Reed Stevens
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Chapter Three Hundred and Sixteen: Unexpected Entente (Part One)
🕑 Added 2022-04-02 04:31:45 +0000 UTCMerchant Lord Kalvin sat patiently within the large antechamber that he had just been escorted to by a thin, wispy woman named Dracia, who was the newest great elder of the Falling Rain Sect. He was neither offended nor surprised that Tems hadn’t come to greet him in person, since the hapless sect master had never been competent in his dealings be they personal or professional, which was known to anybody in his acquaintanceship.
“It’s already been two hours,” growled the man at Kalvin’s side, a bald, barrel-chested cultivator that had gained fame in the Thebes Empire after winning over a dozen high-profile martial arts tournaments within the imperial capital. “He dares to make us wait?”
“I agree with Kester,” said the young man on Kalvin’s right, a short, frail-looking fellow with long black hair and thin, dark eyebrows that looked as if someone had pencilled them in. “Even the king of Verdure greeted us personally, let alone made us wait. Where does the leader of such a small sect get the nerve to show such disrespect to a merchant lord of the CMA?”
“It’s fine,” said Kalvin, playing with one of the many rings of star gold that decorated his fingers. “It might just be a small sect, but in terms of manpower it’s about equal to one of the smaller territories on North Island. It’s not a bad thing for us to maintain relations with them.” This was especially true given the current geopolitical circumstances within the sect, with Merchant King Markham Vasilus appointing new merchant lords left in right to fill the vacancies left by the previous lords that had perished in the fight for the throne. Merchant Lord Angram wouldn’t just sit by and let the power balance shift in such a slanted manner, not when his faction was stronger than Markham’s was.
“Do you intend to hire the elders of this sect?”
Looking at Julian, the young man on his right, Kalvin gave a noncommittal shrug. “Whatever decision I come to depends on the situation here in this sect.”
It was no secret that the war for the throne would begin anew in the coming months, as none of the remaining factions were happy with the previous results. Markham had hired an incredibly powerful cultivator to spearhead his movement, though the mysterious man had left shortly after carrying out his end of the deal, leaving an incompetent faction in charge of the entire organization and all of its vast wealth and resources.
As he and his two body guards waited quietly within the antechamber, Kalvin suddenly received a sound transmission from another one of his men.
“Boss. I’ve looked into things, and you’re never going to believe what happened.”
“Try me.”
“What those cultivators told us turned out to be true. The favoured disciple of the sect was killed during this year’s tower climb, along with his master that sought to avenge him.”
“We’ve already heard that. What else did you find out?”
They had encountered some of the cultivators that had taken part in the tower climb and bribed a few interesting stories out of them. To think that their words were true, that Great Elder Jameson of the Falling Rain Sect had been killed just like that.
“It turns out that Great Elder Asten betrayed the sect and joined forces with the group that killed Jameson’s disciple. According to what I’ve heard, she’s the one that killed him.”
This was quite surprising, considering that May was only in her twenties. In hindsight, he should have tried harder to poach her into his faction the last time that he had visited the island, which had been the first time that he had met her.
“What of the force that she joined? Is there another Merchant Lord involved?”
The only sizeable powers in the region were the Kingdom of Ridgerock and the CMA, the former of which was in no position to threaten the Falling Rain Sect.
“Apparently another sect was involved.”
Kalvin didn’t recall the presence of any other sects in the area, the nearest being the Bloodhand Sect, which was located to the south of the Easterly Kingdoms. The next nearest sect was in the centre of the continent, the one after that in the southeastern area.
“Was it the Bloodhand Sect?”
“No, nobody knows who they are. All we know about the ones that were here is that they’re all young and very capable for their ages, so they’re probably just disciples. They were wearing green robes, and most of them were arrayment practitioners.”
"I see..."
“Anything else, Boss?”
Kalvin considered what he'd just learned. “Whether you have to resort to money or violence, find out what they looked like. After that, contact Connick in Tallgate and tell him to keep an eye out for anyone that fits their descriptions.”
None of the sects that he knew of came to mind, which led Kalvin to the conclusion that Tems and his people had encountered the disciples of a hidden sect. He had to be careful when it came to his relationship with these individuals, since the powers behind them were apparently great enough to convince one of the Falling Rain Sect’s most powerful and prominent members to betray their allegiance so abruptly.
