Chương 30: Volume 2 Chapter 3

Though he'd never explicitly decided to do so, in the privacy of his own thoughts Calvin could admit to himself that he had been silently planning to put off mollifying Ariadne towards the latter half of his list. Ariadne could be a lot to deal with at the best of times, much less after not just running out on a plan they'd made (well, she'd made and informed him that he would be attending), but having the gall to let her know via a note rather than in person.

She would no doubt be insufferable––more so than usual––and he would have liked a few days of peace and quiet now that he'd returned to the sect. In all honesty, Calvin sometimes wondered why Ariadne continued playing up this farce of a friendship. Dealing with her sometimes felt like balancing on a dry branch that might snap beneath his feet at any moment and send him plunging to the earth far below.

She seemed fully convinced that the two of them were friends, insisting as such whenever they were together, but Calvin was much less sure. He was far from an expert on friendship, but theirs had never truly made any sense to him. It felt illusory, like a figment that existed only because Ariadne never failed to insist that it did truly exist. If she ever failed to do so even once, it would vanish like morning dew beneath the glare of the rising sun.

They spoke rarely––perhaps once per quarter at a stretch––and their lives could not have been more different. She was, well, Ariadne Locke. Beautiful, wealthy, and blessed with both an extreme yin physique and what rumors suggested was a Sky rank spiritual root.

She was a scion of one of the province's oldest families, tracing their line back to when the province had been nothing but a cluster of warring city-states, with at least one confirmed old ancestor in the Unity realm whose mere existence secured their position as a regional powerhouse. She was one of the most popular people in the entirety of the Outer sect, friends with anyone who mattered and the object of every pining male––and plenty of female––disciples' affections. And he was well, just himself.

Calvin of Six-Swan Pond. A poor orphaned whoreson who didn't know his father, much less his lineage. Enough said. Still, for as long as it lasted, Calvin had decided it was worth doing his best to keep their 'friendship' alive. At least so long as doing so amounted to a few awkward evenings and some scraping. For as much as he might have preferred a lump sum of spirit stones or contribution points for the aid he'd given her, it was undeniable that he had gotten something of value from the exchange.

He didn't like relying on it, but just the existence of that tentative link between them had helped him in innumerable small ways over the years. Sure he suspected that most people thought of him as a piece of rubbish that had gotten stuck in the sole of Ariadne's heeled boots, someone who'd done her a tiny favor that she repaid ten times over just to show how kind and generous she was, but it was still something!

When he'd confronted Cao Yunfei, he'd done so knowing that Ariadne Locke was in his corner, a mountain at his back whose shadow would deter many unofficial forms of reprisal that might otherwise slide beneath the sect's notice. And then of course she did something like this. Something that Calvin had never asked of her, never expected of her, and yet for once genuinely appreciated. She'd gone out of her way to locate and meet with Gwen, chasing away Cao Yunfei when he'd come around to hassle his junior sister.

Not only that, but she'd done it while she should have been upset with him. Even if he didn't truly understand it, Calvin had thought that he'd understood the general shape of his relationship with Ariadne. His skipping out on their meeting should have meant that she would summarily ignore him until he apologized, like she had when he'd ignored one of the parties she'd invited him to without telling her ahead of time.

He hadn't even bothered mentioning Gwen in the missive he'd left for her, not expecting her to care until he'd properly showed his remorse for skipping their luncheon. And Ariadne hadn't just visited Gwen once for a few minutes. No, she'd come by at least weekly, and lingered for as much as an hour on some occasions. He hadn't gotten a precise number out of Gwen, but it was more than likely that Gwen had seen more of Ariadne in his absence than he had throughout the entirety of the past year.

Perhaps some of that was because of the herbs––there was no way Ariadne could have missed Gwen's talent for cultivating spiritual herbs after spending more than a few minutes in her home––but the first visit? She'd explicitly told Gwen that she'd come to check up on her on his behalf. More than that, she'd seemingly spent a great deal of time talking up his skills and deeds rather than attempting to build goodwill for herself. He truly did not understand.

It wasn't even that she'd done him some huge favor she'd want him to repay later. Yunfei had been bothering Gwen, sure, but he hadn't really been doing much more than verbally belittling her––about what he'd expected. He probably would have done that even if Calvin hadn't had to leave the sect for a mission. It was ultimately meaningless, but the fact that Ariadne had done something about it wasn't.

Calvin didn't like it one bit, and that meant meeting with Ariadne had just become his next priority, no matter how unlikely he was to get anything useful, coherent, or explanatory out of his 'friend'.

