Consequences

After throwing the blame onto his grandpa with some 'Dueling with demons' excuse, Li Ao visited Li Anjing.

The man force-fed him a few pills and another disgusting drink.

After vomiting whatever was left in his stomach, given just a pair of clean pants to wear, then ordered to stay around, Li Ao cast a tired look at his uncle.

The man seemed...older?

If he was like thirteen or fourteen years old in the past, now he looked like sixteen.

Or not.

Li Ao wasn't much interested in his uncle's looks before.

Sensing his intent to stare, Li Anjing raised his head from his notebooks. A pair of Jade-rimmed glasses hung on his nose. Its lenses were enchanted with formations to keep his eyes focused.

''What is it?''

''Uncle, did you get older?''

One brow raised, Li Anjing snapped his fingers.

A short burst of Qi popped in front of him, cooled, then turned into a reflective ice block. Li Ao could see his own image from a dozen meters away.

''Holy shit, how did you do that?''

''Practice. Something you sorely lack.''

''...''

Gazing at his front profile, Li Anjing cast Li Ao another side-long glance.

''Your Grandaunt said the same thing.''

''Aunt Shu?''

''Grandaunt Shu.''

''Aunt is easier.''

''Is it?'' Li Anjing smiled. ''Or is it because she gets mad when you use grand?''

''...''

He returned to taking notes from another notebook, scrutinizing some texts as he inscribed empty pages. They were a collection of his past year of work. Li Anjing would make a summary of his findings every Summer, turn them more comprehensive for a wider audience, then give them to the palace for inspection.

After the palace made another series of simplifications, it would be sent to the Alchemy Schools within Great Wei to be taught and reviewed by students.

Of course, Four Saints Sect received a more extensive copy for studies.

Li Ao's faint breaths accompanied the constant scribbling within the room. Both hands on the stool, leaning forward to stare, Li Ao watched his uncle jot down a page every two minutes.

Some time later, Li Anjing put down his quill and approached a series of shelves to his back. From a low rose-coloured cupboard he took out a brown box. Within stood several fresh ink bottles, some invisible and some of beast blood to last longer. Each was labelled and arranged in different colors.

Picking an appropriate one, he put the box back, closed the lid, then slowly walked back to his seat.

''Isn't it easier to use a spatial ring?''

''...it is better this way.''

Li Ao scratched his cheeks. ''Better?''

''Better.''

The man returned to scribbling.

Li Ao cast a look on the ceiling.

''It is boring to use spatial equipment.''

Hearing his calm voice, Li Ao glanced back at his uncle.

''One flick of your sleeve, and poof...everything right under your hand for reaching.''

''Isn't it convenient?''

''Convenient is boring.''

He spent a few moments squinting at a line, jotted it down, then revolved the page.

''There is no meaning in convenience.''

''...I don't get it.''

''When you are old, you will.''

''You people always say that.''

''That means we know something you don't.''

Li Ao sighed.

''...how is it better? Is it more fun to walk over to a cupboard?''

Li Anjing stopped his movements.

Turning his head, he cast a warm smile at Li Ao.

''That's right. It is fun. Taking small breaks, walking a few paces. Not being efficient or worrying about convenience...''

He returned to writing, stoic.

''I mean...what if you wasted precious time?''

''Elaborate.''

''I mean what I said.''

''Vague statements do not work, Li Ao. You think I will understand, but I don't. What is precious time?''

''...Like, if you were researching medicine. One day, a poison appears that only your medicine will solv—''

''Very far-fetched.''

''...just an example!''

''Don't raise your voice.''

Li Ao grit his teeth and took deep breaths.

''And when it happens, it turns out you could have prevented it from spreading if you only researched a little faster.''

''Your imagination fascinates me, nephew.''

''You!''

Li Anjing put down the paper in his hand.

''Now, tell me. How was I to understand your meaning if you did not give your example?''

''...oh.''

''Next—such outlandish imagination is not entirely unfounded. But why should I obsess over such scenarios?''

''I don't know. Being prepared?''

''Life is not about treading lightly every single day. How many days of ours pass in peace and quiet? How many of it in danger and excitement?''

''But it will happen.''

''You sound sure of it.''

''...''

''If it is meant to be, we can deal with it then.''

Saying so, Li Anjing stopped for a moment.

''You changed, nephew.''

''I don't think I did.''

''Well, I thought the same...''

''...When your Grandaunt made a comment about my face.'' He tapped the butt of his quill on the ink bottle. ''But, you were not the kind to think about the future.''

