Unintended Cultivator

Sen flopped back on the bed and let out a relieved sigh. He’d spent the last week attending one lunch, dinner, or function after another. He’d met so many people that their names and faces had all blurred together into an undifferentiated mass that he just labeled vaguely important people. If not for his body cultivation, he would have been drunk almost non-stop for that entire week. The fact that he simply shrugged off the many cups of wine that had been pressed on him seemed to fluster some and annoy others. Why anyone would want to get him drunk was beyond him, but he’d grown exceedingly tired of alcohol.

Yet, for all that, he hadn’t really gotten to what he thought of as the difficult dinners. He still had to navigate visiting both the Wandering Winds sect and the Celestial Arch sect. The more he thought about visiting those sects, the less happy he was about it. Even if the sects were on their best behavior, it only took one idiot to turn the whole thing into a disaster. Even worse, he could turn out to be that idiot if he said the wrong thing to the wrong person. Still, there was no getting around it at this point. He couldn’t change his mind after accepting so many other invitations without causing problems for himself.

Despite his own whining to himself, the experiences hadn’t been entirely bad. He’d been gifted a number of fine robes, small pieces of art, and one particularly insightful host had provided him with a larger tent. While Sen didn’t expect to use it all that often, it showed that the person had given some real consideration to a wandering cultivator’s lifestyle. There had been other gifts that Sen simply had no use for, most of which had found their way into the hands of the Silver Crane or its employees. Although, he had exhorted them not to be too brazen about displaying those gifts.

Yet, of all the things that Sen had received in the previous days, the ones that interested him the most were the cultivation manuals he’d bargained for from the Soaring Skies sect. Some of them were for Lifen’s use, and he’d handed them off to her with the not particularly sage advice to read them over and see if any of them felt right. He had his own opinions and would provide them if she asked, but cultivators had to decide for themselves which path they wanted to follow. The sect also had three manuals that might suit him. He didn’t get the originals, because no sect would part with those willingly, but he had gotten copies. There had been ironclad agreements between him and the sect about what he could do with those more advanced manuals. The end result was mostly that he could use them for himself but couldn’t pass them on to anyone else. He was also bound to either destroy them or return them once he was finished with them. Sen thought that was taking things a bit too far, but it was hard to complain much when he was getting what he wanted.

He had been happy to discover that these manuals didn’t work quite so hard to obscure their meanings as the last manual he had received. That didn’t make them especially accessible, but he’d been able to untangle them enough to know that there was probably something useful for him in them. Even if he couldn’t use the techniques directly, he expected that he could cobble something together that would work for him beyond the foundation formation stage. That alone would make slogging through the manuals worth the effort. He didn’t necessarily need them to provide him with a perfect-fit solution, so long as they could point him in the right direction. Sen had worked out cultivation problems on his own before and knew that it was a murderously difficult task. With a few helpful road signs, though, he gave himself good odds of success.

He was starting to drift off to sleep when the door to his room opened and Lifen stepped inside.

“It’s time,” she said.

“No. I don’t want to,” he complained.

She smirked at him. “Oh, the trials of being a hero and legend.”

Lifen rolled her eyes. “I somehow doubt that sending me in your place is going to leave the Wandering Winds sect happy.”

“They’ll get over it.”

“Think of the gifts. You know you love gifts.”

“I actually don’t. That’s you.”

“Oh, that’s right,” said Lifen. “Well, think of how much I’ll love all those gifts you don’t want.”

“I see how it is. The minute the gifts dry up, you’ll be done with me.”

Lifen beamed at him. “Of course. You’re far too much trouble to keep around without some kind of compensation.”

“Gah, you fiend! You mean to say that my sparkling company isn’t enough for you? Oh, how you tear my heart from my chest!”

“I suppose you’ll just have to survive on glory and the adoration of strangers.”

Sen shuddered. “I think I’ll pass on that.”

Pushing himself up off the bed, he pulled out a fresh set of dark gray robes. Lifen immediately snatched them away from him and shook her head.

“The blue ones. You have to wear the blue ones,” she commanded.

“Why?”

“Because all of the stories say that’s what you wear.”

“Seriously?”

“You have to live into the image a little bit,” Lifen said, not without some sympathy.

“Fine,” said Sen, pulling out the robes that Auntie Caihong had given him.

He’d been reluctant to wear them, mostly because he’d been wearing them a lot. He worried that all the laundering was going to wear them out, but they seemed to be holding up so far. Lifen fussed around him, adjusting the robes or his hair, until he fit into the picture she had in her head. She smiled at her work and nodded.

“There’s a rickshaw waiting for you downstairs.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to one of these things with me? Keep me out of trouble.”

Her expression became opaque for a moment, and she shook her head. “It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

They’d had a couple of mild arguments about it, with Sen pointing out that he was just a street rat. Lifen had shot that idea down hard by pointing out that, whatever he’d started out as, he’d outgrown it. He’d had no good reply to that, so she’d won mostly by default. He didn’t press the issue. Just gave her a quick smile and went down to take his ride to the Wandering Winds sect. The sect compound was big, taking up enough space to house at least a dozen buildings the size of the Silver Crane. It had high walls and Sen spotted signs of a number of formations as the rickshaw pulled to a stop at the compound gate. Sen paid the driver and walked up to the guards. They stared at him, making no move to open the gates, nor even asking him to identify himself. After half a minute of that nonsense, Sen felt a surge of relief. He had an excuse to leave.