Unlike his small villa situated a healthy distance from any messy crowds and surrounded primarily by fields, orchards, and carefully curated slices of nature, Ariadne's home was smack dab in the middle of Outer Village, a sprawling grand mansion some three stories tall and surrounded by its own stone wall to separate it from the busy road beyond. Even to his inexperienced eyes, the place practically screamed of wealth, real wealth.

Everything was made from jade, marble, precious metals, and fine woods whose names he couldn't even guess at without the Scroll's help. It was the sort of place that Calvin wasn't even qualified to try to rent, even if he had the points to afford it. Though officially owned by the sect, Ariadne had once mentioned that the Locke family had been renting this particular location for nearly a millennia, whether or not they had any descendants within the Outer sect at the time or not.

It was staffed by Locke clan servants, maintained by Locke clan artisans, and protected by a Locke clan formation. The building even bore the Locke clan emblem––a double sided key around which wrapped a dragon with its wings flared out––at the center of the gates in addition to the ever-present mark of the Eight Peaks. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his qi and pressed his hand against the transmission stone set to one side of the gate.

'Calvin of Six-Swan Pond. I'd like to speak with Young Mistress Ariadne if she is available.' Then he took a step back, folding his hands behind his back as he waited. And waited. And waited. A minute passed, then another, then ten. Calvin shifted from foot to foot, peeking out of the corner of his eye at the passing crowd. None had stopped to watch him, but he could feel their attention on his back as they passed. He did his best to keep his expression flat, not letting his annoyance show on his face.

He was absolutely certain someone had already received his message, even if the stone only worked one way. What was the point of this? Only when he was about to attempt the transmission stone again did the gate finally crack open, the great slab of silvery wood swinging back just far enough for a single person to pass. An older woman stepped through the gap, face lined with age and wearing a black sect robe––the mark of a cultivator servant.

She had her aura flared and Calvin immediately felt her cultivation––peak Foundation realm, though likely with only a simple three-three Foundation underlying it––press down on him to little effect. She looked at him with clear disapproval, but when she spoke her voice was measured and icily polite.

"Mistress Locke is cultivating, but will see you when she is finished. Be welcome in Cloudlock House." Calvin smiled mildly, inclining his head to the woman.

"Thank you, Madam Chloe." She humphed and turned around, clearly expecting him to follow her as she passed back through the gate. He was content to oblige her. He'd probably be grumpy too if he'd spent nearly a whole century doing nothing but caring for a mostly empty house periodically inhabited by pretentious young men and women. Passing through the gate was practically like stepping into another world.

The noise and bustle outside vanished between one step and the next, the qi thickening and the air filling with the sweet smell of honeysuckle and jasmine. From the inside, the walls of the manor were covered by endless vines of blooming honeysuckles and other climbing plants. A path paved in jade led from the outer gate towards the manor's own grand entrance, but on either side was an expansive garden growing both ornamental flowers and spiritual herbs.

Calvin had little time to look around because Chloe immediately turned down a path that led into the garden, moving at a brisk pace along the winding paths that led through the flower beds and bushes.

They circled a quarter way around the building, potted bushes trimmed into geometric shapes replacing the flowers, then passed through a circle of trees to emerge in a small clearing with benches, a burbling fountain, and a single-tiered open-sided pagoda in the imperial style with a peaked roof and columns carved with coiling dragons, phoenixes, kun-peng, and other legendary spiritual beasts.

A small artificial stream ran through the middle of the clearing, lined with colorful stones and spanned by two ornamental bridges with yet more carvings covering every inch of rainbow wood. Chloe whirled back around, fixing him with a hard stare.

"Wait here," she commanded, and promptly hurried away down a different path to the one they'd used to get there, heading in the direction of the manor. Calvin waited for several long moments, then sighed heavily and took a seat on the nearest bench. Hopefully Ariadne wouldn't be too long. If she intended to cultivate for a while longer, it would have made more sense to tell him to come back later, right? She wouldn't make him wait for––"Calvin!"

Ariadne called from practically right behind him, and he whirled around to see her emerging from between two trees directly behind him.

"You're back! It's so wonderful to see you, I'm so glad you came to visit!" Calvin blinked, staring at her in surprise for longer than was entirely appropriate before he managed to tear his gaze away and meet her eyes. Unusually, Ariadne did not have her aura flared like she typically did during the social gatherings and at public venues she liked to invite him to, her yin qi withdrawn into her spirit. Typically that would have been a blessing.

