Orion and the Primordial System

In the vast Imperial Training Grounds, located on the outskirts of the capital, hundreds of soldiers moved in unison, their weapons cutting through the air with deadly precision.

The atmosphere pulsed with the energy of warriors, the sound of blades resounding like thunder and battle cries echoing across the fields.

This was no ordinary training, but rather the rigorous regime that prepared the elite forces of the Eryndor Empire to face enemies beyond imagination, both mortal and immortal.

The camp, surrounded by imposing mountains and rivers that ran like veins through the empire, was blessed by the energies of Nature. Colossal statues of war gods stood watch over the grounds, their presence almost palpable, inspiring fear and reverence in the hearts of the soldiers.

Among the common warriors stood those whose talents surpassed those of the rest, whose strength, skill and determination were worthy of legend.

Raekor "The Iron Fist" led an elite group, his mastery of martial arts unmatched. His hands, as if made of steel, could shatter rocks as if they were glass. With each strike, Raekor's Qi rippled around his fists, transforming simple attacks into blasts of destructive energy. It was said that he was on the threshold of understanding the Dao of strength, a path that would elevate him even further, granting him the power to rival even the most seasoned cultivators.

Beside him, Seren "The Dancing Blade" moved like a whirlwind, her sword flashing like lightning with each thrust.

Her movements were so swift that ordinary eyes could not follow them.

Seren had mastered the beginner Dao of the sword and Dao of speed, allowing him to manipulate the very air around him, making his strikes as light as feathers and as deadly as tornadoes.

Many believed that with a few more years of training, she could rival the Sword Masters.

In the distance, a warrior of immense strength led his own group of soldiers with a firm voice.

Darian "The Iron Guardian", known for his impenetrable defense and indestructible aura, wielded a shield that looked like a moving wall.

He had a deep understanding of the Dao of Earth and Dao of Gold, which granted him unshakable resistance.

It was said that when Darian took his position on the battlefield, not even the forces of nature could move him.

Soldiers under his command were inspired by his strength and discipline, making him a living wall that defended the empire with absolute devotion.

The training was severe, each soldier giving it their all, knowing that those who excelled could be selected for the most noble imperial missions, or even recruited into the Celestial Army, the emperor's personal guard.

Under the watchful eyes of veteran instructors and legendary generals, the soldiers performed exercises that tested not only their bodies, but also their souls.

Mock combat, Qi control, and even tests of mental resilience were all part of the daily training.

"True strength lies not in the body alone," the instructor, General Thoryan, shouted, his voice booming across the fields. "It lies in the mind, the heart, and the mastery of the Dao you choose to follow!"

Beneath the surface of physical training, each soldier sought a connection to their own personal Dao, a path that could guide them beyond human limitations.

Whether it was the path of the sword, strength, defense, or elemental control, they all knew that reaching the pinnacle of cultivation was not just a matter of brute strength, but of a deep understanding of the world around them.

As the sun set over the horizon, dyeing the sky gold and crimson, the soldiers continued their relentless training, imbued with the determination to become more than just warriors—they were destined to become living legends, protectors of the Eryndor Empire.

----

In the imposing Hall of the Eryndor Empire, carved marble columns stood like ancient sentinels, while the vaulted ceiling reflected the glow of golden chandeliers.

In the center of it all, seated on the throne, sat "Orion," the immortal emperor.

His posture was firm, but his eyes watched calmly as his advisors fervently discussed the affairs of the empire.

Before him, the advisors in their chairs debated the latest issue, the bountiful harvests that had surpassed all expectations the previous month.

"This month's harvests exceeded all expectations, Your Majesty," began Gaius, the advisor in charge of agrarian policy. "We have more than enough for the empire. What shall we do with the surplus?"

"We could sell it to neighboring kingdoms," suggested Feroz, the trade advisor, rising with a sly smile. "This is an opportunity to increase our economic influence. Our reserves are overflowing, and the eastern lands are suffering from drought. They would pay a fortune for our grain."

"But it is still too early for us to enter the international scene," Lyara, the diplomatic advisor, interjected, her voice soft and measured. "By doing so, we draw unwanted attention to Eryndor. Our forces are not yet fully prepared. We need more time."

"I agree," Thalor, the military advisor, said, crossing his sturdy arms. "We have been training our army tirelessly for years...but...ahh, cultivation is slow on this continent."

"The continent is calmer than ever, except in places that have been fighting for millennia," Vorian, the security advisor, added, his tone measured. "The presence of immortals in our region is scarce, and those that remain are neutral. This may be the ideal time to consolidate our power without great risk."

The room was silent for a moment, Vorian's words hanging in the air like a storm about to break.

"Orion" watched closely, measuring the words of each of his advisors.

"Acting openly would be unwise," said Cassius, the political advisor. "We must be subtle, like shadows in the desert. We could sell our surplus through middlemen, ordinary merchants who are not directly connected to the empire. This would allow our wealth to flow, but without revealing our true strength. After all, gold can open doors that brute force could never reach."

