Shambala Sect 2 Unforeseen Chance

The little girl's glances lay on the members of the crowd who were yet to raise their fists, even stood on toes, hoping she would be seen by more. A couple of seconds pa.s.sed, but the number of fists raised in the air stayed pretty much the same. She had expected a warm reception, but that wasn't what she got. Her brows knitted and lower lip extended up and out as a shadow veiled her sunny face.

For all intents and purposes, Allda, Syam, and Fidelis remained seated in their seats, seemingly more interested in discerning the actions of the ma.s.ses that filled the Central Hall.

One man, who possessed some air of authority around him, gathered strength into his legs and stepped ahead, putting himself in the front lines of the crowd. "A real Martial may grow through all the grounding, but we are not Martials." He bowed his head as he continued, "Pardon me for saying this, but we are all freaking hollows! In all honesty, even among the hollows who themselves have less to no face value, we belong at the bottom. Forget about maturing into a Martial Child—it would be a miracle if the children taking this test lived to tell the tale let alone come back home in one piece." Hearing his words, some parts of the crowd got agitated. His refusal set off a series of conflicting thoughts in their minds. The one who just opinionated was none other than Jermajesty himself, a member of the Court Stage[1], and the High Judge nonetheless.

"Like it or not, our decision is final," The voices of the three clan heads sounded as mighty as before and pierced through the s.h.i.+lly-shally winds which had been wafting about in the hall. All the murmuring mouths stopped in a trice. A suffocating silence permeated Central Hall. Everyone went as silent as their shadows until the crows that crashed into the walls before, now soared away at full pace, bl.u.s.tering in an obscure tongue.

"Mr. Jermajesty," Picazo said in a respectful tone, "I appreciate you voicing your opinion, but, let me ask you, how much longer do you wish to see our clan linger at the bottom as per the face value that you've spoken of?"

Jermajesty's face turned gray as if dragged through the mud. "I—I only wanted..."

"I know you wish the best for the clan," Picazo continued, exuding calm and focus through his eyes despite the worriment that carelessly crept in the corners, "but hearken, everyone, if we don't wager our sweat and blood from here on, we are bound to fall to the bottom of all bottoms."

Picazo didn't need to say any further, for his words put forth the worst case scenario—every soul of the clan biting the dust—that neither Jermajesty nor anyone in the crowd had ever thought of and helped in bringing them back to the reality. More than whether they were strong or not, whether they had the drive to become strong or not was what the clan leaders esteemed and wished that every other clansman would also hanker after.

"So this is the year..." Burton clenched his fists in a reticent fas.h.i.+on, a source of amazement still visible on his visage. (It has finally come.)

Out of more than three-thousand and one-hundred registered sects on Loosh Continent, an attempt for any of those sects would have been just fine, but the very thought of trying for Shambala Sect—the sect that arguably had more fame than most of those sects combined—crafted chills that let loose on people's spines.

"Did I hear it correctly?" Allda couldn't help but put forward a query, his expression blanching for untold reasons. "You got the tickets of Shambala Sect, Clan Head Picazo?"

"Yes, Mr. Merchant," Picazo gave a teasing glance, "Would you still want to consider leaving the clan?"

"W-What are you saying?" Allda beat his burly chest with his pygmy palms, manifesting a crotchety smile that concealed his finespun conceptions. "How can Pudota family walk out of Faceless Clan? That doesn't happen as long as the sun keeps rising in our East."

"And you, Mr. Syam?" Picazo s.h.i.+fted his gaze toward the golden brown-haired man, giving him deep crawls that cast away his discontentment.

Syam's sticking out belly abruptly shrank in size. "Ahhaha, I was just joking," he laughed it off as he waved his picturesque hand fan, thereby not letting sweat takes its place on his skin. The crowd in his vicinity who took sneak peeks at his brazen face could only softly sigh.

"Clan Head Kwame, is all this real?" Sariyu, looking wistfully, couldn't help herself from not asking her bit.

