Huh, I look at the wooden valances common to this city. The wood is intricately carved, with ornate nature designs and spiritual motifs. I examine it. Each decorated louver pivoted horizontally and was connected with a central rod that could close and open so that the window looked like a solid decorative wood panel when the slats and shutter were closed. My attention flits to each building surrounding us to compare the shutters. Most are stained wood, but some are painted solid colors like black or red.
Functional and beautiful, this is the design I most enjoy. I’m partial to the dark wood; it pairs well with the weathered gray stone from which they make Arcadian buildings.
My right foot hit the ground. One. I focus my attention on the three cultivators tracking us from the roof. I see their spiritual energy through the blue-glazed tile, the wooden beams, and the stone. Two core cultivators, one foundation establishing cultivator - I can read their realm and rank by looking at their energy signature. They all cultivate the same energy type. I don’t know what kind, but I can tell by the color and texture it’s the same. Given a random distribution, the probability of six cultivating the same type is… my mind sends off a thread which returns immediately… high. Surprising. I see. Access primarily determines one’s energy. I conclude the three on the roof following us and the three at the choke point ahead are from the same location. They belong to the same clan or sect.
The three ahead surround a wagon, partially blocking the alley. It feels like a trap. I look at Ai; she senses danger. Her movement has become rigid, her eyes darting ahead. Yunfie and Song seem oblivious; Bao is focused on the garden courtyard of a nearby well-off household. Relay is looking at the roof, as instructed.
Rather than wait to be surrounded, I will attack the roof cultivators. Spiritual presence, I haven’t practiced it much, but I understand the theory. It’s all about intent. I need to intend to disable them and not intend to hide from them. It seems simple, but I find it challenging to bypass my global intention to remain unobserved specifically for these three. Fortunately, I don’t need to; I just need to overpower it with a stronger intent.
The intention to do my part, to solve this problem, and to finally prove myself useful is more substantial than my intention to shield myself as it relates to these three hunter-trackers. I watch as their spiritual systems grow chaotic. Suppression seems effective from such a distance. The building they are on is four stories high. I redouble my efforts - continually intending to disable them. They continue to follow as before; I sense no change other than the chaotic spiritual energy patterns.
The suppressive effect may be concentrated because of the time-perception effect. More data is needed. I will wait and see. I think back to where we went wrong. Was it the guard who gave us directions to the Lotus Pavilion? Was he being paid by this crew? When the wide cobblestone streets narrowed gradually into tight dark alleys between buildings, I didn’t turn back. I didn't turn back when the directions took us on a circuitous path. I just thought these paths were organically designed around natural grottos and parks to preserve the most spectacular features of this ancient land.
They tricked us into coming this way to give them an advantage. I think that’s what they are counting on. Further ahead, there are more narrow alleys. I wonder how many more there might be. I wonder if we are, just now, in the center of their trap. That’s how I would do it if I created a trap for new arrivals. But why are there so many non-cultivators here? I look around. Workers are carrying baskets, men repairing fences, and peddlers hawking wares. All mortals. That makes it more challenging. I don’t want to hurt them, but they lack spiritual energy, making them fragile. The calculations become harder. That’s why I’m experimenting with spiritual energy. If this is effective, then I can disable some without injuring them. At least, I hope.
This is the problem with spiritual suppression and slowing time down. There’s too much time to think, so I get distracted by counting the cobbles in the alley or noticing details like the building with the blue trim on the corner post, which I can see was previously red where it is worn. I get distracted by the wear patterns in the paint and try to imagine what would have caused the wear, how long it might have taken, and look around for any clues to solve these pointless mysteries. When you have the time to think, there are a million such mysteries to solve. Why does one corner have a rain chain descending from the tile roof while the other does not? How do they deliver mail with no apparent building address? Do they even have mail? They must, I conclude. But then, where are the addresses? Why do the red birds flock to the blue-glazed tile and the bluebirds to the gold-glazed tile? Is it random? Time does not permit me to describe the thousands of questions that enter my mind as my foot slowly ascends and descends.
Two. My left foot leaves the ground. And before I realize it, I forget I intend to disable those three cultivators, and I look back and see their spiritual energy patterns are stabilizing.
