Outworld Liberators-Chapter 155: The Formal Discipleship Ceremony

Spice Cure woke on the third floor with a linen blanket pulled up to her chest. For a moment she lay still, blinking at the ceiling.

Master Radeon saw everything.

She clutched the blanket higher, cheeks burning, then forced herself to breathe.

This was medical. She told herself that twice.

She told herself it again when she swung her legs over the bed and the air kissed bare skin.

She found a mirror. Her red hair was still there. She leaned in and sniffed a strand, half expecting some sharp medicine smell, some hint of blood or smoke.

Instead she smelled clean. Almost sweet.

She stared longer.

Her skin was smooth. Too smooth. The hands that had been scarred by thorns and digging roots looked dainty now, the kind of hands nobles kept to prove they had never worked.

She flexed her fingers slowly, testing sensation, then let herself admire the change until the admiration turned into a shaky laugh she swallowed before it escaped.

Clothes had been prepared. She dressed quickly, fabric whispering over skin that no longer caught on scars.

Then Radeon’s call reached her. She went down.

A jade slip was placed into her hands. Radeon guided her grip the way he had guided Gauge Point’s.

Warmth bled through the jade. The world tilted, and images flooded her mind.

A huge tree stood in darkness, its branches threaded into countless orbs. Each orb was a world.

Each world held people, more than she could count even if she sat for a lifetime and did nothing else.

The image pulled back. A woman held all those orbs, as if the worlds were beads strung on her fingers.

Her body was too vast, too calm. Then the woman exploded.

In the darkness, a seed drifted.

Small. Quiet. It traveled far, carried by nothing but the will of survival.

It dove into an inhabited land and sank into soil like a promise.

The seed sprouted. First it drank sunlight. Then it drank water. It felt air and took in the breath of heaven and earth.

Time began to spin. Seasons changed by the thousands. The plant grew higher than any mountain, its roots biting deep, its crown swallowing the sky.

Then with peaceful grace, it detached from the world as if the world were only a cradle.

It traversed the void and absorbed chaos itself, pulling meaning from the formless. The image zoomed out again.

It was the same great tree that held worlds.

But the faces in those worlds were different now. Different lives. Different histories. Different joys and cruelties.

Then the memory cut off.

Spice Cure gasped like she had been underwater. Her lungs worked too hard. Her heart pounded.

She felt older. Not in her body. In her mind. Like she had watched centuries pass in a single breath.

Radeon’s hands closed on her shoulders, firm and steady, anchoring her back to the room.

He did not speak comfort. He did not need to. The touch said enough.

He placed a middle grade spirit stone into her palm.

Spice Cure pulled energy from it on instinct. Her body drank greedily, but the method guided the hunger into a channel instead of a frenzy. Half an hour later, the stone had become dust.

Her eyes widened. She could feel it now. The quiet pressure of qi. The pulse of life inside her.

"Good," Radeon said. "You can cultivate now. Come. Let’s see your brothers and sisters."

Downstairs, the four disciples gathered with Fay and Good Chip.

Good Chip took in Spice Cure and Gauge Point and could not miss the changes.

He tried not to stare, but a small flicker of envy and confusion both tugged at him.

He had not been given anything special.

Radeon checked his progress, always with that same calm attention, always asking about the sword.

Good Chip did not feel neglected. Not truly. Still, he could not stop the thought that he was being left behind on a road that was accelerating.

Radeon looked at him and smiled, small and direct.

"How is your sword?" Radeon asked.

"Five thousand swings in two hours, Master," Good Chip said. "I think I am getting better."

Radeon nodded. He was not ignoring this disciple. The delay was not rejection. Good Chip was twelve.

Radeon had sensed something in him tied to sword, something that was not ready to bloom.

Forcing a method into a body before the physique awakened would not just be wasteful. It could be lethal.

So for now, Radeon hammered the basics. Words of encouragement. Ghosts sparring with him. Discipline built like bone.

Then Radeon beckoned a ghost attendant and lowered his voice.

