Unintended Cultivator

Zhang Jing sat in the chair by the window and contemplated patience. If it were possible to cultivate patience the way that people cultivated qi, he believed that he would be a nascent soul cultivator already. For, if ever a man had befriended patience, he was that man. Even now, he waited in patience for the words of The Diviner. Zhang Jing knew the ancient cultivator had a name, Li Qian, but he was only ever referred to as The Diviner. He wasn’t sure if the old cultivator himself even remembered the name Li Qian anymore. Zhang Jing had spent weeks in the archives, indulging his curiosity, to learn the name. He’d be surprised if the Diviner even knew he had great-grandchildren. For someone with an eye always fixed on the future, the realities of the present were often lost in a shroud of neglect. Many people had declared The Diviner was mad, or senile, or that his cultivation was failing. He was thousands of years old. A contemporary of nascent soul demigods like Kho Jaw-Long and Feng Ming, if by no means their peer.

No, The Diviner was reaching the end of his life. Zhang Jing expected that the old man would only last another century or two before time finally caught up with him. Most of the Zhang family had discarded the old man long since, but Zhang Jing held a soft spot in his heart for the fortune teller. It had been The Diviner’s foretelling that had saved Zhang Jing’s life on that awful expedition into the south all those years ago. It was The Diviner who advised him, most astutely, to reject the proposal that he marry Teoh Ah Lam, a beautiful but shrewish woman, in favor of the less obviously profitable proposal from the Jao family. He had never regretted the decision to marry Jao Chan-Juan. She was not, perhaps, as beautiful as Teoh Ah Lam, but she was of a far kinder temperament. More importantly, she carried a razor-sharp intellect that had helped see Zhang Jing’s fortunes rise. She was his most cherished and best-loved treasure, a gift greater than even the heavens.

So, Zhang Jing took it upon himself to take the old man into his household. He’d done so not with the expectation that he would see some great advantage but as a just reward for the very personal services that The Diviner had rendered up to him. It wasn’t as if the old man was some terrible burden. He asked for nothing and seemed to prefer simple pleasures. Yet, from time to time, the old man would send for Zhang Jing to proffer up some bit of insight gleaned from the future. They were often small matters that seemed trivial in the moment, such as an investment in some minor business or the name of someone to draw into his service. Yet, over time, those small pieces of advice had accumulated on each other, layer upon layer, until the pearl of power and fortune had grown large in Zhang Jing’s hand. So, if The Diviner called for Jing and took an hour to yield up a prophecy, it was time that the man was happy to spend.

“An opportunity approaches,” said The Diviner.

“What kind of opportunity?” asked Zhang Jing, turning to face the white-haired old cultivator.

“The extraordinary kind. There is a man coming here. A hero to some. A villain to others. A favorite of the heavens and of chaos. He is a fulcrum on which fates may change and futures may be rewritten.”

That made Zhang Jing sit up straight. It had been years, decades even, since The Diviner had offered a fortune like this.

“Who is this man? What is his name?”

“His name is Lu Sen, although it means nothing. A name that is half fiction and half misremembered. Who he is, though, is something else entirely. The title given him is Judgment’s Gale, and it is a terrible thing indeed to fall beneath that judgment, as more than one has learned. If you can befriend him, though, he could be the making of you.”

“He has no love and even less use for nobles, my prince. He thinks them selfish and stupid.”

Zhang Jing grimaced at that. He wasn’t even sure he disagreed with that sentiment. Many nobles were selfish and stupid.

“Then, I need to approach him with care.”

“With great care, my prince. As dangerous as he is, his self-appointed protectors are more dangerous still.”

Zhang Jing offered the old man a bow. “My gratitude for your wisdom, as always.”

“My prince, tread with caution. He could be your making, but he could also be your undoing.”

“That is the truth of all great opportunities, I think.”

Leaving The Diviner to his own affairs, Prince Zhang Jing thought furiously. An opportunity and a potential disaster lay before him. He needed to weigh this with care. His first instinct was to seize the opportunity, but that was always a risk, and The Diviner had warned him of the dangers repeatedly. This wasn’t something he could decide in isolation. He needed to speak with Chan-Juan. Her clever mind would likely see possibilities and pitfalls that his own neglected. Besides, it wasn’t just his future he’d be gambling with but hers as well. She deserved a say if he was going to try to align himself with a man who openly wore a name as threatening as Judgment’s Gale.

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