Spirit's Awakening: The Path of Lightning and Water-Chapter 328: Gossip

The pattern of working on the spatial rune alphabet in the morning and then visiting to train and meditate in the East Grove became Lassim’s routine. His cultivation continued to grow, but even writing the designs for the runes became tiresome when his mind was so preoccupied with learning more about the mysterious elemental.

Once more at the East Grove, a week had passed with no sightings. Today was the same as the days before, the storm battering against his meditation pose, and the dense mana in the air pressed down on him like an invisible weight. Rain lashed his exposed skin, cutting through his spiritual pressure like shards of glass. Violet lightning arced across the sky in rapid succession, and the roar of thunder felt closer than ever today, as though it came from within the mana itself.

Lassim remained sitting, deep into this chaos with his halberd across his lap. The weapon faintly was glowing with the lightning mana it drew from the storm around him. Despite the pain, a flicker of excitement ran through him. His cultivation was rapidly increasing and every day he could feel himself growing stronger. His body, and his mana reserves seemed to be making quick progress. He’d only advanced to Spirit Ascension level 3 about 3 weeks ago, but he was nearly already halfway towards level 4.

As the mana surged into him, his connection to the lightning mana growing as he focused on it with his full attention, something unusual caught his attention.

The rhythm of the storm felt... wrong. The lightning strikes that illuminated the grove seemed deliberate today, their arcs forming actual esoteric patterns that couldn’t be coincidence. The wind also ebbed and surged in strange pulses in partnership with those lightning strikes, and the rain intensified and softened as though following an unseen hand.

"[Brother, you see that too, right?]" Zaphy’s voice chimed in his mind, tinged with an excited hum. "[Is it the crazy elemental fella again?! It’s gotta be, yeah?!!]"

Mari’s more measured tone followed. "[I do agree that there’s something odd about the rain today as well. It does indeed feel like it’s being controlled to behave this way instead of the usual free falling.]"

Lassim’s eyes opened, his spirit sense sweeping outward as curiosity got the best of him. Nothing in the grove appeared particularly different; the storm still raged, the few, sparse trees that weren’t enough to protect this section of the island still groaned under the weight of the wind and strikes of lightning. Yet, the patterns persisted.

"Are you watching me?" he muttered under his breath, as if addressing the elemental.

But no answer came.

With a slow exhale, Lassim pushed aside his curiosity. If it didn’t want to show up, then that was that.

He returned his focus inward, channeling the storm’s ambient lightning mana through his [Stormbringer] cultivation technique, letting it refine within him to become his fused elemental energy. The process was time consuming as always, each rotation of the technique pulling the mana through him and into the whirlpool of spatial fragments that made it look like a spinning galaxy, underneath the growing mass of land and denser clouds just above.

The pain to his exterior body was constant, the storm’s unrelenting assault carving into his body and trying to distract him with each passing moment.

Yet, once again, something about the flow of the storm began to seep into his consciousness. He could feel the rhythm of the tempest through his elemental connections with Zaphy, Mari, and their shared innate proficiencies of Lightning and Water mana. The chaos today seemed to resolve into a strange harmony.

An idea began to form in his mind as an unseen black and red lightning bolt struck the ground behind the tree whose gnarled roots he was sat under.

Standing abruptly, Lassim gripped his halberd with both hands and stepped into the open. The storm pounded harder against him since he was now fully exposed to its rage, but he ignored it. Instead, he focused on the movements of the storm, the arcs of lightning that danced across the sky, the swirling gusts of wind that carved invisible paths through the rain.

He raised his halberd, mimicking the arc of a nearby bolt of lightning. The strike came down and then with a sharp [Slash] of his own, the fused mana released from the rune-covered edge of the weapon with a swirling mass of chaotic fused mana. It shot forward and tore through the air, ripping up and destroying the cotton-ball tipped grass that sparsely covered the non-weathered down sections of ground. The air and even storm seemed to split with a crack for that moment.

The air grew quiet for a second before a barrage of lightning struck repeatedly near where he was standing,as the storm almost seeming to answer his [Slash], but he didn’t care as he had an idea in his mind.

Lassim continued, repeatedly casting the same [Slash] technique over and over with him adjusting the angle and speed of the swing over and over. What was once just a swirling ball of chaotic fused mana… slowly began to change.