Speaking with Ariadne while she had her qi flared was always a challenge, even if she wasn't directly focusing on him. Yin qi was insidious that way, seductive and slippery. Unfortunately, Ariadne didn't really need her yin qi to be distracting. Especially on a day like today, where she wasn't wearing an obscuring disciple's robe, nor a conservatively cut dress.

Instead she looked practically ready for bed, dressed only in a short sleeved white shift that clung to her body in all the right places and ended well above her knees. She was barefoot and her wet black hair was pulled up into a ponytail, water dripping from its end onto the stone beneath her feet.

"Ah, uh, hi, um young miss––senior sister, I mean––" he bowed his head, but that was a mistake. Ariadne must have just come from bathing because her hair wasn't the only part of her that was still somewhat wet, and white fabric did not always deal well with moisture. Even with the control his cultivation gave him over his physical reactions, he couldn't stop his cheeks from heating up, resolutely forcing himself to look at the ground instead of her.

Ariadne laughed, the sound worming its way into his ears and making his heart skip a beat. She plopped down on the bench beside him, sitting dangerously close such that the hem of his robe brushed up against her bare leg.

"When it's just the two of us, you can just call me by my name. After all, a little birdie told me that someone has already reached the peak of the Foundation realm," she singsonged.

"It's not right for you to call me senior sister if I'm the one beginning to fall behind." If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Calvin swallowed heavily, rapidly circulating his qi through his spirit.

"Ah, of course, if you insist, sister Ariadne." She bumped her shoulder against his, and he burned away a thread of yin qi before it could worm its way deeper into his body. He didn't think it was even a technique or a deliberate manipulation of qi, simply a consequence of her physique and cultivation.

"I do insist, brother Calvin. How could I ever ask my savior to address me so formally? What would people think?" Calvin was personally a lot more worried about what people would think if they saw the two of them sitting like this, but maybe that was just him. He cleared his throat.

"I uh––" He once again tore his eyes away from the neckline of Ariadne's shift, fixing his gaze instead on her ruby lips. That way he still had his eyes beneath hers. He was pretty sure that was important. Now, what was he going to say? He racked his brain, then finally remembered.

"I wanted to apologize, sister. I did not intend to snub you by avoiding your invitation to lunch. I was called away by an emergency mission outside the sect." He was shocked when Ariadne simply waved her hand dismissively.

"Oh, that is alright, Calvin. I completely understand." She leaned in closer, the heady smell of her skin and hair overwhelming the floral scents of the surrounding garden.

"Tell me, how did the mission go? Were you able to slay the foul beast menacing those poor, poor mortals?" He might have been imagining it, but was she breathing faster than she had been before?

"Did you avenge the dead? That poor, innocent girl's heroic mother? Her family?" She put her hand on his leg, and he could feel her touch even through the two layers of fabric separating them. Her hand was as soft and smooth as butter, cool against his feverish skin. He swallowed heavily, his thoughts sluggish and scattered.

"Ah, uh, yeah um. There were some complications, uh, details missing from the mission scroll, but we—we took care of it." He blinked rapidly, opening his eyes to find Ariadne's face much too close to his own for comfort, her hazel eyes—warm pools of honey and caramel flecked with gold that a man could get lost in—boring into his with blazing intensity.

"Oh?" she asked breathlessly, "What sort of complications?" A tiny corner of his mind registered the strangeness of her questions. How had she known those details? He hadn't mentioned them in his note, merely that he was leaving the sect for some time on an emergency mission and would be missing their meeting.

There was no way Ariadne—who he doubted had ever so much as stepped foot in Mission Hall—could have seen it herself and Wallis had claimed the mission immediately after it had been posted, before anyone else should have had a chance to examine it in any detail. Unfortunately, the rest of his mind was much too otherwise occupied to consider that realization in any detail. Calvin licked his very dry lips, laboriously piecing together the meaning of Ariadne's question and formulating a response.

Ariadne had such beautiful eyes, her facial features sharp and smooth and delicate like the idealized lines of a statue or painting. Thankfully he'd just spent nearly half a day answering what amounted to that exact question in different ways so he didn't embarrass himself too much.

"I think it was supposed to be some kind of trap," Calvin told her, hearing his own voice as though his ears were full of water.

"They let that girl go on purpose. They wanted the local sects to respond. There was a group of demonic cultivators, more than twenty of them, and six in the Foundation realm. And the demonic beast, it was some sort of guardian the leader was controlling. He had a technique to summon it to him. It had qi in the Foundation realm too, but it was stronger than that. Some sort of Core realm beast with a damaged core that made it seem weaker than it was to the qi-detection talismans the mortals were carrying."

