Chapter 169

Pentra La’H Twol

The Lies and Deceptions of Diplomacy

Pentra La’H Twol had them. Better still, she knew she had them. It was as easy as catching two already trained mice. Mice that could then be used to conquer this pitiful planet. The more she spoke, the more she realized these creatures had no understanding of deceit and trickery. While many cultivators thought such tactics were beneath them, there was still merit in the ancient art of subterfuge, an art that Pentra herself was more than well versed in.

This was a shame, for Pentra found herself rather enjoying getting to know this educated rat before her. The fact that the inhabitants of this planet were rats, or the equivalent thereof was not lost on her. While their initial encounters with the inhabitants of this land were less than ideal, she knew for a fact that it had been multiple millenniums since that fateful encounter. She also knew that the initial inhabitants had died out, and she was now looking at a descendant who was now at least fifteen generations removed from the actual events of the past.

The separation of time meant that she was offered a clean slate. That she could effectively lie with impunity, as she was willing to believe that no records of those battles still existed. That or if they did, they had shifted from fact, to myth. Some of this one’s questions proved their ignorance to the facts.

Also, there was the fact that he didn’t question anything she said. Instead the leader with white hair and blue streaks made no sign of catching onto her deceit or lying through omission. If she had to describe this chance encounter in one word, it would be Gerandur, a word meaning total victory in her home world.

Speaking with this local, she couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of nostalgia for her own people. She wondered if this was the same type of conversation her own ancestors had once had, before they too were assimilated into the domain of the rulers.

At that thought, she felt a slight pang of pain fill her heart for only a moment. But that was enough for the young man’s eyes to grow wide. That was it, no question, well no question related to her random thought she let filter in on her face. No sign of recognition about what the surge of emotion was, nor why she felt it. Just recognition that she had felt something, that she had let a piece of her true emotional state slip through her otherwise perfect façade of political decorum.

This was why, during her next question, Pentra decided to go in for the kill.

“I always feel that negotiations of these types go more smoothly, if we each know what each other wants. We might be able to come to a common ground easier. It is with that thought in mind, that I ask: is there something you would like to learn from my people?”

Pentra said my people as if she were actually allowed to consider herself part of the risen cast. As if her body and heritage didn’t already make it so she would be little more than a second class citizen at best. This of course was still miles above the third, or likely even fourth class of citizenry that the inhabitants of this nothing planet would find themselves once they too were assimilated int the cause.

At the question, the male with white hair with blue highlights paused. The slight fluttering of wind around his body the only sign that the feed was still live to the room. Oddly enough at the same moment, Pentra felt a slight chill blow past her. The feel of the wind on her neck caused her to pause for a second. For a moment she almost imagined the air in her core room being under the direct command of the inhabitant. But such a thought was quickly dismissed. There is no way that thing could command an element that far away. She mused to herself, before quickly dismissing the thought as little more than fears being brought about by being stuck in a panic room for so long.

I have been here so long that my own mind is playing tricks on me. She thought, as she forced her fast-beating heart to slow, as she adopted the passive meditation techniques that let her be a true cultivator.

Finally, after a moment of thought, the native answered, “I would like to know the secret to your tri-weave skin.”

At that admission Pentra’s eyes narrowed. The tri-weave skin was something rare for her people. When she first set out on this expedition, only experts who had mastered the intermediate tri-weave skin technique had been allowed to go. This was a complex braiding pattern that required one continuous strand of braided qi to be folded about itself into three different segments. Then from there, one would need to braid all three segments of the same strand to form a stronger segment. Then they would need to weave that completed strand with other completed strands to form a patchwork segment. The entire process was time consuming, repetitive, and taxing.

At first, she thought about sharing the process flat out, for a favor of course. Such a boon was freely given in the empire, as it was a clear marker for those who would be able to go far on the path of cultivation. But something about the hungry look in the beast’s eyes gave her pause.

Also, while the true masters would freely give out such a technique, Pentra felt this was her chance to see the value of resources that this planet had to offer. She also decided that giving up such a piece of information would ruin her chances of striking down the two cultivators of note that this planet had managed to produce in the past few thousand years. Such multi-generational talents possessed a level of skill and perseverance that Pentra herself had not been able to master. That was when, a smile formed on her lips, as she realized she too could use this to gain many insights that these two natural cultivators, seemed to understand at an instinctual level.

“I could, provide the details of the tri-weave technique. Though I would require an equal payment of information in return.” Pentra said, then paused as she thought about what she would demand next. What she was going to ask for was something unheard of. If she had been so brazen to ask for the equivalent from the higher casts, or even from one of her own she would be scoffed at, at best. Or at worst, she would be broken, then scoffed at.

Yet, here on this back-water world, she felt she could ask this next part without fear of reprisals. Even if worse came to worst, and she was later called out for her demand. She could always deny the claims. Who would believe that one of her kind, would ever stoop so low as to ask a lowly cultivator from a back world planet to share their clearly flawed understanding of cultivation.

