Unintended Cultivator

Much as Sen hoped it wouldn’t turn out that way, the pace of their travel slowed considerably over the next week. The three that he had let go had not been shy about discussing their experience with, as near as Sen could tell, every single cultivator they ran across. With their location narrowed down, battles turned into a daily affair, when it wasn’t happening multiple times a day. Sen was keenly aware of how bad that was for his general sense of well-being and calm. His tendency to look to for reasons to let people live dissipated almost entirely. It was reduced to a single courtesy. One he realized he was about to give again. He had told the rest to keep going while he stayed to deal with, well, he didn’t know. He hadn’t bothered to get names or even ask which sects they were from. He’d just collected a sect patch and gathered up whatever treasures they had on them. He’d hurried to catch up, only to realize that his friends and Long Jia Wei were having some kind of standoff with yet another group of cultivators. The eyes of everyone in the other party of cultivators went wide as he stormed between Glimmer of Night and Long Jia Wei. He leveled his jian at them.

“Leave. Now. I am not in a forgiving mood,” growled Sen as he let his killing intent wash over them.

It was a lot more of his killing intent that he normally let slip free, well aware as he was of the effect it had on people. He’d simply run out of patience with these constant delays and endless killing. So, he let himself be a little sloppy with his control, and let himself hope against all hope that this group would prove smarter than the last one. And all the ones that came before that. Two of the cultivators immediately dropped to their knees, spitting up blood and clutching their heads. The other three managed to stay on their feet, but blood ran freely from their ears, eyes, and noses. For a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, no one moved or spoke.

“You’ve certainly lived up to your reputation, but I’ll thank you to stop torturing my juniors now,” said a smooth, calm voice.

Sen turned to look at the figure who stepped out of the trees. The man had deep-set, dark eyes, a narrow nose, and lips that seemed oddly out of proportion to the rest of his face. It was as though they were too full. For all that, the man projected an air of stern competence. An air that he was trying to project onto Sen because… Sen mentally shrugged. He didn’t know. Maybe the man was used to dealing with mental weaklings. Instead of complying, he sniffed at the suggestion.

“I thought you had wisely decided not to participate,” said Sen. “As for your juniors, they can leave anytime they want. I won’t stop them.”

The man turned his gaze from Sen to the five cultivators who were still under the influence of Sen’s killing intent. The two who had originally collapsed to their knees had fallen over and curled into the fetal position. The three on their feet had sweat pouring down their faces in addition to copious amounts of blood. Sen got the message. They couldn’t leave even if they wanted to because none of them had the strength to move under that kind of pressure. Knowing that, Sen did not immediately let up.

“Are you truly this petty?” asked the new man. “Will you simply kill them for fun?”

“For fun? No,” said Sen. “I’ll kill them for coming here to block my way, or for coming here to kill me, or whatever other dressed-up fantasy of a reason they had for being in this place at this time.”

Sen burst into laughter. “Is that how you’ll try to excuse yourself? By pretending that I somehow forced this confrontation? You came looking for us. You don’t get to pretend that you have no responsibility here. This is only happening because of your actions. I didn’t put those juniors of yours in harm’s way. You did.”

The man looked from Sen to his juniors and back again before he shrugged. “It was worth a try. A lot of people are stupid.”

Sen lifted an eyebrow. “Considering the trail of bodies we’ve left behind us, some might say that standing in your position is stupid.”

“Some might, but I do not fear your vaunted judgment. I know better than most how a legend is born, and just how far from the truth it strays. If you will not release them, it will force my hand.”

“You say that like there was a chance of it ending some other way.”

“You could withdraw. Return to the north. Then, there is no conflict between us.”

“That sounds great for you, but I don’t see what I get out of ignoring the king’s request.”

The man fixed Sen with what he probably imagined was a hard, intimidating look.

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“You get to live,” he said in chilly tones.

Sen tilted his head to one side and considered those words.

“You really don’t have the presence to say those kinds of things,” observed Sen.

“No?” said the man.

“No. Here, let me show you how something like that is done correctly,” said Sen and directed his coldest, hardest look at the man. “If you gather up those fools and take them away, I promise I won’t make it my hobby to hunt you all like wild animals.”

The man did an admirable job of maintaining his composure, but he couldn’t hide the way he went pale or the slight tremble in his hands. Sen put on a bright smile that seemed to unnerve the other man even more.

“There,” said Sen. “Did you see the difference? You have to mean it.”

With one final look at his juniors, the new man faced Sen squarely and drew his jian.

“Regardless of what you may think of my commitment, this is as far as you go.”

