Chapter 242

  Legend of the Masked Children (XII)

  The night fell, though the city was still very much alive.

  Okay, maybe "alive" is a bit of an inappropriate word, considering, but there were lights practically everywhere, as virtually every able-bodied person had come to aid in trying to locate any of the remaining survivors as well as slowly start moving the rubble away, at least from the streets.

  Nothing brings people together quite like a tragedy does--I suppose, even here, that stands true.

  The difference is that there are a lot of cultivators in the city, which accelerated at least the cleanup part of it.

  A secondary issue arose, however, becoming the reason why none of the higher-ups of the Spirit Blossom Sect had returned even as the dawn was nearly cracking--the political fallout of this tragedy will likely be massive. Even if just one or two of the competitors from the Holy Lands died, I imagine that the consequences would be... dire.

  Kids, on the other hand, were conked out of their minds, fast asleep.

  The weird bit?

  ... they were on top of me. As in, literally. To ensure my safety and health, they refused to leave my side, even if the adrenaline fueling them slowly ran out and they crashed. Now, I'm stuck under three kids, unable to move, wondering just how many times I'll have to live through this.

  I'll still have to recruit kids in the future, if I want to keep getting points at least, so... probably lots.

  For now, though, I look down at the tired, blissful faces of the three and wonder what 'normalcy' even is.

  They'd already regaled me with their tales of conquest, likely fishing for my praise, and though I'd given it... I was honestly horrified. Not that they killed--by now, for the most part, I'd have made my peace with it. But how almost unremorseful they were about it. It'd be one thing if they felt any way toward it, but, honestly, it was as though they were chopping logs rather than limbs.

  Sure, there's a skewed sense of normalcy, but theirs feels... too skewed.

  "You're still awake?" Long Tao showed up from the shadows, and my mood immediately dropped. "Are you still mad?"

  "You're mad. I'm just angry."

  "Funny," he smiled faintly as he sat down by the table, taking out a limp piece of lettuce--no, wait, that's an ashen-colored vine. "Both you and the kids are the talk of the city, you know?"

  "Sure. It's just been invaded and attacked, but, yes, they are talking about random strangers."

  "Heroics never go unseen, Master," he said. "But... that's not important."

  "What is, then?"

  "... I apologize."

  "H-huh?" I stammered, certain I misheard him.

  "Whether it means anything, I truly did not expect this. I'd underestimated the apathetic glee toward life and death they'd feel."

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  "..."

  "Do you see us as monsters?" He suddenly asked, his gaze... odd. Almost like there was a level of uncertainty contained therein and, though I'm probably entirely wrong, fear.

  "No more than I see myself as one," I replied rather honestly; I can't really go about espousing holier-than-thou crap. Not anymore, at least. I'd killed too, today, and, all things considered, I'm not having a mental break over it. Sure, I'm not gleeful, but I'm not all that bothered, either. "I... I simply feel that you don't trust me." I said, and it was his turn to stammer.

  "H-huh? Why?"

  "Because you think I'll always choose to avoid conflict."

  "..."

  "And because you think that you know what's best for the kids' growth, and that my caution will be a blockade to that."

  "..." He remained silent as I gathered my courage.

  "You call me Master, but I don't think that means anything to you." I kept my eyes locked on his, trying my best to keep my voice level. "No... that's wrong. I know that, in your own way, it means a lot. But it cannot go on like this. You say that we are now the talk of the city, when that is exactly what I wanted to avoid. Do you think it's truly a bright idea to practically scream at the world that all of my disciples are heaven-defying? Do you think it is truly smart to taunt the spun wheels of fate that those that will come after us will be weak enough to be the kids' whetstones? Or that they'll come bearing riches?

  "What if, instead, they send a Demigod after us? Or even somebody stronger than that? Your father may have taught you a way to save yourself, or even save both you and me, but I'm telling you now--if I survive at the cost of their lives, I will kill myself. Unless you are confident that your father's or your mother's ways are good enough to save us all, from now on, you will listen to me."

  "..." oddly, he didn't speak--nor did his expression change. Like, at all. He just kept staring back, and I kept enduring the silence. "I'm sorry," twice now, he nearly gave me a heart attack. "You're right. It probably isn't the smartest thing that everyone now knows about them. But you're wrong about something too, Master."

  "..."

  "I care for them, too," he said. "They are my Juniors. And in them I see figures that could truly, one day, make something grand of themselves. But that will never happen if they are not challenged, if they are not beaten, if they aren't bled until only air runs in their veins. As such, you must make a choice, Master. Will you keep them safe and sheltered and let them live out their natural lives in peace? Or, will you let them loose and see how far they go?

  "They might die. They will be hurt and broken. But you cannot keep looking at them as though they are ordinary children... because they are not. No matter what you choose, these kids will follow you. But just as you still refuse to give Xi Zhao that art you made for him, you cannot keep making choices for them."

  "But you can?" I interrupted somewhat angrily.

  "... when did I?" he smiled faintly as he stood up. "Unlike you, I simply presented them with the choices."

  "..." Honestly, I was at the cusp of screaming that they are children, unlike him, who had endless lifetimes of experiences behind him, or even me, who had at least one lifetime behind me already. But I held back, looking down instead.

  ... was he right?

  Was I really still coddling them?

  I mean, sure, of course I was--but the question now is whether I'm right in doing so. Maybe that's where the juxtaposition I cannot reconcile comes from, one that I've been fighting for a long time now.

  These kids have killed--not just on accident, not just one or two people in self-defense, no. They've killed dozens, hundreds collectively, and they seem... fine.

  And yet, my mind cannot shake that duality off--that baby-faced kids that are lying on top of me and snoring without a care in the world are also proficient killers that should be making their own choices.

  I still compare them to when I was their age--and almost every choice I made was a dumb one. But... yeah. They were also choices I needed to make. They chiseled away at my edges until eventually they shaped me into the person I'd become.

  For me, it was drinking and partying and skipping school, and for them, well... it's killing and fighting and bloodshed, I suppose.

  Haah.

  Maybe it'll take years, or decades, or even centuries... or maybe it may never actually happen, but these clashes that stem from the depths of my beliefs that are carved into my bones... I can't project them onto the kids. I can't gauge their lives by some altered recognition of life.

  Should they make all the choices? Of course not.

  But they don't deserve to have all their choices be made for them. Just as I loathed my parents and my grandparents and all other adults in my life doing so for me when I was their age (and with less than 1% of their projected agency), I imagine they, too, loathe it, even if they remain silent.

  Haah.

  Maybe... I should have apologized, too?