[RSM] Chapter 116. Round (Patreon)

The Southern Ridges eventually led to what is now as the Southern flatlands, a land filled with farms, forests, and little swamps. 

The Murian Swamps were one of the many swamps throughout the Southern flatlands, and his instincts told him that he was not ready to face whatever lurked in there. 

The Southern Flatlands was also fairly diverse, the Silent Mountain only held about a third of the major cities, though many of the sects and clans of the Southern flatlands were vassals and tributaries of the Silent Mountain. 

Here, they finally found a town willing to let them in.

A town ruled by a small local clan. There was nothing of note, the locals mainly farmed and cultivated a wide variety of foods and some spiritual plants. 

But for the group of traveling alchemists, a guestroom with clean water and actual beds was a very welcome reprieve.

"We'll have to take a big roundabout path to get out of the Kaorlian force's range." Taha Tarmath explained to the rest of the alchemists. All of them, now disowned by their own sects, have decided to temporarily take residence at the Verdant Leaf Town. It would not be publicized, since doing so would invite public scrutiny and be seen as an affront to Prince Kaorl's reputation, and thus expose them to a full attack by Prince Kaorl's supporters. "Every flying ship and merchant caravan now moving through this area will be searched."

"Or, if one of the Great Sect's ships decides to take us along."

"You'll need the protection of their Great Elders to escape inspection." Taha Tarmath said. "The Kaorlian military seems to be surprisingly persistent, putting on a strong show that this new decree has real backing." 

"It's still too early to tell. It's been about a month since the incident. They'll enforce this law for a year and then they'll give up." Gana Adan countered. "Two, at max. If we hide long enough they will forget. I have been in Prince Kaorl's service long enough to know that his people change goals and objectives frequently, so they won't keep this up. Not for long."

Tundra thought it applied to all bits of bureaucracy. Enforcing laws on others was a taxing process and there were not enough internal incentives for individuals to ensure that they obey the new law. Alchemists who could provide bribes to make cultivators look the other way, cultivators who became weary of the silly laws and exhaustion would ensure such laws eventually fade into memory, enforced occasionally and whenever convenient, a tool for extortion and grift. 

In their case, there is a bounty on their heads, and that is an incentive.

"Okay, but the longer we wait here, the more likely it is that some Kaorlia affiliated cultivator would attack us and drag our heads back there for a bounty." One of the fifth realm alchemists spoke.

"Can you find a reliable charter service that won't fly us right into Kaorlian territory and sell us off for the bounty?" Gana answered.

"We can meet up with representatives from my sect. I heard from my sources that they are not far from us." Tundra stated.

That made the five other alchemists look at each other. 

"That sounds very much like a trap." Gana declared.

"And we should walk right into it, because it's not a very good trap." Tundra said. "We can win. No, we don't even need to win, we just need to outrun them." 

The alchemists stared. "You believe you can outrun them?"

"Those following us are mainly low and mid ranked military warriors. They have good equipment, and their ships are designed for fights against higher realmed cultivators." Tundra said, and then he pointed to the map. "But! How many ships do you think they'll deploy to find us?"

"Ten?" Gana said.

"Less. The few merchants I spoke to only spotted only four to five. We're just one of the many criminals wanted by Prince Kaorl." Tundra said. "Most of them are here."

Tundra then pointed his fingers and circled parts of the map. Most of Prince Kaorl's direct military forces were deployed around the main Kaorlian territories, enforcing checks on passing ships and also hunting down what was left of the alchemists within the immediate vicinity.

"Only one of many? We are all his personal alchemists!" Gana continued to believe in some imagined importance in Prince Kaorl's circle. "Surely he means to hunt us down! I cannot believe they are so incompetent to let former royal alchemists just run away!"

"It is not the Prince that allocates resources." Taha said as he seemed to think about it. "If Minister Zheng doesn't feel we are dangerous, he wouldn't send forces our way. The Prince's innermost guards are, after all, nowhere to be seen." 

Tundra knew the former alchemists of Prince Kaorl all knew Minister Zheng very well, but it seemed none of them ever figured out he was an agent of the bug god. 

"So, here." Tundra pointed on the map again. "We're far enough from the official Kaorlian territories, and far away from any reinforcement. There are a few ships roaming about, as no one will stop military ships, but these soldiers are not stupid. They know these are a Great Sects' land, and if they offend the wrong person, Prince Kaorl's name would not save them."

The alchemists gave Tundra a look that reminded him of some ministers and cultivators who could not believe how large the Zuja threat had grown. Some of them still refused to believe that the cult had warriors in the 10th realm, even at that final moment before their death. 

Cultivators of their level are often so sure about the world around them that things that defy such beliefs often hit them in their faces.

Honestly, Tundra was one of them. The first time he encountered a Zuja Avatar, the war with the bug cult had not yet started. But he was already well in the 9th realm, and that was when he realized that he had truly underestimated these bug cults. 

No. That wasn't right. 

In a way, he continued to underestimate them even then, because he was still swept up in conflicts with the other sects, and did not bother to focus on the bug cult. He believed he understood the world well enough that the bug cult was only one of these many threats. 

But where were the Zuja in all of this?

Was the Zuja really trying to just sabotage the alchemists that released the anti-Zuja parasitic cure?

"Very well." Taha said, breaking both the silence, and his thoughts. "We'll go there."

"I'll send a word." Tundra said, and made his way to the nearest Whispering Man's agent.

