"But, Father."
"Go." The Guild President's voice turned steely.
Phoenixbane bit her lip, a flash of defiance in her eyes before she snorted and stormed out. The President murmured, his voice a low growl, "It seems I need to have a word with that… *individual*. Hades… He dares touch what's mine? Hmph!"
… …
Two peaceful days passed atop the Mountain of Celial Thunder. Dunce, Mystic Mystic Moon, and the Rock Brothers – Girln Shi and Girln Li – spent their time amidst the breathtaking peaks. Xiwen, Grandmaster of the Thunder Sect, occasionally sought out Dunce, discussing matters or offering pointers to Girln Shi and Girln Li on refining their combat forms. Dunce, however, was offered no such instruction. Haunted by the realization of his own inadequacy during the confrontation with the Guild President's shadowy threat, he'd plunged into near isolation, dedicating every waking moment to his Vitality Cycle cultivation. Even Mystic Mystic Moon's invitations to explore the scenic vistas were met with steadfast refusal. While two days were brief, the liquid warmth of his inner energy pulsed stronger, whispering that the barrier to the Sixth Cycle was thinning, ready to break.
While Dunce focused inward, the young, fourth-generation disciples of the Thunder Sect flocked around Mystic Mystic Moon. They'd never encountered a girl with such vibrancy and, frankly, such startling beauty. They became her eager tour guides, unveiling the mountain's hidden splendors. Within those two days, Mystic Mystic Moon had charmed the lot of them, her laughter echoing against the stone faces.
"Dunce! Dunce!" Mystic Mystic Moon burst into his sparse quarters, her face pale, eyes wide with panic. Dunce had just completed his seventh Vitality Cycle circulation for the day and was contemplating a simple meal. Seeing her distress, he immediately stood.
"What's wrong, Mystic Moon? What happened?"
Mystic Mystic Moon gasped, hands trembling. "It's terrible! I feel my father's presence! He must have tracked us here! What are we going to do? We have to run, now!"
Dunce caught her chilled hands. "Mystic Moon, calm down. If your father really means to take you back, running might just make it inevitable. Remember, at the Conclave of Mages? He told *me* to look after you. He didn't say anything about dragging you back then. Maybe… maybe he's here for other business? Some official visit with the Thunder Sect?"
Mystic Mystic Moon took a shaky breath, shaking her head fiercely. "No, no! Of the Four Kingdoms, the Southern Protectorates hold the least faith in the Radiant Light. The Temple rarely deals here directly. Dunce, I *feel* it! He's come for me. Please, we need to get away!"
Dunce hesitated, then nodded. He couldn't bear the fear in her eyes. "Alright. We'll say goodbye to Xiwen and the others, then leave."
Mystic Mystic Moon bobbed her head frantically. "I'll go pack! Hurry, get Girln Shi and Girln Li! We leave immediately!" She turned and fled like a startled bird.
Dunce watched her frantic retreat, a bittersweet smile touching his lips. Only her father could reduce the usually fearless Mystic Mystic Moon to such a state. *What must it be like to have a father whose very presence commands such devotion… and such dread?* The thought turned bittersweet, reminding him of his own surrogate fathers, Gorith and Owen. They were the ones who held his heart. And now… now there was Mystic Mystic Moon. The more time he spent with her, the deeper the root took hold, and the harder it became to imagine life without her light.
Sighing, he crossed the narrow courtyard to the Rock Brothers' room and relayed Mystic Mystic Moon's urgent message.
Girln Li burst out laughing. "I'd actually like to see this Great Monk Priest of hers! Scared our fearless Mystic Moon into retreat! Should be quite the character."
Girln Shi shook his head pragmatically. "Enough. If we're leaving, let's pack quickly. Without Mystic Moon, the road will lose its spark." They owned little – rough-spun tunics, spare traveling gear – and stashed them into worn bundles. As they finished, Mystic Mystic Moon burst back in, breathless.
"Move, move! Father's aura is closing in! He must be nearing the summit! We have to descend the other side!"
Dunce nodded, taking her cold hand firmly. "Let's pay our respects to Xiwen first, then we leave."
The four stepped out into the courtyard sunlight, approaching the door to Xiwen's personal meditation chamber. Dunce knocked respectfully. "Xiwen? It's Dunce. May I speak with you?"
