Kind Young Master [Progression Fantasy - Cultivation]

The first to step forward was Gao Chen, the second son. His blue robes, a treasure garment, shimmered as he drew a slender sword from his waist, the blade gleaming cold and sharp under the lantern light.

He bowed low to Xiao Sheng, then rose with a flourish.

"I shall be the first to present myself, Grand Elder."

There was no hint of acknowledgement in the master's placid expression, so Chen waited for long, awkward seconds before launching into his demonstration: a dazzling flurry of sword strikes, each movement sharp and proud, each technique executed with precision. The blade cut the air in clean arcs, his footwork measured and flawless, even as qi filled his limbs and propelled him to a speed no mortal could match.

Chen was a foundation formation stage cultivator, ascending faster than any youth in their bloodline for many generations. Fushuai was glad he missed most of it, hurrying back and forth with platters and plates, handing them off to servants waiting in a hidden alcove attached to the hall. It was hard to see how far his brother had come without a touch of bitterness finding the back of his tongue.

Chen finished his sword forms with a final sweeping slash, his blade whistling through the air before coming to a perfect halt at his side. He bowed once more, clearly pleased with himself. He had dedicated himself to internal techniques, and it showed. He was of the camp that believed speed and skill with a jian were superior to spells and formations.

The elder looked past him to a lantern slowly turning on its chain, and the second son of Gao dismissed himself, red in the face.

Next came Meili, her long silk robes trailing behind her. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a thin jade flute from her sleeve. She began to play, soft and haunting.

As the notes swirled, faint illusions shimmered into being around her: a blooming lotus, a golden koi leaping from invisible waters, a silver crane spreading its wings. The images were refined but insubstantial, with flickering edges. Fushuai, finally able to watch from the shadow of a pillar, noticed her hand trembling with the effort of control.

To this, the elder offered the barest of nods. Still, it was more than her brother had received, and Meili was able to return to her cushion with an air of accomplishment. After all, she was blessed with a stunningly rare spiritual root, a dream root. It would be impossible for anyone with clear eyes not to see how she stood out from the family crowd.

Brother Lei followed, striding forward with eager steps. His arms were bare to the shoulder, displaying bunched muscles and old scars. Without preamble, he struck the floor with his foot, and a crackle of golden lightning sparked around him.

He launched into a brutal martial demonstration, fists and feet moving with explosive speed. Every strike left small scorch marks on the polished marble that would take the servants ages to remove.

It was by far the most visually impressive of the demonstrations, though Fushuai found himself picking out flaws in the martial technique. His second brother was as powerful as a storm, and as lacking in control.

Xiao Sheng folded his hands in his sleeves and waited for it to end.

Three more demonstrations followed, each less distinctive than the last. None of the art or skill of the Gao heirs was sufficient to move the elder cultivator. By the last, he was humming to himself, and Gao Ligang's face had become a mask of death.

Gao Lin had the misfortune of being the final example. She was Fushuai's favorite sister, as she had never joined in the others' mockery. Their minds were not too dissimilar, though she did not suffer for her sympathetic heart. Such weakness was more acceptable in a woman than a man.

A slight girl, only fifteen, she carried a pitcher of water with her into the square and set it at her feet. With a series of sweeping gestures, she caused the water to rise, then diffuse into a mist that swirled around her in spiraling clouds.

"I have a question," Xiao Sheng said, and the mists stilled.

"Yes, Grand Elder." Gao Lin's voice was as small as a single droplet of the water she controlled. Their father seemed to want to intervene, fighting his instinct to rise, but he could not dare interrupt. The Living Blade's question had clearly been addressed to his daughter, not to him.

"Why do we cultivate?"

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The words were light. The silence that followed them was not. Gao Lin took in a deep breath.

"May I consider my answer for a moment?" She asked. "I can feel it on my tongue, but I do not yet have the words."

"Of course," Xiao Sheng said, before rising with a grunt and a hand on his knee. His joints popped. "You may sit."

The youngest daughter hurried to comply, her mist pouring back into the pitcher, as she returned with it to her pillow. The elder then stepped to the center of the square and put his arms behind his back, straightening his spine with evident difficulty, to address them all.

