Joseph McCarthy strolled through the sect grounds, his unhurried and calm pace were just a front. His mind was in complete turmoil and in absolute chaos. On thought had upended his usual calm rational thought processes, he was occupied with one thing and one thing only.

Da Shan! Where are you?!

He passed by small groups of people, young lovers, groups of friends, Teachers running around making last minute preparations for morning classes — and even some of his search teams. He’d sent a whisper — a type of instant communication he designed for the sect based on his powers — to everyone Major Grade and above, and a special communication to his Auditors. They would find Da Shan tonight. He was confident of it. But that still wasn't enough, he needed certainty. They must find Da Shan tonight. The only good news of the night so far was that Jenkins had given him assurances that the cryo-freeze was “mostly ready”. He allowed himself a small smile, calming the worry he felt in his mind for his friend, the dearest friend he had ever known.

I won’t let you die Da Shan.

He felt his mood lighten. He walked tall and proud, his pinstriped blue suit, handsome face and perfect hair made him stand out in the crowd, but not because he was the Chancellor. Most people had never seen the Chancellor, some imagined an aged school master, or a kind grandfather. But McCarthy was not just a pretty face with a fancy title... he wasn’t the Chancellor of one of the most powerful sects in the world because of a name plate. No, no, McCarthy was one of the strongest men alive and when you have cultivated to such absurd levels of strength, people feel different around you. Your power can't be fully suppressed. People move out of your way automatically, their bodies reacting to your presence before they can recognize your strength with their minds. Their eyes perpetually staring at the ground, unable to meet the hot gaze of a full-blooded cultivator. Power. McCarthy embodied power.

He breathed deep, though he was worried, the hunt made him feel… alive. He’d been behind a desk for too long, he needed to go out and slay some Witches. He allowed a small smile to float on his face as he recalled his younger days.

“Chancellor! Chancellor!”

The heads of the few passersby jerked as if drawn by some strong magnetic force. Did he say Chancellor? Whispers began sounding out and McCarthy allowed himself to bask in their reverence before he responded.

“What is it Lee?”

“A group of Deacons have found Da Shan in a forest, they’re closing in now.”

McCarthy’s back straightened and he allowed the small smile to blossom into a full-blown grin, “Let’s go.”

Lee saluted and briskly walked off towards the forest, McCarthy matched him, step for step and took a glance at his secretary. Lee was an awkward looking fellow, but there were no better secretaries to be found. He was a tall, lanky angular man with a hook nose and a gangly form, his current walking steps shorter and more awkward than his form would allow — obviously so McCarthy could match his steps. Prompt, exact, he was never in a rush. Unless he was under the threat of death, occasionally McCarthy threatened to kill him if he didn’t get a certain task done — and tonight was one of those nights. Lee’s blonde hair and blonde pencil thin moustache were frayed and flopping as he walked, the normally finely combed and oiled look, replaced for something a little more… dishevelled. McCarthy absently waved his hand, a gentle wind flited along Lee’s body, cleaning dust from his grey three-piece-suit and arranging his hair with invisible fingers.

“Thank you, Chancellor.”

“Don’t mention it, I know how you get when you can’t have everything in order.”

Lee’s silent nod ended the conversation, he absently smiled and thought to himself. I think we are speaking of your OCD here Chancellor.

After a few brief moments of quiet, McCarthy broke the silence. “Who are the Deacons?”

“Greg Matthas, Xiao Xiao and Olaf VanWolfwood.”

“Olaf’s a Commander Grade Deacon, right?”

“Yes.” Lee’s eyes widened a little, the only reason he knew this information was because he had requested it when they sent their message in. The Chancellor’s monstrous memory always amazed him. Every book in the library had been read by him, there were hundreds of thousands of books, but he’d read them all. And all the call numbers memorized — as far as Lee could gather at the very least. He also knew the names of all the students and Elders, their ages and Departments. Now Lee could add their cultivation levels to the list. It was disgusting that one man could house so much talent. Most Elemental Cultivators were not the rational type, more the commune with the earth and dance naked around the fire type. Especially wind Elementalists, they tended to be a little… odd. Well I suppose it’s odd that’s he’s so rational… In a sense he’s the most odd of all the Elementalists in that he’s not that odd. Truly, he has the mind of a Wizard. Lee felt a question come to him.

