Unintended Cultivator

There was a moment when something that felt very much like the heart demon that had once afflicted him rose up inside of Sen’s chest. He wanted to fly south. He wanted to find whatever damned fool spirit beasts had dared to choose this day, his day, his one day with his daughter and his niece to start their stupid, pointless war. He wanted to find them and make their deaths so utterly terrible, so unspeakable, that no spirit beast would dare show itself in human lands again for ten generations. He could feel his qi surging and rising inside of him like a lethal tide, held in check only by his knowledge that letting any of it slip free would mean certain death for Ai and Zhi. His eyes turned to the south. He could go. He could fly into the air and sweep south like the emissary of the underworld. He forced himself to take steadying breaths and that dangerous confluence of rage, killing intent, and qi subsided, washing back into whatever dark recess of his soul it lived in.

Yes, he could do that, but it wouldn’t accomplish anything. Whatever fight was happening now, it would be over long before he got there even at the phenomenal speeds he could achieve when he pushed himself hard. The very best he could hope to accomplish was some hollow revenge. That was assuming he could even find the right spirit beasts. The more likely reality was that he’d just find the burned-out husk of a town or sect. If he was unspeakably lucky, he might find a survivor or two that he could save. However, experience had taught him that those survivors might not thank him for that rescue, preferring instead to die with their loved ones. Even so, he could almost feel that younger, stupider, less-experienced version of himself aching to go and do something. And that something was the problem.

He knew that action was sometimes the right and necessary course of action. There were moments when not acting would bring calamity. Unfortunately, youth and inexperience precluded discerning those kinds of moments from moments when not acting was the wisest choice. Acting simply to avoid a feeling of helpless impotence was neither right nor necessary. It was a balm for the souls of the young and foolish. Those choices all too often made things worse instead of better. To complicate matters, the ways in which it made things worse were not always obvious or immediate. How many times had some thoughtless action come back to haunt him? How often had he suffered, had others suffered, because of an ill-conceived decision to do something? So, Sen calmed his heart. Perhaps all that forced restraint with those villagers was beneficial, he thought.

He turned his gaze back to Ai, Zhi, and Big Sister Lei. Zhi looked a little uncertain, as though she’d felt something she didn’t quite understand. Ai was giving him a sad look. She clearly didn’t know exactly what was going on, but she knew that it meant he would not be there all the time…Again. Lei, however, had sensed some of what had been raging inside of him. She had sensed it and apparently found it less than comforting. She did a good job of keeping it off her face, but the woman was as taut as a bowstring. There was fear in her eyes. Sen didn’t know if it was fear of him or fear of what his reaction heralded. He supposed it could have been both. They weren’t mutually exclusive things. He did his best to soften his expression and smiled at the girls.

“I think we should probably get you home, Zhi,” said Sen. “I expect your mother wants to see you at least a little bit today.”

Zhi’s bottom lip stuck out a little, and she scuffed a foot in the dirt before offering a desultory, “Okay, Uncle Sen.”

Sen found himself working unreasonably hard not to laugh at the look on the glum girl’s face. It wasn’t so much her dissatisfaction he found funny, as it was the unvarnished nature of that dissatisfaction. There was simply nothing standing between her grumpy acceptance and her expression the way there was with adults. It was refreshing, but it also made for some hilarious facial expressions. Sen made his eyes go very wide and curled his hands into vaguely clawlike shapes.

“Grumpy girls get the tickle beast,” he roared.

Ai and Zhi both shriek-laughed and darted away in the general direction of Zhi’s house. Sen decided that was good enough. He glanced over at Lei, who was staring at him with her mouth hanging open a little.

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Lei straightened and opened her mouth. Sen could see the moment of realization on her face when the trap she’d been caught in became obvious. If she said it wasn’t dignified enough, she’d be criticizing the sect’s leader. If she said it was, they’d both know she was lying. He didn’t let her suffer for long.

“They’re children. They should get to laugh as much as they can, whenever they can. I’ll gladly, joyously, sacrifice a little dignity for that. I fear there won’t be much for them to laugh about soon enough,” he offered. “Or us, for that matter.”

