Chapter 38: 38. Spiritual Planes

“Oh, you mean this guy?” Alistair was banking on no one besides him being able to see the ghostly imp. Clearly, the flying monkeys of the Hall of Math had superior sight.

“I did not think you were the type to consort with such creatures, young master,” the monkey said.

“Well, he kinda just came along for the ride,” Alistair said. “I’ll be sure to… exorcise him as soon as possible.”

“Very well.” The monkey fluttered his wings in disapproval. “It’s been fifteen hours since you entered. How was your experience?”

“Very good.” Alistair could feel the exponential increase in the strength of his aura. While he didn’t receive a direct Dao upgrade like Bartholomew implied he had, his Dao felt more congealed. When he accessed his Dao energy before, it felt like accessing a tiny well at the back of his head. Now, it was more like a deep pond.

“We wish you good fortune in the times to come. If you seek the services of this humble hall again, you may ask for me again under the name Leotolo II.”

“Thank you, Leotolo,” Alistair said, bowing his head. The imp did a mocking bow, to the monkey’s consternation. “Actually, I do have one more question.”

The monkey turned back, cocking his head. “Please tell.”

“Do you notice anything wrong with me? I took one a leveling pill to reach level 30, and I’m worried about the long-term side effects,” Alistair explained.

“Ah, while potentially unwise, such an action is understandable in your position. Let me see.” Leotolo put a paw on Alistair’s forehead and closed his eyes. “I sense no impurities within your body, though I do not recommend taking any more if you can help it. The usual limit is three higher level Foundation realm pills before irreversible damage, though two or fewer cannot be necessarily deemed as safe.”

“Your help has been of incalculable value,” Alistair said. For some reason, he felt like he shouldn’t tell the wizened monkey about the purifying ring. But he was curious about his necklace and ring, the Thrice-Blessed Fate-Divining Circlet. “Is there anything wrong with my ring?”

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“An exorbitant piece,” the monkey said, caressing the golden band. “A standard high quality Fate-diviner. I can see nothing amiss. If that is all, I will take my leave.”

“That will be all, thank you again.”

The monkey fluttered out of the gyroscopic room, leaving Alistair and Dev’rox the imp alone.

“Stuck-up monkeys,” Dev’rox muttered. “Always looking down on demons.”

“I think you and I have some matters to discuss,” Alistair said, holding up the imp to his face. “And I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Alistair missed most of the other matches, but he was lucky that he still had some spare time before the next round. It could have been much worse, with a tribulation taking up to twenty-four hours in the worst-case scenario.

Of the Earth cultivators, only himself, Anthony, Carmen, and a Kenyan woman named Brigid Mwangi made it to the round of 32. The rankings shifted around once again. In almost unbelievable fashion, Wandering Hobo was still #1, despite no indication of him participating in Felons vs. Fellows. Alistair didn’t understand how he was keeping up with everyone. A new name on the list surprised him: George Moulin at #10. It looked like the crazed psychopath was doing well for himself.

Alistair moved up to #14, jumping almost a hundred ranks to the echelon of the leaderboard. He was so close to entering the top 10. From his understanding of the soulcore, the people ahead of him were shooting up in levels, at least during the initial stages of acclimating to their soulcores, but he would be able to keep par with his own soulcore.

He opened his status screen and full pages, to get a full overview.