Unintended Cultivator

There was a moment when something that felt very much like the heart demon that had once afflicted him rose up inside of Sen’s chest. He wanted to fly south. He wanted to find whatever damned fool spirit beasts had dared to choose this day, his day, his one day with his daughter and his niece to start their stupid, pointless war. He wanted to find them and make their deaths so utterly terrible, so unspeakable, that no spirit beast would dare show itself in human lands again for ten generations. He could feel his qi surging and rising inside of him like a lethal tide, held in check only by his knowledge that letting any of it slip free would mean certain death for Ai and Zhi. His eyes turned to the south. He could go. He could fly into the air and sweep south like the emissary of the underworld. He forced himself to take steadying breaths and that dangerous confluence of rage, killing intent, and qi subsided, washing back into whatever dark recess of his soul it lived in.

Yes, he could do that, but it wouldn’t accomplish anything. Whatever fight was happening now, it would be over long before he got there even at the phenomenal speeds he could achieve when he pushed himself hard. The very best he could hope to accomplish was some hollow revenge. That was assuming he could even find the right spirit beasts. The more likely reality was that he’d just find the burned-out husk of a town or sect. If he was unspeakably lucky, he might find a survivor or two that he could save. However, experience had taught him that those survivors might not thank him for that rescue, preferring instead to die with their loved ones. Even so, he could almost feel that younger, stupider, less-experienced version of himself aching to go and do something. And that something was the problem.

He knew that action was sometimes the right and necessary course of action. There were moments when not acting would bring calamity. Unfortunately, youth and inexperience precluded discerning those kinds of moments from moments when not acting was the wisest choice. Acting simply to avoid a feeling of helpless impotence was neither right nor necessary. It was a balm for the souls of the young and foolish. Those choices all too often made things worse instead of better. To complicate matters, the ways in which it made things worse were not always obvious or immediate. How many times had some thoughtless action come back to haunt him? How often had he suffered, had others suffered, because of an ill-conceived decision to do something? So, Sen calmed his heart. Perhaps all that forced restraint with those villagers was beneficial, he thought.

He turned his gaze back to Ai, Zhi, and Big Sister Lei. Zhi looked a little uncertain, as though she’d felt something she didn’t quite understand. Ai was giving him a sad look. She clearly didn’t know exactly what was going on, but she knew that it meant he would not be there all the time…Again. Lei, however, had sensed some of what had been raging inside of him. She had sensed it and apparently found it less than comforting. She did a good job of keeping it off her face, but the woman was as taut as a bowstring. There was fear in her eyes. Sen didn’t know if it was fear of him or fear of what his reaction heralded. He supposed it could have been both. They weren’t mutually exclusive things. He did his best to soften his expression and smiled at the girls.

“I think we should probably get you home, Zhi,” said Sen. “I expect your mother wants to see you at least a little bit today.”

Zhi’s bottom lip stuck out a little, and she scuffed a foot in the dirt before offering a desultory, “Okay, Uncle Sen.”

Sen found himself working unreasonably hard not to laugh at the look on the glum girl’s face. It wasn’t so much her dissatisfaction he found funny, as it was the unvarnished nature of that dissatisfaction. There was simply nothing standing between her grumpy acceptance and her expression the way there was with adults. It was refreshing, but it also made for some hilarious facial expressions. Sen made his eyes go very wide and curled his hands into vaguely clawlike shapes.

“Grumpy girls get the tickle beast,” he roared.

Ai and Zhi both shriek-laughed and darted away in the general direction of Zhi’s house. Sen decided that was good enough. He glanced over at Lei, who was staring at him with her mouth hanging open a little.