Tales of the Teal Mountain Sect

Chapter 45



Year 663 of the Stable Era,

First day of the eleventh month

Eight minutes past the start of the 12th Outer Hour

The first of the flying ships approached the Crag Fist Arena, drawing ever closer to its smooth stone walls. Despite its crude name, the arena lacked the true roughness of nature. What little ruggedness there was to its exterior had been carefully sculpted, meant to accentuate rather than defy. Rather, its name referred to the outcrop the arena had been shaped from.

It was built directly into the side of the mountain itself, carved from a single piece of stone and bereft of any binding or masonry. According to the guides of the Teal Mountain Sect it had been created by Lee Taijin, the sect founder, himself.

As they told it, the Strongest Brain had determined that the peak was in need of a proper place to host its tournaments—for reasons that always seemed to change depending on which guide you asked and when you did the asking. He had punched the gray stone with his naked fist, carving the entire arena with the force of that single blow.

This part of the story always drew the most attention from the more skeptical of visitors, many of whom tended to have follow-up questions about the logistics of that sort of strike. Did the guides truly mean to say that he had carved the entire arena in its entirety in that blow? Or had he simply broken away a few large bits and come back with a chisel to finish it up later, once he'd fished the chunks out of the center.

After all, the Crag Fist Arena was quite a nice building. It featured delicate patterns of knotwork along its walls and floors, a pleasing cloud motif on its ceilings, and a series of intricate reliefs in each of its antechambers and all three of its dining halls. The relief of the four coiling serpents in the main hall came up particularly often when contesting this claim, as each beast was comprised entirely of a different vein of stone each, their interlocking coils bereft of any overlap.

While the quality of the piece was to be expected from a craftsman such as the Strongest Brain, a Void Stage cultivator well renowned for his exceptional skill at working stone, it was surely too refined to be the work of a single punch.

Were they truly expected to believe that such a magnificent piece—and they were always quite careful to reiterate that it was a magnificent piece of carving—be the result of a single application of force, in addition to the countless other meticulous details of the arena?

Nobody was arguing that it was carved by hand. Or that it could have been carved by a single cultivator. Such passion projects and hobby works were quite common among the most long-lived cultivators. After all, diligence was a trait that any cultivator of the Strongest Brain's seniority would certainly possess an overabundance of.

But it was still quite audacious to expect anyone to believe that only one blow had been involved. After all, how had he gotten the little bits out of the middle of the snakes?

Or made all the corridors exactly the same size?

Or done all the seats, the washrooms, the kitchens, and the windows?

Or the pearl in the dragon's mouth on the fourth floor?

And how had he gotten all of the stone out?

After all, cracks didn't make rocks any smaller. If anything, they made them take up more space.

But the guides of the Teal Mountain Sect would just laugh a bit at these questions, be they from disciples or foreign visitors, and suggest that that was something they should ask the founder himself about if they met him.

"Or," they would say, "you could read more about it in 'The Shaping of the Crag Fist Arena: An Analysis of Stone and Sinew', which is available for purchase in the gift shop for a mere three spirit stones."

Any who purchased the book would soon learn that it simply contained the most prevalent theories of how Lee Taijin had shaped the arena, rounded out by a record of a short interview with the cultivator himself, who went on for five pages about various ways to tempering one's body to act in true harmony with the mind, before simply stating that anyone who knew themselves and stone well enough would simply know how to do the same.

Which was hardly the satisfying answer to the question that most people buying the book were looking for, even if some of the tips he mentioned were quite helpful to even Body Reshaping cultivators.

But while the truth of its construction had been slightly forgotten over the centuries, it was still remembered by the Elders of the Teal Mountain Sect, who stood upon their raised dais. The six cultivators cast an imposing presence as they watched the first of their long-awaited guests, their ceremonial robes and objects of power drawing just as much attention as their visitor's approach. But as the first visiting sect drew ever closer, the attention of the crowd below shifted fully towards the sky, to take in the sights of the new arrivals.

As the five skyships finally drew close enough to see in detail, the audience were able to finally catch sight of the arrivals. And what an impressive sight they were to behold.

