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Chapter 14: Unkind
🕑 Added 2025-04-14 07:56:28 +0000 UTCThe first thing anyone would notice was the noise.
The cadence of violence intensified with every step Feng took towards the Sparring Halls’ entrance. It was a symphony that began long before the first of the morning rays graced the Sect Compound, and did not end even after the shattered moon rose high in the sky during the late evenings.
Shockwaves pounded against the Young Master’s eardrums as the disciples inside clashed against each other with impossible force and speed. The sound alone would have deafened a mortal’s ears, and even for cultivators, the relentless barrage of ear-rupturing explosions could cause serious damage or bleeding if they were not careful.
Next came the heat. Though the walls of the Sparring Halls were inscribed with heat-damping talismans crafted by the scholars of the Scripture Towers, the traces of otherworldly flames were palpable even from a distance. On days when Core Disciples or Elders trained within, the temperatures in the surrounding clearings could make a mortal sweat as if they were in a sauna, while inside, the heat would ignite them instantly.
Both of these things would be enough to leave a man stupefied and hesitant to go further. But if neither sound nor heat would faze him, perhaps the sight and smell would.
Hei Feng opened the doors, and beheld a world of endless bloodshed.
The inside of the building was a canvas of red and black. Blood, guts, and burnt flesh were strewn across the interior’s floors and walls. More than fifty disciples filled the vast square hall, which stretched over two hundred meters wide and stood a quarter of that in height. Sparring platforms were scattered at seemingly random heights, interconnected by sloped ramps and spaced sufficiently to ensure ample room for the battles on each floor. The arrangement was both paradoxically chaotic and meticulously ordered.
The same cannot be said for the combatants or their battles. There, one would only find chaos.
Disciples shouted and blasted gouts of flames at each other. Some threw punches that would have been instantly fatal to a lesser man, shattering ribs or pulverising flesh with each strike. Others spew streams of fire from their lips, engulfing their opponents in explosions of golden light and blazing heat.
Those of greater marital proficiency wielded quarterstaffs tipped with metal reinforcements, their weighted caps and superior reach delivering devastating blows to unarmed opponents. Yet more impressive still were the glaive users — disciples who bore the signature weapons of the Sect with pride as they cleaved apart limbs with surgical precision.
The unlucky few disciples who took direct hits were flung from their platforms and thrown to the lowest floors below, where their broken bodies splattered noisily against the ground, painting the walls red with burning blood.
There were more than a few unmoving disciples strewn at the bottom already. Attendants from the Medical Pavilion rushed to attend to them or to put those too injured on stretchers so that they may receive more intensive treatment elsewhere.
The ceiling was made of a transparent material — not glass, as the heat and brutality of the fights would have ensured the destruction of such fragile material within the week. Rather, a peculiar orange quartz was used.
Mined from deep within the mountain upon which the Sect called home — and where the body of the Divine Corpse resides — the quartz possessed extreme fire-resistant properties, while also having a unique feature which intensified the sun’s rays that passed through it.
Those positioned closer to the top of the Sparring Hall could more effectively harness those celestial rays and better fan the flames of cultivation within them. Even when weakened by the Jade Clouds that hung over the skies, the qi-giving light of the myriad Stars could still expedite advancement greatly. As such, the privilege of training on the higher floors was afforded only to those who could fight to keep their place.
Naturally, the stronger disciples were on the higher levels, where they might profit from the greater ambience.
As was their right.
Fire burst. Temperatures soared. Flesh burned. Blood sprayed. Limbs flew off. And bodies fell. Such was the norm within the Beheaded Phoenix Sect’s training halls. All participated and inflicted the most grievous of harms on each other, done to attain the barest drop of divinity from the Sect.
No one ever said that the Path to Immortality was kind.
The hellish sight within would have sent a mortal into shock. Even newer Disciples would question the worthiness of their Path when first presented with such wanton violence and suffering willingly borne. No sane man could look upon such self-destructive madness and not flinch.
To participate in such insanity went against every ingrained evolutionary instinct of self-preservation.
But fear was no reason for any true cultivator to step away from the Path. Eventually, the temptation of tasting Divine flesh drew all, claimed all. Nothing was too precious to sacrifice, if their loss meant the satiation of one’s endless hunger. Every act was sanctioned, so long as it was done in the pursuit of obtaining Immortality.
And so, to encourage such devotion, every Sect in the Flesh-Grafted Empire housed Sparring Halls, where the disciples of the Sect may engage in eternal war amongst themselves. Every day, at every hour, each aspirant competed, deceived, and brutally mauled away at their fellow disciples, men and women they called Brother and Sister within the Sect. Their existence became defined by strife; each victory brought them closer to divinity, whether through meditative combat experience gained, spirit stones earned from duels, flesh torn and consumed from their fearful peers, or the acknowledgement of respected Seniors and Elders which could open up new opportunities. All were crucial for their advancement.
Ever hungry, ever starving, ever violent. That was how one should behave. That was the way things had to be in order to nurture great cultivators.
That was the world they lived in, the world made by His Perverse Majesty.
“Young Master!” An Inner Disciple greeted him with a bow as he entered the halls. “What matters have forced your Honourable presence to grace our unworthy selves? You need but request, and this disciple, Ni Jing, will fulfil your desire with every ounce of my capabilities!”
“Nonsense!” Another Inner Disciple intervenes. “Venerable Young Master, do not listen to that imbecile. He is but a village bumpkin that had somehow stumbled his way into our venerated Sect. I, He Shou, will fulfil your request in this trash’s place!”
