The two-day journey returning to the sect was not particularly different from the equivalent journey they had taken to leave. Lan and Jiendao seemed to understand what had happened without needing to be told, and when Lu revealed to Cobo and Stingy that Tai Sho was dead, they accepted it with indifference.
The caretaker of the inn, Ranger Gara’mel, took them returning two members short with a very similar level of indifference.
Lu spent the carriage ride back mainly in thoughtful silence, reading and cultivating. Bull, for his part, seemed… different was the wrong word, but Lu had no other to describe what had changed; the man’s bloodlust was still there, but it was quieter, more focused. In the single spar the two of them had, Bull taunted him less, going right for the knockout rather than pacing the battle out as he usually did.
Lu was uncertain how he felt about the whole mess, so he simply allowed whatever emotions he had to do as they would. What would happen when they got back to the sect was uncertain, but there was very little he could do about it at this point. Whatever happens, happens. I’ll just have to deal with whatever comes.
And upon return, their story – that Tai Sho succumbed to his demon – was seemingly believed instantly and without reservation. The questioning didn’t even make use of truth detection spells, which was baffling; a disciple, and a core disciple at that, died under mysterious circumstances, and nobody bothered to properly question the witnesses?
Lu felt dazed as he exited the entrance hall, bidding farewell to his companions for at least the rest of the night. The only explanation I have is that they already knew what happened, and the truth is being conveniently swept under the rug. It was true that Tai Sho had been suffering under the effects of an advanced Heart Demon – perhaps the Elders simply reasoned that expelling Bull over an already dying man was a waste. Or they sympathised with his vendetta. Or…
The door to his rooms looked exactly as it had before he left. There was no quarantine, and even the hole in the front of the building had been repaired. Speculating is pointless. Whatever the reason, it seems that we’ve gotten away with murder. He fished for his key, but a cursory turn of the knob with his other hand found the door to be unlocked. I just have to hope that’s the end of it, and put Tai Sho into the past, where he belongs.
His room was spotless, the furniture arranged just slightly differently than he had left it. A brief inspection found nothing to be missing, and in fact something had been added: a small package was left on his bed, a note written on the front.
Lu, it read.
This is the updated protection array. It should, hopefully, protect you from unwanted meddling from higher powers, regardless of its source.
The anti-divinations are very minorly deleterious to the soul, so take it off if you have need to heal yourself. Otherwise, please wear it at all hours of the day; there is no reason to assume you are entirely immune to effects while awake. I apologise for its cumbersome nature, but the flags have a strict minimum size requirement.
Thank you for your understanding,
Elder Persimmon
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Lu looked at himself in the mirror, and his reflection sent a disgruntled look back.
The array was not, essentially, all that different from his usual underclothes. It was made of cloth, a single piece that went down to mid-thigh, and he would describe it as somewhat like a very form-fitting smock. There were hard sections – presumably the actual array flags – that restricted his movement just a tad, but that wasn't anything worth worrying about.
He wasn’t displeased with the style, exactly; it would be easy to conceal under his normal robes. Rather, it reminded him too much of the thick gambeson he had worn for a time in Salt. Much too much; the cut was almost identical, and he would swear the material had a similar texture as well. He hadn’t brought any piece of the thing back with him, so the only explanation he could see was that it had been tailored by the same person, the Swamp warrior who had taken his measurements back in Poison Swamp City.
I suppose it’s a good thing, if the sect and the village are on friendly enough terms again that they can work on items like this. Still, wearing it made him feel strange, like he had stepped back into the past. That’s… probably just my soul being unsettled by the anti-divinations. Yes, let’s assume it’s that.
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The next day, he saw firsthand how the previously strained relationship between the Steadfast Heart Sect and the Moving Waters Clan had been mended. Summons arrived, carried by a faceless disciple whose voice lacked distinguishing features, and Lu made his way over to the formations wing.
Ah, I've been seeing more and more of the special operations disciples about the place… Have they been recruiting? Actually, they’re probably keeping tabs on me, personally, although I suppose it could be both.
