Chương 27: B1 Chapter 27

Disciple Wang Tao hadn't been sure what he expected a daoist to be like. As a mortal, they'd been figures out of stories. Noble heroes and blood-soaked villains. Joining a sect had hardly changed that understanding. An initiate with formidable backing or heaven-defying talent might be taught by a daoist directly. Wang Tao had neither of those things. His most senior teacher had still been an outer disciple. The only inner disciple he knew by name was Inner Disciple Sun, who oversaw work assignments.

And he only emerged from cultivation when there was some dispute over the fairness of the process, and knew Wang Tao as nothing more than a name on a chart. He'd expected the daoist to have eyes that would pierce through any deceit. A sense of power apparent even in its concealment. Perhaps a distant or otherworldly sort of dignity. Yet, having spent the last hour with Daoist Snowclad Heart, he wasn't sure if the man met his unspoken expectations or defied them.

Perhaps that was the surest sign of all that the man was a daoist in truth, despite his injury.

"That's brilliant!" Daoist Snowclad Heart exclaimed, slapping his thigh animatedly as if he were drinking wine, rather than tea.

"And he got away with it?" Wang Tao shrugged sheepishly.

"More or less, honored daoist. The magistrate was dismissed for corruption, so he couldn't make trouble anymore. He had no idea the prefect would be visiting that day. But he never did get back many of the sheep the bandits had stolen."

"And your neighbors all trusted their animals to your father for this deception?"

"Everyone who raises sheep marks them, usually with paint. They are foolish animals with a talent for getting lost or lamed. The magistrate wasn't a sheep farmer, so he didn't understand the significance of my father's flock containing so many different markings. He simply decided that if he couldn't force my father to give up his land, he would at least make him pay the unfair taxes he had levied. But when the whole village spoke up before the prefect, the magistrate was backed into a corner.

The prefect was honorable, and insisted on inspecting my father's lands for himself. He saw immediately his fields could never support as many animals as he was to be taxed for. The great herd had only been there for a week, but his lands looked like a swarm of locusts had passed through."

"I see." Daoist Snowclad Heart nodded thoughtfully.

"Your father is a credit to the name Wang, protecting his family's legacy and helping root out corruption in a single move." Disciple Wang suppressed a shiver, it was terrifying speaking at such length before Daoist Snowclad Heart, despite the man's friendliness. He imagined it was probably much like how his father felt, standing before the honorable Prefect Pao. Daoist Snowclad Heart took up the teapot again, and refilled both their cups. He at least served himself first.

But it made Wang Tao's skin shiver to be served at all by someone so far above him. He did only have one working hand. Perhaps the daoist was accommodating his injury. Or, more realistically, did not trust Wang Tao not to break his teapot. He hoped that it was so. Because the alternative, that the daoist wanted something from him, was far more terrifying. What did Wang Tao have left to give that such a man would value, save for his life?

"I am pleased to see you have recovered as well as can be expected, Disciple Wang. It was disappointing to hear that some of our disciples faced such grave danger upon the mountain. I have no doubt you will be pleased to hear that one of our inner disciples has taken it upon himself to slay the Sun-Swallowing Bear that waylaid your party." Wang Tao froze. Was he supposed to wish the man the same? He'd heard the rumors, but he could still feel the daoist's qi, a sharp cold as real as the winter outside.

Would his own well wishes be presumptuous? Worse, what if the daoist really was crippled, and Wang Tao simply couldn't feel the difference? Then he would be rubbing his senior's nose in his misfortune!

"Thank you, honored daoist." He said instead, bowing from the neck.

"The Medical Pavilion moved mountains on this disciple's behalf." Daoist Snowclad Heart's good humor vanished in an instant.

"Do you think I am blind and deaf, Disciple Wang?" The daoist asked in a wintry tone. Wang Tao's tongue felt heavy as lead and sticky as pine glue. He'd learned many courtesies over the years, scripts for behavior in two different worlds. None of them covered this.

"Answer me truthfully." Daoist Snowclad Heart demanded.

"Are you satisfied, with what justice has been delivered? With the treatment you received and the death of the beast that injured you?" Wang Tao suppressed a wince, trying his best to meet the daoist's steel grey eyes without flinching. When in doubt, obey the daoist, seemed as good a rule as any.

"No. I am not satisfied." The words felt heavy, as they left his mouth. But his chest felt light. What worries did he have now? He had no strength to protect himself, not before the daoist who demanded his thoughts, or the sect he criticized. There was a freeing simplicity in it, in just telling the truth. The words spilled out of him like vengeful waters rushing through a shattered dam.

