“The creator of those filthy battlesuits?” Maximillius’ eyes widened. “He’s from her sect? Take me to his location, now!”

“Yes, sir!”

Maximillius followed the man who had delivered the news and got inside an airship. In the capital city of Bread, most people traveled by car. Only certain individuals were allowed to travel by airship. Personal flight was prohibited in case an individual accidentally collided with a plane. Like most rules, this one was only implemented after an incident had occurred. A young nascent-soul cultivator was ecstatic upon learning a technique for flight before the soul-seed stage, and when he tested it out, he was sucked into the engine of a plane. He survived, but the three hundred passengers on board did not.

The airship traveled swiftly, and within thirty minutes, Maximillius had arrived at the capital city from the military base he had been waiting in. His destination was an internet café, and the people on the streets whipped out their phones, recording and taking selfies of themselves with the famed false immortal in the background. After the video of Maximillius and Rachel’s fight had been released, the citizens all knew what the usually secluded false immortal looked like. Coupled with the government airship, even a child could tell who Maximillius was.

At nearby bench close to an ice-cream stand, a spiky-haired cultivator was sitting next to his great-granddaughter, the two of them eating popsicles. A shiver ran down the spiky-haired cultivator’s spine, and he raised his head, his gaze landing on Maximillius. Much to the dismay of his great-granddaughter, he tugged on her arm. “Let’s go. Nothing good will come from staying in this place.”

The girl pouted as she stood up and followed after her great-grandfather. “You’re never going to be trendy if you keep speaking like that, Grandpa. Even making yourself look younger and wearing trending clothes isn’t going to help.”

“Be quiet,” the spiky-haired cultivator said, cold sweat running down his back. “Do you think the false immortal is entering an internet café to play games? The false immortal never moves unless there’s a threat to the federation!”

The girl finished her popsicle in one bite and frowned. “Is it because of the battlesuit that beat you up?” She might be young and flew into a rage easily upon losing a round of her favorite internet game, but that didn’t mean she was dumb. Her great-grandpa was a soul-seed cultivator, and if someone could beat him up without lifting a finger, then they were obviously a dangerous individual. It was why she let herself be obediently soothed by a popsicle instead of revenge. “Is something going to happen to that granddaddy?”

“Don’t call him granddaddy!” Veins bulged on the spiky-haired cultivator’s head. Just thinking about Grandpa Vremya pissed him off, but a moment later, the pressure coming off of Maximillius calmed him down. Whatever the false immortal was here for, it was best to get as far away as possible.

Meanwhile, inside the café, the granddaddy was just finishing up a game. Grandpa Vremya exhaled and stroked his beard once it was over. The rounds were getting more and more difficult as he kept winning. Right now, according to the official website, his five accounts were in the top fifty of all accounts out there. Once he dominated all five of the top spots, he would move on to mastering something else. At that moment, Grandpa Vremya turned his head towards the entrance of the internet café.

“Are they back?” Azalea asked, turning her head as well. She regretted taking her eyes off the screen a second later because one of her accounts was mercilessly slaughtered. “Damnit! Why was he in that bush!?”

Grandpa Vremya got out of his seat and frowned. It seemed like the false immortal was coming for him because Rachel had gotten away. As the financial heart of the sect, it made Grandpa Vremya a high-priority target. Since he was also close by, it made him the logical choice of hostage. If the federation had sent anyone other than the false immortal, he wouldn’t have been troubled.

The door was pushed open, and Maximillius walked inside. The first person he made eye contact with was Grandpa Vremya. “You’re the creator of those battlesuits?” Maximillius asked. He didn’t even wait for confirmation before punching his fists together, sending a shockwave through the café that destroyed all the computer screens. “Excellent.”

People screamed and cursed, but Grandpa Vremya and Maximillius acted as if they were all alone. Maximillius set the air ablaze as he rushed towards Grandpa Vremya. Grandpa Vremya didn’t do anything other than open his mouth. “Your body is strong, but your mind is pathetically weak.”

