Ultimate Magus in Cultivation World

By the fifth day, the steady rhythm of flight and cultivation was broken.

The beast rumbled low in its throat, wings tilting as if uneasy. Tian Lei opened his eyes, qi threads fading from his fingertips, and glanced at Haiyun. The elder's hand was already resting lightly on his staff, his gaze narrowed at the horizon.

Through the layered mist, faint pinpricks of light shimmered—at first like stars, but far too low, far too close. They flickered erratically, moving against the natural flow of clouds.

"Lantern shades," Haiyun murmured, voice edged with caution. "Old spirits bound to these skies. They drift harmless until disturbed—but if they think us intruders…" His staff tapped once against the beast's scales. "They swarm like moths to a flame."

The beast banked slightly, gliding through the vapor as the lights drew nearer. Their glow revealed vague, shifting forms within—like faces half-formed in smoke, eyes hollow but watching. The air grew colder, each flicker bleeding into the next until the mists around them shimmered with eerie brilliance.

The beast rumbled low, uneasy, as the first of the shades drifted near. Their light warped suddenly, twisting into jagged streaks of black lightning that snapped across the mist like cracks in the sky.

Haiyun's staff lifted in one hand, a faint glow pulsing at the carved jewel in its crown. He flicked it once, sparks scattering as the lightning bent aside. "Troublesome things," he said under his breath, eyes cold.

More shades stirred, their hollow faces gliding silently closer. Tian Lei's qi stirred in his hands, ready, while Haiyun's staff hummed again, the jewel flashing like a lantern in stormlight.

The mists grew thick, the world narrowing to pale fog, black lightning, and the steady weight of Haiyun's presence beside him.

The silence broke in an instant.

The nearest shade lurched forward, its hollow face splitting into a shriek that carried no sound, only a shockwave of pressure. Dozens followed, streaks of warped light twisting into jagged arcs that tore across the mist.

Haiyun didn't flinch. His staff rose, and with a sharp motion the jewel at its crown pulsed once. The air folded.

A ripple of the Grand Void Art surged outward, bending the space around them. The shades' attacks skidded, warped, and collapsed into nothingness as though swallowed whole. A few that pressed closer were met with Haiyun's other hand—void-forged strikes snapping through the air, detonating into bursts of pressure that shredded the shades like fragile paper lanterns.

"Persistent bastards," Haiyun muttered, voice flat as his staff swept sideways. A cluster of void bombs spun into being, spheres of compressed darkness humming with weight. With a flick, they scattered into the mist—detonating one by one in silent eruptions. The shades were ripped apart, their black lightning snuffed out like sparks drowned in rain.

Within moments, the skies fell quiet again. Only drifting mist remained, curling lazily as if nothing had stirred at all.

Haiyun exhaled once, rolling his shoulders with a faint scowl. "Irritating fuckers."

Tian Lei glanced at him, expression calm, then leaned back slightly against the beast's scaled backrest. "Well… with a guard elder like you at my side, I suppose I don't need to worry about much."

Haiyun shot him a sidelong look, half amusement and half annoyance. "Cheeky brat."

The beast steadied its wings, cutting onward through the endless veil of mist.

The beast's flight steadied, its massive wings beating in quiet rhythm, each stroke sending long ripples through the endless white around them.

For a time, the only sound was the steady thrum of wind over scales. The mist pressed close, thick as curtains, yet always parted just enough for their path to remain clear—as if the world itself acknowledged the weight of the two men riding through it.

Haiyun's staff dimmed, its jewel returning to a dull glimmer, faint as an ember refusing to die. He rested it across his lap, shoulders sinking slightly. His eyes lingered on the veils of fog, as though reading meanings hidden in their folds.

"They weren't real," he said at last, tone thoughtful, almost grudging. "Not in the way flesh and bone are. But still… that kind of pressure, that kind of cohesion—there's intent there. Something is shaping them."

Tian Lei's gaze swept the horizonless expanse, calm but sharp, as if he were weighing every curl of vapor. "A will?"

Haiyun grunted, neither agreeing nor denying. "Call it that. Or call it a remnant of what once was. Either way, something doesn't like us here."

The beast gave a low growl, its ridged spine quivering beneath them, as though in uneasy agreement.

