Lassim had excused himself from Vaela’s residence early that morning, skipping the breakfast meal the seductive mistresses had been preparing entirely. The rising heat of the desert sun now in the noon sky hadn’t been half as stifling as the atmosphere in that house.
This morning’s flirtations, the sheer intimacy between Vaela and her girls, had continued to escalate to a point where Lassim had begun to feel... overstimulated. While he tried to stay focused on the official mission, he was so overwhelmed that he forgot to even ask her about her lightning lance technique [Raindown Lances] that she used.
He was too distracted by how boldly they displayed their affection and quickly found any excuse to leave once the blonde began taking off Vaela’s belt and breeches.
Even thinking about the whole situation now made his face warm up again. He had politely declined staying longer, claiming he needed to prepare for his scouting mission early, and while Vaela had smirked knowingly and made a teasing comment about his early departure, she hadn’t stopped him. The girls had jointly waved him off with coy smiles and extra flashing, adding to his… rising… dilemma.
As he now wandered the desert, his thoughts trailed to imagining what Lustria might look while wearing some of those… outfits. His mind began to debate which of the girl’s lingerie would look best on her, but before he could drift too far into inappropriate territory, Marinelle’s voice rang in his mind, crisp and clear.
"[You’re getting distracted. Focus, child.]" Her voice was punctuated by the sudden splash of cold water against his face. She had summoned a flick of water mana that snapped him back to reality.
"Thanks," Lassim muttered, shaking his head and brushing the droplets away from his blue velvety hair, feeling the coolness spread down his face. He could almost hear the smirk in her tone as Marinelle added, "[Lustria’s probably more into leather anyways, but anyway, now’s not the time to be imagining things.]"
The thought of Lustria wearing some tight and revealing leather outfits came surprisingly easily and only made things worse. His face reddened further, and he quickly dismissed the image from his mind, embarrassed. "I need to focus," he whispered, trying to banish the thoughts.
Lassim glanced down at his new attire.
The rough desert-appropriate gear hung on him, but it did its job well enough. It was far from the sleek martial robes of the Lightning Sect, but the dusty, tattered fabric and loose-fitting leather made him look like a wanderer—just what he needed.
It was what he first wore as he traveled through the desert to the Lightning Sect Headquarters the first time, the rugged yet breathable spider silk covered by the [Hszamak] he purchased from the Jakool Za Za tribe nearly 2 years ago now. Thankfully it still fit, albeit a bit smaller than he remembered since he’d grown a bit since then.
Vaela, before he had awkwardly ran away, had been mindful to toss him something as he was headed towards the door.
"Keep this on you. I’ll be able to track your location if things go wrong. Just press the button and I’ll know things have gone bad," she had said seriously, throwing him a small silver trinket shaped like a tiny disk from across the room, a simple enchanted item.
"Thanks," Lassim had replied, pocketing it into his magic pouch, and appreciating the concern. it was necessary. Infiltrating a rogue group to gather information was risky, but it was probably the fastest way to end the constant threat looming over Sandspire Village when there was so little information on their group size and potential power.
Now, refocused and clear headed, Lassim moved ambiguously through the desert, his spirit senses extended just enough to catch any signs of life past his vision. He didn’t want to alert any rogue cultivators by projecting too much energy, but he also needed to be on guard.
He then spent the next few hours wandering near the general direction Vaela had mentioned to him during their distracting conversation about where she believed their base might be.
There were definitely signs—disturbed sand and recent tracks—that suggested they had passed through, but so far, no direct contact. He tried to make his movements look like he was also a wandering rogue cultivator that might be looking for a merchant caravan or solo travelers to steal from.
The desert was vast and unforgiving. Jagged rock formations, similar to the ones found near the village, jutted out in the distance, offering little respite from the sun. The occasional wind swept up sand in small clouds, not enough to create full sandstorms, but making it annoying with sand getting in his eyes.
Lassim paused for a moment, taking a moment to clear his eyes as he scanned the horizon. Unfortunately, there was nothing at all and he’d spent a good majority of the afternoon searching. It was as if all of the rogue cultivators that supposedly resided in this direction were specifically avoiding him.
The source of this c𝓸ntent is frёeweɓηovel.coɱ.
His patience was starting to wear thin when he finally sensed a change in the air. There—a flicker of spirit pressure, faint but noticeable, just beyond a ridge of rock formations.
He couldn’t resist the only possible lead for the day, so it was enough to get him to activate [Spatial Vision]. The faint threads of space illuminated in his vision, showing the ripple of movement behind the rocks.
Three figures, approaching cautiously.
"[Looks like we’re in business,]" he thought to himself, shifting into a more relaxed stance to sell his role as a wandering rogue.
He allowed his spirit energy to waver slightly, making himself appear less polished, more erratic. A seasoned sect warrior wouldn’t look like this. He needed to sell the idea that he was rough around the edges, possibly a run away and always alert individual, but powerful enough to warrant interest.
