A Song For The Ages

The rise of the Runeweaver Circle was not loud, it was deliberate. Feiyin and Mu had moved like craftsmen weaving a complex array, placing each thread carefully, anchoring it with shared goals and steady progress. The pill recipe Feiyin had gifted them, a spirit nurturing pill, had become their first true cornerstone.

Every member had received the formula, and through Feiyin's guidance and patient explanations, they had begun to refine it. Yuli, Lirael, Meng, Auren and Zayesh , they had all taken part. Even those who dealt with artefact refining contributed by spending points on the ingredients. The pill itself was not particularly complex, but the process had forced them to work together, to share insights, refine control, and coordinate schedules. It had sparked conversations that turned into plans and trust that solidified into camaraderie.

By the end of the second week, they had collectively refined a batch of over fifty pills at a stable 90% purity, with Feiyin and Mu's oversight pushing the highest quality ones past the 95% mark. This collective effort helped fulfill their monthly deal with the Crimson Heart faction.

Vaerk, the red-skinned demon they had defeated in the Ember Coil faction, had not forgotten their proposition. After a few tense follow-up meetings, and with Feiyin's ever-amiable but sharp negotiating, they had brokered a new agreement. With their backing and pill supply, Vaerk secured the leadership seat within Ember Coil. In return, he guaranteed them two more weekly slots in the Molten Cave and also acted as a liaison for a tentative deal with the reclusive Molten Circle.

The Molten Circle, just like the Crimson Heart and the Ember Coil, had partial control over the outer edge of the cave, a more stable, less essence-rich zone, but valuable nonetheless. They needed pills to support their constant cultivation. With Feiyin's faction able to provide these in exchange for fixed weekly cultivation hours, the arrangement was both beneficial and sustainable.

The Runeweaver Circle's growth was steady. By reinvesting their resources into access and influence, they were beginning to take shape not as a haphazard group of apprentices, but as a fledgling faction.

Feiyin had never stopped refining. When not negotiating, overseeing deals, or instructing the others, he would return to his chambers to cultivate or refine.

His three dantians each housed a swirling qi nexus, now reaching 9.6 inches in height and spinning at 340 rotations per second. Essence qi surged within them, enhanced by the strength of his tempered body and the focus of his expanding soul. His spiritual sense extended a full 25 feet around him, sharp and instinctive. He felt the air before it moved, sensed intent before it was voiced.

His body had become a vessel of potential, a furnace ready to step into the next phase.

Mu, never far behind, had pushed himself alongside Feiyin. His own qi nexus had reached 9 inches and 270 rotations per second, and he had broken through to the qi flow phase. He could now command his essence qi to move beyond his body in fine threads, essential for advanced alchemy and talisman work.

Within the Circle, the others had grown too.

Meng had focused on his forging, finally stabilizing his alloy ratios and learning to temper his products with essence heat bursts. The proud apprentice no longer worked in isolation, he often sparred ideas with Auren, who had a knack for balancing spiritual sense flow during refinement.

Yuli, though, was the one who had changed the most.

Feiyin still remembered the night Yuli had spoken to them in a hushed voice, her gaze darting between the circle's members.

"I heard rumors," she began, voice trembling, "that if you fail your quota three months in a row, you don't just get expelled... they make you disappear. I had two months left to make it, yet I was nowhere near where I should be. That's when this Second-class disciple came to me. Said he'd 'protect me' if I became his personal 'assistant.'"

She had stopped there, swallowing hard.

"He never said anything clearly, but I knew what he meant. The way he looked at me... I felt caged. Trapped. I almost agreed. If it weren't for Feiyin reaching out to me, making me join these meetings... I don't think I'd still be here."

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Her voice had broken, but Lirael reached across and held her hands tightly, and the others had sat quietly, listening, not judging, just there.

Later that night, Feiyin had taken a quiet moment to speak with Yuli in private. His voice had been soft, but his eyes held a quiet intensity.