So I intend to disable them again and see their spiritual patterns grow chaotic. I don’t like being forced to concentrate on something for an extended time period. I spin off a thread to think of a solution for this. The thread comes back immediately. I realized I was not being clever. I spin up threads to intend to disable the three cultivators. I should have done that from the start. I create one for each cultivator, just to be sure.
With that done, I focus on the three by the wagon. Only one is visible to ordinary sight, but I take the chance to open my soul light and look. The woman is a core cultivator with a liquid core like mine. Though her spiritual energy is blue, her soul is white like snow. I’ve never seen this before, a cultivator whose soul is a different color than their spiritual energy. I look at the four Lunar Temple cultivators; their aura matches their energy, more or less. Bao’s aura is emerald green, while her energy seems more the color of fresh grass, but they are both green. I look down at my body; that was a mistake.
For a brief moment, I saw the same golden hue before a million swarming colors assaulted me. It quickly became so bright that I was drowning in a sea of colors. I could see nothing else. I disabled my soul light and looked away. But the afterimages of the brilliant colors were still burned into my awareness. As my regular sight was restored, I told myself never to do that again, especially not at a critical moment. Still, I was able to verify my soul was colored like my spiritual energy, even if much brighter.
I don’t know what that means about the woman cultivator. More data is required. I spin up three new threads to continuously focus my intentions toward those cultivators. I feel ready.
I return my energy to my eye and crown core, allowing time to resume. My feet fall, one after another, as we approach the trap. The three cultivators on the roof collapse, their body’s momentum taking them forward; one is close enough to the roof’s edge that he pitches forward and falls noiselessly until he crashes into a vendor’s stall, collapsing it.
I examine the scene, but there’s little to be done. The cultivator will live, though injured. The mortal elder selling his handmade tea cups will not be so fortunate. I frown. I did not desire that. Shattered clay cups litter the street. We walk on, but I can’t help but leave my awareness on the man as he struggles with his last breath.
Two of the three cultivators fall gracelessly to the ground. The woman falls to her knees before collapsing onto her hands. She struggles against the pressure as we pass by. I look down at her and see her struggles, her head raised defiantly. She wears a short gray robe with cuirass leather leggings. She struggles to raise her hand, and I see her sending her spiritual energy around. But the strain is too much, and she collapses into a heap.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Is that your doing?” Ai whispers. I do not reply. We walk on, mortals crowd the road ahead, but we mix into them and keep going. I am diligently looking for others with the same energy type, but I see none like the former group.
When I think we have gone far enough, I dispose of the threads suppressing the other cultivators. I slow time to ensure no more surprises, but nothing is unusual. We continue walking, and then I see her. The woman with the liquid core is darting toward us. A blue aura of spiritual energy surrounds her. Her path is straight, not avoiding the fragile mortals crowding the street. She plows through them. Those unfortunate enough to connect with her aura freeze. The effect is so instantaneous that they break apart into frozen chunks or shatter into bits when she crashes into them. I slow my perception and suppress her, but she shakes it off this time. I watch as she barrels straight ahead; a mortal boy twice my age is directly in her path.
I step off, the cobbles crumbling, but mortals are everywhere around me. I must slow and maneuver around them. I know there is no time to intercept her before she reaches the boy. I could, but I would have to be willing to destroy these. I look to the right. A mature woman walks with an elder. To the left, a man carries a heavy load of wood, and a group of girls walks ahead.
My lips turn down. These people are as fragile as dried clay. I cannot fully empower without burning them nor risk touching them as I speed by. I step off the cobbles. With my slowed perception, everything seems slow. I fly up from the alley, slowly floating over the denizens of this street. I watch as the woman assisting the elder eyes spread open, registering something passing over her. I don’t want to notice the fright blooming in her eyes, but I do. It is a fear she must suppress all her life, living around cultivators. Does she wonder every day if this is the day she will be killed? As I pass over her, I look into her eyes, see the fine lines gathered around their corners, and see her pulse quicken.
Then I am beyond her and soaring up to the nearest building. I position myself to land feet first on the stone. It takes little time, even from my perception. On the third story, my feet impact the weathered rock wall. I bend my legs to reduce the damage but can’t prevent it entirely. Before I fall, I shift, positioning myself toward the incoming cultivator. I notice she has already arrived before the youth. I pick a place behind Bao to intercept the ice cultivator and then explode from the building, shattering the wall in slow splinters and cracks.