Xiwen's calm voice floated back. "Enter."
They filed in. Xiwen sat cross-legged on a woven rush mat, a picture of serene strength. Seeing their packs, a knowing smile touched his lips. "Leaving? The Heavenly Saint hasn't sent word about your path forward yet."
Faced with the urgency, Mystic Mystic Moon abandoned subtlety. "I… I sense my father approaching. I sneaked away from the Temple, Grandmaster! If he catches me… he'll lock me away forever! Please, let us go! When we've found the People of the Forest, we'll return, I promise!" Her voice cracked with desperation.
Xiwen sighed, his smile turning wry. "Child… If I were your father, I *might* be tempted to lock you away too. Very well. If you must leave, do so swiftly. If your father pursues you, he'll come from the rear paths. Descend the front slope. Head West – that'll take you into the Sunward Territories. Dunce," his gaze locked onto the young man, "you *will* return here. That is not a request."
"I swear I will return, Grandmaster," Dunce vowed. "Please convey our apologies to the Heavenly Saint."
At that moment, Mystic Mystic Moon stiffened, her entire body locking rigid, her eyes wide and glazed. Dunce felt the sudden shift.
"Mystic Moon? What's wrong?"
Mystic Mystic Moon whispered, the color draining completely from her face. "It's over… Too late. Father's spiritual net has locked onto me. There's no escape now."
Dunce didn't fully grasp the concept she described but had no time to ask. A young acolyte's voice echoed from outside the door. "Grandmaster! A distinguished guest from the Holy Temple seeks an audience. He awaits in the Grand Hall."
Xiwen's eyes sharpened, a flicker of lightning within them. He flowed from his mat to stand beside Mystic Mystic Moon. "Since you cannot flee, you must face him. He is not our enemy. What is there truly to fear? Let us go. I confess to a curiosity about this father of yours." He remained unaware that Mystic Mystic Moon's father was one of the Temple's exalted Blood Skeleton Blood Skeleton Monk Priests.
Dunce, pulling the trembling Mystic Mystic Moon along, and the Rock Brothers followed Xiwen towards the vast Grand Hall. Mystic Mystic Moon leaned heavily into Dunce's grip, her voice a terrified whisper only he could hear. "Dunce… if Father insists on taking me… what will we do? I want to roam the continents with you! I… I don't want to leave you!" Tears welled in her eyes.
Her plea sparked a warmth deep within him. "He won't," Dunce murmured, squeezing her hand. Her palm was slick with sweat. "Even if he takes you back to the Temple, I will find you. Mystic Moon, be brave." The short walk from Xiwen's chamber to the Grand Hall felt like a journey through shifting sands for Mystic Mystic Moon, each step laden with apprehension. The inevitable confrontation loomed.
The Grand Hall, vast and echoing with the legacy of martial ancestors, was already occupied. Six formidable elders stood as Xiwen entered – the other six Masters of the Thunder Sect's second generation.
"Grandmaster," they greeted Xiwen in unison, bowing respectfully.
Dunce's gaze swept the hall, instantly landing on the figure radiating potent holy light. Clad in the deep crimson robes of a Temple Blood Skeleton Monk Priest, radiating an aura of sanctified power, stood Mystic Mystic Night.
Xiwen showed genuine surprise. "A Blood Skeleton Monk Priest? This is an unlooked-for honor, Your Eminence. Forgive this old man's poor welcome."
Mystic Mystic Night had sensed his daughter's unique presence upon entering the Mountain's domain. Driven by paternal fury, he had utilized his mastery of luminous flight magic, exhausting himself over a day and night to find this specific peak. After resting half a day to restore his reserves, he'd ascended. He was startled to find her within the stronghold of the Thunder Sect. Though he hadn't met the Heavenly Saint, he understood the weight of such a legend. The Temple had little interaction with the Thunder Sect, necessitating caution.
"You are the Heavenly Saint?" Mystic Mystic Night inquired, his gaze pointedly avoiding his daughter. "Your reputation precedes you."
Xiwen gave a polite bow, not denying the connection but clarifying. "You honor our founder, Your Eminence. I am Xiwen, his unworthy disciple, entrusted as the second-generation master of this sect."
