Regressor Sect Master

Tundra was hidden in one of the smaller rooms when Edison came to Elly’s part of the Fox Mansion. 

“Son.” Elly called as Edison walked in. Edison wasn’t particularly tense or abrasive, and in fact, even showed his mother some measure of respect. He bowed politely. It was a far cry from how Edison usually conducted himself in his presence.

“Mother, you called?”

“Yes. I wanted to talk to you.” Elly said as there was some tea and refreshments on the table. Tundra didn’t know it, but apparently these baked confectionaries were Edison’s favorite when he was a much, much younger child. 

Edison sat on the chair, and Elly happily poured him a cup of tea, and then one more for herself. 

“How’s everything?” Elly opened up. “Are those two girls still irritating you?” 

Edison chuckled. “No. Not me, at least. They’ve moved on and found other targets, but Evan’s taking it pretty badly.” 

“You should help your brother.” Elly frowned.

“Why should I? He’s the one being lazy despite being blessed. If anything I say he deserves it.” Edison countered and happily helped himself to the confectionaries. 

Elly naturally matched his rhythm and took one for herself. “I like this one the best, but I heard from the girl manning the counter that their old man’s getting old and won’t be able to make them for much longer.”

Edison’s reaction was immediate. “What? Why?”

His mother looked distant, as if looking out the window. “Mortals have short lives. We think their lives are short, and in the same way, your father thinks our lives are short.” 

The eldest son visibly recoiled at the mention of him, but didn’t say a word. 

“It’s like that. We’ll have to find a new baker to make these. Just like how we had to find someone new to make our furniture recently.”

“There was a new one?” Edison asked. “I never quite noticed.”

“Of course you don’t!” Elly smiled. “You’re too busy- with what again?”

Edison’s face reddened at the question. “Cultivating! I’m trying to be a cultivator!”

“Really? You’re not making much progress, or are you?” 

“It’s- It’s taking some time.” 

Tundra listened, as Elly tried to switch the conversation. “Have you tried talking to your father, Edison? Try the things he’s been teaching?”

Edison’s eyes scanned his mother’s face, as if trying to make sense of her suggestion. “But-”

“Son.” Elly said with a rare stern voice. “I know you never liked your father, but take a moment and separate the father from the teaching he wants to give to you. It is unfair, and what he did in the past has been selfish, self centered, but let’s just ignore all of that. Focus instead on the learnings.”

Edison visibly struggled to process it. His facial muscles scrunched up. He wanted to say something, but unlike the pure hatred Edison sometimes showed to him, the expression Edison showed his mother was one of confusion, and frustration. He really was struggling.

“We want to be respected.” Elly said, as if reading his heart. “I know you want to be a respected member of society, but right now, you must gain strength. Without strength, no one outside of our family will truly respect you. Even your father-”

“Father doesn’t respect me.”

“He doesn’t.” Elly said. “Because look at things from his eyes. To him, you have not shown yourself worthy of it-”

“That man doesn’t deserve respect either.” Edison said, and Tundra felt a rare twinge of pain in his heart. If someone else said it, he would feel that way, but this came as a hit from his own son, and his old guilt swirled. 

“Yes. Maybe that is so.” Elly held her son’s hand. “But you don’t like it when he talks to you like you are still a child.”

“I am an adult, mother. He shouldn’t treat me like that.” Edison said. Elly merely smiled. 

“Power is weight. Power is authority. Your father will treat you better if you should that you have that weight. Do you not see how he talks to the Core Disciples? He speaks to them cordially, and with respect. He asks, and yet they listen. With you, he commands, and you do not obey. It is only normal that he treats you the way he did. Would you not do the same for your own children?”

“I’m his son. Is that not worth something?” Edison protested. 

“And he is your father. Between the two of you, it must be you to offer the olive branch.”

“Must it be me?” Edison asked reluctantly.

“And you expect your father, the Sect Master, to be the one to give in to your whims? What would society think of him? What would you think of him?”

Edison gave a long sigh. 

Tundra knew he was an authority figure in the Sect and the family, and tried his best to conduct himself as a Sect Master should. But there will always be those offended by his conduct. 

“You want him to treat you respectfully. You want him to treat you as an adult. He offered you the opportunity, but you’ve taken those opportunities as tests.” Elly said. It was something his half sister said before, and yet somehow, the words feel different when said by his mother. 

