the back door, never look back." Her voice trembled. "It''s my fault you both suffer so much. I can''t protect you, but Snow, don''t lose hope. The world is vast, there''s a place for us somewhere."

    As she spoke, Dreamy, her tear-streaked face mirroring her mother''s fear, rushed to help pack. Snow''s heart clenched with a mixture of sorrow and determination. If only he were strong enough, his family wouldn''t be living in constant fear. He took a deep breath, wiping away a stray tear. "Dreamy, stop packinˇŻ," he said quietly, his voice firm despite the turmoil within.

    Zoe''s frantic energy faltered. "Snow''s right," she conceded, desperation clinging to her voice. "We can''t take much, or someone will notice. Clothes are enough. No valuables."

    "Momma, sit down," Snow urged gently, guiding her to a chair.

    "No time!" Zoe cried, anxiety twisting her features. "If they find out, the Fourth Elder will stop us! Snow, they''re animals! They want you dead! I can''t do nothinˇŻ to stop this. But you have a great future, Snow. I can''t bear to lose you." Her voice broke, years of silent suffering pouring out in a torrent of tears.

    Dreamy joined in the sobs, the raw emotion thick in the air.

    Snow knelt before his mother, his arms enveloping her in a protective embrace. "Momma," he pleaded, his voice husky with emotion. "Hush now. We''re safe. Larry won''t win. In a month, he won''t even be a challenge."

    Zoe''s eyes widened. "But Snow, you''re only at the fourth ForginˇŻ level. How can you..."

    A newfound resolve resonated in Snow''s voice. "Things are different now, Ma. My abilities have evolved. I''ve also learned some skills that can help me improve. I promise, Larry won''t stand a chance in a month." He couldn''t reveal everything, but the mention of new skills, fueled by his recent medical knowledge, was enough to plant a seed of hope in Zoe''s heart.

    Doubt receded from Zoe''s eyes, replaced by a flicker of determination. "You''re sure you can defeat him, Snow?"

    Snow met her gaze with unwavering certainty. "Absolutely."

    As he comforted Zoe, Snow''s mind raced, formulating a plan. He noticed something amiss in the Shadoway Clan''s Ironhard Draught. The main ingredient, Ironweed, held strong medicinal properties. However, the Shadoway elixir barely tapped into this potential, wasting majority of its power.

    "No wonder the Shadoway Clan can''t break out of the minor leagues. Their warriors crawl through fortification levels, shackled by inefficient resource utilization. Ironweed, a treasure for lesser clans, are tossed around like pebbles here!"

    Snow''s medical knowledge allowed him to unravel the elixir''s secrets with a mere glance. He could easily extract the full potency of the Ironweed. He and Dreamy each received three elixirs, but Snow calculated that he only needed two to ascend to the seventh level.

    Unpacking took longer than packing, more organized as well. Suddenly, a glint of light caught Snow''s eyes. There, nestled amidst the clothes, lay a magnificent fist-sized crystal stone. His heart pounded in his chest. This wasn''t ordinary crystal - it was Essence of the Earth, the legendary elixir Elijah had spent his life searching for in vain.

    The pulsating crystal, a fragment of the very essence of the earth itself, was a treasure beyond compare. A single drop could spark a war, igniting a frenzy among rival sects desperate for its power. The fist-sized crystal hinted at a staggering ten drops within, enough to reshape the magical landscape. For fledgling mages, a single drop could be life-changing, accelerating their mana development and propelling them years ahead in their training. Even the mighty Weavers of the One wouldn''t be able to ignore such a prize. If Skyfall had possessed this during his early stages of development, his current strength would likely be unrivaled.

    Snow exhaled a deep breath of relief - thankfully, Elijah had never found this treasure.

    "Momma," Snow said, his voice barely a whisper, "where did this stone come from?"

    "It''s from your daddy," Zoe replied. "He gave it to me a long time ago. I had no idea what it was, so I kept it safe."

    Snow had no memory of his father, who vanished when he was just two years old. All he knew were whispers of his father''s immense potential and the transgression that led to his disappearance.

    Hesitantly, Snow spoke, "Momma, I understand this might be a precious memento of Dad, but this stone... it''s a divine elixir, holding great power."

    Zoe''s eyes softened. "You are the best momento! Your daddy always said he''d give it to you when the time was right. If it can help you, then take it. May it bring you victory against Larry."

    A confident smile spread across Snow''s face. "With this, Momma, defeatinˇŻ Larry will be a walk in the park."

    The next day, Snow returned from the market, having traded two Ironhard Draughts for supplementary ingredients heˇŻd use later.

    "Brother, you''re back!" Dreamy chirped, spotting him from afar.

    Snow entrusted the materials to Dreamy, confident they could use their existing boiler for refining body tempering liquid. His current focus was to solidify his foundation. While he trained diligently before, it wasn''t enough. He needed a stronger base before advancing his levels.

    Unlike other Shadoway children who honed their skills in the martial arts arena, Snow had a different plan. Exposing his newfound strength wasn''t an option, and the arena''s equipment wasn''t ideal.

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    The perfect location beckoned: the Shadoway family''s back mountain. Dense woods, plentiful rocks, and a powerful waterfall offered an ideal training environment.

    "Back mountain again? Can I tag along?" Dreamy pleaded, latching onto his arm.

    Snow considered it briefly. The arena wasn''t Dreamy''s forte, and he could offer some guidance while she trained. He nodded, a grin lit up his face.

    Zoe watched them depart, a warm smile softening her features. Snow had undergone a significant change. Though the details remained hidden, she sensed it was a shift for the better.

    Although magic wasn''t an option for him, Elijah dedicated himself to physical training, ultimately reaching the peak of his physical ability. His extraordinary medical abilities attracted a clientele of high standing. He obtained almost all the top body training techniques the world had to offer. One such exercise was the Tempest Strikes, a powerful boxing technique. With it, Elijah could shatter giant boulders, proof of the technique''s effectiveness.

    Snow, likewise, experienced a remarkable improvement after just a day of practicing the Tempest Strikes. His constitution surpassed most of his peers, not just in Mountain View, but potentially beyond.

    Dreamy wasn''t left behind. Snow chose the "StormˇŻs Embrace" for her, a sword technique marginally weaker but better suited for women. Unlike the Tempest Strikes'' demanding training, the Storm''s Embrace wouldn''t put her through immense pain. Dreamy''s progress was evident as she practiced with tree branches, her excitement clear in her voice: "Brother, the Storm''s Embrace is amazinˇŻ! I feel so much stronger!ˇ±

    After praising Dreamy''s progress, Snow realized that his solo training had reached its limits. He needed a challenge far greater, a force that could push him beyond his current boundaries. His gaze drifted upwards, settling on the colossal waterfall that roared beside them. A massive boulder beneath the torrent, bearing a hefty dent, showcased its immense power. With a decisive exhale, Snow surprised Dreamy with a sudden leap. The girl gasped as he disappeared beneath the churning water. Relief flooded her features as a soaked but determined Snow emerged moments later, a glint of newfound resolve in his gaze.

    Initially, maintaining his stance under the waterfall proved difficult. However, within a few hours, Snow was calmly performing Tempest Strikes under the torrent, the inverted postures ensuring his entire body received the water''s force.

    Three days passed. The waterfall''s impact no longer held the same challenge, a testament to the Tempest Strikes'' effectiveness. But a frown marred Snow''s face. He recalled Elijah''s rigorous basic training under a waterfall in his past life. There was a noticeable gap between his current progress and Elijah''s. The reason was clear - the waterfall''s height and impact were insufficient.

    Stuck momentarily, an idea sparked in Snow''s eyes. He sprinted home, returning with a massive basket.

    "Brother, what''s with the basket?" Dreamy asked, bewildered.

    "Help me collect pebbles, Dreamy," he instructed, already gathering small stones from the riverbank.

    Without question, Dreamy assisted him. Soon the basket overflowed with pebbles. Snow hoisted it with ease, much to Dreamy''s astonishment. The basket felt weightless in his grasp, as if filled with cotton instead of rocks.

    Dreamy beamed, following Snow with unbridled pride. Her brother''s growing strength was a source of immense joy. "Who''s afraid of Larry anyway?" she scoffed to herself. The doubts that had clouded her heart vanished completely. Now, she had unwavering faith in Snow''s ability to crush Larry in a gambling duel.

    Upon reaching the waterfall, Snow set the basket down by the riverbank. "Dreamy," he instructed, "help me add these stones to the waterfall, a few at a time."

    Dreamy''s eyes widened in apprehension. Now she understood his plan. "Brother, ain''t that too dangerous?" she stammered. The sheer force of the stones plummeting from such a height, amplified by the waterfall, was terrifying. Even though she knew Snow was strong, she couldn''t help but worry. Could this unconventional training method be too much, even for him?

    "Don''t you worry," Snow reassured her, "These are just pebbles, I can handle it."

    Hesitantly, Dreamy agreed, trusting her brother''s judgment.

    With a powerful leap, Snow landed in the pool beneath the cascading water. He then ascended the boulder and yelled, "Alright, Dreamy, let ˇ®em go!"

    The onslaught of pebbles pummeled him, momentarily knocking him off balance. The force was greater than anticipated, but Snow gritted his teeth, his resolve hardening.

    "Brother!" Dreamy cried out in alarm.

    "I''m okay, keep goinˇŻ!" Snow shouted back, resuming his Tempest Strikes practice.

    A relentless torrent of pebbles hammered down upon Snow, leaving a tapestry of red welts across his body. The waterfall, augmented by the stones, provided a significantly more challenging training environment. Yet, Snow''s adaptability shone through as he gradually mastered this new level of intensity. After several baskets of pebbles, he switched to larger stones, their size progressing steadily over the next three days.

    By the fifth day, pebbles were replaced with fist-sized stones. Now, Snow handled the assault with ease. His punches flew, shattering each falling stone. Breaking these denser rocks proved a greater challenge than the larger boulders.

    With a resounding crack, he pulverized the last stone. A surge of exhilaration coursed through Snow as he emerged from the waterfall, a triumphant roar erupting from his chest. ''I''ve done it!'' he exclaimed, a grin splitting his face. He was confident that even Skyfall, at his current level, wouldn''t be able to match him.

    To showcase his newfound strength, Snow picked up a massive stone, easily exceeding five tons. He hurled it high into the air, then met it with a powerful punch on its descent, shattering the boulder into fragments.

    Dreamy watched in awe, her eyes wide with wonder. Before she could contain herself, she rushed down and engulfed him in a tight hug. "Brother, you''re amazinˇŻ!" she exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over. In her eyes, none of the Shadoway children stood a chance against this new, empowered Snow.

    "Don''t let this go to your head, Dreamy." Snow interjected, gently ruffling her hair. "You have to work hard too."

    Dreamy nodded eagerly, her grip on her practice branch firming with resolve. With renewed determination, she resumed her Storm''s Embrace drills.

    "Dreamy, come here," Snow called out. "Let''s practice together. Just swinginˇŻ a sword won''t make you stronger. Learn to fight."

    Seventh day into the month, Snow took stock of his herb collection. His physical constitution was solidified; it was time to refine the body tempering liquid. The coveted Essence of the Earth remained out of reach. Its potent properties required a stronger physique to avoid self-destruction. Snow needed to reach a higher level first.

    The next day, Dreamy assisted him in refining the liquid. Three days later, two batches were ready. He prepared a gentler concoction for Dreamy using River Enliven Grass to mitigate its harshness.

    Body tempering liquid worked simply: soak in a vat until it''s depleted. The refined concoction, however, was too potent for immediate use. Snow instructed Dreamy on the dilution ratio, then plunged into the vat of cyan liquid.

    Searing pain lanced through him, but Snow held himself resolute. Only a sheen of sweat betrayed the fiery torment raging within. In this crucible, pain was the currency he paid for progress. His strength grew steadily, his body hardening with each passing moment.

    Dreamy''s bath, a milky white concoction, offered a stark contrast to Snow''s. It soothed her as she soaked, accelerating her body''s fortification far beyond what standard Shadoway disciples, reliant solely on the Ironhard Draught, could achieve.

    As days turned into weeks, the liquid in Snow''s vat grew thicker, intensifying his torment. But his resolve remained unwavering. After each agonizing soak, he retreated to the mountains for further training.

    Two weeks passed in a whirlwind of training and preparation. Dreamy burst through the door, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Brother, I reached the fifth level of ForginˇŻ!" Her rapid progress, especially at her young age, was unheard of in the Shadoway family.

    Snow beamed, pinching her nose affectionately. "That''s incredible, Dreamy!" He had already ascended to the peak of the sixth level and was on the cusp of a breakthrough to the seventh. According to his calculations, that''s when he could finally utilize the Essence of the Earth, a power that would transform his body beyond even Skyfall''s peak.

    "Five days left," Snow murmured, a confident smirk playing on his lips. Even without reaching the seventh level, his strength would still be enough to overpower Larry.

    Determined to push his limits, Snow stopped diluting the liquid. The moment the concoction was refined, he plunged directly into the thickest part. The pain was excruciating, but he gritted his teeth. He knew this was merely a warm-up compared to the agonizing torment of the Essence of the Earth. If he couldn''t endure this, how could he face the real test?

 13. David

    Dragonheart Mansion.

    "Refused?" David spoke in utter disbelief.

    Butler Fu, his head bowed, stammered, "I offered a hefty sum, even promised more, but..."

    David forced a deep breath. As a mage, when had he ever experienced such humiliation? ...Well, very often back home in Jade Bamboo Mountain.

    "I suppose I just have to get used to it." He muttered, a wry smile twisting his lips.

    "That''s it then. They''ve deemed my talents... insufficient." He shrugged.

    As a mage, even at the lowest level, he had sharp ears and a photographic memory. But obviously those didn''t count.

    He recalled the appraising gaze during his meeting with the middleman - a gaze focused solely on physical prowess. The martial arts warrior, it seemed, didn''t care for the intellectual and spiritual gifts that defined a mage. "So, brute strength reigns supreme in this world," David thought with a flicker of disdain. "A primitive and barbaric notion."

    He offered a dry chuckle. "Refusal is their loss. Yuanhe Mountain''s narrow-mindedness doesn''t suit me anyway. We''ll find a more... open-minded institution. An martial arts school, perhaps?"

    A smile broke across Fu''s face. "Indeed, Mastah! The martial arts schools claim to teach without discrimination, so that they are able to only accept people who have coins."

    David''s smile mirrored his butler''s, a touch colder. "Fortunately, coin is the one thing I have in abundance."

    The afternoon sun bathed Dragonheart Mansion''s training yard in a golden glow. David reclined on a chaise lounge, a chilled fruit smoothie sweating condensation beside him. Perfect refreshment for a sweltering summer day.

    Across the makeshift arena stood a group of martial arts masters, a mix of middle-aged and seasoned veterans, all regarding him with a curious intensity. David swiveled his head towards Yue Gui. In a practiced motion, she held out the smoothie. David took a long, contented slurp. A single clap, almost regal, escaped his hands.

    Butler Fu emerged from the crowd and cleared his throat. "My mastah, David Dragonheart, seeks tutelage in youh esteemed arts. Each of you, I presume, possesses a unique skillset. Showcase them now. If Mastah David takes a liking to youh style, a generous reward awaits. Even those not chosen will receive a token of appreciation."

    David, a man of considerable means, had no need to mingle with the masses at a martial arts school. He sought a private instructor, a bespoke education in the art of combat.

    A collective gleam ignited in the eyes of the assembled warriors. Running a martial arts school meant embracing profit, not rejecting it. And their target - the enigmatic foreigner, Mr. Dragonheart - was notorious for one thing: his wealth, bordering on corpulence.

    An eager grin split the face of a wiry old man in black. "Shen Lei, of the Red Snake Martial Arts School!" he boomed, cupping his fists in a salute. "We specialize in the art of the Red Snake Legs!"

    Lei Shen strode towards a wooden post, then with a surprising burst of agility for his age, hoisted his right leg high. Muscles bulged beneath his straining black pants, threatening to split the fabric. With a powerful exhalation, he unleashed a flying side kick. His leg, seemingly boneless, whipped through the air, striking the wooden post with a resounding crack.

    SMASH!

    The post splintered into pieces, a cloud of sawdust erupting in its wake. Lei Shen, chest heaving, introduced his technique with a flourish. "The Red Snake Kick Technique emphasizes legwork, honing not only power but also exceptional speed. With speed, you''ll be able to preserve yourself in any duel."

    David''s eyes lit up with intrigue. While the lethality of the Red Snake Legs might not match a well-placed Kusanagi Sword spell, a limited mana supply restricted his reliance on magic. This warrior, however, could unleash a barrage of kicks - twenty, thirty perhaps. A practical skill indeed.

    "Just as I suspected," David thought, a spark of excitement igniting within him. "These martial arts could be a valuable addition to an Aer Weaver''s repertoire. Perhaps there''s even something akin to Wave Weaver''s ability hidden amongst them!"

