Li Blackleaf, the old ghost Nic had unleashed from the frozen world, stood before them. To Nic’s surprise he didn’t make any aggressive motions.

He simply spoke.

“Beh, what a way to find you. I search for days, and then that damn beacon drags me right to your doorstep.” His crooked old voice sung. “What a way to treat your old master…”

“Master…?” Tarquin asked, incredulous.

“Of course! He learned my technique, did he not?”

“Okay.” Nic rotated his cultivation base, building power into his arms. “I am full up on crazy ghost lectures lately. So if you have something to say, say it quick!”

The ghost of Li Blackleaf hadn’t attacked him, which was a step up from their past encounters.

But the old coot was unpredictable to say the least.

“Keh. Tired of lectures and crooked old trees? You may as well turn your face from the path of cultivation, for you’ll find little else here!” Blackleaf chuckled. Unlike the other ghost, his body was made of drifting ash and ribbons of smoke; he had possessed some kind of undead servant so his soul could escape captivity, leaving his body behind. “But fine. Fine. I’ll keep this succinct. In my life, I tried to perfect three great techniques; the System offered to help refine them to a perfect stage if I hunted the Ash-Faced Boddhisatva and destroyed his legacy.”

“But fuck the System! You!” His finger jabbed out. “You managed to recreate my Black Hegemon Palm simply from seeing it performed. The old must wager on the young to carry their legacies; I’ll gamble on you to see my legacy become immortal. I wish for you to become my student!”

Nic was, for a moment, taken aback.

Li Blackleaf really was a cultivator. One second he was bloodthirsty, hunting Nic across the earth. The next he’d decided Nic would make a good pupil. Both, he pursued with the same relentless energy.

Cultivators were damn crazy fools.

“I have my own path.” Nic said, carefully. Blackleaf was a difficult enemy. Even if Nic had come a long way in the week since they fought…

There was no telling what tricks the old ghost could pull out.

“Sorry, I’m full up. I’ve got my own path, and I’m not interested in yours.” It was painful to say. The greedy part of Nic’s soul still wanted to gather every source of power he could…

But his path lay in mastering every aspect of his current methods, not having a thousand tools he could barely use.

And he didn’t trust this old bat to teach him. Not for one second.

“Bah.” Blackleaf wasn’t deterred. “Not even in soul cultivation methods?”

Nic…

Paused.

There were four basic ‘roads’ to cultivation. The body, the mind, the soul, and above them all, the core cultivation method.

Right now, when Nic cultivated Physical Strength, he was reinforcing his body by the crudest possible methods, hammering Essence into his flesh. The same for his soul and mind.

But there were methods that exceeded that. With the right techniques, you could change how your body advanced- some simply exceeded the results in raw power, while others brought new benefits entirely, like attuning your flesh to a new element...

Simple techniques like the Hand of Ash couldn’t tempt Nic now. Any techniques he picked up would have to be perfectly suited to his path.

But cultivation methods very much could.

He had to restrain himself from licking his lips.

“Ha! That changed your tune, didn’t it? Let’s make it official. If you cultivate my palm techniques to D-Class, and find suitable inheritors for my Blackmist Puppet Shroud and Ghost-Raising Five Rings techniques…” The old man held up a single finger. “I’ll teach you the soul cultivation methods of the Blackleaf clan.”

D-Class…

His current palm technique was only in the F-Class. Once he had raised it to the fifth rank, it would need to be reworked in order to progress further.

But with the old ghost on his side, was that really such a barrier? Nic had invented his Hand of Ash based on a few glimpses of the original technique and the powerful inspiration the Key of Omens gave him; if he was willing to open those gates again, with the founding technique’s creator at his side, couldn’t he easily upgrade the skill?

“Fine. On one condition.” He said slowly.

“Hold on!” Tarquin sputtered out. “You can’t be serious.”

But Nic just held out a hand to silence him.

“Name your price, boy.” Blackleaf smiled.

“First of all, you keep your distance. I won't have you hanging around all the time; every time I’m weak would be a chance you’d have to strike at me.” Nic had to mind his own safety. Trust was a matter of knowing how close you could keep someone. “And... I'm hunting a ghost, one even more powerful than you. I need to know: Why are you so much harder to destroy than the other ghosts?”

