The Undying Immortal System-Chapter 355: Life 92, Age 16, Martial Disciple 1

After the competition, the Scholar’s Tower held a small ceremony to celebrate Jon’s victory. However, I slunk away before it even began. The Tower’s elders seemed like rather amiable fellows, but I was the person who had stirred things up and made the competition between Jon and Young Master Ling necessary. I didn’t want to give them an opportunity to punish me for my actions. Also, my mental library now held dozens of books that I had copied from the Scholar’s Tower library. I wanted to get somewhere safe so that I could study them and see what they contained.

My plan was to spend several days alone, sifting through these tomes and teasing out whatever secrets they held. However, shortly after I sat down to begin my study, the door of my apartment burst open, and a smiling Jon waltzed inside to join me.

“Fang! Fantastic job back there. You really know how to get people riled up.”

My facial muscles twitched, and my hands clenched reflexively. Interacting with Jon in the outside world was one thing, but seeing him enter my home without so much as knocking was too much. This small, run-down apartment was the closest thing I had to a sanctuary. I hated the idea of him thinking that he could freely enter without my permission.

Jon, of course, showed no signs of shame. He just smiled happily. “Let me show you what I got.”

Reaching into the storage bag at his waist, Jon pulled out a brush, a blank scroll, and an inkstone. Then, completely ignoring my reaction, he took out an inkstick and began grinding his own ink.

As I listened to the soft scraping of inkstick against inkstone, my annoyance only grew. I had been indulging Jon, but he was taking things much too far.

Just as I was about to lose my composure, Jon set down the inkstick and picked up his brush. “Watch.”

Jon slowly ran his brush through the ink. Then, he slashed at the blank scroll in front of him.

One line after another appeared, and, after only a moment, Jon had completed the character for ‘sword.’

This character wasn’t formed purely from ink. It radiated a sharp energy that I feared would cut me in two if I approached too closely.

During the competition, Young Master Ling had imbued his writing with some form of wood and water energy. I hadn’t been able to tell exactly what type of energy it was, but I had still been able to recognize it as wood and water. This was different. I might have guessed that a character for sword would be imbued with metal energy, but it wasn’t. Whatever this energy was, it was entirely foreign to me.

For several long moments, I stared at Jon’s drawing in shock.

“H… How?” Realizing what this meant, I looked up at him sharply. “Imbuing writing with energy like this was Young Master Ling’s blessing. Did you… Did you steal his blessing?”

Jon gave me a wide grin. “A couple of random ancient poems were able to impress those old fogies from the Tower beyond all reason. So, my reward this time was rather exceptional.”

Reflexively, I nodded, but my mind was churning. If Jon could copy the blessings of those he defeated, then I couldn’t make him my enemy. I either needed to find a way to avoid the man entirely, or I needed to end him, now.

Looking at Jon’s smiling face, I couldn’t stop murderous thoughts from running through my head.

Should I do it? Should I just get rid of the problem here and now? The Earthly Dao might decide to bring him back stronger than ever, but did that matter? How did the potential risk of Jon being brought back compare with the risk of him copying my blessing?

At the moment, I had a measure of confidence in my ability to win, but how long would that last? If he continued to defeat opponents and rack up additional blessings…

Just as I was about to make my move, Jon reached into his storage bag and pulled out a thick tome, interrupting my thoughts. “As I said before, whenever I eat meat, you will get to eat soup. So, here’s your soup.”

He tossed the book to me, and after catching it, I read the title.

“The History and Politics of the Western Island?” I feigned a confused, disinterested tone, but my heart was racing. “Uh… thanks? But… why?”

Jon pursed his lips. “Isn’t that what you were looking for in the library?”

Shaking my head, I placed the book on the ground between us. “This book… I don’t think I have any use for it.”

This was true. After touching the book, a copy of it was now in my mental library. Why would I need the original?

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“I see. Then, what were you looking for in the library? Maybe I can help?”

An embarrassed expression crossed my face as I lowered my eyes in shame. “I was… I’m still a Martial Disciple 1. I haven’t yet advanced. I was hoping… that the library might have additional information on cultivation that could help me.”

Jon’s eyes widened as a wave of realization washed over him. “You’ve been in the Hall of the Herb Lord for over a month, and you’re still only a Martial Disciple 1? You haven’t been able to advance even once? Are you complete trash—”

Jon's voice cut off abruptly, and he stared at me in shock. For some reason, I sensed a growing fear in that look.

“No, no. Fang. Su Fang. Brother Fang, let… let me help you.” Jon’s expression firmed, and his perpetual smile slowly returned. “Yes. Yes, let me help you.”

Jon reached into his storage bag and dumped out dozens of books and pill bottles. “Fang, don’t be discouraged. I am confident that you will be able to succeed. You just need a bit of help. For now, just don’t mention your cultivation base to anyone else. No one needs to know. I, your brother, will always be there to help you.”