Kwame glimpsed at Picazo who then tossed three sealed envelopes to Sariyu and the other two youngsters standing beside her. The items directly fell into their hands, and upon promptly opening them their eyes marked the contents—majestic cards that exuded glamor—and got arrested in the process. Aside from spitting fire, the symbol of a curling red dragon centrally showed signs of rising out of the card, but if one observed with keen eyes, the word 'Shambala' could be seen subtly hidden in the sanguine blaze that the dragon bathed in, and the letters of that word also appeared to be moving to some degree, putting to view its nebulous shapes.

"Is this fire?" Lirzod placed his finger on the fire when his skin got burnt upon contact, forcing him to let go of the card almost immediately. "Heavens, what just..." Though the burn didn't even leave a mark on his skin, and though it wasn't a threatening affair, it still was enough for his eyes to birth incredulity.

"That card is no ordinary card for you to handle it the way you see fit. Like always, you deserve what you got," Sinario lightly sn.i.g.g.e.red as his fingers stroked the tortoise that had just bitten his finger, but after a nudge from Picazo, he controlled himself. "Ahem, be more careful with it, little man."

"Che," Lirzod's icy stare lay bare his glacial att.i.tude toward Clan Head Sinario. (Yeah, continue to keep waiting for the right time to mock me. I allowed it to happen until today, but it will change from today. Just wait and see, this little man will one day make you look little.) Putting up an impressive smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, he decorously asked, "Why don't Clan Head Sinario show me how it's done?"

"You are asking for more than you deserve," Sinario plastered on a coy smile as he sat back in his seat.

Lirzod's lips fas.h.i.+oned a hard line. (He pulls out the word 'deserve' every time right out of his a.s.s.) At that time, he shut his nose in haste.

"What's wrong?" Sinario's expression softened, his eyebrows, however, waggled from wonder, "Did you perhaps come to realize that you were always on the wrong side in our conversations?"

"No, I think someone just farted," Lirzod glanced at Burton, his face contorted into a sordid fruit.

"Why the heck are you eyeballing at me?" Burton waved his hand apace, looking away in one breath.

As Lirzod's gaze s.h.i.+fted over to Sariyu, she let loose her voice like a shot. "Who else but a nut-savvy like you will fart?"

"Hmph, if I did, I would have openly admitted," Lirzod voiced his opinion, rolling eyes away from her, "unlike some Chilly Head."

"Chilly Head?" A muscle in her jaw twitched, "I'm not the one who crunch groundnuts, Bare b.u.t.t."

"Who knows?" Lirzod cleared his throat and thumbed the ear, "I mean, women eat the same food as men, but they fart in silence, unlike men … which some people see as a good thing, but silent farts are the stinkiest and deadliest farts!"

"I don't know about women," A line itched between her brows as her voice detonated, "but I don't fart!"

"Oh, yeah," Lirzod's mouth slipped into subdued laughter, "You aren't a human. I forgot. My bad," he turned to her and reproduced one of her celebrated curtseys, irking her further, "you are much more interested in staring at gra.s.ses, plants, trees, and shrubs than in conversing with humans," he glanced slantways toward the skies," but, if I'm correct … cows fart more than humans, right?"

Sariyu gnashed her teeth, redness creeping in from all the corners of her eyes. "Who's a cow?" Her hand formed into a feverish fist and zoomed into Lizard's face in a flash.

"Enough!" Kwame's voice echoed all around the hall, making her fist halt at a touching distance to Lirzod's cheek. "If you want to quarrel over frivolous matters, leave the hall."

"S-Sorry, Clan Head Kwame," Sariyu expeditiously joined her fists and bent one of her knees as she bowed to the clan head.

At that time, Lirzod glanced at Burton, his face tilted down a bit, a cheeky smile fas.h.i.+oning his face, "Look, your father is the only one seated among the clan heads. Well, it's not surprising given he's got the laziest b.u.m of the clan."

"Hmph," A vein popped out in Burton's neck, "he's still better than your father!"

"Stop it, you two," Sariyu intervened as she picked up Lirzod's card from the stage floor. "The fire painting on this card is certainly not your normal painting. Handle it with more care and respect." She stepped closer to Lirzod, handed it in a glare while muttering by his ears, "I'll get back at you afterward, Bare b.u.t.t brat."

