Unintended Cultivator

Misty Peak stared with naked horror up into the sky that was abruptly, maddeningly empty of nascent soul cultivators to protect all of the fragile mortals Sen had left in her care.

“Oh, no, no, no. Don’t tell me you’re all this stupid?” she whispered.

She shot a look at Serene Canyon. He was also staring up with a look of dawning panic on his face. His head slowly turned, and their gazes met. He’d realized the same thing she had. There were only a few other nine-tail foxes nearby, and all of them were staring at her with almost identical looks that said one thing. What should we do? A little burst of pride warmed her. She knew perfectly well what kind of reputation the nine-tail foxes had. She also knew that much of that reputation had been earned. However, over the last few days, she had watched as the frivolousness was slowly but surely burned out of the other foxes.

It was one thing to be frivolous and selfish when everything was going well. It was something else to watch one grievously wounded mortal or cultivator after the next being hauled back to the safety of the illusions. The knowledge that the people on the wall were fighting and dying to protect them had jarred the foxes. Before all of this had started, they all would have run when they recognized that things were about to go this bad. Instead, they were looking to her. They were asking if staying was worth the price. That they were asking at all meant that somewhere, deep down inside, they thought it was.

“Reinforce the illusion,” she ordered.

It was a risky move. She’d taken her cue from what the soldiers and cultivators were doing on the wall. Some foxes rested while others kept the illusions in place. Even so, it was taking a toll. Constantly maintaining illusions was taxing, and everyone was tired. The order was passed from building to building, and she felt the large-scale illusion grow increasingly solid. She could only hope it was enough. There were other spirit beasts who, if they got strong enough, could see through their fox illusions. It would be one thing if that bastard grandfather of hers were there. He could probably have set up an illusion this large and powerful all by himself and made it semi-permanent at that. She didn’t have that kind of power, yet.

As a precaution, she drew the jian she’d been wearing for days now. She wasn’t gifted at swordplay, but she didn’t want to have to waste time drawing it if she needed it. Her eyes kept scanning the ground. That was where the attack would come from. It would have to. It would be a bloodbath if spirit beasts came up inside the zone of the illusion, but there wasn’t anything she could do about that. She created illusions, not miracles. They needed Sen for miracles. By the gods, she thought, where is that man? She was even willing to acknowledge that a little part of her wanted to show off what her people were doing, to show him that they weren’t all tricks and lies and unreliability. She was startled out of her vigil when an angry mortal with a wispy beard stormed up to her.

“What’s going on?” he demanded.

She gave him a level look and said, “Spirit beasts are about to burst out of the ground somewhere in the city.”

“I don’t know where. If I knew where, I’d be making sure that none of us were standing near that place. Now stop distracting me.”

“I need to get out of here!” shouted the man, and he lunged toward the edge of the illusion.

Misty Peak seized the man’s robes and threw him back toward the other mortals. The look of white-hot rage she directed at him made the man freeze.

“If that man tries to expose our position again, kill him,” she ordered everyone within earshot.

One of the wounded soldiers limped over on a horribly mangled leg, drew a dagger, and pressed it to the man’s throat.

The soldier glanced at her and said, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t do something stupid.”

“Thank you,” she said with a curt nod.

Misty Peak wished that they’d been able to keep everyone grouped up in one place, but it just hadn’t been possible. Even with just about everyone even remotely capable of holding a spear on the wall, there were still countless mortals who had been crammed into the smallest area possible. They were everywhere. Inside of buildings. Sleeping on the ground in places that used to be parks before all the trees got cut down. She’d even seen some people setting up makeshift tents on roofs. It would have been next to impossible to move them even if they had been grouped up. Under these conditions, it was just impossible. They were staying where they were. She just had to pray that those spirit beasts would come up closer to the walls. It would still be a disaster, but the people on the wall were at least marginally better prepared to deal with it.

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She felt it first when the ground somewhere distressingly nearby exploded open. She saw dirt and stone burst into the air what could be only a few streets away from her position. She gripped the jian a little tighter. Her heart was beating so hard she was certain everyone could hear it. This wasn’t how she wanted to die. Okay, she didn’t want to die at all. But if she had to pick a way, fighting a hopeless battle against spirit beasts while watching all these mortals get ripped apart would not be it. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw some bear-cats come into view. She should have guessed that the spirit beasts would send those vicious things into the city. Most spirit beasts that hadn’t achieved sapience killed to eat or to defend territory. Bear-cats killed because they liked killing.

