Shadowwwing
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22. A Matter of Face
🕑 Added 2025-03-29 06:04:54 +0000 UTCJiang felt the Elder’s statement settle over him, heavier than it had any right to be. Elder Lu’s casual, faintly amused demeanour had vanished completely, replaced by something sharper and distinctly more serious.
In hindsight, perhaps refusing the duel hadn’t been the trivial choice he’d believed it to be.
“I did,” Jiang said slowly, choosing his words carefully. He resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably under Elder Lu’s gaze. “I don’t understand why it’s an issue, though. Why accept a duel I have no chance of winning just because another aspirant wants to make himself look better?”
Elder Lu raised an eyebrow, something close to disappointment flickering briefly across his features. When he spoke, it was with patient, deliberate calm. “Is that truly all you saw in it—a waste of time?”
“What else would it be?” Jiang asked, well aware he was just being stubborn for the sake of it.
“Refusing a duel isn’t a simple matter of inconvenience,” Elder Lu said, voice patient but firm. “It’s viewed as dishonourable. Cultivators settle disputes openly, demonstrating courage by facing challenges directly—even losing earns more respect than refusing altogether.”
Jiang’s frown deepened. This was something he legitimately still didn’t understand. “Why would anyone care? It was a pointless fight. I wouldn’t have gained anything by losing.”
“You would have gained respect,” Elder Lu corrected mildly. “By refusing, you’ve signalled to everyone that you fear defeat more than you value your honour. This will reach the ears of other aspirants—and Elders—and it might well affect your chances of acceptance into the Sect.”
Jiang groaned. “This is just like the elixir, isn’t it?” he asked, resigned. “You said that trying to return it was offensive, so I had to keep it even though it was useless to me. That ‘face’ thing you keep going on about.”
Elder Lu smiled, clearly amused despite Jiang’s annoyance. “It’s exactly the same, yes. Unfortunately, until you’re strong enough to ignore what others think, you will be forced to care about such things. Appearances matter greatly in the cultivation world.”
Jiang gritted his teeth but held back his response. He hated playing these games—hated pretending weakness or strength for other people’s approval.
Elder Lu sighed softly. “Given the circumstances, I’ll need to punish you publicly. Something to placate the other Elders, who will undoubtedly be displeased by your actions.”
Jiang’s expression darkened, irritation flaring, but before he could voice it, Elder Lu raised a calming hand.
“Relax. Your punishment will be that for the remainder of the week, you’ll be restricted to menial tasks assigned to the servants—no combat or higher-tier assignments.”
Jiang blinked, the tension immediately draining away. That was the punishment?
Elder Lu’s lips twitched in quiet amusement. “Most aspirants would consider this a harsh blow. Servants’ tasks offer few points, leaving them no hope of passing the exam. But given your plans, I suspect this suits you just fine.”
Jiang’s shoulders relaxed fully. “It does.”
Elder Lu nodded, eyes twinkling faintly. “Good. To everyone else, it will look like you’ve been appropriately disciplined. But for you, it should cause no trouble at all. Consider it a reminder, boy: until you’re strong enough to dictate your own rules, appearances will matter—whether you like it or not.”
Jiang thought about it for a moment before groaning audibly. “So I have the appearance of being punished, you have the appearance of disciplining me, and everyone will mind their own business.”
The Elder winked at him. “Well spotted. There’s another lesson there—never underestimate the value of a well-crafted lie. The most dangerous cultivators aren’t necessarily the strongest, but those who know how to let others believe exactly what they want them to.”
Jiang shook his head slowly, half-amused despite himself. “If all cultivators are this complicated, I think I’d rather stick to working with the servants.”
“Sadly,” Elder Lu said, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards again, “that won’t always be possible. Though if it makes you feel better, your stubborn insistence on not playing along will probably be a strength in its own way. Eventually.”
“Eventually?” Jiang echoed, raising an eyebrow sceptically.
Elder Lu waved a hand airily. “In thirty or forty years, perhaps. Until then, try not to offend anyone who can flatten you with a thought.”
Jiang sighed deeply but nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good.” Elder Lu leaned back comfortably, reaching for his tea again. “Now, shoo. Go cultivate or deliver messages or whatever else you do when you’re not actively making headaches for me.”
Jiang rose, offering a slightly sarcastic bow even as he rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Elder.”
