Unintended Cultivator-Chapter 38Book 10: : A Sufficient Example

Sen had smoothly bypassed what he expected to be a fraught moment in the throne room by just not going there. Given everything, people would likely expect him to sit on the throne. He knew that it was unavoidable, even necessary, but he didn’t want to take that step before talking with Jing. Sen harbored the haunting fear that it would prove something that he could never take back once he sat on that ornate piece of furniture. Of course, he knew that portentous feeling was nothing more than his own imagination inventing problems, but he couldn’t seem to shake free from it either. The good news was that there was a crisis at hand that gave him the perfect excuse to postpone that moment. Instead of going to the throne room, he had asked to be taken to the room where they were planning for what to do about the spirit beasts.

He'd been a little disappointed. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d imagined a hive of activity. People dashing to and fro, carrying orders to the soldiers or the cultivator rank and file, delivering messages, and generally looking like they were executing a plan of action. Instead, the room was empty until he, Jing, some nobles, and the cultivators filed in and sat down. At least there was a map opened on the table. It was crude and only showed the city and the immediate surrounding area, but Sen thought it was functional enough to serve their purposes. It wasn’t like they could plan a defense in detail for every single street in the city. That was a job for the people in charge in those areas.

Sen had taken a seat at the head of the table when it became clear that no one else would sit before he did. I need to remember things like that, he chided himself. There weren’t nearly enough seats for everyone, so people arranged themselves in groups by the walls while the elders bickered over seats. Sen tolerated it for a few moments before the whole thing grew irritating. Without a word, he stood and headed toward the door.

“Where are you going?” shouted one of the cultivators.

“I came to fight a war, not oversee children,” said Sen with a flat look over his shoulder. “If I can’t rely on you for something as simple as finding a seat, how can I trust you to battle a beast tide?”

The expressions of anger and outrage on the faces of the nobles and cultivators largely turned sheepish or went neutral. The noble that Fong Huifen had directed him to was sneering, the dead cultivator outside seemingly forgotten. Sen wasn’t sure if the man was stupid, suicidal, or intentionally trying to provoke him. He also wasn’t sure he particularly cared which it was.

“You think you can fight a war without us?” said the noble. “My soldiers won’t fight without me, and you need them, you jumped up little shit.”

Sen gave the man an intentionally blank look before he said, “You seem confused. I don’t need any of you. I certainly don’t need this city. The opposite is not true. My life becomes substantially easier if I choose not to help you. Your lives, on the other hand, simply end. I’ve seen what you’re up against. Dismiss any thoughts that you can fight and win as you are now. You will not be able to flee. The enemy at your gates is not a force of thousands or even tens of thousands. They number in the hundreds of thousands. Every last one of them is here to fight and kill. Fortunately for my purposes, I expect the people of Emperor’s Bay will prove more accommodating after they learn of your fate.”

Sen was surprised that he made it through so much deception without giving it away. Anyone thinking clearly would realize the symbolic value of the capital, just as he had. Of course, he was fairly certain that no one in the room was thinking clearly. Impending mass slaughter was the sort of thing that clouded the mind and obstructed reason. That should make the idea that he didn’t care if they survived and would abandon them at the least provocation seem plausible. The noble went to speak again, but Sen cut him off.

“As for your men and the rest of your house, I’ll be sure to let them know that it was you who signed their death warrants. I have no use for people who won’t get in line when their very survival is at stake. I expect one mass execution will be a sufficient example for everyone else. Don’t you?”

