An Elder's Revolution - The Art of Sect Politics

The Northern Sect Alliance was an alliance in name only. In ancient times, when the grand forest hadn’t yet separated the peninsula that its sects were located on from the rest of the continent, acting as a united body had been a great way of protecting themselves against the more powerful sects of the central continent.

However, since then, not only had they themselves grown in power enough that they could take care of themselves, but their geographic isolation meant that they were now of little interest to the larger regions of the continent.

Because of that, the institution of the Northern Sect Alliance had been left to fade away, though no one had ever bothered to officially abolish it. Nowadays, the term was mostly a convenient way of addressing all of the sects on the peninsula, as well as their territory, since they didn’t belong to another larger institution like a kingdom.

Despite its comparatively small geographical size, the region was rather prosperous and would probably have been rather influential if its geographical location didn’t prevent it from interacting with the other forces on the continent.

Most of the alliances wealth and power flowed through four great sects: The Lunar Peaks Sect, the Serene Plains Sect, the Parting Clouds Sect and the Roaring Thunder Sect. All of them had their unique strengths, their own powerful treasures and their own spheres of influence amongst the lesser sect.

If one sat all their pride aside, they would have to admit that it was truly impossible to say which sect was the strongest amongst them. Their endless power struggles would turn in one direction or the other, just like in recent times the Serene Plains Sect and the Parting Clouds Sect had found themselves weakened by a few poorly fought wars which had led them to temporarily ally with each other. But in the long run, no sect had been able to establish itself as the leading force in millennia.

If it came to determining who the strongest singular cultivator was, though, the picture was much clearer. Beyond any reasonable doubt, the answer could truly only be one name: Xing Zhou, Patriarch of the Roaring Thunder Sect.

He was a whole two steps ahead of all other cultivators who could even dare to lay a claim to the title of strongest, having reached the tenth stage of the Dao Contemplation Realm. While the Realm of Soul Ascension continued to elude his efforts, nobody in the Northern Sect Alliance had anywhere near as much of a chance at reaching it as him.

And all of those things he had accomplished while following the mighty Dao of Lightning. It was needless to say that if any cultivator had the right to revel in his accomplishments, it was Xing Zhou.

He, however, did no such thing. For what burned in his chest was not pride, arrogance or contentment, it was ambition, the feeling that accompanied all those destined to leave behind a mark. This peninsula had remained fragmented for too long and he would be the one to unite it. It was only right for the sect that was ruled by the most powerful cultivator to stand above all other sects.

The other sects could ally with each other, they could scheme, they could hole up and hide, but in time they would all fall to his might.

“Tell me, Elder Fan, what is the status on that little tournament they have decided to host?”

The man who stood by the side of his throne stroked his long beard in thought. The only reason that his sect had not yet taken its rightful place at the top was the fact that few people were suited to practice their chosen Dao, the Dao of Lightning. Because of that, the sect had comparatively few members and more importantly few powerful elders. Song Fan, though, belonged to those few.

“It is as we expected. Nearly all important sects have affirmed their attendance. The only ones who haven’t, are those we directly control.”

“It seems, the prestige a tournament held by two of the great sects offers is still too much, even with how much they have fallen in recent times.”

“People still can’t imagine one of the great sects to be able to take two others on. This is the balance that has kept the alliance stable for so long.”

“They will come to regret these beliefs eventually.”

“Not if they hold them strongly enough to choose a side. Without doubting your strength, we are not ready to take on the combined strength of dozens of smaller sects alongside the two great ones.”

“Then we shall show them just how wrong they are. Prepare to send a message. Our sect will participate in the tournament. And tell the other elders to prepare their people. We have waited for long enough.”

“As you command, patriarch.”

…

Zixin threw himself to the left, narrowly missing the wooden sword that stabbed the air where, less than a second ago, his chest had been.

“Good, but now you’re off balance.”

The words proved true, as Zixin failed to find any leeway to dodge the quickly following sideway slash. He managed to drag his own sword up in time to intercept the hit, but lacking the footing needed to absorb the resulting impact, he tumbled to the ground.

“You are getting better, but you’re still too reckless. The only move that is allowed to leave you no room for a follow-up is the slash that lops off your opponent’s head. Think ahead.”

“But how am I supposed to think ahead in the middle of a battle? I didn’t have time to think when you threw that stab. I needed to get out of the way.”

“Your mistake wasn’t that dodge; it was not being prepared for a stab. You were wide open. At that point, you had basically already lost. Take a page out of your friend’s book. You beat Chonglin in physique and instincts, but he is far better than you at analyzing the flow of battle.”

“But doesn’t that mean that physique and instincts are more important? I defeat him all the time when we spar.”

“They are more important, but as you climb the ladder of cultivation, these differences will disappear. A cultivator’s physique is almost entirely governed by his level of cultivation, as are the speed of his instincts.”

“Alright, I get it. I will try my best to be more careful. Thank you for your guidance.”

“Great. You’re one of the most diligent students I ever had. Keep it up, and I am sure you can achieve much.”

As Instructor Guiren turned around and left for another disciple, Zixin mentally replayed their fight in his head. Ever since there were more instructors to oversee them, Guiren had taken the time to individually spar with them. While it did show Zixin how long of a way he still had to go, it had also greatly helped him to improve his skills.

He and Chonglin had decided to take a shot at fighting in the competition that would take place next month. They both knew that their chances at making it to the tournament were minimal at best, but they wanted to do it anyway. Whether it was the naive hope that they could somehow pull off a miracle and be chosen for the tournament, or just the feeling of not wanting to be left out, they would not stand at the sidelines for something like this.

Ever since then, they had trained themselves to the bone. They would wake up early in the morning and skip breakfast to get some meditation in before going to class for the day. When the classes were done, they’d do a few hours of cultivation to rest their bodies and then go back to sparing and physical training until they barely had enough strength left to drag themselves to their rooms before falling asleep.

Zixin had decided that if they were going to participate, they would truly give it their all. He had also decided to drag Chonglin along with him in this. While his friend was far less excited in the beginning, even he seemed to become more and more fired up as the tournament approached.

Their training was so hard on them that Zixin had had to invest the majority of his newly found wealth in healing pills, just to get their bodies to keep up. It wasn’t the magical miracle-pill that Zixin had been imagining, but it was certainly effective.

Having finished his analysis of his spar, Zixin looked around for his friend. He had come up with some new ideas he wanted to test out in a spar.

Before he could find him though, Zixin’s attention was captured by something else. Right at the entrance of the courtyard on which they were training, stood Elder Wei. He was talking to Instructor Guiren, gesturing in his usual calm and serious manner.

Sadly, Zixin couldn’t make out the instructor’s reaction. He was naturally curious, but approaching to listen in on the conversation was of course impossible.

Suddenly, he saw the instructor pointing in his direction, followed by the elder’s eyes looking upon him. Feeling caught, he quickly averted us gaze, pretending to be practicing some sword swings.

Of course, knowing that he was somehow involved did little to soothe his curiosity, quite the opposite actually. What in the world were they talking about. Zixin kept throwing quick glances at them between his swings, but their conversation seemed to have moved on. A little later, the elder left.

Unable to do anything about his gnawing curiosity, Zixin returned to his effort at searching the courtyard for Chonglin. Now that he had something to talk about, he wanted to meet up with his friend more than ever.