Sensing a trio of auras appear in one of the rooms that branched off from the antechamber, Kalvin ran a hand through his long, black hair and then stood up from his seat, not intent on being looked down on in the literal sense.
“Also, keep looking in to what happened here, and notify me if you find out anything of importance.”
“Will do.”
Kalvin assumed a confident pose as he faced the doors ahead of him. Benlay, the most powerful and loyal of his subordinates, would definitely deliver good results. Like Kalvin, he was at the fourth level of the Genesis stage, which was quite high even among the CMA’s most powerful members.
“Kalvin? I thought that was your aura.” Dracia and another woman shadowed Tems as he entered the room, both standing off to the side and keeping to themselves. “Why are you here?” The man looked impatient, though what stuck out most was the thinness of his body and the hollowness to his expression. Unbecoming of the circumstances, he grasped a large bottle of wine in his right hand.
“Your subordinates fail to bow down, yet you don’t say a word of reprimand? Your father would roll over in his grave if he saw the state of your sect.”
“Is that all you came to say?”
“Unfortunately, it’s not.”
“Of course it’s not.” Turning, Tems motioned for Kalvin to follow and led the way out of the building, not saying a word throughout the entire walk. “Let’s go to my palace. I’ve grown sick of being in this administrative building.”
With a flourish of his azure robe, the middle-aged man ascended about four hundred metres into the sky and then promptly flew over to a stocky tower in the centre of Wilson, the capital city of the sect’s territory. They arrived on the top floor a short while after, which consisted of a small room that was only furnished by a short coffee table atop a thick, comfortable carpet.
Tems dismissed his attendants the moment that they arrived.
The two elders exchanged uncomfortable looks, the thin one, Dracia, speaking up after a moment of hesitation, or at least showing signs of having instigated a mental exchange with her sect master.
“It’s not up to you to decide what’s wise or not,” snapped Tems, who threw his wine bottle at the woman.
“Now that’s not nice.” Kalvin had stopped the bottle, which he slowly willed to float into his grasp. “She’s just worried for you, is all.”
Dracia looked quite embarrassed, though her expression hardened a moment later and she quickly took her leave. The other elder quickly followed after her, clearly not intent on remaining in Tems’s presence any longer than she had to.
“I’ve actually been meaning to contact you,” said Tems, who produced a second bottle of wine and began to drink without a cup. “I need to buy something, and I’ve got a feeling that you can help me get it.”
“Oh? And what is that?”
“I’m looking to replace the defensive formation of my sect.”
“Did something happen?”
“Keep your false courtesies to yourself. I need another grand defensive formation. Can you get one or not?”
“I can. But such a thing is no simple matter, and I would first need to confirm that you can afford it.”
“Are you questioning my coffers?”
“I am.”
As he stared into Tems’s eyes, Benlay relayed a sudden message that almost caused Kalvin to lose his composure. Not only had the Falling Rain Sect been betrayed by Great Elder Asten and lost Great Elder Jameson, but that old man Tegan had died as well. On top of that, over four thousand members of the sect had also perished during the recent conflict, about four percent of their overall forces. As if that wasn’t enough, apparently the Spirit of the Lake had also attacked the sect during this time, completely destroying its navy and causing widespread destruction along the island’s coastlines.
No wonder he’s so desperate. If the Spirit of the Lake had attacked their sect, then it made perfect sense that they would have activated their ancient formation, which likely no longer worked. This was extremely valuable information that all of the sect’s enemies would fork over fortunes for, since the main reason why the Falling Rain Sect hadn’t been attacked and absorbed by a greater power thus far was solely due to the grand formation that protected the island. How else could the other forces that be simply sit by and allow such a small power to monopolize the Desolate Spirit Tower, which was one of the highest quality places to cultivate in the world?
Tems hadn’t said anything for a while, though after taking a long pull from his wine bottle he placed it on the table at the centre of the room and tossed Kalvin a spatial bag. Inside were 15,000 of the sect’s famed magic swords, which allowed Integration-staged cultivators to fly, along with 200,000 superior spirit stones. The swords alone were worth at least one thousand spirit stones apiece, and the superior spirit stones were akin to seven million ordinary ones.
“I also need an attack formation,” said Tems, his eyes narrowing in anger. “The stronger, the better. At the very least, it needs to be capable of killing ten people at the Genesis stage.”
