Chapter 481 – The Festival (II) (Patreon)

I am very, very tired.

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And so Lao Bushi came to his greatest challenge! Greater than the dark of the forest, greater than joining the peoples in alliance, greater than the hateful beasts that came before! The other beasts saw this greater monster and ran, scampering in fear as cowardly predators must. The villagers heard its great footsteps coming, and knew their end to be approaching!

But Lao Bushi was as clever as he was brave, and he was as brave as he was strong, and he was a very clever man indeed. So when he saw the beast coming, he went to the highest point of the hill, and he cut his chest to bleed himself. The smell of the magic fruit in his blood woke its hunger terribly, so much so that it leapt beyond the other villages, right to the hero of the hills and valleys. It sought to eat him up in a single bite, to swallow whole the hero of the peoples, but Lao Bushi was so brave that he stood still, and his body matched the strength of his heart. So great was their battle that it lasted ten days and ten nights, and their blood flooded down the hillside as they fought each other, blessing the fields with fresh life and the peoples with new strength.

Until at last, on that final day and in that final hour, Lao Bushi took hold of the whole of his courage, the whole of his wit, the whole of his strength, and struck a blow with all his might! So great was the blow that the beast was crushed to the earth, and the hill itself broke apart, driven by the impact straight into the depths of the earth. The beast lay cracked and broken, and its blood flooded the crater of its body and the hill, but Lao Bushi had used up every part of himself for that last, strongest strike, and as the beast and the hill fell deep into the earth, he fell with them.

Even still, at the final moment, the great hero gave one final gift to the peoples of the hills and valleys. His blood joined with that of the beast, and as they both lay in that final resting place, the victory of the hero was affirmed, as a great flood filled the darkness left behind in the wake of his battle. And so, the people of the hill became known as the people of the Lake, which blessed us all with the bounty we all have now, and the homes we have built along its edge!

– The second part of the tale of Lao Bushi, performed during the festival of the Lake

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It is with a mixture of relief and tremendous dread that the sounds of children screaming can be heard. 

Raika is there only a little faster than someone in her too-mortal condition should be, though she walks exactly the same way she normally does. There’s a part of her already preparing to react, preparing some of those stranger parts of herself to act, but Chen Tai is not hiding, and when Raika catches sight of her, the relief only multiplies. 

There is a creature almost the size of a dog, if a dog were really long and had way too many legs, and if its face was more of a mix between a cat and a big chunky reptile. Still, the way it moves is familiar, its open mouth letting a tongue lol out, forked and bopping children on the forehead as she runs past them. The kids, most of them, at least, are all shrieking in joy, chasing desperately after the spirit beast in their midst, playing a game of tag that winds up and down the main street of Laketown.

“Careful, Chen Tai!” Raika calls, still feeling worried enough to comment. “Be gentle!”

“I’m so gentle-kind, master! Watch!”

Ah. Exactly the word a parent wants to hear.

Chen Tai does a backflip, her spin tumbling like a snakes as she flashes from fur to scales, her front feet landing on the wall of a home and then launching her forward off of it. She corkscrews through the air, letting out a yipping yowl as she does, flying over the heads of kids that leap up to try and chase her. 

She lands on a five or six different paws, ready to dash forward again–

Except that one child, slightly older and slightly faster than the others, manages to grab the back end of her long, slinky body. 

Raika grabs Chen Tai by the back of her skull, her staff clattering to the ground at her side, her disciple’s fanged mouth less than a foot away from the kid.

“Chen Tai. What did I just say?”

Her disciple lets out a little whimper, in almost the exact same tone as the kid whose life probably just flashed before his eyes. Before she needs to step in, Wei Zin has already arrived, patting the kid on the shoulder and emitting an aura of calm (notably without letting any Qi escape his body, which she’s proud of him for). They separate the two kids, with Chen Tai wrapping her noodle-body around Raika’s arm and shoulder as she keeps hold of her disciple by the back of the skull.

“If you’re going to play with the kids, you have to be nice. Gentle. Like you’re playing with a baby.”

“Hey, I’m not a baby!” yells one of the other kids. Most of them didn’t get too close a look at how fast Chen Tai reacted, nor how sharp her teeth, and are more grumpy at their play being interrupted than anything.

“Yeah! We almost caught her! And she’s so fluffy!”

Kid speak for “how dare you interrupt!”.

“Sorry, master,” Chen Tai grumbles, wriggling but keeping herself from trying to squirm away from Raika’s grip. “I’ll do better next time.”

Raika brings her unruly charge close to her face, staring into her eyes. 

One thing that’s easier with Chen Tai is that she doesn’t lie. She can, Raika knows that for a fact, but the Spirit Beast masquerading as a human doesn’t see a need to, especially not with important things. If she says she will do better, then she has every intent, awareness, and will necessary to do better. 

Raika holds the stare a moment longer, then nods, opening her hand to let her disciple slither off and drop back onto the ground. 

Immediately, Chen Tai lets loose a kitten-like meow, loud and boisterous and joyous, launching back into the chase. 

