208. The Various Divisions

Alistair had received two conflicting pieces of information on what to spend his merit points on first.

Norman Goldhair, the #8 ranked inner disciple, a Middle Profound of only 215 years, had recommended buying purification elixirs.

Elder Fanghorn, an angry man and Peak Profound realm elder of an unknown number of years, suggested purchasing better breathing and cycling exercises.

Given Norman’s age and Sheeloth’s comments on the elder’s “lack of talent,” he suspected that the inner disciple had even greater potential than Fanghorn. And Alistair liked him way more.

However, he decided that Elder Fanghorn was right. It made more sense foundationally. If his breathing and cycling were not up to par, it would affect everything about his cultivation.

Having excess impurities was bad, but having a stunted soulcore was worse.

In all honesty, Alistair thought that Norman had perhaps forgotten how shoddy some of Alistair’s foundations were as a Prime Initiate.

The first step was seeing how to earn merit points. For that, he journeyed to the Contribution Hall.

The path he followed spiraled outward from the dining terrace, leading to the glittering edge of the ocean. He jumped in the water, not caring what others thought. Within a few minutes, he found himself near the triangular formation of the Infirmary, Training Grounds, and Contribution Hall.

As he entered, he was reminded of a busy open-air marketplace, with one exception—there was relative quiet. Not on the level of a library, but the Contribution Hall was a no-nonsense location.

Inside, the activity was intense yet orderly, a quiet tension in the air. Disciples analyzed mission listings with expressions of sharp focus. One woman held her hand in the swirling water column for several minutes before finally selecting a glowing mote of light that flew into her bracelet with a chime. Her aura flared with purpose, and she ascended through the water elevators.

As Alistair approached the spiraling center column, the motes organized before his very eyes, and information interfaced with his system screens.

Several categories popped up:

Combat Missions:

Beast pack and beast tide subjugation, rogue cultivator containment, minor border skirmishes handling, gang activity suppression

Collection Tasks:

Herb gathering, ore and crystal mining, relic excavation, deep-sea salvage expeditions,

Support Requests:

Assisting divisions of the Clear Water sect, personal requests from elders/disciples

Sparring Challenges:

Elder Instructions:

Classes, personal tutoring

Cultivation Chambers:

First Ring, Second Ring, Third Ring, Fourth Ring, Fifth Ring, Sixth Ring, Seventh Ring

The first three categories had all the subcategories listed. Each mote represented a specific mission. The mission listed a reward in merit points, along with an estimated danger rating and time investment. The danger ratings were done by what realm and stage you would realistically need to complete without sustaining serious injury.

Alistair noted how the highest-rewarding tasks weren’t always combat missions. A collection task asking for a rare bioluminescent alga from a deep trench paid 8,350 merit points. Unfortunately, the danger rating for that one was Early Profound.

The holographic maps on the walls shifted whenever he hovered over a specific mission, explaining the location and more of the background than the small text on his screen.

Interestingly, despite not accepting Foundations into the sect, there were some Peak Foundation realm missions, but the merit point rewards were pitiful, often 25-50, enough to cover one Adept realm meal or not even that.

Looking at missions of the Early Adept variety, it seemed they gave 100 merit points on average, with completion times of one hour to one day at the most.

The highest merit point total he saw for an Early Adept was 1,110, but it was snatched away by a disciple immediately, who looked at it with greedy eyes.

Alistair was expecting the combat and collection stuff—those were basic things that a sect would give out points for. He found himself drawn to the support requests. Unlike the former two sections, requests from other divisions were more like contracts.

You got paid a certain amount up front, a certain amount for the duration of the task, and then a certain amount for finishing the job.

For example, the Apothecary required a disciple who was knowledgeable in elixir creation to assist in the distillation of Pallox Semper, the elixir Alistair had drunk long ago, made from fermented Abyssal Titan spinal fluid and goldenfruit extract.

This request paid 300 merit points up front, 100 per day for a month, and 1000 merit points for completion, with a bonus for disciples who managed to complete the task early, exceeding the merit point total of the missing days.

There were tons of personal requests from disciples, some ridiculous, like an anonymous request to defeat the new #1 ranked outer disciple for only 135 merit points. Who would take that terrible deal?

Some were more lucrative, like a 4,000 merit point personal request to be a month-long bodyguard for an outer disciple as they returned to their home planet, plus additional non-merit bonuses.