The wood of their wide prows was stained a rich shade of rosy-brown, polished to lustrous perfection. Their sails were a deep blue, a startlingly dark hue only the slightest of shades from black. That sliver of difference they raised proudly on their flags, which were the pale color of the sky on the sunniest of days. The outline of a pale white circle at the heart of each of their sails proclaimed their identity to all who witnessed, announcing that these ships were the representatives of the Profound Depths Sect.

Before them flew an Elder of the sect, his means of transport entirely unlike his followers.

While it was not uncommon for sect Elders to spend the majority of the journey on their flying ships, as such vessels were usually better suited for journeys measured in the thousands of li than flying swords or other similar methods, it was customary that the leader of a sect travel the final leg of any trip on their own power. It served a twofold purpose, shaped by both past and present.

In this modern era of peace, it was a sign of respect. That a guest would ask their host for approval for his companions to enter. But, in older times, it was a show of force. That they would serve as a vanguard for those that followed to rally behind, and a pillar to represent the might of the sect.

The Elder of the Profound Depths Sect bore those twin eras upon his shoulders as he approached, riding upon a strange slab that unsettled the qi around it. Its rough rectangular shape was a shade of black darker than both his robes and the sails of his ships, an ominous hue that seemed to swallow the light around it. Its edges seemed more a suggestion than a reality, an assumption that the eye made simply because the light of the sky emerged around its sides at jagged angles. But amidst the blackness of the slab glittered a myriad of jewels, their scattered shapes glinting like stars in a miniature night sky. Their light twinkled without pattern, their fleeting harmony forming the shapes of shifting constellations.

A gong rang out as the tapestries of light from the Jade Drifting Cloud Eye shifted to focus upon him, the rumble of the crowd hushing as he slowed to a stop, clasping a fist in his hand. A pair of small characters sprang into the air behind him as he spoke, glowing brushstrokes painted by an invisible pen as the pearl hanging from the long braid of his hair glittered with inner light.

"This Elder Yu Chongdeng greets the Teal Mountain Sect in the name of the Profound Depths Sect!" he announced with a respectful bow, his voice clear but firm as it resonated from the arrays carved into the pillars that rimmed the arena. "By our accord, we have come to share knowledge and allow our disciples to refine their cultivation through competition. Will you allow us the honor of entering your sect?"

After a breath an Elder of the Teal Mountain Sect returned his greeting, half the tapestries around the arena shifting to a view of his visage so that the image of the two cultivators facing each other across the vast distance was clear for all to see. The lizard guai raised his head as he spoke, faint flames flickering around his spiked crest as his voice rang through the arena.

"In the name of the Teal Mountain Sect, I, Elder Chai Angran, welcome the Profound Depths Sect to Clear Jade Mountain!" he announced, raising his hands as the audience cheered in excitement. "May our meeting be prosperous, and our insights deep!"

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The Elder of the Profound Depths Sect bowed again, this time at Elder Angran's courteous use of his sect's own greeting, his ships floating into place around the arena as he descended to the applause of the crowd. He landed in a box on the upper ring, taking a seat in a well-appointed chair, above which the banners for his sect had been hung in advance. His strange slab twisted in the air behind him, until it shrank to the size of a simple clay tablet and slid itself up his sleeve.

As the murmur of the crowd began to rise again, another gong rang out across the arena, followed soon by a second, the two sounds briefly overlapping as their twin echoes faded. The tapestries shifted again, to give the audience the view of the new arrivals approaching from opposite directions.

To the east, three boats with pale hulls and leafy green sails growing from the vines that twisted around their masts. To the west a pair of flat vessels, their shape long and metallic, bereft of any extremity save the faint patterns etched into their bright gray sides.

"The Thousand Grains Pavillion greets the Teal Mountain Sect," announced a tall, green-robed cultivator riding upon a full lotus flower with a bow, her hair a pale blonde a shade removed from the flower beneath her. Her words drifted like the breeze, gently brushing the audience in their passing.

"The Iron Plate Sect greets the Teal Mountain Sect," a burly cultivator atop a massive gong declared, the faces forged into his armor echoing his words as the butt of his staff struck his vessel in a martial greeting.

