The seven elders stood in tense silence within the cave chamber, the weight of the last hour pressing down on them like the mountain itself. Dunce remained motionless on the cold stone dais where the Tianangang Blademaster had placed him, bathed in the fading residue of potent light energy. Impatience gnawed at them, a stark counterpoint to the chamber's oppressive stillness.
Finally, as even the composed Xiwen felt his resolve fraying, Dunce exhaled, a visible shudder passing through him. The shimmering aura cocooning him coalesced and vanished into his body. His eyes snapped open.
In the gloom of the cavern, they appeared like twin stars – cold, piercing points of light that sent a collective chill down the spines of Xiwen and his brethren.
Dunce was back. The Blademaster's desperate gamble hadn't been in vain. The master's entire reserve of celestial-force energy, tenfold his own, had been compressed and fused into Dunce's being. Within his chest cavity, beside the original fist-sized orb of quicksilver light energy he'd cultivated, now resided a new core. It was small, only three inches across, crystalline and opalescent, pulsing with the pure, distilled essence of the Blademaster. Aside from this profound addition, Dunce felt… different. Sharper. Images – flashes of violence, bloodshed, the clash of steel – flickered at the edge of his consciousness like half-remembered nightmares, dissolving when he tried to grasp them. Giving up the struggle, he registered his surroundings and the anxious faces of Xiwen and the others. He rose, his movements unnaturally light, landing soundlessly on the floor. "Master Uncles? You're here?" Only then did he notice his stiff, blood-crusted tunic clinging uncomfortably to his skin.
Xiwen brushed aside concern for Dunce's state. "Dunce! Where is your master? Where is the Blademaster?" His voice trembled with urgency.
Dunce's gaze swept the familiar chamber, finding no trace of the ancient mentor. "Master Grandfather… he said he was going to another world… the realm of the Celials, I think." Grief tightened his throat at the realization he might never see him again in this life. "Has he… already departed?"
"The Celial Realm?" Xiwen's careful demeanor cracked as he grasped Dunce's shoulders. "The Master said he was ascending? Dunce, tell us everything!"
Dunce recounted the Blademaster's words – his physical body decaying beyond this plane, the necessity of transcending to a higher existence to seek breakthrough, the entrusting of his power and the legacy of the Tianangang Sword Sect.
A stunned silence followed. The disciples reeled not only from the staggering gift of the Blademaster's power but also the implications of his departure. Ascension? Was it possible? Hope warred with grief.
Cultur was the first to speak, his voice thoughtful. "Brother Xiwen… if the Master believed he could ascend to the Celial Realm… perhaps it is true. Within this world, his power was unmatched. Even true gods would find him formidable. Shouldn't we… celebrate his triumph rather than mourn?"
Xiwen nodded slowly. There was no body. The blinding light witnessed leaving the cavern had all the hallmarks of ascension myths. It offered a sliver of hope. He sighed, a sound heavy with acceptance. "Whether the Master has entered eternal rest or transcended to the Celial Realm, he is beyond our reach now." His voice deepened with resolve. "Brothers… let us honor his departure." He sank to his knees, striking his forehead against the stone. The others followed, Dunce included. Soon, eight shallow depressions marked the ground.
After a prolonged silence, Xiwen lifted his tear-streaked face, hands clasped in prayer. "Master, journey in peace. Rest assured, your disciples shall uphold the Tianangang legacy as you wished. May your spirit find solace in the heavens… Or, if you truly reside in that new realm… our blessings and reverence follow you always."
