Mei’Er’s soothing melody brought much-needed stability to Zac’s overtaxed mind, and he spent half an hour in blissful emptiness before inspecting his state. Thankfully, his soul wasn’t much worse than after most intense battles. His core were left with some surface cracks, and there was some additional scarring in his Life-attuned core’s depths. He’d also lost some progress on his Evolutionary Soul Core, though not enough to leave lasting problems.
It wasn’t his Soul that had faced the greatest ordeal, it was his Dao Heart. He’d gone from almost being overwhelmed by the Unbounded Pastures’ unrestrained exuberance to being pushed into a pit of despair. The two had canceled each other out to some degree, but such intense fluctuations was enough to give anyone emotional whiplash. It was this kind of invisible wound Mei’Er was healing with her Dao of Music.
Zac’s thoughts soon shifted to Litheweave’s odd rope, which triggered a pang of anxiety. Mei’Er’s music intensified, and Zac conjured his Warbringer Idol to assist. Zac soon calmed down, but no amount of music could hide the truth. He’d been utterly helpless before the rope’s magic. Using [Void Zone] when it was activated made no difference.
It wasn’t the end of the world when dealing with a friendly faction. Next time, he might not be so lucky. Zac knew he needed to up his vigilance. The day had come with repeated reminders that the Void Emperor Bloodline wasn’t a perfect counter to any threat. Before the rope, it failed to stop the spirit from entering his Soul Aperture.
Thinking back, Zac believed the spirit had stolen the Dao of Life from his probing attack to use it as a backdoor. It had traveled through the Tapestry of Life, skirting around Zac’s Void in a perfect reversion of how he used his Void-empowered Techniques. This wasn’t something normal cultivators could pull off, but his enemies were only getting more skilled and knowledgeable.
Zac sighed and dropped the matter, only focusing on recuperation. He’d stabilized enough to move about freely after another hour, at which point he stirred. The inner forest held powerful seals that prevented outside communication. His companions were probably anxious for an update by now.
“Thank you,” Zac said.
“It is the least we could do after our shameful display,” Mei’Er sighed, moving her zither to kneel deep enough that her forehead touched the ground. “Mei’Er wishes to apologize on behalf of the Joyful Gardens. Lord Atwood risked his life to save our sect, even when we met Lord’s kind intentions with hostility.”
“There’s no need for all this. It was all a misunderstanding, and I could have explained my intentions better,” Zac quickly said. “Besides, catching evildoers my duty. I was simply lucky to find it first.”
Zac didn’t regret Rava having opened his eyes to the importance of balance, but it was undeniably constricting. He’d asked Esmeralda how a thief dealt with the issue, considering they took and gave nothing back. It turned out she didn’t have to. In her mind, all cultivators were thieves robbing the Heavens of providence and longevity. All treasures were illegal contraband, so having them change owners didn’t impact the Law of Balance.
Esmeralda’s explanation made a sense in a twisted sort of way. Unfortunately, Zac couldn’t copy her answer. The Four Laws might be strict, but how cultivators followed them was open to interpretation—to a degree. Zac would only see results by basing his actions on his worldview, aligning actions with beliefs. That way, he’d walk in tune with the Cosmos and face less resistance during his journey.
“Lord’s noble heart is a rare treasure. It’s no wonder that little Nut is so attached to you,” Mei’Er praised as she sat back up.
Zac caught a hint of confusion when she glanced at her spirit, and he realized there was more to her compliment. Mei’Er had the same look when Zac awoke after her first performance. Zac furtively inspected the monkey snuggling in his lap, finally noticing something new. There were hints of Imperial Faith mixed into its pure life.
It was extremely weak, to the point he would not have noticed if the memory domain’s ambient faith hadn’t been weakened. Another piece was added to the puzzle, and Zac finally understood why the Joyful Gardens was needed for the Hollow Court’s plan. The regional realignment wasn’t one-sided. It was an equal exchange. The Joyful Gardens was spreading the Limitless Empire’s influence through the spirits.
