Reforged from Ruin [Eldritch Xianxia Cultivation]

The peaks of Morae are many and myriad. There are dozens of them, perhaps a hundred, rising to varying heights across the horizon, and yet, despite their numbers, they accumulate in a shape reminiscent of a hand, with five great points. Some sects make their homes along the cliffsides, or at the bases, like the Watchful Fields sect- but the strongest, most politically influential sects all make their homes at the peaks, amongst the clouds and nearly invisible from the ground.

Raika could find it in her heart and mind to memorize all of them, to track and catalog the ways that they interact with each other and interrelate.

She hasn't. Obviously. If she wanted to waste her time, she could go sweep some empty ass manor or something.

She's never going to be some hyper-competent master of realpolitik. She could be, in theory, but she doesn't want to be. It's less that it's a waste of time, and more that it's not a skillset she wants. Which isn't to say she isn't competent at it- her ability to read people is second to none with her enhanced senses, and her memory's only gotten more competent with the addition of more grey matter. All the way back from dealing with Jun Vral and plotting to take down Zhoulong, through her stint manipulating her way through Cragend and the Division, she's been good at reading people, their wants, and how to use them.

Which means she doesn't need to memorize the whole damn history of every damn group of superpowered assholes in an entire nation.

There's a part of her that knows that's not the most ideal, optimized way to go about this. She could, in theory, dedicate brainspace to figuring out every detail of every person she can get her hands on. That's part of the plan, right? To optimize herself as much as possible, to get used to and absorb every skillset she hasn't had a chance to master. In theory, it would only take, what, three brains? Easy enough to request from her Ur-self.

She looks up at the stairs in front of her, sighing at the seemingly endless number of them. The wind whistles against the banners to her right, dozens of them making up the heraldry of sects that have histories spanning millennia.

She could, maybe should, force herself to memorize them all. Every detail, every note of every history, archived and prepared, weapons and tools to use as needed.

Worthless.

An uncharitable look, but fuck it, she doesn't care. A thousand years of inane bullshit, of repeating the same mistakes over and over and over. Another few thousand recovering. Picking through historical texts, looking between the lines to find out some approximation of what "really" happened, all to play polite with a bunch of people she doesn't respect.

A waste of time. A waste of resources. An inefficient tool, one that's much too liable to fail at a crucial moment due to some misinterpreted passage or forgotten detail.

Plus, she's a clever girl. There's almost as much challenge in figuring out how to play these people to her tune while ignorant as there is to fighting with only some of her powers. Memorization is always useful, but the skillset to use what she sees, to adapt, to overcome based on current data, is far more important to her.

But, admittedly, she did make one exception to this notion of efficiency.

She walks up the side of the mountain.

Flying swords trail past her as the scouts of different groups approach. Colorful figures cross the sky above and rise from the ground below, trailing up on palanquins, platforms, under their own power or, most of all, on flying swords. How that became the most common form of transportation in a whole nation, she will never understand.

Enhanced eyes zoom in on distant figures, mapping out the hundreds of cultivators approaching in squadrons to prepare for the arrival of their "betters". Representatives with the colors of each and every flag she's passed on her way make their presence known, Qi reduced but ever-present. Any collection of so many Core Formation experts is a weight on the world, and even muffled, the sound of an array of unique cultivations rings against her synesthesia.

And she keeps walking, one arm resting comfortably in the folds of her robe, the other holding a pipe to her lips.

It's no cigarette, but it's annoying making a cigarette that can withstand constant winds like she's going through. The pipe works better, and, admittedly, it has a certain presence to it, even if it's not her favorite smoking method.

She exhales out the pale blue smoke she's allowing herself, a weaker batch, just to tide over the habit, and looks down behind her.

The Watchful Fields sect is below her, still visible despite the mile or more she's walked up the mountain it sits at the base of. Like a diagram of a city, splayed open from above, the main sect buildings and private residences of the most powerful sit at the center, up against the mountains, while veins of streets and organs of markets, businesses and treasuries spread out in a semicircle from them. It's interesting seeing the land from this far up- she can see how the planted fields that the sect gets its name from follow that same pattern of expansion, growing outward like the rays of a sun until they come against the territory of other sects, sitting at the base of other mountains.

Li Tianfeng managed to convince the elders of the Watchful Fields sect to host the auction above their main compound, though Raika assumes that their resistance to the idea was performative. It doesn't take a genius to figure out why holding the auction at their compound proper would be a terrible idea for logistics alone, nevermind political reasons. Still, they made a big show of negotiations, only agreeing to host the auction at a separate location after Li Tianfeng assured them that by going through a trusted expert, the pressures of management are lessened on them.

