Chapter 150
Hallowed Paradise
It had appeared, a new quest.
Leo stared somewhat absentmindedly at the rather wordy display in front of him, pondering the limitless implications. He could hear laughter ringing in the background, interspersed with an occasional bark or an order, though they all rang hollow at the moment. He was too woven into the newly born reality, distracted by the future that was yet to pass.
[--New quest generated: The Colossal War]
[... timeline established.]
[The Colossal War -- actions of the Holy Blade Sect Leader had echoed out against the vast lands of Ashlands, stirring the souls. Combined with the changing times and the Qi Storms, they had yielded an unprecedented outcome. An order of war came down upon the Middle Ashlands, and the preparations have thus commenced. Sixty-two Sects, eighteen Cults, two hundred and forty-one Clans and countless vagabonds will soon come under the War's Banner. They will all reach, en masse, the Lower Ashlands in precisely one year, two months, and seventeen days. While the official casus belli is the death of Lei Feng and the official target is Holy Blade himself, it will become a war of conquest in which no stone will remain untouched]
[Quest: ensure that the conquest fails, drive back the invading forces, and prevent the Holy Blade Sect from collapsing. Should you fail in any one of the parts, the entire quest will be considered a failure.]
[Conditions: you must not divulge this knowledge to anyone else; you must not prevent the war itself from happening; you cannot leave the Forest before the war's beginning and will only be allowed to leave it for 6 hours once the war's begun]
[...]
[For the duration of the Quest, you have been granted the following: 20% faster progress in cultivation for all your Disciples and Servants of the Sect;
50% greater yield of all Forest-native resources
access to the lowest-level library of Martial Arts and Cultivation methods for free; you may inspect, adjust, and teach any of the methods of the Mortal, Earth, and Sky Realms
monthly supply of the most basic pills
20,000 Spirit Stones every week to supplant the Arrays and Formations
you may, at any point, spend System XP to purchase any of the Basic, Intermediate, and Advanced Arrays or Formations, as well as all materials necessary to set them up
Primordial War Spirit effects will temporarily activate for the training purposes
you may teach all your Elders either 'Simple Steps Art' or 'Simple Slash Art', but not both; they will have to master the arts themselves, though you can offer guidance
you may share your resources with the outsiders in the current capacity, though you cannot teach them any of the Arts given by the System, or offer them any of the rewards granted by the System]
[For the duration of the Quest, you are barred from the following: asking Spirits to help in any way outside the current capacity
stopping your current treatment of them
ignoring any other Quest that may appear for the time]
[...]
[...]
[Penalty for Failure: Death]
[...]
[Rewards: immediate ascension to the next major realm, regardless of how far you reach in a year; a Blessing of Death that will last a year and apply to your entire Sect, granting everyone immensely massive regenerative powers; complete submission and devotion of the Forest; a perfect answer to one question, no matter what it is; a random Primordial-tier sword (most of its functions will be sealed until you become strong enough to wield it); you will be allowed to designate an Heir who shall continuously inherit 40% of the System's Rewards granted to you]
[...]
[Good luck, traveler.]
Leo sighed, taking a sip of the awful booze Lu Yang brought back... again. It seemed that it had nothing to do with his inability to obtain better kind; it was just that he, for some reason, preferred this... rancid garbage. Nonetheless, as beggars couldn't be choosers, Leo, too, accepted this to be the only kind he could drink and just ignored the sordid afterburn.
The entire window laid down a whole lot of information that painted a much clearer picture of the world as well as the entire upcoming year that he would live. This was probably what Chilly meant when he told him to win a war, and if he did, he would have proven himself worthy. Though it was not his war, or even a war that involved the Forest or the Spirits, it was just... a test.
"Everything alright?" Lu Yang broke him out of the stupor and asked. They'd stayed at the lodging camp with the rest for the past few days, coming and going at dawn and in the evening. Unsurprisingly, just two 'special dinners' had further changed the optics of this place; everyone had gotten to at least peak Qi Condensation Realm, with quite a few breaking through to Foundation Establishment. It looked less like a gathering of somber vagrants hoping to have a place to call home and more like a drifting sect establishing its footing in the world.