Dunce frowned, unsettled by Xiwen's words. "But Master Uncle… he *is* in another world. You sound like…"
Xiwen shook his head, cutting him off. "Enough, Dunce. Come." He rose, helping Dunce to his feet. Confusion clouded Dunce's face as he surveyed the grieving elders. He turned towards the large rock where the Blademaster had spent millennia meditating and whispered fiercely, "Master Grandfather, go first. I will find you in that realm when my power ripens." He leapt back onto his dais, gathering his gear – the Shadow Dagger (replacing '冥王剑'), its sheath, the formidable lizard-hide armor (巨灵蛇之铠), the Lizard King's Eye gem, the tough sinew cord, storing them securely. Then he approached the slumbering form of Holy Evil, his draconic companion. Drawing forth the Dragon's Blood Pendant (神龙之血), he murmured the familiar incantation: "Dragon's Blood, beacon mine, open the path through space and time!" Cultivating his innate energy had surged since mastering the Eighth Cycle of the Primal Flow (生生决), and his control over spatial forces, honed by the demanding practice of Primal Flux (生生变), had sharpened dramatically. Blue radiance streamed from the pendant, engulfing Holy Evil. With a shimmer, the dragon vanished, and Dunce felt the pendant thrum with renewed life essence.
Heavy-hearted, Xiwen and the six other disciples escorted Dunce back to the Tianangang Sect stronghold. Dunce swiftly cleansed the dried blood from his body and donned the lizard-hide armor. It was a marvel – a full suit encasing everything but his head, hands, and feet. Unlike clunky plate, it molded to his form like a second skin, impossibly flexible, breathable, allowing unrestricted movement. Over this, he fastened the Shadow Dagger's sheath and pulled on his simple, travel-worn tunic.
Without the traditional oversized sect blade strapped to his back, Dunce looked unremarkable, yet an undeniable aura of latent power radiated from him – a sharp contrast to his common attire.
In the main Hall of Blades, Xiwen presided from the head seat. The six elder disciples sat gravely along the sides. The atmosphere was thick with apprehension. The Tianangang Sword Sect's preeminence owed much to the overwhelming presence of the Blademaster, a living deterrent. Now, whether ascended or passed, that shield was gone.
Dunce stood beside Cultur, the hall's somber weight making it hard to breathe.
After a long pause, Xiwen broke the silence. "Brothers, with the Master gone, the burden of the sect falls to us. This knowledge *must* remain hidden." His gaze fixed on Zhou. "Seventh Brother, your temper is known. Guard your tongue. And… no word yet to Second Brother. His health is frail; this news might shatter him."
Zhou met his gaze firmly. "Understood, Brother Xiwen. I will be vigilant."
Xiwen sighed again, turning his attention to Dunce. "Dunce, the Master gifted you his entire power. With it comes immense responsibility. Understand this."
Dunce lowered his head. "I understand, Great Master Uncle. Whenever the sect calls, I will return. Swiftly."
"We know Owen's vengeance calls you too," Xiwen acknowledged. "We will not delay you. But remember," his voice grew stern, resonant with command, "Wherever you walk, you *are* Tianangang. Should you stray into darkness, betray our core… we *will* seek you out."
Dunce remained silent, offering only a tight, grim nod.
Cultur stepped forward. "Brother Xiwen, I will take Dunce to find Rock and Rockforce, so they may depart without delay."
"Agreed, Fourth Brother. Thank you," Xiwen said. "Tomorrow, we seven and any disciples who have mastered the Sixth Cycle shall begin studying the Master's Primal Flux teachings. We must grow stronger, and swiftly. All must push their students to greater heights."
"Yes, Senior Brother!" came the unified response.
Cultur led Dunce out of the hall. Walking the corridors, he spoke low and earnest. "Journey wisely, Dunce. If paths become too dark, too treacherous, remember this sanctuary. The Tianangang gates are always open to you."
Dunce's eyes stung, memories of the Blademaster's sacrifice flooding back. "Fourth Uncle-Master… Once Owen's blood debt is paid… I *will* return."
Cultur pressed a simple wooden tube into Dunce's hand. "In dire need, pull the stopper and channel your Primal Flow energy inside. It will signal any Tianangang brother within a hundred miles."
Dunce tucked the tube away. It reminded him of the scroll the Monk Priest Mystic Mystic Night (玄夜) had given him.
