Unintended Cultivator - Book 7: Chapter 23: That Was Sect Thinking

Committed to his promise not to simply disappear because he got distracted, Sen limited his instruction of Dai Bao and Wang Bo to two hours. He drew a few conclusions from those two hours, though. The most important conclusion was that starting with someone who knew nothing about using a spear was infinitely better than starting with someone who had learned bad habits so long ago that they were practically instincts. He had to spend much longer working with Dai Bao simply to start correcting a lot of sloppy form. Some of that he was willing to chalk up to the years since the man last held a spear. Some of it, however, was ingrained enough that Sen could only assume that it was a product of some very shoddy instruction. Sen wasn’t sure if Uncle Kho would have wept actual blood if he saw the abominations that Dai Bao was committing with a spear, but the elder cultivator would have had some strong thoughts on the matter. With Wang Bo, he was mercifully able to correct the worst habits before they ever got a chance to take root in the young man’s form. So much easier, thought Sen.

The second conclusion he drew was that neither man was destined for greatness with the spear. Dai Bao was a willing student but willingness could only carry you so far. Training could teach you the techniques and movements, but it couldn’t give you a feel for the weapon. It couldn’t give you instincts. Wang Bo was an eager student and did everything that was asked of him. But Sen could see in the boy’s eyes that he simply didn’t have the relentless drive to achieve mastery. He would work hard. He would become competent. He would never do what Sen had done and drive himself to exhaustion with drills. Of course, that was sufficient for Wang Bo. He clearly didn’t have any aspirations to become the greatest mortal spearman in the world. He wanted to know how to protect his family from spirit beasts and competence was enough for that.

Sen also concluded that aging as a mortal was awful. Dai Bao had problems that stemmed from his body starting to break down and wear out. Sen had sidestepped that entire process with not one but two cultivation paths, so it took him a while to understand that was what his senses and brief qi inspection were telling him. There wasn’t that much he could do about natural aging. A lesson he’d learned some time ago on the Luo farm. More concerning to Sen were the problems that the man was suffering from old injuries that had either never healed properly or never been treated properly. Those injuries reduced the man’s range of motion, strength, and probably the length of his life if Sen was interpreting correctly.

Dai Bao had learned to work around some of those problems, but those weren’t real solutions. Those problems, Sen was pretty sure he could do something about. Auntie Caihong had always told him that treating old wounds was much harder than treating new ones. He hadn’t fully grasped her meaning until he took a hard look at Dai Bao. With new injuries, the body was doing everything it could to fix the problem. Any alchemical treatments helped those natural processes along. With the old injuries, the body wasn’t trying to fix it anymore. The body treated its current state as normal, based on what Sen was seeing. Any treatment would need to overcome the body’s indifference to those old injuries. However, it wasn’t impossible to do. Just harder. He’d need to think about it and work out what to address first to maximize the value of any treatment, so he kept those basic plans to himself. Better not to say anything until he had solid information to share.

Still, Sen needed Dai Bao in better condition than he was, because Sen needed someone who could do things like oversee training when he couldn’t be around. With his own training still ongoing, he expected that was going to be a frequent fact of life for anyone in town who decided that they were going to learn how to use a spear. Dai Bao was ideal for that role. He was still young enough that he could do the work. It wasn’t easy for him, but he could do it. The man was also old enough and grizzled enough to command some innate respect from just about everyone. Still, Sen would need to make sure that the hierarchy was clear. That thought alone left such a sour taste in Sen’s mouth that it was enough to make him nearly abandon the whole project. That was sect thinking, right there. It was a short trip from necessary hierarchy to all those things Sen hated about how sect members behaved. He’d have to work hard to ensure that as little as possible of that foolishness infected these people.

