Unseen Cultivator

Itinay devised a mandate such that every time Qing Liao returned from a trip beyond the gateway, he wrote the council a report on everything he'd encountered. The sisters broadly agreed that this method was superior to having him report to any of them in person, an act inappropriate for a cultivator in the thought weaving realm. Ostensibly he ought to report to the head of the scouts, but everyone had quickly decided to deflect away from that incipient conflict and shuttle Liao into his own special niche to minimize friction.

An obligation was added that he must also provide verbal summaries to Zhou Hua. The council unanimously considered the young disciple eminently sensible and were certain she would approach them if anything truly erratic developed. Written reporting had seemed, otherwise, the proper method. Itinay had also personally supported this option because, as head of Qing Liao's chosen pavilion, she had the privilege of reading the submitted reports first.

She had assumed this would be a valuable source of intelligence that gave her increased influence over the process.

Unexpectedly, she encountered an unforeseen outcome. Her calculating weaver's mind ignored a specific variable: the way the trapper's son would approach producing his reports. The result was a scenario of extraordinary rarity, an immortal caught in a trap of her own making, one that produced its own self-inflicted punishment.

Liao composed without any literary presentation whatsoever. At the same time, he lacked the succinct brevity that trained scouts and messengers used in dispatch composition.

Instead, the reports he generated offered up one series after another of endless lists. Landforms matched up against long descriptions of resident birds and animals. Crudely sketched maps and trail charts tied to disorganized commentary regarding ruins, rivers, mountains, and anything else he encountered on his path. Lists of miscellanea ranked not by rarity or location, but by their utility in craftsmanship and whether or not he considered them exotic. All sorted by the idiosyncratic prioritization of a mind that focused on eventually turning everything he encountered into some form of processed good.

He offered up special emphasis, often describing in detail how challenging it was to locate each item, for everything on Zhou Hua's lists. It was a blatant attempt to impress his accomplishments on his superiors. The complete lack of subtlety was so transparently earnest it might have been endearing, if not so mind-numbing.

It was, after a fashion, bizarrely educational. Itinay had never realized that the surrounding forests contained such a distressingly large number of small, toothy, furry animals. She was quite certain; however, this was not knowledge that had any association with her dao at all. Even if it had been, there were far more effective discussions of local wildlife to be found in the library. Liao, in his warm-hearted efforts to impress the elders, was often exhaustively and pointlessly repetitive.

Such a method of composition, one somehow equally antagonistic to both artistry and efficiency, left Itinay feeling both vaguely embarrassed – this was one of the disciples of her pavilion after all – and also distinctly confused. Had another disciple produced his dispatches in this way she would have suspected either a carefully veiled insult or a scheme to get the requirement eliminated entirely. Neither suspicion made any sense in this case. Qing Liao was, by cultivator standards, remarkably straightforward, and every observation made by any of the grand elders or his other handful of associates indicated that he absolutely reveled in taking every opportunity to wander about the Ruined Wastes beyond Mother's Gift.

It was quite clear he chaffed bitterly under the distance and time restrictions imposed upon him.

The most logical explanation for the strange reports was that he was genuinely attempting to offer the grand elders what he thought they wanted. Itinay, taking this deduction a step further, suspected this sort of mechanical listing of objectives appealed primarily to the mind of Zhou Hua. Artemay had informed her that the young alchemist was a natural mathematician, one who lived perpetually within a world of equations and formulas. Though not herself an alchemist, Itinay's own studies into the arts of dyeing and staining were more than sufficient to identify the relevant thought processes. Liao's reports would indeed be useful to one seeking almost entirely to fill cauldrons and cabinets with valuable components.

That, however, was not what she desired.

They had, she realized upon considering the most recent set of reports describing the recovery of an almost ridiculously ancient and simple storage bracelet, made a mistake. In a short-sighted approach, they had prioritized Liao's ability to utilize his invisibility for materials acquisition over everything else, elevating a secondary purpose to the primary position. Their immunity-blessed disciple was not a harvester; he was a weapon.

New reagents and materials were useful, to be sure. They could spur advancement or be used in the production of powerful artifacts and formations. These things strengthened the sect, but they did not change the fundamental calculation. The order of battle remained stacked overwhelmingly against them. To change that they required an assassin capable of killing their foes. She had no trust in bathing Artemay in blood again and again. Such a high-risk tactic, if utilized repeatedly, would inevitably trigger disaster.

In recognition of this danger, this misalignment of priorities that she feared would in time metastasize into an irreversible operation, Itinay took an unusual step.

She went to visit her sister Neay.

She waited until after dark, of course. It would not do to interrupt the endless farmland management her sister spent her days supervising. Such matters, always highly involved, had expanded considerably in scope after the council agreed to increase the population of Mother's Gift to one million one hundred and fifty thousand. It was the work of the farming pavilion, itself expanded by the induction of many new cultivators, to provide food for those many mouths and to grow the bamboo and wood needed to house them.