“Chancellor.”

“Yes, Lee.”

“Why are we pursuing Da Shan?”

“Because I want him.”

Lee nodded silently, his attempt at conversation failing. But he was not deterred, a few more moments later — as they approached the trees — he asked his question more precisely.

“Chancellor.”

“Yes, Lee.”

“What I meant to ask is: ‘Why is the most powerful person in the sect going after a Lieutenant Grade Deacon?’ Surely, we can wait for Greg and his group to bring Da Shan to us… and take care of more… pressing matters.”

McCarthy whirled on Lee, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him close, the menacing gaze he gave the spindly secretary the fright of his life.

“Never. Speak. Of. That.”

Lee was shaky, but he calmed his heart and felt the blood begin to flow back into his pale face and said, “Yes, Chancellor.”

“Good.”

With a shake McCarthy tossed Lee to the ground. With a huff McCarthy dusted off his sleeves, adjusted his jacket and his cuff links as Lee slowly stood up. McCarthy regarded his secretary’s dirty clothes, and with a frown he waved a wind to tidy him up for the second time. Looking off awkwardly, McCarthy muttered a barely audible apology, to which Lee nodded and waved off silently. McCarthy cleared his throat and spoke as they both started walking again, “There are two reasons I feel the need to go. One, him and I have an association. Two, I am worried for Greg and his group… Da Shan may be weak now, but he was once a powerful Berserker and I’ve always felt that he’s been hiding his true strength.”

“I see.”

They reached the forest and Lee abruptly stopped, he sniffed the air like a hound and growled like an angry wolf. His eyes flashing yellow.

“Blood is in the air.”

“Oh?”

“It’s Greg’s, I know his scent and —”

Whoosh! With the roar of a mighty gale, McCarthy dashed off. Lee sighed, and sprinted off after the Chancellor.

McCarthy hurled through the woods at break neck speed, wind swirling around his feet, propelling him forward at an unimaginable speed. His hands were like rudders, guiding him as he flew through the forest — while being only a foot off the ground. He dodged and maneuvered, avoiding every obstacle with the grace of a figure skater and the flexibility of a prima ballerina. He was an artist of motion, painting an ethereal and airy portrait in the moonlight. In a matter of seconds, he had reached the clearing where the battle between Da Shan and the other Deacons had taking place. Allowing the air to dissipate, he dropped out of mid-flight, running to prevent himself from falling over. After righting himself he calmly surveyed the battlefield, mentally summoning a wind to tidy up the random leaves and dirt on his suit — and to arrange his hair. His gaze sharpened when it fell upon the three dead bodies. Confusion darted across his face and annoyance.

There’s no way Da Shan could kill these guys. Even Greg was stronger than him.

His eyes trailed around the forest scouring for any clues as to what occurred. He walked up to the corpses and bent down, examining them carefully, running a finger along the bisected body of the Elemental Cultivator. He scowled. McCarthy walked to the body of the Martial Cultivator — Greg — and looked, but did not stoop down as before. He scratched his head, the scowl growing deeper.

These two were killed by decisive sword blows. The first Cultivator seemed shocked, but the second looked ready. Perhaps they surrounded Da Shan and Olaf betrayed them to collect the reward? The conclusion was the most logical, but also the most unpleasant. He walked to the third corpse, his anger boiling to a steam. If Olaf killed Da Shan I’ll — McCarthy’s mind screeched to a halt as he lifted the blanket of the third corpse. What the hell is this?!

He could not comprehend why Olaf was dead on the ground. Before he could come to terms with his discovery the sound of Lee crashing through the bushes interrupted his thoughts. The yellow eyes of his secretary flashing in the darkness. Lee stumbled out of the forest into the clearing and tried to dust himself off after noticing McCarthy’s extremely vexed expression. Before he could finish a wind rippled by tidying him up. Lee, after mumbling something that sounded like a "Thank you", took note of each corpse and spoke the conclusion McCarthy wanted to avoid.

