356 Weight of Mortality

356

The Caravan

to

Ironleaf

It had been two full weeks since I registered for the merchant caravan bound for the Ironleaf Frontier. The days leading up to the departure were spent training in the mornings, listening to tavern chatter in the afternoons, and meditating in the evenings to adjust this body’s inferior cultivation. I could only describe it as tedious yet strangely peaceful.

The Ironleaf Frontier was the closest place to a civilization from the Empire and the uncharted regions beyond. It was a place constantly harassed by bandits, wandering beasts, and mercenary warlords who found no place within the great nations. That kind of chaos suited me fine, with enough danger to temper this body, and enough opportunity to learn. I planned to decide on my next destination only after I reached Ironleaf.

Currently, my biggest concern was finding my way to the quest objective.

“I heard the Holy Emperor abolished the Seven Imperial Households,” one merchant said while rolling his sleeves. “About time! Those dogs had us paying taxes even on air.”

“True enough,” replied another, a woman in faded silks. “But who knows if this Holy Emperor will stay the same once power sinks into his head? The last one started out benevolent too, remember?”

A younger man chimed in, “Don’t say that! The Great Guard’s been handing out food every week in the poor quarters. My sister was healed by one of their believers after the fever took her. If that’s tyranny, I’ll take it.”

Someone nearby scoffed. “Bah. Religion and state… never a good mix. That’s why the Sects isolated themselves, remember? They preach light, but all I see are temples built with our coin.”

I couldn’t help smiling faintly as I walked past them. It was both humbling and amusing to hear the people speak freely about my rule without knowing I stood among them. Mixed opinions were fine. Fear was easy to earn; trust took time.

By midday, I reached the edge of the border city where the caravan assembled. Dozens of floating crates and metal-bound carriages hovered slightly above the ground, connected to a row of broad, rune-marked ships, each easily the length of a mansion. The air shimmered faintly beneath their hulls, the telltale sign of low-grade warp formations.

Standing on top of a crate was a middle-aged man with a jagged scar running across his cheek.

“Alright, everyone, listen up!” the man shouted, his voice cutting through the crowd’s noise. “My name is Jin Xiuying, owner and master of the Iron Ox Caravan!” He gave a brief bow, rough yet genuine. “I thank each and every one of you for joining this venture beyond the Empire’s borders. You’re here to escort my goods, my people, and, by extension, your own lives to Ironleaf. Do your part well, and you’ll be paid handsomely for it!”

A small cheer rippled through the gathered mercenaries and adventurers. I scanned them quietly with my Divine Sense. There were around fifty cultivators at the Martial Tempering Realm like me, about a dozen in Mind Enlightenment, and a couple in Will Reinforcement. Jin Xiuying himself, though dressed plainly, carried the energy of a Spirit Mystery cultivator.

“The journey won’t be easy!” Jin Xiuying continued, pacing across the crate. “Even with warp formations, we’re looking at two months of travel to reach Ironleaf. There’ll be no shortcuts, no early returns. We’ll move as a group and split into five vessels, each with its own guards and couriers. Stay sharp, stay disciplined… or you’ll end up as beast feed before the first week’s out!”

The murmuring died down as his tone grew more serious.

“Now, about your pay,” Jin Xiuying said, holding up a parchment scroll. “Your base rewards are written in your individual contracts. However, I’m not a stingy man — for every beast or bandit you kill, I’ll add bonuses from my personal purse!”

That got everyone’s attention.

He motioned toward four figures behind him, burly men wearing rings that gleamed with faint spirit light. “These are my couriers,” he said proudly. “Each of them wears a storage ring on every finger. They carry our trade goods from rare ores, refined spirit herbs, and supplies bound for Ironleaf. They’re all cultivators of the Second Realm, Mind Enlightenment.”

He looked over the group of adventurers with a steely gaze. “Your number one priority is to protect them. If they die, we all lose. The storage rings are protected by self-destructive formations, meaning that if the wearer dies, the contents vanish with them. You have been warned.”

A murmur of understanding swept through the crowd.

I folded my arms, observing quietly. The logistics here fascinated me. In this world, storage rings were everything. They were the heart of trade, warfare, and survival. Instead of long convoys of beasts and wagons, they carried entire fortunes within a handful of enchanted rings. Now, with flying ships enhanced by warp formations, the world truly felt smaller.

Still, I couldn’t help recalling Nongmin’s smug grin when he told me that his warp formations were impossible to replicate or crack without something as powerful as the Heavenly Eye or the Destiny-Seeking Eyes. He might’ve been right, since these commercial ones felt weaker and less refined. I guessed, there was wisdom in securing your technology. But I hoped one day, they could be easier to access.