"The others abandoned me the moment we made it back to safety. Disciple Ying considers his debt repaid. Disciple Hao spends all his time cultivating, avoiding me. He says I went too far, as if he wasn't there standing right behind me the entire time! The fat initiate is worthless. Even with one arm, with my damaged cultivation, I could slay him. He couldn't even catch an unarmed monkey while I held the spirit beast at bay!" Daoist Snowclad Heart watched impassively as the disciple continued to rant.

"It isn't fair! That Sun-Swallowing Bear was at the peak of qi condensation. I held my ground against its rage for four blows. How many other initiates could have done that? Yang Wei maybe, perhaps Xiao Shulan? Disciple Ying is in his second year with the sect, and he would have died in an instant! I did better than any other mortal born disciple could have hoped to. And the sect threw it back in my face. I won't heal fully on my own, the Medical Pavilion says. And they won't heal me.

My potential isn't worth the expense! What's the point of it all? I didn't come from some storied clan. I wasn't born with domineering talent. I did everything right. I awakened my qi. I trained harder than any other initiate. When that monkey stole from me, I researched its backing and found allies to help me take back what it stole. And then when I ran into a beast beyond my realm I stood my ground, and protected the men I'd led to its lair.

Because I was the only one among the four of us who could, and it was the right thing to do!" Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Wang Tao finally inhaled.

"And then you lost everything. And the cowards you saved turn up their noses at you." Daoist Snowclad Heart finished mildly.

"I am not unfamiliar, with how that feels. To see the brave punished, while cowards prosper." Out of the corner of Wang Tao's eye, he saw glinting specks of liquid dotting his side of the table. He'd spoken so vigorously he'd sent spittle flying everywhere. His innards curdled as he silently prayed that everywhere had excluded the daoist across the table. Daoist Snowclad Heart calmy sipped at his tea as the contents of Wang Tao's stomach threatened to put in an appearance.

"Do you still thirst for vengeance?" The older man finally asked him. He thought about it, for far from the first time. He'd played over the events of those days a hundred times in his head, staring up at the rafters. Daoist Snowclad Heart had pulled the truth from him without ever sharing his own thoughts. Yet, Wang Tao had watched his fight with the monkey's master. The terrible powers the two daoists had brought to bear, and its brutal conclusion.

He did not think his senior would blame him, for carrying a grudge. He would be surprised indeed, if he did not bear one of his own. But was it even the monkey he was angry at? He would never have expected it to do anything other than it had. But Disciple Hao, he had thought a friend. Someone he could trust and rely on.

"Is it still vengeance, if it occurs by another's will and hand?" Disciple Wang Tao wondered aloud.

"I don't hate the monkey. It knew we were out for its blood. Leading us toward a greater predator was cunning, in a base sort of way. I just want it to suffer like I suffered. To understand its thoughtless actions have consequences, and that it is not above being on the wrong side of them. I think I'd be just as satisfied, if someone else were the one to teach it that lesson." He was in too deep now. He had no idea what his senior wanted, so there was nothing to do except be honest. If he died, then he died.

It would at least spare his family the shame of a son returned from the sect. His useless right hand itched, and he resisted the urge to scratch at the place where his fingers wouldn't quite separate.

"Do you know why I fought Daoist Scouring Medicine?" Daoist Snowclad Heart asked. He gave Wang Tao no time to answer.

"Elder Lu hates him. Words were exchanged between us that demanded satisfaction. But these are effects, not causes. It boils down to something very simple. I don't like people who refuse to take responsibility for their actions. Disciple Zhang was an entitled brat. But he was not the architect of his tragedy. If you give a child a torch and turn away, you cannot complain when you are blamed for the house he burns down.

It is pathetic to take such risks with the lives of others, then moan as if one is a victim of cruel fate. His attitude to misfortune so offended me, that when Elder Lu asked for help teaching him a lesson, I found it easy to oblige him. The spiritual treasure he gave me was simply adding flowers to a brocade. I would have probably done it for free." Daoist Snowclad Heart punctuated his complaint with a shrug that felt very... human.

"I am many things, but I am not a hypocrite. I will not commit the same offense by bemoaning my own misfortune. I underestimated both my fellow daoist's strength and his depravity, and my injuries are a consequence of that choice." The conversation lapsed into silence for a time. The daoist refilled both their teacups. Wang Tao's skin itched, and it was not entirely because of his injury.