Apparently auctions are a pretty big fucking deal in the Republic of Morae. From what Raika has determined, the main element is the conceived neutrality of the events; while almost any encounter between sects that isn't scheduled ahead of time can lead to combat, an auction approaches the concept of sacred ground. To damage the products would defeat the whole purpose, after all. A large enough auction, like this one, draws eyes from across the Jianghu, as they call their cultivator-society. Apparently, an envoy of the rather mercantile Dancing Clouds sect, supported by the full weight of an entire sect's authority, can draw quite a bit of attention indeed. How he convinced his superiors to back the auction, she doesn't know, but she can't imagine they haven't gotten concessions of their own from the project.

The hour approaches, and still she walks.

The scouts have fallen in number, and now proper delegations have begun to trickle in. Up above, she sees an airship hovering across the sky, its body supported by crimson clouds that flash with liquid lightning. Out to the west, from one of the other peaks of the Jianghu, she sees a platform pulled by spirit beasts, great golden rams with the body of serpents swimming through the air. Even from below, she sees some of the "lower" sects rising up, whole clouds of flying swords or single, ship-sized blades adorned with unique runes and decorations coming up towards the peak she walks to.

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"Rather dramatic, don't you think?" she asks, exhaling another plume of smoke.

A dry chuckle comes from beside her, the throat behind it aged and no longer quite human.

"Don't let my fellow elders hear, but I fear that without such dramatics, immortality would be far less enticing."

She snorts at that, smiling at Bin Wei's dry wit. She can hear the disapproving squint that Qin Yana, his fellow elder, shoots at them from a step ahead of them, but pays her no mind- her bite is terrible, but infrequent compared to her bark.

"All this hubbub for little old me. You'd think I was selling virility pills, the way these old monsters are rushing to meet us."

Bin Wei chuckles again, ignoring the sandpaper-brush of Qin Yana's Qi against them. "I would not devalue your wares in such a manner, junior Rai Ka. I'm afraid that if they knew the nature of the natural treasures you offer, they would be sending far less beatific platforms and far more warriors."

"Seems I've made quite the impression, then. Or would you say that the name of the Watchful Fields sect carries enough weight to summon such a group?"

He scoffs. "Certainly, but as sure as the sun rises from the north, they are here to pick that fact apart. Most Auctions are held for individuals and loose cultivators, or by mercantile interests. It is rare that a sect of any sort calls a conclave such as this, much less a more static sect such as our own."

At this, Qin Yana's Qi flares, enough to surpass the bounds of politeness by just a smidge. "The Watchful Fields sect and its long history are that of providing for the Morae, and for all the Jianghu. I will not have you belittle our sect for the sake of your meaningless prattle, Elder Bin Wei."

He waves a hand. "What sin is it to speak truth when it is useful, elder Qin Yana? Our sect rarely sends forth patrols into the wilds, for the wilds come to us. Is it not true that without our stance of stability, the Overgrowth would claw its way through the barriers we maintain? Is it not true that without our constant and steady vigil, the bread and rice of the Jianghu would be devoured by the spirit beasts that roam into our lands, or be taken by bandits and rogue cultivators? We are static, my dear, for that is how best we find our path- in stasis, the preservation of what is against what will unmake it."

The speech seems to mollify her somewhat, though the hot, crafting-flavored Qi she exudes fades only slightly. Bin Wei rolls his eyes, bowing slightly to her.

"I apologize for my lack of clarity, grand elder. Our sect does not often find treasures loose in the wilds, and thus calls such auctions even more rarely than those above. I simply seek to enlighten our traveling companion."

"I had assumed said traveler might have the decency to pursue such enlightenment at the proper time, rather than on the way to our destination."

Raika exhales through her nose, smiling at Qin Yana's back and letting it seep into her tone. "I would hate to deprive myself of the unique insights that the wisdom of my seniors can offer. Surely a lesser overview of such an intricate matter would only leave this honored junior disappointed, compared to the far greater wit and words of the elders of the Watchful Fields sect."

She grins and clenches her teeth as Qin Yana's Qi rises yet again- and then fades almost to nothing, vanishing beneath an iron-tight control.

Always best to poke at someone when poking back would make them lose face. These people love face.