***

Edison and Marin

The Brownhill Fist's were a weak sect. Edison could tell just from the way they organized things. The guards were inconsistent, and it appeared that things only worked when one of the Elders came along.

Even then, it was only that particular elder that the guards and Core Disciples feared. The rest of them seemed to take their tasks with a particular blend of laziness and disinterest, often preparing to take a drink from secret urns of rice wine hidden within the prison.

As if the elder didn't know. 

"You want a drink, young master? I'll sell you an urn of 20 bronze coins." The Inner Disciple tasked to make sure they didn't escape said. 

Marin squinted from her cell right next door. Edison frowned. He spent enough time on the road to know that an urn of cheap rice wine was no more than 4 imperial bronze coins. "Do you do this often? Trying to make a profit from prisoners?'

"All the time. The sect didn't relieve you of your coin pouches, and your belongings are just right there." The inner disciple said. "As far as I can tell, you'll be out here within weeks, so might as well make some money. The cheap wine helps with passing the time. Milady, if you want some, it'll really help."

Marin rolled her eyes, but to Edison's surprise, she counteroffered. "I'll buy it if it's 10 bronze coins, and I want the better quality rice wine from the local restaurant, not whatever cheap shit you got from your wine merchant."

"Oh?" The inner disciple stood and walked over. "Well, 10 bronze coins is a decent profit. Want a taste before I make the order?"

"Yeah. Let me try that one." Marin said and she took a big sip. "Alright. This is decent enough. Get me three."

"Three's a little hard. You can't hide it under the bed. I can get you two."

"You don't want more money?"

"It's more of a side hustle, milady. The standard stipends from the Brownhill Sect are pathetic."

"And yet here you are." Marin said. "Why don't you just join another sect?"

"I owe them too much money already. The Brownhill Sect structured their pills and elixirs as loans from the Sect." 

Edison genuinely groaned in disgust, though from what he heard, it was sadly not uncommon. Great Sects were great sects for a reason, and smaller sects that didn't have their own alchemists often engaged in such predatory behavior. Pills were genuinely expensive, and many cultivators do feel that alchemists often overcharged them. "That's an outright scam. You would've been better off as a travelling cultivator! My sect and my father would do no such thing."

Edison said it so naturally that when the words were uttered, Edison himself sat there, realizing the irony of what he had just said. 

Marin merely listened in silence. 

The inner disciple was about the 3rd realm, and shrugged. "Alchemists are rare in the small and mid tier sects, young master. Alchemical talents often congregate within the great sects. Why work for little pay, when the Great Sects can pay so much better? Now, let me go get you those two urns of wine."

The prison was empty. Their room was basic. Edison wondered when he could get out. The steel bars were reinforced with spiritual energy, so they could hold a 4th realm's attack at least a few times. Long enough for the elders to know that they were trying to escape. 

"Have you ever been in a prison?" Marin asked.  

"Well. This is my first time. It is perhaps not that bad, if only because we slept in terrible places on the road." Edison frowned. "To think it is my father's reputation that got me in jail."

"You're taking it incredibly well." His stepmother said. "I was imprisoned a few times too. Just like you, it was my father that jailed me. I was challenging my brother a little too often, and he wanted to remind me of my place in the family. So it was jail time."

Edison's heart burned in fury. "No one sends a family member to jail just because of that!"

"My family is different." 

"All families are. It's still ridiculous."

"Ridiculous? There are sects that send their disciples and children into isolation chambers and treasure realms where the outcome is often death." Marin said with a tired resignation. "So why feel surprised that some families send their naughty and rebellious children to prison?"

"Being ignored and treated like a child doesn't sound that bad, now." 

Marin stared at him. "But you are a child, so awfully naive."

Edison felt insulted, especially coming from a woman that is never the epitome of maturity. "Is that how you think of me? Because you are not much better too! If I am a child, then you are an adult throwing a childlike tantrum."

"I am not! Take that back!" Marin fumed and shouted back.

The strong reaction surprised the young master, but rather than counter, he somehow felt her anger. Her immaturity. It is as if she was stunted in some ways. 

A little too much like himself.

"Fine." Edison said, as he decided to take a step back. But he looked around, and realized he really was quite privileged. He lived in a good sect, a sect with a good reputation and standing, did it really take death and jail time for him to realize how he squandered it? "My sincere apologies, Marin."

Marin looked like she was a little surprised that he actually apologized. She then took a moment to just play with her hair and glance around the jail. "Being in a prison reminded me a little of my unpleasant childhood. I am sorry as well, I should not have said that." 

It was strange to feel such unusual emotions, especially when facing a woman he always knew to be a difficult person. He felt a little awkward, so Edison looked away. His stepmother also wisely decided not to maintain eye contact.

Though his mother and his stepmother were both cordial and seemingly friendly when his father was around, he knew that the two didn't trust each other all that much. In his mind, his mother and Marin both jostled for resources for their home sect, and the arguments between the two women, often mediated by Elder Jashen or Elder Jon, was something of a sore point. 

Edison was lucky, in a way, that it was his mother that confronted and often argued with Marin. 

Conveniently, the inner disciple returned with two urns of rice wine. "It seems I am a master of impeccable timing. Now, do you want some rice wine to go with that argument? It's 15 coins for an urn."

Marin frowned. "You said 10 coins then."

"That was then, and there was no written contract. As such, I am now revising my offer to reflect changing market requirements." The inner disciple said.

Edison frowned. "He's right. I'll take one."

"Fine." 

The wine tasted sour. Edison wondered how his father was doing. Would he really come for him? 

[Author Note : Thanks for your support!]