“Oh, and one last thing,” Elder Lu said before he could get too far. “In case it wasn’t clear, I expect you to accept any and all challenges from here on out.”
Jiang paused. “Wait, what? Why?” At the Elder’s stern look he hurriedly continued, “I understand that outright refusing a duel was a mistake. But surely there’s a way to politely decline or delay it until later—like, say, after I learn how to actually fight? Then I won’t be guaranteed to lose.”
Elder Lu gave Jiang a sympathetic smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Normally, you’d be correct. A polite deferral or a clever excuse could have worked had you done it the first time. Unfortunately, now that you’ve openly refused, people already think you’re a coward. Any hesitation or attempts to delay future challenges will merely confirm their suspicions.”
Jiang grimaced. “So I’m stuck taking fights I can’t win as a punishment?”
“It is punishment, yes,” Elder Lu admitted, “but not just that. Consider it training, of sorts. Losing terribly might sting, but experiencing that feeling is valuable. You won’t always have the luxury of fighting only when you’re ready. Cultivators often face situations they’re not prepared for. It’s best to learn how to adapt to them now, rather than later.”
Jiang sighed, but he couldn’t argue the logic. “And I suppose getting beaten into the ground repeatedly will make me learn faster.”
Elder Lu chuckled softly. “Exactly. Besides, if you intend to go after the Hollow Fangs, you’ll need to learn how to fight sooner or later. There’s no better incentive for growth than being tossed into the deep end.”
Jiang stiffened, eyes narrowing. “How did you know I was planning on going after them?”
The Elder rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Please, boy. It’s obvious to anyone paying attention—especially to someone in my position. You’ve made your motivations painfully clear. Not to mention that it’s clearly the easiest way to find out where they took your family.”
Jiang shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
Elder Lu leaned forward slightly, expression softening. “Understand this: now that people perceive you as weak, you’ll be challenged far more frequently. Word will spread. If you’re smart, you’ll treat these challenges as opportunities rather than annoyances. Learn fast, Jiang, or your path will become a very unpleasant one.”
Jiang exhaled deeply, forcing himself to nod despite his reluctance. “I’ll try.”
The Elder’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he waved a dismissive hand. “Good. Now off with you, before someone else decides to challenge you while you’re here. Heaven knows you’re making enemies faster than friends these days.”
Jiang rolled his eyes, heading for the door. “Thanks for the encouragement.”
As he stepped outside, Elder Lu’s laughter followed him—a reminder that, once again, he’d underestimated just how complicated this place could be.
— — —
Jiang stepped into the central room of his temporary quarters, tension slipping from his shoulders as he shut the door behind him. Privacy, at last. He desperately wanted solitude to process the fact that he was likely going to be losing a lot of fights over the next few days.
Unfortunately, solitude seemed unlikely.
Inside, his roommates—Lian, Wei, and Shen—sat huddled around the low table at the room’s centre, voices hushed but tense enough to carry clearly through the small space. They glanced up sharply at his arrival, conversation cutting off mid-sentence.
“Sorry,” Jiang muttered, edging toward his small corner of the shared quarters. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Lian immediately averted her gaze, jaw tightening visibly. Wei and Shen exchanged brief looks before Wei cleared his throat awkwardly.
“We heard about your... punishment,” Wei said, forcing a sympathetic expression. “That really sucks, Jiang.”
Jiang shrugged, wondering just how quickly gossip spread in the Sect. He’d only heard about the punishment himself not half an hour ago – how in the world had his roommates already heard about it? “Could’ve been worse,” he said, more for the sake of filling the silence than anything else.
Shen snorted softly. “Yeah, could’ve been better, too.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “They’ve got you stuck doing servant duties for the rest of the week. That’ll kill your points.”
“I’ll figure something out,” Jiang replied carefully. The silence that followed felt distinctly uncomfortable. He glanced at Lian, who still refused to look up from the table, her expression unreadable.
Wei cleared his throat again. “Anyway, we were just discussing points ourselves. We might be... facing some difficulties.”
Jiang paused despite himself. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s just the tasks we’re getting,” Shen admitted, frustration evident. “We’ve been stuck with lower-tier assignments. Nothing risky, nothing with a real reward.”
Jiang glanced between them, sensing deeper friction. “Isn’t that normal? You’re still new. They wouldn’t toss you into danger right away.”
“That’s the problem,” Lian finally spoke, her voice clipped and taut. “Playing it safe won’t earn us enough points to pass. At this rate, none of us will make it.”
