Reaper of the Martial World

Book 8: Chapter 102: Rise (3)

Not far from Middle Sapientia City, a young man was uproariously laughing. In fact, he was laughing so hard that his torso spasmed and tears fell from his eyes. One would think he was experiencing the greatest comedy to ever be created.

He was surrounded by a group of half a dozen men of various shapes and sizes, all of whom were shaking their heads at his exaggerated reaction. Aside from them, there was an army of several million to his back who had erected numerous tents.

If others saw this scene, their lips would twitch at the absurdity. Who the hell set up camp in the middle of a danger zone like this? This wasn’t a campsite!

The young man had a plain appearance. Short black hair, shining black eyes, and an average facial structure. Though, he did seem incredibly meticulous. He was cleanly shaven, there wasn’t a speck of dust on his purple robes, and he gave off a fresh aroma only someone who recently took a bath would emanate.

This youth was none other than Emytheus, Aritzia’s marriage candidate and leader of the Brotherhood of Guardians who had been making waves on the celestial floors in recent years.

He was currently having a grand time watching the Sapientia implode from the inside out.

Suddenly, a pinging sound came from a tablet he kept in his spatial ring. Since it was within his spatial ring, no one noticed. When he realized who it was who had messaged him, his laughter grew fiercer.

[Ah, if it isn’t Madame Aritzia. Don’t you feel ashamed messaging this lowly Emytheus using a system created by your enemies? A bit shameless, don’t you think?]

Emytheus’ throat grew dry at his laughter, it really was too much. The previous Sapientia Network couldn’t message people in this way, only the newly reformed Mortal Network could. Yet, Aritzia freely used it as though there was not a single hint of irony.

[It is a useful tool, no matter who made it.] Aritzia messaged back plainly. [I see you made your decision.]

One of the six men who surrounded Emytheus rubbed his back, seeing their leader’s voice grow hoarse to this extent from laughter would make anyone worry. They almost thought he had lost his mind.

[What, did you expect me to sweep in and stop their army for you? I mean, I guess I could have done that. By then your Clan’s secrets would have been safe. But I’m a gentleman, how could I sentence so many beautiful women to death at once?]

[You care about women other than me now?]

[Hoho, how arrogant little miss Aritzia. I said I would take you for my wife, but I never said you would be the only wife. Though, I will give you the position of first wife because you are the loveliest.]

[…] Aritzia didn’t answer. There was nothing left to say. She had hoped that Emytheus would step in during the final moments and close off the hopes of her enemies, but she knew from the beginning that Emytheus’ goals wouldn’t perfectly align with hers.

Emytheus wanted to raise his stature to the point where he could snatch her away, but whether he demoted the Sapientia’s position, or rose above them, it would have the same end result. As a result, why wouldn’t he let the Sapientia be knocked down a peg?

[Don’t hear what I’m not say.] Emytheus finally stopped laughing. [I’m not the type of individual to use the knife of another to reach my goals. It’s not that I didn’t act, it’s that I couldn’t. You aren’t here so you don’t know what happened, but all I can tell you is that you’ve severely underestimated your enemy. No one likes a woman who’s too intelligent, but they dislike a woman who claims to be intelligent but allows her emotions to rule her actions even more. You’re still too immature, little miss.]

[…]

Their conversation ended in this way. It definitely didn’t sound like the kind of interaction a man who loved a woman should have with her, but this was Emytheus’ way of forging his own Empress. Dyon clearly already had his own Queen and Emytheus didn’t want to fall behind. In fact, he wouldn’t rest until the day Aritzia could thoroughly crush Madeleine!

At the same time, his words held no falsehoods. What would have happened to his Brotherhood if Madeleine activated her ability against them? What a joke. They wouldn’t have had any more of a chance to stop them than anyone else.

‘Sacharro Clan…’ Emytheus smirked. It seemed another steppingstone had made its presence known.

**

~Several days earlier.

The Dark Ocean currents seemed incredibly still. In comparison to the raging waves that had ravaged it just moments ago, it was like the difference between heaven and earth.

Dyon stood with a blank expression as he caught Thirteen’s lifeless body before it drifted any further.

His eyes flickered emotionlessly. Many might feel despair at this point, but that was an emotion Dyon swore he would never allow himself to feel again. This situation might seem completely hopeless, but Dyon knew well that if there was even the smallest lane left to victory, he would find it.

One a soul breaks into the celestial realm, it already gains the ability to exist freely without a body on condition that this soul his whole and not a wisp. So, the question was why was it that Fourteen and Twelve died immediately while Dyon still hadn’t lost hope for Thirteen?

The answer was simple. Both Fourteen and Twelve fell to the strikes of an Immortal Puppet. Dyon didn’t know what material these puppets were made of, but what he did know was that they were created in order to fight experts who had nascent souls! From the very beginning, they were forged to destroy both the body and the soul.

However… Had Thirteen been struck in such a way? No!

Of course, one couldn’t simply revive an individual who had their hearts ripped out, especially when the quality of enigmatic qi that killed them was much higher than their own. But… What if one had a heaven defying pill? A pill that stood above almost all others? One that Zabia happened to have not used during his dao tribulation?

Dyon took out a large pill almost two inches in diameter, the very same planet grade pill he refused to take to heal his arm!

‘Rise.’ historical