Though the burdens of expansion fell heaviest there, it touched every aspect of the sect. The textiles pavilion had needed to adjust to clothe these new masses as well, vastly increasing the production of basic robes and blankets.

Neay received a message dispatched in advance and sent back a courier with a brief confirmation welcoming her sister's visit. By the time Itinay arrived shortly after midnight, having run across the Killing Fields from north to south, she would be perfectly ready to receive her.

Itinay found herself rather disappointed that no wandering demons found their way into her path. Obliterating one would have therapeutic. Fate, regrettably, was rarely so accommodating.

Occupying a central southern position on the Starwall, Neay's tower was far more accommodating than Itinay's lightless abode. This did not mean it neglected the needs of defense in any way. The tower's entire exterior had been carved in the image of a thorn tree, every surface covered by a truly impressive coating of stone spikes. Should a horde come, hidden slides would be opened and poison poured out to coat every one of those points in demon-slaying alchemical mixtures. The few windows present were nothing more than narrow arrow slits that admitted little light. Internal illumination was instead provided by fine beeswax candles that marked out in color patterns the chambers that stored seeds and farming tools.

The chamber that occupied the level of the wall's parapets was suited to accommodate visitors and outfitted with an extensive relief map of the farming fields of Mother's Gift for use in planning each year's planting and tilling. Should the time come for battle, it served as a rallying point.

The crenellated space at the top of the tower Neay used for cultivation was not, like on most of the others, barren stone and metal. Instead, it had been covered in plants. Not carved creations of stone or metal, these were living grapevines. Neay kept over a dozen variations of the grape entwined about the small space, anchored in little rooting boxes and nourished by the excess discharge of her qi. Somewhat ironically, she had never drunk wine in her life but would eat the bitter fruits whole as a treat instead.

Neay considered the conversion of perfectly edible foodstuffs into intoxicants wasteful and had unsuccessfully argued to ban brewing ale and fermenting wine on a number of occasions. Itinay was not unsympathetic to that goal, intoxicants were foolish, but she recognized it as incredibly impractical. Alcohol was the favored vice of far too many to eliminate, mortal and cultivator alike.

Her sister had laid out cushions in her vine-filled abode but had foregone the typical bowl of grapes she offered guests in deference to Itinay's well-known choice to avoid consuming any food. A generous gesture by her elder sister, as it spared her the otherwise tedious process of refusing offered refreshments. She appreciated this kindness more than a little.

Neay greeted her arrival by waving in the darkness and dropping onto her cushion even as Itinay jumped over the wall and took her own seat in a single parabolic motion. The dark green lips on the white-lined face bent into a lightly amused smile at that minor acrobatic display. She did not speak to begin, choosing instead to take the unusual, for her, step of waiting for the guest to begin the conversation.

Observing this move, Itinay suspected this discussion would be drawn down paths she had not anticipated. Danger and opportunity danced across her tongue. Of late, her elder sister had moved into the position of unexpected ally, but their visions had long been deeply opposed. Qing Liao's current actions, worryingly, aligned almost perfectly with the pro-growth policies of the master of the farming pavilion.

She marshalled her opening carefully. "Sister," she offered a nod of her head in deference to Neay's greater seniority. "How fares the farm expansion? Has it benefitted from the recent surge in imports?"

A mild probe, and one whose answer she knew had to be negative. During the migration into Mother's Gift the sisters had shattered hundreds of storage rings, many belonging to cultivators of deep heritage and vast power. Their ranks included farmers of foodstuffs, herbs, and alchemical materials. The sect had access to every crop native to this continent and many from far beyond. Potatoes, taken from far across the sea, were a vital part of their annual planting.

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This included many plants that could not easily be grown here, intolerant of the mild climate, and that were kept perpetually in storage. The herbs Qing Liao had brough back were mostly those that relied upon more rain than the basin could easily provide.

"The expansion goes well," Neay would never shy away from offering an obvious answer both participants in the discourse knew perfectly well. "We have met the needed output levels without any serious difficulty. I do worry, however, that created a serious vulnerability by taking this step. Any attack by a potent horde could cause immense casualties among the initiates. In the aftermath, the farming pavilion might lack the numbers needed to feed the people we have allowed to be born."

Of course, they were both aware of this risk. They had long ago mandated the population capped at a level the mortals could sustain without aid from the sect for precisely that reason. The size of the sect fluctuated wildly across the history of Mother's Gift, dropping precipitously following every demon horde incursion, but the hidden land had sustained a mortal population of roughly one million souls for over two thousand years. Anything above that created a risk of famine, something every grand elder could easily calculate.

