A week had bled into the gray reality of Black Silt Ridge.
The initial fervor of the Opening Ceremony had cooled, replaced by clan indoctrination. Power was not merely found; it was built upon a foundation of rigid hierarchy and the systematic consumption of the broken world's essence.
The Mo Village Academy was the forge where raw talent are hammered into functional tools for the clan's expansion.
The academy mirrored the clan's philosophy: stone walls five feet thick, reinforced with iron ore veins to dampen the psychic shrieks of the wild Phantoms that roamed the surrounding woods. Windows were narrow slits, less for light and more for ventilation to clear the scent of bitter incense and spirit blood.
"We Humans are Rulers; Phantoms are the scum of heaven and earth."
The voice of the Academy Elder was echoing off the cold stone walls. In front of him sat fifty-seven students, their postures varying from Mo Lin's eager attention to the slumped, vacant stares of the D-grade laborers to be.
The Elder was a man whose skin had the texture of cured leather, his eyes clouded by a lifetime of internal erosion. He was a Rank 2 Middle-Stage Grafter whose primary Phantom is a Gloom Crawler. It had long since begun to merge with his nervous system, leaving him with a permanent twitch in his left hand.
"In this world, thousands of Phantoms drift through the miasma," the Elder continued, pacing the dais. "They nest in the soil, they coil within the roots of the spear bamboo, and they rot within the marrow of wild beasts. Seven days ago, you all opened your Reliquaries. By stabilizing your initial essence, you have all become Rank 1 Grafters. You are no longer mere mortals; you are the containers of the Dao. But a container without a tool is merely a hollow jar."
Mo Jue sat in the far corner, near a window slit. He was leaning back, his eyes half closed.
To the Elder and his peers, he appeared to be drifting into a state of post Graft lethargy. A common side effect for those who chose Phantoms too powerful for their souls. They saw a genius struggling with a burden he had been too arrogant to refuse.
In reality, Mo Jue was monitoring the Howling Shadow pinned within his Dantian. The Phantom was no longer thrashing; it had settled into a sullen, rhythmic pulse, its shadow essence slowly being leached and purified by Mo Jue's 2000-year-old willpower.
He was performing a high-level demonic technique that allowed him to siphon essence while appearing idle.
A student in the front row raised his hand, his voice trembling with the fragile excitement of youth. "Elder, we know the Ranks, but how far can we truly go? Can a Mo Clan member ever reach the legendary Ninth Rank?"
The Elder stopped pacing. He looked at the boy with a mixture of pity and dry amusement. "The Dao has nine layers, boy. Rank 1 is the Foundation, this is the stage where you learn to survive. Rank 2 is the Pillar, where you begin to exert your will upon the environment. Rank 3 is the Powerhouse, the level of a Clan Elder. Most of you will spend your lives at Rank 1 or 2, serving as the clan's wall"
He paused, his gaze lingering on Mo Lin and then Mo Jue.
"Those with B-grade talent have the capacity to reach Rank 3, perhaps even Rank 4 if the heavens are kind. Rank 5 Grafters are the lords of the mountains. They are the ones who establish villages and rewrite the maps with their own hands. As for Rank 6 and above... they are legends, entities whose very breath can alter the weather and whose existence is an affront to the laws of physics. In the twelve generations of the Mo Clan on Black Silt Ridge, we have seen multiple Rank 5, but never a Rank 6"
The teenagers' ears pricked up, their eyes shining with the deluded hope of the young. Many turned to look at Mo Lin, who sat in the first row. As a B-grade with 64% capacity and a father in logistics, he was the safe investment.
But their eyes also strayed to the back of the room.
"Look at him," someone whispered. "Since he contained that Shadow, he hasn't spoken a word. They say the beast is eating his mind from the inside"
"Arrogance has a price," another whispered back. "My father said the Howling Shadow is a cursed beast. Mo Jue will be lucky to see the next spring."