Sen looked down at his hand and started counting before he realized that he’d need to put his own jian away to do the job properly. Sighing, he shook his head.

“What are you doing?” demanded the other man.

“I was trying to count how many dead people said something like that to me in the last few days. I’ll just have to say a lot and be content with that.”

The man tried to sneer like the comment meant nothing but didn’t quite pull it off. It just served to make the man look like he’d eaten something that didn’t agree with him.

“So, you truly have no respect for your betters,” said the man, who seemed to instantly realize he’d made a grave error.

Any semblance of playfulness or joviality vanished from Sen’s expression like it had never existed. It was replaced with a bone-deep contempt and resolve that seemed to stretch from horizon to horizon. The other man took a step back, as though that look had exerted physical pressure on him

“My betters, eh? Then, perhaps you should introduce yourself. We lessers do hate to wallow in our ignorance.”

The vitriol in those words was so condensed it nearly burned the air. The other man drew himself up.

“I am Tuan Baihu, The Golden Tiger.”

Sen glanced back when he heard a gasp from Long Jia Wei. The ex-sect cultivator looked like he’d just taken a bad blow. He turned a concerned look to Sen.

“He is known to my sect,” said Long Jia Wei before correcting himself. “My former sect. He is not to be underestimated.”

Sen looked at the, apparently, other famous person in the road. The man’s stance looked solid, and he was a peak core cultivator, but those things meant very little to Sen.

“Well, Tuan Baihu, shall we?”

The first part of the fight went the way that such things always went. Tuan Baihu and Sen tested each other. At least, Sen was pretty sure that’s what Tuan Baihu thought was happening. Instead of adopting the style that Master Feng taught him, Sen borrowed the one that he’d helped Shi Ping improve in those long-ago seeming days. It was a serviceable approach that was neither too aggressive nor too defensive. It was also the kind of thing that someone could pick up almost anywhere in the country. Sen could almost watch Tuan Baihu’s confidence grow during their first few exchanges. That was fine. In fact, it was what Sen wanted. While the other man drew wrong conclusions, Sen was drawing what he thought were much more accurate conclusions.

Tuan Baihu’s style was speed based, relying on fast combinations to confuse the opponent before landing a critical hit. In a lot of ways, it was ideal for someone with the physical advantages of a cultivator. The improved strength, speed, and reflexes of those just on the spiritual cultivation path were formidable. The man’s control was also top shelf. Maybe even good enough to satisfy Master Feng’s expectations. In short, the man was no rank-and-file sect member. This man was someone who taught promising students, rather than being a promising student. A little part of Sen was suddenly eager for this confrontation. It had been a long time since he faced someone with the skills to really push him with the jian. Not that he was willing to give up the advantage he’d just gone to all the trouble to create for himself. Challenges were good, but victory was better. The pair broke apart, and Sen could see Tuan Baihu make the decision that it was time for the real fight.

Sen waited, leveraging all that remained of his hard-pressed patience to remain still until the right moment. Just as Tuan Baiho shifted to start his attack, Sen changed his stance. It only lasted a split-second, but the change in stance confused and alarmed Tuan Baiho enough to hesitate. That split-second let Sen seize the momentum of the fight. Instead of Shi Ping’s sturdy, serviceable style of swordplay, Sen adopted Auntie Caihong’s tricky style of swordplay. Deception was the heart of that style, so he felt he’d already lived up to its main expectation. There was a furious exchange of thrusts, parries, slashes, and blocks, but Tuan Baiho was on the back foot. The moment it looked like the man was about to gather his wits, Sen changed styles again, switching to Lo Meifeng’s aggressive style. The switch once again left Tuan Baiho retreating as he tried to understand the rapid changes in approach. The man even tried to use Sen’s own tactic against him by switching styles, but that just earned him a cut along his ribs.

As Tuan Biahu’s confidence was slowly eroded, Sen decided to add distraction to the pile of problems the other man faced. He yanked his killing intent away from the other cultivators. The three who had managed to stay upright collapsed. The noise of their groans along with the sudden motion where none had been caused a slight lapse in Tuan Biahu’s concentration. And Sen punished him for it. He opened a deep cut in the man’s thigh. It wasn’t a wound that would kill a cultivator, not anytime soon, and not ever if it was seen to properly. It would slow the man down, though, and inhibit movement. A style that depended on speed also depended on solid footwork. Something that Sen had just made far, far more difficult. In what looked like a desperate move, but something that was probably very calculated, Tuan Baihu sent a wind blade at Sen. They were at such close range that Sen reluctantly gave ground to give himself the heartbeat of time he needed to redirect the wind blade out into the trees.

“Interesting,” said Sen.

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