The foxes disappeared inside the galehouse again after the meal was over, but it had a perfunctory look to it. Less of them resuming an argument and more of Laughing River preparing to tell Misty Peaks how things were going to be. Sen wasn’t sure if that was a sign that the elder fox had convinced his granddaughter or if she was just going along to see how things played out. Even if she said she was convinced, it didn’t really mean anything until she packed up and left. Again, he was perfectly happy to steer clear of it. Sen supposed he should be mildly grateful that Laughing River had provided him a golden opportunity to unequivocally say that fox business wasn’t his concern. After all, Sen could tell Misty Peaks that he wasn’t interested all day long and not have it be convincing. Telling the most potent nine-tail fox in the world to leave him out of it probably did a lot of convincing for Sen.

The only real problems in front of Sen at that moment were the fact that the inside of the galehouse wasn’t accessible and Li Yi Nuo’s fate was still nebulous. That woman has been a hassle from the minute she showed up, thought Sen. With full night on them, neither of those problems had ready solutions. Not that Sen hadn’t spent plenty of nights in the wilds, but he could usually go inside when he made a galehouse. Putting up a tent seemed redundant since Misty Peaks and Laughing River would finish their conversation eventually. It was ultimately the lack of privacy that was eating at Sen. Not that a tent provided real privacy, but it did offer the illusion of privacy. With the amount of time it would take the foxes to wrap up their business an open question, Sen grimaced a little, extinguished the fires, and put up a tent.

Closing the flap of the tent and sprawling across some blankets was more of a relief than he’d expected. He wondered if he’d just been spending too much time with other people recently. Even at Fu Ruolan’s, he’d often spent long stretches of time alone. Since he left, he’d been in the company of others almost constantly. He didn’t mind the occasional interaction with a farmer or caravan because they could break up the monotony of travel. They also provided an opportunity to pick up some local news and rumors and maybe do a little trading for things Sen wanted. Yet, those interactions were also short-term by nature. An hour here, an evening there, and then back to familiar solitude. By closing that flap, he’d sent a signal that he did not want to be disturbed. He had shut out the rest of the world and all of its problems.

It would have been profoundly more convenient if he’d been able to do that in the galehouse, though. While he could find ways to do things like read in the tent, it often proved more trouble than it was worth. He was paying too much attention to the environment to focus on anything. He could do some alchemy but that would invite Misty Peak or Laughing River to bother him if and when they came out. When all else fails, thought Sen, cultivate. A sect elder would probably tell him that he’d been neglecting his cultivation recently. The reality was that he’d been very intentionally limiting his active cultivation. Passive cultivation met most of his needs if he wasn’t doing anything too spectacular or challenging. Active cultivation sped that process up a lot and brought him ever closer to forming another layer on his core. While there might be some immediate benefits to doing so, it would mean following a pattern of fast advancement toward which he’d grown increasingly wary.

He imagined that Li Yi Nuo or any other sect cultivator would probably spit blood if he ever voiced that out loud to them. Ridiculously fast advancement was the kind of miracle that most cultivators prayed would happen to them. Yet, the pitfalls of it were very real. While his foundation felt very solid to him and there had never been a hint of a problem like qi deviation, he wasn’t confident that he had the necessary experience to recognize cultivation problems if they happened to him. That stupid turtle had pushed him straight through a couple of advancement levels in body cultivation when they first met. Levels that most people spent years getting comfortable with. Sen had decided that letting that rate of advancement continue as it had been was ultimately going to leave him with dangerous knowledge gaps about his own cultivation. Gaps that could and, knowing his luck, would become deadly liabilities to him.

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So, he had done what he could to slow down. He had stopped actively cultivating most of the time. It was the one place where he had real control. He couldn’t stop people from showing up to fight with him. He got the impression that the heavens were going to actively push him into ridiculously dangerous situations. He knew there was a relationship between learning about things like alchemy and cultivation advancements. Enlightenment was always a risk, but he couldn’t stop learning. Fixing the problem with his body cultivation had forced his hand on that front. Plus, Fu Ruolan wasn’t going to just let him take naps and cook food for the four years he had left with her. Even if he didn’t want to learn and advance too much, she would make him learn something. It’ll probably be really interesting, too, thought Sen. Because, of course, it will be.

Underpinning these concerns was his unverified but chillingly plausible theory that someone or something was manipulating his path through life with the goal of pushing him to ascend way before he was ready. He could even see the appeal for whoever or whatever it was. Sure, he’d arrive with a baseline level of power but a frankly terrifying lack of experience. Someone like Master Feng would prove almost impossible to manipulate. He’d spent thousands of years honing his will and solidifying his mind. Plus, he’d have all that accumulated wisdom to fall back on. He might be pushed into a corner by something more powerful, but he’d go into the corner recognizing it for what it was and with a plan to escape it at some point. Sen wouldn’t possess those advantages when he ascended. Worse, he suspected that he was going to need those advantages more desperately than most people who ascended. Manipulating him would be far easier simply because he’d be less prepared by experience to see it coming.

Slowing down was the only real defense he had against that outcome. While an extra decade or two might not be that much in the wider universe, it would be incredibly helpful to him. It would give him time to understand his own cultivation better and shore up those knowledge gaps. It would let him accumulate more direct experience in dealing with others. A little extra time couldn’t replace countless centuries, but for someone as young as he was, every minute mattered. I need to do everything I can to prepare for what I’m worried is waiting for me, he thought. Maybe it is a hollow concern, but I’d rather prepare and be wrong than get blindsided the moment I ascend. After all, isn’t that a big part of what cultivation is? Preparing for what might happen?

There was nothing specific that alerted Sen, but he had a moment of quiet dread. It was as though the heavens had been waiting for him to have those thoughts and wanted to remind him that he could deny fate all he wanted, but he was on the schedule the heavens decided, not the one he wanted. It also felt like a particularly obnoxious affirmation of his fears of what was to come when heavenly qi cascaded down onto him. Sen gave serious consideration to shunting some of that qi into empty beast cores as he had once before. That thought seemed to trigger an even more intense outpouring of heavenly qi that almost physically pushed him into the ground. He remembered a time when he had looked forward to these moments. Now, it felt like the universe used these moments as a way to make sure that Sen never, ever felt like he was the one making the real decision in his life.

There was a part of him that wanted to howl in frustration at that. On some level, he had thought that becoming a cultivator was a way for him to take a measure of control over his life. He supposed it was even true, as far it went. The problem was it didn’t go nearly far enough for Sen’s tastes. Oh, he could make some decisions. He could decide about the clothes he wore and the food he ate. The heavens didn’t seem to care all that much about who he had as friends or who he took to bed. The big things, though, the "shape your life to be what you want" things were out of reach. It was the kind of situation that could make a man resentful. When he considered it, though, he wasn’t special in that regard. He was riding in the same boat as everyone else. The universe just seemed compelled to remind him about it a little more often. Sen took a deep breath, accepted the inevitable, and started the process of building another layer to his core.