That latter part seemed to bend the “only merit points mattering” aspect of the sect, but Alistair imagined that rule was almost impossible to fully impose.

The sparring challenges section was very simple. It listed all active challenges among all disciples in the entire sect, along with the most recent exchanges and those results. You could scroll the list of disciples to challenge them from the list in addition to the bracelet exchange method.

There was also a complete ranking of the disciples. You couldn’t find that anywhere else—not on the Soulnet nor in the personal bracelets. The Clear Water Sect forced you to come here to see, for what purpose, he was not yet sure.

Spying through the lists, he found Norman Goldhair’s name at #8 like it had been the previous day. However, in looking at the outer disciples list, he was no longer at #9,509. He had been bumped down to #9,522. Some of his fellow disciples had already gotten active.

Alistair wasn’t worried about that in the slightest, so he moved on to the penultimate section—elder instructions. The other sections were about earning merit points, while this one was about spending them.

Dozens of different lectures held by elders showed up. Most of them were sold on a per-class basis, but some had different payment schemes, like having to buy all the classes up front, or even one where you paid in bulk at the end of ten sessions.

That one was an outer disciple combat lesson taught by Elder Aylesfort, the Head of the Contribution Hall. Alistair had done a little bit of Soulnet research after Elder Fanghorn’s class, just to learn more about the various elders and divisions.

Elder Aylesfort was considered the strongest cultivator at the Clear Water Sect other than the Perfect herself. It was fitting, considering the importance of the Contribution Hall to sect functioning.

The Soulnet said that he had held a position high within the Emerald Coast’s government before moving to the Clear Water Sect, and that he was known for treating all disciples fairly. No wonder his classes were so crowded. Most of the classes didn’t have disciple limits, but Elder Aylesfort only had a single slot left.

Alistair locked it in immediately after seeing the price. For ten sessions held once every week or sometimes every fortnight, he only had to pay 5,000 merit points. Even in the worst-case scenario in which he had ten weeks to earn points, making 100 a day would cover the class.

Wisdom of the crowds, Alistair thought. Hope it’s worth it. He was taking a risk, but he would have been more annoyed if the slot had disappeared due to his indecision.

The final section was self-explanatory. Cultivation chamber time was one of the most valuable things you could get. Early Adept’s Mana requirement for each level was ridiculous, over five times the difference between levels in Late Foundation.

The fibers of his bed drawing double the ambient Mana weren’t going to cut it if he wanted to make it to Profound with any haste.

Speaking of Profound, he hoped the sect would cover why cultivators even stalled in the first place. Peak Visionaries only made up around a thousand of the FFE’s hundred thousand Visionaries, so what stopped them from joining Emperor Dragus? What stopped a Peak Profound like Elder Fanghorn from reaching Visionary?

Putting those thoughts aside, Alistair finished with the motes of light, moving deeper into the hall. In other words, the stuff you could use your merit points on besides classes and personal tutoring, the latter of which was ridiculously expensive.

Crystalline kiosks hovered above shallow pools of stillwater, each display cycling through weapons, armor, powerful relics, elixirs, potions, pills, Beast Cores, and jade slips, their rotating forms bathed in soft azure light. He moved from station to station, observing the name, purpose, and merit point total of dozens of prizes.

Soulcore Surge Pill (420 MP)
A compact pearl of distilled spirit energy that, once ingested, expands the user’s soulcore capacity by 10% for 24 hours. Ideal for those preparing to learn new techniques or attempting rapid breakthroughs.

Flowsteel Saber (560 MP)
A simple yet reliable blade forged from Mana-infused steel. Its edge hums with elemental Mana, allowing the wielder to channel basic wind or water techniques through each strike. A staple weapon for early disciples.

Jade Slip: Meridian Pathways (1,250 MP)
An informational missive that describes the meridians in excruciating detail, for those intending to tailor their meridians to unusual methods of cultivation.

Tier 1 Adept Health Pill (100 MP; limit 5/month)
Restores 1,000 Health upon ingestion. Taking more than one within a twenty-four-hour period can result in death and/or deeply harm one’s meridians. Impurities from taking excessive amounts of Health/Mana pills can harm one’s foundations.

Werecat Essence Potion (1,300 MP)
A rare brew made from the eyes of a werecat. Grants a temporary 50% range and sensitivity boost to aura sense for two hours, along with the ability to see the meridians within bodies and Mana gathering in meridians.

