131. All the Power (I) (Patreon)

Every god in the Multiverse knew Houyi’s Three Principles by heart. If they hadn’t had it drummed into their heads growing up, they found the Principles on the martial path. They were one of the first things any ascended Martial Artist learned—for they were the fundamental theorem of all combat.

These three principles propelled the Godking Houyi to his title as the most powerful being in the Multiverse. With the three principles, the weakest rat could down the mightiest dragon. They could be summed up in six words.

Right place. Right time. Right force.

That’s it. All fighting, reducible to three simple things. What were movement techniques? They were simply the act of positioning oneself to the right place. What was an offensive Technique, but an application of the right force? And this force would work best if done at the right time. With all three in perfect conjunction, a fight could be won in a stroke.

In this instant Dorian followed Houyi’s Three Principles to the letter.

What was the right place to strike but the weakest point of the enemy’s body? What was the right time but when he was caught off-guard, without so much as a prayer of dodging? And the right force—well.

The Heilong Javelin was enough by itself. Powered by the full thrust of Dorian’s newly enhanced cultivation base? It was too much. Dorian almost felt sorry for the Rat-King.

The man howled. His life-saving treasure shattered in a blink. There was a gut-wrenching squelch, a thudding, as the Javelin drove inward, cracking bone, at last coming to a halt lodged squarely in the socket.

Then the Rat-King’s howling grew truly, horribly piercing. He was driven to his knees; he clutched at the ruined half of his face, at the place where an eye had been. Half his face drooped with mutilated flesh. It was like it’d been blown apart from the inside-out.

Dorian winced as he recalled the Javelin. On the bright side—had it not been for the life-saving treasure the Javelin would’ve driven straight through to his brain! That was something, right…?

The icing on the cake:

[Level-up!]

[Shadow-Strike] Lv. 1 -> 2

Lovely!

And that was, in the end, how Dorian won the Tournament. Somewhat anticlimactically. Dorian was certain the Rat-King had Techniques upon Techniques loaded up, ready for use. Many of them undoubtedly fearsome. It was, in a way, a pity! A stupider fighter might’ve sought to prove himself by engaging his enemy at his best. But Dorian was more of a ‘sucker-punch-the-guy-when-he’s-not-paying-attention’ type of guy. Ideally, he’d never put himself in a position where he had to face a greater foe’s full strength head on! Anything else was a failure of strategy or ego.

A huddle of healers escorted the still yowling Rat-King off the field. Even the Oasis Lord looked a little perturbed as the man was led off. The crowd was mute.

“Your winner of this year’s edition of the Azcan Tournament,” he declared. “Is Io of the Heilong!”

To Io—“Congratulations,” he said with a wan smile. “A well-deserved, if slightly startling, win.”

The cheering was less enthusiastic than Dorian would’ve liked, but he got how a gnarly scene like that could put a dampener on the mood. Still, he smiled to the Lord and held out a hand.

“The Tear, if you please?”

The Lord paused, mouth half-open. “Ah. Yes. One moment.”

He tapped his Interspatial Ring. Out came that mote of transcendent black, frozen in the glass.

“Remember,” said the Oasis Lord gravely. “To gain this Tear is to gain also a great responsibility. You, young Io, are bound to wield your powers for the good of all—“

“Will do! I promise! Good of all! Yup, for sure!” Dorian beckoned, licking his lips. “Give it over, would you? Now?”

“…Here? In front of...” The Oasis Lord looked uncertain. “Very well—“

He held it out. Dorian snatched it from his open palm, cracked the glass with two fingers, and swallowed the thing in a gulp.

Then, without ceremony, he sat on his ass and started to meditate.

The Lord looked around awkwardly. “Your winner, citizens of Azcan!” he said. “Thus concludes the Tournament—the festivities commence outside! The Hero shall join me for the closing ceremony on the parade float—err, Hero?”

Dorian felt something poke him in the side, but he was way too far gone to notice. One black spot, a lake of qi and Bloodline essence squeezed into a teensy point, sinking deep into his Spirit Sea. Slowly starting to unravel…

“…Very well, then,” said the Lord with a cough. “Onward, my brethren! Show’s over! Good day!”

***

The world swirled about him, a blur of muted sounds, men shouting, chattering, metals clanking…Dorian paid none of it any heed. He was far more interested in what happened within.

It was like he was a man dying of thirst in the desert, cooking alive under the sun—and all of a sudden he’d been thrust into a freshwater lake.

Ever since he’d made his Bloodline sacrifice his Spirit had ached. His life-force had cringed. There was this persistent soreness at the base of his skull, a sense of soulful deprivation.

Then the black dot buried itself in his Spirit Sea. It was not explosive. Its contents leaked out slowly, in a steady rhythm, like water through a hole in a dam wall. Eagerly he lapped it up. Qi, thick viscous oily black qi drenched in the essence of his Bloodline, spilled into him. In mere minutes he felt that ache starting to settle.

