After meeting up with Ash, Osmal made his way back towards the sect mountain, taking a circuitous route.
There was little chance of running into tough monsters or rare resources so close to the Blue Spring Sect. That didn't mean there was no chance.
He wasn't just wandering aimlessly, no, he had a destination in mind. A swift river split the area, creating cliffs in the rock, offering a secluded place to use the stone elixir.
Flush with success, he descended along a narrow ledge, finally reaching his secluded spot. Surrounded by sheer walls, the rush of water was the only sound, with little chance for others to spy.
A perfect place to cultivate. After setting up his iron web technique as an alarm, he took a seat on a rock, the rush of water calming him.
His heart beat with excitement as he pulled out the elixir of stone, his robes falling away to reveal his bare chest. With practiced hands, he unstoppered the vial, dipping a special paint brush into the liquid.
His hand moved with practiced ease, smearing the pungent liquid in a neat pattern across his chest. The rune was meant to be drawn by a skilled artisan to get the full effect of the elixir, but Osmal didn't have that luxury.
He couldn't afford their services, even if one was willing to help him. It took some time, but eventually he was complete, having painted lines along each of his energy channels.
The next part always sucked the worst. He took a deep breath, drawing energy from his core. It was like lighting his body on fire, as his channels filled with energy. His energy circulated his entire body, returning to his core.
He could feel his core tremble, growing slightly larger, the core slightly more pure. With each cycle, more of the medicinal past was absorbed, until it all flaked off.
It was agony, his body drenched with sweat as he endured the torture. With each rotation, more of the past flaked off, losing its efficacy. Eventually, all the past fell off, leaving his skin bare.
So much pain, for so little benefit. It was quite frustrating. This was his fourth elixir of stone, and the pain was still just as intense. Despite that, the benefit was only about a quarter of the first.
He suspected another would do almost nothing. Osmal blanched as he peered inside his pouch. It was nearly empty, only a few crowns left.
He would need to acquire more funds, somehow. Atleast he still had the smoldiering phenix technique.
He was washing himself when there was a flicker in his web. Osmal pretended like he hadn't noticed the change. Tugging on his robe, he made his way back up the hidden trail.
Acting all casual, he enter the forest, not showing a hint of hostility until he was within range. Unexpectedly, Osmal lunged to the side, punching out at a tree.
His fist met bart, a thin blade severing the tree with one clean cut. From the corner of his eye, a figure leapt from hiding. Osmal raised his arms, blocking a heavy kick.
He tumbled backward across the dirt, landing in a crouch to face his attacker. It was a man, in blue spring sect robes, with a familiar face. The man grinned as he noted Osmal's glare.
"Osmal, I was wondering how long you would stay down there,"
"To what do i owe this pleasure, Kasak?" Osmal asked.
The man snorted, tugging a envelope from his robes.
"Nothing special, just sent to collect members. The grand matron is calling a meeting on the first mountain. All members must attend," Kasak said, tossing the envelope.
Cautiously catching the paper, Osmal cracked the seal, his brows rising as he read.
"What's this about?" Osmal asked.
Kasak shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine,"
It wasn't often that so many of the sect gathered in one place. They met at the base of the mountain, filling up most of a field, a mottled gathering. Despite being mostly individualistic, most gathered in small groups. There was a very distinctive pecking order, with stronger members taking up positions near the front.
Just like their placement atop the mountain, there were clear lines. Even those people were reluctant to stand at the very front lest they make themselves targets.
The grand matron, and five elders, were the true tyrants of the sect. However, the everyday affairs of the ordinary members were usually beneath their notice. The disciples were a different matter. Those backstabbing vipers were the ones to really watch out for.
They were near the top of the political dungheap, and would crush anyone stupid enough to challenge their position. There were only so many benefits to go around, and the competition was fierce.
Not to say people didn't try. Disciples died, or fell out of favor all the time. Gaining the favor of an Elder was both a blessing and a curse.
After all, there were many who lusted after the treasures. Osmal was no different. He could understand why many sought to ally themselves with the disciples, to feast on the scraps they left behind.
Being a parasite was quite beneficial. However, being a sycophant was not in his wheelhouse. Near the middle of the pack, Osmal idly waited, taking in the many familiar and unfamiliar faces. He observed them with his mind's eye, noting that many had made some improvements since last he saw them.
Just as many sported nasty wounds, some of them missing limbs. Others were notably absent, their spiritual signature missing from the throng.
