Regressor Sect Master

The disciples punched with all their soul and spirit, and the practice puppets wobbled on impact. Some more, some just so slightly. Tundra sat on his throne, and observed each and every one of them. They were all nervous, their heartbeats furious, though some tried their best to be calm.

It is not every day that the Sect Master inspects their training, and when it happened, they all knew they had to show up and give more than what they normally had. Even the normally lazy and sneaky didn't dare behave differently.

They could all feel the presence of their Sect Master, his metallic energies left the entire practice square charged. Their blades felt extra sharp, their armor stronger, sturdier, heavier. Their clothes feel as if it's filled with static.

"Punch!" Core Disciple Kunra roared. Kunra was a recently promoted inner disciple, at the first step of the fourth realm he was weakest amongst them, and thus had the unfortunate honor of leading the outer and inner disciples' training today.

The entire open plaza was then filled with the sounds of fists smashing into the puppet. Most of the puppets were rated for the 3rd realm, though they could usually take a few hits from even the fifth realm before breaking apart.

"Again!" Kunra screamed. The day had barely started, and yet, Tundra sat unmoved. His eyes, however, roamed and looked. For the past two hours or so, he only observed.

A Sect Master must devote time to his disciples, as Jon landed next to him. "Taking an interest in our disciples today, Tundra?"

"What kind of Sect Master would I be, if I don't even inspect them once or twice." Tundra smiled at the sect elder. Jon was usually the one in charge of training, though most of the time, it is Core Disciples who lead the simpler routines. "I should have my children and grandchildren join in these daily practices."

There are many aspects of cultivation. Strength, often comes from the power of the soul. The density of their spirit and the spiritual power that they release. But there is also another aspect. The efficiency of expression. The quality of how the main soul's energy travels through the spiritual meridians, and how that is then released to the outer world.

A man with stronger muscles but lacking the technique to properly use that strength, is very much like a cultivator with a high level of cultivation, but without the finesse of his cultivation techniques. Some cultivators hone their finesse through combat. Trading pointers and discovering one's flaws through challenging others is a common, popular way. The stresses of real battle, the unpredictability of one's opponents, all help one's learning and discovery.

But simple training is also beautiful.

Drawing power from the soul.

Releasing power through the meridians.

Efficiency.

Effectiveness.

For young cultivators, there is a gap between their conception of techniques, and the execution. A chasm between imagination, and reality.

"See anything you like, Sect Master?" Jon teased.

"A lot I don't." Tundra stood, and every single disciple felt their heart skip. His voice was soft, but the plaza's design meant they all heard him loud and clear. Tundra leapt, and landed next to a disciple. "Your water energies linger in your lower meridians for too long. Your movement is sluggish as a result."

The disciple immediately knelt. "This one is foolish."

"Learn from it. Try again." Tundra said, and then, his eyes darted to the student next to him. "Your energies are unfocused. Each time you pull it from your soul through your meridians, some of it is wasted here. And here. And here." Tundra tapped the points of the disciple's arm. "Control it. Don't let it run wild. It will harm your body over time, and you will feel sore."

The second disciple did the same. "This disciple thanks the sect master for his guidance!"

Jon smiled, as he too joined the Sect Master as he commented on each and every disciple's movements. "Not every day one gets direct instruction from the Sect Master. Remember those words and practice it well."

He proceeded through the disciples, and then, he stopped before Marsh Eastheart. "Metal energies have a tendency of jumping from meridian to meridian. This is the nature of metal energy. Fire burns through the spiritual pathways, water flows, earth rolls, and wood grows. Metal, is innately the fastest of the five."

Marsh had good form. The boy was talented, and the way he learned seemed to be through mimicry.

"Your fists, and your flesh, is not keeping up with the strength of your spiritual energy. This is why you feel as if each punch exerts you so much. Your spiritual pathways are clear, but your flesh burns from each hit."

Jon blinked. He had noticed the boy's talent, but there are some insights only someone of Tundra's talent could spot.

"Jon, arrange for some body strengthening elixirs for this boy. Those derived from the metal lizard family of elixirs should be good."

