Unintended Cultivator V4: Chapter 68 – Hello, Your Majesty (Patreon)

Sen lounged on the throne, feeling both bored and uncomfortable. While security around the royal palace was probably very tight for any malicious mortal trying to find a way in, it had been stupidly easily for him to infiltrate the place. It had also been absurdly easy for him to subdue the various guards and servants who found their way into the throne room. He’d made a pile of them in a corner. Sadly, at least one of them was snoring loudly, which was aggravating at the best of times. Yet, it was the throne itself that Sen found the most annoying part. It was a big, ornate thing with lots of gilding. It looked expensive and impressive, yet had seemingly been designed by someone who didn’t care about the way that a human body actually worked. The corners of everything were too sharp, as if to cut into the flesh of anyone that moved too fast. If he wasn’t a body cultivator, he didn’t think he could tolerate sitting on it for hours on end. If he was the king, he’d make someone build him a better throne.

When he’d first thought this idea up, it had seemed like a good one. After an hour of waiting, though, he was wishing that he’d come up with something else. He’d assumed that the disappearance of so many guards and servants would have caused more of a stir, especially around the throne room. Yet, no one had come to investigate. Sen considered going and looking for his quarry when he heard the sounds of lot of footsteps rushing toward the throne room. He sat up straight and adopted a disdainful air. He summoned a jian from his storage ring and casually rested it across his knees. When the doors burst and palace guards poured in, he knew that he was finally making progress. The armored guards lined up in two rows on the far side of the room. Behind them, he saw an older man with long gray hair pulled back into a topknot with golden rings. At the sight of Sen sitting on the throne, the older man’s eyes filled with fury.

“How dare you?” the man roared.

“Hello, your majesty.”

“Seize him!”

Sen lifted an eyebrow as he reached out to all of the guards with an auric imposition. Compared to cultivators, the mortal guards had no defenses against such an attack. Sen waved a hand.

“Sit.”

Every single guard was driven to the floor in a crash of weapons and armor. A brief application of wind qi slammed the doors closed behind the king.

“That is my throne. You will remove yourself from it!”

Sen had to give the man credit. He knew he was facing off against a cultivator, but he hadn’t descended into fear or blubbering.

“No. It was your throne. Now, it’s my throne until I decide what I’m going to do with it.”

“This isn’t how things are done. I am the-,” the king started.

“Silence,” ordered Sen, letting some of his auric imposition settle on the king.

The older man’s words choked off into spluttering. With another gesture, Sen seized the older man in a fist of air qi and dragged him across the room. While it was a trivial display of power on Sen’s part, the King’s eyes finally went wide with fear. Sen dropped the man in front of the throne. The king started to stand, only for Sen to drive him to his knees with a burst of air qi. Rage contorted the king’s expression as he started bellowing.

“I will not be treated this way in my own palace. I will have you killed, you worthless cultivator dog.”

Sen backhanded the man. He was careful to restrain his strength. He didn’t want to kill the king before the show was over. Even so, the king was knocked over. The king glared up at Sen from the floor.

“I know,” said Sen, before the king could work himself up into any more bluster.

That was all it took. The king went from trying to put on a show of imperious self-assurance to begging through bloodied lips.

“I’ll give you whatever you want. Just tell me what it is, and I’ll give it to you. Money. Lands. Women. Anything you want.”

“I want you to be silent. Don’t worry, your family will be here soon. Then, you can explain to all of them why I’m here.”

“I don’t even know who you are, let alone why you’re here.”

Sen feigned an expression of chagrined horror.

“Did I not introduce myself? Oh, what terrible manners on my part. My name is Lu Sen. I’m acquainted with your daughter. She might have mentioned me. Oh,” said Sen, “she might have called me by this silly little title that’s been going around in some stories recently.”

The king had gone perfectly still at the mention of Sen’s name. He’d grown paler and paler with each passing word.

“What title?” whispered the king

“Judgment’s Gale. Apparently, I’ve developed this reputation for blowing through places and destroying the wicked. Especially those who have abused their power. I can’t imagine why.”

“You have to understand,” said the king.

Sen fixed the king with a look and let the tiniest sliver of his killing intent slip free. The king’s jaw snapped shut, and he refused to meet Sen’s eyes.

“Do not speak again until you are bid to do so. Now,” said Sen, pointing to a spot in front of the throne, “kneel.”

The pair of them sat there in utter silence for almost half an hour before Prince Jing ushered the rest of the royal family into the throne room. Chan Yu Ming’s eyes met Sen’s and a bright smile started to form before she fully took in the state of the throne room. She looked briefly confused before anger took root. The rest of the royal family wore stunned expressions. Even Prince Jing, who had known that something was going to happen, seemed to be struggling to take in the sight before his eyes. The room remained locked in that state for a moment before the guards who had come in behind the royals came to their senses. They surged forward, only to be driven into unconsciousness by Sen’s auric imposition. The sudden collapse of the guards shocked even Chan Yu Ming. She took a step forward.

“Sen, what is the meaning of this?” she demanded.

“Choi Zhi Peng is dead,” Sen announced. “They won’t find his body, but I assure you that he is quite dead.”

Chan Yu Ming’s face couldn’t seem to settle into any one expression. There was hope, fear, more confusion, more anger, and then it cycled back to hope again.

“He’s really dead?” she asked.

“He is.”

“How?”

Sen lifted an eyebrow at her. He’d thought that the answer was pretty obvious, but he answered anyway.

“I executed him.”

Chan Yu Ming’s expression finally settled on one emotion. Relief.

“I thought,” she started. “I hadn’t heard from you. I thought you changed your mind.”