“He’s been hiding his power.”

McCarthy's mind flashed back to Da Shan's second recent visit to his office. He felt his face redden, then he nodded, pulled out a pocket book from his vest pocket, put on his glasses and extended his had to Lee — asking for a pen. Lee pulled out a pen and inkwell, handing them to McCarthy and then waited. McCarthy jotted some figures down, took a couple glances, put away his glasses, book, and pen while quietly muttering, “I’ll be keeping this.” He paced around for a moment. Then spoke quietly.

“Da Shan is at least Captain Grade… but I don’t understand how.”

“I don’t understand how you can conclude that without a Bloodreader.” Lee’s face went wide with amazement.

McCarthy waved off the compliment like one would an annoying fly, “I’m amazing.” He replies absently while rubbing his chin.

“Step back Lee, I don’t like relying on my powers but, I will have to.”

“Chancellor,” Lee bowed at a 90-degree angle and strode off into the forest.

McCarthy took a deep breath. Soon, the wind began to swirl around him aggressively as he wriggled his fingers like a pianist, his voice softly crooned,

“Balla, amica mea.”

The wind around McCarthy dropped and a gale stormed outward from him — leaving him undisturbed in the epicenter of the storm — kicking up leaves, dirt, grass and twigs. Then, an ethereal form materialized in the air, it’s lines both distinct and blurry, it’s face forming a strange sort of smile. The figure was feminine, but impossible to make out — it was as if it could only be seen in peripheral vision. McCarthy bowed. She bowed back.

“I will dance with you later tonight my love, but will you show me who danced here?”

A breezy laugh came from the figure. Whispers encompassed McCarthy, bathing him in a symphony of quiet voices, each barely distinguishable from the next and like the sound of the wind in the trees.

Lee felt drops of sweat sneak down his back, he hated McCarthy’s power… it was so… creepy. McCarthy had explained this ability to him once before.

“The wind always listens,” he said. “Most Wind Cultivators think the wind is an element, they’re stupid! Air is the element and air is everywhere. There is no human activity that escapes the gaze of the wind. None at all. So sometimes, I ask the wind to tell me secrets.” At this point McCarthy would always smile, “She’s such a gossip, my Anabelle, such a nosy girl.” Lee felt his body shiver, the level of cultivation necessary to make the Element not obey you, but come to life and fall in love with you, it was a realm of power Lee could not comprehend and it was the creepiest thing ever to realize that McCarthy was always watching, everywhere in the world, although —Lee scratched his head in thought, letting his shivers subside — McCarthy probably didn’t have the time to spy on everyone. But the fact that he could. That was creepy. Lee brought his focus back to McCarthy.

McCarthy’s face had turned into a scowl again, he grumbled to the wind, “Show me.” The wind was being finnicky, but hearing his no-nonsense tone, it stopped. The sound of a sigh went up into the night and the figure vanished. Soon more figures took her place. The wind began recreating the scene from before. Four masculine forms appeared, one laying behind a tree as the other three approached. The wind whispered their dialogue in his ears, McCarthy nodded at every word and phrase while keeping his eyes glued to the ghostly representation of Da Shan. His gaze was normal and steady until the airy Da Shan made his clothes, and killed the Earth Cultivator. He hissed in anger and with a shout the wind stopped mid-performance — at the part where Da Shan killed Greg. He didn’t need to see Da Shan kill Olaf, he didn’t have time! Da Shan was far more powerful than he thought… and he had solved the mystery of Da Shan's cultivation. This secret method of Da Shan’s — to fix his cultivation — he became an Elemental Cultivator, and cultivated the Metal Element, it explained why he could escape and why the Bloodreaders couldn’t detect his power. But it still made no sense to McCarthy how this worked, but he could worry about it later. He needed to find Da Shan and fast.

“So where’s Da Shan now do you think?”

“Hell if I know, probably —” McCarthy’s face warped into a savage grin and he bounded off.