Mystic Mystic Night's eyes widened slightly. The moment Xiwen entered, Mystic Mystic Night had sensed the profound power emanating from him. This… this was merely the disciple? A ripple of unease washed over him. His estimation of the Thunder Sect's hidden depths increased severalfold.
Seeing escape was impossible, Mystic Mystic Moon shuffled forward, head bowed low. "Father," she murmured.
Mystic Mystic Night's expression hardened. "You recall you have a father?"
Dunce stepped forward as well, executing a respectful martial salute. "Honored Uncle." Seeing Dunce hold his daughter's hand upon entry had only deepened Mystic Mystic Night's instinctive dislike. He ignored the greeting, focusing his cold stare on Xiwen.
Xiwen gestured towards low benches. "Blood Skeleton Monk Priest Mystic Mystic Night, please be seated. To what do we owe this unexpected visit?"
Mystic Mystic Night sighed, his eyes flicking towards his daughter. "This headstrong child, unfortunately. She absconded from the Temple. Initially, I allowed some measure of freedom, thinking some hardship might temper her spirit. However, I discovered she has conceived a reckless ambition to seek out the Mountains of Eternal Silence! I have no choice but to bring her home." His tone brooked no argument.
Mystic Mystic Moon's heart plummeted. She clutched her father's arm. "Father! No! I can't go back! The Temple is stifling! I promise I won't go near the Mountains! Please! Tandor't take me!" Her signature tactic, perfected on the Pope Mystic himself, usually guaranteed victory. But Mystic Mystic Night, hardened by resolve, only softened minutely before his expression froze again. "You have caused enough trouble. Show respect before your elders."
Xiwen interceded gently. "Blood Skeleton Monk Priest, your daughter is spirited, yes, but her heart is true. Some experience in the world could serve her well, especially with Dunce as her protector. The boy is strong, steadfast, and pure of heart. He is a capable guardian." He had witnessed the unspoken bond between the two young people over the past days and genuinely liked the bright girl, hoping to offer them space.
Mystic Mystic Moon shot Xiwen a look of desperate gratitude. "See! He saved my life! More than once! He'd take wounds meant for me! Father, please!"
Mystic Mystic Night turned a piercing gaze on Dunce. "Grandmaster, it is *precisely* because of Dunce that I feel even greater unease."
Xiwen's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. He and his brothers shared their grandmaster's fiercely protective nature. Dunce was their lost ninth brother's *only* student, a good soul Xiwen felt responsible for. Mystic Mystic Night's insinuation stung. "Could you elaborate, Blood Skeleton Monk Priest?"
Mystic Mystic Night's gaze didn't waver from Dunce. "When I first saw him, I too believed him merely a simple, kind lad. But I soon learned he carries the most sinister blade ever wrought – the Nether Sword. This connects him, irrevocably, to the infamous assassin, the Hades. The Temple has long sought to retrieve the Nether Sword. Do you truly believe I can allow my daughter near one tainted by a soul-consuming weapon?"
Mystic Mystic Night's words struck like physical blows. Mystic Mystic Moon gasped. Dunce recoiled as if burned, his face flushing crimson. Disbelief and crushing pain warred within him. He knew his lowly birth didn't truly fit with Mystic Mystic Moon's station, but to be called demon-spawn by her father…
"I… I am no demon," he protested, voice trembling.
Mystic Mystic Night's cold smile was merciless. "Denial? Tell me, then: Who slaughtered the thieves amidst the Crystalwood groves? Who cut down the brigands terrorizing the tribes of the Dunce Plains? A thousand lives extinguished by your Nether Sword. Still claim innocence?"
"NO! No!" The anguished shout ripped from Dunce's throat. His blood seemed to boil. Images flooded his mind: screaming bandits dissolving into shadows, the cold fury that gripped him when his blade flashed silver. He clutched his head, rocking violently. "I didn't want to… They *forced* me! They *would have killed us!"*
Mystic Mystic Moon cried out, her heart breaking at Dunce's torment. She tried to rush to him but found her body immobilized by unseen forces. "Father! How can you say that? Dunce slew *monsters*! To save our lives!"
Mystic Mystic Night's retort was glacial. "Monsters are still lives? One thousand snuffed-out sparks."
