Days had passed since the last conversation with the Supreme Master. Even more time had elapsed since the changes in the sect. Although on the surface these modifications—ranging from new decorations to structural improvements—appeared modest, at their core they represented a crucial step forward.
By the end of the day, Fungi could no longer continue fleeing from the seers, nor halt the preparations for assimilation. He had therefore decided to transform the mountain where the sect resided into a more comfortable place for its members. Improving their morale was essential to elevate the quality of souls, for after all, the soul is the essence of every being; the body is only its reflection. What quality could a soul, tormented by hunger, possibly have? None.
Moreover, what better way to keep people than by offering them benefits they wouldn't dare to lose?
Fungi took it upon himself to beautify the sect and boost the morale of his followers. After all, what madman would want to live in an ugly place?
Meanwhile, Secil was in charge of the ritual—gathering materials and preparing the incantation. According to her calculations, the seers would arrive in at least six months. However, estimations rarely match reality. Nonetheless, it could be assumed that they wouldn't come soon, as the seers were among the busiest and most elusive of all sorcerers in the world.
Despite his curiosity, Fungi never bothered to analyze which superior sorcerer had turned their gaze upon the sect, nor how the Supreme Master knew it without leaving his chambers. His only superficial conclusion was that the master also employed divination methods. But that didn't fully convince him—after all, during the meeting, the Master could have revealed a secret plan and didn't. Or perhaps he was so confident in his ability to suppress any trouble that he simply didn't care.
Sighing, Fungi stopped wandering in his thoughts. Although he had spent days organizing the sect, he made sure not to waste his free time. In his room, he reread the memories of the Masters he had assassinated days earlier, trying to understand the spells he had inherited.
It seemed like a simple task, but it was far from it. Having the memories of great masters didn't automatically grant mastery. Every sorcerer had to traverse the arduous path of learning.
To draw an analogy, it was like giving a peasant a great sword. The peasant could see it, hold it, and swing it, but he would never be as effective as a trained knight. While a peasant could only deliver crude blows, a knight would know how to employ it for multiple purposes: defense, counterattacks, thrusts, and more. And that was only at the most basic levels, because at higher levels the difficulty didn't just multiply—it reached a conceptual level.
Fungi found himself in the same situation. Although he was a master of the soul path, he knew nothing of other paths. Now he held in his hands a legacy containing the memories of countless masters with diverse interpretations of knowledge. He felt overwhelmed, but the only reason he hadn't given up was that he had multiple sources of interpretation to find the one that best suited him.
Furthermore, he had already accepted the price and effort required to learn a new path. Most sorcerers spent their lives mastering only one; very rarely did they change paths, since learning a "new language" was a headache. Only the great masters—and scarcely a handful of them—could afford to acquire a secondary path.
For common mortals, having the ability to speak and memorize another language was an achievement on its own. But this meant nothing for the supreme... though that wasn't a problem Fungi needed to consider at the moment.
Although he had never been a genius in sorcery, his memory was excellent. His life as a priest had made him creative in his discourses, and now he was applying that creativity to his studies. In silence, he meditated and reread the memories, learning and comprehending a path completely foreign to his own in record time. He wouldn't reach the rank of great master immediately, but in a few days he would be a master of a secondary path—with the potential to surpass even his original specialty.
After finishing his meditation, Fungi smiled faintly and stood up to stretch. He walked over to his wardrobe, which held only a few garments. Yet these days were special; he could no longer lead the sect in person.
Upon opening his wardrobe, he saw a gigantic, bloodstained bag that still showed faint signs of life. Alongside it were his carefully folded priestly robes. Calmly, he undressed completely, setting aside his usual attire. Then, he took on other clothes in shades of gray and black, adopting the appearance of a monk. He tied his hair back into a ponytail and slung a bamboo hat over his shoulder.
Finally, he turned his gaze to the bloodstained bag with utter indifference. He opened it, revealing a dying deer. He had captured it days earlier, feeding it just enough to keep it alive, but not enough to let it fully heal. Its condition was lamentable, but Fungi didn't care; it was necessary.
Fungi was a master of the soul, but he didn't possess enough mastery to divide his own soul or subjugate a fierce living being. The soul path had enormous benefits: from damaging an enemy's soul to instant death, to the possibility of creating an army. His master had promised him a path capable of destroying the heavens and killing anyone—and he wasn't lying.
Yet, he had one great problem: the path was one of cultivation, and his advancement was limited by the Supreme Master himself.
Therefore, on his journey he couldn't rely solely on the soul path—it was too inefficient. When he slaughtered the sorcerers in the cave, he had to stage a macabre spectacle to weaken their spirits before killing them. Casting a soul spell took too long, and using his own soul as a weapon was out of the question.
