“No.” Hadjar shook his head. Once again, same as when he’d been drowning after his battle in the Palace of Lidus, he saw the beautiful girl standing before him. “I’m not coming with you.”
She was coming closer. Gradually, her white skin turned into bones, her hair disappeared into her skull, and her eyes turned into the darkest of pits. It was Death, once more trying to whisk him away.
“FUCK OFF!” Hadjar struck the ground with his fist.
Thick, dark blood spurted from his mouth. He had lost the last person who’d connected him to his past without saying the most important words, asking the vital questions, and expressing his feelings, but he would not give up.
“It’s too early” Hadjar said hoarsely. “It’s still too early for me to leave.”
With great difficulty, he assumed the lotus position. Bleeding, he sank into the depths of his mind. There, the wooden bridge connecting his past and future had cracked, swaying over the turbulent sea of life. Death’s cold, bony fingers caressed his back. It always liked to pretend it was a caring lover. It would be so simple and easy to forget himself in the darkness, leave all his problems behind, and give himself up to the wheel of rebirth. However, the easy way had never been Hadjar’s way!
“You won’t take me, you old bitch,” Hadjar growled. “Not until I get justice for my illustrious ancestor’s family! Not until I bow to my Teacher’s stele in the Land of the Immortals! As long as the gods are making even one person suffer in this accursed world, I will fight you!”
In the distant past, in order to become stronger, Hadjar had carried logs on his back, and now he carried bricks. Bricks made of pain and despair, molded by suffering and privation, sculpted by hands submerged in blood. When he stacked them to form a strong bridge, he held them together with hope and faith, with the belief that nothing in this world would stop him before he triumphed. Death’s fingers, after leaving deep scars on his soul, slipped. It opened its toothless mouth in a terrible but silent scream. Once again, this weak cultivator had eluded her grasp.
His wounds were healing. The energy stopped flowing out of his body. Hadjar’s path, once made of wood, became stone. It became unyielding. It loomed like a massive shadow over the raging ocean, over all the misfortune that he’d endured and would experience in the future.
He would not yield. He would survive. As long as he had a sword in his hand and the belief that the dawn always came after the darkest night, he could overcome even the Emperor’s army or the gods’ rage.
There was nothing in this world that could break his will. Why? Because he’d decided it was so! He was Hadjar Darkhan, Desert Wind Blowing from the North! He had nothing but his sword and his word, and no one knew which of the two was stronger!
His blue eyes glowed with an inhuman light. Hadjar drew his sword, which had been stuck in the ground. He spun like a furious hurricane, becoming a mad whirl of endless sword slashes, and then, with an inhuman roar, he thundered:
“Seventh stance: Azure Cloud!”
He completed the Technique of his illustrious ancestor, the dragon Traves, the last of the Dark Storm Clan. He did so by honoring the memory and life of his mother. And his father. And his grandfather. And his great-grandfather. And all those who had overcome madness and deprivation to bring hope to the weak, to cover them with the shield of their power.
This attack, despite being full of animalistic fury and superhuman power, contained peace. It didn’t stir a single blade of grass, it wouldn’t have even disturbed a silk handkerchief, but when it reached its target, a fifteen-foot long, blue-black sword with the hieroglyph ‘Azure Cloud’ inscribed on it plunged into the ground like a writhing dragon. There was an explosion. The giant trees bent. When the dust settled and the sword disappeared, a twenty-foot deep hole remained as a reminder of the monstrous attack.
Fifty ordinary disciples had decided to kill him, had they? Even if the Emperor himself appeared before him, fully armed, right here and now, Hadjar Darkhan wouldn’t lower his sword!
Chapter 454
The next morning, Einen came out of his room. Hadjar had no idea what ability the islander had trained in, but a single glance was enough for him to discern that the bald man had also gotten stronger. Einen looked at Hadjar.
“Whatever you did, it did you a lot of good,” the islander drawled.
