Feeling a sense of incredible accomplishment Ashwin spent the rest of the early morning meditating in his Dantian, or soul sea.
Walking across the azure lake Ashwin approached the small animus pool, he wanted to inspect the new pond of mysterious essence that rested within.
Inspecting it he found that it was far more dense than animus or mental energy, remembering how it had grown each time he had refused the intrusive thought he estimated that it was somehow tied to will power.
But something else had also changed, his lake of mental energy had gotten smaller, he thought about this for a moment before speaking.
“A portion of my mental energy was compressed into this thicker denser essence.”
Putting two and two together Ashwin quickly realized that if he wanted to cultivate more of this new denser and stronger essence, he would need great amounts of mental energy to compress.
Most cultivators were focused on growing their animus, but very few cultivators gave much thought to mental energy, Ashwin realized he had a decision to make.
It would be very difficult to cultivate both animus, mental energy and now this third new source all at the same time, so for now as a fledgling cultivator he would only choose one.
“Mental energy.
I’ll cultivate my mental energy first, then I’ll compress all of my mental energy into this new essence.”
Breaking from the meditation Ashwin smiled, he had just made a huge choice, but he felt pleased with his decision, it was noontime now and he decided to sleep through the hottest part of the day.
When he awoke tonight, his cordage and prime tendon would be ready, the canteen would be dry, and he could string the bow.
Then he would gather up all his tools and return to the Mantis Beast carcass and where he had last seen the Death Gigas trudge off, and he would pick up its trail.
He felt his heartbeat quicken and a butterfly like sensation in the pit of his stomach; He was doing this.
Boris and Marla moved through the cramped streets of the settlement of Tor, elbowing and shoving other hunters aside while keeping a wary eye on their coin pouches.
Tor had been founded by a handful of exiles who had failed their Rite of Passage, only to discover that their true talents lay not in hunting beasts, but in supplying those who did.
Over the years, other failures, retirees, and opportunists had swelled its population until the ramshackle outpost had become the busiest trading hub in the Death Valley Zone.
The settlement itself was carved into the massive, fossilized skeleton of a holy longnecked three headed dragon, room by room, street by street.
The massive amount of holy battle essence that radiated out from it granted a measure of security from fiends and giga beasts.
Smoke from dozens of cookfires drifted through the narrow streets, carrying the scent of roasted meat, hot iron, and pungent herbs.
Food stalls competed for hungry customers while blacksmiths hammered glowing steel on anvils, each ringing blow echoing across the settlement.
Apothecaries displayed rows of dried roots, powdered beast bones, and stoppered bottles filled with brightly colored tinctures.
Beast Crystal brokers examined crystals under magnifying lenses.
Tanners scrapped the hides of exotic beasts.
Essence refiners bought and sold glands, horns, venom sacs, and organs.
Fletchers sold bundles of feathers from Wind Battle Essence birds. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
There were Bone carvers turning ribs and femurs into weapons and tools.
Cultivators haggled over rare herbs that could save years of cultivation time.
Vendors shouted over one another; each convinced they had the best bargain.
“Cheapest cerulean in town!”
“Fresh beast jerky!
Two strips for a copper!”
“Arrowheads!
Hardened steel arrowheads!”
“Healing salve!
Works or your money back!”
Children darted through the crowd with the ease of pickpockets, dogs scavenged beneath carts for scraps, and pack mules laden with beast carcasses forced pedestrians to flatten themselves against crooked timber buildings as they lumbered past.
Opening the heavy bone door, Marla and Boris strode into the Beast Crystal Brokerage as though they owned the place.
Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling; each crowded with velvet-lined boxes displaying Beast Crystals of every imaginable color and shape.
Some glowed with a faint inner light, while others pulsed.
Behind a broad counter fashioned from polished fossil wood sat an elderly man with a neatly trimmed gray beard and a jeweler’s loupe fixed over one eye.
Without a word, Marla crossed the room and dropped the eye-shaped green crystal onto his desk.
”Thunk.”
“I want it appraised.”
Mordecai glanced down with mild disinterest before picking up a slender essence extractor rod, its silver tip etched with delicate runes.
He gently touched the crystal.
The rod gave a sharp emerald flash.
His eyebrows climbed nearly to his hairline.
“…Where,” he asked slowly, unable to take his eyes off the crystal, “did you two find this?”
Marla rolled her eyes.
“It found us.
We were crossing the fossil beds when a Stone Gazer decided we’d make a good meal.”
Mordecai looked from the crystal to Marla, then to Boris, as if weighing whether either of them was capable of lying convincingly.
“…A Stone Gazer,” he repeated.
Boris folded his arms.
Finally, after a moment of quiet deliberation, Mordecai nodded.
“I’ll appraise it and decipher its potential,” he said, carefully sliding the eye-shaped crystal into a padded wooden case.
“But that sort of work takes time…
and, of course, there’s the matter of my appraisal fee.”
Marla reached into her coin pouch and placed three small gold fangs onto the desk.
“I trust this will cover your time.”
Mordecai’s weathered face broke into a satisfied smile as he swept the gold fangs into a drawer.
“It will.” He closed the case with a soft click.
“Come back tonight.
I’ll have your appraisal waiting.”
Without another word, Boris and Marla left the brokerage.
The moment they stepped back onto the bustling streets of Tor an alarm bell sounded.
”CLANG!”
A deep bronze bell that hung from the jaws of one of the fossilized dragon heads boomed across the settlement”CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!”’
Every conversation stopped.
Merchants abandoned their stalls.
Hunters reached instinctively for their weapons.
Stable hands scrambled to pull frightened pack beasts out of the bone carved streets.
Boris and Marla exchanged a sharp glance.
A hunter came sprinting toward them, breath ragged, his face pale beneath a layer of dust.
“A rift is forming!” he shouted, pointing toward the big bone gates that allowed traffic flow into Tor, “To arms!
To arms!”
Without another word, Boris tightened his grip into a fist, while Marla snatched her bow from her shoulder.
Whatever had emerged…
It wasn’t going to wait for the people of Tor to prepare.