Unintended Cultivator

Sen had mixed feelings about leaving Chan Yu Ming to Lo Meifeng’s dubious mercy. While Lo Meifeng didn’t have any particular malice toward the other woman that Sen knew about, she also wasn’t the sort who needed any particular malice. Staying wasn’t an option, though. Unless he wanted to put an end to Chan Yu Ming, which he was mostly certain he didn’t, staying could only complicate matters. With a shallow nod, he left the two women and the corpse of the bulky guy with a big mouth behind. He didn’t have any particular destination in mind, but he supposed he didn’t need a particular destination. The city was so vast and filled with businesses that he wouldn’t have to travel far to find something to occupy his time. He spent a little time at a tea shop simply to give himself a little break from everything.

After that, he remembered something that he had meant to do the last time he was in the city that had never happened. He tracked down an alchemy shop and traded a few of what he considered lesser healing elixirs for some information about where he might find formation flags. He had gotten the ones he had from Uncle Kho and more than a few had been damaged over the intervening years. While Sen thought that he could probably make them himself, it seemed more prudent to get them from someone who specialized in them more than he did. It turned out to be a practical decision. While he could approach any of the sects for such an essential cultivation tool, he wanted to avoid doing so.

Passing through for a day or two without stopping in would likely be shrugged off. The nascent soul cultivators in charge would assume that he had pressing business, which was mostly true. If he showed up at any of the sects, however, he would have to be greeted, formally acknowledged, and endure days of meals and meetings he would rather avoid. If nothing else, their leadership would want to know about his progress and would no doubt press their cases to be told the whereabouts of Fu Ruolan. Even with the reputation for madness that the woman had carefully built, there would always be those who would want to send promising students her way. Sen knew that she would not thank him for revealing her location. Given that he still owed her several years of his time, he’d prefer that she not be angry with him that entire time. If nothing else, it would make for a terribly tense learning experience.

Fortunately, the sects weren’t the only sources for formation flags. It turned out that there were a few independent cultivators who lived outside the walls proper of the city who tread a careful path of mutual benefit with the sects. They were people like Sen himself and most successful alchemists, those who had specific and useful skills, but also those who had no interest in dealing with the expectations of sect membership. Instead, the independents traded their specialized products with the sects to acquire cultivation resources. While the alchemist told stories of the sects occasionally pressuring the independent cultivators to join, it was largely frowned on and actively discouraged. After all, every sect could benefit from a talented cultivator with no specific sect ties. That was particularly true in the case of those with crafting skills. As often as not, Sen suspected, only the largest sects could actually provide enough work to justify having someone who specialized in something like making formation flags or formation plates. For smaller sects, having someone who just took orders would prove far more useful.

That was how Sen found himself passing back through a gate and into one of the adjacent communities. It didn’t take him long to find the home of the cultivator, although he was a little surprised to discover that the man had no actual formations protecting his home. It seemed a strange oversight for someone who made formation flags. Shrugging at the minor oddity, Sen approached the house and knocked politely at the front door. At the last second, he remembered to summon a bottle of wine from his storage ring. It was perilously close to time for the evening meal, so it wouldn’t do to show up empty-handed. The door opened and a gray-haired woman eyed him critically.

“You sect boys get prettier every year,” said the woman.

Sen could tell that she was a cultivator, but only in the late formation foundation stage. Judging by her gray hair, she had been there for a very long time. He gave her a shallow bow.

“I’m not from any of the sects,” said Sen. “I am but a humble wandering cultivator in search of formation flags.”

The woman frowned at him. “Humble wandering cultivator? Well, one of those three things are true. You’re certainly a cultivator.”

Despite himself, Sen found himself rather enjoying the woman’s complete disregard for his advancement. Everything about her expression and body language said that she’d seen his like before and found them all lacking. He smiled and presented her the bottle. She took it and did a double-take. He hadn’t bought the cheap stuff.

“Well, at least someone brought you up right,” said the woman, standing aside and waving him inside.

He stepped inside the house and waited while the woman decided what she wanted to do next. It turned out that she felt some rules of hospitality were in order because she made them tea and even summoned a plate of small cakes that tasted of citrus and berries. Sen made appreciative noises at the cakes. It wasn’t long after that the man Sen had come to see stepped through a door and found his wife and Sen talking animatedly about cooking and baking. Rather than interrupt, the man simply sat down at the table, poured himself a cup of tea, and listened to the other two talk. He gave the pair of them an amused, indulgent smile while he ate one of the few cakes that had survived Sen’s enthusiasm for their flavor. The woman eventually looked over and sighed.

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“This young man needs some formation flags. Don’t be slow about it. He has actual important things to talk to me about,” she announced.

“Of course, dearest,” said the man, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I am Tan Lin. You’ve already met my wife, Ung Wen. And who might you be?”

Sen gave the man an abbreviated sitting bow. “I am Lu Sen, wandering cultivator.”

Tan Lin stiffened in his chair as though the name itself had given him a bad shock. “Lu Sen, you say? You aren’t also known as Judgment’s Gale, are you?”

