The First Dungeon - Part 4

The wind flapped at my robes as I stood on the very peak of the floating mountain. The Ferrymen sect lay out below me, sprawling down the mountainside.

Thousands of disciples worked tirelessly to progress their cultivation. All of them would kill to stand at the peak of the mountain and absorb the rich, pure mana that flowed out from the top and cascaded down to them.

But even this concentration of mana felt diluted to me now. I’d been cultivating the immortal mana from the portal for over thirty years. Cultivating at the top of the mountain now was like trying to get drunk on lake water after pouring a jug of wine into it. The immortal mana was just so rich compared to the mana of this world.

Thirty years had brought more peace across the sects.

At least, as peaceful as a world of cultivators could be.

Constant conflict between the sects and the wilderness toughened disciples, tempered them so they could be sharpened to a finer point with their cultivation. Struggles helped mages progress. Like diamonds, they needed pressure to form. I had learned that through my own experiences.

I’d been part of a generation toughened through the corruption of the Sun and Moon Hall. We had managed to come together, but it had almost been too late. And it had taken a long time to dig out of the chaos that was left when they were finally defeated.

My own cultivation had taken over a year to recover, and Kat’s had taken almost a decade.

I faced into the wind, letting the air batter my face as I breathed deeply, remembering the long road to recovery. It had been difficult to accept my weakened body as it had healed.

But we had recovered and pushed our sect forward, building our own cultivation to the peak of this world. Now I coached and helped mold the future generation of mages, but there was an empty space in me wanting to push myself further. To become something stronger.

© 2024 Joseph E Tacelli (Luisterboek): 9798347957125

Publicatiedatum

Luisterboek: 24 december 2024