Chapter 22 (Patreon)

The predawn hours. My dear little house in the Underworld. A cozy bedroom, its bed still made after a whole week. And me, sitting on a mat, deep in a nice, peaceful meditation meant to let my body rest, my emotions settle, and my thoughts line up in neat, orderly rows.

At a certain level of mastery, a cultivator can do without sleep entirely. Both your cultivation stage and your skill at meditation matter. Put simply, breaking through to, say, the Unification of Centers stage won’t let you go without sleep if you can’t enter a meditative state that lets your body and brain rest. So when it comes to sleep, what matters most is how good you are at meditating.

Of course, once you break through to transcendent levels of existence, the very idea of “sleep” becomes irrelevant. A practitioner can do without it altogether. Or you can “switch yourself off” to let your mind relax, say, or find answers by contemplating the Great Nothingness. You might also “sleep” simply to remember what it was like to be an ordinary human, indulging in nostalgia or keeping yourself from drifting too far from mortals.

But now we’re talking less about humans and more about Immortals, who aren’t really human at all. During my… ahem… conversation with the Meguri clan, I mentioned humanity’s limitless potential for growth, but I wasn’t being entirely honest. Having known more than one Immortal (unfortunately), I’m convinced they’re far less human than even the demons of this world. At least, judging by the Underworld residents I talk to and work with.

Yes, technically, a human can become the equal of the gods and even surpass them. But there’s a simple bit of wisdom people have arrived at in different countries and worlds: “Kill a dragon, and you become one yourself.” Think how much an “ordinary village boy” has changed by the time he reaches godlike heights.

It’s hard to imagine a being as far removed from humans as an Immortal. I’m not saying they’re all assholes, pieces of shit, villains, scum, and bastards, but… they’re alien to us. They’re fucking terrifying!!! As terrifying to an ordinary person as a live high-voltage cable. Or the ocean, calm one moment and raging with a storm the next.

Anyone who didn’t skip safety class knows better than to climb power-line towers. And if there’s a downed cable lying on the ground, you stay away from it and call the right number. That way, you don’t get fried. Weather services forecast storms and bad weather so sailors can prepare for changes at sea and avoid drowning. Thanks to all that, and to the rules for surviving thousands of other dangers I haven’t mentioned, people can get through life without too much trouble. Accidents happen, sure, but there’s nothing you can do about those.

But what do you do about Immortals?

There’s a guy standing in front of you who could end your life as easily as you could crush an ant crawling at your feet. His head is full of enlightenments of varying severity. He’s just standing there, looking at you. What do you do? He isn’t hiding or disguising himself, and you know there’s something fucking close to a god right in front of you.

Bow? Fall at his feet and kiss the ground the venerable one walks on? That’s an option, sure. He might favor you with a gracious glance and note that the insect is behaving properly: showing respect and knowing its place. Or, if his enlightenments are particularly “fun,” he might decide you’re disgracing human dignity, and then… Hello, another reincarnation. I’ve just been turned into bloody pulp by one displeased snort.

Bow your head while keeping your dignity? If the Immortal decides you’ve insulted his dignity, you could lose that head easily enough. Pretend you didn’t notice the transcendent son of a bitch? Wait, wait… A pathetic mortal failed to notice the GREATNESS of… whoever the hell he is? “Poof,” and you cease to exist.

In short… fuck the lot of them. Until your enlightenment goes thermonuclear and you’ve leveled up to the “I accidentally tear celestials’ assholes apart just by blowing my nose” stage, it’s best to stay away from these fuckwits.

Not that staying away will save you if an Immortal decides, for reasons of his own, to erase the city you live in. Or the sect you spent so long clenching your sphincter to get into. Holed up alone on a mountain? No problem! Some fucking Immortal might decide that enormous chunk of rock is blocking the sun and interfering with his meditation. “Pop,” and there’s no mountain, no you, not even a cloud of dust rising to the heavens, because that would get in his way too.

Yeah… I nearly cough up blood onto the clean floor in sheer frustration. I hate those lucky pieces of trash who’ve climbed higher up the ladder of power than I have. Hate them and envy them. If I were as strong as they are… If I were stronger, I’d beat some sense into every one of those bastards and make them live properly! And what counts as properly? Whatever I think is right, obviously!

