THREE HUNDRED TWENTY FOUR YEARS AGO

Hong Ma stormed from her immortal’s cave, propelling herself to the peak of the mountain it resided in with a few jets of concentrated flame. It had been an entire decade since she had left secluded meditation, and yet she had made no progress towards Sainthood. She roared her frustration, spraying the heavens with white-hot fire.

A few seconds later, she stopped, sighing. That was no good — every extra technique she performed was another drop of mana wasted. She put a hand to her face, feeling for any signs of her inevitable aging. Good. No wrinkles yet. She would bully a few Connection and Diffusion cultivators for resources, and then go back to secluded meditation.

***

TWO HUNDRED NINETY EIGHT YEARS AGO

Hong Ma opened her eyes, growling as she shoved another pill in her mouth. A quarter century of cultivation, and she hadn’t even started the ascension process? The pill instantly dissolved, but the meagre amount of mana barely even registered to her overloaded core. She stood on stiff legs, going outside to breathe in the fresh mountain air. Fresher air was supposed to maintain youth, after all. She paused, thinking. Maybe she should move her meditation spot closer to the entrance.

She walked back in, nearly tripping over a rock with a ribbon tied to it. She flipped it over, revealing a small jade slip. She pushed the slightest amount of mana into it, letting the words wash over her.

From Elemental Village:

My dear Ma,

How are you? I know that you’ve spent the last few years in secluded meditation, but I was wondering whether you would like to go to the Archea World Festival with me next year. I’ve recently stumbled across a bounty of a thousand peak-grade spirit stones, so I was thinking I could treat you and my brother to the show.

Here in the village, things have been going pretty slow. I’ve reached the peak of Evolution, but as you know, cultivation has never been my greatest priority. The farms have been declining in production, but that is to be expected now that we lost our nature-aspected mystic.

Anyways, I had just wanted to write to you while you were in secluded meditation. I’ve told the messenger not to disturb you, but you know how messengers are — I apologise if he woke you up.

As always, I anticipate the next time we will get to see each other.

Your one and only,

Huang Ba.

She checked the date, sighing. Seven years ago. She took a hesitant step back outside, but then stepped back in with a harrumph. Immortality first — everything else could wait until she was guaranteed eternal youth.

***

TWO HUNDRED SEVENTY THREE YEARS AGO

Hong Ma shattered the glass in her hand, screaming loud enough to shake the ground beneath her. A wrinkle! She had found a wrinkle on her forehead. She poured the rest of her pills and elixirs into her mouth, swallowing the small fortune's worth of cultivation materials without a second thought. As expected, their collective mana was like a drop in the bucket compared to her bloated reserves. Still, she channeled the mana to her connection to fire, fusing it with the steady stream that constantly flowed into her core.

A few intense minutes later, she stood back up. This was okay. She could still achieve Sainthood, and the advancement in cultivation would probably return her to her youthful prime. She pulled out another glass, carefully applying makeup to hide the unsightly bit of skin.

***

TWO HUNDRED FIFTY FIVE YEARS AGO

Hong Ma looked into her glass once more, burning away the gray hair that dared threaten her pristine look. Her face was now heavily caked in powder, a desperate attempt to hide the numerous wrinkles that were beginning to take shape around her forehead. She stood, carrying a lantern as she marched towards the funeral procession for her husband. She would shed no makeup-staining tears, and as soon as this was over, she would go back to secluded meditation.

***

TWO HUNDRED TWENTY FOUR YEARS AGO

“Please, honored Saint! Help this humble Third Circle mystic to ascend to your level, and she shall forever be in your debt!”

Hong Ma prostrated herself before the Saint of Shining Suns, her eyes bloodshot and lungs heaving.

“I have spent a hundred years attempting to find the secret to Sainthood, and all I have achieved is a hundred more years in age. I beseech you, just aid me this one time, and for one thousand years I will do whatever you say of me.”

The Saint snorted, releasing a glow of near-blinding light. “And why exactly do you want to be an immortal?”

“Please, honored Saint, I was once a peerless beauty. With your help, I could return to my previous state…”

Her intricate mask of powder and oil dissolved, washed away by the streaming tears in her eyes.

“Trifling Third Circle mystic, do you know how many of your kind ask me for this aid every century? And yet you still have the arrogance to give such shallow reasons for becoming a Saint. If you truly wish to become an immortal, you must take a look at those better connected to your aspect, even if they are weaker in the moment. Now go, I have better things to deal with than your whining.”

Hong Ma stood, indignant. “Do you know how powerful I am? I reached the peak of the Third Circle in under a century! If you simply allowed me Sainthood, I would probably double the strength of your nation, and yet you dismiss me as a trifling child?”