“Where are you going?!” Lee called out after him, trying to keep up.

“Someone found Da Shan, one of my—"

“ — Auditor… I’m an Auditor for the Chancellor, I had no choice. I’m sorry Da Shan… I’m so sorry. But the moment you came here the Chancellor knew I met you… If I don’t capture you… he’ll kill my family… I’m so sorry my friend.”

Ed felt hot tears stream down his face, stinging his wounds. His body was at the end of his rope, so was his mind and so was his heart. Ed was strained. His head hurt from shooting dozens of mind blasts. Sweat poured down his black and blood from a few burst vessels in his head leaked down. He wiped the hot red liquid before it reached his eyes. He swayed. Unsteady on his feet. He felt like crap.

Hot damn. I am a piece of crap.

“Da Da… I didn’t want to do this to you… I’m sorry… so sorry… but… he’ll kill my family!” Ed slunk to the floor because of dizziness, but then forced himself to stand.

His blood shot eyes fell on his friend’s fallen form. Da Shan frothed at the mouth, his spasms and seizures lessening as time wore on. His eyes had fully rolled back into his head and blood leaked from every orifice, staining his multi-coloured kimono. Ed’s facial expression, though pained, was calloused.

Where’d he get such a weird outfit? Ed allowed his eyes to wander to the staircase, the cursory glance assuring him that his wife and children were all upstairs as he had ordered. His head jerked suddenly as he heard muttering, he looked at Da Shan’s still twitching form in shock. Da Shan’s tired and broken voice called out.

“Cor ferro.” Da Shan’s body writhed with renewed vigour and he tore at his mouth as if trying to rip out his teeth.

There’s no way he’s still conscious, I used enough power to take out a team of horses. Hell, I think I used enough power to kill a Captain! Frig, but those spasms are real. The intense episode of activity ceased. Ed’s bloodied hands rubbed his eyes, he looked intently at Da Shan’s form and felt the power of psykosis rampage in his brain. The sticky feel of sweet power sharpening his senses and steadying his feet. Ed mentally formed an invisible and ghostly hammer above Da Shan’s body and readied himself to strike. Hot blood erupted from previously scabbed over wounds and streamed down his face, obscuring his vision.

Rot! This is what I wanted to avoid.

He pulled a cloth from his pocket and rubbed his face in the cloth, and then screamed in pain, the cloth flying out of his hands as he collapsed to the ground in agony. He shouted in fury, but almost blacked out from the pain. Something had stabbed into his leg — shattering his femur. In rage he errantly swung the ethereal hammer, and heard a yelp of pain that brought him great satisfaction. As he dropped to the ground, he saw Da Shan’s lifeless eyes open and staring at him, pure hatred transfixed in his gaze. Ed felt a cold shiver creep down his spine, seeing the foot-long steel blade jutting out of his leg, he winced. Popping a pill in his mouth and then shoving the bloody rag he had used on his face in his mouth, he swallowed and then bit down. Yanking the sword from his leg made him release a muffled scream into the rag. He then sat down beside Da Shan’s corpse, forcing himself to look at the body. His door swayed on its unoiled hinges, the wind tugging it back and forth. Ed let his hand rest on top of his head. He let hot tears fall down his face. Tears turned to sobs. Sobs to gut wrenching cries.

“My friend! By my own hands… I’m sorry Da Shan. I’m sorry!” His mournful cries pierced the night, “Forgive me, but I had to do it, for my family!” He could not be consoled, he wept deeply for the blood on his hands. He cried to the point of exhaustion. Then Ed lay his tired and battered body down on the floor and locked eyes with his friend.

“Forgive me,” he whispered the words quietly, as if he was afraid to ask. Ed’s eyes couldn’t bear to keep contact with Da Shan’s, they fell to the floor staring at the woodwork. He noticed a couple teeth on the floor, probably from when Da Shan had attacked his jaw in that wild spasmatic frenzy that had led to... this. Eh? These teeth are hollow? Oh damn, I’m —

“Liquesce.”

Ed’s world went black.