Zac could picture generations of elites entering the gardens, allowing some of their Imperial Faith rub off on the curious critters during private performances. It would become part of their nature over time, turning them into willing followers of the empire. Perhaps it was the only way to secure a stable partnership, considering the Unbounded Pastures embodied unrestrained Life and impulsivity.
Mei’Er seemed to notice something. A nearby rustle left any words unspoken. The two looked over and saw Litheweave and Maseya walking over.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Litheweave said. “If possible, we’d like to impose on Master Atwood again. If you’re up to it.”
“That’s, uh,” Zac drawled, hesitant to flatly refuse two Middle Monarchs, but equally reluctant to return to the realmgate.
“We’re not throwing you back into the nexus,” Maseya said, her animosity mostly gone. However, there was still a solemnity in her eyes. “We have some questions about Ching’Ru.”
“Oh, ok,” Zac said and got to his feet. Mei’Er remained in the glade when the elders led Zac away.
“As Mei’Er said, we’re immensely grateful for Master Atwood’s contribution,” Litheweave said.
“It’s nothing. I’m sure you or the other elders would have exposed it soon enough even without my help.”
“Master Atwood is too modest. We both know we would never have discovered Ching’Ru’s lair on our own. Even the Grand Matron would have been helpless.”
Zac felt his stomach turn at Maseya’s comment. The elders had obviously managed to gather some information about what happened. Did it come by extracting memories from the crumbling spirit, or did it come from him while knocked out? If so, what else did they know?
“Cultivating the Void is exceedingly rare. Doing so successfully, even more. Where else would we have found someone able to exploit a weakness in the Dao?” the Pavilion elder sighed.
Litheweave quickly followed up after throwing his alluring colleague an exasperated look. “We understand it’s a sensitive issue. We have no intentions of digging into Master Atwood’s fated encounters. Everyone involved in today’s events shall take an Imperial Oath before our ancestral relic.”
The term Imperial Oath was new to Zac. It sounded like a binding agreement enforced by the Imperial Fate, similar to contracts witnessed by the System. Zac appreciated the gesture, though it wouldn’t change much. At most, it would reduce the risk of complications when visiting future memories.
More importantly, they’d misunderstood how Zac caught the spirit. Rather than relying on his modern Dao of Life, they thought he’d found the hidden seam using the Void. It was a weight off his shoulders, since it meant the information didn’t come from him.
Shortly after, the fenced barrier came into view. The elders had erected traditional barriers as a secondary perimeter. The captured spirit quietly floated in the middle. It still looked like the dead disciple after leaving [Void Zone]. Her twisted expression filled with hunger and malice had slackened into a vacant stare, and she made no attempts to escape.
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The unstable fluctuations within her body had been quelled by the oppressive domain. Even so, Ching’Ru wasn’t long for the world. Her deterioration had only accelerated. Less than a third of her spiritual body remained, and pieces were falling off without outside prompting.
The rope still emitted an intense hopelessness that made Zac shudder. Echoes of that nihilistic surrender lingered in his mind, and seeing the barrier brought it to the surface.
Litheweave noticed Zac’s pale expression. “I apologize. Using the [Fugue of Lea] was the only way I could ensure Ching’Ru wouldn’t escape.”
“It was the right call.” While inwardly shaken, Zac focused on the important parts. “You called her Ching’Ru. Is it actually her?”
“We’ve extracted enough memories to confirm she’s the central consciousness. From what we’ve been able to tell, Ching’Ru practiced a heretical method that promised spirit contractors swift progress,” Litheweave sighed before narrating the rest of their discoveries.
The elders had gathered more information than the glimpses Zac caught during the battle. It was clear they’d managed to decipher some of the distorted memories afflicted by madness. Ching’Ru was not a victim but the main perpetrator. Stressed over stagnating progress, she’d succumbed to temptation by gradually manipulating her main spirit while the others were off playing.
