Elder Cultivator

Times of crisis made people realize what was important to them. When it came down to it and you could only choose to save so much, the choice came automatically. It wasn’t unexpected for Lev to choose the Grasping Willow Sect. He’d devoted most of his life to it, and the same was true of his future, if he would have one.

That said, he chose to abandon the place. The grasping willows themselves that filled the area around the sect with its beautiful ponds and gazebos were part of what made it his most precious thing, but that wasn’t all. It was really the people. In fact, even the Grandfather Willow didn’t mean as much to him as the various elders and disciples of the sect.

With all of that mentioned, he still found himself among the roots of the Grandfather Willow. Just because he could abandon it didn’t mean he thought it was responsible. It was a place of great power, exactly the sort of things the invaders would be interested in… chopping down and using for firewood, or whatever they did with the resources they stole from this world. It was also highly defensible.

When the initial descent had come a group had landed nearby, finding it to be a tempting target. When they moved in they hadn’t expected it to fight back with such… intent. They would have been partially right in that assumption, but the Grandfather Willow wasn’t going to give of itself so easily. Not for those who would tear it apart. Lev knew that somewhere Anton was making good use of the bow he’d constructed from a piece of it, but that made use of a fallen branch and a single vine. If people who didn’t care were to look for the most useful part of the tree, they’d come for the heartwood and carve the entire thing apart.

But to do that they would have to get through Lev, who was wrapped solidly in a bundle of roots, bark, and the solid wood of the trunk. Only his head stuck out, facing up the valley towards where the invaders repeatedly tried to get close.

The first time they’d been moderately easy to repel. At signs of resistance, they backed off and took a look around the area. Members of the sect had scouted them going through what remained of the sect proper, though if the Grasping Willows had done it right there wouldn’t be anything worth their time. Whatever they found, the invaders soon returned to the Grandfather Willow.

A single Ascension cultivator was at the head, but they also had a good number of Life Transformation cultivators. Meanwhile, the Grasping Willows only had two Life Transformation members beyond Lev himself. Since the previous generation had none, it was a great step ahead. However, it did make resisting the enemies somewhat… difficult.

The many tendrils of the Grandfather Willow flailed and grasped as the enemy forces marched. Lev directed and empowered them as he could, but often he had to leave them to their instincts. There was simply too much to handle.

The Grandfather Willow had great stores of energy, but it was hardly conscious and made no active choices. Lev in his current state was able to control that, fending off attacks that would have otherwise easily cut through the defensive vines. The only opponent he couldn’t stop completely was the Ascension cultivator who roared with the power of a dragon. Not that Lev had met one himself, as the near-mythical creatures were basically extinct. Perhaps due to the efforts invaders desiring their valuable bodies. Though it was possible that the native inhabitants were also to blame. Even if they weren’t hunted for their valuable everything, they were dangerous and were usually killed off when found.

Regardless, the image of the Ascension cultivator was a nearly solid representation of a ten meter high golden scaled beast, with wings and a long neck. The power of the teeth and claws were real regardless, but the roar was the worst part. Body Tempering cultivators had collapsed to the ground when the man was at the far edge of the Grandfather Willow’s canopy, and they had to be moved to behind the great tree to protect them. Those who were somewhat stronger were knocked flying or momentarily stunned every time the man roared.

Lev twisted the branches of the Grandfather Willow to block the sound waves whenever he got the chance, but he also had to keep the Life Transformation cultivators at bay. Those who could fight were harassing the enemies from all sides, but the enemies were matching kill for kill, even with Lev controlling the Grandfather Willow. And they were getting close to the trunk, where he could be attacked directly.

Though it was more dangerous that way, Lev was glad they were making him a priority target. He wouldn’t mind sacrificing more of himself to protect the sect. As the dragon claws swept through the hanging vines, Lev relaxed the energy surrounding them. It still protected them, but if they resisted the cut more than the force of the blow they would simply flail about instead of being destroyed. Flexibility was one of the best traits of the Grasping Willows, after all.

He was only a few hundred meters away from the main enemy force now. Such a distance could be covered in mere moments by powerful cultivators. Lev himself could not move, but he had no concerns for his main body. Instead, he was the Grandfather Willow, bending inward to fight the foes beneath him.

As they pressed closer, the ground shifted as he called upon the roots of the tree. Moving the roots would ultimately damage the tree, but if it could prevent it from complete destruction- or at least save some of the members of the sect- then it was worth it.

The plant wrapped around the approaching cultivators, catching one Life Transformation expert and crushing her. Others dodged, but even if they left the ground and moved through the air the tendris were there to wrap around them and force them into a dead end. Controlling so many different parts was wearing down Lev’s mental ability, but he couldn’t accept any less of himself.

Soon enough he was close enough to be affected by a roar. His position was unmovable, but he felt his head ring from the power. Some of the tendrils he was counting on were sliced apart or chomped through, but there were more to bring to bear. Not an unlimited number, but with the roots to call upon as well… it would be enough. It had to be.

