Lassim followed the rogue scouting party back across the vast desert, floating steadily but his thoughts racing. He had successfully made contact with their group, but the hardest part still lay ahead—gaining their trust just enough to learn more without revealing his true identity.
They continued for quite so ti before they stopped in a seemingly empty section of desert. The bearded man did a trilling whistle sound in a small upbeat lody before touching his wristband.
In the next mont, the illusion array that Lassim would’ve noticed had he had [Spatial Vision] activated broke. The rogue camp appeared and instead of more desert, there was an entirely different scene in front of him. It was more of a cluster of tents in a sunken, dugout section of the sands.
They’d worked to convert a huge section roughly 8 ters deep into the sands, with support planks all along the sides to keep the sands from shifting or burying them.
As Lassim followed the leader past the barrier’s array poles that surrounded the area, he could see that it was far more organized than he had expected.
Though mismatched, the tents and rough structures ford the heart of a sowhat serious looking camp. Cultivators of varying stages if Spirit Ascension, Spirit Transcendent and event a few lower grade Spirit Transformation stages were present.
Most were in heavily worn armor or equipnt, gathered around unlit fires between the tents and talking in hushed tones or maintaining vigilance with each other. The atmosphere felt tense, with each mber suspicious of those around them.
Lassim could feel their gazes on him the mont he entered the camp, sharp and filled with mistrust or bloodlust. As a newcor, he was a target of their imdiate scrutiny.
The bearded rogue from the scouting party led the way through the camp, not bothering to glance back at Lassim. Instead he muttered under his breath, "Keep your mouth shut for now," he paused, then added, "Selira doesn’t like newcors, especially ones who think they can just walk in."
Lassim gave a brief nod, keeping his pace steady as they weaved through the camp. He maintained his spirit pressure close to his body, not wanting to attract any unnecessary attention just yet.
This was enemy territory, and he had to play the role of an outsider looking to survive, not a cultivator from one of the literal strongest sect on the continent that this group was currently targeting on a daily basis.
They soon reached the central tent, a larger structure standing tall in the middle of the camp. The air felt heavier here, the spiritual pressure denser. The rogue scout leader didn’t bother to knock or announce himself; he simply pushed open the flap and held it open while motioning for Lassim to enter.
Inside, the tent was modestly lit by a single lantern hanging from the ceiling, but the sun that leaked through the fabric of the canvas added enough extra ambient light for it to be nicely shaded.
There was also the sll of incense that clung to the air that was sohow almost claustrophobic. At the center of the tent, seated in a wooden chair behind a disheveled desk, was a woman with sharp features, her black hair tied back in a high tail. Her presence imdiately struck Lassim as dangerous—soone who didn’t need to shout to command the room.
Her eyes flickered to him, assessing him with a cold intensity. The silence in the tent stretched, and Lassim could feel the weight of her gaze on him like a knife hovering just above his throat.
"Who’s this?" Selira’s voice was sharp. She didn’t bother looking at the bearded man; her focus remained entirely on Lassim.
The rogue scout leader stepped forward. "Found him wandering near the ridge. Says he’s looking to join up."
Selira’s eyes narrowed slightly, her lips curling into a mocking smile. "Is that so?" She leaned forward in her chair, resting her elbows on her desk. "So, what’s your story, wanderer? We don’t take in just anyone."
Lassim kept his expression neutral, knowing that offering too much information too quickly could raise suspicions. "I’ve been on my own for a while," he began slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Moving from place to place, trying to avoid trouble where I can."
Selira didn’t look convinced. "Avoiding trouble?" she repeated, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "If you were just so wandering cultivator avoiding trouble, you wouldn’t be here looking for others to protect you or hide amongst. You better tell sothing less vague than that."
Lassim’s mind spun at a rapid pace to craft a believable story. He couldn’t reveal too much, but he needed to give her enough to keep her interested.
"I had a run-in with so... sect mbers," Lassim said, hesitating slightly as if he were reluctant to say more. "Things didn’t end well. I’m not welco there anymore."
Selira’s eyebrows rose. "A sect, huh? Which one?" She leaned back in her chair, her gaze still locked on him. "Don’t try to lie. I’ll know."
Lassim maintained his composure. "Well, like other lightning cultivators, I was with the Lightning Sect," he said, keeping his voice steady. "But I’m not with them anymore. Things got... complicated."