“Hmm.” The ghost considered for a moment, then said, “It’s all contained in a single word. Soul! The other ghosts you fought barely had the power to form a single incorporeal body, and once it was dispersed, they couldn’t create another one to shelter their Essence. This is because they didn't practice any decent soul techniques in life. I can split my form into several pieces and hide them here and there; it takes me a while but I can regrow from fragments by leeching energy from the little creatures and fresh corpses. Having experience in raising undead shades is to my advantage as well. If you want to truly kill a ghost- attack the soul directly!”

“Then I'll accept you're trustworthy, so long as we meet on my terms."

“And you know you have a knife at my throat. Keh! The only way two cultivators can ever trust each other.” Blackleaf agreed. “Now, take this token. When you need my aid or guidance, you only need to speak to it.”

In his open palm, a cricket made of ash formed. It leaped up, flying through the air, and Nic nearly responded as if it was an attack. But no…

No, in a strange way, he was coming to believe the old coot. There was something about the way he acted that spoke of truth; he seemed unconcerned if he was believed or not.

He reached out his hand and caught it.

Blackleaf began to fade, dissolving out into shreds of ash, but now Tarquin spoke up. “Hey, hold on! You said you had two more techniques you want to pass on, right? Well, how about me, huh? I could learn one.”

But Blackleaf just snorted. “You? Too soft. The Blackmist Puppet Shroud requires the will to dominate and crush another mind in the palm of your hand. As for the Ghost-Raising Five Rings, it requires someone who can split their mind into pieces, controlling five shadows without missing a step. These aren’t easy requirements for a stripling to meet.”

“You know…” Nic said. “I might actually know someone. For the Five Rings, at least, I definitely have someone in mind.”

“Oh-ho?”

“Yeah. I’ll introduce the two of you.” Nic promised. “But for now, I’m going to go about my business, and I don’t need an old ghost following me.”

“Ha! Of course not. Life is for the young, not for the ghosts of old. But I’ll be around. If trouble comes your way, you’ll know of it before it strikes…”

And with a drift of wind dissolving his body into ribbons and rivers of ash, the old ghost was gone.

“I can’t believe you actually trusted him.” Tarquin said, as Nic stuffed the ashen-cricket token down into his bag. “Like, what an eerie old geezer.”

“Not the tune you were singing a second ago.” Nic noted. “Oh, teach me master! Let me learn your techniques, master!” He imitated, in an insultingly high pitch.

“Hey c’mon. I’ve gotta get ahead somehow. We don’t all have the devil’s luck like you…” He awkwardly admitted, rubbing at his hair. “I’m still making do with one Shard.”

“Hmm.” Nic paused. “What kind of Shard do you want?” He asked.

“Well, I can fly, and I can burn things pretty good. So movement and offense, covered. In style. But defense…” Tarquin shrugged. “Defense-wise, I’m a squishy little ball of flesh, and I don’t grow back nearly as fast as you.”

Nic nodded. “Let me see what I can do.”

He had the Mire-Caller Shard significantly more developed now. Binding up E-Class creatures was no issue for him. Cutting out their Shards while they were alive…

It was nasty work, but if it meant Tarquin could grow, Nic would do it.

“Oo, you know what would be great? Something to make me a little uh, taller. Y’know. Barnel has that Shard that makes him like eight-feet tall…”

“I think that’s Raughlins.”

“I can never tell them apart.”

“Okay, so I should rip out Barnel and-or Raughlins Shards so you can reach the top shelf?”

“Naw, naw. Just… If you found something like that…”

“I’ll keep it in mind when I go hunting.” Nic promised. He seemed to be making a lot of promises today.

And out in the desert…

Out in the swirling stand, beneath the ever-changing light of the All-Storm, where horizons collided…

What was happening there?

What were his enemies doing?

His heart itched to get back into the fray and begin fighting like mad, but his better mind knew that wasn’t an option just now. He had to get stronger. He had to take advantage of these Trials to build his strength, and draw together every resource he could, tempering his body and his cultivation.

He had to keep climbing.

And every promise, in a way, was another burden he carried on the journey towards the peak.