I am flying toward the ground when I see her aura arrive at the smiling boy. I watch in horror and fascination as his flesh crystalizes, the laughter of mere seconds ago frozen on his face. Then she arrives, and the boy is gone. Only the cultivator is left moving through a cloud of frozen splinters that used to be a life. A million fragments of hopes and dreams glitter in the blue light she produces, but they shatter and shatter again until all that’s left is frozen dust and a few large chunks I recognize that fall like stones to the street.
I twist to land, sliding into the crumbling street, and find myself before the cultivator. Her eyes are wide. She sees me now. There is surprise in them. She must not have anticipated it was me? That’s interesting information. She couldn’t tell who was suppressing her. She slowly pulls a dagger from her waist, a long wasp-like blade that tapers to a needle and glows blue with her energy. With skill, she presses it forward, a thrust toward my body.
She is slow. Or maybe I’m just fast. I don’t have enough data. I have enough time before the blade arrives to wonder what the blue aura will feel like and how I can counter it. It will not have nearly the same effect since I am already full of energy, but I wonder if I should prepare something just in case. I defensively focus my spiritual presence around me; my corona flares. I position my vambrace to deflect the blow, to push her thrust wide, then wait. I feel her aura collide with mine; hers is made of spiritual energy. A technique? I feel its attempt to slow me, but I pull the energy from the technique, cycling it away to refine. It reminds me of how I handled the heavenly tribulation lighting, but this energy is much more docile. Her aura sputters and dies out as I feel the blade connect with my forearm armor; it glances off.
Even without the spiritual energy surrounding her, I feel a cold presence emanating from her. It shrouds her in a frozen cloak. I can feel it with my hand as I step into her guard. This cultivator mercilessly killed three mortals in her haste to catch us. I have no pity for her, but I am not trained in war. I only remember some rudimentary hand-to-hand combat from my pre-assignment pod training. I should use her momentum against her to pull her off balance as she continues her thrust.
I have time to think up a move, but I begin to feel cold this close. I am convinced her aura is still there, even though I can’t see it. I reach out to try and drain it again, grappling with it. That’s when I notice her face for the first time. She is as pale as snow with thin purple lips. She is smiling. Her light blue eyes are nearly white. I pivot, twist, and pull on her frozen cloak, and her smile falters, and her eyes lose focus.
She collapses, her face falling slack. I release the frozen aura and step back. That was anti-climactic. She is not breathing. I am mostly curious about how she died. I don’t understand. I engage my soul light and step back in alarm. She stands before me, a white translucent version of the cultivator staring down at her body. Already I see the fine threads of her soul wisping off, beginning to dissipate.
I step forward and grab her by the arm. Her head pivots towards me, her eyes going wide. I shift to my soul space, and before she can move or say anything, I push her into a lantern, locking her inside.
A human cultivator’s soul, here in my soul space. I could not leave her to vanish; that would have been a waste. I didn’t even want to kill her. I just wanted to stop her.
She looks at me, but I can not tell what she thinks. She opens her mouth to speak, but before I can hear her, I switch my awareness back to Arcadia. Her cooling body lays before me. I see the blue energy swirling lazily inside her. I wonder how I feel. Do I feel regret or remorse? I think I should. I wonder.
----------------------------------------
“We need to go, Kai,” Relay growled. “There could be more on their way.”
“Kai!” the golden ferrox barked again.
Kai looked up and registered Relay’s presence for the first time. He was lost in thought, replaying the events to see if he could have done something differently.
“Is everything all right?” Relay transmitted.
Kai pulled back his spiritual presence, his corona slipping beneath his skin.
“I’m fine,” he turned to look at the group. Ai stepped from one foot to another. Bao looked around, now fully alert. They look afraid.
“Let’s go,” Kai decided. He stepped onward, moving towards their destination. Mortals had scurried away, leaving the street clear. They moved steadily and quickly. The alley opened into a wide road into a plaza, in the center of which Kai saw the Lotus Pavillion.
It was an ornate stone and wood pagoda with five levels, giving it a more significant presence than any surrounding buildings. A gilded lotus adorned the carved wooden placard. He made a line for it, keeping his awareness high. Someone was following with the same energy as the woman he killed.