Don’t borrow trouble, Sen told himself as he flashed through the trees toward Fu Ruolan’s domain. You recognized the potential problem. Take steps to avoid it, and then put the concern away. He tried to take his own advice, but the idea lingered on the edge of his mind, like a fretful ghost intent on haunting his thoughts. He did his best to keep it at bay by thinking about how to treat Dai Bao’s old injuries. The man did have some old bone injuries that had not gotten proper attention. Sen decided that those were probably the best place to start. Bone misalignments and injuries could have a cascading effect of problems for the muscles, nerves, and even organs. Simply correcting those could alleviate some of the obvious pain the man was in. Yes, Sen decided. I’ll fix the bones firstand then the organs. There weren’t injuries to the organs, exactly, but Sen had seen some deficiencies there that suggested some kind of damage in the past. Getting those back in proper order would improve things like blood flow, which would make any later healing of the other body tissues more effective and efficient. Sen’s mind was still on the treatment plan when a tiny body crashed into his leg and hugged it.

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“You’re back!” shouted a joyful Ai.

Sen laughed and rested his hand on the top of her head before giving her hair a gentle ruffle. She gave him a little scowl that did nothing to hide the happiness in her eyes.

“I’m back,” said Sen. “I even brought something for you.”

“You did! What is it?”

Sen crouched down and held out his hand with the palm facing up. He summoned the brush he’d gotten her from a storage ring. She stared at it for a moment before snatching it up and bringing it so close to her eye that it made Sen a little nervous.

“It’s for when you practice writing,” said Sen, not sure if he was telling her something she knew or not.

She seemed a lot less interested in what she was going to do with the brush than what she could do with it right now. She smiled at Sen.

“Thank you.”

Then, she turned around and took off a sprint. Well, a sprint for her, which was a fast walk for Sen. He meandered after her, curious about what she meant to do. He finally understood when she burst into a clearing where Glimmer of Night was once more practicing one of those massive, hideously complicated webs of his. Ai ran up to the spider, waving the brush over her head.

“Glimmerite. I got a brush.”

The spider looked down at the little girl and nodded. “You did.”

“It’s for writing,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper.

“I see,” said the spider before he abruptly looked over at Sen. “Do I get my own brush?”

Sen’s mind blanked out for a second. He hadn’t thought about it. It just hadn’t seemed important. He’d only gotten Ai a brush to make the work easier for her. He’d never even considered that Glimmer of Night might want his own brush. The spider didn’t seem to want anything else. Why would he want a brush? Even as the question occurred to Sen, he realized that it didn’t matter why. The spider wanted a brush, and Sen had not gotten him one. As he tried to come up with an answer for the spider, his mouth failed him utterly.

“Um,” said Sen.

The spider continued to look at him as Ai, in a wholly unintentional act of taunting, ran around Glimmer of Night’s legs with a huge smile on her face and the brush held aloft like some kind of prize. Sen’s mind finally lurched back into motion.

“Would you like your own brush?” Sen asked.

“Yes,” said the spider. “I would like my own brush.”

“I’ll get you one.”

The spider gave Sen a nod before he looked down at Ai, who was still running in circles around him. Glimmer of Night seemed to be at something of a loss about what, if anything, he was supposed to do. Sen took pity on the spider.

“Ai. Why don’t we take your brush inside so it doesn’t get broken?”

A look of panic crossed the girl’s face. She skidded to a stop, almost fell, was saved by Glimmer of Night’s lightning reflexes, and clutched the brush to her chest like it was a fragile baby bird. She hurried over to Sen and grabbed his hand. She started pulling him toward the galehouse. Sen waved a hasty goodbye to Glimmer of Night and let himself be “dragged” along. Once they got inside, Liu Ai peered all around as if trying to find a place that was safe enough to protect her new treasure. Sen smiled to himself.

“I have an idea,” he said and walked over to a wall.

He picked a spot that was low enough that Ai could easily get at it, and close to the table where she practiced writing. All it took was a quick application of earth qi to create a small hollow in the wall with a little depression at the bottom. He hardened the stone again.

“There,” he said. “It can stay in there, so you’ll always know where to find it.”

Sen occupied himself making tea while Ai put the brush into the hollow and took it back out, over and over. Falling Leaf came in while this was going on and studied the little girl with a befuddled expression.

“What is she doing?” asked Falling Leaf.

“She’s having fun,” answered Sen. “Let’s leave her to it.”