"Everything's fine," Leo replied casually, his eyes drifting over to the central building. They still didn't have any professionals with actual know-how, but even so, the 'Hallowed Hall', as Leo dubbed it, was grandiose in its make.
Its foundations were made of thick layers of stone, while the building itself was constructed out of wood; per suggestions, it would make it easier to rebuild and restructure in the future. It had a tiered structure, each roof curving upward in graceful parabolae. The grand, arched entrance was framed by vermillion pillars, hand-carved into the shape of four deities layered over each other in a dance, or a battle, for all ages: a Dragon, a Tiger, a Tortoise, and a Vermilion.
Some sixty steps were laid out in front of the elevated structure, flanked by torched lights and shimmering gems, the stone of the steps carefully polished until it was almost reflective. He'd been inside a couple of times, and though it was barren, it exuded a level of imposition that even he had to admire. Every detail was handmade, every pillar holding up its layers carefully placed and carved, the central chair perfectly positioned as though a throne, and dozens of praying mats laid out on the sides of the central path from the entrance to the chair itself.
And, behind it, was a sigil: a circle with intersecting ribbons flattening out by the edges, curling inwardly like buds of a lotus flower into the shape of an eye.
"Are you ready?"
"Hm, let's go," He stood up as Lu Yang took something out of the spatial ring, throwing it over Leo.
The robes were rather heavy and in equal measure flamboyant; dragon robes, they called them, hewed with gold and silver, their silk smooth and radiant. Motifs akin to the sigil could be seen everywhere in their make, weaving ribbons and trails of gold curling and unfolding, contracting and blossoming, all slowly pathing toward the back of the robes where a massive eye, just like the one in the sigil, was sewn open wide, golden and radiant.
The entire plaza was empty, with only Lu Yang and him present, because everyone else was in the grand building. He climbed the stairs slowly as he saw shadows stalk from the rear; one after another, Spirits appeared, smaller ones leading the charge toward the entrance while the larger ones began to fall behind.
Leo glanced back and saw a sea of them peeking behind the trees, stationed in every direction, all eyes glued to him. He stopped and met their gazes, the weight of their expectations bearing down on his soul. The only reason he had a choice in the end was because of them--because of their faith in him. If he failed, he would die, as would all hopes and dreams he had of his own life in this world. But if he lived... he would take upon himself the burden of building a world not just for them, but also for all those who would join his sect.
He nodded and smiled before turning around and walking up. The usual suspects were right there with him--but they were perched on and around Lu Yang instead. Hoot, Red, Blackie, Milky... even Long Jane-son came out momentarily, her bodice wrapped around Lu Yang's right arm.
Leo stopped in front of the entrance briefly, glancing up at the signboard: Hallowed Paradise. It was a name he ultimately ended up choosing, partly due to the cultivation technique that the system gave him and partly because of his own naive aspirations.
He could see the lines of souls residing within the massive hall, prayer mats reserved for the 'Elders' and 'Disciples', while the others stood behind them in languid silence.
He took a deep breath before stepping forward and crossing the threshold; each one of his footsteps echoed out into the hall, ringing like a welcoming bell. Torched flames illuminated the view, hanging from the pillars, guiding him down the open path toward the chair. Though Leo had protested numerous times, it was one of the few things that they didn't want to hear of; whether it was Yue or Liang, or even Azariel, or the guests from the Holy Blade Sect, or even the people themselves... he was repeatedly told that this was needed. Akin to christening a boat, he figured inwardly.
It took him almost half a minute to reach the chair even with a normal pace, and he took yet another breath before turning around and facing his audience. He didn't sit, not yet anyway, and instead let the more expectant eyes sink into him. There was a level of zealotry in the gazes that he was uncomfortable with, largely centered in the newcomers; their lives were upturned and changed, and now they burned with vitality they never expected.
