Chapter 280 - Interplanetary Negotiation

“He is an abomination. No cultivator’s oaths apply to one such as he. He must be struck down now!” hissed one of the many angry elders now glaring his way with absolute contempt, their combined killing fury enough to send even him crashing to one knee.

Yet all Eric did was smile coldly up into their killing gazes.

“If you wish to challenge me… I eagerly await further breakthroughs as I devour the Potency of my so-called betters. But if you are wise, you’ll consider who really profits from our deaths here this day.”

Eric gazed up at the ancient cultivator, ignoring the gasps and shouts for his head.

“I believe I still owe you the answer to two more questions… honored Elder.”

“You ascended in a heartbeat, over the shriveled remains of a man who had fought and killed by my side for over fifty years. And yet you are the one to stand tall, a mixed-blood sprout who hasn’t even seen his twentieth summer. So I would know, child of death and mayhem, what Cultivation path do you follow?”

Eric gazed at the ancient elder for long moments, closed his eyes, and did his utmost in that eternal half second to see if there were any objections to him revealing his path.

There were none.

“You said it yourself,” Eric admitted matter-of-factly over the shriveled corpse of his fallen foe, mithril mail dyed crimson by the rich bounty his Tier 30 Blood Mastery had claimed as its due.

The man narrowed his gaze, ignoring the hissed imprecations of his fellows. “Explain.”

Eric flashed a bitter cold smile. “Child of Death and Mayhem. I do believe that says it best.”

Of course it was at that moment that Scarecrow reemerged, eyes widening in horrified outrage at the sight of the desiccated corpse on the arena sands.

Much to Eric’s surprise, the mans’ outrage wasn’t directed at him.

“Esdeth dared break covenant?”

The elder nodded. “We will not dishonor his memory. The boy before us killed his son, after all.”

Scarecrow blanched, jaw tightening, glaring at Eric with furious killing range.

Eric flashed an icy smile of his own, patting the hilt of his mithril blade. He didn’t say a word, however, when Arenso angrily shook his head.

“We will not weaken ourselves over foolishness!” The man hissed, Scarecrow immediately flowing into a bow.

“Of course, my master.”

“Good. Now throw the boy the tome.”

Eric smiled and dipped his head as the tome windmilled through the air, even as his time sense slowed things to a crawl once more, Eric now sensing more clearly than ever the minute drain to all three of his potency pools that this ability that showed nowhere on his Character Sheet took from him. But it was important, vitally important he thought, as he focused every ounce of his will into pulling that book right INTO his ES Space before any foul trap had any chance of being unleashed.

As it turned out, there were none, earning an infinitesimal nod from Eric, and any number of blanched looks and awed curses at those who had witnessed his feat.

“He made that book disappear. How?”

“Fool must have used a node to secure an extradimensional storage space.”

“No space or artifact claims items that quickly!”

“Well his certainly did.”

The elder raised a single eyebrow, and Eric immediately understood.

The man would ask no further, and Eric could turn around that very moment, suddenly sensing the portal lock releasing.

But if he did, he would have failed to honor his end of the bargain.

Breaking his cultivator’s oath… and perhaps doing what the Wind Blade sect had failed to do themselves.

Shatter his Foundation.

Eric dipped his head, mocking smile just barely touching his lips.

“I managed to crack open and cleanse my meridians with the help of a basic cultivation tome my enemies had used as a gambit to trick my allies into trusting them. Once they had achieved a pristine state, blood tattoos I inscribed upon my own flesh allowed me to mirror a Wind Cultivator’s arts until I hit level 20. From that point on, I have followed Evelyn Death’s Path.”

And here alone the elder’s cool facade cracked to reveal genuine fear. All those present grew deathly silent, including the band of pale elves Eric was now sure was his family, just relieved to sense that now none of his sister’s children looked eager to pick a fight with him.

Thank god for small favors.