Beyond those lay rarer offerings—Alistair briefly checked out a few, astonished by their extreme cost.

Aquamist Meridian Expander (20,000 MP)

A crystalline vial containing swirling blue-silver essence that temporarily expands all meridians by 30% for 12 hours. To be used in conjunction with a liquid-attuned cultivation chamber to create a multiplicative bonus to soulcore expansion. Not for combat use. Created from the condensed morning mist of the Clear Water Sect’s sacred pools, collected only during the spring equinox.

Primordial Starshell Armor (61,500 MP)

A set of lightweight armor crafted from the shells of deep-sea creatures from the Emerald Coast’s most dangerous waters. Provides exceptional defense against lightning and fire affinity attacks while improving liquid efficiency by 15% (see details for secondary and tertiary affinity bonuses using liquid as a base).

Heritage Mission Token (40,000 MP)

A rare token granting access to a closely guarded sect mission involving the retrieval of artifacts from ancient ruins. Only offered to disciples who have proved both their combat prowess and scholarly dedication. Successful completion typically results in rewards far exceeding the token's cost.

Early-Middle Adept Dao Fruit of War (100,000 MP)

Palm-sized dodecahedron of blood-bronze crystal pulsing with crimson energy, its facets etched with shifting battle scenes while golden lightning races across its surface and ancient martial runes spiral around each vertex—a compressed manifestation of War's essence in crystalline form. Harvested from the core of an Expert quality world with truths added by Sect Elder Yan Shiwu, Head of Self-Defense.

Letter of Fostering with Noble Clan (1,000,000 MP)

An official letter declaring that a certain noble clan shall accept and tutor said disciple for five years.

Alistair looked at that last one in disbelief. A million merit points? The algae collection mission was worth over 8,000 merit points and had a time investment of a month. That was just one mission, so an intrepid disciple could most likely earn points much faster, but even if you earned 15,000 merit points a month, that was over five years of banking up points just for this letter of fostering.

“You know,” Dev'rox said. “That is a lot of merit points. And I doubt it’s worth it for someone like you. But, I think I have a method to earn more.”

“Spill,” Alistair said.

“Well, what if I were to separate from your body to do some of the easier missions?” Dev'rox asked. “With your permission, of course. But you’re reaching a cultivation point where I can separate for longer periods without endangering either of us. Since [Spectral Summoning] is now at Tier 4, I can basically go as I please.”

“I don’t know,” Alistair said, brow furrowing. “Your Mana pool is only at 1,300. Back when I was in the late 50s of levels, you had 800. You haven’t been growing at the same rate as me.”

Dev'rox's form shimmered slightly. “Obviously. What, did you think ghost cultivation gave you a free cheat to Truthseeker? When you found me, I was lower than Foundation level strength as a ghost, while you were Foundation level. I’ve been leeching off your soul for a while now.”

“Wait, what?” Alistair exclaimed. “You’ve been leeching off my soul?”

Dev'rox dismissed Alistair’s concerns. “A tiny amount. I’ve decreased your maximum Dao energy reserves by perhaps 5% of what they could have been. In exchange, you have all of my utility. I think that’s a good deal. [Ghost Whispers] and [Spectral Summoning] facilitate that. They boosted me more when you were weaker, but you’re an Adept now. You can’t expect those types of Skills when you were a Foundation to keep me at your level.”

Alistair stroked his chin, already past the 5% part. 5% was tiny compared to all the utility Dev'rox provided. Swapping places instantly, the Spatial Rending spell, compressing and elongating space, creating linked spatial arrays, and stabbing people with his tail? Come on.

“Maybe I should have gone for Ghostfist Monk then. I thought putting you in my Domain would be sufficient to make you a part of my cultivation system.”

“The Dao is the Dao,” Dev'rox said simply. “Martial Wanderer will improve you more, whereas Ghostfist Monk would have improved me, or more ghosts you find, more. There is balance in all things.”

“That’s right, I’m at the level of cultivation where I can take on another ghost without my path being deviated. I just have to find one.”

Dev'rox coughed. “Don’t discuss another partner right in front of me, you adulterous bastard. Back to my cultivation, I do believe that if I perform tasks separately, I might be able to rebuild my foundations. It will be a long and arduous process. I likely won’t return to my previous strength until you surpass my previous strength, if that makes sense, but it will be faster than my progress now.”