A pair of Elders from the Teal Mountain Sect returned their greeting, each addressing a different arrival in turn. As before, the Elders of the visiting sects graciously bowed as they were welcomed, taking the places prepared for them as their ships joined the growing number encircling the arena. Almost a full stick passed before the sound of a gong rang out again, at first once, and then two more times barely a moment later. The sky around the Crag Fist Arena became more wood than air, as sect after sect announced their greetings.

"The Great Dessert Walkers once again thank the Teal Mountain Sect for their gracious hospitality," said a cultivator standing upon a polished blade of wood with an asymmetrical zigzag cut through it, his antennae flicking together as he bowed his head. He wore a white robe decorated with a pattern of leaves in motley shades of pinks, reds and greens, and a small cap with a matching pattern upon his chitinous scalp.

"The Edge's Blade Scholars greet the Teal Mountain Sect," a cultivator in a rough wool robe declared from atop a flying sword. He wore a dark sash across his chest, a representation of the Immortal Scar that his sect had dedicated themselves to studying.

"With a firm heart, the Thunderous Calm Sect greets the Teal Mountain Sect!" shouted a yellow-robed cultivator from the famed exorcism sect. His loud voice echoing around the arena without any need for a qi technique, causing the audience to cover their ears until the echoes faded.

As the Elders of the Teal Mountain Sect finished the last of the greetings, a final gong rang out. The attention of the audience once again turned to the glowing tapestries around the arena, as at last the ships of the Xan Empire appeared upon them.

The imperial ships were an awe-inspiring sight, dwarfing the vessels that had come before them. Their long hulls were formed from the trunks of centuries-old rosewood trees, carved with elaborate arrays and gilded with exotic metals designed to amplify their power. Snarling fu dogs adorned each side of their flat prows, flanking crimson banners that bore the same symbol as each of their three triangular sails: a golden turtle shell, its edges rough like the border of the continent itself. Each of its scutes bore the name of a different sect of the empire, radiating out from the central hexagram that bore the character of Xan.

All of the Elders of the Teal Mountain Sect bowed as the ships slowly drifted towards the arena, the general guiding them gliding gently ahead of his four vessels on a slender jian. Elder Xiao Aihui, the Supreme Elder of Clear Jade Mountain stepped forwards to deliver their greeting herself, the other Elders parting as she did.

"This Elder Xiao Aihui of the Teal Mountain Sect welcomes the Imperial Scholars to our humble peak," she declared. Her voice was rang out over the mostly hushed crowd, filled with the qi of a Spirit Formation cultivator.

The cultivator of the Empire bowed slightly before replying, the force of his voice matching hers as he spoke. "As ever, the Xan Empire accepts the hospitality of the Teal Mountain Sect."

He lazily floated over towards his box, opposite from the dais of the Elders of the Teal Mountain Sect. His ships separated as he did, taking a position at each of the four points of the arena. The tapestries flickered as they focused back on Xiao Aihui as she cleared her throat.

"Welcome all, to the—"

She stopped.

Her words caught in her throat as she stared at the sky, watching as a flash of light like a second sun faded as quickly as it had appeared.

In its place stood a man, with long brown hair and a slender frame.

He wore a pale tan robe and a wide straw hat with a beaded cord that dangled against his neck, each worn from travel. On his back was an old traveler's staff, the faint traces of time-polished symbols spotting the wood between an overabundance of small charms and decorative ribbons from a hundred lands.

The audience went silent, even the faintest of whispers shriveling in their speakers mouths as they took in the man's presence. The air itself froze, even the faintest of sounds of nature stilling. On instinct some tried to reach for weapons or storage rings, but their limbs refused to cooperate, halting before their reflexes could finish such a treacherously suicidal act.

This was no threat.

Or at least not one in the sense that it was something that they could ever hope to oppose.

No, this was something far beyond even the mightiest cultivator present.

A being who weighed upon the world.

One whose presence was known even before it could be felt.

A single word ran through the minds of every cultivator present:

Immortal.

One who had reached the pinnacle of cultivation, and grasped the deepest mysteries of the Dao.

A being like those who had forever marked the world with their passing, scarring it for all those who came after.

