Reaper of the Martial World

Book 12: Chapter 69: I Don’t Like the Number Nine (3)

Sage Ademar was stunned silent.

He had always used his profession to throw his weight around. Spiritual Sages were simply far too rare. But, he was under no illusions that he was a match for the retired Patriarch. He happened to be talented in the sensing soul path, but he wasn’t very powerful himself.

The old fogie might not dare to kill him, but teaching him a lesson really would not be a problem.

Plus, the retired Patriarch was right. He had already been paid. In fact, what he was doing now was easier than what he had been tasked to do. He had honestly just been looking for an excuse to leave without standing here and watching such a thing.

In the end, he fell silent, his jaw setting.

“Focus on yourself!”

In the arena, Tedric’s voice filled the ears of the representative for his Darkwell Clan.

“But…!”

“No buts. Focus on your task at hand. Don’t pay attention to anything he does, and don’t waste your time antagonizing him.”

Hearing these staunch words, the Darkwell Clan representatives had no choice but to put their heads down and begin discussing among one another. Soon after them, the Dimwell Clan also followed suit, their leader only sending one last glare toward Dyon who was chatting with Saru and Lilith.

“I thought you hadn’t ever drawn a talisman before, should you at least start?” Lilith asked innocently.

Dyon all but rolled his eyes at her words. It wasn’t because he disdained her question, but rather because he knew she wasn’t really asking. She had only said those words so that others would hear her.

Dyon gave a ‘I know what you’re trying to do’ glance toward this mischievous woman.

The tempers of the two other groups flared once more, their concentrated auras growing.

Dyon went back to observing the heavenly herb in his hand, allowing the time to tick by.

Without the commentary of the announcer, the competition turned quite stale. There simply weren’t enough of the commoners who understood what was happening.

Realizing that things couldn’t continue like this, or else people would stop paying for entry, come the second day, the announcer was replaced. However, maybe out of fear for what happened to the last one, this announcer refused to say anything about what the crowd really wanted him to talk about: Dyon.

Dyon became like a massive elephant in this otherwise impossible large arena, while the man himself seemed to not have any idea about what was happening.

Eventually, the third day came and half it passed by.

By now, everyone realized that Dyon was working alone. From time to time, Saru would ask him a question about the announcer’s commentary and he would answer, making it clear that their knowledge in the matter was incredibly shallow. Just what was the Nightwell Clan thinking?

“Ah, that’s how it works.” Dyon suddenly said, perking up.

“Pft…” Lilith stifled a giggle. “There’s only 30 minutes left, maybe you should do something.”

“Oh, is there? I meant to leave an hour…” Dyon muttered.

It seems he got too caught in his most recent heavenly herb. Even the other two groups had finished, it seems.

“You said that the Heavens don’t like the number 10 and 16, what are you going to do about it, then?” Lilith asked, continuing to goad him.

“Fuck the Heavens.” Dyon said lazily. “If it doesn’t like 10 and 16, I’ll make it like 10 and 16. There’s something about the number 9 I especially hate.”

Before others could react to his words, Dyon’s soul qi rushed forth like a high tide, swallowing the arena that covered dozens of miles.

Sage Ademar was stunned. He realized at that moment that Dyon’s soul strength was far beyond his own.

The 16 talismans on the long table shot upward, hovering around Dyon.

“The reason the Heavens don’t like numbers aside from three and nine is that they act as strong pillars. There’s no stronger simple structure than a triangle, and no stronger large structure than a collection of triangles.

“But those rules are written using the fundamental runes of this world.” Dyon shrugged. “I’ll just use the fundamental runes of another world that happens to love even numbers… especially the number 4 and multiples of it… Damned four horsemen…”

The talismans snaked through the air, rushing toward the delicate lines of gold Dyon practically embroidered into the air itself. It felt like the inner mechanisms of a clock were swirling around them… beautiful ticking and intricate pieces, turning gears, the way each small change affected each and every other part…

The talismans collapsed together along with the swirls of gold, coming together like beautiful pieces of origami.

The first five talismans formed the first five layers. In groups of two, the next eight talismans formed the next four layers. And finally, the last barrier was formed of three talismans, rounding it out with a perfect 16.

They all but fused into one. Whereas the barriers that surrounded the other groups were several feet thick, reaching over three meters, Dyon’s own was just 6 inches thick. The layers could hardly be perceived.

“Tsk.” Dyon muttered. “If I had an extra 30 minutes… Disappointing.”

Normally, for a competition, the audience might be on the edge of their seats, eager to see who had come out on top. But somehow, they were all already aware of the answer.

“…. Innate aurora…” Were the only words the announcer managed to say.