She threw herself at the Saint with a furious lunge, but the fight was over before it had begun. In an instant, she was flung across the room, a charred hole in the center of her robes.

“Leave, brat.”

Hong Ma darted across the sky, unwilling to once again face the Saint’s wrath. Still, no matter how, she needed to reach Sainthood. What was it that he had said? Look at those better connected with her aspect?

She stopped midair, roaring. That old geezer has said that she didn’t have sufficient latent talent! She would show him! She would show them all her potential for immortality! She increased the power of her fire jets, shooting away with a resounding crack.

***

TWO HUNDRED FOURTEEN YEARS AGO

Hong Ma stood in a pile of burnt corpses, her hair wild and her robes in tatters. She had gained yet another unpleasant blemish on her once-pristine skin, this time a scar on her shoulder, but she was confident the ascension to Saint would heal that. And in her hand, she held the secret to her ascension. The Foundation-Stealing Ritual.

***

ONE HUNDRED NINETY FOUR YEARS AGO

"Honored mystic of the Third Circle, the prisoners are not complying to our orders. No matter what we do, they refuse to give up their children, much less participate —"

"Useless peasant!" Hong Ma sent out a flame serpent, watching it devour the servant alive. "Do I have to do everything myself?"

She marched over to the cell, slamming her fist next to a terrified mystic of the Second Circle. "So… you choose to disobey my orders?"

A spark of rebellion lit in the woman's eyes, and she blasted Hong Ma with a gout of white-hot fire. "I will not sell my newborn to some cruel experiment! You defeated us — fine. Just take some treasures and be on your way! But stealing our children? Have you no honor?"

The matriarch weathered the technique without a scratch, raising her palm. "I see. It looks as if you require an incentive."

Her hand grasped onto the woman's arm, growing hotter by the second. The prisoner laughed. "Hah! This is your torture technique? Did you forget I cultivate fire myself? Any flames hot enough to injure me will simply burn through my nerves!"

"Ah. Is that so?"

The heat in her palm passed a critical threshold, and the mystic whimpered. "W-what technique is this? Why does it hurt so much?"

Hong Ma smirked, channeling more mana into her hand. "What? You put up such a confident front, and now it's barely been ten seconds and you're cracking. Well, I suppose I don't blame you. I developed this technique myself."

Right now, the woman's own mana would be rebelling against her spirit, ravaging her channels and holding the heat at just the right temperature to optimize pain. It was ineffective in battle due to the prolonged contact needed to maximize its effects, but against a frightened woman an entire circle below her? It was perfect.

The glow of mana intensified at the spot of contact, and the woman screamed.

***

ONE HUNDRED SIXTY ONE YEARS AGO

Hong Ma watched as another talentless child was born, grinding her teeth to prevent herself from burning the entire island down. It wasn't working! Even with such a concentration of fire-aspected mystics, these children were hardly better than those on Archea!

She glared at the girl's mother. Even with the choice of any woman on this world, her one hope of producing an acceptable product had decided to mate with this talentless wench. That simply wouldn't do.

"Honored matriarch, is something wrong?" Subject 14 glanced at her, cradling his newborn in one arm and holding his wife in the other.

"Ahh… no, nothing is wrong. In fact, I would like to offer your child a special role in this society."

The man beamed, proudly holding his child up. "This humble mystic is honored that his child has been selected. What is her future occupation?"

"She shall tend to the farms." Hong Ma took the child in her own arms, patting her as if she was destined for greatness. "However… with this honor comes a great responsibility."

The mother's eyes went wide, and she gripped onto her husband's arm. "What responsibility, honored matriarch?"

"She will be unable to cultivate."

A stream of protests emerged, but Hong Ma silenced them with a hand. "It is necessary. Currently, those who harvest the grain are cultivating the ambient mana around them, leaving little for the crops themselves."

The father frowned. "Could she not simply stop her cultivation technique? I feel as if —"

"No. That is the only way." The matriarch let a little of her aura leak out, and the couple silenced.

"Of course, honored matriarch."

***

ONE HUNDRED SEVEN YEARS AGO

Hong Ma grinned as the first Sun lay on her deathbed, her lack of mana and strained body doing her in far earlier than even a normal Purification-stage mystic should live.

Ever since the implementation of ranks, the people of Paradise had started producing a far greater percentage of talented youths. Breeding only talent with talent allowed for extraordinary results, even through the course of only a few generations.

However, it was not enough. She needed to refine her upper ranks even further, and in order to promote growth, a civilization required conflict.

She stepped out of the hut, raising her arm in an invisible signal.

Attack.