The Sunset Arrow – Arrival - Chapter 3

Inside the Jones family library, Aiya held a thick, heavy ice magic encyclopedia. The title, In the Name of Ice, was written on the cover in sharp, bold strokes. Its author was ‘Exxon Jones’, the second-generation patriarch of the Jones family, a mid-level Saint Archmage renowned for both talent and power.
Aiya leaned against a bookshelf, her eyes riveted to the pages she was turning.
“What is a spell? Think of it as your brush, your spiritual energy as your hand, and the elements as your ink. A broken brush draws nothing; a muddled mind and a trembling hand create a mess; and impure ink will inevitably ruin the canvas.”
“In the Name of Ice, By My Command—Ice Thorn Prison. Use the Spiritual Seal to project your spiritual energy outwards, drawing in the ice elements from the air. You must not drag them; you must let them ‘willingly approach’. Once the elements gather, chant the incantation, guide them into the Spiritual Path of Language, and transform them into this control-type magic.”
“Remember to chill your heart when casting. A Fire Mage burns with sheer passion, but an Ice Mage must possess bl00d quieter than snow.”
Aiya silently closed her eyes and sank into her Spiritual Realm. The Bird Spiritual Seal within her glowed faintly, and her spiritual energy extended like silk threads. The surrounding ice elements flocked to her, as if instinctively sensing her summon.
Aiya’s lips parted, and she murmured, “In the Name of Ice, By My Command—Ice Thorn Prison.”
Her spiritual energy guided the ice elements towards the incantation. Though a Mage cannot see the Spiritual Path of Language, they feel the raw power of the spell.
Ten sharp ice spikes erupted from the ground, twisting and interlocking to form a sealed, conical cage easily large enough to hold a full-grown man.
Aiya instantly recalled her spiritual energy, and the Ice Thorn Prison dissolved into flying frost, scattering into the air. She looked down and resumed reading.
“P.S. Remember to ask someone to repair the carpet, won’t you?”
Next to the final, sweeping line of handwriting, the author had even drawn a smiling stick figure.
Aiya’s gaze slowly tracked from the book to the red carpet, where ten scorched, gaping holes were now ruinously apparent.
“Who puts a crucial note like that at the end?”
The corner of her mouth twitched. She pressed her fingers to her forehead in exasperation, then turned and left the library for the adjacent training room.
Aiya settled cross-legged to meditate, but her mind refused to settle.
A scene from the market the previous day flashed in her memory—
“Young lady, you possess Martial Talent. Let me take you as my apprentice,” the old man selling weapons had told Aiya, who was browsing his stall for a weapon.
Aiya looked up at him, and in that instant, she was hit by a sudden, powerful sense of familiarity.
“Have we met before?” she asked directly.
The old man smiled, his meaning unclear. “Do you believe in reincarnation? For all we know, I was your Master a thousand millennia ago.”
Aiya frowned, carefully studying the man. He seemed no different from any ordinary elder: white-haired, his face lined with wrinkles. If there was an anomaly, it was his remarkable vigor—his spine was straight as a spear, and his eyes were surprisingly clear.
Whether it was her imagination or not, those eyes seemed to be desperately concealing something about to break the surface, barely managing to hold onto their tranquility.
She offered no reply, waiting silently for him to speak further.
The old man did not elaborate, simply adding, “I can teach you both Magic and Battle Aura, allowing you to become a true Dual Cultivator of Magic and Martial Arts.”
Aiya’s eyes flashed. She yanked back her wandering thoughts and looked at him cautiously: “Why choose me?”
“Destiny,” the old man replied, his eyes crinkling gently as he gave the most bizarre, yet amiable, answer possible.
Having survived the betrayal of her past life, Aiya no longer trusted anyone easily. This Master, who had appeared from nowhere to volunteer his mentorship, could only have an ulterior motive.
With a rapid shift in her focus, Aiya lashed out without warning, throwing a swift, straight punch toward the old man’s face!
The force of the punch stirred the dust around them, charging forth like a caged tiger, overwhelming and irresistible. Yet, the old man did not move an inch until the fist was about to graze his nose—
He lifted one hand with effortless grace and caught her fist.
Aiya was staggered. She had channeled ten-tenths of her Shadow Secret Art, striking with the speed and strength of a mid-level warrior, yet the old man had stopped her so trivially!
The old man released her hand and emitted an Aura Field around his body. The immense pressure was like Mount Tai pressing down, instantly overwhelming Aiya. With a heavy thud, she was forced down to one knee.
Aiya tried to use her spiritual energy to defend herself, but it was like a stone sinking into the sea, completely useless. Cold sweat slid down her temples. She strained to keep her other knee from dropping.
“Accept me as your Master. The first lesson I will teach you is to yield to the situation. To knowingly attempt the impossible is foolhardiness, not tenacity,” the old man said coolly, his gentle expression gone as he looked down at Aiya.
Aiya’s gaze was dark, and she remained silent. Only when sweat soaked her clothes and her whole body began to tremble uncontrollably did she finally close her eyes, clasp her hands, and respectfully intone, “Master, please accept my obeisance.”
At that very moment, the old man suddenly reached out and touched her forehead with his fingertip.
Aiya had only time to frown before a faint light flashed and a warmth spread across her brow—something had silently slipped into her Spiritual Realm.
“Don’t worry,” the Master’s voice was calm, “It’s merely a Spiritual Awareness Mark. Since I’ve taken you as my apprentice, I need a way to contact you. It will also help stabilize your aura and prevent you from going astray in your cultivation.”
The Master assessed her, a complex mix of wonder and pity flashing in his eyes.
“Your constitution is unstable,” the Master’s words were vague. “If you don’t suppress it, something will happen to you before long. This mark will help conceal some of the trouble, but it will also cause you pain on every full moon night. Bear with it; consider it your tuition fee.”
Aiya remained silent.
Her current lack of power meant she had no right to object.
The Master finally withdrew his Aura Field and asked, “What kind of Martial Cultivator do you wish to become?”
She rose silently, understanding that the situation was immutable, and that this Master could decide her life or death with a single thought.
Flee? She still wanted to live and find her teammates from her previous life.
Aiya took a deep breath, considered for a moment, and replied decisively, “An Archer.”
She trusted that her previous life’s experience using firearms would help her quickly master the rhythm and precision required for long-range attacks.
“Good. I will prepare a suitable bow and arrow for you,” the Master nodded. “Starting next Monday, meet me at the Auston Martial Arena. I will take you to the cultivation location.”
Snapping out of her memory, Aiya opened her crystal-clear, icy blue eyes. She still didn’t know if her Master was friend or foe, nor what lay ahead for this strange apprenticeship.
The only thing she was utterly certain of was this: strength is the true foundation of everything.
Aiya shook her head, forcing the distracting thoughts away. Tomorrow was her twentieth birthday coming-of-age ceremony. The ritual would be complex, and she had to seize every moment to cultivate.