Elly held his son’s hand. It was something they would never do in public, because it would bring shame to the son. An adult in the world of cultivation is expected to be a full member of society, able to stand on his own feet, not one that still held his mother’s hands for support. Society is ever so cruel to those who didn’t live up to its expectations, even to things that helped its members.

“Step into the 4th realm, and your father will treat you differently. The world will treat you differently too. Son, my dear firstborn, take your father’s lessons. Accept the pills and elixirs he offers. It is not a chain, but a stepping stone.”  

“Will he not fear that I will rebel against him? Would he not want to keep us in line?” Edison asked and his mother chuckled. 

“Do you think your father fears your strength?” Elly said. “If you could make him fear your strength, you would have won. Give your father a chance to be your trainer and teacher. He may be a terrible father, but he is far from a terrible cultivator. As the old wise men often said, we take what is good, and discard what is bad.”

Edison looked at his mother and gave one of the longest sighs ever. “I will try, mother. I will try.”

The ease at how Edison softened his stance made Tundra felt like kicking himself. He should’ve asked Elly to talk to him earlier. 

Truly, some words have to come from the right person. 

***

Celestia

Celestia meditated in the quietness of her own part, when she felt the presence of another. Marin. 

“I seem to be seeing you more often, Lady Eastheart.”

“Is it?” Marin said, as she approached the courtyard’s seats and sat opposite her. “I am merely here for something a lot simpler.”

“And what would that be?”

“I’d like to discuss cultivation insights with you.” Marin said. 

“Don’t joke around, Lady Eastheart. We are both in the same realm, I am certainly not equipped to teach you.”

“Nothing so complicated. I would merely like to start regularly exchanging cultivation thoughts. I’m finding it hard to speak to the elders, or the core disciples who are much, much more ahead than us. Instead, you, and Elly, would likely be approximately my level of comprehension.” 

Celestia paused and immediately saw why. If Marin sought to speak to a third-realm Inner Disciple, it would likely scare them off, and would not be a good look for her. It would also be embarrassing if her lack of comprehension was discovered by the inner disciples, or the much more advanced Core Disciples and Elders. 

Thus, by elimination, Celestia and Elly were her only peers that she could discuss without much risk. So, she looked at her fellow co-wife, and wondered whether she should be petty and brush her off. 

She should be petty. She didn’t like Marin all that much, either. But for the good of the Fox family, she decided to take it a step at a time, and allowed the woman a chance. 

“Should we start with a spar?” Celestia wondered. 

Marin laughed. “No need. I would prefer a game of go.”

“Go.” Celestia frowned. “I am afraid I am not that knowledgeable about the game. But if you have a set- ”

Marin took out a set made of maple wood from her pouch, and placed it on the table. She began to arrange them, and offered Celestia her side of the pieces. “Black, or white?”

“Black, then.” Celestia said as she picked up the black stones.

“Then it is your move.” Marin said, as she watched Celestia make her first move. “You were there when Tundra gave his lecture on the parallels used in cultivation.” 

“Yes.” Celestia repeated as she picked a spot. 

“What do you understand about it?” Marin said, and made her own move. She went on the offense immediately. The piece went up close and personal. 

“There are many parts to the lecture, which one are you referring to?” Celestia countered. 

“He referred to cultivation as if man cultivates a farm. Our cultivation methods are merely the seeds we plant in our souls, and from it, we grow our strength. You’ve chosen to stay in the 4th despite being at the peak of the 4th, so you must have an insight of your own.” Marin probed as she made another move.

The usually quiet courtyard was now interrupted by the sound of small circular pieces placed on the square maplewood board. Celestia paused briefly, her mind contemplated both the next move to make, and also the question from her opponent.

“I think you already know the answer.” Celestia said as she decided on her next step.

“I have my own answer, but I am here to exchange notes.” Marin smiled. A maid placed a hot pot of tea on the small tea table next to them. 

“What use is another’s notes, when cultivation is a step we all venture alone. The farm in your heart, and the farm in my heart are made of different soil and different texture. What works for me, does not work for you.” 

Marin chuckled. “But there are rules. Principles. There are plants that we do not water. There are plants that require a lot of water. There are plants made for soft, alluvium soil, there are plants made for rich, iron-heavy soils. But ultimately, they are plants, and all plants seek the sun.”

