Unintended Cultivator

While it would have taken a very skilled observer to notice it, dissatisfaction marred Long Jia Wei’s face. He had, with the tacit approval of Lord Lu, set himself up as something of a protector not only of the sect but of Lord Lu’s vision for the sect. The first goal often proved far easier to accomplish than the second. Tangible threats to the safety and security of the sect could simply be encouraged to leave or disposed of in the abundant forests that surrounded the town and sect. He found the latter option easier. It aligned far more closely with his training. However, he had set himself a firm rule that the level of the threat had to rise to a certain level before he’d take that kind of definitive action. He supposed there might even be a little humor in that, given that such a choice aligned with the kind of sect Lord Lu wished to build.

Protecting the vision was something else entirely. Lord Lu might be kind, but he was neither weak nor stupid. Kindness, in the right moment, could be both transformative and a kind of salvation. Long Jia Wei knew that from personal experience. He had ridden that blade’s edge beneath the very gaze of Judgment’s Gale himself. Kindness in the wrong moment, however, could be the ruination of a cultivator. Cultivators needed to strengthen their will and their resolve until it shone like polished steel. A seemingly trivial act of kindness could undermine the process that forged that will and resolve. It proved a constant quandary for Long Jia Wei in executing his self-assigned duty to protect that vision. When should he be kind or, barring that, merciful? And when should he be ruthless?

He'd honestly thought that he would have much more time. Lord Lu had dropped more than a few hints and suggestions that some manner of profound conflict was coming, but all his years in a sect had led Long Jia Wei to an erroneous conclusion. Conflicts between cultivators and sects routinely played out over decades, sometimes even centuries, before they finally erupted into a final dance of mayhem and carnage. He’d assumed that this coming conflict would be the same. His shock had been bone-deep when he learned that spirit beasts were ravaging the kingdom. All of his carefully laid plans for honing his process had been shattered.

Those problems were compounded by all of the new cultivators who had found their way to the sect, seeking either membership or some kind of sanctuary. A workload that he’d barely been managing before swiftly grew into something nearly impossible. He needed help. He’d been envious of Sua Xing Xing when Lord Lu had personally given her an assistant. Of course, he’d needed to temper that envy. Her work was very obvious, very public, and the toll it took on her was equally obvious. His own work was largely hidden out of necessity and preference. In many cases, it was best if no one ever learned about it including Lu Sen. He could not expect to hide the long hours and also to receive help to relieve him of the strain of it. No, this was a problem he needed to solve for himself, which was how he found himself frowning in dissatisfaction as he observed some of the sect members.

He had singled out a handful who weren’t suitable to serve in Lord Lu’s sect. At least, they weren’t fit to serve in the sect at large. He’d been trained as an assassin. He’d lived and worked with them for decades. He’d even helped participate in some of the lower-level training of members of his former sect. There were signs that someone was or was not appropriate for that kind of work. They needed a certain coldness and ruthlessness that went beyond what the average cultivator developed. Despite the reputation that cultivators had, they were less bloodthirsty as a group than most mortals would have credited. After all, it was one thing to kill someone when challenged by an equal or assaulted by a group. He’d witnessed Judgment’s Gale cut down cultivators by the score when challenged or ambushed.

It was something else to kill someone for money or because ordered to do so. This sect wasn’t being built to serve in those kinds of roles, but that didn’t mean the sect couldn’t use people who excelled in that kind of work. They were, however, the kind of members who would inevitably become a problem if managed poorly. They were a problem in need of a solution, and Long Jia Wei was a man who needed willing and particularly ruthless helpers. His decision made; he strode across the open space between the side of the building to where a group of foundation formation cultivators were talking. They fell silent as they realized he was walking up to them. He fixed his gaze on a seemingly unremarkable woman who was hovering near the periphery of the group. She participated occasionally, enough to warrant membership in this particular clique, but not to control it. She avoided being too noticeable.

“Come with me,” he ordered.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

He saw the flash of icy calculation in her eyes even if no one else did. She was weighing her options and likely her chances of escaping him. It seemed she drew the correct conclusion because she simply fell in behind him as he walked. He didn’t speak to her. He didn’t acknowledge her at all save to keep her in his spiritual sense. She wasn’t the kind who wanted or needed extraneous conversation to feel comfortable. He entered one of the buildings where classes were held. He walked briskly to one of the rooms, opened the door, and walked in. The cultivator teaching the class choked on her words when she saw him. Long Jia Wei thought it was funny since he was at least fifty percent sure that a fight between the two of them would end in a draw. He didn’t let that show on his face, though. The more that people feared him or at least the mysteries that surrounded him, the better. If nothing else, it made things like what he was doing at the moment easier.