Chapter 476 – Community (I) (Patreon)

Oough. Glad it's the weekend, I kinda need a break! I'm STILL writing, I've got another BELOW chapter done, a VISCERAE chapter half-done, but I can feel myself starting to get a bit tired, so taking a day or two would be real nice. We'll see if I can stop myself from writing though, lol!

Plot twist: I burnt out! Back now a bit tho. Myeh.

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The cultivation of self is the highest form of cultivation there is. Independently of any of the specifics of power, of any of the more visibly impactful or dramatic forms of strength, the self is what must be crafted, sculpted, grown, protected and taught. One’s experiences, ability to process, wisdom, knowledge, maturity, innocence, all of these aspects and an infinite spectrum more are what make up a living person, and only out of that grander mix are the lesser forms of cultivation born. 

Without preparing yourself, everything falls apart. Qi Deviation might poison the flesh or shatter the soul, and a Heart Demon might consume the psyche and one’s cultivation from the inside out, but ultimately, trauma is the deepest poison one can imbibe. Unfortunately, that poison is inherent to the process of being alive. Fortunately, poison, in the right dose and with the right care, is no different from medicine. Confront your pain rather than be bound by it. Experience yourself, experience the world, and accept both as they are, internalizing what you must and what you choose. 

To grow wholly is the highest form of cultivation one can ever achieve, and the one most often neglected in favor of survival, of power, of comfort. Be no one’s slave, but be your own garden, and from yourself, grow who you will become.

-”Path Of The Deathless”, primer on Cultivation of all forms, written by Sun “Murder The Heavens And Eat Their Thrones” Dailou, Burning Ambitions Made Flesh, The Screaming Sunlight Turned Sweet And Savory. Redacted by official Imperial Decree, held in perpetuity amongst the Divine Vaults.

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“And you’re sure this is a good idea?”

“I have to go into the market sometimes, kid. You’re free to come with.”

“Understood, master. I apologize for my presumption.”

“Wei Zin, it’s fine. Jin, tell him it’s fine.”

“It’s fine, junior brother.”

Wei Zin sighs, letting loose some of the tension in his shoulders– but not much.

As usual, Raika has a bit of an unfair advantage when it comes to reading people. Being able to reach all the way into someone’s inner neurons with her senses means she can pretty much taste his annoyance, though that tends to be a step too deep for her taste. Smelling it is enough, and the kid is exuding stress smells. 

There’s names for them. She’s even learned the names– given enough time and practice, even she can learn to study eventually. Ultimately, though, remembering all that isn’t as important as knowing what it all means, and Wei Zin?

He smells of fear. Grief. Anger. Frustration. Willpower. 

He’s in the Empire. 

The Empire killed everyone he knew and loved. His family. His mentors. His friends. His home. 

The Empire killed it all from him. And now here he is, behind enemy lines, surrounded by Imperials, his senses reaching out to encompass thousands of lives. People living, breathing, spending time with friends, enjoying their families, fighting, loving, existing.

Alive where his people aren’t.

He’s a good kid. She knows that. He knows that too. She trusts him. And, on top of all that, he out of all of her disciples is the one best at controlling his Qi and keeping his concepts contained. 

But that doesn’t mean that he can’t spend some time actually healing. 

Her staff thunks into the ground as she walks, limping along with a bag slung over her shoulder. On one side of her, Jin walks along, as carefully composed as he always is, though maybe just a bit more relaxed than his usual. On her other side, Wei Zin is in his full regalia, wearing his colored-grass robes with the sleeves so wide that he can hide his hands in them as he clasps them. 

He looks for all the world like a little princeling, walking alongside a little lordling… and their crippled town witch. 

She’d laugh, but she’s a bit too happy to find it funny. She’s with her son. And also Wei Zin, who is a very nice little guy that she appreciates and wants to do right by. She’s feeling damn near fulfilled right now, content in a way that’s very new to her. 

