Iteration 00645 Earth

  Police actions… That is what those invaders decided to call it. How dare they? As if their assault on innocent lives was merely an exercise in maintaining order. The words dripped with arrogance, a flimsy shield to deflect the weight of their atrocities. They could not bear the responsibility for their own actions. Yet here he was, facing the consequences. His heart was heavier than the body wrapped in white cotton, and he gently lowered it into the earth. His grandson's small form disappeared beneath the dark soil, each handful a cruel farewell as he said his final goodbyes.

  He stared at the pale white as dirt began to swallow it. His hands trembled, and his knuckles were raw and bloody from digging.

  "Should've been me," he whispered, shedding a tear hot with anger and grief.

  A hand rested gently on his shoulder. "Sinar," the man, his best friend Akhan, whispered behind him, having finished helping to bury the child. "We need to go."

  Sinar did not move. "Go where?" his voice broke. "My family is all dead. Our village was reduced to ashes by their flamethrowers. Men, women, and children gunned down like animals." His eyes fixed on the grave, the weight of his loss pressing on his chest.

  "We rejoin the army. We take the fight to them. Make them answer for this," Akhan waved at the grave. "This wasn't some police action . This was a calculated massacre. This was military aggression!" Akhan seethed as he spat out his words. He took a moment to calm himself. "Let's get back out there. Just like old times."

  "Akhan," Sinar said, shaking his head. "We're old now. Our fighting days are behind us."

  "Then we use what little time we have left and die killing them," Akhan replied, gripping the shovel in his hands tightly. "But we need to go. Two men alone in this jungle will be happily gunned down by their patrols."

  Sinar took a moment to stare at the patch of dirt among the grass, strengthening his resolve. "Then let's go die. Let's make them bleed even if it'll cost our two old lives."

  —————————

  "Forward without fear!" Akhan yelled as Sinar sprung to action, jumping out of the bushes they were hiding. Their target was a convoy of enemy trucks struggling through a rugged, narrow path. The pothole they had created had done its job.

  Sinar darted towards the first soldier he saw with a blade in his hand. The soldier was a young man, barely more than a boy. Raising his rifle too slowly, Sinar's blade sliced through his arm. The young soldier screamed in anguish.

  "You should've never come back, little boy!" Sinar spat before driving his blade through the soldier's chest. A fleeting thought passed through his mind: somewhere, the boy's parents would be devastated for their child would not be returning home. But the memories of Sinar's children and grandchildren, lifeless and wrapped in white cloths, crushed any mercy.

  Before Sinar could turn to face the other soldier, he heard an explosion and instantly knew Akhan had achieved his task. Sinar was thrown away by the force of the blast. He lay still on the ground, awaiting the bullets that would be coming to quicken his death. He and Akhan had achieved their target, contributing to their small part of a bigger goal.

  —————————

  Iteration 110 Cradle

  Current time

  Wei Shi Lindon had died. He had felt the cold grip of finality when he saw his legs lying next to him. And then, impossibly, a messenger from the heavens descended and made him whole again, stitching his body together. Now he had a goal: find the sword sage's apprentice and leave Sacred Valley to save it. Thirty years. That was all the time he had before the dreadgods would come and destroy Sacred Valley.

  Lindon stood at the centre of the arena. Everyone was silent, and hundreds of eyes fixed on him. Most were filled with scorn and disdain.

  Lindon bowed to the box with representatives of the four schools. "Honored elder of the of the Heaven's Glory School! This one begs for one more chance to prove himself!"

  The crowd erupted, with hundreds of protests and outrage at what Lindon had requested. Some even laughed at the audacity.

  In the box above, a boy dressed in white and gold stared Lindon down with cold, calculating eyes. The boy stood; he was short, but he stood tall. The arena went silent almost instantly. The elder's gaze bore into Lindon. A drop of sweat ran down Lindon's head at the cold eyes staring at him.

  The elder spoke a single word. His voice was as high as a child his age would be, but it carried both strength and experience. "Why?" he asked.

  Lindon swallowed hard. "Wei Jin Amon is to become a disciple of your school. If this one manages to force him out of the ring or make him admit defeat, surely this one has demonstrated his own value. I request a place in your school under these conditions." Lindon spoke out loud nervously.

  The boy elder did not hesitate. "No."

  Lindon's hopes died with one simple word. He was about to make another plea, but the elder spoke again.

  "I'll allow you a place in our school," the elder announced, the crowd murmuring in surprise. "But the one you'll be facing is me ."

  A collective gasp swept through the arena. Lindon silently baulked at what the elder said. His right hand fidgeted on the glass marble in his pocket. Before he could answer, the Wei elder intervened.

  "Forgiveness, Elder Whitehall," the Wei elder stepped forward, his disapproval clear. "This unsouled needs to learn his place. When we return to the village, I'll discipline him for his transgressions."

  "I do not remember speaking to you, Elder," Elder Whitehall said coldly, his gaze never leaving Lindon.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  "I accept," Lindon replied before he could think twice.

  Behind him, he heard his sister, Kelsa, gasp. "Lindon, what are you doing? He's a Jade!"