He reached out to the deer and began to subjugate its soul. The process was swift. Then, he expanded his will over it, molding it in his image—shaping it into something resembling his own form. It wasn't perfect, but it was optimal enough for prolonged control.
The puppet dressed itself in the clothes and, with an empty expression, obeyed his orders. This wasn't the first time Fungi had employed this trick to extricate himself from the sect. As his cultivation was limited, he had resorted to extreme methods. But, as his master used to say:
"There is no efficient method to verify a soul."
Only the Supreme Master could detect the deceit, but he was too incapacitated to scrutinize every member of the sect. Secil, for her part, wasn't a master of the soul, and her knowledge in this area came directly from the Supreme. Moreover, she spent most of her time outside the sect.
The only drawback of this deceit was that the puppet couldn't perform complex actions and would only last a few weeks at most before collapsing. But it was better than nothing.
Once he finished modifying his soul to be able to connect with it through his will—and, if necessary, take manual control—Fungi quietly left the mountain. His destination was clear: southward, toward the Kingdom of the Ancestral Mariner.
The reason? The legacy of a Supreme.
The Kingdom of the Ancestral Mariner was one of the most important powers in the Eastern Islands, a region whose history stretched back hundreds of thousands of years, when the revered still walked among mortals. Back then, the Sea Ancestor, a supreme sorcerer, had established his kingdom in honor of the Celestial Harbinger of Calamity, hoping to earn his favor and secure a place in the heavens. However, the revered granted him nothing in return; he simply usurped his domain without a hint of gratitude.
Furious and resentful, the Ancestor defied the heavens, unleashing a battle that devastated much of the Eastern region—including his own kingdom. In his final moments, he left a legacy for his descendants and his people, yet the Celestial Harbinger, still outraged by his audacity, cursed the region with calamities for centuries. Only when his wrath finally subsided did the Eastern Islands manage to survive his devastation.
Despite the destruction, the Ancestor's meticulous plans ensured that a portion of his kingdom weathered the natural disasters. Over time, the intervention of the Venerable Forest of Vitality and the efforts of the Sea Ancestor's descendants allowed life to return to the islands. However, in the process, much of the supreme's legacy was lost, leaving an invaluable void of knowledge.
But not all was lost. Over generations, his descendants formed a dedicated group to reconstruct and share the fragments of their ancestor's legacy. It is estimated that today, the kingdom has recovered about 70% of that lost knowledge.
That was where Fungi aimed.
He did not intend to steal the complete legacy of a supreme. Not only was it a titanic task, but he also had no desire to confront the descendants—who were all supreme masters—while he was barely a master himself. No, his objective was different: a single spell from the Supreme Ancestor, powerful enough to defeat a weakened supreme.
The Kingdom of the Ancestral Mariner used to hire expert water-path sorcerers to explore the ocean's depths in search of lost fragments of the legacy—from vaults brimming with riches to knowledge ranging from the most basic to the most advanced. Many sorcerers on that path found prosperous lives in the kingdom, including former sect and kingdom members. The pay was generous, but the risks were even greater.
Traveling to the ocean's lower layers was a dangerous feat, and venturing into the abyssal depths was practically a death sentence. Only the direct descendants of the Ancestor dared to explore first, charting a relatively safe path before allowing others to follow. Even then, casualties were catastrophic due to the beasts lurking in the darkness. But that was their duty: to reclaim what the sea had taken.
Of course, the recovered knowledge was jealously guarded by great masters to prevent greedy hands from seizing it. But Fungi did not need the complete legacy nor to delve into the ocean's abysses. His advantage was the soul path. He only needed to subjugate an emissary—a guardian tasked with verifying the integrity of the legacy. If he could manage that, he could extract a single spell from the Supreme Ancestor.
If the spell required specific materials, that wouldn't be a problem either. The kingdom was immensely rich, and with what he could earn working there, he'd cover any cost. Should any component be exclusively used, he could always manipulate a merchant to obtain it without raising suspicion. By the time the authorities noticed the lack of rare materials, Fungi would be long gone. Even if seers were dispatched after him, his cultivation of the soul would have reached levels high enough to make him impervious.
Only if a supreme intervened in person would they be able to catch him.
But would a demigod deign to pay attention to a mere mortal? He doubted it.
Only if his secret of the soul path were exposed would he become a real target. Yet, Fungi would never reveal that. Besides, there were no methods to detect him.
He set aside these thoughts and continued his journey eastward, humming a childhood tune—a simple melody that spoke of the wonders of venturing into the world.
How ironic, since his next destination was far from wondrous.
But, deep down, that was exactly what made it so fascinating.