Unintended Cultivator

V12 Chapter 64 – You Can’t Fix It

“They’re already calling it The Night of Widows and Orphans,” said a pale-faced general.

Sen had noticed that all of his mortal generals had suddenly found much more patriotic and dutiful versions of themselves in the last two days. He didn’t know if it was the sheer brutality of what he’d done or the thoroughness with which he’d done it. It hadn’t been meant as an object lesson for the military’s leadership. It had been intended as a message to the remaining nobles and politicians in Emperor’s Bay. Even so, Sen wasn’t going to complain if the generals chose to take it that way. Their long-term compliance had always been questionable, at best. They had finally, it seemed, taken the lesson to heart that the restraint which had held back his wrath before was now gone.

Sen had utterly toppled nine noble houses and entrenched political families, seizing generations of accumulated wealth along the way. Another dozen individuals had been dragged out of their homes and summarily executed. They were guilty, but not so guilty that Sen had felt compelled to punish their whole families. Still, that name, The Night of Widows and Orphans, left a sour taste in his mouth. It was made all the more bitter because it was so very accurate. He had left wives without husbands, children without fathers, and in some cases with no parents at all. Even when the parents had survived, most had been conscripted directly into the army. That made the children orphans in practice if not in fact.

There was also no escaping that it was all down to him this time. He’d done the killing himself. Every last bloody bit of it. He’d given the orders. There was nowhere to shift the blame, even in his own head. True, he had warned them what would happen. Sen could argue that they’d brought it on themselves, but he recognized just how weak an argument that was. No, in the end, the responsibility for all of it was his to bear. And his alone. There was a brief moment where he was tempted to feel sorry for himself about it, but he ruthlessly cut that off before it could go anywhere. This is the way things are, he told himself. Get used to it. It isn’t going to get easier for a long time. Looking at the general, Sen nodded in acknowledgement.

“They aren’t wrong,” he admitted.

The general gave him an uncertain look before tentatively asking, “Lord Lu?”

“There are widows and orphans now that didn’t exist before. I can’t deny it. It isn’t what I would have preferred, but that doesn’t matter. The world rarely provides what we’d prefer, does it?”

“I suppose it doesn’t.”

“How would you gauge the army’s reaction to it?”

The general frowned slightly. Sen couldn’t tell if the man was just thinking or if the question had caught him off guard. Considering what he’d been forced to do on what should have been friendly ground had made Sen contemplate the future. Some of the southern kingdoms might prove wiser or at least wilier, but he foresaw that similar actions would be almost inevitable. He needed to know if there was going to be dissension among troops if that happened. It wouldn’t stop him, but it would inform his choices about who would be where when it happened.

“There was some initial confusion. However, word spread quickly about what happened and, perhaps more importantly, why it happened. I can’t say that the soldiers are happy about it, in general, but they do appear to understand.”

“Understanding is sufficient,” said Sen. “Frankly, I’d be concerned if they were happy about it.”

Sen knew better than most how deep anger at the nobility could run. Many of the soldiers had joined because it was their best, and maybe even their only, chance at a somewhat better life. Looking at their own lives and then the outward luxury and privilege that nobles enjoyed was more than enough to breed hatred. Yet, that hatred rarely grew deep enough that people wished to see entire houses cut down. Any given soldier might hate one, specific noble enough to want them dead. Probably a noble who had shamed or abused them in some way. He could understand someone being happy if their personal bully was cut down. But it was a very long step from that to finding joy in the slaughter Sen had carried out.

“A reasonable concern, I would think.”

Reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, Sen asked, “How is the magistrate?”

“Your healing elixir was as miraculous as always. He appears to have recovered fully from his injuries,” answered the general.

Sen would have accepted it, but there was some hesitance in the man’s voice.

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“Is there something else?”

“Lord Lu, his body appears fine, but I’m less certain about his mind. They weren’t gentle with him.”

Sen failed to check a sigh at that news. It seemed the nobles and politicians were none too pleased when they discovered the magistrate trying to warn Sen. They’d had him severely beaten. It hadn’t been to a level where he would have died from the injuries, but it would have taken months of healing without Sen’s intervention. Cultivators grew used to injuries, even indifferent to the ones that didn’t threaten to kill them. Mortals, perhaps because they were so much more likely to die from an injury, rarely developed a similar attitude. Add in the threat of more violence, and it could leave scars on a mortal’s mind and soul that simply wouldn’t heal.

