Elder Cultivator

While the brimming war was the most pressing matter, Anton was quite glad it didn’t occupy all of his waking thoughts. There was so much more to the world than the worst parts of it. Then there were the mysteries… things unknown if they were good or bad, or if they could even be considered either.

The flow of the world was something he hadn’t even contemplated before the invasion and the time immediately leading up to it. After the invasion, he realized that it had always been there as part of the background of everything, it was simply that people only took notice when it underwent rapid change.

For a brief time it had opened up their world to the potential of invasion, likewise offering a way out during only a short window. After that it returned to what seemed to be its natural state, rejecting ascension energy from creating a permanent foothold upon the world. The previous cycle had been estimated at about six hundred years. That was the time with the most uncertainty about events, where many great sects were destroyed. Now it was known that that time was due to the previous invasion, though some of the results were more indirect.

The time for the invasion seemed to have been somewhat longer, stretching over multiple years. That could have simply been errors in record keeping, but something about it matched up with what Anton was feeling now. It was merely a feeling that could easily be disproven in a decade or two… but there were subtle differences between this one and the last that might lead to more significant changes.

Could the cycles change in length? They only had barely-preserved information from a previous one, intentionally muddled. Before that, there was nothing on the topic, very little in the way of old records and if they existed they focused on the power of the prominent cultivators and sects in a given time period.

If Anton was right, this cycle might be significantly shorter. It had been two decades already since the invasion and things could still change, but he felt that this cycle might only last half the time or less. He could be wrong, of course. Nor did he imagine he would be around to see it regardless. He might manage to live to three hundred, but four or five hundred years old were out of the question.

Not that he could usefully think about what it would even mean if he was right. The timing would be different, and that might result in some living people with grudges about the last time, but he wasn’t sure if they would want to or even could return. That part was still unknown, like most things about the ‘upper realms’.

-----

Great shipments of ores and herbs as well as finished goods like weapons, armor, and medicines were making their way to western Ambati. It was impossible to miss, though not everyone knew what it meant. An unusual number of wagons made their way, along with ships coming in along the coasts. Storage bags were sufficient for a cultivator’s personal equipment, but proper transport was still required for bulk goods.

Along with the goods came cultivators protecting them. Despite a time of relative peace and prosperity, Brogora was not without its foul elements. Hidden sects acted as bandits when they could get away with it, attacking the least protected caravans. There were always dissidents who thought they were above the law for one reason or other, and in truth they could get away with it for a time. It was impossible to fully eliminate the fraction of people that would choose to take their wealth and power from others rather than through more legitimate means. Individual sects also had their own conflicts, largely left alone for those sects to sort out if they didn’t involve others. After all, it was possible for both sides to have legitimate grievances against others, and negotiations to resolve disputes didn’t always work out.

But compared to when Anton had first begun cultivating and become aware of the events of the wider world, it was nearly incomparable. Except for unavoidable incidents like the invasion from the upper realm, lives of common citizens and dedicated cultivators alike had improved greatly.

It was nearly the end of the year allotted by the Exalted Archipelago. The decision had been reached long before, so that there would be sufficient time to complete the necessary preparations. Along with the final shipments coming into Tiarhogo, some had been destined for other locations.

Neither option had been an easy decision, but now was the time. The group of ten Life Transformation cultivators was spearheaded by one Grand Elder Myron. He was an old man not far from peak Life Transformation. He stomped his way into the council chambers of Tiarhogo, which had representatives from all over Ambati working together to ensure the smooth operating of Ambati’s largest port.

Myron seemed to disdain everyone around him, even others in Life Transformation. He had the personal strength to support it, and flanked by eight others there were few who could make him acknowledge them, though he ultimately had to give respect to one much younger than himself. Even in her seventies she was already in mid Life Transformation, and as the young mistress of the clan her position outweighed his own.

The aura of authority Cyrica projected around her was drilled into her from birth. None of the council members could meet her eye. “You are finally ready then? I hope you have prepared enough for the first shipment. Our demands are not to be taken lightly.”

“As I’m sure you can tell,” responded a middle aged woman with her hair tightly braided to her skull, “We have been making preparations for some time. But actually, we have decided to renegotiate the terms.”

“What?” Cyrica stepped forward, her power bearing down on the woman. “I must have misheard you.”

The woman known as Kumbukani held her ground, as much as she could. “The demands are simply unacceptable. Faraway sects demanding our hard earned resources with the threat of violence. Perhaps if it had been a more reasonable amount we could have considered it, but it’s not possible.”

“Hah,” Cyrica rested her hand on the sword at her side, “You act as if I don’t know about what has already been delivered. You simply wish to keep the resources for yourself. But the Exalted Archipelago would crush you no matter where you fled to… and would still require the appropriate payments from the rest of the continent.” She drew her sword, leveling it at Kumbukani. “Did you think we would have pity on you just because you find our demands too much?”

“I’m surprised,” Kumbukani said. “You seem to believe yourself invincible. Is that because of your diplomatic guise, or personal arrogance?”