The woman’s narrow face grew contemplative for a moment before she nodded.

“I suppose there won’t be, Patriarch.”

Sen started walking after the girls who were hiding around a corner and peeking back at him. He lifted his clawed hands and started stomping toward them, letting out an occasional roar about tickles, which caused more delighted shrieks of false terror. The formation foundation cultivator, clearly unsure what else to do, trailed after him. He paused from his monster impression to study the young woman. She still looked nervous but the fear seemed to have gone away for the moment.

“How are you finding the sect?” he asked.

She gave him a cautious look. The woman was wary of some other kind of verbal trap. Finding nothing obvious, she still hesitated. Sen was a little amused at her caution, but he supposed he understood it. The wrong word here could easily mean disaster in any other sect. He once more took pity on her.

“Your answer will not affect your standing in the sect. I can’t fix problems I don’t hear about. I can’t hear about problems unless I ask. I can’t always trust that the people in charge will see problems the same way as someone in your position.”

He gave her a few moments to think about it while he chased the girls. Neither Zhi nor Ai was working very hard to stay ahead of him. He suspected they got a lot of amusement out of watching him masquerade as the mythical tickle beast. Plus, it meant they were getting attention. He remembered being young and the ugly envy he felt every time he saw some parent with their child or even older siblings with their younger brothers and sisters. Oh, how he had wanted that for himself. While he couldn’t assume that everyone was the same as him, those memories informed his choices with Ai and Zhi. If nothing else, recalling those feelings told him that getting attention mattered. Failing to receive it might not break a person, but he wasn’t going to test that possibility with either of the girls. He let them pull ahead a little and turned his attention back to Lei.

“It isn’t what I thought it would be like,” she finally said.

“In good ways or bad ways?” he asked.

“On the whole, good. There isn’t nearly as much bowing and scraping as I expected. And the Cold Blade ensures that no,” she hesitated, “liberties are taken. He’s firm about that. Very firm.”

Sen nodded. He hadn’t told Long Jia Wei to pay special attention to that, but he had made a point to mention how much he disliked such things. Long Jia Wei wasn’t stupid. He’d gotten the message and acted accordingly. The man was brutal, at times, but he was also loyal and efficient. I really need to do something to reward him, thought Sen. He’s exceeded my expectations.

“As it should be,” said Sen. “You’re all here to learn and serve the needs of the sect. Not the needs of other sect members. Still, that’s the good. What about the bad?”

Lei wavered for a moment before she answered, “None of us understand what the needs of the sect are. Why does this sect even exist?”

Sen regarded the young woman for a moment before he looked toward Ai. It was a fair question. Most sects had some stated goal. Some of the goals he’d heard seemed trite, while others aspired to the profound. He hadn’t really shared that information widely, but he hadn’t meant it to be a secret either. He supposed now was as good a time to state it as any other.

“To protect her. To protect the House of Lu. At least, that’s what I meant it to be.”

“Has that changed?” asked Lei.

The woman sounded deeply uncertain about whether that was an appropriate question. Sen imagined she was worried about overstepping some invisible line she didn’t know to avoid.

“Not in spirit. Of course, the needs of right now often outweigh the needs of the future. I assume that everyone knows by now that war with the spirit beasts is coming.”

Lei nodded.

“We do,” she said and grimaced. “I suppose that war is here now.”

“It is. So, the purpose of the sect at this point is to help ensure the survival of humanity. More specifically, we’re going to help ensure the survival of this town. And since my daughter lives here, you all still get to perform the function I always intended. You’ll protect her when I can’t be here to do it myself.”

Lei considered that for a little while before she went so pale that Sen wondered if she might lose consciousness. She’s figured it out, thought Sen. While there was a certain honor in protecting the daughter of the Patriarch, there would also be consequences if they were lax. Lei had just realized that if they failed in that duty, if the sect allowed some harm to befall Ai, they wouldn’t need to worry about the spirit beasts or the war. Sen would likely kill them all.

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