I’ve died more times than I can count: to the fangs and claws of beasts, to my enemies’ blades, to poison from people who wished me ill, to my lovers’ delicate, elegant hands, and even through my own stupidity. Many, many, many times. But the most… galling deaths, in my opinion, came at the hands of Immortals I crossed paths with over the course of my lives.

If only because I should never have crossed paths with them in the first place.

In cultivation worlds, for all my grumbling and the venom I pour on them, there was such a thing as the Justice of the Heavens. It wasn’t about putting puny humans on trial for their vile deeds, of course. Whatever mortals got up to was left for mortals to deal with, whether they were cultivators, emperors, or ordinary peasants.

It was about keeping different levels of power apart, and about the way those worlds were “layered.” They’re… like ogres, who are like onions. Until your own power reaches a certain stage, you live beneath the First Heaven. In the world of those very mortals, yes. You can set foot on the path of cultivation, grow more powerful, kick ass and make people your bitches, but!

The moment a cultivator crosses a certain threshold of power, a trial awaits. The trials vary from world to world: battles with inner demons, scoring a “fat” dose of enlightenment, a trial by lightning, for fuck’s sake. But they exist almost everywhere (except in “crippled” worlds).

Pass this peculiar exam, and the worthy candidate ascends to a Higher World. Higher than his current one, of course.

I’ve heard the first few hours in a Higher World are very… sobering for a cultivator from a mortal world.

I mean, there you are, the TOAD in the swamp. The fattest! The mightiest! After centuries of cultivation, you finally ascend to take your place among the WORTHY. And the first person the Ascended meets, someone he takes for a loser behind a desk, stomps him into the dirt. Often literally.

Convinced he’s the biggest swinging dick around, the cultivator walks up to some clerk and, out of habit, tries to put him in his place… So the clerk cranks up his spiritual pressure and uses nothing else to slam the Important Toad’s mug into the floor. Once. Twice. Three times. All with a bored look on his face, muttering about how sick he is of dealing with weaklings who think they’re the Jade Emperor.

And how many clerks like that are there in the Higher World? All of them! Literally everyone is stronger than the Toad. They ascended earlier and have spent years, sometimes centuries or millennia, cultivating and furiously jerking off their dantians. Even children born there can, with a little luck, kick the newcomer’s ass on the strength granted to them by THIS world alone.

The Toad steps “outside,” looks around… and realizes the Higher World is almost a mirror image of the Mortal World. Sects, clans, empires. Endless wars over resources and artifacts. Cultivation for personal power. And most importantly… Above the First Heaven stretches the Second Heaven, where almost everyone living here dreams of going.

The key word is “almost.” The Laws of Heaven are fair, yes. But in many cultivation worlds (and on Earth, for that matter), the urge to cheat flourishes. No, that’s too mild: to FUCK SOMEONE OVER. Yes, that’s the expression. And despite the Laws, the Rules, and the Will of Higher Powers, some cunning and resourceful cultivators find loopholes.

I’m talking about those who looked around at their new reality, picked their noses, scratched their heads, and decided it was better to be a snake’s head than a dragon’s ass.

One way or another, a TINY FRACTION of those bastards, the trash among the scum, find a way back down. There, they become gods descended from Heaven to “help and guide” mortals. What they really want is to bask in everyone’s worship, fear, and groveling.

Deaths at the hands of sons of bitches like that were the most galling to me. There was no chance of surviving. No possibility of a fair outcome. They just ended you. In passing, sometimes without even looking your way. I could hate the people who killed me and respect them at the same time, if they were roughly on my level. They got lucky, or they were more skilled, had leveled up further, or gained some insight. But they were opponents I could fight. Respect could still break through the haze of anger and irritation when I thought of them. But Immortals? That’s… that’s like running into a Baneblade* during a battle in some vaguely medieval world. It grinds you under its treads without even noticing that some random bastard just died like a chump.

The grinding of my own teeth makes it clear that the meditation meant to calm my mind and let my body rest isn’t going as planned.