Alistair contemplated the imp’s words. “And you’d be able to tackle the simpler missions while I focus on the higher-difficulty ones. It would increase our gathering of merit points by a large amount.”

“Exactly,” Dev'rox floated closer. “You bit off a little more than you could chew in terms of spiritual weight with trying to incorporate my Domain into your Domain, but once you get your First Law as we discussed, you’ll be able to use those powers without me even being present.”

“But how long can you stay separated from me safely? And what happens if you get hurt?”

“I can maintain separation for about twenty hours at my current strength,” Dev'rox said, sounding confident. “With my spatial abilities, I’m extremely elusive. More beings at Adept will be able to see me even in my ghostly form, but that doesn’t mean they can catch me.”

Alistair nodded slowly. “I don't regret not choosing the Ghostfist Monk path—our current trajectory feels right. But finding ways to strengthen you makes sense.”

“So it's settled then?” Dev'rox grinned, showing his triangular teeth.

“Just don’t get caught,” Alistair warned. “A floating imp collecting rare herbs might raise some questions in the sect.”

Dev'rox's grin widened. “Please, brat. Stealth is my specialty. They won't even know I was there.”

Alistair then picked up two missions, one for himself and one for Dev'rox. He trusted in the imp. Dev'rox was pretty damn fast, keeping up with him in fights to some extent, when they needed to swap at his command.

Leaving the Contribution Hall, he journeyed to his next destination—the Technique Hall.

Stepping out onto the coral-arched bridge, he stepped inside the conch shell of the Technique Hall. Technique crystals drifted like clouds, their auras meant to attract disciples. They were organized neatly, so Alistair was easily able to find the breathing and cycling section.

The Technique Hall was an interesting combination of multiple elements considered to be “techniques.” With items and other physical objects held at the Contribution Hall, the Technique Hall held things like Skills, build manuals, and breathing and cycling exercises.

The breathing and cycling sections was down a gargantuan corridor, organized by cultivation level. Alistair stopped and perused the Early Adept section.

Despite being just for one stage of the Adept realm, there were easily thousands of different technique crystals floating around him. Things like Celestial Water Current Breathing for 4,500 MP or Oceanic Pressure Tempering for 6,000 MP. The sheer number of different techniques, all for around the same MP range of 2,000-10,000 was overwhelming.

Alistair had one solace—Thrice-Blessed Fate Diviner. The gift he had received from the Lazarene Minister long ago had helped him make dozens of choices. At the time, he hadn’t realized how great a gift the Clear Water Sect had given him.

Just to be safe, he burned 50 Karma out of his 225 pool. Amplified by his Mythical rarity item, he closed his senses off and just let his hands pick whatever felt right.

Threefold Breath Cultivation (4,000 MP)

This comprehensive breathing exercise establishes three distinct breathing patterns that practitioners combine and rotate between simultaneously. Each pattern emphasizes different aspects of cultivation—physical prowess, mental clarity, and spiritual connection. The method gradually harmonizes these three aspects, making it particularly valuable for cultivators who need to maintain balance across multiple cultivation paths rather than specializing in one direction.

Spiritual Dragon Cycling (7,800 MP)

A rare cycling exercise that emphasizes balance between the physical and spiritual. This method creates a unique internal current that utilizes one’s life force to help expand the soulcore and thicken the meridians. Though originally developed for dragon bloodline cultivators, anyone with a strong enough life force can make use of this technique.

“Thank you very much, Elder Mo,” Alistair said, rubbing his hands together greedily. Elder Fanghorn had mentioned that the breathing and cycling exercises were of equal importance, so he decided to get Threefold Breath Cultivation first since it cost less.

Plan in mind, he left the Technique Hall and went to check out the Cultivation Chambers.

As he approached, he was greeted by an awe-inspiring sight.

The Cultivation Chambers stood as seven concentric rings of transparent domes floating over the ocean’s surface, each dome housing progressively higher-quality Mana environments. The structures seemed to hover just above the water, connected by crystalline walkways that shimmered with protective formations.

Each ring housed chambers of progressively higher quality, their surfaces smooth and opalescent, like pearls carved from moonlight. The outermost dome, where outer disciples cultivated, gave off a gentle glow, its layered surface etched with flowing inscriptions that glowed with the rhythm of drawn-in Mana. Subtle shifts in pressure and energy could be felt simply walking past, like the domes were inhaling the very lifeblood of cultivation.

