Unintended Cultivator

While Sen had thought he was exaggerating about how long he would sleep, he did spend nearly a full day doing nothing but sleeping. He only came around a few times. He found food and drink waiting for him, fell onto it like a ravenous beast, and dropped almost immediately back into deep unconsciousness. He didn’t really wake up like a human being until the next evening. Even then, he barely spoke with anyone for more than a moment or two. Instead, he found his way into their kitchen, commandeered a spot on the stove, and began making himself an elixir. His needs were varied enough that it took him nearly three full hours of work to fashion something that would do all of the work. His concentration was so absolute that he didn’t even realize that Lifen came in and watched nearly the entire process with a concentration that almost matched his own.

When it was finally done, the elixir glowed a pure sapphire blue. Sen did take a moment or two to appreciate the beauty of the thing. Then, with zero ceremony, he upended it into his mouth and swallowed. It was only Lifen’s distressed cry that brought her to his attention. He blinked at her a few times, trying to understand the horror on her face. She pointed at him, seemed to grope around for words, and finally yelled at him.

“You drank it!”

The incredulity in her voice was so profound that Sen didn’t quite have a place in his mind to slot the reaction. So, he fell back on stating the obvious. “It was an elixir. What else was I supposed to do with it?”

“But it was beautiful,” she objected.

Sen started to think that he might still be asleep. “I repeat, it was an elixir. One made specifically for me. If I didn’t drink it, it didn’t have a reason to exist.”

That answer didn’t seem to satisfy Lifen at all, because she sniffed, and walked out of the kitchen muttering something under her breath about men. Still not entirely sure he was awake, Sen pinched his own arm. Hard. The bright little flash of pain was a relief because it reassured him that he hadn’t so badly misjudged his own state. Yet, it wasn’t a relief because it meant that surreal little episode with Lifen had actually just happened. She’d been legitimately upset that he’d drank that elixir because, as near as he could tell, she thought it was pretty. Deciding that he must still need more sleep, Sen returned to his room. He expected that he’d have some trouble dropping off after sleeping nearly an entire day away, but he slipped into unconsciousness within moments of climbing back into bed.

He had strange dreams that night, although he’d never remember more than fragments of them after that fact. All he could really hang onto was a feeling of intense dread, the image of ruins deep in the desert, and the disquieting certainty that his steps would lead him there one day. When he woke up again, Sen made a firm commitment to himself to avoid the desert, if not for as long as possible, at least until he’d managed to reach core formation and, ideally, not until he reached the nascent soul stage. He wasn’t sure what was waiting in those ruins, or why he needed to go there, but he was damned certain he wanted as much power available to him as possible when he did eventually go there. He had tried to decide that he just wouldn’t go, but his intuition told him that fate had other plans in store for him on that front. All the stories held one thing as true. You could run from fate, but you couldn’t avoid it forever.

Those gloomy thoughts made going back to sleep an impossibility, so he dragged himself out of bed. After examining himself, he decided that a bath was not only in order but a priority. It was only after he’d gotten clean that he really felt like he was awake enough to interact with other people in a reasonable and coherent way. He made his way downstairs and found Lifen’s mother. She looked him up and down before nodding.

“I almost feel that way, too,” replied Sen with a smile. “I hope nothing interesting happened while I was sleeping.”

Lifen’s mother snorted, then pulled out a small basket that was filled with scrolls and envelopes. She offered it to Sen, “These came for you. Well, they came for someone called Judgment’s Gale. I assume that’s another of the young master’s names.”

Sen stepped back from the basket as though it contained nothing but venomous snakes. “Not me. Must be a mistake.”

The older woman rolled her eyes and pushed the basket a little closer to him. “You’ll have to deal with it sooner or later. Might as well get started now.”

Sen thought that maybe he’d decided too quickly that more sleep was out of the question. He could probably make something that would put him out for another day or five. It was a pleasant fantasy that he let himself hold in his heart for three whole seconds before he reluctantly took the basket from the woman.

“I’m going to have tea first,” he announced, almost managing not to sound like a small child avoiding his chores.

“Of course, young master,” said the woman with an all-too-knowing look at him.

Even if it was a shameless dodge to avoid what was sure to be a literal basket full of headaches, Sen really did need tea. Of course, his grand plan to make himself a pot of tea was almost instantly shattered by a lot of well-meaning, grateful young men and women who seemingly saw him as some kind of savior. They insisted on making the tea and even pouring it for him. Sen tried to accept their help with good grace and smiles. They clearly wanted to do something to thank him. He supposed it wasn’t that big of a personal trial to let them make him bad tea and pretend to enjoy it. They felt good about it and, well, he imagined that Grandmother Lu would approve of him watching for social cues. Even a month or two prior, Sen would have sent them all scurrying with a comment about being able to make his own tea.

After several rather disappointing cups of tea, Sen retreated to his room with the cursed basket. He just stared at the basket for almost fifteen minutes before he reached into the basket and pulled out a scroll at random. He broke the seal, which he didn’t recognize, and was treated to an invitation to visit one of the sects that Lifen had identified as a family sect. Sen tossed the invitation to one side. He couldn’t ignore it, but he didn’t have to decide right that second. He reached in and pulled out an envelope with another seal he didn’t recognize. That one was an invitation to dine with some local family. He didn’t know them but assumed they were prominent. And so it went, invitation after invitation from families, from politicians, from the other family sect, and even from a couple of organizations that Sen didn’t recognize.

Sen didn’t need any help recognizing that he was in over his head. This had swiftly evolved from a conflict between cultivators into some kind of political game. Sen had a lot of useful skills, but politics wasn’t one of them. There had simply been no opportunity to practice it on the mountain. He had some theoretical knowledge about how governments worked. He had a lot of training in tactics and strategy. All of that information could apply in these situations, but Sen didn’t think that a learn-by-doing approach was going to serve him especially well in this situation. He needed help. Since he loathed the idea of asking Lo Meifeng for help, and Lifen had a lot more local knowledge, he’d ask her to help him sort through the invitations. If nothing else, she could probably tell him which of the invitations it would be catastrophic to ignore.

Before he called her in, though, he should finish sorting through the missives. At the very bottom of the basket, Sen found what he considered to be a divine lifeline of procrastination. There was a letter from the manager of Grandmother Lu’s local shop. May the gods bless that man a thousand times, thought Sen. Not only had the man done as Sen asked, but he had inadvertently given Sen the perfect excuse to ignore all of those invitations and go do something that he actually wanted to do. It might even be to the point that it was something he needed to do. Feeling much more cheerful, Sen dressed in clean robes, arranged his hair into some semblance of order, and went looking for Lifen. He found her issuing some polite commands to some of the servants who worked in the Silver Crane. He waited patiently until she finished before he approached her. He gave her a bright smile. She looked back at him warily.

“What?” she asked.

“How do you feel about helping me pick out an alchemist’s shop to buy?”

Lifen’s eyes narrowed a little. “Are you sure you don’t need more rest?”

“Okay. Okay. I’m not going to buy a whole shop, just half of one. It’ll be something of an investment for me.”

“But how are you going to buy half of an alchemist's shop?”

“With beast cores. Dozens of them.”

“What? Where did you get dozens of beast cores?”

“Oh, that’s a funny story,” said Sen, before a flurry of memories forced him to reconsider. “Well, it’s a story anyway. Get your things, I’ll tell you on the way.”

While Sen got the impression that Lifen was convinced more by his manic energy than anything else, they were soon on their way to the first of three shops that might be open to an investor.

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