    The prospect of unlocking a new dimension of power set David''s heart ablaze. Wave Weaver! The possibilities were tantalizing.

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    For every fledgling mage, the realm of Wave Weaver shimmered like a mirage - a coveted destination just beyond reach. Reaching the pinnacle of the Aer Weaver realm before the age of sixty, a prerequisite for ascension, felt like scaling a sheer ice wall. Most independent mages, like David, faced a brutal reality - the perilous attempt without elixirs often resulted in a watery grave. These elixirs, fiercely guarded by powerful factions, were the lifeblood of aspiring mages. Even the Sato family, with their vast resources, had to navigate a bureaucratic labyrinth to acquire a single Manastream Elixir. For David, a freelancer with limited means, such elixirs were but a elusive dream, as distant and unattainable as the Wave Weaver realm itself.

    But now, an enticing alternative path presented itself. "By honing my body to the level of a late stage Aer Weaver," David strategized, "I''ll gain access to better elixirs and techniques reserved for those advanced stages." This, in turn, would solidify his abilities and increase his chances of acquiring the coveted Manastream Elixir, making the breakthrough to Wave Weaver a safer proposition.

    "The path to immortality beckons!" he declared, a surge of exhilaration coursing through him.

    Despite his access to resources from both worlds, David remained acutely aware of his lowly position in the world of mages. Selling the extraordinary resources from the Three Kingdoms at home was unthinkable. But with the prospect of acquiring greater power, a glimmer of hope emerged.

    "Master Shen has demonstrably impressive skills," David announced in a buoyant mood. "Reward him well!"

    Master Shen, initially a tad put off (he considered himself above mere street performers), saw Fu approach with a gleaming plate of silver. His dissatisfaction vanished instantly. The wrinkles around his eyes crinkled with delight. This wealthy patron, he concluded, was indeed a goldmine.

    Witnessing Master Shen''s reward, a spark of envy flickered amongst the remaining martial arts representatives. A tall woman, Piaomiao Mu of the Baiyun Martial Arts Academy, stepped forward. "My expertise lies in the White Cloud Palm," she declared. "This technique allows one to overcome superior strength with finesse." Her keen eyes had identified David''s lack of "gifts", correctly surmising the reason for his rejection by Yuanhe Mountain.

    Piaomiao Mu''s demonstration emphasized her beautiful figure with the flowing, deceptive nature of the White Cloud Palm. Her movements were elegant, showcasing the technique''s efficiency, as well as her perky breasts, which gave her extra charm. The other masters, though secretly cursed her subtle display of beauty, were reluctant to look away.

    One by one, the remaining martial artists presented their styles. Tiangang Yuan showcased the versatility of the Wuji Stick, Qiujue Yi displayed the focused power of the Iron Wire Fist, and others continued, each technique a unique expression of martial prowess.

    Once the final demonstration concluded, David stroked his chin thoughtfully. "All the masters have presented impressive styles," he acknowledged. "Would it be possible to learn them all?"

    His wealth, after all, afforded him such an indulgence.

    A murmur of uncertainty rippled through the assembled masters. Before anyone could voice their doubts, Piaomiao Mu stepped forward, her voice measured. "Mr. Dragonheart," she began, "martial arts training is a demanding pursuit. A single discipline can leave a practitioner depleted, requiring a significant amount of restorative tonics. Additionally, certain styles conflict with each other in their energy flow. It''s best not to be overambitious."

    David listened intently, a thoughtful expression furrowing his brow. There were intricacies to this martial way that he hadn''t fully considered. Perhaps, he realized, this was knowledge only gained through experience.

    "In that case," he declared after a moment''s deliberation, "I''ll focus on mastering one leg technique and one palm technique for now. Master Shen and Master Mu, I would be honored if you would accept me as your student."

    Disappointment flickered across the faces of the other masters. They are okay with picking Lei Shen. He, after all, had been the first to showcase his skills, confident in his prowess. But Piaomiao Mu, is it just because she had long legs and broad breasts? Are the preference of rich people really so predictable and unpretentious?

    With the martial arts masters dispersed, David turned his attention to Lei Shen and Piaomiao Mu. "Masters," he announced, "let''s begin our lessons today. How about we schedule your instruction every three days?"

    He studied them both with renewed scrutiny. Lei Shen, when not engaged in a martial display, returned to a rather ordinary demeanor. Piaomiao Mu possessed a strong, athletic build with attractive features, though her skin lacked a certain refinement.

    Piaomiao Mu pondered for a moment. "The Red Snake Leg technique focuses energy flow primarily in the legs," she explained, "which doesn''t conflict with the White Cloud Palm. However, avoid diversifying too much. In the later stages, conflicting energy flows can hinder your progress."

    A hint of disappointment flickered across David''s face. "So, your techniques primarily focus on the legs and palms? Isn''t there a holistic approach to body training?" He recognized the limitations of such specialized methods, particularly their ineffectiveness against spells.

    Lei Shen and Piaomiao Mu exchanged a knowing look. The old man cleared his throat. "Well," he began cautiously, "any martial art will inevitably strengthen the entire body when training its core aspects. True full-body refinement, however, goes beyond the basic teachings of our schools. That realm belongs to the first-rate, secret martial arts. Perhaps..." he trailed off, "the very techniques Yuanhe Mountain holds so close might fall into that category."

    David sighed, a plan taking shape in his mind. Advanced martial arts techniques were merely a matter of time. After all, the warriors in this world may not be able to withstand the methods of mages. Of course, testing the effectiveness of magic against warriors required a cautious approach.

    Thankfully, time was on his side. At twenty one, with the longevity granted to mages - even Aer Weavers could live to be eighty or ninety - he had ample time to learn and experiment. There was no need for haste.

 14. John

    John returned from the botanical garden as usual, the sun dipping below the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of fiery orange and deep purple. Today, his efforts had yielded nothing. Not a single shimmer of a basic bubble, the telltale sign of a rare elixir, graced his workspace. Disheartened, he noted that even Senior Nevaeh didn''t show up. Whispers he''d overheard on his walk back confirmed his suspicion - a traitor purge was underway within the Order.

    "Thank heavens my past is clean." No one had even come to ask him questions. John sighed, a sliver of relief snaking through his apprehension. Becoming a traitor was unthinkable, yet so was hunting them down. Caught between loyalty and potential bloodshed, a tightrope walk he wasn''t eager to take.

    Forbidden Harmony, their supposed haven, was a dark conclave, branded a pariah by the wider magical world. A single traitor could easily be a high-ranking member of a righteous tradition, making their capture a betrayal that could have dire consequences. At the very least, it would extinguish any hope he had of ever leaving the dark side.

    Pushing the unsettling thoughts aside, John turned his attention to the herbs growing in his small yard. These were basic healing elixirs, replenishing mana but lacking the potential for the coveted bubbles. He yearned for the day his plants would shimmer with success. Unfortunately, high-grade herbs were impossible to apply for and too expensive to purchase.

    John finished tending to his elixirs and was about to head inside when a soft female voice called out, "Johnny."

    He turned to find Nevaeh standing on the doorstep, her pale face illuminated by the moonlight. She wore a simple robe of deep blue, cinched at the waist with a silver cord. Her eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were clouded with worry.

    A knot of unease tightened in his stomach. They''d always met at the botanical garden, making her presence at his residence highly unusual. "Welcome, Senior Nevaeh," John said cautiously.

    "Can we talk inside?" Nevaeh requested with a sweet smile.

    No. A voice shouted inside of him. His intuition screamed that something was amiss. But refusing her request would only make things worse. "Of course," he replied, ushering her in.

    Once inside, Nevaeh''s demeanor shifted. Her previously calm expression turned serious. She locked eyes with John and spoke, her voice sultry. "Johnny, can I trust you?"

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    Before John could respond, she shook her head as if correcting herself. "No, I should have said that I can trust only you. John, after years of observation, I believe you don''t truly belong to the Forbidden Harmony."

    John''s heart lurched. Was she accusing him of being a spy? Or was this some elaborate trap? Feigning confusion, he lowered his head and stammered, "Se... Senior Nevaeh, I''ve grown up here. This is the only life I know."

    "I understand," Nevaeh said, her gaze unwavering. "However, I believe this dark place isn''t the right fit for you. Your temperament aligns more with the righteous path. The Order of Eternal Dawn, for example, boasts a ten-thousand-year legacy and commands respect worldwide."

    Nevaeh leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Johnny, I know you yearn for good. This is your chance to escape the darkness and embrace the light. It''s a once in a lifetime opportunity."

    John stared at her, dumbfounded. Was Senior Nevaeh... really a traitor? And she''s trying to pull him in with her. This unexpected revelation left him reeling.

    "Yes, John," Nevaeh confessed, her voice tinged with urgency. "I''m an elite disciple of the Order of Eternal Dawn. My mission here is complete, but I was discovered at the last moment. Left with no other choice, I turn to you, dear. I need your help hiding what I acquired and sending it back to my school."

    "This can be your ticket in too, Johnny," she continued, her voice dipped to a velvet caress in his ear. "There will be rewards for both of us. But I fear my time is short, you can take my share too." Nevaeh declared, a steely resolve flickered in her eyes, a willingness to face death with dignity. In that moment, Nevaeh seemed willing to sacrifice everything, simply asking for John''s assistance in smuggling the object out.

    John''s heart pounded in his chest as he met Nevaeh''s gaze. Her eyes, filled with a desperate plea, tugged at his conscience. John found himself captivated by the raw sincerity in her eyes. Though a part of him believed her, a larger part screamed caution. What if this was a trap?

    "Johnny," Nevaeh pressed on, her eyes searching his, her warm breath tickling his ear, "understandably, you have doubts. Here''s a proposal: I''ll leave the item with you. If I perish, the choice to report me or not is entirely yours. I wouldn''t dream of dragging you down with me."

    Reaching into her bosom, she produced an emerald pendant etched with an intricate pattern. Its very presence radiated an aura of power, a clear indication of its extraordinary nature.

    John frowned. Accepting the pendant meant inviting trouble. If not, Senior Nevaeh might silence him. Will this elite disciple from a righteous school be as ruthless as disciples from the Dark Order?

    John''s mind churned, torn between his instincts and the undeniable allure of Nevaeh. The subtle scent of lavender and sandalwood clung to her, a calming fragrance that momentarily eased John''s anxiety.

    "Johnny?" Nevaeh bit her lip and looked at John in a pitiful and delicate expression, exuding a fragile beauty. For a fleeting moment, he felt compelled to trust her.

    Just as he was about to reach out, reason reasserted itself, whispering that something wasn''t quite right. Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck him. Without hesitation, John cast his magical power on Nevaeh- "Daily Identification!"

 15. John

    Daily Identification.

    John had used this magical power every day and on many things. From houses and mountains to flowers and trees, he''d tried them all.

    But he never cast it on people, subconsciously, he thought it wouldn''t work.

    Yet, the precarious situation demanded a magical solution. As he cast the magical power, shapeless symbols danced before his eyes, then coalesced upon Nevaeh. A surge of magical feedback flooded his mind.

    "It worked!" John exulted, his initial delight quickly turning to dread as he absorbed the information.

    [Nevaeh Couchant: an early stage Wave Weaver.

    Elite disciple of the Order of Eternal Dawn, deep undercover within Forbidden Harmony.

    Objective: Locate Bead of Celestial Calamitas.

    Mission failed, identity compromised.

    Urgent need for scapegoat.

    Target identified: John (non-conformist behavior suggests potential disloyalty to the Dark Order).

    Current strategy: barrage John with charm spells, manipulation to secure cooperation. Certain in John''s collaboration.

    Refusal to comply = Elimination.]

    "How ruthless! She considers me as a decent person, yet, she''d kill me anyway." John despaired, but quickly steeled himself.

    Regardless of his choice, the icy grip of death awaited him. The emerald pendant gleamed accusingly. Taking it meant death for her. Refusing it meant death by her hand.

    "The first option is bound to death. The second option..." John''s mind racing. "Years as a Wave Weaver... Weaves of formidable power... A head-on confrontation would be folly. A desperate gamble it had to be." John concluded grimly.

    Feigning compliance, he reached for the pendant. Just as his fingers brushed against it, he suddenly looked behind Nevaeh. "Master?" He exclaimed, voice filled with shock.

    Nevaeh whipped around, a startled gasp escaping her lips. A gleaming sword materialized in her hand as a weave activated in the other, attempting to use John as a human shield. The emerald pendant, now exposed, hung heavy in the air, destined to adorn the neck of the first to fall.

    "Master Meridian," Nevaeh cried out, desperate to frame John first, "John''s the traitor! He-" Her accusation died in her throat as she realized there was no one behind her.

    In that beat of stunned silence, John attacked. The dagger, a blur of silver, pierced her neck with lightning speed. Nevaeh''s gasp died in her throat as a puff of displaced air marked the moment the blade sank home.

    It''s a calculated move. Magic attack against a senior weaver may easily backfire, chances of her carrying protective amulets or scrolls were very high. Only a swift, decisive physical strike could guarantee victory.

    John was determined to kill in one blow. There was no chance of winning head-on, so he hoped a sneak attack would make up the difference. He had no desire to harm anyone, nor did he target anyone. All he wanted was survival.

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    Boom!

    Just as the dagger sank home, Nevaeh''s weave, already activated earlier, erupted in a surge of power, sending John flying with a booming explosion.

    "You!" Nevaeh shrieked, disbelief etched on her face. Days spent manipulating him had painted John as naive and kind, destined for an untimely demise within Forbidden Harmony. This ruthless streak beneath his gentle exterior was a shock.

    John, however, remained silent, his gaze steely. He drew his sword, ready for a final, desperate lunge.

    The clash of steel filled the air. The injury cut off a crucial point of Nevaeh''s saidar network, silenced her powerful weaves. Yet, she fought with surprising ferocity. Sparks flew as blades met, each blow a desperate struggle for survival. Eventually, the injury worsened and her strength waned. A powerful strike from John landed, leaving Nevaeh severely wounded. She crumpled to the ground, clutching her neck with horror in her eyes.

    As a desperate effort, she spat out a torrent of pleas:

    "John, you can''t kill me. The Archmage of the Citadel values me very much and is vying for my body. He hasn''t had me yet. If you kill me, he will definitely lash out on you."

    John remained impassive, raising his sword once more.

    "The Order of Eternal Dawn... A Stone Weaver... obsessed with me. You kill me, his vengeance will be swift and brutal... You will be skinned and deboned."

    With a decisive swing, John silenced her. The metallic clang of his sword meeting flesh was followed by an eerie stillness.

    The stillness was thick and suffocating. John, just in case, delivered a few more extra blows to Nevaeh''s body, a chilling act that left a sour taste in his mouth. John''s stomach churned as he wiped the blood from his dagger, a wave of nausea washing over him. This brutal world of mages offered no time for emotional hangups. He was a disciple of the forbidden path. Survival demanded adaptation.

    After a long, tense vigil, John finally felt confident Nevaeh wouldn''t rise again, either literally or with some hidden trick.

    With a little hesitation, he made his way to find Archmage Meridian, the leader of Broken Love Cliff. John was trained under him since joining the Order. Unlike elite disciples, however, John received limited instructions alongside other disciples at fixed times, and relied heavily on self-directed practice to make progress.

    A moment of doubt flickered across his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. Hiding the truth would only sow the seeds of future problems. Nevaeh was already branded as a traitor, and any hint of association with her could spell disaster. The emerald pendant, so desperately thrust upon him by Nevaeh, was another hot potato.

    Moments later, John returned with reinforcements. Archmage Meridian, a man perpetually shrouded in a melancholic air, surveyed the scene. His brow furrowed, deep lines etching themselves into his forehead. His lips thinned into a grim line, and his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

    "You killed her?" The master asked.

    "Yes." John lowered his head and confirmed.

    "Explain what transpired," Meridian commanded, his voice heavy.

    John recounted the events, painting himself as a victim forced to defend himself against a desperate Nevaeh.

    Meridian cut him short gloomily:

    "When did you become a Wave Weaver?"

    "Last month." John replied nervously.

    "And a sneak attack was your chosen course of action?"

    "Yes." John hesitated, then nodded curtly.

    "Don''t concern yourself with this matter further," the Archmage said dismissively. "The Law Enforcement Hall might question you later. Cooperate fully."

    With those final words, Meridian took Nevaeh''s body and departed. John''s shoulders slumped as his master turned away, a knot of tension unraveling within him. He took a deep breath, the air tasting faintly of blood and ozone.

    "I don''t know what Forbidden Harmony will do. As for Eternal Dawn, as long as I remain within the Order, in a few decades, they''d forgotten all about Nevaeh. Even if they don''t forget, I would have become strong enough to face any consequences."

 16. David

    That night, David hosted a lavish banquet in honor of his newly hired martial arts instructors, Piaomiao Mu and Lei Shen. Adorned in a brocade robe and a jade crown, his slight frame exuded an elegance that subtly captivated Piaomiao Mu. She took a delicate sip of her drink, a surprised smile gracing her lips.