Right within the entrance stood a small reception pavilion crafted from coral and crystalwater. A woman in inner disciple robes, azure with a gold trim, greeted him, her presence calm and enduring.

“Please scan your bracelet,” she said, gesturing to a glass panel on the desk. Alistair obliged.

The panel glowed for a brief moment and beeped. “Welcome, Disciple Tan,” she said. “Newly admitted, I see. As is tradition, you’re entitled to one complimentary session to acclimate yourself to our environment.”

A pleasant surprise, Alistair thought to himself. He was just going to sight see.

The woman, the 59th-ranked inner disciple named Chu Hua, explained that he had received a free four-hour session in the sixth ring. Each ring was successively more concentrated, so it was the equivalent of much longer in the seventh ring, where he would normally go as a new recruit.

Since they wanted to get things out of the way and also hook him on their stuff, they allowed a short sixth ring session for new disciples.

What devious bastards.

Chu Hua walked with him to one of the metal doors, directing him to place his bracelet on the glass panel attached to the side. It glowed and beeped, and the metal vanished, the number 6 above the open doorway.

Alistair was greeted by a seemingly endless hallway, dozens of huge indents along the inner wall. Even the hallway air was as dense as his bed, the air full of ambient Mana that subtly buzzed against his skin.

The lighting was warm and ambient, neither sourced nor shadowed. The walls were pearlescent, softly reflecting the inner glow of the formation arrays that sustained the chamber’s perfect cultivation conditions, which only formation masters could create.

“Each room represents a different affinity,” Hua explained. “As you can see, each door has the name of the affinity written in the First Script. Well, a very diluted variant of the frontier, but it should still impress the meaning upon your soul no matter what language you speak.”

The closest chamber to the door, which, based on the indent, was maybe twenty feet long and ten feet high, had a symbol that shimmered with a slow, pulsing motion, as if stirred by an invisible current, yet it was also still as a normal symbol that was written by brush stroke.

The character was pure meaning. Far simpler than the etching he had seen that meant Spirit’s Fists Overcoming Struggle, yet not any weaker.

“Liquid,” Hua said. “Fitting as the Clear Water Sect.”

They passed by more, Hua commenting. “Fire, Air, Earth, Life, Death…”

They passed by all the primary affinities, which Hua called the “Twelve Elements.” Next came the secondary affinities—star, light, ice, lightning, and many more. She termed them the “Thirty-Two Essences.”

The next category was something that Alistair had very little experience with. Tertiary affinities, or the “Myriad Confluences,” as Hua put it. Since you could use more than three base affinities in a “tertiary” affinity, the number of confluences was ridiculous. There was no way that they could have a chamber for each one.

Instead, they had the most popular ones—glass, dream, storm, desiccation, explosion, and several others.

“It’s difficult to find Natural Inheritances for confluences out on the frontier,” Hua explained. “Apologies if you are the practitioner of one of them. You will have to do with the individual components. I know it’s not as good.”

“Don’t worry, senior sister,” Alistair said. “I don’t have any of those. Mine are lightning, force, blood, and ice.”

“Hmm. I like that combo. Fire and chrome, earth and sun, liquid and moon, and liquid and chrome. If only you had fire and sun instead of earth and sun, you’d have a perfectly balanced quartet. That would require disintegration.”

“Wait, you’re right,” Alistair said. How had he never noticed that before? “Is it possible to change my affinities?”

“Uh, no,” Hua said, looking at him funny. Perhaps she thought that it was unbecoming of a cultivator to disregard the path they took so easily. Well, Alistair never considered his affinities to be central to his identity, the way his Dao were. Dev'rox used space affinity Mana, and that was fine. Whatever his future ghosts used, that would be fine too. “You’ve locked in your soulcore affinities by stepping into Adept. It’s theoretically possible to reshape, but it would wreck your foundations. It’s not possible for you. Force is just as good as disintegration anyway.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Alistair said. “Forgive my folly, senior sister.”

Hua raised an eyebrow. “Since you have four different affinities, you’ll need one of our custom rooms. The vast majority of people have more than one affinity, so it’s no big deal. The rooms are designed to be able to send their Mana out. You see all these rooms—”

The 59th-ranked inner disciple gestured to the rooms after the final confluence of sunmatter, a combination of sun, liquid, and earth. None of them had any symbol or character on the door.

