Unintended Cultivator

Book 8: Chapter 2: Cataclysmic Stupidity

Sen waited with growing impatience as the half-dozen cultivators who had been slowly creeping up on them froze in place. They all blazed like torches in his spiritual sense, which made him wonder why they had bothered trying to sneak in the first place. After a rapid exchange of murmured conversation, the group converged on what he assumed was their valiant leader. The group slowly moved forward until they stepped into the light cast by the fire. Sen eyed them all for a moment before focusing on the leader. He was a tall, well-built man who looked like he was a bit older than Sen, which meant he was anywhere from thirty to five hundred years old. The man looked Sen up and down, sniffed like he wasn’t impressed, and then shot a disdainful look at Shen Mingxia.

“As expected,” said the man. “Only the young and weak are impressed by your false legend. Couldn’t find a real woman to keep you company?”

Sen thought of Lai Dongmei and smirked, which just seemed to infuriate the man.

“I am—” the man started to say before Sen cut him off.

“Yeah, I don’t care. Normally, I’d let Shen Mingxia deal with her own insults. Since you’re more than a full stage higher than she is, though, I guess I’ll have to do it.”

“Sen,” whispered Shen Mingxia, “it isn’t necessary.”

“You should listen to her, boy,” said the man who seemingly didn’t realize that he was a walking corpse.

“I always listen to her,” said Sen. “I just don’t always follow her advice.”

While Sen hadn’t precisely been looking for an opportunity to try something out, he was happy to take the opportunity when it strutted up to him and acted like an ass. Sen had never forgotten the day back on the mountain when Uncle Kho had simply obliterated two men with lightning from a clear sky. It was something that Sen had been working toward for years with incremental improvements. With his last advancement, though, he thought he was finally ready. Plus, he was interested to see if it would kill an advanced core cultivator or not. Before any of the interlopers could react, let alone erect defenses, Sen sent his qi into the sky. Even without clouds around, there was always a little bit of whatever it was that made lightning possible active high up in the air. Sen harnessed that power, shaped it to his will, and brought it crashing down onto the skull of the leader.

There was one moment of pure horror on the man’s face before an absolutely blinding light filled the clearing. Sen’s eyes, bolstered by body cultivation, didn’t seem to care. He did make a point to briefly shroud Shen Mingxia’s eyes with shadow, though. It wouldn’t do to damage her vision unnecessarily. He did not extend the same courtesy to the lackeys, who screamed in terror and pain. Sen surveyed the results of his technique. It still wasn’t up to Uncle Kho levels. Uncle Kho had reduced those men to nothing but scorch marks on the ground. Sen had only managed to reduce the man to a pile of charred and shattered bones. Maybe I just need to be a nascent soul cultivator to pull that off, thought Sen. Even so, the obnoxious cultivator was dead and had died in a spectacularly gruesome fashion, which had been the point.

“By the heavens,” said Shen Mingxia in hushed tones.

He glanced at her. The woman was staring at what was left of the very rude cultivator with wide eyes. She turned her disbelieving gaze onto him.

“Just how powerful are you?” she demanded.

Sen shrugged and offered her a little smile.

“I do okay,” he said before turning his eyes back to the lackeys.

The lot seemed to be recovering, at least physically, but he could see the panic in their eyes. He supposed he could imagine how this misadventure had been described to them. Judgment’s Gale is all story and no strength. We all know he hasn’t done the things he’s supposed to have done. He’s just a phantom that won’t be any trouble at all. It’ll be easy glory. Except, now, they were faced with a very real cultivator who had dispatched their leader and come out the other side of it without so much as a scratch on him. He wasn’t even breathing hard. Sen debated about whether or not to give them a moment to recover and decided not to grant them that courtesy.

“Who sent you?” he asked.

The group stared at him with glassy eyes and terrified expressions.

“Speak!” he roared.

One of the group took a halting step forward. He was a lean man with a scar on one cheek that neither alchemy nor advancement had remedied yet. A sheen of sweat coated the man’s forehead. Based on his expression, the man wished he was anywhere else doing anything but speaking to Sen. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat.

“Hon— hon— honor forbids—” he said, before stumbled back as lightning kindled to life around Sen’s spear.

“You don’t get to speak to me about honor,” said Sen, “for you have none. You snuck up on this camp like bandits in the night. You meant to ambush us like cowards. As of this moment, all you possess is your lives. And, I assure you, they dangle by the thinnest of threads. Do you understand me?”

Sen watched as one of the lackeys found her anger. She snarled at Sen as she drew her jian and lunged at him using a truly terrible qinggong technique. The attack ended as fast as it began when the woman collapsed to her knees, clutched the stump of her arm, and started screaming incoherently. The screaming ended when a sweeping motion from Sen’s spear made her head flip away from her shoulders. Ignoring the other lackeys, Sen reached down and picked up the woman’s jian. He took a moment to shake loose the hand that still loosely gripped the hilt. He examined the blade and found it acceptable. He turned and held it out to Shen Mingxia.

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“It’s better than the one you have. A little recompense for the insult.”

Shen Mingxia reached out and took the sword, although it looked more like a reflex than anything else. Sen faced the rest of them and lifted an eyebrow.

“Would anyone else like to engage in some cataclysmic stupidity?” he asked and waited a few seconds. “No? Good. I like to get all the killing out of the way early whenever possible. What were we talking about?”

Sen stroked his chin like he was trying to recall a stray thought. The remaining would-be ambushers were all visibly trembling. Sen snapped his fingers, and all four of them flinched.