The lightning sprite fish that always swirled around within the mana continued to emerge as well, their glowing forms darting through the storm after the [Slash]es dispersed. They moved in tandem with his strikes, but something about today and the oddness of the storm made him pay extra attention to them. Lassim followed their movements, letting their flow influence his own as he would occasionally shake his head when he performed a [Slash] that didn’t feel quite right, before following it up with another after making a small change.

With each strike, he felt closer to something—an understanding—of what that chaotic ball of fused mana could potentially become. The storm’s situation seemed to bleed into his technique, creating a rhythm that felt... perfect.

But it wasn’t enough.

Lassim held his halberd at attention to his side, the weapon’s glow dimming as his breathing steadied. The storm still raged, but its patterns were imprinting itself on his mind.

"I think I’ve found it…," he whispered quietly to himself, unheard over the roar of the Tempest’s Cradle.

~~~

Back in Skybound Village, another two months had passed and Lassim’s repeated trips to the East Grove had not gone unnoticed.

Today a large group of Spirit Growth cultivators were coming from headquarters and needed to be shown around. They’d be staying in the Tempest’s Cradle for the next three months, so it was their responsibility as Spirit Ascension Outer Sect Disciples to help them out. The small group of Outer Sect Disciples were gathered and idly chatting in a group at the docks, waiting for new arrivals to help escort them through the city.

Yet, their whispered conversation began drifting toward a relatively popular topic of gossip that began a little over two and a half months ago—the Personal Disciple whose battered form was a regular sight returning from the storm.

"Have you seen him lately?" a young Outer Disciple whispered to her companion as they waited at the Skybound Dock. "He always looks like he’s been through a meat grinder. What is he doing out there?"

"Probably trying to get himself killed," another muttered, shaking his head. "I heard he’s obsessed with some kind of elemental he saw one day in the East Grove. Sounds like he’s lost it if you ask me."

Their other Outer Sect Disciple companion frowned, his arms crossed as he listened to the exchange. "Careful with your words," he said sharply. "That’s the Sect Master’s Personal Disciple you’re talking about. Whatever he’s doing, it’s not our place to judge and he can make all of our lives incredibly difficult if he catches you talking about him. He seems like a nice guy, but those are usually the craziest when it comes to revenge."

Despite his warning, the conversation didn’t stop. For all their gossip, none of them dared to openly challenge Lassim, so instead, the tone shifted. They tried not to refer to him as crazy, but they did continue to wonder what Lassim was doing every day. They were unfortunately too weak to head to the East Grove to find out for themselves. Their physical enhancements and protective arrays were not strong enough to handle the challenge that was meditation under its harsh conditions.

Lassim, unaware of the rumors spreading about him, sat in his quarters late that night, his notebook open on the desk. The sketch of the storm elemental stared back at him, its crimson eyes almost seeming to glow in the dim light.

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He tapped his pencil against the edge of the desk, his mind replaying the day’s cultivation session. He’d continued to practice his form with his halberd movements every day for these last two months. The connection between his [Slash] and the storm was now tenuous but absolutely undeniable.

"[You’re getting closer, brother!]" Zaphy said, her voice buzzing with excitement. "[Even though that big meanie that bullied you hasn’t shown his face again… I think he’s probably a nice fella. It’s like he’s been adjusting things lately to teach you how to be a storm, so that’s gotta count for something. Yep, yep!]"

Mari’s voice was more reserved, but somewhat stern as she slightly reprimanded her "little sister". "[Don’t discount Lassim’s efforts, either though. The tunnel connections of our bonds have widened so immensely and the tunnels themselves, their distances have shorted so much. That’s only possible through his hard work.]"

Lassim closed the notebook with a sigh, leaning back in his chair. "I’m not sure it’s the elemental since that doesn’t make much sense. He hasn’t pulled me into that mental world again and when he had, he had tried to kill me. I don’t think he’d actively be trying to help us. Well, whatever it is, it’s making me progress quickly. But I still don’t understand why it feels so... deliberate."

Neither Zaphy nor Mari replied, but their presence in his mind was a quiet reassurance.