In a moment of continuing déjà vu, he once again walked in on Elder Persimmon teaching a class – but this time, his students were a group of six multi-coloured frogmen rather than two-dozen teenage cultivators.
The Elder gestured to the board, where a simple formation was drawn in chalk. Lu recognised it; it was the very first formation he had ever learned, taught to him along with basic spellcraft and enchanting in his first few months as a cultivator.
“So with your understanding of the heat and expression forms, it should be possible for you to identify the function of this formation – yes, Grumble, go ahead.”
The warrior whose hand had been raised, a specimen with orange skin patterned startlingly similar to the markings of a tabby cat, spoke, the translation necklace he wore painting his words in mild hesitance.
“It should just heat up, right?”
“That’s correct, I’m glad to see you understand the basic theory. Does anyone need me to go over it once more?”
Lu settled into his spot at the fence, content to watch. These men are wearing clothes, but they aren’t as thick as Bo or Cobo’s needed to be. Are they building up a tolerance, or is there a shield they’re wearing that I’m not seeing? It definitely wasn’t any sort of barrier over the field; looking up, the sky was as bright and clear as he had ever seen.
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The lesson didn’t last very long; it was made for first realm children with low attention spans, and as such covered only a few basic forms, and how changing their order produced differing effects.
As the men shuffled out of the outdoor classroom, Lu slipped past and drew close to their instructor.
“Elder Persimmon,” he said with a bow, “I received your summons. Thank you for the new array, it’s been a great boon to my peace of mind.”
Persimmon smiled softly, returning Lu’s bow with a nod. “Disciple Lu, I’m glad to hear it. Do tell me if you feel any ill effects; while in theory your unique condition should make your soul more resilient, there’s no reason to be unsafe. Please, sit.”
Lu sat as directed. The chairs were oversized, almost more comparable to benches, and must have been custom-created for that particular group of students, while the ‘desks’ appeared to be long tables simply taken from other rooms. “May I ask about those men? I didn’t think things were so cordial that we’d be exchanging knowledge like this.”
Persimmon, unlike a number of Elders Lu had seen since the failed invasion, lacked a Wheel pin on the front of his robes. And unlike his peer Aiya Yu, his physical features were unchanged as well. But despite these facts, there was a sort of weary air when he spoke, so though he had been doing too much work with too little time. “Ah, you’d be surprised. After Braveheart and Goldenseed went over to speak to their Patriarch, things started moving along again… Though to be honest, I’m a bit surprised as well.” The man always appeared a little scatterbrained, but today that tendency seemed to have increased tenfold. His eyes were vacant, not looking at Lu’s face even slightly, and there was a slightly halting cadence to his speech, as though he had forgotten what he wanted to say halfway through every other sentence. “But as for the students, I have no complaints. It’s interesting to see whether they will be able to produce their own formations; Goldenseed has one of her apprentices putting a few of their ‘witches’ through alchemy, and disciple An Qui is tutoring a small group on spellcraft and another on enchanting.”
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Oh?” An Qui is teaching spellcraft now? That’s certainly interesting, perhaps I could… No, no. Cultivate now, attempt to impress women later, when the danger is passed! “I would have thought that enchanting, formations, and spellcraft would be taught to the same people, given the overlap in qi forms.”
The Elder shook his head. For a moment his eyes twinkled, making him seem younger. “Control groups. If anything untoward happens like with disciple Jiendao, we need to know exactly what caused it… But pardon, I’m getting off topic. I called you here to introduce you to some people, and pass along a request from Elder Aiya Yu. If you would follow me, please?”
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Persimmon’s mansion – and that was definitely the right word for it, for it was larger than Lu’s tenement building and each rich red brick was draped in art and luxury – was located in the wilderness between the inner and outer sects. There were actually very few Elders who dwelt in the core sect; as their primary job was to be both teachers and the sect’s final form of defence, they had a tendency to keep themselves near to their comparatively vulnerable students.
