Of Hunters and Immortals

The servant's instructions were easy enough to follow, and before long Jiang was able to hear the sound of flowing water. The river was a few minutes walk from the sprawling buildings of the Sect, running along a shallow valley just past a group of terraced gardens that seemed to be growing crops for use in the Sect.

It wasn't directly visible from the Sect itself, mostly hidden from view by the dense foliage that lined its banks. The river wasn't particularly massive, but its waters were clear and steady, and it was large enough to go swimming in.

As he drew closer, he was able to see that the steeper banks of the river sloped down to a large flat open section where wooden basins had already been arranged in preparation for use. Several piles of laundry sat nearby, sorted into different stacks, while a few woven baskets carried soap flakes and scrubbing stones. A dozen or so servants were bustling around the basins, filling some of them up with water or passing out washboards.

Jiang noticed one thing very quickly.

He was the only guy there.

A few of the women had already noticed him. Some gave him curious glances, others outright paused in their work to stare. A few whispered amongst themselves, one or two smothering grins behind their hands.

Jiang wasn't sure why, but he got the distinct sense that he was about to become the day's entertainment.

Before he could think too hard about it, an older woman at the centre of the group turned to face him. She was stern-looking, her dark hair twisted into a severe bun, streaks of silver woven through it. Her expression was the type that had probably scared entire generations of children into behaving.

She folded her arms. "You lost, boy?"

Jiang swallowed. How was this woman scarier than Elder Yan had been while actively threatening to kill him? "Uh, no. I was assigned to this task?" he proffered the task slip like a flimsy shield.

The woman's expression didn't change. "I doubt that," she said, taking the slip of paper and examining it with a critical eye. "…Hmph." Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her eyes flicked back to him. Still suspicious.

"How old are you?" she asked abruptly.

Jiang didn't really see what that had to do with anything. "Fo—sixteen," he corrected rapidly, having forgotten he'd lied about his age to get into the Sect in the first place.

"Boy, I've raised six children, all of which were better liars than that. Try again."

Jiang did his best to hold her gaze, but it was like locking eyes with an unmoving boulder. After a few long, excruciating seconds, he exhaled sharply and muttered, "…Fourteen."

"That's what I thought. What the hell Wu Feng was thinking assigning this task to you, I have no idea, but then who ever asks for my opinion?"

Jiang was getting the impression the question was rhetorical.

The woman sighed. "Well, you don't look like a pervert at least, so that's something. Though you're in dire need of a wash yourself before I'm letting you clean anything. Come on then," she barked, turning and striding towards the gaggle of servants around the washing basins.

Jiang blinked.

"What?"

— — —

Sure enough, the woman in charge – who he was starting to think of as The Matron, capital letters and all – had insisted on him washing himself before helping with the laundry. Not a problem in theory, considering it had been longer than he liked since he'd had a chance to bathe, but, well…

He didn't usually bathe with an audience.

Fortunately for the tattered remains of his dignity, The Matron didn't insist on him getting entirely naked, but the thin hemp of his undergarments felt woefully inadequate in terms of covering.

The muffled giggling from the river bank certainly didn't help.

By the time he finished and scrambled to clothe himself again, his cheeks and the tips of his ears were feeling very warm.

"Oh, don't bother," the Matron said dryly, intercepting him before he could tug his clothes back on. "Those need washing anyway. Unless you want to stand dripping and miserable in wet clothes for the next few hours."

Jiang opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off before he could say anything. "Relax," she said dryly, jerking a thumb over her shoulder at the rest of the washerwomen. "You're hardly alone."

He turned reflexively, following her gesture, and immediately regretted it. Sure enough, the women had stripped to their breast bindings and thin underskirts, wading out into the river to collect more water and scrub at the mess of clothes.

He jerked his gaze away, blushing furiously. In theory, he understood. He had dim memories of his mother doing the same when washing clothes down at the river back in Liǔxī. It made sense – trying to keep your clothes dry while working was a fool's errand, and anything that did get wet would take hours to dry, but… well, it was different. After all, these girls were not related to him. His ears grew even hotter as the women giggled at his reaction.

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The Matron snorted, clearly amused. "Maybe you're not a pervert, but you've definitely been sheltered. Girls, quit gawking and get back to work. Laundry won't clean itself."

A ripple of good-natured laughter passed through the group. One girl, a tall woman with dark eyes, called cheerfully, "Don't worry, little brother! We don't bite!"

"Much," added another, grinning broadly.

He retreated quickly to the washbasin farthest from the group, keeping his head stubbornly turned away. Maybe if he stared hard enough at the water, he could pretend he was anywhere else.

Unfortunately, it quickly became clear that the washerwomen had no intention of ignoring their newest companion. Once their laughter had faded into quiet chuckles, and everyone settled back into work, curiosity began to win out.

"So, little brother," called the tall woman with dark eyes from earlier, smiling cheerfully as she scrubbed at a linen robe, "Do you have a name, or should we just call you cutie~?"

"Jiang," he replied stiffly, wondering if praying for the ground to open up and swallow him would be considered 'Taunting the Heavens' or something by the cultivators.

"Hmmm, I think I prefer cutie, though," the woman teased.

"Oh, leave him alone, Mei; you'll give the poor boy a heart attack," another woman scolded gently, shooting Jiang an amused look. "You're from one of the villages nearby, aren't you? I'm guessing somewhere small?"

He hesitated, eyes fixed stubbornly on the clothing in front of him. "Liǔxī. It's not… not really nearby. A couple of weeks to the south. Near Wúyè."