[Bloodline Density]

[5% -> 7%]

Ahhh…. Like a back scratch for the soul! A tide of good feeling washed over him, a bubbling warmth in his chest, and arms, dribbling into the spots between his eyes. He was being made whole again.

And still that thick Bloodline essence sloshed into the mouth of his Spirit Sea, filling the spots left empty—and then some...

[Bloodline Density]

[7% -> 9%]

It struck him how the Tear worked. To others without the Bloodline of the Basilisk, it merely granted the Basilisk’s senses; unable to assimilate into the Spirit Sea, the Bloodline Essence seeped into its consumer’s body—the eyes, the nose, the muscles. This was what happened to the Oasis Lord. Dorian got this effect too. But he drew far more than merely that out of the Tear, for his body was kin to this hyper-potent Blood!

And there was so damned much of it. It just kept coming!

[Bloodline Density]

[9% -> 11%]

Dorian grinned ear-to-ear.

But the Tear was not done. Not by a longshot.

[Spirit Sea Saturation]

[98% -> 100%]

Oh, shit—

[Spirit Sea Saturation]

[100% -> 102%]

A rumbling was happening deep inside. The walls of his Perfect Spirit Sea were straining to keep hold of all that qi, which sat heavy in him like a reservoir of leaden tar. It’s time!

From the Sea rises the land. Dorian had left his cultivation a mere day ago on the doorstep to the Earth Realm. Now the door stood wide open—and all he had to do was step through.

He honed in on the center of the Sea, until all of his focus was drilled down on that one point. This next bit was not like the step between Vigor and Profound; this was a subtler change, a condensing, a hardening.

Gather!

His qi almost seemed relieved to take the command. It drew at the point, squeezing tighter and tighter, that heavy tar pack into something compact, nearly solid.

A minuscule mass firmed at the center of his being. It was solid and liquid at once, spinning like a star, sucking in the qi about it in a widening whirlpool. Dorian held it there, pouring all of his will into it. Firming it into the shape of the core it was meant to be.

A tense minute passed as it struggled and spasmed, unable to decide between states of being.

Then it settled into a placid, spinning orb.

[Rank-up!]

[Peak Profound] -> [Early Earth]

[Core Saturation: 3%]

The Core was like an island amid the Spirit Sea, churning with qi. Its grade was the same as that of the Spirit Sea in which it lay. A peak Earth-Realm cultivator could not only hold double as much qi as a Peak Profound, his qi was also twice as dense—meaning it was twice as powerful.

That was all it was to the rubes of this realm. But it meant something else entirely to Dorian.

The Earth Realm would be the place where he’d make his greatest leap in strength. For it would be a leap of a different kind. Sure, he’d fill his Core to its peak saturation, but he cared far more about the Core’s other property.

The Core was the locus of the Natural Laws!

The Earth Realm was a seismic shift from all the realms which came before it. Here, a cultivator could first gain a Spiritual Sense. And with it he could touch upon the Laws: the rules which bound the Multiverse itself. Thon, the Guild Head, had sought the natural laws to remake that the lock to the Artificing Guild’s secret chambers. It was these same laws that delivered a cultivator to Godhood—and beyond.

Dorian’s first Law, or Dao, was Time.

Here was the trouble. The Laws were jealous. Though a cultivator might gain insight into many laws, his core would only tolerate one. Which would Dorian choose this run? He was getting giddy just thinking about it. Time was an option—so was space, or darkness, or poison, or earth…

[Bloodline Density]

[11% -> 13%]

The missive jarred Dorian out of his thoughts. It’s still going?!

The Tear had only shrunk by half! It still pumped out qi thick with Bloodline Essence at that same steady rate.

[Bloodline Density]

[13% -> 15%]

[Core Saturation]

[3% -> 5%]

Dorian’s head swam. Heavens!

With each pulse of Essence it was like a fog was lifting from his mind. His thoughts grew sharper, crisper, faster. Sounds that were once a muddle of noise filtered in distinctly from near and far—he could suddenly pinpoint the sounds of footsteps ringing out from hundreds of feet out—eight row, the muted thud of leather on steel bleachers. His senses were swelling with crispness with each passing second. He awaited a pop-up—some signal that it had at last bestowed upon him that gorgeous time dilation Technique.

A status did pop up. But it was something else—something that had him panting regardless.

[Bloodline Density]

[15% -> 17%]

[Level-up!]

[Weapon Technique: Blacken the Sky] Lv. 0 -> 1

[Allows the user to control all shadows in a given radius. The user may extend, retract, move, or erase them. Degree of manipulation and radius of influence scale with level.]

Dorian could nearly cry.

This Tear just kept on giving!