Gasps, mutters, then raised voices ripple outward like a sonic wave. Elders from across the inner terrace turned. Some whispered with wide eyes. Others frowned, calculating. A robed figure from the Black Cowl Clan snarled beneath his hood. "Impossible. No unknown should bear a Divine Grade Spirit Body!" Others murmured similar doubts—suspicions of trickery, hidden lineage, or divine interference.
Meanwhile, the Psychic Fire Eye Elder, stiff with disdain, turned to Dimitri. "Do not falter. His power is wild. But yours is refined. Mind burns hotter than mere beast-fury." But Dimitri's silence betrayed more than just composure—he was rattled. Chin tight. Eyes fixed on Ash. From the sidelines, Nara of the Puppet Walkers smiled with amusement, already imagining the strings she'd need to pull. "Oh good. A god among insects. Let's see how he dances when the cords begin to tighten."
Zhenba clapped. Slow. Unbothered. "You know what I love? When things get unfair." Even Yogrek Grimbark narrowed his stone-cut eyes, then slammed his hammer into the ground once—an Earth Clan salute to worthy might. And then, a breeze colder than before. Elyahna, barely moving, spoke for the first time. "Interesting."
Not awe. Not envy. Interest. Measured and dangerous. I met her gaze, something ancient stirring behind both our eyes. The drums that signal official bracket construction echoed through the amphitheater. Tiers of spirit fire lit up above the arena, forming shifting brackets and placements in midair—an intricate glyph lattice representing hundreds of matches to come. A ripple of colored light flowed from my name as the totem assigned me to the Upper Celestial Bracket—a tier reserved for less than five entries. There were gasps again. Even some Elders had to double-check their ranking tiers.
The officiator confirmed it, voice steady despite the pressure: "Ashriel ember coil, Divine Grade Spirit Body, Assigned to Celestial Bracket Tier-1."
A golden halo shimmered into existence over my head while at the tournament. From the Iron Fang Ward, Elder Mei's fan snaped open like thunder. "Now they really know we're here."
A moment of tension stretched between Elyahna and I, our gazes locked like blades drawn but not yet crossed. Before either of us could speak, a faint jingling of bronze chimes broke the spell. A tall figure approached, dressed in flowing emerald-green robes stitched with drifting lotus motifs. His face was hidden behind a flawless jade mask, expressionless but serene. At his side, a scroll unfurled from thin air, glowing with imperial qi.
The Jade Seal Officiator spoke soft and formal. "Ashriel Cross of Iron Fang. By decree of the Floating Lotus Court, you are personally invited to the banquet of prodigies—hosted by His Serenity, the King of the Floating Lotus Palace." Around the gathering area, dozens of identical jade-masked officiators appeared in wisps of green mist, each approaching a prodigy of note—Elyahna, Zhenba, Dimitri, Nara of the Snare, and many more.
Each scroll was identical.
Each tone, unwavering.
I watched them quietly, then looked back at the one before me. I nodded once, "I accept." The officiator bowed, the scroll rolled itself back into nonexistence, and the jade figure simply dissolved into mist, leaving behind a faint scent of sandalwood and lotus smoke. Felicity appeared at my side, psychically, arms crossed. Felicity spoke wryly, "A banquet, huh? Hope they serve something other than poisoned stares."
I smirked, gaze still lingering on Elyahna—who had also watched me receive a scroll. "Hold a knife to your throat at a kings table." The doors to the Floating Lotus Banquet Hall creaked open—lush blossoms drifted down from the high ceilings like feathers. Lotus lanterns hovered in the air, casting soft pink and violet hues across the impossibly long crystalline banquet table. Only the top prodigies have been allowed inside.
No guards.
No Elders.
Just them.
I entered, flanked by Narna, Dimitri, Elyahna and Zhenba as well as many other Prodigies—each of them giving stares sharp enough to cut bone. Whispers swirled around me. "That's him…"
"Divine Grade…"
"He didn't even fight yet."
"Not even a core student? Then who the hell is he?"
"Some say he even has a Bloodline power!"
"What's a Bloodline like that doing with the Iron Fang?"
