God Of Crafting

"Strength and honor!"

A vein bulged on the upper right of my face, just a bit above my eye.

'Are they for real?' I thought, gulping down my saliva as I scanned the nice, even rows of cultivators, all smashing their fists into their chests as if they were trying to perform self-inflicted CPR.

"Strength and honor! Strength and honor! Strength and honor!"

The men and women continued to scream, standing at attention while bashing their fists against their hearts as I approached.

Thankfully, Clarie and Chihiro were spared this treatment, left to wait in the gallery of Leila's private sparring ground, where, according to Leila's own words, we need not worry about anyone spying on us.

To say that I didn't really believe in this statement would be one heck of a massive understatement. Yet, when I recognized some of the faces within the crowd and connected them to the faces I saw back when the cultivators tried to contain us at the cultivation garden's gate…

'Just like I thought,' I resisted the desire to roll my eyes. 'For how much they developed their cultivation, it seems they forgot to figure out anything else.'

This was the only explanation for how I could see the people from yesterday appearing here. The only explanation that didn't involve Leila intentionally trying to leak the information she had yet to obtain and verify.

Because while I could accept her desire to leak some stuff just to condition other factions in some way for some political play I couldn't even fathom… allowing a leak of the information she had yet to verify was one hell of a massive mistake, an oversight I simply couldn't allow.

That's why, before I even stepped foot into this arena or anywhere close to it, I had a short talk with both Claire and Chihiro separately, only to then talk it through with both of them at once again. And by now, we'd already decided that whilst short, our stay in the spiritual part of the world was quickly coming to an end.

'Now, to wrap up this exercise, go back to the cultivation garden to max out what we can gain from there, and we should be pretty much free to leave,' I thought, stretching my fingers out to warm my hands up as I walked through the corridor made by the even ranks of the cultivators in the arena, as if I were some sort of star about to give the show of my life to them.

Yet, rather than a scene, a microphone, and an audience excited to see how greatly I would perform, what awaited me at my destination was just a bit of open land with a line of cultivators dressed in a slightly different way from all of their compatriots around.

"Here you are," Leila emerged from behind the ranks of her men with a slight, perfectly relaxed smile on her lips. "Are you ready?"

I squinted my eyes a bit before looking around.

"I guess?"

There was so much I didn't know or understand about this place.

Why was this single line of cultivators dressed differently from the rest? Sure, the difference was limited to just the color of their robes, but still, it was a variable I couldn't really account for. Then, why were so many cultivators filling the sparring arena when it was supposed to be a relatively covert event?

'Is she not even hiding her desire to make this event into a power play or something?'

No matter how much I tried to stick to my first impression of her, Claire's mom continued to lose points in my eyes with every move that she made and every situation that she arranged.

'At this point, it might be better to just stop talking or interacting with her at all, to preserve what little respect and sympathy I have left for her,' I thought, chuckling on the inside while slowly pushing all the needless thoughts aside.

This wasn't a concert or a stand-up party, after all, but an attempt to figure out the limits of my current strength through the barebones, practical means. And whether or not I would prove to be near infinitely stronger than those cultivators, abysmally weaker than them, or just around their level of martial prowess… regardless of what the outcome would be, it would give me the precious information allowing me to better orient myself within the ocean of endless power struggles of the cultivators around me.

That, and it would give me a better understanding of whether it was time for me to focus on growing stronger so that I would have more confidence in keeping Claire safe or if I should pivot my efforts towards crafting instead, an aspect of myself that, due to the circumstances, I'd left untouched for quite some time now.

'Thinking about it, I'm starting to miss my scythe,' I thought, thinking fondly of the weapon I personally crafted and then came to both use and like quite a lot.

A weapon that, quite obviously, I wasn't really allowed to bring over the border, leading to me not even attempting to do so.

"Since you seem ready, I guess it's time to begin," Leila announced before suddenly clapping her hands.

That was it.

With not a single word more spoken, everyone in the arena suddenly got her message and raised their eyes, only to start chanting something that could, quite justifiably, be attributed to one of them fancier high-fantasy books whose authors went the extra mile of inventing their own languages for different countries and races populating their imaginary world.

'I wonder what those chants mean,' I thought, pushing all my other thoughts aside, just in case those chants led to something I wouldn't find to my liking. Yet, with just a single glance over to the gallery, I could see that neither Claire nor Chihiro appeared to be worried at all, allowing me to relax a tiny little bit.

Only to then tense up, when my surroundings suddenly turned all blurry, as if a mist rose up all around the center of the sparring ground, only for the intense heat to then distort any image trying to pass through the air all around it.

"It's done," a moment later, Leila—who stood right in the middle of it all—turned back to me, only to grace me with a proud smile full of self-satisfaction. "That's how I'm going to keep whatever happens here on the down low, in case you were wondering," she stated, her confidence brimming in her eyes. "And now…"

Finally, the purpose of the differently dressed cultivators was revealed to me, given how they were the only ones, save for me and Leila, who remained within the obscured circle, as opposed to being pushed out beyond its rim.

"Jubley!" Leila turned and called out, only for the very first man in the row to step out, clasp his hands together, and bow.

"Strength and honor!" the man, roughly in his early twenties, screamed out before straightening up and standing down in a well-balanced stance with his knees heavily bent to bring his center of mass quite low above the ground.

"Candies and butterflies," I replied, assuming pretty much the same stance as the man, with just a bit smaller angle at my knees to allow for greater freedom of movement. "Before we begin though, I want to make one thing clear," I added before Leila could give us a signal to start exchanging blows. "What I'm here to test is merely the limit of my strength, not my ability to best put it to use. That's because when it comes to martial arts, I only have my instincts and but a single punch that I'm confident in."

Hearing this, both Leila and Jubley, my current opponent, squinted their eyes. The other cultivators that remained behind didn't give even the slightest reaction, as if it was a damning sin for them to react in any way or form to whatever was happening within the sparring ring.

"That's perfectly fine," Leila nodded her head, hiding the surprise and momentary disregard that I saw flashing in her eyes. "We are here to test your strength, not your ability to apply it."

Hearing this, I finally could breathe out as I calmed myself down.

Rather than starting on a high horse with all the strength I could muster, I chased all my thoughts away, thoughts related to cultivation included. And as my years-long conditioning kicked in, my body slightly shifted, eliminating the small, marginal-even errors to my posture that would stack on each other and multiply in an effort to decrease the strength of my punch.

I took roughly half a minute to purge all of those, all thanks to the courtesy of my opponent that patiently waited for me to get ready.

By the time I opened my eyes, though, Jubley quickly reinforced his stance, easily able to read my readiness from the sheer degree of focus in my eyes.

Taking a look at me and then at the first of the sparring partners she arranged, Leila then nodded her head and waved her hand down, giving us a signal to start the bout.

I breathed out.

And with my breath leaving my mouth, my body sprung up like a bowstring, releasing the energy stored in my half-tensed muscles as I leaped half of a step forth, lunging out with my fist while twisting my body at my hips, combining the strength of my legs, hips, torso, and finally the arm to deliver just a single, perfectly aimed punch to…

To nothing but air, with Jubley choosing to retreat the two steps he needed to escape out of my range, hints of panic flashing in his eyes.