The noble stood there, mute, as he seemed to remember that he was talking to the same man who had disassembled the House of Xie when he’d been nothing more than a wandering cultivator with a grudge. Sen wasn’t sure if the fool had thought he could bargain his support for a better position or more power. Perhaps, the man was so entrenched in the games of nobles that it had just been a reflex to try to push Sen into some kind of a compromise. That had been a deep miscalculation on his part. There was no compromise to be made. There was only the smooth, unblemished wall of Sen’s desire to preserve humanity. He’d sent a clear message to the sects by making an example of that nascent soul cultivator. If he needed to make an example of a noble and his followers to send a similar message to the mortals, he’d do that too. He wouldn’t like it, but he would do it.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

The rest of the people in the room had gone silent and still as the battle of wills had played out. Now that Sen had made his intentions clear, most of the mortals in the room had gone white in the face. They had all probably imagined cutting some deal or advancing themselves by threatening to withhold their help. He imagined that much of that preparation for insurrection had been predicated on that exact idea. They had all made the same mistake of assuming that the old rules they knew would apply. That some people might suffer if their schemes failed, but their nobility and their houses would be left largely intact. Sen had just shattered those illusions with a few sentences. There would be no leniency. There would be no sham trials. There would be no discussions or questions of evidence. There would be only one thing. Death. For everyone.

The noble tried one last time to rally.

“You say that like you aren’t trapped in here with us. You’ll fight because it’s the only way you’ll survive.”

Sen just shook his head and said, “How do you think I managed to get into this city with all of those spirit beasts out there? Do you think they didn’t notice me? I wasn’t trying to hide from them. I all but dared them to attack me. They didn’t, and it’s because they know who I am. They don’t want me here. If I announced that I intended to leave this place with the members of my house and abandon you all, the spirit beasts would gladly open a path. They might even throw me a feast.”

Sen was certain that every word he’d just spoken was either an outright lie or a quarter truth at best, but no one else in the room knew it. There was a piece of him that wanted to recoil from what he was doing, to take back the implicit and outright threats, to reassure everyone that he would help them regardless. He didn’t silence that part of himself because he hated this sham. He hated manipulating people this way. He hated that there was another part of him that meant it. Abandoning this city to its fate was not his first choice. It would be a blow to humanity. It would also be a nearly impossible task to evacuate the House of Lu from the city. Sen was certain the choice would eat away at him if he did it. However, it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. If these nobles and cultivators proved too intractable, he would leave them to the fates they earned.

He might try to save a few of them, like Jing, and encourage others to escape if they could, like Lai Dongmei, but he would not stay to oversee their infighting and demise. They would bend to his will, or they would die without him. These were not the only human beings in the world. Achieving his end would inescapably mean leaving some people to die. He had hoped that such a choice would come later, rather than sooner, but he wouldn’t shy away from it if it had to happen in the capital. Auntie Caihong had been ruthlessly clear about that as well.

“Being a tyrant is not like being a king who inherits his throne. You do not cajole or convince. You command. Always. Obedience cannot be optional. Disobedience must be met with swift and terrible punishment. Sometimes that means an individual, and sometimes it means a city. For you, it may even one day mean abandoning entire nations. You must steel yourself to it. Reserve your empathy and pity for those people and times when you can act on those feelings.”

That advice had sounded so inhuman at the time. Now, he understood it. The capital faced utter annihilation, and people were bickering and bargaining for position. He couldn’t have it. He needed to put a definitive and terrifying stop to it. He just hadn’t been sure up until that moment that he could do it or convince others that he would follow through on such threats. Yet, Sen’s keen awareness of his conflicted feelings did not, it seemed, extend to anyone else in the room. The noble who managed to condemn everyone in his house had slowly dropped into his chair. His face had gone a sickly, gray color. Even the cultivators, normally an impassive lot when they weren’t shouting about their honor, looked pensive and uncertain. Sen let his cold gaze wander from face to face before he spoke.

“I don’t care who does it, but someone gather up his house and soldiers,” said Sen, pointing at the noble.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.

Sen could feel Jing’s eyes on him. He could see the turmoil on the king’s face. Someone else had marched into the room, asserted authority, and was preparing to summarily execute his people. It wasn’t a position that Sen had wanted to put his friend into, but the situation had probably been inevitable. Someone was bound to test Sen’s resolve this way. He was always going to have to make examples. He told himself it was better to do it now and make the consequences clear. No matter how much he would have preferred it, kindness would be anything but kindness in this situation. Forgiveness would only encourage dissent. With an entire city in the balance, there had to be order. There had to be one voice in command. His voice.