  Kelsa continued to speak but Lindon was no longer listening. He stared nervously back at the small elder.

  "Based on how you're staring at me," the elder said, a faint smile formed at the corner of his lips. "It seems you think you stand a chance."

  Lindon did not.

  "Of course not, Elder Whitehall. This one is simply honoured to have the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to learn from a powerful Elder like you." Lindon tried to appease the Elder. He did not even need to lie. The fear in his voice was genuine. But this Elder was not so scary when compared to a dreadgod.

  Elder Whitehall did not reply. Instead, he leapt from his platform, landing in the arena in front of Lindon. He stared at Lindon calculatingly and frowned.

  "Defend yourself," the Elder said. And he attacked. Fast.

  Lindon saw the fist coming towards his face and lifted his arms to block. His forearms broke, followed by his nose. Loud gasps of shock came from the crowd. Some were satisfied that the unsouled was put back in his place, while others scoffed that a Jade Elder was beating down an unsouled.

  Elder Whitehall said nothing to the audience as he stood over Lindon. "Do you admit defeat? There is honour in knowing when you are beaten."

  Lindon tried to get up, but his legs were swept under him immediately. With his face lying on the arena floor, he muttered silently. "No," he first said to the Elder. " Be free."

  The emerald hornet remnants shattered their prison underneath the arena. "Attack." As one, the swarm of remnants attacked Elder Whitehall. The Elder, caught by surprise, took a step back. But he was a Jade and recovered quickly. Scorching streaks of light tore through the remnants one by one until none was left.

  Lindon lay on the arena floor with his arms broken and his legs refusing to move. Lindon watched through one eye as the elder approached him and bent down close. Lindon thought he saw a smirk.

  "What's your name?"

  "Wei Shi Lindon," Lindon answered, attempting to lower his head in respect. But even that sent a spike of pain.

  "Eat," the Elder spoke softly so only he could hear as the Elder placed a hand over Lindon's mouth.

  Lindon felt a tiny ball cupped in the Elder's hand and swallowed it. From the outside, it looked like the Elder was silencing Lindon. Lindon felt a spike of madra entering his core before he lost consciousness.

  —————————

  Lindon woke up slowly, blinking his eyes to clear his vision. He expected sharp pain all over his body and was surprised he found none. He tried to move his arms but found them to be tightly wrapped in scripted bandages and in a sling. The sun shone brightly above him. He shuffled slightly, feeling softness underneath him.

  "Good morning, sunshine," a high-pitched voice called out to him.

  Lindon, recognising the voice, immediately sat up and tried to bow. Not realising he was on a thousand-mile cloud, he fell. With his arms tightly bound in a sling, he fell face first. Lindon recovered quickly, ignoring the brief pain, and bowed. "This one greets Elder Whitehall. Please forgive this one for wasting the resources of the Heaven's Glory school and the precious time of the Elder."

  Sitting on a carpet by a small table, the Elder chuckled and then began to laugh. Lindon, caught on the wrong foot by the Elder's laughter, simply remained bowing.

  Elder Whitehall continued to laugh for some time before stopping. "You're a funny boy, Wei Shi Lindon."

  Lindon, still unsure of what to do, bowed deeper.

  "Oh, stand straight, you fool," the Elder ordered.

  Lindon complied immediately.

  Elder Whitehall watched his face. "Damn," the Elder said. "Your face does make you look like someone looking for a fight."

  Lindon was about to bow again and ask for forgiveness, but the Elder waved it away. Elder Whitehall picked up a paper from his desk and began to read. "Wei Shi Lindon, son of Wei Shi Jaran and Wei Shi Seisha, and younger brother of Wei Shi Kelsa. Born an unsouled and tried to cheat his way to a badge several times, it seems."

  Lindon could feel his sweat slowly dripping, and that was not due to the temperature.

  "And yet here you are, a Heaven's Glory school student."

  Lindon had to take a moment to let the words sink in. "You took me in as a student?" He asked, forgetting all sense of proper decorum when speaking to his betters.

  "Yes, I did," Elder Whitehall replied, placing the paper he held back on the table. "Do you know why disciple?"

  "This one does not dare to claim to understand Elder's wisdom," Lindon bowed.

  "The Elder commands the disciple to seize bowing," Elder Whitehall said, annoyed.

  Lindon immediately straightened. Feeling very uncomfortable by the height difference, he lowered his head slightly.

  The Elder looked up to meet Lindon's eyes. "Because you refused to bow to your betters and admit defeat."

  Lindon really did not know whether this was a compliment or a warning. His sweating redoubled.

  "Because you have the mind to find and do whatever it takes to win." The Elder smiled. "Even if it means cheating."

  Lindon's sweating tripled.

  "But tell me, Lindon," the Elder continued. "What is driving you to these extremes?" The Elder asked curiously. "And don't lie to me; I'll be able to tell." Then, the Elder's face grew severe. "And I hate liars!"

  Lindon was sweating so profusely that he would not fault anyone for thinking he was a water construct. Lindon thought of Suriel, the heavenly messenger. Whatever she saw, she must have known that he could go through this.