Ching’Ru was under the impression that the cannibalizing technique would advance both her and the spirit’s cultivation. The Garden Spirits would never willingly hurt each other, but Ching’Ru did something to induce malice and hunger. The Outer Court disciple became their test subject when everything was in place.
The hunt was a success, except Ching’Ru didn’t expect her modified spirit’s nature to change as much as it did. Its malice was growing too strong, and her other contracted spirits noticed something was wrong. Seeing no other option, Ching’Ru turned them into a second meal. Remembering the hunger, Zac wasn’t surprised what came next.
The corrupted spirit capitalized on Ching’Ru’s backlash from losing four contracted spirits. It tried to devour her soul, except a Peak Hegemon was no easy prey. Ching’Ru fought back with her life on the line, and neither side came out ahead. When the dust settled, Ching’Ru found her soul fused with the malevolent spirit, floating above her cold dead body. Panicked, she escaped before she was exposed.
Being neither spirit nor ghost had its upsides. Ching’Ru possessed both a Garden Spirit’s innate abilities and a cultivator’s Mental Energy. She also retained a semblance of her old self, so she had moments of clarity. Unfortunately, she was still a prisoner to the boundless hunger. Ching’Ru soon resumed her hunts. Only now, she was also consuming the souls of the disciples, leading to her extremely unstable state.
“You’ve already discovered this much. What do you need from me?” Zac asked after Litheweave was done.
“There are troubling gaps in her memories. We haven’t found any information about the actual method or where she got it from. We’ve turned her whole clan upside down searching for the taboo manual,” Maseya said. “It’ll be a disaster if someone else finds it. Next time, we might not have someone like you helping us out.”
“Could the book have burned away any memories of itself?” Zac mused.
“Book? Did you discover something?” Litheweave asked.
Zac nodded and narrated his battle with the spirit. Since they already knew about the Void, there wasn’t much he needed to hide. The Grand Elders occasionally interjected to ask clarifications, mainly focusing on the dark threads. The discussion was calm until Zac described the sinister book.
“Mox’s Wailing Grimoire!” Maseya grabbed Zac by his cuff with horror on her face. “Are you sure? There’s no mistake?”
“I saw it clearly in Ching’Ru’s memories,” Zac nodded, startled by her powerful reaction.
Maseya’s expression crumpled, and Zac warily stepped back as the whole forest began shaking from her burgeoning fury. Zac could barely breathe under the monstrous pressure. He was saved by the wave of a graceful hand that created an invisible harmony that smoothed the smothering pressure.
Maseya soon got her energy under control, but her fury burned hotter than ever. Her ire was solely placed on Ching’Ru. The Grand Elder looked ready to forcibly stabilize the crumbling spirit just so that she could torture it. Zac remained silent until she calmed down, afraid to have the hatred redirected to him.
“I’m sorry, I just—Alteya deserved better. They all did. There are far worse things than death,” Maseya sighed. “I fear the situation is worse than we feared.”
Zac glanced at Litheweave. He didn’t seem to understand the situation, either. The two elders held a silent conversation before turning back toward Zac.
“You’ve become a victim of our ineptitude, so you deserve to understand the whole picture. Truth be told, the Joyful Gardens is a distant division of the Hollow Court,” Maseya said. Zac’s surprised expression failed to fool the discerning Monarch. “So you knew? As expected, there’s more to you. Well, it makes things easier.
“The Margrave granted the factions working under his banner an opportunity when he took office. The Joyful Gardens were awarded three slots to visit the headquarters, and I was among the chosen. It’s thanks to that visit I know what we’re dealing with.”
“You’ve been to the Hollow Court?” Zac asked.
“Only its outer regions. It’s… something else. I wonder how my life would have looked if the visit wasn’t limited to ten years,” Maseya sighed with a distant expression before shaking her head. “I spent much time in their library. They’ve gathered writings from every corner of the Empire, knowledge that can’t be found anywhere else. Among other things, I stumbled onto a book called [Ancients].
