Shadowwwing
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38. Boiling Point
🕑 Added 2025-04-27 22:00:04 +0000 UTCJiang slipped through the door to the kitchens and closed it behind him, dropping his makeshift ‘technique’ with a huff. He was slowly getting better at using it, but it still wasn’t quite at the point that he was even sure it was worth the time.
Granted, it was making enough of a difference that he’d been able to duck the last couple of disciples who’d taken to loitering around the entrance to the dining hall to challenge him to duels, but then again, they were hardly the most observant lot in the first place, so he figured it sort of evened out.
“They still hassling you, then?”
The voice made him jump. He turned to see the Matron staring at him under a raised eyebrow, knife in one hand and a bundle of herbs in the other. It wasn’t the first time he’d run into her since the whole laundry debacle, but it was the first time he’d seen her in the kitchens.
“Uh, yeah,” he managed after a moment, half surprised that she had paid enough attention during their conversations – that mostly consisted of Jiang venting about the other cultivators – to understand what was going on. Then again, there weren’t many other reasons for him to be hiding in the kitchen, so it probably wasn’t as impressive as it seemed.
“Figures,” she said, not looking at him as she turned back to the chopping block. “Takes some folks longer than others to get bored of hitting the same wall.”
Jiang wasn’t sure it was worth pointing out that the wall she was talking about was actually his face, or that they probably weren’t bored yet because they kept winning. Not to say that he lost every time, just… nine times out of ten.
A slightly awkward silence fell – or, at least, the shuffling of the other servants in the kitchen made it feel awkward – before the Matron finally sighed and waved him over.
“If you’re just going to stand there looking sorry for yourself, you may as well make yourself useful,” she said, pulling out another bundle of herbs and setting it pointedly on the counter next to her.
Jiang suppressed a smile, though the urge died when he heard the shocked gasps from the other servants. The fact that it felt like everyone stronger than him wanted to fight him, and everyone weaker – though, in fairness, that was basically just the servants – was scared of him had gotten old a while ago. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand their feelings, as such, it was just… well, it hurt a little.
The Matron – and he should really find out what her name actually was, one of these days – didn’t comment on the flinch from the other servants, just kept working, her knife moving in steady, efficient strokes. After a moment, Jiang joined her, picking up a second knife and reaching for the next bundle of herbs. The other servants shuffled back to their own work, not quite looking at him. He tried not to notice.
They worked in silence for a bit—just the rhythm of chopping, the low hiss of a nearby cookpan and the occasional scrape of wood on metal. There was something weirdly calming about it. Monotonous. Simple. It gave his brain space to spiral in peace.
“You’re hovering,” the Matron said eventually.
“I’m helping,” Jiang muttered, grabbing a new bundle of herbs.
“You’re brooding with a blade,” she replied. “There’s a difference.”
“I can do both.”
A pot clattered somewhere in the background. One of the junior kitchen boys dropped a ladle and scrambled to catch it before it hit the floor. Neither of them turned.
Eventually, she spoke again. “You want to tell me what’s really chewing at you, or are you going to keep sulking into the onions?”
Jiang shrugged. “Nothing in particular.”
She gave him a look.
He sighed. “It’s just… this place.”
“What about it?”
“I don’t know,” he said, which wasn’t true, but easier than trying to untangle it. “Feels like I’m waiting for something. Some… sign, or shift, or spark. But every day’s just drills and lectures and the occasional boot to the head.”
“Sounds like Sect life to me.”
“I didn’t come here for Sect life.” Test
“No,” she agreed. “You came to pick a fight with a gang of slavers.”
“I came to find my family,” he snapped, sharper than he meant to.
She looked at him then, properly, and for a second her expression was unreadable. Then she shrugged and turned back to the herbs. “Same thing, I suppose.”
Jiang set his knife down with a clatter and rubbed at his face. Normally, he would have stayed quiet. He wasn’t the type to complain about things, even when he was feeling stressed or anxious – preferred to do something instead. That was the problem right now, though; he couldn’t really do anything.
“I thought once I got here, I’d start figuring things out,” the words almost burst out of him. “I’d get stronger, learn faster, move forward.”
The Matron made a low sound, hard to read.
Jiang kept going. “It’s not like I haven’t been doing things. I train. I meditate. I’ve been asking around, trying to pick up information, even if half the disciples act like I’m not worth talking to. I’ve been trying. But I’m not learning anything new. And the stuff I do hear, it’s all useless—’don’t go west after dark,’ or ‘someone’s cousin got robbed on the merchant road.’ Nothing real. Nothing I can use.”
He chopped too hard and crushed the next leaf into pulp. He swore under his breath and started again.
“It’s just—every time I think maybe I’ve made progress, something reminds me I’m still nowhere. Still stuck up here on a damn mountain, practising breathing while the people I care about get further away.”
