Book 7: Chapter 47: Academy (5)

Book 7: Chapter 47: Academy (5)

Soon Zi Rui’s heart still thundered in his chest as he fled from the training hall. Never before in his life had he been so casually suppressed by another person. It had been an astonishing display of raw, unknowable power that would have been even more impressive if it hadn’t been directed at him. He didn’t even have a name for what Judgment’s Gale had done to him, let alone an inkling of how the man had done it. That pressure had been all-consuming, like a mountain had taken a personal dislike to him, compressed all of its weight into one spot, and dropped it on him. It wasn’t just the incredible pressure, or the fact that he couldn’t breathe, but that his qi had been utterly stilled inside of him that had been so terrifying. He couldn’t have fought back. Not that fighting would have proven any kind of challenge for Judgment’s Gale. That much was obvious. Whatever that technique had been, it hadn’t taxed the man at all. He’d simply carried on talking with the others.

However, that pure inability to put up even a token resistance had shaken Soon Zi Rui to the core. He had been completely helpless, his life hanging on the whim of a living legend who was not legendary for his forgiveness. He’d been surprised, not to mention thankful, when he regained himself enough to realize that the crushing, existence-ending pressure had lifted. Not that he could really remember what happened at the end. Had one of the others intervened? Convinced the blue-robed titan to stay his wrath? Or had Judgment’s Gale simply lost interest? Soon Zi Rui just didn’t know and didn’t dare to ask. The insult had been stupid. He hadn’t thought about it. He’d just said it, the way he’d said similar things a thousand times before. Except, the other thousand times, it hadn’t been met with the instant arrival of death held in abeyance by only a hair’s breadth. He’d offered an apology because it was deserved, and also because he had no desire whatsoever to test the patience of that man a second time. Such a mistake could only lead to certain, dishonorable death.

For all that, he hadn’t been barred from entering the strange academy Judgment’s Gale meant to open. Even if Soon Zi Rui couldn’t receive direct instruction about cultivation, even learning about the sword or spear from the man would be valuable in ways that would last the rest of his life. It was a risk worth taking. He just needed to be mindful of his tongue. Ruthless. Implacable. Deadly. Those were the words spoken about the man, and he was exactly what Soon Zi Rui was expecting.

***

Mo Kai-Ming left the training hall in a daze of wonder. She stared down at the vial in her hands, almost refusing to believe it. The key to foundation formation, to a new world of possibility, a key that eluded her for years, now sat in her hands. She hadn’t known exactly why she’d sought out Judgment’s Gale. Mostly, it had been desperation. She’d tried a few times to join sects, but they all wanted people who could fight as well as cultivate. She’d never learned to fight and knew that it would never be one of her strengths. Physical size mattered less and less as cultivation progressed, but she was a qi-gathering cultivator. The lowest rung on a ladder that stretched to the impossibly distant heavens. They were expected to fight with swords or spears or other things she’d never so much as touched in her life.

What did a woman from a tiny village know about weapons? There had only been two bows in the entire place, both of them owned by the Ku family. Those hulking men had been the village hunters. They were stern and dutiful, but she would never have dared ask them to teach her to use the bow. She wasn’t sure she could have drawn one of them even after becoming a cultivator. It had been something of a game at the autumn festival for people to try their hands with those bows. She had watched grown men, men made strong by the backbreaking labor of farming, fail to draw those strings back. No, she had no business even trying. Not knowing anything about true violence, she’d tarried in her village long past the time her teacher had told her she needed to venture into the world to keep growing. The world was vast, though, and filled with dangers she did not feel equipped to face.

With each passing year, though, she’d felt something in her diminish. She didn’t know what, only later learning about the idea of momentum, but she felt it leaving. It was that mysterious, diminishing commodity she couldn’t name that had finally forced her to leave, to seek out sects, and be summarily dismissed by them. It had been humiliation after humiliation. Mocked by those set to test applicants. Mocked by those in towns for her size. And when it wasn’t humiliation, it was attacks. She had learned about violence the hard way and learned that everyone can drown if you try hard enough. When she’d had all but decided to return to her village, she started to hear strange stories about some impossible man. A righteous man who battled evil and cured the sick, working miracles with both blade and alchemy. She’d clung to those stories, the hope they gave her, and sought him out. She’d chased those stories for years and finally, finally, she’d found him, only to find herself hesitating. What if he said no? What if he mocked her? She’d been trapped in indecision until he took the decision from her hands.

Then, as if she was living in one of those fantastical stories, he had worked miracles before her eyes. Judgment’s Gale had come to her defense, chastised that other cultivator so severely for his mockery that she wondered if the man would ever utter another insult in his life. He had taken her aside, been so polite, and then crafted the elixir right in front of her. There was always some battered pot in the tales, although she hadn’t believed that part. But the stories were true! He had used a battered old pot to make something that was absolutely bursting with qi. Such a thing could have commanded a price beyond her life, and he’d just given it to her. All while casually telling her things about tribulations and affinities that no sect member or even other wandering cultivators would tell her. He’d even proven his words by using several types of qi in front of her. As if all that wasn’t enough, he’d promised to find her a wood cycling technique and even watch over her while she broke through. Kind. Generous. Honorable. Those were words used to describe him, and he was exactly what she expected.

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***

“Should I let them join?”

“The man is a fool, but most men are. If you refuse to train foolish men, you will have few students. The little one will love you forever. I don’t know if that will make her a good student or a bad student, but she’ll be a loyal student. The pale one—” she trailed off.

“Yeah,” said Sen. “She’s trouble. I’m just not sure what kind of trouble.”

“She has an agenda.”

“I expect that almost everyone who comes here will have an agenda.”

“True,” agreed the ghost panther, “but her agenda is you. She means to have you.”

Sen started to say something funny, but the words died on his lips when he saw Falling Leaf’s hands were balled into tight fists. They were balled so tightly that he saw blood dripping from them. She turned to look at him. There was something lethal, primal, and fundamentally inhuman in that gaze.

“She means to keep you.”

Sen considered that look for a moment before he answered.

“I guess she’ll just have to live with the disappointment of that failure.”