“The book was written by a Grand Scholar from the Imperial Capital called Imberius. He spent countless years visiting integrated species with a deep history, then even longer scouring the empire’s records for clues. Imberius was looking for mentions of powerful existences who’d escaped the cycle of reincarnation to live in perpetuity.
“You can imagine what kind of beings we’re talking about. Heaven-defying monsters. Thankfully, most of them are recluses unwilling to get entangled by Karma. They won’t bother you so long as you don’t bother them. A few of them are surprisingly benign. Meeting them is a fate-defining encounter,” Maseya’s face crumbled.
“Ancients like the Plaguebringer, Jalach, and Mox are the complete opposite. They’re walking calamities with no redeeming qualities. Empire and Heavens alike are trying to hunt them down.”
Zac failed to hide his shock upon hearing the familiar name. Jalach was the [Epiclesis Bell]’s evil entity. He and Vilari had to go on until now, relying almost entirely on guesswork to analyze their foe. The book called [Ancients] was his first tangible lead into the creature’s origins and how to deal with it.
Maseya misunderstood Zac’s reaction, taking it as fear from having encountered an item related to Mox. “Mox is an ancient denizen of the Lower Planes, believed to sustain her longevity by stealing it from others. Hundreds of planes have gone dark to sustain her. The Seven Aperture Grimoires are her harbingers.”
Zac quickly gathered his thoughts. He could tell that Maseya’s explanation was the core of the memory domain’s thread of Fate and highly relevant to the Hollow Court’s undertaking. Having a lead on Jalach was enough for now.
“A few Garden Spirits shouldn’t be enough for someone like that,” Zac said.
“Her exact methods are unclear. The Grimoires might be part of a ritual where the victims are turned into bridges.” Maseya’s expression told Zac all he needed to know about what kind of fate awaited Ching’Ru and her victims. “Mox uses the grimoires to sneak past defenses unnoticed and devour countless souls. She’s gone by the time someone notices. The Unbounded Pastures or the Freydrift Province would have suffered catastrophic losses. Perhaps both.”
“Did the book cover their—I mean her—weaknesses?” Zac asked.
“I’m afraid not. Only the Empire’s generals can deal with the Ancients, and they would have to tread carefully. The Ancients have survived this long for a reason. [Ancients] is only meant to teach its readers to recognize the signs so that they can report to their superiors,” Maseya said. “In that sense, you’ve already gone above and beyond. You exposed and routed Mox’s Wailing Grimoire before it could gather enough sustenance.
“We’re still in danger, but her plans have been delayed. We’ll immediately report this matter to the Margrave. He’ll know what to do.”
Maseya’s words made the whole memory domain shudder, and it rapidly leaked Imperial Faith. Exposing Mox had much greater effect on the domain than capturing Ching’Ru. The domain wouldn’t last more than a few minutes before collapsing. However, Zac barely had time to make the estimate before shimmering Faith seeped from the ground, replacing the lost faith and stabilizing the realm. None of this was noticed by the Grand Elders.
“You have to be careful. You’ve interfered with Mox’s plans. She might seek you out,” Maseya continued.
Litheweave, who’d remained silent until now, spoke up. “You should head to the Hollow Court. That beast won’t dare have any ideas with the Margrave presiding.”
Maseya looked at Litheweave with a pained expression, but she nodded in agreement. “You’re right. Anything less would make us ingrates.”
Noticing Zac’s confusion, Litheweave explained. “The courts never admit outsiders, even those possessing great power or unusual abilities. However, the Joyful Gardens still has some accumulated merit. Together with your own contribution, it should be enough to grant a temporary stay and an audience. You can ask the Margrave to resolve any hidden dangers. If you’re lucky, he’ll take an interest in your unusual abilities and provide further guidance.”
Zac’s eyes lit up at the unexpected pie falling from the sky. His Fate with the Hollow Court was already slated to improve after successfully solving the domain. Now, it looked like he was about to double-up on the fate-affirming rewards.
Everything would have been perfect if he hadn’t gotten mixed up with another old monster.