“When the farm expands, the seeds we plant earlier grow into the foundation to the next.” Celestia answered. “I merely decided to take a step back, and revisit whether I have made the right choices before going further.”

“And have you made progress?” Marin countered. 

“Not much, but not little either.” Celestia responded with a little annoyance. She didn’t like Marin all that much. 

“Then the next question is the true question in my heart.” Marin placed a stone on the board. “Does it make that much of a difference?”

Celestia thought that was obvious. One look between them and the Core Disciples was all the proof they needed. Within the same realm, there is heaven and earth. The heavens of the same realm can defeat the earths of the realms above. That is how it is. But she tried looking at the 5th wife, and wondered whether, maybe it doesn’t really matter to her. “It then depends what you want to do with it.”

Marin smiled. “I can see why Tundra likes you so much. You really try to match my rhythm. Tell me, if all I wanted to do is to free myself from all this, would it matter?’

Celestia closed her eyes. “No.”

“Good.” Marin nodded. “Then I will most likely reach the 5th realm before you do.”

***

Anna walked into his room, and immediately sat on the chair. “Father.”

“How is it?”

“-Strange.” Anna repeated. “I feel like I have thoughts about things, unrelated things that I normally didn’t have before.”

Tundra nodded. One of the true gifts of talents, at least that he observed in other cultivators, was to make connections between seemingly unrelated things. It was a human thing to do, to see patterns in what often appear as nothing more than random occurrences. Pattern recognition is a form of talent.

Observation skills, observing how changes affected their cultivation, and then making the connection between the cause and effect, was a talent.

A cultivator has general knowledge, obtained from studying cultivation manuals and lectures. A cultivator must also develop personal knowledge of how things worked for them. 

The first was like a man listening to an instructor on how to ride a horse. The second was a man trying to ride a horse, and learning how to communicate with the horse he had. There were rules, and principles, but they needed to be adapted to the real thing. 

So, he nodded at his daughter, pleased that she showed signs of it working. “Good. Then cultivate.”

“What should I do with all these- these thoughts I have in my mind?” Anna asked, but was immediately embarrassed by it. 

“Think about them.” Tundra said normally. “These new thoughts are not all useful. But you must still pay attention to them, some of them will give you insights on your cultivation.”

“Is this what talented people experience?” 

“A bit. The talented connect small pieces together to form a whole. They look at a blank paper, and can see the image of what they want to create. Some can even see the steps they need to take to create the image from scratch.” 

To the untalented, cultivation is a lone, dry affair. To those with incredible talents, ideas just seem to pop out from the most mundane acts. For someone like Anna, this sensation must be unusual. 

“The difference between someone with a lot of experience and someone with a lot of talent isn’t that big.” Talent, in a way, is just a form of experience. It is an inkling of what to do, that another cultivator earns and gathers through experience. A man who painted many paintings knows what are the steps he needs to take to make a painting on a blank sheet of paper. A talented painter who never painted before, could visualize the same steps and execute it to bring life to his vision.”

Anna stared at her father. “So these thoughts-”

“They are the random, stray thoughts someone with talent has. It is the little connections, the mind’s attempt to link different parts of the world to form a whole. A cultivator in their journey to power tries to form a coherent philosophy of the world. This philosophy then shapes the design of his spirit and soul. It is the expression of their understanding of cultivation.”

“Is there a wrong answer?”

“Plenty. It’s called a deviation.” Tundra smiled. “Listen to these stray thoughts. In time, pick those that seem to work. Ideas and thoughts are useless if they do not work.” 

Anna tried to channel the energy flows around her, and Tundra could feel minute improvements in the flow of energy. For her, the pill’s effects were decent.  

It validated his decision to improve their talents through such means, and now he needed to go out and get more such unique resources.

He thought about his goal against the Zuja.

The Zuja preyed on those who felt powerless, because they were born without talent. Without talent, how could they hope to stand up to cultivators stronger than them?

It is common to immediately claim that something is wrong with the cultivation society that the strong could be allowed to trample on the weak. 

But Tundra wondered about the other problem. 

Why is talent necessary for power? 

Could he offer a path to those without talent to be cultivators on par with those with talent? Could he equalize the opportunities for everyone? 

He looked back at Anna’s slight improvement, and decided his next immediate mission would be to hunt some 6th realm spirit beasts. That should give him the materials needed for more powerful pills, help his sect, and then buy a flying ship.