There were some moments when Mu hated being a cultivator. The tournaments, the contests, the politicking, all of it could get to your head.

There were many, many, many moments when Hong hated being a cultivator. In fact, if he was being honest it was most of them.

But then there were the moments when it was absolutely wonderful, and neither would trade it for the world. The meet-up spot was one of them.

It was a clearing in the woods, on top of the mountain - though that description hardly did it justice.

One would walk up the path, pushing aside overhanging branches and stepping over bulging roots. Then they’d round a sharp corner and the path would vanish behind a wall of flowering grasses.

If they pushed on through the grasses then they’d find a clearing. The unawakened, those whose eyes had not yet been opened to the spiritual world, would find a lovely but ultimately mundane field in a circle of trees; cultivators, however, would enter a clearing in another realm.

Softly glowing fronds fell down from trees whose twisted purple trunks rose hundreds of feet into the air. The ground was coated in sprawling, vibrant green plants which felt lovely underfoot, and in between the trees were sprouting small shrubs, their leaves spotted in violet and white. Mu could hear distant music, the lights in the air dancing to the tune.

And at the centre of the clearing, there was a girl. She couldn’t have been older than fifteen or sixteen, her hair done up in pigtails, and her choice of traveller’s garb made with more emphasis on looks than functionality. She was chewing gum, blowing bubbles as she leaned back on a tree and looked about impatiently. Then she saw Hong, and her eyes brightened.

“Well well well, if it isn’t Mr. Noodle Shop Repairman. Took you long enough,” she said drolly, the slight twang in her accent betraying her as coming from the Western Plains.

Hong spread his arms in mock apology, proffering her a bow. “Alas, this humble one found himself detained on matters of business. He offers endless apologies for having made a noble lady wait.”

The noble lady snorted. “Who’s the orthodox cultivator?”

“My new apprentice; he’s shadowing me to learn more about the process of noodle shop repair.”

The girl, who until then hadn’t even looked Mu’s way, stared at him appreciatively. “Really? You don’t see that often. Most orthodox cultivators are content just to destroy them and then move on with their lives.”

The references to ‘orthodox’ cultivators confused Mu, but he nonetheless bowed.

“It is an honour to meet the lady who supplies the Noodle Shop Repair Sect. This Mu Ba is the noble Young Master of Jarnvidr Eastern Branch. May he have the honour of knowing your name?”

The girl horked a gob of spit into the coruscant bushes. “Francesca, although everyone calls me Lil Frankie. I’m the Young Mistress of the Family.”

Mu Ba froze, still bowing. The Family? The demonic cult which ruled the Western Plains? The one with the sect master who claimed to speak with the voice of a god? That Family?

“Yes, it’s that Family,” Hong said, as if reading his mind.

Frankie yawned, whipping a list out of a satchel. “Moving on to more important matters, was there anything else you wanted other than what you sent in the order, or does it remain sufficient? I didn’t see any requests for paint or canvas, but I brought both just in case.”

“No, that should be sufficient. Just the supplies listed,” Hong said nonchalantly. “I thank you for your preparations, though; your routine thoroughness is commendable.”

Lil Frankie nodded, her face the epitome of seriousness, and went to say more when Mu coughed to politely interrupt the conversation. “I do hope the lady will forgive any rudeness on my part, but… why are you getting your supplies from demonic cultivators?”

Hong stared at him in confusion. As Mu must know, Hong thought, Hong’s sect was itself led by a demon, so he wasn’t sure why it would matter if his sect was supplied by one.

He decided to humour him, however.

“Because they are the most consistent in their delivery and quality,” he replied. “Besides, are they really ‘demonic cultivators’? A demonic cultivator is someone whose goal is absolute power, at any cost. Their record proves otherwise.”

And he drew out a copy of the Annual Noodle Shop Destruction Rate Report, pointing to the column marked ‘The Least Destructive Cultivation Sects’:

1. Noodle Shop Repair Sect - 0

2. Hougangzhang - 0

3. Flayed Orphans Sect - 0

4. Azure Caverns Sect - 0

5. The Family - 0

6. Ming Cult - 1

7. The Academy - 3

And so on and so forth. Mu was about to point out that if the pursuit of absolute power was what defined a demonic cultivator, then basically all orthodox cultivators were actually demonic. Then he thought a little about what the average cultivator spent his days doing, and it occurred to him that Hong might technically have a point there.