“How about I knock back some tea?” I ask myself, mouthing the words silently.

“And why not?” I agree with the wisdom of the man I respect most, without playing coy.

I break off my meditation easily… though by now it’s meditation in name only. Calming myself down, I step into the second-floor hallway.

This house is bigger than the one the Chiba family lives in on Earth, which presented me with a problem a while ago: there’s no one to clean it! Ain’t got no servants!!!

For now, I’m keeping the place tidy myself. I’ve recently started roping Issei into it, and Asia, kind soul that she is, helps out too. But that’s still no way to do things. There’s the house I live in, a patch of herbs, and I’ve planted tea here too. Then there’s a workshop, a forge, and a potion brewery! I went and built myself a pond as well, planted the banks with lotuses, and put a gazebo in the middle. I’ll stock it with carp soon… I need sla— uh… ser— cough, cough… workers. All hired in accordance with the labor code, of course (of course NOT)!

“Hmm?” I glance toward the stairs leading down to the first floor. It isn’t the stairs that catch my attention. It’s the sounds my keen ears pick up from the kitchen. Someone… is chowing down.

A quick look out the window confirms it’s still night. Dawn is close, but it hasn’t come yet. My guest won’t open her lovely green eyes until the gentle, fake little sun starts lighting up the Underworld.

“Hmm…” I listen closely. Yes, the nun is breathing softly in her room. Oh, a little snort in her sleep. Now she’s making cute little smacking sounds.

Which raises the question… Who the fuck is stuffing their face in my kitchen?! I flick my right hand, and a short jian appears in it from my spatial bracelet.

I’m not much for swords, but for one thing, I don’t have any daggers yet. For another, I do know a thing or two about using one. Real masters would sneer at my “skill,” of course, but I can’t go pulling out a guandao indoors, can I? Besides, my collapsible bo staff is being reforged right now…

#@%&… I admit it: I can’t help swearing filthily to myself. But the scene in the kitchen is just too surreal.

I should explain why I’m so confused before I tell you what I saw. That way you’ll understand why I’m so fucking floored.

I’m a practitioner. A powerful cultivator. Compared to ordinary people, I’m practically Superman (slight exaggeration). Even among demons, I’m no weakling. I know people who could kick my ass, but I doubt any of them could sneak into my house without me noticing. As for people I don’t know… Well, Leviathan-sama probably could. Of course, I’m flattering myself by even bringing up one of the Underworld’s Satans, but still. I haven’t been living in this… wider world for very long.

Anyway. What does a practitioner do when he’s found a home, considers himself strong, but knows there are plenty of people stronger than him? Right. He tries to keep his little haven safe.

On my property, for instance, no one can use a teleportation circle without my knowing. In theory, of course. But none other than Sona Sitri-san herself helped me with the spells, and she’s no amateur at this sort of thing. Really, only someone at the very top could call the heirs of the Great Houses incompetent or weak. Those are the people who might manage to flick those monstrously strong and skilled kids on the nose.

Which brings me to my first concern. The house and its grounds are laced with both demonic spells and arrays of my own making. They should have warned me if anyone came here. Even if it were the Mistress herself, I’d know, and I’d hurry to pay my respects and express my joy at her visit to her humble servant’s home. But I got no warning. And yet my kitchen is being plundered!

Second, I’m… baffled by my visitor’s appearance. A little girl. A little… girl…

A LITTLE FUCKING GIRL! In a dark purple dress with little hearts along the hem, a pink sweater, and a cute little hat over her long dark hair. Knee socks. Little dress shoes. Her pointed ears are clearly visible beneath that mane of hair…

Goosebumps creep up my back. While the little… thing busily devours the sweets I made, hid away, and locked up tight, I slip the jian back into my spatial bracelet. Because fuck that! Fuck the idea of confronting her!

Because here’s the third thing! Always. Every time I ended up with a disciple, however it happened, I hammered one of the most important safety rules into their skull: never, under any circumstances, get aggressive with three kinds of strangers you might run into.

First: old people. Strange grandpas and grandmas who act a little off. They look ordinary enough, but it’s as if they’re playing the part of frail mortals, equipped with every sign of old age they could find. There’s something in their eyes… something beyond your understanding. Their manner is both disarmingly pleasant and unbelievably brazen.

