Chapter 307: Real inheritance
Weapon arts were different from simple martial arts. They were a sub-branch like spells, albeit with caveats more distinct than the mere heavier expression of a core’s nature.
Those techniques’ main difference was their need for magical weapons, adding an expensive variable most cultivators couldn’t afford.
The availability of magical weapons was another variable. Such tools weren’t easy to find, especially in a suitable shape and rank.
Lastly, a cultivator’s mastery had to be taken into account. Not everyone could perform a weapon art as long as all the right tools were in place, not well, at least.
Much had to align to make performing those arts at a satisfying level possible, seemingly rendering the investment pointless. At least, it would be unworthy of the effort if it weren’t for the simplest compensating factor of them all.
Exactly due to all the steep variables involved, weapon arts possessed incredible strength, probably the highest among the tools cultivators could access.
’Immediate streak of Qi,’ Liam read on the old tome, his curiosity winning over his lingering auditory hallucination. ’Splits clouds and sunlight alike. Unstoppable bolt that pierces anything standing in its way.’
Just like the name, the rank 3 Sky-Splitting Bolt had quite an imposing description that its requirements paired perfectly.
’Qi consumption: Extreme,’ Liam kept reading. ’Training: Extreme. Archery Skills: Outstanding.’
It seemed weapon arts had a qualitative third requirement involving familiarity with the involved tool, but Liam compared that to the rank 2 Aura. The martial art from the previous trial now sounded even more suspicious.
’Why did it have a different description?’ Liam wondered. ’Was Aura less mainstream?’
Liam wasn’t really sure and didn’t believe he ever could, not at his current level. The inheritance involved an expert aware of the Church of the Man as a whole, the real Crazy Uncle, and the Dragon King. Liam didn’t belong to that world yet.
The old tome soon reclaimed Liam’s attention. He skimmed through its worn-out pages, wanting to get an initial idea of how to perform his first rank 3 asset, immediately finding problems.
’Is this some sort of ritual?’ Liam frowned at the drawings that followed.
Firing an arrow was a relatively easy endeavor. Firing it well was far more complicated, but that had long since become second-nature for Liam.
However, the Sky-Splitting Bolt required a series of gestures before even beginning pulling the bowstring that Liam could only describe as ritualistic. They almost looked like a prayer, which went against how swiftly he had learned to fire arrows.
’This isn’t something I can use mid-battle,’ Liam quickly accepted. ’But, does it mean that it’s extremely strong?’
It stood to reason that a longer preparation translated into higher power. If anything, that additional time was necessary to amass the required Qi, which sounded a lot according to the art’s descriptions.
’Do I have enough Qi to perform it?’ Liam genuinely wondered before recalling how he had melted his Master’s pipe. ’Can the Black Bow endure it?’
The first issue was relatively easy to solve. Even mid-battle, Liam had ways to refill his body quite quickly. His medical-oriented preparations in the Roaring Thunder Sect involved that, too.
The magical weapon was the issue. The Black Bow was one of the Pale Moon Sect’s treasures. Its quality was impeccable, probably placing it at the peak of the rank, but that might not be enough to channel a rank 3 weapon art.
And replacements wouldn’t come easily. Liam was even stuck in the inheritance now, without Grace to pull off miracles for him.
’I have that other thing,’ Liam thought, ’But not mastering this before advancing is just stupid.’
The spirit might have stressed how close the Church’s teams were to claiming the inheritance, but Liam had entered it for his own needs. Now that he knew that dangers beyond his stage could appear, he would obviously prepare accordingly.
Yet, when Liam put down the book to attempt the ritual-like gestures it described, his body groaned, opposing the practice by flaring his still-lingering soreness and pain.
’Shut up already,’ Liam complained at the auditory hallucination in his brain. He knew he had to rest, but those screams just wouldn’t leave him.
Still, nothing could be done about it, so Liam just stuck to reading the old tome until his brain finally went silent and allowed him to sleep.
What followed was earnest, natural rest alternated by smoking and practice. Liam could have recovered sooner if he had used a rank 2 healing pill instead of their rank 1 counterparts, but there were advantages to taking things slow.
By the first week, Liam’s injuries were no more. By the second, his cultivation had completely recovered what it had lost due to the Primal Urge.
By the third week, the twelfth minor root even developed fully, which Liam welcomed due to what it signified rather than the slight power boost.
That growth rate was normal, meaning the stress the Primal Urge had caused had dissipated. The health of Liam’s core was top-notch again, which he needed since he might have to reuse his crazy Demonic Art soon.
Alchemy would help Liam perform the Primal Urge safely, but he also wanted his cultivation’s health to be on his side.
Nevertheless, at that point, Liam believed he had waited enough, so he donned his black cloak and dealt with one last smoking session before picking up the flower.
Liam’s team had to overcome the other trials so that the spirit could add up the individual victories. Still, three weeks probably were a long enough period for that to happen, and the teleport confirmed it.
A vast world assaulted Liam’s senses as soon as the teleport ended. Fresh air and other natural traits touched his perception, blending with the more overwhelming unnatural ones.
There was no wooden stand, no basin with descriptions of the trial. Liam found himself on a short hill made of white ground.
Behind Liam, the world was enshrouded in thick mist, with a single flower growing right before the fog’s edge.
Above, a pale-white sky shone, with no clouds, stars, or moon. It had a certain depth that differentiated it from a smooth surface, but it was otherwise empty.
The hill Liam was standing on wasn’t alone. Hundreds of identical elevations stretched left and right, turning far in the distance to create a perfect square, which, together with the mist, acted as the perimeter for what they encircled.
Below on the ground, hundreds of similar buildings grew, neatly arranged to fit the area the hills had created, as if they were the squares of a chessboard, with multicolored flowers growing among them, acting as streets.
Each building was white with the emblem of a stylized man with spread arms and legs below its roof. Their size increased toward the city-like area’s center, where a structure even taller than the hill Liam was standing on rose.
Except that black, tendril-like shadows rose from that huge central building’s surface, swaying over its whiteness.
Liam also sensed far more. He could smell traces of life and presences that had to belong to cultivators. He had arrived at the real inheritance, and he wasn’t alone anymore.