She stared at them through the edge of the illusion. One of the pitfalls of these kinds of illusions was that they blocked her spiritual sense. She had no idea how weak or strong those bear-cats were. If they were weak enough, she might be able to kill them fast enough not to alert any others that were nearby. A bead of sweat ran down the back of her neck as the things got closer and closer. A horrifying thought struck her. Did we seal up the smells well enough? The city would be full of human smells, which ought to help confuse the issue. Still, scents grew stale. If the scents were leaking near the illusion, any spirit beast would likely be able to tell the difference. Her jaw clenched so hard it hurt as the bear-cats drew closer and closer. She almost screamed when someone outside of the illusion shouted.

“Hey! I’m over here, you stupid monsters!”

Her eyes snapped to where a young man was waving his arms and being a nice juicy target. Her heart sank at the idea of letting someone sacrifice themselves that way, but what other choice did she have? Whoever that brave, mad bastard was, he had to know that the bear-cats were closing in on the illusion. It was the only explanation for what he was doing. Still, it worked. The bear-cats all focused on him and started a small stampede in that direction. She made herself watch, feeling sicker by the second as they closed on him. Run away, she mentally screamed at him. The man looked calm, at peace, which more or less convinced her that he actually was mad. When they were almost on top of the man, tiny fireballs that hurt her eyes to look at plunged from above like a rain of murderous meteors. The bear-cats dropped almost in unison as the fireballs burned through their skulls.

Misty Peak held her breath, expecting the violence to draw more spirit beasts this direction. She waited for most of a minute as the young man disappeared from sight. When he returned, he was walking with a woman. She hesitated for a moment before she looked over her shoulder at everyone.

“Stay here,” she commanded.

Everyone looked at her and nodded, except the soldier who was still pressing that dagger against that idiot’s throat. Satisfied that no one was going to ruin everything, Misty Peak looked one last time for hostile spirit beasts and stepped through the illusion. With her senses no longer restricted, she identified both of the approaching people as cultivators. The woman seemed unusually potent. She wasn’t nascent soul, but she wasn’t run of the mill either. The cultivators slightly changed course and walked over to her.

“Thank you for that,” she said to them.

The young man just dipped his head before he started scanning the nearby area again. The woman gave her a curious look.

“Misty Peak?”

It was all Misty Peak could do not hurl profanity at the cultivator woman. She hated that name so much. Then, it occurred to her that no one should know that name. She only let Sen call her that.

“Who are you?” asked Misty Peak.

“I’m a friend of Sen. Lo Meifeng.”

“He told you about me?”

“He did.”

“He didn’t tell you that I hate that name?”

The cultivator woman blinked once, which Misty Peak realized was probably an expression of surprise for Lo Meifeng.

“He did not,” said Lo Meifeng in an exasperated tone.

“Of course, he didn’t,” muttered Misty Peak. “I guess it’s not here or there. Thank you for what you did. I appreciate it—”

Misty Peak trailed off, unsure of how to formulate her next question without sounding wildly ungrateful or deeply suspicious.

“Why are we here?” asked Lo Meifeng with a knowing look.

“Yeah,” said Misty Peak a little weakly.

She knew the answer already. She just wished that it wasn’t so obvious that Lo Meifeng thought the foxes couldn’t be trusted. She did her best not to let her shoulders slump. She couldn’t change opinions in a day. Apparently, it couldn’t be done even on a day like this. Lo Meifeng studied her in a way that made Misty Peak feel naked and not in a fun way. Misty Peak caught a hint of sympathy on the other woman’s face.

“Sen would want us to protect the mortals,” said the cultivator woman.

“Where is that man, by the way?” demanded an irritated Misty Peak. “I didn’t expect him to lavish attention on me, but I thought he’d at least come by to check on us.”

Lo Meifeng gave Misty Peaky a blank look before she asked, “You don’t know?”

“I heard that he went into seclusion after he masqueraded as both the gods of lightning and death,” said Misty Peak before she gave Lo Meifeng a suspicious look. “Why?”

The cultivator woman gave her another long look that made Misty Peak feel a little cold inside. It was almost too quick to see, but an expression of pain crossed Lo Meifeng’s face.

“What happened?” demanded Misty Peak.

“He’s not in seclusion,” said Lo Meifeng in a tightly controlled voice. “He’s been unconscious since he did that. He may be dying.”