Regressor Sect Master

“Brother-in-law, if it is not too much of a bother, I’d like to check your meridians and your spirit roots.” Tundra, Eric, and the Patriarch were all in a private medical room, hidden deep within the Mistburn left. The servants were all chased out. 

Eric bowed politely before his brother in law. “How can it be a bother! It is my honor to have my cultivation looked at by the Sect Master of the Verdant Snow!”

“Alright. Then I’ll start.” Tundra said, as his fingers began to touch the man’s exposed body. His energies, precise and as small as it can be, entered Eric’s body and began to examine the meridians.

Meridians are semi-physical things. If a cultivator is cut up, it’s not there. But if looked with spiritual energy, it’s presence is unmistakable. 

Meridians were the spiritual equivalents of joints, and muscles. They enabled the movement of energy, from the spirit, to the body, and then to the outside world. Meridians are the input and the output mechanism of a cultivator’s body. Almost every attack, every moment, every weapon is enabled by meridians.

Therefore, someone with good meridians could use cultivator arts more effectively, than someone with lesser meridians.

In the lower realms, a cultivator works with the meridians their souls are born with, improving them as they go along. In the higher realms, it is not uncommon for cultivators to go a step further, and reforge their meridians from scratch using higher quality materials, usually harvested from spirit beasts. Even further, it is not unusual for some masters to create unique meridians for specific purposes, in the same manner a blacksmith would build custom tools. 

As Tundra’s energies entered Eric’s body, and he noticed how the meridians were concentrated on the arms and the legs. It was something he had seen often in battle-focused cultivators, a common side effect of a cultivator that spent a lot of time practicing combat arts that constantly exerted these meridians. Sometimes, through overexertion, the meridians themselves experience a symptom called ‘cracking’, where foreign elements accumulate in the gaps of the meridian, and gradually, impaired its performance. It’s also likely Eric skipped some of his regular meditation and meridian purification, which was necessary to balance the load of meridians.

When one set of meridians were used in excess of the others, it is a common side effect that the imbalance of the outputs also affects the balance of the spiritual roots.

“Brother-in-law.” Tundra said, and leaned closer. “You’ve been skipping meditation.”

Eric froze, and flushed red. “Ah- yes. I- is it that bad?”

Patriarch Mistburn naturally heard it. “What? Eric!”

“I- I was focused on trying to be a better fighter!”

The patriarch immediately said. “I reminded you not to neglect meditation!”

“But I’ve always been a weaker fighter than the other heirs! I don’t want to fall back.”

Tundra smiled. He guessed the issue when Tundra saw his slightly reddish palms and unusual energy flows. “It’s alright, it’s a common problem and not unfixable. Your meridians are not in balance, and that puts strain on the energy paths throughout your body. It also weakens your core meridians, which has a slight effect on your spirit roots. When was the last time your healers took a look at your meridians?”

Eric blushed. “Thirty years ago.”

Patriarch Mistburn looked embarrassed. This was a common issue that even lower ranked healers should easily identify. “-wait. Uncle Sang’s a good healer. He wouldn’t have missed it.”

“I don’t like Uncle Sang. I usually ask his apprentice, Marla to check.”

“She’s an apprentice. You're the heir of the sect.” Patriarch Mistburn frowned. “Uncle Sang may have a difficult personality, but I don’t question his skill!”

Eric sighed, and eventually looked sad. “I’m sorry.”

Patriarch Miistburn looked at Tundra, and he smiled. “It’s not that bad, Patriarch. It’s just a bias that needs to be corrected. I recommend a full week of meditation, but first, this.”

He took out a pill. Alchemy and cultivation was his element, and he greatly preferred this to navigating the complex matters of relationships. 

“This is the Snowwolf Meridian Balancing Elixir. It should correct the bias much faster. Take it, and I’ll help you manipulate its energies.” 

Eric took it immediately without a moment of hesitation, and felt like his meridians melt. It didn’t, but it felt like that. Tundra’s energies quickly entered his body, and touched his meridians. The elixir softened the blockages of the meridians, and now, he needed to expel them.

Bit by bit, in routine healer fashion, his energies pulled out the clogged impurities arising from imbalance and overuse.

The young master vomited the accumulated impurities into a bronze bowl a few hours later. 

“There. You should feel better. Here’s also another pill to help you along after one week of meditation.” Tundra commanded, looked at the pill, and realized it was probably not a good idea to give it to him. Instead, he handed the pill to the Patriarch. “Father-in-law, please ensure that he follows his meditation, and only give him the pill after. The pill should temporarily boost his cultivation for a month.”

Patriarch Mistburn nodded. 

Tundra felt nice. This was his element. Making pills, and its related healing was very much his field of expertise. 

