Unintended Cultivator

Zhu Fen was stunned by pure disbelief. She had done as her senior sister had recommended. She waited by the gates for a wandering cultivator of an appropriate cultivation level and, after weeks of wasted time, finally found one. Only to have the man somehow elude her spiritual sense and disappear into the city. It had only been pure luck that she was close enough to sense him again when he finally unveiled himself. When she found him standing on the beach wearing a serene expression that rivaled some monks she’d seen, Zhu Fen had issued a perfectly appropriate challenge to him. Then, he had, she still couldn’t believe it, said no. He hadn’t just said no but leveled that denial at her with absolute conviction. Her. Zhu Fen. Of the mighty and respected Stormy Ocean sect. Who did that wandering cultivator think he was to turn down her honorable challenge? He should be honored that someone of her sect would even deign to look at him. He should, in a panic, Zhu Fen realized that the man was walking away while she was busy thinking.

“Stop!” she commanded, only to watch him continue to retreat toward the city.

What should she do? No one ever turned down a challenge. It was unheard of, unthinkable, and it was happening to her right now. She couldn’t go back to the sect like that. She’d never live down the shame of it. The only member of the Stormy Ocean sect ever to be denied a duel by a wandering cultivator. Oh no, she decided, he will fight. She would make him fight. Clenching her fists, she called out again.

“Stop, or I’ll-,” she never got another word out.

The wandering cultivator whirled on her. “You’ll what? Tell lies about me? Leverage the power of your sect to make my life hard? Send others from your sect to hound me until I agree?”

The words themselves meant little to her. Of course, that was what she had meant to do. Except, she knew the appropriate words for it. They weren’t lies, just inducements for wandering cultivators to accept their places as useful, but disposable tools for more honorable sect members. It wasn’t leverage, just the fine art of persuasion. Her sect brothers and sisters wouldn’t hound, simply encourage. Yet, it wasn’t the words he said that pinned her in place. It was the look on his face. She had never, in her entire life, had anyone look at her with such contempt. That contempt for her, her sect, for everything she held dear, burned in him with such purity that it was a wonder to her that his glare didn’t reduce her to cinders where she stood. Before she could muster her defense, he carried on, the contempt for her growing even more vivid.

“And then there’s the matter of your friend who thinks I didn’t notice her. I expect she’s here to make sure that I die of my wounds in the event that your challenge fails. Right? After all, you must ensure that the pretend honor of the Rippling Mud Puddle sect cannot be sullied by a mere wandering cultivator.”

The wandering cultivator pointed to the exact spot where Sun Xue was hiding. Fen watched as her very sheepish-looking friend stepped out from behind a small sand dune. Although, Fen thought, she should be sheepish getting caught out by a mere wandering cultivator like that. When they’d discussed this plan, it was perfectly reasonable. They had to protect the reputation of the sect. It was their duty. It was the honorable thing to do. Of course, she couldn’t expect this farmer or merchant and whatever he really was to understand anything about real honor.

“All of this,” he continued, “despite the fact that I went out of my way to avoid you. Traveled across an entire city and came to a place where I clearly meant to be alone. All so you could have a challenge that didn’t mean anything.”

“Because, after all, the only thing that really matters is what you want. What you need. Right? Well, just so we’re clear, let me tell you what you just cost me.”

“Cost?” Zhu Fen repeated.

Where all of the man’s other words failed to make so much as a mark on her cold, precise reasoning, that lone word sank home. Cost. A horrible, sick feeling bloomed in Zhu Fen’s stomach. She thought back to the way that he had been standing there, his face so calm, so at peace, and she knew. It had been obvious if she’d been paying attention. She’d seen it often enough in the sect and even experienced it herself on two memorable occasions. In hindsight, she recognized that sense of calm in moments before…

“I was seconds away from a moment of enlightenment,” he said in a voice devoid of any emotion.

Sun Xue had the good grace to gasp. In the sect, to interrupt such a moment was a taboo of the highest order. One could be banished from the sect for it. One could be executed for it. While Fen didn’t think they would actually execute her for interrupting the enlightenment of a wandering cultivator, there would be punishments if they learned the truth. Dire punishments. Zhu Fen tried to rally. Tried to defend herself.

“I didn’t know,” she said.

Then it was back, that contempt for her, even more potent than before. Except, this time, the wandering cultivator had honed its edge razor fine.

“No. You simply didn’t care.”

Zhu Fen searched for the words, but none came. She looked at Sun Xue, but the other girl was staring resolutely at the ground, her cheeks bright red with shame. When Zhu Fen looked back at the wandering cultivator, she couldn’t meet his gaze for more than a moment. He was right. She hadn’t cared what business he’d been about. She hadn’t cared that he took a great deal of trouble to avoid her. She had only cared about herself. The man only spoke one more time.

“So, understand me when I say this. If either of you draws a weapon, I will end you both.”

Zhu Fen had been on the receiving end of killing intent before. At least, she thought she had. The sect had all their disciples train against it with those of a higher cultivation stage, just to prepare them for the possibility. The sheer weight of the killing intent that landed on her in that moment wasn’t simply vast, it was beyond overwhelming. By itself, that would have been enough. Of course, that wasn’t how it worked. The dread was already coursing through her when the sense of his killing intent blazed through her mind. And it was terrifying. It was a world of shadow, flame, towering edifices of stone, and blades so sharp that they could cleave mind from body or soul from fate.

Zhu Fen wasn’t sure how long that sense of destruction cascaded through her mind before she finally found her sense of self again. When she did, the wandering cultivator was gone. Zhu Fen thought that she had never been so relieved to see someone leave. It was only then that she realized that she was crouched on the ground and her blood had darkened a patch of sand beneath her. She reached up to wipe the blood away from her nose. Looking around, she saw Sun Xue sprawled on the ground. Zhu Fen scrambled over to the other girl. Even as she did, a part of her mind told her that she should be very grateful that the wandering cultivator had chosen not to take her up on her offer to duel. By refusing her challenge, he had spared her from his wrath. She did not think she would have, even could have, done the same in his position. When she got to Sun Xue, the other girl was barely coherent. She looked up at Zhu Fen, confusion on her face, and asked a question that seemed all too obvious in retrospect.

“Was that a hidden master?”

“I don’t know, Xue,” Zhu Fen admitted. “I honestly don’t know what he was.”