"You are not eligible to say that," Lirzod glanced at her chest. "Why did you hide it there? Didn't it burn your b.o.o.b?"

"Shut that vulgar mouth of yours," Sariyu swiftly took a kerchief out of her sleeves and stuffed it in his mouth.

"Uwah…" Lirzod almost puked after briskly pulling out as if his life depended on it. "This thing is filled with your sweat and snot. How dare you stuff it in my mouth?" He endeavored to shove it in her mouth, but she stepped back twice and made some distance. "Your mouth is ten times vulgar than mine. It must shut down at all cost!"

Kwame, meanwhile, shook his head, palm screening the face. "These two don't have the slightest respect for Central Hall."

"You can't expect more from your youth," Sinario teasingly satirized, exchanging glances with the other two clan heads.

Seeing the three youngsters still quarreling as kittens do in their early weeks, the crowd shuffled between delight and displeasure.

Allda lit another cigar, eyes flaring as they regarded the three youngsters. "It's still too much to take in the fact that we managed to get the entrance ticket for the sect test of Shambala Sect, but it also doesn't change the fact that there's a zero-percent chance for us to make an impact in the sect test, given how these three are cooperating."

"Right you are..." Syam folded the fan, his mouth set in a hard line. "Needless to say, your words are on the money this time. Without a doubt, Shambala Sect exams will be unlike any other sect exams. Failure will likely mean death."

"D-Death?" The entire crowd drew a breath of cold air, and so did Burton, to an extent. For ten straight years, he had partic.i.p.ated in ten entrance examinations of ten different sects that ranked over three thousand on the continent and somehow safely made it out from those sect tests. But the thought never crossed his mind that the top sects would have much more cruel methods to take in students. After all, despite his past, his anxiety had always been under control when thinking about the hurdles encountered during the sect tests.

As far as Burton was concerned, he was willing to join even the last ranked sect of the continent, as that would elevate his clan status at least ten times. Such was the effect of having a single Martial Child in one clan, regardless of where, when, and how they dawned. Nevertheless, everything changed when the clan heads announced the NAME of the sect. It was a lifetime chance that he had been waiting for and most likely been preparing for. He stared at Sinario who shot back what seemed to be an indifferent glance, but as sharers of the same blood, their exchange of looks held meanings private to them.

Sects in conjunction with clans, tribes, clades, groups and other such organizations of the continent were also ranked together as a.s.semblies[2]. As for Faceless Clan, it didn't even have a rank. Officially, there were ten thousand ranks for a.s.semblies, and only those with rankings could bask in fame and fortunes. Counting clans alone, almost one-hundred and eighty-nine thousand existed on Loosh Continent. Though most a.s.semblies wouldn't admit, it was still an open secret that, in actuality, only the top ten-thousand ranking a.s.semblies flourished.

Despite their glaring weaknesses, the unranked clans, tribes, and groups were so headstrong that they formed a betranking system among themselves. All these beta a.s.semblies competed with each other depending on their social, political, and economic status. Among the beta rankings, Faceless clan's rank was seven-hundred and sixty-seven thousand, and a bit more.

If one were to spread the news that such a clan got an entrance ticket to the Sect Test of Shambala Sect, n.o.body in their right mind would believe it, not even the clansmen of Faceless Clan. Only because the legit entry cards were displayed, the faceless clan members could chew the fat off of the portentous words their clan heads spewed, for if such a story ended up being fake, an unimaginable dispiriting backlash would await them.

"Do you three dare to take a test that might result in a great failure to the clan?" Allda pinned them with his eyes that lit with a twinkle of mischief. "As a hollow, I can't even imagine how the tests will be for a beta ranked a.s.sembly much less one of this level and magnitude. Everything that's happening now seems like a curse in disguise to me. I can only hope I'm not on the money this time around."

Burton seemed hesitant. (There's no need to ask. I wouldn't be shocked even if the entries of the Sect Test themselves are Martial Childs. It's the most powerful sect of the continent we are talking about here. I am but an ant among all the other ants of this backwater clan. Of course, a task like this seems a bit too much than we can handle.) A moment later, his lips curled up a little as his eyes lay on Allda. (That's what you might think I would say.)