    "Exquisite wine," she murmured.

    Lei Shen''s eyes widened in recognition. "Could this be Baili Winery''s ''Autumn Dew White''? I heard they only produce eighteen jahs a year, each meticulously aged for three years before release. A hundred taels a jah, if I''m not mistaken..."

    "It certainly is." David admitted. "I love the good things in life: fine wine, delectable cuisine, beautiful women, exquisite art, grand estates, captivating curiosities, and the thrill of mastering new skills..." With a sigh, David poured himself a glass, a hint of wistfulness in his eyes. "My homeland has a credo: when a man is alive, he should climb the highest mountain, drink the most exquisite wine, use the sharpest sword, ride the fastest horse, and play with the most beautiful girl, fight the hardest battle..."

    In the world of magic, uttering such things would have been unthinkable. But here, in the rough and tumble of the Three Kingdoms, these pronouncements might just make for a passable bucket list.

    "Hahaha..." Lei Shen let out a hearty laugh, "it''s good to be young." He took another sip of the Autumn Dew White, and suddenly felt like a young man again.

    David''s last remark, "play with the most beautiful girl," brought a rosy flush on Piaomiao Mu''s cheeks. She subconsciously adjusted her neckline, a secret thrill coursing through her. Tales of older female martial artists forced into poverty and prostitution were all too familiar. Here was Mr. Dragonheart, young, handsome, wealthy, and gentle - an unexpected haven.

    Shifting the conversation, Lei Shen commented, "Despite the scorching summah, this room is refreshingly cool. One of your ''strange and obscene techniques,'' I presume, Mastah Dragonheart?"

    David grinned. "Indeed. A rudimentary air conditioner, providing warmth in winter and coolness in summer. A mere parlor trick."

    The magical air conditioner held the potential to be a marvel coveted across the Three Kingdoms. Yet, David, with a life of leisure, had no interest in mass production. It was all about personal comfort. To him, the concept of a businessman in a world of supernatural powers was truly unimaginable.

    The next day, on the training ground, Piaomiao Mu was absent. Lei Shen stood alone. Martial arts schools accepted anyone who could pay, but they still valued privacy to some extent.

    Lei Shen''s expression turned serious. "The Red Snake Legs, the core style of our Red Snake Martial Arts School, emphasize kicking techniques. We start with footwork drills. You''ll practice driving piles, kicking wooden stakes... Later, we''ll incorporate weighted training. Let me demonstrate first."

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    Several rows of thick, rounded wooden stakes stood on the training field. Lei Shen leaped effortlessly onto a stake, his movements swift and light. "Imagine youh body as a sturdy pine tree, youh legs like a coiling snake," he instructed. "While youh body moves, maintain stillness of mind."

    After practicing for a while, Lei Shen stepped off the stake and smiled. "Martial arts training requires a dedicated diet. Initially, a healer can prescribe tonics to nourish your body and replenish blood. Once you understand the concept of ''qi and blood,'' you might consider the special medicine our school offers."

    "Secret medicine?" David thought, recalling his other purpose. He decided to take things slowly and step by step obtaining the martial school''s secret medicine.

    "In Red Snake," Lei Shen explained, "we categorize warriors by their inner power and vitality, what we call ''qi and blood.'' New students begin their journey with the ''Eight Snake Movements.'' Mastahing these movements strengthens their core and channels their energy, leading to a remarkable physical transformation. After this first transformation, breaking a wooden stake with one kick becomes a breeze. The second transformation produces formidable fighters within the school, respected for their combat prowess. As for the third transformation..." Lei Shen trailed off, a glint of anticipation in his eyes, "that''s a path reserved for the most exceptional students, a path that leads to becoming the prot¨¦g¨¦ of the school mastah."

    David nodded in understanding. He mounted a stake and started practicing the "Eight Snake Walks." Though not physically gifted, his keen senses, honed by his mage training, allowed him to memorize the movements quickly. Lei Shen watched in surprise. Despite David''s average physique, he grasped the technique instantly.

    While his movement was slow, he completed the steps without error on the first attempt, and by the third time, his movements were flawless. "Yuanhe Mountain," Lei Shen thought, "they might have made a mistake this time."

    "Master Shen," David asked, "how long do you think it''ll take for me to master the concept of qi and blood and achieve the first transformation?"

    Sweat beaded on David''s forehead after several rounds of walking the stakes. A nearby maid, ever-attentive, rushed to offer him a towel. He sighed as he wiped his brow.

    "Typically," Lei Shen began, "it takes ordinary disciples three months to sense their qi and blood..."

    It''s just the introductory stage, after all. Lei Shen smiled encouragingly. "Young mastah, you have clear talent. Perhaps it''ll be shorter for you."

    David acknowledged his words with another nod and continued practicing his steps on the stakes.

    In the afternoon, Piaomiao Mu took over instruction. Dressed in white, she announced, "Our school teaches the White Cloud Palm technique, which has three levels: White Cloud, Dark Cloud, and Black Cloud."

    Piaomiao Mu pressed her palm lightly against a wooden stake. With a resounding smack, a deep palm print appeared, the edges marred by a faint, black residue. David''s keen sense of smell caught a fishy odor, prompting him to furrow his brow. "Poison?"

    "Indeed, you have a sharp nose," Piaomiao Mu replied, her smile held a hint of something dangerous. "White Cloud Palm has always been a poison technique," she explained. "At its peak, the poison becomes integrated with the palm strike, rendering it lethal to any human or beast. Of course, for beginnehs, the poison is unnecessary. Initially, you''ll focus on building palm strength by striking wooden stakes. Here, let me demonstrate again."

    The introductory practice emphasized striking David''s palms daily, ideally with a special medicinal sandbag from the White Cloud Martial Arts School. David, never stingy, purchased ten high-quality sandbags and dove back into training.

    With each strike against the sandbag, David felt a subtle change. His skin toughened, and a growing strength pulsed within his palms. Time blurred as he continued his relentless practice.

 17. Rachel

    High above Forbidden Harmony''s heart, on the central island of Blossom Lake, Rachel Redrain perched in a serene pavilion. Her fingers idly traced the smooth surface of an emerald pendant. A single sheet of paper, impossibly thin, lay on the stone table beside her. Though the gentle breeze rustled the corners of the paper, it remained stubbornly rooted to its spot. A steaming cup of tea sat next to it, its fragrant aroma, a blend of jasmine and ginger, swirling around Rachel like a tangible entity. The mana infused within danced in a mesmerizing vortex above the cup''s rim.

    A woman of exceptional poise stood before Rachel, her spotless white dress a stark contrast against the backdrop of the crimson flower pavilion. Her posture conveyed unwavering respect.

    A flicker of approval crossed Rachel''s face as she studied the emerald pendant. "Angelica at least had the sense of sealing it," she muttered, "although not well enough." Beneath layers of shimmering weaves, Rachel recognized the interlocking flows of energy etched onto the pendant. These paltry tricks of the Eternal Dawn were nothing to her. With a graceful gesture of her hand, she unleashed a torrent of weaves, her fingers tracing intricate patterns in the air.

    A weave of Air, shimmering blue, tore through the seal. A weave of Earth, earthy brown, unraveled the shrinking technique. In a burst of emerald light, the gem within the pendant transformed into an emerald tablet, pulsing with erratic energy. A final weave of mana, a vibrant silver, slammed into the plate, quelling the fluctuations instantly. Rachel''s psyche, a raging storm of power, met the feeble tendril of awareness probing through the emerald and snuffed it out in a heartbeat.

    Defying categorization, the emerald plate pulsed with an unidentifiable aura. Rachel ran her fingers over the intricate carvings, feeling its faint warmth, her mind racing through countless possibilities. Was it a mineral? A crystal? A construct of pure energy? Rachel, whose fingers had sifted through countless treasures in her sixty years of plunder, couldn''t identify the plate''s material.

    It was undeniably one half of a pair. The observers at the other end likely held the master counterpart, allowing them to monitor events here but not vice versa. While Rachel''s psyche easily overpowered the intrusive tendril, she couldn''t lash back or pierce the veil to the other side. It was a marvel of ingenuity, far beyond the capabilities of the Order of Eternal Dawn.

    "What information was the Eternal Dawn after?" Rachel''s firm voice broke the tense silence.

    Angelica lowered her gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Law Enforcement Hall was on the verge of apprehending the spy, but... she was killed before they could act."

    A frown creased Rachel''s brow. "Has the Hall''s efficiency fallen so drastically? They couldn''t even secure a Wave Weaver?"

    Angelica swallowed, choosing her words carefully. "The disciple... she had a special physique," Angelica stammered. "A saidar pattern ideally suited for weaves of seduction. Felix Extasie deemed her perfect for his ascension ritual. He planned to use her as a conduit, to break through and become a Shaper of Nature. The Law Enforcement Hall hesitated, fearing complications from Archmage Extasie. While they sought his counsel, the woman... she vanished. Used a teleportation scroll to escape the Law Enforcement disciple tailing her."

    "Who killed her? And why?" Rachel''s question hung heavy in the air.

    "The perpetrator," Angelica responded promptly, "is a disciple named John Riversong."

    Rachel''s breath caught at the name, so subtle it would have gone unnoticed by anyone else.

    "He appears to have a clean background," Angelica continued. "Sold into the Order by his stepmother at the age of four, he rarely got out the Order for the past fifteen years. His initial progress was mediocre, but in recent years, there''s been a surge. He just became a Wave Weaver last month, likely due to some fortuitous encounter."

    Thousands of disciples call Forbidden Harmony home, and John was just another face in the crowd. Even his master, Edwin Meridian, wasn''t particularly invested in his progress. Only after this incident had anyone paid him any real attention.

    "How do you plan to deal with Law Enforcement Hall''s negligence and Old Felix''s meddling?" Rachel asked, a steely glint in her eyes.

    Sweat slicked Angelica''s brow, a stark contrast to her usually composed demeanor. Though she held the title of Regent Headmaster, she was just one of the twelve Hall Archmages. Each Archmage, powerful and independent, ruled their domain like a sovereign. If Rachel herself issued an order, none would dare disobey. But not Angelica. Unless serious offense occurred, like treachery or military blunders, she couldn''t simply punish them. They respected her, some even feared her, but for lesser matters like these, her influence was limited.

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    Sensing Angelica''s mounting frustration, Rachel leaned back, her lips curving into a faint smile. "So, you can''t rein in the senior leaders, but can you control the actions of their subordinates?"

    Relief washed over Angelica. While she couldn''t directly punish the Hall Masters, the Law Enforcement disciples who mishandled the situation could face consequences.

    "Making such a mistake, " her voice regaining some firmness, "the Law Enforcement disciples will be sent to the Lawless Tower. Their mana reserve stripped, and forced to work in the mines - never to leave."

    Rachel shook her head with a wry smile. "This is your business, Angelica. No need to involve me." But then she quickly added, a hint of concern flickered across her eyes. "Though, I wouldn''t underestimate Old Felix''s fury. Losing his perfect vessel won''t sit well with him. Meridian, on the other hand, is known for his compromises. Still, keep a watchful eye, Angelica. Don''t let Felix exploit the situation and push Meridian too far."

    "Yes, Your Eminence." Angelica responded reassuredly.

    With all these precautions, Rachel still couldn''t dismiss her worries for John''s safety. Without displaying any emotion, she reached for the sheet of paper on the table - Angelica''s meticulously compiled list of suspected personnel within Forbidden Harmony.

    "Nobody noteworthy," Rachel finally declared, placing the list down.

    "Indeed," Angelica confirmed quickly. "Most are mere apprentices. Though a few disciples raised suspicion, none hold high positions. Further investigation is required for some elites, masters, and elders, but that will take time."

    Angelica''s brow furrowed, a knot of worry tightening in her stomach. While relieved that no high-ranking member had been exposed, a nagging doubt lingered in her mind. The headmaster wouldn''t have pressed so relentlessly if the Order was truly spotless. Logic gnawed at her - there had to be more. But to unearth it, she needed time, a precious commodity when shadows lingered.

    "John Riversong," Rachel declared, her voice devoid of emotion. "Add him to the list."

    Angelica''s eyes wide open, full of surprise. John, with his spotless record, had never raised suspicion. But Rachel, it seemed, saw something others missed.

    "You are right, Your Eminence, missing him was an oversight. The Eternal Dawn spy approached him immediately before her death," Angelica offered, brow furrowed in thought. "Perhaps she''d already poisoned his mind, then sacrificed herself to absolve him of blame."

    "His general conduct?" Rachel inquired, her expression unreadable.

    "Impeccable," Angelica replied. "Gentle, respectful - never a harsh word towards anyone, not even towards mortals. He simply wasn''t as ruthless as ... ahem, he seems a little out of tune with the Order." Angelica wanted to say that John wasn''t as ruthless as a member of the Dark Order. But she felt that would be offensive to the headmaster, so she fumbled for words on the fly.

    Rachel still said nothing, and there was no emotion on her face.

    Angelica felt obliged to offer more justifications. "The woman John killed possessed physique of seduction. Perhaps, inexperienced in such matters, he fell prey to her charms. It''s a strong possibility she manipulated him. Despite the lack of evidence, John remained a person of interest." Angelica seemed determined to convince herself of John''s suspect.

    "Then test him," Rachel said abruptly, "and use him to lure out the people still hiding in the shadows."

    Angelica furrowed her brow, confused. "How to do that? I don''t understand what Your Eminence means."

    As she was speaking, a flicker of light appeared in Angelica''s eyes. She looked up just as a black stone, the size of an egg, materialized in front of her. Though black, it held an ethereal transparency, revealing a powerful aura swirling within. At first glance, it resembled a divine artifact, mana like a living current pulsing within, threatening to burst from the stone and reach for the sky.

    Angelica stared, her face morphing through a range of emotions. ''This is...''

    Before Angelica could finish, Rachel''s lips curved into a mischievous grin. "Many have coveted this very item. Give it to the man on the Cliff of Broken Love. Let him plant it with care. It won''t be long before those lurking in the shadows are drawn out."

    "But what if he escapes with it?" Angelica''s voice hitched, her eyes widening with alarm.

    Rachel met Angelica''s gaze, her face a stoic mask. "Isn''t that the challenge -- for you, Angelica?"

    Overwhelmed by Rachel''s unwavering stare, Angelica swallowed her unease. "I''ll get it done. Right away."

    As Angelica''s back disappeared over the lake, Rachel let out a weary sigh. Without herself in the reign, the Order''s vulnerabilities were painfully exposed. Yet, she couldn''t come out to the open until she found her enemy.

    The intercepted emerald plate held an air of unsettling mystery. Its creation demanded not only masterful techniques, but a power that defied comprehension. If this plate originated with her nemesis, it signified a threat unlike any Forbidden Harmony had faced in its entire existence. A cold dread settled in Rachel''s stomach, a sensation she hadn''t experienced in over a century.

    And John. She knew for sure that the seductive spy''s charms would be wasted on him. That aside. He was too smart to be involved in something this risky.

    But why, she questioned herself, did his fate even concern her? He was, in theory, a fleeting presence, a mere ripple in the grand scheme. Yet, the news of him destroying the prized conduit of the Archmage of a powerful Hall had ignited genuine worry. Could this insignificant speck in her world have unknowingly captured her affection?

    "Three layers of protection, should be enough for him to navigate this perilous situation." Rachel thought a silent prayer. "Now that I have given him the seed, let''s see if he is the chosen one."

 18. Angelica & John

    Leaving Blossom Lake, Angelica White shed her nervousness and timidity, morphing back into the confident, noble leader she truly was. As she traversed the mountains and forests, protectors and elders alike bowed their heads in respect to the powerful regent headmaster.

    Even without the acting headmaster title, Angelica commands immense respect. As the first elder to become a Weaver of Nature, her power was unmatched. Her Moonsilver Lake boasts two of the ten warden in training, solidifying its position as the most formidable among the twelve Halls.

    During the legendary Thirty YearsˇŻ War, Angelica''s name struck fear into the hearts of the righteous factions. She travelled thousands of miles to single-handedly challenge the Sanctum of Profound Horizon, the largest righteous tradition in the South, and emerged victorious, slaying their chief elder. To this day, whispers of her exploits sent shivers down the spines of righteous mages.

    However, at this moment, disquieting fog clouded Angelica''s mind. The Etherbloom seed clutched in her hand fueled her bewilderment. "To test a disciple and expose traitors," she pondered, "is risking such a heavenly treasure truly necessary?" Definitely not. It was clear the headmaster had something more profound in mind.

    "Either the disciple or the traitor must be someone really special." she mused. With a resigned sigh, Angelica pushed those thoughts aside. She dared not ponder on Rachel''s secret.

    The headmaster''s emergence from seclusion was unusual, so was her sudden inquiry about traitors. And now, the Etherbloom seed... Something momentous was brewing.

