The elder’s expression was dismissive.
“Breaking through to the Yang Spirit Realm is no easy feat,” he muttered.
The decline of traditional cultivators in Aethelgard and the rise of Aetherbinding practitioners were no coincidence. Cultivation had become immensely difficult. The elder sighed.
“Miss, this man seems to have a useless Soulseed,” he said. “Although Aethelgard still has abundant spiritual energy, it pales in comparison to ancient times. For someone with a useless Soulseed, cultivating Aetherbinding is nearly impossible.”
Jane Clarkson’s face darkened. “How will we know if we don’t try? It’s just a small effort on my part. The elders in the family are growing increasingly audacious. They’ve taken control of family affairs and exiled me to this insignificant Flameforge. I must reclaim what is rightfully mine at all costs.”
The elder sighed again, this time with resignation, and disappeared without saying another word.
Left alone, Jane sat silently in her chair. For reasons unknown, when she first met Chris, she had felt he was no ordinary person. Maybe, just maybe, he would one day stir up a storm in Aethelgard.
—
Meanwhile, Chris left the mission hall and headed straight for Elixir Haven.
Taking out the nine thousand Essence Stones he had just acquired, he purchased a large quantity of Vitality Essence.
As he exited Elixir Haven, a commotion on the street caught his attention. A crowd was approaching, each person exuding confidence and authority. They rode Crimsonscales, first-grade beasts unique to Aethelgard. Known for their gentle temperament and swift running, Crimsonscales were often captured and used as mounts. However, only Aetherbinding sects or families had the privilege of riding them.
“I heard they found an ancient tomb in the Essence Stone mine,” someone said, the news rippling through the crowd.
“Yes, it’s shaken all of Verdantia! The major Aetherbinding factions are flocking here because of that tomb.”
“Flameforge Sect sent a group of cultivators to explore the ancient tomb, but they suffered heavy losses.”
“They say a group of mysterious individuals first occupied the Essence Stone mine and uncovered the tomb. Later, they all vanished without a trace.”
“Now that the news is out, every major Aetherbinding sect in Verdantia is sending people. That tomb must hold extraordinary treasures. Flameforge Sect is going to be lively.”
Chris listened quietly to the discussions and slipped away unnoticed.
It seemed the ancient tomb was stirring up all of Verdantia. Every major Aetherbinding faction was converging, but none of this mattered to Chris. He had already instructed Tiger to hide in a secluded location.
Frowning, Chris muttered to himself, “Where has Oriana gone?”
Before leaving the inn, Chris had left a note for Oriana, telling her he was heading to Night Forest and would return later.
When he returned to the inn and entered his room, it was empty. On the table, he found a note from Oriana. She had discovered Emily’s whereabouts and decided to leave while Chris was away. She mentioned she was heading north to Haven in Aethelgard.
Reading the note, Chris felt a pang of guilt. He had promised to help Oriana find Emily when they came to Aethelgard. But since their arrival, he had done nothing to fulfill that promise.
Emily’s disappearance was his fault. If she hadn’t come looking for him, she wouldn’t have gone missing.
Now that he knew Emily was in Haven, Chris resolved to go after her. However, Haven was incredibly far, requiring at least a year of travel. For Oriana to journey so far alone was dangerous.
Though their time together had been brief, Chris could sense Oriana’s true nature. Beneath her cold exterior, she was kind-hearted and compassionate.
Even though Oriana had reached the Pinnacle Realm, Aethelgard was a land teeming with powerful cultivators. It was a world where the strong preyed on the weak, and laws were nonexistent. Strength alone dictated survival. The weak were nothing more than insects, easily crushed.
The next morning, Chris woke early. He didn’t rush to Haven immediately. With his current strength, only at the early Pinnacle stage, the journey would be too perilous.
Determined to grow stronger first, Chris sat cross-legged on his bed, holding nearly a hundred Fifth Grade Vitality Essences.
Each Fifth Grade Vitality Essence cost fifty Essence Stones. A hundred of them amounted to five thousand Essence Stones-a fortune for most Aetherbinding cultivators.
Cultivation in the world of Aetherbinding was a battle of resources. Without them, progress was impossible.
Fortunately, Chris had seized an Essence Stone mine upon arriving in Aethelgard. Later, he led an army into the Night Forest, slaying countless beasts and earning a substantial number of Essence Stones.
Without these events, he wouldn’t have been able to afford so many elixirs.
Taking a deep breath, Chris swallowed his first Vitality Essence.
Pain surged through his body, sharp and relentless, as if he were being sliced by countless blades. Even with his resilient physique, it was almost unbearable. Yet, he refused to give up.
One by one, he consumed the Vitality Essences, his face twisting in agony.
This was why traditional cultivators in Aethelgard were fading into obscurity. Their path required more resources than Aetherbinding practitioners, making progress excruciatingly difficult. Over time, they had been relegated to history.
Chris’s body trembled under the intense pain, sweat pouring from him in torrents. In his mind, an image flashed-Esther.
Gritting his teeth, Chris murmured, “I can’t give up. My wife, my daughter-they’re waiting for me back on Earth. How can I give up now?”
His clothes were soaked through with sweat, and large beads of perspiration dripped from his forehead. Yet, Chris persisted.