The forest floor blurred beneath Arrand's pounding feet, each step a jolt of agony that radiated through his battered body. Blood spilled onto the leaves and dirt, crimson droplets marking a trail that his pursuers would surely follow.
"How?!" he yelled, his voice raw and ragged, splintering through the dense canopy overhead. The air shimmered, and a jade spear materialized, its shaft wreathed in violet flames that crackled with malevolence. Its screech pierced the oppressive silence, a mocking herald of pursuit. Barely able to dodge it, Arrand's heart thundered as he spun and bolted, his breath escaping in sharp, uneven gasps. The twin suns blazed above, their heat pressing down like a physical weight, sweat mingling with the blood streaking his skin, stinging his wounds with every movement.
His plan had been meticulous—weeks of midnight scheming to weave the property's Formations into a deadly snare for his uncle—but Qingshan's power had surged beyond Arrand's calculations. His misjudgment shattering his confidence like brittle glass. How is he so strong? The question gnawed at him, a relentless echo in his mind. Betrayal burned deeper than his wounds, the sting of his uncle's strength a bitter reminder of his terrible miscalculation. The Fuchsia Sect's courtyard lay in ruins behind him, its shattered runes smoldering, Qingshan's verbal backhand more than a lingering taunt. The spear sliced past his shoulder, tearing through his robes and drawing a fresh gush of blood.
Arrand stumbled but caught himself, his resolve hardening—he would not die here, not like this.
"You can't run from this," Qingshan's voice boomed, a thunderclap that rolled across the sect grounds. Arrand glanced back as he soared upward on his flying sword, glimpsing his uncle's golden weapon cutting through the sky like a beacon. Soldiers swarmed below, their shouts rising like the baying of hounds, while Elders Lin, Huo, and Wei ascended in Qingshan's wake. Their robes flapped dramatically, their barked orders dripping with self-important authority. Arrand bit back a curse at the absurdity, that the Sect allowed three elders to pursue one fugitive? It was overkill, a testament to Qingshan's bloated ego and backer, yet it only sharpened the danger closing in around him.
Mid-afternoon hung heavy, the twilight painting the horizon in blinding streaks of orange and gold. The twin suns' glare seared his eyes but it was also his best chance to vanish into the light. Charging westward toward the mountains meant crossing the Fuchsia territory's edge faster than his fastest pace, a gamble that could either save him or doom him entirely.
"Shit. Shit. Shit," he muttered, the words spilling out in a frantic litany. His mind raced as fast as his blade, desperation clawing at his composure. The jagged peaks loomed ahead, their shadows promising cover—or a trap he couldn't yet see. Frustration drove him downward toward their rocky summits, skimming the treetops. The forest offered scant protection, its branches snapping under his sword's wake, his true destination lay beyond.
Soon the mountains and valley open to the sea, one more ridge and… His thought shattered as a blast of blue light seared across his already injured shoulder, singeing flesh further and drawing a hiss of pain. More pursuers had arrived. He spun mid-air, ducking a second volley that streaked past, the elders' anger palpable in their shrill cries.
Elder Lin's voice cut through the chaos, "Surround him!" Her blade gleamed as she accelerated, her companions weaving a deadly net around him. Their coordination was precise, a dance of overzealous pride—did they think him a beast to be herded?
"Sweeping Shadows, Shadow of Light," Arrand rasped, spitting blood as he wove his spells. The effort drained him, his body trembling under the strain but it paled against the fate he'd imagined for his enemies.
"Shadowgate." A purple rift tore open before him, its edges crackling with unstable energy. He plunged through, reappearing in a hollow beside a fallen gnarled tree, the portal's closure ripping at his wounds like a thousand tiny blades. Pain enveloped his hand, each Shadowgate a wound to his core cultivation in an injured state but he clenched his jaw and pressed on. I need to recover or I'm finished. Reaching into his storage ring, he withdrew a Talisman and three piles of materials, their individual glows pulsing like restless stars. The Talisman floated upward, unfurling into a shimmering bubble that cloaked him, consuming the other materials gradually to mask his presence, though its frailty was as thin as gossamer.