"What do you want from me, senior?" The words burst out unbidden.

"Did you just wish to see what I was like? Or hear about the monkey?"

"What did they say it would cost, to heal you?" The daoist asked, ignoring his outburst. Wang Tao did not allow himself to hope.

"A hundred spirit stones. That's what they said it would cost, to fix my arm. One foundation establishment level healing pill for the flesh, and a second, more expensive, pill to heal the burns on my spirit roots."

"And what do you intend to do next?" A hope that had never risen could not fall.

"I don't know yet. When my year as an initiate ends, I do not think I will be asked to remain as a full outer disciple. Perhaps I will return to my family's farm and hope my small attainments in cultivation make up for the loss of an arm. Later I may seek employment under a magistrate as a runner. Perhaps if I served well I could later become a clerk, despite my low birth."

"You have given up on the pursuit of immortality then?"

"No, Daoist Snowclad Heart. I'm just trying to be realistic about my prospects. My cultivation is stable. But the Medical Pavilion was quite clear, I will not advance again without a miracle." Daoist Snowclad heart found his thumb drifting to the ring about fourth finger. Gently rubbing against it, without activating it. He was not wealthy, for a man in his realm. But such a sum was not beyond his means. He had perhaps three hundred spirit stones to his name. At least for the moment.

After his injuries, his allotment would be reduced from five stones a month, to one. How unfortunate, that his cultivation would be far costlier to fix. The medical pavilion had failed to even truly diagnose the issue. More impurities than any mortal, his flesh so defiled that much of his qi was consumed merely keeping him alive. Nodules of metal too small for surgery, but far too large to clear naturally, dotted his meridian system. The highest doctors of the pavilion were of two minds.

Half thought steady effort and sufficient cultivation resources would allow him to clear the blockage. The other half thought his only hope was a nascent soul level immortal doctor, or that Elder Weeping Lotus might find an inspired solution with more time to consider the matter. Either outcome would be ruinously expensive. For all the noise he made about honor, man could not live without money. Daoist Snowclad Heart had summoned the boy on a whim.

He'd wondered how closely the conflicts of the younger generation had paralleled those of their seniors.

"Rise." He commanded the initiate. The boy rose quickly, his dominant arm swinging limply at his side. The daoist circled around him, observing his form and demeanor. Fear was writ plain in the set of his shoulders, but Disciple Wang bore his senior's attention without flinching. He hadn't been looking for a disciple. But then, he'd hoped to form his core in the next few decades. That seemed rather unlikely now.

Life was long, especially for a cultivator, but he rather doubted there would be an Elder Snowclad Heart this century. Some daoists were granted names by their masters. Others bore names little more than boasts, proclaiming their achievements to the world. He, like many others, had chosen a name not for a virtue he possessed, but one he sought. He was not a man who eschewed attachment by nature, but one moved all too easily to wrath or pity. Silently, he led the disciple outside.

"What was your weapon of choice, before you were crippled?"

"I never trained with weapons as a mortal, I had only my fists with which to protect myself. I chose to continue down that path when I entered the sect." Daoist Snowclad Heart suppressed a laugh. Of course the headstrong disciple was a brawler.

"My father always used to say that the only two things a man can count on are his fists and his wits." Disciple Wang explained.

"All else can be taken from you, but if you trust in them you can never be disarmed." Daoist Snowclad Heart pointedly looked the young man up and down. He gestured toward his crippled arm.

"I am not criticizing your clever father, but this is not the world of mortals. If this is the fruit of that idea, what was the worth of it?" Disciple Wang looked down, and said nothing.

"All a cultivator can truly hold beyond theft is their will, and even that can be broken by another, if not stolen." Daoist Snowclad Heart continued.

"The loss of an arm is crippling for a bare handed fighter or archer. It is almost as unfortunate for a spearman." He pulled upon his new storage ring, the one piece of Elder Lu's payment he still possessed. Disciple Wang nearly fumbled the catch, unused to relying upon his left hand.

"The sword accepts no such excuses. One hand is more than sufficient, if one is skilled enough."

"Why?" The disciple asked, even as he lifted the blade into an awkward guard. The daoist tapped it with his own, correcting his abysmal form. Daoist Snowclad Heart found himself without an answer. Plenty of saccharine tripe rose to mind. The boy deserved a second chance. We cripples have to stick together. None of that was remotely true. Instead, he favored the disciple with an honest answer. He'd picked at him enough today that he'd earned that much.

"Because I want to see what you're made of." He let his sword finish the conversation.