Vessel of Worlds

White light flashed, and Andy vanished from the cavern.

In the same instant, above a small island of the Yingzhou archipelago where many mortals lived, space rippled, white light flared—and a refined young man in purple robes materialized in midair, sheathed in a deep yellow barrier.

Seven or eight mortals laboring in the fields noticed the disturbance overhead at once. They dropped their work and looked up at the youth in the yellow glow—then, before their eyes could even meet his cold gaze, ducked their heads low and went utterly still.

"Another immortal!" A child of four or five, running at play across the fields, caught sight of the young man in the sky and cried out in a wail of pure terror, sprinting toward a farmwife nearby.

The woman, who had been watering the rows, flung her ladle aside, clapped a hand over the child's mouth, and dropped to her knees—not daring to move, much less to raise her eyes for a single glance.

The mortals here fear cultivators beyond all reason, Andy thought. He had heard how it was: on Yingzhou, mortals were regarded by each island's lord as private property—to be slaughtered at whim, even sold like goods to other cultivators.

Penglai was no different in law—each island lord held absolute power over his mortals—but concern for the orthodox path's good name kept anyone from openly massacring or trafficking them at scale. Heterodox cultivators had no such scruples; and since certain ghost and demon cultivators needed mortal souls and vital blood for their artifacts and techniques, the mortals here were traded like common merchandise, at prices pitiably low.

Living day to day under such a sky, they naturally feared the lofty cultivators to the marrow. Were the gap in power not so hopeless, rebellion would have risen long ago.

Andy fixed his bearings, mounted the Wind-Treader Dragon, and swept away with a whistle of wind, gone from the island's sky in moments. Behind him, to the sound of the child's sobbing, the mortals finally let out their breath.

Two hours later, Andy reached the barren island that served as gateway to the sealed space. Besides the teleportation formation and the dozens of black-robed Blood Intent Gate cultivators, the island now bore one addition: a rough stone house dozens of zhang across, hastily raised.

Some restriction warded the house—his spiritual sense could not pass inside at all.

Andy descended slowly, offered the Gate cultivators a slight salute, and walked head-down to the stone house.

The restriction barred only spiritual sense; he stepped through without difficulty.

A black-robed Core Formation elder sat in a great wooden chair. On the stone table before him, a zhang long, stood seven or eight jade bottles in two colors—red and green.

"Senior." Andy bowed and said quietly: "This junior wishes to exchange for two portions of Three Flames Heavenly Fire Liquid."

He produced two green jade bottles readied in advance, stepped forward, set them respectfully on the table along with twenty mid-grade spirit stones, and withdrew to his place.

The elder's narrowed eyes flicked over him without a word. No visible gesture—yet the two green bottles floated up of themselves and drifted to him. He examined them with his spiritual sense, then swept his sleeve lightly, and two red jade bottles came gliding toward Andy.

Andy watched them come, took them straight into his storage pouch, spoke his thanks with a bow, and left the stone house.

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The ancient sealed space was vast; most cultivators could search only one corner of either the Mystic Cold Realm or the Blazing Flame Realm. To find one liquid was fortune enough—finding both was all but impossible. Yet at the moment of forming the core, both liquids—one searing, one freezing—had to be applied together. One alone did harm rather than good; and if the two differed too greatly in quality, the fusion of heat and cold likewise failed, to the same harm.

Mercifully, only small amounts of each were needed, and each could be used but once—so cultivators could simply trade half their find for the opposite liquid. The Blood Intent Gate had therefore set up this temporary exchange, swapping portion for portion—at a fee of one thousand spirit stones per exchange.

His Three Flames Heavenly Fire Liquid secured, Andy flew back toward Yingzhou in high spirits. Were this not heterodox territory, he would have pushed the Wind-Treader Dragon to its utmost and raced straight home to his dwelling to meditate.

Counting his prepared advantages—the Heart-Cleansing Pill, the two extreme liquids, the auxiliary items purchased in the markets, his first completed cycle of the Primal Unity Technique, and the few pills Recluse Ximen had left—taken together, his odds of forming the core now seemed to exceed thirty percent.

A terrifyingly high figure. As a rule, of ten high-tier Qi Condensation cultivators, at least one could achieve Foundation Establishment with the pill's help. But of every hundred Foundation Establishment cultivators, not even one might finally form a core. The great majority either never reached the late-stage peak at all, or lodged forever against the Core Formation bottleneck, peak Foundation Establishment cultivators to the end of their days.

Odds like Andy's would make other cultivators cough blood with envy—and had his spiritual roots not been so wretched, they would have run higher still.

In thousands of years of the Star Sea, those who had assembled means as rich as his to raise the odds of Core Formation could be counted on few hands.

Nor was Andy alone in his gains. The opening of the ancient sealed space had conferred enormous benefits on a great many of the Star Sea's cultivators—the ranks of Core Formation seniors would surely swell in the years to come.

The three great powers had each profited too: sect strength grown, and—through the joint operation—a working accord discovered, their mutual relations gradually easing. And the Blood Intent Gate, chief architect of the space's opening, found its fame swelling by the day, quietly gathering momentum to eclipse the Heavenly Demon Sect as the first sect of the Heaven-Defying Alliance.

Such long consequences, of course, were nothing Andy—who had never so much as brushed the Star Sea's upper circles—cared to ponder. He made only for Jade Balm Peak on Yingzhou, and the teleportation formation there that would return him to Penglai.

Half a day later, nearing the massed peaks of Yingzhou, the cultivators on the roads multiplied visibly.

Streaks of black mist and gray light flashed past not far from him—Core Formation seniors among them in plenty, and one or two whose pressure bore down on him so heavily that he could not read their depth at all: plainly no ordinary Core Formation cultivators.

Andy traveled head down, neither hurrying nor lagging, and his drab, unremarkable manner drew few eyes.

But just short of Jade Balm Peak, two hulking men with the faces of temple demon-guards barred his way.

Both were mid-stage Core Formation—and startlingly alike: the same rough stubble, bell-round eyes, thick sword brows, and heavy, brutal features; the same near-eight-chi frames. Twin brothers, by every appearance.

"Greetings, Seniors! How may this junior be of service?" Stopped cold by two seniors, Andy dared show not a flicker of displeasure—only a bow and courteous inquiry.

The two big men ignored his words entirely and fell to chatting between themselves.

"This boy's a mere late-stage Foundation Establishment brat—yet look how thick and heavy his baleful aura sits! Rare, rare indeed!"

"Truly! Killed a good number of his own rank, most likely."

"Or slaughtered high-ranked beasts in quantity—that condenses baleful aura just as well."

"With an aura like that, wouldn't our Heavenly Fiend Demonic Art come twice as fast at half the effort?"

"What's this, Second Brother—thinking of taking the boy as a disciple?"

"Heh—as if you weren't thinking the same! All these years the two of us have stormed the Star Sea together, and never once taken a disciple!"

"True enough. That body of baleful aura is enviable to the extreme. —Hey! Boy! Your luck's arrived. We are the famed Cloud-Spanning Twin Fiends, and we mean to take you as our disciple. Now explain—quickly—how you condensed an aura like that." The last words were flung at Andy.

Andy's heart sank. He bowed low. "This junior's aptitude is dull and stupid—what right have I to be the disciple of two such Seniors? I would only stain your great name. Moreover, this junior already carries a family inheritance—I truly dare not bow into another lineage!"