Tarthocas : Chronicles of the Transmigrating Scribe

Lei Tei was confused yet suddenly remembered something.

During his days as a disciple, Lei Tei recalled there had been another young prodigy who was destined to become the next Sect Master. This disciple had exhibited extraordinary talent and leadership, making him the clear favourite among the elders and fellow disciples. However, due to his status as the direct son of the then Clan Leader, he was deemed unsuitable for the role. The complex politics and traditions of the sect dictated that the Sect Master should be someone independent of the major clans to avoid any potential conflicts of interest or favouritism.

Lei Tei remembered the hushed whispers among the disciples, the awe and respect they held for this individual. Despite his disqualification from the sect’s highest position, he had remained a figure of inspiration, demonstrating unparalleled skill and a dedication to the sect's principles that went beyond mere ambition. His skill and prowess generated a title for him among The Thunder Law Sect disciples.

“Wait, you’re the Lightning Staff of Ling!” Lei Tei exclaimed, his eyes widening in shock.

“That’s a weird name, but yes,” Ling Feng replied, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

“You’re a Dragon General? How? Didn’t you die?” Lei Tei’s voice was filled with disbelief. Dragon Generals were legendary figures, extremely powerful GrandMasters who directly served Xia Fugui.

There were numerous misconceptions among the general populace about the number of Dragon Generals. Some claimed there were twelve, others said twenty. However, the truth was shrouded in mystery. The Dragon Generals never revealed their identities and rarely participated in events involving ordinary folks, including the Disciple Selections.

The sects had slightly more information, but it was still limited. They knew that the Dragon Generals were an elusive group, their actions and whereabouts known to only a select few. The most significant piece of information the sects held, which the general populace didn’t, was that there were only three Dragon Generals.

“Oh, my death?” Ling Feng chuckled. “That was the only way I could actually become a Dragon General without arousing any form of suspicion. Heck, I even had a body double!”

“Oh, I see,” Lei Tei responded awkwardly. The whole situation was surreal; just moments ago, he had been on the brink of death, and now he was speaking to an incredibly talented individual who was presumed dead but was actually part of the most secretive group in the Empire.

Ling Feng’s expression grew serious again. “Well, now is not the time for talking. I have to take you to the Dragon Lord.”

“Why?” Lei Tei asked, his curiosity piqued.

“That’s confidential,” Ling Feng replied, his tone brooking no argument. “Now, let’s get moving. Can you still use your movement technique?”

“Yes,” Lei Tei confirmed, steeling himself for the journey ahead.

“Alright then, let’s get going.”

“Dragon Guard Technique - Grand Flight!” Ling Feng called out, his form blurring as he launched into the air with a powerful burst of energy.

“Thunder Law Movement Technique - Lightning Flash!” Lei Tei followed suit, his body enveloped in crackling lightning as he propelled himself forward.

BOOM!

The two figures shot through the sky, leaving behind the devastated remnants of the Thunder Law Sect. The landscape blurred beneath them as they travelled at incredible speeds, the wind roaring in their ears.

—------------------------------------

Meanwhile, in the far south of the Dragon Continent stood a mighty castle, its imposing walls a deep, obsidian black that seemed to absorb the light around it. At the base of the castle, a large army had gathered, their armor gleaming with markings resembling numerous fierce animals, a testament to their tribal affiliations and the ferocity of their warriors.

On the roof of the castle, eleven individuals stood in a solemn assembly. Ten of them were bowing reverently to the eleventh, who gazed out over the gathered army with a commanding presence.

"Sire, Shen Mingyue has failed in defeating Lei Tei," one of the bowed figures reported, his voice carrying a note of tension.

The one being addressed, a tall figure with an air of authority, turned his gaze toward the speaker. His eyes were cold and calculating. "I see. What happened?" he asked, his tone calm but with an underlying edge.

An old man with hair that had turned completely white and a face lined with countless wrinkles stepped forward. His voice was gravelly with age, yet it carried the weight of experience. "The Fist of the Dragon, General Ling Feng, arrived and promptly destroyed Shen Mingyue’s Frost Body. He then took Lei Tei with him," the old man replied.