The figures appeared over the ridge—a small scouting party of three men. Their mismatched armor and rough, battle-worn robes matched his expectations of rogue cultivators. They moved with a cautious but predatory grace as they stopped, clearly sizing him up from a distance.
One of them, a broad-shouldered man with a wild beard and a deep scar across his cheek, suddenly moved forward, flying towards Lassim as he rested a hand on the hilt of his elemental weapon, a simple blade that was loosely held in place by a cloth belt instead of in his inner heart world.
"Who the hell are you?" He asked, suspicious of Lassim who could feel the subtle shift in their stances as they prepared to respond to an attack in a moment’s notice.
Lassim scratched the back of his neck, putting on a slightly lazy grin. "Just another wanderer. It’s best if you don’t know too much, but I did hear an interesting tale recently. Maybe you fellas can help me out? Heard there’s a gathering of like-minded folks around here that might be interested in letting someone like me join up."
The bearded man narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. "And why would we be interested in you?"
Lassim’s lazy smile didn’t falter. "I’m strong, and I’ve got no allegiance to any sect. Isn’t that enough?"
One of the other men, a wiry figure with narrow eyes, snorted. "No allegiance, huh? You look too clean to be a rogue. Where’s your group?"
Lassim spread his hands, showing empty palms. "No group. Just me. I had a partner once, but well.. Things didn’t work out between us, so I killed ’im."
The bearded man took a step closer, his hand still on his blade. "So you’re strong you say? Show us."
Lassim’s eyes flickered with a faint spark of lightning as he released a tiny bit of his cultivation pressure. He kept it subtle, but enough to send a wave of electricity with a heavy weight through the air. He only briefly flashed his power without revealing too much, but just enough to be roughly a level or so higher than his current Spirit Ascension, level 2 cultivation.
Nothing super freakish like flaunting his actual potential strength in the Spirit Transcendent stage.
He also did his best to fully conceal his water mana presence. He could pretend to be a Lightning Sect run away if pressed on the issue of where he came from, but if he exposed his water mana abilities then he might be easily recognized if they were aware of the Lightning Sect’s recent news.
The rogues exchanged glances. They weren’t entirely convinced, but they seemed to be reconsidering.
The bearded man grunted. "Alright, maybe you’re not full of it. But if you want to run with us, you’ll have to prove it. We don’t just take anyone."
Lassim raised an eyebrow, his expression still casual. "What kind of proof are we talking about?"
The bearded man grinned, a malicious glint in his eyes. "Some of our brothers and sisters have relayed to us that there’s a merchant caravan heading through this area soon. You help us rob it, we’ll consider letting you in. It’s got some high-quality goods—enough to give us all a fun night."
Lassim’s stomach turned slightly at the thought. Robbing innocent merchants wasn’t exactly in his playbook, but if he was going to keep his cover, he had little choice. He needed to be careful about how he handled this.
He nodded slowly, not letting his concern show on his face. "Sounds simple enough."
The bearded man’s grin widened. "Good. Follow us, then. We’ll show you how we do things."
The rogue scouting party led Lassim to a hidden outcropping overlooking a narrow trade route through the desert.
Below, a small caravan of merchant wagons moved slowly along the path, the merchants completely unaware of the danger lurking above them. The sun was beginning its descent, casting long shadows across the sand, and the faint clinking of goods being shifted in the wagons echoed in the distance.
The bearded rogue, clearly the leader of this small group, motioned for Lassim to stay low as they observed the caravan. "Alright, simple smash and grab like usual," he whispered, his eyes glinting with anticipation. "We wait for them to get closer, then we strike fast and hard.
Take out the guards first, grab whatever you can easily store in your pouches, and then get the hell out before they can recover."
Lassim nodded, keeping his face neutral as he weighed his options. He needed to avoid killing the merchants or guards while still maintaining his cover. But how?
The plan unfolded quickly. The rogue group moved into position, their elemental weapons ready as the caravan approached.
Lassim stayed a few paces behind, watching carefully. He couldn’t let this situation spiral out of control.
As the signal was given, the rogues launched their attack, descending on the caravan like wolves. Lassim’s heart raced, but he forced himself to stay calm, letting the rogue leader and his men engage the guards while he pretended to assist from a distance, letting lightning bolts loose towards the caravan.
He focused his [Spatial Vision], watching the flow of energy around him. With a subtle flick of his wrist, he directed the space to twist just enough so most of his lightning struck at the wagons—not the people—causing a few crates to splinter explosively and spectacularly while scattering their contents without actually harming anyone.
The remaining bolts were all his [Lightning Lash] technique, to which he focused on them reaching the caravan’s guards to stun or paralyze them before the rogues got to them.
The merchants, seeing the destruction and incoming attackers, panicked and began to flee, leaving the rogues to believe their ambush had worked perfectly.
"Nice job, newbie! Let’s grab what we can and go!" The rogue leader barked orders, before grabbing and shoving several unexploded crates into his magic pouch.
Lassim played along, snatching a few scattered items, mostly what appeared to be some jewelry, before following the group that was quicker than him at running away as they rushed back into the desert.