~~~

The whispers about Lassim had continued to spread like lightning through Skybound Village, growing more vivid with each passing week and completed without his notice.

At first, his repeated ventures for those first two months into the East Grove, after spending the mornings in the training halls, were dismissed as the eccentric habit of a dedicated Personal Disciple. Yet, as the days turned into weeks, and then months, and then half a year, the stories surrounding him began to take on a life of their own.

"He’s been at it every day for six months now," a young spirit growth disciple whispered to her friend as they passed by the Administration Hall. "I saw him come back yesterday—his robes weren’t even soaked, and he didn’t even have a scratch on him! How’s that even possible? Do you think he’s found a different place other than the East Grove to cultivate that’s not as dangerous?"

"Maybe he’s found some secret method to shield himself," her companion suggested, though her tone betrayed a hint of doubt. "I heard Personal Disciples have access to all kinds of special techniques that are given by their masters, and he’s literally the Sect Master’s disciple! Maybe he’s using something that keeps him safe that was a gift from Sect Master Volten."

The girl shook her head. "I don’t know, Kimmy. You didn’t see him at the start, though. The first few times I saw him, he always came back bloody—cut up so bad you’d think he’d just fought through a thunderstorm and then rolled in glass shards with his bare hands. But now? Have you noticed when he walks around? It’s like the storm doesn’t even touch him at all anymore!"

As the two girls passed by a pair of Inner Disciples sat on a bench, their conversation drifted in a similar direction. They were waiting for their turn for their reserved time slot for a work table to open up at the Research Grove. One of them, a man by the name Edder, leaned forward towards his friend Tym as he spoke, his voice low to not be overheard.

"Their conversation… Were you listening? Man, I even heard that he doesn’t even heal himself between sessions," Edder said. "Just takes the storm’s punishment, day after day. You have to be a madman to think to temper yourself there. I’ve heard only the peak Spirit Transcendent Varen has gone there to temper himself, but he told me he only spend 30 minutes at most before he has to leave."

"Sounds reckless," Tym replied, "I tempered my body a lot in the Lightning Fields at the headquarters when I was a newbie to the sect for nearly 10 years. I’ve used so many other resources to make my body tougher since I’m like the sect Master and use my fists to fight with my spiked knuckles. Even then, I tried going to the East Grove once… Man, it’s really no joke. Everyone knows the storm there can tear through even Spirit Transcendent cultivators if they’re not careful, but he is only Spirit Ascension level 8! Why does he risk it?"

"Because he’s Lassim," the young man said with a shrug. "Thank the pantheon that he keeps to himself. If he was like those bullies back at headquarters… Man, the guy’s practically untouchable. If anyone’s going to survive that storm, it’s him. Just pay attention when he comes back today and we’ll see if he’s taken no injuries today either. I’ll bet you 500 low-grade ESS that he won’t even have a crease in his Personal Disciple uniform."

However, not everyone shared the same admiration with their gossip. At the edge of a bustling tavern, a group of Novice ranked disciples were sat together at the table, their voices low but tinged with disbelief.

"He’s losing it," one of them said, his arms crossed over his chest. "Did you hear that the whole reason he’s going there every day is because he ’saw’ an elemental there? It’s ridiculous. Everyone knows that all of the elementals were already hunted down and used, or they’re so insanely good at hiding that no one even has seen one for thousands of years now."

"Yeah," another chimed in, her expression skeptical. "I mean, sure, the Grove’s intense, but an elemental? That’s just an excuse for him to act tough and cool for girls to fall for him. I’m not falling for it though! I absolutely LOVE my hubby. Isn’t that right dear?" She crooned as she grasped the arm of the bulky quiet disciple sat next to her. He completely ignored her and finished his beer. He gestured toward the barkeep for another.

A third disciple, an older Inner Disciple with a scar with the faint signs of burning running down the side of his face—one of the survivors of the Sect War’s Sun Demon attacks—scoffed. "You lot don’t get it. He’s not crazy. I’d bet my entire savings of elemental spirit stones that it’s real and something big. You don’t push yourself like that without a damn good reason."

The conversations continued, weaving through the fabric of the village’s daily life. Even those who hadn’t seen Lassim firsthand found themselves drawn into the growing web of speculation.