Everett Blackwell, who had just assumed the position of sect master, found himself bound to the sect's destiny. As long as the sect declined, he could ascend to the Imperial Realm.
But why did every order he issued to ruin the sect backfire spectacularly?
"Sect Master has lost his mind! Mr. Bramwell plucks feathers from every passing goose—his nature is greed itself. How can such a man oversee the treasury... What? The spirit stones are overflowing?"
"Sect Master has lost his mind! How can we recruit disciples without examining their immortal roots, accepting all who come... What? The sect now boasts a hundred flourishing schools?"
"Sect Master has lost his mind! How dare we ignore an imperial summons from the Empress... What? The Empress arrived with her dowry?"
"Sect Master has lost his mind! With the demonic gates thrown open, how can we simply march to our deaths... What? The Sect Master led from the front, inspiring the disciples into a blood frenzy?"
"Through all heavens, righteousness prevails; my path grows ever more prosperous!"
Gazing upon ten thousand disciples and ten thousand swords guarding immortal gates—the greatest sect since antiquity—Everett Blackwell wept.
I still want to ascend to the Imperial Realm! What? You've slaughtered all five Great Emperors? Well... never mind then...