    Angelica''s gaze locked back on the seed. It pulsed with a mesmerizing light, an undeniable font of mana unlike anything she''d ever encountered. Could this be the source of the headmaster''s power? Angelica''s heart pounded in her chest, her fingers tracing the warm surface of the seed. A vision of herself, radiant and powerful, flashed before her eyes. The headmaster, her idol, suddenly seemed within reach.

    That fleeting thought, however, turned Angelica ice-cold. A horrifying realization dawned: she was the first to be tested with the Etherbloom seed. Panic bloomed in her chest. One wrong move could spell disaster.

    "The seed must be passed on," she thought, her veins pulsing with urgency. But how could she justify entrusting such a precious artifact to an ordinary disciple? The dilemma clawed at her.

    ---

    Seven days had slumbered by since the incident with Nevaeh. An unsettling silence echoed in John''s mind.

    He''d expected a swift arrival from the Law Enforcement Hall. What he didn''t realize was that behind the scenes, a complex dance was unfolding - a new investigation team assembled, a deal negotiated, all for his safety.

    Fueled by a newfound understanding of the Daily Identification magical power, John started a series of secret experiments -- casting the magical power on people, with himself the first subject.

    The magic revealed a chilling fact. His inability to reciprocate Nevaeh''s advances, despite her undeniable allure, was not due to his mental strength, but a sinister parasite. This Hearthstone Leech, it turned out, came in pairs. He harbored the male, which released chemicals effectively neutering his attraction to women - unless, of course, they possessed the female counterpart. The parasite functioned reciprocally as well.

    A sigh escaped John''s lips as he absorbed the identification results. The culprit - the woman in red, who forced the potion into his mouth - came into sharp focus.

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    Blessing or curse? It was a conundrum. Nevaeh''s barrage of charm weaves, it seemed, were rendered powerless thanks to the leech. Without it, who knew what might have transpired? Perhaps in a dark order teeming with enchantresses, this was a blessing in disguise. After all, beauty often proved to be a man''s fatal weakness.

    Rejecting the unsettling contemplations, John rose to head towards the botanical garden. Strengthening himself daily was a non-negotiable regiment. Disruption was not an option.

    As he reached for the door, his path was abruptly blocked. Three figures stood before him, each radiating an aura of power that far surpassed his own. Their expressions were grim, and a faint, unsettling malice emanated from them.

    Dressed in black, the leaderˇŻs eyebrows sharp as blades, his face a canvas of sculpted features - undeniably handsome, yet devoid of warmth. His eyes, cold and calculating, fixed on John with an unsettling intensity. The other two figures, equally imposing, flanked him silently, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords.

    With a surge of caution, John activated his magical power and focused it on the leader.

    [Altair Greenwood: Late stage Stone Weaver.

    Elite disciple of the Temple of the One, deep undercover in Law Enforcement Hall.

    Objective: None (came due to boredom)

    Reason for Appearance:

    His companions are angry at you for killing Nevaeh and disrupting Law Enforcement Hall investigation, but Altair remains unconcerned. His primary goal is to placate the wrath of Citadel of Siren Delight.]

    A cold dread washed over John as the information sank in. His breath caught in his throat, and his hands tightened around the hilt of his dagger. Altair Greenwood, a spy from the Temple of the One? The most revered righteous faction? And he was here out of boredom? Disbelief warred with suspicion in John''s mind. A moment of stunned silence passed before John lowered his head in greeting to the three senior disciples.

    "Altair Greenwood, Law Enforcement Hall," Altair stated flatly. "Regarding the events of seven days ago. We have questions and updates." His icy tone offered no comfort.

    "Feel free, Senior Altair." John replied, his voice betraying a calmness he didn''t feel. The mention of "Siren Delight CitadelˇŻs wrath" made him uneasy.

    "Did you kill Disciple Nevaeh?" Altair cut to the chase.

    John steeled himself. "Yes."

    "Why do you take such an action?" Altair continued to ask.

    "She turned traitor, trying to drag me down with her. I refused, forced to resist. In the struggle... she died." John told the same story he told Archmage Meridian.

    "She belonged to the Citadel of Siren Delight, doesn''t fall under the Cliff of Broken Love''s jurisdiction." Altair Greenwood stared at John, his voice full of indifference.

    "Therefore, you''ve violated Order regulations by causing the death of a fellow disciple. As punishment, you''ll be deprived of five years'' worth of resources and are required to pay a thousand mana crystals to the Citadel of Siren Delight as compensation within three months. In addition, since Nevaeh was a suspected traitor, and you were the last person she contacted, we require your cooperation with our investigation. Leaving the Order without permission will be considered fleeing. We''ll notify you when the investigation concludes."

    John felt the floor vanishing beneath him. Punishment for eliminating a traitor? He could deal with the investigation, but a thousand mana crystals? As a lowly disciple receiving ten crystals a month, it seemed like an impossible burden.

    "Truly living up to the name of a dark order." He thought, irony danced in his eyes, "This whole thing is a Siren Delight Citadel appeasement party."

    Sensing John''s growing frustration, the disciple on Altair''s left spoke up, his tone harsh. "Any questions?"

    Snapped back to reality, John bowed his head and murmured softly, "No."

    The three Law Enforcement Hall disciples exchanged a few more inconsequential words before turning and departing, leaving John grappling with a twisted sense of justice and a seemingly insurmountable debt.

    John watched the Law Enforcement Hall trio dwindle into specks on the horizon, a heavy sigh rumbling from his chest. Was Cliff of Broken Love truly so weak, or was he just an expendable pawn in their political games?

    A cold dread began to creep in. What if he couldn''t conjure a thousand mana crystals within three months? Would the Citadel take further action against him? His recent breakthrough to Wave Weaver at nineteen was a rare feat. Would Archmage Meridian consider him valuable enough to defend him?

    A whirlwind of thoughts swirled in his mind as he reached the botanical garden. Magic training was no longer his sole focus. The looming debt demanded a desperate search for ways to earn mana crystals.

    In that moment, a truth settled over him. Beauty, indeed, had been a disaster. Even Nevaeh''s demise hadn''t broken the curse.

 19. David

    Jade Bamboo Mountain.

    David pushed open the door, a gust of wind whipping snowflakes into his sparsely furnished hut. He exhaled a long breath. This felt like another world entirely.

    Back in the Three Kingdoms, he was the wealthy Mr. Dragonheart, living in a luxurious mansion with beautiful maids in Black Rock City. Sure, he faced setbacks occasionally, but money solved most of his problems.

    Here, in the magical Southern Wilderness, he was just a low-rank mage. Stuck at the bottom of the world of immortality, he barely scraped by. It was a precarious existence.

    David grimaced. Ideally, he''d prefer the Three Kingdoms. But there, the meager mana concentration stifled any hope of extended life. Magic training, the pursuit of immortality, was a dead end in that stagnant land. Here, in the vibrant Southern Wilderness, even a low-rank mage like himself could grasp at the possibility of defying mortality.

    A pang of longing flickered across David''s face as he jingled the meager amount of mana shards in his pocket. ˇ°I need to buy a protective talisman, a low-grade magical weapon for self-defense would be even better."

    He hadn''t forgotten his true strength. Power wasn''t a luxury in the Three Kingdoms either.

    His keen senses honed from his magic background, coupled with a few emergency scrolls, gave him confidence that he could hold his own against people like Lei Shen and Piaomiao Mu.

    Additionally, his sporadic disappearances, made possible by his ability to travel between worlds, kept those coveting his wealth guessing, maintaining the illusion of Dragonheart Mansion''s grandeur.

    But David knew this charade wouldn''t last forever. The hidden scavengers would eventually lose patience.

    David tightened his grip on the mana shards in his pocket, the meager amount a stark reminder of his current standing. Increasing his own strength was paramount. Leveling up as a mage was the most direct path, but unlike the Three Kingdoms, this world offered a wider arsenal - powerful talismans, intricate automatons, loyal familiars, and even enchanted weapons. The Jade Bamboo Market, named after its signature material, was the place to acquire such treasures.

    As he approached the market entrance, a shimmering white mist materialized before him, a magical ward rumored to withstand prolonged attacks from Wave Weavers.  David readily presented his identification plaque, a simple sign crafted from bamboo and wood. In response, the mist swirled open, revealing the previously obscured shops in all their glory.

    The market was a feast for the senses. Buildings constructed entirely of mana-infused Jade Bamboo created a unique, stilted architecture that seemed to defy gravity. The air buzzed with the melodic calls of vendors hawking their wares, their voices weaving through the sweet scent of candied fruits and the earthy fragrance of freshly harvested herbs. Eye-catching names like "The Bannered Flagon," "The Whispering Roses," "The Phoenix''s Flask," and "The Dragon''s Forge" adorned the grander buildings, promising treasures and wonders within.

    David took a deep breath, the vibrant energy of the market invigorating him. This was the heart of commerce for hundreds of miles around, a magical hub where fortunes were made and dreams were pursued. He knew that within these bustling streets lay the tools he needed to rise above his current station. But he also knew that danger lurked beneath the surface.

    David moved through the throngs of the market, his senses on high alert. Mages of all ages and genders bustled about, their attire as diverse as their magical prowess. Some sported gleaming swords, others carried worn leather satchels brimming with mysterious ingredients. Fantastical beasts with shimmering scales and monstrous companions with glowing eyes added to the surreal atmosphere. Each weaver, a unique thread in the vibrant tapestry of the market, exuded an aura that dwarfed David''s own, a constant reminder of his meager progress in his magical training.

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    He swallowed hard, the knot of unease in his stomach tightening. Here, power was the currency of survival, and he was but a pauper in a land of kings. The weight of his inadequacy pressed upon him, a constant prickle of fear that he couldn''t shake. He knew that in this unforgiving place, survival was a constant battle, and he was determined to emerge victorious.

    After selling a few items, including that skink, David approached a familiar stall, its modest size dwarfed by the gleaming display of colorful talismans and scrolls that adorned its walls. His gaze was drawn to the ''Little Thunder Scroll'' prominently displayed in the center, surrounded by other scrolls like stars orbiting the moon.

    "Master Ealdwulf," David greeted warmly, a smile spreading across his face. "Congratulations on crafting a mid-level Aer Weaver scroll!ˇ±

    Master Ealdwulf, the proprietor, appeared to be in his thirties, tall and fair with a neatly trimmed beard. David usually saw his wife helping out, her tall figure gracefully navigating the stall of scrolls and materials. They seemed to have a simple yet comfortable life built on high-quality products and fair prices. Lately, however, a flicker of worry seemed to cloud their usual cheer.

    "Oi, David!" the scroll master''s voice boomed through the icy air. "How''d that Ice Scroll fare ''gainst them pesky critters?ˇ±

    David grinned. "Like a charm, especially with the recent cold snap! But today, I am here for some more of these protective talismans.ˇ±

    "This ''ere talisman don''t offer much shelter, ''bout ten shards apiece," Master Ealdwulf grumbled to himself, his brow furrowed deep as the mountain valleys. "Wonder why the lad keeps buyin'' so many..." He raised his voice, addressing the boy. "Want any more Ice Scroll, eh? I''ll give ya a good deal, thirty shards for one...ˇ±

    "Master Ealdwulf, you reduced the price again?" David''s eyes widened like a child''s on Christmas morning.

    "Ach, that''s because... we are pregnant again!" Ealdwulf sighed.

    David offered a sympathetic smile. Providing for two magic training children, potentially three soon, was a heavy burden.

    The question of the ice scroll hung in the air for a moment, thenˇ­

    "What''s the price of that ''Little Thunder Scroll''?" He asked. His question surprised Master Ealdwulf.

    Ealdwulf''s smile tightened a bit. "Ah, the Little Thunder, eh? A right tricky one to craft, that be. Wasted a fair share o'' materials on it. Cost ye one and a half crystals, lad.ˇ±

    David''s jaw dropped. "One and a half? Couldn''t you, perhaps...?ˇ±

    Ealdwulf''s initial glare softened as his mind drifted to his crystals-guzzling little beasts at home. "Unless ye be wantin'' a few more o'' them lesser scrolls...ˇ±

    David sighed, mirroring Ealdwulf''s weary tone. "In that case, throw in a Sunfire Ward scroll too." The price was steep, but the promise of a powerful new tool was hard to resist.

    David finally secured the "Little Thunder Scroll," a magical punch packing the full force of a mid-stage Aer Weaver. It cost him his entire market haul, even dipping into his savings. But the hefty Sunfire Ward scroll in his hand brought a flicker of reassurance. Though it could only shield him against a couple of early-stage Aer WeaverˇŻs attacks in the unforgiving Southern Wilderness, its protection held a different weight within the Three Kingdoms.

    Leaving Master Ealdwulf''s stall lighter in pocket but heavier in magical wares, David found himself drawn deeper into the market''s labyrinthine alleys. The tantalizing aroma of potent elixirs wafted from a nearby stall, momentarily arresting his steps. A familiar yearning gnawed at him - the insatiable hunger for power, for the elusive breakthrough to the mid-stage Aer Weaver realm. His gaze lingered on a shimmering vial, its contents promising a surge of mana that could shatter the bottleneck that had held him captive for far too long. The price, however, was a harsh reminder of his meager resources.

    If he could only trade between worlds freely...mountains of these would be his! But the risk...mages were too versatile, their detection methods a mystery. A pang of envy twisted in his gut as he reluctantly turned away.

    "At least wait until I break through late-stage Aer Weaver, to sell the treasures of the Three Kingdoms here." he revised his goal.

    Suddenly, a commotion erupted from the far end of the market, a wave of excited whispers washing over the crowd. "Relics...treasures...techniques..." the words drifted down, igniting a spark of curiosity in David''s heart. What could have caused such a frenzy?

 20. John

    [Strength]

    [Psyche]

    [Mana Affinity]

    [Mana Affinity]

    [Ordinary Magical Sword]

    John strolled through the botanical garden. Tiny bubbles, more blue ones than usual, danced in the air. "A good harvest," he muttered, kicking at a pebble. "It''s a pity that I can''t pick any crystals." His mind drifted to his crippling debt of a thousand mana crystals.

    While he had a stockpile of swords and elixirs, selling a large quantity would raise suspicion; It''s hard to explain where he got them. "If only I could collect high-quality elixirs," he mused, "that would solve everything." Unfortunately, he hadn''t seen any so far.

    "I''m down to a hundred and sixty-eight crystals. Even after selling some swords and elixirs, I''ll barely scrape together two hundred." His mind raced with the grim calculation. "Eight hundred to go...looks like I have to take on some Order missions."

    The midday sun beat down as he stood before the Law Enforcement Hall''s mission board. Suddenly, a familiar voice boomed behind him, "Well, well, well, if it isn''t John Riversong! Been hiding out in the garden, have you?"

    John turned to find Redmond Sunbask, his old roommate from their apprentice days, a wide grin spread across his face. Two other disciples flanked him, their eyes appraising.

    "Redmond, good to see you," John replied, mustering a polite smile.

    "Whoa, hold up! You''re Wave Weaver now? Since when?" Redmond exclaimed, approaching with surprise. The two figures beside him mirrored his shock. A young Wave Weaver - that was impressive!

    John chuckled. "Just a bit of luck," he said, though internally he grimaced. The transparency of levels in their world made hiding progress difficult.

    "I need to find a technique to mask my true level soon," John thought to himself, his mind racing. But his immediate focus remained on his debt. He had to find a way to earn those one thousand mana crystals.

    Swallowing his pride, John knew he had to settle his debt with the Citadel of Siren Delight. Failure could lead to a disaster orchestrated by the Citadel. Cliff of Broken Love wouldn''t be able to fully protect him. John couldn''t fathom why the Citadel would go to such lengths for a traitor like Nevaeh. Yet, her words echoed in his mind - that someone coveted her body. But was unfulfilled sexual desire truly a motive worth such relentless pursuit? The memory of the woman in red ignited within him - the intoxicating scent, the silken touch of her skin, the heat of their entwined bodies.

    Redmond clapped a hand on John''s shoulder, brought him back to reality. "Hey everyone, meet John, my old bunkmate. We go way back."

    A kind smile spread across Craig Clement''s face, the man beside Redmond. "Rare to find two such promising disciples under one roof," he remarked. "Craig Clement, at your service. And this is Disciple Moon Wright."

    John bowed respectfully. "Pleasure to meet you both."

    Craig and Moon beamed, eager to befriend a rising star. "So, which Hall are you with?" Moon inquired.

    "Cliff of Broken Love," John replied

    Their smiles dimmed. "Ah, Cliff of Broken Love..." Craig repeated, a note of hesitation in his voice. He drew a careful breath. "Disciple John, would you happen to know who was responsible for... the incident with Nevaeh of Citadel of Siren Delight?"

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    John was thrown off by the sudden question. But he quickly replied, "It was me."

    The news hit them like a lightning bolt. Even Redmond took a step back. After a few uncomfortable moments, Craig steered Moon and Redmond away.

