In the eastern region of the Northern Wilderness, a vast lake stood out among the barren landscape like an azure break in a cloudy sky. At the heart of this great body of water sat the Grand Isle of Weston, which was populated by hundreds of towns and villages, and home to more than three million people. This land boasted many well-populated cities, all of them administered by an elder of the Falling Rain Sect, as was the customary practice for most established sects with non-member populations. None of these cities, however, could compare to the sprawling metropolis that thrived in the grasslands of the island’s central region. The city of Wilton served as the capital of this autonomous state, which was surrounded by a ring of rounded mountains that were short enough to enjoy a healthy sprawl of flourishing forests.

Over a third of the island’s population lived in Wilton, a city filled with high-rising infrastructure that boasted the elegant eaves of the tiered, pagoda style. Most buildings were at least three storeys tall and made of carved, painted wood, with many combinations of blacks, reds, silvers, and golds. This was perhaps the only city in the entire eastern section of the Northern Wilderness that exhibited such a marvelous skyline, for many of these structures were over seven storeys tall.

A small mountain rested at the city’s core, with rock so rough that it gave off the appearance of having been hewn. The looming mass was bereft of any vegetation, without a single blade of grass poking up out of its jagged, sharp-peaked body. A building rested atop the massive pillar of rock, around which a marble staircase wound. At five storeys tall, it wasn’t particularly large, but it still stood at ten times the height of the next tallest building.

The top floor was much smaller than the others, with only a single room that was sparsely furnished compared to the extravagance and luxury that decorated the lower levels. The walls were dimly lit by a handful of candles that had been enchanted so that their flames would not go out for several hundred years, with most of the floor covered in a soft, cushiony rug the colour of a cloudless sky at midday. At the heart of Wilton, it offered a great view of the city, though was so far removed from the bustling streets below that it was likely one of the most reclusive spots in the region. Only the elders of the Falling Rain Sect were permitted to visit this room, and they could only enter with special permission from the sect master.

Despite its plainness, Tems Ardur spent most of his time in this quiet, secluded place. At least that’s what he had his followers believe, since none of them could see through his concealment arrayments. The reality that only a handful of people knew was that he often used the excuse of closed-door cultivation to sneak off to another location, one which he had also veiled from the view of any unwanted onlookers. Today was the same, even with the tower climb just one day away.

Usually the sect master would personally greet the guests that had gathered from all around the Northern Wilderness to take part in the event, but he had no desire to bother himself with such things when he could just delegate it off to the great elders. That was how he usually handled things, and it had been working out fine ever since he’d taken up his current position, so why stop now?

He traced out an arrayment diagram, and upon its activation a mirror suddenly manifested in front of him, indistinguishable from the ones that were created in local workshops. They’ll take care of things, he thought as he leisurely fussed with his robes. The real question is; what age shall I appear as today?

The past few times that he had visited his villa at Peach Blossom Peak, he had greyed his hair and grown out his beard so as to appear in his mid-fifties. Once he’d reached the Genesis stage, he had stopped aging and had retained the appearance of a youthful man in his early thirties. Because of this, from time to time he enjoyed allowing his body to revert to an older age, especially when he visited the villa in question.

“Your Excellency, are you there?”

He scoffed in frustration. He had just adopted the appearance of his seventeen-year-old self when a familiar aura appeared outside of the double doors, which were painted sky blue to match the rug. Not wanting to raise any suspicions, he quickly reverted back to his usual look, which was that of a black-haired man with a clean-shaven face, long locks spilling across a broad back that was draped in the iconic garb reserved solely for the supreme cultivator of the sect.

“What is it?” Tems snapped. If he had answered in his youthful state, then his voice would have been different than the one that the man outside was used to.

“Forgive me if I have interrupted your training,” rasped an aged voice. “I’ve come to ask about this year’s crop of potential disciples. Has May brought up anybody of interest?”

At 209-years-old, Elder Tegan was the eldest member of the sect by at least fifty years, and also one of the few people that could show up unannounced outside of Tems’s favoured room atop his palace.

“Ah, yes, she sent me a mental message earlier today. Hmm, what did she say again? Something about a few good prospects, maybe something else about a few disturbances. I don’t really remember. She didn’t really have much to say, though.”

“When did she stop by?”

“She sent me a mental message.” He spoke in an annoyed tone, hopeful that he could drive the other man away if he sounded inconvenienced enough, though it usually took a few minutes. “If you want to know so badly, why don’t you go and find her?”

“She’s concealing her aura,” sighed the old man. “I told her to return to the city once the guests were settled, and to head back to Elmer in the morning, but I can’t lock onto her aura, so I can’t contact her.”

“You know how that woman is. You tell her to go left, she goes right just to spite you. To tell the truth, I’ve already given up on reining her in.”

“That won’t do, Your Excellency." A bubbling anger had boiled into the man's voice, like a volcano releasing a pent-up rumble. "She might be capable, but enough is enough. You are the leader of one of the most powerful sects on the continent. You must act like it!”

