Before Vast Heavens, almost rudely so, killed Vera, Vera was travelling to the Deep Cold plane.
Vera ran through rocky terrain at a leisurely pace as he headed north. He was unsure as to how long he was sleeping, but based on the dried blood, he assumed he'd been asleep for a while.
"If I keep this pace up, I'll probably get there three days earlier."
Vera had always travelled to the Deep Cold plane for the new year to celebrate with his fellow sect members. After he turned twenty, Vera had departed from his sect to challenge strong warriors; however, this year he'd finally beaten the strongest the world had to offer (other than Vast Heavens).
Initially, Vera planned to settle down for a bit, but he had a new goal to chase after. The thought of telling his master he was going to challenge the guardians alone gave him a headache.
As Vera mulled over the beating he'd receive from his master, he passed through the border of the Deep Cold's frontier village. Vera slowed down to a walking pace and stepped onto a pavement. As always, Vera only stepped on the red block on the pavement.
"Will they ever grit the fucking pavements... even I feel like I'd slip if I wasn't paying attention."
Unlike most cities, there was no hustle and bustle in the city of Bromwich. If you wanted to see people in the Deep Cold, you'd have to go to a tavern. Vera quickly slipped into his usual spot, the ironmonger tavern, to grab a quick meal and find out what day it was.
The contrast between the city streets and taverns was like black and white. The sound of beer sloshing, raucous drunks chattering, and a visibly drunk bard playing music coalesced into an orchestra of alcoholics.
As Vera was about to grab a seat, a loud, slurred voice broke through the chatter.
"Oye, Vera, when did you get back?"
A pleasant smile appeared on Vera's face.
The voice belonged to none other than Forte, the tavern owner. Along with Forte's loud greeting came the sound of Forte's wife, Cera, beating his skull in.
"Stop drinking during work hours."
"Ohh, Vera, when did you get back?" Cera exclaimed, as though she didn't just cripple her husband.
"Just got back today."
"Vera, did you really defeat that Danho??" Unbeknownst to Vera, the chatter in the tavern turned down by a gear.
Forte walked towards Vera and his wife, the concussive blow seemingly clearing his mind.
"Cera, the man just got back; give him some space."
"Shut up, Forte; we may just have the strongest warrior in all the planes sitting in our tavern right now."
"..." Forte, having given up on reining in Cera, waited for Vera to answer.
"Well... I did defeat Danho, but I don't know about the strongest across the planes." A somewhat conflicted laugh escaped Vera.
The tavern turned almost silent. Other than the drunk bard who continued to play.
A sudden round of cheers erupted, the bard almost falling out of his chair. The weight of Danho, the strongest master across all the planes, was just that heavy. Amidst the raucous cheers, Vera spoke to Cera.
"By the way, what day is it today?" Cera looked at Vera with a confused expression but answered anyway.
"It's the 31st..." A sudden gust of wind broke through the tavern; Vera was nowhere to be seen.
Vera dashed through the icy pavements at speeds that could only be heard, and with an expression so desperate one would think he was running away from death itself.
"I'm sooooo fucked."
In a moment's time Vera had reached his sect; he quickly hid in an alley to formulate a plan.
"I can just sneak into my room. Yeah, that's the way. When Master asks me where I've been, I'll just tell him I got in yesterday."
Vera, following his plan, vaulted over the sect walls; his movements turned to that of a gentle gust. Finally he'd scaled the wall to his room's window. Slowly undoing the latch and rushing to bed.
His quiet final stride was interrupted by a voice from behind.
"Damn brat, did you really think you could pull one over on me?"
Vera's tone shivered. His tongue tumbling over the word 'master'.
"I can explain... there was a reason I got delayed."
"I'll listen to your reasons after... For now, why don't you come and take this beating."
That day Vera's screams echoed through sect walls. Funnily enough, everyone knew who it belonged to.
After nearly an hour of disciplining, Vera's screams finally died down. Vera swiftly placed a pillow on a chair and sat down.
"So... Did you defeat the Golden Fist?" Vera's master, Leng, asked. His tone bore heavy.
"Yes..."
"How was it fighting him? How was fighting the strongest master in the world?"
"It wasn't enough..."
Leng felt a pang of sorrow.
"It seems there is no hope for you to manifest your qi..."
The silence in the room bore heavy. Leng placed a glass of brandy on Vera's desk.
"Well, don't be too disheartened; perhaps there will be a challenger strong enough in the far future."
"Well... Master, there was something that happened on my way to the Deep Cold; it's related to why I was late."
Taking a sip of his liquor, Leng gestured for Vera to go on.
"As I was passing through the Barren Pass, I was challenged by a mysterious man... The battle ended in my defeat—no, it ended in my death."
Leng almost spat out his liquor. When Vera set out to challenge the strongest masters, Leng considered the possibility that they could bring him to the threshold, but never did he even consider the idea of Vera losing a fight. Vera continued to speak of the fight, while Leng struggled to find words to respond with.
"He shattered boulders as though he was simply parting mist. Every blow of his was strong enough to overwhelm anything I tried to do. Towards the end I couldn't even consider attacking him."
"..."
"After it all ended, he told me to challenge the guardians to ascend... He said he would wait for my arrival."
The mysterious man's final words allowed Leng to finally put things in place.
"Ascend..."
Leng had heard of it in mythology: a warrior who defeated guardians of the past and ascended to the land above the five planes, but even that took place over 3000 years ago. To date, warriors speculated that if the mythos was true, Danho was the only one capable of ascending. With all this in mind, Leng could only think of one outcome.
The mysterious man was not someone who could've been born here.