    John watched them go, a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn''t care that much of their friendship. Most relationships here were transactional, built on a foundation of self-interest and ambition. To certain extent, he understood their reaction. Citadel of Siren Delight surely was not to be trifled with.

    Still, a knot tightened in his stomach, a burning anger rising within him. He had eliminated a traitor, yet now he was the one being cast out? The injustice of it all stung, a cold reminder of the harsh realities of the Order of Forbidden Harmony.

    In a secluded corner, Craig Clement leaned closer to Redmond Sunbask, curiosity etched on his face. "Redmond, you know John well. What''s his talent like? "

    Redmond pondered for a moment, "Above average, I''d say." He finally replied.

    Moon Wright''s eyebrows shot up. "Above average? How old is he?"

    "Nineteen," Redmond answered honestly, "two years younger than me."

    Craig''s true interest surfaced. "Above average talent at nineteen... how did he become a Wave Weaver?" He asked.

    Redmond''s brow furrowed. "He had a lucky encounter, a huge boost to his magic training. I suspect his breakthrough to Wave Weaver is related to that as well." He eyed Craig and Moon cautiously. "Do you two think something''s off?"

    Craig and Moon exchanged a knowing look, a silent confirmation passing between them.

    "Redmond," Craig said quietly, "maybe it''s best to keep your distance with John. Cliff of Broken Love isn''t exactly rushing to defend him. His advancement was likely a fluke, making his future uncertain... not exactly someone worth investing in."

    "And offending Citadel of Siren Delight is a risky move. I heard Archmage Extasie wanted him dead. I''m not sure how he survived, but even if things are quiet now, trouble might be brewing. Don''t get too close, Redmond. It could reflect poorly on your master."

    Craig admitted he was initially drawn to John''s potential. Despite knowing about the Siren Delight Citadel issue, a part of him held onto hope. After all, a young Wave Weaver was often a sign of true genius, and genius could overcome obstacles. But learning about John''s supposed "lucky encounter" shattered his hope, replaced by a hint of disdain. "Who couldn''t reach realm of Wave Weaver these days?" he scoffed internally.

    ---

    John scoured the mission board, his brow furrowed. The high-paying tasks either required venturing outside the Order or boasted stringent requirements. With his current abilities, he was limited to smaller jobs.

    A glimmer of hope emerged - alchemy, forging, and crafting talismans seemed lucrative. Unfortunately, John lacked any knowledge in those areas.

    The thought of learning a new skill flickered across John''s mind. However, he quickly dismissed all three options. Not only were they difficult to master, but access to essential recipes and techniques was scarce.

    John then considered scroll weaving. Seemed simple to start, with methods readily available for purchase inside the Order.

    "I''ll buy some materials and instructions, experiment back in my room," he decided.

    With a plan in mind, John opted to take on a smaller task to earn some much-needed mana crystals. Many a little makes a mickle. This was his only option for now. Though a thousand crystals seemed like a distant dream, he couldn''t afford to waste time. He''d figure out the rest as he went along. Setting unrealistic goals would only lead to disappointment.

    Finally, John found a suitable mission: tending to the Pristine Luna. Seven days of work for twenty mana crystals - a fair exchange given his experience in the botanical garden. Awarded by Moonsilver Lake, a prestigious Hall under the regent headmaster''s direct control, this opportunity felt almost tailored for him.

    John had never met the regent headmaster, nor any of the other high-ranking officials like coaching elders, protective elders, Hall masters, or pavilion masters. Even his own master, Archmage of the Cliff of Broken Love, was rarely seen. Perhaps that was the life of a disciple - distant from the higher echelons of the Order.

    "First, materials and instructions for scroll weaving," John reminded himself. "Then, I''ll head to Moonsilver Lake to check out the mission details."

    A final thought lingered: "The Pristine Luna is said to be a holy medicine. I wonder if it could get me a purple bubble, I''m one to go for another magical power."

 21. David

    The marketplace buzzed with a frenzy unlike any David had witnessed. A juicy rumor, overheard from a nearby conversation, ignited a spark in every mage''s heart - a secret realm had been discovered in Amethyst Mountain.

    "Amethyst Mountain, ye say? A secret realm?" Brynja''s voice rasped with excitement, her eyes gleaming like ice crystals. "Ancient techniques? Artifacts that boost yer mana?" The excitement was palpable.

    A skeptical snort from a mage next to Brynja countered the enthusiasm. "Easy now, girl. It''s likely just idle chatter."

    But a hunter, clad in furs, chimed in, his eyes alight with a fervent glow. "''Tis more than just techniques, I tell ye. They say they found an Aer Weaver''s catalyst! A true game-changer, that be."

    The news was like wildfire. Weaver''s catalyst! A treasure that could change the course of many magic user''s life, something they could spend their whole lives striving for. For low-level independents like David, the climb to the Wave Weaver status felt like a sheer, impassable cliff face. Decades of toiling might not even get them close.

    But a lucky break - an ancient relic, a powerful elixir - could propel them forward in a single leap. With access to the right resources - elixirs, powerful techniques - David, with his unimpressive saidin pattern, could potentially breach the Wave Weaver''s barrier within five to ten years. This was the kind of opportunity countless weavers craved.

    A lass, her eyes sparkling with a fierce hope, grabbed hold of the rumor-monger. "What kind o'' catalyst, then?" she demanded, her breath fogging in the frigid air.

    The hunter, his voice barely above a whisper, replied, "A vial o'' Earth Fire Energy, they say. A right powerful thing for breakin'' through the physical barrier."

    A grizzled mage nearby let out a sigh that echoed the wind''s howl. "Pity it ain''t the Manastream," he grumbled.

    "There was no such thing in ancient times," chuckled a scholar. "Modern people can also surpass the ancients. That elixir, a recent invention by the great Elijah Stonekeeper, the most renowned alchemist in thousands of years - its formula streamlines the condensation process, increasing Aer Weaver''s breakthrough chances by a staggering 50%!"

    The name "Manastream" hung in the air, a siren song to every mage present. Desire flickered across David''s face, mirroring the spark of frenzy in the crowd. But as he watched mages scramble to buy scrolls and weapons, a chill settled in his heart.

    Secret realms, he knew, weren''t just about navigating dangers of the ruins, but also the danger of men, a crucible testing the bonds of trust. Friendship, loyalty, even master-disciple relationships could crumble under the allure of the Wave Weaver realm.

    David chose to retreat from the maddening rush, seeking solace in the tranquility of his bamboo field. Yet, the thought of the Manastream lingered in his mind, a tantalizing promise of power. He knew that ascending to Wave Weaver was not for the faint of heart. Reaching the pinnacle of the Aer Weaver realm by the age of sixty was merely the first hurdle.

    The true challenge lay in breaching three formidable walls. The first was the physical barrier, demanding a robust physique free of hidden injuries. The second was the mana barrier, requiring a vast and pure reservoir of mana.

    And the final wall, the most enigmatic of all, was the birth of external senses. Aer Weavers possessed a photographic memory, heightened senses, and a profound inner awareness, allowing them to perceive the intricacies of their own bodies with the clarity of a surgeon''s scalpel. Yet, their senses remained confined to the physical realm. Wave Weavers, on the other hand, wielded a powerful sensual awareness that extended yards beyond their bodies, granting them an almost omniscient perception of their surroundings. They could sense the subtlest fluctuations in the air, the hidden currents of mana, and even the burrow of a worm under the earth, as if their inner vision had expanded to encompass the world around them.

    Any elixir or item aiding in overcoming these obstacles was considered an Aer Weaver''s catalyst.

    David pondered the scholar''s words. "Ancient mages sought solutions for each barrier. Earth Fire Energy, for instance, honed the physique, while Ironweed strengthened the body, both aiding in breaching the physical barrier. Similar solutions existed for the mana barrier."

    "But the birth of external senses? That was a realm of rare, celestial treasures like the Broken Love Flower and the Pristine Luna, coveted not only by Wave Weaver hopefuls but also by those aiming for the Stone Weaver''s realm. The competition for such treasures was fierce."

    "Thankfully, a beacon of hope emerged two millennia ago. Elijah Stonekeeper developed the Manastream Elixir. This remarkable concoction not only fortified mage''s body, but also boosted mana reserves and nurtured the nascent spark of external senses. With a single dose, the success rate for ascension rose by 50%. Even in case of failure, the elixir safeguarded against the potentially fatal consequences of shattering saidar and saidin."

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    "Even ancient mages struggled with Weaver''s ascension," the scholar continued, "except for those incredibly rare catalysts, most resources only nudge the success rate slightly."

    "Stonekeeper, however, has been a boon to the magical world for two millennia. His Manastream is a testament to how far we''ve surpassed the ancients."

    David chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes. "Isn''t counting someone lived two thousand years ago as ''we'' a bit of a stretch?" He quipped, a hint of amusement played on his lips. Still, whispers claimed Weavers of Nature could live a millennium long. So perhaps "we" wasn''t entirely inappropriate. "Maybe he is still living among us." David mused.

    ---

    In the bamboo forest.

    Emerald leaves, like opulent jewels, drifted down from the towering Jasper Bamboo canopy. David snatched one, its cool touch a stark contrast to the winter chill. These leaves, discarded by most mana farmers, were worth more than their weight in gold in the Three Kingdoms. A wry smile touched his lips as he thought of the irony.

    David''s gaze swept over the Jade Bamboo field. With a practiced flick of his palm, he severed a branch, the sharp snap echoing in the crisp air. He peeled back the bamboo skin, revealing the jade-green rice nestled within. A sweet, earthy fragrance filled his nostrils as he plucked a few grains and popped them into his mouth. The taste was divine, a burst of mana energy that warmed him from the inside out. "A good harvest this spring," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against the silence of the forest.

    Suddenly, inspiration struck. With a deep breath, David launched into a series of swift, almost spectral hand movements. The air crackled with unseen energy. He moved like a serpent gliding over the snow, his body a blur of controlled power. Every muscle coiled and uncoiled with practiced ease. Then, with a lightning-fast kick, his leg whipped out like a boneless snake. The impact ripped a deep gash into the bark of a nearby pine, sending a tremor through the snow-laden ground.

    "Qi and blood..." David breathed, the words frosting in the air. A jolt of exhilaration shot through him. He''d unlocked something primal, a rudimentary grasp of the Three Kingdoms'' martial arts! This wasn''t just theory anymore. He could feel it - a surge of power coursing through his veins, a newfound control over his own life force. With dedication, he could delve deeper, mastering the art of qi and blood transformations and unlocking even greater potential.

    A slow smile spread across his face. "Not a martial arts prodigy," he conceded, "but controlling my qi and blood... that felt strangely easy." A flicker of wonder lit his eyes. Perhaps, in this world teeming with mana, martial arts training truly thrived. Here, the very air vibrated with energy, making the manipulation of his life force significantly easier compared to that in the Three Kingdoms. He clenched his fist, the sensation of surging power lingering. This was more than just a new skill; it was a doorway to a whole new world of possibilities.

    Piaomiao Mu''s words echoed in David''s mind. Beyond the three transformations of qi and blood lay a realm reserved for true martial arts masters. Here, qi and blood were completely condensed, granting the user an uncanny stillness. They moved like phantoms, channeling their power at will. Even at the ripe age of eighty, their vigor remained undimmed. Only death could disperse this potent energy.

    A spark ignited in David''s eyes. Reaching the level of a martial arts master meant his qi and blood would be locked away, impervious to the passage of time. No longer would he be tethered to the age of sixty, the supposed deadline for Aer Weaver''s ascension.

    "Even at seventy, eighty, even ninety," he murmured, the idea electrifying, "I could attempt mana condensation without the limitations of dwindling qi and blood. At least on that front, I''d be free."

    This Three Kingdoms'' Qi and Blood Martial Art was akin to a potent elixir, offering benefits equivalent to a third of the Manastream Elixir! The potential was undeniable. By strategically combining resources from both worlds, exploiting their strengths to plug his weaknesses, David, with unwavering dedication, could find a path towards unparalleled growth, all while cloaked in secrecy.

    A genuine smile graced his lips. Never since embarking on his interdimensional travels had he felt such unshakeable confidence in his future.

    Days bled into each other, the excitement in the Jade Bamboo Mountain reaching a fever pitch. Even David''s ramshackle home couldn''t shield him from the chaos. One morning, a grizzled figure emerged from a nearby hut, brandishing a chipped Verdant Edge, a low-grade magical weapon. This was Old Barley, his weathered face etched with a desperate resolve that belied his usual jovial demeanor.

    "Where to, Old Barley?" David blurted, surprised by the sight of his neighbor armed and ready for adventure.

    "Amethyst Mountain, o'' course!" the old man barked, a gap-toothed grin revealing his fierce determination. "A man''s gotta risk it all ''fore the frost settles on his bones for good. Back in me younger days, when I was your age, I had a chance... but I lost me nerve. Now, regret gnaws at me heart like a pack o'' hungry wolves every night."

    David knew arguing would be futile. The old man''s mind was set. Still, he offered a parting wish, "Then may your ascension be blessed, Old Barley."

    Knowing old Barley''s penchant for overindulgence, David privately doubted his old neighbor''s chances.

    Old Barley let out a dry chuckle, his voice a rasp in the cold air. "Gave up on Wave Weaver ages ago, I did. But I got a grandson, a sharp young lad, not like his ol'' grandpa..." He waved a gnarled hand, shuffling on his way. Seemed like on the edge of this gamble, Old Barley only wanted to pave a smoother path for his kin.

    David watched the snowflakes swallow Old Barley''s footprints, a sigh escaping his lips. He couldn''t fathom the missed opportunity that haunted the old man, but it was clear the weight of regret had become a heavy burden. Yet, David couldn''t help but wonder...

    "Without the Three Kingdoms'' resources, would I even consider such venture?" he questioned himself, frozen in thought by his doorway.

    The choice seemed stark: a life of quiet obscurity at the bottom of the magic world, or a desperate lunge for a chance at Wave Weaving mastery, a feat that would earn him respect and recognition.

    "Better buckle down and train," he decided, a newfound determination settling in his gut. There was no time to waste.

 22. John

    Moonsilver Lake shimmered like a fallen piece of moonlight, cradled high atop Forbidden Harmony. The late afternoon sun stretched inky tendrils across the valley below, painting the surrounding peaks in hues of amber and rose.

    But here, at Moonsilver Lake, the light held a different kind of magic. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, it didn''t diminish the lake''s brilliance. Instead, it seemed to ignite the water from within, transforming it into a swirling pool of liquid silver. The very air vibrated with a soft, ethereal glow, and wisps of mist danced on the surface, like the whispers of forgotten secrets. The distant calls of unseen birds echoed through the crystal-clear air, adding to the sense of serenity that blanketed the lake.

    It was an awe-inspiring vista, a sanctuary where the very essence of mana seemed to coalesce, promising power and tranquility to those fortunate enough to practice magic within its embrace. Here, talent bloomed everywhere, and disciples of exceptional caliber walked the path. Few could hope to match their brilliance.

    In stark contrast lay the Cliff of Broken Love. A lesser peak with lower standards, it housed a larger number of disciples, though renown within the Order remained elusive.

    "Here I am," John muttered, a mix of emotions swirling within him. If not for the falling out with Citadel of Siren Delight, he would have been quite satisfied with his position at Cliff of Broken Love.

    Taking a deep breath, John approached the guard, explaining his purpose.

    "Tending to the Pristine Luna?" The guard, an wisp-thin adept with an air of quiet observation, scrutinized John. "What''s your name?"

    "John."

    A flicker of amusement crossed the guard''s face, fleeting as a summer breeze. "John, is it? From Cliff of Broken Love, I presume?"

    "Yes," John nodded, unease worming its way into his gut. How did she know?

    "Alright, follow me." she led the way, without asking his qualifications. "Remember, the Pristine Luna blooms soon, demanding meticulous care. Failure will not be tolerated."

    John fell into step behind her, a curt smile played on John''s lips. "Understood, my lady."

    Her clear eyes held a disarming sincerity, a refreshing contrast to the artificiality of Nevaeh. Neither cold nor overly familiar, she exuded a gentle innocence. Perhaps not everyone in the Dark Order embraced wickedness, John pondered. Her true nature, however, remained shrouded. As they say, appearances can be deceiving.

    "My name is Echo, Echo Reverie," she said, leading him to a secluded courtyard. "Since you''ve accepted this task, you''ll be here for the next few days. Inform me when you arrive, and I''ll grant you access."

    Following Echo Reverie, John encountered Lady Blanche, the garden manager. A breathtaking figure in her flowing azure attire, she radiated an icy beauty that sent a shiver down John''s spine. Despite the warm summer sun, the air around her seemed to crackle with a faint coldness, and a thin sheen of frost settled on the nearby ferns. John felt an absurd urge to apologize for some unknown transgression.