“You dare to claim a Gold as your master? That she would have any interest in a mutt with the most absurd and muddled collection of techniques imaginable, who would dare to infuse System techniques and a blood-drinker’s path into Wind’s pristine foundation? Outrageous!” declared none other than the disdainful Scarecrow.

Eric held the man’s gaze for long seconds.

Surprisingly, it was the near 80th level cultivator who blanched and looked away.

“I answered your elder’s question sufficient that when I jump back through that portal, my foundation will be stronger than it ever was before.”

Master Arenso gave the tiniest of nods. “Rumor has it that she is of Terran descent herself. Elevated long before your planet ever began its ascent.”

Eric smiled and very carefully said nothing at all.

The elder sighed. “Do you know the path to the realm my son is currently trapped in?”

This time Eric’s smile was filled with genuine sympathy. “I do. And the entrance to the realm is warded by a sentinel just a half-step away from Gold. And more to the point, Lai Wei and Pavel are barred not just by distance, but by time as well. A realm became a world in the span of centuries… and a single night. Your son’s tale has already been told by destiny’s playwright, and I can tell you that his story was worthy and grand. He will be remembered by the disciples he helped to forge, and the many children he sired with the woman who stole his heart.”

“How? How can you possibly know this? Any of this?”

Arenso’s gaze was that of a man caught between hope and despair, indescribable relief and bitter loss.

And no one was more surprised than Eric by the one who answered those words.

“He is a Contender who weaves the world’s fate to his will,” said the woman who could only be his sister, her hard emerald eyes a perfect mirror of Elonia’s own. “The blood of our mother’s tribe sings in his veins. No bard will know the tales of the lands my brother has touched better than he. Even should a thousand years pass in a single midsummer night’s dream.”

Arenso gazed for long moments at the ivory skinned elf, before slowly dipping his head. “And no one would know that truth better than a former Contender herself.”

He then turned back to Eric. “Very well, Eric Silver. You have given us succor and bitter regret in equal measure, so like all the tales of your clan. Your end of the bargain has been fulfilled. You are now free to go.” He said, before peering directly at the ivory complected elves. “That is, unless Lady—“

The woman gave a cool shake of her head. “That won’t be necessary. We are satisfied with his demonstration.”

“Well then. I declare this inquisition —“

“How’d you like to get your hands on a full dozen high quality spirit peaches grown from a Transcendant Peach grove?”

The Elder gazed down at Eric for long moments. “And what would be the cost of this boon?”

Eric smirked. “What would be the cost of instilling your favored champions, or yourself, with miniature cores in each of your meridians that will add countless years to your life and fill you with a strength and fire the likes of which might allow even a hodge-podge Classer like me to take on a 70th level expert? What would such a boon be worth in terms of cultivation techniques and a pristine copy of Feng Ren Sect’s cultivation path that would allow anyone with the right affinities and aptitude to ascend all the way to the peak of White Tier?”

“We will give you nothing that will aid your breakthrough to Bronze, half-blood. It is forboden under all circumstances!” roared an incensed Scarecrow.

“And I’m not asking you to. But I am asking for a copy of whatever complete White tier tomes you have, preferably filled with pristine Spiritual Energy so that any cultivator with enough stored potency can benefit from flashes of insight every time he or she opens that tome so infused with the revelations of the one who wrote it.”

Fresh whispers and hurried discussions overtook the band of cultivators once more.

“That he even knows of such a prize. Who is he really?” hissed one cultivator still glaring Eric’s way.

“A Contender, fool,” hissed another so softly that anyone with less than Eric’s Perception would have heard nothing at all. “Of course they have access to resources and insights the rest of us lack. How else could he have taken out an elder so quickly… or at all?”

Eric schooled his features to neutrality. No need to let his counterparts know that he was taking wild shots in the dark, assuming that the goblin’s spiritual energy infused primer was just the start of what cultivation tomes potentially offered, and that if he didn’t at least try for it, all he’d get was a dull lifeless copy without any insights at all that would barely aid whatever cultivation students might dare to walk in his footsteps. The safer ones, anyway.

