Elder Cultivator

“Truthfully swordmaster, are you sure we’re going the right way?” Captain Mirjana said. The Windspear had been chasing what seemed to be nothing for close to a week. “We’re getting close to the ice floes and we haven’t seen hide nor hair of them.”

“Of course I’m sure, I can sense it,” Chikere folded her arms. “We’re getting closer.”

“You keep saying that, but we ought to have caught up to them by now. Even those with the best senses can’t pick out a target from such a vast distance, can they?”

“That’s because they don’t know what they’re looking for,” Chikere declared.

“If it helps,” one of the disciples of the Million Sword Vault commented, “We received word that Swordmaster Netta of the Void Blades would be in the area. In addition, Swordmaster Chikere is the best at the aspect of sensing swords.”

Chikere glared at him, but the man stood firm. “Are you saying I’m not the best at everything?”

“There are other aspects regarding swords where others are indeed superior,” the man nodded, shifting slightly too relieve the feeling of blades pressing into his skin. He was well aware she wouldn’t actually kill him, either with her aura or her actual swords, but disciples of the Million Sword Vault were encouraged to engage in combat as much as possible as long as they avoided crippling each other, which left quite a lot available. But none of them would last long if they were afraid of a little danger, and the chance to face off against a Swordmaster for even an instant was worthwhile. And Swordmaster Chikere wasn’t crazy or violent, by their standards.

“Hmph, I guess that’s fair enough,” Chikere focused her vision back on the distance. “We’re very close now. They’ll sense us soon.”

Captain Mirjana frowned, “I suppose that’s good, given that the Windspear isn’t equipped to sail much further but… will they choose to fight?”

“Of course,” Chikere said confidently. “Netta is a swordmaster. She won’t just flee when we get close.”

“More likely have an ambush set for us,” said the same disciple.

“We’re just here to transport you,” Captain Mirjana cautioned. “We don’t have the strength to protect the ship.”

“Not a problem. In fact… you should pull up over there.”

“I don’t see any ships on the horizon. Are you sure?”

“It’s fine. We’ll walk.”

Of course, ‘walking’ involved jumping on ice floes and certainly leaned more towards running. Powerful cultivators could support themselves on even water with their natural energy, so solid surfaces that could hold their weight was fairly trivial, even if they were uneven and liable to tilt. The current group was formed only of Essence Collection and Life Transformation cultivators, though Chikere was the only who could properly claim the title of Swordmaster among the latter.

They quickly closed the distance with their targets. The area had no land, but along with the ice floes were larger icebergs, some of which were close to hills sticking out of the water and blocking vision. Further limiting visibility was swirling snow and the spray of waves.

When a sword was thrust towards her heart, Chikere deflected it with number one. Just because the figure had been hidden didn’t mean she couldn’t pick out their location. There were various factors that people might have called upon, but they all tied together into her ability to sense swords. The fact that her defensive energy had been punctured and a small trail of blood trickled down her ribs just went to show her opponent’s skill.

The Void Blades were adept at hiding themselves among the surroundings, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t handle a straight on fight. After the initial clashes it was impossible for any of them to remain truly hidden, but the core of their technique still remained strong. The angles of attack were meant to be the most difficult to react to, and their energy was tuned to make perceiving them difficult to begin with. It wasn’t just their use of energy, but also a deep knowledge of blind spots. Even cultivators couldn’t completely overcome the physical limitations of their body, and it was easy to miss an attack from a blind spot if one was not experienced enough.

A Swordmaster would of course be capable of counteracting such techniques, and Chikere was not above using them herself. She’d studied the Void Blades’ techniques previous, but she hadn’t found herself in a truly worthwhile battle with them yet. Swordmaster Netta made use of twin swords which were worthy of being number two and three. Perhaps two and four, on either side of Vianne’s sword. Number one was still the best sword from the upper realms.

Netta made high use of maneuverability, darting in and out of Chikere’s reach. Though Chikere had a cloud of swords around her, they didn’t stray too far from her and didn’t crowd particular areas. Slippery ice forced Chikere to watch her own footing as attacks came from all angles, her own attacks expertly parried or forced to be withdrawn for her own safety.

She got a cut along her eyebrow and a shallow puncture in her right thigh. Meanwhile, Chikere hadn’t touched her opponent. It was… great, actually. Just what she wanted, a worthy opponent. Chikere still believed she was better though. She had always carried that confidence, and it was not only justified, but part of her strength. Believing she would win could lead to her victories… along with decades of training and experience as well as excellent swords.

The front of Chikere’s outfit split as if normal cloth were being cut instead of some of the most expensive and highly enchanted textiles in the world. They wouldn’t do much to defend her, though they had already succeeded at their purpose. That previous attack would have cut through at least a couple ribs otherwise.