Grand Elder Myron’s eyes and senses flitted around the room. Cyrica might not have the proper seasoning to sense that something was wrong, but he could tell. It wasn’t just a guise of bravery on the woman’s part, she actually felt secure. Yet he couldn’t sense more than the handful of council members around her, and even with their forces combined he hardly imagined they would be of much risk to Cyrica alone.

By the time he realized he couldn’t sense anything else, it was too late. The formation was already falling into place around them. Cyrica instantly reacted to the change, charging forward towards Kumbukani- but her sword reflected off of a barrier.

“With that attack,” Kumbukani said, “I am pleased to be able to announce the official revocation of whatever diplomatic protection we might have given you. Though that was already the case when you drew your weapon.” A large number of other figures appeared around the room, standing just outside the barrier. “Don’t worry, we will be providing your ship sufficient supplies to return to the Exalted Archipelago. Perhaps you will even be fortunate enough for them to be interested in paying your ransom.”

“Are you crazy?!” Cyrica took another swing at the barrier. “This means war.”

“Don’t pretend there was ever another option,” Kumbukani glared. “You would have drained what you could before invading to take what was left.”

“That’s…”

“And not even smart enough to deny it.”

-----

As promised, the Exalted Archipelago was supplied with food and water and sent on their way… without their leadership. Unless something went terribly wrong they should arrive intact, and while leaving them without the top end of their fighting strength made that more likely that would have to be good enough. They were still mostly composed of Essence Collection cultivators, and there was no way that Brogora was just going to let the Life Transformation cultivators go.

The ransom offers were actually quite reasonable as well. Not that it would make any difference either way. This particular maneuver was simply to cause tension between the subfactions in the Exalted Archipelago. The Ponderous Turtle clan would want their cultivators back, and especially this young mistress of their clan. It was unclear whether they had been sent as some sort of honor or because they were expendable, but either way the tactic should provide some fruit. In the worst case, they would be able to kill ten Life Transformation cultivators instead of having to fight them on organized battle lines.

It was unknown exactly how many the Exalted Archipelago would have, but ten would at least give them pause. A significant amount of resources went into raising each Life Transformation cultivator, so even if they had many hundreds more or even a thousand, the instant shock would still be relevant.

All of the resources that had been coming into the area weren’t just for show. People had to be equipped for the coming time. Battles were inevitable. If they had capitulated they would simply show weakness, and it was common among different cultivator societies that certain people would be incentivized to take further advantage of such.

Now the Exalted Archipelago had to weigh how much it would be willing to risk for the resources of Brogora. After all, they knew about what happened in the invasion. Even if they were presuming they were stronger than the combined forces of the invaders, perhaps because they wouldn’t have the problem of regaining energy, at some point losses would outweigh any gain. And the continents had flourished after the invasion, becoming stronger than they had been even then. It cost them much, but surviving disaster spurred cultivators ever onward.

Anton was back patrolling the ocean. It would be at least several weeks before the journey could be made, though there was some possibility that there was a way for them to communicate back to the Exalted Archipelago- the effects of the Life Transformation cultivators were still being studied. Either way, they still had to be prepared. If more than a single ship approached or they did anything hostile, they would be dealt with.

The first conflicts of the war would be most important. If they caused sufficient damage quickly enough, the Exalted Archipelago might be hesitant to continue. It would give away some of their power, but hiding their strength wasn’t necessarily going to help anyway.

-----

“Why are we on a boat again?” Chikere asked Elder Vasu.

“I thought that had been made particularly clear. The Void Blades are likely one of the more aggressive sects among the Exalted Archipelago. Those having anti-continental sentiments, according to our information. When they leave to attack, we will be raiding their islands, and it is too far too swim.”

“Sure, but… why can’t we just land now and begin the attack? Won’t they take all their best swords with them?”

Vasu smiled, “Perhaps, though it is likely that at least initial waves will not involve the most prominent cultivators.”

“Because they’re cowards?”

“Pretty much,” Vasu shrugged. “Our lack of actual interaction with the Void Blades makes that unclear. Perhaps their eldest will be most proactive… but even if they have the honor of battle in them, there is merit to allowing the younger generation a chance to gain experience in battle.”

“No way,” Chikere said. “I’m already here!”

“... you are part of the younger generation, you know,” Vasu reminded her. “And we did happen to bring everyone we could fit. Wardah mentioned something about the vault nearly being full.”

“Won’t we just build more vaults?” Chikere asked.

“The point is reaching an important milestone. We won’t actually have a million swords for a long time. But a tenth of that is not bad.”

“Are you kidding?” Chikere said. “That’s not even ten swords each!” She glared at the ocean in front of her, “How’s anyone going to get a good collection going?”

“We’ll manage somehow, I’m sure,” Vasu smiled gently. Now it was only a question of how long they had to wait for a message to come in. They could very well be directed to somewhere else, but for the moment they had to hang far back. The maps they had been given had been admitted to be not entirely accurate, but close enough. Likely due to some requirements by the Exalted Archipelago on what the Worthy Shore Society could tell outsiders, though they seemed quite happy to stretch those limits as it suited them. And if they ended up fighting particular sects simply because the Worthy Shore Society didn’t like them, the Million Sword Vault wouldn’t be particularly disappointed. As long as they had something worth bringing back.