As he walked, he tied a white ribbon around his head. Einen hadn’t worn his people’s full battle attire since the end of their journey across the Sea of Sand, only the silk ribbon. It must’ve had some sacred meaning.
“You as well,” Hadjar nodded. “I need to tell you something.”
After that, he tried to explain the old man’s words about the Weapon in one’s heart and the Kingdom of the Weapon to Einen, but failed. Despite his inability to properly share knowledge (something he wasn’t aware of yet), Hadjar still wanted to help his friend, which, of course, deserved gratitude.
“Thank you, my barbarian friend,” Einen said, saluting in the manner of the Islanders. “But that’s enough. Just like with the true path of cultivation, if you keep trying to explain what you don’t fully understand, you’ll do more harm than good.”
“You’re right,” Hadjar said, a little sad and disappointed.
“Don’t despair, my friend,” Einen squeezed Hadjar’s shoulder comfortingly. “You did help me, after all. Even if I don’t find the answer on my own, when I get a manuscript, it will be much easier for me than the others.”
They left the hut. Four days ago, they’d entered it as newbies, but in such a short period of time, they’d managed to truly establish themselves as mighty warriors. Their power had increased greatly. If anyone saw them just then, they wouldn’t have believed their eyes.
The people at ‘The Holy Sky’ School were busy with important matters from the very moment the sun came up. Then again, few people really slept at night. Sometimes, skirmishes and fights on the training grounds went on well into the evening. Some trained in Techniques that required an abundance of moonlight, while others simply enjoyed being free of their harsh parents or the conservative mores of their villages and outlying countries.
It was especially crowded near the Hall of Fame today. Despite the fact that the friends had already gotten a task to collect two hundred and twenty pounds of the Yellow Grass of Pagani, they were still curious to see what the fuss was about.
“This is a once-in-a-century chance!” A disciple whispered reverently.
“I hope they let us buy tickets in advance,” another disciple said.
“Personal disciple Laris Dinos, the eldest heir of the Predatory Blades clan,” the people read from the scroll attached to the door of the Hall, “challenges, in a month’s time, personal disciple Gaver Tarez, the eldest heir of House Tarez, to a duel. The duel will take place at the first training ground. The entrance fee will be one hundred Glory points!”
“One hundred points! The winner will take half, and the school will get the other half.”
“Demons and Gods! I must accumulate a hundred points!”
“You’re right, such a fight could expand our horizons and-”
“Fuck your horizons! Laris is simply too handsome for me to miss this.”
“What? That crooked-nosed freak? No, Gaver is much more handsome! Ah, I would give anything for a night with such a man…”
“They say Laris has incredible Techniques. Including Forbidden ones from his family’s personal library!”
“I’ve heard the same thing about Gaver.”
“And on top of that…”
Hadjar and Einen stepped aside. Without speaking a word, they came to an agreement — they needed to accumulate a hundred points each. Laris and Gaver were both on the Jade Cloud list. Watching their fight could surely give them a few hints about the path of cultivation and where they should go next. They couldn’t afford to miss it!
As they started for the platform, Einen suddenly smiled broadly.
“You look like you just had an id
ea, my clever friend.”
“Haven’t you heard, my barbarian friend?” The islander’s brow twitched slightly, which indicated extreme surprise in his subdued body language. “If you arrange a public fight, you can get half the points from the audience fees!”
Hadjar nodded.
“I doubt anyone would come to see a fight between two ordinary disciples. We’d probably have to pay extra, rather than charge points for entry.”
Einen was silent for a while.
“I think you’re right,” he finally agreed. “But if this hypothetical fight was between an ordinary disciple and the youngest heir of one of the family clans, I would pay twice as much to witness such a spectacle, just to laugh at the poor fool.”
“What do you mean?” Hadjar’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Despite the depth of Einen’s life philosophy, his past as a smuggler and pirate would sometimes stir in him. Hadjar still remembered his trick in the Sea of Sand, when he’d deceived Tilis and made a whole performance out of making a false oath. Even Hadjar hadn’t thought about trying something like that, and he’d once been called the ‘Mad General’.