Qi surged into him, a lifeline he grasped with ragged breaths. "Uncle Qingshan, you really mean to kill me," he whispered, coughing up more blood as he sank into a meditative stance. The Talisman would burn out faster than an incense stick and anyone stumbling upon the barrier would see through it instantly. "This won't buy me enough time…" Bitterness laced his words, the irony cutting deep—a sect heir reduced to hiding like a common thief, his grand schemes reduced to a flickering and failing talisman.
The search for him was far from over. Combing the woods and beaches would take time, nearly everyone had at least some method to conceal themselves in case of emergency and detection methods were secrets that no one shared. The elders scrambled overhead, their shouts a distant clamor, the mountains' shadows stretching as Arrand's time bled away.
Within the storage space itself, Wuzao Wuhlou was aware and conscious, he could see fluctuations in the energy, things moved around and items had disappeared. "What is going on?" His senses weren't dulled and he was definitely aware.
The storage ring's void was a swirling chaos, a pocket realm where blades, orbs, and corpses drifted in a restless tide, their energies flickering like dying flames. Wuzao Wuhlou felt the breaks along his ribs while he stood in his Mortal Imprisonment cage, its runes glowing with a faint, cruel light. His defiant eyes scoured the void looking for answers. An outcast who'd slain men, he was no mere child but a prisoner who knew little to nothing of his own unknown power.
Flashes of different colors and intensity followed as corpses flowed around him but almost all of the items within the storage space seemed inert. Twinkles across the dimensional space were strange, he thought. Magic crystals, stones and ore packed in like magnets, strangely none of them collided despite their density. There were an abundance of materials within the space. Some things that, should he have seen them presented before him, would surely lead to his death. A sword that hummed with forgotten wars, an orb encasing a storm—these were relics that could crush a child like him, their power a silent threat by sheer proximity.
Lost in thought, an incoherent noise sounded in the distance.
The Noises startled Wuzao Wuhlou at first but over time the incoherence got louder and eventually turned to a whisper. Nothing he was hearing made any sense. Each word or phrase sounded as if it came from underwater. The whispers seeped from the void's edges, a garbled hum that clawed at his mind, their meaning drowned in distortion. "Hello?!" He yelled within the space but the answer didn't come. His shout was that of a child's, almost absurd in its futility, like barking at a tempest to hush.
Time passed, the whispering continued seemingly without end. The cage's runes burned his hands until the pain started to subside while he was still gripping the bars, his skin unyielding, his thoughts a whirl—what was this place and what was whispering?
A bright explosion in the Sky signaled to the others which way and where to go. Fireworks, the team of Hunters scowered the area started to regroup in the right direction, Arrand was running out of time. It didn't matter what was in their way anything and everything was easily trampled during their search. The Fuchsia Sea churned, its waves battering the western coast, the twilight sky scorched by the explosion's blue and golden glares.
Lieutenant G's warriors, their armor crusted with salt and blood, soared on flying swords, slashing through mist and coral, their pursuit a relentless storm. They moved with the swagger of men chasing a bounty, their shouts echoing like dockside brawlers, each warrior's taunt of victory and promised reward.
"Over here!" One of the soldiers shouted. His sword traced a ripple in the water, Arrand's blood trail a faint glow in the murky depths—an illusion.
Arrand shot out of the tree line some distance away, aiming for one of the isolated pursuers to open a path of escape. Once broken through, he had a small lead. More than fifty were now following him closely and several were giving off auras that gave him the feeling of intense power. "I'm going to get killed if this doesn't let up." At that very moment, Lightning passed directly in front of his face, the air swallowed by its passing. 'That was a close one!' He struggled to keep pace, attacks were getting closer and despite his best efforts, Arrand was running out of sky. The lightning, a jagged arc from a warrior's paper talisman, had singed his cheek, blood trickled into the sea, pain latching onto his torn body.
"Dawns Anchor" a shout broke the brief silence.
Chains flew from below to snare Arrand. He dodged with a flash but the attacks were getting closer. No matter what he chose there seemed to be no exit. The forged chains clinked like a fisherman's net, their runes suffocating, flickering like dying light grazing his ankle as he twisted away. Another row of soldiers were ahead of him lined in the Sky as he escaped the Chains' unending pursuit. The Coast opened up to a vacant skyline. Beaches, waves and the creatures that lay beneath were extremely dangerous but they didn't use tactics and were much fewer in number.