She makes it past Lai Shu’s house waving to her as usual. Lai Mi, her kid, waves back enthusiastically, little eyes bright as she stares at Wei Zin’s colorful robes, while Lai Shu is more than a little hesitant by comparison. 

“Good morning to you too, neighbor,” Raika grins. “Fine day, isn’t it?”

“Good day for fishing, which means a good day for being,” her neighbor responds, though it’s a pretty rehearsed answer. 

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell this one over here,” she says, pointing her thumb back towards Jin. “Not a fisher’s bone in his body. He’ll sit lakeside all damn day if you let him, but when it comes to catching something, he’s hopeless.”

“Well, I guess you’ll get a good chance to learn around here,” Lai Shu says, the topic begrudgingly pulling some engagement out of her. “Us Laketown folk have the best fish for miles, and everyone knows our shores here on the east side make all the others look damn near barren. Easier to walk in a swamp and not get bit than go without fish in one’s net around here.”

“I’ve always been more of a rod fisher myself. More tactile that way.”

“And… you, your grace?”

Raika snorts, interrupting any answer Wei Zin might give. “His name’s Wei Zin, and he ain’t no more graceful than he pretends to be. You can go ahead and talk to him normal, keep his head from swelling up.”

“Ah, I didn’t mean–”

“What my master means is that I am here not as an emissary or dignitary, and deserve no graces therein. This one is named Wei Zin, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lai Shu. And yours as well, Lai Mi!”

The kid giggles at that, hiding behind her mother’s skirt at being acknowledged. That gets a smile out of Lai Shu, who looks down at her child with such affection that it makes Raika feel warm and soft by association. 

The scent of the love that she has for her child is so obscenely loud, so profound, so rich in flavor and taste. It’s a banquet, and every bit of it is built entirely out of something pure and sincere and so heartfelt that it’s almost spiced. 

Raika wonders; if someone could smell her as she smells others, would they smell the same scent on her?

“He’s a bit of a spear-fisher, as I recall,” Raika says. 

“Oh! My father was a spear fisher!” Lai Shu says, smiling brightly. “A fan of the classics, he used to say. All the grace of hunting, but half the patience.”

Wei Zin smiles back at her, though she can still taste the discomfort in him. “Something like that, ma’am. I might recall my own family having said something similar once.”

The way that he says it drops the energy in the conversation immediately. 

“Well!” Raika says, stepping into the silence, “this has been lovely. I’m heading down to market. Got some deliveries the kids are helping me with. Anything I can bring up for you?”

Lai Shu takes the hint, grabbing hold of an awkward smile of her own. “You bring by some of that tea of yours, the kind you don’t butcher and burn, and we’ll see if I can’t sneak you back some rice to take home.”

Raika laughs amiably, waving at her as she carries on and takes the “kids” with her.

“Good job,” she says, so quiet only a cultivator could hear. 

Wei Zin doesn’t respond. He doesn’t say anything at all, keeping his gaze forward and his hands hidden in his sleeves. 

She doesn’t need to hear him say anything to hear the way his tendons creak as he clenches his fists. 

“You ready to head back?” 

Again, too quiet for anyone but them to hear. Just for her and him. And Jin.

She wonders if she maybe should’ve brought just Wei Zin, but the thought was that Jin would offer him some support that isn’t her, that isn’t someone he would feel a need to impress. But… well. Nothing’s perfect, and that’s alright. She trusts him to be well enough that they’ll have other chances to work on this, even though she’d rather get it right the first time.

“I’m perfectly alright, master,” Wei Zin says, his voice perfectly even and pristine. Perfectly alright indeed.

There’s lots of things she could say. Maybe that she should say. But they’re mostly guesses, so she nods, reaching over to tap him on the shoulder with her walking-staff. 

She does it as a mortal would, so it only works because he lets her. She hopes that’s a good sign, but even with all her senses, all her awareness, there are things that aren’t quite so obvious. The chaos of his emotions obfuscates some of the finer details, unless she looks closer. 

