Chương 138: Tensions (V)

The leaving of the hall was rather... unceremonious. Well, that's the nicest way I could put it--we were simply kicked out. There weren't any goodbyes or farewell drinks or feasts, no, just a kick in the ass (proverbial), and we were back on the ground... where, once again, we had to suffer unto the void being ripped open and the warship going through it. This time around, I didn't lag behind and simply pretend to pass out relatively quickly.

I was already discovered once, and I didn't want to chance it--especially now that they're paying a touch too much attention to me, on the account of, you know, me getting the same invite Holy Lands were getting. In their eyes, I was a literal nobody--which begged the question as to why I was invited. In fairness, I wish I weren't; for starters, I quite literally don't even know where the Eternal-whatever sect is, even if I wanted to go for some ungodly reason.

Secondly, why would I willingly go to a place teeming with high-end cultivators? Just on the off chance I might get lucky in the hidden realm? Who's to say they won't just take that shit, anyway? Aah, whatever. I'll 'consult' with Long Tao. It's still three years away, anyway. Though, for them, that might be nothing, to me, three years is still a fairly lengthy bit of time. As we started 'waking' up, I'd expected us to resume our dinner, to be honest.

I don't think the bit of news that we got was that immediate, but, apparently, I was severely wrong.

"This is where we bid our farewells, Fellow Daoist," Old Zemin said as he ordered the disciples and the elders of his sect to start packing up.

"A bit of friendly advice: if I were you, I'd hide that token where nobody could see it. While none of us would dare harm you, the value of entry to the Phoenix Realm is so massive that I have no doubt many others would risk everything for that small chance."

"Oh. Thank you for the warning," I said, already fully intending to shove that damned thing in the depths of my spatial ring and just forget about it.

"Is there really any need to be in such a hurry, however?"

"Ho ho, I suppose not for you," he chuckled.

"But for the sects, there's a lot of things to do. This is a once-in-a-generation opportunity, which means that not only do we have to start preparing for the internal competition for the spot, but we also have to strengthen the chosen disciples as much as possible. Three years... they'll pass in the blink of an eye, and if we aren't prepared for it, we'll be the ones to suffer." Yeah, I guess it makes sense.

On my end, it's just me and a ragtag group of random kids; if I choose to go, with the token in hand, I can take them all inside with me. For sects, though, it was a different bit of business. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Well, regardless, thank you for your hospitality. I hope you'll have a successful journey to the realm."

"Hm? You're not going?" he asked, seeming surprised.

"... it's just me and the kids." I put on a bitter smile.

"Truth be told, I have no idea why I was even given the token. If I went, I'd make a mockery of myself--which, fine, I wouldn't mind too terribly, but I'd be putting the lives of the kids at risk. You've seen them; do you really think they belong?"

"... you were given the token for a reason," he said, the look in his eyes rather strange.

"As for what that reason is... I don't know, and it looks like you don't either. But there is a reason. The rules around the realm are remarkably strict, and though killing does occur from what we've heard, it's so severely punished if discovered that it's a rarity. Regardless of all else, I hope to see you there in three years' time."

"Hm. Perhaps," I said, offering a bow.

"I wish you a safe journey back home." Honestly, it was kind of fascinating how quickly they cleaned up everything and disappeared. Not just Old Zemin's group--but everyone. They were like ghosts--one moment here, the next... who the hell knows? Before an hour was up, there was only the solitary tent that we were generously gifted. Honestly, I am more thankful for the tent than the freakin' token--now, at least, we won't have to sleep under the sky.

As I returned to the tent, I saw Long Tao standing in front of it, looking up at that very sky. His expression... well, suffice to say, I nearly pissed myself when I saw it. He was angry. Honestly, I don't think I ever saw him get angry --maybe annoyed, yes, but never angry. This... this went beyond even that. If looks could kill, I'm pretty sure the sky would be raining blood right about now.

"Everything okay? Are the kids fine?" I asked, worried that someone might have taken the chance to do something while Wan Lan and I were away.

"They're fine," Long Tao said, his gaze piercing me.

"Wan'er, could you give us a moment?"

"A-ah? Of course, Master!" She quickly bowed and entered the tent, leaving the two of us behind. He stayed silent for a long while, and I didn't press. He was already in a foul mood because of whatever happened in the ruin, but this was something... new. Something different.

"That warship," he asked.

"Did you pick up who it belongs to?"

"Eternal Edge Mountain, I think they called themselves," I said.

"Eternal Edge Mountain..." he mumbled back.

"Why? Do you know them? I mean, do your parents know them?"

"Not... them, specifically," he said.

"The feeling they gave off, though, was familiar."

"Familiar how?"

"My father told me about it once," oh boy. Here I go again, getting tangled up in something well beyond my capacity to understand.

"There exist seven so-called Primordial Pillars," right, Old Zemin mentioned that.

"Supposedly, they preside over the Seven Heavens as the Guardians. Kids born there immediately ascend to Demigodhood, if you believe the tales." I very much do.

"One of them, I remember my father saying, is called Sword Mountain--supposedly, it's where the sole Sword God resides." Yeah. I really shouldn't be learning all this crap.

"Anyway," he shook his head slightly, his expression softening.

"My father said that each cultivator of the Sword Mountain has a distinct edge to them, as though their very existence is a sword cutting the space in its path. Those figures who descended... they were vaguely similar."

"Old Zemin did mention that there are rumors they're a branch sect of one of the Seven Primordial Pillars."

"Hm, figures," he nodded.

"What did they want?"... why do I suddenly have a bad feeling about this?