Sen did his best to hide the weariness that the mere mention of that name caused him. It always seemed to cause trouble whenever anyone identified him that way.

“I am sometimes called that.”

An expression that wasn’t quite fear crossed Tan Lin’s face. Sen thought for sure that the man would ask him to leave when Ung Wen came to his rescue.

“Oh, stop that. He’s been perfectly polite since the moment he arrived. He even brought us wine. I doubt he brings expensive wine to people he means to harm.”

Sen gave the woman a big smile. “That’s very true. I really just came for formation flags. I was told that you make the best ones.”

Tan Lin relaxed a little at those words. “Well, I don’t know about the best, but my flags are quite good.”

“Don’t listen to him,” said Ung Wen with a dismissive gesture. “He’s just worried people will think he’s getting above himself.”

Sen nodded along with a serious expression. He thought that Tan Lin probably had the right approach if sect members came looking for formation flags, but he wasn’t going to say it out loud. Tan Lin leaned in and studied Sen for a moment.

“I thought you’d look a bit more seasoned with all the stories about you.”

“I can’t help what people say,” said Sen.

“No one can, except maybe the king.”

Sen shook his head. “I’ve met Jing. He’s a kind man. He’d never concern himself with something like that.”

“Humble wandering cultivator,” said Ung Wen. “Yes, I can see it so much more clearly now.”

Sen laughed. “Well, I truly am a wandering cultivator.”

Tan Lin shook his head. “Come along and let’s see about getting you some formation flags. Assuming I have anything that suits your needs.”

Sen followed the man outside. Evening had fallen over the landscape and the chill air of the day had turned to a much sharper cold that would likely have driven most mortals indoors. Tan Lin led Sen to a small barn-like structure, pulled open a door, and gestured Sen inside. Sen could feel the qi in the air, much of it radiating off of benches and tables where he could see piles of formation flags in various stages of completion.

“Can I see what you’ve been working with?” asked Tan Lin.

Sen produced a few of the undamaged formation flags from his storage ring and handed them over. Tan Lin carried them over to a bench and spread them out in front of him. He started talking under his breath in a tone that suggested he liked what he was seeing.

“Who made these for you?” asked Tan Lin.

“I honestly don’t know. I got them from the man who taught me about formations. He might have made them, but I never thought to ask.”

“Well, these are excellent quality. Not quite the way I would have made them, but that’s more of a matter of style than anything else. This is a very traditional approach. Solid qi conduction without favoring a particular kind of qi. Some of it has to do with the material itself. This is a kind of treated spirit boar hide. It’s not quite a leather, but it’s close. Again, very traditional. Harder to come by these days, but it holds up well if you can get it. You should ask your teacher where they got these to see if you can get some more of them. I don’t have anything quite like these, but I should have some things that will see you through well enough. Assuming you can afford it.”

Tan Lin said the last without any bias in his voice. It was just a statement of fact. Before Sen addressed that issue, though, he had a different question.

“If you had the right materials, could you make formation flags like the ones I’m already using?”

Tan Lin looked up from the bench. “Sure, I could, but they’d cost you a small fortune. Like I said, the materials are hard to come by. Probably take a while too. I have flags I can sell you right now that would cost you a lot less and perform close to as well.”

Sen summoned a bag of taels and tossed it onto the bench. “Is that enough to get what you need?”

Tan Lin’s gaze moved slowly from Sen’s face to the bag of money. He reached over, opened the bag, and looked inside. His eyes bulged and he hastily closed the bag, as if afraid that someone might see the money through the walls of the barn workshop.

“Yes,” choked the man. “Yes, that’s more than enough.”

“Great,” said Sen. “I do still need some replacements in the meantime. So, what do you recommend?”

It took Tan Lin a few minutes to get over the shock of seeing all of that money in one place, but he eventually put together a stack of formation flags for Sen’s inspection. Sen made a few small formations just to test the flags. They weren’t quite as good as the ones he was using, but he was pretty sure he could make up the difference as long as he assembled the formations with care. He nodded and stored the flags in one of his rings.

“How long to make the new flags?” he asked. “I’ll be gone for a few months, so I’m just trying to decide if I should stop on the way back through.”

Tan Lin frowned hard. “Six months to a year at the earliest. It’d be faster if this was all I was working on, but I have existing orders. Plus, I have to find someone to get the materials to me…”

Sen waved off the explanation he was sure was about to happen. “That’s fine. It takes however long it takes.”

Tan Lin looked grateful. “I wish all of my customers were that understanding.”

“I’m an alchemist. I understand better than most that nothing good comes from rushing the work.”

Tan Lin went still and a hungry look entered his eyes. “An alchemist. How good of an alchemist are you?”

Sen thought about it for a moment. How good am I, really?

“I’m very, very good.”

The formation flag maker looked at the bag of money. He let out a resigned sigh before he looked at Sen.

“I have an idea for a different kind of bargain.”

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