And she doesn’t. 

The center of town isn’t exactly a large affair. The smell of meat skewers and pastries fills a small square that’s more a thing that happened rather than a thing that was designed. A larger house for one of the elders, a street leading down to the local doctor, a clear view of the waters of the lake and an open path down to the harbors. 

The sun shines down, making everything warm and soft and real, and the lives of people carry on. 

Rai Jin is keeping a close eye on his fellow disciple. She reaches out, through a layer that goes under the rest of the world, and gives him a nudge.

He apparently didn’t know she could do that, because he flinches, then stares at her in surprise. She makes an expression, and he at least sort of gets it, as his perception eases up from where it kept bumping against Wei Zin. 

Both kids are much too polite for their own good. Her son is too focused, too courteous, and too precise, sometimes. Her student, on the other hand, is too used to dealing with others, of playing the political animal.

When she broke, when she died, he was left with some of her pieces, abandoned and put in charge of a whole city’s worth of infrastructure she made herself into. The sole connection that a dozen higher-realm cultivators, beasts, and magic-users had to whatever was left of her there. Weak, untrained, grief-stricken, traumatized, surrounded by monsters that eclipsed him entirely. 

And he kept it up. He survived. He kept that city from coming apart for months, alone, before the Pillar reconnected to that fragment of her. After that, Many-Grasping-Hands was there to help, but she wasn’t exactly focused on that one particular place, or on anyone other than the regrowing Raika. And then more of her reconnected with Pillar, and they also had other shit to deal with, and he still was alone. He still had to handle so much on his own. 

And he did it. When she finally rebuilt herself enough to take care of him, to help him, to do more than just check in, he was already so good at it that he barely needed her anymore. 

He needs her now. He’s as unhealed as she is, as she was, in his own ways. And she can offer that. So she’s trying. 

She stops by one of the food vendors to grab a skewer, passing one to Wei Zin first and to Rai Jin second. The vendor, an old woman by the name of Qin Jia, gives her a grumpy look and barely acknowledges her, but the skewers are tasty, made fast, and she takes payment in herbs for inflammation and tea, which makes her Raika’s favorite. 

“Alright,” she says, munching on a skewer of her own. “Here we are. I’m going deliver some goods around, and you two can follow along if you like. Or! You could tell me where you want to go, and we go from there.”

Rai Jin snorts at that, laughing a little. “Subtle, master. Subtle indeed.”

“Subtlety is amongst my strengths,” she retorts. “But when I have so many strengths, it’s hardly fair to use them all at once now is it? Call it a test if you like, or just me being nice. You do what you want, and if that means following me, then let’s do that, but if you have something otherwise?”

A moment of silence. 

“I… was actually thinking I might go look at the docks?” Jin admits, a bit sheepishly.

“Is it because you’re trying to do more death meditations?” Raika asks, only a little annoyed.

“No! Well. Mostly not. Kind of. I… am actually getting kind of interested in the process. I’ve flown, teleported, ran super fast, but boats are sort of new to me. And if anyone needs help, I’m probably strong enough to haul up some nets or… shift some rigging?”

“I’m certain that the mortals would find your assistance profound, senior brother,” Wei Zin chimes in. 

Neither one of them gives him the weird look they want to, so Jin fills the response-window with a nod instead. “Right. And I do seem to find the lake relaxing.”

“Go ahead and enjoy, then,” she says. “Try to be home in time for dinner, but if not, try not to cause any trouble.” 

He nods, bowing to her and nodding to his “junior brother”, and heads off down the wide, sunny path down to the boats and the lake beyond. 

“And you?” she asks. “Is there something you’d like to do while you’re in town, or are you simply here as a favor to me?”

“I wouldn’t dare state it as such, master.”

Another snort, as she starts walking again, stepping one foot after the other and supporting herself on her walking stick. 

“You can leave if you want, you know,” she tells him. “Both back to the manse and back to Singheart. I’m not going to stop you, and I understand that this is painful.”