Li Ao's eyes widened for a moment. Casting a look at his Uncle, he saw Li Anjing carrying a solemn face.

''Did father influence you today?''

Did he?, Li Ao thought.

He remained still.

''You know, nephew...I do not know you well. Not as well as others.''

''It is okay, uncle.''

''Do not mention it. It is not okay. However, I know you well enough to understand— you are affected. More likely, you might be traumatized.''

''Traumatized? By what?''

''That, you should know better than me.''

''Elaborate.''

''I can't feel what you feel. I can't know what you know. Even if I read your memories, I wouldn't be able to.''

Li Anjing put down the pages in his hand. The green-feathered quill— that he left in the blue-labelled ink bottle.

''Unless you tell me.''

Li Ao stared at his uncle's expressionless face. There was no blink nor tremble in his eyes.

Breathing out in frustration, Li Ao laid his back on the table.

''I don't think I am. I'm not affected. I'm not traumatized. I'm feeling better, stronger. I also think I'm a bit more prepared for things.''

''What are those 'things'?''

''Events, chances...anything.''

''Anything? You mean the epidemic only I can stop? Disasters? More tragedies?''

Li Anjing frowned at him. ''No one is prepared. No one can be prepared for tragedies. Not you, not I, nor father.''

''Were we not 'prepared' for...ten years ago? Realize—You are overestimating yourself, Li Ao.''

Li Ao regarded the man's words for a moment.

Why did they think he was overestimating himself?

He was just determined to get stronger, more cautious, more prepared.

He only wanted to ensure he wouldn't be a burden to his family. He wanted to know about his master, complete missions for extra coins, then perhaps help his cousins on the battlefield...

'I don't need your opportunity to support our family.'

He didn't know what he wanted. He acted on impulses and sudden decisions. He went into danger for those impulses, got hurt because of those impulses.

He didn't have any consideration for the consequences of what he did. He thought he did, but he didn't. It seemed like he did, but he didn't.

So many things turned out the way he wanted that he had overestimated himself.

He wasn't no pillar or support. He was tiny. Others? They were big. Too big for him to retaliate.

Li Ao covered his eyes with a hand.

''How old are you, nephew?''

Li Ao spoke in a whisper.

''I don't know.''

''...I know you were supposed to be seventeen this year.''

''Hm.'' Li Ao nodded.

''How old are you?''

''Twenty six...twenty seven.''

''You are seventeen.''

Li Ao put another hand on his face.

''Even if you were thirty or forty, you would be overestimating yourself.''

''...''

''You don't need to protect others. You don't need to protect us. Forget about those terrible scenarios in your head.''

''Look, we are safe and sound. You are sitting there, I am sitting here. We are talking. Is it not a lovely day outside?''

Li Ao had never heard the man talk so much in his short life.

Never after the death of his own family.

Standing up, Li Anjing walked over to the eastern corner of his room and opened a window. It was still early in the morning. A pretty, soft orange light poured inside. The brown floorboards reflected it back to the herbs and feathers hung from the ceiling.

''Do you hear the sounds?''

Soft splashes of the pond.

Flapping wings of the little birds; their chirps, cries, flutters. The tree leaves rustling under their wings.

A few chattering servants: Li Yun burnt his face, again, and a maid had given birth. Li Huan gifted her old baby clothes and supplies to the couple.

''You need to be here. Not in your mind.''

''Hm!'' Li Ao nodded, stronger than before.

As he stared out to window to where the mausoleum lay, Li Anjing heard Li Ao whimper.

''...uncle.''

Li Anjing's eyes moistened, but he wiped them away. ''Yes, Li Ao.''

''Uncle...''

''Yes, Li Ao.''

''Universe is scary...''

''...I know.'''

Tears flowed down Li Ao's cheeks. He pressed down on his eyes, tried to shut them out, but again, they flowed through the gaps.

''It's too scary...I am too weak.''

Li Anjing slowly walked over to his side. He put down his glasses, held his nephew by the trembling shoulder, then crouched to sit by him.

''You're weak, too...''

''I learned a long time ago.''

''How are we still alive?''

''That, I do not know.''

Li Ao lowered his head further down. He tried to hold back his whimpers, but it didn't seem to stop.

''How do we survive? So many of them...so many bad things...''

''What are we even trying for?''

Li Anjing let him mutter as he wished. Only, he remained there by his side.

''I don't want others to die...''

''I don't want you all to die...''

''...the ghosts...did no wrong...''

''...If I...someone could have died...''

''...''

''...

After a while, Li Ao fell silent. They sat for a few more minutes, then Li Anjing spoke in a soft tone.