Feng Reng sect’s de facto negotiator snorted his disdain for Eric’s offer. “Do you have any idea at all of the inconceivable value of such a treasure? Most especially on a world that has just begun its ascension?”

Eric gazed at Scarecrow for long seconds, before shifting his gaze to the Sect head.

“May I speak frankly, elder?”

The man gave an infinitesimal nod of his head. “By all means, act as if decorum meant anything to you, with the desiccated remains of one of my champions by your feet.”

“Quite. Regardless, I don’t think I’m taking too wild a guess that any number of elders in your sect have hit bottlenecks beyond which they fear they will never ascend past.”

Eric paused a heartbeat, noting the sudden intensity of the whispers echoing through the air like the softest of susurrations.

“Is it not possible that Transcendent Mystic Fire Peaches might give them both a surge of spiritual energy and perhaps vital revelations desperately needed to achieve a much sought-after breakthrough? If nothing else, for those desperate or brilliant enough to infuse them into a pristine set of meridians, it will allow them to infuse the elements of Fire and Wood with the Wind that already serves as the bedrock of their cultivation.”

Eric slowly lifted his mithril dachi, summoning a maelstrom of fiery plasma contained in a hyper fast whirlwind spinning so hot and tight it was indistinguishable from a 6-foot plasma blade. A furious heat that at least a few wide-eyed cultivators could tell had been further enhanced by the power of Wood.

“Think of it, elder. Three elemental affinities where before there was but one. And I’ll even tell you this for free. A courtesy between practitioners of The Way. Wind Strike synergizes perfectly with Wood and Fire in an extremely powerful positive cycle, just like a smith using bellows to pump fresh air and furious life into the fires of his forge.”

Eric smiled at the looks of speculation, and desperation, his audience couldn’t completely hide.

“Although I can’t promise it will do for your clan what it did for me, I can promise that it made all the difference in my own Cultivation, and perhaps even more importantly, it brought me time.” Eric flashed a bemused smile. “So much time that the System refuses even to define how many ‘countless’ years I brought myself. But sure as shit, I’m betting it’s a lot more than I lost fooling around with magics you’re probably right to fear. And what’s more precious to any cultivator than time?”

Eric held the older man’s gaze. “Time to explore all the mysteries and wonders of the cosmos, and evolve in whatever direction one chooses. Time to forge unparalleled breakthroughs that would allow you to ascend farther and faster than anyone ever thought you could. Time to simply savor life and the dreams of all men. How many lives and resources were invested already in a desperate quest just to see if such treasures truly existed? Because I am happy to tell you that they most definitely do exist, as my own Meridians prove. And once my grove matures in a few short years, they are treasures I could share with you all as well. Isn’t the hope that such prizes offer worth a single tome that doesn’t even teach prospective students how to breakthrough from White Tier to Bronze?”

Eric’s smile hardened. “Though I would expect this prospective tome to push any worthy student to just a half-step away from that point.”

“Pah! You have no idea of the massive penalty we’ll be forced to pay, slipping a hundred level tome past your worlds administrative...”

Eric’s smile was all teeth. He turned around. “Oh look at that portal right there. I believe it’s calling out to me right now. I wonder if I have any more room in my storage space for prizes found while exploring Terra’s myriad high-level delves? Delves which I’m almost positive suffer no scrutiny or limitations to the prizes accrued while within them whatsoever.”

Eric turned to gaze back at Master Arenso for long moments, quietly impressed with the man’s ability to freeze into an immovable statue, his gaze grown so cold and still.

Eric frowned, his gifts and Social Perception telling him surprisingly little. Perhaps because his opponent was Bronze and Eric’s own life was no longer on the line in any sense of the word? This was just grubbing for profit.