“In exchange for the tri-weave body molding technique. I request that you teach me one of your cultivation techniques.” Pentra said.

With that one request, she had changed the dynamics of their relationship. Yes, one could argue that they were equals in the deal. Both sides exchanging valuable information that the other side did not possess. But in reality, what Pentra would gain from this exchange would be monumental. She would gain a cultivation technique, one that looked like it could rival even the ancients who first conquered and assimilated their home world so many millions of years ago. Still, despite so much time having passed, her people were still no closer to finding a path of cultivation on their own, than they were the day they were conquered.

Sure, tremendous talents from within the ranks of her kind, the Tin’Tith’Ahn. But those cases were few and far between. Also, all talents were immediately discovered and taken off worlds and outside Tin’Tith’Ahn space, where they would be given a true master. The Tin’Tith’Ahn who returned from such arrangements were always changed. Once they left, their entire being became one to supporting the masters. In her mind Pentra was both jealous of and hated those who were taken away in such a manner.

That was why, here, in this hole in the ground on a back water planet, Pentra held her breath as she waited a reply.

Gentle breeze.

Once again, the wind seemed to blow all around Pentra, all the while the male inhabitant of the planet stood still. Again, Pentra got the sensation that he was able to feel the air around her, even here. But again, such thoughts were impossible, or at least that is what she told herself.

Finally, after a minute, the wind swirling around the white-haired inhabitant stopped. Simultaneously the slight breeze that Pentra felt against the base of her spine also dropped. With that, the look and posture on the male inhabitant dropped slightly, as he looked almost defeated.

“Sadly, I cannot give you what you need.” The native began.

With those few words, anger began to rise in Pentra. Who was this scum to deny her a cultivation. She was so close, with either of the two elements on display she could return home and be elevated to natural ruler of her people. Yet, she would be denied by this scum!

“While I would be more than happy to teach you either of our ways.” The creature with blue streaks of hair continued. “I feel that neither of them would truly suit you. You are a user of water, and to force a different cultivation method on you, other than water would break you at a fundamental level.” He said.

At first, Pentra wanted to shout. She wanted to protest. She wanted to scream that she could still learn the techniques despite the clear disconnect. But then she listened to what he said. Just by looking at her, he could tell she was a water cultivator? Or at the very least, he could tell that water would be her primary element?

This level of understanding should be impossible. Sure, she was a Tin’Tith’Ahn, a species who originally evolved on a planet that was made up entirely of water. The tentacles on their face were a stark reminder of where they had originally come from. But the fact that she still felt the call of her home world, of her ancestors even out here? There was no way this creature should have known that about her.

While she was not the only one who yearned to one day return home, many of her kind had been taken as different cultivators. All learning many of the different forms of cultivation that were taught to them. The fact that this creature, was able to understand this difference in cultivation paths needed, caused something truly profound to shift from within Pentra’s core.

“You are water. Able to flow over and around to fit the need of the moment. Yet, also ready to crush any opposition that gets in your way. While I do not myself know the way to cultivate with water. I could talk you through the process, so you could begin your own path of self-discovery.”

Badump. Badump. Badump.

At those words, Pentra’s heart began to beat rapidly, as she realized that this creature was now offering her a way to change her own fate.

Still, there was more going on here that caused Pentra to have a momentary pause.

“Did you teach the female to cultivate with earth?” Pentra asked, her heart filling with hope as she followed through with her hunch.

“I did, though most of her success is based on her own perseverance.” The male continued.

At this, the female interjected, her translation program seamlessly translating the words of the female as well. “Lykan is far too modest. He has always had profound insights into the different elements and how they interact with each other. While he wouldn’t be able to teach you to be a master of Air like he is, I have no doubt that you could learn to cultivate water with him as your trainer.”

There it was the one word that Pentra had feared. A word that she almost had to expect to be the case now. A word that would forever shift the balance of power in their relationship. A trainer, meaning she would be the student. She, a conquering Tin’Tith’Ahn would have to bow down and bend to the whims of a no name cultivator from some back water planet.

If this story ever got out, she would have to hide her face in shame, as the laughingstock of all cultivators. Then again, she mused. Once she had gained all she could, who was to say the story would ever leave this planet. With that thought, she steeled her resolve.

“I believe we have a deal. You teach me the basics of water cultivation, and I teach you the legendary tri-weave skin grafting technique.”

Pentra of course left off the part where she planned to betray and slay the two far before they ever got close to mastering the tri-weave technique.

Cool breeze.

A chilly wind once again blew past her. Looking around, she knew the ventilation shafts were still active, but she would have to investigate why they were so windy recently. Still, that was going to be a problem for a later day. For now, she decided to make her way up to the training room.