“I said I’d help you. I hadn’t planned on it happening this way, but I adapted to the circumstances. Still, that isn't why we’re all here.”

An older woman stepped forward, casting a baleful look at Sen. “Who do you think you are to treat the royalty this way?”

Sen met the woman’s eyes. “I would take great care in the words you choose to utter in this room. I haven’t decided how many of you are going to survive the next hour.”

“Sen!” shouted Chan Yu Ming, appalled at his words.

A hard look from Sen brought her up short.

“I didn’t bring you here to talk to me. I brought you here to listen,” said Sen. “Your honorable king is going to explain to you why I’m here. Why he was going to trade Chan Yu Ming to the Choi family. He’s going to tell you everything. Isn’t that right, your majesty?”

When the king didn’t say anything, Sen unleashed a little more of his killing intent. The king flinched and then cried out.

“Yes! I’ll tell them.”

“Excellent. Face them. Look them in the eyes while you tell them what you traded away your honor for. What you were willing to sell your daughter to keep secret.”

The king slowly pushed himself up off the floor. He stared up at Sen with a naked plea for mercy in his eyes. Sen looked back at the man with nothing but cold resolve on his face. Not finding what he wanted in Sen, the king turned to face his family. He opened his mouth and froze, feeling the point of a blade on the back of his neck.

“If you lie,” said Sen, “I will make you suffer in ways you cannot imagine.”

Sen heard the king swallow. Then, the king started speaking in halting burst.

“I sold people,” he said. “I sold people to demonic cultivators.”

“What people?” demanded Prince Jing.

“Yes, your majesty,” added Sen, “what people?”

“Men. Women. Children. Whatever they asked for. Whatever they needed for their rituals.”

While the king was speaking, Sen was studying the faces of the royal family. It was clear from the distress on Chan Yu Ming’s face that she hadn’t known. The blind fury on Prince Jing’s face suggested that he hadn’t known either. The other prince, who Sen didn’t even have a name for, looked guilty. Sen hadn’t expected that. The other princesses looked too stunned to get a clear read on them. The queen had better control over her expression than her children, but Sen could see it in her eyes. She had known.

“Father, how could you?” shouted Prince Jing.

Sen held up a hand to stop any more outbursts and poked the back of the king’s neck with his jian. “Tell them the rest.”

“I kept some people for myself,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Remember that suffering we talked about,” said Sen. “The time for that is rapidly approaching. Explain it to them in plain terms. Who did you keep?”

“Boys.”

“What did you do to them?”

“I made them pleasure me.”

Sen didn’t give any more warnings. He grabbed the king’s left elbow and squeezed until the bones shattered. The king screamed. Chan Yu Ming lurched toward them, only to stumble to a stop as Sen let some of his killing intent loose on her. She stared at him with a dumbfounded expression on her face. She’d never been on the receiving end of his killing intent, not even during their duel on the battlefield in Inferno’s Vale. No moved as the king’s screaming slowly ebbed away to choked sobs.

“Try again,” said Sen.

“I raped them.”

“How often?”

The king’s face turned down toward the floor until Sen screamed at him.

“Look at your family!”

The King forced his head back up to look at his wife and children, most of whom were staring at him in disgust.

“Now,” said Sen. “Tell them how often.”

“Over and over and over.”

“For how long?”

“Years.”

“And when you were done with them,” said Sen in a voice that felt like it was made from gravel, “what did you do? Be. Specific.”

“I choked them to death while I pleasured myself.”

Sen grabbed the king by the shoulder and drove him back to his knees, eliciting another scream of agony from the man. Sen gave the rest of the royal family a hard look.

“Your king. How noble he is. And how noble you two are,” said Sen, looking first at the queen and then at the other prince. “Knowing, and bravely doing nothing.”

Chan Yu Ming whirled on her mother.

“You knew!”

Chan Yu Ming’s mother lifted her chin. “He is the king.”

“He was,” said Prince Jing.

The prince stormed over to his father with a jian in hand. Sen could see that the prince was gripping the hilt so tightly that his knuckles were white. There was no art to it or delicate maneuvering of the blade. The prince drove his jian through his father’s heart with nothing but main force. Sen heard the ribs break in the king’s chest.

“No!” screamed the queen. “Jing, how could you?”

“How could I?” he roared, ripping his jian out of the king’s chest and spinning toward his family. “How could I? How could you not?”

Prince Jing started walking toward his mother, his chest heaving, the sword trembling in his hand. Sen could feel the murderous rage boiling off of the prince. Chan Yu Ming was staring at her father’s corpse like she was in a daze. Her sisters were screaming and wailing. The queen was slowly backing away from her apoplectic son. She looked to the other prince.

“Liwei,” she shrieked, “help me.”

The other prince gave Jing a malicious sneer. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time. After I cut you down, I’ll sit on that throne.”

Liwei drew his own jian and advanced on Jing. It was a shockingly brief fight, even by Sen’s estimation. Jing barely broke his stride toward his mother. He took a half-second pause during which he parried a clumsy thrust by Liwei and then opened his brother’s throat. As Liwei choked and gurgled his last on the floor amid the hysterical reactions of his sisters, Jing closed on his mother. Chan Yu Ming came out of her daze at that point.

“Jing!” she screamed.

Where all else had failed to cut through the prince’s incandescent fury, Chan Yu Ming screaming his name seemed to bring the man back to sanity. He paused.

“Jing, please don’t,” begged Chan Yu Ming.

That moment seemed to stretch out as Jing stared at his terrified, sobbing mother, and Chan Yu Ming stared at her brother. Finally, Jing spoke.

“Find a guard. Have them bring chains.”