“You dare!” The first disciple snarled, robes flaring. “He Shou, you motherless scum, I’ll–”
“Enough.” With a single word, Hei Feng had their attention. This level of posturing was common. Expected, even. For an Inner Disciple, being able to curry favour with the Young Master of the Sect was a rare and fortuitous opportunity. It didn’t help that Feng had garnered a slight reputation as someone who was reasonable and would repay all assistance given.
At the very least, he never harmed a disciple outside of a spar for any perceived slight to his pride, which made seeking out his favour a less risky proposition than that with one of the Core Disciples or Elders.
“Where is Elder Jun?” he asked.
“The venerable Elder is overseeing the training at his usual place near the roof. Shall I relay a message for you, Young Master?” The first disciple spoke before the second could interject.
“No need,” Feng replied, watching idly as a group of medical disciples attended to an injured Disciple, whose body better resembled a lump of charcoal rather than a human’s. “And Brother Dai? I heard he was in—”
A blazing explosion overhead cuts their conversation short, blanketing the entire hall in a furious wave of heat and noise. The shockwave was such that Hei Feng had to redirect his qi to protect his ears and eyes from the shockwave before the surge of boiling pressure could damage them.
The nearby Inner Disciples were not so fortunate nor swift to react, and began bleeding from ruptured eardrums or seared-off eyelids.
Even the Core disciples were caught off-guard by the violent blast, but most soon regained their footing and resumed their battles, with more than a few making use of the momentary distraction to tilt the odds in their favour against their opponents.
Seconds later, the blackened and burning remains of a disciple fell splat against the ground, forming an inglorious heap of burnt flesh and charred bones. His gold-rimmed robes, which were visible even through the ruinous damage inflicted, told him that the body belonged to a Core Disciple. More than that, the disciple had fallen from the highest floor of the Sparring Hall, where that enormous explosion occurred. The acolytes of the medical pavilion soon rushed to him, dodging the other bodies that rained as the fighting intensified after that brief distraction.
Hei Feng directed his qi towards the bloody lump, and breathed a sigh of relief when he found the body’s head still attached to its misshapen torso. As expected, Brother Dai held back by just the right amount of force. The healers should make it in time if they are fast.
“S-senior Brother Dai is at his usual place near the top, Young Master,” the Inner Disciple before him tried to appear calm, but the slight wobble in his words betrayed his awe and fear at that blatant display of power.
“I gathered that,” Feng said, amused. The disciple flinched at his words, but the Young Master raised his arms in a placating manner. “I mean no slight, junior. I shall meet both of them myself. Thank you for your assistance.”
Feng reached inside his robes and pulled out two gleaming spirit stones. “Here, for your trouble.”
The two disciples' eyes widened like saucers. Spirit stones — lumps of crystallised Qi mined from deep within the Divine-bearing mountains — were highly coveted resources for cultivators. The Sect regularly distributed them as their consumption was vital for advancement, but with how valuable they were, they were only given out in small amounts. Outer Disciples receive merely a single shard a month. Inner Disciples receive one every two weeks. And Core Disciples receive one every fifth day.
Hei Feng had been consuming spirit shards at least once a day since he broke through into the Foundation Realm.
For an Inner Disciple to be gifted a shard when they had barely done anything was a ludicrous stroke of fortune. The two disciples instantly bowed to their waist level.
“This one is not worthy of your generosity!” They both yelled simultaneously.
“It's alright”, he said, handing each of them a shard. Hei Feng’s eyes were on them, but his senses perceived the many jealous and covetous stares aimed at the two disciples’ way. “I would recommend leaving these halls and consuming the stones somewhere private immediately, if the two of you have no other matters here.”
At the Young Master’s insistent stare, the two of them bowed once more, yelling their thanks before they both sprinted for the exit. Feng made sure no one followed them out for a minute before he relaxed.
It would not do for his generosity to inspire more violence.
“That was kind of you.”
A familiar voice called out to him. Lianshi? Feng tensed, before he recognised the tone being a pitch higher than the one he misunderstood. He chuckled, relaxing.
“Perhaps I simply believe that there is enough bloodshed in these halls already,” he said, before turning around with a smile. “I greet the Young Miss of the Chen Clan.”
“The other Young Miss, you mean.” A diminutive young girl walked up beside him. Her amber eyes, so much like his Fiancée’s, stared at him in a challenging manner. “No need to mince your words, Senior Brother. This one is not so easily insulted.”
The girl was Chen Lingyu. His soon-to-be Sister-in-law.
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Divine Beings, Part 1
Divine Beings — often also referred to as Divine Beasts — are powerful and inhuman celestial entities condensed from the cosmic energies released by the Astral Heaven.
The origins of Divine Beasts lie within the Celestial Court located near the top of Mount Tai, where the land's proximity to the heavens allowed the first sentient beings to bathe in its otherworldly energies and transmogrify into a higher lifeform. The very bodies of these celestial creatures are bursting with qi, and their mythical powers are far beyond the limits of mortal men. They could conjure great storms, manipulate space and time itself, and even revive the dead.
Such fantastical arcane powers did little to prevent them from being slain, butchered, and devoured by the forces of men during the War against Heaven. In the end, it seems even the inviolable might of the Stars could not save them from the voracious appetite of hungry humans.
– Excerpt from An Account of Divine Corpses, a basic Imperial document detailing the Divine Corpses found throughout the Outer Provinces, used by Imperial Bureaucrats that administer the Outer Provinces