Dunce flinched, crushed under the weight of that accusation. Suddenly, a river of pure warmth surged into his body, stemming the tide of chaotic energy threatening to unravel him. A familiar, calming voice resonated directly in his mind. *Dunce, focus. This chaos leads only to self-destruction. Let your elder handle this.*
The turbulent energy within him settled. He looked up to see Xiwen standing beside him, his hand resting firmly on Dunce's shoulder. Xiwen, and indeed all the Thunder Sect Masters gathered in the Hall, radiated palpable anger. Mystic Mystic Night hadn't just attacked Dunce; he'd maligned their fallen brother, Owen.
"Blood Skeleton Monk Priest," Xiwen's voice was dangerously low, yet perfectly controlled, "mind your words. Dunce is a disciple of the Thunder Sect. I vouch for the purity of his spirit. He eliminated threats. Eliminate one evil, save hundreds of innocents. Would you not defend your own life if threatened? Or do your Temple teachings demand martyrdom when a knife is at your throat?"
Mystic Mystic Night blinked, caught off guard. He hadn't anticipated such a deep connection – that the Nether Sword's bearer would be a core disciple of this powerful order. Xiwen's unwavering defense, despite acknowledging the sword's nature, and the palpable outrage emanating from these elders… He calculated swiftly. Xiwen alone would be a challenge; together, these weathered masters represented a force he couldn't easily overcome without significant reinforcement from the Temple. That route carried too many risks.
Tears streamed down Mystic Mystic Moon's face. "Father! Dunce has *never* taken an innocent life! You misjudge him!"
Mystic Mystic Night strode forward until he stood directly before Dunce. His piercing gaze seemed to dissect the younger man's soul. *Even I slaughtered two thousand marauders,* a small, disquieting thought whispered. *Is his sin truly greater?* But pride prevailed. "Fine," he conceded harshly. "That he hasn't murdered an innocent *yet* is the only reason I haven't ended him. However, that accursed blade *must* be surrendered to the Temple. And *you*," his gaze swung to Mystic Mystic Moon, "return with me. Immediately."
Dunce stood frozen, torn. He longed to rid himself of the sword's dark burden. Yet it was his sole tangible connection to WatanaOwen, a sacred trust he couldn't easily discard. He looked beseechingly at Xiwen.
Before Xiwen could speak, Zhou shot to his feet, his weathered face crimson with fury. "**Blood Skeleton Monk Priest!**" His voice boomed like crashing rocks. "Remember your location! This is the Mountain of Celial Thunder, *not* your Sacred Temple! Our honor is beyond your reach! Dunce is blood of our Thunder Sect! Let me make this crystal clear: the Hades you slander was our *lost brother*! That blade is a legacy, our brother's final testament! You will *not* deprive our Sect of it!" His hand rested threateningly on the hilt of his own imposing sword.
Mystic Mystic Night's fury ignited. No one, since his elevation to Blood Skeleton Monk Priest, had dared speak to him with such brazen disrespect! Yet Zhou's explosive revelation shocked him: the infamous Hades… was a lost disciple of the Heavenly Saint? With these implacable elders present, force was futile. Instigating a sect-wide conflict could spiral disastrously for both powers. He wrestled his temper down, his face a mask of strained calm over boiling indignation.
Cultur, ever the pragmatist, exchanged a quick glance with Xiwen before stepping smoothly between Zhou and Mystic Mystic Night. He gave a shallow bow. "Your Eminence, apologies for my brother's fiery temperament. However, it is truth: Nether was our missing brother. Driven by forces beyond his control – likely by that blight upon the world, the Assassin's Guild – he committed dark deeds. He has paid the ultimate price. We absolve him. We request you do the same, and cease defaming his memory. Regarding the Nether Sword…" he paused, weighing his words, "let us find a solution agreeable to both sides. Our Grandmaster holds deep respect for the Temple. We value peace." His tone was firm yet diplomatic.
Mystic Mystic Night clenched his jaw, forced to acknowledge he couldn't escalate. He addressed the core issue: "Then what is your proposal? The Nether Sword was originally identified by the Third Pope Mystic, part of our Temple's heritage before it vanished. Ever since the Hades wielded its darkness upon the world, our *current* Pope Mystic has commanded its reclamation at all costs. It *is* here, within this boy's grasp. Would you have me defy a Pope Mystic's decree?"