"I had a close friend who went through something similar," he said, his mind echoing with her gentle laugh. "She was taken away from us before we could do anything," He clenched his fist, the warmth of her lingering presence leaving but a cold, twisted corpse.

He turned and looked into her brown eyes with his grey ones. "I'm glad I found you before it was too late."

He gently smiled, in the way his mother did when he felt down. "You've got talent, Yuli. You've got grit. Don't let fear erase all that you are. You've made it here with your own hands. You should believe in them."

Yuli had nodded, eyes glistening, a shaky breath escaping her lips.

Now, she was refining steadily. Her crafts weren't flawless, but they were hers. And more importantly, she believed in her own hands again.

Auren and Lirael, the forest elf twins, were growing closer to the others too. Auren had always watched everyone warily, especially after a scuffle he'd once had with a higher-ranked disciple who had tried to 'buy' his sister's help. Elves were valued in certain circles, too valued, sometimes. Auren had nearly killed the man in self-defense and spent weeks hiding the incident.

But Lirael knew.

She wasn't naive. Her wide eyes and dreamy demeanor disguised a sharp mind. She'd admitted one night to Feiyin that she pretended to be simpler than she was, to avoid being noticed. Feiyin had smiled and said, "Then you're more cunning than most of the second-class disciples."

Lirael had only laughed, tossing her hair with exaggerated grace. "I have no choice, you know. As a beautiful elven lady, I'm bound to be noticed."

Feiyin chuckled, eyes gleaming with mischief. "You're indeed a beautiful lady. Should I make a move on you?"

She blushed before giggling, tapping her chin with a teasing look. "My, my, our leader can't take advantage of poor little me. And aren't you still a bit young, hmm? You were what, ten years old?"

Feiyin burst out laughing, feigning indignation. "I certainly won't take advantage of my members. And I'll have you know, I'm nearly an adult now!"

Cultivators matured much more early, and could be considered adults by fifteen years old.

Lirael exclaimed in delight, clasping her hands. "How cute! Our little genius leader is growing up!"

The moment softened the air around them, laughter lingering like warmth on a cool evening breeze. Conversations shifted again, now less teasing, more thoughtful, as they turned to another member of the circle.

Zayesh, the red-skinned demon, had shared even less, until one night, drunk on fermented pine tea and lulled into honesty.

"They mocked me for choosing pill refining. They said I couldn't handle the heat of the forge. That the fire scared me. That I was spitting on our bloodline by not becoming an artifact refiner."

He'd looked at the fire then, eyes heavy with memory.

"We of the red skin clan are said to be born from the flame, but I couldn't take the heat, not like the others. So I picked something different, trying to stay on the path of alchemy. But they never let me forget it."

It was Feiyin who responded.

"Strength isn't always about walking the beaten path and following traditions, but to tread your own way and light it for those who could follow you in the future."

Since then, Zayesh had stood a little taller.

These were the people Feiyin was building his faction with. Not perfect. Not elite, not yet. But real. Resilient. Loyal.

They trained. They refined. They joked and fought and learned. They were still young and weak in many eyes, but they were shaping themselves into more.

And Feiyin's vision, his quiet charisma, his endless patience, his brilliance, was the fire lighting the path ahead.

As the Circle gathered again that evening in their now-familiar meeting space, the room pulsed with quiet determination. Flasks clinked, cauldrons hissed, and the scent of mixed herbs and molten alloys hung heavy in the air.

Mu stood back near the wall, arms loosely crossed, his sharp eyes drifting over the group. One by one, he observed the people he had come to trust.

Feiyin's voice carried across the room, steady and clear, as he patiently explained a correction in Meng's latest fusion ratio. There was no condescension, only the steady cadence of someone who genuinely wanted to see others improve. No urgency either, only quiet precision.

They weren't scrambling beginners anymore. Each of them had grown, not only in skill but in spirit.

Mu felt a subtle pride in his chest, feeling that Feiyin's choice was indeed a good one.

This was a faction in the making, a true circle, woven not only by shared ambition but by choice, effort, and the bonds forged in hardship and trust.