Jin Xiuying clapped his hands, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Alright! That’s enough chatter! We’re leaving within the hour!”

He raised his voice, echoing across the field. “All guards and escorts, divide yourselves into five groups, one for each vessel! Check your names, settle your equipment, and be ready to move out!”

I’d done my share of escort quests in my old days of LLO, so I didn’t think much of this one. How hard could it be? It wasn’t like I’d be stupid enough again to solo a complete Hell’s Gate event with a half-broken build and no healer. Compared to that suicidal stunt from my Yellow Dragon days, this should be a walk in the park.

When the placement of cultivators was finalized, I found myself assigned to the same vessel as Jin Xiuying. Lucky me. If the caravan master stayed here, this ship would probably be the safest. We had about ten Martial Tempering cultivators, two at Mind Enlightenment, and, of course, Jin Xiuying himself at Spirit Mystery.

The ship vibrated softly as its runes flared to life. The hum of the warp formation resonated beneath the deck as we slowly drifted away from the dock. I joined the rest of the passengers near the railing, where a light wind greeted us as the city’s walls began to shrink in the distance.

“First time leaving the Empire?” asked a wiry-looking cultivator beside me. He wore brown robes with frayed edges and had an easy grin.

“Something like that,” I replied, smiling back. “Name’s Wei Da. What about you?”

“Gao Ren,” he said, shaking my hand. “You look new to this kind of work. Just be glad you got placed under Boss Jin’s ship. He knows what he’s doing. You’ll live longer that way.”

A few others laughed nearby. One of them, a woman with her hair tied up and a spear slung over her shoulder, added, “Don’t get too comfortable. The Ironleaf route eats caravans whole when luck turns. Jin’s got a good track record, but no one’s invincible.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” I said dryly, earning another round of chuckles.

Even among Martial Tempering cultivators, there was a hierarchy of pride. Those closer to Mind Enlightenment were curt, sometimes outright dismissive, but I’d always prided myself on being able to talk my way into friendly terms. A few jokes, some casual chatter about training methods and food rations, and soon I’d warmed up to most of the lower-ranked ones.

When the gates of the border city creaked open, I turned my gaze downward.

Beyond the wall, the world was green. Endless forests stretched far as the eye could see, cloaked in a thick mist that shimmered faintly with spirit light. Giant trees rose like towers, some wide enough to hold entire dwellings within their trunks. The air here felt heavier and rich with primal qi that made my skin prickle.

The first month of travel was surprisingly smooth. The warp formations weren’t the fastest, but they shaved weeks off the journey. Every so often, we’d spot flashes of light in the distant treeline, beasts with glowing scales or flying shadows that stirred the wind, but nothing too aggressive dared to approach. The few that did, mostly beasts between the Fifth and Seventh Realms, were handled swiftly.

Jin Xiuying had a knack for efficiency. He’d wave a talisman, the paper burning into a blue flame, and a wall of force would crush or repel whatever tried to charge us. The crew would cheer, and we’d go back to our routine as if nothing had happened.

Sleeping conditions, however, were less than ideal. The deck was cold and open, and I hadn’t thought to bring any bedding. I used Divine Flesh to regulate my body’s temperature, though lying on hardwood with nothing but wind for company wasn’t exactly comfortable. For someone used to sleeping under stars and battlefields, though, I could manage.

Entertainment came in the form of sparring matches. Jin Xiuying approved of them, provided no qi was used, since he didn’t want anyone punching holes through his ship. Most days after dinner, we’d form a ring on deck and cheer as two Martial Tempering cultivators went at it with raw strength and skill.

As we watched one such bout, I leaned toward Gao Ren. “Brother Gao, what’s Ironleaf like? Never been there myself.”

He folded his arms, eyes fixed on the fight. “Ironleaf’s a frontier city. Used to be wilderness, but the Martial Alliance took it over recently. Built it from scratch, they say… with walls, forges, even teleport arrays. Funny, right? They never used to build cities.”

“The Martial Alliance?” I repeated, surprised.

“Yeah,” Gao Ren nodded. “Word is, they’re trying to set roots. Some of the old heroes got tired of endless wandering and decided to make something permanent. They’re calling it the Ironveil Project. I don’t know the details, but it’s attracting a lot of attention… and trouble.”

That caught me off guard. The Martial Alliance wasn’t the type to settle down. Traditionally, they existed as a network with a loose collective of masters, heroes, and wandering cultivators who served as mediators across nations. Building a frontier city sounded… unlike them. It hinted at organization, maybe even ambition.

Of course, they had cities and sects under their protection who’d pay taxes, but in the end, those were considered as affiliates and not a direct subordinate, like how most feudal systems enforced their rule.