Pursued relentlessly, he veered toward the sea's distant roar. 'I hate sea creatures!' He flew into the water where survival depended on luck rather than skill.
A phrase from one of his teachers replayed in his mind as he descended, "It's possible to avoid Dragons in a Den but no one can ignore or avoid the ravages of the Sea!" But there was no option, he would have to overcome. The sea's depths enveloped him, a shroud of shadows the further he went, the warriors' blades glinting above like distant starlight.
Great serpents and predators spotted Arrand's arrival almost instantly. Their scales shimmered, jaws wide, drawn to his blood like sharks to chum. "Boost Speed, Weightless Tread, Shadowgate. Bloodlance.." The Bloodlance broke through the water and helped carry his momentum. He was forced to dive, Arrand appeared several hundred feet ahead in an instant. The purple rift's energy nagging at his wounds, blood gushed from his gut, the Shadowgate's strain a knife down to his bones.
"Razor's.. Edge." Metal shards circled around him and flew through a large beast with its mouth open, splitting it in half. The shards gleamed, slicing through scales, the beast's blood clouding the water seemed to confuse the other Beasts but his real pursuers had hardly given up. Spitting another mouthful of blood, Arrand yelled furiously. "Ellinger's Rot." Clouds of Toxin filled the water and masked his retreat. The green fog hissed, corroding another serpent's hide, its thrashing a fleeting shield while more sealife gathered.
Determined to get payback, it pushed him to desperate measures. Hiding on the Sea floor was not a solution, five times in a row he had nearly lost his life. His area of effect attacks were not doing the damage he hoped for and there were far too many opponents to pick off individually. Looking to the center of the distortion above, he could see the faint outline, a group shadow falling down upon it.
Arrand twisted his body and his look went sour, "Hemorrhaging Gaze, Insidion." Blood forced out of Arrand's left eye as if it had imploded, twenty of his pursuers detonated themselves underwater and he threw up. The technique's glare came at an enormous cost. Warriors' bodies burst in sprays of gore, their screams drowned out by the sea. More than half of those hunting him had been killed but it was not enough, his life lay on the line. He gasped, half exhausted, half dead. He circulated Qi in his body and recovered himself slightly, else water would have started to fill his lungs. Turning his head once again, a stray spear connected directly with his Jaw while another stabbed through his kidneys. The spears, hurled by Lieutenant G's men, pierced deep, blood flooding the water, Arrand's vision dimmed.
The Debris cloud was still looming overhead, he hadn't seen them coming at all. Arrand vomited blood over the shaft of the spear. Raising his hand a large stone rod materialized through one of their heads, forcing him to release the spear as the body sank. The rod crushed the warrior's skull, a fleeting and trivial matter as Arrand's strength continued to bleed out.
Arrand sped underwater as fast as he could to get away. He was leaving a trail of blood in his wake.
"He can't get far, not with wounds like that. Don't lose track of him, it's his corpse or yours." Several fighters were in agreement with the Lieutenant, now that they had been separated from the Elders, the reward would be theirs alone. The blood was thinning but still easy to follow in the dark water. Lieutenant G's voice carried a brash edge, his blade raised like a trophy hunter's, his warriors diving with predatory zeal.
There was no time to properly stop the blood, Arrand used the few paper talismans he had remaining to seal the wounds. After swallowing recovery pills and breaking his emergency token, the pills did nothing to help and the token crumbled to dust with no response.
"Ahhh!" Arrand covered his mouth momentarily and muffled the scream, he was furious and already running out of options.
"Ell-ingers Touch." Injured but unwilling to surrender, Arrand's resolve took to further desperation when he pressed the blade to his gut wound, cauterizing it shut by the corrosive effects. Without attention soon, he knew he very likely to die.
The talismans charred, the pills useless, his neck wound still refilling the sea around him. He felt dizzier at a daunting pace. The wound on his neck still gushed but it was impossible for him to use the same technique to stop the blood flowing to his head.
Another large explosion underwater forced him to tumble like a leaf in the wash, unable to avoid the sloosh.