Jon’s eyes were a bit wild as he looked me up and down. “Yes. And, you should stay in these fancier robes. I said before— As I said before, they suit you. You look more noble like this. As long as you look the part, no one will question your abilities.”

Jon quickly stood and backed to the door. “Just let me know if you need any help. I’ll do everything I can to help you stay competitive.”

As Jon left and closed the door behind him, I could only make out a few more mumbled words. “God damned legendary trash. Don’t think I don’t know how to handle—”

After Jon was gone, my mind briefly returned to thoughts of snuffing out his life, but I decided to hold off. There were unknown dangers down that path, so I would need to tread carefully.

Instead, I shifted my attention to my mental library and opened up the book that Jon had so helpfully provided me: The History and Politics of the Western Island. Whether this had been a guess on Jon's part or something that had been provided to him by his blessing, this book was exactly what I had needed.

I cracked the cover and began to read.

On the first page, there was a map of what looked like a lumpy ‘L.’ This map was divided into three parts. The northern tip of the crescent was labelled ‘The Alliance,’ the southeastern tip was labeled ‘The Sects,’ and the bulge to the southwest was labeled ‘The Clans.’

After skipping over the table of contents, I got an explanation:

Of all the islands of the Extreme Martial Continent, the Western Island, being the only island controlled entirely by humans, is the one with both the deepest history and the richest culture. The True Martial Saint rules over the Alliance and fights back against the vile demons of the north. In the east, the Saint of Heroes leads the sects to ward off the armies of the Isle of Beasts. And in the west, the Nine Rivers Saint protects the island from creatures of the sea.

One island, three Saints. What the book failed to mention was how many islands made up this ‘Extreme Martial Continent’ or how many Saints it contained in total.

Flipping to a section later in the book, I found a map of the Nine River Saint’s territory. It was divided into three sections. The Jiu Clan was in the north, bordering the Alliance. The Zhu Clan was in the west, positioned to defend a wide swath of the coastline. And the Li Clan was in the east, bordering the sects under the control of the Saint of Heroes.

At the center, where these three territories met, there was a sizable chunk of land labeled ‘The Nine Rivers Continent.’

The domain of the Nine Rivers Saint is renowned for its abundance of skilled craftsmen. By relying on the advantages provided to them by their Small World, the people of the three clans are able to pursue any profession, and they are able to craft powerful items without the need for specialized skills.

Their weapons and armor cannot compare to the artifacts produced by the True Martial Saint or the Saint of Heroes. Their herbs and pills cannot compare to those produced by the Saint of Myriad Herbs. And their pet demon beasts will cower in fear when confronted with the monsters under the control of the Saint of Tooth and Claw. However, for adaptability and resourcefulness, no one can compare to the Nine Rivers Saint’s elemental experts.

The weapons of the Nine Rivers Continent ‘cannot compare’ to those of the True Martial Saint? That statement seemed a bit… much. Even if the people on this continent had access to a refining affinity, how much of a difference would that make? I could accept that a Rank 8 weapon would easily cleave through a Rank 6 weapon, but would the Rank 6 weapons of this continent really be able to defeat my own so easily? Maybe, but I would need to see such weapons before I could put too much faith in this statement.

I flipped to the section of the book on ‘the Sects.’

The territory of the Saint of Heroes is in a state of perpetual chaos. Powerful sects can rise from nowhere in a few years, only to vanish from the face of the continent just as quickly. This constant infighting and strife allows for the birth of the numerous heroes who defend the Western Island from the endless horde of demons sent by the Isle of Beasts.

My primary goal was to find a place to settle my clan in this new world. I needed a place where it could grow powerful enough to produce both Martial Spirits and Martial Ancestors.

Doing this in the domain of the Nine Rivers Saint seemed impossible. The Saint had three clans under his command, and the territory of each clan was divided into 25 realms, each ruled by a different Sovereign. So, growing my clan in the domain of the Nine Rivers Saint would mean stealing land from one of the existing clans.

Maybe it was time to look further afield. If the lands of the Saint of Heroes were in constant chaos—if the rise and fall of powerful sects were commonplace—would anyone even notice my little Su Clan?

This was the lead that I had needed, but I wouldn’t act immediately.

If the destruction of powerful sects was commonplace, then the Su Clan could easily be destroyed before it was even able to establish a foothold. Before taking anyone out of my inner world, I first needed to get a better understanding of the Saint of Heroes’ domain. I needed to know which sects were likely to be destroyed and which sects were likely to thrive. Most importantly, I needed to understand the events that could lead to a sect’s destruction.

Therefore, I decided to continue my stint in the Hall of the Herb Lord, where I could spend my time mastering alchemy and understanding the differences between this continent and the Nine Rivers. As I did this, I would keep an eye on the information coming from the domain of the Saint of Heroes to better understand the conditions there.

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