Xiwen stepped forward, positioning himself subtly in front of Dunce. "Blood Skeleton Monk Priest, we understand the sword's peril. However, the Vitality Cycle practiced here possesses a unique, life-affirming power that can counter its corruptive influence. I believe Dunce possesses the spirit and the fortitude to become its guardian, to ensure it is never again used for evil. Should he falter, transgress…" Xiwen's voice held an edge of steel, "the Thunder Sect itself will ensure justice. This is our word. Does it suffice?"
A Blood Skeleton Monk Priest couldn't easily dismiss a binding commitment from the Thunder Sect's Grandmaster, backed by its formidable reputation. Mystic Mystic Night wrestled internally. Summoning the other Blood Skeleton Monk Priests would be his only chance at forcing the issue, and that escalation risked severe consequences. He sought a practical test. "I trust in the reputation of the Thunder Sect," he conceded stiffly. "However, the boy's *current* strength against the sword's influence is the question. Prove to me he can withstand its lure and protect it from others. He must withstand my holy magic for five seconds without yielding. That is my condition."
Xiwen's calm exterior hid a ripple of concern. This was a dangerous concession from the Blood Skeleton Monk Priest. Could Dunce endure the focused power of a Blood Skeleton Blood Skeleton Monk Priest for five seconds? Dunce's fifth-cycle Vitality Essence was potent, but Mystic Mystic Night stood near the pinnacle of divine magic. Xiwen knew little of pure magical assault. He glanced at Dunce, who looked lost, unreadable.
Suddenly, Mystic Mystic Moon spoke up, her voice surprisingly clear despite her fear. "Dunce! Do it! I believe in you!" Hope bloomed in her eyes, a plan forming.
Zhou grunted. "Indeed, lad! Show him! That sword will carve through his magic like mist!"
Mystic Mystic Night's expression tightened. *The Nether Sword!* How had he forgotten? Its terrifying reputation – the 'One Stroke, One Death' legend – sent a chill down his spine. Could *he* withstand its focused fury? He looked at Dunce, reassessing the threat.
Dunce shook his head decisively. "No. The Nether Sword cannot be unsheathed lightly. Its presence demands bloodshed. Honored Blood Skeleton Monk Priest… I will face your trial with only my own strength. If I prove unworthy to be its shield… take the blade." His voice grew firmer. "But understand this: the day I feel strong enough, I *will* come to reclaim my duty." It was a bold claim, hinting at the steel beneath his gentle exterior.
Mystic Mystic Night relaxed fractionally. Without the Nether Sword in play, the boy seemed less daunting. He nodded curtly. "Agreed. The chamber is confined. We proceed outside." With Mystic Mystic Moon securely under his guiding hand, he turned and strode purposefully out of the Grand Hall.
Xiwen shared a silent communication with his brothers. To the Rock Brothers, he said, "Your cores are strong but not shielded against such focused power. Remain." Girln Shi gripped Dunce's shoulder briefly. "Xiwen… Protect him."
Xiwen met his gaze. "On my honor. Come." He led Dunce and his remaining brothers into the bright mountain sunlight. Mystic Mystic Night stood proudly, radiating authority. Mystic Mystic Moon stood slightly apart, quietly weeping. She knew her fate was sealed. Xiwen scanned their surroundings. Cultur was missing.
Xiwen gestured towards the broad, open expanse of the summit. "Blood Skeleton Monk Priest?"
Mystic Mystic Night inclined his head. "Lead the way."
The group moved towards the center of the plateau, ancient stones warmed by the sun. As they walked, Mystic Mystic Moon suddenly lifted her head, addressing her father. "Father, dispel the binding. Your magic… I could be caught in the backlash."
Mystic Mystic Night, having resolved to test the boy's limits with full force, realized she spoke sense. Reclaiming focus *would* be difficult during potent casting. He waved a hand. The subtle pressure holding Mystic Mystic Moon vanished. "Stay clear. Use your Phoenix's Blood for protection. I will contain the energies." He didn't want his daughter injured, no matter how furious he was.
