[Prana Core: High Initiate]

  [Prana: 57/57]

  “Hoo.” He sighed and brushed the sweat from his body. He just finished cultivating after killing that four-legged fish daimon. “Once again, this Dark Flower cultivation method is monstrously efficient.”

  “It is. Let alone individuals, many sects and clans would desire a manual of it. Even your Shenguo Kingdom’s military and many noble families would desire it.”

  “Really? The Heavenly Snowy Temple would rather throw it away than teach it.”

  “You Buddhist sects and temples may seem righteous, but they’d stop at nothing to obtain more power. They wouldn’t turn away from daimonic cultivation if it is of this quality. That’s how you humans are.” Bing Xin said.

  “And who's to say your temple won’t house it to prevent others from falling into temptation? What if one monk in charge of safekeeping the cultivation method fell to their desire for strength? Well, aside from you of course.” She remarked.

  Well, that's a slap across his face. It’s true. In the end, he’s learning it anyway. Even if he wasn’t in such a life-and-death situation, he’d still crumple before the allure of strength. That’s who he was. Although he didn’t know much of the daimonic, it couldn’t be that bad. Nothing happened to him nor has he read anything about other cases. And if he continued to kill daimons, wouldn’t his actions outweigh the nature of his cultivation? Strength had always justified itself, hadn’t it?

  But then again… Bing Xin’s words clawed his mind. Buddhist sects and temples? As in plural? He knew a bit about other temples, well just one other, but the way she said it threw him off. What did she really know?

  “Wait. How much do you know about… the world above?” He asked.

  “Little. Too little.” She said.

  “Then I’ll ask further — why are you attached to me?”

  “I can’t say, little monk.”

  Dejiu frowned. But he did learn a little. He’ll take that. Proof was in short supply, but he’ll make do with trust. The thought of her origins from her few words did spark suspicion in his mind. Techniques. Language. Knowledge. Everything she has shown so far only leads to her being an ancient daimon. Perhaps one that had terrorized the world above the many Hells for centuries before he was born. He just didn’t know.

  Although she did seem wary of the Abbot, Dejiu knew that she had been present in his life even before his earliest memories. She likely hibernated with her tail tucked ever since he crossed paths with the Abbot that day. Maybe he was just grasping at straws, but he had a feeling he was right.

  But that led him to the question; What happened when he was an infant for him to fall within her grasp? It’s frustrating for him to think about it. And she wouldn’t bother explaining it to him.

  Only Teacher Jiansu knew of his barren past aside from the few nameless villagers. And who knew where they could be after so many years? Would they even recognize him, much less remember anything about him?

  “I wonder, little monk. Where is that precious Teacher Jiansu?”

  Dejiu stood and half listened. “Likely home. Reading his scriptures, his nose buried in the old calligraphy. The cohorts of warrior monks led by an Arhat or Arhat disciple aren’t to be trifled with. They likely snuffed their Pillarshard by the time I’ve begun descending my own.”

  He grabbed his spade, feeling rejuvenated. Time to hunt. There's nothing like growing stronger. It's addicting. How fast he’s growing is unheard of as far as he knows. It reminds him of Teacher Jiansu’s tellings of noble scions from the Shenguo Kingdom’s capital, the vibrant city of Lingzhou. Those scions were raised with all the treasures in the world — Hell Shards, elixirs, prana fruits, pills, and more. Probably even soulbound remnants.

  Dejiu sighed. Alas, he was a monk. Birth alone doesn’t dictate his access to treasures. Strength and virtue did.

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  He walked and walked, oddly even Bing Xin couldn’t lead him to any daimons. Perhaps they were scared of the emergence of a bald monk from the Pillarshard. Well, at least he hoped. But before he could find any daimons, he found something equally as exciting to see.

  “Little monk. Run back to the Pillarshard.”

  “Huh?”

  “No time. Go. Now.”

  —

  “Feng Yue Huang, what of your scouting?” A young man with eyebrows that were as upright as a sword. His eyes were bright and shining, periodically sending out sharp glances that looked like a dragon’s or a tiger’s. Why wouldn’t he? He, one of the ten young masters of the Feng Clan led a daimon-hunting cohort. Not a complete cohort, but a cohort nonetheless.

  “We’re almost there young master Feng Mu.” Feng Yue Huang responded.