***

“He should be better within a month.” Tundra said as both himself and Patriarch Mistburn retreated back to a private tea room. The vomiting left Eric feeling a little drowsy and he took a nap. 

“That boy. I told him so many times, and sometimes, he just doesn’t listen.” Patriarch Mistburn sighed. 

“It’s like that with children, isn’t it?” Tundra nodded, as he settled down in the tea room. It was a different one, and this tea room overlooked a nice little pond filled with fat koifish. Tundra didn’t particularly count how many quiet tea corners they had, but he was still fairly amused by how many tea corners and little sheds they had around their compound. “But don’t worry, he should experience some improvement in his cultivation. If he doesn’t, send him to the Verdant Snow Sect. I’ll have a look at him again.”

Patriarch nodded, his fifth realm cultivation mostly settled. “You’ve done much for us, son-in-law.”

The servants quickly served tea. Patriarch Mistburn was beaming, and Tundra could feel he was proud. “It is in my interest to support my extended family. I hope this should buy you time with the two other families.”

“Buy me time?” Patriarch Mistburn countered. “With me in the fifth realm, they should stop and  learn their lesson!”

Tundra smiled. In his view, the 4th and 5th realm wasn’t an insurmountable gap. “Fifth realm is a step above, but the other sects will try to push the patriarchs to catch up and reach the 5th realm. At most, it buys your family some precious time to consolidate, and rebuild your resources.” 

The patriarch took in Tundra’s words, and for a moment, processed the reality of their situation. “I’ll take your observations in mind.”

The two older men shared a moment of quiet, each taking their time to sip tea, and waited for the other to speak.

The patriarch wondered whether Tundra would then make an tangential observation about the balance of power in the region, but if the Sect Master wasn’t going to talk about it, he decided it was impolite to start.

Tundra, on the other hand, thought about Eric. Despite his mistakes, he seemed earnest, and meant well. He wanted to support the family, even if that led him to cultivation mistakes. How could he raise a child like that?

“You must be proud to have a son like Eric.”

Patriarch Mistburn didn’t expect that conversation from the Sect Master. He quickly picked up his tea and slowly sipped it, while he tried to figure out what Tundra’s point was. Once he put the tea cup back down, he nodded. “Yes. I am proud of my boy. He’s- he has the right heart, even if he doesn’t listen all the time. Eric, he did well, and worked hard to get to the 4th realm.”

Tundra sighed, and wondered whether it would be fair to share it with him. “I wish I could say the same for my children. ” 

Patriarch Earl Mistburn’s eyes widened. It wasn’t something Earl thought too much about, but now that it is pointed out, it is clear as day.

None of Tundra’s children were extraordinary. Tundra looked at the Patriarch. “Do you have any advice on raising children, father-in-law? Do you think I can still correct their path?”

Earl needed a second cup of tea after he finished the first one. He poured another cup for himself, and sipped it. 

This wasn’t exactly what he thought Tundra would talk about. He expected conversations about greater trends, about politics, about the alliances in the east, the rising Great Sect conflicts, the Imperial summons, or the war on the demonic cultivators.

“I’m afraid I don’t know where to start, Tundra. My grandchildren, your children, they seem well behaved.”

“Only when they visit. At home, they are lazy.” Tundra countered. “Those with talents are lazy. Entitled. They flex their wealth, and throw their money around as if it is worthless. They find playthings and change them frequently, but lack the achievements to show for it.”

“It is a common behavior, especially among the descendants of cultivator families.” Patriarch responded. “Even Eric does it, sometimes.”

“Sometimes. My children seem to think it’s how cultivators behave all the time.”

Patriarch Earl Mistburn closed his eyes. 

“How do I change their behavior?” Tundra asked. “How was Eric’s childhood? How was Elly’s?”

The two older men glanced at each other. “You- you wanted to know about their childhood?”

“Yes. Tell me how you raised them. How were they punished? How did you get them to know what was wrong, and what was right?”

Tundra reckoned he didn’t have a good benchmark. His only father figure was his sect master, and his master was both strict and generous. After all, he was talented as hell, and everyone knew he was the young master of the Verdant Snow Sect. But because he was an adopted son, and not the actual son of the Sect Master, he felt like he needed to prove himself, and so worked harder than ever. 

But his children didn’t work harder. Instead, they directed their attention elsewhere.

It frustrated him that his children didn’t work harder. There was something lacking within their hearts, a fire that was missing. 

Patriarch Earl Mistburn shrugged. “I will tell you what I remember, but my wife would know better. She spent more time with them than I did, though I was frequently around to punish them when needed.”

Tundra nodded. “Please do. Tell it from your perspective. Tell me how they grew up. What kind of life did they have?”