"I would hear an answer from each of you, young ones."

Gao Chen straightened on his heels. "To gain strength, Master," he said. "Strength to defend our family, to rise above all others, to claim our rightful place in the world."

The elder's gaze was blank as he turned it on the first daughter.

"To earn honor," Meili said. "So that our name will be remembered and respected throughout the generations."

As this garnered neither more nor less approval than the previous answer, Gao Lei took a more forceful approach, jumping to his feet. "To dominate!" he said, voice booming across the hall. "To crush those who stand in our way, to seize fortune with our own hands, rather than to beg the heavens for their mercy."

He crumpled under Xiao Sheng's empty gaze.

The others tried different tacks, and once again, Gao Lin was the last.

"To learn," she said, so quiet that Fushuai almost did not hear. "To understand. To be worthy of the wisdom of the higher realms."

At this, there was the slightest shift in the elder cultivator's demeanor. Not a smile, exactly. His blankness now seemed serene instead of empty.

"Thank you," he said. "Is that all the house of Gao has to offer?"

Gao Ligang stiffened. "All worth hearing, Grand Elder."

No one was looking at Fushuai. What would be the consequence if he spoke? He was already barely accepted in the house. If they cast him out, how much worse could it be? One thing was certain. The Living Blade would never come again to ask a second time.

"I have an answer."

Was that someone else's voice? No. Impossibly, the words had come from his own mouth. They were all looking at him now.

Brother Chen's expression clouded as he let his anger get the best of him. "That one is unworthy even to hear the master's question, let alone answer it."

"Do you speak for me, child of Gao Ligang?" His tone could not have been more mild, but Chen gasped as if he had been impaled by a spear. He dropped his head to the floor and uttered a stream of apologies.

Xiao Sheng shifted his gaze toward Fushuai with the slow inevitability of a drifting glacier.

"You have served faithfully all evening, never once attempting to beg my favor. Answer."

He did not think. He had not rehearsed. He simply spoke the truth that had lived in his heart for as long as he could remember.

"To end suffering," Fushuai said, feeling his mouth going dry.

For a moment, no one moved. They scarcely breathed.

Xiao Sheng looked as pleased as he had at the first taste of a dumpling, then he laughed. Lightly to begin, and then in an uproar. The Gao family followed suit, echoing him hollowly, eyes wide and white, all but Fushuai.

"How unorthodox." The elder cultivator wiped away a tear, collecting himself. Then he turned toward the hall entrance and walked forward as if the Gao family was not sitting in a row in front of him. They scrambled out of his way.

"Come along, then," he said. "I have wasted enough time in this village."

"Grand Elder…" He took a single step out of the shadow and paused. His mind had gone as dry as his mouth. What seemed to have happened could not have happened, and he was too baffled to think straight.

Xiao Sheng paused at the long table as if contemplating his despair at the absence of any more dishes to sample.

"I am not accustomed to repeating myself," he said to the table, then began to walk again.

Fushuai stifled a cry, realizing that he had failed to follow the command of someone who, if the accounts were true, could level the family estate with the ease another man might crack a walnut. His feet were smarter than he was, and they carried him with a quickness that allowed him to come within a step of the elder as they reached the great doors of the hall.

Xiao Sheng walked as if he expected those doors to open of their own accord.

They did.

Fushuai cast a single glance back at his family. His father was stunned, his mouth moving wordlessly, and brother Chen's fury was so palpable it was a wonder he had not felt it like a dagger in his back. The others were in various stages of denial, though none would dare speak against the choice now that it had been made.

Only Gao Lin offered him the barest of waves, and a slight, worried smile.

He didn't understand why this had happened, did not yet believe, fully, that it had. Perhaps Xiao Sheng was not seeking a disciple at all, but merely someone to serve him his meals. For that, Fushuai was more than qualified. There was no time for him to question further, nor to return to his room and gather his possessions. He wanted his books, at the very least, but he would not get them.

The famous old monster was leaving, and he would come along. Though Fushuai knew he had many faults, a lack of obedience was not among them. He smiled back at his favorite sister, hoping to reassure her, and without a word of goodbye, followed Xiao Sheng out of the hall and into the world beyond.