The Thousand Li Immortal raised his hands. His right formed a fist. His left an open palm. In a single motion he clasped them together, the soft sound like thunder in the utter silence as he bowed deeply, the motion suddenly captured across every tapestry by the Jade Drifting Cloud Eye.

"The journey of a thousand Lis," he began. His voice was soft, but somehow clear to all, despite the fact that he spoke with no great volume or power. It was like he was standing beside each listener, addressing them like companions in a casual conversation, despite the vast gulfs that separated them. Not a single being across the peak or the surrounding countryside was able to miss his words, as they lingered faintly in each of their minds even as they faded from their ears.

At once hundreds of cultivators rose. From the arena, the flying ships that surrounded it, and all across the peak they stood, facing towards the Immortal as they clasped their hands and answered as one.

"Begins with specifying which family they are from," came the thunderous continuation, the flood of united voices like a roar as it diverged.

"Li Zhan of the Stone Tige—!"

"Li Lee of the Verdant—!"

"Li Feng of the—!"

"Li Peizhi of—!"

"Li Gho—!"

"Li—!"

"Li—!"

"Li!"

"Li!"

"Li!"

As the jumble of disparate greetings ended the Thousand Li Immortal laughed, the sound breaking the tension like the peal of a bell announcing the end of a storm.

"Ah, so many of you! It's always good to find a familiar face or two at a gathering like this!" He laughed again at his own joke and a few in the audience joined him, the sound somehow washing away their nerves. "I expect you to put on a good show. It was a long walk to get here, so it better be worth it!"

"I suppose that we'll have to rise to that expectation!"

A voice rang out, and the audience looked up once again as they felt the air rumble as it announced the sudden arrival of another presence. Only the members of the Teal Mountain Sect remained calm, already recognizing the far-too-familiar sensation.

With a sound like thunder Founder's Peak descended, the flying mountain parting the clouds with the force of its descent above the circled skyships, the mighty vessels dwarfed by its immensity. The air was pushed aside as it did its best to evade far too much stone moving far faster than gravity would allow, screaming in protest against its sheer mass. Lines of power carved in granite and jade pulsed as they fulfilled their purposes, slowing its plummet. With a last burst of qi it came to a halt, hanging in place with a stillness any brick would envy.

Despite its enormous size the flying peak cast no shadow, its creator's mastery of arrays preventing it from creating such an inconvenience to those below. A shape blurred from the top of the peak, flashing through the air before it stopped before the Thousand Li Immortal. Some of the cultivators of the fourth stage managed to catch sight of the figure as it moved, the rest only recognizing him after the tapestries of the Jade Drifting Cloud Eye managed to focus on him a moment later.

Lee Taijin. The founder and master of the Teal Mountain Sect.

He stood before the Thousand Li Immortal, robes hanging loosely around his waist as the two stared at each other. His body was like chiseled stone, every sinew more resembling an ideal of physicality made manifest than mere flesh. Bulky yet elegant. Abundant and yet minimal. The physique of a body cultivator of the Void stage, of a cultivator that was but a step away from reaching the true heights of Immortality. A goal that stood three feet from him.

On each of his wrists glinted a long bracelet of jade spheres carved with indecipherable symbols, their lengths wrapped fivefold around his thick forearms. His short gray hair stuck out at odd angles like a tree-wrapped mountaintop, the fringe of which just barely reached the top of his thick, bushy eyebrows.

He looked over the Thousand Li Immortal, fully taking in his appearance before their eyes met, his bright green pupils meeting the Immortal's gentle brown eyes. As the audience gasped he stuck out an arm to him, hand extended in a gesture far too casual for their difference in status.

Without hesitation the Thousand Li Immortal took it with a smile, the two clapping each other on the back as they greeted each other in a manner more suited for a small town bar than a cultivation Sect. After a long moment and a few words too quiet for anyone else to hear they broke apart. Lee Taijin turned towards the gathered crowd, a glowing image of his face three hundred feet tall tracing itself into the sky above him.

"Once again, the Teal Mountain Sect welcomes you to our mountain," he announced, his voice ringing across every array in the sect as he spoke. "Once again, we gather in the spirit of competition and learning. And so, without any further ado, let the Great Meeting of the Sects begin!"


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