A Most Disciplined Disciple
They didn't recognize him.
Of course they wouldn't, why would they? The sect leader had been alone when they 'met'.
The YueyangChang disciples were a rowdy bunch. Not the way the Jiang were purported to be (he liked that word, 'purported', Sisi had taught him that, while lecturing about not trusting appearances. Which, no duh. He was a street rat and lived, that was lesson number one. He even had the nine fingers to prove it). The Jiang, had free spirits and amiable nature with river quick movements (not that he'd ever actually seen a Jiang). These guys made him think of rich merchant sons, the ones who'd never left their small town and thought they were the biggest things that ever was. Swaggering around like fat ducks in a garden, smashing seedlings under their feet and honking up a storm.
Unlike the Jiang, who were supposed to be 'river blue and deeeeep sparkling like amethyst, except for their head disciple who was like fire and smoke with eyes of soft silver starlight', the YueyangChang wore a mustard yellow with gray thread. (xiao-Wuya never forgot what those robes looked like) that made them look like a knock-off Jin.
Though they technically lived under the major sect Nie jurisdiction, the clan's manor was closer to Koi Tower than the Unclean Realm, so it'd figure they'd be suckups in that regard (Xue Yang wondered if such border clans were a hassal to the major clans that neighbored them - never sure where exactly their loyalties lied).
Unlike the Jin (who, as far as he knew looked like they never trained) these cultivators were all thick-set in build (without the legendary muscle mountain 'teahouse' build the little punk used to go on about the Nie supposedly having - he firmly believed no one could pick up a mountain, bare handed. Blow it up with a talisman? Maybe. Not that he had the chance to study more than a literal handful of talismans himself.)
But their size was still vaguely troubling if seen by a homeless kid late at night. Or a side street in broad day light. Crowded room. Empty room.
He was about the same height of most of them at least. Perhaps a few inches taller, if he abandoned the oils and let his hair run wild the way it preferred. But the cultivators wouldnt be fun to fight -better to be quick and vicious than risk it draw out.
Their swords were also plain, but he had no doubts they were sharp. He wasn't seven anymore. He wasn't scared. But there were four of them and one of him. And Xue Yang didn't have a sword. The swords were also faintly glowing, which was just. Great.
His heart beat fast anyway.
The one in the front, a guy a bit older than Xue Yang, maybe twenty, gave Xue Yang a once over.
"You that cultivator who killed that Monster back there?"
Xue Yang blinked. He had indeed killed a tentacle faced undead cat. It'd tried to kill him and he wanted the reward money. He'd been tempted to keep the pelt, but had decided against it. He had no idea how to cure it. Or even if it'd be safe to do so, what with black smoke fizzling out of it. He was pretty sure that had been resentful energy. It'd looked vaguely familiar.
Should he deny it? Play dumb? Or suck up to them? He didn't think he could out run them, though he certainly wouldn't give up without a fight. It'd taken him six hours to find and kill that thing. He was tired. And cultivators could fly (he'd love to see it, in a less life threatening situation, but apparently it was rude to ride them in towns or whatever. Which was a pity, and a rule he'd definitely break as soon as he got his hands on his own hunk of sharp magic metal).
He refused to apologize. He'd caught it fair and square, if they'd wanted it, they should of gotten here sooner. The Yueyang Chang cultivator wasn't curling his lip at him though, which was weird. He was looking at him the way...a customer looked at a successful store manager. Like when a client came to the blacksmith while Xue Yang watched through the wall. The blacksmith was dependent on the other to get his money, but the buyer needed the blacksmith to make their goods. A transactional kind of mutual respect.
It was then that he had a realization.
This guy was looking at him, maybe not as a social equal. But, a professional one. He always knew people used to avoid him on the streets in Kuizhou, even when he wasn't up to mischief. That people often pretended the homeless didn't exsist, that they were less than furniture.
Every now and then there was a kind person who gave away a steamed bun or some stray coppers. An infertile couple might take in a cute orphan. But...many people wouldn't nod when they crossed his path on the street. Like they did for their neighbors, even people they didn't know. And he'd lived there his whole life. Kuizhou was a bit too big for you to know everyone, but it was small enough that you'd see familiar faces every once and a while.
People didn't say sorry when they accidentally bumped into him. Many establishments would tell him to 'move along' if he lingered in place too long, even if he wasn't blocking the path. But they wouldn't talk to or get rough with the nicer dressed people that were 'window shopping'. No one ever gave him a friendly touch. People were always shouting, they didn't talk...soft.
Xue Yang hadn't realized he stank, until he'd started taking baths regularly while working at the pleasure house. After that, it was suddenly like his nose could smell things he'd never noticed before. Old Tzu had called it 'noseblind'.