It was something that Lu had always considered as more of a tradition than a practicality, though now that there was something to defend against – other than the reasonably non-violent rival sects – that position had reversed itself in his mind.
The doors opened as they approached, and as Lu entered the Elder’s dwelling for the second time he saw a familiar face amongst a number of new ones loitering in the foyer.
“Bo! Ah, I didn’t realise you had returned yet! How did that business with the sharpie shake out?”
The warrior smiled. “Hey Lu. I got back like, three days ago? And yeah, it went fine – named ‘im Throw, by the way. Gonna raise him up, teach him all my stuff.”
Lu paused. He made a face, and then carefully guided his expression back to neutral as he took everything he thought about the name ‘Throw’ and ‘threw’ it out a metaphorical window. “That’s… Great, Bo. I suppose that makes you his father, now?”
Another nod. Around him, the other three warriors muttered congratulations or shoved each other around playfully. “Yup! Once he pupates I’ll bring him around, and you can show off a bit.”
Persimmon cleared his throat, and Lu’s cheeks coloured slightly as he snapped to attention. The Elder surveyed the small-in-numbers crowd, and spoke. “Gentlemen, this is disciple Lu. I’m sure that if you do not know him, you at least know of him, so I will skip over the introduction from that direction.” He turned to Lu. “Disciple Lu, these are Bo – who I recognise now as your friend from the reports – and,” his lips thinned, and as he spoke each name they continued to thin. “Eighteen-Coloured Entrails, Fourth Rodriguez by the Light of the Cloud, and Big… Horn Yon.”
One of the giants raised a finger. “Actually, it’s-”
“Not in my house, it isn’t,” the Elder cut him off. “Aiya Yu picked these four out, and suggested that you attempt to teach them the fundamentals of cultivation.”
Lu’s stomach did a tiny flip. “Me, Elder?” Aren’t there much more qualified people? How about this: Lady Qui can try to teach them to cultivate, and I’ll take her group of spell enthusiasts instead. That seems like a much better division of labour!
“Yes. Since you already have four students learning consumption, she’s decided it makes sense to try the opposite as well.” His expression softened. “This is purely contingent on your agreement, of course. As a teacher, I understand the level of effort it takes to tutor individuals much better than my junior sister; if you feel you won’t have the time, that is a completely valid decision.”
Lu bit his lip, calming himself as he thought it over. My gut instinct is to say no. Why make more work for myself? I’ll need time more than anything to work on my cultivation… But at the same time, I’m sure I can give them some make-work and spend most of my 'lessons' meditating. And while my consumption might be pulling ahead right now, I’m certain it will fall behind in the coming months – I’ll need to learn more about high-level consumption, something neither Cobo nor Stingy are well equipped to help me with.
A moment passed as he volleyed the pros and cons around his head. As the silence stretched the warriors became a touch more unruly, beginning to shove each other again, and Lu added ‘difficult students’ to the cons list.
But in the end, his desire for knowledge won over his desire for free time. “I believe I can at least start to teach them the basics, Elder. Is this a formal assignment from the sect?”
“It is. You’ll be paid twenty mid-grade spirit stones a lesson, with progress evaluated each season.” Twenty mid-grade stones? Ah, that’s not exactly much of a reward… A year ago, when he had still been developing his mercantile enterprises, he would have seen twenty stones a day as a heinous amount of money – but now, with a rented vault stuffed full of high-realm beast cores, the monetary gain seemed almost pointless. “What qualities am I being evaluated on?”
Persimmon turned back to the four warriors, his hand raising to idly stroke his beard. As his eyes fell on them, their backs straightened. “That would be up to Yu, but I assume getting one of them to condense a dantian would be the logical first step. Or having them use qi at all, similar to the way you could manipulate Salt’s spiritual energy even without the corresponding organ.”
”Hmm, tricky. They have no spiritual sense…” But then again, they do have Comprehensions. They can form techniques with that, so maybe a technique-spell hybrid is still possible?
