Unintended Cultivator

V13 Chapter 32 – How Bold. How Brave

Sen and Master Feng walked out of the compound gates to find what looked to be a tense standoff. Guarding the gates were numerous mortal soldiers and what looked to be Sen’s entire cultivator honor guard. Even Song Lan and Xu Xiao Dan were there, facing out toward what appeared to be a significant portion of the cultivators that had come with Sen’s army, either willingly or unwillingly. As soon as Sen appeared, he felt their spiritual senses focusing in on him, as well as their qi trying to invade him. They were all desperately trying to steal information about what, exactly, had changed. His eyes narrowed. Infusing his voice with qi, Sen roared.

“Have you all gone mad?”

The ground shook. The mortals immediately clapped their hands to their ears even as they stumbled. The cultivators shrank back as a group, even if their reasons varied. Some appeared startled or even afraid. Sen supposed that, all things considered, he’d been treating them rather kindly. Yes, he was taking them from battle to battle, but that was the only requirement he put on most of them. The only real exceptions were the alchemists, whom he'd tasked with making healing potions. That duty came with the minor reward of being able to avoid the fiercest fighting. Sen had expected that to cause some friction, but it seemed that everyone saw that as a small price to pay for readily available healing.

There were plenty, though, who looked demanding or angry. It seemed that those cultivators felt they had a right to know what Sen and Master Feng had accomplished. Maybe it was being in a group that gave them courage. None of them would have dared try something like that if they were facing him alone. Nor, it seemed, had they considered how directing that kind of invasive qi in even the general vicinity of someone like Feng Ming might play out. A voice from somewhere in the back of the crowd shouted out.

“There was a tribulation. We deserve to—” the voice cut off as Sen felt a flicker of qi from Master Feng.

The insolent, expectant tone was immediately replaced by someone screaming. The crowd of cultivators hastily backed away from the source, even as the screams became a gurgle, and finally went silent. When they cleared away enough for Sen to see, there was nothing left but a bloody pile of meat on the ground. Sen wasn’t sure what method Master Feng used to accomplish that particular feat. Sen thought he could have done something similar in a few different ways with wind qi. He supposed the results were what really mattered in this case. Before Sen could say or do anything else, qi burst out of his teacher. It was so dense, so potent, that it seemed to warp the very world around it. Then, the elder cultivator’s killing intent swept over the crowd.

“How dare you?” asked Master Feng.

The words were soft, but they seemed to dig into everyone’s souls. A few of the cultivators just passed out. Some began weeping. None managed to stay on their feet. Sen tried to understand what was happening. Was this a soul technique of some kind, or was it just their reaction to such overwhelming power? Maybe both. He wasn’t even the target, and Sen could still feel the pressure on him. He hazarded a glance at his teacher to gauge how seriously to take this. Ice formed inside of him. The Master Feng that Sen knew had been replaced by a man whom Sen had only glimpsed a few times.

This was Fate’s Razor. The man who had walked through the millennia with a sword in his hand and only one true goal. To build his strength. He had climbed that mountain, reached that peak, and achieved the strength he wanted. He’d done it with discipline, violence, focus, and a willingness to kill anything and anyone who truly obstructed his path. And all of that was on display in his cold, furious eyes. Sen was sure that he’d never seen a look that could so perfectly be substituted for a promise of absolute annihilation. As that look and Master Feng’s killing intent bore down on all of those cultivators, Sen could see a change happening in their faces.

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It was as though they were all remembering something that they’d forgotten. Sen thought he understood it before they did. Ever since he’d arrived, Master Feng had been directing his attention and power almost exclusively toward killing spirit beasts. He hadn’t interacted much with the cultivators, but he also hadn’t been violent toward them, as a rule. If anything, Sen had been the bigger threat, since he actually had carried out executions when it was necessary. All of that had, unless he missed his guess, given the cultivators the idea that Feng Ming’s reputation was blown out of proportion. He suspected that some of them might have even convinced themselves that the elder cultivator had lost his taste for violence and retribution.

Now, though, it was all coming back to them. They were remembering the stories. They were remembering the way their own elders trembled in fear at the mention of this man’s name. Being near Master Feng when he was acting in his usual, vaguely grumpy way was almost reassuring. Sen had met a few other people who acted that way, and that was usually the extent of it. They were just grumpy. This version of Master Feng, however, was stirring a completely primal terror in those cultivators that was only heightened by all of the legends around him. After all, only a fool would anger a man renowned for taking his revenge no matter what and no matter how long it took. Their fear was growing more palpable by the second, and it seemed the elder cultivator was happy to heighten that fear.

“You would dare to try and steal my secrets,” said Master Feng in that same soft, terrible voice. “How bold. How brave. How very shortsighted

of you.”“Lord Feng,” someone in the crowd managed to choke out.

“Be silent. Until now, I was content to leave you to your own devices. Your petty schemes meant nothing to me. Such as when you,” Master Feng pointed at a woman, “intentionally sabotaged her,” he pointed to a different woman, “advancement. Or when you,” he pointed at a man, “intentionally injured him,” he pointed to another man, “in that friendly spar.”

There was a low mutter starting to rise from the group, as people began to shoot suspicious looks at each other. Sen suspected that if Master Feng wasn’t holding every last of them in place with his killing intent, a brawl between the loosely assembled cultivators might well have broken out. Everyone’s attention snapped back to the elder cultivator when he spoke again.

“My willful blindness to these things was my way of letting you settle your disputes yourselves. That is how elders are expected to behave. But now you dare to turn your greedy, conniving eyes toward me. You seek knowledge you have not earned. For that, I will no longer turn a blind eye to you. I will see. I will hear. I will know,” said Master Feng, letting his eyes roam across the group. “And I will punish.”

“Lord Lu,” someone almost screamed in open, quivering terror. “Surely you don’t mean to allow this.”

Sen directed a flat look at the man and said, “Did no one ever tell you not to tempt the wrath of dragons? For that matter, do you think I’ve forgotten that you were also trying to steal from me?”

Eyes in the crowd went even wider as Sen directed a look of utter contempt at the paralyzed group. He turned, adopted a respectful gaze, and bowed to his teacher.

“Master Feng,” he continued, “do as you think best. If they will not discipline themselves, it seems that we must do it for them.”

Without a backward glance and ignoring the panicked cries, Sen formed a qi platform and flew off into the air.