“You’re doing quite well holding your own,” Swordmaster Netta commented, “But the rest of the disciples with you aren’t lasting nearly so well. Perhaps you should assist them?”

“Why?” Chikere said in response. Her swords never stopped as she traced nearly inescapable patterns through the air. As a consequence of controlling so many weapons, each was slightly weaker and slower. If she had even a handful of blades that she could wield as freely as her real arms, nobody could stand a chance. It was also a matter of how much energy she was willing to devote at once, though she had limits regardless of what she wanted.

“I thought you continentals cared about things like that. Or are you more heartless than we thought? The Exalted Archipelago takes good care of our own.”

Ten swords thrust downward, sticking into the ice in a circle around Netta while another ten stabbed in from the sides, but the woman skillfully cut her way through the ice beneath her feet. Her response came from below Chikere as the ice beneath her feet was cut into dozens of tiny pieces, but she brought her swords down to limit Netta’s options as she leapt out of the next hole. “You’re not even half as united as you claim. And I don’t have to worry about the others. They will either win, or this is simply as far as they could go.”

“Brutal,” Netta commented. She deflected incoming swords, using their momentum against them to tear them from Chikere’s grip and fling them far away. They were inconvenient to recover at the moment, but at least they weren’t broken. Even the lowest on the totem pole were sturdy enough.

“It’s practical,” Chikere said. “One must be able to choose opponents they can defeat.”

Netta’s next series of attacks began with crossing slashes of her swords. Chikere dodged and deflected with the sword in her primary hand, only able to directly stand against her opponent. With a twist she disarmed the sword in Netta’s left hand.

She moved in close, locking her opponent’s blade against her own while stepping close. Another of her blades stopped a dagger stabbing towards her gut. As Netta quickly withdrew, trails of blood were drawn upon her as Chikere’s brought a dozen blades to bear on her briefly stationary form.

Chikere looked at her left wrist, where some tendons had been severed. “That’s it?” she said as Netta tossed aside the dagger to draw another sword from her storage bag when she had a moment.

“Your effectiveness will drop significantly with that injury,” Netta said. “I’d hardly call that nothing.”

“Yeah, and the poison, but so what?” Chikere shrugged. “You have a hundred daggers and a dozen extra blades hanging around in your bag, and you only pulled something out because you got disarmed? You can’t… use them all at once?”

“I don’t need to.”

Chikere held her left arm behind her, where one of her own swords cut a deep gouge. She flicked it to dislodge already coagulating black blood deep inside, and stood with one arm forward.

Netta charged forward in her moment of distraction, zig-zagging around the field of blades coming for her. Her swords cut towards Chikere in the most optimal path to cut her apart. Chikere took a step back… and they both stopped.

Netta looked down at the sword stabbed into her ankle. Chikere had stepped on the hilt of Netta’s previously disarmed sword, angling it slightly upwards. She hadn’t augmented it with any of her own natural energy, but the high quality of the sword allowed it to cut through Netta’s energy where her defenses weren’t focused.

“Your effectiveness will drop significantly with that injury,” Chikere mimicked. They only stopped for a fraction of a second, and Chikere’s swords were already moving in. Netta was still able to move her upper body and use her swords to expertly deflect and dodge the incoming attacks, but Chikere simply turned around and walked away. When Netta tried to chase after her, she found herself impaled from a dozen directions at once, with another dozen that failed to pierce her defenses.

Chikere shook her head. The range she could move her blades was limited, but not that limited. Netta had been pretty good though. Chikere had been a small step away from dying herself if she made a mistake. She just focused too much on what she thought was the danger. Chikere’s natural energy swept backwards to pick up the new number two and four. The rest… well, they were garbage. Enough that she considered distributing them to the others instead of claiming them for herself.

-----

The siege in Obuandi resulted in the Exalted Archipelago having to retreat onto their ships. It came all at once, not during some sort of climactic attack but one night when the bombardment was at a low point. There was little that could be done to stop them, but that was never the intent. Now that they were driven off, the continental forces could fortify the area so it wasn’t so easily reclaimed.

As for the exact cause of the sudden retreat, nobody was quite sure. News of Swordmaster Netta’s death came within the next day, but there were other active groups as well. Regardless, the call was made. That didn’t lead to an immediate ceasefire of any sort, and the continental forces still kept vigilant watch for approaching ships, ready to attack them.

A week later, a lone ship was allowed to approach the western coast of Ambati, carefully escorted. They were cautious because the strongest cultivator on the ship claimed to be Sect Head Treloar of the Worthy Shore Society… but the name didn’t match their records. Yet the cultivation technique felt correct, and was verified by some of those who had interacted with them before. So they were escorted to Tiarhogo to meet with the council, where such discrepancies could be asked about. There wasn’t much else said, besides him announcing his name and that they came in peace- which fit with their earlier understanding of the Sect’s interactions. But there was no way to know for sure what the visit meant until they landed.