Sariyu clutched her dress, eyes glued to the ground. (What should I do? I don't want to die young.) Her polished nails discolored at an unnoticeably slow pace.

As far as one could tell, Lirzod clenched his fists, trying to control the slight shaking movements of his hands which made some clansmen think in a certain way, but the clan heads thought of it otherwise.

"If you three are willing to dare it, we won't object," Picazo's gaze pierced into the hearts of the three youngsters and the crowd alike. His attire was one thing, but his subduing voice and his eagle-eyed gaze outstared and out-voiced everybody else. Moreover, none could make direct eye contact with him for a prolonged period.

"Just look at them," Syam dropped his shoulders in a sigh, synchronously shaking his head. "Their faces are drowning in sweat, but I guess, they can't be blamed. Any Hollow would stain their pants if asked to take part in such a test. These three have already done well by managing to stand still."

"Yeah, not bad I suppose," Allda forced out a tight smile as he nodded. (Screw you, Allda. You thought they'll back away. But, it didn't work.) He made a slightly pinched expression. (I tried my best for you, Tarqa.)

On the face of it, as the two beside Lirzod were wavering, he began to laugh aloud, puzzling everyone. Placing his hands on waist, he proudly lifted his chin a bit. "As the sole surviving heir of Basha family and the likely future head of our clan, I couldn't ask for anything less!" He raised his hand and forged into a fist that sparkled under the suns.h.i.+ne. "So what if it's Shambala Sect? Won't the people there breathe, eat, sleep, and s.h.i.+t like us?"

By all means, Lirzod's words astonished everyone, for they didn't expect such words to come out of a mouth they least expected. Some scratched their heads while some others absent-mindedly rubbed their arms. A few even let flies take a tour inside their mouths.

Lirzod continued, his throat swollen from the rising pa.s.sion, "Won't their men scream if I punch them? Won't their women sing if I kiss them?"

All the rus.h.i.+ng blood in the veins of men and women suddenly stopped in a screeching halt and seemed to have lost its way.

"Uh, there he goes again," one man from the crowd sighed. "Just when I thought he matured a bit, he proved me wrong right away."

"Take things more seriously, Young Master!" some members urged him.

Lirzod stroked his brow with the middle finger. "I'm already at my peak serious state!"

The crowd didn't know what to say to him.

"You must be out of your mind," Syam swiftly opened his hand fan. "This isn't the time to show off, stupid lad! Shove your fake spirit down where you pulled it out from!" he flung his fan at Lirzod.

Lirzod bent back, dodged the fan without a hitch, thereby avoided getting scarred on his face, but concurrently, his hand stretched out and grabbed the tip of the flying-away fan. "I'm not faking it, Uncle 'Spear Chin' Syam," Lirzod resolutely said, blowing the air unto himself and took care of the sweat that had gathered on his face. "I promise you, if I pa.s.s the test, and become powerful, I will repair that chin of yours."

"You cheeky little brat," Syam stood from his seat, having half the color drained from his face. "You are going way overboard. You think pa.s.sing a Sect Test is as easy as catching a fan?"

"I never said that," Lirzod closed the fan with a flick of his wrist, "All this while, I was just speaking my mind, that's all." His voice rose in volume as he addressed everyone in the hall, "I am taking this test whether you like it or not because that's what the clan leaders want, and I don't want to waste such an opportunity either. If I shy away from danger because it's too dangerous, I don't think I deserve to even think about sitting in my father's chair one day." His words made everyone—Syam and Allda included—think for a moment.

"I think Young Master Lirzod is right," an old man opined.

"I'm a bit worried, but if the young masters and the young mistress have no problem with partic.i.p.ating in this sect test, then I think I can only pray for their safety."

Different members discussed variedly, putting forth their insecurities and beliefs together.