'Tsk.. he's alive..' "Kill the Bastard, retrieve his corpse and lets get our reward!" The Lieutenant charged his fists and punched, "Summers Burn!" Rays of blinding yellow light exited his knuckles, clearing a path through the lingering sealife. Energy scattered, nine directions and then collected in a focal point—beaming directly toward Arrand. The beam boiled the water, its heat a furnace whereever it passed, Arrand's protective barrier crumpled under the assault.
Seven more Warriors continued the attack from a distance while Arrand struggled to maintain the ability to breathe.
He was pinned.
"I am no one's trophy!" Arrand refused to be captured, bit his lip, folded his hands a few times and forced his energy into his remaining eye until it too exploded from the pressure. Laughing as he floated among his own blood, the energy kept pouring into him continuously. His maniacal laughter was a wild snarl, a cultivator's last stand, raw and unyielding.
The Lieutenant shouted, "He's detonating! FOOLS! GET OUT OF THERE!!"
"'My corpse?' Never!!" Seething, Blood flowed from both of his eye sockets and he vacantly excised his last breath to speak, "If I'm to die you're coming with me!" His panicked resolve flared, a refusal to be Qingshan's scapegoat driving his last act. His hand signals stopped, light burst from his body brilliantly exploding into bits, debris traveled in every direction. A velvet maelstrom shredded Arrand's body, the sea around him boiled, warriors caught in the shockwave torn apart.
The Beasts which had been feasting swarmed.
"Trash. I always knew you were nothing but a pile of pills and wasted wealth!!" The Lieutenant spit to one side and hurried but smaller bits had already been swallowed by sea creatures. "Bloodied Slash!" Attacking the swarm of Sea Creatures forced them to scatter. Arrand's dismembered head with bits of his shoulder still attached were all that remained. Lieutenant G's blade cleaved through a serpent to check for more, his taunt a barked dismissal, his warriors diving with ruthless precision. "We have what we came for. Hurry up and kill all the Sea Beasts, When you find his hands, bring them to me!" The sea became a slaughterhouse, blades flashing, blood and scales churning.
The strange noises had slowly become louder within the Storage Dimension. Nothing happened for a long time, only the indistinct noise akin to whispering. A loud popping sound and cascading waves of dissipating energies were enough to jar attention from anyone within any sub-dimension, it signaled change and was typically viewed as a partial collapse of the space itself. The storage ring's void quaked, a chaotic realm where swords, orbs, and corpses drifted in a restless swirl, their energies surging like a shadowed tide, dark and out of control. The ring's restrictions shattered, Whispers' voice sharpening into clarity. The pop reverberated, a fracture in the void's fabric, the air thick with unseen shifts.
The whispers from before had vanished in what seemed like a single moment, less than a breath later what once sounded as gibberish began to make sense in Wuzao Wuhlou's mind, it boomed inside of his head. The voice was a thunderous wave, its words clear yet cryptic, resonating like a gong in a forsaken shrine. Wuzao Wuhlou's breath pitched, his hands gripping the cage's bars once more, the runes still scorching and ignored. The booming voice offered no solace, its meaning elusive, but it ignited a spark within him, a flicker of destiny in the dark. His earlier shout—"Hello?!"—now felt like a distant echo, a desperate cry swallowed by the void, replaced by a resolve that clung to his thoughts.
Bright Black Tendrils and Red Lightning traced in a corner of the Dimensional Space. It drew closer and burrowed around the pocket dimension like a mole.
"Who are you?" Wuzao Wuhlou asked.
The ring's inner realm roiled with hidden currents, artifacts adrift in the virtually soundless tempest. Wuzao Wuhlou stood within his Mortal Imprisonment cage. The tendrils slithered, red lightning crackling followed across the tendrils' surface like a mouth weaving through the void's edges with predatory intent.
"Who are you?" The Fog repeated his words as if to mock, the fog hissed. It's Mass flowed in front of the child's eyes and rolled back into itself. "WHO ARE YOU?" the fog bellowed, its voice dropped tens of octaves and shook the space.
The fog, a thick layer of black mist, churned with menace, its bellow rattling Wuzao Wuhlou's cage, the void trembled.
"Wu" Wuzao Wuhlou answered albeit shaken. His voice held steady, though his hands tightened on the bars, the runes' heat a familiar sting he'd long endured.