They reached the quarters shared by Rock and Rockforce. Knuckles rapped on the door.
"Who is it?" Rock's deep voice rumbled from within.
"Brothers, it's me. Dunce," he replied.
The door swung open. Rock and Rockforce emerged, greeting Cultur respectfully.
Cultur smiled faintly. "Enough formality. Gather your belongings. You depart with Dunce now." Relief washed over the brothers' faces. Though grateful for Xiwen's martial tutelage, the rigid confines of the mountain stronghold chafed against their free spirits. The open road called.
"Dunce! The Blademaster released you?" Rockforce boomed.
Dunce glanced at Cultur, then nodded. "Yes. It's been half a year. We must aid the Lightfoot Tribe (精灵族) in finding their kin. Delay risks too much."
Cultur interjected, "Farewell. Save the courtesies. Be swift. Be cautious. Temper passion with wisdom." He squeezed Dunce's shoulder and walked away.
Once Cultur vanished, Rock laughed, the sound rich and free. "Dunce! Finally! This place was a gilded cage. Come in while we pack." The room was Spartan: two beds, a table, basic necessities. As Rock rolled his spare tunic, he said, "Half a year, and you're transformed, brother. That way you cleaved that hide yesterday… astonishing! Against enemies, it would be devastating!"
Dunce scratched his head. "You exaggerate, brother. Your strength…"
Rockforce, already packed, chuckled. "Spare the modesty! Thought about sparring, but after seeing you conjure those glowing shears? My neck twinged just imagining the 'snip'! No thanks!"
Dunce's mood didn't mirror his friends' elation. "Big Brother Rock, how is Una… the disciple whose leg I broke? Is she healing?"
Rock grunted. "Not overnight. Little Little Bonemends slow. Three moons at least. Serves the little pest right! Kept the whole sect on edge with her antics; now she's finally grounded."
Dunce murmured, almost to himself, "If Mystic Mystic Moon were here… Her healing magic…"
Hearing the longing in his voice, Rock sighed deeply. "Missing her? We all do. Who knew she was the Archbishop's (红衣祭祀) daughter? What if… we go to the Sacred City (教廷)? Find her?"
The suggestion struck Dunce like a physical blow, sparking a fierce ache. Hope flared – quickly doused by grim reality. "No," he said, the word thick. "No… our paths diverge too sharply. Seeing her… it would only cause greater sorrow for her. Perhaps… she has forgotten me already." The thought was a dagger twisting in his gut, a sudden pressure crushing his chest. He'd tried burying his feelings for Mystic Mystic Moon, but his heart refused the lie.
Rock saw the pain etched on Dunce's face, echoing his own loss – his beloved Yun taken too soon, his own heart forever scarred. "You know where she breathes," he said bleakly. "I know only cold earth."
Rockforce watched his companions' sorrow darken the air. "Enough! Wallow deeper, and madness takes you both!" He clapped his hands. "Race you down to the city gates! Last one buys ale!" He took off like a shot down the corridor.
Rock and Dunce exchanged a brief, understanding glance laced with shared sorrow and forced determination. Twin shouts tore from their throats as they charged after Rockforce, the sound echoing off the ancient stone walls.
In the Holy Calendar year 995, spring, Dunce – vessel of the Tianangang Blademaster's final gift – descended the mountain with Rock and Rockforce, stepping onto a path woven with peril and destiny.
Their enhanced strength devoured the miles. After a day of relentless travel, they emerged from the Tianangang mountains. Looking back at the imposing peaks, a sense of rebirth washed over them.
"Mystic Night falls," Rock declared, scanning the horizon. "We rest. Tomorrow, west. Three, maybe four days through the Empire of Radiance's Province of Light (华盛帝国光明行省) to the borderlands of the Kingdom of Shadows (落日帝国). Then we search. City by city. Dunce by stone. The Lightfoot will be found."