“I remember,” said Sen. “You’re going to tell me who sent you, and you’re going to do it now.”

The man with the scar on his cheek stepped forward again after getting glares from the other three. The sheen of sweat had become visible rivulets that ran down his face. Having the full weight of Sen’s attention fall on him a second time didn’t seem to improve that situation at all. Apparently desperate to buy himself a few moments to strategize a way out of the nightmare he’d found himself in, the man clasped his hands together and bent forward in a deep bow.

“This one is Long Jia Wei,” said the man.

The other three took inspiration from Long Jia Wei and also proffered very formal bows, although they didn’t introduce themselves. They were, doubtless, hoping to avoid any direct attention now that things had taken such a bloody turn.

“This one is Lu Sen,” said Sen and tipped his head forward ever so slightly in something that might, on a good day, in the right light, be considered a nod.

“I greet you—,” started Long Jia Wei.

“Let me stop you right there,” said Sen, and let a little of his killing intent slip free.

Once more, all four of the lackeys flinched. Sen took a moment to ostentatiously summon a cloth from his storage ring and wipe the blood from his spear. Everyone’s eyes, even Shen Mingxia’s, were glued to that motion. Sen considered the cloth for a moment before he tossed it into the fire. He applied a little fire qi to make the campfire flare. Only then did he turn his attention back to the four cultivators who all looked like they were about to face certain death. Sen had no intention of dissuading them from that line of thought. When he spoke again, Sen’s voice had lost anything like warmth or amusement.

“No more stalling,” said Sen, his eyes locked onto Long Jia Wei. “No more games. If you won’t tell me, none of you leave this place.”

Long Jia Wei looked at the other three for something. Agreement? Support? Confirmation of a mutual death wish? Sen wasn’t sure. It was abundantly clear from the three furious looks the man received that the other three had no desire to die here. It also looked like they were quite ready to murder Long Jia Wei if he did anything but provide the answer that Sen wanted to know. The man slumped in defeat before he looked at Sen.

“We were hired by the House of Xie,” he said.

“To do what?” asked Sen.

“Kill you, if possible, and delay you if it proved impossible.”

“And just where is it that all of you come from? I assume it’s a sect. Which one?”

All of their faces tightened, and Long Jia Wei actually grimaced. It seemed that giving up the House of Xie was one thing, but pushing their sect under the cart wheels was much less palatable to them. Of course, their sect and any possible punishment were far away, while Sen and his obvious willingness to cut them all down was right in front of them. In the end, Long Jai Wei chose the path that seemed to offer survival.

“We come from the Raging Storm Sect.”

Sen traded a look with Shen Mingxia. She shrugged and shook her head. She hadn’t heard of them, either. Sen paused to consider his next words.

“And just how often does your sect assassinate people for money?”

None of the sect disciples would meet his eyes, which told Sen pretty much everything he needed to know.

“Okay,” said Sen. “Here’s an easier one. How many assassinations have you participated in, Long Jia Wei?”

The silence after that question stretched out for so long that Sen thought the man just wasn’t going to answer. Eventually, though, a word drifted from the man’s lips.

“Seven,” said Long Jia Wei.

There was shame in the man’s voice. Maybe it was genuine, maybe it wasn’t. Sen wouldn’t dare to venture a guess. Sen turned his gaze to each of the Raging Storm disciples and got quiet answers. They had all participated in at least one assassination. Sen wanted to judge them, and he did on some level, but it was a judgment without much energy. It wasn’t easy to condemn other people for killing when he’d left so many cooling bodies in his wake.

“I guess the only real question left is, what possible reason could I have to leave any of you alive?”

Sen couldn’t think of one. He didn’t think letting them go would change them. It certainly wouldn’t change their sect. He did make a mental note to mention that sect to Uncle Kho as one the world could do without. For all that, Sen didn’t particularly want to kill these people. None of them had a chance against him in a fight, even if they fought together. It would just be a slaughter. At the same time, he could only see bad outcomes from letting them go. Assuming their sect didn’t kill them for spilling the name of a client, they’d likely just be sent out to assassinate someone else. The next person might not be as capable of defending themselves as he was. That bad karma might well echo back on him. He looked to Shen Mingxia. She had a grim look on her face but shook her head. Slaughter it is, I guess, thought Sen as weariness settled over him. These kinds of decisions were not something he’d missed. As he was about to step forward and finish the job, though, Long Jia Wei fell to his knees and kowtowed to Sen.

“If you must take a life, take mine. I beg you, though, to spare the others.”

Sen hesitated. The other lackeys stared at Long Jia Wei in shock and awe. Sen weighed his choices. Sen fixed the three who remained on their feet with an arctic look.

“It seems a shred of true honor still exists in one of you. He has purchased your lives with his. I suggest you go and find a way to honor that sacrifice.”

The three slowly looked from Sen to Long Jia Wei, his head still pressed to the ground. Their expressions were a mix of relief, shame, and guilt. Sen lifted a hand and pointed toward the road.

“Go,” he commanded.

With one final look at Long Jia Wei, the three vanished into the darkness. Sen looked down at the kowtowing man and sighed.

“Oh, get up,” said Sen.

Long Jia Wei looked up at Sen with uncertainty and fear on his face.

“I don’t understand,” said the man.

“Your life is mine, now,” said Sen. “I intend to get full value from it. Slitting your throat here and now doesn’t benefit me at all. But make no mistake, you will serve me. I just need to figure out how.”