“I see you have some ideas already. I had a feeling you’d agree, so I took the liberty of reserving a training grounds for your use. It is on the far side of the mountain, easy to access from the village – speak to the administrators for exact directions, should you need them.”
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At the top of the mountain sat a man and two women. The man wore simple threadbare robes over his wrinkled body, clothes which only partly obscured his figure, and his head not at all. Reflected in the glass of his window, the light of the setting sun revealed the true extent of his age; he was ancient, withered, his flesh almost seeming like that of a mummified corpse. Compared to the him of a month ago, Patriarch Steadfast Heart would say he had doubled in age.
The two woman were, in contrast, difficult to discern under their all-concealing robes and veils. But the way they stood and the movements of their eyes revealed much to the old cultivator; one, whose robes shone like true metallic gold, wore her nervousness on her sleeve, eyes darting around as she shifted from one foot to the other. The woman in the more drably coloured robes was also nervous, but it was an Elder’s sort of nervous: her emotion was visible in her sense, not her body.
After a moment, Priestess Song’s eyes began to glow brighter, then brighter still. When she opened her mouth, her voice had an echo reminiscent of whalesong. “Steadfast Heart. The war-priests have finally landed – you have everything prepared?”
The old man nodded. “Yes, senior. Patriarch Black World of the Darkglass Sect will be escorting them personally; if the enemy divinities can detect so much as a hair on any of their heads, I’ll resign in disgrace.”
The young woman’s eyes flashed. “You send those who clasp hands with Wu Kong to guard our people?” The air trembled and a slight breeze was kicked up, air simply disappearing where it touched her form.
“Do you see any better options?” The Patriarch turned, and his eyes were hard, alive despite being shrunken into his skull and grey with cataracts. “Do not dismiss the unorthodox sects as allies. They comprise almost a third of our forces, now.”
The golden rod clenched in her hand bent slightly as the priestess’s fingers flexed, but rather than strike out the golden glow quickly faded from her eyes. She stumbled, slightly, before nodding to the Patriarch and retreating to a small cot near the fireplace.
A minute later, the quiet sounds of restless sleep filled the room. Elder Goldenseed, who had been as still as a statue, finally dared to move.
“Patriarch,” she whispered at a volume that her fellow Elders would struggle to hear. “Is it wise to say such things? If an Emperor were to strike you, even casually, your soul would surely fail.”
Steadfast Heart’s expression was indescribable; his muscles were buried under so many wrinkles, their true state was a mystery. “Do not be afraid. Sen Du is more reasonable than he appears… I have known him my entire life. Have faith in my age, if nothing else.”
The tension left her body, though he could tell from her still-agitated sense that it was merely an affectation. “Of course, Patriarch.” She paused. “Are you certain you still wish for me to concoct the pills? With your body being in the state it is…”
“If it comes to a second fight, I will likely die regardless. Better to take them with me than not.”
She nodded. From under her robes Goldenseed drew a small bottle, filled with three pills; one was red like fresh blood, the next a somehow sickly-looking shade of black, and the third a dull eggshell white.
Steadfast Heart could feel the qi in them even through the masterfully enchanted glass, and if he were capable of moving any part of his face, his brow would have raised. “You had them prepared ahead of time?”
“I did, Patriarch.”
He turned back to the window. The sunset was beautiful, as it always was when viewed from this height; any clouds were far below, leaving the light to scatter up at him as it diffused, painted in a dozen shades of red and orange and purple. “Good woman. But don’t count me out yet; we might still see the end of this with minimal bloodshed.”
With iron control over her body and an obscuring veil besides, Goldenseed may as well have been a sheer cliff face for all the expression she exposed. But still, he could see into her heart through the motions of her soul. “Of course, Patriarch,” she lied. Fear and uncertainty danced behind her eyes…
But that is fine. The steadfast heart is not one that feels no fear; that is only foolishness. Steadfastness comes from control of the self, and you have more than enough of that.
The sun set, and on the northwestern coast a new sun dawned as golden light filled three-thousand men and women, each holding a staff that was also a flail.