Green Blade Forest Sect grounds. Morning of the next day.

Aryon watched as the sect’s ‘apothecaries’ treated the wounded.

The medicine in this land was strange in his eyes: they were often in the form of a solid, round pill rather than the liquid substances he was familiar with. But he didn’t doubt their effects; he saw many wounded cultivators getting up after taking the medicines despite taking serious wounds and broken bones.

But there was one patient that didn’t get up instantly after taking his.

“How serious is the wound?” asked Aryon.

“Serious, lord.” replied the head apothecary. “But he will recover soon. Reverend master Wang Xuefeng has sent down ingredients from his personal stores. Our best apothecary is already concocting them into high-grade medicines.”

‘A good master, him.’ “I see. Please take care of the boy.” said Aryon with a nod. He looked to his own broken arm with a pause before asking. “...Do you know where I can find a chicken?”

___

Spirit chickens were much like the chickens in his land, only bigger and in possession of multi-colored feathers. He was able to obtain one from the outer sect, who were gracious enough to give him one for free (but he did compensate them in the end with spirit stones).

Returning to his cave residence with a bound chicken in tow, he sealed his cave entrance from entry and warded the room from scrying. Feeling secured, he set down the Staff of Kings to lean on a wall and the bound chicken on his table in the cave then went to work.

He couldn’t take all his armour off even if he wanted, so he couldn’t inspect the damage. But he could remove the gauntlets. Jimmying it off his armguard, he pulled off the shining steel to reveal a hand wrapped in silk, which he slowly unwound.

A skeletal hand lay beneath those silken layers.

Picking his hand up with the other, he placed it on the bound chicken. At the merest touch of his bony fingers, the chicken suddenly stopped struggling and lay on the table as if it were dead.

Aryon shook his head and used his still-gauntleted hand to move a scroll on the table nearer to him. Placing his armoured hand on top of the parchment, he shut off his vision and poured a small amount of magic down on the scroll.

A burst of dark energy responded to his magic. Controlling that nucleus of sinister magic, he made it flow from his armoured hand to the skeletal one.

The chicken could do nothing in its paralyzed state as the dark magic poured into its body. It quickly began to wither away, as if it were aging and losing moisture at a rapid pace. After a few seconds not even the bones were left behind; all that marked the chicken’s former presence was a pile of dust on the table.

Aryon felt vitality flow through his arm and into the broken joint, until at last he regained a sense of movement from it. He paused as if to savor it, then quickly re-wound his skeletal hand in silk and wore his gauntlets again.

‘Only four more scrolls left.’ said Aryon.

One of the bigger ironies in Aryon’s current state was that, despite his undead nature, he had no necromancy spells.

Tarminian law forbade its magi from using dark magics, which included necromancy in its list. It didn’t stop the mage-kings from making Relic Kings like himself, but they didn’t dare push beyond that line after stepping over it. The mage-kings went to great lengths to cover up the truth, going so far as to identify their Relic Kings as ‘constructs in the image of former kings’, like golems.

Necromancy, therefore, didn’t ‘exist’ in official Tarminian schools or spellbooks, and being caught with materials for it was a one-way ticket out of the kingdom.

Because of that he had no reliable way of healing himself. Even the scrolls of Vampiric Touch, one of which he just used, came from a neighboring kingdom and couldn’t be replaced.

‘Let’s not get ourselves broken up again.’

___

With his arm healed, Aryon spent the next hour thinking of his next moves.

‘The full moon arrives in two months or so. I’ll need to finish that mana-focus before then… but I have no doubt that the prince and his lackeys will try and stop me during the ritual. So I need them out of the picture as well.

So the plan is to sweep the board clean of my opponents, finish the crystal and cast the spell. Easy. But I’ll need more allies for this other than the sect… and I know just who to ask.

I need to pay her a visit in the end, anyway.

Right. Let’s prepare some things first.’

Feng Yan spent the next five days after the battle tending to Liu Wong.

After his own injuries healed in a day thanks to the sect’s medicine, he visited the unconscious Liu Wong during any of his spare times to make sure he was well.

Feng Yan had no true family of his own. He had been adopted by an outer sect disciple when he was but a baby abandoned at the sect’s doorstep. From there, he spent his whole life rising from a menial in the outer sect, to an official outer disciple and finally an inner disciple.

He had many acquaintances, but only a few close friends in the sect, of which Liu Wong was one. Yet he regarded the younger boy in the highest light after the events at Dragon Border Gate City. His rescue of him, and the price he paid for it… was something he could never make up to.

Lord Aryon also visited his study partner at erratic times, but he himself was usually gone from the sect on some errand, leaving the main gates before vanishing into the forest. He would then return to the sect covered in blood and dirt, holding several beastskin scrolls.

Seeing lord Aryon so busy and bloodied, yet moving forward in his noble manner, raised Feng Yan’s battle spirit.

‘I need to become stronger.’

The sect was now preparing for their inevitable clash with the powers in Dragon Border Gate Prefecture. Every disciple and elder was training non-stop to perfect their skills or sent out on patrols to probe their opponents. Even the Nascent Soul masters and grandmaster took a more active duty in managing the sect.

Feng Yan couldn’t bear the thought of being left behind when everyone was pushing forward. The sight of Liu Wong, a child younger than him despite his higher cultivation, protecting him was...

‘I will not be caught being weak again. I need more power to defend the things I cherish.’

Saying his goodbyes to his sleeping friend, Feng Yan left the infirmary to duel a few of his fellow inner disciples.

Aryon found out through his experimentations that stronger beasts in the forest made for better scrolls. Especially when inscribed with specific spells bearing specific elements.

‘That came as no surprise, given the nature of these so-called spirit beasts. They’ve been exposed to the high magic of this land for a long time.’

Take the ‘fire’ spirit beasts for example. For a forest filled with trees there was a surprisingly large amount of fire-based creatures there. They apparently liked to come down from the caves in the nearby mountains to feast on the ‘Wood’ element creatures (‘Why wood as an element? It’s a plant.’). Still, their skins made for great scrolls for fire-based spells.

He made the finishing touches to one last beastskin scroll before setting it atop a neat stack of others. He admired his handiwork, patting himself on the back.

‘That’ll be useful for the coming days. Maybe a bit more than the other thing I set down.’

He left his cave some time in the early afternoon. Even from his cave residence below a hill’s base he could see (and hear) disciples training on the grounds or moving at quick paces.

His hosts and their lessers were preparing everything for the onset of the coming storm. It was quite inspiring seeing them train and work all day every day to increase their strengths.

Even Feng Yan, that youth, had taken things very seriously after his fellow disciple’s fall to save him, though he felt it was a bit masochistic going around challenging people and getting beat up every day just to hone one’s skills.

Seeing everyone so energetic gave him a bit of hope that they’ll make it through all this. It also made him determined to see this prefecture have a happy ending for all.

With that in mind, he made his way to the sect gate to visit a specially-prepared place in the forest.

‘Time for a little chat with a certain vixen.’