“It’s a protection amulet,” said Auntie Caihong, eying the small object critically. “It’s actually quite a good one. This would probably stop an attack from someone in the early nascent soul stages. Just one attack, mind you, but that can be enough to let you escape. Where did you get it?”
“I took it off that sect idiot I killed,” said Sen. “Which sort of begs the question of why it didn’t stop me from killing him.”
Auntie Caihong handed the amulet back to him with an amused smile.
“You have to activate it. He clearly didn’t.”
Sen nodded in understanding. Sheung Tian Kuo hadn’t been in a right state of mind to do anything as practical as activating some kind of protection. It did lead Sen to a different question. He looked at Auntie Caihong who guessed the question before he uttered the words.
“I guess none of us got around to teaching you about these things,” she said, looking a little apologetic.
“Not so much, which is unfortunate. If I had known things like this existed, I’d have gone looking for one. I could have used something like this when—” Sen hesitated as a flood of memories where he was on the cusp of death passed through his mind. “I could have used about twenty of these.”
“It’s one of those things that we should have remembered to tell you about. Sadly, it’s easy to forget about them when you haven’t been able to use one in a thousand years. Once you become a nascent soul cultivator, there is a depressingly small number of people who can make those kinds of tools for you. The higher you climb, the fewer people there are, and the more likely it is that you’ll have offended them at some point. Although, those kinds of permanent protection tools are rare even for lower-level cultivators.”
“Why is that?”
“Because they’re stupidly difficult to make,” said Auntie Caihong with a laugh. “This is wildly inaccurate, but think of it like trying to set up a protective formation. Then, imagine squeezing it into that tiny amulet, and providing it with enough power to stop a strike from a lesser sect patriarch.”
“Oh,” said Sen, looking down at the amulet with new appreciation.
He thought, given enough time, he could set up a formation that would meet those requirements, but it would be big and complicated. It would take several layers to provide enough stopping power and cover the main types of qi. Then, there were the power requirements. It could be done using beast cores if he had enough of them on hand. Otherwise, he’d need to set up an entire, probably larger, secondary formation to gather environmental qi and feed it into the defensive formation. The idea of trying to do all that in something only slightly bigger than the end of his thumb made his mind reel a bit.
“They aren’t as difficult to make for lower-level cultivators because, if you’re handing them out, it’s only meant for something in the next stage,” offered Auntie Caihong.
“Right. You don’t need as much power when you’re dealing with a foundation formation cultivator’s techniques as you do for techniques from a core cultivator. Still, how do they power them? That’s the part I can’t quite wrap my head around.”
“I honestly don’t know all of the details. Some of it finding the right materials. We’re alchemists, so we go looking for the right plants and reagents. Someone who makes these trinkets would go looking for the right metals and gemstones, I expect. If you start with something that already has powerful qi, it’s a big shortcut. Beyond that, though, you’re getting into the land of specialized techniques, processes, and secret knowledge. That’s why sects are usually the only place you get things like that. They can recruit people with the right kinds of affinities and build a tradition inside the sect. It’s also why they don’t hand them out to just anyone.”
“You said that you can usually only get them from sects. Why usually?”
“Oh, people find them in old ruins sometimes or inherit them from teachers. Those aren’t the kinds of things you can plan for, though.”
“In other words, don’t just give it away?” asked Sen.
“Definitely not. It won’t be useful forever, but it’s certainly a useful toy for you to have for right now. Even if it just blunts an attack from a higher-level cultivator, as sturdy as you are, that might be enough to save you.”
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“Fair enough. Oh, is any of this of interest to you?” asked Sen.
He summoned a small pile of pills and elixirs that he’d found inside Sheung Tian Kuo’s storage rings. While a few of them were interesting to Sen because they used strange ingredients, nothing had really stood out to him. Sen waited while Auntie Caihong frowned down at the pile and examined everything with her qi and her spiritual sense. She reached out and picked up one of the small vials containing one of the pills that used strange ingredients. She frowned at it.
“Now, this is interesting,” muttered Auntie Caihong.
“It’s odd, but isn’t it just a healing pill?” asked Sen.
“Oh, the pill itself isn’t that interesting. The interesting thing is that I know who made it, and they’re supposed to be dead. Remind me. What sect was this cultivator from?”
“The Thunderous Sky Sect,” answered Sen automatically.