Maxmillius grabbed Grandpa Vremya’s neck with his right hand. With one squeeze, Maximiliius could easily end Grandpa Vremya’s life, but the old man seemed unfazed. “What did you say?” Maximillius asked. If Grandpa Vremya had said anything else, Maximillius wouldn’t have bothered with conversing at all, but two words had caught his attention: body and spirit.

“With how physically strong you are, it’s quite obvious you passed the tribulation of the body,” Grandpa Vremya said with a blank expression. “It’s also quite obvious you haven’t passed the tribulation of the mind. More aptly put, you’re afraid of it.”

“Bullshit!” Maximillius’ hand tightened around Grandpa Vremya’s neck.

Even though Grandpa Vremya could no longer speak, that didn’t mean he didn’t have a way to communicate. He sent his spiritual energy towards the false immortal, sending messages directly into the man’s head. “To pass the tribulation of the mind, a person must have unwavering determination. Any hint of doubt will cause them to fail. For someone like you, a person who’s afraid of a nearly crippled soul-seed cultivator who escaped from your grasp, passing the tribulation of the mind is nearly impossible. Don’t say you aren’t afraid of her. If you weren’t afraid, I wouldn’t be in this position right now.”

Maximillius’ pupils narrowed, and his hand clenched even further, completely crushing Grandpa Vremya’s windpipe. With just a little more strength, Grandpa Vremya’s spine would be crushed next.

“In fact, she’s not the only one you’re afraid of. You’re afraid of me, the person who’s unflinching in the face of death.” Grandpa Vremya’s face remained impassive. “Thoughts such as if he grows up, he’ll be a threat to me, so I have to kill him right now, those are the thoughts of the mentally weak. Yes, you’re mentally weak. I’ve read about you. I know how old you are. You’ve gathered enough spiritual energy to attempt the tribulation of the mind, but you’re hiding behind excuses. If you fail, the federation will fall, so you can’t attempt the tribulation. You turned your fear into patriotism, turned your cowardice into bravery. You, Maximillius, are weak. Kill me, and you’ll prove my words right. If you do, you’ll finally be true to your inner feelings, and eventually, the death you’ve been avoiding will come when your lifespan runs out.”

Veins bulged on Maximillius’ arm. It seemed like he was adding more strength to his grip as his bicep and forearm bulged, but in reality, Grandpa Vremya’s neck remained the way it was.

“You’re confused now, so let me clear up some of your doubts.” Grandpa Vremya’s voice continued speaking in his mind. “At this point in time, there are two ways for you to have a non-zero chance at passing the tribulation of the mind. You can patiently wait for Ancestor Rachel to come for you and defeat her. Or, you can show me your determination and pass the tribulation of the mind at this very moment.”

Maximillius narrowed his eyes. “Oh, I’ll pass it, alright,” he said. “And when I do, you’ll be the first person I kill.” His eyes closed, and his body trembled. A moment later, his body turned into ashes—the consequences for failing the tribulation.

Grandpa Vremya dropped to the ground, landing on his feet, and rubbed his crushed neck. Azalea stared at him with wide eyes, tears threatening to fall out of them. “What just happened?”

“A strong body requires a strong mind. If the body is too strong for the mind, the mind will slowly break down.” Grandpa Vremya transmitted his words into Azalea’s head. “It was just a matter of time before that happened. I merely expedited the process.”

“You killed a false immortal with your words?”

Grandpa Vremya snorted, the action being impeded by his crushed windpipe. “Can’t you see my neck? I didn’t even use my words. I killed him with my mind. Impressive, right?”

Azalea had nothing to say in response.

***

In a small hemi-sphere deep underground, Rachel sat with her legs crossed. Her injuries had finally recovered. It was time for her to break through to the realm of false immortals. Once she did, she’d have her revenge! “Maximillius, just you wait!”