Chapter 9

Invasion

Jien wanted to vomit. Thinking about cultivation made him nauseous. Thinking of the Cultivator's Treasure made him want to break all the blades in the world so he would never see his reflection in them again. Mostly glaives. He hated glaives.

Why did I agree to teach her? Jien thought.

Wancheng Alin was a well-forged sword. The entire edge was even and sharp, perfectly balanced. Nothing about Alin remained out of place. Her movements flowed like water and cut like the Ice Queen's Cold Iron. A true talent from the Heavens.

Alin had learned cultivation so quickly that even Jien couldn't believe it. Her aptitude for that art was admirable. Enviable. Watching Alin perform, Jien could see a jewel, the finest of diamonds, about to be carved. And he was the one who wished to carve her.

That's why Jien was so eager to teach her.

A pity it did not succeed.

But Hari was different. Jien was always afraid of what cultivation could unleash on her. This deep feeling that Hari had hidden something inside her that Jien could never understand. Compared to Alin, Hari was raw, like a jagged rock that had no curves or edges. While Alin exuded order and control, Hari was sweating chaos and imbalance. Hari was like a forest fire, once released, hardly anyone could contain it. Hari exuded brutality when she fought, not finesse.

In short, Hari was the complete opposite of the type of student Jien wished to teach cultivation. In the hands of unpredictable or disorderly people, cultivation could exhibit unique, strange, and sometimes even frightening characteristics. A flash of memory went through his mind as he recalled all the catastrophes he had ever seen due to Cultivation in the wrong hands.

Nonetheless, that would not be a problem as long as Hari remained a normal person. A person without cultivation. At best, she would be a girl that fell in love with fights. For, upon entering the path of cultivation, there was no way to predict the direction she would go, and this concerned Jien. Not only that, the cultivation used by Hari was of a kind Jien had never seen. No, he saw something similar to it once… But, it could not be that.

Hari's cultivation still had similar principles to what he taught Alin, but the execution was completely different. As if Hari had developed her own unrefined cultivation method.

But how could this have happened?

Something had twisted her cultivation into that violent form. Perhaps a mistake in Alin's teaching, or a misunderstanding by Hari herself. This was difficult. Cultivation was not as exact as sword form or math. The possibilities were endless. Even more so in an art so little understood. Whatever Hari's inspiration for that cultivation method was, Jien had to make sure that something so dangerous didn't happen again.

Jien had two options, either he crippled Hari's cultivation for good, or he taught her to master the fine art of cultivators. And he had his decision at ready.

******

Ah, the Fortunate Cultivator's Treasure. Hari knew their stories inside out. She had read all eight books Bakhtam had written more than once. Since Hari learned to turn letters into words, she had the Cultivator's Treasure with her. So to imagine that any of them could exist, or be close to her right now, was surreal. She still didn't know how to process this information, but Jien's demonstration had stunned her, uprooting any doubts she might have had. He had just given off a luminous aura of himself.

Hari's eyes sparkled. Well, probably her eyes weren't really shining, but that's how writers described excited people in books. At least, that's how Bakhtam described the Cultivator's Treasure when they were excited. Come to think of it now, what if their eyes really did glow?

Perhaps cultivation would make her eyes turn into energy torches, or acquire the glow of the Moon and Sun. Honestly, anything seemed to be possible now. The Sky was the limit. In the hour that followed, Hari peppered Jien with questions about the adventures of the Cultivator's Treasure. He answered them all with such precision and detail that either he was a bigger fan than she was, or he really was one of them.

“What happened to the Southeast Golden Dragon? Did he really die?” Hari asked. This was one of the greatest mysteries of the Third Book—The Golden Dragon and the Sun King. The book ended after the battle against the Golden Dragon and the enthronement of the Sun King.

She knew that Cassim had played an extremely important part in the fight against the Golden Dragon, but the combat was never described in detail. That was Hari's only problem with the Fortunate Cultivator's Treasure. Several times Bakhtam would skip the action scenes to describe something more poetic, or what he found more interesting. The fight against the Night Witch in Kalassam had the same problem, but with Jien. For some reason, Bakhtam didn't describe much of the cultivation method Cassim and Jien used.

And, since Bakhtam never described what happened to the Golden Dragon after the fight, Hari theorized infinite possibilities. Such as the Golden Dragon reverting to its carp form, spending the rest of its life as a simple fish. She thought this resolution was beautiful, for a being who had lived its entire life in a frenzy.