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    A tense silence stretched on before John spotted a peculiar sight. A vast pool of white elixir shimmered in the center of the clearing, its surface radiant like a pearl under a full moon. A mesmerizing halo of frost crackled with a faint electrical hum, encircling the elixir and casting an otherworldly glow. Nestled on the edge, a crimson crucible pulsed with an ethereal heat, resembling a miniature volcano.

    "The crucible contains magma," Lady Blanche stated coolly. "Your duty is to pour it onto the frost''s edge every half hour after noon, six times a day. Today is drawing to a close. Begin your duties tomorrow."

    John offered a respectful bow and retreated, the weight of her icy gaze lingering on him.

    ---

    Moonlight, like a celestial waterfall, bathed the herbs in John''s valley home at the foot of Broken Love Cliff. An ethereal stillness settled over his yard, broken only by the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets. John paused, savoring the tranquility before heading inside. Tonight, scrolls awaited his focused touch. Reaching for his newly acquired toolkit, he channeled mana through his saidin, the liquid energy surging through his veins like a rapid stream.

    "The blue bubbles are working really fast," he murmured, a flicker of hope igniting in his chest. Perhaps reaching the mid-stage of Wave Weaver''s realm wouldn''t be too long. But the looming debt to Citadel of Siren Delight - a thousand mana crystals - threatened to drawn him. Scrolls, he concluded, were the key. They were his ticket to financial freedom, one intricate sigil at a time.

    The flickering lamplight cast dancing shadows across the worn leather cover of John''s newly acquired manuscript, "The Archanum of Scrolls." A subtle energy pulse filled the air. The musky scent of the hide mingled with the sharp tang of ozone, a potent reminder of the volatile magic coursing through the book''s pages.

    Unlike the rote memorization of spell weaving, scroll inscription demanded a delicate balance between three fundamental elements.

    John traced his fingertip along the intricate patterns etched onto the pages, his brow furrowed in concentration. The first were the sigils - intricate symbols, each a carefully crafted lock designed to hold a specific magical energy. Passed down through generations, these symbols possessed the power to channel, direct, and amplify magic like unseen keys. The second was mana, the lifeblood of the magic world, was the most common fuel source, but as John delved deeper, whispers seemed to emanate from the aged pages, hinting at more potent energies - the raw power of a storm, the unwavering will of a warrior, or even the fundamental laws of the universe itself. Mastering these, however, remained a song whispered on the wind for John.

    The final element was the foundation, the very canvas upon which the magic would be inscribed. Though special materials like dragon scales could enhance specific scrolls, the most common choice was specially treated leather - paper-thin yet surprisingly dense, capable of holding a significant amount of energy.

    As John flipped the page, a diagram depicting a stylized flame etched onto a crimson leather strip greeted him. It was a simple fire sigil, a perfect starting point for his journey into this captivating world. A spark of excitement ignited within him - today, he wouldn''t just be learning about scrolls; today, he would begin to weave them.

    John settled into a meditative pose, calming his mind and focusing his mana. Finally, he reached a state of perfect equilibrium. With a steady hand, he picked up the quill pen, dipped it into the crimson ink, and began drawing the sigil. Each stroke was deliberate and powerful, flowing smoothly as he channeled his mana into the leather.

    The final stroke settled with a soft hum, different from the one the book described. A faint blue light emanated from the talisman, pulsing gently as John held it aloft in disbelief. It had worked. He''d actually created a scroll.

    "Done already?" A thrill shot through him, tinged with a sliver of unease. "That easy?" The book spoke of countless failures before success, yet here he was, holding a tangible manifestation of his newfound skill. Was this a fluke, or something deeper stirring within him?

 23. David

    The Three Kingdoms.

    Dragonheart Mansion.

    David, clad in a simple training uniform, exhaled sharply as he completed a series of intricate forms. His forearms, flushed red and corded with muscles, strained with each movement.

    "Ha!" he cried, launching a forceful attack. His palm, a blur of motion, struck the wooden training post with a resounding thud, leaving a shallow mark on the pristine surface.

    Piaomiao Mu, her beauty accentuated by a touch of surprise, watched from the sidelines. "Such rapid progress," she murmured, a hint of awe creeping into her voice.

    Yue Gui, ever attentive, rushed forward with a silk cloth to wipe the sweat from David''s brow. "Master Mu," David threw away his handkerchief and asked casually. "how fares my palm technique?"

    Piaomiao Mu took a measured breath. "Mastah Dragonheart," her eyes sparkled with intrigue, "your talent surpasses all expectations. You''ve begun to sense the flow of energy within you, haven''t you?  At this rate, complete mastery of qi and blood is just a month away, granting you access to the first transformation level."

    "That''s good." David smiled.

    He had determined that practicing Qi and Blood Martial Arts in the Southern Wilderness magic world was very beneficial, and the speed of practice was at least three or four times that of here!

    Could the difference in mana energy be the reason for his accelerated growth? The thought sparked a flicker of understanding in his mind.

    "Upon achieving this qi and blood transformation," Piaomiao Mu continued, her voice turning serious, "you''ll officially become a disciple of our Baiyun Martial Arts School. This grants access to advanced training techniques, secret medicines, and the knowledge of the second and third transformation levels."

    David nodded respectfully. "My appreciations, Master Mu,"  he gestured Yue Gui, who stepped forward and presented a gift. A piece of jade, carved into a delicate bamboo leaf, gleamed in Piaomiao Mu''s hand.

    Piaomiao Mu''s eyes widened as she took the gift. The jade radiated a subtle, calming energy, and its flawless craftsmanship spoke of considerable value ¨C likely dozens of taels of silver, a fortune for a Black Rock City middle-class family. A warmth spread through her, not just from the jade''s energy, but also from the unexpected generosity. Perhaps, she could foster a closer bond with this new student, she mused, maybe David wouldn''t hesitate to offer financial assistance if she needed.

    "Please, Master Mu," David urged with a genuine smile. "It''s a mere token, a lucky leaf I stumbled upon." David was speaking the truth. It was indeed a leaf fell from the Jade Bamboo canopy in his Southern Wilderness rice field.

    Later that afternoon, Lei Shen arrived, and David repeated the offering. This time, however, a flicker of something cold and calculating crossed the warrior''s eyes as he received the jade leaf. David, with senses far beyond those of a mortal thanks to his magic training, couldn''t help noticing. Every emotion Lei Shen tried to mask was laid bare before him.

    "Thank you, sir, for the gift!" Lei Shen beamed, his grip tightening around the jade bamboo leaf with unconcealed delight. "Congratulations, young mastah, on your impressive progress. With your continued dedication, I have no doubt you''ll soon develop true power, reaching the level of a martial arts mastah!"

    David raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "True power, you say? Beyond the three qi and blood transformations?"

    Truth be told, even a warrior at the third qi and blood transformation level was insignificant to a mage like David. But a martial arts master ¨C that was a different story altogether.

    Lei Shen was simply indulging in flattery. He chuckled inwardly at David''s naivety.  "Indeed!" he boomed, a hint of mockery glinting in his eyes.

    There were things Lei Shen wouldn''t utter aloud. The three qi and blood transformations were a treacherous path, each step a steeper climb than the last. While the first transformation was attainable by most with enough resources and effort, the second demanded genuine talent. As for the third transformation? A pipe dream for most in Black Rock City. Even in the entire martial arts world, young disciples reaching that level were as rare as phoenix feathers.

    The realm of a martial arts master was an entirely different beast, a cruel joke played on those who believed that mere effort could overcome the limitations of their birthright.

    "Forget fortuitous encounters", Lei Shen scoffed internally. "Even I, crippled by injury in my prime, could only become a teacher here in the Red Snake Martial Arts Gym." These were all bitter truths Lei Shen kept buried.

    A sly smile spread across Lei Shen''s face as he addressed David. "Naturally, martial arts masters possess immense poweh," he said, his voice dripping with feigned enthusiasm. "But to unlock true poweh, you must join the martial arts hall and become a core disciple. Only then will you gain access to the coveted ''Essence Script'' ¨C the key to integrating qi and blood into true power..." He paused, stroking his beard thoughtfully, a glint of avarice in his eyes.

    The bait was cast. If David took it and joined the gym, wouldn''t that ensure his continued flattery and extravagant gifts?

    Meanwhile, David felt a spark of intrigue. "Essence Script?" His eyes gleamed with a predatory light. "Is it for sale?"

    Lei Shen blinked, momentarily thrown off balance by David''s abrupt question. "The Essence Script? It''s a closely guarded secret... not something one can simply buy."

    "One thousand taels of silver!" David countered with a surprising offer.

    Lei Shen''s breath hitched, his eyes widening with a mixture of greed and apprehension.  "Mastah Lu, it''s not disloyalty! He''s just offering too much..." He thought to himself.

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    Seeing the man''s internal struggle, David pressed his advantage. "Two thousand taels, then? And I can go even further."

    Lei Shen stammered, "This... I need time to consider."

    As the warrior practically stumbled away, a playful smirk tugged at David''s lips. "Essence Script" was likely the foundation for every martial arts school. He wasn''t desperate; he knew persistence would grant access once he reached the third transformation. His outrageous offer was a calculated jab, a way to inflame the greed already simmering within Lei Shen.

    "Dragonheart Mansion needs a foothold in Black Rock City," David thought, reaching into his pocket. The comforting weight of the "Little Thunder Scroll," "Sunfire Ward Scroll," and "Ice Scroll" bolstered his confidence. "As long as I don''t get close to them, there is no risk even against a third transformation warrior. Only the martial arts masters give me pause."

    A flicker of curiosity crossed David''s mind. "What separates these masters from a Forging warrior?" The answer, while intriguing, was certainly not worth risking his life to uncover.

    Night.

    David reclined on a bamboo chair in the courtyard, savoring an ice cream that defied the summer heat. Yue Gui, his ever-attentive maid, watched him from the doorway, a hint of amusement in her eyes. She wondered why the young master preferred the natural breeze to the cool air of the mansion''s interior. Perhaps, she mused, a chilled lotus seed soup would be a welcome treat for him tomorrow.

    Just as the idea formed in her mind, a sigh escaped David''s lips. "He finally decided to come."

    A figure in black, eyes gleaming like a rodent''s, face hidden behind a veil, scaled the mansion wall with the agility of a spider. He clutched a compact pouch, its contents a potent soporific incense.

    "Damn those upstarts," he hissed, his voice barely a whisper in the night air. "Flaunting their wealth while I scrape by on meager tuition fees. A fortune lies within those walls, ripe for the taking.ˇ±

    Lei Shen, familiar with the mansion''s layout, crept towards the warehouse, his heart pounding with a mixture of greed and resentment. He fumbled with the incense pouch, intending to lull any unsuspecting guards into unconsciousness.

    Whoosh!

    The courtyard erupted in a blaze of light. Torches flared to life, casting long, dancing shadows across the manicured lawns.

    "What the...?" Lei Shen whirled around, his eyes widening in shock as a circle of burly guards, armed with imposing staffs, closed in on him. Piaomiao Mu stood at their center, her face a mask of fury.

    "Shen Lei!" she spat, her voice dripping with contempt. "You dare to betray your employer? Your actions bring shame upon all martial arts schools in Black Rock City!ˇ±

    Lei Shen, caught red-handed, coughed nervously. "I''m Ma Wei," he stammered, his voice barely audible. "I don''t know any Shen Lei.ˇ± Classic thief logic ¨C maintain the facade, deny everything. Like a caught adulterer, as long as the mask stays on, innocence is presumed. The same principle applies to pants, apparently.

    Lei Shen''s agility was undeniable. He darted past two guards, a blur of black, sending them reeling with a single, powerful shove.

    "Halt!" Piaomiao Mu''s voice boomed, her figure a whirlwind of white as she unleashed a ferocious White Cloud Palm attack. Her hand, shimmering a sickly gray and reeking of fish, struck with the full force of her training.

    "Hmph," he scoffed, "child''s play." Yet, he didn''t want to expose the Red Snake Legs technique. With a swift, fluid movement, Lei Shen dodged, leaving Piaomiao Mu grasping at air.

    The chase was on. Piaomiao Mu surged after him, while the guards managed to momentarily hinder Lei Shen''s escape.

    The inevitable clash arrived. Lei Shen, cornered, unleashed a furious roar. His legs whipped out, a blur of deadly strikes mirroring the movements of a serpent.

    A resounding boom echoed as leg met palm. Piaomiao Mu stumbled back, a pained grunt escaping her lips. Lei Shen''s brute strength and experience gave him the upper hand, but victory was not without cost. A piece of cloth fluttered to the ground, revealing three distinct gray fingerprints on his leg ¨C the mark of Piaomiao Mu''s poisoned palm.

    A grimace twisted Lei Shen''s face. "Poison, is it?" he hissed, the pain fueling his rage. "This changes nothing!ˇ±

    With a burst of adrenaline, he broke free from the encircling guards, his Red Snake Legs propelling him into the darkness.

    The Red Snake Legs were exposed, but denial remained his strategy. After all, the Red Snake Martial Arts School had plenty of apprentices to deflect suspicion.

    Just as Lei Shen prepared to make his escape, a voice dripping with amusement cut through the tension. David sauntered out from the shadows, shaking his head. "Old Shen," he drawled, "such a lack of manners. Reporting you to the officials is the least I can do.ˇ±

    Lei Shen snarled, his eyes hardening into slits. "Enough charades," he hissed. "Consider this a lesson, one you won''t soon forget.ˇ±

    Despite the poisoned palm, Lei Shen''s agility remained undiminished. He weaved through the guards with lightning speed, closing the distance between himself and David in the blink of an eye.

    "Master Shen," David greeted calmly, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes, "why the rush?ˇ±

    A tall figure emerged from the shadows behind David. A flicker of recognition sparked in Lei Shen''s mind, but it was too late.

    With a casual flick of his wrist, the figure sent a wave of force rippling through the air. A sickening crack echoed through the night as Lei Shen''s legs buckled beneath him. He was flung backward, his body slamming against the cold stone wall before crumpling to the ground, a broken puppet.

    "Youˇ­" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper, the pain mingling with the cold dread of recognition. "Mu Canglong! Masteh of the Baiyun Martial Arts School!ˇ±

    "Indeed," boomed a powerful voice. Canglong Mu, a man in his fifties with a weathered face and a calm yet imposing presence, stepped into the moonlight. "You dared to harm my daughter and target my esteemed client. Such insolence will not be tolerated.ˇ±

    Confusion and fear warred in Lei Shen''s eyes. "Here? Why are you here?ˇ±

    David, ever the pragmatist, interjected. "Five hundred taels of silver secured his presence." He paused, a sly smile playing on his lips. "After all, Master Mu, wouldn''t you agree that some lessons are best learned firsthand?ˇ±

    Mu Canglong nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Indeed," he said, his voice a low rumble. "And this lesson, Masteh Shen, will be one you won''t soon forget.ˇ±

    David had no qualms about outsourcing the task. Why risk himself when he could witness true martial arts mastery for a few hundred taels? Money, it seemed, could indeed buy solutions.

    The demonstration was proving to be quite the eye-opener. Observing Canglong Mu''s effortless takedown, David''s mind raced with calculations.

    "A warrior at the third qi and blood transformation is a mere child before a martial arts master," he concluded. "The difference is a qualitative leap in power."

    While Lei Shen possessed superior speed, strength, and resilience, against a master, they were meaningless.

    "Master... master is akin to a top level Forging warrior''s strength and constitution, wouldn''t you say?" The realization was exhilarating.

    After all, body forging required not only skill but also resources, measured in mana crystalsˇŞa currency David lacked. But in the Three Kingdoms, silver could buy those same resources. A clever exchange, he thought, a way to bridge the gap between worlds and elevate his own power.

    "Mastah Dragonheart," Canglong Mu inquired, his gaze fixed on the incapacitated Lei Shen, "how do you propose we handle this trespasser?"

    David considered for a moment. "While I have no desire for further conflict with the Red Snake Martial Arts Hall,ˇ± he began, his voice measured and calm, "alerting the authorities seems unnecessary at this point." He sighed, "Let''s bring him before the Red Snake Hall owner for a discussion. Perhaps we can resolve this matter amicably.ˇ±

    Canglong Mu nodded, a flicker of approval in his eyes. He admired David''s level-headedness and his willingness to seek a peaceful resolution.

    Then he heard David continue to say: "Master Mu, please bear witness tomorrow.ˇ±

    A steely glint entered Canglong Mu''s eyes. "Of course," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "For the sake of my daughter, my client, and the reputation of all martial arts schools, I will not let this transgression go unpunished.ˇ±

 24. Snow

    A month had flown by, and the Shadoway clan held its usual resource distribution day. But today, an electric buzz filled the air. It wasn''t just the Ironhard Draught that fueled the excitement; it was also the highly anticipated gambling duel between Snow and Larry.