He might have inherited the position of sect master from his father, but hardly any of the elders had accepted such an outcome. Elder Tegan was also at the fifth level of the Genesis stage, as were two others among their ranks, but his father had forced them to swear an oath in front of the entire sect that they would honour his decision to allow Tems to succeed him. He didn’t understand what they had to complain about, since he basically delegated all matters of the sect to them. They had the authority that they wanted, didn’t they? So what was the problem?

“Your Excellency?”

“Ah, no, I don’t think I’ll be doing that. I don’t want to risk offending her.”

His cultivation was two levels above May’s, and he was more accomplished as an arrayment practitioner. He might only know a single grand arrayment, but this fact alone put him infinitely closer to the title of Arrayment Master than the young woman that held so much sway within the sect. It wouldn’t take much effort to set her straight, but if he did then he would lose all of the privileges that she afforded him within her branch of the sect. On top of that, there was also another reason.

“May I ask why?”

“I still don’t have a wife, Tegan, and even though she’s the head mistress of Peach Blossom Peak, after all these years she still hasn’t taken on a cultivation partner. Don’t you understand?”

“You wish to wed her? And what if she doesn’t agree?”

“Oh, I’ll make sure that she does, even if I have to pass along the title of sect master to her.” Such a price was a small one to pay to earn the hand of the most beautiful woman that he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Your father would never approve of such a decision!”

Tems let out a flippant laugh. “Probably not. But then again, it’s only a foolish hunter that overlooks a silver swan amidst a flock of sickly seagulls.” Confident in his concealment arrayment, he began to trace out another diagram, though he paused for a few moments before activating it. “Haha, that sounded nice, didn’t it? Silver swan, sickly seagulls…”

“Tomorrow is the tower climb. I know that your father pushed this position on you, but you can’t keep ignoring your duties. This is the tower climb, Tems. You know how important it is. This is something that needs to be taken seriously, do you understand?”

“Calling me by my name now?”

“You’ve always had remarkable talent for cultivation,” came the second sigh. “Your father had such high hopes for you.” He sensed the old man’s head dip down. Elder Tegan should have known by now that attempting to guilt him was impossible. “I promised him that I would look after you, and when you say things like that, it makes me feel as if I’ve failed him. You’re not a child anymore, or even a young man. You have responsibilities now.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Anyhow, it’s about time you leave. I was just about to breakthrough this bottleneck in my cultivation, but you’ve ruined it. Who knows how many decades it’ll take to recreate the sense of enlightenment that I’d achieved just before you interrupted me?”

Elder Tegan remained quiet on the other side of the door. Tems could sense him biting his lip, which bled down onto the rooftop floor, or would have if the man hadn’t quickly sealed the wound and then disintegrated the blood before it finished its fall.

“I will be back first thing tomorrow. Be ready, Tems. You need to show the world that our position hasn’t shaken since your father’s passing.”

The old man vanished without a sound, and Tems instantly forgot about him.

“Finally,” he muttered to himself, changing his appearance back to that of a young man. After inspecting himself for a short while, he snapped his fingers to dismiss the mirror that he had summoned and then took a deep, giddy breath.

He activated the second arrayment, which shone with an explosion of blinding light that nobody outside of the room could see. A few moments later, he stood before a tear in space that he had modelled after the doors of the room, and stepped through with a confident smile. He immediately appeared about ten leagues away, in the courtyard of one of the many private villas that his position afforded him. This one was a large complex of buildings interspersed with beautiful gardens and gorgeous water fountains. Benches of varnished spruce lined pathways of turquoise stone, the property alive with the auras of over thirty people.

A few young women were laying around one of the nearest fountains, all of them dressed in tight-fitted robes of clear, white fabric. These were all disciples of Peach Blossom Peak, which was the nearest mountain that loomed over the forested retreat.

“Your sect master has arrived, do come out and greet him!”

Within moments, twelve young women had rushed out into the courtyard with shining eyes, all of them wearing the same eager expression that had taken over his youthful face.

The line of women bowed as one, echoing one another with excitement. “Your Excellency, welcome back!”

Used to how things worked, the girls began to walk towards the main building, but he held up a hand to stop them. “I’m very agitated today, so I’m afraid it cannot wait.” He conjured up a second, smaller concealment arrayment, at which point he quickly threw off his robes. If his father were alive to see him tossing the sacred garments onto the dirt without a second thought, he would surely faint from anger. The smile on Tems’s face as he watched the girls follow suit was one that reached the sky. As far as these young ladies were concerned, he was simply the perfect cultivation resource, and he was more than happy to help the disciples of his sect with their training.

And they say that I neglect our pupils…

As things began to heat up, Tems let out a ridiculing laugh that all of the girls had grown used to ignoring. Offend May Asten? It seemed as if the passage of time had eroded Elder Tegan’s mind.