Chapter 35 – Message (iii)

After a few hours passed, Zilan was finally able to finish his own custom Ancestral Heritage pill. It was circular in shape, cold to the touch and its exterior was entirely light blue.
However rather than resting for a little while, Zilan did the complete opposite by picking up a new set of ingredients and slowly refining them with the flame.
For his plan to succeed, he needed to act fast since more and more people from that Order of killers would start to gather here with the sole purpose of capturing him. Resting was not an option!

What he was doing now was starting the initial process of making a poison that would be the first of its kind ever made. In truth Zilan himself if he wasn’t emotionless at the moment, would also be shocked as to how he had been able to take so many different principles from the Book of Path and create an entirely new train of thought in such a short amount of time.

The combination of having your entire world crumble before you and the emotions of rage helped form a vague plan. It was only after the second levels power kicked in, did he make out the steps to accomplishing the plan. “The method behind his madness”

The poison itself was something designed specifically for someone like Ficha who had eaten a lot of the addictive custard. However to properly understand the poisons effects one needed to first find out what made the custard so addictive in the first place.
It was a question Zilan had asked himself long ago when he first created the custard. What did cultivators enjoy most? Obviously it was advancing! So what if he could bottle up that feeling on a slightly lesser scale and then distribute it? People would obviously be unable to stay away.

It was this very principle that had given Zilan the key to producing a poison specifc to Ficha. Something that had no antidote, a poison that was not a poison, at the same time.

He took out a variety of herbs and also a strange colourless glue-like substance. He then ground, heat, fused, empowered and then finally smeared the glue like substance all over his hands.

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“With one touch, the first message will be sent!” thought Zilan as he suddenly stood, stretched and then swallowed the Ancestral Heritage pill that he had concocted.

Not long after, a sound that resembled that of paper being rubbed back and forth on a dry surface at rapid speeds was being let out by Zilan as his skin continuously rippled and shifted about. Seconds later and the sounds of popping and cracking bones rang out.

To Jeza who had sensitive ears these sounds caused her to grind her teeth in irritation however, she didn’t look away from Zilan for even a moment.

His frame increased in height stopping at about 6 foot 2 while his facial and body features grew much more muscular and refined.
His face in particular looked exactly like a certain sect Elders nephew, who had a thing for Halim and that was none other than Mr.Shiur.
Using this identity, Zilan would have the perfect excuse to not only go see Ficha but to also touch him.

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“What time is it now?” asked Zilan. Even his voice had changed.

They were currently underground so there was no way for him to know the time. So he could only rely on Jeza who had been out fairly recently.

“It should be evening. Why? Are you heading out now?”

Zilan calmly nodded as he started walking towards the door.

“I’ll be back soon.” was all he uttered as he left the room.

Jeza wanted to follow but she could already tell from his body language that such an action would be last thing Zilan wanted. So she left him be.

Zilan effortlessly traversed the dark and poorly constructed underground tunnel. The path was simple, go straight to the end and then climb the ladder to the top.

Unexpectedly though, once he was above ground Zilan discovered that he was in a small meat stall situated in the market. For them to actually have built such a structure in a place filled with so many prying eyes, these Beasts definitely did not lack in courage.

Luckily, it was evening so the number of people trading wasn’t too many. This made it easier for Zilan to silently slip away without arousing anyone’s suspicion.
After making his way out and making sure no one was following him, Zilan then made his way to a popular clothes store that sold only the most high quality clothes. He went in and purchased the type of clothes an arrogant, spoiled, rich and influential person would buy. A single white set of robes that had a beast core implanted into it, making the clothes defence comparable to that of a regular warrior’s armour.

Once he was done dressing, using the memories he had of Mr. Shiur, Zilan broke down and practiced his mannerisms as well as his basic expressions making them his own.

After an hour, the darkness of night had now embraced the city and Zilan was ready to go in.

Dual-Winged Sparrow.

“Honourable High Priest, we’ve searched everywhere within the city but we can’t seem to find him! The last place we tracked him to, only a handful of Beast scouts could be seen and even after we tortured their leader we still found out no new information.”

“Quiet!” shouted Jibral as he glared coldly at a black robed middle-aged man. “None of this makes sense. Why and how was the spell undone? What did that thing do? And most importantly how can a cripple evade us for this long?”

The middle-aged man looked away, when suddenly his eyes landed on Ficha who was in the kitchen silently listening as he calmly swallowed one spoonful of custard after another. Envy and anger could be seen in his eyes however he didn’t dare voice any complaints.

“Hold…What did you do with the Beasts you encountered?” asked Jibral as an idea came to mind.

“Eh…we killed them of course.”

Jibra’s eyes widened when he heard that but he still managed to retain his composure.

“That’s still okay. With Hertic’s skill, once he wakes up, he should still be able to retrieve their memories, then we can gather clues on that things actions. Go fetch their bodies and preserve their brains.”

The more words that Jibral spoke, the more beads of sweat started pouring down the middle-aged man’s forehead. His knees even started shaking due to fright.

“They’re..o..o.ne..” mumbled the middle- aged man as his eyes shifted about, trying to avoid Jibral’s gaze.

“Speak louder! What are you trying to say?” Jibral was growing impatient. The more he listened to these incompetent fools, the more aching his head suffered.

“We killed..we.. went…and when we came back to check again…we…it..was..gone.” After finishing his “accurate” description of the events he deemed to be of no importance in the past, the middle-aged man didn’t dare raise his gaze to look at Jibral’s expression.

He wished to give further excuses but nothing came to mind so he just started mumbling gibberish while raising his shoulders in a…. “ you can’t blame me” fashion.

Jibral stared at the useless excuse for a human before him and with a quick yet precise movement of his hand, the man’s head was cut clean off.
His death didn’t serve any purpose at all. Even as something to appease Jibral’s anger, that chicken s*** didn’t do his job well.

“For someone who is capable of losing a dead body. You, yourself should become one.” Thought Jibral.

He then turned towards Ficha and while doing his best to remain calm said,

“Go tell those people to lock the city down. No one leaves and no one enters, the quicker this is done the better.”

Ficha laughed slightly as he finished the last of the custard remaining in his bowl.

“Dealing with the small fries is easy but we’ve distanced ourselves from worldly matters for too long. Plus, I’ve been stuck here babysitting for so long that any pull my words had will be met with reluctance and doubt. You should go instead, make those old farts listen permanently.”

Jibral had reached his boiling point however just before he was going to go off on Ficha, he remembered something crucial.
“He’s been away for so long that I’d almost forgotten who he is and who stands behind him!”

Just like with Hertic, despite having a higher cultivation, Jibral still needed to listen to them and this was solely because of their backers. Just like any organisation there was a hierarchy and Jibral was not at the top.

Even if he was equal in individual strength, when compared to their united strength he was nothing.

“Fine, I will go.” Replied Jibral as he vanished from view.

Ficha smiled wordlessly when suddenly he heard a familiar arrogant voice sounding at the front of the entrance.

“Senior, may I come in?” This of course, was none other than Zilan disguised as Mr.Shiur.

“The Reaper of death has come to collect the soul of a damned man.”


An – Cookie for anyone who remembers Mr. Shiur from Chapter 1 🙂

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