“What were they doing here? That sect isn’t even in this kingdom. They’re in the far south.”
Recognizing a rhetorical question when he heard one, Sen didn’t interrupt Auntie Caihong’s thoughts. She mulled over whatever problem was plaguing her before shaking her head.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter for right now,” she finally said. “Nothing that won’t hold for a decade or two, at any rate.”
“A decade or two?” asked Sen. “Isn’t that kind of a long time for a problem to hold?”
“Maybe for mortals,” said Auntie Caihong before giving him a grin, “or young prodigies. I can lose a decade on an interesting experiment. Why do you think other cultivators overreact every time a nascent soul cultivator makes an appearance? It’s normal for them to disappear into secluded cultivation for decades or even a century or two.”
“Not in the capital,” grumbled Sen.
“Those sects are so big that they need a lot of active management and control. Smaller sects in more out-of-the-way places tend to roll along without as much direction from the top. Speaking of the capital, though, are you sure this little visit you’re planning is a good idea?”
Sen huffed out a breath. “A good idea? Probably not. But I owe Jing. I caused a lot of trouble the last time I was there.”
“Has it occurred to you that he may be planning to use you for some end of his own?”
“I’m sure that’s exactly what he’s planning to do.”
Auntie Caihong gave him a look that was both stern and concerned.
“Cultivators and mortal politics don’t mix, Sen.”
“It’s a little late for that. I already stuck my nose in. I can’t pretend now that it didn’t happen.”
“Actually, you can do just that.”
“I don’t follow,” said Sen.
“This is the problem with advancing as fast as you have. You skipped over learning a lot of lessons other cultivators take for granted. You are powerful, Sen. Frighteningly powerful for your stage of cultivation. You’re also primed to join the ranks of the nascent soul stage before too long barring some manner of calamity. Whether you recognize it or not, whether you want it or not, you have largely transcended the concerns and institutions of this world. Frankly, when it comes to mortals, your word is law. Whatever debt that king thinks you owe him means precisely nothing if you say it means nothing.”
Sen stood absolutely still as those words washed over him like icy water. It wasn’t even that she was saying things he didn’t know. He knew that mortals often viewed cultivators as powers and laws unto themselves. He knew that even kings tread with care around certain cultivators. He’d just never quite made the connection that any of that applied to him. He was just a street rat who caught some very lucky breaks, not some unearthly being who decided fate for others. He was just a wandering cultivator who couldn’t stay out of trouble. Sen sighed at the self-deception. That was the story he held in his head to make himself feel better. He wanted to just be a street rat and humble wandering cultivator because those things were simpler. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been a simple anything since the day he met Master Feng. Of course, the flip side of all of that was that he could decide to be involved.
“That’s probably true,” admitted Sen. “I could just tell him to go away and never bother me again. All things being equal, that’s probably even the smart move. Just remove myself from the situation.”
Auntie Caihong rolled her eyes and said, “But?”
“He’s my friend. An actual friend. He helped me when he didn’t have to, so now I’m choosing to help him when I don’t have to. Plus, whatever he’s planning, I’m fairly confident that it isn’t aimed at harming me. If I had to guess, he wants me there as a kind of implicit show of force. It might be nothing more than a reminder to the nobles, or maybe he’s trying to send a message to another kingdom.”
“And how far are you willing to take it? Will you just intimidate his enemies? Or will you go to war with his armies? How far does that friendship extend, and how much blood are you willing to spill to keep it?”
Those weren’t questions Sen had asked himself, so he had no answers to give. He thought for a moment and then shook his head. They weren’t the kinds of questions you could resolve with a few seconds of deep thinking.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“You should decide before you get to the capital. You may need to know those answers, so you can draw a line at the right place.”
“I will give it some thought. Speaking of needing answers to things, is Uncle Kho around?”
“He is,” said Auntie Caihong with a gleam in her eye. “Do you need him?”
“I do,” said Sen suspiciously.
Smiling brightly, she said, “Oh, well, I guess I’ll just have to go steal Ai from him.”
“You know you can’t keep her, right?” asked Sen in an exasperated voice.
“I know,” said Auntie Caihong. “I’ll just borrow her for a little while.”
“What’s a little while?”
“Not too long,” said Auntie Caihong with a wave of her hand as she disappeared deeper into the galehouse replica of her home. “Just until she gets married.”
“What?!”