"Follow me. Let us go to statue over there."

He led them to the foot of a large statue near the peak.

Offerings were already stacked at its base. Bowls of rice. Fruits. Incense burnt down to ash and stub.

Radeon looked at the setup and let out a quiet breath he did not quite admit was resignation.

"We will make a short formal discipleship ceremony," he said.

He knew Fay had been teaching the others. He was not a fan of ceremony, but he understood this era.

People would die for the right to kneel under a name.

Tea had been prepared. The four disciples lit incense for the ancestors and held it with both hands.

Their mouths stayed mostly quiet, but Radeon could hear the prayers anyway. Utmost sincerity rang inside their hearts like bells.

Fay went first. She clasped her fist and bowed, tears already spilling.

"I am Fay, often mocked, and of little worth, yet I have been granted a chance to cultivate," she said. "What I have spoken is the truth."

Her shoulders trembled. She had always thought Radeon would leave her behind. The fear had lived in her like a parasite. Now it was dying.

"This disciple is a fool, one who cannot even name her own feelings, nor soothe this body’s needs," she said, her voice cracking. "But I swear before Master Radeon, I will reach immortality, and I will remain at his side for as long as the heavens allow."

Spice Cure stepped forward next. She did not cry. Her gaze fixed on Radeon as if she were starving for a horizon only he could point to.

"I, Spice Cure, swear to aid my Master for the years to come," she said. "I swear not to waste his effort to nurture me. I swear I will expand his horizons someday."

Gauge Point cupped his hands.

"Master Radeon. I’m the sort of man that hungers to know all and see all, and I mean to be at your shoulder when it comes to pass. I swear I’ll labour hard to lend you my hands when the road turns hard, and I swear, by the same breath, to take my joy where I may, while life still holds me."

Good Chip approached last. There was firmness in him now, like a young warrior trying to stand tall in armor that still needed forging.

"Master Radeon," he said. "I know I am young and know little of this world. I want you to guide my mind so I am not led astray. If I am lacking, I hope Master will lead me."

They kowtowed to the statue. Then they kowtowed to Radeon. Then they offered tea, hands steady, faces solemn.

Everything went smoothly.

Radeon took out a special black scroll and a brush dipped in white paint. He began to write calligraphy, each stroke deliberate, each name shaped like an oath made visible.

"Those without names will now be given names," Radeon said.

"Spice Cure. Step forward."

She did, holding her breath.

"You promised me knowledge," Radeon said. "I give you the name Lifara. It represents life, and how you will traverse worlds with your own eyes."

Spice Cure let out a sound that was half a wail and half a laugh, overwhelmed in a way she had not expected.

A name was recognition. A name meant the world had to acknowledge she existed.

"Thank you, Master," she said, voice shaking. "I will carry this name until my death."

Radeon paused. His hand rested briefly on her back.

"Next. Gauge Point."

Gauge Point stepped forward, shoulders tense.

"You swore to think for yourself and follow what you desire, while still being a hand for your Master," Radeon said. "I give you Oswin. It represents unrivaled hard work, and the banners of craftsmen and weapons."

Oswin took the scroll with trembling hands. Tears slid down his face without permission.

"Thank you, Master," he said. "I, Oswin, have become a man, not a simple animal."

Radeon’s gaze shifted to Good Chip.

"Step forward."

Good Chip stood straight.

"You swore trust," Radeon said. "A faith shaped by sword and conviction despite the darkness of the unknown. You will be given the name Thaddeus."

Then Radeon’s voice tightened slightly, as if he were making a decision that could not be taken back.

"As your master, I will also share my family name, Neumann."

The word landed heavy. In this age, a family name was not shared lightly. Sometimes not even with sons. It carried more than blood. It carried burden.

"Good and evil, kindness and wrath do not stain my name," Radeon said. "My name stains through futility and neglect. Do not let it be tainted by such."

Radeon lifted his gaze to the sky. He did not smile. The ceremony was a small calm, a ribbon tied around a blade. The true strife of this realm had not even started.