In the meantime, Lirzod secretly began to giggle within himself. (Hehe, fools. Who gives a d.a.m.n about Shambala Sect? All I care is to meet the foreign beauties that take part in the Sect Test. Pa.s.sing the Sect Test is a secondary thing. Though the situation arrived a bit earlier than I imagined, I'm not missing this one in a lifetime chance. I'm going to thoroughly make my eyes feast on the colors that attend this test for sure.) His thoughts ran wild, and the expression on his face changed to that of a monkey manifesting a smile after downing a gallon of wine. (There's no way I can sit in my father's seat without meeting a billion beauties from a million cultures beforehand. This exploration must make a lot of my dreams come true, or else, I wouldn't make a good Clan Head!)

Burton's brows knitted a little bit and spoke in a low voice. "As expected, you are underestimating the danger this test will undoubtedly possess. Though I wouldn't want to waste my life by taking part in it this year itself, I also wouldn't want to live as someone who didn't dare enter a test that Lirzod entered in."

"Oh, not bad, Big Brother Burton," Lirzod glanced at him and plastered on a smile. (Che, I won't let this b.a.s.t.a.r.d disturb my thoughtful trip.) "But, are you sure about that? Why don't you first check your pants for p.o.o.p?"

His words made some sections of the crowd burst out in laughter, though they all contained in double-time. After all, laughing at a young master of the clan in public was not in the clan's doctrines of goodness.

"I'm not scared, Brother 'Good For Nothing' Lirzod," Burton gave him a dirty look, "I'm just healthily afraid, that's all."

"Healthily afraid?" Lirzod blew air through his nose. "The heck that's supposed to mean?"

"Count me in as well," Sariyu plucked the fan out of Lizard's hands and put it to use for herself.

"I care not whether you come or not, but give me my fan back!" Lirzod tried to fetch it back, but she didn't make it easy for him. "I have dozens like those in my home, so I will let you take it." Unable to get the fan back, Lirzod could only look away. This Sourness wants to join as well? No, no, I can't let her partic.i.p.ate, no matter what. His thoughts alone made a significant amount of comfort escape out of his body.

"Yeah, keep diverting," she rolled her eyes away.

He turned his head toward her and shaped a low-spirited smile. "If you partic.i.p.ate and die, I can't live the rest of my life without you."

"In that case, you can just jump into my final fire[3]."

"If you insist it, then so be it," Lirzod waved his hand, swiveling away from her. (Che, she seemed to have fixed her thoughts. It's impossible to change her mind now. My sweet journey, must I say goodbye before you even get to start?) He was almost in tears.

"Are they serious? The three of them are partic.i.p.ating?" Unable to stop the habit, Syam used his empty hand to blow some air into his face. "I don't wish it in my d.a.m.ndest dreams, but if they all happen to meet their end during this journey, then there's no future to our clan, literally. We must think about this again, clan heads!" Till that moment, Syam didn't feel the need to directly intervene as he expected at least one of those three to back out, but given that expectations failed, he couldn't stay silent anymore.

"There's nothing more to think, Mr. Syam Yerram," Kwame folded his hands, standing in a relatively comfortable posture than before. "We've already spent all of our clan's savings to get the entry tickets for Shambala Sect. Now, all we can do is be thankful to our younger generations for not betraying the hopes we put on them, at least until now."

His words stirred many hearts, and the contortions conceived on people's faces evinced bafflement.

"T-That's..." Syam was at a loss for the words. (They've spent all the stock of the inventory? He involuntarily clenched his fists. Without even saying a word to me, these b.a.s.t.a.r.ds did such a thing!) As rage tried to consume him, he promptly calmed down with a deep breath. (Well, I guess, telling me this wouldn't benefit them in any way. It's understandable why they did it, but still, they took a rash decision which is so unlike those three.)

Allda, on the other hand, completed his fourth cigar since the meeting started. (Just what made the clan heads have such confidence on their young ones? Do they earnestly believe they can make it back in one piece?) He scratched his chin. (Did they lose their minds?)

Fidelis just put an impalpable smile on his face as he had been doing for much of the meet.

"Does anyone else have any objection?" Kwame's voice resounded in the hall.

Most people just stared at the ground and gulped down breaths to stay quiet. As a result, none replied.