With old folks like that, be unfailingly polite. Smile as you carry out their “easy little favors,” silently praying to the Heavens that these “elderly people” will forget you exist once you’ve finished some absurd quest like “Walk Grandpa to His Little House.” If they do, run as far away as you can. If they don’t… well, tough luck. What happens next could be any number of things, some of them deadly.

Second: beauties. They feel like ordinary mortals, supposedly, but look like celestial beings. Heavens forbid you take a fancy to one of them, and may anyone who shows them disrespect rest in peace. Again, your best move is to run the fuck away. Let them do whatever they want. Whatever they’re up to is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.

And third: children. They somehow turn up in places where their presence makes no sense. My kitchen, for instance… Or deep in a dark forest full of wild beasts. This… this is probably the hardest one to decide how to handle. Run? You risk having a sweet little girl suddenly appear in your path and ask how that conscience of yours feels about leaving a tiny child in the woods. Then you may well get a good look at your own heart, torn from your chest by one small hand. Approach her? Same result, with a few cosmetic changes: she asks, “How dare you bother me?” while you stare at your little heart in a child’s fist.

Interacting with any of these three kinds of “people” falls into the danger category of “a blind man’s drunken ballet on a minefield in a universe crawling with SCP objects.” A very real chance of fucking dying.

There is, of course, a GHOST of a chance you might get something useful out of meeting one of these beings. But if you have a choice, I’d recommend not drawing the attention of these insanely dangerous things, for fuck’s sake.

Sure, of course, absolutely: an old man might just be an old man. A beautiful woman, an ordinary beautiful woman. A child, just a child. But.

Better. To. Follow. Safety. Rules.

Because otherwise… hmm. I’ve got a great suggestion for anyone who disagrees with me: when you see a revolver, don’t check whether it’s loaded. Spin the cylinder, put the gun to your temple, and pull the trigger. What a thrill!**

Oh, Nine Heavens… I think as my attempt to sneak quietly back to my room and leave the “girl” to finish off the stolen sweets fails.

I’ve barely slipped the jian back into my bracelet and started easing my noggin out of the kitchen doorway when the kid whips her head around to face me in a blur.

@#₽&π§, I think glumly as I realize she’s a hybrid of the second and third types I prefer not to mess with. In other words, an extremely cute, beautiful little girl.

Looks a little dim, though, I decide, putting on the good-natured smile of a beloved and loving big brother who’d caught his little sister gobbling up his share of the sweets.

The one pretending to be a child stares at me… like she’s slow on the uptake. I don’t believe that shit for a second. For one thing, I remember how fast she turned her head: even to me, the “child” was a blur.

If I’m going to die, I might as well have tea first, I decide, and head for the kettle without a word. A light touch, a flow of qi, and the water boils instantly. I take my time getting out the teapot, toss in a few tea leaves, and pour in the boiling water… Still alive, apparently… For now. Another gentle push of qi to hurry the boiling water’s transformation into a drink.

Five minutes in, all systems nominal, I think, wildly exaggerating how long I’ve been in the kitchen as I take out two mugs and pour the tea.

I glance at the girl… No, seriously, why does she look like an idiot? Is the thing pretending to be a child fucking with me? She stands beside the kitchen cupboard she broke into, slowly chewing a piece of “dragon’s beard” like a praying mantis eating a grasshopper. I’d made it for two people: Mom and Asia. Asia’s share was meant to make recruiting her easier, but only as a last resort.

Then again… Fine. Whatever keeps the UFT*** entertained, as long as it doesn’t tear my head off. Or the nun’s. Good thing Asia’s a sound sleeper. I can always make more sweets.

“Better with tea,” I say pleasantly, setting a steaming mug on the kitchen table, followed by the sugar bowl and some jam. I pull out a chair for her, take my own mug, and stroll out of the kitchen.

A panicked but unhurried retreat, I call it, carefully closing the door behind me.

From the sounds of it… the unidentified candy thief has moved the plates of loot to the table and climbed onto the chair. Well, would you look at that. She really is going to keep eating.

