Warning Before The Mission

This was clearly a genius, most likely at the peak of his cultivation stage if Miao Ying's instincts did not deceive him. Even with the augmented prowess granted by the Devourer Art, this expert would surely pose a deadly challenge in open combat.

Nevertheless, Miao Ying schooled his features to perfect neutrality, refusing to betray even a hint of weakness. He would not grant this interloper the satisfaction of glimpsing his inner thoughts.

The young master came to a halt at an uncomfortably close distance, his smile positively radiant in both breadth and brilliance. 

When he spoke, his voice was like conjured images of honey drizzled over polished jade, at once cloying and impossibly smooth.

"You must be Junior Brother Miao, yes? My name is Wei Fang, though you may not be familiar with me. I currently hold the one hundred and fiftieth seat in the Earth Abode's Disciple Rankings."

Wei Fang. Yes, that name did provoke a flicker of recognition. Miao Ying recalled the warnings Ling Fen had imparted about this individual, painting him as little more than a glorified henchman in the service of Chetian. The unprompted mention of his precise ranking only served to reinforce that unflattering assessment.

Miao Ying had borne witness to this particular song and dance more times than he cared to count. Yet another arrogant young master, drunk on the power of his prestigious connections, making a ham-handed attempt to establish dominance over a presumed inferior. 

As if he had the time or inclination to indulge in these juvenile power plays.

Wishing to dispense with this annoyance as quickly as possible, Miao Ying cut straight to the heart of the matter. "Am I to understand that you serve as one of Chetian's lackeys? Let us forego the usual pleasantries and hollow courtesies. Speak plainly – what is it that you want from me?"

Despite the frigid bite in his words, Miao Ying knew better than to completely dismiss Wei Fang as a non-factor. Ling Fen's cautions had strongly implied that this seemingly foppish youth was a cut above Chetian's standard flunkies, warranting at least a modicum of prudence.

If Wei Fang took any umbrage at Miao Ying's brusque demeanor, he gave no outward sign. That infuriating smile never so much as twitched as he delivered his silken rejoinder. 

"Tsk, tsk - 'lackey' is such a crude and unpleasant appellation. I much prefer to think of myself as a cherished friend and valued advisor to Young Master Chetian. And as your senior brother, I would be remiss if I did not extend that same spirit of selfless guidance to you as well."

Here Wei Fang paused, his eyes hooding to serpentine slits. "You must understand, Junior Brother Miao – we disciples of the Earth Abode are bound by certain inviolable customs and traditions. Foremost among them is the sacrosanct Martial Dao Exchange. All disciples are subject to challenge at a moment's notice, and any who dare refuse forfeit resources, status, and no small measure of face. Only the most elite talents, the top five rankers in the Earth Abode, are exempt from this obligation.

"As your doting senior, please allow me to offer some friendly guidance. Consider the benefits of conducting yourself with the proper deference and humility, particularly when addressing an august personage of Young Master Chetian's stature. Comport yourself appropriately, and you may find all manner of doors opening before you. Your path will most assuredly grow smoother in turn."

Wei Fang's words dripped with mock solicitude, delivered with a solicitous air that grated on Miao Ying's nerves. Yet even as his lips curved in a patronizing smile, his eyes remained utterly cold and pitiless, hinting at the barbed steel beneath that treacly veneer.

Miao Ying strove to maintain an outward semblance of calm as his mind raced to process this latest revelation. His previous understanding of the Martial Dao Exchange's guidelines had clearly been incomplete. 

If only the top five disciples were spared from these incessant challenges, that represented a vanishingly slim margin of sanctuary. 

The overwhelming majority of the Earth Abode was thus fair game for the machinations of ambitious cultivators seeking to reinforce their dominance over their presumed lessors. It was a system precision-engineered to benefit the well-connected and ruthlessly suppress any who were perceived as weak or vulnerable.

The prudent course of action would be to keep his head down, to meekly accept this new paradigm until he had attained sufficient strength to challenge Chetian and his bootlickers directly. 

Yet even as cold reason counseled caution, every instinct Miao Ying possessed screamed in rebellion at the thought of such craven surrender.

He needed resources, and he needed them immediately. His dantian ached with a bone-deep urgency, straining against the prison of his mortal flesh in a bid for transformation. 

Demonic beast essence was a pale substitute for the mystic potencies only found in the cores of sapient beings. For him to ascend, he required the distilled quintessence of his fellow cultivators.

Moreover, if Miao Ying was being honest with himself, a part of him – a very dark and ravenous part – actively relished the prospect of crossing blades with Chetian's minions. 

The Devourer Art pulsed in anticipation, hungering for the sublime agonies unleashed by the shattering of cultivation and the unraveling of souls. Let them come, it seemed to whisper from the shadowed recesses of his mind. Let them throw themselves against the ramparts of his indomitable will and break into a thousand glittering shards.

It was almost certainly a reckless course, bordering on suicidal arrogance. But Miao Ying had never been one to meekly submit in the face of hardship or peril. He would meet this challenge as he had every other – head-on, with unwavering resolve. He would walk this path of his own choosing to the bitter end, come what may.

Miao Ying affixed a cold, cutting smile as he inclined his head in Wei Fang's direction. His voice dripped venom cloaked in honeyed silk.

"Your gracious solicitude is a marvel to behold, Wei Fang. Truly, I am blessed to be graced by the attentions of such an illustrious personage. Alas, I fear I must decline your most generous offer. If Chetian has some matter he wishes to discuss, he may do me the courtesy of presenting himself in person, rather than dispatching his errand boys to yap at my heels."

Wei Fang's eyes flashed with killing intent as Miao Ying's words found their mark. But he rallied swiftly, that maddening smile returning as he replied in a tone now freighted with menace. "A great pity. And here I thought the two of us were engaging in a bit of friendly dialogue. But if my humble advice falls on deaf ears, so be it. Some lessons, it seems, can only be learned the hard way."

Wei Fang's smile sharpened to a naked blade as he continued. "Do be exceedingly careful on your upcoming mission, Junior Brother Miao. It would be such a shame if some unfortunate accident were to befall a disciple of such vaunted potential. One hears such dreadful tales about the myriad dangers lurking beyond the sect walls."

With those parting words, Wei Fang turned on his heel and strode away, not even deigning to await a response. 

Miao Ying watched his retreating back, a thrill of excitement at war with a tangled knot of trepidation in his gut. He had just made a powerful enemy, of that there could be no doubt.

But such was the inevitable cost of ambition. A cultivator's journey was an endless waltz with danger and uncertainty. One could either meekly accept one's lot, or fight with unwavering determination for every scrap of power and prestige. 

Miao Ying's course was set – he would continue on his chosen path, unyielding and unafraid, no matter the obstacles arrayed against him.

Steeling his resolve, he resumed his journey to the mission center, a newfound fire burning in his breast. Let Chetian and his lickspittles scheme and bluster to their hearts' content. Miao Ying would not waver, would not falter, would not bend or break before the oncoming storm.

The process of selecting a mission proved almost insultingly trivial for a disciple of his current stature. 

A veritable cornucopia of spirit beast hunts, sect resource acquisition, and escort details were laid out before him, each offering rich rewards for their completion. 

It was a far cry from his Blue Wind Sect days when every opportunity had to be fought for tooth and nail, often at great personal risk for scant returns. 

Now he had his choice of high-level assignments that would have spelled certain death for any lesser cultivator.