Spirit Immortal

"Thanks..." Junius gently took the toy rattle-drum and kept it in his bag.

"Hehe, no need to thank me! Just treat it as a gift from Uncle Ao!" The World Serpent remarked, all of his pearly white teeth shown in full view. "So, what are you going to call your future child?"

"It’s still too early," Junius toned down his voice, and the tips of his feet were pivoted towards the exit. He wanted to find a chance to escape, but his direct superior wasn’t going to let him off that easily.

"Oh, come on! I’m sure that you had some ideas by now!" Ao nudged Junius’ ribs playfully. "You can tell me, I won’t spill the secret!"

"It’s not like we’re trying to hide anything..." Junius sighed and rubbed the temples of his forehead. "Anyway, we should really focus on the matters at hand. If you may excuse me, I have some troops to recall now." The Black Mask bowed, ready to retreat at any moment now. Alas, the World Serpent wasn’t done.

"Hold up!" Ao grabbed Junius by the wrist. "I changed my mind! We can’t have you risking your life in the Lantis Republic right now."

Junius eyes flashed in panic. "Wait, Senior Ao! It’s not the first time that I’ve been sent into dangerous missions! I can handle this!"

"It’s not like I distrust your ability to complete missions," Ao frowned. Gone was his uncle-like demeanour. It was now replaced with the dignity of a superior. "We just can’t lose talents during this critical conjuncture. Not to mention, you have a child on the way... How about this, return to your family in the west and develop the Uncharted Wilderness like before. You’re the only one that can harvest seeds of the Soul Trees from Illusory Canyon now. We still need your expertise there."

"Senior Ao!" Junius hollered, still in an angered protest. "If you think that I’ll be impaired just because I have a child on the way, I believe that you’re mistaken! I live to serve the Allfather! Shia and the rest of the Awter Clan members know that! We will be..."

"Enough!" Ao’s voice boomed. An electric current ran down Junius’ spine as goosebumps stood all over his body. The World Serpent was just inches away from evolving into a Primordial Beast. There was no way that the Rank 58 Junius could resist his aura. "My decision is final. Go home and develop the area near the Tree of Illusions."

"... Understood." Junius could only nod in surrender. Attaching himself to Ao had its benefits, but the demerits were there as well. With the Allfather asleep, Junius only had Ao as support. Thus, he was at the World Serpent’s mercy. If Ao wanted Junius to stand, he had to stand. If Ao wanted Junius to sit, he had to sit. That was the nature of their relationship.

The World Serpent took a deep breath in, as he watched the slight grimace on the young Kshatriya. His tensed muscles relaxed just a little before a comfy hand grabbed onto Junius’ shoulders. "Junius, we all can see your faith towards the Allfather and the Black Masks. However, the best way to serve the Allfather is to remain living. You can’t do anything if you’re dead right?"

Ao’s words sunk deep into Junius’ soul. Ever since he’d come out from the Illusory Canyon, Junius had been desperate to prove himself. Taking on high-risk missions, devising multiple plans as one of the leading strategists, and even personally coming to Mythpoint Reach, even though they were besieged on all sides by Alliance members. There was no question in the Black Masks’ minds that Junius had earned his spot at the top, despite his tender age.

"Take a year or two to rest a little," Ao ordered. "You’ve done enough. The Allfather has told me many times that he’s pleased with your performance. However, no one can perform at their absolute peak for long periods of time. Develop the western lands while you spend some time with Shia. Pregnant women need all of the support that you can give them. Also, your future child will become a precious asset in the new world that the Allfather is about to create! You should at least spend some years with the infant!"

"If that’s your wish..." Junius gave a solemn bow. In the end, he was just a subordinate to the Nine Coloured Noble Beast. There was nothing that he could do to change Ao’s mind...

❖❖❖

The Himmel Empire. The Imperial Palace.

Cuckoo... Cuckoo...

Sunrise. One of the most tiring time for any human to be awake. The moon was still in the backdrop, blocked by an array of grey, misty clouds. Milky stars from the heavens above disappeared as the world turned more and more orange. Fresh morning dew hit the adorable faces of the rabbits and birds that roamed freely in the Imperial Palace, waiting for the maids to prepare their breakfast.

It was winter in the Lantis Republic, but the humid Imperial Palace that bordered close to the equator still experienced the heat of a never-ending summer. The air was crisp and the cool breeze of the night wholly dissipated. Anyone who trained under these circumstances would be drenched with sweat with just a hundred-metre dash. However, some people just didn’t care.

Sheltered by a banyan tree, a silver-haired man swung his spear around with great ferocity. Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! The metallic spear created whirlwinds with every swing. Bits of glorious stardust flowed out from the elongated weapon, and each step was executed with needle-like precision. One thigh raised with another firmly attached to the floor, the young man struck his spear out once more. Beautiful illusory afterimages of the spear graced the courtyard, and the leaves that fell from the banyan tree were obliterated within seconds.

The spearman wasn’t done. Channelling mana into his ankles and wrists, the man spun around twice and retreated from his original position at a speed untraceable by the human eye. The next millisecond, the silver-haired man was on the other side of the twenty-metre wide banyan tree. In his wake, thousands of cuts crisscrossed the mossy floor, showing the wide arc path he took.

Once his move was completed, the spearman bent both of his knees down. One foot ahead of the other, he spun the spear until it was parallel to the ground at his waist. Mana flowed into the spear from his Spectre Soul, and a spectacular aura covered the entire field around him. HAAA!!! With a shout, the spearman unleashed a flurry of swings, created a dark, calamitous cyclone before him. A thousand, maybe ten thousand, swings were completed in the next ten seconds, destroying anything that stood in his path.