"What if we use this surplus to expand our good influence among the civilians of the empire?" suggested Aurelia, the civil advisor. "The most distant villages of the empire could prosper from these harvests. In return, we would earn their unconditional loyalty and strengthen the social fabric of the empire by helping those in need. The more unified Eryndor is, the stronger we will be when the time comes to reveal ourselves to the world."

The discussions dragged on for hours, as the advisors presented their visions for the future of the empire.

With each new argument, it became clear that Eryndor was at a good start on its journey.

With an army trained by excellent generals, a thriving economy, and abundant territories, the empire was on the verge of something great, but every decision needed to be made with caution.

"Orion," silent until then, finally rose from his throne.

His royal robe glided smoothly across the floor as he walked to the center of the room.

The power emanating from him was tangible, a mixture of wisdom and unshakable strength.

"I believe you all have valid points," he began, his voice deep and filled with authority. "But Eryndor cannot act without a clear purpose. We must not rush into exposing ourselves to the world without being fully prepared. However, we must also not waste the opportunities before us."

He paused, looking each of his advisors in the eye.

"We will tread lightly. Use merchants and brokers to trade our crops with neighboring kingdoms. Strengthen our civilians, ensuring that no soul in Eryndor goes hungry. And above all, continue to prepare our army. When the time is right, Eryndor will rise, not only as a thriving empire, but as an immortal force that no other kingdom will dare challenge."

The advisors nodded in unison, their minds already planning their next steps. Orion returned to his throne, satisfied.

---

In the vast Battlefields, the air vibrated with the energy of countless past clashes.

The immense arenas, formed of indestructible stone, reflected the golden glow of the Eryndorian sun, while the ground, forged from the most resistant elements, absorbed the energy of the combatants and the rage of the battles.

In the distance, mountains rose as silent witnesses to the titanic struggles that took place there.

In one of these arenas, Cirius and Rick faced off, each enveloped in a powerful aura that made the air around them shimmer with pure spiritual force. The pressure emanating from both was enough to make the spectators, many of them beginner cultivators, feel the weight of the surrounding energy.

"Come on, Rick, hit harder!" shouted Cirius, holding a golden shield engraved with arcane patterns, his spear radiating a cold and imposing light.

Rick, his body enveloped in a fierce red aura, replied, his eyes burning with determination. "Cirius, how have you been training, you bastard? You're stronger than you were last week!" He held two short swords, their blades glowing with the power of Martial Qi.

"Hahaha! You're the one who's gotten weaker, you piece of shit!" Cirius shouted, grinning maliciously as he swung his spear and stomped down hard.

The impact shook the ground, and in an instant, he shot forward like lightning. "See if you can handle this!"

The arena exploded in a wave of energy as Cirius unleashed his technique, "Solar Dragon Spear."

His spear was enveloped in golden flames, and as he struck, the figure of a solar dragon appeared around him, roaring with devastating power.

The dragon charged forward, its claws and flames shooting toward Rick as if they were capable of consuming everything in their path.

Rick grinned savagely, his red aura glowing even brighter. "Do you really think that's enough to stop me?"

With a roar of pure will, he concentrated his Crimson Demon Qi into his swords. With a swift, precise movement, he unleashed his technique, "Dance of a Thousand Hell Cuts."

Hundreds of red energy slashes emerged from his blades, intertwining in the air and forming a web of blades around him. Each strike released a wave of devastating energy, so intense that the air around them seemed to distort. The energy blades collided with Cirius's flaming dragon, creating an explosion of light and power that shook the ground.

The audience watched in silence, open-mouthed at the strength of the two warriors.

"Is that all you've got, Cirius?" Rick shouted amidst the chaos, his muscles tensing as he slashed through the flames with his blades, charging forward like an immortal demon. "Prepare to fall!"

Cirius, without missing a beat, laughed out loud and said, "You're going to need more than that, Rick!" With a ferocious cry, he summoned his Ancient Qi, activating his skill, "Golden Dragon Domain."

His body began to glow with a blinding golden light, and a giant illusion of an ancient dragon appeared behind him, roaring with absolute power. Its golden scales reflected a divine light, and the pressure increased, suffocating even the most powerful spectators in the arena.

Rick hesitated for a brief moment, but then roared back, activating his own Crimson Domain, causing an illusion of a horned crimson demon to form around him, with flaming eyes and sharp fangs. "If that's what you want, then so be it!"

The two fighters charged at each other with absolute power, their gigantic illusions colliding with an impact that caused the earth to tremble and the sky to seem to waver.

Spiritual energy exploded in all directions, and the sound of weapons colliding echoed like thunder.

Cirius's golden dragon tried to burn Rick's crimson demon with its Origin Flames, while Rick cut it down with his infernal swords.

For long hours, the two fought, equally matched in power, until, in a final movement of pure willpower, they both retreated at the same time, breathing heavily.

"That was intense," Rick said, smiling with the adrenaline of the fight.

"You're still far from defeating me," Cirius replied, with an arrogant smile, spinning his spear one last time before resting it on it.

They both knew that the battle was far from over, but the display of power had made it clear to everyone present that Cirius and Rick were not just ordinary fighters; they were true immortal cultivators, destined to fight for the Supreme Dao of Aeternum.

The arena returned to silence as the energies dissipated.