‘Lady Mother of the 43rd Settlement, Zahaella. She’s a troublesome woman.’ Inala thought. He recalled her appearances in Sumatra Chronicles, a cold-blooded woman famed for her viciousness, even amongst Mammoth Clansmen.
A year after the First Major Disaster, when the Mammoth Clan enters a kingdom to trade, a minister offends her. Zahaella schemes against the minister in such a way that even after his entire family was slaughtered, with the heads of everyone raised on spiked poles and kept on display on the streets, the King had to personally ask for forgiveness.
The number of Mammoth Clansmen were few but each were strong. At the same cultivation level, a Mammoth Clansmen can take on five other cultivators and emerge victorious. This difference was further extreme among masters.
The Mystic Bone Art was the best in Sumatra Continent, at the pinnacle in terms of cultivation efficiency. Adding onto the Empyrean Tusk that gave Mammoth Clansmen all resources they desired, as long as a Mammoth Clansman had enough talent, he could grow strong.
Conversely, a cultivator in a human kingdom wasn’t so fortunate. Not only do they possess inferior cultivation techniques, most of the time, they wouldn’t even have access to the optimal resources, oftentimes having to subsist with similar materials.
That and the fact that they have to build their Spirit Vessel on their own was a challenge. For a Mammoth Clansman, once they fuse their hundred Spirit Containers into one and enter the Body Stage, they need to fuse with a Pranic Beast egg, and bam, they’ll stabilise their cultivation and could accumulate strength Immediately after.
This wasn’t the case with a normal cultivator that had to painstakingly infuse properties of various minerals into their Spirit Container and hopefully stabilise it after a lot of problems. The success rate was minimal.
That’s why, despite having cultivators in the tens to hundreds of millions per kingdom, the number of cultivators that reached the body stage only numbered in the thousands. Masters were even fewer.
The amount of Prana they possessed was minimal. Their lifespans too were short and numbered. Adding everything, an average cultivator paled in comparison to a Mammoth Clansman.
When the minister’s family was singlehandedly slaughtered by Zahaella, the King was furious. But even he was defeated by her and had to beg for forgiveness. Of course, Zahaella looted the kingdom’s royal coffers and also purchased enough slaves to make up numbers for the newly added 44th Empyrean Tusk.
The slaves were used as fuel by the twenty-something Mammoth Clansmen survivors in the new 44th Settlement to birth newborns. And under the influence of the 44th Empyrean Tusk, the newborns were all born as Mammoth Clansmen.
The slaves were disposed of shortly after, since they had served their use. It was pretty vicious, but that was the norm here. ‘And I definitely cannot displease her.’
Unlike Bora Tusk, the 44th Settlement Leader, Yahard Tusk, the 43rd Settlement Leader was a reasonable man. As long as Inala appealed to his curious nature, he’ll help shield Inala from Zahaella’s schemes.
“Now, why don’t we discuss your findings?” At Zahaella’s words, Inala remained in his prostrated pose.
Seeing that he remained respectful, Yahard Tusk gently nudged his wife, causing her to retract her Prana. Once the formless energy vanished, Inala was able to move once again. He stared up and nodded respectfully, “It’s an honour to contribute to the Clan.”
“Even if we’re from different Settlements?” Zahaella asked, expressing no intention behind her words. But it was a test. She was judging Inala’s worth.
“That doesn’t matter.” Inala said in confidence, “If the Clan benefits, my Settlement would naturally gain from it. In that regard, I intend to become useful to my Clan.”
With the first statement, he expressed his broadminded perspective, focusing on the big picture—the Mammoth Clan. His second statement meant that he didn’t stint on his Settlement in favour of the big picture. Finally, he expressed the desire of every Mammoth Clansmen—to become useful to the Clan.
‘For a student his age, he’s focused.’ Yahard Tusk sported a mild smile, ‘Well, that is natural for a Death Row student. Only then can he survive his death sentence.’
Upon seeing her husband’s opinion of Inala improve, Zahaella calmly brought Luttrena forward and asked, “What do you think of my daughter?”
“I’m envious of her talent and contribution.” Inala expressed honestly. It wasn’t his honest thoughts. He was just expressing them as if they were his honest thoughts.
‘That’s it?’ Zahaella calmly eyed Luttrena, observing no fluctuation in her facial expression. Her thoughts were completely masked as her eyes trailed towards Instructor Mandu and settled on the object he was carrying, “Explain about it.”
“Yes,” Inala nodded and motioned for Instructor Mandu to carefully place it on the floor, facing the crowd. He didn’t open it prematurely and instead gave a curt explanation, unwilling to offend the masters with a long-winded explanation and waste their time, “It’s an art piece that a mere glance of will affect your emotions. This one, in particular, would probably cause you to kill me. It’s that offensive.”
“It might rile up enough emotions to make anyone in the Spirit Stage lose their Prana as their Spirit Containers break.” He bowed lightly, “That’s the end of my explanation. Please brace yourselves.”
“What is it called?” Yahard Tusk didn’t seem to mind the explanation. Rather, he had observed Inala’s shabby appearance to judge the piece’s effectiveness.
Inala slowly opened the doors, revealing the inscription inside. He hadn’t even finished opening it when Prana gushed into the doors, destroyed his imprint, and took control. The doors closed shut in an instant as the Imagination Art flew towards Yahard Tusk.
Dense killing intent filled the room, enough to make everyone faint from the sheer bloodthirstiness in the pressure.
“Yahard!” Zahaella bellowed, emitting her Prana in warning, calming down an agitated Yahard. The nature of her Prana turned gentle and shielded everyone in the room that had fainted, healing them as she watched them get up one after another. 𝔬𝐕𝐋xt.𝒸𝑜𝑚
“I apologise.” Yahard sighed as he observed Inala regain consciousness after five seconds had passed, clapping in praise, “That was incredibly offensive.”
He laughed casually, “If not for my wife, I indeed would have killed you.”
“You’re brave, kid.”
The reason was simple. The Imagination Art pretty much touched the reverse scale of every Mammoth Clansmen. It was a simple image, one displaying the scene of an Empyrean Tusk crying as it fell to the side, overwhelmed by Zingers. Headless Mammoth Clansmen stood on its collapsing body while their heads were carried by the Zingers as they did with their Prana Bombs.
What triggered them the most was the Empyrean Tusk shedding tears at the death of its immune system—Mammoth Clansmen—as it was overpowered by the enemy, falling to its death. That was the scene depicted on the carving, of an Empyrean Tusk’s defeat, something incomprehensible and unimaginable to the Mammoth Clansmen.
Imagination Art—Defeat!