***

Eric, the first son of Earl Mistburn, grew up privileged as the young master of Earl Mistburn. Eric was born when Earl Mistburn was already the leader of the family. In a town like Mistburn, which was founded by their ancestors, they were dominant. 

But Earl Mistburn tried his best to remind his children of context. Of their place in the world, and the other families who sought to compete with their influence. They were slightly bigger fish, in a large lake filled with sharks and whales. 

Growing up, Eric saw how his father made decisions. Eric was there when they decided on the marriage with Elly. 

Money, resources, power, prestige. Those were the four things most families fought for, and for Eric Mistburn, he had a front row seat to the conflict. He saw it every step of the way, privy to all the meetings and consultations. Even if he had nothing to contribute, he was given a seat to listen.

Naturally, Eric understood why decisions were made, and how he fit into them. 

They were, in the larger scheme of things, a small family. One of the top 2,000 families in their Greenstream Region, but nowhere near the top. The Fox family, of which Tundra is the ‘founder’ and ‘patriarch’, now ranks in the top 1,000. 

However, it is well known that Tundra’s family lacked ‘depth’. Lacked ‘history’. 

They were the modern equivalent of a nouveau riche family. A family that was set up by one talented aberration. That in itself, wasn’t a problem. In reality, Tundra also knew that most families started this way. But the consequences of that start meant they didn’t have ancestors who could provide spiritual guidance. They didn’t have old family heirlooms. 

So, a family like Tundra’s gained legitimacy through power.  As Tundra listened to the Earl narrate how he tried to train Eric as the heir, he immediately saw the gaps in his own training. 

He didn’t involve his children or wives in most things. Earl Mistburn involved them, even though they were not ready. 

Tundra expected them to be ready, before he intended to involve them. Naturally, they never were. 

For Patriarch Earl Mistburn, it was intuitive to include them. The Mistburn family is his family, and he was the patriarch. There was no distinction between Sect and family. 

But for Tundra, there was a distinction between the Sect and the family. He didn’t dare claim the Verdant Snow Sect belonged to him. It wasn’t his sect, he was merely its manager, its current leader. 

How could he involve family, especially young children, in matters of the Sect? 

“If it makes it easier, draw up some rules on how to do it? How did the previous leaders of the Verdant Snow Sect do it?” Patriarch Earl Mistburn asked. 

Tundra realized that was a good point. There had to be rules, somewhere. Verdant Snow Sect has been around for a lot longer, with many earlier sect masters. He’d go back and look at the writings of the earlier sect leaders, though he remembers he glossed over parts about their own family. 

There were certain writings left behind that he didn’t open, because they related to such issues.  

Then, Tundra thought about the issue of punishment. “How do you punish them?” 

“Secluded cultivation. And an earful from me. Sometimes, I whip them, especially if they offended someone they shouldn’t. It truly reflects badly on me, as a father, if my children are ill behaved.” 

Tundra felt that last sentence, and the Patriarch himself realized he misspoke.

“I didn’t mean to offend-”

“No. It is right. I did not spend enough time with them, and I left disciplining them to my wives.”

Earl Mistburn strangely, had strong views on this, as if that was the crux of the problem. “Ah. As the head of the house, the punishment must come from you. It shows you mean it. Punishments by Elly, or your other wives would not have the same meaning. You are the head of the house, and you must be the one who holds the whip.”

Tundra nodded. “I see.” 

He wasn’t sure he wanted to be a father like Earl Mistburn. But it was a good start. He would like to talk to more parents, especially the patriarchs of the large, powerful and successful families. 

He thought about Patriarch Whitedragon. That old man’s children and descendants were  exceptional, many surviving to fight the final fight against Zuja, and many more in the higher realms, even if not at the same tier as the patriarch. 

They may have gotten a big advantage with their draconic bloodline, but the results are self-evident.

“I learned a lot from your wisdom, Patriarch. Matters of family are still something I am grappling with, and I hope to be a better father.” Tundra thanked the patriarch. 

“My words are nothing. Your children- well, they are my grandchildren, and step-grandchildren. I, too, wish them well.” 

The two old men shared another quiet moment, as both sipped their tea. It was probably their fifth cup. They took their time to admire the little pond and the koi fish.

“You will be leaving soon?” Earl asked, after what felt like a few minutes.

“Soon. If there are any of your descendants that wish to join the Verdant Snow Sect, please let me know. I’m happy to bring them along.”

“Before you leave, you must come with me to the treasury. For your help and for the pill, I insist that you pick anything you desire. It wouldn’t be right for me to only receive, and not give something in return.”

Tundra smiled, the customs of giving and receiving is still strangely alive in a society determined by power. “Your advice is worth it.”

“If you refuse to accept it, I ask that you accept a gift from me, take it as a bribe, and treat my daughter well.”

“If you put it that way, then I will.” Tundra smiled and nodded.