A soft wind blew on the wheat field and whispered to Shen. He closed his eyes and felt it on his skin. It caressed him gently, getting into his long white hair, enveloping his hairless limbs, and moving on.

Then, Shen was the Gentle Breeze.

He became one with it, losing himself in the freedom of becoming the Wind itself. He instinctively knew it was risky, but he didn't mind much. He was the Gentle Breeze, and denying himself now felt wrong.

He rose above the wheat and joined the slow wind currents skies. He moved toward the smoke in the distance, soon overseeing the small town of no more than a few thousand inhabitants. The buildings were made of stone blocks, and the city was surrounded by a thick wall of the same material. The medieval look felt out of place, though Shen couldn't pinpoint why.

Words and knowledge flowed through his mind every second, defining the world around him. Wheat, wind, stone, town. However, a blockade appeared as he tried to understand why a medieval town would be out of place. It had to do with something grander. Larger. Something he couldn't even conceptualize but knew should matter.

He didn't dwell on it. He blew away and soon reached the town. He flew over its tall walls and materialized in the middle of the city.

It was late morning, and every man was out in the fields surrounding the city. Everyone there was a drownoid with bronze skin, almost human but with a metallic sheen. They wore traditional robes and were all cultivators. Yet, none bore a single weapon.

The thought made Shen frown.

A weapon.

He missed feeling one in his hands, though he couldn't recall ever holding one.

The clothes and architecture were also mismatched, and Shen could tell why that was the case. Cultivators seldom allowed themselves to dwell in ugly places. To pursue eternal life and boundless power was to sublimate oneself into a superior existence. A greater being was meant to exist in a greater place; their very presence should engrand their surroundings. That happened both spiritually and physically. Moreover, a long life was meant to be lived in a nice place, not in such a boorish town.

A cultivator might not care about how they presented themselves or materialistic matters, but they were not swine. Even a beggar by choice would beg in the shadows of grand constructions, not in the middle of some blocks of grey stone. To cultivate was also to experience the world through newer lens with one's every breath, and there was nothing to experience in that place but a lack of creativity. It might give one perspective for a few days, but no cultivator would stay there more than necessary.

Shen transitioned from Gentle Breeze into drow in a public square. It was the waiting room outside a castle's walls. The castle itself had a massive training ground where a few dozen female cultivators were training their martial arts. Any male in the city was a child, as the young and adults worked the fields.

The lack of old people told some tale, though Shen couldn't fully grasp the implications.

A few females, also in cultivator robes, were walking around, doing various chores, and gasped when they saw Shen just appear in the plaza. One of them screamed. It attracted the attention of anyone within range...

...and the old one sleeping deep underground.

The training females came running from the castle grounds and shouted something at him. Shen ignored them. He stared down at the old one, awaiting their move.

He felt them as soon as they focused on him, and now his eyes could see beyond the material plane. He saw things in Concepts and Laws and felt feedback from Laws he couldn't even name. The physical barriers meant little to him up to a vast range around him.

The old one trembled under his stare and turned into flames that ran through a series of holes until they materialized back into a physical body inside the castle. Then, they rushed toward Shen.

The lady was older than the city. Her bronze skin was dark and charred, evidence of both her two Concepts of Fire and age. Shen couldn't name those people's race but had noticed their skin became darker as they grew older. Her eyes were violet, her hair had fallen, and her lips were black.

She cupped her fits before herself and bowed deeply to Shen.

"(!*&@¨#!@(*!(%!)@@," she said, and Shen didn't understand a word.

Yet, her words, and maybe her gesture, made the surrounding people agitated. The martial artists who had been shouting angrily at him widened their eyes and also bowed low. The passerbies got to their knees, evidently being of a lower status than the fighters. Everyone was at least in the Meridian Clearing realm, and some kneelers were more powerful than the ones who had been training, yet not every cultivator was the same in that place.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"Do you speak this language?" Shen replied in the most widespread language he knew, though he couldn't name it. It was connected to that grand "thing" he couldn't remember.

The old lady's eyes widened, and she trembled slightly. She and everyone around immediately prostrated themselves around Shen.

"Great One," she said in the language he knew. "We small town has nothing to offer to Great One. Please spare us."

He started noticing her better. Not just her movements but also what they meant. Her soul trembled in fear, and her surface thoughts were laid bare to him. She would do almost anything to get him to leave the city without bloodshed.

The seven cultivation realms were Initiate, Meridian Clearing, Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Fate Origin, Ethereal Harmonization, and Destiny Realization. The lady was at Core Formation, the fourth one. For her to become Fire itself in that realm was an outstanding achievement, but it spoke more of her techniques than her power or her understanding of the Laws of Reality. Shen, however, knew no such methods. Thus, she was lying. She did have something to offer him.