"As you wish. Young disciple, you will have to come with me after this."

After that, Tundra sat back at the throne, and looked at Kunra. "You may continue."

Kunra nodded. "As you command. You heard the Sect Master! Let's practice kicks!"

The outer and inner disciples would go through a basic physical routine, and later simple weapons attack session where they attempt to attack the puppets.

A few of these inner disciples went to the Scarlet Thunder Sect and the Mystical Harbors Sect. The Scarlet Thunder was especially humbling, since many of their inner disciples were strong and so many of the inner disciples got a good beating.

Tundra realized, that if the Scarlet Thunder didn't fall in his first life, the Verdant Leaf's expansion would not be so smooth.

***

Imperial Year 34004. Four years after regression.

It's been four years since Tundra returned to the past, and after the trips to the two sects, he had a lot of work piled up. Pillmaking, training, diplomacy and the sort, and for the past two months, it was exactly what he had to catch up on.

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"You've made progress." Tundra complimented his wife, Celestia, as she approached his room. Due to the work he had to do, he couldn't spare the time to cultivate with them, but now that he caught up, he finally could resume his old routine. They had dinner together, but it's been some time before they were alone.

"I have. I've been- reading." Celestia sat. Unlike Elly, Celestia was a modest woman and often dressed the part. "I had hoped to show a little more progress on my own, but I am stumped after all."

Tundra tapped the space next to her. "If I remember correctly, it is the outer connecting shapes that you are stuck with?"

Each step of the 4th realm unlocked more space to work with, and each of that space needed to be connected together to form a coherent whole. One can build a simple dirt path, or one can build a highway. Each is a tradeoff. Space, speed, power. Some forms are better than others.

"The way wood grows is like branches, and roots." Tundra recited.

Celestia knew that.

"Did you know that there are many types of root layouts? Some trees have trunk roots, some have aerial roots, some have many small roots and their roots don't go deep. You have to find one that resonates with you."

She paused as she contemplated her spiritual realm. Tundra once described the channels that connected her spiritual core to the meridians and spiritual roots as irrigation canals, but now Celestia wondered if that sort of description was more applicable to those of the water elements. For someone like her with wood spiritual roots, she should think of them as the roots of a tree, connecting the water source to the tree. But just as there are many types of rivers and canals, there are also many types of roots and trees.

As one's spiritual realm grows, the design of connections between the larger spaces of one's spiritual realm becomes more important. In the lower realms, the spiritual realm is so small that the way and layout of one's soul doesn't matter.

There were some who said it was like designing a town. The roads from the gates to your home didn't have to be properly organized when it's a small place. But when it grew to the size of a city and it took a few hours for a mortal to walk from one end to another, then the design of the roads became absolutely crucial.

"It is so unusual that so many things repeat themselves." Celestia said, noticing what is obvious once its pointed out.

"Energy permeates all things, small and large." Tundra nodded. "The rules that govern them when they are small, apply also when they are large. Similar patterns thus emerge due to these same laws on different scales. The heavens are just, in that manner."

"Just is not a word I would use to describe heaven." Celestia quipped. There is no justice in the world, and certainly not something she believed in.

"It is but one of many things. The heavens are horribly unfair in many others." Tundra smiled, and touched her chin. "Do you believe you are ready for the fifth?"

"A little more." Celestia nodded.

"Then I will wait." Tundra looked away. "Has anything happened while I was away?"

"Marin's not giving up on charging for the fifth realm. She's been- pestering me for practice."

"If she goes ahead, the consequences are hers. Success or failure, it is in her hands."

Celestia had words she wanted to say, but in the end she held it in. She looked away, and decided it was better to focus on what she really wanted. Cultivation. "Let's cultivate, husband."

Tundra nodded, and so, they cultivated together. He touched her chest, and injected the forms once more. The imprint of spiritual designs, the reality, and wisdom of millennias. Knowledge, experience, turned into a dream.

He could give it to her many times. It would be like leading a horse to a large pool of water.

But she must make that experience hers. Celestia focused, and tried to grab hold of the fragments of truth hidden within that design. Truth that was true for her.