“You are in love with Anise. Perhaps you consider her to be your destined partner on the path of cultivation. So, it’s only a matter of time before you end up fighting against Tom Dinos. When that time comes, it would be better if, in addition to his blood, you and I also reap some more tangible benefits.”
Hadjar looked at the calm Einen. The islander’s face was expressionless.
“Holy fuck, my friend,” Hadjar swore, shocked. “You frighten me sometimes!”
The other man said nothing in response. They quickly reached the platform. They showed the scrolls with their tasks to the golems and mingled with the crowd on the platform. This time, remembering what had happened with Dora Marnil, they maintained a stony silence. The islander, judging by his eyes, which were actively moving under his eyelids, was scanning the disciples around them.
Once they rode the platform down, the friends headed for the stalls. The same obese groom from before met them there. This time, he was wearing a grey outfit, smelled like strong perfume, and, by the High Heavens, he’d even applied thick, black eyeliner!
“Are you going on a date?” Hadjar asked, placing twenty emerald coins on the table.
Information was worth more than some ‘despicable’ metal in this world. Unless, of course, it was required to create an Imperial level artifact.
“I hope to win the heart of the young daughter of the man apprenticed to the blacksmith of House Tarez,” the groom said. At first, Hadjar thought that this was the information on who had bought info about them. As it turned out, the information broker had just decided to share a bit of his private life with them. Deftly swiping the money from the counter, he laid out a small piece of parchment. On it, in large letters, ‘Ian Gorr. Ordinary Disciple. Servant of House Tarez’ was written.
Damn those Tarez! Hadjar had never seen a single member of this clan in person, but he already thought of them as weeds — they seemed to be everywhere.
“Well, what did you expect from the most numerous House?” Einen shrugged.
They were leaving the stalls. This time, their mounts were horses. Only, instead of feet... these ‘horses’ had unnaturally long and flat feet, vaguely resembling a frog’s. Webbed and covered in warts, they also smelled worse than the latrines of the Bear squad. After Dogar had stuffed his soldiers with the healer’s brew, they’d always had awful diarrhea …
“We had to deal with worse in the Sea of Sand,” Einen said philosophically.
It wasn’t clear whether the islander was trying to cheer his friend up or himself.
Anyway, spurring on their greenish Frogohorses, which was the name of these odd animals, the friends rode toward their next adventure. This time, their path led them to the Valley of Swamps.
Chapter 455
After leaving Dahanatan, the friends travelled down the Imperial road. Unlike the Royal roads of the surrounding countries and the parts of the Imperial road they’d seen in the borderlands, it was empty here.
It was a huge road, forty-five yards wide and paved with hewn stones. Desolate, abandoned, and cracked in places, it contrasted sharply with the wealth of Darnassus. Only occasionally did they come across merchant caravans trudging along slowly, or fully-fledged and ordinary disciples of the three great Schools riding mounts similar to their own. The rest of the disciples had enough money to afford to hire flying boats, or rafts at the very least. As for common travelers, they had learned to appreciate the advantages of the relatively recent (they’d been invented about two hundred thousand years ago) inventions — flying ships — long ago. Over the course of six days of travel, the friends encountered only a few other disciples on the road. None of them belonged to other Schools.
Einen and Hadjar weren’t afraid of clashes with disciples from other Schools, which were inevitable because of the hostility between the three organizations, but they were in a hurry to get to the Valley of Swamps. The rainy season was approaching, and they didn’t want to get drenched out on the open road.
On the seventh day, tired of the endless trek, they were relieved to finally reach the vast expanses of the second area belonging to ‘The Holy Sky’ School.
“It’s impressive, isn’t it?” Hadjar said, feeling a little ecstatic.
“Yep. Much stronger than the Forest of Shadows,” Einen agreed, adjusting the ribbon he worse.
