Heart of Cultivation 2 (Patreon)

AN: The plot thickens. I'm right around 80-90% sure that I'm going to be commiting to this one for the long term, pending audience feedback.

AN2: Thanks to RavensDagger for pitching in for beta work on this chapter, despite the genre.

ooOoo

Jian began tidying up his workplace as soon as he finished reading the message. A visit from the Heavenly Sword Sect called for a great deal of preparation. Others of the Guo family would shoulder most of the work of preserving the family's reputation in the face of such an important guest, but Jian knew he still ought to make himself presentable. As soon as his workshop was squared away, he hurried back to his room.

Choosing his outfit was simple. He only owned a single silk shirt. Dyed a vivid green, it had been a gift from his father. Removing his work shirt and slipping the silk shirt over his head took no time at all. He retrieved the matching sash and tied it around his waist, feeling slightly awkward as the silk sleeves billowed with the motion. Looking down at his pants, he frowned, then shrugged. They were made of simple linen, but they were clean and free of holes.

Good enough.

He still had time to grab a bite to eat before their guests arrived, if he hurried. Jian headed from his room directly towards the kitchens.

The Guo family occupied a large compound in the heart of Bianjing Town. The family itself was quite large, and their collection of allies and employees even larger. It just wasn't practical for the whole extended family to get together for meals every day. Smaller groups of closer relatives generally ate together, but the kitchens also provided food to Guo family members on demand. Usually, Jian would grab a quick meal to eat at his workshop while he thought over his latest project. Today, he had weightier thoughts on his mind.

Much as he'd tried to distract himself by keeping busy, he found his thoughts drifting back to Meirong. He had spent years eagerly anticipating the day he could be free of their engagement and the shadow it cast over his life, but now that the day was upon him, he found himself feeling reluctant. He frowned, pushing the feeling away. It wasn't like he could do anything to change the inevitable course of events. 

He was still brooding as his path took him past the sparring rings. Jian spared a glance to make sure that none of his more troublesome cousins were around, but otherwise paid the location no mind. Accordingly, he was rather startled when a flailing combatant was sent flying out of the ring, passing by close enough to force Jian to stop and watch him crash through the decorative hedge that surrounded the area.

Jian looked over to see who was still standing in the ring, then shook his head. He should have known.

Shan had been the only cultivator his own age who had come close to keeping up with Jian as he flew through Essence Gathering. The two of them had become rivals, then friends. Their friendship had survived Jian's discovery of his crippling body constitution, largely because Jian found it impossible to stay angry with him for any length of time.

Shan cut a striking figure. He was half a head taller than Jian, who himself was not short. Where Jian was lean and athletic, Shan was broad and powerful. His golden hair marked him as a member of the Tian family that had served the Guo for generations. As he stood with his training saber extended following that final strike, he looked like a forbidding avatar of war.

Then he spotted Jian, and the goofy grin on his face broke the illusion. Tossing the training saber aside, he bounded over to clap Jian on the shoulder.

"The man of the hour!" he exclaimed. "Are you excited?"

Jian cocked his head, looking at his friend with fresh eyes. For the last four years he had avoided talking about Meirong or his engagement, redirecting any conversation that threatened to broach the topic. He hadn't expected Shan to pick up on his discomfort and recognize how eager he was to be rid of the engagement. It really went to show that while Shan might have an open, straightforward personality, he wasn't stupid.

Jian took an extra moment to consider the question, then shook his head. "Relieved. Relieved that this engagement is finally ending."

Shan looked at him with wide eyes. "Little Rong is coming here for a wedding?"

And now Jian could look at his friend with the same old expectations as always. He should have known better than to imagine that Shan would think deeply about anything besides training and cultivation.

"No, you idiot," he said, punching Shan on the shoulder and bruising his knuckles, "she's coming here to cut ties."

"I'm an idiot?" Shan said, laughing. "Cut ties? We're talking about the little girl that used to follow you around everywhere."

Jian shook his head and started walking. Shan fell into step beside him.

It was true that he and Meirong had been thick as thieves, once upon a time, banding together with Lanfen to form an infamous trio of troublemakers. While Lanfen had styled herself the leader of their little group, Meirong had always clung more closely to him than to the older girl. Of course, that was back when he was the family's prodigy.

"That was a long time ago."

"I remember she promised to work extra hard on cultivating," Shan said, "just so that she could catch up with you."

Jian stopped dead in his tracks, clenching his hands into fists. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to open his hands as he exhaled. He brushed a few non-existent wrinkles out of his shirt and started walking again. After a few steps he had caught back up to a sheepish looking Shan.

