Unintended Cultivator Vol 13: Chapter 3 – Appropriate Bearing

“I always feel like a fool when we do this,” said Sen under his breath.

“It’s necessary. It projects the appropriate bearing,” said Master Feng.

Row upon row of soldiers marched ahead of him. He could see more rows of soldiers marching behind him in his spiritual sense. Sen himself stood on a qi platform, hands clasped behind him, moving at the glacial pace set by the soldiers. At least a dozen cultivators in the core formation stage flew in a tight ring around him. To his right, Master Feng stood on his own qi platform, all but radiating power. To his left was Song Lan. She had an aloof expression that revealed nothing. The soldiers simply wore their armor. Master Feng and Song Lan wore their typical robes. It told anyone with the eyes to see Mount Tai that their status allowed them to wear whatever they pleased.

Sen and his cultivator escorts were a different matter. Everyone agreed that Sen needed to wear his finest robes. They were ridiculously ornate things that he’d had made to attend some function Jing had roped him into. The cultivators serving as a…Well, he supposed they were meant to be some manner of honor guard. They had gotten robes of a similar style and color, although much less ornate. It did give them the appearance of being unified in purpose. Whether they were in truth was still an open question in Sen’s mind. Some of them seemed to have come around. Others, especially the newer additions who were more recently steeped in sect politics, seemed to be committed to attempting their posturing games with him.

It might be time for a few more object lessons, he thought with a shudder. It was so easy to talk about being a blood-soaked tyrant. He’d discovered it was much harder to actually act as one. Yet, that seemed to be all some of them understood. Although, the nascent soul cultivators he’d picked up since beginning this conquest of the south were even worse. Some of them had come along willingly enough, but a few were there only under threat of death from Master Feng. Sen was quite certain any, if not all of them would happily take the first opportunity to cut him down without that threat hanging over their heads. Then again, they might take the chance anyway. People surprised Sen sometimes with their recklessness.

He forced himself to keep his gaze locked forward and focused in the middle distance. If he allowed himself to look around, he’d see the mortals. He’d see them cringing. He’d see their fear. A fear that was at least partially justified. Some of them would undoubtedly be dragged into the army and forced to fight. He didn’t relish the fear of mortals the way some cultivators seemed to do. Seeing that fear directed at him would just add another weight for his soul to carry. It was a burden he didn’t need because he was already carrying so many. So, he didn’t look.

He also knew that if he met the eyes of any of those mortals, it would only terrify them. After all, it was his army that had conquered their city in less than a day. If his army could do that, they’d ask themselves, what could he do? What would he do? The answer was, as little as he could and still secure the city. The reality was that the bloodshed wasn’t truly over. Hard experience had taught him that most of the noble houses and the royal house would likely need to be crushed. He’d been forced to put down uprisings in more than one kingdom before he learned that lesson.

Looking back on how he’d handled things in his own capital and Emperor’s Bay, he realized why he'd had so many problems. He thought he’d been hard with them. The truth was that he’d been far too soft in his handling of the nobles in both cities. If he’d handled them the way he’d taken to handling the nobles in these southern countries, he could have saved himself countless headaches. As the seemingly interminable march through the city mercifully came to an end at the palace, he checked a sigh of relief. He couldn’t let even a whisper of hesitation show to anyone. Any sign of weakness could become the excuse some noble or would-be rebel leader needed to ignore reality. That would only lead to more unnecessary deaths.

Most of the soldiers spread out around the palace in a formation that was defensive in name only. They were so thick on the streets that only a madman would entertain the idea of attacking them. Add in a sprinkling of the cultivators who were integrated with the army, and the notion of taking action against them became even less wise. As he approached the entrance to the palace, the doors swung open. To any mortal, it might have looked as though they moved on their own. In truth, the cultivator honor guard had opened the doors with qi. They marched into the palace ahead of him, while a small group of generals and their closest advisors trailed along behind him. Master Feng and Song Lan continued to flank him, if a bare step or two behind.

While Sen could identify the mortals throughout the palace with his spiritual sense, he never actually saw any of them. If there were servants, they were hiding from him and the threat he represented. He did note that the palace had the usual opulence that very few of the people in the capital seemed to share. Then again, it wasn’t the most excessive display he’d seen since this journey of warfare had begun. It was probably somewhere in the middle. That either meant that this kingdom was poorer than others, or the royal family had more restraint. Earned cynicism suggested that it was the former reason.

His spiritual sense also told him that there were at least three nascent soul cultivators waiting ahead. He presumed they were in the throne room. It was less clear if they planned to act against him. If so, Master Feng’s presence should at least give them some pause.

“Should be preparing for a fight?” asked Sen in a low voice that only Master Feng and Song Lan should be able to hear.

“I’m always preparing for a fight,” said Song Lan.

Master Feng thought a little longer before he said, “They probably won’t do anything stupid immediately, but why take chances?

“That’s a good point,” said Sen.

He summoned the lightning-iris blades that Master Feng had forged for him and belted them on. That drew a few looks from the cultivators, and he could almost feel the generals tensing up behind him. He didn’t know why they did that. If there was a problem serious enough that Sen had to fight, it wasn’t as though they could do anything to change the outcome. Sen considered the two swords. He knew that his strength had outgrown them. Even if he was reinforcing them, they likely wouldn’t hold up against a sword made for a nascent soul cultivator. Yet, he was loathe to give them up. They felt like relics of a much happier time in his life. Not an easier time, but a time that had been difficult in other, less awful ways. The practical side of him knew it was time to give them up. He could store them away. Maybe give them to Ai down the road.

“Isn’t it time to replace those?” asked Master Feng.

If the elder cultivator had any sentimental attachment to the weapons, it didn’t show.

“I was just thinking that. Are you available to make me new ones?”

“If we can find the right—” started Master Feng before he snorted. “I forget who I was talking to there for a moment. Of course, Emperor Lu can find the right components.”

“Please don’t call me that,” pleaded Sen.

“It’s who you are now,” said Song Lan.

Her tone was kindly, but the truth of those words was still merciless in his ears. He thought about answering, but what answer could he give other a cold acceptance. Instead, he focused on Master Feng.

“We’ll need to find you a suitable forge. I doubt just any blacksmith shop will be sufficient for your needs.”

“If history is any example, there will be a few less sects in this city in the next few days. One of them will have what I need.”

Sen didn’t get a chance to reply to that statement before they came to a door that had been intricately carved with creatures out of what most people considered myth. Sen had to repress a laugh when he realized that two of those creatures, a fenghuang and a dragon, were currently his daughter’s pets. At least, one of them was. He still wasn’t sure what the dragon was playing at, but it had convinced Auntie Caihong of its good intentions. That would just have to be good enough, as so many things concerning Ai were these days. What he wouldn’t give for one day with her. Just one day. The doors to the throne room swung open, and someone used a qi-infused, thunderous voice to announce him.

“His Imperial Majesty, Lu Sen.”