“Ling Feng, hmm, you mean Junior Ling Xuan’s father?” Xia Longwei asked blandly, his tone betraying no actual interest in the topic.

“If Sire means Ling Xuan as in the one who died during the invasion, then yes,” the old man confirmed.

Suddenly, from the distant sky, an individual flew toward the castle, crashing into the roof with a thunderous impact.

BANG

“Xia Longwei!” a cry sounded as the figure stumbled out of the debris. Their appearance was strikingly feminine, their features delicate yet marred by rage and desperation. They staggered toward Xia Longwei.

“That Dragon General saved that monkey! Give me reinforcements, another Sect Master, anything!” Shen Mingyue demanded, his voice frantic.

Without warning, Xia Longwei’s hand shot out, grasping Shen Mingyue’s neck and lifting him effortlessly off the ground.

“How dare you order me, you brat!” Xia Longwei’s guttural roar resounded across the castle, causing the gathered army below to fall back in fear. The ten individuals on the roof began to quiver, their terror palpable.

Shen Mingyue clawed at Xia Longwei’s hand, but his efforts were in vain. Xia Longwei’s grip only tightened, his eyes blazing with fury. “You can’t even kill a mere intermediate GrandMaster, and you dare to order me!”

As he spoke, Xia Longwei’s stature began to increase, his already imposing figure growing even more colossal. Shen Mingyue felt his Qi depleting at an alarming rate, drained away by the sheer force of Xia Longwei’s overwhelming presence.

Xia Longwei’s aura was suffocating, a dark and oppressive energy that seemed to crush the very air around them. The other ten individuals could only watch in horror as their leader’s wrath unfolded before them. The fear in their eyes was a testament to Xia Longwei’s unchallenged dominance.

“You are nothing but a failure,” Xia Longwei hissed, his voice dripping with contempt. “You think yourself worthy of reinforcements? You think yourself worthy of anything?”

Xia Longwei pulled Shen Mingyue closer, their faces mere inches apart. His voice was a low, chilling whisper, "You are imperfect."

Shen Mingyue's eyes widened in shock, a surge of despair sweeping over him.

CRACK.

With a sickening snap, Shen Mingyue's lifeless body crumpled to the ground, collapsing at Xia Longwei's feet. Tendrils of icy Qi began to seep from the corpse, swirling and dispersing into the air.

Xia Longwei's expression remained cold and unfeeling as he looked down at the body. "Don't leave just yet," he murmured.

Raising his right arm, he extended his hand above Shen Mingyue's corpse. The dissipating Qi, previously escaping into the atmosphere, halted its retreat. It began to gather, swirling back towards Xia Longwei’s palm, condensing into a glowing, icy sphere.

"The power of Myth," Xia Longwei whispered, his eyes gleaming with a fierce intensity, "in the palm of my hand."

He clenched his fist around the condensed Qi.

KREIKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!

The piercing and painful cry of The Bingfeng echoed across the Castle as if it’s very soul was being eaten alive.

The shriek of the Bingfeng gradually faded, leaving an eerie silence that hung heavily in the air. Xia Longwei turned to face the ten individuals still bowing before him. His gaze was cold and commanding.

“Tomorrow, you will all come with your sect’s respective Mythical Beast Qi. Do you understand?” His voice was authoritative, brooking no dissent.

“Yes, Sire,” they replied in unison, their voices tinged with a mixture of fear and reverence.

Xia Longwei nodded, a satisfied glint in his eyes. With a casual flick of his wrist, he picked up the lifeless corpse of Shen Mingyue and hurled it down to the gathered army below.

A chorus of ravenous roars erupted from the soldiers, their armour clinking as they surged forward. The sight was both terrifying and awe-inspiring, as the once-disciplined army transformed into a frenzied horde, tearing into the body with a ferocity that spoke of deep, unrestrained hunger.

Xia Longwei stood at the edge of the roof, looking down at the carnage with a cruel smile. And with a voice full of raw disdain he spoke.

“Imperfect dogs”