28 Suspicious

The two shadows waited until Van was deeply asleep before making a move. One figure crept up to the slightly opened window and inserted a narrow tube of bamboo in the gap.

Pu!

A small, round ball sailed silently through the air.

With an almost inaudible thump, it landed upon the scattered robes beside Van's sleeping form. A strange miasma seethed out from the pores of the ball and soaked the robes. At the final moment, the small ball disintegrated. No evidence was left.

Mission successfully performed, the pair withdrew into the night. The sound of their footsteps faded into the distance.

Van opened his eyes.

In the dim light, he stared at the robes that lay on the ground beside his head.

Senior Ruskel was right. People were acting against him already.

_______________

Van purposely wore those same robes for several days in a row. And before you ask, yes, he did change his linen underclothing every night.

During the daytime, the boy walked around more than he usually would. He roamed around the sect grounds in the evening, waiting for shadows to jump out at him from behind pillars, bushes, trees - anything. Each of his senses was on high alert.

He wanted to see what kind of cunning plan these idiots would concoct, and who they would be. He didn't doubt that they had some connection to that haughty Klaus Bayer fellow, who seemed to have some unremovable stick up his backside.

Unfortunately, no one ever jumped out from to give Van the jump-scare he desired. After a few days with nothing happening, Van slowly put it to the back of his mind. It would happen sooner or later, he just had to wait for it. He didn't think they would have the patience to wait several months or even weeks to act. In the meantime, he would take advantage of the time they gave him.

Van trained with renewed vigour.

The improvement in his body cultivation caused by consolidating his past efforts finally reached a limit. Jet told him that he needed to find another treasure if he wanted fast results. But did these treasures grow on trees? Sadly not.

Now Van was stuck at the last step - opening the final ninety-ninth meridian.

While at peak speed, Van had been able to heal over fifteen meridians every night – mostly because he had grown used to the process. However, each of the final twenty meridians took a long time to puncture through. This was because the last 20 minor meridians were thin and required the most spiritual power to widen to an acceptable level.

Unfortunately, the herbs given as a reward by the one-eyed head servant had run out and Van was stuck, unable to open the final meridian.

Van frowned under the moonlight.

It seemed all his current problems stemmed from a lack of resources.

A sigh left his lips. He knew the problem - but how could he fix it...?

Mentally, he poked Jet.

The ring spluttered awake.

Recently, it had liked to take many naps throughout the day. It was an old and ancient existence, and although it was a ring with a small physical body, the lack of spiritual energy in the air left it in a constant state of exhaustion. It was almost worse within Van's body since the kid had yet to cultivate to any significant level. The naps it took were the only way it could conserve its energy without having to fall into a month-long coma, the way it did after it gave all its power to Van.

Due to the way it's Master designed it, it was forever unable to cultivate spiritual energy purely on its own. It could only collect power by existing in someone's spiritual sea, where it could siphon off spiritual power. That said, its special body meant that it needed less power to cultivate to higher levels.

Recently, Jet had made an extra effort to sort out its memories. Unfortunately, its endeavours could only be likened to a blind man fumbling through a forest - every so often, a sharp branch would smack into it and send Jet tumbling down the wrong trail.

After weeks of this clumsy investigation, Jet slowly came to understand that his Master had left many items within him, and that these things could only be unlocked as Van grew in power.

Who knows what was hidden within? Skills, treasures, books - anything was possible.

Jet told Van about its discovery.

But oh how Jet regretted - it was just rudely awakened from its beauty nap!

And worse, the little brat was now prodding him as if he were a treasure box ready to spill out its glittering guts. The arrogant ring could barely restrain itself – it wished it had teeth, or anything other than this stupid ring-body, so it could bite off Van's mental finger.

It cried out.

[Do you want to die!]

"No," Van replied stubbornly, "I want is treasures."

The ring hmphed.

[I don't have any. Go find something yourself. Isn't this a sect? There's probably nothing good in this lowly place anyways.]

Van rolled his eyes again, already used to the ring's lofty sights. But he considered its words. He suddenly realised he needed to be more proactive in gathering resources from the sect.

Hn. Van stood up.

He had a new goal - to find out how and where to get more resources!

Van grew excited thinking about precious herbs, magical treasures and fantastic beasts – and where to find them. His imagination went wild. The short little sticks people could wave around and perform magical feats with. Somehow, Van was certain that these things existed somewhere.

If Jet had eyes, they would have rolled.

Still a village bumpkin to the core!

Van recalled the special-looking Iron Grasses he had found back on Mount Steady. They had long fallen to the bottom of his rucksack, along with his wolf-pelt. Now he pulled them out.

The serrated edges were still sharp, gleaming brightly despite the darkness of the night.

"Do you know what these are?" Van asked, prodding Jet again. The ring wished it hadn't taught Van how to manifest mental energy. Dodging Van's second mental finger, it replied:

[Trash. As usual.]

Van rolled his eyes again. It was becoming a habit when it came to this annoying ring.

[Seriously. How can I, an ancestor with lofty origin and billions of years of existence possibly remember a tiny, insignificant blade of grass?]

"Precisely because you're an ancestor with billions of years of experience?"

[Would you name and remember every single particle of dirt you stepped on since you were born? I didn't think so.]

[Hmph. By appearance, its just a low ranked spiritual herb. What's so special about that?]

So it was a spiritual herb!

The original Iron Grass was good for staunching wounds and regenerating blood. Van wondered what this one would do.

[I suggest you restrain yourself from eating it for now. It would be better for you to collect several more items before you assail your last meridian. It will be difficult.]

Van nodded. He put the herb away and dusted off his robes.

For now, his cultivation was stuck until he could find more spiritual items to blast through that final blockage. Then he could be said to have achieved a flawless foundation for cultivation.

Van returned to his sleeping quarters spiritedly.

_______________

The next day, as Van was getting into the swing of things in the forest, a soft cough sounded behind him. Focused, as he usually was when he was on the job, Van ignored it.

There was another cough, this time a little louder.

With great force, Van swung the axe into the tree

DAK!

The axe's blade was lodged into the tree firmly. Satisfied, he finally turned around. His dark hair was matted to his forehead.

When he looked up, he saw a young woman of about fourteen years of age standing between two trees. A smile hung awkwardly on her face and she had short hair that curled softly around her ears.

"Hi, I'm Freya," she slowly said, "It's nice to meet you."

Freya extended a palm to Van.

He smiled. A brief flash of an incisor glinted in the sunlight.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you, Freya."