Modern Patriarch

Once Yanyue accepted the Heart Cleansing Sea-Pearl, Yao Shen gave her clear instructions to only use it for cultivation once a week, and that too in Shadow’s presence. A Nascent Soul Natural Treasure was too potent an attraction for a mid-foundation establishment disciple, and Shadow’s oversight would ensure that she did not overdraw on Water Qi and damage her meridians in the process.

Yanyue wisely chose to hand over the Sea-Pearl to Shadow for safe keeping, a course of action Yao Shen would have been forced to suggest had his youngest disciple not chosen to display such impeccable restraint. Having concluded his instruction, he gave his two disciples a light nod, indicating that they were free to leave— Shadow was the first to leave, the box containing the Sea-Pearl held firmly in her right hand, while Yanyue gave him a grateful bow before scurrying after her senior sister.

Not long after, Yao Shen left the fourth floor with a small smile resting upon his face— clearly satisfied with the day’s progress. Merely a few hours ago, Yanyue had entered the tower lacking both a goal and a means to achieve it— while it was too early to conclude if her resolve would be able to weather the test of time, the lofty goal he had directed her towards was no longer out of her reach.

Yao Shen arrived at the fifth floor of the tower, which served as part of his personal abode. The center of the room was dominated by a clump of thick, white clouds with a soft, fluffy exterior that floated slightly above the ground. Yao Shen could feel his connection to the artifact through the divine sense brand he had left upon it— The Cumulus, an early Nascent Soul Stage movement artifact that was passed down to every generation’s Patriarch by the Council of Elders. It offered little in the way of offensive or defensive capabilities, but even Yao Shen could not deny that it was a mode of travel befitting the Patriarch of the Heavenly Sky Sect.

These days though, it mainly served him in the form of a comfortable bed— truly, Yao Shen had experienced many luxuries in the world of Eliria, but few could compare to the divine sensation of sleeping upon a bed shaped out of the very skies itself.

He walked over to a small wooden table that was placed next to his bedside, seating himself upon the bed before he reached for the compact silver mirror that was placed there, an exact replica of the one that had been in Duyi’s possession. The malleable clouds shifted to accommodate his bulk, their impossibly soft exterior cushioning his body despite being almost weightless at the same time— a cool, soothing sensation enveloped his skin, and for a second Yao Shen allowed himself to forget about his future concerns… simply enjoying a moment of peace.

When he opened his eyes, they glinted with a sharp, focused light. For the day’s work was not over yet. Yao Shen channelled his divine sense into the silver mirror, a communication artifact, and waited. A few seconds later a wispy, grey mist started to shift underneath the mirror’s surface, before forming a vague outline of a man that solidified with every growing second. Color breathed into the image at the very last second, resulting in a complete, lifelike image being formed on the surface of the mirror.

A bald man with bronzed, dilapidated skin gazed back at Yao Shen with an arrogant gaze, his originally muscular physique now withered and aged, unable to withstand the ultimate test of time. Yao Shen met the man’s gaze through the communication artifact, neither party deigning to be the first one to initiate the conversation— even though they were separated by dozens upon dozens on Li, the intensity of Zixin Ren’s, Reserve Elder of the Ren Family, was quite accurately conveyed.

Finally, Zixin Ren chose to break the stalemate by initiating the conversation, “Patriarch Shen, how can this dying old man assist you?” his voice concealed an undercurrent of dissatisfaction, but he chose to offer him an amiable smile on the surface. It was no surprise that Zixin Ren, who had been awoken after a hundred long years of slumber, was dissatisfied with Yao Shen’s radical, sweeping reforms. The bitterness he would have felt when he was informed that the one who ascended to Soul Emperor was not a member of the legacy families, but instead, an outsider, was alone enough reason for him to resent both Yao Shen, as well as his incompetent descendants. But Yao Shen had even dampened his plans to slaughter the elders of the Divine Mountain Sect and the Sacred Flame Palace, putting an end to the ancient feud— he would not be surprised if Zixin Ren and most of the other reserve elders hated him by now.

“I request you to escort the elders of the Divine Mountain Sect and the Sacred Flame Palace to the site of my ascension. I trust that you are already aware of the specifics of my agreement with the two sects,” Yao Shen asked, choosing to maintain the facade of amicability. The reserve elders were a force that even Yao Shen was very hesitant to antagonize— consisting of Nascent Soul Elders from preceding generations that had near exhausted their lifespans, the reserve elders fought without reservation for life or death. Their sole purpose was to die with honor on the battlefield, and not a single one among their ranks would hesitate to detonate their cultivation bases if the situation called for it.

“Forgive my impudence, Patriarch, but this old man has had the privilege of interacting with a Soul Emperor in his lifetime. He was indeed powerful, extremely so, but to confront two dozen Nascent Soul cultivators alone….. are you confident?” Zixin Ren finally chose to ask the question that had been resting at the back of his mind, and for a moment opposing political interests, their clashing values, Yao Shen’s decision to undermine the legacy families….. all that faded into the background. All that was left was a cultivator who had dedicated his life to the pursuit of Dao, curious about what separated himself from one who managed to take the next step.

“The fight will indeed be challenging….,” Yao Shen was slightly taken aback by the aged cultivator’s earnest question, deciding to answer truthfully, “but I will not lose.”

Zixin Ren remained silent for a few seconds, as if he were unsure how to process his answer— before he burst out into a loud, raucous laugh, stunning Yao Shen. He continued laughing for one long minute, his lungs wheezing from the exertion, before he finally spoke, “The younger generation surpasses the old…. The younger generation truly surpasses the old….,” he chanted, his gaze coming alight with a burst of life. “So many long centuries have passed since the Era of Turmoil, and this statement finally holds true for our Azlak Plains again,” He broke out into a cough at the end, but his gaze did not waiver.

Yao Shen nodded in agreement as he understood the meaning behind Zixin Ren’s words— the Azlak Plains had a storied history within the continent of Ionea, but after the Era of Turmoil it had only suffered blow after blow, decline after decline, until it had been reduced to its present state. An unremarkable territory that partly survived upon the goodwill of the True Elves…. Perhaps Yao Shen had underestimated how painful it was to live through such a decline, to see your homeland wither in front of your eyes yet be unable to change its fate.

“Prove your claims, Soul Emperor, and perhaps…..,” Zixin Ren’s expression seemed conflicted, as he gazed at Yao Shen through the communication artifact, “..... and perhaps you are worthy,” he croaked out the words with great difficulty, his image dissipating the moment he uttered his final word.

Yao Shen just sat there, an expression of genuine shock reflecting on his face as he wondered if he had misheard. A few minutes later, he just shrugged and decided to sleep instead of cultivating--- like Zixin Ren said, all he needed to do for now was to prove himself tomorrow,

Not just to the Modern Sect, but to the entirety of Ionea.

For the Azlak Plains slumbered no longer.