Not too sure if I'll make a Patreon for this book, but if it ends up getting enough traction/demand, I'll go ahead.

  Chapter 1: Waking Up

  Western Divide, Uligo Valley.

  Like usual, the sound of a fierce downpour hitting against the gravel road echoed throughout Uligo Valley, accompanied by the howling of monkeys, the wondrous whirring sound of bellbirds, and the high-pitched whine of cicadas throughout the dense, lush tropical terrain that the area was renowned for.

  Normally, the poorly maintained roads passing through the valley tended to be quite barren since the abundant mud, potential danger of beasts lurking in the treeline, and presence of bandits made them awfully unfavorable to merchants and general travellers alike.

  But today happened to be an exception.

  Rumble! Rumble! Rumble!

  Under the faint traces of sunlight piercing through the valley’s thick canopy was a moving carriage, pulled by a pair of abnormally large-looking jaguars.

  The man managing them seemed to be middle-aged and wore a pair of dark robes, similar to the group of armed individuals walking by the carriage’s sides—presumably as guards.

  Each had a deep, profound aura emanating from it, one that would cause most who passed them to stop and shudder.

  However, none of them could even begin to compare to the suffocating air that was emanating from the elderly man sitting beside the driver.

  His eyes were closed, and his face appeared to be as tranquil as the surface of a lake on a summer evening, yet it somehow managed to convey a contradictory sense of deep, depthless brutality.

  “Elder Thatcher,” the driver nervously spoke, a simple head movement from the elderly man being enough to cause him to soil himself. “Are you sure we should be passing through this area? Wouldn’t taking the alternative route be safer?”

  Thatcher half opened his left eye, speaking in a raspy, serene tone of voice. “And why would that be the case?”

  “No! I wasn’t suggesting that you aren’t more than enough security—”

  “Did I accuse you of suggesting that? Jumping to conclusions isn’t a very efficient way to cultivate acumen, Disciple Granger.”

  Granger looked ready to apologize with all his might, but he was met with a swift, silencing gesture before he could do so.

  “I know what it is you’re worried about,” Thatcher sighed, looking to his right and observing the sight of a monstrous stormcloud, wreaking havoc far into the distance of Uligo Valley. “You believe we’ll warrant the anger of the Tyrant Thunderbird.”

  “Yes,” Granger nodded solemnly, praying with all his might that he hadn’t offended his Elder.

  Even though Thatcher’s demeanor seemed calm, anyone who knew him or his reputation enough was well aware that there was nothing more to his character than the surface.

  Something far more dangerous lurked beneath the shell of his wrinkly exterior.

  “While it’s true that I don’t stand a chance against the Thunderbird, our Vice Sect Leader sparred with it recently, it doesn’t currently have the energy to waste fighting me.” Thatcher thoughtfully stroked his beard, the flash of the lightning bolts produced being reflected in his open eye.

  “Ah! Is that what caused the beast stampede yesterday?” He recalled the influx of white howler monkeys that had abruptly gone into a frenzy recently.

  “Mhm,” Thatcher nodded, gazing up at the sky with a contemplative expression.

  ‘I may not be able to contest with the Thunderbird now, but if this batch proves themselves useful enough—I’ll be awarded enough resources to break through.’

  Thatcher turned around, facing the array of metal cages that were being pulled alongside the convoy, each filled with the unconscious bodies of at least two hundred children aged anywhere from twelve to seventeen.

  ‘Even if we only get a handful of Grade A talents, that’ll be more than enough to get the merit I need.’

  He snickered inwardly while observing them, a cold experience glimmering within his pupils.

  …

  Almost an hour had gone by since the convoy had departed, and at long last, one of the supposedly kidnapped individuals started to come to.

  He was a dark-haired boy who seemed to be about sixteen years old. His skin was rough, and he had a multitude of old scars spanning the exposed surface of his flesh.

  ‘Ughhhh, my neck hurts like hell!’

  He rubbed his nape as his eyelids sluggishly began to part, allowing his dark-brown pupils to finally take in what was going on around him.

  A sight, which he couldn’t even begin to wrap his head around.

  ‘What the hell?!’ He jolted upright, the lingering pain worsening as he frantically turned his head from side to side.

  The most recent memory that came to mind was him going out hunting like usual for his village, which went by the name of Typhon, located on Ferrum Mountain.

  He couldn’t recall seeing anything out of the ordinary; however, he could certainly recall feeling something out of the ordinary.

  While his bow had been aimed at a boar he had been tracking, he remembered hearing a rustling sound creep up on him out of nowhere, and after that—bam!

  Something blunt had struck him on the back of his neck, knocking him out cold in one swift motion.

  And the next thing he knew, he was here, trapped in a moving cage with a bunch of other sleeping children lying around him.

  ‘Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me! That was the first time Mom and Dad let me go out hunting alone! And this is what happens?!’ Lady Luck truly didn’t seem intent on favoring him.

  ‘Alright, Fel, calm down and think… as hard as that may be right now, there’s definitely a way out of this.’

  “HEY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

  Moments later, he heard someone shouting from the cage being pulled behind him, signalling that one of the other children—among many—had also woken up.

  They appeared to be a little younger than Fel, and were currently shouting at one of the armed men walking beside the convoy.

  “OI! I’M TALKING TO YOU—!”

  Thwack!

  “Shut up!” Unfortunately for him, the man promptly decided to pull out a sword of some sort—and struck him on the head with the end of the weapon’s hilt. “Elder Thatcher’s gracious enough to give a peasant like you such a divine opportunity! So show some respect!”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  ‘Elder Thatcher?’ Since Fel’s cage happened to be at the front of the row, he was able to observe the sight of Thatcher’s back through the metal bars of the structure.