The Matron didn’t say anything right away, just swept her pile of trimmings off to the side with the edge of her blade and grabbed the next bundle. Her hands moved like she didn’t need to think about them anymore.
“You think something’s going to change just because you’re angry enough at the world?” she asked finally. “Because you want it bad enough?”
Jiang didn’t answer. He didn’t trust himself to.
She went on, not unkindly, just steady. “I’ve seen a lot of people come through this place thinking they’re owed something. Justice. Revenge. Closure. Most of them leave disappointed. The smart ones leave alive.”
Jiang’s mouth twitched. “That your way of calling me stupid?”
“If the boot fits,” she said, and left it there. For once, he didn’t have a comeback.
She sighed. “Look. You’ve done well. Better than I expected, anyway. You’ve kept your head down, mostly. You’ve made it further than a lot of others would, considering where you started. But wanting to fix the past doesn’t mean you get to rush toward it. Especially not when you’ve still got one foot stuck in the dirt.”
He didn’t say anything, just kept chopping. The pieces were coming out uneven again.
“The servants gossip,” she said, sweeping a narrow-eyed gaze across the room. Jiang realised that the rest of the servants in the kitchen were a little too quiet, though the Matron’s words had them launch into a flurry of activity. She snorted. “The point is, I’ve heard enough to know that you are improving. You’re strong enough to survive in here now, which is a lot better than most people from your background would manage.”
She turned the same narrow-eyed gaze on him. “But that’s a long way from being strong enough out there. You think the world’s just going to give you the chance to save someone because you want it? The Heavens don’t care. And the people who took your family definitely don’t.”
That one made something shift in his jaw. He didn’t look up.
“I’m not saying don’t care,” she added. “I’m saying maybe take the time to be ready before you start chasing ghosts. Because the longer you chase, the harder it is to admit when they’re gone.”
His hand stilled.
She glanced at him then, and for once, her expression softened. “You want to save them. I get that. But there are some people you don’t get back. Doesn’t matter how far you run or how loud you scream.”
Jiang’s voice was quiet. “I don’t think they’re gone.”
“Maybe not,” she said. “But they’re far. Farther than you are now. That’s not me being cruel; it’s just what it is.” The Matron sighed. “I seem to recall us having a similar conversation already,” she said ruefully. “I can see you paid about as much attention to my words as any of my actual children ever did.”
Jiang didn’t respond, but his shoulders hunched defensively. He remembered what she’d said; he just didn’t – couldn’t – agree with it. Was it any wonder that his opinion hadn’t changed?
Except… Jiang paused, looking down at the knife in his hands.
Except that some things had changed. At the time, he’d been in the first stage, newly arrived at the Sect with no idea how to fight, no idea what it meant to be a cultivator. Now, he was in the third stage – and closing steadily in on the fourth. That wasn’t strong enough to fight the Hollow Fangs, he knew that, but…
Well, it might just be strong enough that he could travel freely without having to worry about random wild animals or the bite of winter.
And while his time in the Sect had been helpful… it hadn’t been essential. From what he’d gathered – and from what Elder Lu had explained while quizzing him about his advancement to the third stage – most cultivators needed cultivation resources to advance, or, at least, to advance in a timely manner. His rate of progress wasn’t unheard of, by any means, but it was unusual.
At least, judging by Elder Lu’s reactions.
Admittedly, from what Jiang knew, advancement would get more difficult or more complicated as he progressed, but…
Well, did he really care? If his only goal was to get strong enough to fight the Hollow Fangs and rescue his family, did it actually matter if he stalled out at the second realm?
And, for that matter, he didn’t necessarily need to fight the Hollow Fangs at all. It would likely be helpful – to find out where exactly his family had been sent – but surely that information could be found elsewhere as well?
Jiang shook his head and resumed cutting the bundle of herbs in front of him. There were too many unknowns to say for sure, and while it was certainly tempting to head off on his own, chances were he wouldn’t get the opportunity to join another Sect any time soon. Hell, he didn’t even know if leaving the Sect was allowed – not that it would stop him, but it might complicate matters.
No, as much as he hated it, the smart move was still to wait.
For now.
“Uh, Ex-excuse me, honoured cultivator?”
Jiang turned to see one of the kitchen boys hovering a little to the side, clutching a tray that looked like it was supposed to be somewhere else. Beside him, the Matron glanced over with a single raised eyebrow but seemed content to turn back to her chopping.
“Yes?” Jiang responded belatedly. “Sorry, am I in the way or something?”
“O-oh, no, honoured sir,” the boy stammered, “I-its just that… I heard—a friend told me you were asking about the H-Hollow Fangs?”
Jiang’s attention sharpened instantly, which clearly did the boy’s nerves no favours. “What about them?”
“I-I heard something. About where they might be.”
