Chapter 25: Decay

Chapter 25: Decay

Harel was confident that platinum-rank cultivators didn’t need even an hour of sleep daily.

She was only on the silver path and needed less than four hours.

Marven slept for over twelve hours a day.

It had been nearly a week since they started their ‘journey.’ In reality, the very moment they reached the first settlement, the journey had practically ended. They were staying at an inn. The innkeeper was charging them insane prices, mainly because their, or rather, Marven's presence, had chased all the other patrons away.

Harel didn’t understand prices since she never really dealt with money. According to Marven, he was being charged three times over what it would cost to fill the entire inn. But he was so obscenely wealthy that that was still chump change for him.

People were frightened of Marven. If not for the fact that he had annihilated his sect, then for his utterly horrid physical appearance.

Even though he slept for over twelve hours a day, he constantly looked like he hadn’t slept a wink. Marven had eyebags practically reaching his lips, his hair was greasy and matted, while both his breath and just he in general stank from several rooms away.

Harel had to listen to him cry all day for the first few days of their stay here. On one such occasion, he ran out of the room, panicked, and knelt before her.

“Why did... Why did I do it!? What...” He grabbed his heart in anguish, “What would have Kashimir...? What went through their heads in those moments? I killed them. In cold blood, I killed them, my children. I am... What am I? Some sort of monster? Why would I do that?” He then smacked his head on the floor so hard the floorboards cracked. “I... I am unredeemable. They were the way they were because of me. It was my fault. Who the hell did I think I was to judge them like that!?” Then he got up off the floor. “I have to find them. I have to find the rest of them and beg for their forgiveness. They can take my head if they want, but I am determined to make things right.” Marven dramatically marched out of the inn.

Harel hadn’t even moved the entire time, nor had she chased after him.

Marven returned half an hour later, carrying several bottles of hard liquor. Then he crashed on his bed and fell asleep. Again.

Something like this happened several times throughout the first few days. Honestly, Harel wished that hadn’t changed. Now she was woken up in the middle of the night by moaning. And soon after that, five scantily dressed women rushed out of Marven’s room, and he angrily chased them out.

“Get out of my room, you whores! You will never replace what I had!” Then he cried. Again.

Harel did want to help, be there for him, or do anything, but what was she supposed to do? She was a thirteen-year-old kid. What little life experience Harel had was almost entirely spent holding a sword. What could she do for a several hundred-year-old man struggling with grief and guilt?

Nothing. She couldn’t do anything at all.

Harel still felt indebted to Marven for everything he’d done for her, so she didn’t want to leave him. But her training had to continue, one way or another. At first, she just practiced her swordsmanship in her room, trying to visualize the movements she saw Neave execute.

She could remember the movements, sure, but recreate them?

Hell no.

Everything from how he adjusted his posture, to the edge alignment, to the sword's trajectory, to the unreasonable amount of force and speed the strikes were capable of demonstrating. All of it felt like it was a lifetime of practice away for her.

Let alone doing all that while standing on the points of glass shards. Harel couldn’t even comprehend how long it would take someone to acquire such mastery.

Merely visualizing those movements was good enough for her. Remembering the feeling they gave off was enough to help with her progress. She quickly exhausted this source of inspiration, however. The room was pretty damn cramped anyway.

Harel then decided that taking a stroll around this town could help her find at least a solid location for training. There was an open-arena training ground, but she was drastically overqualified. Challenging iron path cultivators and kicking their asses wasn’t a great source of improvement.

Although it did help her take the edge off a bit.

Eventually, she decided that leaving the town was the better option. This proved to, indeed, be a good source of improvement.

One improved fast when fighting for their life, after all.

The woods within any sect's area of influence were kept meticulously clean and empty of monsters. The Zearthorn sect’s area of influence wouldn’t become dangerous for another few months at least.

However, there were plenty of caves loaded with monsters to go around.

Harel had faced gigantic bats, massive centipedes, giant slimes, nasty abominds, and these were the things that weren’t a threat. Then she encountered a giant rock golem.

They were technically a silver-rank threat, so it should have been appropriate for her level of advancement. Who could have known that a low-quality sword was a poor weapon of choice for a giant creature made of stone?

She was doing great at first. Until her sword snapped like a twig; then, she was unarmed and surrounded by too many enemies to count. Those were still minor issues.

The more significant issue was the blade golem that had just appeared. A high gold rank threat. A steel golem with countless sharp limbs and protrusions.

Harel ran.

She moved as fast as she possibly could. Usually, a golem’s greatest weakness was its lack of speed, but a high gold rank threat could still run her down with little issue.

Even if it was too slow to reach her, a blade golem wasn’t dangerous due to its speed. It kept firing sharp steel shards at her as she desperately dodged and weaved around them. She was pretty sensitive to sword qi, so she could feel the blades coming, but even then, she was barely fast enough to avoid getting shredded to pieces. Very quickly, cuts of all sizes started appearing all over her body. She was bleeding out, and there was no way she could reach the cave entrance on time.

A gust of wind blew by her. The blade golem was shredded to pieces.

“... Marven?”

Marven stood behind her, holding a large sword in his hands. Then he sighed.

“Was I so pathetic you’d rather kill yourself in a monster-infested cave than tolerate my behavior?”

“No, I just–”

“It’s alright. I do not blame you. You are a child, Harel. Yet another person who was my responsibility...”