Itinay considered why, exactly, her sister chose to open by invoking this risk. They had debated, and ultimately accepted, the possibility of a famine. The possibility of a mass attack sometime in the next five hundred years meant that increasing the cultivator population outweighed all other needs. Especially if, Mother forefend, Qing Liao should unexpectedly perish.

He was a sensible disciple, for the most part, but there were always unanticipated risks. Going beyond the gateway increased those, especially using him as a resource gatherer over and over. Even knowing this, Itinay avoided broached the subject.

That would be far too direct.

"That is a risk," she admitted in response to her sister's stated concern. "We could, potentially, increase long-term grain storage. Perhaps even enough to mitigate a generation-length shortage." It would take that long to adjust the population. "And I can make an effort to stockpile garments, which would allow the conversion of some pasturage to cropland in an emergency." She'd rather not severely prune their flocks of sheep, but it was a potential measure.

"That is an option," Neay agreed readily. It seemed she had not fully considered the possibilities attached to such resource exchanges. "A horde is not likely for a century at least. I could increase production of flax and mulberry for the next," she considered audibly between words. "Twenty-five years. Do you have sufficient weavers available to handle processing?"

"Yes, recent years have been bountiful." They both already knew this, but Itinay did not mind referencing the expansion of her pavilion. It was a random fluctuation, ultimately, some shift in the popularity of weaving among Mother's Gift's youths. Possibly the explanation lay in a series of cold winters two decades ago. That change would not last, but the cultivators it supplied would endure.

"I will develop a plan then. However," Neay's dark green lips bent slightly. The sly smile that resulted carried with it many dangers. "I do not consider that a point of focus. We have time, as noted, before any horde will form, but one will form eventually as always happens. When it does, I expect the attack to be formidable. Not one or two demonic cultivators, but at least three, perhaps four or five. Snow Feast has strong allies with similarly chilly daos."

He did, including the two polar-dwelling demonic cultivators who might be in the sixth layer. It seemed that Artemay had spoken with Neay and convinced her of much.

Itinay did not blanch. It was certainly a possibility. "I do not disagree," she admitted, though her expression grew tight and grim. Mother's Gift would survive an attack by five, but the chance of all Twelve Sisters surviving such a siege was not high enough to sustain comfort. She had her disagreements with her siblings, some lasting millennia, but to even contemplate losing one was nearly unbearable.

"There are plans to face down an attack of such strength," White-ringed green eyes looked directly from one cushion to the next. "Younger sister, I know you have made many of those, and I support them. Disciple Qing Liao's development continues. Hopefully, when the time comes, he will be ready to perform as we all hope. If not, there are contingencies, but in every case we must make use of this time, this interlude, however long it may last. It is my worry that, even as we have shifted in some places, we have neglected to adjust others."

The danger of someone who readily relayed the obvious was that they could work up to the truly shocking suggestion from a seemingly innocent beginning without being noticed. Neay was, clearly, advancing towards such a determination, one Itinay was absolutely convinced she would dislike. She decided, rather than wait, to step toward the blow and ask outright. "What, sister, have we been neglecting?"

"You, Itinay," the pale green face declared this with a steady stare and remarkable solemnity. "You, and Adjuday, Aorkay, and our newest sisters Eculay and Onimray. Really, it applies to all of us save Iay, but with a century or two available it is those below the third layer who have the greatest chance to advance." She put her hands together, resting them above her navel, the point long associated with the dantian. "You need to commit, all of you. For the duration of the next century, you should spend it all in closed door cultivation. If we have to stand against a half-dozen or more potent foes, then every single layer of strength matters. Perhaps, if Mother's spirit is with us, we might add one or two new immortals to our ranks in the interim." They both knew the candidates, and each had already assessed the chances. "But that is not the only way to grow stronger."

The words of a biting, cutting reply leaped to blue lips. Then, unexpectedly, they froze there. Staring at the pale green face, serene and sincere in every possible way, accusations dissipated. No deception, no scheming, no maneuver for power, no betrayal waited there. A farmer who wished to grow every plant under her care. In that moment, Neay was nothing more or less than that.

Such openness bound the icy weaver up in the skein of her own calculations. The wheel of projection spun out, casting in a new direction. Memory supplied the necessary trigger, recollection of the brief exchange with Scoria Scorn not even a half-century past. It had not been a full battle, barely even a brief pass between them, and still the slag-tainted demonic cultivator had almost killed her.

It took very few sums indeed to discern how much an additional layer of growth would have lessened her injuries. Additionally, she recognized that, as the overall number of demonic cultivators declined, those that she could defeat one on one, in the second layer as she was, grew few indeed. Another layer, or two if she dared to dream childish dreams, would be extremely significant.

"But there is so much to do." It was an old objection, but not less true than it had ever been.