“I see,” I said quietly, watching the duel end with one fighter collapsing, gasping for air.

“Crazy times, huh?” Gao Ren added, scratching his chin. “Used to be, all the big powers wanted peace. Now everyone’s planting flags.”

“Maybe peace is too boring,” I said with a grin.

“Ha! Maybe.”

Jin Xiuying’s booming voice interrupted us. “That’s enough for today! The winner is Zhao Feng, from the Red Lake branch! Good form, good control!”

A cheer erupted as the victor raised his hand. Jin Xiuying tossed a small pouch toward him, the coins inside jingling audibly. “Ten silver from the betting pot! Spend it wisely or recklessly, I don’t care!”

Laughter filled the deck as the fighters clapped each other’s backs.

The night had just begun to cool when a sharp voice cut across the deck.

“You there, moss head!”

I blinked, glancing up from my seat near the railing. A man in pale-blue robes stood across the deck, his arms crossed and an unpleasant smirk twisting his face. The hum of conversation around us fell quiet as heads turned.

He was one of the Mind Enlightenment cultivators assigned to our ship. He was tall, proud, and radiating the kind of arrogance that came from both realm and ego.

A murmur swept through the gathered escorts.

“Wait, he’s calling out the new guy?”

“Isn’t the new guy the one who got in a fight at the guild?”

“Yeah, he kicked someone’s knee in.”

“Hah, maybe this is revenge.”

I rose slowly to my feet, keeping my expression neutral. “You talking to me?”

“Of course I am.” The man smiled thinly. “I’ve been watching you. You’re too comfortable around your betters, chatting and joking like equals. You should learn your place before you embarrass yourself further.”

The words were enough to silence the entire deck. Even the gamblers from earlier stopped rolling dice. I studied him carefully. His face tickled a memory. It hit me… I’d seen him before, in the Adventurer’s Guild. He was in the line in front of that mace-wielding brute I’d knocked out cold. Wait a second…

Ah. So that’s what this was.

“Funny,” I said, my tone mild. “You sound like someone with a personal grudge.”

I had a feeling I just did something wrong with my taunting.

“Maybe I do,” said the other guy as he smirked disdainfully in my direction.” Or maybe I simply can’t stand seeing a weakling strut like a rooster. Either way, why don’t we settle it with a friendly spar?”

A ripple of excitement swept through the watching cultivators.

“A duel?” someone whispered.

“He’s at Mind Enlightenment! That’s not fair.”

“Qi’s restricted. It’ll be fine,” another said.

“Fine? He’ll still crush him!”

I sighed inwardly. “So that’s it? You just want to teach me a lesson?”

“That’s right,” he said smoothly. “Think of it as an education in humility.”

I scratched my head and gave a short laugh. “Well, since we’re educating, I guess I’ll have to be a diligent student.”

The cheer that went up was in between amusement and disbelief.

Jin Xiuying stepped forward from the upper deck, his presence immediately quieting the commotion. His Spirit Mystery aura wasn’t released, but everyone felt it. “This will be a sparring match,” he said, his tone clipped and measured. “Qi use is prohibited, and any deliberate maiming will be punished. If either of you goes too far, I will personally stop it. Understood?”

“Yes, Caravan Master,” I replied, bowing slightly.

“Of course, Master Jin,” the Mind Enlightenment cultivator echoed, his tone oily.

Jin Xiuying’s eyes narrowed as he looked directly at the man. “And I trust you will remember the spirit of restraint. The purpose of sparring is temperance, not domination.”

The cultivator gave a shallow bow. “I am not so lacking in class, Master Jin. I merely wish to honor our traditions that those of higher realm guide their juniors. It is a matter of hierarchy, not malice.”

That line earned him a few approving nods from the onlookers. Jin Xiuying even gave a small smile, nodding. “A remarkable spirit. Discipline between realms preserves order. Very well… proceed.”

I knew better than to think Jin Xiuying would cover for me. I was a Martial Tempering nobody, while this guy was clearly one of the higher-ranked escorts. The best I could do was not embarrass myself too badly.

I walked to the middle of the open deck, the wooden planks cold beneath my feet. Around us, the others began to form a circle, eager for entertainment.

I drew my black iron sword, the blade humming faintly as it left the scabbard. It was a plain weapon, unadorned, but well-forged and perfect for this level.

My opponent unfurled a folding fan, its metallic edges gleaming with wicked sharpness. He snapped it open with a flick of his wrist, the faint sound slicing through the air.

“Lin Jing,” he introduced himself with a bow. “Mind Enlightenment Realm, fourteen stars. In the stead of my senior brother, Guo Hui, I’ll show you your place.”

