As the hushed murmurs swelled into an astonished buzz, the weak looked up in disbelief, their gaze fixated on a singular figure - a girl with dark tresses named Mei.
"What?" she could only manage to utter, her voice barely above a whisper.
The Head's decree rang out with finality, breaking the stunned silence. "Then it is settled. She shall be chosen as the hero's first mentor," he declared.
"May the light of the Heir of the Despair Clan illuminate the farthest corners of the world!" echoed the blessings of those present, who promptly knelt in reverence.
Meanwhile, the offerings from the various delegations proved less controversial. Among them were demonic beasts, ancient artifacts, and fragments of ancient manuscripts. The most precious treasures were securely stored within the treasury.
---
"These weaklings dare to push their luck," Malt, the son of Elder Gufu, seethed with indignation. Despite his imposing stature and regal demeanor, he was merely one of the gifted residing in the inner courtyard. The ability to absorb mana did not guarantee immortality; for some, it was but a fleeting hope of extending their lifespan. Malt harbored no such modest ambitions; he craved power far beyond his current reach.
"Easy there, friend," interjected Kube, the former heir of the Clan of Despair. In a lineage where the birth of a male heir had been an elusive dream for centuries, each future Head of the Despair Clan was chosen by consensus among the elders of the Great Families.
"Huh." A bored sigh pierced the air from above. Tilting their heads back, the young men spotted a figure lounging on the branches of a majestic Sai tree. With his white hair and piercing red eyes, the unexpected observer turned out to be one of the weak.
"What are you doing here?!" Malt barked, his irritation evident as he contemplated scaling the tree to evict the impudent intruder from their territory. Kube, however, placed a calming hand on Malt's shoulder, urging restraint.
"Malt, you need to be cautious," Kube cautioned his friend, his lips twitching into a faint smile as he eyed the stranger with a hint of wariness.
"Cautious? Who does he think he is, lounging on a sacred tree like that?" Malt seethed, his anger signaling yet another arduous day for the servants of the Despair Clan.
While Malt's ire was understandable, the rarity of Sai trees near the Lake of Oblivion made them highly prized. These trees not only provided a serene backdrop but also served as sources of mana, attracting Immortals who often sought solace in meditation beneath their boughs.
"Huh. And here I was told that mana could tear our bodies apart," remarked the young man, assuming a seated position as he scrutinized the two friends. "So, you're the gifted ones?"
Disregarding the young man's casual inquiry, Malt ignited the conflict without hesitation.
"Cifted ones?!" his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Come down here, you insolent fool, and we'll show you just what the gifted are capable of..."
Before Malt could continue his tirade, a sudden shift in the atmosphere drew their attention. A powerful aura enveloped them, prompting the trio to whirl around in unison.
"The Elder..." Kube was the first to react, bowing respectfully as Elder Gufu approached. Clad in serene dignity, the elder cast a cool, authoritative gaze over the group.
"Father, this—," Malt began to explain, but a single glance from the elder silenced him instantly, forcing him to lower his head in deference.
"The Sai tree exudes refined mana, harmless to the bodies of ordinary individuals," Gufu elucidated, his voice tinged with a raspiness that drew furrowed brows from his audience, unaccustomed to such a tone.
"That's how it is," with a fluid motion, the previously perched the weak descended to the ground, landing noiselessly. Rising to his full height, he inspected the Sai tree's thick, iridescent burgundy bark with a discerning eye.
"While revered by those gifted with affinity for its gentle energies, these trees hold no boon for the weak, heir of the Wuya Sect," the elder continued, his words hanging heavy in the air.
Malt and Kube exchanged incredulous glances at their father's proclamation, their minds grappling with the implications of his revelation.
Among the weak, distinctions were drawn between villages and sects. If villages resembled small communities with their own regulations and customs, sects were akin to the palaces of Great Families, possessing strengths and abilities capable of nurturing their own martial artists. The Wuya Sect, renowned among the gifted, had solidified its stature over generations, not only in prowess but also in knowledge. However, it remained a closed institution, selecting its future disciples once every two decades. The average lifespan of the weak was a century.
"Hmm," mused Gald, his tone thoughtful. "It appears I may have taken a wrong turn amidst the palace corridors, failing to locate the appropriate door. My apologies if I have caused any offense."
Standing beside the imposing figure of Elder Gufu, the young man maintained his composure, his demeanor as serene as the tranquil waters of the Lake of Oblivion.
As Malt and Kube struggled to comprehend the unexpected explanation from Gald, they teetered on the brink of disbelief. Where were the servants looking.
"It's fine," Elder Guru said, his voice a calming presence amidst the rising tension. "The Sai tree can withstand a dozen souls on a slender branch. Nonetheless, caution is warranted; even a body honed by years of exposure to the energies of darkness can wither when sipping from the Oblivion Lake's mana."
With his words of caution hanging in the air, the elder gestured for Gald to accompany him.
"You may have arrived a tad late," he continued, "as the Head has already selected the hero's first mentor. However, it would be remiss of your sect to depart without extending a personal greeting to the chosen one."