Unintended Cultivator-Chapter 15Book 11: : Elsewhere…

Whistling Winds took a deep breath before he said, “Why are we doing this?”

He fully expected to be struck down for the insolence, but he felt that someone needed to ask the question. Instead of finding himself on a swift trip into his next life, Whistling Winds found himself falling beneath the evaluating eyes of Laughing River. The elder nine-tail fox’s expression remained frighteningly neutral for several, eternal seconds before he smirked.

“So, was this bravery or did you pick the short straw?”

Whistling Winds didn’t immediately recognize the expression pick the short straw, but he had enough phrases from distant worlds in his vocabulary to infer the meaning.

“I wasn’t put up to it,” admitted the junior nine-tail fox.

“Some might have called that question reckless. We’re not obsessed with strength like the human cultivators, but I am still the strongest. Some might interpret what you said as a formal challenge. Would you like to challenge me?”

Mind racing, Whistling Winds tried to decide what he should say, or even if he should say anything. That decision was complicated by visions of all the ways that he might die if he picked wrong. Word had spread very fast that Laughing River had returned from his self-imposed exile with grudges to settle. While nine-tail foxes were often flighty and frivolous, the elder fox had not been in those kinds of moods recently. He’d been leaning more in the direction of cheerfully ruthless and merrily murderous.

“No,” said Whistling Winds, deciding to address the most immediately lethal of Laughing River’s words. “I do not wish to challenge you.”

Laughing River sighed and even looked as though he was a little disappointed.

“Probably for the best,” admitted the elder fox. “So, you want to know why we’re bothering to help protect this human city?”

All of the nine-tail foxes in Emperor’s Bay wanted to know the answer to that question, but Whistling Winds thought it might be best not to voice those words.

“I do, Elder.”

Laughing River rolled his eyes and said, “Several reasons. Let me start with the obvious. Stone walls are better protection from the other spirit beasts than the trees in the forest. Since they still want us all dead, keeping those walls intact is in our collective best interest. But I assume you know that already.”

“I do,” said a hesitant Whistling Winds. “That helps explain sheltering here, but the help?”

“Because, sooner or later, a very dangerous man is going to come and claim this place. I might have offended that man. Helping to protect this city is an opportunity to make amends. That’s good for all of you because we’re going to need his intervention if we don’t want the humans scouring their cities looking for us. It’s good for me because I don’t want to have him hunting me after we both ascend. The reality is that we need the humans to win this war. It’s our only path to survival.”

“I see,” said Whistling Winds.

He hadn’t thought it all the way through. He wished that he could leverage some personal benefit out of all this insanity the way that it seemed Laughing River meant to, but survival was always nice.

“Good,” said the elder fox.

“Are those the only reasons?” asked Whistling Winds.

“They’re the only ones that matter to you, but it might also help a family member with one of her little projects.”

Laughing River had his doubts that Misty Peak was going to get anywhere in her bid to seduce Lu Sen. Assuming that was what she wanted. He was half-convinced that she’d become genuinely smitten with the young monster. He thought that particular young man was far too serious for his own good, which made him ten times too serious for any nine-tail fox to love in the long term. Oh well, he thought. There’s no accounting for taste. He gestured toward a shadow several hundred yards away.

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“There’s one over there,” he said.

Half a dozen foxes vanished into the night to run down whatever spirit beast had been foolish enough to come this close to the city walls. He thought it might be far enough away to escape the clutches of the young foxes, but disappointment was good for the young. It was something that Judgment’s Gale might even teach his silly granddaughter.

***

“No!” shouted Ai, beating her tiny fists against the blanket. “I want Papa!”

Ma Caihong knew that these sorts of outbursts were often a trial for mortal parents. She supposed it was simply a lack of practiced patience. Mortal lives went by so fast that they never really had the opportunity to develop true patience. She’d had to learn how to sit still and cultivate for weeks, months, even years at a time during her long ascent into and through the nascent soul stage. After millennia of that, waiting out a tired, unhappy child wasn’t particularly taxing. That didn’t mean the outburst hadn’t touched Caihong’s feelings.

