Chapter 4: Time Flies
A boy around the age of 14 ran down the main road of the village with a wooden pack frame much larger than himself on his back, filled with branches. Although it was called the main road for this village, it was little more than a clearing of dirt around 300 feet long and 20 feet wide, with rickety old wooden buildings propped up sporadically on either side.
"Hey Damon, we're going to go play in the lake before the winter cold arrives! Do you want to come with us?" a boy shouted out from a group of children walking by.
"Older Brother Jon, I need to take these branches to the chief's house. After that, I need to make trips to the mountain well and bring back buckets of water for a few families before I finish my daily rounds. Sadly, I don't think I will be able to join you and the others today!" replied the boy carrying the wooden pack frame.
"That's too bad! WE ALL wanted to spend more time with you." The boy leading the group of children replied while pointing toward a couple of young girls standing near the back of the group and winking toward the boy carrying the wooden pack frame. This caused the girls singled out by Jon to blush and hide behind the bigger children.
Acting as clueless as ever, the boy just flashed a silly grin back at Jon, a broad-shouldered and tall boy with short blonde hair and ash gray eyes. He then waved at all the children while continuing to run down the road.
An elderly man idling under a cypress tree near the village entrance saw this interaction and clicked his tongue. "Look at him. He doesn't need to work so hard. He should be off having fun with the other children. We even offered him support for free. Instead, he insists on doing menial chores for just a few copper coins and grains."
Another elderly man smoking a pipe replied, "The boy adamantly refused it." Shaking his head, he continued, "Perhaps it is pride? Or maybe it is madness. Ever since that night the Fletchers died, the boy hasn't been the same. He smiles, but his eyes are blank. It's as though… There's no light in it. What a pity. The bandits took more than just his parents that night." All the other elderly figures around them also shook their heads and sighed as they listened. That night had been a tragedy for all of them, but it appeared to have affected this young child the most.
The boy at the center of this conversation had long since disappeared down the road. He was currently unloading the branches under the awning behind the one house in the village sturdy enough to be called a proper structure. His name was Damon Fletcher. He was a slightly lean but sturdy boy with handsome features. He had black hair, dark blue eyes, and smooth, light-toned skin.
Although Damon had told the other children that he had to run buckets of water to the village, he had actually finished that chore early in the morning. He had a different reason why he was going up to Pinemist Mountain. He was on his way to a secret cave located on the mountain to cultivate!
Finished with the daily chores he had long become accustomed to over the past few years, Damon received a few copper coins and a sack filled with grain from the village chief on behalf of the villagers he assisted. He thanked the chief with a bow and quickly turned to run back up the mountain.
As Damon journeyed up the mountain, he stopped by his home to drop off the wooden pack frame and the sack of grain. The oversized frame, almost as tall as he was, made a dull thud as it was placed against the wall of the shack. His gaze slowly drifted around the yard as he reminisced about the days his parents watched him run around trying to catch a lizard. Such happy scenes had not been seen in this place for many years. Now, all that this run-down shack was used for was shelter and nothing more.
The mountain, or rather the secret that lay within, now occupied most of his time. Although he knew that he should not dwell on past memories, lest they affect his cultivation, he could not prevent himself from remembering these simpler times. Shaking his head in an attempt to empty his mind, he continued to trek further up the mountain.
Despite the mountains being heavily shrouded in mist, there was no hesitation in Damon's steps as he walked up the trail. His vision was not obscured by the mist in the slightest, as if it did not exist. After a short while, he reached the familiar clearing filled with stones and boulders and walked directly into the cliffside, vanishing from view. The clearing regained its tranquility, and there was no sign of any living presence.
As Damon walked over to sit beside the Mind Essence spring, his demeanor changed from that of an energetic yet sensible boy to that of a logical and calculating young man. He glanced around the spacious hall. A makeshift wooden table occupied the center of the space, atop which lay multiple miscellaneous items: crystalline vials of various colors, many notebooks, scraps of parchment, small empty boxes, and a short golden sword. The two sides of the cave were flanked by a stack of disorganized bedding and a small campfire for heating water or food, respectively. This had been his primary place of residence for the past three and a half years.
"Although I am still only 14 years old, an age where I would normally be rushing around with the other children, cultivation has altered my mind into maturing much faster than anticipated. I do not feel the desire to do anything besides cultivate. Why am I so obsessed with cultivation? Do I want to continue the legacy left behind by my Master? Do I want to gain the strength to take revenge for my parents?" pondered Damon out loud as he stroked his hairless and smooth chin.
"I should now have the strength to take revenge on the rest of the bandits. Although taking revenge for my parents' deaths is a worthy cause, it does not appeal to me as strongly as it did in the past. Is it because the passing of time decreased my fury and tempered down my resentment? No… I still feel the seething anger within my heart; it has just been suppressed by something. It is probably due to the enhancement of my mental faculties caused by the awakening of my Mind Node. It has broadened my perspective, deepened my comprehension, and given me the ability to remember almost every detail of everything I have seen and felt.
