Unintended Cultivator

While his killing intent was enough to suppress many of the remaining cultivators who had made up the core membership of the sect, it wasn’t enough to keep all of them suppressed indefinitely. He supposed it was to be expected. However little he thought of this sect and anyone who joined it, these were still core cultivators. They had no doubt been shepherded along with treasures and opportunities, but even powerful support couldn’t replace determination and certainty of purpose. Both were necessary to endure the trials that came hand-in-hand with advancement into the core formation stage. Sen knew that from personal experience. So, when he saw a few of them starting to move in his spiritual sense, it wasn’t much of a shock. It was just a minor annoyance in a night filled with emotional challenges.

He started making his way toward the nearest of the cultivators who had regained their senses. He passed by a few who were still shuddering, thrashing, and bleeding from the eyes and ears. He dispatched them swiftly. He did stop short for a moment when he found one who was foaming at the mouth. He’d seen a lot of reactions to his killing intent, but that was a first. He peered hard at that foam. His enhanced vision made things clearer at night to an extent. What it did nothing to improve was his ability to discern color. Everything tended to take on a grayish cast. Even so, he was pretty sure that foam was red. Shaking off the vague sense of discomfort that caused, Sen killed the man. He had suffered enough already.

He pressed forward, cutting through some trees until he stepped out onto one of the paths that wound between the nearby buildings. He saw a figure crouched over one of the beacons of life in his spiritual sense. They were shaking the prone body, no doubt hoping to shake them out of the terror trance that Sen’s killing intent had caused. It took longer than it probably should have, but the crouched figure slowly straightened and turned to look at Sen. The man looked ghastly. Dried blood streaked his face and there was a tension in them that suggested they were having to put a lot of effort into staving off the pressure of Sen’s killing intent. Despite that, he met Sen’s gaze with clear eyes.

“I take it that you’re responsible for this?” asked the man.

Sen inclined his head. He felt the other man try to extend his spiritual sense, but it was too much. The man staggered before he put his full attention back on pushing away the pressure that threatened to drive him back into unconsciousness. Shaking his head, the man fixed Sen with hard eyes.

“And the rest of the sect?” demanded the Twisted Blade cultivator.

“Dead or fleeing.”

The cultivator grimaced and asked, “How many are fleeing?”

“Not many,” admitted Sen. “I let the surviving qi-condensing cultivators flee.”