Resai doesn’t have a home,

  She renounced it as soon as she was inducted into the Crumbling Stone sect, a humble venture on the southern edge of The Expanse, justifying its existence through the gathering of resources so the old monsters maintaining it all can get that much closer to eternity. Like humanity tends to do, whether mortal or not, It’s a kind of structure designed for efficient advancement. It’s not even all that predatory, those at the bottom being giver a relatively safe haven to dedicate their time to training, not having mundane worries plague their thoughts like crops or finances.

  In turn they scour The Expanse, searching for precious resources in exchange for merits. It was fun back then, making her puny little friendships, going on adventures through The Expanse bantering and having a generally good time. She truly believed, in her heart of hearts, that cultivation was something beautiful.

  Watching those friends die brutal and pointless deaths disabused her of that notion rather violently.

  She can still see their empty eyes, can still feel their cold, clammy skin on the tips of her fingers, and can still smell the sickly sweet stench that permeated their corpses.

  She doesn’t think they’ll ever leave her memory, despite the decades.

  But that’s okay, she has the memories of before as well, and that’s the beauty of life, isn’t it? Distorted memories of better times helping to push through the cruelty of reality.

  That’s what she’s learned in the end, that a cultivator’s life is only beautiful once you’ve accepted the pain along with the joy. So, she learned, adapted to become something cruel to reciprocate what the world has taken from her

  These thoughts plague her mind often when she delights in the hearts of the dead, a reminder that she is just another facet to the world's cruelty, and that that’s okay.

  She takes a bite out of her opponent’s heart.

  It’s tough, especially because of how infused with Qi it is, but her teeth are sharp and made to rend through much tougher meat than this. The taste isn’t bad either, like sedated judgement, her dao makes her more susceptible to…enjoying the feast, but she’s pretty sure she’d still enjoy the meal without it.

  She always starts with the heart, because that’s always the most delicious. When a person passes their core implodes, forcing the remaining Qi into the heart, all of it. Makes the wonderful little organ a delectable treat to anyone not averse to a spot of cannibalism.

  Sure she could just eat the hearts of naturally born beasts, but most species don’t tend to reach for immortality, so their Qi reserves are pitiful compared to the cultivators she can kill.

  If she can kill them quick then all the better.

  This wasn’t one of those, she actually put up a pretty good fight, had a dao that made Resai numb and sluggish, alongside something electric but also…soft? She doesn’t know, dao’s can get weird, especially when they mutate.

  She was even a pugilist, just like Resai.

  What fun it was to contend with martial prowess instead of having to deal with those annoying things of steel and bone, more cultivators should just use their fists, it’s the most honest form of combat.

  Can really feel the struggle when your opponent's knuckles dig deep in your face.

  She was pretty good too, and got some shots in that Resai will take a while to heal, but she didn’t really come close to actually killing her. Which is a shame, those are always the best fights, blood pumping action and all that.

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  Resai takes another bite of the heart, getting another taste of that sedated judgement. The taste comes through so clearly that Resai’s pretty sure she was ready for integration, if she wasn’t aiming for a greater dao of course, she gets a few of those, but they’re as rare as cultivators among mortals.

  Still, they make for the best meals.

  -

  There is only ever a moment.

  In combat the future and past are just an illusion, and the only thing that matters is the now. Yorin has exactly a fraction of a second to dodge the guandao coming for his neck. He pumps Qi through his meridians and boosts his muscles, ducking as the blade cuts off some of his hair, retaliating with a strike from below.

  The bear of a man, all muscle and nothing else, dodges the blade with a kind of grace that always leaves Yorin dumbfounded, but now isn’t the time, because another strike is coming for his torso. Yorin blocks the blow, and his whole body feels the reverberations of the blow as it barely stops the blade.

  He gets ready to-

  His head snaps to the air as the butt of the man's guandao makes him see stars, and in the next moment a deep furrow is cut into his torso, causing Yorin to let out a slight scream as he falls to the ground.

  “Better,” rumbles the mound of muscles, “I’m impressed you actually managed to dodge the strike going for your neck.”

  Yorin hisses as he touches his wound, “Were you trying to decapitate me.”

  “I would have stopped,” the man shrugs, “It’s not exactly a challenge when we’re barely moving above mortal speeds.”

  “But I was boosting the whole time!”

  “I wasn’t,” the man chuckles, “that’s the fun part, sure you cheated your way to foundation but your body’s still on the level of a mortal, needing to boost just to match me.”

  “I didn’t cheat,” Yorin harrumphs, “It took a lot of effort.”

  “Doesn’t mean it wasn’t cheating,”

  “Well you're like, decades older than me, that’s cheating!”

  The man raises a brow, “seriously boy, that’s the best you’ve got? You should take some advice from that girl who can’t finish a sentence without some profanity or other.”

  “Etra?”

  “I don’t care for her name, but sure.”

  Yorin gives a sly smile, “what’d she tell you?”

  “That,” the man bonks Yorin on the head with his guandao, “is decidedly none of your business.”

  “C’mon,” Yorin rubs at his head, “don’t be like that, we all have our stories of her…pattern of speech.”

  “Pattern of speech? Seriously boy? You’re taking too much after the other one.”

  “But it’ll get the nobility to respect me!”

  “They’ll take one look at you and decide you're too stupid to respect whether or not you can say their fancy words.”

  Yorin scrunches his brow, “how would they know that?”

  “Instinct,” the man says, “nobles may have the survival instinct of a dying badger, but their capacity to distinguish people with a glance is downright terrifying.”

  “No way they can actually do that.”

  The man shrugs, “underestimate them at your own peril.”

  -

  The wolf stands on his mountain,

  A regal thing of pale blue fur to complement the snow covered peaks. It stares down at the many cities beneath, growing like tumors and competing like feral pups. It is pathetic, to nip at each other's heels rather than hunt as a pack, and yet everywhere it goes these things of two legs dominate, only things like him capable of travel without worry.

  He came here to escape their folly, and yet here he finds them again, encroaching upon his territory. This cannot stand, the things of two legs cannot reach his pack, cannot come to his home.

  So.

  It’s time to hunt.

  But how to go about it without incurring the wrath of something he can’t survive? He doesn’t know, but it's a nice exercise for his mind while he sharpens his claws over the stones and digs his fangs into bones.

  He has to go simple, hunt their strongest, but their strongest are so often behind the walls of their cities, hiding from the horrors of this land like cowards, only exiting when it is time to spill blood between their kind.

  So.

  He’ll have to coax them out.

  How exactly? he doesn’t exactly have anything they desire, he doesn’t even know what it is they desire, strange things that they are.

  So.

  He’ll have to study them.

  Like he’s been doing for decades.

  The wolf lets out a frustrated sigh at this impasse.