  “Mm, good. Aid them at the front. I’ll take care of diplomacy once we reach this Pillarshard you spoke of.” Feng Mu said through pursed lips. His thick eyebrows tensed as he tried to squint to where

  “Leave it to this Feng Yue Huang!” The ragged man, Feng Yue Huang responded.

  Feng Mu nodded. To think their mission to the Seventh Hell would result in disaster. A shame on their clan. As the leader and the youngest of the ten young masters in the Feng Clan, this failure spoke of his fall. His position in the clan wasn’t the strongest. His elder brothers and sisters… wretched eagles. They always stepped on him to prove their pull in the clan. Just because their father, the clan head sired them first.

  He scoffed. He swore that he’d never let anyone step on him again, but alas, he was too hasty. The Seventh Hell wasn’t to be trifled with. If only he knew when he left with his cohort…

  What remained of twenty of his youth followers had dwindled to a mere injured and hungry ten. Facing this failure, Feng Mu’s humiliation and pain in his heart grew. To inspire followers as the weakest of the young masters was a lofty feat, yet he wasted ten precious lives. They were to be his arms and legs once he ascended the mantle of clan head!

  “Young master! The Pillarshard is in sight!”

  Feng Mu looked up with weary eyes. It’s been too long since they’ve been lost. And before the singed sky, the eternal cloud of ash revealed a towering behemoth — a Pillarshard, their lifeline. It's their ticket back to the surface. But this land… who’s territory was it? They were still beneath the Shenguo kingdom, right? Their Feng Clan’s name and wealth would surely aid them in this time of peril.

  Feng Mu narrowed his eyes and addressed the nine before him. “I’ll take lead.”

  —

  “There’s people!? Who is it? Monks? Did Teacher Jiansu and the others not return to the surface?” He asked excitedly.

  “Little monk, you have no idea how vast Hell is. How much the people of the surface have carved their greed into its depths. Like miners clawing at a vein of gold, they have dipped their hands into Hell’s maw, grasping at its treasures. Each shard, each daemon’s bone, each infernal trinket has become a currency of power.” Bing Xin scoffed as if it was common knowledge.

  “Shit, not monks? Then can they help me kill the guardian?” He frowned.

  “They cannot. You retain control over the Pillarshard’s assault for thirty days. Remember?”

  Dejiu jogged his mind and remembered the message he heard.

  [You have thirty days before your assault is forcibly relinquished.]

  It had been chaotic at the time, and his mind wasn’t in the right place. Well, he wasn’t sure if his mind was back to normal now, but in any case, he remembered.

  “Alright, but why did you tell me to go inside here?” He asked as he paced back and forth at the Pillarshard’s entrance. He felt anxious. His timeline was short enough to begin with.

  “They cannot enter until your thirty days are over, nor can those monks enter the Pillarshard from above. Little monk, you’ve only seen the best of people — and even then you were still treated as an outcast and disregarded. Those strangers are not monks. They are dangerous.” Bing Xin said.

  “...Fine. So what now? I can’t go outside and practice the Withering Palm technique now that they are outside. That only leaves the guardian. I was supposed to have six days to train!”

  He felt anxious. His timeline was short enough to begin with. Time was being wasted, time better spent training to prepare to face a damn guardian!

  “Hello? Hello!? From who’s faction is assaulting this Pillarshard? We are from the Feng Clan! We seek refuge to the surface!” A commanding voice bellowed from afar.

  Dejiu turned his head and squinted. He spotted nine figures standing apart from a bustling crowd — cultivators, their presence unmistakable. Long swords rested on their backs or at their hips. They wore white robes with golden streaks. Even from afar, Dejiu made out cyan eyes and long hair that fluttered from behind.

  “Oh. They saw me.” Dejiu blurted. “Miss Bing Xin, what do I do?”

  But she didn’t respond.

  “Bing Xin?”

  His heart pounded. Should he just go down? No, it was a damn guardian! He can’t just go down haphazardly with these guys at his front door. First needed to calm himself!

  “Hey? Miss Bing Xin? I’m sorry for the past transgressions this lowly monk has done to you. I should’ve relinquished my body over to you from the first moment you talked to me!” He kowtowed at the entrance.

  All the while the ten cultivators watched.