Ariadne gasped, covering her mouth with one pale, slender-fingered hand, but her eyes shone with excitement.

"A Core realm demonic beast? And six demonic cultivators in the Foundation realm? And you slew them all?" She began slowly, softly, but her voice built with every word, gaining speed and volume until she practically blurted out the last few words. On their way back to the sect, the three of them had agreed to fully share credit for their deeds during the mission. It looked better for Lulu and Wallis that way, and Calvin had always preferred to avoid too much attention.

They hadn't lied—that would have been an extremely stupid thing to do in front of a Sect Enforcer—but they'd been intentionally vague. After all, in a sense the three of them had engaged both the cult leader and demonic beast together. Calvin had just happened to finish both foes off. Calvin was much too distracted to carefully choose his words, nor did he particularly want to at that moment. He wanted to boast, to cry his achievements from the rooftops and prove himself.

"Yeah," he confirmed, "we killed them all. Lulu and Wallis dealt with the lesser cultists and protected the mortals while I fought the leader and his beast." That was pretty much the truth, right? It wasn't his fault that it implied a slightly different sequence of events than had transpired in actuality. Ariadne's eyes were wide and bright, and the hand on his leg was squeezing hard enough that he could feel the rounded tips of her nails digging into his thigh.

Her hand was still covering her mouth, but he could imagine the shape of her plump, pouty lips, beneath it, his eyes tracing the elegant lines of her wrist and the graceful curve of her neck.

"They were sacrificing whole villages of mortals to fuel their cultivation," he felt the need to elaborate.

"Torturing them, bleeding them. Thousands of them. Men, women, children. Babies. It was awful. Someone had to put a stop to it. So I did."" Incredible," she breathed, "simply incredible. How did it feel, Calvin, enacting justice with your own two hands? Justice for all those poor, poor mortals…" For a moment, Calvin was back there, his hand cutting through the neck of the rapidly regenerating cult leader, the crunch of the man's spine between his fingers ringing in his ears.

He remembered relief, vindication, and a hollow sense of wastefulness. His lips moved soundlessly.

'All that power and no idea how to use it.' How… ironic. Purely on instinct, Calvin flooded his body and spirit with barely contained fire. It hurt, burned, and he swallowed back a cry of pain, but some of the fog behind his eyes dispersed, allowing him to think clearly for the first time in several minutes. He'd always known Ariadne was dangerous, but never had he seen it so very clearly. There had been no technique to burn away, no qi infecting his thoughts and warping his emotions.

Her presence alone was enough to ensnare him, wrapping him around her finger like he was dancing on a marionette's strings, and he had no idea how to do anything about it. He licked his lips again, wanting to look anywhere but at Ariadne and simultaneously never wanting to look away. Her eyes were too much, but so were her lips and any lower was even worse. He settled on staring at her nose. It was a nice nose, a fine nose, a perfect nose, but at least it was only a nose.

"It needed to be done," he answered solemnly.

"Like putting down a rabid animal. I wish we could have been there sooner. There were far too many mortals we could not save." He closed his eyes and lowered his head, "But I am glad we were able to help those we could. Heavens know how many more would have suffered and died had we not been there." A soft hand wrapped around one of his fists, his hand opening of its own accord allowing her slender fingers to intertwine with his own.

"So brave, so noble," Ariadne whispered, her breath tickling his ear.

"And you, only newly at the peak of your realm, standing alone against such long odds…oh it's like something straight out of a story." Calvin suppressed a shiver. There was something decidedly off putting in her voice, an undercurrent that he could only faintly hear and didn't have a name for. He hadn't noticed it before, distracted as he was, but with his eyes closed and a fire blazing in his spirit, he could just faintly make it out.

"It wasn't just me," he began, "Lulu and—" The hand on his leg rose and a dainty finger pressed against his lips.

"Oh, I'm certain your little friends helped, but you don't have to lie to me here, hmm? It can be our little secret." She pulled away and Calvin risked opening his eyes, finding Ariadne leaned forward on the bench beside him, elbows on her knees and chin propped up on her fists. She sighed wistfully, "Oh I can practically see it!" Turning back towards him, she fluttered her lashes.

"Details, Calvin, details! I need them." She took a deep, shuddering breath.

"The beast! Was it mighty? Fierce? Terrifying?" She drew out the final word, letting it hang in the air as she watched his face with a razor-sharp intensity. Calvin looked out into the garden, thankful for the increased distance between them even as a part of him urged him to pull her into his side and never let go. For once, he thought he actually did understand what Ariadne wanted from him, even if he couldn't comprehend why.