“Why?”

The whispered word froze him, Eric instantly understanding what the man meant. Why would he shortcut himself with a 1 element technique that stopped at level 100, when he was already following Death’s path? Which might be a damn sight harder in terms of risk and Peril, but would allow him to ascend even beyond the Elder gazing at him so intently right now.

Maybe.

One day.

If he didn’t die horribly before then, as had almost happened far, far too many times in less than a week.

Fucking hell.

“It’s not for me,” Eric said at last.

“Then who’s it for?”

Eric flashed a sad smile. “It’s for any survivor who wants to see if there’s another path before them than simply becoming a creature of the System.”

This earned more than a few surprised, considering stares.

“So you’re admitting the virtues of cultivation over System Cyborgization?”

Eric winced at those words, recalling all too well flashes of silvery worms penetrating his mind. Images he quickly suppressed before addressing Scarecrow.

“It’s more about choice. Giving would-be adventurers and heroes options in how they wish to progress and advance. And yeah, maybe it would be nice if countless thousands found a path forward that didn’t actually necessitate them risking their lives in delves. Because even when daring the most profitable, fair, and storybook-like rifts imaginable with the promise of fantastic wealth and adventure, you still run the very real risk of dying. And however much madmen like myself might savor that rush… no one wants their children to follow in those bloody footsteps. Or at least, I wouldn’t,” he said, with a sad look for the man he had cut down, just minutes ago.

This earned a snort from the tall, slender cultivator. “And yet it didn’t stop you from ruthlessly cutting down the man at your feet, or his son.”

“Of course not,” Eric said without a trace of shame. “I’ll do my damnedest to survive at all costs, and I sure as hell will cut down anyone who threatens me or mine. But as much as I get a kick out of killing nightmare abominations, it leaves a pretty nasty taste in my mouth whenever I’m forced to kill my own kind.” He swallowed, feeling compelled to honesty. “Or at least it does, once the high of battle has passed, and I’m forced to really reflect upon the lives, hopes, dreams, and families I had so ruthlessly destroyed, just minutes or hours before. Can you honestly say you feel any differently?”

Scarecrow snorted. Surprisingly, the man gave his master an approving nod. “Apparently this child of chaos isn’t a complete psychopath. And it would be good to show even humans that there are alternative paths of advancement available. That one need not be a slave to the System. As far as avoiding bureaucratic lawfare, the boy is actually right. There is no penalty to any prize collected from any delve. But I do think that such a boon would be worth far, far more than a single dozen peaches.”

The man tilted his head in thought. “Perhaps a full harvest would be sufficient. And we could even throw a full dozen pristine quality standard techniques to boot, effectively establishing a branch of our school in this world that the goblins are so eager to claim for themselves.”

Eric snorted with laughter. “A full harvest from a Transcendent Peach Grove promising youth and power to all who taste its fruit? You’ll have to do better than that. Though I have no problem honoring the Feng Ren sect as one of the founders of our own. A strictly honorary title, mind you, but certainly no one could deny that your influence reaches even newly ascended worlds.”

Ancient eyes peered intently into Eric’s own.

“A full hundred. One for every level of that tome you would claim from us. And upon delivery of 100 choice Mystic Fire Peaches that our top arborealist will pick from that harvest… we will give you one infused copy of one pristine technique in common usage within our sect for every ten mystic fire peaches we receive.”

Scarecrow blinked. “It’s a very generous offer.”

The elder smirked. “It is. Those techniques will be the pretext for the sale of that boon, and as our bargain is made off-world… no administerial interference can negate our agreement, no matter the absurd penalty they would put into place for the delivery of those tomes.”

The other cultivator nodded. “It’s the ascension tome that our enemies most fear getting into newly ascending native’s hands.”

Master Arenso nodded. “Do you agree to the terms, boy?”