    Almost all the Shadoway children packed the martial arts field, eager to witness the showdown. Rumors swirled about the outcome. Would Snow crumble beneath Larry''s first attack, or would his defiance lead to a prolonged, excruciating death? The children of the Shadoway family were secretly looking forward to it.

    Meanwhile, oblivious to the brewing spectacle, Snow emerged from the body-tempering chamber, a satisfied grin splitting his face. "Seventh level already!" he declared, clenching his fist and reveling in the surge of power coursing through him. Finally, he could begin using the Essence of the Earth. However, today''s gambling battle with Larry demanded his immediate attention.

    The Shadoway family boasted over a thousand members, and over three hundred young disciples filled the martial arts field. A cacophony of voices filled the air with speculations about Snow''s ability to withstand Larry''s attacks and grim predictions of his demise.

    "Look! Larry''s here!" A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as Larry entered the arena, his entourage surrounding him like a swarm of admirers. Clad in a sleeveless training uniform, his muscles bulged, promising explosive power.

    "By the One, look at those muscles! They hold terrifyin'' strength!" someone exclaimed. Discussions erupted, fueled by rumors of Larry''s devastating punch.

    The crowd buzzed with disbelief. "How can Snow possibly compete?" they scoffed. "Even if he done somehow jumped to the eighth level, he''d still be toast against Larry!"

    "Aside from Drew and a couple o'' them ninth-level fellas, ain''t nobody in the family got the guts to face Larry."

    Amidst the fervent chatter about Larry, a hush fell as Snow stepped into the arena. Unlike Larry''s grand entrance, he was accompanied only by Zoe and Dreamy. The crowd recoiled, treating him like a plague carrier.

    Larry smirked - the trash had shown up. A woman named Cherry, another Shadoway descendant with a troubled past, stood behind him. Cherry and Snow were once close, even nursing childhood feelings for each other. Yet, Snow''s decline in status as a student of magic shattered their bond. While outwardly friendly, Cherry harbored secret ambitions. The day Snow confessed his affections, she brutally humiliated him, a scene witnessed by many of their peers.

    Cherry''s calculated actions secured Larry''s favor and boosted her standing within the family.

    Snow held no illusions about Cherry anymore. Elijah''s memories and experiences had molded him into a different person, one devoid of romantic attachments for the manipulative Cherry. Now, facing Larry, Snow stood strong, his resolve hardening with each passing moment.

    Cherry, by Larry''s side, watched Snow with a smug grin. She congratulated herself silently for avoiding any fallout from Snow''s potential demise. In her eyes, Snow, a perennial loser, wasn''t even worthy of her scorn. Meanwhile, Larry, basking in the crowd''s adoration, flaunted his muscles, further fueling the cheers.

    Snow offered a reassuring nod to Zoe and Dreamy before calmly walking onto the stage. The Shadoway children mostly regarded Snow with disdain. He was a notorious loser, unable to defeat even the weakest members of the family. How could he possibly stand a chance against Larry?

    Several women gathered around Zoe, one of them overweight and seemingly concerned. "Zoe, darlin'', listen to me." she sounded earnest, "Snow''s young and headstrong, but this ain''t no game. He''s outta his league with Larry. You gotta pull him off that stage, beg Larry''s pardon, and give up the goods. Might be the only way to save his hide."

    "We''ve seen Snow grow up, bless his heart," another woman chimed in, her voice dripping with faux concern, "He''s always been a sweet boy, but bless his heart, he ain''t the sharpest tool in the shed. It''d be a real shame if he kicked the bucket here today."

    Dreamy''s nose wrinkled up like she''d smelled something sour. "Keep your noses outta our family business!" she retorted. "Y''all got no idea what my brother''s capable of. Just wait and see him make Larry eat dirt!"

    Everyone expected Snow''s defeat, except Dreamy, who was privy to his true strength. In her mind, even if Larry had broken through to the ninth level of Forging stage, he wouldn''t be a match for her brother.

    The heavyset woman gasped, her hand clutchin'' her chest. "The gall of this girl! Don''t you know how to speak to your betters?"

    Another woman chimed in, her voice sharp as a whip. "Zoe, you best rein in that young''un of yours! Ain''t no excuse for her talkin'' to her elders like that, it''s downright disrespectful."

    Zoe, despite her own worries, found strength in Snow''s confident stride. She shot a glare at the gossiping women. "Thanks for your ''concern''," her voice dripping with sarcasm, "But Dreamy''s right, this is our family business. Respect ain''t somethin'' you get just ''cause you''re older. You gotta earn it. And Dreamy? She''s got more sense than most folks twice her age. She knows who''s got her respect, and who don''t."

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    The women bristled at her words. "Just you wait and see what happens to that little brat!" one of them threatened.

    Zoe raised an eyebrow. "Watch your tongue! Curse my Snow again, and you''ll regret it!"

    The women, surprised by Zoe''s sudden fierceness, were momentarily speechless. By the time they formulated a retort, the opportunity had passed. Forced to swallow their pride, one of them muttered, "We''ll just see about that."

    Snow arrived on the stage, seemingly unnoticed by Larry, who continued to flaunt his muscles.

    The stage bristled with training tools for the Shadoway children. A massive drum stood out, used to test their raw strength. Each punch against it unleashed a booming response, a sonic testament to a fighter''s strength. One boom for a thousand pounds, two for two thousand, a symphony of power waiting to be unleashed.

    Larry''s smirk finally flickered towards Snow, a cruel amusement dancing in his eyes. He unleashed a powerful punch on the instrument, generating a resounding sequence of eight sounds, indicating a force of eight thousand pounds. The crowd, familiar with Larry''s prowess, held their breath in anticipation.

    Another drumbeat echoed - nine times!

    "Nine thousand pounds? Did Larry bust through to the ninth level?" someone exclaimed. Such strength placed him among the top ranks of the younger generation in the Shadoway family.

    A moment later, a softer beat resonated, yet still indicated a force close to ten thousand pounds!

    A collective gasp swept through the audience. Whispers of "breakthrough?" fizzed through the air. Larry, ever the prodigy, pushed the boundaries of the eighth level. This display of raw power was phenomenal, even more impressive if he hadn''t achieved his ninth-level breakthrough. With such feats, he solidified his status as a family genius.

    On a raised platform near the stage, a group of elders sat bathed in the afternoon sun. Witnessing Larry''s near-ten-thousand-pound punch, Silas, the Fourth Elder, thumped his staff on the ground, a wide grin splitting his face. Leaning towards him, Ezra, the First Elder, inquired with a hint of amusement in his voice, "Has young Larry finally busted through to the ninth level, my friend?"

    "Not quite yet, brother," Silas replied, his voice respectful, but with a twinkle of pride. "He''s chosen to solidify his foundation ''fore movin'' on up." The unspoken boast hung heavy in the air - Larry could reach the ninth level whenever he darn well pleased.

    Ezra chuckled, a sound both amused and a tad competitive. His gaze flicked towards the Second Elder before settling back on Silas. "Indeed, quite the prodigy, our Larry. Pushin'' near ten thousand pounds of fist power before even reachin'' the ninth level. Mighty impressive." He knew his words were a jab, a not-so-subtle reminder that the Second Elder''s son, Drew, had only managed a little over nine thousand pounds at the same stage.

    The Second Elder, Caleb, bristled, a scoff escaping his lips. "Hmph, brute strength ain''t nothin'' compared to true talent," he countered, his voice tight with barely concealed anger. "The Aer Weaver''s Realm''s the real test. Some folks get ahead of themselves, wouldn''t you say?" His words were sharp as a knife, a clear challenge to Ezra''s gloating.

    In the center of the raised platform, sat Cedric, the Chieftain. Recently emerged from a successful seclusion, he observed the tense exchanges between the Elders with a hint of amusement playing on his lips. The power struggle between First and Second Elders was no secret to him.

    "A little bit of friendly rivalry keeps folks sharp," he murmured to himself, his face etched with the wisdom of years. "But too much ambition can tear apart the very things we''re tryin'' to build." Cedric knew the delicate dance of managing a vast clan. Resources and competition were tools, yes, but they needed a firm hand to wield them effectively. It was a burden he shouldered willingly, the weight a constant reminder of the responsibility he held for his people.

    On the stage, Larry held his head high, radiating arrogance. He extended a hand, beckoning Snow to test his strength.

    Snow remained motionless. Displaying his power felt pointless - a mere spectacle.

    "Yellow-bellied coward!" someone jeered, mistaking Snow''s calm for fear. "He ain''t got the guts to even try hittin'' that drum against Larry."

    "Ain''t that the truth. If I could only muster up a measly three, four thousand pounds, I''d be hightailin'' it outta there faster than a jackrabbit."

    Larry''s disdain intensified. Snow''s initial gamble''s audacity had earned Larry''s grudging respect. This unexpected reserve, however, threw him off guard.

    Suddenly, a middle-aged man leaped onto the stage, silencing the crowd. "Today''s gambling battle between Larry and Snow Shadoway decrees that the loser surrenders monthly resources. Within the competition stage, life and death are of no consequence. Clan rules stipulate that no interference is allowed until a participant concedes or dies! The outcome of this battle will be witnessed by the Chieftain and the elders!"

    His voice boomed, "Let the competition begin!"

    Larry remained rooted in his spot, his disdainful gaze fixed on Snow. The prolonged silence prompted him to jeer, "Seems you ain''t got the guts to admit defeat."

    A mischievous grin spread across Snow''s face. "Why don''t you concede first?"

    Larry''s face twisted, a scowl replacing the sneer. "Real funny, pal. But the time for talkin''s over."

    "Crush him, Master Larry!" A voice from the crowd - probably River, the guy with the busted legs - howled with savage glee.

    Larry looked at River and nodded slightly. He extended a single finger, then followed with a series of exaggerated cracks and pops as he rolled his neck and wrists. It was a clear message: a one-punch victory.

    Snow understood. Larry intended a swift, decisive blow.

    With a powerful kick that sent tremors through the ground, Larry launched himself towards Snow like a speeding arrow.

    "So fast!" gasps erupted from the audience.

    A savage smile twisted Larry''s face, his eyes gleaming with cruelty as he unleashed a punch brimming with nearly ten thousand pounds of force.

    Zoe clutched her chest, anxiety gnawing at her. Even Dreamy, despite her unwavering trust in her brother''s strength, couldn''t help but feel a flicker of worry at the ferocity behind Larry''s punch.

    "Ten thousand pounds? That weak?" Snow scoffed. Though he hadn''t formally measured his strength, he knew it vastly surpassed that figure.

    Furthermore, Larry''s speed, while impressive to ordinary disciples, was agonizingly slow in Snow''s eyes. He didn''t even want to use his full power. With a raised fist, he channeled the power of only the fifth level of Forging.

    A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. "He''s not gonna dodge?"

    "Crazy! Even a level-nine warrior''d think twice ''bout takin'' that hit!"

    "He''s askin'' for it!"

    Larry''s sneer morphed into a triumphant grin as he saw Snow stand his ground. Misinterpreting his opponent''s resolve as foolishness, Larry poured every ounce of power into his punch.

    "It''s over," the Fourth Elder declared, a gloating smile plastered across his face.

 25. Snow

    A mighty blow echoed across the field. Shocked gasps filled the air as Snow wasn''t smashed to bits. He stumbled back a few steps, but Larry got knocked even further. Disbelief twisted the faces in the crowd - wide eyes, slack jaws, all mirroring the same "What the hell?" moment. Snow, the runt of the litter, was trading hits with their golden boy, Larry!

    Cherry Shadoway, watching from the crowd, couldn''t hide her astonishment. Humiliating Snow before leaving him for Larry now seemed foolish. "Holdin'' back," she mumbled, a seed of doubt sprouting in her heart. "But can I trust someone so sneaky with my future?" Clinging to a shred of hope, she thought, "Larry''s got the better moves! You ain''t gonna beat him!ˇ±

    Even the seasoned Elders were caught off guard. Silas, the Fourth Elder, his face full of surprise, lurched to his feet, only to sink back into his seat a moment later. "I underestimated the kid," he muttered, a trace of unease crossing his features. "He''s been hidinˇŻ his true power. But," he added quickly, a strained smile plastered on his face, "Larry''s experience is top-notch. This fight ainˇŻt over yet."

    Cedric, the Shadoway Chieftain, remained a stoic island amidst the sudden chaos. Unlike Silas, he didn''t believe Snow was hiding his abilities. The boy''s recent surge in power was undeniable, a stark contrast to his near-death experience at Larry''s hands just a month ago. Something extraordinary had transpired. Regardless of the source, this newfound strength was a boon to the Shadoway family''s prestige. Still, a shadow of doubt lingered in Cedric''s eyes. Though determined to protect Snow, Cedric doubted his victory against Larry, a seasoned fighter.

    Larry, the most stunned of all, reeled back. A searing pain racked his right hand, as if he''d punched solid steel. He''d messed up, underestimating Snow big time. "You sneaky little bastard!" he roared. "You couldn''t have gotten this much stronger in a month!"

    Snow held his ground, a hint of disappointment crossing his face. Even using only the power of the fifth level, he''d anticipated a more decisive victory. This display only placed him marginally above Skyfall''s strength when he was at this level. Yet, confidence remained. With the Essence of Earth, his power would doubtless skyrocket.

    Larry smirked. "Strength ain''t everything. Get ready for my Stone Claw!"

    Snow, recognizing it as an advanced technique reserved for high-ranking members, frowned slightly. Larry clearly didn''t qualify. Unfazed, Snow scoffed. His Tempest Strikes were a symphony of power and finesse, leagues beyond Larry''s rudimentary Stone Claw.

    Larry lunged, claws aimed for Snow''s throat ¨C a lethal move for anyone unprepared. Cedric, enraged, slammed his fist on the chair. ˇ°Silas! Larry ainˇŻt supposed to be usinˇŻ Stone Claw, is he?" He glared at the Fourth Elder before charging to intervene. Ezra, the First Elder, however, blocked his path.

    "Lots of children use Stone Claw, Chieftain," Silas countered.

    Ezra chimed in, "Maybe it''s time to rethink that restricted techniques rule. It''s holdin'' the family back.ˇ±

    Cedric roared, "Bullshit! It keeps ''em motivated! Get outta my way! This duel ends now!ˇ±

    "Clan rules say no one interferes," Silas countered, and Ezra held his ground. He didn''t want to fight Cedric, but a moment''s delay meant Snow''s demise.

    Cedric blasted Ezra with a surge of energy. Ezra staggered back, coughing blood, looking at Cedric in shock. The Chieftain''s power had grown significantly. As the Chieftain and elders argued, Snow surprised everyone by effortlessly dodging Larry''s Stone Claw.

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    Cedric''s eyes narrowed. This footwork... it wasn''t a Shadoway technique. Yet, Snow used it with an agility that left the Chieftain speechless.

    The unexpected onslaught continued. With a blur of movement, Snow dodged another attack before unleashing a brutal blow to Larry''s back. A spray of blood erupted as Larry crumpled, a look of pure terror contorting his face.

    Overwhelmed and in pain, Larry forgot to concede defeat. Snow advanced, seizing this opportunity, he fully intend to kill Larry. ˇ°You''re gonna pay for what you did," Snow snarled, his voice dripping with venom.

    Larry shuddered and finally remembered to surrender, but the words died on his lips as Snow clamped a hand over his mouth. He hoisted Larry into the air, the humiliation evident in the younger man''s wide, terrified eyes.

    Stunned silence descended upon the martial arts field. This swift and brutal outcome defied everyone''s expectations. Disbelief hung heavy in the air.

    Suddenly, the Fourth Elder, the one who moments ago had argued against interference, lunged onto the stage.  "Stop!" he roared.

    Snow, consumed by murderous rage, scoffed. He''d made his decision. But before he could deliver the final blow, a blinding flash of light split the air. The terrifying aura that accompanied it sent shivers down his spine.

    "Get away!" The primal scream echoed in his mind. Death threatened to engulf him. He knew continuing the execution would mean his own demise.

    With a desperate leap, Snow abandoned Larry and barely avoided the razor-sharp sword strike that carved a deep gash into the platform. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. A fraction of a second slower, and he would have been sliced in two.

    "Kill him, Grandpa!" Larry''s panicked shriek echoed through the arena. The glimpse of Snow''s intent to kill had left him utterly terrified.

    "You rascal! Slayin'' your own kin? You''ll be the ruin of the Shadoway name!" The Fourth Elder''s voice boomed with fury as he lunged at Snow, a blade of energy crackled with power.

    Terror flooded Snow''s veins. His heart hammered against his ribs, and a cold sweat slicked his skin. He knew this wasn''t a playful spar ¨C Silas meant to kill him.  His seventh-level Forging wouldn''t be enough to withstand a full-powered attack from the Elder, a peak level Aer Weaver, on the cusp of entering Wave Weaver''s realm. Defeat was inevitable.

    "No!" Zoe''s scream ripped through the air. Snow had defeated Larry, and just as a sliver of hope bloomed in her chest, it was brutally crushed.