Mo Jue ignored the chatter. He was focused on a specific local legend: the tale of the Blight Walker. In the clan's books, the Blight Walker was a sinister rogue who attempted to poison the village's spirit springs centuries ago, only to be stopped by the sacrifice of the Fourth Clan Head.
To Mo Jue, this narrative was riddled with tactical inconsistencies. A Rank 5 master of movement wouldn't be caught in a simple frontal assault.
Especially, when he has a rank 5 Hiding Leech. A supplement phantom known to accompany the Blight Walker. It was a parasite that fed on Soul Pale, a substance produced when spiritual energy is compressed into a mineral form.
If the Walker died here, there's a high chance some of his phantoms are hidden nearby. The Mo Clan's history says the demon was critically injured near the Northern Ravine.
There's a probability that a legacy exists.
For the past week, Mo Jue had been performing his own scouting missions. Every night, he carried a small vial of Bitter Root Extract, a substance that mimicked the scent of decaying spirit, letting the vapors drift through the spear bamboo groves. He was fishing for it.
"Quiet!" the Elder barked, slamming a wooden rod. "The history of our ancestors is written in blood. The Fourth Head sacrificed his soul to stop the Walker. It is because of that sacrifice that you are allowed the luxury of sitting here and being mediocre."
"Today," the Elder continued, "you will receive your first supplemental phantom: an Eye Phantom Shard." He held up a small translucent eyeball that glowed with a pale, cold luminescence.
"The first student to successfully refine their Eye Phantom Shard and manifest it will be rewarded with a generous sum of 30 pieces of Soul Jade."
The room erupted. 30 pieces was a fortune.
"Three days?" Mo Lin muttered, casting a sharp, mocking look at Mo Jue. "I'll have it done by tomorrow's dawn. My father already explained the essence flow of this Shard to me last month."
Mo Jue stood up slowly to receive his shard. Refinement for him was a triviality. He could do it in an hour, but doing so would raise too many questions.
His strategy is to delay refinement until the second night. Maintain the appearance of struggle. Use the time to locate the Hiding Leech's burrow.
As the sun began to set, Mo Jue sat in his dark room, the Eye Phantom Shard resting on his palm. "20 pieces is a start," he thought. "But the Walker's legacy... that is the true prize."
At midnight, Mo Jue slipped through the window. He headed toward the northern Ravine, stopping at an ancient stone marker. He poured a small circle of the Bitter Root Extract around the base of the stone. Then, he waited.
Ten minutes passed. The soil began to stir. A small, pale gray entity poked out of the dirt. It looked like a sliced off human foot, but it's made of a substance that looked like calcified bone.
Mo Jue didn't move. He watched as the human foot jumped onto the stone, seeking the scent of the extract. Suddenly, a loud snap of a twig echoed from the trees. The Hidden Leech vanished back into the soil with a speed that defied its appearance.
"I knew you were up to something, Mo Jue."
Mo Lin stepped out from the shadows, holding his own glowing Eye Phantom Shard. His face was twisted in triumph. "Wandering around at night with strange extracts? Trying to hide the fact that you can't refine the Shard?"
Mo Jue turned slowly. "You are very loud, Mo Lin. Your presence has just cost me a significant amount of time."
"Time? You're lucky I don't call the patrol! Entering the Ravine after curfew is a punishable offense."
Mo Jue looked at Mo Lin's throat.
"It is a ritual for the Shadow" Mo Jue lied, his voice perfectly level.
"My Phantom requires the miasma to remain docile. If you wish to report me, go ahead. But explaining why you were following me into a restricted zone might be difficult for your father to manage."
Mo Lin hesitated. "Hmph. You're insane" he said, backing away.
"Fine. But tomorrow, I refine the Shard, and you'll be the laughingstock of the academy."
Mo Jue watched him disappear. He looked back at the stone marker. The Hidden Leech was gone, but the trail was established.
Mo Jue picked up his empty vial. He didn't feel anger. To him, setbacks were normal occurrence.
Tomorrow, he would refine the Eye Phantom Shard, take the 30 Soul Jades, buy more extract, and find the Hidden Leech.