Unintended Cultivator

Chapter 12: Uncle Kho

Sen was stunned. He hadn’t known exactly what to expect, but this enraged cultivator was not it. Once again, Sen found himself wondering why. Why had Feng brought him all this way just to die? While Feng might stand a chance against that kind of power, Sen would never survive the fight. One look at that lighting told him that. He couldn’t even find the will to run. Where could he possibly go that this cultivator couldn’t hunt him down? Even if he could get back to town, there was no safety there. Not when people were flying and conjuring lightning. Just as Sen was ready to give up all hope, Feng spoke.

“You invited me, you old fool. Now, come down from there and stop trying to scare the boy.”

The flying man glared down for a few more seconds before he heaved an enormous sigh and let himself drop to the ground. The lightning around the spearhead winked out and the man scowled at Feng.

“Honestly, Feng Ming. You couldn’t play along even for a minute?”

“Maybe another time, Kho Jaw-Long. The boy has had a trying few days.”

At Feng’s words, Sen realized that the other cultivator wasn’t actually going to attack them. Unfortunately, it took longer for his pounding heart to get the message. He felt a bit lightheaded and took several deep breaths. The familiar action seemed to settle his heart. Sen studied the other cultivator. The man’s head was clean of hair, but Sen wasn’t sure whether that was from baldness or if the man shaved it clean. A long, white beard wafted in the gentle breeze. As soon as the man’s eyes fell on him, though, Sen’s heart started racing again. It felt like the man opened him up and laid bare every secret, every sin, everything inside of him. That gaze weighed a thousand pounds, and nothing could hide from it. It was all Sen could do to keep breathing. The cultivator frowned.

“Yes, so I see. Earthly transformation. Hmmm. He doesn’t say much, does he? Are you mute, boy?”

“N-, no, honored cultivator Kho,” mumbled Sen through lips that felt numb.

“Honored cultivator,” said Kho with scorn in his voice. “Call me, Uncle Kho.”

Sen very much did not want to call the terrifying old man uncle, but he very much wanted to live through the next few minutes. He decided that doing as he was told was the wisest course.

“Yes, Uncle Kho.”

Kho turned his attention back to Feng. “At least this one listens. I’m always happy to see you, Ming, but why are you here?”

“Don’t you remember inviting me?”

“That was forty years ago.”

“What are forty years to old monsters like us?” Feng asked. “It’s barely a season.”

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Kho considered those words for a moment before he nodded. “That’s fair, I suppose. You might as well come in.”

Sen didn’t remember anything about walking into the manor. All he could do was take deep breaths and try to keep from falling over. All of the terror and pain over the last few days had apparently convinced his heart that death would happen at any moment. It refused to slow down. It just kept racing and racing. The next time Sen understood what was happening, he was sitting at a table and Uncle Kho was pushing a cup into his hand. Sen took a big gulp and almost choked on the alcohol.

Feng made a disapproving noise. “What did you give him?”

“Nothing special. Just a bit of plum wine to settle his nerves. I can hear his heart pounding.”

“Very well,” said Feng. “Is Caihong here?”

Kho made an unhappy noise. “No. My wife is out in the world. No doubt toppling dynasties or running a seamstress shop. Possibly both. Who knows? Maybe she started another sect. Still, it has been a while since she left. I expect she’ll turn up in the next five or ten years. What of you, Feng? Have you found a wife?”

“We face the heavens alone, Jaw-Long. You know that.”

“Of course, I know that. But I’m not talking about facing the heavens, am I? I’m talking about facing life. It’s a sweeter thing with someone to help you pass the long years.”

“Perhaps,” said Feng, although he didn’t sound convinced.

Sen didn’t say anything, content to let the old men talk and ignore him. The plum wine did seem to help, so he drank a bit more of it. It burned a little bit on the way down but left him with a warm feeling in his belly. Slowly, as he felt his heart slow down, Sen began listening a little more intently to the conversation.

“I thought you’d sworn off disciples,” said Uncle Kho.

“I did.”

“Yet, here one sits.”

“It appears so. Fate put him in my path. You might have found him first if you ever came down from the clouds. I found him at the base of this very mountain.”

“Really? Down at the orchard farm?”

Feng laughed. “You’ve been up here too long, my old friend. There’s an entire town down there. I’d have thought you might notice something like that.”