Not willing to give up the argument, however, he instead rejoined: “No, the definition of a demonic cultivator is their practice of demonic cultivation.”

“Don’t be absurd,” said Lil Frankie, who’d been quiet the entire time, “the definition of demonic cultivators is their adherence to demonic values - like Friendship, Honesty, and Respect.”

Silence reigned in the clearing following this stunning pronouncement. Mu’s brows came together. He’d heard the Family placed emphasis on honourable conduct, but figured it had been cult propaganda and was surprised to hear a higher up of the sect endorsing them. “Friendship and Respect? Are those really the values of the Family?”

Lil Frankie appeared genuinely confused.

“Of course they are. As daddy always says, a demonic cultivator is friendly to everyone he meets, always tells the truth, and treats everyone with respect. If we weren’t committed to these traditional demonic values, why would the Emperor have trusted us during his revolt against the sects?”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“I beg your pardon - did you just say the Emperor?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Hong asked with no small measure of amusement. “It says as much in the Official State History of the Civil War.”

Mu blushed. It occurred to him then that he’d spoken without thinking again.

“I, uh, never read it… I always assumed it was… propaganda…” He finished lamely. Hong chuckled.

“Quite the work of propaganda. But yes, the Emperor was the first to trust the Family - he was the one who recommended them as suppliers to the Noodle Shop Repair Sect, in fact.”

Mu’s blush deepened as he realised that he was accidentally doubting the Emperor.

“Apologies. It just sounded too weird for a demonic sect to value Friendship and Love.”

“I think, my disciple, that you should further cultivate your discernment. As the Four Canons state, the one who is cognisant is he who ‘sees and knows the world’.”

Lil Frankie stuck her nose in the air pridefully. “Precisely, and nobody sees and knows the world quite like us - in fact, the Emperor isn’t the only one who admires us. Just recently, we’ve been consulted by some pretty Big Players on how they can bring virtues like respect and friendship into their own demonic cultivation.”

Mu was about to ask for clarification, when he decided he’d embarrassed himself enough today. Besides, given her age and innocence, she probably had an outsized opinion on who counted as ‘Big Players’ - it likely wasn’t anyone important.

***

“I beg your pardon?” Gan Mao said, totally flabbergasted. The demon looked at him impassively, clearly unimpressed with the sect master’s inability to maintain his composure.

One can forgive Gan Mao for his surprise, however. After all, the demon had just delivered news that was nothing if not astounding.

Stylishly dressed in a black and beige pinstripe suit, and holding a bowler hat with holes cut out for his stubby horns, the demon just grinned. It was an unsettling smile, rotting black teeth twitching in a face that was totally devoid of colour.

“Please, don’t beg. It’s unseemly. I simply informed you that your funding is being terminated.”

“But why? I understand that we’ve been delivering unsatisfactory results in the realm of Widespread Evil, but we’ve still been causing more than enough Carnage and Mayhem to meet our quotas - just look at all our unsatisfied customers!”

“You need not worry on your part - it’s not your inability to meet the quotas that’s the problem, but the quotas themselves. They’ve been dropped.”

“Dropped?”

“Yes. Hell has recently decided to change its investment strategy, and no longer finds itself in need of carnage and mayhem. Or murder, assault, wreckage, destruction, annihilation, torture, poisoning (of others or the environment), economic abuse, etcetera etcetera. Any form of conventional evil, really.”

“But then, what is Hell’s new investment strategy?” Gan Mao asked in legitimate confusion. That was a pretty all-encompassing list of crimes and sins. What else could Hell be investing in, if not conventional evil?

“Ah, I see. You wish to apply for one of our new Demonic Values Programs. You are more than welcome to do so,” the demon said, putting some glasses on as he pulled a pocketbook out of his coat pocket. He scanned through it briefly.

“Now let me see. Would you care to start up a green energy program, or something more imminent in its impact? Public clean-ups, perhaps, or a soup kitchen? Or are you just into loving others generally?”