  "A heavenly messenger showed me the destruction of Sacred Valley," Lindon muttered quickly before he could begin to overthink and prolong the awkward silence. He told of the coming of Li Markuth, Suriel, how she reversed time, the dreadgods, the monarchs, and what he'll need to do next to save Sacred Valley. Everything else he kept secret.

  Lindon thought Elder Whitehall would accuse him of being mad or even a liar. Instead, the Elder remained silent as he listened, stopping Lindon occasionally to clarify certain things.

  "Forgiveness if this one's story is unbelievable. But this one swears he has been telling the truth," Lindon added.

  "Honey and Poison," Elder Whitehall muttered softly, clenching his fists. "And what did the heavenly messenger say you must do now?"

  "I need to leave the valley," Lindon said.

  "Because there you'll be able to reach gold," Elder Whitehall finished Lindon's sentence.

  'Beyond Gold' was the right answer, but Lindon did not correct the Elder.

  "Here," Elder Whitehall threw a small piece of wood at Lindon. The wooden piece hit Lindon's chest gently, and Lindon fumbled to catch it. "Bring it to the lesser treasure hall. You can exchange it for an item there."

  "This one is grateful for Elder Whitehall's benevolence," Lindon bowed.

  Elder Whitehall ignored Lindon, gesturing him to get going.

  Lindon did not move away. He looked left, right, then behind him.

  "Why are you still here?" Elder Whitehall snapped.

  Lindon stood to attention. "Umm, Elder. I don't know where we are," Lindon nervously said, not even knowing which mountain he was on.

  Elder Whitehall raised his eyebrows. "Oh."

  —————————

  Whitehall faced the tall white tower standing before him in the dead of night. He entered the tower silently, carefully veiling his spirit to remain undetected.

  He counted the steps one at a time as he climbed the spiral staircase up Elder Whisper's tower. He lost count after the first four hundred. He reached the top of the staircases and faced the door to Elder Whisper's chambers.

  Whitehall knocked on the door three times before cycling his madra, releasing it lightly against the door lock. The lock spun open, and Whitehall pushed. Elder Whisper lay on the ground on his belly behind the scripts on the floor, watching Whitehall enter.

  "Isn't this a surprise," Elder Whisper drawled, his voice a low, melodic murmur. "Returning so soon, only a day after leaving the Wei clan territory. Surely, you aren't here just to visit this old fox?" His purple eyes twinkled, and his tails flicked lazily.

  Whitehall placed a wooden bucket in front of the Elder Whisper. The scent of fresh fish filled the room. "I have questions I felt only you would know the answer to." He gestured towards the bucket of fish. "I brought snacks."

  Elder Whisper chuckled, "You know how to keep an ancient fox entertained after all." The fox reached out and swallowed one of the fish whole. "Go on, I'm listening."

  "How do you reach Gold?" Whitehall asked, his voice carrying a hidden desperation.

  "I see your ambition never faded after all," Elder Whisper said, his sharp eyes narrowing. Whitehall could swear Elder Whisper was smirking. "And here I thought you learned your lessons already? Your body certainly did."

  Whitehall's jaw tightened. "Yes," Whitehall answered, not bothering to respond to the rest of what Elder Whisper said. "Mistakes were made, mistakes that I intend to correct."

  Whitehall's lifeline was in shambles, and he could feel it. The sword sage could have helped him, but that path was closed now. But gold, gold would save him. He had read that advancement would always enhance the body.

  "Please," Whitehall bowed at the waist. "Tell me how to reach gold?"

  A soft rustle came from his right. Another Elder Whisper materialised, identical in every way to the first. "And what makes you think I know the answer?" he asked.

  Whitehall did not falter. "You're older than even the oldest man's grandfather in Sacred Valley," he answered, still bowing. "If anyone would know, it would be you."

  A third Elder Whisper emerged to his left. "I can tell you one thing," it said.

  The first Elder Whisper, still devouring the fish, turned his gaze upward. "As you are now, you'll never reach Gold."

  Whitehall grimaced. "I expected that. Tell me what I need to do."

  "Why should I?" The second Elder Whisper sneered, circling Whitehall. "Aren't you the brightest young talent in this whole valley? The young striker who rose to become the youngest elder of Heaven's Glory school. The one rumoured to have bested the School's Patriarch in a spar."

  "Rumours are just rumours," Whitehall replied. "And to answer your first question. Honey and Poison."

  All three Elder Whisper turned their attention to Whitehall, sensing there was more to Whitehall's words.

  "Elaborate," the first Whisper said. "If I find it interesting," Whisper left it at that.

  Whitehall stood straight and took a deep breath. "It's a saying from when I was growing up. They say fate always has two hands behind its back; one holds honey, and the other holds poison. We'll never know which one shall be handed to us. I believe I have been handed the honey so far," Whitehall clenches his fist, and his voice dropped into a whisper. "But the poison is on its way."

  Elder Whisper's eyes gleamed. He leaned closer, tails flicking. "Interesting indeed."