"Wu? This is not your name!" the fog sneered, red lightning flushed across its surface and the Fog appeared in another spot. The mist darted to a distant corner, its lightning cast jagged shadows over the relics—dozens of blades, treasures from any number of worlds filled the space.
"Wuzao Wuhlou," Wuzao Wuhlou answered honestly. "What do I call you?" His tone was blunt, unshaken by the fog's theatrics, a prisoner's resolve forged through countless threats.
"Do not concern yourself with what I am called.." The fog rasped, its tone shifting to a low chuckle. "Had I not shielded the ring from that explosion, both of us would have been lost to this place forever. Trapped in this dimensional space with no hope. I want out and you... want to escape."
"Everyone says this." Wuzao Wuhlou didn't let his situation change him, he took a deep breath. "Fine. I'll call you Whispers. Tell me what you want?" He considered holding back but there was no reason to do so, anything was better than what he had waiting for him before. He had prayed for it. Besides, what choice did he have. For some time, no matter where he arrived or awoke, someone had threatened to kill him. His words cut through the fog's posturing, a child's pragmatism born of surviving the Iron Veil Slavers' chains and the Fuchsia Sect's schemes, his life a spark in the void's gloom.
"I've saved us for the moment but it came at a cost. My vital energy is greatly depleted. Escape will take most of what I have remaining but that is not all.." The dense Fog morphed into a Translucent bell and began to spin.
"My proposal. I require a body. Yours." The bell spun faster.
"To be captured by Slavers so professional, no doubt you have hidden secrets. I contract to you, my soul to yours. Your body. My body. Your soul to my soul, Soul Conglutination." The bell's form morphed lightly before reorienting, its translucent surface etched with spellwork that shimmered in the waning light, its spin a vortex that warped the void's air, the weight of its offer pressing against Wuzao Wuhlou's chest.
Alas, his options were few. There was no alternative, at worst death awaited and peace would follow.
Colorful flashes warped the space around Wuzao Wuhlou. The Bell spun faster and vibrations shook the space once more, "When I break us free of this place, we will likely come under attack. Do not fight me." The flashes—crimson, violet, gold—swept across the void, bathing the relics in fleeting hues, the vibrations a low rattle throughout the child's bones.
Wuzao Wuhlou understood very little of what Whispers was trying to tell him, all he could do was choose to agree. His nod was slight, a child's acceptance born of necessity. His eyes locked on the bell as the spin became a hypnotic blur.
The Colorful light surrounding the now Blackened Bell condensed once again into a small and somewhat strange Green Bell no bigger than a fist and spoke. "There is no turning back." The bell's voice waned, committed, its green surface glinting with an eerie sheen, small yet heavy.
Dong
Dong
Dong
Dong
The Bell rang four times, on the fifth, the cage crumbled to dust within the space, its functions undone by the transference. The Bell continued to ring thirty-three times. The cage's runes long faded, its bars dissolved into nothingness, Wuzao Wuhlou staggered, shock and relief crashing through him as his wrists hung free.
The bell's tolls resounded, each Dong a pulse that shook the void, the relics trembling as if in awe.
Dong
Dong, Dong, Dong, ...
Slightly apprehensive, Wuzao Wuhlou wondered what would happen next. In what seemed like that very instant, the Green Bell flew into Wuzao Wuhlou's body and the voice grew louder, more clear than ever. The bell surged into his chest, a warm jolt that coursed through his veins, the void's air thickening as Whispers' presence sank deeper.
It was dark. The Green Bell stood alone in an empty chasm of black.
The voice of the Bell changed its inflection, Whispers asked. "How could you have never cultivated?"
Wuzao Wuhlou had no cultivation.
"No, how could this be, you have no traces of Qi in your body. I don't understand... Exactly what race are you?!" Whispers measured Wuzao Wuhlou but came up dry. The voice was a mix of disbelief and curiosity, echoing in the chasm where the bell no longer hovered, its green light instead casting shadows across Wuzao Wuhlou's form, revealing only the child's form, untouched by the energies that defined cultivators.
"What's that?" Wuzao Wuhlou did not understand, he was sure he was going to die or feel some pain when the Bell entered his body but everything seemed under control for the moment and he had questions, lots of them. His voice was steady, a prisoner's bluntness cutting through Whispers' probing, his confusion genuine, a child facing a world of secrets he'd never known.