"And I'm doubly honored by the sect's support of Li Tianfeng's plan, considering my nature as an outsider."

"Hardly a favor, considering the rewards," Bin Wei says. "It'll make for a good opportunity to force the other sects to give face, and considering our cut of the proceedings, it shall be a lucrative day for the sect even without your payment."

"You'll get your materials, senior elder. I'd hate to stiff you after all the hospitality you've shown."

Qin Yana grumbles with her posture up ahead, but Raika continues to ignore her, watching as more and more powerhouses trickle in.

Hundreds of Core Formation specialists. A serious showing of power, one that surpasses any sect of the Empire. Maybe for a major tournament or a levy for the Wall, they could summon similar numbers, but Core Formation is a realm that elders can sit at, back in the third ring. While the cultivation realms tend to elevate closer to the first ring, it's still a dramatic show of force.

There are less of them, by billions, but compared to the Empire, the quality of the powers on display seem to reach higher heights more consistently. Every elder of the Watchful Fields sect, in spite of their somewhat insecure political power, sits somewhere in the Warrior Realm of the Divergent Paths, and Raika has no doubt that fact will be true for every other colorful banner she sees arriving.

The auction is set at the peak of one of the "fingers" of Morae, a series of peaks sitting parallel and nearly touching each other. Each such peak has sects at its base, focused on the production of supplies and thus powerful by weight of how much everyone else needs them. The Watchful Fields may be a particularly powerful example, as there's always one "actually" powerful sect at the base of each peak, but they don't hold power through military might, like those higher up.

The closer you are to the peaks, the more exclusive and destructive the sect. Usually.

Between the peaks and the base, though, there are still several sects on each mountain-finger, focused on the relationship between production and power. Specialized goods, trade, and the cultivation of less overtly powerful or overwhelming techniques make up most of these sects, and some, like the Dancing Clouds sect, act as mediators between multiple sects, and often host auctions from all but the highest sects.

And so, Raika walks, traveling up stone stairs carved into the mountain, trekking one foot after the other.

It was strongly encouraged that she go up by sword or other technique, but she refused. Breathing in the cool mountain air, watching all of the figures move in, she takes her time, feeling just a touch of burn in her legs from the repetitive motion.

After hours, they're approaching the top.

She has a plan. It'll be great.

An hour later, they pass through a gatehouse, manned by a series of powerful golems built into alcoves in the mountain. A wave of a jade talisman from Qin Yana deactivates their attack-responses, and the doors at the end of the stairs open slowly, stone portals creaking from disuse.

Beyond them, after a last few steps, a platform, overflowing with the scent of Qi, cultivation, and human bodies. The beating of hundreds of hearts, echoing off of dozens of smaller restaurants and buildings, all garishly decorated, and none of them holding a candle to what sits carved into the deeper wall of the mountain.

Sitting in a crater of its own making is a single pillar, dull iron almost a thousand feet wide pushed into the wall of the mountain. Carved from its surface, made entirely of gleaming metal and decorated by a thousand-thousand lanterns and bright banners, sits the auction house.

Anchored around it, floating in the air, are dozens of impossible contraptions and insane platforms, bearing the colors of an entire nation's worth of powerful assholes. Filling the streets before it are hundreds of servants, lower-realm cultivators tensely going about their business, trying to find information, forment alliances and settle grudges.

As Raika, Bin Wei and Qin Yana approach, she smells the scent of other Watchful Fields sect-members within the auction house. She smells clouds, sky, starlight and wind, of rain and stone and fire and lightning, of colors and strange radiances she has no true name for, all of them filling the air around the building.

She can hear muttering within. Questions, shot angrily through polite phrasing and false smiles, making demands, asking questions. Some want to know when the auction will start. Some want to know what the supposed "hidden prize" is, what's been kept obfuscated from all in spite of the political weight that had to be spent to summon so many for an unknown resource.

Raika smiles. Qin Yana moves to step forward, her aura eclipsing all the other politely contained energies to announce them- and Raika steps right past her, her resting arm emerging and pushing against the iron door to the auction house.

With a pulse of hearts too vast to fit in a human body and muscle too dense to exist naturally, the iron door swings open and slams against its moorings, echoing loudly through the auction house.

Raika steps in, under hundreds of pairs of eyes, and lets out one last puff of smoke.

She smiles, her teeth sharp and her eyes glinting.

"Seniors, Juniors, and every bastard in between- Welcome! We've got a lovely auction planned for you today!"