Eric smiled, pulling out a hastily written contract that a quick double scan got nothing but thumbs up from his own Interface perks. “100 choice spirit fruit, that will be within the top 10%, or the choicest portion of the harvest, should 100 fruit be more than 10% of said harvest. Any determinations will be made by both one of your horticulturalists and one of my own, or a Blue Corp representative. Should my crop manifest only 100 ripe peaches or less, you will receive the entirety, with any remainder owed to be paid with the following harvest. And that is in return for the tome soon to be dropped by my feat as a reward for an epic tier negotiation boss fight… ha ha. Additionally, we will receive ten different Pristine quality cultivation techniques infused with spiritual energy that are in common use by your sect without any traps, flaws, or risks to my or any other cultivator’s foundation. And those techniques will only be delivered upon receipt of your 100 spirit fruit. If you will sign here?”

Scarecrow cleared his throat, gesturing with his hand. Eric smirked and let go of the paper, allowing the man to lift it up on a bobbing current of wind for the frowning elder to examine it carefully before signing his own name with a flourish.

“Done and done. And I see you had the good sense to align with Blue. It will make contractual follow-through effortless for both our parties.”

Eric chuckled politely. “More like, I get a profit share of territories I kick their way. And the peach grove is my personal property, by the way. But the territory is protected by Blue, with full rights to Bronze Tier defensive systems. Which means that no matter who’s in charge, no one’s burning down my grove unless they want to make some very, very powerful enemies. My hope is for its continuing prosperity for centuries to come, no matter who ends up claiming the throne. A prosperity I’m happy to share with my new friends, no matter our, ahem, unfortunate earlier misunderstandings,” he said, pointedly not looking at the desiccated corpse by his feet.

Eric did his best not to squeal with absolute joy when a massive tome radiating incredibly powerful spiritual energy was gently lowered down to him by a puffing cultivator, Eric instantly placing in storage a tome that would do him absolutely no good whatsoever.

But might make an incredible difference in the lives of thousands.

Perhaps millions.

He bowed his head solemnly and low. “A pleasure doing business with you.”

Congratulations! You have managed to secure a pristine quality White-Tier cultivation tome that any cultivator with appropriate affinities and an intact meridian configuration of 5 or more nodes may use to ascend all the way to the cusp of Bronze (Level 100!) Additionally, you have accomplished this feat with nothing more than an impressive display of swordsmanship, choice words, and a promise for goods that might or might not be harvestable for years to come!

Negotiation is now Rank 11!

Negotiation is now Rank 12!

Eric then turned to the exquisitely beautiful Elf gazing his way with a Bronze Classer’s intensity.

“Is there any message you’d like me to convey to Mother?”

The woman gazed at him for long moments, a flood of emotions flickering across features near identical to Elonia’s own.

She clenched her jaw, bitter frustration and regret now warring with sudden desperate hope.

She wasted no time, gazing her flustered daughter’s way, the young woman in a sudden panic as arcane pen and paper were pulled out, instantly claimed by her mother.

Master Arenso coughed politely. “You have approximately 57 seconds to re-enter the portal, or it will close, and I fear you risk imperiling your Contender Status.”

Eric’s eyes widened with alarm.

Before he lurched back with surprise to see his sister suddenly before him.

Having moved even faster than he could.

Far faster.

So fast that even the cultivators in the galley hissed with surprise.

The woman said nothing, merely gazing into Eric’s eyes with a desperate intensity as she slowly lifted his hand, placed a wax-sealed letter within, and closed it once more.

She then brushed his cheek with her hand, flashing an odd bittersweet smile.

“You remind me so much of him.”

“Who?”

“My twin.” She swallowed. “Our brother.”

Eric blinked, having absolutely no idea what to say about that.

“Now go, Eric. Time is the one gift not even you dare squander.”

There were so many question he wanted to ask.

“Eric, no time!” Hissed Bunbun.

With a frustrated curse, he raced to the portal and jumped through once more.