Damon was speaking to himself, a habit developed from being alone for years.
"For me, the true allure of cultivation is not the increased lifespan that comes with the progression, nor the power to create mysterious phenomena, but rather the understanding of the world. Why is society like this? What is the point of struggling to live if it can all be taken away from you in a single moment? Although I do want to gain strength and extend my lifespan, it is but a secondary pursuit. My main goal is still revenge, but mere bandits are no longer worth much thought. My Master's final hope was that I would one day surpass him and ascend to the heavens. To accomplish that, I must experience more things and accumulate more knowledge. I cannot give in to momentary temptation and lose focus of my aspirations."
Damon reaffirmed his personal conviction and pushed the thought of revenge to the back of his mind. As his breathing calmed and his mind relaxed, he began his daily cultivation. He started chanting in a mysterious language as tiny threads, invisible to the human eye, slowly coalesced around him and entered his mind through the center of his forehead.
After around two hours, Damon finally stopped chanting and opened his eyes. He stretched his neck as it was a bit stiff from remaining absolutely still.
"One complete recitation of the sutra takes around two hours. It is necessary to do this exercise daily to increase my cultivation, but I can only do so once a day. Any more, and it does not affect my cultivation whatsoever. However, Master's ingenuity allowed him to create the supplementary method of mental spike tempering.
"Using the force of the mental power already gathered in my Mind Node, I form a mental spike. The spike is used to impale my own Mind Node, causing a minor injury. Although this causes temporary instability, the spike disintegrates back into my own mental power, allowing it to immediately begin repairing and tempering the damaged area. Truly an innovative idea, although it has the downside of causing excruciating agony during the process."
Damon let out a deep sigh as he recalled the first time he had experienced such pain. If he had been any less determined, he would not have managed to continue to endure through the torment through the years. Damon stopped thinking of the past and began tempering his Mind Node with his mental spikes.
After another agonizing mind-spiking session, Damon now stood with his eyes closed in a forest not far from the cave. Targets were hanging from the branches of numerous trees nearby. All different sizes, and hung at different heights. He held his father's old bow in his hand, with a quiver of arrows he had fletched himself attached to his waist.
Initially, his fletching skills were very poor as it was more delicate and difficult than he expected. However, after he had gained the ability to use telekinesis, he no longer needed to fletch the arrow with feathers, animal hide, or parchment. He could just sharpen the head and make the body uniform. The stabilization that the other materials provided could be supplied through his mental power.
After calming his thoughts and steadying his breath, Damon opened his eyes while releasing his mental power. During his training in the past two years, he had discovered that he could spread out his mental power around him, allowing him to visualize everything within a certain radius. Currently, this radius was around two dozen feet wide. This allowed him to see the exact locations of every target scattered around.
Damon grabbed an arrow with his right hand, nocking it in the bowstring before pulling it tight. He released the arrow, causing it to fly directly at the trunk of a tree. There was no target in its current path. However, the arrow curved at the last second and flew around the trunk before hitting a hidden target behind the tree. He continued this exercise several more times with different targets in different locations.
"Wheww… Okay, that was good. Now, the next exercise." Damon let out a long breath and took a small break before beginning his next drill.
Damon took out three arrows, nocking them all on the bowstring. This time, he intended to control three arrows at once. He pulled the bowstring back in one fluid motion before releasing it at three targets nearby. The three targets were hung straight in a row. The middle arrow flew in a direct line for the first target, while the left and right arrows flew in an arc, each hitting their specified targets squarely in the center.
"Okay, this has gotten easier as well. My proficiency at Telekinesis has definitely increased substantially. Now, for my final practice. This is currently my strongest technique, but I just can't get it exactly right."
Damon calmed his breathing and cleared his head once more. Once he felt like he was in his prime condition, he ran his hand over the arrows in his quiver. Ten arrows floated up from the quiver simultaneously. Damon's brows were furrowed and beaded with sweat, and his jaw was clenched tight as he placed all his concentration on controlling the numerous projectiles. This was his current limit for control.
"Go!"
He gave a small shout as he pushed his right arm forward, his fingers extending outward. The arrows all flew in different directions, curving at numerous different angles before finding their distinct targets. His vision blurred from the exertion and he almost dropped to a knee. However, he caught himself at the last second by holding onto a tree trunk next to him.
The feeling of controlling multiple objects simultaneously was similar to grasping numerous slippery fish at once. It was too easy for his concentration to waver slightly, and it would immediately ruin his control.
Damon inspected the targets he had aimed at. Eight. Only eight hit their targets in the center. One of the other arrows had wobbled but still managed to find the target. However, it had only barely clipped the edge. The last arrow had spun out of control and completely missed its mark, burying itself in the dirt below.
"I guess I still need more practice. Though I think this is already more than enough to take care of some mere bandits. I should pay them a visit soon."
Damon's expression turned fierce as he thought about avenging his parents and the other villagers. Soon, he would be able to send them the good news of the bandits' elimination.