Mystic Mystic Moon nodded, darting away from the gathering fighters. As she passed Dunce and the masters, her eyes met his. A silent, desperate conversation passed between them – despair in hers, a burgeoning resolve in his. She paused, her voice barely a breath. "Holy Evil's Heart… Protect yourself. You *must* endure this." Her emphasis on the talisman sparked understanding.
A deep, resonant voice suddenly echoed *within* Dunce's mind, bypassing his ears. It was the voice of the Heavenly Saint. *Steady, lad. Focus only on the present. Trust in me. Now go, face the trial. When the holy light strikes, wrap your Vitality Essence around you like an unbreakable shield. Root your spirit deep within your center. Stand firm as the mountain. Unmoved.*
Dunce jerked slightly, scanning the peaks. Nothing. But the voice felt real.
Mystic Mystic Night's patience frayed. "Dunce! Are we beginning? Endure the onslaught for five seconds, and you earn the right to safeguard the blade."
Dunce gathered himself, stepping away from the Masters, drawing on the mental strength the internal voice offered. Mystic Mystic Night's gaze bored into him, carrying the oppressive weight of divine authority, designed to crush resistance before it began. It triggered a primal fear, a desire to submit.
*Fool! That is the Weave of Will! Center your thoughts! Draw the Essence into your core!* Master's voice snapped him back.
Dunce jolted, his Vitality Cycle pulsing instinctively, instantly wrapping him in a comforting cloak of white, life-sustaining energy. He looked back at Mystic Mystic Night. The oppressive weight lessened; the Blood Skeleton Monk Priest's holy stare was formidable, but no longer crippling.
Mystic Mystic Night noted the shift with surprise. "The trial starts now," he declared coldly. "Five seconds from the first strike. Hold your ground."
Dunce centered himself, inhaling deeply. He focused his will, drawing the liquid reservoir of life-energy from his dantian. It surged outward, coalescing around him into a thick, shimmering aura of pure white light – a manifestation of his Vitality manifested as a Shield of Life Rockforce. He braced his stance, ready.
Mystic Mystic Night assessed him critically. *He has grown… significantly.* The raw power emanating from the young man was far beyond their last encounter. He raised his right hand, its glow intensifying. "**Rage of the Divine, lend me Thy fury! Purge with Thy holy fire!**"
Power ignited beneath him. A vast, six-pointed star of purest white light materialized on the stone, pulsing with immense sacred energy. Its radiance intertwined with the golden glow pouring from Mystic Mystic Night's palm – the Staff of Divine Judgment. The concentrated power hummed, causing even Xiwen's composure to crack slightly. The pressure was immense.
Mystic Mystic Night slowly extended his arm, palm facing Dunce. "**Convene, O power of the Light!**" The surge of holy energy rising from the sigil channeled directly into the staff, causing it to erupt in a blaze of divine fire so intense it momentarily rivaled the sun. Cracks of golden lightning sizzled around its head, not dispersing, but concentrating, condensing that terrifying power into a single, focused point. The hum grew quieter, a predator ready to strike.
Seeing the Blood Skeleton Monk Priest wield such power galvanized Dunce. Mystic Mystic Moon's words echoed – *Holy Evil's Heart!* He drew upon reserves of willpower he barely knew he possessed, honed by days of focused cultivation. He spread his arms, his voice resonating with newfound conviction. "**King of the Sky-Forged Ones! By the pact that binds us, lend me Thy might! Weave a bastion none may breach! Let the foe tremble before the Shield of Stellas!**" Holy Evil's Heart talisman, nestled beneath his tunic against his chest, flared with intense sapphire light. Tendrils of protective energy, invisible to all but those possessing true sight, snaked from the gem, coalescing around him. Pure light streamed from his outstretched hands, forming a second, radiant dome of shimmering energy – the Dragon Heart's most potent defense, the Barrier of Stellalight – layered *outside* his Vitality Shield.
Mystic Mystic Night saw the change, shock registering despite his concentration. *What ritual is this?* But the spell was cast. "**SMITE! JUDGMENT'S LANCE!**" He roared. The Staff of Divine Judgment unleashed the coiled light. Not a wave, but a spear – a searing column of condensed golden wrath, a foot thick, screaming toward Dunce's heart. Mystic Mystic Night held a modicum of control; the instant Dunce faltered, he could dissipate the lance. He had no wish to spark a holy war over a foolish girl's defiance.