He remembered the day she had made that promise. She'd made him promise, too, that he wouldn't slack off, and together the two of them would race along the path of cultivation and explore all the forbidden areas surrounding the Empire together. She'd followed through on her promise, working hard and writing to him any time something troubled her. He'd been glad to help, glad to share his knowledge, until he'd learned that his days of advancing along the path of cultivation were over.

Not that his willingness to help had mattered, at that point. The challenges Meirong had been running into at the Body Tempering level were problems he had never encountered, and never would. How could he give her advice? He hadn't even read her last few letters.

"Obviously," Jian said, doing his best to keep his voice level, "she found some other form of motivation."

Shan cleared his throat, clearly a little embarrassed at having touched on such a sensitive topic. Not to mention that Jian was only stating an obvious fact. Meirong wouldn't have reached her current lofty status if she had limited herself to chasing after him.

"Well, even so," Shan said, "don't discount the power of love."

"Love?" Jian said, scoffing. "We're talking about marriage."

Marriage was an act that bound two families together, not just two people. The Wang family had deep roots in the capital. When they were at their lowest point and Jian at his highest, marriage between them had been possible. Now that Meirong's rise had restored much of the Wang's former glory and his own prospects had fallen off a cliff, a marriage didn't make any sense except as a punchline.

"Come now," Shan said, "don't try to tell me you feel nothing for her."

They arrived at the kitchens, sparing Jian from answering for a moment as he instead focused on obtaining dinner. The kitchens were a sprawling complex, reflecting the size and wealth of the family it served. Jian could have found a chef and demanded that they prepare a meal to his tastes, but he had no intention of wasting that much time. Not when there were perfectly good sandwiches ready to hand, made for the kitchen workers to enjoy when they had a moment to spare. The simple, hearty fare was quite enough for him.

Jian took a sandwich from the tray and took a bite as he led the way back outside. He couldn't enjoy the taste of it as he found his thoughts drifting in response to Shan's question.

All the logical reasoning in the world couldn't stop the memories forcing their way into his mind's eye. Cleaning and bandaging a skinned knee after a little girl tried to follow him up a tree. Sneaking out to the sparring ring at night to teach her how to throw a punch before she was old enough to join the family's training. Watching a wild mass of red hair as she leaned out the window of her carriage and waved at him until she was completely out of sight.

Jian couldn't imagine a much better feeling than knowing he had the full measure of admiration and trust of someone he liked. He couldn't imagine a much worse feeling than knowing he had utterly failed to live up to those expectations. Even so, and even though he knew it was ridiculous, he still couldn't help but feel a faint protective urge stirring in the depths of his heart.

He shook his head and took another bite of the sandwich. The two of them soon reached one of the Guo family's gardens. There were no spiritual herbs here, only decorative flowers. It was a pleasant place to linger, and reasonably private.

Jian swallowed, cleared his throat, and turned to see Shan watching him expectantly. "How is your training going?"

Shan wavered with indecision a moment before grunting out a reply. "Well enough."

"You're adapted to the new strength?" Jian asked. Shan had recently finished tempering his muscles, advancing into the final stage of Body Tempering. The advance brought with it a great increase in strength, but it was notoriously difficult to learn how to harness that strength effectively.

"It's tricky. Especially trying to get my footwork right," Shan said. "I should be ready in time for the tournament."

Jian smiled. He was happy for his friend and happy that he was so easily diverted. On the rare occasion when one question about training wasn't enough to convince him to change the topic, two questions usually did the trick.

The Guo family held a tournament for its younger generation every year as part of its new year's celebrations. Everyone in the family and their allied families who was under twenty was eligible to enter. The prize money was generous, but the prestige that came with an impressive performance was a stronger lure for most of the competitors. Jian had never participated. 

"You might win this year, then," Jian said. If Shan really could stabilize his foundation after finishing muscle tempering, he would at least enter as one of the favorites.

"I will win this year! I can feel it," Shan said, punching the air for emphasis. "This year Lanfen will finally put me in her eyes."

Jian was aware that, objectively speaking, Lanfen was one of the great objects of desire within Bianjing Town. She was a classic beauty, an accomplished cultivator, and possessed of an impeccable pedigree. Jian knew all that, but he also knew Lanfen too well to really understand the feelings of her suitors.

Out of all the men trying to catch Lanfen's eye, Shan's pursuit was more reasonable than most. There had been marriages between the Guo family and the Tian family in the past. None of the Guo had been quite so highly placed as Lanfen, but then none of the Tian had been quite so talented as Shan. The only reason Jian couldn't whole-heartedly support his friend's efforts was the tumult that would certainly occur when Shan's idealized vision of Lanfen's personality ran into the real thing.