“Wei Zin, do you mind watching over the children a bit?” Raika asks.

Wei Zin nods. “As you say, master.”

“Not as I say,” she tells him as the sounds of children running and yelling joins in on the high-pitched mewling and the chase resumes. “Do you want to?”

The question breaks through a bit of his stately demeanor, doing as she’s gotten used to doing and forcing him, out loud, to acknowledge his own wants. He hesitates a bit, but eventually gives her a nod. 

“I… believe I would not enjoy being surrounded by children yelling, master. Too many reminders of my time in Singheart, I’m afraid.”

“Entirely reasonable. Jin, you’re in charge of babysitting.”

“Not going to ask if I want to, master?” he asks.

“Nope. It’ll be good for you, go on. Try not to have too much fun, because I know you won’t be bored.”

He sighs, starting to walk after the parade of kids chasing their new local spirit beast, shaking his head.

“Will that be alright?” comes a voice behind her and Wei Zin. 

Raika nods, groaning a bit as she picks up her walking staff again. Turning, she looks directly into Lai Shu’s eyes, the mother worriedly looking at the strange new creature in their midst, in spite of its size and relative adorableness.

“It will. Jin’s even faster than I am, and Chen Tai’s just a kid still, but she’s a smart kid. She really only makes each mistake once, in my experience.”

“And if she makes a new mistake?” her neighbor asks. 

“Then Jin will be there to catch her, and I’ll be there to catch both of them.”

She lowers herself just a bit, slightly angling a knee and leaning forward so as to lean towards Lai Shu and not over her. She looks her neighbor in the eye as she speaks, offering every bit of sincerity, and even going so far as to add Intent to her words.

“No harm shall come to your children while I am here,” she says, and the weight of her speech is enough to make it nearly empirical. 

It doesn’t take Qi senses to feel the statement’s meaning, its heft on reality. Those who do have them can feel the slightest ripple moving through the world, while Lai Shu herself gets the full blast of the full words, spoken directly to her.  

She takes a slow, deep inhale. Then nods. 

Raika has lived a short walk from Lai Shu’s house for five years. She was there when Lai Mi got sick, and helped to heal her. She was there when the two of them had to volunteer, together, to help rescue some of the other villagers from a sinkhole that turned to a muddy flood over a chunk of the fields. Five festivals they’ve known each other, this being the sixth, and all their time together, never once has Raika ever lied.

Five years is a long time. Five years is no time at all. Not enough time to stop being an outsider, but enough time to start being something more. 

Lai Shu nods again, giving a smile to reassure herself and Raika both, and then nods a third time.

“Does your kid have any favorite foods?” Lai Shu asks of her neighbor. “For the… furry one, I guess. Meat?”

Raika laughs. “Meat is always good, yes, but she loves anything with spices. The spicier the better, actually.”

Lai Shu nods, then smiles wider. “My husband has a jar of pickled peppers he’s been saving up that he’s brought out. The smell alone is enough to make me cry, but maybe your girl will like them?”

Raika sniffs the air once, then twice. “Oh, wow. That is pickled. I’d love to see her try it, actually, and she’d love the challenge.”

Lai Shu laughs, a soft thing, but genuinely happy. “Alright then. You make sure the kids are alright, I’ll make sure you have a taste of it. I’m sure my husband will enjoy the challenge too.”

Her neighbor walks off, waving to her and Wei Zin as she does. Wei Zin who, she notices, has been rather quiet.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” Raika tells him. “I did bring you here on the basis of helping you not have to constantly be dealing with people. If this is too much, there are quieter spots you can enjoy. Could go back home, even.”

Her politest disciple nods, not responding for a moment. Then he sighs, quietly enough that she can barely hear it. 

“I don’t… I don’t know if they deserve it.”

He doesn’t follow it up. She nods at that, and walks with him, away from the mess of yelling kids and parents following with a mix of concern and good humor, over to the mess of yelling adults instead. The sun has started nearing the horizon, though it is not yet dusk, and that means that there’s alcohol coming out. There was alcohol available beforehand, of course, it is a town of fishermen, after all, but now the good stuff has started to emerge, bottles of rice wine of a dozen different family varieties being passed around and shared. Just like with the roasting of pigs and fish by the fire, there’s a competitive element here too, with each family’s patriarchs coming around to brag that their vintage is the best this year.

Raika heads around their group, the bottle on her hip going temporarily forgotten as she gives space to her perhaps most neglected student. 

They wander around the fire, keeping closer to the edge of things, nodding and exchanging pleasantries with those they pass by. Eventually, though, they’ve passed through the meat of the party, dozens of voices and hundreds of people more at their backs than not. 

“I see them, and I see… I see other people. Better people. People who deserve to have lives and who do not. I see it in the shape of this palace. I see it in… in how the village is designed, even. The way of it. The fire, and the…”

She lets him talk, walking alongside him. The flags flutter in the wind, the sound of them meshing with the sounds of music and conversation behind them, punctuated by the crackling of the fire. He takes his time, chewing over every thought before he says it. He’s gotten good at that, in spite of everything, become a real talent at making sure of what he wants to say before he says it. 