Neay responded with a sharp nod of agreement. "Sister, that is always so. It will never not be the case. You must find time to relinquish control. The present is an excellent moment. It has been fourteen months since Elder Fu Jin reached the soul forging realm. Her cultivation is stable, and she is fully capable of managing the pavilion in your absence."

Though Itinay could not bring herself to admit it aloud, her older sister was correct. Fu Jin was capable. She could recall few subordinates in which she'd ever had greater confidence, and the new soul forging realm elder was already aware of Qing Liao's circumstances. The advancement was a most opportune one, as it meant there was no need for Fu Jin to enter closed door cultivation for some time.

Spurred in this way, she summoned the primary objection that had precipitated this meeting and let it loose directly. "Qing Liao is my disciple. I do not wish to see his growth mismanaged, especially not in my absence. There are already troubling signs."

"You do not want your killer to fetch and carry?" This reply, though innocent-sounding, made it abundantly clear that Neay fully understood the nature of the complaint. "He is still in the thought weaving realm, there will be plenty of time to channel his growth as needed in the future. Besides, given his personal approach to the world, I suspect he will pile up an astounding range of bodies as he grows."

"Animals and demons are not cultivators," Itinay responded, but she had to struggle slightly to hold back a grin at this observation. "He needs proper direction. Tasks, objectives, these things will guide him towards the dao. If he wanders as he wishes, we might lose him. Sayaana will lead him to circle the world." Even though the remnant soul's contribution was essential, and had saved the disciple more than once, she was also the greatest source of risk.

"A farmer's tasks are never done." A simple proverb, but it contained multitudes.

Qing Liao was her disciple. If she entered closed door cultivation Itinay would be obligated to leave the supervision of his case to one of her sisters. Fu Jin, capable though she was, lacked the authority to handle such a unique case. Neay, or more likely Artemay, would simply sweep him up beneath her grasp.

She was obligated to make a choice between the two. The proverb, those few simple words, represented Neay's offer.

Itinay considered for a long time in silence whether she should accept. Over an hour passed, neither immortal moved nor said a word.

She searched carefully for a means to test the proffered sincerity of the farmer. Eventually, she came up with a possibility. "Our young plague-immune disciple desires to visit the ocean." He had not stated this to her outright, and Zhou Hua had not revealed it directly, but neither of the pair had any real talent for deception. "I know little of the great seas of the world." She'd been born in the mountains and found that water obscured the sight of the stars. "Perhaps you understand it better." She did not, truthfully, know her sister's origins. It was an absolute rule among their fellowship; they did not speak of their time before joining their mother's family. "Is there, upon the waves, a worthy challenge for a cultivator in the thought weaving realm?"

This time, the smile that occupied the pale green face was broad and delightful. "Certainly. Sister, you are surely familiar with baleen, seeing as it can be used to make baskets." Itinay was, though it took the next phrase to provide her with any clue as to why that was relevant. "Do you know that it is harvested from inside the mouths of the greatest of whales?"

She had not known that. After a moment, Itinerary recognized that her face had too adopted a wide smile. She had forgotten, having been isolated from their reach for so long, that the depths of the sea contained creatures even larger and stronger than giants.

"One century, not a day more than that." She laid down an absolute line upon which she would not compromise. Even that much was a concession she'd never thought she'd make only moments earlier. To focus on her cultivation for such a mighty stretch of time was something she'd never done before. It was a daunting prospect, so much would be missed. "And I require the peak of Mount Tailang." That was the highest point in Mother's Gift, and much in demand for cultivation sessions. She did not really need it, truly, but the grant would represent a final demonstration of trust.

"That can be arranged," Neay offered her support easily and fully. "I wish you every success sister. The sect will need every strength, and yours is far from at its peak. Before I leave you to contemplate the details, I have one final question. Should Qing Liao, at some time in the future, reach the edge of the spirit tempering realm, what path would you choose?"

"We must not interfere," she had considered this puzzle tens of thousands of times from every possible direction. "All such interventions lead only to disaster." Push or pull, block or advance, any manipulation would only result in either flight or failed tribulation. She was certain of it as she was of anything regarding cultivation. "We can only trust in Sayaana's judgement. He will not dare the tribulation until she is convinced it will succeed." The bond between the two had grown strong, just as she had expected. "There is no better judge we could produce."

Slowly, Neay nodded. Then, she turned away. Rising from her cushions, she moved over to the grapevines wrapped around her battlements. There, she stared out over the Killing Fields. "Eventually, sister, a grand battle will come to us here, in our homes. I am a farmer and that means I trust my intuition. Everything I feel says that storm will strike us before your assassin can be grown to full ripeness. To endure, we will need other means. Advance, and we move one step closer."

Itinay could only bow her head and excuse herself. Silently, she worried that her sister was not merely correct, but that she had delayed her cultivation too long. If that was true, only the stars could guide her on the path to overcome that mistake.