''...I need to air the room today. Can you help me move furniture?''

Nodding, Li Ao wiped his eyes and nose. A few drops of tears remained around his eyes. ''I can.''

''Okay.''

His uncle gave a short pat to his shoulder and stood up. Li Ao followed his lead.

''Here.''

A napkin appeared in front of him.

''...you said convenient was boring.''

''Boring things have their uses, time to time.''

Li Ao snorted, wiped his nose, then burned it to ashes.

''We will get down those hanging herbs first. Then the fragile jars and boxes on the boards and tables.''

''The rest?''

''I fixed them to their shelves. Don't use cultivation. Most are sensitive to fluctuations.''

''The cauldrons?''

''I will move them away. Open the windows first.''

Obliging, Li Ao walked a few paces to the nearest window. He opened the series of them one by one, each casting another warm ray of orange light into the wide study.

Taking a deep, fresh breath, he turned around. ''Where do I begin?''

''...''

''...no, you are doing it wrong...''

''This Omasoun Stalks box is towards the back, near the fourth table...''

''No, you cannot lift those cauldrons. That is why I said I would do it...''

''...I said, not near the Astral Lillies specifically.''

''...again, wrong...'''

''...''

''Get out! Get out right now!''

*********

Author's Note Here, since it exceeds 600 words.

A small(?) rant!

While I feel like it kills the pace, I always like to explore the aftermath of a physical trauma.

Physical trauma always leads to psychological trauma, which I think is just not given too much important in web-fiction. Especially in trash cultivation stories.

Hey, I also write a trash cultivation story! It requires by law that I must keep the pace going even if I shit myself thinking—but well, it is better for some instances to slow down.

In this case, aim is to show why cultivators age differently.

If you do remember, though it was but a simple off-hand narration remark, I had mentioned that cultivators age differently. The reasons are laid bare across the story, too, but let me make a short summary: The question is, compared to normal children, how much of their life is spent experiencing?

They sit in their rooms, breathe strange air(?), consume drugs(?), they read manuals and theories, they learn weapons—they don't socialize very well for they have no time for it, or do so little and in confined spaces that they are not experienced in such matters.

In essence, they are either sheltered, or too exposed from/to the crushing weight of the world.

This circumstance is more fatal for young masters and ladies, who are further isolated. Reason dictates that with the best education they have, as well as the Great Wei's more Military doctrine of raising their children, these young masters and ladies would be better behaved in front of suffering.

That's true, even for lands outside Great Wei. I showed through Zhen Zedong, Chen Ping, Qing Yan, Sun Jian, and Li Ao that they were capable of enduring suffering.

Lei Jin was a little off, for unlike these three he fought a battle on two fronts: one against himself, his passion, the other against his family. Still, he endures.

Enduring is what makes one a cultivator. A cultivator, young or old, perseveres. (Yes, Fan Yueyin, you are very right!)

But one does not just endure suffering. One endures, then must relieve themselves of suffering. One does not just emerge from suffering born anew. Destruction does not only bring creation. Destruction creates, but it destroys nevertheless.

One does suffer, one does emerge anew, but one is flawed, and one must mend their scars to be born truly anew. There is nothing simple about it, but it is yet simple.

Confusing? I think it is a little confusing. Trying to explore what most trash cultivation stories summarize in a few lines is quite difficult.

I also don't have the eastern spiritual background most accomplished eastern authors have, so what I explore and present to you lovely people might not be representative of their true intent.

After all, there is a fine line in Cultivation fiction when exploring thoughts such as one of the 'Laws of the Universe.' Cultivation itself is based upon this death/rebirth principle, and so is the entire world.

Using drugs like a junkie, facing stupidly exaggerated enemies, being reborn through trials and tribulations...

How does a young master react to such things? How does he emerge from them? And if he does emerge anew, what changes him?

Does he need to change? When you destroy a bagel, it is still a bagel. When you cut a carrot, it is still a carrot(Sumikko no Sora San Reference!). Should he be any different because of the crushing weight of the universe that suffocates him?

Well, it is all a food for thought. There is a good thing in writing these thoughts down to better understand them.

For your case, maybe it will interest you to see what goes behind the scenes when I write this silly little monkey called Xu Liao.

Li Ao.

I confess, I still write it as Xu Liao sometimes, then correct it when editing...

We will still be within the boundaries of Kalen Divine Castle arc. Don't let the change of sceneries fool you!

Also, I'd be thrilled to see your thoughts about the matter, or anything related to cultivation stories! Have a lovely day!