“I watched everyone die, and now I’m here, in this place that killed them, with these people who didn’t. And I don’t know if they deserve my… my hate.”

Internally, she lets out a sigh of relief. Externally, she gives no sign at all, but of the things he would be wondering about, that’s the better one.

He’s a good egg, no doubt about that. Has been since she met him, and the time she spent with him in Singheart before and after her Death has only reaffirmed that. It was far, far too much to ever put on his shoulders, but he took on the burden anyways, kept the city together and its people from drowning in the politics of greater monsters almost on his own. He lied, stole, cheated, manipulated, convinced and threatened and played every side, until Nascent Soul Realm and Warrior Realm entities that flocked to the multicultural metropolis powered by her flesh had no choice but to work in its benefit.

Wei Zin is better than she is at dealing with people. When she calls him a political animal, it is not an insult, not even an observation, but a compliment. He is a predator in those waters, and if she ever had to go up against him in that environment, she’s pretty sure he could run circles around her. 

For months he, a kid barely in Core Formation Realm, still in his early twenties, out-played monsters a millennia his senior who could wipe him out with barely a thought. For years after, as she rebuilt herself and helped where she could, he continued to lead the charge, keeping dozens of tribes, sentient spirit beasts, old monsters and new, from overtaking each other or even attacking each other.

If he was uncertain that these people deserved to live in retaliation for the loss of his family, his culture, his whole tribe, then…

Well. She swore oaths, and she has ideals, but stopping him would have been difficult. In terms of what he can do, yes, in terms of who he can wield, absolutely, but ethically, even. 

When one has suffered so much at the hands of so many, what right does a stranger have to tell them what to do with that suffering? 

She does her best. She will continue to do her best, to guide him, support him, to keep making the best decisions she can alongside her ideals, alongside her hope for a better world. But she’s not the only one that’s fighting, and her ideals aren’t the only ones. 

But that’s not where he went with it. Not at all. 

It’s a relief. It’s a joy. It’s a burden on her shoulders, and an admiration for the apprentice she’s helping as best she can.

“They didn’t do it. What happened to me. They didn’t hurt me. These people never even… they don’t even know it happened. They don’t even know my people existed. They don’t have to.”

They keep walking, approaching now the edge of town, closer to the harbor than not. The waves of the lake crash gently alongside the shore, the boats rocking gently atop it. She lets him speak, as silent as she can be.

“They’ve benefitted from it, though. Entirely. They get to live here, where spirit beasts never attack, where the fish are always plentiful, where their great empire ensures that they never have to deal with the wars that my people lived with every year, every month, every week and day. The monsters don’t come for them, because the monsters are theirs, whether they made them or agreed to them or even know about them.

“And they’re happy. They get to live. They get to be, to have culture, to have stories and festivals and children, while all of my people’s lie dead. And I hate them for it.”

He stops, then. She can feel his cultivation, aching to get out, responding to the turmoil of emotions. The strength of him pushes against his restraint, and fails utterly, of course, because his restraint is beyond even hers, in a way. 

“But I don’t know if I can convince myself that they deserve it.”

By now, they’re at the water. The waves flow, quiet and soft, and she can feel the life in them, from the tiniest minnows to the most miniscule crabs, all the way on up to the fish larger than people and the things large enough to eat them too. Raika feels the silt and soil get softer, turning to sand at its edge, sinking beneath their feet.

Wei Zin stops before the water can touch him.

“What if they do?” she asks.

His breathing stops at that.

“What if they do deserve it? What would you do then?”

He stays silent. The sounds of the festival behind them get louder and quieter in turn, shifting back and forth as the party rises and falls in fervor, as it starts to move past just the town center. 

She lets him have his peace, but he is from a place where Intent as language is almost universal, or close to it, at least. And as she sits there, silent, she transmits out into the world one simple truth.

What matters to her, in this moment, is him. Whatever he feels, whatever he says, it will not change who he is to her. 

Still, he stays silent. A long, long time. 

And then he takes two steps forward, his slippers of strange grass touching the water’s edge and soaking him up to his ankles.

The waves lap at him, again and again.

“I would judge them. I would take from them the monsters they do not know they have. I would break the peace they enjoy on the backs of the suffering of others.

“And that would be all.”

He breathes in deep, then exhales.

“The death of a people is a tragedy. One tragedy does not deserve another. But the cycle of it must be broken.”

Eventually, he turns back to face her, finally looking her in the eyes. 

“Is that what you wanted to hear, master?”

“Was it true?” she asks.

He nods. 

“Then yes.”

He nods again. She lets him stay in the water, the spray of the waves at his ankles leaving tear tracks on his face. 

Eventually, he gives a very un-gentlemanly grunt, shaking himself off.

“Some of that rice wine smelled pretty good. I think I could… I think I’d like to join in on that taste-testing competition they have going on.”

She grins. “Sounds good, kid. Come on. Let’s get fucking drunk.”