“Guo Hui?” I asked, raising a brow. “You mean that guy with the iron mace who decided lines were optional?”

Lin Jing’s expression darkened. “Watch your tongue, boy. He’s my brother in all but blood. You humiliated him in public, so I’ll return the favor. Consider this karma.”

I smiled faintly, twirling my sword once before lowering it to my side. “Karma, huh? I’ll keep that in mind… when I knock you on your ass.”

A collective gasp rippled through the spectators.

Lin Jing’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You’ll regret that tone soon enough.”

It seemed my guess had been spot on. Lin Jing’s sudden challenge wasn’t about “tradition” or “discipline.” It was revenge for the man I’d humiliated back at the guild, plain and simple. I wondered why he kept quiet. Probably had something to do with my plaque. I guessed he would have more confidence confronting me outside of the guild.

“Is that him?” whispered someone in the crowd.

“Yeah, the one who floored Guo Hui with just a kick.”

“I heard he’s just a Martial Tempering runt, but he moves like a rogue.”

“He probably cheated. No way a Fifth Star beats Mind Enlightenment fair.”

Lin Jing gave a satisfied smirk as he heard the murmurs. “You see? Even they question your methods. Tell me, Wei Da, what manner of trickery did you use to harm the honor of my senior brother?”

“Trickery?” I tilted my head. “It was a surprise attack. That’s all. Simple and efficient.”

The sneer on Lin Jing’s lips deepened. “Simple and efficient? You call cowardice a virtue now? So that’s the kind of ‘cultivation’ your generation follows. There’s neither honor nor restraint!”

I sighed. “You talk too much.”

Before he could retort, I surged forward. Divine Might flooded my body like thunder beneath the skin, and I swung my black iron sword in a clean, horizontal cut.

The crowd gasped not because of the speed of my strike, but because Lin Jing didn’t even flinch. He simply stood there, fan held low, eyes calm as still water. The moment my blade came within reach, I unleashed Divine Speed, compressing every muscle and tendon to explode in a blur.

The sound of the wind cracked against the deck.

Lin Jing’s eyes widened. For an instant, I saw genuine surprise flicker across his calm face. Then, his fan snapped open, tracing a curved motion that guided my sword aside like it was caught in a flowing stream. He didn’t use qi. I could tell. His strength came purely from refined martial technique. The way his stance shifted, the precision of his wrists, and the stability of his footing. He was a true martial artist. Most cultivators abandoned such practice once they reached Mind Enlightenment. Not this one.

I gritted my teeth. If I let my sword bite into the deck, it’d be over. I’d hate to pay for damages. So I twisted my wrist and used Monkey Grip, seizing full control of the blade before it buried itself. I turned that motion into a reverse swing, using Divine Speed again to send the black blade howling in a lateral arc.

Lin Jing’s robe fluttered as he spun aside, narrowly dodging. His fan flashed again, but instead of blocking, he redirected his motion, stepping in to flank my side.

A stab became a slash as I used Hollow Line, one of the assassin-style techniques I made with my disciple. The edge of my sword hissed through air and cut a thin line across his robe.

His eyes hardened, the smirk vanishing. “You—!”

He moved faster now. Each swing of his fan left a trail of pressure in the air. I felt my skin sting as invisible edges brushed past me. Divine Flesh shuddered to life within my body, my muscles tightening like steel cords. The next set of strikes landed. It was light, fast, but shallow. Each cut stung but didn’t bite deep enough to cripple.

If it weren’t for Divine Flesh, I’d already be a mess of open wounds!

Still, I was impressed. His technique was refined, tight, and merciless. Every movement was measured to kill, not to perform.

I decided to test something. I lowered my stance slightly and shifted my grip, using what I remembered from the Paladin’s skills, Flash Parry.

When his next swing came, I caught it. My sword snapped up like lightning, the clang of metal echoing sharp and clean. No flash of light this time, like how the skill usually was. Instead, just the ringing impact and the satisfaction of halting his rhythm.

But Lin Jing wasn’t done. Suddenly, he closed his fan with a loud snap and shoved it forward with the heel of his palm.

The fan flew, not spinning wildly, but sailing like a thrown dagger.

“Shit—!”

I barely reacted in time. Another Flash Parry, executed at near point-blank range, deflected the projectile. The fan spun off, grazing my cheek and embedding itself in a crate behind me.

I didn’t even have a second to breathe.

“Ravine Wolf Fangs!” Lin Jing shouted.

His hands became claws. He lunged in, closing the distance faster than my eyes could track. His strikes came like tearing gusts, a blur of palm attacks, each one slicing with compressed air.