As much as Ai liked her and Jaw-Long and even Ming, none of them would ever hold a place like Sen’s in the little girl’s heart. He was her everything and likely would be for a very long time. It wasn’t hard to understand. He’d saved her. Sheltered her. Then, he'd given her a home filled with love and far, far too many sweets. Not that Sen was a perfect father. No one was. No one could be. But anyone who saw them together understood immediately that there was nothing, nothing at all, that Sen would not do to protect her.

That was one of the reasons why Caihong had decided to remain as Ai’s protector. The girl was so beloved in the sect and town that she’d never be without defenders, but if anything did ever happen to her… Caihong shuddered to imagine the lengths Sen would go to get his vengeance. Jaw-Long had gone mad with grief and rage when his sister was violated and murdered, but those had been sane times. That very sanity had restrained her beloved’s wrath to only destroying a sect.

These were insane times, and Sen’s power was growing so very fast. He was a nascent soul cultivator at a time in his life when most cultivators were still working their way through the foundation formation stage. If Ai was injured or killed, and with that kind of power in his hands, there was no way to predict how many he might slaughter. It was bad enough that he’d gone off to fight the war and would face all the horrors that came with that. He'd gone because he had to. It had been inevitable and necessary, but he had gone with the knowledge that she was here to protect this one precious, innocent part of his life.

Of course, none of that helped a little girl miss her father any less. No matter how cheerful and well-behaved Ai might be most of the time, that sadness at his absence had to go somewhere. On the days when things hadn’t gone well or she was feeling particularly alone, it would all bubble up into these outbursts.

“I want Papa!” shouted Ai again, the tears spilling down her cheeks.

Caihong sat down next to Ai and gave her a patient look.

“I know you do. And I also know that you know that he would be here if he could.”

“Make him come home,” demanded Ai, her bottom lip quivering.

“I could do that,” admitted Caihong. “But, before I do that, I want you to tell me what he’s doing right now.”

Ai tried to glare at her, but the expression just didn’t carry the same power coming from a child’s face.

“He’s helping people,” grumbled Ai.

“He is. Do you think he should keep doing that?”

Caihong could see that Ai wanted to tell her no and again demand Sen’s return. It would be a selfish demand, but no more selfish than the things countless other children had demanded throughout time. Ai only knew that Sen was gone. She couldn’t understand the stakes involved. What made things worse was that he would do it. If Caihong told him to come back for Ai’s sake, Sen would abandon everything and race back. The seconds stretched out as Ai grappled with the question.

“Yes,” said Ai, sounding like she’d had to drag the word out of herself. “He should keep helping.”

Caihong stroked Ai’s hair. That set off more tears, but no more shouts and demands. Maybe I should have him come back, at least for a day or two, mused Caihong. She just wasn’t sure if that would make things better or worse. I should speak with that spiderkin friend of Sen’s and see if he’s made any progress with those communication cores. I think this would be much easier for everyone if Sen and Ai could at least talk with each other most days.

***

Kho-Jaw Long peered around at the expanse of forest before he shot Feng Ming a withering look.

“You’re lost, aren’t you?”

Ming’s sour expression said it all, but he fired back with, “I’m pretty sure you meant to say we’re lost. It’s not like I’m the only one here who has ever traveled before.”

“Except for hunting those demonic cultivators, I’ve been living on a mountain for centuries. What’s your excuse?”

“I haven’t been this far south in a while. Not on this side of the Mountains of Sorrow at any rate.”

Jaw-Long sighed and asked, “How long? And why would you willingly spend time in the kingdoms? They hate you there.”

“They don’t hate me,” objected Ming before his brow furrowed. “Alright, most of them hate me, but they also know better than to bother me. And there’s one kingdom on the coast that’s downright nice. There’s this wonderful little pastry shop owned by this family—”

“How long, Ming?” interrupted Kho.

“Five hundred years, give or take.”

“So, basically, the city we’re looking for might not even exist anymore?”

“It’s probably still here. Somewhere.”