He thought of the demonic beast, the Hound of Conquest, of its howl and his desperation as it loomed over him.

"All that and more," he answered softly.

"Never before have I danced so closely on death's door, a single mistake away from oblivion. The beast was a great wolf in form, massive and amorphous as a shadow with a hide blacker than ink and tougher than a mountainside. Its tail was a razor whip, its teeth knives, and its claws sabers." Peeking at her out of the corner of his eye, Calvin found Ariadne hanging off his every word with bated breath, her mouth open just wide enough that he could catch a glimpse of her pink tongue. He quickly continued.

"It fought with a cruel, bestial cunning. It thought itself high above me at first, a foe only worth toying with. The damage from my first, probing blows healed as quickly as I dealt it, and its own strikes felled trees and shattered the earth like turning a hand." He took a deep breath, adopting a vaguely wistful tone.

"Our battle raged for what felt like an eternity. Its strength was great, its flesh resilient, and its techniques insidious, but I fought with righteous justice," what could be more righteous than phoenix fire, "by my side. I could accept no outcome besides victory, for countless innocent lives hung in the balance, and thus it fell and I prevailed." It was a load of total rubbish. Ariadne swallowed it all and practically begged for more. Calvin was more than happy to deliver.

In broad strokes he told her about chasing down the vile, cowardly cult leader and rescuing Lulu and Wallis from encirclement and certain death. He espoused at length about the horrors of the corpse formations and the fierce battle against the spiritual abomination it had birthed. By the end he even wildly exaggerated the dangers and risks he'd taken freeing Carrie from the cultist's clutches, though he glossed over some of the worst of what she'd suffered.

He was certain she understood what he wasn't saying, a dark shadow passing over her flawless features for a moment before she sank back into his storytelling. Eventually, even Calvin's artistically tweaked tales ran dry, and they sat in silence for several long minutes.

Ariadne was smiling, but it was a distant, unreadable smile, and without the distraction of his storytelling Calvin had to work very hard not to think about the thigh pressed up against his leg and the way Ariadne's slowly drying hair cascaded down her back, the milky skin of her shoulders tantalizingly visible through the damp fabric of her white shift. She seemed… well, she didn't seem upset with him, which Calvin counted as a success!

After all, appeasing Ariadne's anger had been the primary goal of this trip and she certainly didn't seem angry! The fact that she apparently hadn't been upset with him in the first place was just an insignificant detail. With that taken care of, Calvin decided to try for his secondary goal.

"I appreciate you taking care of my junior sister in my absence, sister Ariadne," he remarked.

"It was kind of you to look out for her interests." He very carefully did not thank her. He wasn't always very good at remembering not to do so, but it was one of those lessons he'd heard in passing that he tried to stick to when it seemed relevant. To those raised in noble clans, a thanks implied the existence of an obligation, and as much as he appreciated what she'd done he did not consider himself to owe Ariadne anything for the unasked for 'favor' she'd done him.

"Hmm?" Ariadne hummed, "Ah, yes. Her. Certainly an intriguing blossom you've found hiding amidst the weeds." She looked over, their eyes meeting, and smiled widely.

"I like her. She seems quite taken with you." Ariadne stood up abruptly, spinning around and bending forward at the waist so they were face to face.

"It was nice to see you, Calvin. We should do this again sometime. I need to get back to cultivating, my ice bath isn't getting any colder!" She giggled and posed, Calvin's eyes drawn magnetically to places he'd done his best to avoid staring at as she planted her hands on her hips. Then she poked him in the nose hard enough that he really felt it.

"Someone will show you out," she informed him cheerfully, and without another word or backwards glance flounced away in the opposite direction from which she'd come. Calvin stared after her until she vanished behind a hedge. That… hadn't really answered any of his questions, had it? Well, at least she didn't seem to be holding a grudge? Maybe? He exhaled, slumping forward to rest his head in his hands. His head pounded like he'd stuck it in a drum and his spirit ached.

He really just needed a few minutes to–– Madam Chloe's aura slapped him like someone had shattered a glass bottle over his head.

"Up!" she demanded, "This is no place to be lying around like a common vagrant." Calvin slowly looked up to find the imperious servant staring down her nose at him, arms crossed over her chest and nose wrinkled in disapproval.

"Better. Come along now, before you overstay your welcome and I'm forced to have the formation throw you out." Calvin got the strong sense that she would like nothing more than an excuse to do just that. Sighing silently, he stood up and allowed himself to be firmly ushered to the gate.