AI Cultivation: Reborn as a Sword

It hasn’t even been five minutes since my owner promised her new employer that she would not allow her past to bring trouble to the restaurant and, already, that seems to no longer be possible. The only people in this city who would know my owner’s real name or call her Sister would be those that belong to the very same sect that my owner is not supposed to be a part of as she is a “rogue”.

At the same time that I feel the disturbance in Lan Xiaohui’s heart, I also feel regret and anger directed at herself, because her first reaction to having her name called out like this is to stop and turn around. At the very least, if she had not reacted to it she would have had a better hand to play.

Or would she?

The one thing Lan Xiaohui — as a sword cultivator — will not do is lie, but just as much as she sticks to the principles of the righteous sword, she is also eager to reach for the physical sword to solve her problems.

Pangs of hunger and anticipation echo in my sentient core as it realizes that we may be eating soon, followed by a touch of disappointment when it realizes that the menu is a lonely early stage Foundation cultivator.

It occurs to me that perhaps this is what Lan Xiaohui meant when she told me that if by traveling with me she would have to become evil too, and that she would not mind it.

Lan Xiaohui enshrines truth in her heart not because she is upstanding or righteous by definition, but because the sword does not hide from trouble — it embraces it and cuts them from this world.

This cultivator’s only mistake — not crime — would be to ask the wrong question to a person who will tell the truth that no one must know.

Before her stands a girl about her age and height, with bright green eyes. Her bangs cover those green pools almost entirely, and the rest of her black hair is tied back into a ponytail. She wears a white dress with red markings but no distinguishing symbols that identify her — to my knowledge — as belonging to the Seven Killing Swords sect.

“I thought you were dead,” she says, her tone still teetering on the edge of insecurity. “Is it really you, Sister Lan?”

Lan Xiaohui is silent. For once, I do not understand my owner’s heart or desires. These colors and sounds in her heart are unfamiliar to me. They were not present when she met the other cultivators from her past; beyond the cold determination to kill the woman before her, there is also sadness and hesitation. There is also something else.

“It really is you,” the girl says, stepping forward. In the darkness, it is difficult to see the smile on her lips, but it is there. “Do you not recognize me?”

Lan Xiaohui narrows her eyes at the question.

I finally understand. My owner is familiar with this person. She hesitates because the last thing she thought she would have to do in this city to keep her secret is to kill a friend.

“It’s me, Yun Fei,” the girl says. “You helped me in the past. Do you remember?”

“You should leave now,” Lan Xiaohui says, her tone like ice.

“Why?” the girl asks, tilting her head. “I was worried about you. When I heard that you died in that forest, I was really sad.”

The girl’s words are like daggers that pierce into my owner’s heart.

“Leave,” Lan Xiaohui says. “I never want to see you again.”

“I don’t understand,” the girl says, her gaze sliding from Lan Xiaohui and resting on the floor between them. “Did I do something wrong? Did I offend y—“

“I won’t say it again,” Lan Xiaohui says, her hand coming to rest on my hilt. But despite her threatening posture, I feel the desire to kill this person evaporate and become replaced with just sadness. “Don’t ever come back here.”

The girl recoils as if struck, her eyelids fluttering as she takes a step back. “Please…” she murmurs. The girl reaches out with a hand toward my owner, but Lan Xiaohui steps back.

Finally, Yun Fei nods and looks away. She fidgets, clasping her hands together in front of her, then unclasping them. After a few seconds, she nods again. “I am sorry,” she utters and then turns around and departs in a hurry.

Lan Xiaohui remains in the amber pools of street lamp lights, staring in the direction the girl left, her heart becoming colder and colder.

“Have I made a mistake, Yaoyue?” she asks, after several minutes.

I understand my owner’s heart better than anyone. I know the true meaning of that question. Whether the Seven Killing Swords sect found out or not was not what bothered Lan Xiaohui. They would have found out eventually — that was unavoidable.

If Lan Xiaohui has a weakness, it would not be mercy; it would be hope.

Deep in her heart, Lan Xiaohui wants to stop hurting, but she also wants her heart to die so she can go where she desires to go. But she also wants to be saved — by a friend who will not betray her.

“You don’t make mistakes,” I tell Lan Xiaohui. “You just get closer to the Dao.”

Lan Xiaohui chuckles ruefully and then nods. “You are right. Lady Yue said that the path of the sword is lonely. If Yun Fei betrays me too, then that’s fine,” she says. “I still have you.”

Though she speaks those words, I know that she doesn’t believe them entirely. This Yun Fei matters to Lan Xiaohui — she is a relic of a life that Lan Xiaohui could not have and can never have again. The most difficult thing to do was not to kill Yun Fei, but to let her walk away, when all my owner desired was to embrace her friend.

That evening, Lan Xiaohui returns home in silence and with a painful heart.

In the morning, she goes to the restaurant and spends most of her day entirely dedicated to her task of processing various first and second rank beasts — about forty in total before her shift is done. She throws herself into this work mostly so she does not have to think about the night before.

In the evening, when her work is finally done, Hu Yan approaches Lan Xiaohui as she is taking off her apron and finishes cleaning up the butchering knife.

“Someone came today looking for a Sister Lan,” Hu Yan says with a mysterious smile. “Would you know anything about that?”

Lan Xiaohui frowns.

Hu Yan slides a package across the counter to Lan Xiaohui. “She left this for you.”

Lan Xiaohui takes the package and slowly unwraps the ribbon. Her fingers tremble as she opens the package and then she chews on her lower lip when she sees what’s inside: a silver hairpin with a dangling flower pendant.

Then she closes the package and slides it back to Hu Yan. “They were mistaken. This was not meant for me,” Lan Xiaohui says. “Please return it if they come back.”

Hu Yan scoffs. “First of all, I am not your servant. Return it yourself,” Hu Yan says with an intimidating edge to her tone. “Second, we both know that it was meant for you. I don’t know what’s going on between you, but you promised your past will not cause trouble for me. Do you remember?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good.” Hu Yan nods. Without another word, she leaves.

That evening, when Lan Xiaohui leaves the restaurant and walks down the same road as the night before, a voice reaches her again.

“Sister Lan, please wait.”