CHAPTER 158 — TERMS OF ASCENT
"What do you mean by..
The words never finished.
Leylin rose from his throne, and though the motion was simple, the air shifted with it. Heat gathered around him in a controlled swell that pressed against Séraphine's instincts before her thoughts could follow, tightening the space between them as if the world itself had taken notice.
Her eyes sharpened..
He vanished.
The impact came a breath later.
A blaze of gold and red struck her chest and tore her from the sky, sending her spiraling downward before she crashed into the ground with enough force to split the surface apart. The sound followed after, heavy and delayed, as stone fractured outward and ash rose into the air, the crater beneath her spreading in jagged lines.
For a moment, nothing moved.
Then she forced herself up.
One knee pressed into broken ground, one hand braced against her chest as the pain settled deep enough to disrupt her breathing. Blood slipped past her lips as she lifted her gaze and locked onto the figure above.
Leylin hovered in silence, his presence steady, his attention fixed entirely on her.
"What was that for…" she managed, her voice strained but controlled.
His gaze rested on her for a moment before a faint, measured smile touched his lips.
"I needed to understand something," he said calmly. "Now I do."
Her expression tightened, irritation cutting through the pain as she straightened further.
"You call that understanding?"
"You're weaker than I expected," he replied without hesitation.
The words landed harder than the blow.
He shifted slightly in the air, his focus drifting for a brief moment before returning to her with clarity that felt deliberate.
"That means I'll need to adjust."
Séraphine steadied her breathing and forced herself fully upright despite the strain still echoing through her body.
"Adjust what?" she asked, her voice firmer now.
Leylin's gaze sharpened, the faint amusement fading into something focused.
"Your growth."
The space between them tightened as he continued without pause.
"There's a secret realm opening in nine months."
He looked down at her fully, his attention settling with intent that left no room for misinterpretation.
"We will be going."
The certainty in his voice made it a decision, not a suggestion.
Heat gathered briefly around him as his form blurred at the edges, the space struggling to contain him—
Then he was gone.
The pressure he left behind lingered in the air, heavier than the impact that had shattered the ground below.
---
In another section of the Marquis estate stood a grand chamber devoid of guards, its double doors etched with the image of two growling tigers frozen mid-flight. The insignia alone was enough to keep weaker cultivators at a distance.
Inside, the chamber reflected authority without display.
Six pillars stood in a perfect circle, each carved from dense violet crystal that held compressed essence far beyond what ordinary spirit stones could contain. The light within them moved slowly, thick and heavy, like liquid resisting motion. Every breath carried weight, and the air itself pressed back against anything that entered.
At the center, the Marquis sat.
He positioned himself just outside the circle rather than within it, a quiet distinction that placed him above the resources instead of among them. His posture remained relaxed, one hand resting against his knee, his breathing steady as the pillars responded.
The essence did not drift toward him.
It gathered before him, condensing along the surface of the pillars before peeling away in slow spirals. As it moved, it compressed further, gas folding into liquid, liquid tightening into dense droplets that hovered briefly under their own pressure before sinking into him without resistance.
His body accepted it without strain.
A faint glow followed, controlled and brief, fading within seconds.
He opened his eyes.
Still not enough.
The thought settled without frustration. It was simply a conclusion.
His gaze moved toward the nearest pillar, studying the slow rotation of essence within it as though measuring its value against something only he could perceive. These were not resources meant for his level, yet they had been gathered and refined to a point where most cultivators would struggle to absorb even a fraction of what he took in a single breath.
For him, it remained insufficient.
His fingers tapped once against the armrest, the motion small but deliberate.
The pillars responded.
The essence within them tightened further, and the pressure in the chamber increased as the density rose, yet his expression did not change.
He had already reached the limit of what this level of resource could offer.
Refinement at his stage no longer depended on quantity. It depended on quality, and quality could not be solved through accumulation alone.
That was why the reports mattered.
His attention shifted as movement approached the chamber. The doors remained closed, yet he already knew who stood outside and why. After a moment, the barrier parted, allowing a figure to step in and kneel without lifting their head.
"My lord."
The Marquis let the silence settle before speaking.
"Report."
"The Soulis opening preparations are proceeding across all estates," the man said. "The eastern Marquis has increased resource allocation toward inscription-stage candidates. The northern military estate has begun mobilizing external patrol units, focusing on containment rather than expansion."
The Marquis listened without interruption.
"The western estate has restricted internal movement. There is no irregular activity, but their defensive formations have been reinforced. They are preparing."
A brief pause followed.
"And the phoenix?"
The man swallowed.
"She has entered the manifest stage and displays abnormal combat output. Reports indicate she has already surpassed standard thresholds for her level."
The Marquis's gaze remained steady.
"All of them are preparing," the man concluded carefully.
"Dismissed."
The word ended the exchange.
The man bowed and turned, already stepping away when he hesitated.
The pause was slight, but it did not go unnoticed.
"Speak."
"There is one more report."
The tension in the room sharpened.
"An abnormal surge was detected from Lady Séraphine's training chamber. The density exceeded standard manifestation thresholds. It resembled a breakthrough."
The Marquis's gaze sharpened.
"Séraphine?"
"Yes, my lord. The readings suggest she may have crossed into the inscription stage."
A subtle shift passed through the chamber.
"Who else knows?"
"No one. The report was delivered directly to me."
A faint nod followed.
"You've done well."
Relief flickered across the man's face.
He turned to leave.
One step. Then another.
On the third, his body collapsed.
There was no warning. His form simply lost cohesion and fell, lifeless before it fully struck the ground.
Yet something remained.
Behind him, where he had knelt, a faint outline lingered. A human shape formed from condensed violet essence held the same posture, head lowered, as though the report had not ended.
It remained briefly before thinning at the edges and dissolving into the air.
Silence returned.
The Marquis did not look at the body.
"Breakthrough," he murmured, testing the word.
Then he dismissed it.
No.
His gaze shifted, focusing somewhere far beyond the chamber walls.
"She shouldn't be able to.
The space around him stilled as his attention settled in that direction.
"I wonder,"he said quietly, if you'll be able to help.