Now Tantra does lose her flow,

  The small stream of Qi feeding her heart cutting off as she takes in the noble girl and who she assumes is her guard, their both just standing there, Synthia mildly amused and the man looking at her with an intensity that feels uncomfortable.

  Then the backlash hits.

  Tantra keels over, one arm gripping her heart and another on her stomach, it’s not pain, but it’s so much, her breathing gets quick and shallow as her lungs struggle to breathe.

  A hand lands on her shoulder, and suddenly everything that’s wrong washes away with a tide of Qi fueling some kind of technique washes over her like a warm bath.

  “Calm,” she hears a gruff voice say.

  Tantra takes a deep gulp of air and looks up at the man.

  “Thanks,”

  He shakes his head, “no need, witnessing such a technique was enlightening.”

  Tantra blinks at the man, who just shrugs.

  “Your body isn’t so infused with Qi that one such as I can’t see its inner workings.”

  Tantra’s brain, which is a little sluggish for some reason, takes a second to acknowledge what he just said.

  Then her eyes go wide at him.

  “Worry not, I couldn’t replicate it even if I wanted to, your sect’s secret is safe.”

  Tantra takes another breath and shakes off the fugue settling over her mind, what did he do? She can’t feel the exhaustion that should be permeating her organs, but…well, it’s like they’re sore.

  She’s never felt sore before from boosting.

  Apparently something on her features signaled curiosity as the man's face lights up with a smile.

  “Don’t worry, it’s an advanced technique meant-”

  “Ezra,” Synthia chides, “we aren’t here for you two to discuss cultivation.”

  Ezra rolls his eyes, “yes my lady.”

  “I don’t appreciate the sass,”

  “Well too bad, it’s what you get when you take away my fun.”

  Tantra is so confused, she’s never seen Synthia banter before, Tantra always assumed the marquise's daughter didn’t have a single ounce of humor residing in her body.

  “Apologies lady Synthia,” Tantra gets up and bows, fist in palm, “but may I be so bold as to ask why you have come to this humble estate?”

  “That should be obvious,” Synthia says, “we came to talk to Ralth’s newest outcast.”

  The pain she feels from those words is almost physical, and she has to stop herself from scowling at the very influential noble. She doesn’t need the kind of trouble Synthia could bring down, especially not now when she is arguably at her most vulnerable.

  Oh.

  She’s vulnerable.

  Tantra is starting to see the contours of whatever the girl is scheming.

  “What can I do for you my lady?” Tantra says slowly

  A sly smile finds its way over her face, she holds out her hand and manifests a steaming cup of tea, taking a small sip, all the while not breaking eye contact with Tantra.

  “You’ve created quite the ruckus,” she finally says, “rare is it for the sentinel to wave away the death of someone so influential. Your ploy was crass, but it worked wonders, all the nobles are horrified by the precedent this sets, you know our little gatherings have been postponed indefinitely because of your stunt?”

  “My apologies my lady,”

  “Oh don’t bother, I know you don’t really care about that. Let’s leave the pretenses behind with the parties shall we?”

  “Okay,” Tantra says slowly, “If I may be so bold then, why have you come here? By your own admission the nobility has gained a new sense of caution, visiting the perpetrator doesn’t seem in line with that thinking.”

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “The rest of the nobles are fools, they simply don’t see the opportunity this presents.”

  “What might that opportunity be?”

  Synthia takes another sip of tea and lets out a sigh of contentment, “someone with your mind would be wasted as a caravan guard.”

  “Are you seeking my services?”

  A small smile plays on Synthia’s lips, “perhaps,”

  “Respectfully, I’m only in the beginning of my cultivation, there is nothing I could provide that other cultivators cannot.”

  “Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, afterall, you can navigate the political world better than any cultivator I know.”

  Ezra grunts.

  Synthia ignores him.

  Tantra just stares at the girl.

  “What about my friends?”

  “I wouldn’t be opposed to housing them, along with the expected accommodations, we can even provide tutors. The Farlagh line has connections with plenty of influential cultivators.”

  “And your sister won’t mind?”

  Synthia titters, “if anything she’s grateful, being used as a political tool to connect our houses wasn’t something she was exactly keen on.”