“Fine,” said Sen. “You can explain to your elders why I wasn’t in attendance.”

He turned on his heel and started walking away.

“Wait,” ordered one of the guards.

Sen ignored the man.

“Please,” shouted the other, not even trying to hide their desperation.

Sen paused and looked back. Both of the guards looked worried now. They’d clearly been given orders by someone, but Sen wasn’t playing along the way they thought he would. He was, no doubt, supposed to rage and rail and make a spectacle of himself at the gate. If he simply left without making a scene, the guards would have to explain why he felt compelled to leave. Sen felt rather certain that explanation would be followed almost immediately by some kind of violent chastisement. It seemed that the guards had drawn a similar conclusion because their expressions were slowly transitioning from worry into dread.

“Who put you up to this?” Sen asked. “Tell me their name, and I may forget you played a part in this stupidity.”

When the guards hesitated, Sen didn’t even give it a heartbeat before he started walking again.

“Shen Kang,” the more panicked of the two guards said.

Sen turned around and came back. When he stood in front of the guards again, he simply said, “Open the gate.”

The guards didn’t hesitate that time, jerking open the gate as fast as they could and bowing Sen inside. There was a servant waiting for him who looked suddenly very nervous. Sen didn’t give them the time to make excuses. He fixed the young woman with a hard gaze.

“You will conduct me to Elder Gao Ah Cy. You will do it now.”

Whatever promises of reward or threats that had been levied against the servant must have paled in comparison with the grim resolve on Sen’s face, because the servant did exactly what she was told. A short walk later and Sen found himself presented to a woman who simply radiated power. Sen gave her a deep bow and patently ignored the young man who was glaring daggers at the servant.

“Elder Gao Ah Cy, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

The woman offered him a grandmotherly smile. “And you must be Judgment’s Gale, my very favorite wandering cultivator in the world. Welcome to the Wandering Winds sect.”

For the next two hours, Sen more or less played escort to the elder. He found himself being introduced to what he assumed were influential members of the sect. Although, he did note that the elder made a point to introduce him to a number of young women who were, remarkably, all unattached. Sen also noted that Shen Kang spent that entire time directing hateful looks at him. It didn’t take much intuition to figure out what was going on. Shen Kang was no doubt the sect’s golden boy. Sen had, however temporarily, supplanted that role. Although, it was also clear that Elder Gao Ah Cy wanted to recruit Sen into their ranks. If that happened, Sen could very well replace the young man as sect favorite.

So, it wasn’t much of a surprise to Sen that Shen Kang made a point to disparage wandering cultivators at every opportunity during dinner. Sen let the remarks pass without comment or even acknowledgment. That seemed to enrage the young sect cultivator, who continued making increasingly rude remarks until even the other sect cultivators started shooting him looks intended to make him be silent. He ignored those looks and continued trying to bait Sen, who took a kind of satisfaction in pretending the young man didn’t exist. In the end, it proved too much for the young sect cultivator who shot to his feet and pointed a trembling finger at Sen.

“Have you nothing to say?” demanded Shen Kang.

Sen gave him a bland look. “About what?”

The entire room burst into laughter at the stunned look on Shen Kang’s face.

“That all wandering cultivators are poorly trained cowards.”

“My little sister believes her toy dragon, Jin-Jin, can fly,” said Sen. “I could, of course, tell her the truth, but it would serve nothing but to wound her feelings.”

“What are you talking about?” demanded Shen Kang.

“What I mean is that I’ve found it is best to indulge children in their fantasies. If a man had spoken as you did to me, I would have been forced to remove his head from his body,” answered Sen, releasing a little of his killing intent on the boy.

Shen Kang’s legs gave out and he dropped back into his chair. The young man’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but nothing coherent came out. When a thin trickle of blood leaked from the boy’s nose, Sen withdrew his killing intent.

“This is, however, a cordial gathering,” continued Sen. “So, I’ve chosen to view your words as those of a child, or perhaps one who overindulged in their wine. In doing so, I can spare your life and preserve the cordial nature of this dinner. Elder Gao, please forgive this interruption.”

Elder Gao inclined her head to Sen. Sen glanced around the room at the other guests. Some were pointing and snickering at the semi-conscious Shen Kang. Sen thought that perhaps the young man wasn’t terribly well-liked among his peers. A few people were giving him looks that promised all sorts of things. Among the elders, though, he saw speculation and interest. Their passive intentions to try to recruit him looked like they’d just become a more active interest. Sen spent the rest of the evening accepting gifts, dodging invitations for private chats, and politely but firmly resisting any attempts to bring him into the Wandering Winds sect. It was an utterly exhausting exercise. Sen was rarely so happy to see a bed as he was when he returned to the Silver Crane that night.

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