Finishing his Calamitous Cyclone, the man used the momentum of that deadly attack to propel himself into the air. Spiritual energies were drained from the air, and the element didn’t matter. Earth, Fire, Lightning, Water, Wind, Light, Darkness, Mind, Space and Time. No matter what element it was, it was being drained rapidly by the mana-hungry silver spear in the spearman’s hands. Like a blender, the spear took in the elements and mixed them all into pure energy. The spear aura that the man was emitting became sharper and sharper until the world turned breathless at the sight of him. If there were anyone under the Spirit Spectre realm that was witnessing the pure energy of the spearman, they would unquestionably be dropping like flies. And in the end, like a dormant volcano that had been wound up for years, the spear erupted in absolute fury.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!

The entire courtyard broke in half. Literally. Stones flew everywhere as a slit divided the massive training ground in two. The banyan tree that he’d trained under was uprooted and utterly decimated while the ponds nearby had been wholly evaporated. The ground shook with immense fear, and the dust continued to billow out like ashen smoke. The spearman’s simple throw had actually created a mushroom cloud, reserved for the most devastating of explosions. If not for the barrier protecting this part of the Imperial Palace, the Imperials living here would have been rudely awakened before the sun had even graced the sky. Naturally, those who were more sensitive could roughly guess what was happening and woke up the same anyway. However, they quickly identified the cause and turned over to regain some shut-eye. They had long become used to the spearman’s training.

More and more, the spearman showed off his techniques. Many were unrepeatable. He could move at a speed that was equivalent to that of breaking space with a teleport and smash with the force that generates earthquakes on the magnitude scale.

The Wukong Style. Lasgeor Spearmanship. The Plum Blossom Spear. Space-Walk. So many martial arts were being displayed by the silver-haired man. His crystal-clear eyes flashed with immense understanding, and his movements flowed effortlessly. Power, speed, poise... The man had it all. Up till the final strike, the spearman never ceased his endless dance. His complexion was red from being overheated, and his entire uniform was drenched with an ungodly amount of sweat. Still, the man continued to persevere. He was determined to finish this final dance, even if it meant taking his own life.

The man’s spear continued to send crescent moons of pure energy out from its tip, and the dance slowly came to a close. He was so close to finishing his assessment. There was just one more hurdle in his path. Both feet on the ground, the spearman ceased everything abruptly. In... Out... In... Out... The intense heartbeat of his was being quelled somewhat by his calm and soothing breathing technique. The silver spear in his hands was now perpendicular to the ground that boasted a crater.

’Slowly... Slowly...’ The man thought. He had to be patient. If he rushed this moment, he had to redo the entire procedure all over again. That was the last thing that the silver-haired spearman wanted.

A hallucination of ten thousand valiant warriors appeared within the recesses of the spearman’s mind. Be it men or women, the army of soldiers all possessed a deadly aura of dominance around them. Whatever martial arts that they represented, they were the kings. Spear, swords, bows, fist, footwork... Anything... They were the king...

So what did that make the man who towered over them?

The silver-haired spearman brought all of his mana onto the table, and a billion particles dominated the land surrounding him. The fatigue that he’d accumulated throughout the night seemingly vanished as a new pressure fell upon his shoulders. Everything boiled down to the final few moves he had left...

BOW!!!

The first strike. A phantom spear pierced through the air, seemingly weak as compared to the spearman’s other hits. However, it was anything but soft. If anyone below the Spirit Spectre realm were to be on the receiving end of that attack, they would undoubtedly have their entire organs ripped out from their bodies, and their blood would evaporate entirely.

BOOOOWWWW!!! BOOOOWWWW!!! BOOOOWWWW!!!

The second attack was much the same. And so was the third and fourth one. Visually, not spectacular. However, not a single soul wanted to be standing in the middle of that attack.

BOOOOOOOWWWWW!!! VVVVVVVVWWWWRRROOOWWWW!!!

Spectral elements shot out like wildfire, melting everything and anything in its path. It continued on for a dozen more strikes. Each one showing more power compared to the last. They were all strikes that would kill in one shot or at the very least, mortally wound. On and on it went until the spearman finally felt his mana dwindle. Still, before he dropped, he wanted to make one final move count...

The spear extended out and spear aura seeped into the rocky ground. Mana left the spearman like an open tap, and the earth rumbled even louder than before. Cracks formed on the surface and dust began to rotate wildly. The spearman’s outstretched arm trembled as the weight on his spear seemingly increased a million-fold. Still, the man endured. He had to. The Art of Himmel hasn’t concluded yet. He had to hold on.

And then...

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!

The entire earth before the spearman was flung up in the same direction as his spear. The sun was blocked by the immense dust and mud rained down from the heavens. Spiritual energy continued to flow out of the man and continued to make an updraft in the land before him.

The silver-haired man fell to the floor. His body was spent. The spiritual energy that he’d spent so hard to accumulate was gone. His superior physical body that could run a thousand marathons was sore and broken. And his mind was anything but lucid. Still, the spearman couldn’t help but put on a smile. He did it. He had finally achieved his goal!

"Good job, Isadore..." An elderly, leather-faced man walked over from the side. His silver hair was combed entirely back, and his wrinkled face broke out into a rare smile.

"You passed the test," he continued. "You’ve become a master of ten thousand and one different styles! Congratulations on becoming the second-best martial artist in the world!!!"

✵✵✵

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