"That far?" the woman – who seemed slightly older than Mei – asked curiously. "What brings you all the way to our humble Sect, then? You're a little young to be making a journey like that by yourself. You here with your family?"

Jiang really didn't want to talk about it, but got the impression the women were unlikely to be satisfied with vague answers. He scrubbed harder, trying to keep his voice steady. "Bandits attacked our village. The Hollow Fangs. Took my mother and little sister captive. I followed the bandits' trail, hoping to find a way to rescue them, but... there were too many to fight. So I ran to Wúyè, trying to get help. The Azure Sky Sect sent people, but by the time they arrived, the prisoners had already been moved. Elder Lu offered me a chance to become a cultivator so I could find my family, so… here I am."

The mood immediately sobered. "A-Ah, wow, I'm… I'm so sorry," stuttered the woman who asked. A soft murmur went around the group, and several of the other women also made sympathetic noises.

No one spoke for a long moment, the soft slosh of water and rhythmic scrubbing the only sounds breaking the silence. Jiang felt distinctly uncomfortable, even beyond his embarrassment from earlier.

"Life can be cruel," another woman finally murmured, her voice soft but matter-of-fact. It wasn't pitying exactly; more a recognition of something they'd all experienced in some way.

Jiang nodded silently, still keeping his eyes focused downward, fingers tightening around the cloth he was scrubbing. It might sound trite, but that didn't detract from the truth of the statement. His story was unfortunately not an uncommon one – and most in his situation weren't lucky enough to catch the attention of a passing Elder.

The Matron, who had been quietly watching him from nearby, spoke up bluntly. "It's hard, but sometimes there's nothing you can do about it. Wherever she is, your mother would want you safe. You've landed somewhere good. Working at the Sect isn't glamorous, but it's stable. There's safety here—no bandits to worry about, and you'll always have food on your plate."

She meant well, Jiang knew that. He could even hear a thread of kindness beneath her harsh exterior. Still, he bristled at her words.

"I'm not a servant," he muttered, more defensively than he'd intended. "I'm here as a cultivator. Or at least, I will be—I'm taking the exams."

The women around him exchanged startled glances.

"You mean… you will be taking the exams, right?" Mei ventured.

Jiang blinked, turning to face them before flushing and turning away again. He'd forgotten their state of dress for a second. "No, I am taking the exams. Like, right now."

"You're too young," The Matron said bluntly. "Even if you were able to cultivate, they wouldn't let you in until you're a man grown. Even cultivators have more sense than to let children run around with the power of the Heavens."

Jiang grit his teeth at the insult, but let it pass. "I lied about my age," he said.

The Matron huffed a laugh. "You couldn't even lie to me about your age, boy. A cultivator'd sniff you out in a second flat," she said, not unkindly. "Best you not try to fool them – they tend to take things like that poorly. And for a peasant boy, they'd likely as not just kill you on the spot and get it over with."

Jiang's cheeks flushed again, but this time from stubborn indignation. "I am a cultivator," he insisted, voice rising slightly in frustration. "Elder Lu brought me himself. I just have to pass the entrance exams."

A few sceptical chuckles broke out among the women, though they were gentle rather than mocking. Mei shook her head, smiling sympathetically. "Oh, little brother, cultivators don't scrub laundry at the riverside."

Another woman nearby nodded in quiet agreement. "If Elder Lu himself invited you, you'd be wearing silk robes and drinking tea, not down here with the likes of us."

Jiang gritted his teeth, frustration growing. "It's not—I'm not making this up."

"Come now," the Matron interrupted sternly. "There's no shame in being a servant. Don't spin tales to impress the girls—they're smarter than they look."

A ripple of laughter, light and teasing, spread through the women. Jiang hunched lower over his basin, biting back an angry reply. He knew how absurd it sounded; he was scrubbing clothes half-naked in a river after all, hardly the picture of a cultivator.

He didn't even really know why he cared if they believed him at all – it's not like it would change reality. Maybe it was because they reminded him, however faintly, of the women from his village – the sort of casual ribbing and teasing, the relaxed atmosphere. He felt more at home scrubbing clothes in this river than he did surrounded by cultivators. That wasn't his world, and he wanted no part of it, not really. For some reason, it felt like the opinion of these servants was more important than what even Elder Lu thought of him.

"I believe him," said a soft, hesitant voice from behind.

Heads turned toward a young girl, barely older than Jiang himself, who had been quietly working off to the side. Under the sudden attention, she ducked her head nervously, her voice fading to a murmur. "I can...I can feel it."

A pause settled over the group. Mei broke the silence first, grinning mischievously. "Oh? You can 'feel' him, can you, little Ying? Didn't realise you were so bold!"

The others joined in, chuckling warmly. Ying blushed furiously, shrinking back further. "N-no, that's not—"

"Enough," the Matron snapped, silencing them instantly. Her gaze sharpened as she studied Ying carefully, seriousness returning to her features. "You're sure about that, Ying?"

The younger girl nodded shyly. "I—I think so. It's like how the other cultivators feel sometimes. Not as strong, but… similar."

The Matron went very still, her expression shifting subtly. It wasn't fear exactly, but there was a sudden distance in her eyes, a careful politeness settling into her posture. When she spoke again, her tone had lost its earlier warmth, becoming cautious and respectful.

"Well then," she said quietly, inclining her head slightly toward Jiang. "Forgive my rudeness, young master. I didn't realise."

Jiang stared, taken aback by the sudden change in the stern woman's expression. He was starting to get the feeling that revealing his status might have been a mistake.