Surrounded by a terrain of trampled grass and with a reinforced wall of earth, hastily erected by the outsiders to block the deeper entrance into the garden, Zamian sat shirtless alongside two other men in the same state.

  His gaze drifted to the three headless bodies with torn and missing clothes, then to the blonde girl keeping her distance, hugging her knees.

  For a moment, he was dumbfounded.

  ‘The situation is bad, yes, but how did I end up looking like the villain here?’ he thought, rubbing his forehead as green essence, thin and faint, swirled lazily around him.

  When Bohlo had woken almost an hour earlier, groggy but alive, Zamian had been reminded of the glaring need for clothes. After entering Yokki’s home, he’d tried to wear the pants of the deceased outsiders, but a hard truth hit him—while lean and packed with strength, his body wasn’t as large as theirs.

  So, he had to improvise, ripping and adjusting the fabric to make it fit. The shirts, however, were another problem. They were an amalgamation of reinforced materials, more suited for full-body protection than allowing mobility. In the end, he remained shirtless, as did Bohlo, whose shirt had been lost long ago in the chaos.

  Kurt, ever the opportunist, had taken off his shirt as well, keeping his sly smile as he diligently answered every question Zamian posed—detailed when required, concise when ordered.

  Tulip, on the other hand, had initially sat with them but chose to keep her distance after she had relayed everything she knew. She now stayed at the edge of the clearing, hugging her knees, avoiding eye contact.

  “Z, my parents…” Bohlo’s voice broke the silence, hoarse and laden with emotion. His muscled body was bruised, his ribs likely cracked, and his swollen face shimmered with tears as he stared at the glowing white-leaf ceiling above.

  Sighing, Zamian patted his friend’s shoulder. “We’ll find and protect them. I promise,” he muttered. His face darkened as he silently added on his thoughts, ‘And if they’re not alive, we’ll avenge them.’

  His breathing steady, Zamian partly wanted to scream, to rush out of this cursed place, to search for his father and Bohlo’s parents, and leave this garden behind forever.

  But he couldn’t.

  ‘I’d just be marching us both to an early death… or worse,’ he thought, smacking his lips as his gaze fell to his left hand.

  He flexed his fingers, watching how easily the essence flowed around him, how effortlessly he could control his heartbeat and fine muscle movements.

  Most of all, he could cultivate without visualization—just by understanding and controlling his own body!

  Fighting and pushing his body to its limits had taught Zamian a great deal about what he could and couldn’t do. When he reflected on how he jumped, the way he positioned his legs, how he shifted his body, or how he used his back to empower his punches, essence would slowly gather around him.

  It was thin, of course—this garden had barely any Nature’s essence left after his breakthrough—but it was enough to recover a tiny fraction of his cultivation.

  Besides, he wasn’t just staying here to cultivate or better grasp his current situation.

  He was waiting.

  ‘It should be time,’ he thought, bracing himself as a white text appeared in his vision.

  Incomplete Side Quest: Save Bohlo and Lakea

  Reward: 01 Book from White Tower's First Floor

  Status: Incomplete

  Sighing in frustration, he thought, ‘If I tried to find and save her, Bohlo wouldn’t be safe… Yes, I made the right choice…’

  Amidst his thoughts, a new stream of white letters appeared.

  Calculating Reward and Punishment of Incomplete Side Quest

  Accessing Information

  Level: 3 [02%]

  Tier: Mortal

  Main Pathway: Creation

  Assembling Available Techniques from Previous Books

  02 Techniques Found

  White Leaf Sect - One Amongst Myriad Beings

  Description: Creation is a cycle occupied by a myriad of beings, each one has a role, and each role is part of nature.

  White Leaf Sect - Order of the Cycle

  Description: Creation demands all living beings to follow a natural order; whoever fights against it is fighting against themselves.

  Choose one technique to destroy and one technique to learn

  “What?” Zamian jerked his head, speaking aloud. Realizing the others were now looking at him, he quickly clarified, “I’m just surprised about a stupid plan I made. Forget it.”

  The others, either lost in their own thoughts or too afraid to bother him, didn’t respond, allowing Zamian to return his focus to the white text.

  ‘Reward and Punishment?’ Zamian’s mind raced, and he shot a quick glance at Bohlo, realization dawning on him. I see.

  He hadn’t completely failed the quest because of Bohlo!

  ‘So, along with failing and completing these quests, there’s also a middle ground,’ he pondered. ‘But I doubt it works for every type of quest.’

  Zamian read the last line of text once more.

  Choose one technique to destroy and one technique to learn

  ‘Maybe I could’ve learned both with time, but now I’ll permanently lose one,’ he thought, his gaze sharpening as his eyes briefly flashed white. ‘This won’t be so easy.’

  Now a Zealot, his mind analyzed the techniques as new understandings bloomed within him.

  ‘Both of these techniques emphasize putting nature above oneself—they talk about either our role in the grand cycle or the need to follow the natural order,’ he thought, annoyance flickering across his features.

  For some reason, Zamian couldn’t stand for that.

  After his enlightenment about death and the struggle to be born and keep growing, he couldn’t simply accept the natural order—he didn’t want to decline and then die!

