Immortal Freeloader 125 (Patreon)

Before leaving the inner sanctum, I had stopped by the center of the defensive formation, and made some small adjustments, making sure that I would be able to travel near the formation with my flying boat. The detection feature of their formation was complicated, which meant adding some exceptions had been easy.

I stopped by the barracks and kidnapped two people. The bully that targeted me, and one of the new recruits that had managed to reach Muscle Refinement in Everdawn Fist. Carrying them with me wasn’t easy as I left the camp, but it was worth it.

When I left the formation, I merely traveled five miles before activating the boat and left. A Black Grade flying boat had many features, including camouflage. With the formation sabotaged, it could keep me hidden from the martial artists keeping guard easily.

My destination was the Misty Mountains. Since the camp was already close to the edge, it didn’t take long for my boat to disappear in the mist. “Once more onto the breach,” I muttered as the visibility dropped significantly.

I wasn’t happy with the necessity. The Misty Mountains were truly a dangerous place, where even Foundation Establishment cultivators could disappear without a mark. There were also stories of Golden Core elders dying inside, but whether they were true, I didn’t know. Idle gossip was hardly the most reliable source.

Still, it was dangerous for me, especially if I was surprised. I couldn’t use the boat, as sooner or later, the stored Qi would be depleted, and I didn’t have enough spirit stones to keep it going. I was even less reluctant to use my Qi from the inventory.

Not to mention, there might be entities that could easily shatter the defenses of the boat. And, even with all its camouflage formations, a flying boat was hardly subtle. So, once I moved a few miles, I packed the boat, and instead built a quick defensive formation.

I stayed there, with my captives still unconscious. With a flick of my hand, their bodies had been filled with needles.

“It’s time for an experiment,” I muttered even as I closed my eyes. My martial essence lay immobile, affected by whatever had been going on, which made it impossible to use my apothecary abilities directly, but I was able to replace it with Qi. A wasteful attempt, but the importance of the experiment required it.

The Tiger Fist disciple had already been struggling. Not only his essence was inert, but also the mist was attacking his flesh like a disease. It was a slow process, but there was no doubt that he wouldn’t survive even for a week.

The Everdawn Disciple, on the other hand, experiences the reverse. His essence had been active, and it was also directly being nourished by the mist. There was even a subtle, but lingering connection with Dawn essence. The impact was subtle enough that even I was able to barely catch it.

A fascinating situation, one that triggered some interesting theories about the origin of the mist. Previously, I had just assumed that it was some kind of cultivation effect, another sign of Qi cultivators' absolute superiority over martial artists.

However, watching the way the mist interacted with the Dawn essence, an alternate interpretation was certainly possible. But, further tests were needed. I created another formation, one that would put the target into some kind of half trance, and add a few simple illusions.

I even added a few calligraphies and drawings to reinforce the idea of Everdawn. Increasing his purity of essence was a good idea.

“Wake up,” I called as I pressed an acupuncture point.

“What’s going on. Where am I — ” the recruit slurred, jolting into action the moment he saw me. He stood up, only to kneel in front of me. “Immortal.”

“Calm down, child,” I called, deliberately using a haughty tone. I didn’t blame him for the conclusion, as the environment had been intense enough. “I noticed you when I was strolling in the land of dreams. We have a fate together, so I decided to teach you.”

“Yes, master,” he called immediately, more than happy to accept my instructions. “A-are you going to teach me cultivation?”

“No, your fate lies in the true fate of Everdawn Empire,” I said. “I’m going to teach you a new style, Everdawn Saber. Prepare,” I said as I pulled a mortal saber from the ring and passed it to him.

“Yes, master,” he called, enthusiastic.

“Watch carefully. The first form,” I said as I started teaching him. Naturally, I had held a tight grip on my essence, not letting it transform into what I termed as Dawn essence. It was too risky with the mysterious mist affecting the essence.

I taught him only the first move, but with my suggestions, he was easily able to reach Minor Familiarity in less than an hour.

“That’s enough for today. Remember, never reveal what you have learned,” I said, and before he could answer, I put him back to sleep.

Then, I started examining his essence once more. Using Everdawn Saber, his essence had been strengthened somewhat, but it required a careful examination to notice. Once again, I could feel the same sense of emptiness due to a lack of feedback from the spiritual pillar.

“Interesting,” I muttered even as I put my captives back and brought them out. I wanted to use my own apothecary skills to examine the changes properly, which was not possible as long as I was in the confines of the mist.

I kept a careful watch on both of them even as we moved out of the mist, curious if we would see any change. Glad that I did, as just as we were at the border, the Dawn essence had started stirring, trying to wake him up. A frown appeared on my face as I noticed the movement of the essence was too controlled to be reflective.

Far better than someone in the essence realm should be able to achieve.

Suddenly, I was very glad that I didn’t decide to experiment on myself. Whatever was going on with him was not something ordinary. The mist was even scarier than I assumed. I didn’t know if it was the first steps of actual possession, or something subtler, but either way, it was not good news.

“I need to find a way to isolate the mist,” I muttered even as I stayed at the edge and used some formation patterns, checking to see if I could isolate its effect on my essence, but the first several attempts I had didn’t work. It was true even when I tried to combine it with the defenses of my boat.

I had some ideas that might have helped, but it required more time than I had. Not only I had to return to the camp before people woke up and noticed three people had been kidnapped and replaced by illusions, but also I needed to plan for my own death.

Now that I had a better way to access the camp, I didn’t need to participate in the training.

Luckily, I had a very easy method. The bully. I had deliberately reinforced his martial arts essence significantly, even pushing him to the edge of a breakthrough. I placed my captives on their beds, then moved onto mine.

From there, the rest of the process went quite smoothly. When the trainers woke me up, I ‘accidentally’ hit the bully. He decided to respond with a punch. Unfortunately for him, I triggered his breakthrough at that exact moment, and he misjudged his strength, I threw myself back just as his fist brushed my chest, a small formation already in there to create an illusion of a bleeding chest.

From their perspective, my whole chest had been shredded, including my heart, making it impossible to be cured.

“Quick, bring an apothecary,” the guards shouted while looking at their agent angrily. The agent in question was sweating bullets, realizing that he had just killed a very valuable prodigy.

The rest of the commotion had been equally simple. Multiple apothecaries arrived, trying to somehow fix me, but failed. “Call for a cultivator. Maybe they can —” one of the apothecaries started. I decided to tweak the illusion formation a bit to cease the last signs of life.

No need to make a cultivator suspicious just in the hope of getting an alchemical pill. Not when I already had the knowledge and the ability to refine one.

“Throw him to the graveyard, and punish that moron strongly,” one of the apothecaries said. “What a waste of talent.”

“Let’s not punish him too hard. The others will only work harder if they think they might be the next one to die,” another apothecary replied even as the servants dragged me away.

Just like that, a young and promising recruit had died and forgotten.

And, ten minutes later, that dead recruit was flying to Markas, ready to interrogate someone that was intimately familiar with the Misty Mountains.