As the Ascension cultivator got even close, Lev activated his other technique. It was one developed by him, not something he had sought out but instead something he made use of. Tiny particles of his energy were floating in the air, barely discernible amongst the background of the Grandfather Willow’s great presence. That very energy was what allowed the rest of the Grasping Willows to hold together at all during the series of battles.

The tiny particles of energy latched onto the Ascension cultivator, but the man didn’t seem to notice. Not at first, anyway. When Lev had firmly sunk his roots of power though the man’s defenses and began the real assault, there was a strong reaction.

First, a roar. Not one simply meant for offense, but one of pain and outrage. Lev was making use of anti-ascension techniques along with his moss inspired techniques. He doubted he could control an Ascension cultivator’s body, but he could certainly make his nerves full of pain… and disrupting the man’s energy was extremely important as well. Lev swung a dangling tendril at the man, intending to enwrap him but instead simply battering him away as the man let the momentum push him. The ones beyond weren’t fast enough to twist around him, but there was always another chance.

The slash of a claw from over a dozen feet away still scarred the bark of the Grandfather Willow above Lev’s head. He couldn’t move, but he had more than enough energy to call upon to shield himself from at least a few attacks.

The deciding factor in the battle was something that looked like just another hanging tendril… but was decidedly not. Instead, it was a great snake, and though they were often interested in finding their own prey among any cultivators who stumbled into them unwary… something had made them leave the Grasping Willows alone during their current occupation of the tree.

Perhaps it was recognizing a great foe, because the snake should have been able to sense the energy of the Ascension cultivator and how much greater it was. But not so much greater that the snake couldn’t force its mouth around the head of the dragon for a few moments. Ultimately the snake was split in two from the inside, but a moment of stillness allowed Lev to entangle a root around the leg of the cultivator. Then another around the other leg, with vines moving to encircle the form of the dragon.

Every time one was cut by flailing limbs, two more were added. Lev was pretty sure his eardrums had burst because he could only feel the roars and not hear them. But he grasped and squeezed and twisted with everything he had, tiny particles of energy pushing deeper and deeper to disrupt.

When the cultivator’s energy finally collapsed, he was torn asunder and crushed at the same moment, turning into something that no longer resembled a person. Even before that point others had taken the predicament as a cue to retreat… but Lev wasn’t going to let them go so easily. The entirety of the Grandfather Willow’s reach was his domain now. Without an Ascension cultivator to hold him back, he focused on the strongest cultivators one at a time. Perhaps a few enemies escaped, but some time later Lev found himself without any targets.

A wave of fatigue washed over him and he groaned. Then he slowly extricated himself from his attachment to the tree. He flopped to the ground as the whole thing unraveled. He tilted his head back and forth but otherwise lay still. If anyone looked closely they would be able to see small holes in his spine where he’d entangled tiny root hairs with himself. Lev knew what might happen, but as he lay there he only smiled. He’d had one arm that didn’t work before. What was another arm and a couple legs on top of that, compared to the others in the sect? As worried elders and disciples alike crowded around him, he grew even more confident that his choices had been the correct ones. He’d needed every bit of power and connection to the Grandfather Willow he had been able to scrounge up.

If there were further enemies… he might be able to repeat the process, but he couldn’t guarantee survival. Then again, who could in times like this?

-----

Desiccated severed heads were held up by long pikes driven into the sand. Even outside of a sandstorm seeing them would be difficult given the reflective nature of the Mirror Sands, but anyone who mattered would be able to sense them. And they were there for a purpose. They were a message.

The message said that the Million Sword Vault would behead any invaders who got close, no matter how strong they were. The message also said that they had a lot of long, pointy objects that they didn’t care about because they weren’t swords. Some came from invaders and some they already had.

“Ooh!” a voice rang out in the swirling reflective sands, unconcerned by the raging sandstorm. “You can replace number seventy-two!” Chikere nodded. It was a shame, really, that none of the strong invaders had used a sword. There should have been sword cultivators among the invaders, but apparently they weren’t fully able to choose where they arrived. Not that anyone arrived exactly at the Million Sword Vault, either. They had mostly landed in the desert around them where they were swiftly cut down. Sure, they killed many disciples as well- but that was the life of a cultivator.

“I’m not impressed,” Elder Vasu commented.

“I know right?” Chikere shook her head. “Rahayu would cut these Ascenders in half.”

“That’s not what I meant, actually,” Vasu shook his head. “You needed my help to barely beat one. I meant the swords. But I’m sure you felt that one fall to the west.”

“Absolutely!” she nodded her head. “That’s a clear number one replacement! Does that mean we’re going to move out now?”

“That’s right. Elder Wardah’s arm is all sewn back on and is moving, and that was the worst of the problems. Well, of those that survived. His lung might even heal at some point.”

“Alright,” Chikere tossed the new number seventy-two into a bag. “Hey, did everyone hear that?” she called towards the sect grounds. “We’re going to go get more swords! And maybe save the rest of the continent if it needs it!”