Shen’s brows knitted. “We agreed we’d stick together, Lian. If we split now, we’re weaker individually. You know that.”
Lian’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m not here to babysit. I joined this Sect to cultivate, not scrape by doing chores.” Her voice sharpened with frustration. “If risking myself gets results, I’ll do it alone.”
Wei shook his head quickly. “That’s shortsighted. If we stick together, we can aim higher later—”
“When?” Lian cut in sharply. “When it’s too late? Face it, Wei, Shen—none of us have any connections, any advantage. I refuse to fall behind just because you’re both afraid of standing out.”
Silence settled heavily. Jiang shifted his weight, wishing he’d chosen a different moment to return.
Lian’s gaze flicked briefly to Jiang, eyes narrowing slightly before she looked away again. “It’s nothing personal. We’re all here for our own reasons.”
It wasn’t personal when he hunted deer either, but that didn’t mean the deer enjoyed the process. Good thing he didn’t really care about what she did – he had his own plans for getting into the Sect. Not for the first time, Jiang mused that it really was more efficient to only rely on himself. By the sounds of things, Wei and Shen were going to be in trouble if Lian really split off to try her own thing.
Honestly, he wished her luck.
“We’ll figure something out,” Wei said firmly, though his voice lacked confidence. He glanced apologetically at Jiang. “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to drag you into our problems.”
“It’s fine,” Jiang said, suddenly realising that there was a chance – however slim – that they would try turning to him to replace Lian. Fortunately, it wasn’t likely thanks to his ‘punishment’, but no sense in tempting fate. He quickly started inching towards his room. “Good luck.”
He slipped into the small sleeping quarters, pulling the curtain shut behind him with relief. It was a flimsy shield, but thankfully, the unwritten rules of social conduct should keep them from following him.
He might not like the confusing tangle of social expectations – or even understand them all that well – but that didn’t mean he was above using them for his own ends.
The conversation outside resumed, quieter now, strained enough that he couldn’t quite hear clearly—though the tension still carried unmistakably. He rubbed at his temples, grimacing at the realisation that Elder Lu had been right again. He might not care about face, but ignoring it entirely had complicated everything.
He had a long way to go before he’d have the strength to do things his own way, but he wouldn’t lose sight of his goal. No matter how often he stumbled or how many petty squabbles he was forced to endure, he wouldn’t lose himself in this complicated world.
With a sigh, he lowered himself into a sitting position and closed his eyes to begin cultivating.
Strength couldn’t come soon enough.
— — —
Jiang woke the following day feeling refreshed and optimistic. That immediately made him suspicious, because in his experience life only got better when it was preparing to get a lot worse.
Nothing terrible seemed ready to occur right at that second, though, so he sighed softly and pulled himself upright, dressing quickly. Sunlight filtered weakly through the thin curtains of his sleeping quarters, and outside, muffled voices suggested his roommates were still at it—quiet but unmistakably disgruntled.
He ignored it as best he could. Whatever disagreements his roommates were still nursing, he wanted no part in it.
Stepping out into the main room, Jiang caught sight of Lian standing stiff-backed by the window, arms crossed, while Wei and Shen sat at the table, exchanging terse whispers. None of them acknowledged him as he slipped past. Fine by him; the less involved he was, the better.
He slid open the door and stepped into the crisp morning air, deciding to try to enjoy it for the brief peace it provided.
That peace, unfortunately, lasted precisely three steps.
A small crowd had gathered just beyond the entrance—aspirants in richly embroidered robes, clearly from wealthier families or powerful clans. Their gazes fixed on him the moment he appeared, predatory smiles sharpening their features.
One stepped forward immediately—a tall, dark-haired young man Jiang immediately pegged as being the son of a noble. There was something about his posture that simply screamed of an inflated sense of self-worth.
“Aspirant Jiang,” the man called loudly enough that everyone nearby turned to look. “I challenge you to a duel.”
Jiang’s stomach tightened, but he managed to keep his expression neutral. Already? Word must’ve travelled even faster than he’d thought. Either the aspirant knew that he had no choice but to accept, or he was hoping Jiang would refuse and make him look better in comparison.
Really, it didn’t matter at this point.
He squared his shoulders and forced a faintly sarcastic smile onto his face.
“Well,” Jiang drawled dryly, meeting the man’s gaze directly. “I suppose someone has to make you look good.”