Xue Yang had kept himself as clean as he could, in an effort to not get sick like he'd seen some other kids. Cleaning his hands and face in a fountain. But you couldn't strip naked in the middle of town. And the river was a far walk even on a not empty stomach. He'd had a few pieces of clothing he'd acquired over the years, but all basically amounted to one set - if he wanted to be considered 'decent' and not thrown in the guard house without meals for a few nights. It usually wasn't worth the risk to wet them and risk a chill, or them being stolen (he'd seen it happen before) and he hadn't liked being vulnerable.
But at the pleasure house he'd had his first real bath. There'd been mostly 'sponge baths' using a small ceramic basin and a rag. But the actual bath...it had been an old barrel looking thing. It'd been warm. It'd smelt like flowers. (He'd immediately decided that one day he'd have a proper 'bath tub' at the farm. He'd take warm baths every night. Which was perhaps incentive for finding a partner, if only for help heating the water every night.)
Xue Yang suddenly realized that he looked very different from how he used to. His skin was clean. Still weathered from the sun. But not greasy or scaley, instead clear and smooth from frequent educated attention. He'd always cared for his teeth, not having the money to have a tooth pulled. But his nails were clean, smooth, and even. Long, not enough for the gentry, but not chipped short like they were constantly being used as desperate tools cause he had nothing else.
His hair was silky and shiny. Softer than he had ever thought it could be, due to the oils Meng Shi had taught him to make. Xue Yang had always had a wired build due to his...active lifestyle. But after six months of regular meals and physical labor, he'd filled out more. Not boney, cheeks sunken in from hunger and possible sickness (his core had prevented most of that, not that most people knew). His clothes fit, and didn't hang off him in weird places or fall too high on his legs at just shy of being inappropriate.
He didn't look rich. But he looked, well off. Neat, tidy. He'd watched all the shop keeps and merchants in the market growing up. He knew what good quality products were, the fashion trends. He'd just never had the money to actually do anything about it before. Now he did.
It was ridiculous and unfair and made his blood burn that he'd be treated differently now for such surface level things. And loneliness hit him like a wave, that he refused to acknowledge. He felt dizzy, and took a deep breath. He could use this.
They were still looking at him. He took another deep breath.
Polite. Deferential. Buy time, sus a new opening to use.
He thumbed his new dagger, hidden in his sleeve.
"It is true, I killed a Monster cat a day past young masters. If there were any other issues, they were not within my attention...?"
The boy, man? Man. The man scoffed, waving a hand.
"Nothing like that, the Monster was the only paid gig, so the only thing worth our time."
Xue Yang nodded his head. He ignored the squirming feeling in his gut. There wasn't a point to taking jobs that didn't pay, especially dangerous jobs that didn't pay.
He didn't think about those stupid villagers who'd knew even less about undead evil magic than he did. Worry about yourself. That was the other number one rule. He didn't have the strength for anyone else (maybe one day - no, he couldn't think like that).
"We found the carcass, you did good work. It normally takes a team to get one of those, and you did it by yourself? Without a sword?"
Xue Yang nodded. He hoped that was the right decision, and the man wouldn't feel threatened by being 'outclassed', and use the 'disrespect' to take it out on him.
The man's eyes gleamed. Greedy.
Greed. Sins were always useful to exploit. If you could find the right hook.
"I'm Chang Ping, sect heir to the Yueyang Chang. We could use a man like you."
Xue Yang's eyes widened.
"How would you like to join on as a guest disciple, and help out on some night hunts for a few months?"
This was a trap. It was too good to be true. The son may not recognize him, but the father might. Especially if he ever saw his finger. He'd been burned by the Chang before and their sweet promises. Not again.
"My father, and many of the senior disciples, are escorting a trade caravan to Qishan and we're a bit short staffed. There's a nice boarding house in town, and you can train with the younger disciples between hunts until father returns."
Xue Yang thought about sect libraries and sword masters that were usually kept far beyond his reach behind locked doors and high walls.
He...could use this. If he was careful.
Xue Yang gave a sharp grin, "buy me a plate of pastries in town, and you've got yourself a bargain".
Chang Ping laughed, slapping him on the back, eyes triumphant. He was planning to use Xue Yang. But Xue Yang was planning to use him too.
The Chang clan owed him.
He followed them down the west road to Yueyang. Meeting the main road far past where it branched off to Kuizhou. Heading further from the direction to the Xue homestead than he originally planned.
He needed more money than he had to fix up the place. And cultivation seemed like a promising gig. The stronger he became, the more money he could get, and the better he could protect what was his.
Besides, people didn't mess with cultivators. Just look at what happened to his finger.
Unless, of course, they were another cultivator.