  ‘But denying knowledge would be stupid,’ he suddenly smiled dangerously. ‘Besides, I still have fourteen tries to learn the Seed of Creation technique while listening to more of Lin Zhi’s teachings. If I can gain sixteen more tries, making it thirty in total, forget about just learning those techniques—I could gain insights into other cultivation methods, what it means to be a Farmer, and so much more.’

  While his first visit to Lin Zhi’s domain had been a harrowing experience filled with pain and disdain for the teacher and his disciples, the second visit had been invaluable. He had learned how to cultivate by imitating a Farmer, better understood the Cycle, and uncovered the truth behind the “end of the mortal cycle.”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Inwardly nodding, he made his decision.

  Without hesitation, he focused his thoughts, commanding the White Dot: ‘Destroy Order of the Cycle.’

  ‘My cycle had a beginning, but I refuse to follow the natural order until its end,’ he decided inwardly.

  White text filled his vision:

  You chose to destroy a technique

  White Leaf Sect - Order of the Cycle

  Description: Creation demands all living beings to follow a natural order; whoever fights against it is fighting against themselves.

  Selecting remaining technique

  White Leaf Sect - One Amongst Myriad Beings

  Description: Creation is a cycle occupied by a myriad of beings, each one has a role, and each role is part of nature.

  Feeling a piercing pain in his head, followed by a dull ache, Zamian massaged his temples. ‘Better than last time, I guess,’ he thought.

  Glancing at the people gathered around him and seeing no other reason to wait, he lightly punched the ground, creating a sound to grab their attention.

  When Kurt, Bohlo, and Tulip turned to look at him, Zamian began to speak.

  “I’ve had enough time to think, and I’d like to confirm our blighted situation with all of you,” he said, the green essence still swirling faintly around him. “If I’ve misunderstood any of the facts you mentioned earlier, speak up and correct me.” His gaze shifted between Kurt and Tulip.

  Receiving their nods, he continued.

  “The current Lord Chosen, along with some Chosen and Zealots, has been in contact with outsiders from the Oasis—a subterranean keep akin to a bastion in the cold, dark desert lands far from the Sanctuary,” he said, briefly shooting a look at Kurt.

  When Kurt responded with a sad smile, Zamian pressed on.

  “He did this because of some vague information about Verdant God’s presence waning. Neither of you knows the source of this information, and my father, the previous Lord Chosen, either didn’t know about it or didn’t bother to tell me,” he said with a sigh, shaking his head.

  “Anyway, while the blighted current Lord Chosen gathered forces here, the Sultan—who is the Oasis’s ruler—rallied outsiders from across the desert. He trained them for war and subjugated anyone who wouldn’t willingly follow his lead,” Zamian explained, pausing briefly to allow for any corrections.

  Kurt raised his voice eagerly.

  “Great Sir, don’t forget that most of our forces gathered willingly! Our numbers are greater than I could ever hope to count. The changes in the sky played an important role in the Sultan’s actions.”

  “Yes, Kurt,” Zamian replied, nodding. “The stars, right?”

  “That’s right, Sir! For about two years now, the moving stars in the dark sky have visibly slowed down. At the same time, the Sultan’s forces have grown in power. Most people preferred to live in the underground Oasis rather than…” Kurt hesitated before continuing with a nervous laugh, “You know, try their luck with stars that might fall.”

  Zamian had already asked Kurt to describe the outside world in detail since the man had spent most of his life underground.

  “A cold, barren land, dotted with crystallized craters said to be where stars once fell. Thick roots, even thicker than the Colossal Trees of the Sanctuary, stretch across the land, draining essence and any remaining nutrients. They’re connected to an enormous tree visible from anywhere in the desert, its brilliant white leaves drawing all the warmth from the skies. And legend says that at the top of the tree lies a paradise, with unlimited food and water,” Kurt had recounted a few moments ago.

  And this helped Zamian paint a vivid scene in his mind: a place forever cold and dark, where a giant tree struggled to grow, pulling light and warmth to itself and those inside.

  Of course, the tree was utterly uncaring about anyone left outside.

  The Oasis, on the other hand, was built as close as possible to the underground fire source. Kurt had mentioned that their elders taught them the desert was part of a planet, which was a sphere, and at its center was a ball of fire and metal. Some of this warmth could be harnessed to make their lives a little less miserable.

  ‘Why do I remember reading about that in a book?’ Zamian wondered, recalling Kurt’s story.

  Gathering his thoughts, Zamian returned to the main subject.

  “Okay, so a few days ago, the Sultan’s army marched on the Sanctuary, spurred by rumors that the Verdant God was absent and that turncoats would help them infiltrate,” he said.

  “He promised us a better life,” Tulip muttered, interrupting Zamian. “The Lord Chosen said that outside we could see the blue sky, feel a true breeze, eat all kinds of food, and play in the ocean… That being trapped in this wooden cage wasn’t natural.”

  “You! The Verdant God blessed us with this life, away from that forsaken land, and you…” Bohlo suddenly spoke, his voice hoarse as tears continued streaming down his face.