“Perhaps such a conversation might best be kept–”

She waves a finger, and the world responds to her Intent. In a bubble no larger than an inch past their combined presence, the world outside becomes utterly unable to hear them. 

Wei Zin stares at her, then at the invisible barrier around them. 

Intent is a lot like Truth, which is a lot like Dao. All emerge from the conscious minds of great and terrible creatures, powerful enough to shape reality, though with different flavors and stylistic touches. A simplistic analysis maybe, but true nonetheless. She doesn’t need Qi to project her Intent, or to control its effect on the world, and Wei Zin doesn’t need to use Qi to sense the bubble around them, or what it means. 

Intent is good at communicating like that. Less profound than Dao or Truth, perhaps, but broader and far more intuitive. 

“I… appreciate your efforts, master.”

“It’s fine, you can ask.”

He hesitates for a moment, following along in silence, until;

“Does this sort of technique not reflect a bit harshly on the limitations you’ve placed on us, your disciples?”

“Oh? So a master can only bind herself to the same limitations as a student for her lessons to be valid?” she asks, carrying forward. 

“Not at all, master,” he replies, ever the political survivalist. “I simply meant–”

“That it does very much break the spirit of things, yes? Well, it doesn’t. The point of limiting the four of you is to teach you control and to protect the people of this town. Of the whole lake, really– you’ve all become pretty damn impressive since you were last surrounded by just mortals. I’m doing things without Qi, in a way that harms no one, with control aplenty. Pretty proud of myself about that, actually.

“Besides. Your privacy, your safety, is more important to me than some lesson to be taught. So if you’d rather have privacy to speak, and don’t have the desire or the will to ask to go somewhere else, then I offer this.”

Wei Zin’s silence continues to be his greatest contribution to the conversation for a while. 

She lets him have that. She keeps up the bubble around them, expending the barest hint of effort to keep them protected from the listening ears of anyone and everyone. 

In the meantime, she does her rounds. The “technique”, if it can be called that, is easy enough to let slip back and forth to let her out, let her speak to who she needs to. She makes her rounds, feeling and hating the way her knee acts up and how her scars pull at her, but also enjoying the way it keeps her present. To Ren Huan, a seamstress and fishwife, she gives mixed herbs and small pills designed to help with pre-natal care. To Mo Xiang, one of the town’s butchers, she offers spices to paint on his upper lip, something to help with the smells and keep him awake during long hours. To Yan Su, one of the farmers who had a bad break on his leg, she offers herbs for pain and inflammation and to help with bloodflow. 

It’s a lot longer than she’d usually spend walking around. By the time she’s halfway done, the ache is bad enough that she’s started grumbling under her breath on occasion, but Wei Zin resolutely keeps his silence, simply watching her.

And watching the world around them. Eyes open, staring headlong at the lives surrounding them. 

She’s not so cruel as to sneak her perceptions into his. She could, she’s learned how, given enough time and familiarity, track what someone is seeing and feeling by tasting their neural synapses, experiencing what they’re experiencing directly. She doesn’t have to, though. At his level, his senses probably reach the opposite side of the lake, nevermind the nearby farmland and wilds and such. 

He is, now and always, experiencing the entirety of this place all at once. 

It’s only when they reach the town center for the third time, done with her rounds and starting to walk back towards her cabin, that he speaks.

“The tea.”

She turns to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

“The tea. For the… for Lai Shu. Do you have it with you, or should I… go ahead and retrieve it from the cabin?”

She gives him a soft smile, and a sigh. With two fingers, she pulls a small pouch out of the basket she has tied to her walking stick. 

“I try not to leave the house without tea. I might not be its biggest fan, but I’m apparently pretty good at making it.

“...Would you like to be the one to give it to her?”

Wei Zin sighs. 

“If that’s alright, mas– if that’s alright.”

“Of course it is, kiddo. Come on. You can lead us back homeward.”