    A figure materialized between Snow and the deadly blade. With a flick of his wrist, the Chieftain effortlessly intercepted the attack, shattering the sword light into harmless motes of energy.

    "Silas," Cedric''s voice was laced with ice, a chilling rage burning in his eyes, "you''ve gone too far."

    The Fourth Elder paled. He was no match for the Chieftain.  Fear replaced his rage as he stammered, "He... he threatened a fellow Shadoway! I merely acted out of... a momentary lapse in judgment."

    Fury ignited in Zoe''s eyes. She stormed onto the stage, placing herself protectively in front of Snow. "Don''t you dare lay a hand on him, old man?" she roared, her voice trembling with righteous anger. "Ain''t my son just as much a Shadoway as yer precious grandson? Where was all yer righteous anger when Larry near beat Snow to death? Now, in a sanctioned duel, Larry won''t own up to bein'' beat. Even if Snow had to finish him, it wouldn''t break no rules! Larry can strike down a fellow Shadoway, but Snow can''t defend himself within the rules you all set? What kind of twisted justice is that?"

    The Fourth Elder''s face drained of color. The confident sneer he wore moments ago had vanished. "Snowˇ­ a loser. How can he compare toˇ­" His voice trailed off, the insult dying in his throat. Now that Snow stood victorious against Larry, the Elder''s words hung heavy with irony.

    Cedric and Zoe exchanged a cold glance in the Fourth Elder''s direction. Before the situation could escalate further, Ezra intervened, his voice a calming balm. Meanwhile, the Second Elder perched on the high platform observed the scene with a hint of amusement, a silent smirk playing on his lips.

    "Enough!" Cedric boomed, his voice echoing across the field. "Take your people and leave. Remember, Larry''s resources are forfeited. They now belong to Snow. From this day on, if Larry wants resources, he must contribute to the family and earn them!"

    A wave of relief washed over the Snow family. Justice, long denied, had finally been served. They basked in the sweet satisfaction of victory, the sting of past injustices fading with each passing moment.

 26. John

    "The Archanum of Scrolls" unveiled a trove of twelve basic scrolls. Among them, the fiery Fire Scroll, the nimble Fleet-Foot Scroll, and the cleansing Purification Scroll were the simplest and the best for new inscribers to practice.

    The trouble? Worth. In the Order''s market, six of these scrolls barely fetched a single mana crystal. Profitability lay in advanced creations. The morning sun cast long shadows across the room as he spent the entire night practicing, churning out Fire, Purification, and Fleet-Foot Scrolls.

    "Thirty-one total," he muttered, counting the fruits of his labor. ˇ°After deducting materials, three crystals profit. Ninety a month, two hundred seventy in three months... working tirelessly, maybe five hundred forty..." Hope flickered. A thousand crystals within three months seemed achievable, especially if the Citadel of Siren Delight remained inactive.

    The market buzzed with activity, a vibrant tapestry of mages, merchants, and exotic creatures. John set up his stall, heart pounding with anticipation. But as the hours ticked by, his hope dwindled. The scrolls remained untouched, their vibrant colors failing to attract the attention of the passing crowds. Aer Weavers, with their limited resources, focused on training and rarely indulged in the luxury of scrolls. Unlike independent mages, who needed to stockpile them for protection, the Order''s mages, even those in a dark conclave, enjoyed a basic level of security.

    Frustration gnawed at John''s gut. He had poured his heart and soul into these scrolls, yet they seemed destined to gather dust. Just as he was about to give up, a figure emerged from the crowd, her eyes scanning the stalls with an intensity that drew his attention. She was a late stage Wave Weaver, her aura shimmering with power. She paused at John''s stall, her eyes widening in surprise.

    "You inscribed all these?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

    "I did," John replied, his heart skipping a beat.

    "Are you interested?" he ventured, a glimmer of hope returning, but then he realized how stupid his question was, why would a Wave Weaver need basic scrolls like these?

    "Very," she confirmed, her gaze sweeping over the scrolls. "Do you have Inferno Scroll or Thousand Blades Codex?ˇ±

    John shook his head. "I just started learning scroll inscription. Haven''t mastered Wave Weaver''s scrolls yet.ˇ±

    The girl''s surprise deepened. "You are just starting?ˇ±

    "Yes, this is my first batch. I made them last night.ˇ±

    "Who is your master?ˇ±

    "Archmage Meridian," John replied.

    "No, I meant your inscription master.ˇ±

    "I..., I don''t have one. I learned on my own.ˇ±

    The girl stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. "You mean to tell me that you learned the craft of scrolls by yourself, and made all these scrolls in one night?ˇ±

    John nodded, unsure why this seemed so unbelievable.

    "I''m Winter Bright," the girl said, extending her hand with a dazzling smile. "And you are, genius?ˇ±

    "John Riversong, ˇ± he replied, taken aback by the compliment.

    "John," Winter''s eyes sparkling with admiration, "you probably don''t know how much of a genius you are. I''ve studied inscription myself, and it takes at least a couple of months for a talented disciple to inscribe this well. Moreover, your Fire Scroll is really special. Look at its aura, so vibrant. I wonder if it has some special effects."

    John was speechless. Could his success be attributed to a unique saidin pattern or a hidden talent for inscription? He pondered the possibilities, a spark of excitement igniting within him.

    Yet, he couldn''t help but sigh. "Genius or not, no one wants to buy these scrolls."

    "Give me six Fire Scrolls," Winter said, placing a mana crystal on the table. "And if you ever learn to make Inferno Scroll or Thousand Blades Codex, definitely let me know. I''ll be a regular customer.ˇ±

    She took the scrolls from John''s hand, a cheerful smile on her face, and disappearing into the bustling crowd. John watched her go, a newfound sense of hope blossoming in his chest. Perhaps his path to financial freedom wasn''t as bleak as he had imagined.

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    After the deal, John packed up his stall, a new resolve settling in his eyes. He had tasted success, however small, and it fueled his determination. He bought more materials, his mind already racing with the possibilities of Wave Weaver level scrolls. But first, he had a duty to fulfill. The Pristine Luna at Moonsilver Lake needed his care.

    Over the next few days, John fell into a rhythm. Mornings were dedicated to the botanical garden, his hands deftly tending to the various herbs and plants. In the afternoons, he would retreat to the secluded courtyard, meticulously caring for the prized Pristine Luna, its ethereal glow a constant reminder of the power it held. Evenings were spent at the market, where he sold his scrolls and gathered information, always alert for new opportunities. And as the moon climbed high in the sky, John would retire to his room, the soft glow of the mana lamp illuminating his workspace as he delved into the intricate art of scroll crafting.

    The Pristine Luna had been a boon to John''s magic training. He got two blue bubbles by tending it every day.

    [Mana Affinity]

    [Mana Affinity]

    On the contrary, the botanical garden yielded mostly white and green bubbles. John realized consistent care of the Pristine Luna could propel him to the mid-stage Wave Weaver within three months, making it all the more important to find a way to conceal his aura.

    John adopted a daily practice of identifying the Pristine Luna. Typically, the results were

    [Pristine Luna: Holy medicine for healing, the main ingredient of Tears of the Moonwillow, is about to mature and in good condition. ]

    Occasionally, the results would indicate that the Luna was not in good condition, being too cold and needing more magma, though he was unsure of the exact amount needed. He would cautiously add a little extra, hoping it would suffice.

    For his scrolls business, he shifted his focus to more advanced creations, the Inferno Scroll and the Thousand Blades Codex. They fetched a fair price of five mana crystals each. Unfortunately, weaving one took too much of his mana reserve, he can only make one each day. With his mana affinity growing, he knew he could make more soon.

    With his current success rate, John could barely break even. However, time was on his side. Increased success rates in the future would guarantee profits. Luckily, his mana affinity improved daily without dedicated training, so a temporary reduction wouldn''t significantly impact his progress. This flexibility wasn''t available to others.

    John arrived to find Echo Reverie, her usual friendly smile tinged with a hint of concern. "Brother John, always punctual," she greeted, her voice a touch softer than usual.

    John dipped his head in a curt nod. "Wouldn''t want to disappoint, Senior Echo." He''d grown accustomed to Echo''s warmth, a stark contrast to Lady BlancheˇŻs icy demeanor.

    "Lady Blanche is on edge today," Echo murmured, her eyes darting nervously towards the main house. "The pressure of the harvest is weighing on her. Whatever you do, don''t bother her. Tomorrow''s the deadline, so don''t give her any reason to lash out.ˇ±

    John''s gratitude for the warning was evident in his quick nod. "I''ll be careful, Echo. Thank you.ˇ±

    Alone in the Pristine Luna area, John approached with a practiced ease. But a surprise awaited him. Gone were the familiar blue bubbles. Instead, a single, vibrant purple bubble pulsed beside the holy flower, its ethereal glow casting an otherworldly light on the surrounding foliage.

    "Purple? That''s odd," John muttered, his brow furrowing in confusion. Years of tending the botanical garden had never yielded anything like this. He knew better bubbles only appeared at the beginning and the end of a plant''s lifecycle.

    Intuition gnawed at him. Channeling his magical power, a message materialized before his mindˇŻs eye: "[Pristine Luna: The holy medicine for healing, the main ingredient of Tears of the Moonwillow, has matured.]"

    Unlike other elixirs, Pristine Luna had no set harvest time. It matured on its own, withering and regrowing in a never-ending cycle until its next maturity. Legend spoke of its lengthy intervals.

    Despite the unexpected timing, John knew delay was not an option. He secured the purple bubble and hurried to report to Lady Blanche. The bubble had already dissolved into his body by the time he reached the master''s quarters.

    [Enchanted Item]

    "Finally, another piece of the puzzle to unlock a new power," he thought, suppressing the urge to explore it immediately.

    With a composed voice, John announced himself. "Disciple John at your service, Lady Blanche. I have an urgent matter to report."

    After a while, just as John was about call her again, the door creaked open, revealing a scowling Lady Blanche. "Speak quickly,ˇ± she snapped, her voice sharp with impatience. "This better be important.ˇ±

    John braced himself. He wouldn''t waste her time with trivialities. After gathering his thoughts, he said, "While tending to Pristine Luna today, I noticed an anomaly. Signs of maturity, perhaps. So, IˇŞ"

    Before he could finish, Lady Blanche vanished, her figure blurring as she rushed out the door. John understood ¨C the unexpected maturity warranted immediate attention. He followed her towards the Pristine Luna area, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

    Moments later, John found Lady Blanche carefully collecting the matured Pristine Luna, her movements swift and precise. A look of awe and wonder transformed her usually stern features as she cradled the glowing flower in her hands. Relief washed over John ¨C the mission, albeit unexpected, was concluded without incident. The harvest, naturally, surpassed expectations. Forget twenty crystals; the real treasure was a brand new magical power.

    For the first time, John felt a trace of warmth in her voice as she praised him, "A keen observation indeed," while carefully storing the Pristine Luna in a crystal container.ˇ±

    John downplayed his role. "Just a hunch, Lady Blanche. Your guidance has been invaluable."

    "Your ability is undeniable," she countered. "Now come. I''m taking you to meet the owner of this flower. Be sharp, and you might gain something more than just a reward."

    John''s heart pounded in his chest. A meeting with the elusive Regent Headmaster? He had heard whispers of her power and influence within the Order, but had never dared to dream of meeting her in person. Nerves fluttered in his stomach as he prepared to face this legendary figure.

 27. David

    Sha Lu, owner of the Red Snake Martial Arts Gym, was a man of coiled tension. Short and stocky, his flamboyant red robes seemed to mock his otherwise unassuming frame. But it was his eyes, cold and reptilian, that truly unsettled those who met his gaze. They glinted with a predatory intelligence, like a venomous snake sizing up its prey. When he walked, a sense of unease settled over those around him, a feeling of being watched by a predator.

    Feeling the weight of Sha Lu''s gaze, David cleared his throat, facing the viperine owner. "Master Lu, this situation with Lei Shen... well, let''s just say it''s regrettable."

    "Regrettable?" Sha Lu rasped, his voice rough as sandpaper. "Then perhaps you should simply release Shen Lei and forget this ever happened."

    David darted a helpless look towards Canglong Mu, who had taken his money to be the mediator. Canglong Mu cleared his throat. "Lu Sha," he began with authority, "this unfortunate incident arose due to a lapse in judgment on your school''s part. We are simply here to ensure your reputation remains intact."

    Canglong Mu''s voice was firm as he laid out the terms. "A full refund of all tuition fees collected by Red Snake. That''s the first order of business. Additionally, Master Dragonheart deserves compensation for the distress caused by your instructor''s actions.ˇ±

    Sha Lu''s face contorted, his eyes narrowing into slits. "So, Baiyun Martial Arts is ze puppeteer behind this little show, is it?" he accused, his voice dripping with venom.

    Canglong Mu met Sha Lu''s gaze with unwavering composure. "Believe what you will, Masteh Lu. The past cannot be changed. While Masteh Dragonheart can no longer train at your school, he has, unfortunately, already learned your Red Snake Legs technique. Perhaps a day spent studying your school''s Essence Script would suffice as compensation?ˇ±

    "Essence Script?!" Sha Lu''s voice rose an octave, his short stature seeming to inflate with outrage. The muscles in his legs pulsed, and his skin flushed a worrying shade of crimson. A clear warning that disagreement could turn violent.

    "Now, now, Mastah Lu," Canglong Mu raised a placating hand. "It''s just a script. Surely, with so many students having laid eyes on it, a single viewing by Mastah Dragonheart wouldn''t cause the heavens to fall." He couldn''t help but suspect Sha Lu was simply trying to drive up the price.

    David, sensing an opportunity, interjected smoothly. "Master Lu, I only require half a day to study the Essence Script. To demonstrate my sincerity and compensate for any inconvenience, I''m willing to offer an additional thousand taels of silver!ˇ±

    A stunned silence filled the room. Sha Lu''s eyes widened, the anger momentarily replaced by a flicker of greed. He finally understood why his instructor, Lei Shen, had been so tempted to betray his own student.

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    After a beat of silence, Sha Lu cleared his throat, forcing dry chuckle. "Deal," he rasped. Not that he wouldn''t have loved to haggle, but a thousand taels had already far exceeded his expectations.

    ---

    "Red Snake Legs Essence Script," David murmured, his brow furrowed as he examined the animal skin in the dimly lit room. The parchment depicted an abstract scene ¨C a chaotic blend of colors and lines that hinted at a dense mountain forest. Upon closer inspection, however, menacing serpentine shapes emerged from the chaos, their sinuous forms slithering amidst the trees. A shiver ran down David''s spine as he tried to decipher the deeper meaning hidden within the artwork.

    "Only those who''ve mastered the third transformation of qi and blood in the Eight Snake Walks can truly comprehend the Essence Script," he recalled, the words echoing in his mind. The script, passed down through generations of Red Snake practitioners, was more than just a visual representation; it was a key to unlocking hidden knowledge and power.

    David''s gaze lingered on the unusual artwork. Every nuance of line and shade held meaning, crucial to unlocking its secrets, impossible to replicate through simple copying.

    "Ordinary artists wouldn''t stand a chance," he thought. "The true power lies within, unlocked through dedicated practice ¨C a privilege reserved for the Red Snake Martial Arts School''s core disciples."

    With a swift movement, David flipped his hand, revealing a blank jade slip. He pressed it against his forehead, channeling his spiritual energy. The Red Snake Essence Script, with its intricate forms and colors, began to transfer onto the jade, detail by detail.

    This was the method mages used to preserve secrets. Ancient texts, illustrations, any form of knowledge could be replicated with flawless precision, capturing the essence and every nuance of the original.

    "Since the script was created by a human hand," David mused, "it can be recreated. Ordinary artists lack the power and understanding, but a mage''s psychic abilities can bridge the gap. "

    He finished transferring the script and studied the glowing image within the jade. In this world of the Three Kingdoms, perhaps only a master of Red Snake Legs could even attempt to depict such a thing. Yet, he had accomplished it with ease.

    "Sha Lu must have assumed I wouldn''t be able to memorize the script in such a short time," David thought, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "A costly miscalculation on his part."

    A smug satisfaction settled over David as he relinquished the copied Essence Script. He even went the extra mile with a thank-you gift, further solidifying his image as a naive, wealthy outsider. Sha Lu, for his part, scrutinized the script with a practiced eye. Relief, barely concealed by feigned courtesy, washed over him as he confirmed its authenticity.

    "May your journey be smooth and your path clear," Sha Lu offered a curt farewell, the forced pleasantries barely masking the resentment simmering beneath the surface.

    "Until next time," David echoed, feigning ignorance of the underlying animosity. He knew Sha Lu likely harbored a grudge, but that was a bridge he''d cross when he came to it. For now, he possessed the true legacy of Red Snake Legs, a treasure trove of knowledge and techniques that would propel him towards his goals. The future held endless possibilities, and dependence on the Red Snake Martial Arts School was a thing of the past.