  Zamian placed a steadying hand on his friend’s shoulder. “B, keep calm,” he said gently.

  The muscle-headed man turned his gaze to the ground, falling silent.

  Apparently, Bohlo’s mother, who had once been an outsider, had never shared much about the harsh world beyond the Sanctuary.

  Kurt had also revealed that every decade, some of his people—mainly children and young teens—were taken by the Chosen and Zealots from the Sanctuary.

  They claimed it was done under the Verdant God’s command.

  ‘That must be why Aunt Misandra was always so thankful and faithful to that blighted God,’ Zamian thought, patting Bohlo’s shoulder to calm him. His gaze shifted to Tulip, whose lifeless eyes held back the urge to call Kurt a liar about his descriptions of the outside world.

  Zamian chose to let Tulip finish her vent before continuing.

  “To sum it up: after arriving, the Sultan’s concubine Clarice, along with other concubines and Great Warriors, plundered the Sanctuary’s resources. The inhabitants either fled or died, as most of the Zealots and Chosen had been summoned to the Stargazing Tree, falling into a trap set by the current Lord Chosen, his allies, and a dozen of the Sultan’s Warlords—who are outsiders with strength akin to Chosen—who were waiting,” Zamian said somberly.

  His serious expression softened slightly into a faint smile, though his visage remained dark. “And soon after, a message spread, explaining that four Chosen didn’t submit and fled the scene. One of them being my father, who is said to have been seen with the Cleric Chosen. The other two are the Warrior Chosen and a blind elder.”

  “Yes, Sir. And you’re already aware of the rest,” Kurt suddenly spoke, almost as if he didn’t want Zamian to recall how a group of outsiders—including him—had come here to hunt and capture Zamian and his companions.

  Shooting an amused look at Kurt, Zamian asked evenly, “Kurt, if I leave with Bohlo, what would you do?”

  “Follow you, Sir,” Kurt answered, stroking his beard with his usual sly smile.

  “Why?” Zamian’s tone was sharp.

  “...”

  “Don’t be afraid. If I thought you were a danger to me, you’d already be lying with your companions over there,” Zamian motioned with his chin to the headless corpses.

  Chuckling nervously, Kurt finally answered, “Great Sir, I believe your next course of action is to find your father—not only a previous Lord Chosen but one of the most infamous ones, who also just managed to escape a trap set by more than two dozen Chosen, right?”

  Nodding, Zamian let him continue.

  “Well,” Kurt spread his hands, “Mistress Clarice will never accept me again, and I have no shame in admitting I’m one of the least talented Warriors from the Oasis. Besides, I don’t think it’s beneath her to try to kill me again. As the saying goes, between a dark cave you’ve never entered and one with deadly sandworms…” He shrugged.

  “What about your friends? Your family?”

  “Toran was the last of my family. And in the Oasis, besides people commanding me, I only had people competing with me for food and water,” Kurt spat on the ground. “Those bastards.”

  “...You do know I’m the one who killed your brother.” Zamian raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you want revenge?”

  Kurt laughed, waving his hand in dismissal. “Great Sir Zamian, I did like Toran, as we went through several trials together, but,” he chuckled, “Toran and I killed our own family members simply to save resources and not die in that forsaken land before we even reached the Oasis. He tried several times to kill me, and I did the same to him. Honestly, in these last few years, if he hadn’t been so hot-headed and continuously brought problems onto himself for me to solve, I would’ve been dead already. That bastard got stronger and stronger, but I couldn’t keep up.”

  Zamian was surprised when his instincts didn’t flare up to warn him that Kurt was lying. Amazed by how a coward could have such a cutthroat personality, he thought, ‘All cultivators are crazy, indeed.’

  Thinking about Kurt’s answer, Zamian made his final query, “If you were capable of doing all this with your family, then if given the chance, would you betray me?”

  Silence.

  And then Kurt nodded.

  Zamian gripped Bohlo’s arm, stopping his friend from trying to lunge at the sleazy guy. Despite being weaker than most Zealots and Great Warriors, Kurt was still a formidable opponent for someone like Bohlo—an Enlightened.

  Holding his hands up in mock surrender, Kurt spoke, “Sir, I’ll only say this because I know you can sense lies. While I would betray you if I could, at this moment, I don’t think it’s beneficial to me. I’d rather kiss your feet—and soon your father’s feet—and secure a place for myself in this paradise than risk fighting you just to end up eating sand and stones outside.” His gaze remained steady, fixed on Zamian.

  Zamian stared at Kurt, paying close attention to his instincts, which remained silent. Finally, he stood and clapped his hands together once.

  “Well, now that I have a better perspective, let me ask you all a question,” he said, limping slightly as he walked to a nearby tree. With a sharp tug, he ripped a hand-sized piece of bark from the trunk.

  ‘Third time’s the charm, right?’ he thought, recalling how his last two written plans had been destroyed. One had turned into a crater on the ground, while the other had crumbled along with his clothes during his transformation using the Beginning of the Cycle technique.

  Using his finger, Zamian began to write and draw on the bark. He spoke to Bohlo, Kurt, and Tulip, a dangerous glint in his eyes, “Are you all ready to struggle against death?”