They were standing on the border of the area, which was aptly named. It really was a huge valley, a flat plateau covered with low grass that almost looked like it had been mown. No high hills or forests in sight. They only saw small clusters of trees and small bumps that could generously be called low hills, covered in grass.
However, in the center of this depressing area, there was a mountain range. It must’ve had a name, but neither of the friends had learned it. Why was it depressing? Because the entire area was situated in the shadow of the vast mountain of black granite that obstructed the azure sky.
The whole place was covered in small swamps full of dirty water, water lilies, and mud floating on the surface. There were even some clusters of bogs to be found, and the smell was so terrible that it was difficult to breathe.
“I hate swamps,” Einen said with a grimace. “I lost three brothers in them.”
Hadjar turned to his friend, but said nothing. The islander rarely talked about his family. So, the fact that he’d had at least three brothers was news to him.
“Well.” The islander said, waving his hand toward the nearest cluster of yellow grass. “Let’s get to work.”
If not for the special ability of their Frogohorses to move through swamps as well as simple horses could navigate flat ground, their work would’ve taken thrice as long to complete. Thanks to their well-chosen mounts, within an hour, the two true cultivators that had survived the crucible of war, adventures in the Sea of Sand, who had seen the fall of an ancient civilization, fought against Sunshine Sankesh... were buried up to their ears in the mud and earth.
Armed not with weapons, but with special tool blades, they carefully dug up tufts of the short, yellow grass. At first, they’d tried to joke about the situation. This alleviated the boredom for the first hour, and then for the first few days. Five days later, they rarely spoke. They did their work in silence. Sometimes, they prayed to the High Heavens and the Great Turtle, begging them to send some monster or beast. Or even the fifty servants of House Tarez, but... nothing happened.
Only the howling of the wind answered them, and they found no one to play with in the lifeless expanses of the endless swamps. They were also plagued by leeches crawling into places that the friends hadn’t even known they had, and a sense of bleakness brought about by the dark, suffocating sky.
“I’d have never thought it would be so difficult,” Hadjar grumbled, tossing another clump of the Yellow Grass of Pagani into the bag slung over his shoulder.
“The most inc
onspicuous work,” Einen said philosophically, “is always the hardest.”
Hadjar didn’t bother reminding the islander that they reeked of sweat, their clothes were torn, and they were covered in bites. The leeches here were not simple, but actually had some power. It was comparable to that of a practitioner at the peak stage of the Formation level. One such leech could’ve destroyed an entire village of mortals.
“By the High Heavens,” Hadjar ripped off another bloodsucker and burned it with the clean fire of his energy. “I’m buying a new Technique for Strengthening the Body as soon as we return!”
Einen nodded in silent agreement.
During the first week, the friends had thought they were just unlucky enough to run into the worst of the local fauna and nothing else. By the second week, they were convinced that they were being shunned because of the stench of sweat and quagmires sticking to them. And by the end of the second week, after nothing in their routine had changed, they decided that they were gradually going crazy.
“It seems to me, my bald pirate friend, that I can see a beautiful maiden in that small lake over there.”
“That’s odd, my hairy barbarian friend, because I can see her too.”
Grimy and smelly, unwashed and covered in leech bites, they stood on the bank of a small lake that had surprisingly clear water. They carried sacks full of the Grass over their shoulders. The Frogohorses peacefully grazed behind their riders. Even the animals looked at them with disdain and a slight note of disgust. Despite their appearance, they hadn’t gone mad, and a white-haired girl really was swimming in the lake.
Startled, she looked up at the two friends. At first, there was a flash of anger in her eyes, and her hand reached for the hammer resting on the bank beside her, but then she recognized them. Covering her beautiful, naked breasts, she exclaimed:
“Einen? Hadjar?”
The islander blinked owlishly:
“Dora?”
“I’m so glad to see you. Have you also decided to take part in the hunt for a Primeval Giant?”
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