Master Hemlock didn't just walk to Elder Karl's meditation pavilion; he vibrated. His ink-stained robes left a trail of blue droplets across the pristine white gravel, making him look like a leaky fountain pen in a state of high emotional distress.
"Elder!" Hemlock wheezed, bursting through the doors. "The boy! The Sparrow! He... he didn't just compress the iron. He collapsed it into a singularity! He caused a pepper-induced insurrection! My class is currently a crime scene of sneezing nobles!"
Elder Karl didn't open his eyes. He sat perfectly still, floating three inches above a prayer mat. "And the boy? Did he use a technique you recognized?"
"That's the problem!" Hemlock wiped blue ink from his forehead, only to smear it further. "He looked like he was having a stroke, and then the laws of physics simply... resigned. There is a rumor, Elder... a whisper among the students."
Karl finally opened one milky eye. "Speak."
"They are calling him the Vessel of the Hidden One," Hemlock whispered. "Some say he has a split personality. Others say he's possessed by a very sarcastic demon who hates Golden-Hair Kaelen specifically. The boy talks to himself, Elder. He argues with the air!"
Karl's gaze drifted toward the window, looking out toward the Spirit Beast Stables. "Let them wonder. Curiosity is a better leash than chains. We will see if his 'demon' can handle the muck of the stables."
The Spirit Beast Stables were less "majestic stables" and more "overgrown zoo for animals with bad attitudes." Vincy stood at the entrance, holding a shovel that looked like it had been used to fight a dragon and lost.
"Ah, the smell of domestic failure," Piet's voice rang out, crisp and judgmental. "In my palace, the stables were paved with silver so the horses didn't get cold hooves. Here, it smells like a wet Golem had a mid-life crisis."
"Can you please just stay quiet?" Vincy hissed, looking around nervously. "If someone sees me talking to you, they'll send for an exorcist, and I'm pretty sure that involves a lot of fire."
"An exorcist? Please. I'd have him questioning his own existence before he finished his first chant," Piet drawled. "Now, look to your left. That's not a pile of hay."
Vincy turned. In the corner of the largest stall sat a creature that looked like a cross between a giant panda and a very fluffy cloud. It was a Dream-Eating Tapir, a high-grade beast known for its ability to grant visions. However, this particular one was currently wearing a straw hat and was using a spiritual jade-grass brush to scratch its own back.
"Is it... is it supposed to be wearing clothes?" Vincy asked.
The Tapir looked at Vincy, let out a long, resonant burp, and went back to sleep.
"That," Piet remarked, "is a creature after my own heart. It has reached the pinnacle of cultivation: Total Indifference. It is also sitting on a cache of Star-Core Clover. If you can get it to move, we can use that grass to fix your pathetic Qi channels."
Vincy's "detention" was not the private affair he hoped for. Within an hour, a group of students had gathered at the stable fence. They weren't there to help; they were there to witness the "Anomaly."
"Look at him," a girl whispered. "He's staring at the Tapir. Do you think he's communicating telepathically?"
"I heard he defeated Baron with a single glance," a boy added, clutching his own wallet protectively. "And that he made Master Hemlock turn blue using only his mind."
Vincy, unaware of the legend growing around him, was currently trying to push the 500-pound Tapir with his shoulder. "Please, Mr. Cloud-Panda, I just need to sweep the corner!"
"Vincy, you look like a dung beetle trying to move a mountain," Piet sighed. "Let me handle the diplomatic negotiations."
Suddenly, Vincy's posture shifted. He stopped pushing. He reached out and flicked the Tapir's ear with a precision that made the beast's eyes fly open.
"Listen, you overgrown rug," Piet-Vincy said, his voice dropping into that terrifyingly smooth baritone. "You have three seconds to move your backside, or I will personally show you what a 'nightmare' actually tastes like. I may be dead, but my killing intent still has excellent flavor."
The Tapir, a creature that had ignored Sect Leaders for decades, let out a startled yelp, tucked its straw hat under its arm, and scurried to the opposite corner of the stable as if the God of Death had just asked for rent.
The watching students gasped.
"He... he intimidated a Grade-4 Spirit Beast," Dax whispered, peering through his goggles from behind a fence post. "Vincy Sparrow isn't a student. He's a monster in a burlap sack."
"There," Piet thought, retreating back into the soul-space. "The grass is yours. Try not to choke on it while you're sweeping."
Vincy, back in control, looked at the cowering Tapir and then at the terrified crowd. "I... I think it just remembered it had an appointment?"