Death was quite common in the sect, whether by monsters or other greedy cultivators. It was the law of the jungle.
Osmal was brought from his introspection as a loud voice carried on the air, amplified by raw power. The crowd quieted as the elders walked upon a dais built for this purpose.
Decked in pristine robes, they exuded grandeur. Vipers, a lot of them. Last but not least, the grand matron appeared, walking up onto the platform.
She looked old and frail, yet it nearly blinded him to look at her with his mind's eye. Osmal quickly turned it off. Judging by the pained faces of most of the crowd, they two had made the same mistake.
The old crown gave them a motherly smile.
"It's good to see so many of you gathered here today. I am pleased to see how much many of you have grown," The grand matron said. After a few long seconds, she continued. "As you all know, the tide is coming. Our Blue Springs sect is strong, but this is not a fight we can endure alone. Thus, our sect has made an alliance with the eastern kingdom of Adro, and the Red Sky sect. Together we will endure this calamity, coming out stronger,"
Osmal idly listened, as the elderly Matron continued.
"All of you will be sent to bolster the ranks of the kingdoms, to be the spine of the defences. It is everyone's duty, as a devout member of the sect, to uphold our way of life, even if it means death in battle,"
Osmal snorted internally at the drivel. It was easy to speak of sacrifice when you stood at the back, and others died for you.
Judging by the carefully neutral expressions of many others, they too felt the same. Compared to the large armies of the kingdoms, their numbers were small. Sure, the sect was stronger on average, but numbers mattered. Especially when they were organized.
Osmal's eyes darted over the clearing, taking in the force of over a thousand strong cultivators that made up the Blue Spring Sect. They were powerful, a force to be reckoned with, and yet, they were no army.
There was no cohesion, no brotherhood. Just a group of selfish individuals out for their own gain. With the grand matron having spoken, Elder Thran took center stage.
He began speaking, essentially reiterating exactly what the grand matron had just said. It was not difficult to tell which elders were in her camp. All supported her in public, but they hadn't become elders without greed driving their intentions.
Osmal had no doubt many of the elders would pounce the moment they saw an opening. After all, the grand matron stood at the top of the mountain, with all the best resources of the sect flowing into her coffers.
She took a piece of everything that was harvested from the wilds, despite not being the one to risk her life. And who didn't want to be the one to reap those kinds of benefits? In turn, each of the Elders made a speech, a slightly different variant of the Matrons.
All Osmal could do was stand and listen. He would be forced to play his part in the upcoming tide, but that didn't mean there wouldn't be benefits. Where there was risk, there was often reward.
The elders would eat the meat, no doubt reaping immense benefits from selling their strength to the kingdoms. Osmal, being near the bottom would have to pick up the scraps.
Lastly, to speak was elder Fu.
He cleared his throat, many of the crowd having glazed looks in their eyes.
"Just like the last tide, the Blue Spring Sect, in conjunction with the kingdoms, has come together to open our coffers for those who perform. Rare herbs, elixirs, equipment, and even a few techniques will be available for purchase," Elder Fu said.
The bored crowd started murmuring at that, with Osmal's heart beating loudly in his chest.
Elder Fu grinned.
"That's right. Killing monsters, and bringing back valuable parts will grant you Merit accordingly. Those who perform well will come out on the other side reforged," Elder Fu said.
The crowd went wild, hushed murmurs filling the air. Their reactions seemed to be exactly what the grand matron desired as she smiled at them, retaking her podium..
"Elder Fu is not understating the benefits. In reaction to this threat, we have fully opened our vaults. As an additional encouragement, I have personally placed my heritage as a prize for our sect's top performer," the grand matron said.
The crowd went wild. Those simple words made Omsal's heart practically leap from his chest.
The grand matron was offering a lot more than just a technique. For the first time since the last one died, she was openly stating her willingness to take on another disciple.
It was both an incredible opportunity and a good way to have your throat slit.
Osmal quickly swallowed back his greed. He desperately wanted that heritage, but it wouldn't be simple to acquire it. He was nowhere near the top of the totem pole and thus had to watch his own back.
Even now, he could practically feel the narrowed eyes of hundreds of others as they scanned their neighbors. Everyone was eyeing their fellow sect members, taking in the competition.
This was going to be a bloodbath. Gone were the scrunched up faces after being told they were conscripted. Some were still leery, but the light of greed at this opportunity shone in their eyes.
Osmal was no different. This really was a nice juicy cherry atop a steaming pile of shit. Even knowing that, how could they resist?