Jian considered saying something. He, more than anybody, had received more instruction than he'd ever wanted on Lanfen's view of romance. If he relayed that advice on to Shan, it might help his suit. Or perhaps persuade him to drop it. After a moment's thought, Jian abandoned the idea. Some things a man could only learn for himself through experience. Instead, he simply reached up and patted Shan on the shoulder.

He was saved from the need to say anything further when the central bell rang out, alerting the whole compound. Their distinguished guests would be arriving soon.

ooOoo

The Guo family's meeting hall was meant to inspire members of the family and impress visitors. It started from the ground up with the wooden flooring made of oak harvested from spiritually rich enclaves. The wood grain seemed to dance when you looked at it closely and imbued the room with a comfortable aura. It was an exorbitant expense for any room, let alone a hall meant to seat hundreds.

The walls were made of similarly sumptuous material and decorated with symbols of the family's might. One side was covered with a series of tapestries depicting the life of the Guo family's founding ancestor. Near the entrance were scenes of his early achievements in cultivation. Moving deeper into the hall, such things gave way to the story of his battles against the demonic beasts and their barbarian allies who had once inhabited the land now occupied by Bianjing Town. The final tapestry illustrated how the ancestor had received the blessing of the Emperor himself, charging him with the duty of protecting and overseeing the territory he had conquered.

The opposite wall was decorated with weapons taken from noteworthy enemies defeated by the Guo family. Each weapon was labeled with a small plaque so that it could be identified by visitors, but the Guo family had all learned them by heart as children. From the sword of a barbarian king whose name had been struck from the historical records to the spear of the demon chieftain who had been defeated in a costly battle less than a century ago, each was a tangible reminder of the family's glorious past and heavy responsibility.

The back wall was less ostentatious, but no less impressive for those with eyes to see. The only decoration on display was the grant from the Emperor, the spiritual energy imbued in the Imperial Seal keeping its appearance as pristine as the day it left the Imperial Court.

The front of the room held a slightly elevated stage. Perched on the stage were four seats, occupied by the Guo family's head and his three sons, clad in their formal robes of green silk. The remainder of the family sat on bamboo mats set on the floor. Enough people had shown up, drawn by the prestige of the Heavenly Sword Sect or the prospect of drama surrounding Jian, to fill the room. The only clear area was a corridor several paces wide leading from the front entrance to the stage.

The only concession Jian received for his role in the day's events was a bamboo mat in the front row, facing the stage. The calculus of status and prestige meant that Shan was separated from him halfway through the room, relegated to a more distant seat where he would have to strain to hear what was said. Jian kept his head held high and ignored the curious looks from the people around him.

This would be an embarrassing evening. There was no way around it. Afterwards, though, he would be free.

He had almost managed to convince himself to believe in his optimistic wishes when the door was thrown open. The door guard stepped inside and announced their guests, his voice booming to every corner of the hall.

"Elder Qiang of the Heavenly Sword Sect and his junior disciples have arrived."

Jian knew he shouldn't look. He didn't have any part to play in what was to come. Paying close attention to the proceedings could only hurt him. And yet, he found himself craning his neck along with the rest of the crowd to get a good look at the visitors.

The man at the head of the group cut an impressive figure. Sharp eyed and sharp featured, he showed no sign of discomfort at the scrutiny he was under. He was resplendent in the white robes of the Heavenly Sword Sect, the golden embroidery hinting at the powerful formations laid in every article he wore. His face showed few signs of age, though the white hairs salted through his dark hair suggested that he was ancient indeed. Jian couldn't see through his cultivation at all, which was to be expected. Only the head of the Guo family could boast a level of cultivation that even threatened to rival an elder of the Heavenly Sword Sect.

The elder was trailed by two disciples. They wore white robes like his own, though theirs was embroidered in silver. The boy on his right was carrying a brocade box in his arms and advanced with the aura of an unsheathed sword. He was not much older than Jian, but seemed to have already taken his first steps on the path of Core Formation. Ordinarily the appearance of such a talented youth would have been the talk of Bianjing Town for days, but Jian's eyes slid right past him to land on the girl following behind the elder on his left.

The rumors had understated matters. Though Jian fancied he could still see signs of the little girl he'd known, Meirong had grown into a budding beauty who stood among the flowers of Bianjing Town like a crane among chickens. Jian found his gaze resting on her hair. It had always been a striking red color. Before, though, it had been a snarled mess, more likely to be decorated with twigs than jewelry. Now, it flowed down her back in a smooth wave, moving in a hypnotic dance as she walked.