Selira’s eyes flickered with interest, though her expression remained guarded. "Complicated? You’re going to have to do better than that. What exactly did you do to get kicked out? It better be sothing juicy."
Lassim hesitated for a mont, as if debating whether or not to share. He needed to sell this story, and a convincing lie often required so sort of hesitation to help make it believable instead of rehearsed.
"I stole from one of the Elders," Lassim said, letting a hint of bitterness creep into his voice. "They had this crystalized lightning essence orb, locked away for so research or sothing. I found out about it when I overheard him in a tavern one evening. I figured I could use it to push my cultivation further, so I took it.
When they found out, they didn’t exactly give a chance to explain or pay for taking it."
The silence stretched again as Selira considered his story.
Lassim kept his breathing steady, though he could feel her suspicion lingering in the air like a predator stalking its prey.
After a long pause, Selira finally smirked. "You’ve got guts or a whole lotta luck to steal from an Elder and still be alive, I’ll give you that much," she said, her tone less harsh but no less dangerous. "But luck and guts won’t get you a place here."
She stood up, circling around him slowly, her eyes still sharp as she studied him from every angle. "You’re asking to join us, but I don’t know if you’ve got what it takes. We don’t take weaklings, and we don’t take liars."
Lassim held her gaze, his expression unreadable. "I’m neither."
"Then prove it," Selira said, stepping in front of him and crossing her arms. "We’ve got a raid on your forr sect’s assets that they have planned for tomorrow. You want to stay here? You’ll be part of it. But if you screw up, you won’t leave this camp alive."
Selira continued, her eyes glinting with malicious satisfaction. "Standard raid. Though the village leader is the only one that ever puts up a fight. We had 4 scoundrels that must’ve ran away and haven’t reported back since we sent them yesterday. I’ll be sending so extra muscle tomorrow in case they got reinforcents.
You’ll just lend your support and cause as much damage and distractions as possible. This should be easy enough for soone that was a forr Lightning Sect mber."
Lassim nodded, keeping his voice steady. "I’ll do whatever it takes."
Selira’s smirk widened, though her eyes remained cold. "Good. Because if you don’t... Well, let’s just say we’re not fond of dead weight around here. If everything goes well, perhaps I’ll introduce you to his mightiness, Kierlan."
Lassim knew this was just another test. If he was going to maintain his cover, he would have to participate in the raid without exposing himself. It was a dangerous ga, but it was the only way to get the information he needed.
Selira waved him off, dismissing him with a flick of her wrist. "Go. The others will fill you in on the details."
The rogue leader who had brought him into the camp nodded and motioned for Lassim to follow him out of the tent. As they stepped into the cool night air, the rogue glanced at Lassim with a raised eyebrow. "I sure hope you don’t mind facing your forr sect mates. Though I hope you’re on their wanted list; that’ll at least make things interesting."
Lassim gave a smug look, "I guess you’ll just have to wait for tomorrow then."
The rogue chuckled darkly. "We’ll see."
~~~
Later that night, as Lassim was told to fend for himself and "make friends", he sat by one of the many fire pits among the gathering of tents as he listened to their chatter. They were a rough bunch, no doubt about it. But there was a mix of normal, not-so-scary looking people too. Several had scars that spoke of battles fought and won, but others looked less experienced—desperate, perhaps.
As the fire crackled, Lassim kept his eyes on the flas. He needed more information about what their true goals were and to learn more about this Kierlan person. Rogue cultivators didn’t normally organize in such a structured way without so kind of larger purpose driving them.
Despite that, Lassim remained alert, listening carefully to the conversations around him, hoping to pick up any useful information. The rogues were fairly bland though, keeping most of their talk focused on mundane things—food, cultivation resources they stole lately, and won.
But as the fire began to die down, Lassim caught a snippet of conversation between two rogues sitting a bit further away. They were speaking in hushed tones, but Lassim’s heightened senses allowed him to catch the key details.
"...Kierlan says it’s almost ti. Once we’ve got enough, we can finally do that."
Lassim’s eyes narrowed.
The other replied, "Yeah, everything for the last few weeks will all co together. We’ll be able to get our rewards like he promised."
Rewards? What were they talking about?
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