But even outside of them, the way others looked at him was... uncomfortable. He, who always earned the looks of derision no matter where he went, who always endured the damning whispers spoken behind his back, who never knew other joy but that of plight, who never had any expectations pressed against his shoulders... now had the world of them sinking into his chest.
It was difficult to breathe, yet breathe he must.
It was difficult to think, yet think he must.
It was difficult to accept, yet accept he must.
They were all waiting, silent, still, and patient, staring at him as though he were an exhibit in a museum. Taking yet another deep breath, he smiled faintly before talking.
"You guys are going to bore holes in me with how hard you're staring." The tense atmosphere immediately collapsed as a few bouts of laughter rang out, with him joining in for a moment before continuing. "When I first started living here," his voice quickly quieted the rest, echoing out into the hall. "I thought that this would be all of my world. I thought that I'd be talking to trees and animals for the remainder of my days. But, as is often the case in life, fate is... uncertain. Now, I have over a hundred of you to talk to. Not that I'm seeking conversation, mind you, as I'm sure my disciples would confirm, but... I'd forgotten, and was forced to remember, that no man is an island.
"We all drift in life, and we can all become lost at times. Driven by things that disgust us. Beaten. Broken. That is why... I wanted to create this place. A little hamlet meant for the residual souls in search of a higher meaning; perhaps you stay here for a little while, perhaps for a long while, but I wanted there to be a home for anyone drifting. A small, tiny little place you can come back to when life simply becomes... too much. Perhaps I'm defying the heavens ever so slightly by calling it Hallowed Paradise, but I believe that without ambition of such scale, endeavor would have been pointless.
"We come together today, basking in the glow of anticipation, to celebrate many things; some of you are celebrating me, some yet a home you've discovered, some perhaps yet an entirely separate thing unknown to the rest of us... but whatever it is that you are celebrating, let it be loud. Let it be a ruckus. Life is too short and too grand of a thing to spend it in silence and modesty; when the skies call for it, let your voices be as loud as thunder and your wills as firm as mountains. Let life not be shorn of solitude and silence, but let it not be consumed by them either.
"Thank you. All of you," his voice firmly resonated as he smiled. "Whatever your reasons for coming here, and whatever twine of fate perhaps brought you here and to me, you've become indispensable parts of this alcove straddled in the depths of the dark. Tonight, we celebrate you as much as we celebrate the Sect. Let us feast!"
A rather roaring applause blew out as a few figures stepped out from the masses and walked up to the stairs before kneeling down: Yue, Liang, and Ye Bao, his three disciples. For the first time, Leo noticed that the three wore uniform robes--silver and white and golden, embroidery grand yet subdued, with the sigil of the Sect sewn into the right-side chest.
Lu Yang and Azariel stepped up and beside them, standing at the far ends of the stairs, one on each side. Each, too, had a child beside them--Shui'er with Lu Yang and Hino with Azariel.
The rest unraveled behind them, kneeling down with their heads pressed against the floor, with the exception of two visitors from the Holy Blade Sect--Elder Ag and Zexian.
It was as grand a sight as Leo had ever seen, and a sordid emotion of pride swelled within him; when had he ever had so many people respect him? No... perhaps this went well beyond respect and dangerously close to cultish in some ways. He could only sigh and wonder whether it was even worth attempting to undo it.
He cast his gaze beyond the arched entrance and to the outside, where he saw the animals staring in, their beady eyes concentrated on him. They, too, seemed oddly reverent.
Even if he was uncomfortable, even if he was unwilling, even if he wasn't ready... it seemed that the days of him meandering between the trees and taking life in stride were over. There was a higher calling to work for and a greater spectacle to endure. The world was changing, and though he may not be the herald... he would have to join the change and herald one of his own.
Perhaps, somewhere at the far ends of his journey, there existed an answer to the question that had been burning within the depths of his heart for as long as he'd been here: Why me?
End of Act II -- The World of Ash