Look, I know I’m a good cook. An excellent cook, even. But surely not good enough to lure my worst nightmares into my house, right up to a cupboard whose doors don’t let out so much as a whiff! An unidentified fucking thing shaped like a cute little girl is scary as fuck. If you don’t believe me, I hope you meet one in a dark alley.

“Phew…” I let out a quiet breath as I sit down in my room. Honestly? That was terrifying.

Maybe there is something to this whole “karma” business. Not long ago I nearly scared an entire clan of idiots into hiccups, and now look what turns up. A little girl… who slipped past every alarm array without setting one off, then broke into the sweets cupboard. I’d put a lot of work into protecting that cupboard, by the way. And if the little horror hadn’t been munching away so happily, I probably wouldn’t even have heard her!

ME!!!

This isn’t Aika, who somehow manages to sneak up on me. This is James fucking Bond from the Society of Unidentified Creepy Little Girls. A cyborg ninja multiplied by infinity!

Scary! Really scary! If only we knew what it was… but fuck that, I don’t want to know!!!

I take one last nervous slurp from my now-empty mug and listen. Seems… quiet. Has she finished eating? Should I go check?

Nope. I’ll wait. I’ll go when I hear Asia stirring in her room. Until then, I’ll give this…

This…

This…

Little girl…

In a purple dress and a pink sweater…

With long black hair… and eyes just as black, creepy, and unblinking…

Who’s standing right in front of me now…

Staring…

Fuuuck, that’s scary!!! Somehow, this nightmare has appeared out of nowhere again. And not just anywhere. Right here in my bedroom.

Night. Silence broken only by the ticking of the mechanical clock downstairs in the living room. Darkness outside the window and in here… And this fucking thing standing in front of me. I can’t sense a damn thing from her. Nothing at all. Not a mortal, not a demon, not a Fallen Angel. It’s as if no one’s there. I can’t even hear her heartbeat. I can only see her!

“Thank you,” the thing suddenly says, nearly making me… either draw my jian again or jump out the window. But I hold it together. Not a muscle twitches, in my face or my ass. Maybe because fear has me a little more than completely paralyzed?

“You’re welcome,” I reply, proud of myself. Fuck, I’m good. I’m so proud of my self-control. My voice doesn’t shake. Neither does the hand holding my mug. I even manage to put a warm, welcoming smile back on my face. “I’m glad you liked it.”

The girl-shaped unknown-but-creepy-fucking-thing doesn’t react. She just keeps boring into me with those unsettling eyes. Without the dim-witted look she wore earlier, the “little girl” could easily be called an exceptionally beautiful child, one who’ll grow up to be a stunning beauty.

There’s the very trap I was thinking about. If I had no conscience or brains and tried to get my hands on that treasure for any nasty purpose, it’d be goodbye, dumbass Chiba. Good thing Mom and Dad will soon have another child to replace a moron like you.

I blink. The child is gone.

“Um?” I keep my warm smile in place, adding only a touch of confusion as I look around. No one.

Has she left? For good?

I hope so. Oh, Nine Heavens, Black and White Phoenixes (best not mentioned after dark), Leviathan-sama, and all the other Kings of the Underworld, please let that little thing fuck off. And forget how to find this place. Completely.

I have no desire to die, especially in some stupid, inglorious way. This reincarnation stands out from the countless others. It’s brought a breath of fresh air after all the rather monotonous lives I lived before it. TV, the internet, books… I don’t want to lose any of it. Or the chance to grow stronger using the knowledge I’ve gained in this world.

Then I get a downright cowardly urge to go wake the nun and, just in case, pray to her God together. To hell with the unpleasant sensations! I sincerely hope the Bible’s big daddy will be so stunned to hear a demon praying to him that he’ll consider my request. Or at least pay attention.

An absurd idea, sure… But for some reason, it’s tempting.

Author’s Notes:

* For anyone unfamiliar with the Baneblade:

** I doubt any of my readers are that brainless, but just in case: DO NOT DO WHAT TARO SUGGESTS, even if you disagree with him.

*** UFT stands for Unidentified Fucking Thing.