“—are multi-affinity rooms. When you put your bracelet against the panel, simply imagine what affinities you want, and you’ll get them. Any further questions?”

Alistair shook his head.

She started to turn around, then stopped and looked back. “You wouldn’t happen to be a part of the Tan Clan of the Verdant Pillar Duchy?”

“I am not.”

“I see. They specialize in lightning and ice together, and so with the name, I thought it was worth a guess. Now that I’m paying attention, you don’t have their brown eyes with blue specks. If you need more help, come to the front desk. Also, if you want more merit points, Elder Da Rui always needs help with errands. I promise she’s quite nice, especially for a Visionary.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, senior sister,” Alistair said.

“The time dilation of the sixth ring is 2x. You’ll feel four hours pass, but only two will pass in the real world. Have fun.”

Bracelet against the panel, he imagined his four affinities. Lightning, force, blood, and ice. Alistair raised a foot in, the wall intangible to his body alone.

The moment Alistair stepped through the threshold, he staggered.

It was like stepping into a tidal wave of pure energy.

The air inside the chamber wasn’t just dense—it was oppressive, nearly physical. The ambient Mana clung to his skin like the depths of Stillwater Basin, soaked into his robes, threaded through his lungs with each breath.

Every beat of his heart felt mirrored by the pulse of elemental energies, a fourfold symphony of lightning, force, blood, and ice that was visible. Four quadrants of the room occupied by four displays of Mana manifested.

To his left, the air snapped with golden-violet arcs of lightning that weaved in restless, chaotic motion. Bolts cracked and vanished before they touched anything, chasing each other across invisible currents like wild spirits. The ground there was darker, the very stone etched with sharp, angular grooves that occasionally sparked to life, forming patterns he didn’t recognize. The scent of ozone thickened the air, and Alistair could feel his core echoing in response, as if something deep in the room recognized the lightning in him and called to it.

Straight ahead, the world pressed inward. This quadrant was strangely quiet, but each merely standing in it made his bones ache slightly, as though his body was being reminded of the power of an incredible force. The floor was smooth but visibly warped, with faint concentric ripples etched into the stone like frozen shockwaves.

To his right, warmth pulsed in slow, deliberate waves, each one dragging at his breath, his heartbeat, his attention. This part of the chamber smelled of copper, and the walls here bore sinuous carvings that dripped with dark red luminescence. A crimson blood filled the air, thick as pine tar. Alistair’s blood answered instinctively, his pulse syncing with the room before he could resist.

Behind him, the world grew still. The floor was glassy and pale, each breath leaving no fog but cutting sharp and clean through his lungs. A faint snowfall drifted upward, suspended midair as though time had been asked politely to wait. Snowflakes drifted in the air, and frost developed on his back.

Alistair sat down, forced down by the concentration of Mana. Nothing in his life came close, except the pressure of the utmost depths of Stillwater Basin. But this, this was different.

This Mana was meant for him.

He performed his subpar breathing and cycling exercises. Even with their inadequacy, it didn’t matter.

His soulcore resonated, greedily drawing in the ambient Mana without his conscious effort. His breath improved the draw, four distinct streams aligned to his affinities pouring toward him like rivers redirected by divine will.

With barely a thought, he sat down in the center of the room.

He drew in a breath.

Then Mana.

Then more.

With each cycle, he smashed his soulcore’s membrane with the excess amount of Mana. Mana that didn’t technically belong in his system. The only result that could occur was expansion. Expansion to allow for this new flood.

Alistair entered a deep trance and continued to breathe and cycle.

Coming out of that trance was like exiting a dream of another life. When he opened his eyes, it was because the Mana was gone. The room was empty, leaving behind a normal, silvery room. His four hours were up so quickly.

Now, Alistair truly understood how higher-level cultivators could spend years, decades in seclusion—just four hours in the sixth ring of the Cultivation Chambers was enough to bring him halfway to level 101.

The only problem was that four hours of sixth ring cultivating normally cost 4,000 merit points.

As he walked toward the door, he found himself smiling. The Cultivation Chambers division were devious bastards, indeed.

-------------

The last stop on his personal exploration was something that had called to him since the moment he stepped foot in the Clear Water Sect.

The only reason he had put it off was because it almost felt ominous.

The Ancestral Grounds were calling to him.