The first hit my shoulder. The second raked my ribs. The third caught my thigh. Then came a flurry of ten, maybe more, all landing in rapid succession.

I tried to block, dodge, and counter, but there was nowhere to move. Each palm carried the shape of a wolf, wind-like fangs that tore at my robes and skin. The sound of rending cloth and the sharp sting of shallow wounds filled the air.

My sword arm trembled. My breath came short. When I looked down, crimson threads trickled down my sides, staining the gray planks beneath me.

The crowd roared in awe and horror.

That was when I sensed something enormous, pressing against the edges of my Divine Sense like a mountain wrapped in fog. I expanded my perception, piercing through the clouds. A shadow above the horizon shimmered, faintly outlined by an array of veiled light. It was a formation! Someone was masking their presence.

Before I could react, Lin Jing lunged again, fan ready to strike. I caught his wrist mid-motion, Divine Might surging through my veins, bones creaking from the effort. My other hand clenched on my sword hilt as I hissed, “We should postpone our duel.”

He glared, his pride sharper than any blade. “Postpone? How dare you!? I am fighting to win back the honor of my senior brother! I degraded myself to join this sideshow—”

I didn’t wait for him to finish. Drawing qi into my lungs, I focused it through my throat and released a Lion’s Roar that tore through the air like thunder.

“WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!”

The shout echoed across the decks, shaking barrels and fluttering sails.

Jin Xiuying reacted instantly, his sharp eyes darting skyward. “Formations above!” he shouted. “Prepare yourselves for battle!”

He flung a handful of talismans into the air. They burned in an instant, the smell of scorched paper mingling with ozone. A storm of golden sparks burst upward, colliding with the unseen veil above us.

The formation shattered with a roar.

A monstrous shadow unveiled itself. It was a flying ship painted in black and blood-red streaks, its hull armored like scales, and a flag fluttering from its mast, marked by a boar’s skull with the character for “boar” carved into its forehead.

“Boar Pirates!” Jin Xiuying shouted. “They came at the worst time, our warp formation’s still cooling down! Hold them back!”

The crew scrambled into formation, weapons drawn, talismans flaring. Archers took positions, firing qi-charged bolts toward the descending shapes from above.

Lin Jing clicked his tongue. “Tch. Pirates. Fine. We’ll settle our difference later.”

He spun his fan open and hurled it. The weapon sliced through the air like a gleaming disc, striking two of the raiders mid-descent. Both screamed, spinning out of control as they fell into the forest below.

For all his arrogance, his technique was sharp and composed. I could learn a thing or two from him. But right now, I have my own flaws to face.

That short duel earlier, even while holding back, showed me how far I’d fallen in martial artistry. Physically, in this body, I was only as good as a first-rate swordsman. My main body could wield martial arts like a Supreme Master, but that was thanks to faith, to borrowed strength, to Yuen Fu’s influence and the Destiny-Seeking Eyes.

This clone didn’t have that luxury.

I frowned, gripping my sword. “I can’t keep relying on what’s borrowed…”

It hit me then that over the years, I’d unconsciously drawn the essence of my disciples into my own cultivation. Their talents reflected in me, elevating my foundation without permission. That wasn’t right. I was their master. I should be guiding them, not feeding from them.

I exhaled, grounding my focus.

The Martial Tempering Realm was supposed to embody superhuman control over the body from muscle, bone, tendon, and breath, all refined through perseverance. I’d reached seven stars already this past month. I could handle this.

No more overthinking. Time to move.

“Divine Might. Divine Speed. Divine Flesh.”

The three skills ignited as one. My heartbeat thundered, a drum echoing in my ears. Every muscle in my body coiled tight as qi flooded my limbs, filling me with that all-too-familiar burning light.

The pirates came swooping down on ropes, weapons gleaming from sabers, spears, and crude iron hooks. Their laughter was wild and unhinged.

I lowered my stance, feeling the deck tremble beneath my feet.

I breathed deeply, silver wisps escaping from my lips as I centered my will. The sword in my hand thrummed in resonance not with qi, but with sheer resolve.

“Let’s start over,” I whispered to myself. “From scratch.”

I bent my knees, coiling every fiber of my body, and leaped.

The world blurred.

In a single bound, I soared through the air like a cannonball, my sword cutting a streak of argent light. The edge met flesh before the pirates even registered my motion.

Four of them, wearing armor, steel, and all, were bisected cleanly, their bodies collapsing mid-air as I landed on the deck of the pirate ship, my blade dripping silver vapor.

The onlookers froze.

“Show me what you got,” I provoked them with a smile. “Or you might just die.”