“Love? Why would I be into love? Or soup kitchens? Or cleaning up litter? What does any of that have to do with evil?” Gan whined plaintively.

The demon just shook his head in disappointment.

“Why, didn’t you know? Good is the New Evil.”

***

“But make no mistake,” she continued, “I am a master of all forms of evil and duplicity - the very embodiment of all that is vile. Why, I was tormenting an orthodox cultivator just this morning.”

***

The light vanished, and Ping panicked. What foul trickery was this? Who had dared to cover the sun as he - Ping Fu, Young Master of the Glorious Turtle Soup Sect - was enjoying the flowers on his morning walk? The rhododendrons were just coming into bloom, too! Whoever they were, they were courting death!

Then a single cone of light was allowed to shine down, revealing... a teenage girl. In quite the exuberant costume, he had to admit (the glitter certainly… something), her pose equally ludicrous.

She had one arm raised overhead, her back was arched, as she stood like a crane. In her other hand was a microphone, the cord dangling in midair.

Ping just stood there, staring in complete disbelief, as she shimmed backwards and started to dance. Then she began singing - her voice amplified through nothing but qi - "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls! Are you ready to rock and rrrrruuuuummmmmbbbbbblllllleeeee?"

Ping concluded the situation couldn't possibly get any weirder.

Then she turned into a giant wolf.

(The glitter stayed, of course.)

***

“And yet you seem like such a nice young girl…” Mu muttered.

“Nice? I’ll have you know I’m going to become a Villainous Jade Beauty - daddy says so. That aside, can we complete this transaction? Arguing about how fabulous I am is all well and good, but I have other places where I need to be fabulous.”

Hong produced a sack of money. He handed it and the empty storage pouch to the girl, who reached into her satchel and removed an identical storage pouch.

“Here you are. Care to double check that the amount of supplies is right?”

“No. I trust you. Besides, if I later find that it isn’t, I’ll simply complain to your dad that you violated your contract and ask him to give you a good thrashing,” Hong said cheerily. Lil Frankie laughed at the joke, but Mu found himself once more confused.

“Her contract? Isn’t the contract with the sect?”

“No. The Family guarantees the contract, but the contract itself is made with the younger generation - us, the Kids. We’re in charge of negotiating agreements, sourcing materials, and ensuring delivery. Dad says it’s a way for us to get out of the house and learn some responsibility.”

Lil Frankie thought a little, then added, “Personally, I just think it was an excuse to avoid giving us an allowance.”

“Allowance? So… this isn’t funding your demonic cultivation?” Mu said hopefully, and as she paused he added, “so what do you use it for?”

She looked around evasively. "Oh, you know, this and that."

***

The curtain flew open with a bang, accompanied by a burst of light and the tantantara of trumpets.

A velvety frog danced onto the stage, his movements awkward and comical. In spite of the fact that he was clearly a puppet, no strings could be seen.

As he neared the front of the stage he performed a triple backflip, executing a perfect bow upon landing.

The applause was thunderous. The frog puppet nodded in a couple directions, to make everyone feel heard, and then motioned for silence.

Immediately the hall was hushed, hundreds of children waiting in eager anticipation for the frog to speak.

The frog obliged. "Hello, folks! My name is Cur-mitts, and I'll be your host for this evening. Welcome, one and all, to the Nuppets Show!"

"Some show it'll be," the pot and kettle said from the balcony, and laughter swept the hall.

In the front row was a teenaged demonic cultivator, her eyes shining.

***

“But make no mistake,” she insisted, waving her finger about in the air, “the inevitable outcome of this is villainy, villainy of the highest order and of rare refinement.”

Mu squatted down, placing one hand on the young girl's shoulders. “Look, you seem like a nice girl. Why are you trying so hard to make yourself look like a bad one?”

The girl scrunched up her nose, and stuck out her tongue. "Sod off. I'm going to become a Villainous Jade Beauty - daddy says so, and the god speaks to him, so he knows."

There was a quick, qi-powered movement of the girl's foot, and then Mu slowly fell backwards onto the ground, groaning.

After a moment, he saw the expressionless visage of Hong appear above him.

"She stole your wallet, too." He said apathetically.