It was also something that Sen knew very little about. Auntie Caihong had told him that it happened, but she’d also said that it wasn’t a problem appropriate for cultivators or alchemists. So, he’d never given it much thought. Yet, his experience bore out her observation. He’d grown quite adept at reforging bodies with alchemy, but there was no elixir to heal a mind or pill to repair an injured soul. The magistrate could be rendered useless if he couldn’t find his own balance with it. Much as Sen had to bear the burden of all those deaths, the magistrate would have to bear the responsibility of finding his own path.

“We’ll give him what time we can, although the heavens know that isn’t much. If he can’t do the work, though, I’ll have to choose someone else.”

“I don’t expect anyone you pick will fail for a lack of effort. They all seem—” the general paused in thought. “They seem highly motivated not to do anything that would offend you.”

Sen gave the general a sharp look and said, “I could make the same observation about all of you generals.”

The man winced but nodded.

“I think we all underestimated your resolve.”

“And now?”

“I don’t believe any questions remain regarding that matter.”

“Then it wasn’t completely pointless,” muttered Sen under his breath.

“Lord Lu?”

“It was nothing,” said Sen. “Is there anything of note to report about the status of the army?”

“It would probably be best if we left sooner rather than later. We’ve conscripted a fair number of people. With the city right there, they’re faced with the constant temptation to try to run and hide from the service they assigned you.”

“A fair point. I think things are as settled here as they’re likely to get, so we’ll be marching within the week. Tell everyone to prepare.”

“Yes, Lord Lu.”

The general bowed and then retreated from the tent. Sen glared at nothing as he thought about the magistrate. He understood more and more why nascent soul cultivators retreated from the world. For all their power, they were just as often helpless to do anything. It was humbling, and cultivators did not engage well with humility. He was still glowering when Song Lan entered the tent. She took one look at him and shook her head.

“What?” asked an irritated Sen.

“I recognize that expression. You can’t fix it.”

“I—”

“You can’t fix it. Whatever it is, if you could fix it, you would have already fixed it. That means that it’s something beyond your abilities. Better to make peace with that now.”

“Is this the voice of experience?”

“Of course, it is. I’d say that your teachers failed you in this regard. However, I suspect that this is one of the many, many lessons that life never got the chance to teach you in your swift rise to the nascent soul stage.”

“You don’t even know what it is.”

Song Lan laughed and said, “I don’t need to know what it is, because the specifics don’t matter. Every cultivator who has ever gotten as far as you has worn that expression. You’re confronting the fact that your power isn’t enough. We all go through it. Granted, most of us come to terms with that harsh realization of the course of decades, but you don’t have that kind of time. So, take the next two minutes.”

“That doesn’t seem a little stingy to you?”

Song Lan thought it over, and then she shrugged.

“Probably, but you’re not in a position to indulge in the luxury of wallowing. You have to be in charge.”

Sen scowled at her briefly. Well, he thought, how much wallowing do I really need? So, Sen mentally yelled at the universe about the unfairness for two minutes. When the two minutes were over, he fixed his gaze on Song Lan.

“So, what is it that you need today? I truly hope it doesn’t involve killing anyone.”

The woman actually looked startled at that comment before she gave him a sad look.

“No. Nothing like that. I actually came by to see if you’d be willing to loan me a few of those cultivators who built the glass buildings when all of this is over.”

Sen tilted his head to one side and asked, “Why?”

“Because fresh vegetables in the middle of winter would be nice. Even if it is on a small scale.”

It took Sen a moment to shift his thinking. Her request was so mundane, so utterly ordinary, and focused on a future that felt so desperately far away that he wasn’t sure how to address it. When he finally got himself into the right mindset, he nodded.

“That should be fine.”

She studied him in silence before she spoke.

“Try not to lose sight of the fact that when this is all over, ordinary life will carry on. Farmers will farm. Merchants will do business. Cultivators will cultivate. And people like me will want fresh vegetables for their meals. As much as you must plan for war, now, you must prepare for peace, later.”

She wasn’t telling him anything he hadn’t thought himself, but it felt different coming from someone else. It felt like something important, rather than just one more thing on an endless list he’d get to eventually. Yet, the prospect of peace sounded hollow. It was what he was fighting to achieve, but he’d rarely thought of himself as part of that peace. But she was right. He did need to prepare for peace, even if it was a peace he’d never enjoy. He could live with that if he could hand a continent at peace to Ai and let her enjoy it for them both.