"No, the Golden Dragon is still alive, I assume. Dragons do not perish easily. They are, stubborn creatures."

I knew it.

“Then, where is him?”

“He must still be out there doing his thing. Who knows?" Jien said. “Dragoning around, as he did before us. I’m not so keen to dragons’ lifestyle.”

Hari had noticed that talking about the Cultivator's Treasure bothered him, but she couldn't help but ask. “Why did you break up? The eighth book ended after you won a battle against the Demon Emperor's army on Rarik's ancient borders.”

Jien massaged his temples. “We had our personal reasons. Groups break up, people choose different paths in life. Also, the eighth book is a bunch of lies. Bakhtam was just trying to make a money.” Jien snorted. "As always. That bloody bastard."

Huh? So the eighth book never happened? This meant that the Cultivator's Treasure had split sometime between the seventh and eighth book. Interesting. What was the seventh book even about? Ah, the Prince in Emerald.

“Have you ever thought about getting together again? You know, like at a war veterans' meeting. You could help a lot of people in these times of war.”

"I do not want to talk about that." Jien said.

"Why not? The Cultivator's Treasure has always been where the war was."

"I know. I was there, in every war, from the beginning. Since…” he hesitated. “And does not matter. They will not listen to me. Not after…what happened between us.”

“Isn't there a way?” Hari's heart beat with hope. Bringing the Cultivator's Treasure back would be a dream come true.

Jien seemed to take all the time in the world thinking about the next answer. "Maybe... But I could not be the one to do it."

That was all Hari needed to hear. “Then, I—”

Suddenly, Captain Fushi burst into the great salon. Sweat covered his entire body, and his face carried an expression of worrying panic. Now, he looked like he'd seen a ghost. No, his expression didn't lie. He had seen something worse than a ghost. Whether due to an abrupt feeling, or a sign from the heavens, Hari was already expecting the words that came out of his mouth.

"It's the Immortal." Captain Fushi said, panting. Immediately, Hari felt her stomach twist and her soul ripped from her body. "They are here. The Jade Knights are invading the Lakes Region.”

So I was right.

Since the appearance of the Saints, Hari had a terrible feeling that she was right. The Immortal would come to the Lakes Region. However, not even she expected him and the Jade Knights to show up in Zhouhei tonight. It was too soon.

Zhouhei was the main city of the Lakes Region, a place that perfectly reflected the entire state of the rest of these lands. Like the Lakes Region, Zhouhei was miserable, abandoned and poorly protected, notable only for the sheer amount of mud, street vendors and homeless orphans.

There were so many vendors occupying the same space—selling stinky tofu, crepes, tea-boiled eggs, fried rice, and dumplings—that getting lost in Zhouhei was as common as walking through the artificial labyrinths of Spirit Week. Even after years of living here, Hari lost count of the number of times she walked down a street looking for chickens for sale, only to come across Jewelry Alley.

The smell of reused oil with cheap jasmine perfume permeated the city air, intoxicating anyone who walked there. Hari believed that this was one of the sellers' strategies, so that the public got too distracted by the smell, not caring about the absurd price of the products. Still, she never found a seller honest enough to confirm this theory.

It was even hard to believe anyone in this town. Once, years ago, a friendly, smiling lady offered Hari a beautiful red piece of jewelry at an excellent price. Small children — whom she called grandchildren — surrounded this old woman and Hari would never assume that someone like that lady would try to trick her.

Hari bought the jewel, which broke on its own a day later. The children were probably distractions well placed to soften the hearts of people like Hari.

Not to mention the times she bought duck and it was chicken in disguise. There were rumors that meat dumplings were stuffed with rat meat. Hari preferred not to believe these rumors, but she hadn't eaten dumplings in years.

The shouting of salespeople — trying to attract as many people as possible to their stores — turned the city into a mixture of chaos and organization that few understood. And Hari wasn't one of the people who understood.

Of course, Zhouhei wasn't just this smelly beauty. There was crime too—the frequent robberies, mysterious murders—even the animals made up the unique beauty of this setting. Cows, chickens, pigs, there were many of them loose around the city.

Yet, to her surprise, Hari had grown to like Zhouhei, the few colors, the makeshift paper lamps and even the smell. Zhouhei was her new home, and unlike Guinam, it had a hustle and bustle that attracted Hari, as if the city itself were alive, breathing in every lunatic who passed by.

But, that was the old Zhouhei. The new Zhouhei was on fire.