The burial place for many of the sect’s greatest heroes sat on the only island that Alistair had seen at the sect, besides some of the elders’ living arrangements.

The island was fairly large, large enough to host a rocky mountain that towered up into the clouds. As far as Alistair knew, despite the size, there was only one attraction.

The swim was out of the way, far enough apart from the rest of the sect that he was unable to see buildings behind him as he approached the Ancestral Grounds.

There was only one pathway to them, carved in stone and worn by millions of years of footsteps.

As he walked, the path twisted and curved, descending gradually into the heart of the island. The land was quiet, save for the distant sound of the ocean crashing against the cliffs below, its rhythm swallowed by the thick silence that blanketed everything here. Alistair’s footsteps echoed faintly, as if the very earth was listening.

The Ancestral Grounds appeared suddenly, as though they had been waiting for him. There was a thick, unnatural fog that swirled around tall, gnarled trees that seemed to hum with an ancient energy.

Towering, gnarled trees loomed over the graveyard, their twisted roots protruding like ancient hands reaching for the sky.

Massive obelisks stood in silence, some inscribed with unknown formations, others merely blank. Some were jade, some ivory, some crystalwater. Others were diamond, and one was pure gold.

Some had enormous tapestries that lingered in the Dao, depicting scenes of unimaginable power. Men and women who shattered planets and survived galaxy-wide Mana Storms.

Some obelisks were draped in glowing flowers, and others were shrouded in thick vines, as if nature itself had claimed them over the centuries.

Alistair’s gaze fell on the graves, each one telling a silent story of sacrifice and glory. Almost all lacked words, but no words were necessary. The meaning that they wished to leave behind was immortal.

Even long after their deaths, the mark they left on the Dao was present. A testament to their undying will, their defiance of the mortal condition. They raged against the night, and while fallen, their dreams would be carried on by the next generation of the Clear Water Sect.

Alistair was entranced by the graveyard, passing by thousands of obelisks as he marched on for hours.

Not even a fraction of his 2,348 Agility did he use on his trek. That would be too disrespectful. Instead, he paid attention to each and every grave.

They sent shivers down his meridians. One towering marker was a sculpture of a man with outstretched arms, his body crackling with imaginary energy that threatened to tear the sky asunder. The stone was cracked, as if the force of his power had left its mark on the very monument meant to honor him.

Another grave, slightly smaller but no less impressive, depicted a woman seated on a throne of dark stone, surrounded by swirling, jagged lines. A vast crater was carved at the base of the monument, signifying the remnants of a once-living world. There was but one word carved into stone—“Worldbreaker.”

A third grave, possibly the most imposing, bore a carving of a warrior standing tall against a storm of swirling energy, his sword raised high as if cleaving the very fabric of reality. Alistair’s skin buzzed, the lingering meaning feeling more recent than the previous graves.

Alistair could not fully comprehend the magnitude of their stories, but standing before them, he felt it—an overwhelming sense of their legacies, their life’s meaning distilled into a monument to their death.

A sad irony it was. For while an Adept realm like Alistair was awed by the majesty, the grandiosity, at the end of the day, the ghostly truths of the graves were just that—ghosts.

Alistair did have certain responsibilities; his first class with Elder Aylesfort was in four days, his second class with Elder Fanghorn in six, and his duel with Xiao Zhenyu in seven. Plus, there were the two missions he took on, both time sensitive.

None of that was on his mind as he walked deeper and deeper. Perhaps the blue sun rose and set over his head. No one was the wiser, all until he knelt before one more grave.

Out of everything he had seen in the Ancestral Grounds, this simple stone slab, no more than two feet tall, was the only one with an inscription.

“What matters is not what we build, but who stands beside us.”

That was when Alistair realized he was not alone. The air around him thickened, as if saturated with an unknown power.

“Few visitors come this deep into the Ancestral Grounds,” came a voice like grinding stone, each syllable resonating with authority.

Alistair focused on [Reality Sense], applying [Dharmic Gaze], his sight extending outward in all directions. Nothing registered within his thirty-three-foot sphere of perfect awareness, yet the presence was undeniable.

The air above the grave shimmered, heat waves forming as if he stood too close to an open flame. Slowly, a form began to outline, coiled against the grave.

The overwhelming aura pressed down on Alistair with crushing force, ancient and powerful and familiar.

“An outer disciple at my master’s grave. A sight unseen in a thousand years. Who are you?”