Tian Lei closed his eyes briefly, then let his soul sense ripple outward—a thin veil of perception threading through the mists. It stretched far, yet found no end, only more of the same, folding back on itself like a hall of mirrors. Still, he felt something: a faint pulse, buried deeper than the mist wanted to reveal.

He opened his eyes, voice quiet but resolute. "There's a center. The shades were only a prelude."

Haiyun's lips tugged into a wry half-smile. "Good. I was starting to get bored."

The beast rumbled, wings tilting slightly as though it too had sensed the distant pulse. Slowly, steadily, it turned, angling toward that hidden center.

The mists thickened, swallowing light, until the air itself seemed to press down on them. In the far distance—if distance could even be measured here—a faint glow flickered. Not white, but a deep crimson, bleeding through the fog like a wound refusing to close.

Haiyun leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Ah. So the heart reveals itself."

The beast's wings beat harder, carrying them straight toward that ominous glow.

The beast surged onward, the crimson glow swelling larger with every beat of its wings.

Haiyun exhaled through his nose, expression flat as he leaned the staff against his shoulder. "Don't get ideas, brat. We're not here to play hero with whatever nests in this fog. Our goal is Azure Mist, not dueling phantoms for the thrill of it."

Tian Lei's eyes lingered on the glow, sharp as blades, but he didn't argue. His voice stayed even. "And if the path demands blood?"

Haiyun barked a short laugh, dry as sand. "Then I'll pay in coin, not veins. Mark my words—half the trouble in these realms comes from fools who think every shadow is a battlefield. I've got more work to do than wasting time slapping around random shades."

The beast rumbled low, perhaps disagreeing—or perhaps eager for battle regardless. Its claws flexed mid-flight, mist curling like torn silk between its talons.

Haiyun thumped its scaled neck lightly with the butt of his staff. "None of that. Keep us steady. We pass through, nothing more."

Yet the crimson light pulsed again, stronger this time, as if mocking his declaration. The mist bent subtly toward them, rippling like a tide drawn by a deeper current.

Tian Lei's fingers twitched, qi stirring along his meridians, but he kept his posture relaxed. His gaze slid sidelong toward Haiyun, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Elder Haiyun, I think the fog disagrees with your plan."

Haiyun grunted, jaw tightening. "Of course it does. The world always disagrees when you try to ignore its drama."

The crimson glow flared once more—no longer distant, but spreading like veins of fire through the fog ahead.

The beast hissed, wings pulling tighter as it flew straight into the bleeding heart of the mists.

The crimson glow pulsed once more, as if preparing to swallow them whole—

—but Haiyun's patience snapped. His staff lifted, jewel blazing, and he snarled under his breath, "Fuck this fog."

The Grand Void unfurled.

A single sweep of his hand tore through the mists. Space itself rippled, bending inward like a collapsing sea. Crimson veins shuddered, twisted, then were dragged screaming into the void's maw. The glow fractured into shards of red light before being devoured completely, until nothing remained but silence and pale mist.

Haiyun lowered his staff, the jewel now dim, his face unreadable save for the faint scowl pulling at his mouth.

Tian Lei had watched quietly, qi still and steady, but his gaze lingered on the way the mist had folded itself in surrender. "That wasn't part of the Grand Void Art."

Haiyun flicked him a side glance, then gave a sharp, humorless grin. "Of course not. I've dwelled in this art longer than any manual could teach. A man gets tired of reading the same damn scripture—so I started writing my own."

He leaned back, resting the staff across his lap, voice quieter but edged with a rough pride. "Call them my own modes. Adjustments. Twists. Whatever the world throws, I answer in kind."

The beast rumbled beneath them, wings steady once more, carrying them forward through the cleansed path.

Tian Lei tilted his head slightly, curiosity slipping past his otherwise calm expression. "New modes, then. How many have you carved out for yourself?"

Haiyun gave a low chuckle, half amusement, half gravel. "Around ten or so." He tapped the staff lightly against his knee, the jewel pulsing once like it agreed with him. "Each born from a fight the manuals never prepared me for. Each one ugly, refined, and mean enough to keep me alive."

Tian Lei's eyes sharpened. "Ten. That's… no small number."