Book 8: Chapter 18: Impressions

Book 8: Chapter 18: Impressions

Sen wished that he had kept his spiritual sense extended. At least then he wouldn’t have been caught off guard by the presence of everyone in the throne room. Not that it took any kind of brilliance to realize that the king would be surrounded by people whenever he was in the throne room. Sen just hadn’t thought it through. Taking a moment to greet Jing and offer a bow, something Sen was not entirely sure was appropriate, had bought him a moment to gather himself. He straightened and looked around at the gathered people. Most of them looked like the people who handled the daily work around the academy. Functionaries, he decided. His entrance and declaration had momentarily startled them. Being in the throne room also meant that the smart ones figured out who he had to be in a hurry. That brought on a susurrus of muted whispers and nervous, sidelong glances at him. Sen supposed that was to be expected.

He did pick out a handful who didn’t fit that profile, though. The material of their robes was too fine and the craftsmanship too good. They carried themselves with an aloof disdain for the functionaries. They also looked decidedly more afraid. They must be nobles, thought Sen. That made their fear more understandable. The last time Sen had been in the city in any kind of public way, a great house of the kingdom had fallen. And at least one of the remaining houses had hired cultivators to try to kill him. He locked eyes with an older woman who had white streaking her black hair. She wasn’t just afraid. She controlled it well, but the woman was terrified. She’d gone so pale at the sight of him that she resembled a corpse.

There was one other exception. A presence that was leaning in a corner and not talking to anyone. Sen slowly turned his head and looked at the man. When his gaze landed on the man, the cultivator in the corner immediately straightened and stared at Sen with a shocked and angry expression. A cultivator in the throne room, thought Sen. Why? He hoped that his quiet intervention on Jing’s behalf with the sects hadn’t led to some kind of direct sect oversight over the throne. While Sen had been busy thinking about all of that, the other cultivator had stalked forward, his burning eyes locked onto Sen.

“So, you’re the one that nobody can stop talking about,” said the man. “I’m—”

“Oh, don’t bother,” said Sen in a weary voice. “I won’t recognize your name. Are we going to have a problem? Because, if we’re going to have a problem, I’d like to get it out of the way now.”

“You jumped up—”

That was as far as the man got before Sen backhanded him so hard that the sound it made caused the windows to rattle. He caught the cultivator before he could crash into anything or, more importantly to Sen’s way of thinking, anyone. He was still deciding about whether he should hit the other cultivator again when a sound he hadn’t expected echoed through the throne room. Laughter. The other cultivator was laughing. Not the cynical laughter Sen had heard so often from cultivators he’d fought, but booming, joyous laughter. He took a step back from the man, not quite sure what to make of this turn of events. The other cultivator shot Sen a bright, bloody-toothed smile, his eyes positively burning with curiosity.

“Oh, I think you and I are going to get along just fine. Just fine, indeed,” said the other cultivator.

Sen gave Jing a questioning look. All he got in return was an infinitesimal shrug. A shrug that seemed to say, What? All of you cultivators are insane? Why should that one be any different? Sen returned his gaze to the other cultivator, who was wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Okay, then,” said Sen in a neutral, wary tone.

“I am Chan Dishi,” offered the other cultivator before continuing in an amused tone, “and it’s very interesting to meet you, Lu Sen, the Hand of Chaos.”

Sen managed to trap his groan before it could escape. He didn’t want another absurd name, especially one like that. Not that he had much say in the matter. It was already out in the world. He was glad to discover that he’d been right. He honestly hadn’t heard of Chan Dishi. Although, he wondered if maybe he should have heard of the man. Sen hadn’t been all that gentle with his blow. While it had drawn blood, it hadn’t seemed to appreciably stun Chan Dishi. Shaking off one of Sen’s hits wasn’t that easily done. Ignoring it entirely suggested the other man was probably someone he should take at least a little seriously.

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“Sure,” Sen finally ventured. “Interesting to meet you, as well.”

“You’ve got questions,” said Chan Dishi. “Good. It means your brain works. We’ll talk later.”

With that abrupt comment, the man sauntered back over to his corner and leaned against the wall, looking enormously pleased. That is a strange maneven for a cultivator, thought Sen. I’ll definitely have to ask Jing about him. Sen turned his attention back to the throne. He couldn’t help but notice that everyone else in the room was standing completely still, their eyes locked on either him or Chan Dishi. Jing gave Sen a tiny little head shake before he addressed the room.

“You may all go. As you can see, an old friend has arrived, and I would greet him privately.”

Sen had to suppress another groan. If you wanted to greet me privately, maybe you shouldn’t have sent all those royal guards to parade me through the city, Sen complained internally. However, this was also an opportunity. The functionaries were sort of milling about, clearly hoping to get in a little last-minute business before the king definitively called it a day. The nobles were another story. They were all heading for the door as quickly as they dared. They all looked relieved to be able to escape. Sen waited until they thought that freedom was in their grasp, and then he barked out a single word.

“Xie!”

Sen wasn’t surprised to see the older woman lock up. Jing’s eyes flickered between them, but he didn’t interfere as Sen walked over to the woman. The other nobles were clustered by the door, their eyes wide and fixed on what looked to be a brewing calamity. Sen drew to a stop when he was less than two feet from the woman. He loomed over her without even trying. She was forced to crane her neck back, which stole all of the power from the haughty look she tried to give him.

“Why?” asked Jing, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Well, it isn’t going to exist for very much longer.”

“Why?” demanded Jing, his voice getting stern.

“Don’t be mad at me. They sent assassins after me. Cultivator assassins. You wouldn’t believe the trail of bodies I left behind me getting here. I can’t just let that stand. You know I can’t.”

“I’m uncertain where to begin with all of that. How many bodies are we talking about here?” asked Jing, a look of deep concern on his face.

Sen hadn’t actually kept count, so he approximated.

“Enough to keep funeral pyres burning for days,” said Sen through a wave of emotional fatigue, before a thought struck him. “There isn’t a literal trail of bodies. I cleaned up after myself.”

“That was not my primary concern,” said Jing.

“Really?” asked Sen. “It should have been. Dead bodies are bad business if you don’t dispose of them properly. They can make people very sick.”

Jing started to say something before a thoughtful expression crossed his face.

“I suppose that’s true. Thank you for not littering the kingdom with corpses. Still, you’re sure it was the House of Xie.”

“I made a deal with one of the people sent my way. They were quite happy to tell me who employed them.

“It could be misdirection,” objected Jing.

“I had to kill a nascent soul cultivator. Who else could afford to hire someone like that?”

Jing shook his head.

“So, that’s what that was. In the future, I would appreciate it if you refrained from doing things like that so close to the city.”

“You saw it?”

“Everyone saw it. People thought the world was going to end. There were nearly riots.”

“So,” said Sen, feeling sheepish, “I see you got a new throne. Good for you. The old one was really uncomfortable.”