Meirong showed no sign of emotion at returning to the place where she had been raised, her expression tranquil. For a moment, their eyes met. For a moment, Jian would have sworn that he saw flames dancing in the blue of her eyes. The moment passed and she continued to survey the room, not sparing him a second look.

Jian tried to regain his composure. It wasn't unheard of for cultivators forming their core to manifest some sort of unnatural phenomenon. He didn't know enough to speculate with any kind of intelligence at what it might mean.

He was still feeling unnerved when the visitors reached the foot of the stage.

Elder Qian inclined his head in greeting. "Thank you for welcoming us."

"You honor us with your visit," the family head said in reply. "If there is anything the Guo family can do to aid you in your mission, please ask."

"I am merely gathering information," Elder Qian said. "The Heavenly Sword Sect will soon build a new branch."

The Guo family had too much pride for the hall to erupt in conversation. Still, a definite rustle passed through the crowd as the shocking implications of the elder's statement began to sink in.

The four great sects had been established by the Empire only a century ago. In that time, the Heavenly Sword Sect had risen to be the first among them, but all four had proven quite effective at bringing some of the wilder lands of the Empire under the Emperor's control. If the sects had been given the permission, or the directive, to spread their influence, then the Empire was in for great changes in the near future. The sort of great changes that could bring about great opportunity or great danger.

"A new branch?" the family head asked. Even the venerable elder couldn't keep his surprise entirely out of his voice.

Elder Qian nodded. "I am touring the troubled areas of the Empire."

The family head frowned, and Jian winced. Bianjing Town was on the outskirts of the Empire. He had known that life was less perilous in the more well-settled areas, but it was bracing to hear the situation stated so plainly.

"The Guo family has been charged with the protection of Bianjing Town and the surrounding area."

If Elder Qian took note of the trace of disapproval in that statement, he didn't let it show. "There are those who find the Demon's Teeth to be an eyesore."

The Demon's Teeth was a mountain range that dominated the horizon to the north. Situated outside of even the most optimistic reckoning of the Empire's borders, they were infested with demons, barbarians, and the demonic beasts that came with them. It was only the tireless efforts of the Guo family that kept the forces of chaos from spilling over and wreaking havoc around Bianjing Town.

There had been three serious expeditions mounted to clear out the Demon's Teeth recorded in the Empire's written histories, and several more had been passed down as legends. None had ended well. The periphery of the mountains was relatively safe, allowing even low level cultivators to earn great rewards, albeit at some personal risk. Further in, though, the danger mounted rapidly, to the point that escaping alive became a mark of distinction.

"The Empire is filled with such eyesores," the family head said, then shrugged. "Well, if it's information on those mountains that you want, then information we will provide. We can also provide you with a guide to the outer regions, although..."

"I have brought these promising seeds along with me in order to broaden their horizons," Elder Qian replied. "I will ensure their safety."

"Very well," the family head said, before a rare smile appeared on his face. "I hope they aren't here only to broaden their horizons. You've grown up well, Meirong."

"Thank you, sir," she said. Her reply was delivered with perfect courtesy, but with none of the warmth of one who had practically been a member of the family.

"What is this?"

"The young lady is here because of her past ties to your family," Elder Qian said. "It would be better for all such ties to be relegated to the past."

The men of the Guo family looked at each other for a long moment. Jian could only speculate as to what sort of communication was passing between them. The result was obvious enough, as his father was the next to speak.

"Is this the will of her grandfather?"

If Meirong's grandfather had come out and stated that he wished to break the engagement, then the two parties who made the promise could come to a new agreement setting it aside. Both men would endure some minor embarrassment, but neither would suffer a true loss of face. It was the ideal outcome, and what Jian had expected would happen.

In all likelihood, though, that kind of agreement would have been reached in private. A public request like this most likely came with a more sinister purpose, as was confirmed when Elder Qian shook his head.

"You want me to break my word?"

The elder was unruffled at the direct question. "I understand that it is a difficult decision."

Elder Qian gestured at the young man standing behind him. He stepped forward, setting the brocade box in his hands down on the stage. When he opened the lid a medicinal smell wafted forth together with spiritual power that even Jian could feel from his seat on the floor. The young man then stepped back, taking his position behind the elder without any change in his expression.

Jian's father didn't bother to study the contents of the box. "Would this be enough to convince you to break your own word?"