Truth is unfortunately relative for cultivators with the power to unmake reality. As a cultivator's strength grows, their grasp on what is real, and what is not is something that grows in strength. A cultivator that loses that grasp goes insane, a sickness known to many as madness.

The madness of many divine cultivators who cannot differentiate between reality and creation is well documented. Even the greats fell prey to such faults, and, is one of the greater challenges of the higher realm. Each realm enhances control over reality, and so, each cultivator who acquires that new power must grapple with how their reality is reshaped by that new power.

Celestia blinked. The fifth realm should not be so dangerous. Not yet.

It is a challenge of the higher realms, especially when the way space behaves becomes something less of a law, and more of a guideline.

"The stones of reality you make today, in the lower realms, is what allows you to keep your mind whole in the higher realms." Tundra said, looking wistfully. "It is a mistake at the lower realms that most don't have to deal with, because they do not actually reach the level when it becomes a problem. I believe you can reach even higher. Higher than our first life together."

Celestia stopped and looked at Tundra. What was she like in his first life? These past three years were a big change for her, and she wondered what it'll be like for a few hundred more together. She sighed. "I'm sorry. You look at me as if I know what it's like-"

"Ah. Never mind." Tundra realized he had just juxtaposed a memory of Celestia over the version of her now. It was so easy to do, especially when in his mind, they are the same person. "I should not have compared the two. Let's focus."

***

Two months later, a gold-encrusted letter came with a gigantic package, and everyone in the Verdant Snow Sect came to see it.

A gift from Duke Hadrian Thunderstone, but Tundra knew what it was. The man told him beforehand.

"It seems I have a dinner to attend." Tundra said, as he opened the package, encrusted in gold and spiritual energy markings such that only he could open it. Within it was a dark red robe embroided with gold, an outfit for Tundra to join Duke Hadrian's entourage to Prince Gomerl's Imperial Dinner.

"Ah. I thought he only said it in jest." Severian teased, but they both knew Duke Hadrian would not make such jokes for imperial matters.

Of course,

Tia Truehaven and Grayne Fallows both looked uncomfortable. Grayne Fallows was a servant of Princess Luharlia, so this outreach to Prince Gomerl was not in his true employer's interests. The Truehaven and the Ancient Titans generally abstained from the conflict, but there were rumors that the Ancient Titans were biased to Prince Yaorl, though there are members of the prominent families that favored other princes.

The Ancient Titans, like most Great Sects were too large to be homogenous, even if most members of the family would respect their sect master's wishes.

For this event, only Tundra would go. There was a card, hidden within the attire that explained the details. A flying ship would arrive in three days to pick him up.

***

"I did not know you planned to side with Prince Gomerl." Tia Truehaven followed him to his study.

"Was it something that I needed to share?" The table was filled with reports, and he began to read them.

"Yes. Of course. As a guest elder I should be informed." Tia Truehaven knew that wasn't true, but she said it with such confidence that anyone else with less certainty would've flinched.

"A guest elder is just a guest elder. Foreign affairs and royal politics is an internal matter." Tundra smiled, and started to read the reports. Most of them are just merchant reports.

Tia glared. But in the end, her glares did nothing and so she turned around and left. Then, it was Grayne Fallows' turn for an audience. The man waited until the lady from the Ancient Titans was far away.

"Lord Fox." Elder Fallows walked in, silently. His presence was that of an assassin, well hidden from it all. "A moment?"

"Sit. I believe it is about the banquet?" Tundra said, as he continued to go through more reports.

"Are you planning to reach out to Prince Gomerl?"

"Yes."

"Why? Is Princess Luharl not enough?"

Tundra stopped, and looked at the elder. "The Verdant Snow Sect, and the Verdant Leaf Town, is but a small sect in the larger picture, and we wish to maintain good relations with all the royals, where possible. Attending a banquet is only that."

"That is all?"

"Yes." Tundra answered. "You should know why we should be seen as independent, and not seen as part of Princess Luharl's camp."

There was a moment of silence between the two, and then Grayne Fallows nodded. "Very well."

***