“I don’t give the mortals much attention. Besides, why bother with the boy? Disciples take a lot of time.”

Sen wanted to feel offended, but he’d wondered something similar. Why had Feng taken an interest in him? Feng shrugged, seemed to reconsider, and then looked at Sen.

“Sen, go outside the door. Then, I want you to hide the way you did that day in the square.”

Sen jerked at being directly addressed but jumped to his feet. He swayed a little, struggling to find his balance. Feng directed a look at the cup that Sen had been using but didn’t seem to find anything offensive. Once Sen found his balance, he walked out of the room and closed the door. His mind kept drifting, so he took a moment to gather himself. Once he had his concentration in place, he hid. It wasn’t something he could do all the time. When it worked, though, people ignored him. It felt like he was pulling everything about himself inside his skin, then wrapping it all up in shadow. He stood like that for a few seconds before the door swung open and Uncle Kho stuck his head out.

The man regarded Sen with much more interest. “I see now. No, I don’t suppose you could leave him where you found him.”

Sen considered asking what they were talking about but decided against it. He could always ask later. At a gesture from the bearded cultivator, Sen went back into the room and sat down again. Kho stared at him for a long time without saying anything. It wasn’t like that terrible stare that made Sen feel so exposed, but it was uncomfortable. Finally, Kho cleared his throat.

“Tell me, boy. What do you know about cultivation?”

Sen looked over at Feng, but the man just made a vague, go-ahead gesture. “Just stories, Uncle Kho.”

“Hmmm. Well, that won’t do,” said Kho, making a scroll appear in his hand. “You should read this.”

Sen felt his face go a little red. “I can’t.”

“Can’t,” demanded Kho. “Why not?”

“I can’t read.”

Kho looked startled, then confused, and then appalled. Feng jumped in then, for which Sen was enormously grateful. It gave him a moment to get his burning embarrassment under control. Feng explained that Sen was living on the streets when the cultivator found him and apparently had been for years. Kho went quiet again, his expression thoughtful.

“Feng, do you know what you’ve found?” Kho asked.

“I think so. What do you think?”

“He’s an empty scroll. No family to speak of. No irreparable bad habits. He could be,” Kho paused. “Feng, he could be anything. Anything at all.”

Feng nodded. “It’s why I haven’t explained anything to him, yet. At least, not the specifics.”

The bearded cultivator arched an eyebrow. “An experiment?”

“That’s my thinking.”

“Hmmm. Hmmm. We’ll have to discuss it. Although, I will personally see to his reading problem. That just won’t do at all. There are simply too many things that depend on it, even for the mortals.”

Sen got an uneasy feeling at the conversation happening about him, but he couldn’t put his finger on exactly why. He felt sleepy and a little disoriented.

“Honestly,” grumbled Kho. “What is this kingdom coming to, not teaching children to read? I’ve half a mind to go have a very stern conversation with Hung Jun De about that nonsense.”

Feng gave his friend a surprised look. “He’s dead.”

“What? Really? Did someone finally assassinate him?”

“No. He died of old age. Almost a hundred years ago. His son was assassinated, though. One of his concubines, I think. His grandson sits the throne now.”

“Grandson…”

Sen realized that he might have dozed off for a few minutes because the conversation had moved on to a new topic when he tuned back in.

“So, tell me. Where have you been these last few decades, Ming?”

“I had a problem to deal with up north.”

“The Coiled Dragon sect?”

“Indeed.”

“And how did that turn out?”

“They are fondly remembered.”

“All of them?”

“I spared the outer sect. Killing them would have been excessive. The inner sect, the core members, and almost all of the elders are gone. I let Wu Mei-Xia live.”

“Little Mei-Xia? That girl who was in love with you for all those years?”

Feng grunted an annoyed affirmation.

“I remember her following you around across half the continent, trying to impress you with her grand deeds,” said Kho, laughing softly. “Well, it makes sense that you let her live. You were always fond of the girl, if not in the way that she wanted. How did she ever end up in that sect?”

Sen tried to pay attention. He’d learned more about his master in the last half hour than he’d learned in days of travel. Yet, his eyes and body betrayed him. The warmth in his belly had spread. His eyes drooped closer and closer to closed. As that warmth finally lulled him to sleep, Sen was sure he heard a little good-natured laughter.