I seated myself near the middle of the table, directly across from Elyahna, the icy mystic. To her left, Dimitri, the psychic fire prodigy, he sipped on golden lotus wine without breaking eye contact with me. To my right, was Zhenba of the Thousand Cuts Clan. Flourishing a throwing knife between his fingers, grinning like a cat in a doghouse.
The clamor died down when the air hummed with a Kingly aura. He entered the room just then, The King of the Floating Lotus Palace. He wore no crown—just flowing robes of prismatic silk that shifted between night blue and dawn gold. His beard was a pale jade, tied with thread spun from sun beast hair. A golden serpent coiled around his staff. He smiled warmly at the assembled room. He took his seat at the head of the table, and silence reigned for a moment.
"Welcome, scions of greatness. Promised storms. Budding calamities. You are the stars that will paint the sky of the next era. A force of individuality that has the power to shape a continents destiny."
"Tonight, I do not ask you to bow, nor swear fealty, nor bind yourselves to powers beyond your youth. Tonight, you are free of sect and clan. You are simply cultivators at the edge of history. As such I invited you here to ask of me any question that you will."
He raised a crystal cup and lotus nectar overflowed from it. "To the forging of monsters. And to the choices that will make them gods… or corpses."
We all toasted. Getting to ask a cultivator who had achieved King level intent was an honor and a privilege and a great chance to advance one's martial path. Immediately several hands flew up into the air. The king pointed, " Yes you, what is your question Young lady?"
A girl in pink stood up, " What is the purpose of the martial path?" The question was profound. And one that I myself had never thought in all my cultivating to ask. After all the purpose of the martial path seemed to be fairly self-evident. It was self-defense, at least to me anyway. The King smiled a big smile, " I am so glad you asked that!"
His over the top and exaggerated reaction caused prodigies nearest him to jump in startlement. "The Purpose of the martial path is to achieve immortality."
He said smiling blankly at us.
My mind whirled! Never in a million years would I have guessed that! The King continued to speak, " Thats correct, the purpose of the path of martial arts is not self-defense or even to hurt others, but to increase and cultivate ones vital life essence to ever greater amounts. Strengthening the blood, bones, vital organs and Spirit. Achieving immortality."
The Banquet Hall had quieted down at hearing this news, at first. But soon it was replaced with giddy joy and baited whispers, "You mean we can live forever!" But then the king rose a hand, "However to achieve this one must reach the True Immortal Core Realm."
That gave me Pause, " True Immortal Core realm?" I thought. Another Prodigy rose their hand, The king answered, "Yes you there, your question?"
The boy in black with green hair stood up, " There is Martial Learner, Martial Artist, and Martial Masters. And each of those catergorize have ''steps'' but I've always wondered; Is there class above Martial Masters?"
The King smiled again as he took a sip of nectar, "Yes, After you become a Peak Tier Martial Master you can ascend to The Holy Martial Path, a required step to reach the Immortal Core Realm.
Which can take hundreds and hundreds of years to achieve."
I paused at this. "It can take hundreds of years of Cultivation to reach the holy martial path?!" The King waved his hands, enough questions for now, let us enjoy the nights festivities, yes? But even as they ate, laughed, and feigned grace, the looks toward Ash didn't change. Elyahna spoke first, in a soft, cold voice across the table:
"I once read that Divine Spirit Bodies were only born once in an age. Strange how you've gone unnoticed all this time, Ashriel of Iron Fang."
"Have You've been hiding? Or were you hidden?" I didn't flinch, "Sometimes the wind buries embers. Other times, it feeds them." Zhenba chuckled at this. "I don't care if your spirit body is Divine. Your bones will still break."
Felicity chimed in my mind. "Do you want me to poison the wine?" "No. Let's let them talk." Suddenly, the lights dimmed. A hologlyph projection forms above the table—an animated display of tomorrow's matchups, trials, and early elimination rounds. The remaining 250 open slots where being fought for in a brutal single-elimination round-robin in open terrain—watched by the clans from the tower perches. The real tournament began the day after that. Then the King rose once more and spoke directly to me.
"Ashriel Embercoil. Will you walk the path to the end?"
I meet his eyes. "If it leads to eternity- Then yes."
The King smiled again, but this time with something else behind it—recognition. "Good. Then I look forward to seeing how many gods your fists can knock from the sky."