"Naturally, should you impress me as reasonable and farsighted people," Elder Qian said, still perfectly calm, "I would give great weight to your advice regarding my mission."

Jian's father didn't respond immediately this time. While a gift was simply a matter of personal enrichment, influence over the location of the Heavenly Sword Sect's first branch was something that could affect the fortunes of the entire Guo family for generations. It wasn't something he could decide on his own, and as he looked to the head of the family for guidance the whole room seemed to teeter on the edge of a knife.

Jian's stomach fell. He'd hoped to be free of the engagement, yes, but not like this. To be so openly forced to break his word wouldn't just hurt his father's reputation, but could seriously harm his future cultivation. Jian knew that he couldn't exercise any real influence here, but he still racked his brain for something worthwhile to say. To his surprise, it was a different member of the younger generation who broke the silence.

"Aren't you taking this a little too seriously?" Meirong asked. "Why pretend that this farce of a marriage will ever happen?"

Her gentle voice and carefree tone were at odds with the venom in her words. Even if it wasn't anything Jian hadn't thought to himself, being insulted in front of his entire family pricked at his pride.

His father turned to look at Elder Qian with disdain. "Do all disciples of your sect feel free to interrupt their elders?"

"Why shouldn't I speak about my own future?" Meirong asked, showing no sign of shame at her continuing breach of etiquette. "A fiancee who gives up on writing to me, who gives up on cultivating, why shouldn't I give up on him?"

Jian shot to his feet, eager to respond to the insult, only to hesitate. Nothing she had said was untrue, exactly. He had his excuses but he wasn't about to shame himself by making such petty arguments in front of his whole family.

His father was glaring at him. Belatedly, Jian realized that his hasty action had effectively dug the moral high ground out from under his father.

Meirong chuckled. "Now this one thinks he's worthy to speak?"

He wished he could go back in time and undo his actions. Unfortunately, there was nothing for it but to bull forward. At least his father was no longer at risk of embarrassment, not directly.

"Why shouldn't I speak about my own future?" Jian said, echoing her words back to her. "I would seek satisfaction for your words, were we not engaged."

Of course, any such honor duel would end in seconds with his ignominious defeat. Jian tried to calm himself and think. He was never going to get himself out of this situation with his martial skills. He wasn't sure he could get out of it at all. More than anything else, he needed time.

"At least your sense of humor has improved," she said, before shaking her head. "It's embarrassing to think that I used to admire you just three years ago."

Jian stared at her for a moment. Nothing good could come of resolving the situation between themselves. As the younger generation, one of them could refuse to go through with the engagement and put their elder in a bind, but even both of them working together couldn't end the engagement without ruining at least one person's reputation.

Worse, he couldn't expect any help from his elders. It was beneath their dignity to interfere in childish squabbling. As shocking as it had been for he and Meirong to take center stage, at least they had the excuse of youth. Not that speaking up had done Jian much good. 

Arguing with her was pointless. Fighting would be pointless and painful. He needed time to think. More time!

"Let us settle matters with a duel," he said, "in three years' time."

What he really needed was to get to the end of the day without anything irrevocable happening. Pushing the point of decision off into the future would give him time to weasel out of this trap. It was at least better than his father being put on the spot, forced to make an immediate choice between his own personal honor and the family's future.

Meirong raised one perfect eyebrow. "You think it will make a difference?"

"Much has changed in the last three years," Jian said, "much will change in the next three."

In the absence of any reasonable argument, all he could do was fake profundity. Meirong's brother disciple, at least, wasn't moved. He stepped forward, almost moving to put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Foolishness," he spat, "at least let me test to see if he is worthy of your time."

"Now, now, Brother Tingfeng, he isn't engaged to you," Meirong said. A simple gesture was enough to send the fierce swordsman back behind her, though his glare at Jian had hardly lessened in intensity. "I suppose there's no harm in waiting, as long as matters are clear in the end. A duel, three years from today, the winner to dictate to the loser what to do with our betrothal."

Jian nodded in agreement. For the first time, Meirong showed a genuine smile. It was brief, quickly vanishing as she smoothed her face back into a neutral expression, but it was enough to send a shiver down Jian's spine.

The last time he'd seen that particular smile was after the two of them had worked together to convince Lanfen to take the fall for his mother's broken flower vase. Jian glanced at Tingfeng, who had been so eager to curry favor with a girl who so clearly was not interested. Certainly, there were advantages to Meirong in dragging out the termination of their doomed betrothal. Playing along with her plan was only enough to delay catastrophe, though. If he wanted to avoid disaster altogether he would have to get his wits together and chart his own path forward.

ooOoo