“You should understand,” said Edan, “that after Leviathan revealed himself, he quickly mastered the art of diplomacy. After freeing himself from the shackles of his former followers, he began to spread his empire throughout the world.”

Cyril stared at the cultist, quite sure the history of the Titan of Water’s rise to prominence they had told him was lacking important details. After Granny had offered a rather brief explanation of Leviathan taking control of the Great City of Seahold, her shameless descendant had taken it upon himself to offer his own take on the matter.

“How powerful is Leviathan now?” Cyril asked.

Granny Jasmine heaved a deep sigh. “No one really knows outside of his closest advisors, but it’s thought that he has begun to step into godhood. There are many conflicting rumors, but all of them agree that his empire is not to be trifled with.”

“Surely you understand,” said Edan, “that what this world needs most is one powerful leader to unite under. It’s the only way to reclaim mankind’s Destiny. To prevent us from remaining in fractured tribes, struggling to maintain our own borders. Leviathan has proven himself to be an ally, having assumed a human form for the first time in recorded history to live among us and understand our people.”

Cyril had to admit, it wasn’t the most unconvincing argument in favor of a tyrant, though it sounded rather stilted and rehearsed. As Hosjin had proved to him, pure strength was not enough to dominate the desert, let alone the entire material world. Too many enemy forces would oppose the rise of a true Sovereign. Cultivators grew ever more prideful as they approached the pinnacle; they would never abide the shame of kowtowing to one of their own, let alone a Godbeast.

Cyril rubbed his jaw. “The last thing Leviathan would want is a united mankind. The Titans have existed since the beginning, challenged but never destroyed. There are a few ways to undermine his own immortality. One would be to uplift mankind enough that they pose a true threat if they betrayed him.”

“Why would anyone wish to slay their own benevolent god?” Edan scoffed. “Leviathan’s people benefit from his patronage, just as he benefits from our worship.”

“Immortality is the perfect existence that all cultivators strive for. Since all cultivators are inherently selfish, immortals are greed incarnate.” Cyril shook his head. “The history of mankind is one of struggle and violence. Revolutions, uprisings, attempts to conquer one another. Leviathan would never allow even a lesser pantheon of gods to threaten his dominance.”

Edan swallowed and looked away. Granny Jasmine and Milena sipped their tea thoughtfully. Cyril drank deeply from his own bowl, taking the opportunity to review the scant amount of information they had provided him. While they hadn’t provided him much more knowledge than he could receive from a random local, at least the tea was superb.

He set the empty bowl back down on his lap and sighed in pleasure.

Granny Jasmine wisely took the opportunity to change the subject. “Any other inquiries, young master?”

By the way she emphasized the title, he could tell she was chiding him for not revealing his true identity to them. Still, it didn’t seem worth the risk. While she had sworn an oath not to reveal his secrets, it was possible that divulging information about himself meant he no longer considered that information a ‘secret.’ Such loopholes could be easily exploited.

“One more,” said Cyril. “Though first, I must thank you for the tea. It was excellent.”

“Of course.” Despite her flippant tone, the shadow of a smile appeared across Granny Jasmine’s lips.

“Could you explain to me the current situation among the major tribes, and their current disposition?”

Granny Jasmine leaned back as she considered his question. After a few moments, she explained, “The Runewardens have fallen from prominence after incurring Leviathan’s wrath early in his rule. They were quickly forced to become a vassal state of the empire, and have settled on the border of the desert and the lands of the west. The Wandering Phoenix Tribe should be around fifty miles to the east or so, last I heard. Over the past decade, they have become the primary contender for the most respected clan in the desert. Only the Lost Whispers Tribe are able to offer much resistance, because of their alliance with the Sect of Sacred Tears. They control most of the south.”

News of his family’s success warmed Cyril’s heart. The last of the tension in his body faded away. He tried to keep his relief off his face, but no doubt someone like Granny Jasmine noticed. She had the grace to not pester him, at least.

“Then I thank you for the tea and information.” Cyril bowed his head. “I should continue along my journey, now.”

“Oh?” said Granny Jasmine. “So soon? But we haven’t discussed compensation for my answers. I said the first question was free. Nothing about the rest.”

“Well, I’m sure we can arrange something.” Cyril’s weak smile did nothing to wipe the smug look off her face. “The information was most appreciated, though one must wonder about its value, given the public nature of my inquiries.”

Granny Jasmine coughed and waved a hand at him as if he was being ridiculous. “I won’t ask you for much, young master. I’ve been wanting a nice, refreshing pool to relax in. I get rather bored sitting in here all day, making tea or baptizing the locals.”

“Well, I suppose that wouldn’t be much of a problem,” said Cyril. “Tell me where, and I can find a way to dig one for you, if you could provide the water.”

Granny Jasmine looked at him as if he had told her to grow a second head. “That’s just you making a pit. Why would I provide the water for my own pool?”

Cyril scratched the junction of his prosthetic forearm and flesh. “I don’t have any water, unfortunately. I could steal it from elsewhere, but I have no way of producing it myself.”