Suddenly, Dunce stiffened. His Primal Flow senses, unnaturally sharp now, tingled with warning. Subtle presences… watching. Concealed. He stood slowly, a faint white radiance outlining his form, senses stretching out into the gathering dusk. Insects chirped, nocturnal creatures stirred. Nothing distinct emerged. Only a sense of hidden eyes.
"Dunce?" Rock's hand drifted towards his greatsword hilt. "What's wrong?"
Dunce frowned, scanning the shadows again. "Thought I felt… others watching us. But…" He sat back down, uneasy.
Rockforce scoffed. "Hardly anyone out here, brother! Mountains' edge is lonely territory. If there *are* watchers… what business is it of ours?" Rockforce was wrong. The four figures hidden less than a hundred paces away were indeed following them, dispatched from the mountain's foot. They'd startled at Dunce's unnatural perception and now redoubled their efforts to mask their energy signatures, blending like ghosts into the landscape. They were the Sacred Shield's silent guardians – four Saint Inquisitors of Judgment, sworn to watch over Dunce's path, unseen.
Two days later, crossing provincial lines, they entered the Province of Light's heartland. A colossal city rose before them, dwarfing anything they'd known. Thirty-foot-high walls of immense quarried stone. A twenty-foot-wide moat spanned by a heavy drawbridge bustling with traffic – traders, travelers, pilgrims. Above the central gate, a vast stone plaque proclaimed its name in radiant script: **Dunceria**.
Rock unrolled a worn map. "Dunceria. Capital of Light Province. One of Radiance's greatest cities. As grand as the tales claim!" He tapped a point near the border. "Hear tell, skirmishes flared here a few years past against the Shadow Kingdom. Blood spilled, lands scarred, yet no clear victor emerged."
Dunce nodded, impressed. Dunceria dwarfed the Red Whirlwind clan's settlements he'd seen. The sheer scale spoke of wealth, power, and permanence. "Big Brother Rock, let's find lodging. Rest tonight. A city this vast? Likely nobles aplenty… perhaps… clues to the Lightfoot tribe?"
Rock shook his head. "Doubt it. Radiance styles itself the Kingdom of Purity. Laws here are stringent, rooted in 'virtue'. No slave markets. No dens of illicit pleasure (妓院) or games of ruinous chance (赌场). They value honor above all else; it's why the Tianangang chose their banner. Shadow Kingdom? They are Radiance's shadow. Darkness gathers there. Dens of vice thrive openly like plague sores. Many syndicates nest within its borders. Including… the one that robbed you of WatanaOwen."
Dunce's face hardened like flint. "The Killer Ninja' Guild?" His enhanced power surged within him, promising vengeance.
Rock sighed. "Indeed. Their stronghold is a phantom's dream, Dunce. Known only to their highest masters. Trust me, even lowly blades within their ranks likely wouldn't know the road."
Hope extinguished, Dunce nodded grimly. "A hunt it is, then. Big Brother Rock, what are these… 'dens of illicit pleasure'? 'Games of ruinous chance'? I've heard only whispers."
Rock flushed, stumbling over words. Rockforce roared with laughter. "Reach the Shadow Kingdom, brother! You'll learn soon enough! Cities built on fools' gold!" His eyes held a spark of knowing mischief.
Rock shot him a warning glare. "Brother… those places are cancers to the soul. Best avoided." He changed the subject quickly. "Let's move."
Rockforce suddenly slapped his forehead. "Damnation! The cursed gold!"
Rock and Dunce stared, confused.
Rockforce groaned. "We've got no coin! Not a copper mark! How do we eat? Sleep? Travel? Dust in the wind we'll be!"
Reality crashed over them. Dunce had given what little coin remained to Mystic Mystic Moon. Leaving the Tianangang stronghold in shared grief, neither elders nor Dunce had thought of mundane necessities. Mystic Mystic Moon, heartsick and hurried, had forgotten entirely.