  From his exquisite clothing alone, he could decipher that the man was of high standing, which made the situation all the more confusing.

  ‘Is he a human trafficker or something? Strange, he’s not really dressed like a common criminal, nor is the guy who just hit that kid.’

  Even though he could tell at a glance that the fabric they adorned was rather lavish, he had never seen their design before, making their identity a complete mystery.

  “You’re awfully silent,” Thatcher spoke, as if he had eyes on the back of his head. “Aren’t you going to demand an explanation from me?”

  Fel’s eyes widened in shock, thoroughly taken aback by Thatcher’s keen perception.

  “Well?” Thatcher continued expectantly.

  ‘There’s something off about this old guy…’

  He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was definitely something—sinister—emanating off Thatcher’s body. A predatory feeling that reminded him of the first time he had come face to face with a tiger.

  “Uhm…” Fel hesitated, reflexively swallowing a nervous gulp. “Are you… a human trafficker?”

  With his back still facing Fel, a slow grin crawled up Thatcher’s face, the atmosphere around immediately growing cold.

  “Unfortunately, no—I am not a human trafficker. I’m something much worse than that.” He chuckled coldly, the driver’s posture noticeably stiffening.

  ‘Yeah, that totally clears up everything.’ Fel rolled his eyes, clearly uninterested in Thatcher's antics.

  “Old man, what’s the point of urging me to question you if you’re just going to spout some cryptic nonsense?” He sighed, propping his cheek against his fist, his other arm leaning against the metal cage.

  “Watch who you’re talking to—!” One of the guards tried to admonish him, but Thatcher quickly motioned for him to remain quiet, immediately causing the guard to freeze up like a whipped dog.

  “When an Elder is in the midst of a conversation, you should know better than to intervene.” Thatcher glared at the guardsman, opening his eyes a little more and revealing his blood-red pupils.

  “My deepest apologies! Elder Thatcher!” He didn’t hesitate to bow at a right-degree angle, cupping his hands together with a fearful look on his face.

  But Thatcher merely ignored him, returning his attention to Fel.

  “You’re awfully calm for someone who I imagine hasn’t been in this situation before.” Strangely enough, there was no sense of judgment in Thatcher’s tone—more so pure curiosity.

  “Calm? Where did you get that idea from? I’m scared out of my mind right now!” He turned to face the kid who had been struck earlier. “The only reason I’m not screaming is because I don’t want to be whacked.”

  In truth, Thatcher was already well aware of Fel’s fear—he could sense it, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate the humor in the boy’s attitude.

  He was an old man, not a robot.

  “For a peasant, your decision-making ability isn’t half-bad.” Thatcher chuckled, the corners of his lips curling up into a faint smile. “As a reward, I’ll let you know what’s going on. You aren’t being kidnapped, well, you technically are, but that’s not the point, the point is you’re being tested.”

  “Tested?” He scratched his temple.

  “You’re being given the chance to become a Virth Lord.”

  Fel’s eyes expanded, and he blinked repeatedly, mentally trying to confirm if Thatcher had just said what he thought he said.

  There wasn’t a single person on the Virtus Continent who didn’t recognize that term.

  “Virth”, was said to be an ethereal energy that flowed through all living things, people, the ground, the trees, the ocean, even the sky itself.

  And those capable of cultivating Virth were referred to as Virth Lords, individuals said to be capable of mystical feats like shooting fire out of their fingertips, flying through the air, and even cleaving entire mountains in half.

  Upon hearing stories of them, Fel, like every other hopeful peasant child, had dreamed of a day when he’d be able to become one, but reality was often disappointing.

  To his village’s knowledge, there were no nearby sects around Ferrum Mountain—and even if there were one, you’d still have to pass their entrance exams to be given a chance to cultivate.

  Only about a tenth of applicants would pass an entrance exam, and depending on the sect’s growth, the time it takes to open an entrance examination could take anywhere from a month to multiple years on end.

  But that’s what confused him.

  Sects recruited people through entrance examinations, yet he was currently being pulled along in a row of cages with hundreds of other children.

  “You don’t need to say anything, I know why you’re skeptical,” Thatcher spoke, as if he had read Fel’s mind. “You probably think I’m lying, don’t you?”

  “Can you blame me?” Fel deadpanned, narrowing his eyes while staring at Thatcher’s back.

  From his perspective, Thatcher had every reason to be lying.

  “If that’s the case, let me ease your concern.”

  SWOOSH!

  Thatcher flicked his sleeve, sending out a colossal torrent of wind into the fauna parallel to the convoy.

  Like an invisible blade, the thick trunks of the surrounding trees were split cleanly in half, with more precision than any lumberjack Fel had ever seen.

  The young hunter was left positively slack-jawed, his mouth hanging wide open as the sound of Thatcher’s destruction startled a few other children awake.

  ‘This old man really is a Virth Lord!’

  “As for why you’re being kidnapped,” Thatcher idly continued. “I was ordered to do so by our esteemed Sect Leader. Our Bloodrend Sect hasn’t been getting many voluntary entrants. So to make sure we don’t go extinct, we decided to take in some involuntary entrants.”

  Finally, Thatcher decided to turn around, letting Fel take in the sight of his unnaturally haunting face. Although there was nothing off about it other than his eye coloration, he still managed to instill a deep sense of instinctual dread in the boy.

  “It isn’t all that surprising for sects like ours, though. Our reputation tends to be quite the deterrent to hopeful cultivators.”

  “Reputation?” He almost hesitated to ask.

  “Hehe, of course. We’re a demonic sect after all.”