“That is very unfortunate,” Granny Jasmine agreed. “It seems no man, no matter how powerful in certain respects, can do everything by himself. A refined young master like you, and you can’t even make me a pool?”

Cyril bowed his head. “Your wisdom is unparalleled, grandmother. Make another request of me, one that I could reasonably accomplish.”

“Oh,” she said. “Perhaps you could just brew me a cup of tea, then?”

Cyril bowed his head lower. “I humbly take your meaning.”

“Straighten up, boy.” Granny Jasmine lashed out with her walking stick. “Seeing you hunched over like that makes my back hurt even more.”

Before Cyril could respond, a heavy tremor shook the world around them. Piles of trinkets shifted about, and the remaining tea sloshed within the cauldron. A second, stronger tremor followed close behind.

Earthquake, Cyril realized, though they were quite uncommon in the desert.

Granny Jasmine latched onto Milena for support as the rattling continued. Or perhaps she was the one helping her apprentice. Milena grasped her head with both hands, teeth bared in pain, as massive vibrations rocked the earth.

Cyril and Edan, undisturbed by the shifting ground, both rushed over to help. Cyril made it to Granny Jasmine’s side first, earning him an annoyed glance from her descendant.

“Stay here,” he told them. “Edan will watch over you.”

A small frown appeared on the cultist's face, as if he was surprised by the comment, but he offered Cyril a small bow in response. Granny Jasmine’s eyes showed no fear; she merely nodded and held tighter to her shaking apprentice.

Cyril rushed out of the house, spreading his spiritual awareness as far as he could--over fifty paces in every direction, including downward. Weaker tremors continued to shake the ground beneath his feet. He could sense faint traces of earth qi streaking through the earth.

Strangely, he could sense a sort of message contained within the seismic activity, though he couldn’t decipher the meaning. It was like listening to a foreign language he heard before, without understanding any of the actual words. He couldn’t help but think it was meant for him.

The settlement was in a state of controlled chaos. Those who had been caught outside scurried into nearby buildings or were desperately holding onto anything within sight. The tremors came to a halt. Just as Cyril was beginning to relax, the world shuddered. Fissures formed along the walls of the settlement, and some of the weaker buildings collapsed in on themselves.

He Reinforced himself with Mass qi, stabilizing himself. His connection to the earth and gravity allowed him to run across the landscape as it tore itself asunder. He reached an adjacent building just as its walls began to fall in on themselves. Screams from all directions set his heart pounding in his chest even faster. The panic, the chaos, all threatened to overwhelm him, as the earth screamed at him in some unknown language, increasingly insistent.

He Transmuted the walls of the collapsing building into blessed stone. It locked into place, no longer at risk of falling in on itself. A woman flung herself out of the front door, a young boy clutched desperately in her arms. She stumbled at the sight of Cyril and slipped on the uneven terrain. He leapt, throwing himself twenty paces forward in the blink of an eye, and caught her by the shoulder before she fell.

“Go back inside!” Cyril screamed and gestured at the Transmuted building, hoping she could hear him over the clamor. “Inside!”

She stared at him, wide-eyed, but she listened, carrying her son back into their home. A few nearby stragglers noticed the apparent sanctuary and made their way to safety.

While he had saved one building, more of them collapsed by the second. Grimacing, Cyril checked his core. Behemoth seemed to take no obvious interest in this encounter, withholding any additional support. As always, he chose to take that as a good sign.

Cyril slammed his palm into the ground. Earth qi rushed out of his body, spiraling along in the familiar pattern of the Transmute Cantrip. His breakthrough in the Third Sphere of Gravity and resulting understanding of rotational force helped speed up the circulation of his qi. It poured into the ground, spreading outward in a rapidly-expanding ripple. Wherever it went, it transformed earth into blessed stone, reinforcing the buildings while leaving incongruent materials like human beings untouched.

The wide-scale Transmutation drained his core within seconds, but not before the majority of stone and soil within the settlement had been altered. Cyril collapsed to his knees, exhausted.

Tremors shook the world for another twenty seconds, but no more buildings within the settlement fell. Most people had managed to make it indoors, though he noticed a few people scattered about, either moaning or worryingly silent.

He forced himself back to his feet. You have to look through the wreckage. There have to be some survivors in there.

Before he could stumble towards the nearest ruined building, he caught sight of Edan hurrying in that direction. Gasping for breath, he glanced behind him--another cultivator, a woman in the Late Condensation Stage, shoved aside a slab of fallen ceiling and pulled out a bloodied mundane man.

As qi trickled back into his core, Cyril hurried down the street to help the woman. He suspected there would be a lot of work to do in the coming hours.

Still, in the back of his mind, he understood all of this had been a message to him. Its delivery had been as important as the contents. Streaks of foreign earth qi continued flowing through the earth, all of them coming from the same direction. He knew what he was looking at--a trail, a lure, guiding him northeast.