It’s funny, isn’t it?

  A mountain of the dead, all for one man's foolish little dream. She knows it’s not her fault, How could it be her fault? It was her father’s coin that brought them here, not hers. It was her fathers choice, not hers. She would have invested that money into something useful, rather than spend it on a petty little dream. Why her? Her soul is so far from her core that it might as well not be there at all, and she has over two dozen other siblings to choose from, so why her? Does it really matter at this point? The only one who could answer that question is dead, along with so many others. It’s hard not to feel guilt, even if it wasn’t her fault, the reason she’s here and the reason they’re dead is the same reason.

  It has to be funny, because otherwise it would be sad.

  Tantra doesn’t think she could handle the weight of sadness along with guilt, as she throws bodies into the pyre. The bandits were dumped into the forest left for rot and carrion, all the corpses they burn are either from disciples or servants. She never really considered the servants, they were always just a background piece, something to be ignored. It’s hard to feel that way when she can see the expressions of the cold, cold corpses thrown into the fire. Some of them she didn’t need help with, because they were the bodies of children. Some disciples, but some much younger. It is overwhelming, the amount of corpses that they burn.

  She doesn’t understand, all this for six thousand gold coins?

  She understands greed, it’s the vice of every merchant. But this? This is just wanton cruelty, a culling of the weak and innocent. Why didn’t the Elders do anything? Just one of them was capable of immobilizing a whole crowd, without even lifting a finger. So why leave it to children? The masters participated, so what stops them? It’s probably some stupid cultivator shit, like it always is.

  She lifts the one of the bodies and recognizes the face.

  It’s one of the people who kowtowed to Ranya.

  It shouldn’t be surprising, of her cohort of twenty, only eight remain, including her. But it still tugs at a string in her heart to recognize what used to be a person, destined for the pyre.

  There’s music playing, and solemn songs being sung. Normally Tantra likes the musical arts, but not now, not in this moment. There are too many corpses, too much burnt meat wafting into her nose, and too much crying for her to enjoy anything really. It just serves as a background piece to a somber day.

  All for six thousand gold.

  -

  “We can’t leave this unanswered,” the sound of chipped bone states, “a little over two hundred disciples remain, and for what? Because we are unwilling to deal with this ourselves?”

  “Oh, please” a whet stone on blade scoffs, “It’s only a few bandits, how do you expect them to grow into proper cultivators if we pamper them through the journey?”

  “It is not just ‘a few bandits’, Dousou, one of them survived Jorin.”

  The hall quiets at that.

  “Hmmm,” the flowing of molten wax says, “that is concerning, but it still doesn’t precipitate our intervention.”

  “There are a few of the inner disciples who need…encouragement on the journey” the sound of moss says.

  “Not a bad idea,” says grinding stone as she rubs at her chin, “how far along was the one who survived?”

  Dorokan sighs, “Jorin says she couldn’t have been far into integration”

  A woman nods and her voice comes out like a blade leaving its sheath, “then a dozen or so of our more lacking inner disciples should be enough”

  “Should be” the miasma grumbles.

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  Everyone quiets at his words. The man of purple skin and black eyes that carry stars sighs, “have we grown so weak that we require a hammer to squash an ant? No, we will send no one, and the disciples will learn what it means to walk the path. But we do need to respond, lest the other sects think we have grown weak.” He rubs at his chin, “put up a bounty, a hundred merits per bandit slain, the proper ones among them should feel the desire for vengeance in their bones. Then we can determine who among them are cowards.”

  Dorokan stares wide eyed at him and dares to speak, “you would send them to their deaths?”

  An ocean of Qi blankets everyone in the room, delivering with it an intense smell of rot and decay. The purple man taps at his chair as the others struggle to maintain composure.

  “I am sending the weak to either die or become strong, such is our way.” He says, “but if you disagree, you are free to challenge me Dorokan”

  Dorokan bows deep to the man, “apologies, I don’t dare to question your wisdom, I simply worry for the children”

  The purple man's face softens as he pulls back his Qi, “a weakness you will likely never correct, old friend, and yet an endearing one nonetheless. I understand how you feel, I do, but we are not a place that simply houses children, we are a sect. We will act like one.”

  -

  Unsurprisingly, in the face of so much death and suffering, the tournament was unceremoniously canceled, with the River’s Scales having to return to their sect with a not insignificant amount of disdain. They blame their dead on the Serpent’s Fang, obviously. It was their sect that was attacked, and yet they had to participate in the defence, more than a few accusations of weakness was thrown, and her fellow disciples weathered the storm in shame.

  “It’s not fair,” Yorin pouts, “It’s not like we wanted them to attack.”

  “It’s an image problem,” Tantra says,

  Kisrin nods “We are meant to defend our own territory, to get another sect wrapped up in our issues is dishonourable and shows great disrespect.”

  “Disrespect?” Yorin asks, “aren’t cultivators all about finding the next challenge? How is it disrespectful for them to participate in it?”

  Kisrin shrugs, “It just makes the sect look bad, don’t ask me about the internal politics.”

  Yorin huffs, “that’s just stupid”

  “So are most things involved with cultivators,” Tantra lets slip out.

  Kisrin contemplates her for a moment and sighs, “indeed.”

  They sit in silence for a while, Yorin watches as servants clean the sect of blood and arrows, and for a moment there is peace, then it is broken.

  “Tantan!” a child jumps onto her shoulders, “Ranya has good news! Ranya has great news! Ranya has the best news!”

  Tantra grumbles as Ranya slaps her head multiple times.

  “What is it Ranya?” Tantra says, “we’re kinda busy contemplating the attack.”

  “Bounties!” Ranya chirps, “the sect removed the ban and put bounties for the bandits!”

  Tantra looks up with a sharpness to her eyes, “are you serious.”

  “Yup!”

  “Do they not realize how many will die?”

  “It should be fine” Sola says, appearing from thin air and startling everyone but Ranya, “so long as we go in big groups the bandits shouldn’t stand a chance.”

  Tantra blinks, “they have members in purification, and above if the rumors are to be believed.”

  Sola shrugs, “So what? Numbers always triumph in the end, you all know a few fools right? We’ll just gather them up and go hunting.”

  “Forgiveness honourable senior,” Kisrin says, “but who is ‘we’?”

  “We are we!” Ranya shouts with exuberance, “Tantan is coming so you are coming because you like Tantan, simple!”

  Tantra looks up with a raised brow, “why is my presence a guarantee?”

  “Because Ranya is a child and a fool.” Sola says, “and she’d do this on her own if no one goes with her.”

  -

  “So that’s about everything” Tantra says, “you're the only other disciple I interact with sooo…will you come?”

  Etra tilts her head, “you're going to go with a shattered arm?”

  Tantra looks down shamefaced, “It is foolish, and I am a fool. I know this. But I cannot leave Ranya to die on an idiotic quest for vengeance, and if Yorin and Kisrin come, so will their housemates, and if they come, so will whoever they know. We could gather enough where we’d be safe, for a given value of safe.”

  “And you want me because of the people I might know,” Etra says.

  “Yes,” Tantra nods, not even trying to deny it.

  Etra shrugs, “well sucks to be you, I don’t talk to anyone but you and Jaka, and he’s just a name on a stone now.”

  Tantra deflates.

  “But I’m willing to come along.”

  Tantra looks up, surprised, “really?”

  “Yeah,” Etra shrugs, “sounds interesting, and I’m not above a little revenge”

  Her tone turns sharp at the end there, and Tantra gives her a pitying look.

  “Still hurts?” She says.

  Etra nods, “always.”