“... And yet another person I’ve failed.”

Harel gritted her teeth. She wasn’t going to listen to this crap anymore.

“Please just shut up already.”

Marven frowned and turned around, shock clear on his face. Harel continued talking as she walked towards him, robes bloody. Her eyes were sharp, and so was her tongue.

“Yes, I agree. You were a terrible sect master. And I agree that the sect was your responsibility. So!? What!?” Harel threw her hands out. “SO!? WHAT!? Is your plan now to just mope around endlessly!? What will it be next, thirty women? Or will you start doing drugs as well when the alcohol stops being enough?”

He frowned as he remembered the words of the corpse from the dream. Neave frowned harder as he sensed a silver path spirit approaching the mansion with his spiritual perception. Immediately, his mind whirled with paranoia.

Is someone coming to kill me?

He thought twice about that. Why was that his first thought? He had been here for nearly a week, and the only person that had even approached him had come to thank him. He may have been wrong about the nature of other people. Being wrong was a normal thing in life. After all, the most outstanding scholars would much rather be wrong and learn something new than always be right and never learn anything.

Then he sensed the second silver path spirit on the other side of the mansion. And the third one. And the fourth, fifth, sixth, and...

“Yeah. I’m sure they got the wrong address.”

The wall in front of him exploded. Neave jumped back and ran further into the mansion, sensing the intruders moving along the estate, a few climbing onto the roof. He didn’t panic, however. There was no need to panic. Because he no longer had life force issues.

And he could finally demonstrate the true power of the immortal arts.

As long as he kept the intruders separated, he could take them on individually.

Neave stopped dead... And so did all the people chasing him.

Did they know where he was? His spirit was hidden by life force. There should be no way for them to sense his location. Something was strange. That was contemplation for another time.

Neave grinned and grabbed a sword out of the dimension ring. This was no puny shortsword. He pulled out a two-handed greatsword and cackled as he prepared a true strike. One of the invaders broke through the roof and into the attic, preparing a technique to break into the hallway Neave was in.

Neave took a stance. Golden runes enveloped his entire body. The sword screamed furiously as it slowly traveled through the air in a stabbing motion.

The walls around Neave collapsed, and the flying strike from his sword obliterated the ceiling above him. Wood exploded in a shower of debris, and the man standing above Neave clutched his leg as it bled profusely. He wore a white cloak, face hidden behind a black mask.

Neave quickly repaired his spirit and took another stance. He swung the greatsword with all his might, trying to bisect the man as he fell towards him. The sword landed with a cling, striking the man’s back.

However, even though he had struck the man directly, he couldn’t bisect him. The man flew away, hitting a wall and bouncing off. He fumbled, putting a hand on his bleeding back and readjusting himself to face Neave.

Neave clicked his tongue and repaired his spirit again. This man must possess some sort of defensive spirit power.

The man screamed something unintelligible and rushed at Neave. Neave couldn’t take this fight haphazardly. This man was a cultivator on the second step of the silver path, and he was far from the only opponent Neave was facing. It was true that he didn’t need to be that careful with his life force anymore, but if he got too low, he would still be in trouble. These people also seemed to have a way of perceiving his location.

So Neave just turned around and ran. He sprinted and used a movement technique to get through the wall and escape outside. Not even seconds later, they were hot on his trail.

How the hell are they tracking me like this?

Neave ran into the town, using movement technique after movement technique. He was rapidly exhausting his qi as he dodged between the different buildings. He had already put some distance between himself and his pursuers. Even without looking back, he could sense them clambering over the buildings and chasing after him.

He was nearly completely out of qi when he reached the wall. He pulled out a qi restoration pill from Kamella’s ring, one of his last few, and used a movement technique to get to the other side of the wall. Then he used the long-range, high-speed technique and bolted into the forest.

***

“What in the world is he?” Gabrias stood on the wall of Pavarrie, looking down over the town.

His spirit power kept track of Neave as he dodged and weaved between buildings. He couldn’t believe it when he felt him magically appear on the other side of the town wall. He looked down at the hooded figure next to him and spoke.

“Tell your men to gather and regroup. He’s made it out of the town. We are going to have to go after him.”

The hooded figure nodded and lowered its head a bit. Then all the cultivators in the town stopped chasing after Neave and ran toward their position. The hooded figure then spoke up.

“Are you sure he is not even on the iron path?”

“Yes.” Gabrias responded and frowned.

“Then we absolutely must catch him before he advances his cultivation.”

***

The eighth wave has begun.

Neave had nearly finished running through the entire clearing, but then he paused. Those words kept echoing through his mind, again and again, and again...

He would have taken it immediately if he ever had the opportunity to strategically retreat when fighting the demons.

So why was he hesitating now?

Why didn't he just run away?

Yes, as he ran, his steps slowed.

His heart pounded out of his chest. Every bit of his mind and body screamed at him to run the hell away and not look back. Why take the risk? There were over half a dozen silver path cultivators on his tail.

But what if they hunted him down?

Well, he could get more powerful in the meantime.

What if they bring backup? What if they come with someone on the golden path?

The eighth wave has begun.

Why are you being a coward? You can not escape. There is nowhere you can hide. There is nowhere you should hide. Enemies are everywhere around you, Neave... After all...

The eighth wave has begun.

Neave turned around.

And ran back toward the town.