Rock slumped. "Blast it all! Forgotten entirely! No coin? Stellave we might! Or… chop wood? Wash dishes?"
Dunce's eyes lit up, recalling Owen's instructions years ago. He subtly shifted behind Rock's bulk and retrieved a crimson-hued card from his dimensional pendant. "The Guild. Remember? I'm an initiate…" He showed them the card bearing the symbol of the Arcanum Guild. "My stipend. Half a year untouched… should buy passage for a while."
Rockforce whooped, clapping Dunce on the back. "Hah! Magic's got its perks! Though," he grinned broadly, "You fight like a storm given form, lad! Your actual spellcasting… well, let's say it needs sunshine!" He chuckled good-naturedly.
Mention of "spellcasting" sparked a memory in Dunce – Giles (哥里斯), his enigmatic first teacher, whose magical insights felt far deeper than his own clumsy attempts. *Master Giles… after the Lightfoot are safe… I will find you again. Teach me true.* The ache for the mist-shrouded Wildwood was sharp. But duty demanded he stay this course.
Rock smiled, steering them forward. "Enough teasing. Coin secured. To Dunceria!"
The sheer scale of Dunceria, capital of Radiance, hit them instantly. A wide main avenue, crowded with citizens, flanked by multi-storied shops whose hawkers competed in loud commerce. Carriages bearing noble crests crawled through the throng. Prosperity radiated from every polished stone. For Dunce, amidst fellow dark-haired, bronze-skinned people, it felt unremarkable, almost grounding. Rock and Rockforce, however, drew stares – bald-headed giants, heavily armed, radiating a fierce warrior aura utterly foreign to the polished citizenry. Rockforce initially bristled until he caught admiring glances from some young women, prompting him to puff out his chest with exaggerated pride.
Following directions, they soon found their destination. Unlike the smaller towns Dunce knew, the Arcanum Guild of Dunceria was monumental – a majestic six-towered structure dwarfing the bustling Mercenary Guild next door. Arcanists in robes of varying hues and ranks flowed steadily in and out. Unknowingly, Dunce stood before the heart of the Guild across the entire continent.
"Here," Rock murmured, gesturing at the imposing doors.
As they approached, an old man, nearly swallowed by the shadows of the archway, extended a gnarled walking staff, blocking their path without looking up. His voice was dry parchment. "Wrong door. Mercenaries next gate. Arcanum's domain."
Dunce stepped forward, respectful. "Elder Leaf, I am an initiate. Come to claim my stipend." He held out his crimson card. "These two are my sworn brothers, accompanying me."
The old man finally lifted his head. His eyes were rheumy yellow, clouded with age. He scanned the three figures slowly, dismissively. "Initiate… enter. They… remain." He pointed the staff squarely at Rock and Rockforce.
Rockforce's temper flared. "Stubborn relic! We seek neither trouble nor secrets! In and out like dawn's breeze once he has his coin!"
The old man gave a short, dismissive sniff. "Not Arcanists. Not Entering."
Rockforce lurched forward. Dunce caught his arm. "Peace, brother! He guards his post with fading strength. Respect his duty." He turned back to the guardian. "My apologies for my brother's temper. His heart is sound, but his patience… thin. They'll wait." He met the old man's faded gaze.
A flicker of something – perhaps surprise – passed through the milky eyes. "Rude youths abound… civility fades. Be swift." The staff lowered.
Dunce bowed slightly and slipped past the guardian into the grandeur of the Arcanum Guild Hall. Rock pulled Rockforce away, muttering fiercely at him as they found a spot to sit against the cool outer wall. Rockforce grumbled, "Make it quick, lad! The scent of roasting meats floats on the breeze! My belly sings for a mountain of it! Mountain rations make a man dream of *flavor*!"
With a final glance at his brothers, Dunce pushed open the heavy inner door and stepped into the hushed, light-diffused interior of the Arcanum's hallowed Hall. His journey, funded by past credentials, was about to truly begin.