Yan Zixin sat alone in a tea shop, watching the foot traffic of the capital city move by in great waves. A few people had tried to invite themselves to sit with him, young women mostly, but one particularly ardent young man as well. He had fended them off as kindly as he could. He might have welcomed company at another time. He enjoyed conversation and mortals were often surprisingly good at it. He supposed not spending months or even years at a time in near-total seclusion kept them in better practice. For once, though, he was too distracted for that kind of verbal play. More and more over the last months, his mind had turned back to that brief, unbelievably hostile encounter he’d had with the man some called Lu Sen and some called Judgment’s Gale.
Zixin had heard stories about him traveling with companions, but those stories had been muddled and contradictory. Some claimed he traveled with a bevy of beautiful women, others claimed that he traveled in a small group that had both men and women. The woman who had been with him certainly had been beautiful, hauntingly so if Zixin was being honest with himself. Yet, she had been even less receptive to his presence than Lu Sen had been. The whole situation had left him baffled and off-kilter. The stories about the man had not done him justice, nor proven adequate preparation for that initial meeting. The stories painted a picture of a man as likely to work kind miracles as deliver terror. Yet, the man Zixin met had been all terror and no kindness. Looking back, he could tell that he’d botched that introduction and botched it badly. He had poisoned the well by presenting himself as something other than he was.
Most people would have forgiven the minor deception once they learned who he was and what he wanted, but the conversation had never gotten that far. Lu Sen… Zixin shook his head. No, that man had been Judgment’s Gale. The kind of man who could bully two sects into an unwanted peace. The kind of man who could call down the wrath of nascent soul cultivators on his enemies. The kind of man who could singlehandedly change the leadership in a kingdom with one damn meeting that, by all accounts, lasted less than twenty minutes. Zixin suspected that Lu Sen was the man who bestowed kindnesses on children, restored the elderly to youthful vigor, and dragged the mortally wounded back from the shores of death. He hadn’t met that man. That man might have been willing to have a conversation with him.
Once he became aware of the deception, Judgment’s Gale was done with him. And it was all so stupidly unnecessary. Zixin hadn’t actually wanted anything from the man. At least, not in the ways that Lu Sen had assumed. Although, in hindsight, it was abundantly clear that many others had abused what little trust the man had in his soul. Zixin had even heard some stories and rumors about that as well, but he hadn’t given them enough consideration. He’d just assumed that the stories were overblown or that Judgment’s Gale would be more reasonable. Maybe he should have thought a little harder about that folk hero name. It wasn’t the kind of name that suggested someone was reasonable. It made him sound more like a force of nature, and that’s certainly how he’d come across. Zixin had, foolishly, acted like his superior cultivation level was a trump card. That had been the moment he became aware of exactly how minor of a threat Lu Sen considered him. The man hadn’t acted like he thought that he could probably beat Zixin if the fight dragged on long enough. That response could be understood in someone with a lot of strength and skill.
Lu Sen had treated victory as a foregone conclusion. It wasn’t just that he was ignoring their cultivation difference. He had seen that difference and considered Zixin’s threat level as trivial. That kind of magnificent indifference and confidence in victory only stemmed from experience and a lot of it. That had forced Zixin to the very uncomfortable conclusion that Judgment’s Gale really had killed scores of cultivators who were, on paper at least, more powerful. There was always an element of doubt about what people had or hadn’t done when you heard about them through stories. The revelation that it might all be true had forced him to abandon the whole encounter because, the longer it went on, the more certain Zixin had become that Lu Sen was right.
Stolen story; please report.
Since Zixin hadn’t gone there to start a fight, it was the only path left open to him. If he had it to do all over again, he’d have taken a very different approach. It might not have succeeded, but it probably also wouldn’t have closed off so many other possible avenues. Still, he was stuck with the situation that he had created for himself. If he was going to win the man over, he was going to have to do it the hard way. He just wished that he knew that pursuing that goal was for the best. He’d been told it was for the best and that they would both benefit from establishing a friendship, but divination was murky at best. The future was predictable to some extent, but it was also mutable. He had to accept the possibility that his mishandling of the situation might have pruned away that potential future. That drew a frustrated grunt and a bit of soft muttering.
“Damnable divination.”
Most cultivators who lived long enough learned that you couldn’t rely on divination. You also couldn’t ignore it. Minimally, you had to account for it. Some people tried to work their plans around it, usually to middling success. Others tried to work with it, also usually to middling success. So, he supposed his failure was just on the bad side of middling, rather than the good side. He had heard that the king had a once-legendary diviner in his household, but one whose powers had faded over the years. Given the king’s recent rise to power with the improbable assistance of Judgment’s Gale, perhaps that diviner’s powers had been underestimated by everyone. Zixin considered the possibilities of gaining access to that man. Second opinions for divination were hard to come by, but it might clarify his next steps if he could get a second opinion.
Of course, that assumed he’d be able to find Lu Sen again. The man had vanished without a trace into the deep wilds with his companion. How they’d managed to survive out there for any length of time was another mystery for which he’d pay a small fortune to get an answer. The wilds were notoriously unfriendly to human beings in general and cultivators in particular. Yet, it seemed that this Lu Sen treated the wilds as a convenient place to go when he didn’t want to be bothered and had been doing so for quite some time. If he was going to do anything, he needed more information. First-hand information. He’d done some digging and there was a woman in the city who had supposedly traveled with Lu Sen for a time. Of course, her reputation suggested that she was only marginally less hostile to strangers than the man himself. Still, beggars didn’t get to be choosers. He had ready access to exactly one person who might be able to give him insight. He’d just have to be more cautious with her.
With that settled in his mind, he left the tea shop behind and went to the location he’d been given of the woman’s modest home. Or, at least, it was supposed to be a modest home. Zixin was no formation expert, but he could see the telltale signs of a staggering array of formations around the house. It would have taken a true expert to even let that many formations co-exist in the same place. He couldn’t tell them apart, but he could feel defensive, offensive, and qi-gathering formations all operating on a passive basis. Had Lu Sen done this before he left the city? Providing a close friend with dangerous defenses, perhaps? Either way, he was very cautious as he approached the wall. The formations didn’t burst to life and no servants appeared to announce him, so he stepped inside and slowly walked across the small courtyard to the door. He didn’t want anyone getting the wrong impression.
He knocked at the door and took three respectful steps back. He made sure to keep his hands in view. No cultivator was ever truly disarmed, but not actively holding a weapon was a symbolic gesture. There was a brief wait and then the door opened. Apparently, the stories that Lu Sen surrounded himself with beauty were more fact than fiction. Although, much like the other one, this one stared at him with eyes that had no empathy, no compassion, and deep, deep distrust.
“What?” demanded the woman.
“Are you the one they call Lo Meifeng?”
The woman started closing the door without uttering a sound.
“I saw Lu Sen,” he blurted out, hoping it would encourage the woman to speak to him.
The door paused.
“When?” she asked.
“A few months ago.”
“Alive?”
That struck Zixin as a particularly odd question. “Yes. In fact, I got the distinct impression that man would prove particularly difficult to kill.”
“Prove it.”
Zixin floundered for several seconds. Prove it?
“How?”
“Tell me what happened. In detail.”
Deception hadn’t gotten him anywhere with Lu Sen. He hoped that honesty would get him farther with her. So, he started talking.