Despite Kwame's inquiring words that further got backed by a coinciding countenance, many members of the crowd, including Syam and Allda, were still left with a bad taste in their mouths.

"Unmistakably, the choice we have now offers us an unforeseen chance," Picazo began to step down the staircase of the stage the clan heads were on. "But I don't get the reason why you all seem so unnerved about this situation. Even if we fail, we won't be losing any more face because we're already faceless. While it's true that we may lose our three future leaders of the clan, I'm still sure that even in the absence of those three, someone from our clan will rise to the situation and lead our clan." People's face brightened into bulbs from hearing his words. "But, if even one of those three managed to win, we'll climb the ladder of fame so fast and so high that our clan will make history which otherwise wouldn't have been possible.

"And if anything close to that were to happen, our clan's name is bound to be known to everyone, be it on the ground, in the air, or on the seas. Our fame will flourish forever under the heavens. The stakes are undoubtedly high, but this is how it should be. Nothing in this world comes for free. The world won't stay inactive because of our inaction. We must act now, and act big, big enough to better ourselves like no one can replicate our rise. We already did our best in getting the entrance tickets," his eyes lay on the three youngsters, "now, it's their duty now to make our dreams come true."

Picazo's words notably picked up the mood of many people, and eventually, they all rose to each other's voice and began to call out similar words. "Rewards reflects risks."

One after another, everybody stood and shouted in unison, "Rewards reflects risks!" That was the motto of the Faceless Clan. Sinario was the one who took the most risks, and Kwame a.s.sisted from behind when necessary. The rewards those two brought were utilized all across the clan as per the rules and regulations set by Picazo. After all, these three men were the main pillars that built the Faceless Clan into what it was now. Though its rank had been amongst the lowest in the world, its people were always proud of their leaders who had combinedly done many commendable deeds for their clan.

The flag hoisted atop the building, visible in the background of the clan heads, had a smiling skull, two R-shaped earrings and an R-shaped pendant hanging at its trachea.

"Swannie[4], you can still withdraw, and no one will laugh at you," Lirzod tried to remind Sariyu, but she paid him no attention.

Standing on the veranda grounds on the top floor of the building—behind the clan heads and outside the hall—were their wives. The skinny green-haired one was Issa Vesta. The platinum blonde and meaty one was Keira Basuvu. The golden-white-haired gorgeous one in the middle was Valli Basha.

Their faces lacked the usual l.u.s.ter, probably from the lack of sleep; also evident through their palatial clothing, worn almost a day ago.

Holding each other's hands, they let worry took over their visages as they watched the ongoing scenario at the central hall. "I hoped none of them would be willing to go, but all of them ended up choosing otherwise," Valli touched her chest, doing her best to keep the growing pain in check.

"Don't worry, sister, Burton will take care of Lirzod," Issa's soft voice was pleasant on the ears, for the nearby sparrows that had been munching on the hanging rice grain stalk—explicitly put for them, looked at those three once in a while, and particularly at Issa when her voice escaped the mouth.

"Yeah, let's hope they help each other and make good use of this chance," Keira's voice was a bit deep, befitting her figure.

"If they don't... We won't even get to see their Final Form," A tear stroked a path on Valli's cheek, softening the skin further along its path. "I can't let him take this test."

"Get a hold on yourself, sister," The other two tried to comfort her, "It's not like you to be so negative like this."

"No, let go of me. I can't knowingly send my son to death!" she tried to force her way out, but those two tried their best to stop her.

"Hmm?" Lirzod just saw his mother and his aunties watching in his direction from the veranda. Are they having fun? Geez, these housewives know not to hold back even for the sake of maintaining some face befitting their position. "At least, show some propriety for our sake."

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[1] Court Stage: A open stage made of stone that lies in the shade of a big banyan tree. It's used for prosecuting criminals and other judiciaries of the clan.

[2] a.s.sembly: It's a body formed for a purpose, whatever it may be. Sects are also a.s.semblies.

[3] Final Fire: The fire used to burn the dead body and help the soul ascend to the heavens.

[4] Swannie: A nickname Lirzod uses to call Sariyu. He also calls her Black Swan.