“This doesn’t add up.” Sezha wiped the blood from his upper lip. He winced. The monster had beat him black and blue. “I was here for ages. It looks like Wuqi and the others just wandered in yesterday. How is that possible?”

The Prime didn’t glance back at Sezha; her eyes were glued to the corpse of the Hunter. “Time is a flexible concept here. Did I not tell you that seconds in the outside world could mean days in here? You’re a divine artist now. Get used to the idea of the outlandish and impossible.”

Sezha rose to his feet shakily. There wasn’t a single part of him that wasn’t hurting.

“Congratulations. My disciple, Sezha,” the Prime added cheerfully. She tossed her purple hair back as if she was congratulating him about something as mundane as scoring well on an arithmetic exam.

“Then it’s over, Prime. . . .” Sezha hesitated. “Master Nara?” He walked over to his master’s side after prying his sword from the Hunter’s stomach.

“It’s only beginning,” Nara corrected. “With any luck, you still have a long path to walk, my young, naive divine artist.”

“Divine artist?” he mumbled. The title didn’t feel real, especially after his near brush with death. What exactly did it mean to be a divine artist? The stories Sezha had heard about them were hardly pleasant. They were no better than brigands in the regard they took whatever they wanted with impunity. Yet the Prime had described them as valiant guardians, proof that humanity could rise above their avarice and base instincts.

Whatever they were, it was too late for Sezha to go back to his old way of life. His flesh prickled, shivers running down his spine. It was clear now, the flow of qi. Like a multi-colored stream, it streaked through the gray sky. And more importantly, it was leading him somewhere. He began to follow it.

As it turned out, Sezha did have a long path to walk. Although he moved at what was pretty much a crawl, everything seemed to pass by in a blur. As desolate as the pocket realm was, it had been his home for the last few weeks. Or was it months? It was easy to lose track when day and night looked the same.

The strange leafless shrubs swayed rhythmically like always, the tall stone pillars standing vigil like silent guardians. And a hundred centuries from now, it would still look exactly the same. Regardless, Sezha was ready to leave it all behind. He had outgrown the dead realm.

The blood on his sword was proof enough. Even if it was by luck, the Hunter had fallen to his hands. A feat that not even warriors with decades of experience could replicate. This didn’t mean Sezha was invulnerable by any means. His aching body served as a reminder of the painful fact.

And there was still much more he had to accomplish. With an eye on the future, Sezha continued on his Path.

- End of Arc 1: The Path which he must walk.