  Tantra stares at her,

  “What would I be doing?” she asks carefully.

  Synthia smiles.

  -

  Is she really doing this?

  Staying under the wing of her family is the one chance she has to return to their good graces, no matter how long that might take, no matter how unlikely the prospect. But to throw it aside…then she’ll solidify her position as an outcast, forever.

  But…this is an opportunity.

  She is, by all accounts, nowhere near qualified to act as Synthia’s personal guard alongside Ezra, and by Synthia’s own admission she agrees. But that’s not where her value lies apparently, Synthia wants to use her as a kind of political piece rather than a cultivator.

  Essentially, she wants to be seen as the one who could leash the rabid dog who tore out the throat of its brother.

  Tantra suspects there’s more to this than that, but she can’t really think of anything that makes sense.

  The deciding factor, in the end, is the benefits this can bring to her friends.

  “You sure?” Kisrin says, “you can’t take this back once you’ve made the decision.”

  “Fuck ‘em,” Etra says, “your family's a bag of dicks for what they did, even in the face of all the evidence against that cunt of a brother.”

  “Tosa was nice,” Yorin says.

  Etra rolls her eyes, “I’m sure she was, where is she again? Oh right, back at the big fancy mansion rather than here.”

  “That’s not fair,” Tantra says, “Tosa’s barely twelve, expecting her to oppose the family's collective decision is too much for a child.”

  “So she’s a coward then? Not much better than scum if you ask me.”

  Tantra huffs, “that’s not how it works Etra, she might compromise her position in the family if she’s seen siding with the kin-killer, there are those in my family who would gladly take her inheritance just as they took mine.”

  “They’d really do that just for coming to talk?” Yorin asks.

  “I don’t know, not long ago I would’ve been insulted by the suggestion, but now…”

  “Now anything is possible,” Kisrin nods to her.

  “Well, maybe not anything, but that kind of punishment isn’t so outlandish now that it’s been done. Maybe if Tosa carved out her own place in the family's business it would be harder, but she’s too young to even consider such ventures.”

  “Politics is stupid,” Yorin says succinctly.

  Etra nods, “I agree, this shit is just plain unfair.”

  “It’s not about fairness,” Tantra says, “It’s about maneuverability. Other than Ral and a few others who were close to Tikor, I doubt anyone really wanted to exile me, but it’s an opportunity to make some good coin off my inheritance and remove potential competition. There’s also the need to demonstrate to the noble houses that they won’t tolerate fratricide, despite the Sentinels verdict.”

  “You talk as though you agree with their decision,” Etra points out.

  “I can see the logic in it,” Tantra replies sadly.

  The conversation peters out with that statement, Tantra looks around and notices something missing.

  “Where’s Erick?”

  As though decreed by a verdict of the heavens, she hears violent cursing coming from the kitchen, and just a moment later Erick rushes into the room giggling.

  -

  “So I guess that means I’m not getting paid,” Goruk grumbles as he washes the dishes.

  “No,” Tantra says, “I’m sorry.”

  He grunts, “don’t be, I’d do it again if I have to, besides, I didn’t really lose anything.”

  Tantra raises a brow, “they did it for free?”

  “No, but they may as well have.”

  “How’d you manage that?”

  “Infinite ramen.”

  “What?”

  “Offered him free ramen for as long as he lives.”

  Tantra stares at Goruk, “you don’t happen to be in need of another cultivator do you?”

  Goruk barks a laugh, “Nice try kid, but with that fancy new job you’re getting I can already see the coins flowing into my pockets.”

  “I still don’t know If I’m going to take it,” Tantra grumbles.

  “You should,” Goruk says bluntly, “respectfully, your family's a gaggle of cunts if they decided to expel you for defending yourself.”

  “You sure you should be talking about your sponsors like that?”

  “What, you gonna rat me out?”

  “No, but I’m not the only one in this kitchen,”

  She hears a chuckle not far away.

  “Please honourable cultivator, we would never,” says one of the chefs.

  “Yeah, fuck the Sols!” another says enthusiastically, pointing his knife to the air.

  “Fuck the Sols, fuck the Sols!” They all begin to chant.