Yet Shen frowned, for he realized he would not take it from her by force.

That was also part of himself. She had done him no harm; thus, to harm her for personal gain would be against his beliefs. It would feel wrong.

Morality limited his actions.

"I'm interested in the technique you showed to move from your resting place," Shen replied. "Don't worry, I won't injure anyone who doesn't give me a reason to." The woman's soul trembled harder at his words. He didn't fully understand why, but he felt it had something to do with how vague he had been. "I'm a believer in... private property and... responsible almost-free speech." The concepts were ingrained in him, part of his core of ethics. "And intent. I won't steal what isn't mine or take offense at innocent remarks from someone from a different culture—as long as they're indeed innocent."

She calmed slightly at that. She was still tense and doubted him, but there was hope in her heart. She used most of that hope to bark commands at the people around her, then held her breath as everyone got to their knees and left while still bowing toward him.

She was both sending them away for their safety and testing his boundaries.

Shen sighed. "I have no patience for ploys and schemes; that would offend me." The lady seemed ready to try to flee but held her position. "Are you willing to trade knowledge or not?"

The word "trade" calmed her more than anything until now. Shen was surprised when he understood why. Talk was cheap; actions spoke louder than words. He might claim not to be a thief, yet steal something under some guise all the same. The word "trade" might also be a guise, but it was unlikely because he was asking her whether she would engage in it or not.

Not that she would dare not to engage in it, obviously.

"We gift Great One technique," she replied. "Great One pay with bringing we niece to Halagaskar."

"Halagaskar?" Shen asked.

"Province capital, Great One. We honest, technique not impressive to Great One, but impressive to we lowly ones in near cities. Great One need not pay. We ask price because Great One demanded we give one."

Her broken speech was slightly annoying, as was the scheming. She evidently wanted him to leave the city and was risking her niece's life to accomplish it.

Why she thought Shen would cease to be a threat after he left was a big mystery, but he decided to go with it. Getting somewhere bigger—and, hopefully, less ugly—should help more with his journey of self-discovery than wasting time in this place with people who didn't want him there.

It would be respectful to leave, and he found he liked that word and everything it stood for. Respect. They were showing him enough respect despite the little scheme. They didn't know him, and it was natural for them to be distrustful. He would respect them in return.

"Very well," he agreed.

"Niece coming, Great One," she said, relieved. "Technique also."

It took the girl only a few minutes to arrive. She was a pretty one, all things considered, tall and thin, but with well-endowed mammaries and backside, unlike most women around. The old one had not picked that niece randomly. Drownoid races often valued big assets for their most instinctive meanings—good breeding prospects.

The young adult's metallic bronze skin was eerie, though, as were her fully red eyes and green hair. She was not aesthetically pleasing to him.

The girl wore a white robe with red flowers and held a single scroll in her hands, which she presented to Shen while bowing. Her robe was loose, and the gesture showed a lot of her skin through the excessively wide opening on top.

"Niece not speak —————," the old lady said. Shen didn't hear the language's name because the lightning in his heart acted up and deafened him momentarily. He would research—and maybe get rid of—it as soon as this exchange was over. "She slave if you want. Good breeder, Great One. Sacrifice, too. Good flesh and blood, young one, unmarred. If not want her, bring her Halagaskar. She know where go there."

The suggestion that Shen would own a sex slave was as bad as the fact that the lady thought he would sacrifice someone for who-knows-why. "Good flesh and blood"? What did that even mean?

The lack of old people in the city suddenly felt very eery. He also wondered if they expected something bad to happen to him if he took their offer and copulated with the girl.

He regretted making the deal to bring her elsewhere, but going back on it now would feel disrespectful.

"Does she know the way to Halagaskar?" he asked, ignoring the scroll still being presented to him.

"Yes, Great One."

"Good," he replied and took the scroll.

He opened it and was unsurprised when he didn't understand the language. It was long, filled with drawings of a cultivator practicing martial moves and how they should circulate their qi internally. He doubted it would work for him, as his species was too different, but it looked interesting enough, and he might be able to develop something based on it. He had gotten it on a whim, anyway.

Shen grabbed the girl with his Gentle Breeze and moved both her and him high into the skies. "Point the way," he ordered.

The old lady had lied to him; her entire self had revealed it. The girl did know how to speak the language he was speaking. If she made things too hard for him by pretending to be dumb, he would just put her on the ground and leave. He wouldn't be bound by respect toward someone acting in bad faith against him.

She only pretended not to understand once—and maybe she really hadn't heard him; she was distracted by the marvel of flight.

He pointed at a random direction and repeated, "Point the way." She pretended to be slightly confused, said a word in her language, and when he nodded, pointed to her right.

He flew that way.