Tarthocas : Chronicles of the Transmigrating Scribe

A hush fell over the room as the Markseekers leaned in, curious and apprehensive.

“Tomorrow, I will be beginning my journey towards The Lhayi Dewa Island,” Ling Xuan revealed, causing all the Markseekers' expressions to become solemn, many had left the island to the other islands and almost none ever came back again for a variety of reasons and factors.

Suddenly, Lobsang Drakpa walked up to Ling Xuan and pulled him into a tight embrace. “We may have only known each other for months, but I will tell you, Ling Wei, you were a good Markseeker.” Lobsang Drakpa smiled as he turned towards the Markseekers, his eyes shining with a mixture of pride and sorrow.

“Boys, let’s celebrate his venture by emptying his entire wallet today!” Lobsang shouted, his voice filled with both determination and mischief.

The previously quiet Markseekers burst into roars of approval, their spirits lifting once more. The hall filled with renewed laughter and cheer as mugs were raised, and the feast continued with even greater fervour.

the entire celebration drew into the afternoon, the hall a whirlwind of revelry and joy. As the last of the food was devoured and the mugs emptied, Ling Xuan sighed deeply, surveying the scene before him. The Markseekers, now thoroughly satisfied, were beginning to disperse, their laughter and chatter fading into the background.

“I only have a meager amount of my savings left,” Ling Xuan thought, a hint of regret flickering in his mind. The extravagance of the feast, while deeply appreciated by his comrades, had left him with little more than a pittance. For a moment, he wondered if he had made the wrong choice in splurging so generously. Yet, he quickly dismissed the thought. The feast was necessary, a fitting tribute to his identity as Ling Wei, The Markseeker, and the bonds he had forged with his fellow guild members.

Ling Xuan’s thoughts turned inward as he reflected on his journey. “Constructing meridians is really something,” he mused, his sigh heavier this time. Over the past two months, he had been immersed in a repetitive cycle of completing bounties—each task blending into the next, none particularly challenging or stimulating. Despite the apparent ease with which he completed his tasks, he felt a sense of stagnation.

For more than 70% of the time, Ling Xuan had relied heavily on the informational program at his disposal. It was an invaluable tool that streamlined his work, but it also rendered the process somewhat monotonous. Even with his relentless pursuit, hunting day and night, he had only managed to condense three additional meridians, bringing his previous count of 38 to a total of 41.

“I have to move forward to the other islands and continue acquiring ways to forge the meridians and complete The Ox Pathway in the very least,” Ling Xuan thought to himself, his mind focused and determined. The celebration had been a necessary distraction, a moment of camaraderie and joy. But now, with the revelry behind him, Ling Xuan's thoughts turned to the future, the road ahead, and the challenges that lay in wait.

Recent news from The Archipelago had been troubling, though seemingly minor at first glance. Reports spoke of a few minor conflicts between the Sects and The Empire. At first, these disputes appeared as nothing more than heated verbal arguments and minor skirmishes, small ripples in the larger ocean of politics and power.

Ling Xuan knew, however, that these were just the beginning. The delicate balance of power was shifting, and the signs were unmistakable. He had witnessed similar patterns before, and experience had taught him to recognize the subtle warning signs of impending conflict.

The progression was often predictable. What started as verbal disagreements would escalate into light skirmishes, with occasional clashes between sects and imperial forces. These encounters, though not yet devastating, would be marked by increasing hostility and minor casualties. Such incidents, while troubling, were often brushed aside by those not directly involved.

But Ling Xuan understood that this was merely the precursor to something far more dangerous. The light action would give way to more significant battles, each one more intense and destructive than the last. Casualties would mount, and the stakes would rise with each confrontation. The growing unrest would eventually lead to a series of coordinated attacks, with factions on both sides mobilising their forces and striking with increasing frequency and intensity.

The final stage, as Ling Xuan knew all too well, would be war—open and unrestrained. The once-muted conflicts would erupt into a full-scale struggle, consuming everything in their path. The islands, once peaceful, would become battlegrounds, their lands scarred by the ravages of war. Lives would be lost, cities and towns would be reduced to ruins, and the very fabric of society would be torn asunder.

If Ling Xuan didn’t attain at least the completion of The Ox Pathway, which would grant him basic but significant manipulation of Qi, then he was as good as dead.

Ling Xuan's mind drifted to the maps and scrolls he had pored over, each one unraveling the complex web of islands and their rich histories. His gaze settled on a particularly intriguing entry: “Lhayi Dewa, the island where the God of The Temple of Chung Gzug Mar Med was said to live before it went somewhere else.” The legend surrounding Lhayi Dewa was steeped in both mystique and reverence.

The ancient texts recounted that at the dawn of life itself, the God had stepped foot on Lhayi Dewa and blessed it. This divine act was said to have infused the island with a profound and otherworldly energy. Since then, Lhayi Dewa had been the site of numerous strange occurrences—phenomena that defied explanation and hinted at the island's hidden depths. The island was also known to be the headquarters of The Temple of Chung Gzug Mar Med, a place of great spiritual and martial significance in The Archipelago.

“Well, we’ll see tomorrow, I guess,” Ling Xuan murmured to himself, his thoughts both excited and apprehensive. The journey to Lhayi Dewa would mark the beginning of a new chapter in his quest for mastery. The island's legendary status promised both great rewards and formidable challenges.

With a final glance at the detailed maps and historical records, Ling Xuan walked out of the Markseekers' building, his mind still buzzing with anticipation. The bustling streets of the archipelago faded behind him as he made his way to the nearby tavern where he had rented a modest room for the night.

The tavern was a humble establishment, its wooden facade weathered by years of use. The interior was a cosy, if somewhat dishevelled, haven from the chaos of the outside world. Ling Xuan pushed open the door, greeted by the familiar warmth of the common room, where the flickering light of lanterns cast a soft glow on the worn wooden tables and chairs.

He made his way to his room, a small, sparse space with a simple bed and a window that overlooked the bustling streets below. The room was a far cry from the grandeur of the Markseekers' hall, but it was a quiet refuge where he could gather his thoughts and prepare for the journey ahead.

As Ling Xuan closed his eyes, he felt himself fall asleep slowly.